Dark Armor: Reintroductions

The figure on the floor of the carriage groaned, then shifted its position slightly and went very still. "Ashmiren?" he asked again. "It's Pallian. You're in the flying carriage of the Black Knight -- which is me, so please don't stab me or throw yourself out the door. I'm on the rear bench, and I have..." 

He paused, and looked across at the nightmare lord. "...I don't know how to refer to you. Do you have a name? Pronouns? A name for your people?"

The nightmare lord looked back at him. "I cannot give you my name. I cannot risk it."

"Then don't. Choose something else that I can call you by."

There was a momentary hesitation, and then it said: "I have been the flame's shadow, and the shadow's flame... but I am free now, and need not do those things. Ember, perhaps? A spark waiting to be extinguished, or grow into something new."

"Very well, Ember." He set the rest of his questions aside as the Shadow of Edrias stirred gently, then eased herself up into a crouch and looked around -- at least he thought so; it was hard to tell through the eyeless blankness of her mask. 

Very well, said the Shadow of Edrias, and her voice was a whisper on the night wind. How did I end up here? 

"My friend Ember rescued us both," Pallian told her, through the deep, slightly-distorted voice that the mask gave him. 

The Shadow of Edrias tilted her head in a way that made Pallian think she was studying him dubiously. "I didn't know the Black Knight kept company with a demon. That would explain a lot."

Pallian shook his head. "It's a new development, and something of a long story."

There was a momentary pause, and then the Shadow of Edrias drew herself up and seated herself on the seat beside him. After a moment she reached up, and drew the mask off her head to expose her face. "Fallen lords, Pallian," said Ashmiren. "You really will make friends with anyone, won't you?"

He put a hand to the Black Knight's helm, willing it to release him so he could place it in his lap. "Not just anyone," he said, once his face was exposed and his voice was his own. Not my family, certainly. "It's not like I've had a lot of practice at this."

Ashmiren studied him a moment longer, then turned to look at Ember. "And you... Summoned but not bound, I take it? But you helped us anyway."

"This is so," said the nightmare. "Pallian spared me and released me from my binding. I thought he would appreciate it if I... rescued... someone who had helped him similarly."

Third-princess Ashmiren chuckled at that. "Then I owe you both. Where are we bound?"

"Wherever the carriage takes us," Pallian said, trying -- but probably not succeeding -- at keeping the bitterness out of his voice. "My father has always set its path for me. At a guess, we're likely bound for the Crypt." Even if his father hadn't issued such a command, it might have been built into the carriage's enchantments as a default.

"Well," said Ashmiren, "I supposed that's definitely one way to go to ground."

"You'll be safe there," Pallian said quietly. "I lived there for several years, before my father dragged me back to the court." It would be a temporary safety, if the Second carried through on his threats, but even temporary safety and a chance to regroup would be welcome.

Ashmiren frowned. "So you were just... stranded there? Being the Black Knight?" 

Pallian nodded. "Whenever my father called. At least until you murdered my sister; then he condemned me for failing to save her. He rescinded the sentence when he realized that he would need me to help deal with the Emissary."

The third-princess looked away. "You attacked one of our cities, broke our defenses, murdered its champion, and stole the Spear of the First. You and your sister set all of this off."

Pallian hesitated for a long moment, then nodded to concede the point. Still... "I wasn't accusing you. I barely knew my sister. I was just sharing some very private and painful personal history."

"Oh." Ashmiren leaned her head back against the rear of the carriage. "Well, that's awkward. I'm... sorry?"

Pallian chuckled. "It's weirdly easy to forget, but our nations were bitter enemies until about a week ago. It was always going to be awkward."

Ashmiren chuckled back. "I suppose it was."

Across the carriage from them, Ember leaned forward. "If it helps to know this," it said, "this is no less awkward for me."

Ashmiren turned her head, studied those inhuman features, and said: "Ember... you saved both our lives, I think. If Pallian released you, then you've certainly repaid the debt -- and you don't owe me anything. You're free to do as you wish."

Ember nodded in a very definite fashion. "I wish to stay with the two of you. You will not try to bind me. You will show me how to live in this world."

"Ember," said Pallian carefully, and Ashmiren shut her mouth and turned her head to listen. "We're both in very great danger. If you stay with us, you will be too."

The nightmare lord shrugged. "Then I will help you to deal with that, so that you will not be in danger and we can all be happy."

Lithos: After The Contest of Strength

"That was a terrible trick to play on your father, Lithos. Also hilarious, and a delight to behold." 

Tara Foundingstone paused to lean against the bar and look down at her son. Lithos was mopping the stone floor of The Shattered Golem and didn't look up. "He wanted to see me be strong," Lithos muttered. "Me! Being strong. I don't see why that's so important to him. I get things done."

His mother chuckled. "Well, you certainly got that done. Beat your father in an arm-wrestling contest! That took some nerve." She looked around, making sure her husband was still a-bed. "It was very clever."

"Have to be clever when you can't be strong," Lithos said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Will he be angry when he figures it out?"

Tara foundingstone shook her head. "He'll think it was clever, too, once he stops to think about it. Your father and I didn't get where we are without learning to value other people's skills, and I guarantee you that we have never once considered Flyleaf Windborne lacking because he relies on magic instead of arms."

That actually was reassuring, now that he thought about it. Lithos sighed and kept mopping. "Why is he always on about it, then?"

There was a long pause in which the clink of rearranged bottles and the steady swiff swiff of the mop were the only sounds to be heard. Then Tara said, "I think your father is legitimately disappointed. Not in you or any of our other children, but just in general. He wanted a big, strong child that he could raise to be a fighter, and he never quite got that. Pythia's the closest physically, but she followed me into the clergy. James is closest to him in outlook, but James isn't big enough for your father to wrestle around with. Amergin went his own way, and you and Whisper and Archibald are all doing your own things -- and doing them well." 

She paused, then started hanging a row of pewter mugs along the back of the bar. "Your father isn't disappointed in any of you," she continued after a moment. "He's just a little disappointed that none of his children turned out more like him, and he's not always good at expressing that without sounding like he's accusing somebody."

"So he is going to be disappointed when he realizes that I'm not actually some super-strong goblin prodigy that he can teach to swing an axe," Lithos said, lifting the mop and swirling it around in the bucket of water. 

"Well, yes," his mother admitted, "but he's also going to be very proud that you found a way to win a contest of strength anyway."

Challenge: Stormy Days

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I have not been following along as reliably this year as I did in previous years, but I'm still participating! Sort of.)

Prompt: Things I like to do on stormy days

I love stormy days. I love them dearly. Give me a dreary, wet, grey, misty day or a full-on thunderstorm and I just relax. There is no finer feeling than being warm and comfortable indoors while the weather rages outside, except possibly for going out and standing in it just because I can. 

So, things I like to do on stormy days include, well, everything. 

Make tea! A cup of hot tea is extra comfortable when the weather is being horrible outside. Write! Nothing puts me in the mood to write like the sound of falling rain. Go for a walk! If I'm dressed for it and it's not just miserably cold, a walk in the rain makes me feel alive. Crafts! Sewing patches on the battle jacket while it storms outside is extra satisfying. 

I love stormy weather. 

The Lost Girl, part four

The Hargrave estate was tucked back into the trees, discreet and authoritative behind its metal gates. Peter slowed the rental van and pushed the button, looking up at the camera mounted on the stones of the pillar that flanked the gate. "Ministry," he said simply. 

The gate rolled open, vanishing behind the stone pillar, and Peter drove them across the metal track that supported it. The driveway beyond was composed of interlocking stones, and the van was filled with a vague rumbling as it crossed them. They circled, and pulled up in front of the manor. 

Two figures were standing at the foot of the steps that led into the house. They moved forward as the van doors slid open, and were already extending hands as Peter came around the front of the vehicle. 

"This is Hargrave House," said the taller, older one, distinguished in her pantsuit. "I am Amelie Hargrave, and you are welcome here."

Chris looked around, taking in the two-story house, the separate garage, and the flower gardens that surrounded both as the introductions continued. Antoinette had moved up beside Peter, and was making polite noises at their ostensible hosts; nothing looked out of place. They wouldn't have been here if nothing was wrong, but nothing he observed gave him any sense that the Hargraves were doing anything shady. The estate was more soothing than anything else.

With identities settled and the niceties established, the two Hargrave women led them into the house. 

The outside of the house had been neat but plain, cut stones polished smooth and neatly mortared together, windows narrow on the first floor but wider above. It was large, but not especially showy. The Hargraves had evidently been saving their decorative impulses for the inside of the house: hardwood floors, expensive rugs, oil paintings with gilded frames, an elaborate chandelier in the front hallway, antique furniture... 

Chris didn't have a good sense of what constituted real wealth, but everything here looked both expensive and carefully arranged. He made a mental note not to touch anything. "I've arranged the sitting room for your use," said Amelie Hargrave, "since I assume you will want to interview us before you venture out in search of our little lost lamb." She gestured to a doorway just a little ways down the hall.

"Thank you, Materfamilias," Peter said easily. "Yes, we would be grateful for the opportunity to gather whatever background we can."

"Then take a few minutes to arrange yourselves, and I will send in my daughter Maggie to answer your questions; after that, I will seat myself to answer anything that remains. If you need speak to anyone else in the household, do please let me know."

Peter offered a slight bow. "I see you remember your own time in the Ministry," he said. "May I have your permission to let our ROs check things over as well? It will mean giving them the run of the house, but you can count on our discretion."

Amelie Hargrave hesitated, then sighed. "I suppose you must, and I assume that your pets will be well-behaved. Very well, set them loose; we have nothing to hide here."

Said none of the old houses, ever, thought Chris, but he nodded and glanced at Antoinette for permission. She nodded back. 

"If you'd be so kind..." He glanced at Elyssa, then looked back to Amelie Hargrave. "...could you have someone show us to the rooms where Tabitha is staying? A sample of her scent could prove extremely helpful."

"Of course," she answered graciously. "Agatha? Please guide the beasts to Tammy's room."

The girl who melted out of the shadows looked to be about sixteen years old, slender and pale and strange. She regarded Chris for a moment with large, dark eyes, glanced briefly at Maggie Hargrave, and then said: "This way, if you would."

The Lost Girl, part three

"All right," said Peter, as they emerged from the van and gathered behind it. "We're going to need to pass through metal detectors before we get on the plane. What are you carrying that might set them off and attract unwanted attention? I'm mostly looking for weapons, here."

"Pistol," Chris responded immediately. "Ammunition too, I'd imagine."

The older woman who was Peter's partner chuckled. "Yes, that would do it."

"Same here," said Elyssa. 

"The usual," said the older woman with a smile, and handed a bundled package over to her partner. 

"I've got mine covered," Antoinette said clearly, and Peter nodded. 

Chris opened his pack and handed over his pistol and ammunition; Elyssa followed his lead. Peter took all of it, and dropped it into his bag with a muttered word. "That'll keep it hidden while we go through security," he said. "You should have boarding passes on your phones. Once we're in Pennsylvania, I'll hand you your weapons back."

Elyssa nodded; Chris just waited. 

"You all understand the concept of airplanes, right?" Peter's voice wasn't condescending; he sounded more concerned with making sure that everybody was on the same page. "We're going to walk into the airport, which is kind of a giant dock for airplanes, pass through security, and then shuffle through the line and find our seats on the plane. It's going to carry us through the air, and land at another port in Pennsylvania."

Chris nodded, and Elyssa swallowed. "We can do that," she said.

Dark Armor: Escaped Prisoners

He triggered the countermeasure, and the stone around him cracked but didn't fall away. He triggered it again, and the stone shattered further, but being buried in gravel was little better than being buried in solid stone. He still couldn't move. He tried the left-hand gauntlet's missile, let it build, then loosed it...

I supposed that's marginally better. He could now rotate his wrist and wriggle his fingers. The armor's perceptions informed him that he'd drilled a passage to the open air, but it was only two fists wide and the gravel had already collapsed to fill it. Well, fine. He tried again, and then again, trying to remove as much stone as he could. He kept expecting it to close back around him, subject to the will of the Second, but it didn't. 

He still couldn't get himself loose. He couldn't turn his wrist far enough to free himself -- not and maintain the missile. If he could get the gauntlet off, he could escape as smoke; but the gauntlet would not come off by itself, and the rest of the armor was still pinned in place around him. That's a design flaw, he decided, not that he could do anything about it now. 

He triggered the countermeasure that was supposed to keep him being overwhelmed by a swarm of enemies, and it shoved enough of the shattered stone around him into the hole that he was able to return to using the gauntlet's missile to clear more of it out. He shoved more out, giving himself more room to move, and returned to blasting it away. The process was painfully slow, and probably doomed; all it would take was a moment of attention from the Second to undo all his work. 

Until that happened, he was determined to proceed. If he could remove enough stone to escape in the armor, he would. If he could make enough space to remove the armor, he would use his Smoke initiation to escape and leave it behind. 

He stopped, stiffening involuntarily. Something was approaching; the armor gave warning. It was a something the armor recognized, a being of darkness and fire...

The world went dark and Pallian felt himself moving, dragged through impenetrable shadows. Then he was loose, and he staggered at the sudden release. 

"Run," said the voice of flame and shadow. "The carriage is just ahead, but he is just behind. He must have felt me..."

"Later for that," Pallian ground out, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk when he was wearing the armor. He caught his balance and found the carriage door, then flung himself inside. "Let's move." There was something soft on the floor, and he would have stumbled over it if the armor hadn't been watching for him. He slapped the wall, desperately hoping that his father had left a contingency in place... or that the carriage had one of its own. 

The thing appeared on the bench across from him in a burst of flame, and the carriage door slammed closed. The carriage itself began to move, gaining speed and rising into the air. The bundle on the floor stirred and groaned. 

"I took her too," said the nightmare lord. "She stabbed your enemy, so she must be your friend. I think she was hurt when the building collapsed on her." There was a momentary pause, and then it asked: "Was that the right thing to do?"

Pallian's head was still spinning, but the further the carriage went without anything assaulting it the better he felt. He looked down at the carriage floor. 

What he'd taken for an inconvenient bundle was, of course, a body: a woman, tightly clothed beneath a loose cloak and hood, armed with various short blades and a wide variety of enchantments. 

The nightmare lord had rescued the Shadow of Edrias.

The Shadow of Edrias was a woman.  

He considered that for a long moment, and then he swallowed. "Ashmiren?" he asked. "Is that you? Are you all right?"

Terra Povos: Dwarven Citizenship

Cast List:
Amergin, male dwarf druid
James male-presenting halfling stabby thief
Pythia female dwarven cleric
Whisper male dwarf rogue
Lithos male goblin wizard
Archibald male human bard

It’s late and the evening is slow, and we are attending to our duties around the Shattered Golem inn. This is located in the town of Stoneshore, on the underground shores of Lake Opreto, not far from Silverkeep. Because there are people from a variety of races here, there are lamps with continual light along the streets and inside the buildings. Nori Thunderbrew is the Alderman, and Max Glibbergab (a goblin) is the Quaestor’s contact here in town; the Quaestor lives in Silverkeep proper. Max is also buddies with the Alderman. 

The inn is also where we live, and there is a back door to the tunnels (kind of like a mall). The second level is adorned with a woodlike facade, built from fungal planks, as a sign of a successful establishment. We all share a room. 

Max Glibbergab has come bustling in because Amergin is back in town. He’s like, “Man, business is booming, like when you figured out why Lady Gleamstone’s jewely was missing.” He’s feeling nostalgic and recounting our past discoveries. "Or when you found that guy Karl trying to purchase fake steel!" There are a lot of humans in this bar, weirdly. "I ran into some more humans in the square, and it turns out they're Karl's brothers, and boy are they pissed!"

He just finishes saying this when they all stand up. Pythia moves to intercept two of the guys. Another one casts Flare on Pythia, but it fails to affect her. Lithos puts the two guys on the ground floor to Sleep. A man comes down the stairs, and utterly fails to notice Whisper, who promptly blackjacks him, leaving him swaying on his feet. 

Archibald – “uncle  baldy” since he can't grow a full dwarven beard – casts a lullaby spell on two of the enemies upstairs; one of them falls asleep. The human wizard looks down the stairs at Whisper and Pythia and hits them both with Flaming Hands. Lithos looks at the wizard and casts Grease, sending the wizard tumbling down the stairs into the guy at the bottom, who is now out. The wizard takes a little bit of falling damage. 

James steps over and swings his trusty pick at the wizard, burying the sharp tip in his chest. The wizard is now dying. The bowman on the balcony sees this, curses, and fires an arrow at James, putting it through his shoulder for a fair amount of damage. Amergin, who prepared magic stones, slings one at the archer but misses. Whisper realizes that the stairs are covered in grease and not usable. He gives Lithos A Look, but Lithos shrugs; what else was he to do? Then Whisper starts climbing up the wall. Archibald drops his lute and pulls his crossbow, and shoots the archer in the back. Lithos throws an Acid Splash at the archer but misses; James ducks under the table. The archer shoots at Archibald and puts an arrow in him. 

Archibald: “You shot me!” He shoots back, but misses. 

Pythia grabs the guy on the floor, heals him back to being stabilized, and puts an axe to his throat: “Do you want to lose another brother?” Unfortunately, the archer doesn’t hear her. Whisper is still trying to climb. Archibald finally manages to shoot the guy, and he goes down. We stabilize him, too. Our first battle, and nobody actually died.

A few weeks later Max is back, along with Nori the Alderman. It turns out the two guys on the floor and the wizard were Karl’s brothers. Quaestor Hammerheart has been getting congratulations because apparently these guys were causing trouble across multiple delves; they were wanted men, and we took care of them. Max has a nice new vest, with silver buttons. Our father is positively glowing with pride in us. 

Alderman Thunderbrew comes around and congratulates us each, personally; he's looking pretty good too, after all this. 

Our father stands up and makes an announcement: it’s time for us to take our citizenship tests. Well, three of us: Archibald, Lithos, and James. The test is in two days! And he’s been saving up a bit for each of us, 250 gold apiece, as soon as we pass the test. The citizenship test is a written test, and then there’s a test of dwarvenly might afterwards. 

The woman who will proctor the test is named Ilva Sternbrow. She’s going to use the Shattered Golem as the testing location. Ilva has a written test that keeps with her; she’ll take rooms here, along with her two guards. 

We start preparing: oiling hinges, checking for what might be on the test, figuring out how to get the information we need. Yes, studying would have been easier. No, we aren't going to do it that way. Yes, it's vitally important not to let Amergin figure out exactly what the rest of us are up to.

Ilva arrives, accompanied by her two guards. Mom & Dad have hired a few extra servers. She goes up to her room with two guards and comes back down with one. She has her very fine quality dinner. Archibald attempts to schmooze, and offers to play whatever she wants. 

Archibald summons a lute, and begins singing. Ilva is not impressed. Whisper is hiding in the back. One of the guards came downstairs and took something to the storage room and locked it in; the key is no longer on the wall. Whisper is the only one who knows this. Pythia takes a plate up to the guard in the room. He’s pleased to have food, and chats with Pythia for a bit. 

There’s a chest at the foot of the bed, and a chair that he’s using to sit on. She doesn’t manage to get him drunk -- neither of them will risk Ilya's wrath by drinking on the job -- but she does gather some information. The guard doesn’t really like this assignment, because Ilva is a pain in the butt. She has a whole setup and she’s very particular about it. She knows every trick in the book. If she catches you cheating you’ll never in your life be a dwarf. 

He is very much in a hurry to get out of this gig, and he's getting short; three more months and out.

James is dancing on one of the tables, and Archibald is encouraging her. Ilva, suspecting trickery, demands that James get down. Archie just goes with it, and they do the Dirty Dancing lift. The crowd is going nuts. Meanwhile, Whisper breaks into the storeroom, and sees a satchel sitting on one of the barrels. This is new, and probably what the guard brought down.

He wedges the door shut behind him, and examines the bag. 

There are a dozen variations of tests, and different numbers of each – an average of six of each, but with a lot of variation. He takes one from each sheaf, stashes it elsewhere in the storeroom, and then put it enough blank pages to make sure it isn’t immediately obvious. Then he slips back out. 

Pythia heads out as the guard she was talking to is about ready to go to sleep.

Ilva retires, and the guards are in the room with her. 

We head back to our room. Lithos naps, then Whisper wakes up Lithos, James, and Archibald, and leads us quietly down to the storeroom. He makes his way to the room and pops the lock. We grab the tests, head back upstairs, and do our best to cheat. 

The time of the test arrives. Ilya walks around and starts announcing questions. Amergin drops Guidance on Whisper, who is trying to help us cheat. Whisper sneaks back out from our bedroom. He is extremely subtle, and she doesn’t see him. 

Ilva: “Today we will be using Test Form number four! What is the name of the Gard you live in? Question numbert two: What product is your gard most known for exporting? How many legions are there in Deepterre? Where are the majority of the legionnaires in your province deployed? What are the majority of the emperor's property taxes used for? The Legion is controlled by what? And the laws are enforced by whom? Who nominates candidates for consul? Who elects the consuls? Who appoints Praetors?”

James hands his test over and throws up on her. She releases the scores that night, and we pass; next up: the physical tests. Eight of us move on to those. The events include: a stone toss with a five pound rock; a bull rush; a grapple; a crate smash; an obstacle course. 

Archibald immediately bribes the other contestants to throw the contest. First one: Bob 20 gp. Second one: Jason wants 30 gp. Gary wants another 30 gp. So Lithos ends up wrestling a human to the ground, and he’s just blown away by how strong he actually is. Well, he decides, or humans are just weak compared to dwarves.

We are the beneficiaries of full dwarven citizenship, and also (OOC) we’ve had a basic introduction into skill use. We now have 1420 GP between us.