Music: Try Jesus

 Tobe Nwigwe:

RoH: Another Ambush

Remant was well outside of the Temple of Rilique and the square in front of it, and heading down the street towards Solicitor A'Maris's office when two men stepped out of an alley in front of him. Their coats were heavier than they should be -- likely brigandine -- and they wore swords and had scarves covering the lower halves of their faces. 

He stopped and glanced back, seeing two more men coming up behind him. With a sigh, he spoke a Word and removed himself to the far end of the street. He almost managed to melt into the crowd, but someone behind him was exceptionally observant; there were shouts, and the rapid pounding of feet. Here at mid-morning, the street was only lightly crowded; still, there were a few shouts of protest as the men raced after him. 

It would be simple enough to remove himself further, but Remant was starting to get irritated. This couldn't be an accident; they were too persistent, and too sure of their target. No, these four had been sent. 

So he stood and waited, not even drawing his sword until they came closer. All four had blades out now, and Remant extended his empty left hand as he targeted the closest one. The bolt of magical force took him in the right kneecap and sent him face first into the cobbled street, causing the man behind him to stumble and forcing the other two to maneuver around him. 

Remant voided a clumsy stroke from the stumbling man, and stabbed him the bicep, twisting his blade before he pulled it back out and kicked the man into one of his companions. The man's sword hit the ground with a clatter, and the armored plates of his brigandine coat did nothing to prevent Remant's point from doing its work. 

The next man came in more carefully, and Remant smiled. No mere ruffians, these; they were armsmen, and well-trained. People were beginning to shout as Remant slid in past the man's attack, caught his sword-arm at the wrist, and punched him in the face -- once, twice, a third time -- with the abbreviated basked hilt on his sword. The armsman dropped like a rock. 

The first one was just starting to stir; the second had sunk down against the wall of a cobbler's shop, clutching at his arm in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. The last one had started forward, eyes blazing with visible hatred even with the lower half of his face covered by his scarf. 

"Are you sure?" asked Remant. "I haven't killed any of you yet, and I'd hate for you to be the first."

The man didn't answer; he just stalked closer, moving from angle to angle with his blade. 

"You're going to lose a hand," Remant warned him. 

He came in anyway, and Remant dropped back, keeping him at a distance and feeling him out. The man was good, trained and experienced both, doing his best to close in without over-extending himself. If all four of them had come at him at once, Remant might have been in trouble. 

There we go. This was someone who customarily fought with a shield, but hadn't brought one along because it would be too obvious on the street. A side-sword was one thing, and a coat of brigandine was close enough to a leather coat not to attract too much attention, but a shield would have been another matter altogether. 

Remant shifted to attacking his right side, forcing him to shift his stance and parry cross-body, then came in and twisted, cutting down. 

The man's blade hit the ground, his hand still attached to it. He screamed, clutching at his stump, and Remant sighed, reached into a belt pouch, and pulled out a bit of cord. "Stay still," he said, as he looped it tight around the forearm, then used a moment of conjured flame to cauterize the wound. 

The man passed out.

The first man had come to his feet and was trying to flee, but his knee wouldn't support him and all he could do was hop while dragging it behind him. Remant cleaned his blade on the unconscious man's shirt, stood, and strode after him. 

RoH: Business with the Temple

"Your pardon, good sir," said the priest -- or possibly priestess; with the shorn hair, he couldn't be entirely sure. "Only those with business in the Temple may bypass the line."

"Good morning," Remant said, forcing himself to smile. "As it happens, I do have business with the Temple. Some years ago, I deposited some valuables with the Temple of Rilique in distant Sandovar, and I need to pull a letter of credit against that deposit."

The priest(ess) nodded. "Ah, I see. Very well, come with me." 

She led him into the Temple, making an almost immediate left out of the antechamber, and led him over to a row of desks, where another, older priest looked up. "Ah, Lesh. And a bit of new business, I see." 

She nodded. "He says he needs to make a withdrawal."

"I see. And your name, sir?"

"Remant." 

"And have you a token for your deposit?"

Remant nodded and fished the small coin out of his pouch.  

"A moment then, goodman Remant." The older priest rose from his desk and disappeared back into a sort of library, its walls lined with shelf upon shelf of identical books. He returned after a couple of minutes, carrying one of them, then opened it and began flipping through it. "Ah," he said after a moment. "Here you are. Yes, a deposit -- just at the end of the war. And in a rather large amount, at that. Very well. We can provide a letter of credit, or with a few days we could pull the sum together in coins. How much would you care to withdraw?"

"Six thousand," Remant told him, "as a letter of credit."

"Easily done," said the priest. He pulled a sheet of parchment out of the desk, filled in the critical sections but left the line for who the credit was to be issued to blank. He had Remant sign it as well, then made a notation in the book, and then on a scroll on his desk. 

"I thank you," Remant said, taking the letter of credit and rising from his chair. "A good day to you both."

"Likewise," said the older man, sliding the token back over to him. Remant bent down, took it, and followed the young priest(ess) out of the Temple. 

Music: Tear The World Down

We Are The Fallen: 

RoH: A Bargain

When Remant left the palace, he had a signet ring and a scroll proclaiming him the new Viscount Durzen -- which would likely anger Sir Dominic Reville, but that was a problem he could address later. He had what he needed for tonight, and could visit the temple in the morning; it shouldn't take long to collect the letter of credit. 

He'd taken a room in a rather squalid inn that charged either by the hour or by the week, and then used a variety of Expulsion spells to make sure the room was fit for habitation. He'd leave them in place when he departed; anybody staying there henceforth could count on being cured of most diseases, rid of pests and parasites, and  incidentally free of hauntings and other visitations. The bed wasn't comfortable, but he'd spent enough time sleeping on a thin mat laid atop stone or worse that he barely noticed. He sealed the door, laid himself down, and fell into the contemplative replacement for sleep that he'd learned from his Santu. 

The night passed uneventfully, and he rose in the morning, dressed himself, and paid the innkeeper another week's rent. He left his pack behind, and went to visit the temple. 

The Church of Rilique was a sprawling stone complex of connected buildings, with a line of petitioners in front of the main door. As the god of money and success, Rilique had become very popular among those rebuilding -- or profiteering -- in the wake of the war. The success of its priesthood had grown in no small part from their role as bankers, creating reliable ways to store money and providers of loans and investments with reasonable risks. 

Remant had opened an account with them when the weight of his captured treasures had surpassed the capacity of his magical storage. He should have found better things to do with them, he thought, but by the end of the war he wasn't even sure what money was worth anymore. You couldn't eat it; you couldn't fight with it.  In the twelve years since, it had returned to being a way of exchanging things and measuring how much was available of what, but... No, he still didn't really understand it. 

That wouldn't keep him from using it.

He bypassed the line and came up the temple steps, only to be stopped at the entrance by a priest.   

Music: In Plain Sight

 Winter In Eden:

Valthor: Kiela in Action

Kiela waited with the rest of the boarding party at the top of the stone pillar. She knew the drill: the explosions would be the signal. Valthor and his companions would board the ship from below, using whatever holes the mines had made, and work to disable the forward cannons. She was part of the group that would be dropping onto the deck, and trying to do the same from above.

She was ready for this. The shivering in her body was just anticipation, definitely not fear. No, she was going to go down there and do her best to keep the damned elves away from her lover. The captain wanted this galleon, and she could see why: it was huge, well-armed, and would be a boon for the admiral as well as a great loss for the  Seravandrian command. 

She checked her cutlass, but it was still sheathed at her waist, right where she'd left it. The same for her daggers. Her bow was slung across her back, ready to use, and her armor was still in place. She resisted the urge to adjust it. She was ready, damn it. The galleon was coming closer...

That's a cursed lot of ship, she thought, and then the explosions began.

She moved before she could think about it.