Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part fifteen

Skyflower and Morrigan moved as a team, one on either side of the trail, the companion animals spreading out around them. From the tracks and scents, the gnolls didn't appear to have done much scouting here in the woodlands; they headed out along the trail, and brought people back along the trail. 

The call was a bit of birdsong, possibly out of place here in the Ladraio Woods but unlikely to be noticed. Morrigan slowed, turned her attention ahead, and then slowed further as she advanced. The whistle she gave back was soft, still passably avian, and expressed her shock. 

The gnolls didn't have guards in the woods, because the gnolls had cut down the trees to create a massive clearing and build cages and guard-towers. She could see them keeping watch, though there were fewer on guard than she might have expected. Their prisoners were digging out something that had sunk into the earth, some sort of ancient stone structure... and some of the gnolls were helping as well. 

What is happening here? Morrigan just stared, watching. There were maybe twenty humans and ten half-elves, all in decent shape and apparently reasonably well-kept, working with shovels and picks and ropes. Oxen hauled loads of dirt away, and the gnolls were... well, they didn't seem to be abusing any of the prisoners. 

"This... isn't what I expected," whispered Skyflower, and Morrigan nodded. 

"Nor I," she replied, still studying the scene in front of them. There were pens for the stolen animals as well, and even something that looked like a half-planted garden.

"Nobody seems immediately in danger," Skyflower said, after another minute. "We should check back in with the others." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part fourteen

Rose drifted across the sky, flapping occasionally to keep her position but mostly letting the late-afternoon updrafts hold her in the air. The feel of air playing across her wings was like nothing else she'd ever experienced. Morrigan and Skyflower were down in the trees somewhere, making their own way with bestial companions to protect them if they needed it. Either of them could handle herself, but if some of the gnolls surprised them it would be better if the deaths looked like animal attacks.

Her mother was a priestess of Amun and her father was god -- no matter how minor -- but Rose had only truly come to understand herself as a druid. She'd never shared her parents' fixation on weapons and battle. She'd humored them, learned enough to hold her own, but she'd never be a deadly blade. On the other hand, she could take the form of an eagle and fly, or go unseen as an ordinary dog, or tap into the power of the land to cast her spells. 

She hadn't known her father as well as she knew her mother, but both of them had supported her decision. Her father, in particular, had frequently said that he only wanted her to find a place of her own, where she was happy and fulfilled. And her father had had a certain attachment to the druids, and not just Alnira among them -- though their connection had certainly made it easier for Rose to find her way to them. 

Her mother had been disappointed, perhaps, that Rose hadn't followed her into the priesthood of Amun or at least Corellon, but Rose had simply never felt that calling, that attachment. When her sister Sun, the golden half-dragon, had stepped into that role instead, Rose had been nothing but relieved. Even so, her mother had never said a word against the druids, or her choices, or...

The thought trailed off into the silence of pure shock as she drifted close enough to see the gnoll camp. They're weren't taking captives for sacrifice; she could see the wooden pens, currently empty as humans and half-elves and a pair of dwarves and even some of the gnolls worked with picks and shovels and ropes. 

They were excavating.

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part thirteen

"We're getting closer, I think," said Skyflower, studying the path ahead. 

Morrigan bent down and sniffed at the ground. "Yes. The scent is stronger. Best to move quietly from here." 

Rose nodded to them and dropped back, light-footed as she waved the others closer. She had the features of a classical elf, a blend of her mother's half-elven ancestry and her father's True Elf bloodline. "Okay," she said gently. "Time to slow down and go carefully. Morrigan and Skyflower both think we're getting pretty close, and gnolls... well, they can be pretty hard to sneak up on."

"Should we wait until after dark?" asked Risk. 

"Not all of us can see in the dark," Rose reminded him. "And the gnolls all can." 

"Oh," he said. "Right."

The battle-cleric Tybalt glanced around the group. "I say we wait here and let Morrigan and Skyflower scout ahead -- or Rose can scout from the air."

Jacques, the nobleman, nodded and set a hand on his rapier. "Seconded."

Rose nodded. "Let's do both. Stay here, stay quiet, and I'll let them know."

"You said she was the oldest?" Jacques asked quietly, as Rose walked away. 

Tybalt nodded. "And the most experienced. Watch this."

Rose spoke briefly with the other two women, then shimmered and transformed into an eagle. Wide wings shoved her into the air, and she circled as she rose, slipping through the trees and into the sky. 

"I should..." Risk made to start after Skyflower and Morrigan, but his half-dragon sister put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay here," she said, looking past him at the two woman who were slipping into the woods alongside the trail they'd been following. 

Jacques followed her gaze, just in time to see a pair of wolves and... was that a wolverine? He legitimately didn't know. The three animals followed the women, and Risk said, "Oh. Right."

"...What were those?" asked Yvette. 

The paladin Ash chuckled. "Rose is the most experienced of us. Brick is her companion and protector, a wolverine. He's not wearing his barding because Rose wants him to be mistaken for an ordinary animal. Morrigan and Skyflower are both training as rangers, and part of that includes companion animals for them as well; those are the two wolves, Geri and Freki." 

"So we aren't just twelve," Julien observed. "We're fifteen." He looked over at Risk. "Oh, this is going to be fun, New Cousin."

Risk smiled back at him. "Oh, yes it is." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part twelve

"Excuse me," said Morrigan, "I need to go catch up with my sisters."

"Of course," answered Julien, with a courteous nod. He fell back as she strode forward, covering ground quickly and gracefully despite her comparatively short legs.  

At his slower pace, it took only a minute or so for his brother Jacques and the True Elf cleric Tybalt to catch up to him. "Well," he said, "that was interesting." 

"How so?" asked Jacques, with that half-concealed smirk that indicated that he knew more than his brother did. Jacques was perfectly capable of deceit or false politeness with people he didn't like, but with his siblings he always gave way to that expression. 

Julien pretended that he hadn't noticed. "Well, Morrigan isn't wearing armor, and that guisarme she's carrying is too big for her, so I suggested that if we went into combat she should stay behind me and make her attacks from there."

"Ah," said Jacques. Beside him, Tybalt had turned his head away to study the brush along the side of the trail. "And how did she take that?"

"She seemed to think it was funny," Julien admitted. "She said that fighting in formation was never a bad idea, but I swear she was trying very hard not to laugh." He looked past his brother to Tybalt. "Is she a powerful fighter? Because she looks, well..."

Tybalt glanced at Jacques. "I am so, so tempted to tell you to wait and see, just so I can see the expression on her face. So... permit me to test you a bit?"

Julien might have bristled at anybody else trying to test him, but Tybalt seemed... More like he's jesting with me. And with Jacques. It seemed good-natured. So Julien said, "Very well."

"I want you to work out a puzzle," Tybalt told him. 

"And Morrigan is the puzzle?" Julien asked. When Tybalt nodded, he said, "As you wish. She does not wear armor. She carries a warrior's weapon, so presumably she's trained with it. That fairly well rules out her belonging to one of those orders that fight without weapons or armor; I don't know of any of them who teach polearms. On the other hand, her clothing is loose and flowing, with plenty of extra cloth..." He blinked. "She turns into something, doesn't she? Something larger than she is right now." 

"There you go," Jacques congratulated him. "Tybalt says she's a werebear."

"Truly?" Julien didn't try to conceal his shock. 

"Truly," said Tybalt. "Born to it, and werebears are not vicious in the way that some other lycanthropes become. But she learned fighting from both her mother and our father, and she's easily as formidable as Risk."

"Ha!" Julien laughed. "So it would work, especially since she could swing that thing right over my head." He chuckled, then added, "But I can see why she thought it was funny that I was trying to protect her." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part eleven

"So you're a wizard?" asked Azrael, matching his stride to walk alongside Yvette Fontaine. 

"Like my mother was," she said, nodding. 

"So... I apologize in advance if this is rude to even ask, but... could we compare spellbooks?"

Yvette looked puzzled, but not angry. "Aren't you a bladecrafter?"

"Yes." Azrael hesitated, then said: "That's why I have a spellbook. You can't make magic items without knowing magic, and the more magic I know the better the items I can create."

"Truly?" Yvette was studying him now, head cocked to the side in curiosity. "So you can cast spells?"

"Some," Azrael admitted. "It's kind of an effort to shift my focus from building them into items to casting them in the..." He fluttered a hand in her direction. "...more traditional fashion. Mom says I'll be able to learn anything a wizard can, but I'll probably only be able to cast the simpler half of that directly."

"That's... still pretty impressive." Yvette paused, apparently thinking that through. "Well, I mean, we're allies, right? So anything we can do to strengthen each other is all to the good."

Azrael gestured uncertainly. "That's what I would think, but I was also taught that most wizards guard their spells jealously."

Yvette laughed, and Azrael stepped away and gave her a look. 

"Most wizards," she told him, "produce scrolls for sale, which any other wizard -- or bladecrafter, I assume -- could add to their spellbook. Most wizards take apprentices, and the ones that are good masters teach their students as much as they can. As a general rule, most wizards only jealously guard spells that are dangerous for inexperienced practitioners to use, or that they've designed themselves and want to be able to surprise people with. Even then, they're likely to pass those on to friends or favored apprentices, as part of their magical legacy."

"Oh," said Azrael, then rallied. "So are you willing to agree with this? I can tell you what I have first, if that would help."

Yvette smiled at him. "Yes, absolutely. Even if it all comes down to me helping you out, I'm willing -- but I bet you've got something I'll want to add to my repertoire." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part ten

It took a bit of wrangling to get everybody moving, but only a little. Jacques could already see some new connections forming, a fact which pleased him; it didn't look like they'd have any trouble working together against the gnolls. His brother Julien, who'd inherited their father's looks and strength, was walking beside the woman called Morrigan, who appeared to be an ordinary elf -- albeit armed with an oversized guisarme and a pair of shortswords. Knowing Julien, they were likely talking about arms and armor and fighting techniques, which was doubly interesting since the elf-woman didn't look strong enough to make full use of the polearm. 

Tybalt, meanwhile, had fallen in beside Jacques, so Jacques took the opportunity: "Pardon me if the question is... indelicate... but how is that the crowd of you are all so very different?"

Tybalt chuckled. "You'd have to have known our father to understand," he said. "As a mortal, Ruin was... a complicated man. I suppose the simplest way to explain it was that in the years leading up to the confrontation with Galvera, he was in constant danger and so took comfort where he could. I think he also wanted to establish a legacy, to leave some part of himself behind if he died." 

He paused, then gestured to where the others walked ahead of them. "Rose, the druid, is the oldest of us. Her mother was the priestess Aesa, a battle-priest who worshipped Amun. At the same time, he sired Rune, whose mother Anica was a human paladin of Amun. Ruin sometimes said that Amun himself was at least half-responsible for their conception."

"Is Rune...?"

Tybalt shook his head. "He and his mother did not survive the battle with Galvera, who took their souls. I'm pretty sure that was well more than half the reason that our father found a way to ascend. My father could be very gentle, but he held a grudge like you would not believe. Anyway, shortly after the, um, encounters that produced them, he was approached by a gold dragon named Rita, whom he had helped to save from the control of the dark army. In the way of dragons, she produced a clutch: Sun, Scar, and Risk -- the three golden half-dragons. In human terms, they're triplets."

Jacques nodded at that, unfazed. His own father was a half-dragon, after all; he knew these things could happen. Though he supposed he was impressed with the courage of anyone who would lay with a dragon after knowing what she was. "And... let me see if I have this straight... Sun became a cleric of Amun, Scar became a sorcerer, and Risk... what?"

"Fights with his teeth and claws."

Well, that was interesting. Especially since his own sister Yvette was walking between the cleric Sun and the sorcerer Scar, chatting cheerily with them about politics and society in Caristhium. "Rather effectively, I'd imagine."

"Oh, yes," answered Tybalt. "He's very easygoing ordinarily, but in battle he's... ferocious. Scar is the dramatic one, and Sun is what you might call phlegmatic,  but Risk... Risk is basically just a really nice guy until things go too far and he stops being nice, and at that point it's kind of scorched earth all the way."

Jacques, who'd put up with a great deal of abuse during his time at Court and was used to putting on a polite face until he could act on his hidden rage, thought he could kind of understand that. "All right."

"Right," said Tybalt. "So the next two are Morrigan and Skyflower, both conceived a few months before the battle, when Ruin and the others were trying to restore the druids. Morrigan looks like an ordinary elf because her mother was an elvish werebear named Nym, who learned to bear arms -- pardon the pun -- and became one of the champions of the druids. Morrigan learned fighting skills from both sides. She wears all that oversized clothing because when she transforms, she doesn't tear through it. Our mother is still figuring out how best to make her some armor that can change with her."

"She's a lycanthrope?" Jacques felt his eyebrows try to climb into his hairline. 

Tybalt just shrugged. "Yes, but she's a born lycanthrope, and she's a werebear. Apparently that makes a difference. So far as I know, she has a handle on it: she seems to be able to change and change back at will, and I've never seen or heard of her losing control."

"That's... Okay, you've genuinely surprised me." She and Julien should get along just fine, then. "I would have guessed that she'd be one of our weaker fighters."

Tybalt grinned. "She'd have been happy to let you think so." He cleared his throat. "Skyflower is the daughter of Ruin and one of the senior druids, a true elf named Alnira. She... She's been studying under one of our grandmother's old friends, following in her father's footsteps. Right now, she's basically just a ranger, but eventually she'll start tapping into other worlds for more unusual skills and abilities. At least, that's what my mother says. Skyflower and Morrigan were basically raised as sisters; their mothers married each other." 

"Which brings us to you and your siblings," Jacques observed, though his head was spinning with this new information. 

Tybalt chuckled. "We're the easy ones, Baronet Fontaine. After Galvera was defeated and Tavros took the throne and drove out the demons, Ruin... well, it was never simple for him, but as he and my mother told it they kept visiting each other and eventually admitted that it wasn't a simple friendship or alliance. They married, and had Ash, who has now become a Paladin of Ruin. I was born next, and the whole idea of setting up a temple for the worship of our father was mine. Our younger brother is Azrael, over there, who takes after our mother Amaranth -- an Elvish Bladecrafter."

"So he's a weaponsmith?" asked Jacques, slightly worried. 

Tybalt made a yes-and-no gesture with his hand. "To be a Bladecrafter, you have to know how to use the weapons you're crafting. You also have to know how to put magic into them. So they... learn spells, maybe even really powerful spells, but their main focus is using those to craft magic weapons and armor, and maybe other items. They can fight, maybe not as well as a dedicated fighter but still effectively. They can even cast spells, kind of like a wizard can, but not as powerfully. But yes, his real power is in what he can create with that combination of smithing, magic, and martial skill."

"I confess I'd never even heard of such a thing," Jacques admitted. "It sounds fascinating."

"Azrael would tell you that it is, and honestly I don't doubt him -- even if I went a different way." Tybalt hesitated, then asked: "What of the three of you?"

Jacques smiled. "I'm the oldest, which is why I get the impressive titles and most of the headaches. I was trained for a life at Court: weapons, music, oratory, magic... a good mix, and it suited me. Yvette was born next, and as you can see she's a little more obviously a child of our father -- just don't mention it, she's also needlessly sensitive about how people see her. She took after our mother in the study of wizardry, and she seems to have a knack for it. Julien is simpler; he's the baby of the family, and also the one who most resembles our father. His training focused on arms and armor, and he loves it."

"He and Morrigan should get along well, then," Tybalt observed. 

"Yes. Given our fathers' alliance and mutual respect, I'm not surprised -- but it's good to see." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part nine

"Come out, children," Sarai called, and a moment there was more movement inside the house. 

The three children who emerged onto the porch, blinking in the sunlight, were half-elves. The older dwarven man was Markus, the woman was Sarai, the children were Tasha, Lithwel, and Sannasor. Jacques glanced curiously at Sarai, but got only a subtle shake of her head in reply. He responded with a faint shrug.

"These three are from the next farm over," Markus explained, after he'd made introductions. 

Of the True Elves, Tybalt and Ash -- the cleric and the paladin -- had come over to join the conversation, and Sun -- the golden-scaled cleric of Amun -- seemed to be herding the others to give them some distance. His own sister, Yvette, seemed to be helping. From what he could overhear, they seemed to be discussing how best to deal with the gnolls once they found them.

"First off," said Tybalt, "is anybody in need of healing?"

Tasha looked to be the oldest of the children; she was wearing a faded dress that was obviously a favorite. "No, they didn't... they didn't hurt anybody. They just took our parents and grandparents and the animals, and carried them away. They had a wagon with a cage on top of it."

"And they left you behind?" asked Ash, gently. 

Tasha nodded. "Lithwel tried to follow, but he didn't have any food or anything and..."

"What was I going to do anyway?" the boy asked bitterly. "Break the cage?"

"That was still very brave," said Ash. Like most of Ruin's children, she was sturdily built by elvish standards, with medium-brown hair and olive skin. 

"It was," Jacques confirmed immediately. "Can you show us where they went? As far as you were able to follow, I mean?"

Lithwel nodded, but said: "It isn't very far, though."

Tybalt smiled. "You see that girl over there? The one standing a little back from the others? That's Skyflower. If you can show us their trail, she can track them."

"Oh," said the boy. 

"How 'bout this?" Markus put in. "I come with ye, an' once Lithwel 'as shown ye the way I can walk 'im back here. Would ye feel safer that way, brave lad?"

Lithwel nodded, and Jacques, Tybalt, and Ash all nodded acceptance as well. "Then I believe," Jacques said quietly, "we have a plan."

Tybalt nodded. "I'll go bring the others up to speed."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part eight

The farmhouse was shuttered tight: doors closed, windows sealed, no trace of smoke rising from the chimney. Skyflower paused, studying the dirt of the road, then glanced back at the others. 

She was pretty, as Jacques had noted to himself several times already: dark brown hair that showed auburn highlights in the sun, milk-pale skin with a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, pale gray eyes. Like most of the True Elves, she carried a two-handed scimitar; she also had a longbow strapped to the side of her pack. "There are still people here," she said. "Also a dog. They're just hiding."

"May I?" asked Jacques, and several of the other nodded. Risk -- the flamboyant golden half-dragon sorcerer -- hesitated, but then nodded as well.

It took a minute or so to reach the wooden porch; then he was knocking on the door. 

When nobody answered, he knocked again. This time, a dog barked. "Hello?" he called. "My name is Jacques Fontaine. We're here to help with the gnolls."

There was a long pause, and then a gruff voice said, "Step back from the door."

Jacques obliged, then waited as someone unbarred the door and swung it open. It was a dwarf -- old enough to have some gray in his hair and beard -- aiming a heavy crossbow. Another dwarf stood behind him, this one a woman of similar age, holding a light crossbow at the ready. 

"Fontaine, ye say?" asked the man. 

"Jacques Fontaine, son of His Majesty Tavros Fontaine and currently Baronet of Westhill, which is just outside of Caristhium."

"Can ye prove it?" asked the woman. 

"Well... Yes, just a moment." He unlaced the cuff of his left sleeve, then pushed it up until the silvery scales on his outer arm were visible. "I suppose that's not technically proof, but it's the best I can do in the moment."

"Nay, that'll do for now. The King sent ye, did 'e?"

"In truth, he did -- but we would have come anyway had we known." He began rolling his sleeve back down.

The woman nodded. "And Ah see ye've brought yer troops."

Jacques wondered if he could just say yes and have the others go along with it. Probably not; it wouldn't take more than five minutes of listening to their good-natured squabbling to realize that they were something else. Cautiously, he shook his head. "We couldn't spare any, so we came ourselves." He turned to look back, still lacing his cuff back up one-handed. "The two with the silver scales are my sister and brother. The rest are children of the Champion of Corellon, Ruin, who fought alongside my father against the goddess Vecna."

The woman sniffed. "Elves."

"Easy, Marai," said the man. "These'uns are here tae help." He studied the group again. "Though that's quite a collection o' children for a single father, and an elf intae the bargain."

"Yesss,"  Jacques admitted. "All else aside, Ruin apparently had the sexual morals of a barn cat."

The woman snorted and the man guffawed, and all of a sudden they were friends.

Blogging Challenge: Superpowers!

Prompt: What is my superpower?

I feel like we've done this challenge before, and I suspect I mentioned that I've never broken a bone (and listen up, O ye Gods and Goddesses, that was not a challenge!) but that I felt like my real superpower was explaining technical computer stuff in ordinary-person English. I might have mentioned that troubleshooting technology could also qualify. 

All of which is still valid!

I was trying to think of whether there's anything else I'd add to that, but what I'm coming up with is, well... 

Writing. 

Okay, but writing as a superpower? Well might you ask. 

Yes. Writing as a superpower. Writing as an act of active imagination, writing as a way of using that imagination to keep myself sane here in the collapse of the Republic in 2025, writing as a way of thinking -- and working -- through my issues, maybe even writing as a way of helping other people. It's fucking magic, my friends, undervalued and under-appreciated though it often is. 

Writing is a superpower.  

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)    

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part seven

"So then," asked Jacques Fontaine, taking the lead while his sister Yvette settled back to observe and their brother Julien leaned against the wall to watch for trouble, "What can we do for you?"

"Join us for adventure, of course!" boomed the golden-scaled dragonborn who had introduced himself as Scar. 

One of the True Elves touched Scar on the elbow and drew him slightly back, then offered a small bow. They were in the Grand Hall, where Lady Emiliana Fontaine had often held court -- or dinner parties for the local notables. It was also where they'd held vigil for her after she died, and again when their own mother had passed -- but he pushed those memories aside. This was... Tybalt? Was that right? Jacques was pretty sure it was, though between the sheer number of new names the resemblances between the three new half-dragons and all the various elves was enough to test even his memory. 

"Forgive us," said Tybalt, as he straightened. "Our arrival was unexpected for us as well -- Magister Latosh only spoke of it as we were departing Duendewood. If it smooths the waters any, it was your father's idea."

"Forgive me," said Yvette, before Jacques could respond. She stepped forward. "I'm still collecting names and roles. You were Tybalt?"

"I am," he said, and offered her a bow as well. 

"And you are a cleric..."

"...Of Ruin," Tybalt confirmed. "God of the Lost." He and his full siblings had settled on that after some discussion; it was the thing that best seemed to them to gather the various roles and traits that had defined their father in his mortal life and after.

"And Ruin was our own father's friend, the True Elf who ascended living to Asgard, and with his friends freed the souls that Galvera had taken, thus becoming the Highwaymen."

"Correct," Tybalt said simply, with just the slightest glance back at the half-dragon behind him, who towered over him without diminishing his presence in the slightest. 

"Thank you," said Yvette. "I think I have that straight now." She glanced around the room, smiled. "I'm afraid I may need your names again at some point; the crowd of you is quite a lot to take in."

"We wouldn't have it any other way, m'lady," said Scar, but he'd managed to rein himself in and kept his voice gentle this time. 

"...Which brings us back to the point of this visit," another of the True Elves, stepping forward. She was, Jacques thought, Tybalt's full sister -- the paladin called Ash. "We're reliably informed that a band of gnolls has made their way down into the Ladriano Woods, and is raiding settlements around Aldpond. We decided to do something to prevent that, but... Well, Magister Latosh, would you take it from here?"

The old man nodded. "Your father much desired for you to know the children of his friend and ally, and felt that the three of you might also benefit from this experience. Possibly not in that precise order."

Jacques made a quick visual count. Twelve, with the three of us -- and that's if Magister Latosh chooses not to remain as well. He nodded slowly. "Even with no other troops, this is a formidable force," he observed.

His brother Julien stepped up beside him and said, simply, "If father calls, then we can hardly refuse. And while Aldpond lies well outside our demesne, our duty as nobles is clear."

Jacques sighed. He supposed the end of the poem -- and the rest of his letter to Lady Fiona Silvercliff -- would simply have to wait on his return.

Still, he couldn't deny a certain excitement. He'd been trained for a life at Court: oratory and music, swordsmanship and a variety of magics. The chance to test himself, to show the worth that the Dukes had viciously turned away from... No, I can hardly let a chance like this pass by.  

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part six

Their estate was walled, and while it wouldn't hold off any significant fighting force the stone was sufficient to deter any casual bandits. These, however, obviously weren't casual -- though they might not have been bandits, either. Bandits, in Jaques' admittedly limited experience, didn't usually teleport. 

More than that, though...  Jacques had taken after their mother in appearance, only showing silver scales on his shoulders and belly. Fully dressed, he looked completely human, which had eased his entry into court. Yvette shared his human bone structure, but had silver scales where full humans would have hair, including two small lines that could have been eyebrows and emphasized the silvery accents of her gray eyes. Julien had much the look of their father, fully silver-scaled and with a more draconic skull, visible claws, and heavy build. 

The group in front of the newly-closed gates were elvish, with three exceptions... and if those three weren't half-dragons, Jacques would swear off gambling forever. Their scales were golden rather than silver, so they weren't any sort of immediate kin, but beyond that...

An elderly human, robed and leaning subtly on his staff, shuffled forward. "Greetings to the Fontaine estate," he called. "Your father calls you to duty."

Jacques considered the man for a long moment.

"Sylvarin," said Yvette, suddenly. "Master Latosh?"

The old man smiled. "Yvette Fontaine. I haven't seen you since you were still setting tapestries on fire to avoid your lessons."

Jacques glanced at his sister in time to see her flush. Across from her, Julien had a look of slowly-dawning enlightenment. "Who've you brought with you?" he called down. 

"Friends, I hope," the wizard called back. 

Jacques sighed. "You'd best come inside, then," he said, and gestured for the guards to open the gates. 

DoT: Dinner and an Exchange

Cedric Bloodblade was sitting on the porch of the Overlook, apparently studying the bay below through the transparent floor, when Vallista arrived. He'd brought one of his lieutenants with him -- Dalia, she thought, a human woman in a gray robe who resembled him more than a little -- and a single visible bodyguard, also human. 

She'd brought the same accompaniment: her newest lieutenant, Derlina the half-orc, and Gazin, the lizardfolk woman who normally served as her secretary.  Derlina, she'd brought because Vallista wanted the woman to get a better feel for how these things were done; Gazin, because she was a skilled and vicious fighter. She didn't expect bloodshed here; despite everything, the Overlook was still neutral ground, and in beggars territory. 

Cedric was a remarkably handsome man, with salt-and-pepper hair and medium-dark skin. He looked up as she approached, nodded, stood, and then gestured at the trio of chairs across the table from him.  "I thought you might prefer not to eat inside," he said cautiously. 

Vallista ignored that; she was going to have to enter the Overlook sooner of later, if only to prove that she could. Still, this... she could work with this. "Cedric Bloodblade," she said. 

He nodded. "Vallista Greycloak."

He waited until she seated herself, then sat back down. He took a moment to study her, and she took the same time to study him in return.

"Are we enemies?" she asked abruptly, and he froze. 

"Ah," he said after a moment. "So this is about that crew that's been causing all the trouble."

Vallista nodded. "I'm told they were seen chatting with one of your couriers, and I have at least one Greycloak who swears they're working for you."

Cedric held up a hand, the movement compellingly graceful. "Yes and no," he said. "They hit us too -- the courier was Faldor, bringing in the monthly cut. Same one I sent to talk to them. He found them again, and they're in our territory so we've been keeping an eye on them."

Vallista waited. 

"You know the rules," he continued after a moment. "They crossed the Guild, they have to pay. Thing is, I think the Red Blades really are moving on us. So I figure they can pay by helping us solve the problem they started."

Vallista hesitated, then asked: "You're sure it's the Red Blades?"  

"Well, it wasn't them this time." He paused, then nodded. "Yes, I think it's actually the Red Blades. Or some of them, anyway."

"Huh," said Vallista. "You realize this crew might be the same ones who killed my father?"

"Word is, everybody in that room died by the same dagger blade. Is that true?"

"How the hell do you know that?" she asked. 

Cedric shrugged. "Look, I'm not trying to be indelicate here, and I'm sure your father's death is still pretty raw."

"You have no idea."

"Maybe not." He smiled. "I couldn't believed you invited me to meet you here. Talk about sending a message."

She tilted her head. "You liked that, did you?"

He nodded, still smiling, and then his expression became serious. "My word, on the Guild and my place as leader of the Mist Eyes: my people didn't kill your father, and you and I aren't enemies. Nor are the Greycloaks and Mist Eyes. We have enough to deal with on our own turf."

Despite her reservations, Vallista found herself believing him. It wasn't just his manner; the idea that the Mist Eyes were trying to move on them had never made any sense. "I want to talk to them," she said. 

Cedric considered that. "They refused my invitation to meet at our headquarters," he said, "but they asked to set up a meeting with me at the Ogre's Retreat tomorrow night. I know this isn't done, but... my business with them strictly concerns the Red Blades. You want to come along, see that for yourself, I'm open to it."

Vallista managed not to gape at him, but it was effort of will. 

He continued, "I'd need assurances that your people won't show up and try to kill or kidnap them."

"My word as a Greycloak," she said automatically. 

"Done, then," he said easily. 

"Done," she said. 

One of the waitresses had finally come out onto the porch, and they took a minute to put in their orders. The young woman retreated, looking only slightly troubled by the fact that they'd all shown up in armor. A couple of Beggars were watching them from nearby bridges, and Mother Lardner doubtless knew they were there already, but that was to be expected. 

"So," said Cedric, "What I want to know -- and what I'm hoping to learn tomorrow -- is who exactly is causing all this trouble. If this crew is unwilling tools -- and that's what they told Faldor -- who's pulling the strings?"

DoT: A Heartbeat Too Late

"Up there," said the boy Solvin, and the girl beside him nodded. 

"I see 'em--" Bassom cut the sentence off with a curse. "Fucking Mist Eyes? They's working for the fucking Mist Eyes?" He looked at Solvin. "I thought ya said they wasn't part of the Guild."

"They aren't," the girl said sullenly. "I followed them. They're just... I don't know, but not Guild."

"Well, that's Faldor, and he's one of the Mist Eyes. I can't believe..." His eyes narrowed. "'Less the Mist Eyes found 'em just before we did. I gotta get back to Vallista." He turned. 

"We're coming with you," said Solvin.

Bassom stopped. He couldn't really afford to delay, but... "Not this time, Kid. If I survive this, I promise I will make some introductions for you, but there is no way I'm bringing you into the boss's office while I deliver this news."

"Swear by the Twins?" asked the girl. 

"Fine. I swear by the Twins, if I live through this I will make introductions for you. If I don't, well, you've met some people now -- just be careful."

* * * 

"Boss?" called the lizard-folk woman Gazin, who worked as Vallista's secretary. "Bassom's here to see you."

Vallista's skin tingled with anticipation. Finally, a real lead. Even if the group that had hit the woodworker's shop wasn't the same one who'd murdered her father, this was at least a chance for the gang to rebuild some of its honor. And if they were...

She let the cold rage flood through her, then tucked it away as Bassom entered her office.  His expression wasn't the triumphant victory she'd hoped for; he looked torn. "I found 'em, boss." He sighed. "But I think I found 'em too late. Mist Eyes have 'em."

"They what?" Oh, right, that business with their courier, the one that set them at odds with the Red Blades. She calmed herself with a single breath. "Tell me what you know."

"Two of the kids what got run out of Bilk's place was willin' ta talk to me, and they helped me find the kids as was helpin' the targets. That led us back to lower east, and... they're stayin' in a safehouse under the spoke. But that courier, Faldor, he was leadin' 'em off as I got there." Bassom shook his head. "The kids, the ones helpin' me, they says this crew ain't Guild, but... safehouse? Mist Eyes? I dunno. What do I do here?"

Vallista considered that. Bassom wasn't the smartest or the bravest, but he knew when he was in over his head and she was starting to appreciate that. "...You did the right thing," she said, reluctantly. She could wish that he'd found them sooner, but what good would that do? If he had, she might have been able to take them before the Mist Eyes found them. But if they'd been working with the Mist Eyes?

That made no sense, though. The Mist Eyes held Lower City East, and their immediate rivals were the Red Blades in Lower City Southwest -- and maybe the Beggars in Lower City North. Only a bit of their territory overlapped with hers; if they were going to expand into the Middle City, it would make far more sense to move in on the Silverstrings' territory, most of which was directly above them.

She didn't know Cedric Bloodblade, but the man had a reputation as a canny and persuasive leader with good support from his own gang. The Mist Eyes controlled about a quarter of the lower city, as did the Beggars and the Red Blades. The remaining quarter nominally belonged to the Stevedores, but was a patchwork of small, independent communities that mostly had nothing to do with the guild at all.

She needed to know more. If the Mist Eyes took care of this crew for her, well... embarrassing, but as long as it wasn't widely known she could live with that. If they were, for some mad reason, working together...

"I need you to go visit the Mist Eyes," she said. "Don't provoke them, but don't let them turn you away. Tell them you've come to speak to Cedric Bloodblade on my behalf, and insist on speaking to him directly. Tell him I'd like to meet him for dinner, tonight, at the Overlook."

Bassom swallowed, but nodded. "I can do that," he said. "I'll get it done."

"I'm trusting you with this," Vallista told him. 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part five

Jacques Fontaine was technically a prince, and could have taken the throne -- if he'd been willing to try taking over a court that passionately hated his entire bloodline and likely would have seen him assassinated within the year. His parents had understood that, and arranged for Jacques and his siblings to inherit their grandmother's titles and estate in Caristhium instead. The lands and titles carried a comfortable income, and if the dukes were content to leave him alone, he was more than willing to return the favor. 

At the moment, he was busy in the library, composing a bit of poetry for the young lady Fiona Silvercliff, daughter of the baron, who'd taken to writing to him. It was pure silliness, about a paladin who'd sworn a mighty oath to recover an escaped hog for a poor farmer, and found himself in progressively more embarrassing positions as the quest progressed; it would end with him being hauled out of a lake by his cloak by the hog itself, he thought. Lady Silvercliff wasn't his only correspondent, but she was one of his favorites and he enjoyed sending her these little amusements.

The library door opened and his younger sister Yvette came in, focusing on him immediately. "Jacques," she said. "Whatever you're working on, stop it. We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" he asked, masking his irritation by habit. He hated being interrupted when he was composing things, but it wouldn't be right to take that out on Yvette. Especially if there actually was some sort of emergency. 

"An armed group just appeared outside the gates -- gave the guards a proper scare. Julien went to look them over, but we should get out there just in case."

Indeed we should. That was the other reason Jacques had hidden his reflexive irritation: Yvette was not in the habit of interrupting him with trivialities. He hesitated for a moment, but this was the library after all; he rose, and pulled an antique rapier off the wall, carrying it with him as he followed his sister out the door. 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part four

"Do you think they'll be okay?" asked Aesa. She was a half-elf, and ran the local chapel of Amun where Sun was now part of the clergy. "I can't believe your three..." 

"That was a surprise," Amaranth admitted. "Tybalt's always been... goal-oriented, but I hadn't imagined that he'd reach out to Ruin like that. If we're all being honest, I'm still surprised that it worked."

"I think they'll be fine," said Eva. "I suspect Grandfather may have lent a hand; he's had a bit of a soft spot for Ruin since our time at the Temple."

Alnira and Nym were holding hands, for all appearances True Elf and Elf. They'd been married for decades before Ruin departed for Asgard, with the result that Skyflower and Morrigan had grown up essentially as twin sisters, even though they only shared a father. Nym said, "I still worry, though."

"So do I," Eva admitted. She was the only one present who wasn't technically a parent; Sun, Risk, and Scar had all three been born of Ruin and her sister Rita. Still, as an aunt and de facto parent, she always came to the family gatherings. 

"How did you arrange the wizard?" asked Alnira, looking at Aesa.

"I knew Tavros in happier times, back at the Temple of Amun," the half-elf admitted. "When I sent him a message, he arranged it." She paused, reflective. "I was so relieved when I found out that he and Ruin had become friends." She looked at Amaranth. "I'm still a little jealous that you actually got to marry him, though."

Amaranth lowered her head. "It was... It was good. And I'm still sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Aesa said, and wiped away an unexpected tear for Vendril. She had a husband now, and other children, but they were still too young to go off and slay gnolls -- and her husband had contented himself with grilling food and providing drinks for the gathering. 

Nym said, "Have you considered joining the... well, the kids are calling it the Disorder. I think everybody except Sun has already, and she's still made offerings." 

"Amun won't mind that," said Aesa, and offered Eva a smile. "I know Grandfather well enough to understand that, at least."

Eva smiled back at her. "No, he won't. I don't think I can pledge myself, but I'm with Sun -- I'd still make offerings."

"Same," said Aesa. 

"Yes, me as well," said Alnira. 

"I've been thinking about it," Amaranth admitted. "They have a shrine, back behind my forge. I'm still just trying to decide if I want talk to him again, or if I desperately want to avoid it."

"He's not dead," pointed out Aesa. 

"No," Amaranth returned, "but he's gone."

Aesa closed her eyes and lowered her head, conceding the point.

"I just hope those gnolls aren't too much trouble," Nym said. 

"For a horde of our children?" Alnira responded. "And if the wizard's routing them through Caristhium, maybe Tavros' as well?"

"Those gods-cursed gnolls won't know what hit them," Aesa predicted.

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part three

"Latosh Sylvarin, at your service," said the mage with a bow. He was old: silver-haired and thin-limbed, wearing a dark robe and leaning on his staff. "May I ask who you are, that the King would send me in person to transport you?" He focused on the small crowd in front of him, then blinked at the three half-dragons. "Are you kin to him?"

Sun shook her head, and smiled without showing her teeth. She was a full head taller than the wizard, and had thrown on plate armor under her robes. "We're the children of his ally, Ruin of the Highwaymen."

Latosh froze for just a moment. Then he nodded. "I see. Very well. His Majesty had a request, so we will make a stop along the way."

Tybalt exchanged a puzzled glance with Sun, then said: "As the King desires."

"You're all ready?" Latosh asked, reaching up to stroke his beard. "Equipment and supplies all gathered, arms and armor readied, and like that?"

"We're ready," Sun confirmed. 

"Very well. This will take a few minutes, but it can most assuredly be done. I'll need you all to remain inside the circle while I inscribe it, and once we arrive I'll thank you to stay still while I make introductions."

"Where are we going?" asked Rose, as they gathered together.

"Why, the Fontaine estate in Caristhium, of course." Latosh Sylvarin frowned, as if that should have been obvious. "As the King desires."