PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[puffyn]

True, true, I suspected you wouldn't be silly enough to divide your big army just enough so that it would be unlikely to succeed. Still, you were the one who marched it right next to my capitol last turn. Let's just say we in C'tis are a little relieved, though perhaps offended, that you weren't actually very interested in your large army rampaging through our lands. (Which we would have been crushed anyway sooner or later, oh yes, very soon now...)

[Sedna]

Esclave

I took the wounded east out of the Mountains of Madness. Slow though we were with the weak and the lame, no one molested us. Some peace treaty with Pythium had made Muszinger very unhappy, but I was just glad to be away from the front. I never want to to see anything like the conversion of the Mountains of Madness again. Once out onto the plains, we turned west again, heading for Towen. We had recently received word that Aftial had returned from the grave -- and the rumors said she was subtly changed.

Now, as I sit with the sages of Towen and read through their tomes, I search for clues about what happened to that gentle creature which whom I passed my mornings in the House of Just Fires all those years ago; that gentle creature who is the mother of my unseen child. Surely this is not the same Aftial, returned now from heaven with a flaming sword and new-found wars to fight against out friends the lizards and the shadow itself?

But if I am honest, I never knew her. Our encounters were brief, and what do I know of women, angelic or mortal? What do I know of angels at all? Scripture and tradition name nearly a hundred such beings, servants of the Most High, and describe their character in detail. But there is no Aftial.

The sages do have one book, a collection of druidic poetry which managed to elude the inquisition. One stanza speaks of an Aftiel:

But thee Aftiel, patron of the evensky
draw your veils o'er us now.
Cloak our misdeeds in darkness
and set us free.

If this is Aftial, then I fear for Marignon. What is an angel who comes to us with false titles -- promising a new morning of greatness for the church, when in truth she is the night-bringer and ender of things? What misdeeds does she cloak? What veils draws she over the eyes of men?

The sages suggest that I search for answers in Great Woods. They say that a mighty warrior who was close to Aftial fell into darkness there. I do not know what I seek, but will find this ghost warrior's grave and tale, to see how Aftial protected those she swore to defend.

Muszinger

A week before the beginning of Carrofactum, Muszinger called Wic and Polgrave into one of the Barra library rooms which had escaped destruction and which they were using as a command post. The topic was the future of the Southern Army.

"We stand thus gentlemen. The gold Gawain and his knights liberated (with regrettable loss of life) pillaging this province will cover our expenses for some time, but we cannot go home yet. Though many inquisitors remain loyal to me, they are mostly pressed hard in the struggle against Ermor. I suspect now that this may have been Marignon's plan all along."

"And what of that fat fool himself?"

"Msgr. Buternot reports he is besieged within the Shadow Watch by a large army of the undead."

"He had better not leave his body parts lying around." muttered Polgrave.

"Any chance our problem will be... ah... taken care of by the undead?" asked Wic.

"Marignon is a servant of the Church, vouched for by Aftial, God's precious messenger who..."

"None of which really undermines the fact that he's actively trying to kill us, does it? Face it, Father, Marignon has schemed against all three of us since he came to power."

"But I will not march openly against him, nor undermine him in the battle for the shadowlands."

"What, then?"

"The Three Above are all busy. Avoca has his hands full trying to bring the Inquisition to heel, while Spire is trapped with Marignon. No-one is coming to enforce our arrest warrants here in the south."

"How very pragmatic of you Father," said Wic. "So we stay here, forge a little power base for ourselves, and prepare to retake power if things go poorly on the Western Front?"

"We must still pray that direct conflict can be avoided. Aftial alone is good and can bring Marignon back to the light. We must regain our strength and unity and convert all the heathens of the world before the LORD comes again."

"That's a lot for one winged beauty to do in just under a year," said Wic.

"What? Do you not believe? Have I not told you? There is no taint within her -- she is pure as snow."

"Even as you say."

"Very well then. I shall return to the Mountains alone. You two convince that bone-head Gawain to ride East."

"It shall be done."

Muszinger swept out of the room, and Wic's deferential look hardened into a thin smile.

"Poor fool. He believes so strongly and so deep. Reminds me of that boy, Esclave. He cannot, nay will not, see that Aftial plays him as a pawn."

"We should bring him to see this," said Polgrave.

"Perhaps. But for now, it is best that he walk alone. We can hardly have such a self-righteous man around while we do what needs be done."

"I know. I have all the ingredients for the Rite of Shantanok assembled."

"Then, are you ready to begin?" asked Wic, with just a little bit of awe in his voice.

"No, we must wait for the first night of Carrofactum, and we will need to stand on the broken tower in the Forest of Saran, where a saint's blood was shed."

"That's twisted."

"It is death magic, Wic, not fluffy bunnies. You're not backing out now, are you?"

"Of course not, Polly. You know my soul is already spoken for. What do I have to fear?"

"You sound smug for one condemned to eternal torture in hell."

"At least I'll be warm."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, then turned and marched out into the twilight.

Gawain

Sir Gawain stared, entranced, at the dancing patterns on the shield.

"I want that one. And that flaming blue sword."

"Uh, sir, I'm not sure that shield is altogether good. It might be accursed."

"What makes you say that?"

"The little plaque underneath which reads: Shield of the Accursed."

"Ah, so those little squiggly symbols have meaning."

"Indeed, sir."

"Well, since we have to march out tonight to go fight the... what was it again?"

"The mutant space goat of Saran."

"Yes, the goat thingy that's got Wic all nervous. Anyhow, after we've killed that we'll come back here to Barra and I'll pick up my new sword and shield. That should give you plenty of time to find out if picking up this shield will turn me into a newt."

[The Panther]

With all the stops and starts for this game, I got a bit behind on my yarns. Here is the belated Turn 33 yarn, with the Turn 36 yarn to come sometime soon. At least the battle against Pythium is prioviding me with lots of material for my yarns.


Turn 33

Pythium strikes back!

The evil nation of Pythium has bounced back from near elimination. These past few months, the Pretender Cibragol summoned some odd ether warriors who were surprisingly difficult for my hawks and wolves to strike. Those strange fellows mowed down my summoned nature army like they never even existed.

I therefore ordered a retreat from my frontier provinces of Endron and Voccan. Both those provinces are right next to the capitol of Pythium anyway, and that simple fact makes it quite difficult for my army to defend them. But, to placate my darn Uncle, I did approve a full mobilization of my vast army to the front lines. Certainly that show of force will put the fear of Selena into my enemies! All we can do now is to wait and see how it all turns out.

One thing I can now report on is the complete success of another of the splendid ideas from Veronicas, my fine friend and Minister of Research. She had reported to me that the quiet little library we discovered years ago in Gryphon Spires could potentially make a fine boost to our research. So, acting solely on her advice, I had long ago ordered the construction of a laboratory and began offering gold to lure members of an obscure brand of wizards who call themselves sages.

And the results are VERY apparent. My nation has done unbelievably well in research ever since then. Despite the Lands of Man being totally devoid of magic enhancing scales, my little nation is THIRD of all the nations for magical research (per the unbiased ONN reports). Also, the two purple nations ahead of my magic-poor nation both have maximum +3 (meaning expensive) magical-boosting scales! The fact that we are now so close to the purple nations in research amazes me even more than anything else Veronicas has done for my nation. That girl is so bright indeed.

There was another odd thing that happened in the last few months. First, Cleges, my Minister of War, performed a surprising field promotion of one of his knights after a vicious battle against Pythium. So, the result was that Godgifu is now a full-fledged commander leading armies into battle. And, to top it off, the Avalon Crone Darielle even taught Godgifu some magical skills! I have already read that particular report several times, for I was glad to see some benefits come from a war.

The second thing that happened was far more troublesome. After the losing fight against the ether warriors of Pythium, a lone dispossessed spirit named Nar decided to leave the service of his evil Pythium masters and join forces with righteous Man! Plus, during some fierce battle somewhere, Nar even found several nice artifacts, including a Black Steel Full Plate, a Barkskin Amulet, and a Boots of Giant Strength. Nar then reported to my laboratory in Cuna Eral to present those fine specimens as a gift for his acceptance into my just and rightful nation.

Unfortunately though, in a routine audit, the mundane bean counters of the ONN discovered the addition of these new artifacts to my treasury without my mages having constructing them. ONN then announced the supposed fact to all nations in the Land of Inland that the Nation of Man is cheating. Cheating!!! Me? I don’t even know how to cheat! I don’t know why those ONN bean counters tried to blame me for the fact that a lone spirit decided to quit the Pythium Empire and join Man! It ain’t my fault…

Of course, the presence of this dispossessed spirit does lead me to worry about my Inquisition allies. They have already issued far too many proclamations about their abhorrence of the use of death magic. While I have never practiced the dark arts myself, Nar, this new scout of Man, is surely a creature of death magic. No other explanation can be made for his presence. While I believe that it was the evil masters of Pythium who summoned the spirit in the first place, the Inquisition typically jumps first and asks questions later. And Marignon now shares a huge border with me after we squeezed Pythium from between us. So I worry. And I continue to plan for the total elimination of the Pythium Empire.

Pythium now; put off the Marignon issue until later. It is the only way I can rule effectively. For it is, as always, one thing at a time.

[djo]

Our kind host mentioned there might be some hosting schedule irregularities over the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays (in the US). I just want to go on record as saying I wouldn't mind a slower pace for that time period. I could keep up with the game (probably), but the writing, not so much (and I'm already a bit behind).

[puffyn]

I second that. It's a busy week coming up for me too, and I need a little more time to work on my next yarn(s)...

[djo]

Here is Vanheim 36: a long one, but keep reading...the second half is better than the first.


In which Vethru meets an old acquaintance, and Pherios loses more than his way.


Vethru

My scouts have found something interesting in Imictan, which we've finally retaken from Pythium. Again. The province is still chaotic, and I swear, if I didn't know that this world was without a deity at the moment, I'd say that God was pissed at Imictan. I take a tough crew with me; a small army of dead, led by Plague the Bane. Kor is here, or maybe it's Gor. Or was Gor the one who was killed in Venna? I can never keep the dwarves straight.

I've brought Irulia of Alteion with me. I don't know her well, but the word is she's a tough *****. Kestumaia and Lorakeia, my two Valkyrie bodyguards, know her, and they grumble and glare behind her back, so it's probably true.

I leave Quellian Ji home. He's getting moody. I tell him to go north and make sure the Air Force is doing its job against Ermor.

We reach the ruins by midday. My guards are all dead (again). "Pherios is here," I say. "Look sharp. If you see him, try to capture him, but don't hurt him."

We circumambulate the statue, widdershins, into a world with little light and less color. Irulia looks at me questioningly. Plague squints. "We're in a pocket universe," I tell them. "Watch yourselves. Different rules apply here. Be careful with magic--I get the feeling it's not as puny as in your world."

Kor grumbles--I'm sure it's Kor now--and I say, "I don't care what your grandfather told you about the old days, your magic is puny now."

When we reach the first branching in the maze, I send Kor off to the north, with Plague, because I want to keep her on my good side. I give them each a dozen dead and a few wights. "Look for Pherios. Bring him back if you can. I'm headed east." East is where I sense the first thread of what I hope will become a thick skein of power.

As I walk, it becomes clearer that what I'm feeling really is what the stone angel called "The Rune." I used to call it "The Plan" myself, before I found a better metaphor in a high-tech world. It's permeating this entire dimension. For someone like me, who's seen at least a piece of the bigger picture, it's a simple matter to follow the emanations to their source.

Along the way, I'm attacked by some strange shadowy creatures. They aren't real shadows. That would be too easy. I know a couple dozen ways to deal with things that are dead or ought to be. These things are kind of like cold holes in space. They try to grind you up and suck you in. I tell my Valkyries to stay back, and while the shadow things try to drain the life out of something already dead, I search my brain for the right spell to take care of them. Aha. Fiat lux. At my words, they explode in brilliant light. Oh, ho! Magic is strong in this dimension. This was going to be fun.

There's a palace, of course, at the end of the labyrinth. Totally black. Topped by three spires. Very predictable. Undoubtedly inside, I'd find some kind of self-styled existential evil, and judging by its guards, it'll probably be insubstantial as well. These guys are all the same. Let me give you some advice. If anyone ever offers you immortality, but you need to give up your body and become a "being of pure thought," or some such nonsense, refuse. You'll hate it, and like all the rest of them, you'll eventually go nuts. Keep your body, like I did. Food and sex, that's what keeps you sane. Friends don't let friends discorporate.

So I get myself psyched up for a fight against pure evil, which doesn't sound so bad, because this dimension has my mojo flowing, and when I walk into the throne room, I'm more surprised than I've been in a thousand years, because I know this guy.

"Who dares intrude upon my domain?" thunders the shadowy form at the end of the hall. "Know that your suffering will seem eternal, and you will beg to serve me before your ending."

At least he doesn't look like an eyeball. These dark, incorporeal guys always like eyeballs.

"Save it for the tourists, Graknor," I say, as I walk toward him.

He stops ranting. When you get old, you develop a lot of tricks to keep your memories straight, and Graknor is a lot older than me. It only takes him a few seconds. "Well, well, well...little Vethru. You've hung around longer than anyone would have guessed. And should I expect old Apichio to walk in behind you?"

"He's moved on," I say. "It's just me."

"And Vethru! What's this? You're dead! What would he say?"

That's the mark of a survivor. A couple dozen millennia pass, and he remembers exactly what an old wizard and his apprentice were arguing about. Always probing for leverage. And dead on, too--Apichio never approved of necromancy. He died and moved to a higher plane, his work unfinished. I took the path less traveled, and it's made all the difference.

More and more shadow creatures enter the hall. Many small ones, a few large ones. My Valkyries look around nervously.

"And what brings you here? Not still looking for magic words, are you? After all this time?" Graknor asks.

Wait--that was a bit too eager. "Curious you'd ask. Makes me wonder why I find you here."

"This old place? It's quiet, comfortable. Out of the way."

"Don't condescend, Graknor," I say. "This place is lousy with magic. You know what I'm after. You got anything?"

The darkness around me starts to ripple. There are now shadow creatures seeping out of the walls. Larger, more solid forms are entering from the corners. "You are in no position to presume so," he replies. "This is my world. I make the rules here."

Kestumaia and Lorekeia stay close, tense, but my intuition tells me Graknor is only bluffing. In the old days, he'd kill anyone who so much as looked at him wrong. He hadn't even leaned on me yet. Last time we met, I was young and still learning. He had no way of knowing my power now. He should at least be testing me, trying to gauge it.

Then I notice it. "Graknor! I can't see through you any more!"

"The darkness hides many mysteries," he says. "You'd be foolish to attempt to penetrate them."

Another passed opportunity! He should have at least killed one of my minions by now. It's almost discourteous of him not to.

"How long have you been here?" I ask.

"Long enough to make it my own," he snarls. "Long enough to learn its ways. Long enough to have buried intruders far more dangerous than you."

The power...it isn't a source I'm sensing. It's an effect--a vast effect, centered on Graknor. Solidity. Of course. I smile. "How does it feel," I ask, "to be trapped like a rat in a cage?"

"You dare!" he cries. "Do you want to leave this place alive?"

I don't bother correcting him. That slip tells me that I've hit it. I know his weakness. Time to put up or shut up. If this dimension isn't as mana-rich as I thought, this could be difficult. But I've got a number of high-powered spells that I haven't been able to use in Inland, and I was itching to try. "I'll walk out before you do. You're stuck."

That does it. He knows that I know. He signals his court, but before they can attack, I freeze my dead, to keep them out of the way, and shift my Valkyries to a timeless side dimension for safekeeping. Then I let loose.

It feels good. I catch the first wave of shadow creatures in a dimensional vortex, and dissipate the second wave with a mini-nova (always good against darkness-based enemies).

Graknor counters by opening holes in space-time around me, about twenty-five, I think. I feel their tidal forces trying to suck me in. I increase the local gravitational gradient in a ring around me, and they drop through the floor. I lose a few toes on my right foot in the process.

His more solid minions are upon me now. I take advantage of the fact that they're made of normal matter, and I suppress all the molecular orbitals in their bodies. Their atoms don't stick together anymore. Fortunately I don't need to breathe. Powdered minion is highly carcinogenic.

The hall is nearly clear. Graknor pulls out his trademark power. He's channeling the pure essence of emptiness, which is sort of what he is. Or was. He can't pull it off anymore. I shrug it off, and then I reach out and solidify his outer shell. Now he's just roiling black fog caught in a glass statuette.

"Damn you," he says, twisting in his prison. "How did you know?"

"How did it happen?" I ask. "Was that your palace, in the ruins? Or were you visiting? Or maybe summoned by the local wizard?"

He says nothing.

"And then a stranger came to the court. You threatened him, he took offense, you didn't back down, and he congealed you. Stuck you here forever. Not only turned you half solid, but bound you to the very spot."

The churning inside his shell increases, but it's secure. He can't get out.

"Over the years, the best you could do was create your own dimension, right here. And it's been a long time, hasn't it? Quite a comedown for world-shifting creatures like you and me."

"Just shut up and kill me," Graknor says. "I don't need to hear the ravings of a mere stripling like you."

"I'm not going to kill you," I tell him. "Not yet. I want to know about who did this to you, what he said, everything he did. Everything you know."

"Free me," he says, "And I'll tell you everything. Just get me out of this world."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"I'll serve you. For a thousand years."

"You don't get it, do you? I've been searching for fragments nonstop since the last time we met. And I've been successful. You can't stop me. Someone came along and plugged you into the equations. And I'm the mathematician."

"If you won't free me, I'll tell you nothing!" he says.

I really doubt that.

* * *

After I was finished with Graknor, it was a simple matter to fold this universe enough to meet up with Plague, Kor, and Irulia again.

"Is everything all right?" Irulia asks. "I heard a fairly unpleasant scream."

"I met an old acquaintance," I say. "He needed to be persuaded to answer my questions. But we're done now. Time to go. Any sign of Pherios?"

"None," says Irulia. Kor mumbles the same.

I hesitate before I collapse the dark dimension behind us. I regretted leaving it for the magic-poor Inland, but what could you do?

Oh, well. With the information I have, I'm one step closer to something beyond magic. Magic is only a way to cheat the rules. I intended to rewrite them.



Pherios

Imictan was a cursed province. Conquered by Pythium, then overrun by troglodytes, it had changed hands a dozen times since the beginning of the war. We owned it now. There weren't many people in the streets, and half the buildings were burned out or abandoned. It wasn't a pleasant place to be. But I had two reasons for coming: first, something Vethru wanted was here, and I knew where. Second, only in a place like Imictan could I find the people I needed to steal it away from him before he got to it.

"They're ready for you," said the barman. As he hurried away from me and the private room where they waited, I unwrapped the bandage around my left hand. The wound left by Galameteia's blade was still open and seeping. I hoped that the sight of it would give me a reputation as a badass. I was too well-educated to pull it off by my words or manner. An ugly, decaying wound might make the right first impression.

There were six mercenaries drinking in the back room, all of them too wild for organized warfare. My uncle told me they existed in every conflict. People who liked war too much. In Vanheim, we make them into einhere, and three of them were just that, renegades from our army. Another was a deserter from Marignon. He was brash, loud, and angry. The other two sat apart from the rest. Two women, as savage as the men, if not more so. One, a minotaur from Pangaea. The other, a Valkyrie. I knew her, or of her, anyway.

"Good evening, Maliana," I said. "Far from home, aren't we?"

"From what I hear, my lord, neither yours nor mine any longer," she replied, with a healthy dose of sarcasm when she said "my lord."

"So what's it about, then?" asked Reggie, the Marignonian.

"Seven gold each," I said, "For one raid."

They murmured. That was more than a month's pay for your average mercenary.

"Plus anything you can plunder, after I've found what I'm looking for."

Tasha, the minotaur, said something in a language I didn't understand. I interrupted Maliana as she started to translate. "Most likely half of you won't make it. And where we're going may drive a few of you mad. That's why."

Reggie snorted. "What scares you don't necessarily scare me, mate."

"He's coming, isn't he? Vethru?" asked Maliana.

"Sooner or later," I said. "He won't be alone when he does."

Reggie smiled and cracked his knuckles. "Well, then. Seven gold, and a proper fight besides? What are we waiting for?"

* * *

"Only five of them? And all deaders? No problem," said Reggie. And they weren't. Half of my mercenaries didn't get to draw their swords.

We were high on the slopes of a small mountain; leafless trees poked through a few inches of snow. The five zombies had been patrolling an area that was curiously flat. Once we reached it, the others could see what I found on my previous visit. We were standing in sparse ruins, in the remains of a courtyard. A few crumbling walls poked through dead ivy. The amorphous shape in the center of the plaza was an eroded statue.

"We're here," I said. "Now it gets strange. Walk around the statue," I told them. "No, the other direction."

"What the hell difference does it--" Reggie's jaw dropped when Tasha disappeared. "Sonofa*****!"

"Where are we?" asked Maliana, when we had all emerged into the eerie, twilight landscape. There was no color in this world. A dim full moon bathed us in pale light. One of the einhere lit a torch. It flickered gray and drew no color out of our clothing, our gear--or our flesh. We might have been ghosts.

"Somewhere else," I said.

"No [censored]," said Reggie.

"This isn't our world. Be careful. I'm looking for a building, possibly a temple. It'll have inscriptions." I was thinking of the papers that Vethru had me show around Triastellus, two years ago. Some of them had the look of stone-cut lettering.

They were unruly, as one would expect. We had spread out a fair bit over the dark, rolling plain, when I heard Tasha roar. "A labyrinth!" called Maliana. it sat at the beginning of rough, rocky territory. The walls were ten feet high, and it was open to the sky. It extended across our path, with no way around. It was the only sign of habitation we had seen, so I took us into it. Tasha, predictably, took the lead.

After only three turns, I'd lost my bearings. You wouldn't think it could be possible, but I did. The moon seemed to shift in the sky, as did the few stars I could see. By the fifth turn, I saw Tasha hesitate, just for a second. Reggie did, too. "[censored], are you lost? Damn animal."

"Why don't we rip off your balls to mark the trail?" said Maliana.

"Flying *****," I heard him mutter.

After an hour, we had found several small rooms, most of them empty. Inside the ones that weren't, bones. Old ones.

"Screw this, there's no plunder here," said Reggie.

"Do you want to go back?" I said.

"Quiet," said Maliana. "I hear something."

No one else did. "Take a look aloft," I said.

She was gone only a minute. While she was away, we struggled to perceive anything in the darkness. Nothing stirred, except perhaps the whispering wind. "It's too dark to see [censored]," Maliana said. "I'm not risking getting lost. But I definitely hear something ahead."

We pressed on, and soon we all started to hear distant voices, conversing quietly in a language we couldn't understand. I didn't need to order them to draw their weapons as we sneaked forward. We rounded one last corner, and then we all heard it. The whispering again, but behind us.

The dark pressed in on us. The wind blew chill, and ghostly forms boiled over the walls, surrounding us. They were diffuse, and cold. The einhere were cut off from the rest of us. "Onbec!" cried Reggie, "St. Onbec!", as he waded into the dark mass of them. His sword cut air. All their swords cut air. There was nothing to these monsters. They weren't proper shadows--I could deal with those. These were wispy, cold yet jagged when they slashed you. The fallen einhere began to scream, not the berserk scream of their kind, not even the scream of the tortured or dying. They screamed like their souls were being ripped from their bodies.

Tasha rushed in, trying to trample. They swallowed her, too. "Wing and spear!" yelled Maliana, and she surged forward, but I grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Only Reggie still stood, and his pointless fury was a thing to behold. I thought of Molly, then, and I cast a lightning bolt at him, just as they overwhelmed him. It flashed brighter than I had ever seen before. Some of them scattered, some disintegrated in the flash. Others came for us. Maliana and I fled through the twisting passages. Thankfully, the lightning had done its job: there were no screams to follow us.

* * *

"Rich boy had his fun? Are you done playing soldier now?"

I ignored her. We'd been wandering in the maze for hours. Twice the whispering shadows had come for us, and twice I had driven them back with violent, blazing lightning. But even though we had only seen them twice, we heard them whispering around every corner. And every corner looked the same as every other corner. The moon was now high in the sky, and even if it had never strayed from a predictable path in the sky, its position overhead made it useless for navigation.

"Did you forget your compass? What kind of a sailor are you?"

She wasn't as angry as Onbec, or even Reggie, but I could see why she got thrown out of the Valkyries.

"Are you sure you're related to Belletennares? He conquered ten provinces and lost fewer people than--" Suddenly she stopped.

And that was why I tolerated her. She had the senses and reflexes of a cat. "Someone ahead," she whispered. "Someone real."

We stepped silently through an opening on the left and came face to face with someone else moving just as silently. Only surprise kept our drawn weapons from being used.

"Pherios," said the woman. "I was told you might be here."

She was tall and thin, and dark haired, for a Valkyrie. Her face was carefully expressionless. I had never known my cousin Irulia very well, partly because of that reserve. She was always quiet, and somewhat mysterious, even to the family. She was thought to be clever, and rather fierce, when provoked. She had not been in the capitol when I left.

"Cousin," I said. "You have the better of me. But I'm glad to see you."

Maliana had edged behind me somewhat. She didn't say anything, no doubt sensing that I was her best chance of avoiding offending my cousin and the fifteen dead man behind her.

"Your old boss is here," said Irulia. "I think he's angry with you."

That statement was carefully noncommittal. She was working with him, but was she working for him?

"How is Petema?" I asked.

"We haven't spoken recently."

Not good. "I have my reasons," I said. "I haven't betrayed Vanheim."

"I suppose you haven't."

She wasn't giving me anything. "Irulia, please. Tell him you saw nothing. Point the way out, and we'll disappear."

Irulia motioned me to a corner of the dim room. "What do you know of what he is doing?" she said in a low voice, out of earshot of Maliana.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here. I only know what he's done. Ask Petema. She knows the story. Ask her about Galameteia."

"What have you seen?"

I hesitated, not wanting any information to get back to Vethru, but I had no choice. I wouldn't raise my blade against family. If she wanted to deliver me to Vethru, she could. "Two wars," I said. "One outside, you probably know with who. One inside."

"Civil war? Why?" she asked. Damn, she was cold. How could anyone ask that question without any trace of curiosity or emotion?

"He's wasting us. He's going to burn through us in this...search. He's going to use us up."

She stared into my eyes. A minute, five, I don't know. The spell was broken by Maliana. "Whispers!" she called softly.

Irulia didn't hesitate. "Ignore the sun," she said. "Look carefully; there are three spires on the eastern horizon. Keep them to your back. And hurry. It gets much worse here at night." She paused, and I thought for a second she was going to embrace me. She didn't. Then she and her dead men were gone, leaving me no wiser as to her intentions.

Maliana and I ran west. We almost made it. On the way, we passed whispers, and moaning, and we heard a single, lingering, tortured scream from the depths of Hel, but we almost reached the entrance before they came. I threw lightning at them, but they were on all sides of us. I turned after every bolt, to cover all angles. Maliana pressed her back to mine as she futilely stabbed at them with her spear. As I tired, she grew furious. I learned that day that a Valkyrie, too, may become a berserker. When her frustration overtook her sense, she sprang forward and thrust her spear into the thick of them, wild and savage as any einhere, and that's when they took her.

I cursed my folly as I remembered the sword at my belt, a sword that she could have used, a sword that surely would have reached them. I drew it, feeling its chill. Fitting that the weapon of a dead Valkyrie would avenge another dead Valkyrie. I advanced, wondering how my rage would serve me.

When I walked around the statue again into the light, numb and battered, I was alone and empty-handed. No answers, no survivors. I evaded the new sentries Vethru had left in the ruins, and I quickly left the cursed province of Imictan. My plan had failed utterly. I'd killed six people in my ignorance. Next time, I would act alone. And I would strike directly at the location where I knew my answers must be: Paistellus. Vethru's castle.

[puffyn]

Here's turn 36... brownie points for whoever recognizes which important cultural works Cole cites to explain his love of gold.

--- C'tis, Turn 36 ---

Laph woke to a tinkling sound, like a thousand tiny bells caught in a stiff breeze, or perhaps hailstones pelting a cavern roof far overhead. But through her tiny window-slit she could the moon a clear sky, and there was only a whisper of a wind as she slipped out of her warm nest to look around.

The moon was half-full (or, as Ruli liked to say, half-empty, she thought with a smile). She could make out many constellations: Draco, the Hydra, the great Egg Nebula – and was that the Curiously Equilateral Triangle? Stargazing was so much more satisfying in the Mark than in the crowded capitol, especially since Ruli had convinced everyone to switch from tallow fat lamps to these clever new lanterns of his own devising, although they did have an unfortunate tendency to explode in the rain.

"Where are you, egg brother?" Laph sighed. She would of course hear if anything happened to him, at what was the fourth siege of Boddern Weald. It had just been so long since they had even been in the same city for more than a few days, and she was so busy these days, what with her new responsibilities...

She heard it again. This time the noise reminded her of a Great Hatching, when dozens or hundreds of tiny lizards all emerged at the same time and crawled over a million shards of broken egg. Laph slipped on her dark blue robes, still stiff and unfamiliar, and wandered out of her quarters.

The castle was quiet at this early hour. Lizards have never liked sitting watch in the cold of night, and since word had come of Cibragol's abdication and the virtual collapse of Pythium much of the tension had leaked out of what was still, technically, a border garrison. Most of the brave defenders of C'tis were elsewhere anyhow, besieging forts left in chaos by the purple people's retreat, or with Ruli and Cole at what would (Laph hoped) be the last great battle of the war. The few remaining city guard were doubtless patrolling somewhere more warm, most likely the heat-lamp district, and Laph did not begrudge them this. It was only her sleep that had been disturbed; and it had not been very restful. Nothing for it then but to figure out the source of that eery, distant sound.

She walked past the teaching halls, where in a few short hours she was scheduled to lecture some of the brightest young hatchlings. She pondered, for a moment, which story would better encapsulate her theme of The Perils of Foreign Entanglements and Empire Building. Perhaps "Aetonyx and the Pangaean Pact"? But no, that was a bit obvious. But would they understand the nuanced subtlety of "Aetonyx and the Noodle Incident"?

She almost walked past the twisting staircase leading deep into the bowels of the castle, before she noticed a faint glimmer of light emanating from below. That was odd. She turned back and stepped gingerly down. Nothing of interest was kept down there, because lizards found it hard to navigate the steep stairwells favored by human architects. It was mostly used for long-term storage or as a dumping ground: for human foodstuffs too unpleasant to eat except in a siege, or stacks of rusty armor awaiting re-smelting if anyone ever had the chance... oh, and Cole's auxiliary backup horde, of course.

Suddenly Laph wished she'd brought a weapon. She couldn't imagine who would be daft enough to raid a dragon horde – it was said dragons could smell each and every piece of their horde a thousand kilometers away, and they were not terribly forgiving of those found carrying liberated horde-gold. But anyone foolish enough to rifle through Cole's treasure was unlikely to be too respectful of the shiny blue robes marking her as his prophet. She rifled through some boxes of mouldering human supplies, and settled on an oddly-cylindrical but hefty club, before moving closer to the light.

It didn't sound like a robbery, though. The sound she had been following was definitely coming from this direction, and had now acquired a deep rumbling hum as counterpoint to what now sounded like a small avalanche of pebbles on a tin roof. For some reason Laph identified the hum as very satisfied, though that made little sense.

But there was a light shining from the door to Cole's treasure room. Someone had hung one of Ruli's sodium lamps by the massive doors, which were now ajar. Laph could now hear the clinking of coins quite clearly, and hefted her club above her head. She inched forward.

A loud voice boomed out.

"Oh, some people say it's folly

but I'd rather have the lolly,

With money you can make a splaaash..."

There was a loud crashing sound, and Laph looked just in time to see a large crimson tail disappear under a colossal mound of gold. The song continued for a while, in the form of a deep reverberating hum.

Cole's head popped up suddenly right in front of her. "Care to join me, Elaphe?" he asked, eyes afire with a kind of joy Laph had not seen in a long time. The dragon laughed as he executed a perfect backflip, and spotting the slightly dazed look in the small lizard's eyes at the sight, he said, as if reciting a creed, "I love the feel of it and the smell of it, and I love to dive around in it like a porpoise and burrow through it like a gopher and toss it up and let it hit me on the head." He gathered a large handful of coins, to illustrate the last points, and sent them flying.

Laph stared at the blissful red scaly face, basking in a rain of gold, and couldn't help but laugh. He made such a silly image, sovereign leader of one of the most powerful nations of Inland, dancing like a hatchling in a pile of red-gold leaves.

I guess that's why I went through with it, she thought to herself, as Cole, seeing his offer of a midnight swim was not instantly accepted, shrugged merrily and began chanting the popular dwarven ditty "Aurum Or" while doing a credible breast stroke.

It's not like he wants the people to worship him, she mused, though of course they did. Even humans living within C'tis lands had spontaneously erected temples in the dragon's honor. But much as Cole enjoyed the attention, it was quite clear that, deep down, he was just in it for the gold. And that purity of intent, for a dragon, made all the difference.

It was why, for all that she argued with Cole about his foreign policy, she didn't regret her choice to become in essence his second-in-command. And it wasn't just so she could try to rein in his more foolish ideas, or even that she'd noticed a small but significant improvement in the power of her stories and the way her audience was smitten by her every word. There was just no hint of malice in the dragon, in stark contrast even to their nominal allies.

She thought with a chill about the conniving self-styled prophet of Man, and naive young Selena, who not only had failed to notice how her growing power was corrupting her, but also was making the fatal error of believing the yarns other spun of her own divinity. Marignon's Inquisition and tangled web of political factions had always terrified her, but if the rumors were to be believed about the darkness of the angel Aftial, the troubled theocracy to the south was in for evil times – and, by extension, so was everyone else around them.

And as for Vethru? Laph just shuddered.

No, if she had to choose her god, even a made up one, she would have to go with the one who believed in letting his subjects more or less do what they wanted, so long as they kept the royal treasuries well-stocked with gold for him to play with, and did not disturb his afternoon naps in the sun.

And I guess I did choose. She understood Ash'embe a little better now, his fierce loyalty to the giant dragon, because for good or for ill she was tied to Cole, and to C'tis, and only death would sever that bond now. She could feel somehow that this land, and the treasure vault in particular, were powerful havens for lizardkind, and that filled her with a sense of peace and well-being. It also made her remember how weak Ash'embe had seemed during his travels, just before he had fallen, and her thoughts strayed to the catacombs back home. I hope Larch and Hema made sure he came out all right.

The mound of gold shook as Cole reluctantly pulled himself out of it. He shook his scales vigoursly, sending doubloons flying, and smiled a little wistfully at Laph. "That castle won't just siege itself, I'm afraid," he sighed. "But the gold gets so lonely if left alone too long..." He bowed slightly to his new prophet and flew easily above the troublesome steps, turing to cast a final looking of parental care back toward his gold.

"Please take care of them for me," he said.


Laph blinked a few times as quiet filled the castle again. It was still pitch black, hours before dawn. She trudged up the stairs back to her chambers, pondering her lecture and the thousand other things she must attend to the next day, all the preparations there were yet to make. At last, with the surreal scene of the evening almost faded from memory, she settled herself gently into her warm nest, careful not to disturb the eggs. She fell asleep quickly, and did not notice that as she did so she was softly humming the refrain to "Aurum Or."

[puffyn]

Say, what's the status on this turn? Are we waiting for someone, or is Tauren still not back in the land of the internetted (and if so, you have my condolences)?

[puffyn]

The wiki was getting hit with robots posting spam links, so you are now required to log in before posting.

[The Panther]

I posted the Turn 36 yarn for Man. I am not repeating it here because the embedded images would not show up properly on this forum.

So - If you want to see what a battle against 125 PD looks like, go read my latest yarn!