Willingly lay with the chief, keep him going until he's exhausted and doing everything possible to become his favourite, in the morning when he wakes if he seems pleased then ask him if he will help her to get the people who killed her family.
[6] You're a demon in the sack. Too much of a demon, in fact. The chief collapses on top of you mid-coitus, [3] gasping for breath and desperately clutching his chest. The guards at the hut entrance rush in, take in the situation [6] and scream "WITCH!", then run away from you as far as they can. You can hear screaming and panic from outside the tent.
What do you do now?
Herr Gamel silently curses his luck. He thinks carefully for a moment.
"This man is must be one of the Uthri Shaman that the trader spoke of. It would not do to offend him - he might lay some vile curse on me. I must be honest."
"I come from the east, in Meridia, where I am a hunter. I haff come to the Hills to trade gold and pelts for knowledge of the six tribes. I have learned what I haff come to learn, and so I will soon depart. I cannot say more zan zat, save that I come in peace and vant no trouble."
The old man listens carefully as you speak, his face a mask. [?] He smiles another toothless smile. "Good. Peace is good for all men, and all good men want peace. Here." The old man tosses you a shiny silver coin, bearing a triple-knot insignia that you do not recognise. "May it bring you good luck, so long as you act toward peace." The old man gives you a nod and shuffles away, cackling softly to himself.
It is getting late, so you trade some of the coin you got from your furs for a place by the hearth at a local wayfarer's longhouse. Mid-way through the night you are woken by sounds of panic and screaming. The word "witch" comes to your ears. How do you respond?
"Sorry, for the delay in responding sir. I was writing down notes. I think that educating those outside the castle halls is a great idea, I shall be back in relatively short order."
Kyle leaves the castle to begin looking for people to take care of the new libraries.
[1] Unfortunately, not only are there a lack of learned people in Meridia, your own censorship of literature in the kingdom under Pelagius has made the general populace suspicious of educated people in general! Most scholars avoid Meridia like the plague due to the hefty repression of free thought. [5] The good news is that the king's coronation did attract visitors from beyond the country's borders, one of whom is a renowned philosopher, Ansalem of Vindik. Ansalem has travelled to Meridia as part of a lengthy tour of the continent, bringing a small cadre of followers with him. You manage to arrange a meeting with him and discover that he is knowledgeable in several areas of natural philosophy and could be a great boon to your efforts.
[4-1] Ansalem does express interest in staying in Meridia, and his followers could certainly serve as librarians, but the brutal oppression of free thought under Pelagius gives him serious pause. His condition for joining the court (aside from an annual retainer to pay for his needs and investigations) is that you put an end to the suppression of literature and discussion that you yourself formerly headed up.
Hulen performs a ritual to travel to the spirit world of the Twilight Realms. He spends several hours in preparation to ensure an easy journey (as much as such a thing exists), using a variety of tools and questionable, but undeniably potent substances. Hulen seeks out the ancestors of Meridia, to ask for their judgement on the war and for their blessing. The ancestors see much mortals do not - what is, what has been, what will be.
If the ancestors are pleased and the omens good, Hulen intends to travel the land, rallying the peasantry to the King's cause.
Magic takes place over three stages; Summoning, Binding and Dismissal. The amount and cost of preparation for each stage is consummate to the power being used. Since this is a very weak spell, and you are doing it in a place of power with clearly specified preparations and taking your time about it, you get some advantages.You do not rush. Rushing is deadly. You spend a full hour carefully drawing out the circle, down to the very individual grains of dirt, to ensure the pattern is perfectly recreated. You measure out the proportion of herbs and oils exactly before placing them in the braziers. Even though it hurts your eyes a little, you make damn sure you are facing the Godsfire - if everything goes to hell, it's your safest route out. You bless and prepare the iron dagger with scented water.
You breathe. Time distorts, and the crackling of the flames fills your being. You stare at the flames until the rest of the world goes dark, and only the fire remains, a column of light piercing the endless night. You stand, leaving your body behind, and begin to climb the flames, finding handholds and footholds among the lazily swaying tendrils of fire. You climb until you can dare to look away, and see that the temple is far, far beneath you and all about you is night.
The dark has texture. There is deeper darkness within the black, and you begin to sense the places of shadow where it is safe for you to tread. With care and trepidation, you let go of the Godsfire and clamber onto the soft, yielding darkness. You make your way through the shadow, taking care now and again to make sure you can still see the thin stream of Godsfire in the distance at your back.
When you are far enough in that the shadows almost choke you, you call out to the spirits here with the closest personal connection to you; your ancestors. In effect, you use yourself as a focus.
They do not respond immediately. You spend a great length of time (how long, you cannot say) calling out to them until at last the clouds of darkness part and a silvery form steps out. Death has changed your father greatly; he is twilight and moonsilver now, not flesh and blood, and his eyes are two pits of shadow. He still wears about him the garb of shaman, the very same garb upon your chest.
Infidel, he whispers.
Betrayer of the old ways. You are no son of mine.He is silent, and you fear your journey is for naught. You demand of him to know what he can tell you of the war, and for his blessing.
I give you no blessing, false child. You bring no sacrifice, make no offering to please me. I will answer what you demand, but only because of the power the living hold upon the dead. But you will gain no boon from me.Your father extends a hand, and the clouds of shadow at your feet part. A pool of silvery light forms, and shapes take form within it. You see symbols and figures appear as your father speaks.
Once, seven beasts stalked through hill and glade. Mighty they were, and free, and easily did they bathe within the twilight and the shade. Then, the weakest and most pitiable of the pack grew jealous and desired more. He made a pact with an ogress, and lay with her, and she birthed a litter of half-breed pups. The seventh beast drove his kin away from the lush glades and into the forbidding hills, and he drove the twilight with them. Now he bathed only in the harsh yellow light the ogress gave.
Often the six tried to reclaim their birthright, but the seventh held them back. The pack fought themselves to a standstill, and a peace was held for a time. Three of the six wanted peace. Two did not. The sixth held counsel with the twilight instead.
The road forks. With peace, the twilight is preserved. With war, it will falter, or crush the yellow light of the ogre. But lazy as the ogre is, the twilight acts more readily.The pool shows you two buildings, temples of similar construction to your own; one high in the mountains, the other nestled in a hidden valley. Steams of silvery fire rise from their spires.
Without the twilight, the six dare not strike, and the twilight still holds two nests even if the third has been corrupted by the yellow light. Preserve the two, and victory may still come. If they are lost, so too will the spirit of the six be crushed. Return the third to the fold, and no force will stop the shadow's return.The shadows close back over the pool, concealing it. You look up to your father again, only to find that several other figures garbed in the same robes have joined him. In fact, they appear to be surrounding you. You place your hand idly on the dagger at your belt. Your father draws a matching blade of silvery light from his own belt, as do the ancestors around you.
You made no offering, but a tribute we will take. No ogre-child will stop our war. You may have taken the knowledge you desired, but you will not return it so easily to your masters.The shades close in around you, stabbing with their silvery knives. You draw your own iron blade in desperation, the edge slicing through your father like gossamer. His shade shatters into twilight, and you claw your way through the shades with your iron even as silvery blade slash at your arms and legs. You break free, running pell mell for the distant tiny spire of golden flame. Ghostly figures try to block your path, but you carve your way through them until you reach the Godsfire and hurl yourself onto the flames. You scramble down the fire like a giant beanstalk, until you slip and start to fall...
You awaken with a start. Sunlight filters in through the hole in the roof, and the Godsfire has burned down to embers. Your arms and legs sting with pain, and you examine them to find several raised welts where the spirit blades struck. You grimace at the memory of dispatching your father and other ancestors. No doubt they will reform in time, but you suspect that you will not be able to cast this exact spell again for a while.
[4+1, 3, 6]
The commander shrugged.
"That depends. Assuming you only want me to reform the troops of the royal demesne - I doubt we want the vassals getting any stronger than they are now - it shouldn't be too expensive. I specifically chose some relatively cheap materials. As for training... It shouldn't cost much either, if I can do everything I've got in mind."
Action: Investigate how much it would cost to equip the royal demesne's troops with spears, wooden shields, axes, and leather armor. (Basic equipment, or a level above?)
You could upgrade the army's equipment to the basic standard you require with a
Meagre apportion of the treasury. Training to a level of basic discipline would likely require the same, plus two weeks of furious drilling to get the current levies into half-decent shape.
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Topic: You are a Lord II (Read 33550 times)