Redemption: The Preludes (IC post)

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

Sivrfette appeared again at Ragz' side without any intentional warning, though she'd learned by now that the little Kobold was sharp enough that the approach could hardly be called 'stealthy'. For many of the larger, louder races echoing around the room she may have been near invisible. But to anyone with half-a-sense of smell, the unmistakable combination of road-travel and a freshly prepared plate would have made her presence obvious.

Food had started showing up at her table, though she had no idea at who's coin it arrived. Possibly hers, for all she could tell. Things were running towards the chaotic for the moment. It'd only taken a moment to gather a few things and chase after the... Lizardfolk? She wasn't certain as to the protocol, here. Kobolds and Svirfneblin had Underdark slavery in common, she knew that. Neither race was particularly aggressive, which meant that the ones who were saw both as docile livestock. That didn't mean the two spent much time in each others' company when not under the lash, of course. They had no more in common than Deep Gnomes and surface gnomes.

Sometimes shared misery was enough, though. The plate had been prepared for Ragz.

"No clue when D'Ategenon means to bring you food. 'Hope you don't mind that I stepped out in front of him on that duty?"

There was a combination that included mostly meats and vegetables, as Yopine didn't think Ragz looked like a 'starchy' kind of guy. It was held out as an offering.

"I'll have you know that I was enjoying our conversation. Wouldn't mind if it continued, to be honest with you."

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

The old kobold showed his teeth in what might have been a small smile. "Ragz too was enjoying conversation with gnomes. In many years of wandering, Ragz has only known one gnome well."

He gestured for the deep gnome to join him at the table. He looked down at the plate she set before him, then back to meet her eyes. "Among Ragz' clan, the sharing of a meal is a ritual of reconciliation and peace. One does not sit and eat with enemies, only with neighbors, allies, or friends. Is it so among the deep gnome clans?"

He pushed the plate so that it was a little closer to Yopine, who seemed to have offered him all she had, perhaps suggesting they share the plate's contents.

 

Edited March 29 by Wizard of the Coat (see edit history)

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

"I think it's that way with most decent people." Yopine reached for the nearest fork. She wasn't quite comfortable about eating with her knives. She knew where they'd been, and even she could only get them so clean.

"Meals are associated with family, friends, and trust in general. We don't eat with our enemies much, either, unless we're planning on them becoming our friends."

She sought after a piece of what promised to be chicken, but seemed to have a texture more like pork. It took a moment to realize it'd been fish, but with flesh so dense it was difficult to tell.

"I think this is some kind of shark. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I tried to collect a decent sampling."

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

Ragz listened to Yopine's explanation, pleased by her opinion and easy-going manner. He nodded a little bow at the effort should put into the plate she'd provided. "A deep gnome girl is thoughtf--" The kobold stopped mid-sentence, spotting the subtle change in her expression, and remembering her earlier question.

He'd been reaching to spear another chunk of something hot with his little throwing knife, but that effort too was stopped midway. "A deep gnome girl has short hair," he explained uncertainly. "Among the deep gnome clans, is not long hair reserved for females of marriageable and mating age?"

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

"Kind of..." She had to admit, remembering her years living in a 'traditional' Svirf' community. "I think we mostly do it because the men have so much trouble growing their own hair. It's as much about friendly teasing between husband and wife as anything else. Nobody's taken it seriously for a couple of generations now."

At least that's how it was in Heldapan. Her father's head was like a melon, and her mother's hair...

Svirfette went after another piece of food before memories from just after the fire could surface. It was a piece of onion that had been hiding a slice of grilled beef. The combination was properly distracting.

"Long hair tends to get in the way of an active lifestyle, so I keep mine short. Having it signal that I'm not looking to mate just at the moment is an unexpected benefit."

The smells were the worst. Yopine took in the heady scents of the room in an attempt to keep the recall at bay. She needed a real distraction.

"Interesting knives you have. I don't recognize the design, though. How do you keep them in balance?"

She had smoothly revealed one of her own blades. It gleamed as if freshly oiled and the leaded disk at its center had only needed a few minor cuts to ensure it remained graceful in flight. The deep gnome girl offered it, hilt-first, for examination.

[Rumrunner]

Rillik d'Sivis

---

Rillik was loss with all the mentions of food that would eventually come and how they should order some sort of eccentricities in this small town inn, so she had left unnoticed. Svirfette was off Svirfing, the boys were chatting, she was getting hungrier by the minute, even if a waitress had shown up, who would they talk to when everyone was playing musical chairs and roaming around like they'd been spanked with nettles and couldn't bare to sit for for than five seconds.

Hunger was fueling her temper as she made her way to the front counter that she could barely see over. "Excuse me, do you serve people here? We need food. Lots of it and soon. Whatever specials you have, I would like meat a roast anything that doesn't swim. I'm sure you can figure out the rest, bring it to the tables over there please and do you have a place to wash up"

The hostess's hand went to her mouth as she turned a bit red, then quickly got the little gnome a key. "Here you go, so sorry sweety, though you knew! The order's already been placed by Mr. D'Artaganon. We weren't ignoring you, the starters are almost ready, meal will be another ten or twenty minutes, takes time to cook and all. Feel free to go wash up first"

"Oh... Thank you..." She said, her cheeks quickly pinking as she reaching over and snatched the key across countertop. "I'll just go wash up then." A server carrying some fast fry vegetables and thin sliced meat as well as some battered somethings for appetizers passed by and she could feel her mouth water, but she'd chosen her course and began to walk away and her a voice behind her. "Just up the stairs and the first hall on the right"

She carried her stuff to her room, it was a double, but she wasn't sure she wanted to share. Spotting the washbasin, she was relieved to see that it was filled, so she dropped her things and dipped in the cloth. The water was cool and smelled faintly of lavender. The sodden wool was dragged over her face, washing away the road dust. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, over her neck, around her ears, upon chest and down and under her arms, it was cool and refreshing. As nice as prestidigitation was, nothing beat a nice cool wash with water.

 

 

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

The kobold nodded sagely to Yopine's talk of hair length among the clans of her people. Another small toothy smile flashed at her quip about unexpected benefits. He was a good listener: showing genuine interest, nodding, appreciating her humor. So much so that he had yet to take a bite from the plate she'd provided. Curious, he asked, "So you have no young of your own, then?"

He looked to the little throwing knife in his hand when she asked about it. Another of his treasures. It was more of a dart than an actual knife. But it was his. He set the knife down on the table to take hers. He offered a rumble of a approval--the sound resonating from deep in his thromborax. In his bullfrog voice, he complimented the gnome's treasure. "Finer than any of Ragz' knives."

Back home, his people would have considered it too fine a weapon to risk in combat. More likely it would be displayed in a place of honor in the owner's home. Otherwise, it was the kind of treasure that could get a kobold killed. But the gnome girl was not a kobold, and he didn't like to judge.

Ragz returned the fine blade. He pointed to his blade and explained, "This one is Gut. Ragz sometimes uses it for eating because of the affinity." From beneath his raggedy clothes, he drew three other blades, placing them next to Gut. They were not a matching set. Indeed, one was a throwing star. They shared in common only a shabby appearance characterized by chips, scratches, stains, and wear. Careful inspection revealed they were still serviceable. "This one is Leg. And this one, Shoulder. And last is Hand."

Edited March 29 by Wizard of the Coat (see edit history)

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

"Oh." Intoned Yopine as she accepted the return. "I was hoping you might be interested in a trade. But I've got nothing to match the value of that."

She took in the assembled arsenal, and hadn't witnessed such a sorry sight since before joining The Guild. Back when they were too young to get into real trouble, Svirfette and her 'friends' would turn anything from a discarded tin-lid to a weighty book of poetry into an effective weapon. These were the best he could do at the moment, and the pride he held in them showed.

Svirfette's knife spun away into the recesses of her cloak.

"Strictly speaking, these aren't mine. I get them from my employer, at a fair discount mind you. But still not exactly for free. Brought enough with me to share with everyone, so feel free to have one if you'd like. They don't mean much more to me than a way to draw blood, but they're reliable and accurate. 'Still not worth even one of those pieces of yours." She gestured, empty handed, over Ragz' blades. "Each one bought and paid for with experience, serious effort, and maybe a little blood. Too rich for my purse."

Instead, the larger knife from her waist was produced and placed on the table. It was edged along one side and serrated, like a survival knife. But the blade was too long for just that. It may have well been a short-sword in her hand.

"How about this? No replacement for it on hand, so it's one of a kind just at the moment. Would you have anything to trade for this?"

[Civit]

Aly Treltor

---

"I've meant to ask before Svirf, can you teach me to throw those? My father and brothers taught me to hunt with a bow, but since I almost always have my lute strung across my back, I don't carry a bow."

Aly dips some bread into the olive oil that came to the table. She had tasted better, but it had been awhile so she still enjoyed it.

"My swords both have names. But most Elven made blades do. I kind of like the tradition. Not just because it makes for good verses and lyrics. But just the fact that it recognizes the swordsmith's craft."

Aly drew the perfectly matched pair of leafblades to show the craftwork she refered to. Elvish writing etched on each blade. "The runes on this one say Starling. And this one Tanager. Both considered two of the most musical songbirds."

Edited March 30 by Civit (see edit history)

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

The plate was nudged towards Aly with quick words of "We can trade knives in a bit." to Ragz. Both were encouraged to help themselves as she went after one of the few pieces of potato that had been captured. The followup search for mushrooms was interrupted by a brief flinch at the use of the word 'Svirf'.

It was a very common slur that Rillik had somehow managed to reclaim with her 'Svirfette'. As there had been no malice in Aly's use of it, Yopine decided that was just going to be her new nickname going forward. She'd been called worse, and for good reason.

"See? That's how I thought it was going to go." She pointed at the weapons which were both beautifully made and named. "All elegance and romance, hand-crafted blades with history. Personality." She changed her focus to Ragz' collection, poor appearing though it was. "Or hard-won and precious. Instead, I ended up with this."

One of her own throwing knives were back on the table, though it would have taken a quick eye to have seen it placed. It was identical to every other one that she carried, the effect didn't appear to be deliberate. It was an industrialized 'perfection' that could only be found at the far-end of an assembly line.

"Useful as it is, none of them will ever have names. And I brought plenty to either share or trade away if needed, so both of you are welcome to a few if you want. They're easy enough to throw as-is, but once you learn how to make adjustments they're great for adapting to individual techniques."

In demonstration, she ran her thumb over yet another knife that had found its want into her hand. The leaded disk at its center had been roughed just there to give her a slightly better grip, which small cuts in strategic places made up for any balancing thrown off from putting an edge on the blade. She offered it to the Human for a closer examination.

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

Ragz nodded a little bow to Yopine's offer, but the knives were too fine for a kobold such as he. Not sure how to reject the deep gnome, he swallowed and explained as best he could. "A deep gnome gi-- woman is generous. But Ragz does not need many throwing knives. Ragz moves fast and stealthy, reaching enemies to fight with the Persuader."

The kobold returned Leg, Shoulder, and Hand back to their concealed locations on his person. Once again he took Gut in hand. He looked to the plate, search for tasty bite. He was hoping for more potato, but seeing that the deep gnome shared the interest, he speared a bitesized bit of sauce-slathered meat and popped it into his mouth.

[Zelphas]

Torben

---

Torben suppressed a sigh and took a very slight sip of the ale, considering Ragz's question. "I thought Barlow followed us in. I'm not sure where he went..." He fell silent as other conversations take over Ragz's attention, casting about for the young man that they'd traveled with for a short time. Ah, there he was; Barlow had wandered over to the other side of the inn, and seemed to be helping one of the waitresses carry the dirty plates and mugs. Torben's brow furrowed; for some reason, Barlow seemed determined to stack as many plates as he could, and that pile didn't look terribly sturdy...

At some point, the group crowding over to his table caused Torben to shift until his back was now to the wall, and he had a view of the entire room. He looked over it for a moment, then reached one long arm back into one of his packs, pulling out a sheet of thick paper, a flat case that had a few flecks of paint on the sides, and several long-handled brushes. Setting the brushes carefully on the table so that their bristles hung over the side, Torben flipped open the case, revealing a much-abused and depleted set of paints in various colors. He still had plenty of brown, and the ale might work as water...

With one brush about twice as long as his hand was wide, the brown paint, and a few careful strokes, Torben captured the lines of the people in the room: the waiters moving about, Barlow huffing under too many dishes, rags spearing meat with Gut, the short-haired gnome and the human woman showing off knives, the metal-smelling human man and the one touched by fire talking quietly. He realized with a start that the half-orc, the innkeeper, and the other gnome woman were out of the room already...

"Well, it's a busy enough scene as it is," he muttered to himself, dipping the brush in the mug of ale to see how it cleaned. It muddied anything that came afterwards, but that might work for the picture, or he could try to make it work. "Let's see... blue, grey, green, yellow... who knew paint was so rare out in the world..." Torben tried to keep his voice low enough not to bother their conversations, continuing to add touches and details to the sketch of the scene in front of him.

Edited March 31 by Zelphas (see edit history)

[PixCO]

Yopine (Svirfette) Quietclock

---

"I think I'll call this one..." She picked up the big knife and flourished it above the table. "George! George the Knife!"

She wore a half-serious grin as the pronouncement could be heard over the dinner rush. All of those tales of adventure that had lured here into a life a crime had weapons with names in them. At times it was almost like a right of passage. You couldn't be taken seriously as a hero unless your sword had a mailing address of its own.

"I'll just call the little ones The Boys. There's too many to give each one their own name, but bring out Persuader. I'm sure he'd love to meet Aly's little birds."

Svirfette noted the quiet Bubgbear moving slightly further away and wondered at Rillik being missing. It seemed she could be missing a fun discussion on techniques, but maybe anxiety was getting the better of her again? The Deep Gnome Girl would have to find an excuse soon to check on her.

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

Ragz was transfixed by Torben's artwork, eyes wide as Torben put paint to paper. He made an effort to follow Yopine's words but lost most of them as the brush strokes resolved into people occupying the tavern.

Shaking his head, Rags caught the deep gnome's mention of the Persuader. Turning his full attention to the deep gnome, her most recent words seemed to finally penetrate his mind. Pleased to oblige her, he drew the Persuader and placed it on the table before him. It looked a lot like a juggling pin. With teeth marks where the black dog had picked it up in games of fetch. Fashioned from a single piece of yew wood, the baton bore no metal bands that might have made it a more effective weapon.

"A traveling band of Gur minstrels and performers," the kobold began, his eyes on the Persuader, recalling a distant past. "Highwaymen, actually. One of the Gur used the Persuader and Ragz' skull to great effect. After the battle, Ragz took the Persuader and found that it fit perfectly in his hand, and just the right heft and length for the stick-fighting dance. The Persuader is an old friend, and excellent dancing partner."

Edited April 2 by Wizard of the Coat (see edit history)

[Varen Tai]

Does this pain ever stop? I do not think the worst tortures devised by the devils in the Nine Hells could compare to this exquisitely personal torment. Though I know that I am protected from most forms of physical pain, I know of no magic that can protect from this. There is no Remove Guilt spell, or Protection From Inner Fire. All my magic, all my experience, and it is worthless to me right now!

Again I wonder – is this why my brother chose to become a lich? Or was his conscience already seared so badly that lich-hood was merely the next logical step? I have never been tempted to follow in those footsteps before, but now… That possibility of release from this suffering has never seemed so sweet.

What do I do? Where do I turn?

I am lost!

I have no gods to pray to, no hope of divine intervention. I have long ago removed myself from that vain hope. And Fate is deaf! Would She respond if I called? I have seen many call before, and She blithely ignores them, going on her own way, touching here and there with Her own unfathomable agenda. Though I am great in the world and among the planes, yet I am but a speck next to Her! Why would She listen to me? Why should She even care? I am nothing!

I am alone! I have separated myself from anyone that I could talk to for fear of being betrayed again. But I have betrayed myself in that fear, for my fortress has not just kept others out, it has kept me in.

I have nothing save a hollow structure of power beneath me, but what does it mean? There is no hope in my maneuvering, just the game of power. And perhaps it is well-called a game! It is meaningless! Worthless! I have spent my life chasing an empty dream! How is it possible that something that had so much meaning to me at the time is utterly devoid of meaning as I look at it now?

I cannot bear these Truths! My whole life is crumbling before me, and I have no power to stop it! But should I stop it? I deserve this! I have lied, cheated, backstabbed, and bludgeoned my way into power. Who am I to escape for eternity the consequences of my actions? In my arrogance, I have assumed myself to be above all these things!

But I dig deeper, and I see the question – Who determined these consequences? Why should my heart burn like this? I am betrayed by myself! I would remain in control of myself! I am the master of my own fate, and no one else! Who made me to feel guilt for these things? I hate it! I do not want these feelings! I was happier when I schemed and manipulated without remorse, when I was convinced of my place in the cosmos! But this? I do not want it! Why should my heart master me? I am my own enemy!

A lich is master of his being. A lich is not tormented by his betraying heart. It would be simple. I have the power and knowledge to effect this change, and I could be free of this pain, of this betrayal. I would be my own man again! No one else cares! If I do not find my own path, then I am doomed! Yes, yes, this is a possibility! I could cut this heart from me forever! No more pain, no more remorse!

But… you would be alone again. It is not my power lust or logic that brings me here. Do you care what happens to me? What if you do? Am I so emotionally desperate that the mere possibility of someone caring is enough to bring me back from the brink? But that possibility, the chance that you would care if I threw myself into undead oblivion, feels like a tantalizing silver thread in the darkness. Faint, tenuous, but bright.

I cannot… I cannot abandon you.

I do not understand. Why can I not bear the pain for my own sake, but I am willing to bear it for yours? Even now, the burning seems less! But why? You cannot talk! I cannot see your thoughts or feelings! Why should I care about you? And why do I care? And yet I do. This makes no sense! There is no reason that staying in my pain for your sake should make it less, and yet the fact is before me. This truth seems beyond the gods! None of them have the power to create such fundamental consequences! Who, then? Lord Ao? He does not care about this creation! Fate? I could believe that Fate has such power, but She does not care either! Who? Where did this come from? Are there other truths like this that I have missed?

I must have sensed something important, or else why spend my time just watching these seven people? I can go back in my mind even now and recall with perfect clarity the events of that day. Why does this story keep drawing me back? There must be answers there for me! But who put them there?

The food came, Rillik came back downstairs, they ate, and then spent the rest of the day gathering supplies and exploring the town. Ragz and Torben said their goodbyes to Barlow and promised to come back through to visit again. D’Ategenon returned that evening  in his normal taciturn mood after speaking to Jon Bigge at length. When Torben tried to thank the half-orc for lunch that evening in the inn’s main room, he nodded without saying a word and went back to his deep thoughts. The bugbear, afraid he had offended D’Artegenon, practically tiptoed out of the room. 

The two guardsmen Roland had offered a drink earlier showed up at the inn when they were off duty during dinner, and Roland sat with them for a time, swapping stories and laughing. Aly, Yoipine, and Rillik had wandered off to do their own thing, leaving Wyck sitting with Roland. 

Before retiring for the evening, the half-orc let the rest of his group know that they would be getting up early and heading out before first light. The soldier knew early mornings well and woke even before the soft knock on her door, but the rest followed quickly and quietly after the same signal. Jon was waiting for them at the front door, with a knapsack he handed to D’Artegenon on the way out. Everyone else could smell the food, and the half-orc clapped his friend on the shoulder, gave a nod, and they headed out.

There were various early morning folks awake already - the bakery lights were on, with the oven already creating the goods for that day - along with others walking the streets, including guardsmen, but no one gave them any notice as they headed north out of the town. 

They had walked about thirty minutes in mostly silence when Wyck and D’Artegenon glanced at each other. “Let’s get off the road and hide over there in those trees,” the older man rumbled. The group quietly followed him and sat in the darkness. 

It was only ten minutes later that some shadows emerged from the road towards the town, heading the same direction as the group, but it was to everyone’s surprise when a small dark shape split off from the road and bounded towards the trees, barking. Mist hissed and jumped back, but they could quickly see Ragz and Torben chasing the stray black dog towards the trees, who was now jumping around and barking excitedly to see them again.

This time, there was no touch of Fate, but I still found myself wondering about the dog.

Edited April 2 by Varen Tai (see edit history)