Make Sigurd explain the Kraken NOW. As jarl, it is of practical importance.
[5+1-3] Sigurd shakes his head slowly. "You are Haegar, born and perhaps bred, but you have lived too long in the Low Lands. I cannot tell you what you wish to know." He leans in and whispers, even though you are both alone. "But what I can tell you is this;
"The Kraken was a great man, the greatest Haegar who ever lived - even greater than Thrymm Longaxe. When he passed, too soon, his most trusted fought for the right to succeed him. Those of us who were his own guard, the Kraken's Arms, split and tried to preserve what we could. We failed to do so, but our common bond was what forced the Kraken's Compact - we are bound by oath and blood never to pass on the details of our struggle until a new Kraken has risen."
Sigurd straightens himself up.
"That is all you can know. No other man will share more with you and if you should spread but a breath of that to a lowlander, your birthright as Haegar is forfeit. This is a matter of Haegar, not outsiders, and you must still prove that a Haegar you are. The invasion of your former lands will do much to assist this. Once you have decided how much of a tithe to take of the loot from the campaign, we can ready for war. If we act now, warriors should gather by midwinter."
Sigurd takes to his feet and picks up a pair of axes from where they hang on the wall. He tosses you one, which you catch. Your arm hurts; you are still healing from the fight with Erik. You watched him burn on a hero's pyre and his ashes buried.
"You will lead my people to victory, brother Osir. Your people, if you prove yourself. We will march south into Windheath. We will burn, we will kill, we will pillage. Osport will be spared, and I beg you humbly to spare Northwatch's fields also - for their lord did me a kindness I must repay. No doubt we will need to take the fort, though I ask you to permit me freedom in that siege. There are some there who should be spared - again, I owe them a debt.
"Until then, we should train. Your gambit was risky, Osir, and though I admire your patience in the fight your skills are lacking. Come, I will teach you as the Kraken before taught me. You will fight as befits a Varchban yet."
Sigurd trains Osir in Axemanship for Autumn. [12254 = 0 pts + 50pts training. 50/100 trained points.]Edgard turned around and went back inside, disinterested in in the discussion between the nobles. The most important thing was accomplished, the kingdom was now united again.
As he sat at a table and picked up another batch of letters to be read, he went through all the reports he got. troop movements, demobilization, Grey Death investigation....
Wait a minute, that is interesting...
Letters from Talinth indicatd that the case went deeper than just Arendalis. An elaborate plot within the kingdom... Edgard was happy about the blockade of Arendalis nonetheless. The kingdom was isolated and Charles was strangled.His demise was already laid out in the mind of the Regent.
One last piece remained to be solved. Edgard did not forget about come Osir, and he feared what would happen, now that the man is gone north.
He immediately wrote a letter, to be carried directly to Osisr's castle, and from there, to wherever the man has gone too. Edgard did not know if he would manage ot get the message though before the winter, but it remained to be seen...
To comte Osir,
The conflict is over. You can cease the operation. I convinced Richard about his mistake and the investigation into Grey Death turned up new things.
You can return now.
Edgard
A letter is sent to Osport, to be delivered to Osir, wherever he is.
The letter was passed to a courier in Osport who rode valiantly and diligently into the north. He evaded scouts, made his way safely around Adderkeep without being harried and galloped across the plains to the Haegar muster-city of Gatewatch. Showing Osir's colours he was allowed into the city and met in one of the longhouses by Sigurd, Jarl Osir's Herse.
[6] Herse Sigurd walked into the longhouse, still with his training axe in one hand from an exhausting session with Osir. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his free forearm.
"What news from the Low Lands, then?" he asked.
"Excellent news, sir!" squawked the courier. "A letter from Regent de Arborvent. The war is over, and Comte Osir can return home!"
"I see," said Sigurd, and swung the axe into the courier's neck. The courtier stumbled back in shock and pain and tried to cry out. Sigurd pulled the axe back and swung three more times until the courier lay still in a pool of his own blood. Sigurd summoned one of the housecarls at the entrance.
"Put the body in the smokehouse for a couple of days," he said. "Don't bother informing the Jarl."
Sigurd picked up the messenger's bag and left the longhouse, returning to his own lodgings (his sister's house, once). He opened up the bag and examined the letter, carefully prising away the unforgeable wax seal from the envelope and setting it to one side. He picked up a pen and a fresh sheet of paper, thought for a few moments and then began to write. When he had finished, he replaced the paper in the slightly bloodied envelope and then resealed the wax onto it with a candle flame. The Conricht seal only very slightly blurred.
Two days later, Sigurd came to Osir with the smoked body of a courier, several arrows still protruding from his corpse.
"Bad news, my Jarl. A courier from Windheath was sighted passing by Adderkeep and the carls there shot and butchered him. It was only when the Herse, who can read Adranic, saw the letter that he realised the man was not a spy but one of your own. He had the body smoked and sent here with the letter he carried."
Sigurd handed Osir a sealed letter, stamped with the Royal Seal of Windheath. The writing within looked hurried and unfamiliar, as if Edgard had needed to write it with little time to spare.
To Comte Osir,
We have been forced to retreat from Stormstead. Richard has taken the city. The Grey Death has only worsened. You are our last hope. Bring as many men as you can and start making this war costly for Richard.
Return with strength and honour.
Edgard
TalinthYou approach the heavy bronze doors of the blue stone temple. Just before you move to take one of the thick bronze handle rings the doors open inward, smoothly and without a sound. The steps leading down into the chamber below are ill-lit and a thick lavender-scented blue smoke pervades the air. You take a few steps into the temple and the doors slam shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing Sahainn outside. There are no handles on the inside; the bronze is completely smooth.
As you descend the steps, you become aware of a sibilant whispering in the distance. With each step you take, more whispers join the first until a chorus of raspy tongues are almost chanting unknown words in Old Eldanic. Alcoves flank the steps on either side from which strange black and grey statues peer in the shape of curious and unsightly beasts: men with the limbs of lions and the heads of drakes; snakes with the breasts of a woman and the head of a shark; ordinary men with only gaping holes through the back of their heads where the eyes should be. You swear one of them winks at you.
When you place your foot on the base of the stairwell and the ceremonial pit of the temple the discordant whispers instantly cease. After three heartbeats you hear music from somewhere in the distance; you try to place where and feel as if it is coming from all around you. The same four notes, like the plucked strings of a lyre, over and over again. After a while the notes seem to grow slightly discordant to each other, the length of the notes and the periods between them shortening and lengthening just enough that no matter how hard you try you cannot stop listening even as it deeply offends your ears.
Blue light filters from somewhere above, highlighting a spot in the centre of the pit. You circle around the spot for a moment, seeing glimpses of the grey stone walls around you. They seem curved in strange patterns that you cannot quite make out in the darkness and you get a strong sense of a spiral of stonework around you.
Seeing no other exits or entrances, you step into the light. When in the spot you are able to make out a shadowed visage far above you. It takes a few moments for your eyes to focus (they water considerably from the smoke) but a few shapes are illuminated. A fang. A horn.
The flared, hooded head of the cobra stares down at you from above, horns slung back from its crown. Unable to resist, you follow the neck of the serpent down (your eyes glaze over the patterns on the scales, many of which seem strange geometries that hurt your brain to consider) and realise that the whole pit is formed of the serpent's coils, wrapped around the pit. You cannot help but feel increasingly claustrophobic in this place.
The eyes of the cobra burst into pits of searing blue flame. A voice booms around the room.
You have questions, traveller.There is a heavy gong and you bring your eyes down from the serpent's head. In front of you is a smooth basalt altar, ringed with bronze braziers burning with a brilliant blue fire. There is a large obsidian plate in the centre. You are fairly certain that was not there a moment ago. Fairly certain.
What are you willing to sacrifice for your answers? Silver, Secrets or Security?
"Then let's pay him a visit, shall we?"
On the way, Renart hears about Ril's troubles and gives what little he can to aiding the man.
"Lead the way, my friend Karas."
[If the GM judges it reasonable]:Assist Ril.
As Richard returned inside, silently cursing Harald's greed, he heard someone collapse in a room nearby. As he went to investigate, he saw nearly instantly the blood all around him and the would-be chancellor of the realm having a seizure on the floor.
As calmly as he could, he called for a doctor.
A grey-faced man claiming to be one of the many doctors examining the King arrived at Richard's call and examined Ril, taking his pulse and studying his complexion. [5?] "Yes," he pronounced. "It looks like a case of Whittard's Fog, a very nasty poison. I will fetch the antidote immediately. Wait here and don't move, we have about half an hour!" The doctor left in search of an antidote.
[4] Renart joined the crowd of those trying to help and muscled his way to Ril's side. A quick examination, although he was not a doctor, rang bells in his mind. "Muckfox!" he exclaims. "It's a plant from the fens near Nortwatch, I knew one of the Rangers used to tip his arrows with it. A strong dose will kill in less than ten minutes, though." Regrettably, he does not know a cure. (+1 to next Diagnosis check.)
[6+1] Talinth burst into the room as Ril began convulsing and his eyes began filling with blood. Renart repeated that the poison was Muckfox, a deadly plant from the northern fens. Talinth recalled the plant from his own childhood - wait, hadn't his grandmother drank spirits distilled from Muckfox?
"Spirits!" Talinth yelled. "Get whiskey or brandy, drink will cure the poison!"
A mad rush followed, with servants rushing to fetch brandy, wine and whiskey from all across the castle. As dram after dram was forced down Ril's throat, the blood in his eyes started to recede. He ceased coughing. The convulsions simmered down to gentle shivers. By the time the third bottle of brandy was emptied, Ril was completely still.
[Survival on 2+. Roll... 1.]
It was too late. The strong liquor had purged the poison from Ril's system, but the damage was already done. Ril's lungs were filled with blood, his skin cracked and bloodied. He had time now only for
a few last words.Later, the doctor who made the first pronouncement [2 vs 3] would never be found.
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Topic: You are King III: Spring 938 AAL (Read 133168 times)