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[Digital Hellhound]

Calm. Calm, Hulen.

The shaman steadied his breathing, steadied his heart. He could handle the Twilight, his spirit-body detached, the real world distant. Now, he was looking directly at these beings, in the world of flesh and mortals. The blue fire of the spirits lit up the clearing in unnatural false-light.

'Great ones,' he breathed. 'Long ago, our ancestors made pacts with you, sacrificed to you. I come offering a new pact. A battle is coming - blood will flow, blood for you. Aid us in battle, and the people will remember the old ways - this is the vow of our king. They will bring offerings, greater than ever before. Never again will you be forgotten, never again abandoned.'

A promise of more power and more blood. It was something they would understand. He hoped he could bring good news back to the king.

Offer a pact: a return to the old ways of increased/regular sacrifices in exchange for aid in the coming battle.

If things turn sour, sacrifice the wolf to appease them, too.

[Iituem]

Calm. Calm, Hulen.

The shaman steadied his breathing, steadied his heart. He could handle the Twilight, his spirit-body detached, the real world distant. Now, he was looking directly at these beings, in the world of flesh and mortals. The blue fire of the spirits lit up the clearing in unnatural false-light.

'Great ones,' he breathed. 'Long ago, our ancestors made pacts with you, sacrificed to you. I come offering a new pact. A battle is coming - blood will flow, blood for you. Aid us in battle, and the people will remember the old ways - this is the vow of our king. They will bring offerings, greater than ever before. Never again will you be forgotten, never again abandoned.'

A promise of more power and more blood. It was something they would understand. He hoped he could bring good news back to the king.

Offer a pact: a return to the old ways of increased/regular sacrifices in exchange for aid in the coming battle.

If things turn sour, sacrifice the wolf to appease them, too.

The whispering turns to laughter around you; amused, but cruel.  The fire in the eyes of the beasts burns brighter.

Your offer is promising, but vague.  We will grant you a boon that will win you your war, and in return you will provide us with a hundred souls.  You will raise a new altar to us here, and here we will receive them.

But first, you must entertain us.  Our offer only stands if you are the only one to leave this clearing alive.

The spirits wait, expectantly.  Your peasant servants look at you with fear in their eyes.  It is very obvious that the spirits are not referring to the wolf.

[4]

[Digital Hellhound]

Hulen did not look at his servants. If he wanted this, he needed to act now.

'You ask much of me, great ones. I will do this, if you grant me one small favor. The wolf I have with me - bind it to me, bring it under my will. You have power over the wild. It would mean little to you, but much to me.'

Make the request - a bond with and command of the wolf. If they accept, free her and kill the servants. If not, kill them anyway, going for the spear-carrier first.

[Iituem]

Hulen did not look at his servants. If he wanted this, he needed to act now.

'You ask much of me, great ones. I will do this, if you grant me one small favor. The wolf I have with me - bind it to me, bring it under my will. You have power over the wild. It would mean little to you, but much to me.'

Make the request - a bond with and command of the wolf. If they accept, free her and kill the servants. If not, kill them anyway, going for the spear-carrier first.

There is a brief pause as the spirits seem to mull this over.

[1] No, but the idea does certainly amuse...

There is a flash of blue flame at the corner of your vision and you see the she-wolf's bonds burn away.  The wolf struggles to her feet and the peasants scream and try to flee.

One of them makes it to the edge of the clearing and there is a sudden whooshing sound as flames burst out of the ground, fencing you in.  The peasant at the edge is suddenly consumed by terrible blue fire, reduced to ash in seconds.

[5] The wolf growls and lunges straight for the spear-carrier, tearing out his throat in one smooth motion.  You draw your belt knife and go for the nearest peasant, [3 vs 5] but he brings the torch up to block and smacks you across the head with it.  Even though the fire has been pulled away from the stump, it is still hot and scalds your temple as it strikes.  (2/3hp)  [3] The wolf starts eating away at the throat of the spear-carrier as he limply struggles and dies.  [3 vs 5] The peasant you attacked starts beating you down with the torch, burning your skin and forcing you to the ground as you flail ineffectually with the knife, [3] until he is suddenly swept away by the jaws of the she-wolf.  He screams horribly as she snaps his leg, then goes for his throat.  The last pair of peasants, realising they cannot escape, run toward you shouting defiance and brandishing their torches, [2 vs 1] but you manages to catch one in the gut with your blade as he approaches.  You drag it to one side with practiced ceremonial ease and his innards tumble out over your legs.  [4] The wolf turns and catches the last peasant by the leg, [6 vs 5] and you bring the blade up and force it through the base of his skull as he tries to flee.

You struggle lamely to your feet, skin burned from torch-heat and broken and bloodied in places, and face the wolf.  The she-wolf glares back at you, eyes golden like the sun.  As your muscles tense and you prepare for the fight, you notice that the fires at the edge of the clearing have died down.  You raise your hands and take a careful step back, lowering your head slightly in submission.

The wolf growls softly, seeming to accept the gesture, and turns and pads away into the woods.

As the ringing in your ears dies down you become less aware of your frantically beating heart and more aware of the hysterical laughter coming from all around you.  The spirit-boar is rolling around on its back in apparent amusement, and even the birds seem to be cackling.

Oh, well done, well done!  Yes, spirit-caller, you have earned this.  Kneel, and we will present your boon.

You slump to your knees, exhausted and in pain.  The two spirit-birds fly over to the discarded spear and lift it into the air with their claws, holding it out before you.  The boar breathes wisps of green flame that twist through the air until they reach the spear, where they start to burn runes and markings into the shaft.  You recognise a few of the symbols as being the Wildspeech of the ancient ways, but much of it is beyond your kenning.  Three distinct glyphs are visible on the shaft, though, that of the boar, owl and falcon.  After about a minute, the green flames die away and the birds drop the spear in your waiting hands.  The shaft is still hot where it has been burned, but fortunately for your tender hands not scalding.  You notice that the iron spearhead is gone, and has been replaced by what looks like an ebony tooth or fang.

Let this be your standard, spirit-caller, and the wilds will fill the hearts of your men in battle.  Let the one who carries it fight, and fight hard, for the strength of the boar shall be in his arm.  Let him lead well, for the sight and wisdom of the falcon and owl will be at his command.  Let your king carry this spear into battle, and he will emerge victorious.

The spirits bow their heads and the flames dissipate, their forms fading into after-images.  The whispering dies away, leaving one last message in your mind.

Remember.  An altar raised, and a hundred souls given.  We will have our tribute from your kind.

You have gained the Wildspear!

The carrier of the Wildspear is more capable at personal combat, gains the advantages of the Command trait when leading armies if they do not have it already, and inspires all armies that hearken to his standard with the rage of the wilds.

You also have serious burns, you've just murdered your servants and the wolf has fled into the woods.

[Grek]

Steward Gamel has just returned from the funeral of the last man lost on the recent hunt. Tragic, but he knew the dangers. They all did. He paces around his chambers with his arm in a sling and and shirt removed to expose his bandaged ribs. In his free hand are his reports, which he continues to mull over.

Spoiler: Revised Steward's Report (click to show/hide)

Treasury: £80

Tax Assessments:
The Royal Demense is worth £300 and pays 15% in taxes to the King for a total of £45.
The Town of Meridon is worth £100 and pays 15% in taxes to the King for a total of £15.
The Town of Penters is worth £5 and pays 0% in taxes to the King for a total of £0.
The Temple of Viridon is worth an estimated £40 and pays 10% in taxes to the King for a total of £4.
The Highreach Region is worth an estimated £50 and pays an estimated 10% tithe to Hulen for a total of £5.
The Earldom of Gol is worth an estimated £200 and pays an estimated 10% in taxes to Earl Gol for a total of £20.
The Town of Brighthall is worth an estimated £50 and pays 10% in taxes to Earl Gol for a total of £5.
The Earldom of Breen is worth an estimated £300 and pays an estimated 10% in taxes to Earl Breen for a total of £30.
The Temple of Asterbury is worth an estimated £40 and pays a 0% tax to the Earl of Breen for a total of £0.

Tithe Assessments:
The Diocese of Asterbury is worth an estimated £400 and pays an estimated 10% tithe to the Temple of Asterbury for a total of £40.
The Diocese of Viridon is worth an estimated £400 and pays an estimated 10% tithe to the Temple of Viridon for a total of £40.

Taxes to the Crown:
£45 from the taxation in the Royal Demense.
£15 from the taxation in the Town of Meridon.
£4 from the taxation on the Temple of Viridon. (Not paid, King is dealing with it)
Total Income from Taxation: £60

Other Royal Income:
£30 loan from the Guilds and Merchants.
£10 gift from Earl Gol toward the Road Project.
£15 gift from Earl Breen toward the Road Project.

Military Expenses:
£2 in Wages to the Levies of the Royal Demense.
£6 to Equip the Levies of the Royal Demense.
£15 Hiring Mercenaries.
Total Military Expenses: £23

Other Royal Expenses:
£10 Repayment on the loan from the Guilds and Merchants.
£70 Construction of a new Road from Breen to Gol.
£5 Replacement Road Materials.
£1.5 to found a City Watch in Meridon.
£1 pension to Anasalem. (Check this with the King.)
£10 for Festivals.
£10 for Various Expenses by the King.
£8 Summer Fair
Total Other Expenses: £115.5

Total Income: £60+£30+£10+£15=£115
Total Expenses: £138.5
Net Change: -£23.5
Treasury: £56.5

"In more reasonable times, I vould just ask Pelagius to send a Blade to find out what I needed to know. How I miss him. He vas a good king, honest and true. At least his son is living up to the Royal name! Oh, but what to do. I cannot go myself, my wounds do not permit it. Alexis is gone, we have no spies..."

His eyes drift to the decanter on his desk. "Is it time for another sip, perhaps? Sir Kyle did say to use it sparingly, but my thoughts always seem so clear after I have a taste..."

Giving in to the temptation, Gamel pours himself out a measure of poppywine.

"Ah, yes. It all seems so clear now. I'll simply need to hire some agents for myself."

Use my £2 to hire a half dozen experienced woodsmen to carry messages, scout areas and investigate tax issues on my behalf.

[Shootandrun]

Raeric was sitting in his personal quarters, writing letters. He hadn't moved much since the battle, to his annoyance. He was used to battle wounds, and although few were quite as bad as this one, his immobility still seemed useless to him. At least, there wasn't anything too important to do - the training was all but over, and the Wardens had gotten easier to manage since the massacre. So he had found other work for himself - namely, finding troops.

Spoiler: Letter to the Earls (click to show/hide)

Earl Gol/Breen,

As you may have heard by now, the Alving chief was assassinated recently. Although the details of the event have been muddied by the distance rumors had to travel, it is believed that the new clan chief blames Meridia for his father's death. While we do not know his intentions for sure, that seems to indicate he is preparing for war. With the casus belli of his father's murder and a strong position on our border, we must assume he will soon attempt to attack us.

In the light of these events, I have sent you this letter to ask for your support. The king is only entitled to a fifth of your levies, but that alone may not be sufficient. From his position, it seems likely that the chief will attack through Breen and into Highreach or the center of the royal demesne, depending on his intentions. If the north falls, he will be left free to fall upon our southern lands, which means Gol will be deeply affected as well. We cannot afford to let him fight us in detail - we should present a united front against him and break him once and for all. A clear victory would leave us in a position to counterattack and loot the hillfolk - thus depopulating their side of the border, and ensuring that the problem ends this very year and won't come back in a decade.

I cannot force you to send more than a fifth of your troops, but that is what I must ask. If this new chief is able to defeat the royal army, any garrison you keep to yourself is unlikely to have much better odds. Any contribution beyond the normal fifth would be truly appreciated, and would put all the inhabitants of Meridia in your debt.

What I had to say, I have said. Think upon these words and make your decision, Earl - I will pray that it is a wise one.

-Raeric, Marshall of the Realm

Send a letter to each earl, asking them to send more troops than the fifth of their levies the king is entitled to in the event of a war, for the sake of the kingdom as a whole.

[Taricus]

Arcadius was intrigued. He was desperate for funds, appeasing papists in short term seemed worth the price.
"What options do you have in mind, chaplain?"

"Well, instituting mandatory church attendance would be a good start, considering the pagan problem. Converting them all into the one true faith would no doubt prove your loyalty to the church.

Another would be instituting papal law across the realm, which would also benefit the peasants too, if only because they would be allowed to enslave their neighbors. Would certainly help the faithful pay their taxes and such."

[kj1225]

Kyle sends his plans for the college to the chancellor and then goes out to get more poppywine. Note to self:  Call all the courtiers together for a seminar on poppywine addiction.

[Ardas]

With news of brewing trouble that trickled down to Arcadius, he decided to hold a council with his court in the throne room.

As usual, king sat on the raised throne, while in front of him a half-circle of plain chairs was set up. Each councilor and courtier would sit according to their rank and importance, with three chief places in the middle, directly opposite to the throne were reserved for the Chancellor, Steward and Marshal.

Everyone present in the castle was summoned to give a report to the king on their affairs so far, the state of the realm and their projects. Its been a while since anyone bothered to report back to him and he was worried of the slipping grasp on events in the kingdom.

All courtiers in the capital are ordered to give a report to the king on their current work.
Those on the way to the capital or resting/recovering may send in their later.

[kj1225]

Kyle stands up.
"Recently I have been making head way on an education system revolving around teaching the powerful because, how do you say, the peasants are dumb fucks who couldn't tell a witch from a duck. In fact I recently sent a letter regarding my plans to the chancellor. Also I am in the process of organizing a seminar on poppywine addiction."

[Grek]

The Steward limps down from his room and sits in his assigned chair, giving Sir Kyle an odd look about this mention of "poppywine addiction".

"My King, as I am certain Sir Kyle has mentioned, I am recovering from vounds suffered while on the hunt. A boar the size of a small horse, a fierce dire wolf and a snowy owl haff been captured for the use of your Shaman in his rituals. I hope that he puts them to good use. While I rest, I am vorking on my Steward reports."

[GreatWyrmGold]

Hm...prison and execution or spell...prison or spell...spell.

"If you see Alexandra in the afterlife, tell the stupid whore that I regret not being able to kill her myself."

Spell.

[ansontan2000]

"I am working on the annual summer fair, speaking of which, I would like to ask for your permission, my King, to go to the other towns in the kingdom in order to advertise the said fair. Afterwards, I would like to go to our neighboring not-hillfolk countries, to do the same.

Announce a summer fair to the city (8 Pounds), and begin preparations by going to Brightwall in order to advertise it.

[Digital Hellhound]

Hulen stared blankly into the smoke for a long time. Warmth flowed from the spear as it sat in his hands, alive and bloody. He grunted as he pushed himself up, pain emanating from his wounds. He hoped this had been worth the trouble - these had been good servants, for one. He cursed the spirits as he forced himself to start walking, holding to the Wildspear for support. He'd find a village, enlist a few peasants to care for his wounds, as well as they could, and then return to the king.

He considered the wolf that had flown into the woods once again. Perhaps it deserved to be free, then... or perhaps he could return later to seek it out once more. It had not looked like a simple, brutish beast.

Hulen makes his way to the nearest peasant village to rest and then returns to the capital with the Wildspear (never letting it out of his sight).

[Azthor]

The Chancellor has the funding for the fair and college halted until orders stating otherwise by the King. Those involved, the Lord Mayor and Court Librarian, respectively, are informed of which the projects will be considered, and likely approved as they are once the threat of war is no longer imminent.

"Your Majesty, Marshal, I believe we've taken the incoming war too lightly thus far, much can be rebuilt, but reclaiming a Crown is often an insurmountable task" the Chancellor hand the Marshall a roll "Gamel has marked all of Meridia's bridges in this map, a reported natural ford included".

"If we are to fight a war where we likely face numerical disadvantage, we might as well do so on our own terms. I took the liberty of delaying any and all additional expenses involving the treasury for this occasion; I suggest we route the entirety of it, £59, to military purposes, having already invited the mercenary who was around earlier for an audience, should you wish to hire him" he stands "The Clans must not be taken lightly, if a mob of 200 untrained burghers could take out a third of the royal army as it stands, what can an Alving host do?".