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"Ahhh." Naantali's breath at the question gusts out, half a sigh and half a snort. "That is an interesting question. Figures the one who the fae liked to adopt would express it. Well." She begins stropping claws against the table- a nervous habit. "In... principle, I don't suppose I have any... objection. In practice, I doubt that any of the semi-divine would be acceptable. The ones I've met are all rather- convinced of their own superiority over us mere mortals." She still looks discontent at the idea, however. "As for others, no, just remember-" she glances at Isit, "There's a strong bias towards making very precise deals for pragmatic advantage among those who come from that side of the world, in preference to idealism. The fae are probably a decent representative of the type." Celan gawks, feathers just starting to settle as she picks his arm up; when she pours the waterskin on him and it indeed bursts into steam, the harpy's eyes widen even further and his mouth falls right back open. "How did you...?" he starts, trailing off as Lette begins playing with fire. Though he predictably starts to squawk when she tosses an apple of flames at him, he doesn't let his instincts make him dive out of the way- instead he catches it, the apple deforming as the flames cheerfully burn in his hands without injury. "So that's... she intended the potion to make me- us- unburnable? Because you can..." he trails off, and flushes again. "Oh. A very considerate gift, isn't it? I mean, if you don't have to be... careful."
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Nov 24, 2013 22:17
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"Any word?" Naantali laughs without any humor. "How about, 'If you could tell Naantali whether or not you're still human, it'd save her a lot of heartburn.' But I hardly think that's going to work, sadly. The usual platitudes will suffice." She simply nods to Isit's other words, a corner of her mouth quirking up just for an instant but instead merely says, "It's been an interesting discussion." Over with Lette, nobody's inclined to get too close to the sudden fire, but nobody panics yet; the effects of the same fae showing up and flames starting soon after may readily be imagined, however, and likely it's just a matter of time before some mage begins dumping rivers of water onto the couple. For now, though, Celan just gawks at the fires that aren't able to so much as singe his feathers, too surprised (and possibly, though not showing it, too frightened) to pull away or do anything but watch openmouthed as Lette shows off her sculpting ability. Instead, he sidles a little closer to bring a bit more contact than a hand on an arm by draping one of his own across her shoulders, displacing fire. "Should, um, we be careful? About other people?" He says; cocking his head to her other question, he mulls over his answer before managing, "Not yet. I mean, except for singing." Wasn't quite a yes, but at least the spirit was willing.
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Nov 26, 2013 15:13
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Celan looks around at the fire, floofing slightly as the flames don't extinguish... but rather than insist, he nods cautiously and smiles as Lette begins a little melody as the flames start to fall off. He does sing, and it's painfully obvious that he never had any training at all- still, it's a good strong tenor voice, matches and holds notes well once he hears them, and it's not a bad start. That, then, is the scene the others come across as the fires die- and Celan shuts up abruptly with his teeth clacking together as he looks back at them, flushing. "Um. Hi."
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Dec 3, 2013 02:08
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Celan, if it was possible, manages to flush even more as children and marriage is discussed so frankly... but, notably, he doesn't make any move to let go of Lette. "I, uh," he says, "I mean, not in any hurry... but it's kind of fast... not that I wouldn't... I mean..." he isn't actually stammering, it's just that his mind seems to be bouncing between thoughts too quickly for him to air them all. Feathers puff out a little more as he looks from person to person, and adding, "But um... I mean... I should really report back at, uh, some point? To my commander?"
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Dec 9, 2013 07:25
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Celan watches the byplay, feathers coming slowly under control as he gets used to the banter- and perhaps with knowing they wouldn't actually make a decision with him present, just in case. He doesn't seem particularly put out by that. He doesn't react, just looking a little worried, until Lette tries to command the man to stay, at which point the young harpy straightens up. "If I were the kind of guy to do that," he manages to bring out without stammering, "I wouldn't be the kind of guy who should." And with that, he nods to the others (and only Isit can see that he's shaking very, very slightly) and takes into the air, leaving poor, slightly drunk Lette behind. There doesn't seem much else to say; after a bit of hurried consultation, they make their way under loose escort out of the forest with Naantali's guards watching, and once free break trail as best they're able back over to Noah. Nobody, for a wonder, ambushes them, and whether it's choice of route or some other factor preserving them, the gates of the city are soon before them- wall construction, they see, has sped up. Significantly. Anyone want to do anything before reporting to Roland?
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Dec 14, 2013 04:12
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Indeed, as the gates loom, the guards seem just a bit jumpier than normal, though they completely fail to pull their weapons out and attempt to run Martin through as he passes; just another sign of their lack of professionalism that they'd pass up such an opportunity, assuming they ever wanted to. Aside from the work gangs thickening up the walls and adding protected roundels for archers to fire from, the tension in the air only increases as the party passes through town. People are out shopping, and are out doing their normal business, but... lips are thin, mouths set and muscles bunched at the corners of jaws as eyes dart around. The tension is thick enough to swim through... at least to everyone but Larisa curled around a now suspiciously lighter flask, at least, but perhaps that too is just another sign of tension. Guards seem as ready as they're ever going to be, and after the usual perfunctory checks that they are who they say they are the path up to the Mayor's office opens before them, and clerks- some of whom are visibly red-rimmed around the eyes and drawn more than most around town- barely even acknowledge the group. Lord Roland's sitting at his desk, and- physically, at least- seems to have mostly recovered. He looks up and rises, face a little tense but nothing particularly unusual, rounding the desk with a hand extended. "It's good to have you back." He says immediately. "How did your hiring tour go? Things have gotten... less positive, here. One of my clerks went missing a few days ago, and the rest of them are worried that spies are trying to get into... but never mind that. Paranoia doesn't help the decision making process. So. What news?"
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Dec 16, 2013 15:36
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Lord Roland takes the terms, nodding to various pieces of news as he scans towards the bottom line. "Good to hear, and we'll need every last one of my erstwhile bride-to-be's army," he says briskly. "Not sure them fortifying is an entirely wise use of their resources, given that the decision will almost certainly be here, but I can't really blame her for being careful. And these terms are- surprisingly not as bad as I'd feared." He puts the paper down on his desk, crossing back over and sitting in his chair once more. And if they've done their scouting... which, given that this is a town and not a military camp, I can't really stop... well, that's actually encouraging that they're eager to be on our side instead of the other. At least they're giving us a decent chance to win- people who fight for money rarely do well on the losing end of a war." Tapping the desk, he abruptly nods. "We'll hire them. I'll see if we can't figure out who's spying for them, get some clerks on it and try to feed... more accurate information to them. I'll handle getting them a messenger with acceptance of turns, too, so don't worry about that. Now." He leans forward, steepling hands under his chin in a familiar gesture. "The other news, though... I'd gotten some indications that something was happening to the northwest, but confirmation? You'll understand if at the same time I'm glad and not glad to hear that from you. Damnation. I'd really hoped to have another week or two, but one rarely gets to fight wars on the schedule you'd like. We're not entirely ready, but we're not unready; the wall's complete, but we're trying to thicken it, grow it, put some better firing positions on top. Same with everything else. We've got a militia, it's just not as well trained as I'd like. You see how it is? We're able to fight. Are we able to win? We'd better be, but we don't have enough to be sure." Lette's question draws a slightly confused look that clears up as he continues studying the troubled woman's face. "The answer to that," he says gently, "is something you have to consider for yourself. If you're in a position where a lie can save a life, what's more important- your ability to look yourself in the mirror in the morning or someone living instead of dying? The hard part isn't deciding between subterfuge and honesty, it's not enjoying the subterfuge for it's own sake. That's the occupational hazard of a ruler, I'm afraid."
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Dec 18, 2013 15:55
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Lord Roland first looks quizzical, and then his face opens up when Isit speaks. "Oh... must not have quite learned the correct definition of that word, my mistake. No, she's absolutely still my- fiancee is the term, I suppose." He pauses, half-turning to look out the window before continuing to talk of Eagles. "Now. There's not much I can do about being a target for the Eagles, unless their purpose was just to scare me and not kill me in which case whatever I do might be playing perfectly into their hands. I can work in an inside office- I really should start that- but the more a leader isolates himself the less leading he's actually able to do. I... well, I am not likely to choose to hide every waking hour." He sits once more, and adds, "There's little of surpassing urgency here. Be ready for the army to show up- I'd expect the Queen to show up with the very vanguard to show off how confident she is to not need her entire army with her for the meeting. Given that, what else do you plan to do?"
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Dec 24, 2013 06:17
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"That's fair," Lord Roland allows when Martin speaks of their desire to rest. "You've all done quite a lot, and things aren't so far over towards a crisis that we can't spare you for a day or two. We'll need you at your best when the Queen gets here, anyway." With another smile, he adds, "Your inn burnt down, didn't it? The clerks will be able to find you another place to sleep. If you come up with any other ideas to help defend the city, please, let me know."
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Jan 2, 2014 22:42
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Getting out of the palace proves simple enough, and back on the sparsely-people streets of Noah the decision is made to go somewhere where they've never shown sign of going, as to avoid places likely already watched in one way or another; with the temple and market districts well covered, there's little for it but to head for the waterfront. Usually, the river's merely a source of drinking water, with wells cut on both sides of the walls; few boats pass, mostly grain carriers loading at Noah and heading back down the way to the rest of the Empire, although wagon traffic is much more prevalent. The war scare's curtailed shipments dramatically; on a river, while it's problematic to get to you, you have nowhere to evade bandits with rowboats and nobody wants to see what they'd do to merchant crewmen. As a result, of the few piers by the waterside, only one's occupied with a small skiff, and the rest out in the open and empty. Easy enough to hide words, especially with no chance of anyone being within a dozen yards anyway unless the mermaids have decided to travel hundreds of miles further north than ever before in defiance of the remote possibility of a freeze. Wasn't sure if y'all were waiting for me!
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Jan 11, 2014 23:47
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The Eagle map, saved by Lo'el, is helpfully held up from somewhere deep in their packs by a burrowing fae looking hopefully for more alcohol. There's little information about what safehouses might be more important than others explicitly, with all locations marked by similar notations, at least on the copy they have. What's worse, there's only one in Noah proper, with the rest scattered around the region- most only a few hours travel away at most, though. Usually they're well out of the way to boot. Inside the city, the indicated place is a completely nondescript two story building that looks big enough to have a few different residences inside it.
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Jan 21, 2014 15:45
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Once Lette begins playing her turne, it's not very long at all before a few rather haggard looking rats poke their noses out of a large crack in the wall, sniffing; as soon as one sees the crumbs on the ground, it totters over with a few sidelong looks at the human woman nearby, and then cheerfully vacuums up the bit of the rations Lette offers without apparent fear. Since the first 3d6 I rolled was a 5, it is an academic question exactly which skill you're using, so! 
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Jan 23, 2014 15:22
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Detective Whiskers sniffs approvingly at the air as he's patted, peering around with beady eyes at the others but seemingly feeling secure enough in Lette's hand to not have enough fear to flee. Set down, it's no time at all before Lette is able to take in the distorted, wide-field-of-view of a rat's eyes and more importantly the smells of the world at ground level. Doing nigh exactly what Lette wants, the rat scurries into the house they've found with Dolan keeping an attentive ear on the surroundings. The rat finds... nobody home at present, though there's enough signs of (FOOD) recent occupation (CRUMBS) and- more importantly to Lette, though not to the rat- cleanly maintained weapons and armor in cabinets to show that someone is probably up to no good. The house seems deserted, though, and neither Dolan nor Lette sense anything amiss.
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Jan 30, 2014 15:20
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Putting the plan into motion, Larisa quickly finds a nice elevated roof to take up a perch on; it has a good view of the front door of the Eagle safehouse at least, and a decent view of the street leading up to it. While Larisa takes the opportunity to sprawl out and get some sunbathing in, Skoll stays a bit more attentive to the situation and certainly seems to help Larisa keep watch. The others make their approach; Martin, acting for all the world as though he has every right to be exactly where he is, simply strides up to the front door, quickly and quietly unlocking it; seems as though the Eagles didn't bother much for advanced security. Lette and Dolan follow him inside. The house is a bit musty, with some dust in unused corners and a faint dirty laundry whiff in the air that Det. Whiskers wasn't qualified to notice too much. Deserted but not abandoned; from the look of things, it's been at least a day since anyone had set foot inside. With that knowledge Martin begins carefully probing for traps, and finds... several. The first one is a particularly unpleasant surprise, with a hair-thin tripwire that fires a long barbed crossbow bolt at knee height. Apparently the Eagles were interested in having anyone who broke into their home alive for questioning. With that as a reminder of the kind of minds they were facing, the party moves deeper in, seeking secrets. Other traps are spotted- some magically, some with the mundane arts of a burglar, all well concealed but not extremely well concealed. None are sufficiently spectacular to damage the house, or even likely fatal, and though some of the blades involved glisten with poison they seem unlikely to be lethal ones. The other half of the search turns up less. Though there are quite a few swords, axes, and pieces of armor carefully hung up in closets- and all of good quality- there aren't any of the special arrows seen before, and the Eagles are indeed not inclined to leave incriminating paperwork about the house. Once inside, there aren't any locked boxes or anything similar, at least none that the three working together can find for the life of them. On the street, Isit abruptly sees a nondescript man in a brown, plain cloak freeze halfway down the street looking at the safehouse; pausing half-stride and looking intently at the safehouse, after a second of delay he turns and very quickly heads down an alley, rounding a corner at high speed and getting out of the sniper's view.
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Feb 5, 2014 15:29
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The infiltration continues to go just as planned, with Lette picking the bedroom whose closets have the most weapons in them as the most likely room to house someone of importance; it's a modestly sized room, with the trigger being carefully placed in front of the closet door to cause the most surprise. With that accomplished, the penetration team makes good their escape, but right outside the door are met with a worried-looking (and a bit unsteady) Larisa floating nearby. Ushering Martin over to one side, the fae whispers, "Isit says you've been made. Someone knows you're here- she's chasing them." She points, just in time for the others to see Isit leaping over an alleyway in hot pursuit. The buildings are far enough apart, however, that she has a wretched hell of a time trying to follow the man without being seen by half the city in awkward pinwheeling jumps, and after a few turns the man disappears into the market where- even with fewer people than months ago- he rapidly blends into the crowd to the point where he'll be a hard person to find.
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Feb 18, 2014 04:54
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Skoll eagerly sniffs the belt and, understanding what it is she's meant to do, takes off immediately; however, Skoll's nose seems to be telling her that the scent trail leads in the opposite direction that the mark actually went, heading back towards the piers nearby where it disappears at the end of one; either whoever owned that belt jumped in the river or on a ship at some point in the relatively recent past. Either way, it appears to not be who bolted from the safehouse; Isit continues to keep an overwatch on the market, but can't quite pick out anyone matching who she saw leaving through any of the exits in her field of view.
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Feb 24, 2014 15:57
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And so the party rushes to the market, splitting up and- after a hurried fae-aided consultation with Isit to get a description- begins searching the area methodically, with Isit peering down at everyone from the ceilings ready to call out a target and try to put an arrow through its leg to slow it down. Skoll seems... confused, either by not being able to get the scent from the house that went to the docks or by the presence of delicious smoked meats, and though he wuffles back and forth is unable to find the Eagle. As are the others. After a frantic and increasingly desperate half-hour of searching, there's little left to be done but to call it off as a lost opportunity and return to the inn to plan. That night, the Eagle safehouse bursts into flame, and the guards are able to confirm that there's one body in the bedroom. Whether or not that made the plan a success or it was some common opportunistic burglar may remain unknown. Further safehouses are raided and trapped, following the same protocols as before; they've been cleaned out almost uniformly though, the first fire giving an unmistakeable warning to the Eagles that they've been made. Still, at least the loss of so many safehouses can't fail to at least interfere with their plans, whatever they end up being. As day follows day, the walls continue to climb and thicken, and emissaries from Naantali start arriving in greater numbers. Drills of guards and citizens start to close off large open areas inside the city, readying themselves for the feared assault to come. Sure enough a messenger comes from the Palace at dawn some three days after the fire; "She'll be in range at noon. -R" There seems to be little else he has to say. Guys, sorry, but as is extremely apparent by now my mental stamina for pushing on is making the little screeching FUEL TANK EMPTY noise and continuing to stagger around side stuff is a surefire way to never finish; I've taken the Executive Decision to short-circuit a lot of stuff and bull on to the next major plot point.
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Mar 3, 2014 16:06
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*cracks knuckles* OK, right after I posted that I got hit with a mega deadline and then the death flu. So poor timing. Take two: NOW sorry, and let's try to bring this ship back into harbor. On the matter of Eagles, the gods remain silent. Caria seems... distant, when entreaties are made; the impression of a woman with far too many worries on her mind is strong, and though she offers what moral support and serenity she can to Martin, concrete aid is thin on the ground. The same for other supernatural sources; the fae stay well out of the way of the oncoming army, being able to find enough bandits elsewhere to keep them happily occupied with their new role as justices of the peace outside the burgeoning city walls. The Eagles' hideouts are burnt to the ground, their nests scattered. Perhaps the only sign of how badly their operations may have been compromised is that the party isn't murdered in their beds as a response, but positive information past that remains clouded as does so much else. In frustration and need of comfort, Lette too turns towards a source greater than herself; Acanthi understands both Lette's summation of events and her desires to be more able to influence events. The connection... though the boon is granted, it comes with a deeper connection to the swamp, another small step towards what Lette's more recent 'sister' had with it. Perhaps a price, perhaps another boon, but the salamander-born can feel the tug of the swamp on her mind as a near constant, gentle tide. It will be there when she needs it. Come the morning, the party isn't far from their new inn when they're interrupted by a rarity in recent Noah. A crowd has formed up and down the main street, crowding the sides, and there's actually a faint sound of... cheering, from nearer the gate. It's not hard to shoulder to near the front of the line, and after a few minutes the reasoning's clear. Naantali has arrived, and is leading her troops through the city. The sphinx marches at the front, of course. The gleaming, polished and intricately ornamented armor she'd been fitting back on herself makes the leader shine like a small star brought down from the sky, and she marches with all the precision a quadruped is able to muster. Hair drawn back and hidden under her helmet, whose face is left open- the better to make her look less monstrous to the people- she smiles at the crowd, close-lipped but warm. The armor isn't heavy enough to hide the muscles in her lioness half, nor wings though she keeps those furled. Behind her, a pair of humans march with standards- one, Noah's own coat of arms and the other the simple rampant sphinx that was the closest thing the Freehold had to a sigil of its own. Behind them come the armored warriors; a squadron of centaurs, more of the mortals, some gnolls... hundreds of soldiers, pushing a thousand by the end, march by in good order. The quality of arms and armor is variable, but not the discipline. The people seem... mostly cheered that this mob is marching behind their standard, given what lies beyond. "Just goes to signify, don't it?" An urchin girl pipes up beside Dolan; blonde and dirt-smudged, she looks at him far more knowingly than a child should. "Notice how they didn't march the scary looking ones in. No, they're being kept outside the walls, for reinforcements. Or for a breakout attempt if it comes to it." She sniffs, and giggles. "Almost enough to make an honest spy wish she'd killed more of the Queen's get when she had the chance helping you and that elf of yours out, isn't it? Oh well, we've all passed a lot of water since then. Nice work burning those houses- I'm assuming that's you lot- whose were they?" She scratches at her hairline, looking briefly as innocent as she wants to be but pitching her voice so that it's hard for any not at dwarf height to see her. "Anyhow, reason I'm here's to let you know. It's going down today, and if you need to ask what 'it' is you ain't been paying attention. No prizes for figuring which side I'm working for by now, I'm an honest mercenary and I haven't changed employers in yeaaaaars, haven't spilled the beans and I'm not about to, but you're smart. You'll figure out how much you can trust me. This is a freebie, because I like ya. When it starts, you magic sorts'll feel it like a punch in the gut, because the Eagles'll start sacrificing people. Building up the magic. Ritual'll take a while, and the feeling will just get worse until it's done, and when it's done, be someone else. Another world for preference." She spits on the ground. "Dunno where. Gonna do my own hunting in the hours we've got left. Good hunting to you- and see, there you've got one hint. I'm sure as all the hells not working for those bird-brained past worshippers." The 'urchin girl' is exceptionally slippery, and of course as soon as she gets one person between her and the party, she could be anyone; detaining her is impossible. The last of the parade passes by, towards the Palace. It's not quite midmorning, and there are probably 3 hours left until the Queen's arrival before the walls of Noah. Time, it seems, is not on their side- but was it ever? Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 20:20 on Mar 23, 2014 |
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Mar 23, 2014 20:03
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The suggestion hangs in the air after Lette makes it, quiet and unanswered. City hall, the 'palace'; it wasn't the tallest building, but it was high enough to overlook the walls from the roof, not all *that* far from the edge of the city, and if their suspicions about Lord Roland were right- or even if they weren't, since it would be an easy place to frame him from- the perfect place to assassinate a Queen. It's a tenuous chain of supposition, but with options and ideas dwindling as the shouts of Naantali's procession move towards the far gate, there's nothing left to do but try their best guess and leave themselves a path to the nearest gate if things go terribly wrong. The usual guards are missing from the doors, and there seem to be fewer clerks than there should be on duty downstairs. A chill hangs in the air despite the morning sun filtering through the high windows, and something at the back of Dolan and Lette's brains begins to itch, tingling up and down their backs and raising the hair on the back of their necks. Going up the stairs, the Mayor is already gone outside to meet the Queen, office locked and secured, but- the guards are gone. There's a long cheer outside, and through a hall window it's barely possible to make out the corner of a scene; there's army in the far distance, but a smaller set of riders is heading for the city from it at speed with the larger-than-life figure of the Queen easily distinguishable. Coming backed by her army- but willing to ride under the arrows of the city walls to her meeting. It's a politically interesting move, but there's not much time to linger and puzzle out the implications. A quick search reveals the bodies of three guards shoved into a bathroom, each with their necks cleanly broken and tossed like driftwood into a quiet corner; whatever is occurring, someone wanted privacy and only needed a little time before they thought discovery would be irrelevant. With this evidence, the door to Roland's office is quick to be kicked down, but there's nobody there- all that leaves is the roof, a ladder on a balcony soon showing the way up. The top of the building has enough ornamental architectural features that it doesn't take long to find a spot on the roof where someone climbing would be hidden from most of the rest of the roof, if not the streets below, and since any likely threat is going to be on the roof already it's an unhappy but necessary trade. Martin goes up first, of course. As soon as his head passes the level of the top of the roof, he can feel the change; the air takes on a deader, flat sound to it, with the sounds of the crowd muffled almost to silence. There's enough shelter for maybe three people to get behind a small spire without being easily seen by almost anyone atop the rest of the roof, no more- past that, it'll be hard to plan while talking above and below the line. What's worse, at the very limit of his hearing, Martin can hear faint chanting... Dolan or Lette: As soon as either of your heads gets above the level of the roof, you can feel a large illusion spell taking over; similar to one of the privacy bubbles you use, only a bit larger and also muffling sounds inside it, though not completely cutting it off. Oh yes, and you can also feel something exceptionally profane happening, magically speaking. It certainly 'smells' like Spider, only somehow... worse.
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Apr 29, 2014 13:38
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The roof of the city hall has spires around the edge, consciously or not imitating the crenellations atop a castle's walls but broader and topped with a tapering wooden tower, less practically useful than aesthetic; from where the party has crawled up onto the roof in a corner, the chanting seems to be coming from the far corner nearer the city walls without a good, easy line of sight without exposing himself; similarly, getting to a closer perch would entail a quick burst into the open to get around spire and to another... at least, if he stayed on the roof to do so. As Lette investigates the sense, all that she can easily sense is the general illusion covering the entire roof, presumably to conceal it from prying eyes on the street below or in the fields outside. There's the hint of something else, something darker but familiar underneath but it remains frustratingly elusive, partly cloaked by the more obvious illusory cloak. That spell is relatively easy to get her hooks into, sussing out the structure of how one magical strand after another is woven into the whole; while Martin waits, Lette methodically plucks away at the tune forming in her head, until abruptly the muffled sounds clear to Martin's eyes as the upper spell is aborted. There's a sudden halt in the chanting, but not in the replacement spell whose principles rush into Lette and Dolan's mind (accompanied in the latter by Iklist suddenly screaming); it's dark, a rich, oily kind of evil that seems to soak into the space behind their eyes almost instantly. It's the taste of raw Chaos on the back of their tongues, with a little blood, and a little bit of the impression of Spider- here, in the waking world, even if she wasn't physically present on the roof. "Someone dispelled the illusion." A clipped voice calls out from near the source of the chanting. "Hello. I can guess who you are. There's no sense hiding anymore for either of us, I suppose. In, oh, two minutes it won't much matter."
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May 4, 2014 02:50
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| # ¿ May 13, 2024 16:34 |
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Pouring over the edge of the roof and opening up fire support from the ledge, the party ventures one more time into the breach. As Martin pushes himself free from his cover and heads for the next, he can see from the roof of the city hall what lies beyond. Outside the walls, the carefully lined off meeting space is a straight shot from the far corner of the building. From the seat of government of the city, to assassinate someone with forbidden magic; that's the kind of combination that would guarantee a vicious and bloody war... if not a particularly well fought one, depending on who was the target. But Martin and the others cannot allow anyone to be shot down today. Arrows and spells begin pounding where the Eagles have to be, and soon Martin has to wade in; there's one with a sacrificial dagger kneeling over someone bound and gagged, a taste of burning tin in the air, and one Eagle with weapon and armor placidly ready... History hangs in the balance. Two eagles, four heroes, one war. The end was foreordained- or, at least, an end was foreordained. One body falls from the roof, and it's not Martin. One other dies there, and it's still not him. Nobody in the peace meeting falls over dead, their soul dragged through an arrow and out into the abyss; Spider does not tear her way through a thinned reality to begin her second reign of terror right then and there. There's no bloody siege, no need for heroic sacrifices of ill-trained soldiers. On the other hand: Lord Roland still runs Noah, and may still be someone Else. Spider still lurks, a vicious demigod still has an army at her disposal, and the gods' wars still spiral out of control almost everywhere else. But here and now, there is peace, and a halt to the killing. And maybe even a very happy harpy. Perhaps that's enough. Not The End... but An End. It's long past time for me to admit what's probably been clear to you guys for the better part of a year; I've been effectively driving my mental GMing car down the highway in first gear and listening to the engine tear itself apart to try to drive a third of the speed I should. On the one hand, I desperately love this setting, you guys have pretty much been awesome, and this game is probably the most successful one I've ever had and will ever have. On the other hand... the desire to actually post and update it has been lacking for a very long time, and I've been letting it limp on and on out of a sense of duty to not end this game before a True End like I've done to so many others. It's not fair to you guys as players, it's not fair to me as a GM, and it's not fair to anyone who's still actually reading this monster (if you are, I love you!). So: Best to make a clean break now. It's not the True End I hoped to get to. But it is An Ending. It will have to do. Once more: I love you guys, you basically have free passes to anything I run in the future, it just... the spark has been gone for a long while now. I'm sorry it turned out this way- I'm never going to stop being sorry it turned out this way- but if anything I should have done this months ago.
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Jun 1, 2014 04:30
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