Eleen didn't like bringing in the church like a sledge hammer, but sometimes you had to wedge the door open a bit to get your foot in...
"I think he'll want to talk to me, once you tell him I'm from the Redeeming Hand. I'm just here for a friendly visit and a chat-it's easier on everyone involved if we do this civilized-no need to bring in the Gongs*, ruin your day. I just need a bit of time. He'll know why I'm here-it's all over the news. Why not ask him, and get me out of your way?"
*A term for the Bronze armor wearing Church Guards
"In that case," she says primly,
"Talk to your Mother-Major. I believe she's dealing with matters with the Head."Major? Oh, blast it.
The Redeeming Hand doesn't have a rank called Mother-Major, being somewhat less militarised than the Penitent Eyes, but you know of two female Majors within the Eyes.
If it's Major Frye, then you should be alright. You met her once, and she seemed an obliging sort - hard as nails, of course, all Majors are, but friendly enough. If she is present, then perhaps it'll be as simple as going in, asking politely, and kraken's your dinner.
If it's Major Haskin, you may have a lot of trouble indeed. What you've heard of Haskin doesn't paint a pretty picture - she leads a sub-sect of the Penitent Eyes called the Crushing Fist. The name says it all, really - those who had discipline problems, those known excessive violence, even for the church, the disgraced and the honourless all find their way to the Crushing Fist. Out of all the Sects present in Sleangate, the Crushing Fist has a very might-makes-right mentality... Haskin is infamous for having an standing offer of anyone who beats her in an unarmed duel can take her rank.
It says something that very few people take that offer. No one has tried to take it twice.
She also - and as a consequence, the rest of her sub-sect - has a great dislike for the Redeeming Hand, and you don't exactly know why. You heard on the grapevine there was a incident between her and the head of the Redeeming Hand in the past, and bad blood only worsens with time.
Oriana is staring in awe at the bones of the Primordial. Nothin' like that back home...
Is there anything that some girl from the country would know about Primordials?
You know the basics.
The Gods created the Primordials, each with their own sphere of interest, before they created humanity. The Primordials could speak the Words, and taught them to mankind. But mankind was arrogant with his power and nearly casued to World to go Silent. The seventeenth god removed the ability to speak magic from humans, and slew the Primordials for their foolishness. At least, that's what the priests said.
The Primordials craeted a lot of strange and wondrous things with their knowledge of the words. But that's a time in the past, now...
The bones are unlike anything you've ever seen. Not even your father's father would have been alive in the time when Primordials walked the earth, but you heard plenty of stories about them. Still, that hadn't prepared you for seeing the skeleton of one so close. It must have been
huge.
"Kas. Just Kas."
He nods, sharply, and continues towards the door.
You meet the whittler outside, and he leads you to the witness, who was sleeping belowdecks on a hammock. The room is low and dark, the windows battened down, and Frescoe blinks blearily at you as he wakes up. The other sailor sleeping in the hammock next to his mumbles something and turns over.
"Oh, aye? You looking to 'ear me story, mate?" he mutters, failing to sound entirely enthusiastic.
Frescoe isn't an overly impressive looking sort. He's shorter than you, easily, and his muscles are more lithe than bulky. His brown hair is long and greasy, probably normally drawn up in a ponytail, but for now is strewn messily across his face. Clearly he was not expecting visitors.
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Topic: Blessed Bronze 5e IC: A letter delivered (Read 10215 times)