PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[The_Tauren13]

I believe I already sent pearls for turn 6 yarns.
Turn 9 yarn pearls will be coming with the next turn.

[djo]

Here's turn 12, a little action thing with Vethru. Side note: the battle described did not actually take place, in the game.

Vethru

I have my small ship, but there's no star to steer her by. You pick a cloudy night for what we're up to. I've got an old Van navigating instead. They say he's been sailing the shores of the gorge since he was a boy, twelve hundred years ago. That sounds pretty good, but I heard another Van mumble that it didn't really matter, because that earthquake four hundred and fifty years ago changed all the shoreline, anyway. Either way, between him and me (I'm a damn good navigator myself), we have no trouble finding our way across the gorge to Cimri, at night, in silence. The Vans are good at that, too.

Quellian Ji lands in my boat and says, "Grey team and white team are both in position, boss." I nod to Hallixene, and he gives the order. The men at the oars pick up the pace.

One huskarl stares at the bird. He's new. Another man says, "Yeah, the bird talks." The first man shrugs. They're all veterans. Not much worries them, and they're not much for small talk.

We reach the shore and they have the boats up on the beach, quietly, quickly, as if their ancestors have spent several millennia turning ocean raiding into a high art form, which they have. The only one having trouble is Kor, the dwarf. By the time he's stumbled out of the boat, the scouts from team green are into the forest, and those from team blue are down the beach, keeping an eye on the nearby fishing village.

I'm an old man, and it takes me nearly a half hour to get up the hill to where the temple is. Of course, team green is way ahead of me; there are bodies all around the two buildings on the hill by the time I get there. The first is a modest stepped pyramid. Even in the dim torchlight, I can see bloodstains on its stones. Hallixene tells me our target is the other building.

From the outside, it looks like a wooden stockade, but once inside, I see that the wood is a facade; the building is solid stone. We pass through the main worship area, where the statue of a twelve-foot tall stag stands. In an inner room we go down some stairs, past broken doors and more bodies, before reaching the vault.

There's an unarmed old man standing in front of the door. "Blasphemers! Unholy! He will trample you, and your necks will know His sacred antlers!" His back is pressed to a thick, ornate oaken door. He's pretty feisty for being surrounded by men with sharp steel things pointed at him.

My men part, and he gets a good look at me. "You," the man snarls. "You are an abomination, and He will never suffer you to exist." He gestures, and a bright, searing light flashes. It's painful--very painful--but it's not enough. I step forward, and he says, "You cannot harm me, unholy thing. His blessings will shield me."

"Don't believe everything you read," I say, and I touch him. He cries out in surprise, then he wails in pain. He shrivels until his complexion is worse than mine, then he crumbles into dust and bone. As the echo of his screams fade, even the einhere and huskarls are silent. They have that stunned "and I thought I believe in god's power before" look. I tell Hallixene to take them upstairs to plunder the temple.

"Kor!" I say. "Open up this door!"

He scuttles forward, mumbling. He begins tapping on the door with his hammer. "Skar mar lrr grror ar!" he says.

"Well, I didn't tell you to leave your gauntlets in the boat," I reply.

He grumbles again and makes a great show of limbering up and swinging the hammer, but the door falls at the first blow. Wussy dwarves.

Inside, as you would expect, is little of any real value. Religious types chronically overvalue sacred scriptures and undervalue gold and jewelry. The one area we both agree on is old stuff. I locate the two items I'm looking for. A thick leather-bound book, with five stars on the cover, and a length of dark wood, cut into a long prism, sort of like an obelisk. I like obelisks. On this one is inscribed letters I have not seen in a dozen worlds. I wrap the items in a cloth and tell Kor to grab a few other things to mask what I came for. He's got sense; he grabs what little shiny gold and silver stuff there is.

"Let's move," I say, and we're up the stairs and into the temple proper. "What in Hel are you doing?" I ask, when I see my men gathered around the statue. With ropes.

"We're pulling down the statue, my lord. It is an affront to you," Hallixene says. He looks confused, as if his actions were self-evident.

Worshipers--who can figure them out? I'm trying to steal something, and they think I'm worried about a statue?

But it'd take longer to dissuade them than to convince them to do it quickly. I take a good look at the statue. After you've seen a hundred worlds, the patterns start to look pretty familiar. Standard nature deity. "OK," I say. "This fellow is all about birth and death. His coming in the spring represents fertility, and his death in the autumn represents the harvest. All you need to do is break off his antlers; they represent his manhood. Without them, he is impotent. So do it, and let's get out of here!"

One of them manages to climb up the statue and do the deed without breaking his neck. As he comes down, there are shouts from outside, and I hear animal noises. Howls and roars. And clangs. In what seems like an instant, Hallixene is outside and back in again. "We're cut off," he says. "Men and animals, coming out of the forest to the west. A dozen men, lightly armored, bows and swords. I saw wolves, boars, and bears. "

Outside, there's not much light, but I see my Vans and huskarls fighting woodsman and wildlife. Some of my guys were wounded. More men and animals are coming out of the forest. We're outnumbered, and certainly outmaneuvered.

A female shapes suddenly appears next to me. "Sir, grey two is under attack from the village. They have reinforcements--about twenty light infantry in addition to the village's twenty militia. The einhere are berserking, but they are holding. For now."

"How did they get word?" I wonder.

"Kesselar is missing," she says. "We saw hawks overhead."

"The bastards!" says Ji. Kesselar was one of Ji's lookout ravens.

"Galameteia, right?" She nods. "Tell white team to split: one half should reinforce grey two. Tell the other half to sweep around the other side of town and counterattack to take heat off us. After they counterattack, they should disappear and to make their way back to Vanheim as planned. Deliver those messages, then get right back here." She vanishes into the night.

The fighting is getting closer. We're piling up a lot of livestock, but we're slowly getting pushed back. "Ji! Get a message to blue two. Send a gull, don't go yourself. Tell them to set up an ambush at the edge of the beach. We'll be coming in hot."

"OK, boss."

I hear voices:

"How many of them are there?"

"Take that, bastard!"

"Right flank! We need help!"

"I can't see!"

"Where's Igestus? Where's Igestus?"

Hallixene: "Sir, we're not breaking through! They're turning our flank!"

Sweet limping Vishnu, this went south in a hurry. Hallixene's phantoms are helping, but my men are falling. There's a lot more of them than we expected. I'm going to have to string up some of my intelligence operatives. "Kor! Go throw rocks at them!" I hear grumbling moving off to my right. The dark doesn't bother him.

Galameteia is back. "Stay by me," I tell her. I whistle for Ji. "You wanted to be a general, bird--let's see what your girls can do. Call in team black."

Ji squawks. "The right flank will be toast!"

"No! Hit behind their center--clear the escape route. I've got the flank."

Ji rises into the night, shrieking like a banshee.

"Lord, no!" calls Hallixene. "You can't! Stay back, where we can protect you!"

"Shut up, and do what I tell you! Be ready--hit them hard when team black comes in."

I turn to Galameteia, and I hand her my package. "Get this back to Vanheim."

"But sir, I can carry you, too. I'm strong enough."

"Do it! I don't care if they cut off my head and burn my body. Listen! I will return. I promise you that. A bunch of tree-humping greenies can't keep me in the grave. "

She's uncertain. There's that crazy worshiper thing again. She can't decide whether to obey god or protect him. "Get moving," I say, and I slap her on the ***, because that makes any woman jump. When she jumps, she doesn't come back down.

With my package safe, I turn my attention to the battle. The right flank is collapsing; Kor can't hold back the wildlife pouring out of the forest. I put a couple lightning bolts into two bears, and then I dump some flares into the forest. The woods light up. Suddenly we don't have a problem anymore; we have a barbecue.

Then team black arrives. A hundred years ago, on a distant world, I heard one composer's impression of Valkyries riding to battle. He got it exactly right. They tear through the lightly armored woodsmen who never thought to look up into the night. They die in a hail of javelins, spitted on the spears of my fierce flying girls. It's so beautiful I almost want to cry.

Their line breaks, and we push through. We scramble through the woods, wolves and rangers on our heels. There aren't as many of us as made the trip up the hill. And I hate leaving perfectly good dead bodies behind. The enemy hassles us under the trees, where our airpower can't help us. We burst out onto the beach, and our pursuers are torn apart by the ambush. Neinos has managed a two-pronged attack, blue two and grey two hitting them from opposite directions.

I yell until everyone's scrambling into the boats, because I know there's one thing we haven't seen yet. And right on schedule, the druid comes out of the woods. By himself, he wouldn't be a problem. But the two great horned serpents with him kill my rearguard and slither down the beach toward the boats.

I can see how this is going to play out. I turn to Hallixene and say, "Get everyone in the boats, and set sail. If I see one boat turn around to come back for me, I will make the rest of your life miserable, and then I will make your unnaturally long afterlife extremely miserable." He pales but obeys me.

I walk unsteadily toward the snakes in the shifting sand. The druid knows what's going on. He'll gladly let my men get away for a shot at me. He's even smiling.

I smile back. Then I drop him with a lightning bolt. He wasn't expecting that. The reason is, by casting a spell at him, I give the snakes a chance to bite me. Most people won't make that trade, but I have an unfair advantage. I'm a real bastard that way. I dodge one snake, but the other one gets me in the left forearm and hangs on. That's good; that keeps him in reach. I put my dagger into his eye and stir. He backs away quick. The poison, I don't worry about. I'm past such things. But I'll need to fix my arm later.

The second one comes on again, but by now, I'm playing electric eel. I give him a good shock, and he circles, and he gets ready for another pass. He hesitates, and that's all the time I need. I stand up as straight as I can in the sand and throw my arms in the air.

The snake is mildly surprised when I rise out of his reach. As the Valkyries lift me into the night, Ji flies by, and I say, "Good job."

"Just like we practiced," he says.

"Stay with the boats," I tell him. "Make sure they get back in one piece. Ladies, let's swing by the boat so everyone can see I'm all right. Then it's home to Vanheim."

One of them takes me in her arms so I don't have to dangle by my wrists for the whole flight. "Thank you, Kestumaia, for your assistance," I tell her.

"It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord," she says.

I wonder how much. "You have beautiful eyes," I tell her. I can't tell if she's blushing or not, but that's OK. I've got the whole flight to work on her.

[quantum_mechani]

Turn 3 yarn finally in. Hopefully I will be able to continue catching up in the next few weeks.

[Zen]

Sorry for the delay in turning in my turn. It's kind of a big one for me as far as game and plot decisions.

Praise Ami!

[djo]

A turn delay now and then is fine by me.

I've been happy with the almost-but-not-quite MWF turn schedule. Keeping up with the writing has been tough enough as it is. I get caught up, then I go out of town for a weekend, and kerblammo! I'm behind again.

[The Panther]

Try going out of the country for 12 days...

[djo]

Vanheim turn 15



In which Pherios sees the sights, and Vethru has dinner out.

Vethru

She sews up my skin with small, careful stitches. Every so often, she stops to smooth the skin so it doesn't bunch up where she's sewing. Her dead fingertips linger, caressing, when she does this. Once, she looks up while I watch her. She smiles, and her teeth are white.

She looks much better than that first rainy night I met her, deep in the tower. She is younger than she appeared then; I'd say she was between Belletennares and Pherios's father in age. Today, she's traded in her blacksmith's apron for a low cut black dress. It fits her well; in dim light, she might not even look like a cadaver. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

She's finished stitching now, and I say, "Thank you. That's a much better job than I could do one-handed. And Ji is hopeless with a needle."

"My pleasure," she says. "It's the least I can do after the surgery you performed on my neck. I do enjoy seeing the world straight again."

And now her silver hair flows properly over her shoulders, too.

"Can you read it?" she asks.

"Read what?"

She raises an eyebrow. Of course. Kor already told her what I brought back.

"I don't know yet," I admit. "It's the book I was looking for, but I can't tell how accurate the transcription is. If it even is a transcription of what I think it is."

"And the rod? Is it a key to a cipher? Perhaps to the Codex of Five?"

She wants very badly to look at them. She's a language nut herself. But I'll be damned if I let her look at them before I do.

"Something like that," I say. To call the thing a key is too limiting, and to call it a dictionary, too expansive. She doesn't have the concept of what it really is. I wonder, though, how long it would take to teach her?

She pouts. It makes her look alive. Not that there's anything wrong with that; we were all alive, once. And really, it's not a black-and-white thing. She's probably more alive than I am, by most popular standards. Should I think less of her because of that? I don't see why. What's the fuss? We're all going to be alive and dead at some time in our existence. Once you get to be my age, those kinds of details matter less and less.

"Well," she says, "Maybe you could explain it to me over dinner?"

* * *

Apparently, she's been giving the dwarves cooking lessons. Some of them are even passable servers. They manage to open a second bottle of wine without shattering it, unlike the first. We drink a fairly good pinot noir and sample the light repast set in front of us. Neither of us is a heavy eater, for the obvious reason that neither of us needs to eat.

"Have you heard from Belletennares lately?" she asks me.

"He is well," I say. "He performs his duties exceptionally."

"I knew he would," she says. "What about Pherios? I hear how well he is doing, but I never see him. Tell me how he is. Tell me something not in the reports. Tell me something about him."

The things we live for--they can't be hidden. She happily works day and night with her magic, but when she sits down with me, over wine and food, and asks about my prophet and my seer, she comes alive. Thus proving my thesis; life and death come in small pieces. She and I have more of the former than we lack.

I tell her a few stories, including one I heard from Ji. She hangs on every word. It's hard for her, staying in the tower all the time. We live--all right, exist--in the same world as the living. We walk the same earth, under the same sky. They accept us. The earth doesn't tremble when we pass. The trees don't bend to let us by. People are different. They push us away, and if you happen not to be a god, you're left on the fringes. In a dark tower, all alone with a handful of dwarves.

I visit with her for a couple hours before I take my leave.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, my lady of the tower," I tell her.

She curtsies deeply. I get a glimpse down the valley between her breasts, and I'm impressed that she's kept herself smooth and firm. Skin care is so difficult when you're dead. "I enjoyed your company," she says. "Please come back soon."

"Of course," I say, feeling unusually courtly. "Perhaps I will bring milady a small gift, or perhaps some magical gemstones."

Her face lights up. "You have been reading my memos!"

"Yes, my dear, and I have sent my seers to find you more gems. Some of our new...allies have exactly what you need."

"...and are so close to another thing I would like," she says demurely.

"And what is that?"

"It's the dwarves, you see," she says. "Their talents lie at the forge and the summoning circle, not in the library. And the scholars on the hill, they are focused on your search, whatever that is. Not that they know much magic of practical value anyway. That is my dilemma. I need better minds."

I smile. Women can be so demanding. It makes things a lot easier when a woman desires that which you already intend to purchase. Obtain? OK, conquer. Whatever.


Pherios

It was vast, and impersonal, and very, very old. The granite stones, each as big as a horse, rose tier after tier above the brilliant white sands below. We had climbed to the top, and I tried to imagine what it had been like to see this coliseum filled with people watching, what? Sport? Fights? Races?

"Was it built by giants?" I asked.

"No one knows," my uncle replied. "Certainly, giants have used it. So have we, in times we barely remember. I brought your father here once, and he maintained that the structure existed before the waters receded, constructed by some aquatic intelligence whose trace is barely left on our world. When we returned home, he showed me books in support of his theory. We could not agree on whether they were fact or fiction."

"It's magnificent," said Galameteia. "If I weren't here, I don't think I would believe it. I'm going to take a better look." She lifted into the air and began to circle the arena in lazy loops.

When she had risen out of earshot, I turned to Belletennares. "Can I ask you something, uncle? About your visions?"

"Of course."

"Do you ever...see things..." I wasn't sure I could ask him. I'd known him all my life, but now, he glowed with Vethru's power. I felt small. I didn't want to bother him. But there was no one else who would understand. He waited, patient, attentive. Serious. As he always was, always had been, just like in my memories. Still family. I finished. "...about Sennei?"

He thought for a moment. I was relieved that I hadn't offended him.

"Yes, of course I have. How could I not? She is my life, more than anything, even this war." He looked out over the quiet landscape. "You have had a premonition about Galameteia. A terrible one, if I'm not mistaken."

I would've answered him, but the words stuck in my throat.

He nodded. "Do you intend to marry her?"

Again, I hesitated. Belletennares was finding my questions even though I couldn't speak them.

"You aren't sure when the right time is, or even if you should do it at all," he said. "Pherios, I can't give you the advice you think you need to hear. I can't tell you that you will know the right moment, that your decision will coalesce out of the myriad possible futures that fate presents to you. I can't tell you that your feelings will guide you truly, because the heart is as fallible as the vision we share. I can only tell you this: it is possible. You may marry her, and find happiness you only imagined. In that, it is no different than love without the intrusion of the future in your mind. You know, of course, that she will understand you, and you, her, even better than Sennei understands me, something I can scarce believe possible. I have long thought that I married the most understanding woman in the universe." He was lost in memory for a breath. "You have not spoken to your father yet."

"No, sir."

"Don't be worried," he said. "He will surely approve. And, I have heard, House Lunnetellerion would welcome your marriage."

"How do you know? Do you know someone in that house?"

"Nothing so simple. It was hinted at in a letter from Sennei." He smiled. "There is a gentle conspiracy of females through which information flows with efficiency that would shame the spies of my army. You nor I will ever penetrate its workings, so be content with the knowledge that it works to our benefit."

"Thank you, uncle," I said, and we clasped hands.

"She's returning," he said, looking past my shoulder. "She's a fine warrior. You've chosen well for yourself."

Galameteia landed. "Fiery deserts, misty plains of ice, and this place, all within a few miles. Extraordinary!"

"These are the places Vethru seeks. We must watch for them in our portents," said Belletennares. "Their power will be mined and sent back to the tower to support our magic. Tomorrow, I will show you one more location of interest before I leave you for the front. Tonight, though, we stay in civilized quarters, in town, under a roof."

* * *

I woke to the sound of her sobbing. It was still night. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Coyote dreams," she said. That is what we'd say to each other when we had dark visions that we didn't want to talk about. Coyote dreams are small, furtive things that slink in the shadows. They can be chased away. We pretended our dreams were coyotes, because we were afraid they were dragons.

I held her until she calmed. "Why am I an egret in your visions?" she asked. "Why not an eagle, or a hawk? I'm a warrior. I'm not prey."

"You are not an egret," I told her. "You are not a bird at all. My dreams can't encompass you. They only give me a sketch. Not even a portrait. Everything you are would fill my dreams a thousand times over."

"And I wish you were all my dreams gave me..." I whispered.

She rolled over to face me. "In your visions...do I die fighting?"

Her eyes were still wet. I could feel my own tears beginning. She wasn't supposed to ask me this. We agreed. It was too hard on both of us to hear the details of what we see.

"Please," she whispered.

I didn't know. The battles, the danger--they were always scattered, shadowy forms, poorly represented by clouds and birds. I never saw the event. I just felt the doom.

"Yes," I manage to say, before my voice broke. "Always."

We comforted each other until dawn.

* * *

"I feel it, too," said Galameteia. "There's something hidden here."

"But you don't sense it, uncle?" I said. "Then, how did you know to bring us here?"

"We had just taken control of the province when Gor's troops were hit by holy fire," said Belletennares. "We search for enemies, but there were none. The barbarians had no holy men. Later on, it happened again. The cause was clearly something in the environment."

"I don't understand. Holy fire? Don't you mean unholy?"

Belletennares said, "The troops were dead. That is why they were struck by holy fire."

"We have...undead troops? I thought..." Galameteia wouldn't meet my eyes. "You knew?"

"I suspected," she said. "About the troops. But Vethru--you see him every day! How could you not know?"

"Those are just rumors! Vethru is old, he's not dead." I looked to Belletennares. "Right?"

He regarded me tolerantly. "We do as Vethru commands. If he gives me troops long dead, I will use them. I serve. I'm sorry, Pherios, that the world is not what you expect. But it is the world." He seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he shook his head and said, "I must return to the army. I hope your journey back to Vanheim is pleasant and safe." Then he rode away.

Galameteia led me to a rock where I sat down. "Vethru's...what is he?" I mumbled.

"I thought you knew," she said tenderly. "It seemed like an open secret. Something everyone figured out, but decided would be impolite to talk about."

"This is our world? We raise the dead? In Vanheim?"

"You know our history. You know the magic they did even up to Alteion's time. The blood sacrifices. The demon summoning."

"It seems so long ago. So what is he? A vampire? A ghoul?"

"I don't know. Some say he is a revenant. No one really knows."

So many things were becoming clearer, and none of them for the better. I wondered about images I had seen in my visions, and what I might make of them, knowing what I now know. "And the woman in the tower?"

"They say she is just like him."

All of this in the castle I was living in. I don't know why I was so surprised, or why the surprise offended me so much. I know that as Galameteia and I made our way back to Vanheim, one thought would not leave my mind: if this is the world we live in, what other terrible things I once thought forbidden might now be possible?

[Sedna]

Marignon, Turn 12

Pr. Muszinger

On this very day, one-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-seven years ago, the impossible happened. The Potter took his foot from the wheel, and entered into the pot-- yet the pot did not shatter. The Author became a character in the great book-- yet the story continued. The infinite LORD of all creation walked among us to teach us how we might be freed from the shadow of death by purification through fire and faith and the sword.

On this very day, nine-hundred and ninety-seven years ago, the inconceivable happened. While the faithful sat in quiet remembrance of the manifestation, the corrupt leaders and faithless magicians of the empire of Ermor, forsaking the teachings of the church and seeking to master the grave on their own terms, opened the forbidden gate and let death pour in.

On this very day, one year ago, the inspirational happened. The LORD sent forth His faithful servant Aftial to lead the church triumphant against the hosts of darkness and bring the light of faith to the lost and confused people of the whole world. You have seen Her fight today-- seen how the heretical and barbaric spells of these druids melted into mist in the face of righteousness. You have seen how the forces of Marignon, inspired by Her presence and reunited under the direct leadership of the church have swept our enemies before us time and again these last glorious months. You have seen God himself lean down from heaven and smite the unbelieving.

Yet if you look to the west you will see that the sun is setting. Night is coming, and the servants of darkness stalk the fetid fields and dying forests, reveling because they are unchecked and unmatched in their conquests. Until THIS day! I set here the cornerstone for the topless tower that will rise upon this plain. At its top shall be a never ceasing flame, and it will maintain a faithful watch upon the lands of death, protecting the lands of the church beyond, never sleeping, never turning aside-- a dagger pointed at the heart of our enemy-- a ray of light shining down to the craven creatures below who long for God's loving sword to free them from their misery.

This shall be the Shadow Watch, and the men chosen to serve here will carry a awesome responsibility, holding the blackness at bay and waiting until the promised time when the LORD's most faithful servant will lead us on the final, great crusade to cleanse this stain from His creation. If the defenders of the Shadow Watch ever feel tainted by the stench of decay which rises from those foul fens they should climb to the highest point of the tower as the golden sun rises in the east. As far as the eye can see will stretch the Church and Kingdom of Marignon. Every cottage you spy will be the house of a devout believer. Every fire will be from the cleansing of the flock. Every road will be one along which the armies of Marignon march to bring salvation to the people of the world. As the sun ascends high in the sky let it's fiery rays penetrate you, burning your despair and rekindling the light of your faith; for darkness does not love the light.

And every night must end in glorious day. Through time and tides of time the everlasting light will bring this death-infested world to an end. We who have the good fortune to live through the fires of the LORD's most precious gift must be prepared to be singed as His righteous anger scours the world. Yet prepared by the fires of the Church, and protected from deception by the Church's leaders, we will all by lifted up by LORD. And above the broken confines of this world He will make us live to never die.

Esclave

On the last day of Carrofactorum, we passed into the town square where an angry mob had gathered.

"She's a witch, burn her!"

There was a crowd gathered around some woman, who certainly was dressed like a witch.

"Hey, maybe you should step in," suggested Cleric Virgilie with a wink and a nudge. Ever since I started displaying my increased knowledge of practical magick he's been insisting that it won't be long before I make the rank of Witch Hunter. But it's one thing to master the arcane magicks (only the non-evil ones of course), it's quite another to acquire enough political friends to make the necessary rank in the church. Normally a cleric spends many years mastering basic fire magick, and so has enough time to find friendly church leaders to sponsor him. Me... I think I spent too much time this year with my angel in the library.

"Let's just keep going," I muttered under my breath, but it was too late, we'd been spotted by the extremely loud leader of the crowd.

"You, good sirs! You are from the House of Just Fires! We have found a witch, may we burn her?"

I sighed. "How do you know she is a witch?" You won't believe some of the ridiculous charges people have brought against supposed witches. There was this one time when a guy brought in a newt and insisted that it was really all that remained of his best friend...

"She was overheard speaking ill of the Most Righteous Aftial!"

This was about to get a little tricky. The inquisition had surprised everyone by making criticism of Aftial blasphemy, arguing that

'... as you do unto the most pious of my servants, you do also unto me.'

And then they went into the village to buy meat."

meant that speaking ill of Aftial was speaking ill of the LORD. Myself, I was not sure about the Angel. Certainly she had helped the Church expand it's realms, but she seems to inspire worship, which belongs only to God. I realized suddently that I never had never asked my goddess of the morning what she thought about Aftial, and now she was gone...

"Burn her, burn the witch!"

The mob was getting out of hand. "Quiet, quiet. There are ways of telling if she is a witch."

"Tell us!"

"What are they?"

"Do they hurt?!"

"I shall perform the sacred test of St. Lynad. Stand aside, good people, and let me near the accused."

Virgilie gasped a little, since the test of St. Lynad was notorious for getting out of hand and spreading fire to innocent bystanders. The crowd knew this well, and drew back as far as they could.

Chanting loudly, I approached the young women who, hands tied behind her back, quaked in fear. Her witch's hat was far too big for her, and fell down over her face. I tried to reassure her with sympathetic eyes, but realized that the chant, which describes in awful detail the burns which will be inflicted upon the unrighteous was probably not helping.

Best get this over with. I raised my hands to heaven and a tongue of flame fell down from the sky directly on top of the witch. Immediately the dust in the air began to burn in a maelstorm that carried sparks everywhere. In seconds, the heat from the inferno had singed my robe and hair. With a loud cry, for the heat was unbearable, I dropped my hands. The fire vanished, and the smoke settled. There, on the blackened cobblestones, stood the woman, completely unscathed, but looking very shaken.

The crowd was stunned, and I seized on their uncertainty. "The LORD has protected this woman from the divine fire-- yet since she has brought this suspicion upon herself, I hereby cast her out into the Plains of Eternal Peril, there to reflect on how to lead a more godly life."

As the crowd milled about, I gingerly stepped over the heated rocks to the woman's side, and whispered, "Sorry for the exile, but you'll be safer there. The after-effects of being turned briefly to stone should wear off soon."

As I strode off, not feeling like talking to Cleric Virgile, I bumped into a perfectly proportioned man, whose face shone with a look of divine health. "Very impressive, my young friend," he said in a smooth baritone. "Come with me, for there is much to discuss..."

[Sedna]

Marignon, Turn 15

Ghost

The tree branch is smooth and the sun is warm. To the east, I spy rising dust. The armies of Pythium march north towards the Plains of Eternal Peril, covering the world under their purple banner. The wind tosses the tree, but I remain motionless.

Down below the tree there is a a rough dirt track. Used frequently enough to prevent large plants from blocking it, but not enough to prevent a covering of low weeds, grasses, and wildflowers, it is perfect cover for my line. This finest thread, strong as a rope many times its size, is loosely stitched to the tree across the way. It runs invisible across the path, then up into my tree to where it is tied onto a large boulder which I hauled up via a pulley with much effort earlier in the day.

My eyes flicker. The long evening had started at the pub...


"May the devils take your soul sir!"

"They most assuredly have yours already!"

"You spit upon the church, and turn your back upon the LORD of hosts!"

"Lies, and filthy lies! The Emperor Telicus, Lord of the Emerald Throne, worships the LORD in more truth than the blood-sucker Wic."

Wedged between the frightening Forest of Wic, the aptly named Mountains of Madness, and the new lands being conquered by Pythium, the most powerful and cruel fragment of the old empire, the horse people of Tapanete were quickly realizing that there would need to choose sides. Aftial had told me that there were many loyal worshipers of the church here. They would bring Tapanete over to the side of right if a few disloyal leaders could be removed.

"You dare insult the Archbishop! Right! I'll have your leg for that!" And the pub descended into chaos while I sat sipping my hot water against one wall, unnoticed by all.


A hoofbeat. I am awake without moving. Stupid to have fallen asleep, but still plenty of time. Mestor is alone, flying down the track on his horse to respond to the dreadful news that his prize stallion was murdered last night.


Horrible horse screams, and blood everywhere. Soon there would be guards, but I couldn't help feel a bit of remorse for this poor creature. Every man whose life I have poured out into the earth has been a man of power, with a thousand crimes, petty or great, which merit death, but this poor animal...


I shake the memory, plant my feet noiselessly. Mestor is only a few heartbeats away. I shove mightily and boulder plummets to the earth, snapping the thread up to exactly throat level. He makes no sound as he tumbles off. I leap lightly from the tree. Somehow he has fumbled his sword free. A weak stroke slides off my shield, then my sword flickers up under his rib cage and a sharp twist spills entrails into the sunny morning light.

The LORD has granted me victory again. All praise the name of Aftial, protector of the weak, goddess of courage, swift, terrible vengeance upon the unworthy!

His horse, confused by loosing its master, turns around, comes over and is looking at me. I reach for its reigns gently, "Come on, let's get you to a better master."

Esclave

997 A.P.P.M.
Salutations Magister Esclave,

The time is almost at hand. Your mastery of earth magick under the guidance of Amirdon has proceeded quickly, and my construction here in the forest is complete. Soon the Magus Temple, with you as the first student and teacher, will host many capable magicians not bound by the politics and strictures of the church.

But we must be careful. The Three of Three has uncovered a treacherous letter which appears to seek some sort of understanding with the undead menace to the west. The Church has always used such opportunities to purge those who scare them, and I fear they will try to pin this letter on me. In the council I can count on the support of Polgrave, Muszinger, and Amirdon. I cannot say how Forest will decide, but with Elkland's seat still empty, a tie will be broken by Marignon voting against me. Before this can happen, we must make ourselves strong.

I am disturbed, for I can find no information about the true author of this note. Post-scriptum I pen the portions released by the council. I know it is not much to go on, but I hope you will help me uncover this traitor and clear my name.

In His Name,
The Archbishop of Wic


Greetings,

The Church,----------------, has a wealth of --------------- notions about you. There are those of us, however, who take a more practical view of the world. ---------------------------- --------------------------------------

I must stress that I cannot speak for the entire Church, ---------------------------------------------- Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement, temporary truce, or at least a sham war to placate ---------------------------- my side. If you are interested in discussing such a policy simply send back a note with this messenger.

In peace,
A lesser foe


Esclave,

Be not afraid. You have sought me in your studies all your life. In vain did you look in books and ancient prophecies while I stood beside you and held your hand. In your heart you have always known, why else did you never ask my name when we were together? The LORD dwells in the heart of every man, granting him the knowledge of good and evil-- how to recognize angel from devil. When first your eyes beheld me they glimpsed a heaven you had never known in the dark cathedrals of the church.

And yet good men are still led astray. Seduced by power, they seek to use that power to save others, the kingdom, the church. Ever and again they are lost to the light. Be on your guard, but be not afraid. You have known me and your soul is claimed for God. Neither the dusty grave nor the hosts of Hell can separate you from His love, and thence from mine.

I go now into the wild. Though I will visit you in dreams ever and anon, I will not write again for a season, but which time it will have been three of three months since I left your side...

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.

Aftial

[Alneyan]

The Panther said:
Try going out of the country for 12 days...

Seconded.

This game is not about winning anyway, but about writing.

Seconded; if we were trying to win, I would start looking for a war just to bother someone and get killed as soon as possible (I have just been reminded of why I stopped using Rainbow Pretenders: they just die too easily, and when they die, it hurts).

So, I'm back online, and will resume posting as soon as possible.