Author Archives: John

Viore Lucan, mid-20s Cleric of Sarenrae

Sandy haired Viore Lucan was born in Baslwief, in the foothills of the Fenwall Mountains, which, as the joke goes, is a very beautiful place to be from. As is the case with many of the those born in that area, however, he has not lived an easy life. While his mother did not tragically die in birth, and his father was not enslaved by an evil Runelord, neither did Viore find fame by discovering a long lost treasure or a new but rare spice. Instead he simply had a hard childhood. His mother did take a long time to recover from childbirth, but sadly, that was not all that unusual. Medical care, whether it was for a splinter or for a childbirth, took money that many villagers simply did not have. In addition, physicians were not easy to find without a journey to Korvosa. “Rub a little dirt on it” was the semi-serious refrain for most injuries.

But why should good health only be available to the wealthy?

His father worked to earn money here and there but in a town of ~400, there weren’t a lot of opportunities. He was unskilled and tried to avoid the mines, but unskilled and mines were something of a matched set. His mother, of course, had the kids to take care of, and the family got by as families in small towns do.

Maybe it was due to the general squalor that was Baslwief, but inequity about good health gnawed at him. It became much more personal when his mother did actually fall seriously ill. In fact, she quickly became too ill to travel, and finding any meaningful care became nothing more than a wish. So Viore was surprised when, after his mother had been ill for five days, an older man came to the village. He specifically came to see if he could help fulfil that wish. Rather than bandages and tinctures, he seemed to have some sort of magic about him. He tried to use his magic to help her, but he shook his head sadly and said she was already closer to his god than even he was. She passed after one more intense, fever-fueled nights, but it gave Viore a chance to talk at greater length with the man while they held their vigil.

Dorin was a priest of Sarenrae. Although Sarenrae had some beautiful temples in Korvosa, Dorin preferred to “take it to the people” as he smilingly said. Sarenrae is more than just temples, tithing, and praying, he said, and Dorin preferred to demonstrate Sarenrae’s glory rather than talk about it. His life now was roaming the foothills and mountains, and doing what service Sarenrae indicated was needed.

Viore was both impressed and inspired. This man embodied Viore’s philosophy. Spending one’s life bringing solace and life to any person in need of it, persons who might otherwise have neither, struck a chord.

“I want to do that,” said Viore, with surprising conviction.

Dorin looked serious a moment, and warned him that he may be impressed today, but life on the road was not an easy one, especially when compared to life in an opulent temple within a city’s walls. Although Sarenrae’s grace could be found throughout Varisia, the temples tended to attract all the donations. Dorin himself received a small and irregular stipend from Korvosa for his work, it was barely enough to cover basic needs, especially for someone constantly on the move. But he steadfastly refused to accept contributions that he knew his grateful patients couldn’t afford.

Then he peered closely at Viore and said, “Perhaps, however, Sarenrae has seen fit to give me a new task this day.”

It’s not like he was a child. Viore was 15 when he left with Dorin to try to do Sarenrae’s work. The first two years were entirely focused on the mundane: bandaging, basic cleanliness, and recognizing which symptoms (and herbs) went with which illnesses. Viore was frustrated that there was no magic involved with these tasks, but Dorin told him that much about healing had to do with knowledge, not godly intervention. “Before I manifest Sarenrae,” he said, “I manifest all I can as simply a wise man.”

Dorin taught him that being a “fellow human” should not limit his efforts to humans. Gnomes, halflings, dwarves (rare though they might be in this area) also needed healing and, often, understanding. Sarenrae’s grace, he told Viore, was blind to their physical appearance and more attuned to their morals and intentions. Even half orcs, of which there were many in the mountains, should not be kept from Sarenrae’s grace if they were in need of it and were willing to receive it.

Viore spent almost 5 more years with Dorin, learning the art of healing as well as the ways of Sarenrae. Due to the highwaymen and brigands that tended to frequent the only road between Korvosa and Magnimar, he acquired a chain shirt and under Dorin’s surprising tutelage, became adept using a scimitar. This culminated in a brief trip to Korvosa’s magnificent temple for a formal ceremony where Viore was accepted by the priests of Sarenrae, and Viore accepted Sarenrae. He augmented Dorin’s route, effectively providing twice the care for those peoples. But after two more years of that, he was drawn to the town of Diamond Lake.

A cleric of Iomedae, one Jierian Wierus, had managed to slowly increase his flock over the years. While Viore wasn’t normally one to track local events in the towns he visited, he got word that one of the apparent perks of being in Jierian’s congregation was half price medical care. However he charged full price or made it unavailable entirely for “unbelievers”. This inequity is what caught Viore’s attention. Jierian also held some fairly strident ideas about the world and Diamond Lake in particular, but it wasn’t clear if that was due to his relationship with Iomedae or more of a personal quirk.

Nevertheless, Viore felt a need to “settle down” for a bit in Diamond Lake. While he wasn’t opposed to Jierian’s faith, he was opposed to his philosophy. He quietly made it known around town that if you needed care, and couldn’t get it elsewhere, Viore was an option. He charged only what the patient could afford, and for some that was nothing at all. Grateful residents allowed him to bed down on the floor in their place, and he kept moving around to avoid exposing any one person to possible retribution. He imagined that eventually there would be a scene with Jierian, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. But it was not his intent to start a local holy war and he certainly didn’t want anyone else pulled into it.

One early morning, not too long after he he started his extended stay in Diamond Lake, Viore had just finished helping an injured woman and was stilll wearing his white tunic with a sunburst on it. There was another quick knock at the door. Viore glanced at his host, who shrugged – nobody else was expected. Viore cautiously opened the door to find a scruffy looking but largish person standing there. Viore recognized him as a worker from the Rusty Bucket. The man looked the cleric up and down, smiled, and said, “Huh. I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you now?” replied Viore evenly.

“I was watching you. Some woman just came in here with a bad limp and left without it.”

Viore tensed a bit, but said “I don’t consider it to be a secret.”

“Don’t much care one way or the other,” said the man. “I’m just glad you’re offering an alternative to Julian Weirdo, and wanted to tell you that. Hey, now that you’re not in a darkened doorway, you look kind of familiar.”

“I might,” said Viore. “I’ve been in this town probably a dozen times over the last couple of years and have been here this time for the last couple of weeks.”

“Snagsby,” said the man holding out his hand. “I work at -”

“- the Rusty Bucket. Yes , I remember. I’m Viore,” he replied, extending his hand.

Snagsby shook it and glanced at Viore’s tunic, and said, “Nice bullseye on your chest there.”

Viore looked down at the sunburst and smiled slightly. “Sarenrae isn’t done with me yet.”

“Sun for you, moon for me. Practically twins!”

“Moon?” mused Viore and it was Viore’s turn to look Snagsby up and down. “Your aura is strong. Nocticula, perhaps? Not the first choice of many.”

Snagsby allowed himself a bit of surprise, but responded, “Got it in one. Look, if you’re busy …”

“Not at all,” replied Viore. “Have a seat. I’m intrigued.”

Seraphina Amara Kinsey, early 20s human Slayer

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Sera reflected back on her life in Diamond Lake.

The youngest of four children, she had only fleeting memories of her life before her family moved to the small, desolate town. She remembered the excitement she felt for her new home, and the apprehension that followed it as she spent her first few days trying to make sense of her new surroundings.

It didn’t help that mother was particularly anxious about life on the “rough frontier”, as she called it. The money as the new managers of the Able Carter Coaching Inn was too good to pass up, as was the opportunity to build a stable, more secure future for the family. So Sera’s mother sucked it up, and ended up both loving and hating the place that they all grew to call home.

Her mother’s trepidations aside, it actually wasn’t all that bad growing up in the inn, especially since it was one of the few places in Diamond Lake that was not covered in grime, either inside or out. Of course, it also meant there was no shortage of housekeeping and chores to be done. Mom and dad were insistent that running the Inn was a family endeavor, and so the whole family participated whether they wanted to or not. As she got a little older, Sera suspected that some of the chores were really designed to keep her busy in the hotel, and thus not outside around town. Undaunted, she found ways to slip away when she wanted to explore or see her friends.

It helped being the youngest sibling. Her two sisters were five and six years older, and quite understandably wanted little to do with her. Her brother was much closer to her age, but being her parents’ only son meant he had a certain role to fill, and thus with her three siblings otherwise occupied Sera was often left to her own devices. It also helped that her mother had taken a more laissez-faire approach to parenting her fourth child, and as long as Sera was discreet she could pretty much do as she pleased. No one asked how she spent her time, and she didn’t feel obliged to tell.

Case in point: Sera was all but addicted to the excitement of being someplace she wasn’t supposed to be. Her favorite activities while growing up were listening to the guests and their gossip, unlocking the puzzles of what they were doing and why they were in town, and literally unlocking the doors to their rooms. By her thirteenth birthday, there wasn’t a lock in the inn that could keep her out. The advantage of growing up in a place with so many rooms and locks to experiment with was that there was more than enough time to learn how they all worked.

As she moved on to her teenage years, she couldn’t resist the siren’s call of exploration. She’d heard too many stories about the old cairns from both the inn’s lodgers and her friends, and she couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing them for herself. Of course, her parents absolutely forbade her from doing anything of the sort, so it was only natural that she would do it anyway. At thirteen, she joined up with a unique group of like-minded youth in town that called themselves the Night Walkers. Her well-honed ability to silently slip out of the hotel at night, and her natural ability to see in the dark, served her well on their many clandestine adventures both around the moonlit town and along the hills beyond. A year later, she spent the night in the Whispering Cairn–the youngest of the group to do so–and encouraged one of her best friends, Bel, to join.

Running around the hinterlands in the dark was, of course, more than a little dangerous. The fighting lessons her father insisted on arranging for her, and the informal lessons from her fellow Night Walkers, probably saved her from harm–or worse–more than once, whether it was due to an unexpected encounter with a drunk miner or a run-in with the local wildlife. (In retrospect, it was shocking none of them had gotten seriously hurt in those days. Though, not long after she outgrew the group, she learned that a girl had disappeared or died while staying a night in the Cairn, so that streak of luck had finally run out.)

In her late teens, she felt the urge to make a new life of her own. It was Bel that pointed out the obvious: Sera knew the town like the back of her hand, the surrounding countryside almost as well, and she could navigate it all in the dark. These were all useful skills, and all she had to do was match them up with the people who needed them. Fortunately for her, Diamond Lake had no shortage of those who needed things done discreetly, and the cover of darkness was nothing if not discreet. Sera’s first business was acting as a nighttime, freelance courier, with no questions asked. She would deliver what you needed when you needed it, as long as it was done in the dark. Later, when others started to notice the activities of the enterprising, young woman, they learned she was a nighttime, freelance courier who also happened to be armed, and who was not at all intimidated by intimidation tactics.

She later expanded her list of unlisted services to include other useful offerings, such as: retrieving lost property from another person’s possession, creative solutions to missing keys and forgotten lock combinations, and connecting buyers and sellers for merchandise that did not trade well on public markets. As a young entrepreneur, however, she was limited by her ability to effectively market herself to what was essentially a niche audience. Furthermore, her expenses were significant, and much of her potential profit was eaten by the frequent, and frequently random, licensing fees that were imposed by the local constabulary in order to ensure her continued operation. Her work was exciting at first, but now it had become an unpleasant grind.

Sera longed for bigger challenges. She needed a way to test and hone her skills, and a chance to prove her mettle. Something that would pay off with enough gold to finance her departure from town, and equip her for the next chapter in her life. And Diamond Lake wasn’t offering her any of these things: it was just more of the same, with ever-increasing operating costs. It was time to move on.

Legacy of the Night Walkers

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Five years ago

Bel took the vials and jars out of her knapsack and placed them on the table, one after the other. It was a motley collection of clear and tinted glass in various shapes, made even more so by the array of fluids and powders contained within. Most of the former were clear or a light brown, and the latter came in shades of white.

Masildi looked on in growing horror as Bel pointed to each, rattling off their contents. “Skunk essence. Wolf urine. Clove oil. Ammonia. Capsaicin powder. Cinnamon oil. Lye. Powdered sulfur. Cat urine.”

“Stars, Bel…This is…This is disgusting.”

Bel resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. That would be pejorative and would run counter to what she was trying to accomplish. Convincing people meant bringing them along, not judging their thinking.

“Look. I know this isn’t pleasant, but animals make their way in there from time to time. Some lair there. Others are lured by the scent of potential prey. You don’t want to be surprised.”

“‘Isn’t pleasant’? You certainly have a gift for understatement. I am not covering myself in…in any of this,” Masildi replied, disgust still registering on her face. “I can handle myself. I don’t need to smell like… Stars! I don’t even know what this would smell like.”

Bel stood firm. “Look, you don’t have to use all of these. I only needed the first two. But going in there with nothing to mask yourself could attract unwanted attention, and this way you have options. This isn’t the Ritual, Masi! It’s a whole night.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll take your gross alchemy kit with me if it will get you off my back!”

“Good,” Bel replied tersely, not rising to the bait. She quickly but carefully placed the collection back in the sack and held it out to Masildi. Her friend grabbed it and slung it roughly over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. The usual warmth in Masildi’s voice was gone, and irritation had filled the vacuum. She left quickly, without saying another word and without looking back.

Bel never saw her again.

Three years ago

Bel awoke to an urgent pounding at her front door. She looked around groggily, it slowly registering that she had dozed off. It was a rare Starday where she had the afternoon off.

Her flat was one of the smaller ones in the tenement house, and much more cramped than the quarters she used to share with her family, but it was clean, reasonably well maintained, and mostly free of pests and vermin. It was also relatively free of furniture. Most importantly, though? It was hers. She could barely afford it, but sleeping alone instead of with a colony of roaches meant living on the financial edge.

The pounding continued, unconcerned that she was not fully awake.

“I’m coming!” she yelled, hoping that it would be enough to make the noise stop while she got to her feet.

Mercifully, it did just that. Bel reached the door and cracked it open, leaving the security chain in place. She kept a dagger mounted on the inside of the door where she could grab it quickly in case of trouble. If someone really wanted to get in, they’d probably not knock at all, but there was no sense in taking chances. Trouble was rare, but this was still Diamond Lake.

Alina’s face was visible through the narrow opening.

“Alina!” she exclaimed. She was still groggy, and the unexpected appearance of her old friend left her flustered. She fumbled with the chain at first but got it unhooked. Alina wasted no time coming in, pushing the door open and pushing Bel back with it.

“Bel! Who is leading the Night Walkers these days?”

“What?” was the best she could manage. Bel was just getting her mental footing, and Alina had knocked her off it again.

“The Night Walkers, Bel. Who is leading them?”

“There are no Night Walkers, Alina. Not anymore. Not since…” Bel let the sentence die. There was no need to finish it.

“Are you certain? There’s no one trying to start them up again?”

Bel shut the door, finally recognizing that it was still open. “I mean, we were never as secret as we thought we were. Half of the town knew there were kids running around out there. They just didn’t care enough to try and stop it. If someone was doing that, we’d all hear about it. What is this about?”

Alina bit her lip and took in a deep breath. “Sergiu heard a rumor that someone is planning to spend a night in the Cairn.”

If Bel wasn’t fully awake before, she was now. “What?! Who? For Stars’ sake, why?! When? Stars, we have to stop it!”

Alina snorted. “You are asking questions I don’t have answers to. I was hoping you had heard something. And, I agree with you. Problem is, we don’t know who to stop, or even when they are going to try.”

“Who else have you told about this?” Bel asked.

“So far, I’ve only spoken to you. Sergiu is asking around, too. He’s trying to find Eduari. Sergiu heard it from Hassi, and Hassi said he heard about it from them.”

“Eduari? I know where they are.”

Bel and Alina found Eduari at the Lakeside Stables, grooming one of the horses.

“Bel. Alina,” he said warily, looking back and forth between the two. “Stars, Alina, I haven’t seen you in ages. What are you doing here? What are the two of you doing here?”

Bel never really got along with Eduari. He was prickly, frequently a jerk, and quick to verbally cut someone else down for whatever offense he deemed them to have committed. But he had earned his spot in the group like everyone else, so she had respect for his skills, and for his nerve.

Alina answered him. “We heard a rumor that someone is planning to spend a night in the Cairn.”

“So what? Several of us did that.”

“The last one that tried it died, Ed,” Bel answered angrily.

“She died because she told her idiot watchers they could wait in the house. She wouldn’t listen to anyone, not even you. She even sent your little gift bag with them!”

“She died,” Bel repeated, raising her voice, “because doing this was always dangerous and stupid, and our luck finally ran out!” Respect for his skills and nerve didn’t automatically imply respect for him, personally, and she didn’t have a lot of it.

Alina intervened before their exchange could escalate. “Don’t be an ass, Ed! Spending the night in there was always a bad idea. You know it. I know it. Bel knows it. So, who is it? Is someone trying to resurrect the Night Walkers?”

Eduari snorted derisively. “The Night Walkers. I can’t believe we actually called ourselves that.” He saw Alina’s expression darken, and quickly added, “No, Alina, no one is trying to make more Night Walkers. It’s just someone trying to prove themselves as tough as we were. That’s all.”

Bel stepped forward and glared at Eduari, her feet apart, hands on her hips, and elbows out. She cut an imposing figure, and he flinched as she spoke. “Who, Ed? Give us a name!”

“Lennick Grasu, OK? He’s just some kid. I don’t even know him. But you’re too late, because I heard he’s doing it tonight.”

The two girls looked at one another, a silent exchange passing between them. And then Alina said, “Fuck.”

Bel and Alina dashed out of the stables, breaking into a moderate run. It was a pace they could both sustain for a significant distance, a skill they had honed from night after night under moonlit skies.

“Bullshit, we are ‘too late’,” Alina said as the stables retreated. “We can’t stop them from going in, but we can sure as stars yank them out!”

“Agreed! I’ll run home and gear up. You find Sergiu. We can be there a couple hours after nightfall.”

“I’ll meet you in the square.”

Gearing up didn’t take Bel very long. Keeping a bag packed and ready to go was another one of her old habits, and she was in and out of the tenement in less than five minutes. She arrived at the square first but didn’t have to wait long for Alina to show. She had found Sergiu, and he was jogging beside her.

“Bel,” he said as he came to stop.

“Sergiu,” she replied.

It had taken almost three years, but he had eventually warmed up to her. Just in time for him and Alina to leave the Night Walkers and run off to get married, just like everyone but the two of them knew they would do, eventually.

“Good to see you,” Sergiu said. “Now let’s go save this jackass from themselves.”

It had been six years since Bel had been here. For Alina and Sergiu, it had been even longer. Without the regular visits by Night Walkers, there had been no one to trample the weeds, clear the underbrush, or cut back the vines and roots that draped over the entrance. Even knowing exactly where it was, the Cairn was difficult to find until they were nearly on top of it.

“Well, this place has certainly gone to shit,” Sergiu said quietly.

They were studying the entrance carefully from a distance, crouching behind a tangle of bushes. The waxing gibbous moon provided just enough light for them to see.

“We had to let the landscaper go,” Bel said, dryly. “I don’t see any watchers, do you? Did this kid really come out here alone?”

“Let’s get a closer look,” Alina suggested.

Alina and Sergiu lit the lanterns they carried with them and swept the clearing in front of the Cairn as they approached. It was weird to see former Night Walkers using light like this, but they were searching for someone, not playing games in the dark. To do a proper search, you needed to be able to see.

“There,” Sergiu said, pointing to a patch of crushed weeds. “Looks like they were here recently. Either they abandoned their friend, or something scared them off.” He studied the trails of flattened grass and bent stems. “They came in this way, walking. Then one walks off to the cairn; I assume that’s Lennick. And there: two sets of tracks, much more recent than the others, running away. Roughly towards town. We took a more direct route in, so they probably didn’t pass near us.”

“I see a set of tracks over here, too,” Alina said, about twenty feet off to the side. “Bipedal; they don’t look human and they aren’t coming from town. Seem to lead in, then back out.”

“That is not good.”

Bel didn’t wait for either of them to act. She ran into the entrance, calling out, “Lennick! Lennick! Are you in here?” Her voice echoed down the long hall. There was no reply.

“Bel! Wait!” Bel heard Alina and Sergiu scramble into the entrance and she saw her shadow dance ahead of her as their lamps bounced with their footsteps. She was running far ahead of them because she didn’t need a lamp to see in the dark.

Bel stopped at the junction and checked both alcoves. The was nothing in the one to her left, but in the one to her right she saw a young boy crumpled on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

“Up here! Hurry!” she called out. She bent down to him and saw that he was unconscious and taking ragged breaths. There was a gash on his forehead, and blood was starting to pool on the ground. “He’s hurt! Bad!”

Alina and Sergiu reached the junction and light filled the alcove. The blood was more obvious now, as was the wound. It looked like he’d been hit with a rock. Said rock was on the ground a couple of feet from him.

“He’s been attacked,” Bel said.

“Yes, we can see that,” Sergiu replied, annoyed.

“Who or whatever did this,” Alina said, looking at the rock, “wasn’t really trying kill him, if that’s what they used.”

“They weren’t trying not to, either. You two prop his head up.”

“That could hurt him worse,” Alina said.

Sergiu pulled a vial out from his waist pack and kneeled on the ground. “If he bleeds out here, which he seems to be doing very fucking quickly, he could die. We need to get this in him.”

He pulled the stopper from the vial. Bel supported the boy’s neck while Alina lifted and turned his head.

Sergiu poured the contents into the boy’s mouth and said, “Now tilt his head back so it goes down his throat.”

Bel had heard of healing potions, but she had never seen one, much less seen one in action. Within seconds, the gash on his head had not only stopped bleeding, but had disappeared entirely. The boy spasmed and coughed, spitting out some of the liquid. Then his eyes fluttered open.

“What… What’s going on?” he asked in a raspy voice. “Who are you?” He looked disoriented, and about five seconds from a full-on panic.

Bel gave him a smile and spoke in her most soothing voice. “It’s OK,” she said. “You’re safe.”

From behind her came Sergiu’s voice, as diplomatic as ever. “We’re your rescuers, asshole.”

Bel, Age 13

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Bell led the group towards the run-down farmhouse that sat, improbably, miles from anywhere.

“Run-down” was perhaps being kind: the sagging roof likely had leaks if not outright holes, several stretches of the eaves were warped, mold and moss were growing in large patches on the siding, and there was peeling on nearly every painted surface. All the windows were boarded up, though some of the planks had rotted away leaving gaps in the barriers. The surrounding fence was losing its battle to contain the tide of overgrown shrubs and weeds.

Bel had stumbled across the house several nights ago while the Night Walkers were having an informal orienteering run. She misread the crudely drawn map Sergiu had created and wandered a quarter mile off course. After figuring out her mistake, she righted herself with a bearing towards the next navigation point and found the abandoned structure directly in her path. She noted the location on the map, and came back during the day to get a better look at it.

Its potential was obvious, and she told Alina about it that evening. Alina told Sergiu, because of course she did, and he wanted to have a look.

“The upstairs is a dump,” she said as they crossed through the gap in the fence line, “but the main floor is in good shape. And there’s a cellar, with an entrance there.” She pointed to the large wooden doors in the ground as they crossed what used to be a manicured yard and was now just a thicket of weeds. “There’s even a well in the back, though I haven’t tried it out.”

“Fireplace, too,” Sergiu said, looking at the brick structure climbing the wall up past the roof.

“Yup. C’mon inside.”

The door protested loudly on failing hinges as Bel pushed it open. Alina and Sergiu went in first. Neena, Hassi, Eduari, and Patia followed. Bel came in last, closing the door behind her. They were all clumped in the entry, looking it over. Their ingress had kicked up a large dust cloud, and Patia had a brief sneezing fit. They could see the sunlight in the air where it shone through gaps in the makeshift shutters.

It was dim inside, but not dark. Not that either would stop a Night Walker.

Sergiu let out a low whistle. “Damn. This would make one hell of a clubhouse for us. A little inconvenient, but you can’t beat it for privacy.”

Alina added, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much dust in one place.” She rubbed her foot on the floor, kicking up another small, gray cloud. “No one has been in here for a long, long time.” She pointed to Bel’s boot prints. “Until you came along, of course.” Alina grinned.

Bel smiled back and continued her sales pitch. “The ground floor has a couple of large rooms–the fireplace is in one of those–and a kitchen. Oh, and there’s access to the cellar in here, too.”

She led Sergui and Alina into one of the larger spaces. The others followed closely, murmuring excitedly.

“Looks like the leak is making its way down here in a couple of spots,” Sergiu said, pointing to discolorations in the ceiling. “There and there.”

“But it’s not too bad,” Alina added.

“No. Not too bad.” Sergiu paused. He pointed up with his index finger, and shook his hand slowly as a thought came to him. “I bet I know what this was. I think it’s an old mine office. We should be careful outside; the mine entrance may be nearby. Even if it’s boarded up properly, it’s still dangerous. Last thing we need is someone falling in one and fucking breaking something.”

From behind them came Eduari’s voice. “Was this from one of your dad’s mines, you think?” He was asking the question everyone was thinking.

“I dunno, Ed. I don’t think so? There were a lot of small mines around here a while back. Several of ‘em shut down when they stopped producing. The ones that lasted eventually got bought out, then shut down over the years.”

“You mean ‘taken over’, asshole,” Alina corrected.

Sergiu shot her an annoyed look. “Same difference.”

“But you don’t know,” Eduari replied.

“No, Ed, I don’t fucking know. Dad and I have an agreement. He doesn’t involve me in his business, and I don’t fucking ask about it.”

“So it could have been one he bought out,” Neena suggested.

Bel stayed silent, trying to will the others to do the same. This subject was a sore point with Sergiu, something she learned early on.

He turned to address the group. “Do you geniuses know why I hang out with you all? There’s a lot of reasons, but a big one is that none of us fucking talk about my dad’s fucking mine. Also, because he and his cronies are always talking shit about the people who work in them, and laughing about it like it’s a fucking joke, and I hate being around them. You all aren’t jokes to me, and I don’t want to ruin this thing we have by talking about my dad’s fucking mine!”

This speech was followed by an uncomfortable silence, which Alina broke by saying, “You’re going soft on us, Sergiu.”

“Fuck you, Alina.”

“Is that a promise?”

Everyone else snickered at this, most of the kids trying and failing to hold it in. Though they acted otherwise, Bel was pretty sure the two of them were a couple and just went to great lengths to hide it. It was a suspicion shared by every member of the Night Walkers.

“OK,” Sergiu said, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes, “If we are all done being children, can we please go upstairs and see how bad it is up there?”

Bel was eager to move on. She grinned and said, “Right this way!”

She led them to the decaying stairs, and carefully up to the second story. The musty smell of mold assaulted their noses as they reached the top.

Everyone agreed that the upstairs was, indeed, “a huge, fucking mess”.

“Gods,” Alina said, staring at the gaps in the roof. “I’ve seen colanders that hold more water.”

Sergui snorted. “Fuck. Of course it had to be too good to be true. That roof is not long for this world, and it just might take someone with it. Fuck! I really wanted this to work out.”

That was when Hassi finally spoke. “I think we can patch it.”

Neena practically laughed in response. “You think we can patch it? Why is that? Because of all your experience working on roofs?”

“Hey! My parents are carpenters!”

“And because ‘your parents are carpenters,’” Ed mocked, “You are suddenly a fucking roofing expert?”

Bel found this sort of childish bickering exhausting. As much fun as the Walkers could be, they could also be equally exasperating. She stomped her foot and yelled, “Enough! Unless there’s anyone here who does have roofing experience, can we at least listen to the one person who might actually know what they are talking about?”

To Bel’s surprise, Sergiu came to her defense. “Bel’s right. Unless one of you lot knows more about this than Hassi, just shut it and let him talk.”

No one spoke.

“Hassi? Go ahead.”

“Well,” Hassi said, glaring at Eduari, “to patch it properly we’d need plywood and some tar. But that’s not practical.”

“Right,” Alina said. “None of us are carrying hot tar and sheets of plywood half a day from Diamond Lake.”

“But we could do a temporary patch, with a water resistant tarp. We drape it over the apex so water doesn’t just run under it. I’ve seen my folks use them. Not in this exact way, but it should still work.”

“Great!” said Alina. “So where do we get a waterproof tarp? One big enough to cover that?”

Bel knew the answer to this. Her mom worked a lot of odd jobs, and a couple of years ago she spent a good part of the summer making tents. Tidwoad had gotten a large order from the garrison, and didn’t want to lose the sale due to a lack of supply. “We make it from a cloth sheet and linseed oil. You stretch the sheet out and make it as taught as you can. Nail it down around the edges to keep tension in it. Then paint it with linseed oil. I’ve seen my mom do it.”

“Right,” Hassi said. “The tension and the angle help keep the water from dripping through. It just rolls off. The linseed oil makes it more durable. It wouldn’t last forever, or keep the water out like a proper repair, but it’d be loads better than just letting the rain in.”

Alina and Sergiu looked at one another, considering this new opportunity. Finally, Alina nodded her head, and then Sergiu did too. “OK. This is good. This is really good. I think we have a place we can call our own, and a plan for fixing it up.

“Now. Let’s go take a look at that well.”

The well turned out to have drinkable water. It had an odd taste, but not a bad one, and it looked clean. Bel watched from the porch as several of the teens took turns lowering and raising the bucket. They had made some sort of impromptu game out of it, and Bel was trying to work out the rules when Sergiu came over and stood next to her.

“You did good, Bel.”

Bel looked at him warily. Sergiu had stopped being outright mean to her a few months ago, but he’d never even graduated to “indifferent”, much less “nice”. She wasn’t sure if he was being honest with her now, or setting her up for a backhand to the compliment.

“Look,” he said, taking on a serious tone. “I’ve been a real shit to you and I just want you to know that I’m sorry. It wasn’t right. I’ve not been fair. I’m still not happy that you came in so young, but that’s on me. Truce?”

He held out his hand for Bel to shake.

Bel was sure his change in tone was, in very large part, a result of her finding the abandoned house, and not some spontaneous change of heart. But, that was still something, and it was a trade Bel was willing to make. It was, in fact, one she was hoping for. So she gripped his hand in hers, and shook it firmly.

“Truce.”

Bel, Age 12

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The entrance to the cairn was an enormous maw in the side of the hill, ready to swallow Bel whole. In the light of the nearly-full moon, she could make out the stone pillars that framed it, an obvious sign that this was not some natural cave formation. It was a clear night, and as the wind kicked up she could hear the strange, unmusical tones that gave the Whispering Cairn its name.

She, Sergiu, and Alina stood a dozen paces back from the gaping hole. Behind them, in a loose semicircle, were the rest of the eleven teenagers that made up the Night Walkers.

Sergiu pulled his arm back and then snapped it forward, throwing a dimly glowing rock right through the center of the mouth. Bel watched the blurry streak get swallowed by the darkness, heard the rock hit the ground and skip, then skip again, and again, and again, each one fainter than the last. Alina had assured her that they “never throw it far.” Sergiu wasn’t sticking to tradition.

Alina turned sharply to face him, clearly furious. “What. The fuck. Was that?”

Sergiu met her gaze, with an annoying, see-how-clever-I-am grin on his face. “A lucky throw, obviously.” He shrugged his shoulders, apparently trying for sheepish, but he just couldn’t let go of that stupid grin. Bel didn’t believe a word of it, but said nothing. There was nothing she possibly could say that wouldn’t make this worse.

Bel knew he was both lying and not. No one’s aim was that good all the time, so yes, there was no doubt that it was a lucky throw. But he had also been trying to pitch it as far as he could. So lucky throw or not, he was deliberately being a dick, and he had managed to strike gold.

Alina had him pegged, too. “A lucky throw. You’re such an asshole,” came her retort. She turned to Bel and said, softly, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes! She does! If she wants to be a Night Walker, she has to do it.”

“Shut up, Sergiu!” Alina snapped, turning her head to glare at him briefly before facing Bel again. “You don’t. This is bullshit. We never do it like this and he’s being an ass. We’ll redo the throw.”

From behind them, a girl’s voice called out, “No redos! You only get one throw.”

Alina didn’t even turn around. “You don’t get an opinion, Neena! Stay out of it!”

“She’s right, though,” Sergiu said, smirking. “One throw. If it goes in, it’s good. That’s the rule.”

“We don’t throw past the first junction, Sergiu, and you know it.”

“But it’s not a rule, ‘Lina.”

Bel knew he had her there, and she could see Alina knew it too, the way her eyes sank, the slight—very slight—drop in her shoulders.

“I can bring them around. Trust me,” Alina said quietly, her voice gentle and encouraging.

The spats between Alina and Sergiu were all but legendary among the Night Walkers. For two years they had jockeyed for status in the little family they had created, neither ever able to permanently get the upper hand.

Bel knew how this argument would end: Alina would lose by winning. If she convinced the others to redo the throw, they’d think she was going soft. Playing favorites. Even if they never said it aloud, the damage would be done.

Bel liked Alina. She was kind and smart, and didn’t mind hanging out with someone three years younger. Most importantly, she was the one who’d encouraged Bel to join. Bel wasn’t going to repay her by costing her standing with the group.

Bel didn’t know for sure why Sergiu had a problem with her—he was the only one in the circle that voted against her initiation—but she could make a guess: no one had joined before they turned thirteen, and Bel was barely twelve. Sergiu’s had been outvoted ten to one, and this was his response.

“I’ll do it,” she said, meeting her friend’s eyes.

“Bel, it’s…” Alina lowered her voice further so others couldn’t hear. “Look, there’s a reason why we don’t throw the stone that far. Sometimes there are animals living in there. They think it’s a cave. The farther back you go…” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll do it,” she repeated.

“If you do it, he wins.”

“No. If I do it, he loses,” she said with a sly smile.

Alina thought about this, then smiled back. “Okay. Go show him what you’re made of.”

Bel turned to face Sergiu and said, loudly, clearly, and with conviction, “Give me the lantern.”

Sergiu’s disappointment was obvious. Bel knew he’d wanted her to chicken out; forcing Alina to ask for a concession would have been a silver medal. Now he had nothing. He reluctantly picked up the lantern at his feet and handed it over.

“OK,” he said tersely, “You know how this goes. You get one turn of the sand glass. Find the stone, bring it out.”

The Rite of the Stone was ingenious. Bel didn’t know how it worked, whether it was magic or alchemy or something else, but it worked: Sergiu’s rock glowed faintly in the dark, but in the light it was just a dumb rock, and you couldn’t tell it from any of the others. To find the right rock once you were in, you had to extinguish the light. This is where the Night Walkers got their name.

Bel opened the shutter in the lamp and let the red light spill out ahead of her. This bit was Alina’s touch: red light, she’d explained, preserved your night vision, and some animals, including a few predators, had trouble seeing it. It was a lot dimmer than a normal lantern light, of course, but nothing about this was supposed to be easy. Bel didn’t want to know how much the red glass had cost. That was probably Sergiu’s doing. When he and Alina weren’t too busy arguing, they made a formidable team.

Bel had to admit that Sergiu was actually pretty cool for a boy, despite whatever issue he had with her personally. As the son of a mine owner, he had no business hanging around with teenagers whose families had to scrape to get by—some of their parents probably worked in his dad’s mine—but he never held that over anyone or put on airs. Here, he was just another teenager, and a pretty decent one at that. Sure, he could be irritating and obnoxious, but that was true of a lot of people.

Bel crept into the cairn, picking her way carefully across the rocks and boulders. Once properly inside, the walls and floor smoothed out into a long hall of worked stone. She could see initials—some carved, some done in ink—just inside the entrance. These didn’t belong to Night Walkers, of course; theirs would be much farther in. Any idiot could make it this far, and they would still be in the light.

As she moved, Bel pictured the stone’s flight, imagining its arc as it fell. The junction appeared at the edge of the lamplight, bathed in red. The stone, she figured, had struck the ground just this side of it, then skipped down the hall beyond. She closed the shutter and let the darkness close in around her, turning her head from side to side. Nothing. Onward.

She reopened the shutter halfway and pressed on. At the junction, she closed it again. Nothing, as expected. The names carved here—if you made it this far, you made sure your record was permanent—were mostly ones she recognized. Shahab. Rita. Sveigh. Petre. Neena. And, of course, Alina and Sergiu. Those brave few who spent the night in the cairn did so here, too. Bel hoped to join that exclusive club someday.

A breeze kicked up, sending more of the atonal music echoing through the hall. The echoes were louder here, some sounding faintly like voices. Bel ignored them. Most kids thought the cairn was haunted, but real hauntings were rare. The rumors were probably started—and encouraged—by the Night Walkers themselves.

Most were just social circles, but sitting around gossiping wasn’t Bel’s idea of fun. A few were little more than gangs of petty thugs, which was absolutely not her thing. But the Night Walkers? They were different. They did stuff. Stuff that mattered.

And best of all, they did most of it at night.

A lot of kids were afraid to go out in the dark. The Walkers lived for it: scavenger hunts, capture the flag, exploration, hunting, all by moonlight. Sergiu and Alina taught them real skills and made it exhilarating. But doing any of that in the dark took nerve, and that was what the Rite was really about. If you couldn’t make it through this, you’d never make it through the rest.

The junction was behind her now, and instinct told her it was time to check again. She closed the light and slowly scanned the darkness. Just as she was ready to move on, she saw it: a faint glow straight ahead, maybe another ten feet away.

She cracked the light open just enough to see the floor without losing sight of the stone. She had maybe two minutes left. She crept forward until the glow vanished at the edge of the light, closed the shutter, and inched the final few feet through the darkness. The stone reappeared ahead. She stumbled on her last step, catching herself against the wall, then bent carefully and closed her hand around it.

From up ahead, she heard a low, canine growl. Alina’s voice echoed in her head: Sometimes there are animals living there. They think it’s a cave. Bel froze. The growl came again. A wolf? A coyote? A wild dog?

She forced down her panic. It was pitch black: she couldn’t see it, and it couldn’t see her. It probably caught your scent when you stepped inside. You startled it when you almost fell. Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached into her pocket, dropped the stone into it, and pulled out a glass vial filled with cayenne, capsaicin powder, and black pepper. It had cost her every copper she had, but it was her only contingency plan: mask her scent if something picked it up, or give it a faceful if that didn’t work. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.

With the vial clutched in her right hand, she used the tips of her fingers to crack open the lamp’s shutter as she turned it around in her left. Dim, crimson light spilled out behind her, giving her the barest outline of the passage. Just enough to keep her footing as she slowly stepped backwards.

The growl came again, but softer this time. Less angry. It just wants you to leave. Keep backing away. Don’t. Run. Except she didn’t have time for this; she didn’t want to give Sergiu the satisfaction of seeing her fail (a part of her brain suggested that, perhaps, she didn’t have her priorities straight, but the rest of it was running on adrenaline and wasn’t listening).

The next growl was shorter, softer, less threatening, and with time running out she risked a faster step. No response.

Confident she was in the clear, she turned around and walked at a brisk pace, resisting the urge to break into a run. She slipped her hand back into her pocket, replacing the vial before she accidentally peppered herself, and pulled out the stone. You did it! You actually did it!

Bel exited the cairn with half a minute to spare. The group whooped and hollered as she casually walked up to a sullen Sergiu and dropped the glowing stone at his feet.

Alina was absolutely beaming. She laughed as she closed an arm around Bel and pulled her into a hug. “Welcome to the Night Walkers!”

Remi Letter to Julia: Aug 2020

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Julia,

Fate once again brought me face 2 face with Viralane on opposite sides but at the last minute she surrendered to the group and was knocked out before I could even hit her once. Apparently the others felt that she was more valuable alive then dead and I admit that even though I wanted to hurt her it would have been wrong to kill her once she had surrendered. I was a bit too rough when searching her unconscious body and that was wrong of me. Somehow I thought that it would make me feel better but it had the opposite effect and that is not a feeling that I ever wish to experience again.

We were able to learn more about the group chasing us so some good has come from keeping Viralane alive. I have learned that Viralane is not very bright, she is cursed and instead of trying to get it removed she falls for the cult that convinces her this is a very hard curse to get rid of but if she helps them then they will find a way to get the curse removed. She is such a putz.

I have also learned a lot about her ability and it is clear that she has enjoyed a life full of manipulating people with her magic to get what she wants. Apparently being selfish and self-centered doesn’t make one evil.

With her being close to death I felt obligated to watch over her, even when some of the others suggested that we leave her tied up while we continue to search. It’s not that I really wanted to protect and guard her from danger but there is no way I could just leave her helpless.

Maybe just maybe she will turn her life around, that is if going back to performing and being intimate with married men can be considered turning her life around.

I am a little confused about the intent of Shasa in regards to helping Viralane with her curse. I am not sure if she plans to work to remove the curse or find another way that will allow her to perform on stage. I admit my sense of anger towards her brought to my mind a cruel way to allow her to go back to performing on stage without removing the curse.

This is one of those times when I really want to go surfing through her memories to determine if a second chance is justified. Regardless Viralane is getting her second chance and I just hope she doesn’t ruin it.

Captain Sursha was very happy to see the return of Viralane so that she can finally pay for her crimes. I now realize that the situation with Viralane is outside of my control and my part at least for the moment is done. As long as she follows the commands of Sursha and the crew I have to accept that there is nothing further for me to do. Hearing the determination in Sursha’s voice put me at ease and I can’t in good conscience do anything further to Viralane, although it would have been nice to be able to stab her at least once before she surrendered.

After dinner and some more time with Captain Sursha I can finally let go and I no longer have the urge to punch Viralane in the face. I accept that Desna led me to the closure that I needed rather than the one I was searching for.

I still don’t know about helping Viralane with her curse. In time Desna will provide me guidance if it is her will for me to help Viralane. For me I feel that it is too early to tell which version of Viralane we will see in the future. With her magic abilities to manipulate people’s minds I suspect that she might be able to get out of her current legal situation. She is also attractive so I don’t put it past her to use sexual favors along with mind affecting abilities to earn her freedom.

My new at least temporary roommate is Shimsa and she is enjoyable to be around. She seems a little self-conscious about not being human, I never even thought about it until I spent some time with her. I have to assume there have been some very cruel people in her past but hopefully it has been very obvious that to me we should relish and celebrate our differences along with all of the ways we are the same. I will have to say that she is a lot neater than you are, I haven’t tripped over her clothes even once.

For now it is clear that the will of Desna is for me to travel with this group of people. It looks as if all of us have been chosen by the gods to follow this path. Something big is happening and we must do our part to make sure evil does not corrupt the world.

Even though part of me wishes you were here I feel that you are already following the right path for you.

Vlad’s Tale

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First, I suppose I should apologize, especially given what happened. I didn’t intend to be away until so late in the morning—I didn’t even expect to be gone all night—but, I actually found what I was looking for. Or rather, who. And along with that came a mystery, though in the end…well. I am getting ahead of myself.

I only lived here for about four or five years, but it felt more like home than anywhere else, and it was probably the only real family I have had. My parents…let’s just say that some people should not have children. I know that sounds strange coming from me, but it’s true.

Anyway, I ran away from Korvosa—I just can’t think of that city as home even though I spent most of my life there—when it got really bad. I am sure you heard the stories. It took me nearly a year to get to Magnimar. And it turns out I wasn’t the only one who had that idea. If you look close enough, this city is littered with runaways. Most are Varisian but there are all ethnicities and races here. There’s something about this city. Teens flock to it. Maybe because it’s safer than the alternatives.

Most live on the streets. If you’re lucky, you find a way to get by in Ordellia or Dockway. If not…you end up in the Underbridge. Or worse, in Rag’s End, which is like if your slums have slums. I spent some time there, and it was enough to have me longing for the safety and security of the Shingles. And I knew I had to get out or…well…let’s just say you don’t want to know what happens to teens who get stuck there.

I didn’t just get lucky. I got really lucky. Though Chadali would say that you make your own luck, or rather that it’s not luck at all, but the ability to see opportunity when it shows itself. I found a home of sorts for runaways more or less like myself, run by runaways. Kids who had banded together to keep each other safe.

Calling it a “home” might be generous. It was an abandoned building on Kyver’s island. Maybe “condemned” would be a better word. But it was a roof and walls, which is more than most find. They called it Tineri House, which is a Varisian word. Put together, it roughly translates to “youth hostel”. They only had three rules for anyone who lived there: you helped cook and clean, there was no violence, and there were no drugs.

When the Isle of Xin rose four years later, the building collapsed and a lot of kids died. It could have been worse; the earthquake struck mid-day so not everyone was home, but still…

I left Magnimar shortly after that. It was just too hard to stay. But, I always wondered whether Tineri House—the idea of it—had lived on. So when we came here yesterday…I just had to find out.

You can spot runaways from a mile away if you know what to look for, and of course i know what to look for. But I’m no longer in that world, so I couldn’t just walk up to one and essentially interrogate them. There’s not a lot of trust for the outside world. Most of the youth who end up here? They are here because of it. Still, Chadali had led me there once before, and I trusted her to do it again.

It took a while. A few cautious inquiries here and there, and a lot of patience, and I found that Tineri House had not merely survived in spirit: it had risen from the ashes, and it have been given the same name.

What I was not expecting were the circumstances. The original Tineri House, the one I lived in, was not much different from organized squatting. When I think about it now, I am amazed it survived as long as it had. Youth are not known for their discipline and discretion. But I think we were more or less tolerated, as the people in Ordellia knew the alternatives, too. It helped that we kept a low profile, and the rules were designed to keep it that way.

But the new Tineri House…it has a benefactor. Oh, it’s still an abandoned building, but someone bought it at auction for that purpose. And that’s why I was gone for so long. I needed to know who, and why.

Why did I need to know? Well, the original Tineri House…it was just a stone’s throw from the Seven’s Sawmill. And so is the new one.

Of course, I didn’t know that was significant back then. None of us did. But Droste has Takkad’s Journal, and it’s at the very beginning that he talks about the malfeasance that took place there. And then Audrahni told us her story that involved, of all people, Justice Ironbriar. And I got scared. Because nothing is free in life, not honestly anyway, and I had to know if they were under someone’s thumb.

So I did some digging. Because I needed to know.

Turns out there was nothing to know. The owner…they had lived in the original Tineri House. They were a little before my time so I didn’t recognize them, but I asked and their story checked out. They had managed to do well for themselves over the years, and they had some money, and some connections, and when the opportunity came along to buy an abandoned building for coppers on the gold piece? They acted.

So as I said, in the end, it was nothing. But I am still glad that I looked.

Remi’s Journal

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Knock, Knock, Knock. The door opens to a screech from Julia as she embraces Remi and pulls her inside. This once mighty warrior checks her sleeping baby and then turns her attention back to Remi.

“So tell me everything” says Julia

Remi proceeds to tell Julia the story of her trip leaving out the specific details that need to remain secret. Julia intently listens to the entire story before speaking

“So it sounds like you finally have found a good group of people to adventure with. You have always jumped to conclusions so the fact that they took the items the group was delivering to Magnimar while you were out from the poison may have a reasonable explanation. While it is possible that they have lost trust in you I suspect that it was more about making it harder for your enemies to find it. At least you didn’t die from the poison like Henric. “ says Julia

“On the way here I stopped by his grave. The helpless feeling of watching him die of the poison is hard to forget. I know that at the time there was nothing that we could have done to save him but that doesn’t make it any less painful.” Replies Remi

Julia picks up the baby and carefully front wraps her to Remi. “I think you should take me out and buy me a gift. Since I am going to try on clothes you can watch after her. I promise not to tell your mother” Julia says with a gin

“Ah” replies Remi

“We are like sisters right? Well you should get to know your niece” says Julia

After searching several shops Julia finds an outfit to her liking. “Ok this one is comfortable to wear”

“Yeah I remember when your outfits were very revealing” comments Remi

“Oh I still have those” replies Julia

The two of them head over to one of their favorite places to eat. After enjoying a good meal and conversation Julia looks at Remi intensely and says “So you do have to go see your mother. “

“I was hoping you would go with me. That way maybe she will gush over the baby.” Says Remi in a concerned voice.

After a while Remi and Julia make their way over to the family butcher shop where Remi and Julia are warmly greeted by hugs from Remi’s father. Remi spins the happy version of her adventures for her father, brother, and Joe. After answering all of their question about the trip on the ship and Roderic’s Cove Julia grabs her arm and starts leading her to the stairs saying “There is no sense in putting it off”

“Well boys I think we are better off staying down here and besides we have to get that big order ready” replies Remi’s father

As Julia and Remi reach the top of the stairs the gaze of her mother feels deathly. For a moment they all just stand there looking at each other until suddenly the silence is broken by her mother “Oh let me see that precious girl. You haven’t been over to see us in a while.”

Remi’s mother takes the baby gushing over the little one “Oh isn’t she just the sweetest little baby girl. If your auntie over there would just settle down like a normal woman you would have someone to play with. I bet if she had a darling little girl like you she would quickly forget that nonsense about being an adventurer. ”

Remi’s mother hands the baby back to Julia and then turns her attention to Remi “So are you finally done with that crazy idea that you can be an adventurer. Clearly everyone sees that you are not an adventure, why else would you be back so soon. Or maybe you are pregnant. Oh my dear you don’t have to worry if you are pregnant because there are several men willing to marry you even if you are pregnant. “

Remi blurts out “I am not pregnant”

“Remi it’s time for you to grow up, get married, and start having kids. I don’t know why you have to be so much like your grandmother. “Exclaims her mother

Remi looks intently at her mother “I am not your only child. I am not about to start having kids because you think it is time. “

“Your brother and Joe work long hours in the butcher shop. Right now is not a good time for them to adopt a child” replies her mother

At that moment a familiar set of arms wraps around Remi as her grandmother says “Your daughter is going to make up her own mind whether you like it or not.”

Remi and her mother spend the next 45 minutes glaring at each other as Julia and grandmother attempt to keep the conversation light.

“Well I have to go meet up with my companions. We will be heading out on a new adventure soon and there are a lot of arrangements to be made before we leave” says Remi as she walks over and embraces her mother in a warm hug.

“I love you mom, but you drive me crazy.” Says Remi while still hugging her mother

“Well you drive me crazy too but I love you too daughter” replies her mother

Remi hugs her grandmother and then Remi escorts Julia back home before rejoining her companions.

Vladimir Pavel, 25-year-old human Magus

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Vladimir Pavel was born in Korvosa in 4693 to parents of very little means. As a Varisian family, they were second-class citizens—bordering on undesirable—and had few prospects for escaping poverty. It had already been difficult for Imana and Danio to maintain their meager apartment in the Bridgefront ward of Old Korvosa, and adding a child, and specifically an unplanned one, did nothing to improve their station.

For over a decade they tried to stay afloat. Imana spent six days a week cleaning houses, and Danio took whatever work he could find. His jobs were mostly hard labor, poorly paid, and seasonal, which meant that most months they were just scraping by. In Vald’s twelth year, Danio tried to change their fortunes by working as a drug mule for a gang under the auspices of the Cerulean Society, often taking Vlad with him to deflect suspicion. On a run to a new gambling hall in the remote community of Turtleback Ferry, they were caught in a flash flood. Vlad nearly drowned, marking his first brush with death.

His father died later that year in a conflict with a rival gang, leaving Vlad with his mother and her growing addiction to Cabble-Weed. They spent the next year living among the Shingles, and Vlad frequently resorted to theft to keep them both alive. He quickly learned to favor students of the Acadamae, as they were not allowed to leave the campus grounds and thus could not risk reporting the thefts. They also tended to carry books on arcane magic, which Vlad kept for himself in hopes of learning magic, himself.

When Queen Ileosa took the throne, life among the Shingles became exceedingly dangerous. The populations of imps, stirges, giant spiders, and other horrors swelled under her influence, and it was an imp that gave him a second brush with death. Only the last-second intervention of one of the few remaining pseudodragons in the city saved his life.

With Korvosa no longer safe, and his mother all but lost to addiction, Vlad ran from the city, making a long, slow, and difficult trek to Magnimar. There, he found refuge in Ordellia in an unofficial home for runaway children of various races known as Tineri House. It was run by other runaways in an abandoned building on Kyver’s Islet, and more or less tolerated by the district because it was better than urchins living on the streets. He spent the next several years unlearning the lessons of his youth, as well as shedding his anger and penchant for theft. He grew to care for others in need, both more and less fortunate than himself.

In 4713, Vlad was helping run Tineri House when he had his third brush with death. Magnimar was struck by an earthquake, and though the city was spared widespread damage from it and the resulting tsunami, Tineri House was not so lucky. The decaying building collapsed in the quake, burying over three dozen in rubble. Vlad was one of only four that were found alive by rescuers.

It was Chadali’s faith that helped him move on after this tragedy, and eventually to see the connections in his own past. The flood near Turtleback Ferry, the earthquake which brought down Tineri House, and (albeit, indirectly) the miasma of Queen Ileosa’s rule: all these events which nearly claimed his life were rooted in Thassilon and its Runelords. This wan’t coincidence: it was a calling.

To understand it, and be prepared for where that calling took him, he needed to resume studying magic. He still had the books he stole years ago, but what he needed was time and fewer distractions. So in 4715, he left Magnimar and moved to the community of Roderic’s Cove. It was close enough to a large city to not be isolated, but small enough and quiet enough to meet his needs. To support himself, he used his experience from the mills on Kyver’s Islet to get a job at Meir’s Sawmill. In addition to his ad-hoc training in magic, he spent his time learning more about Thassilon, and the adventurers and heroes who confronted the Runelords as they awoke in modern times.

Most importantly, he learned that some of them still slumbered.

The Jade Throne

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In the tenth hour of the 26th day of Sarenith in the year 4713, a group of adventurers and scions of the Amatatsu family sat in the vaults below the Imperial Palace and discussed their change of plans. It did not take them long to turn them into action.

The Oracle spent several minutes casting a spell, and when it was done he spoke with Amatatsu Ameiko in her safe house, instructing her to take the Seal and come with the Paladin Hatsue to the Palace. Using potions to make them invisible, and the spell cast by the Oracle earlier that morning, they assumed the form of clouds on the wind and streake

The Oracle spent several minutes casting a spell, and when it was done, he spoke with Amatatsu Ameiko in her safe house, instructing her to take the Seal and come with the Paladin Hatsue to the Palace. Using potions to make them invisible, and the spell cast by the Oracle earlier that morning, they assumed the form of clouds on the wind and streaked across the sky. With yet another spell he had cast that same hour, the Oracle tracked their progress. The hastily-formed plan would require precise timing, but he knew how quickly they traveled and how far they had yet to go. The rest was simple math. The scions would be ready before they arrived.

The blue-skinned, purple-haired Alchemist, now magically shrunk to an even smaller size, made himself invisible. With the Oracle’s spell he, too, turned into a misty cloud and ascended the stairs to the main floor and slipped outside. There he rose, hugging the walls of the palace until he found another arrow slit on the floor of the throne room. The cloud seeped back inside and floated along the ceiling until he reached a spot behind the Jade Throne. He froze in place and slowly began resuming his true form.

He saw the Jade Regent, Soto Takahiro, sitting impatiently on the Jade Throne in his jade armor, his face obscured by the ridiculous jade mask. Next to him, but not making eye contact, was Takahiro’s estranged lover Renshii Meida, surrounded by shimmering protective spirits. In the center of the hall was the human form of the oni Anamurumon, winds howling about him in a personal hurricane. The Alchemist could also see that there was one missing: the tengu man known as The Raven Prince was nowhere in sight.

They were ready. Somehow, they knew—or at least suspected—that the Amatatsu were inside the palace, though they did not know where. Out of caution, they had prepared their defenses and simply waited. They had no reason to go looking. To take the Throne, Ameiko had to sit on it bearing the Seal.

For the adventurers in the vaults below, the wait was the signal. A quarter of a minute ticked by, and several spells were cast. A moment later, the Bard used the exact distance and direction given to him by the Oracle to teleport the now-invisible forms of the scions precisely fifteen feet below the Alchemist with a soft pop.

The Bard was disoriented on arrival, but the others were not. The Rogue immediately advanced on the throne where Takahiro sat. The Oracle bolstered his allies with magic while the Cavalier drank a potion that blurred his form. Finally, the Wizard pulled a nearly flawless diamond from her pouch and cast a spell, wishing that the Seer, Renshii Meida, would falter when next targeted by magic. The diamond crumbled to dust as her wish was granted.

And then the scions attacked.

They completely ignored the Typhoon Guard and struck at the leadership. The Rogue struck first, her sword cutting into Takahiro over and over. The Cavalier closed on him and issued a challenge, bringing the flaming Suishen crashing down onto the samurai. This, too, penetrated his armor, but Takahiro stubbornly refused to yield the throne. He struck back at the Cavalier three times, and his armor released a blast of pure force to accent his rage. Yet the Cavalier held his ground.

Below the Jade Throne, Meida watched as red bloomed across Takahiro’s body. The previous night had brought heated arguments over his philandering, her secret pregnancy, his demonic heritage, and the public humiliation inflicted on them both. Now she watched the blades cut into the father of her child…and she turned her back on him. Instead, she summoned a spirit of pure force to fight alongside her.

The Wizard removed a second diamond from her pouch and spoke another wish. As the diamond crumbled to dust, a look of shock crossed Meida’s face as her body turned to stone.

As this unfolded, arrows coated with poison flew from the Oracle to Anamurumon, five in total, embedding into the oni’s flesh. Each was attuned to his true nature, and bit deep. Though the poison was a mere annoyance that was easily brushed off, the oni raged at the indignity of having been struck at all.

He discarded his human form, and a wind yai oni now towered over the battle. Lightning flashed from his third eye, then arced through the scions with a deafening crack and the sharp smell of ozone. But the scions knew what they would be fighting and had prepared: each was struck, but not one was injured.

Outside, the Typhoon Guard left their posts and descended on the Great Hall to join the battle. Some could see through invisibility, but the battle in the throne room held their attention. None noticed the vaporous forms of Hatsue and the Amatatsu heir flowing inside. Ameiko floated across the ceiling towards Takahiro, ready to take the Jade Throne once he fell.

Down below, the Bard waved his hands and dispelled the spiritual being of force that had been summoned by Meida. And it was at this moment that the Raven Prince struck. He simply appeared next to the Bard and lashed out with his tsuruhashi. Yet the blow came not with the edge, but rather the flat of its blade. He was serving his contract to the letter, but it was clear who he thought would emerge victorious in this fight. The Bard, for his part, was well protected, and this strike bounced harmlessly off his armor.

The Bard responded by deftly disarming the tengu. Holding the tsuruhashi, he glared at the Raven Prince and said, “Don’t do that again.” Then he held the blade out, offering it back to its owner.

As the Raven Prince considered this, the Oracle sent more arrows at Anamurumon. Each struck, and the oni fell to the floor, dead.

At the same instant, the Rogue unleashed another assault on Takahiro, but somehow, he remained standing, leaving her frustrated.

Behind her, the Alchemist had finally regained his material form. He casually surveyed the scene, then made up his mind. A series of bombs flew into the air: the first exploded on the lifeless corpse of Anamurumon for good measure, and the second and third landed on the Jade Regent.

Takahiro fell in a burst of flames. Not thirty seconds had passed, and the fight was over. The Raven Prince took his tsuruhashi back from the Bard and said, simply, “It seems I am no longer employed.”

The wind-form spell was dismissed, and Amatatsu Ameiko now sat in Takahiro’s place, the Seal in her hands.

“I am Amatatsu Ameiko, the rightful Empress of Minkai! The reign of oni is over!”

Most of the Typhoon Guard turned and ran, but a few continued their advance.

The Wizard was smiling as lightning leapt from her fingertips and arced through the remaining Typhoon Guard. She walked up beside the Raven Prince, pulled out a third diamond, handed it to the tengu, and said, “Would you like a new job? Several oni seem to be threatening the Empress of Minkai.”

The Raven Prince looked at the diamond, then at the remaining Typhoon Guard. He accepted, and bowed deeply to Ameiko.

“You serve the throne?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. What do you command?”

Ameiko looked around the hall. “In this castle is an oni infestation. Rout them all.”

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 26, 4713

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Sarenith 26 (Kasai, Early Morning)

Someone from the Emerald Branch just visited us with information they thought we might be able to use.

“We have contacts among the serving staff in the palace. We are told there were many heated arguments in the Imperial apartments last night.”

So I guess they got my messages.

And yeah, I am pretty fucking sure we can make use of that.

(Imperial Vault, Mid-Morning)

I don’t have a lot of time.

The Imperial Vault is guarded by a sovereign fucking dragon named Teikono. A sovereign dragon that has agreed to destroy the gods-be-damned coin when we’re ready to be rid of it.

The Imperial Vault also holds the other four Imperial Seals. The Seals that can start new family lines.

There’s a catch. Teikono agrees with what we’re trying to do, but he is honor-bound to serve the throne—and thus guard the Seals—no matter who sits on it. So to get them now? We need to go through him.

Except we don’t want to fight Teikono. Because he’s an honor-bound sovereign fucking dragon.

But that’s OK, because we realized we don’t need the Seals to take the throne. So fuck it. We’re going with Plan B.

The Letters

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Meida,

I understand that you have requested the services of a midwife in order to carry Takahiro’s child safely to term. Let me be the first to say to you: Congratulations! It’s a boy!

It’s unlikely that I can get myself hired for that role, so instead I have imposed upon the services of someone who can in order to deliver this message, as your pregnancy poses a significant risk to your health.

You are no doubt asking yourself, how do I know? It is a good question, and one that I will answer.

It is at risk because you have made assumptions both about the nature of your child’s father and his commitment to you. Starting a family is no small matter, and relationships such as these should be founded in honesty and truth. I am afraid to say that in this matter you have been short-changed. Even though you are going to great lengths to conceal both your pregnancy and your child’s birth, he is hiding a great many secrets that are, to put it bluntly, significantly more dangerous.

Your lover and, I can only assume, groom-to-be, is not entirely human. His grandfather is, in fact, an oni: an evil spirit given flesh in our world. More specifically, that oni is Anamurumon, the man he colloquially calls “grandfather”. It is ironic that he uses that title without understanding how accurate it really is.

Alas, this means that Takahiro’s father was a half-fiend, and that, in turn, makes Takahiro a tiefling. I am sure you have noticed something odd about his eyes, assuming he ever removes that ridiculous mask (I have to wonder, was he wearing it when your child was conceived?) But what I worry about is not his fashion sense, but rather your health. Where I come from, there are more than a few tieflings and it is not uncommon for certain…features to manifest in later generations. You should make sure that you inform your midwife, as they will need to know. You do not want to give birth to a baby that has claws or horns without warning them first. (I would go so far as to say that you would not want to do this at all, but alas, that seed has germinated.)

You should also be aware that Anamurumon killed both of Takahiro’s parents, presumably so he could have sole influence over the child’s upbringing. I admit I don’t know when, exactly, he murdered Takahiro’s father, but I do know that his mother was poisoned just a few minutes after giving birth. If I were in your position, I would be considerably alarmed about my long-term prospects. If Anamurumon were ever to become dissatisfied with Takahiro’s rule over Minkai, he might view his great-grandson as an opportunity to, say, start again with a clean slate.

You should also be aware that your lover does not appear to be in a monogamous relationship with you. Perhaps you have discussed these matters and are planning on an open marriage—I am not one to judge, so if that is your desire then good for you—though even then he seems to have opened it, among other things, rather enthusiastically wide. Enclosed is a partial accounting of his concubines. I say “partial” because we’ve only been here a couple of weeks. That, and he seems to be staying in more now that we are here.

I am sure he will try to destroy this list if you confront him with it, and that would be both rude and unfair. As such, I have taken the liberty of making copies. Verbal copies, because where I come from we value the oral tradition. So if something does happen to it, and you need to refer to it, you can probably just ask anyone. And I do mean, literally, anyone. Because we’re making sure as many people receive a copy as possible.

If you need further assistance in this matter, just wait. We’ll be there soon.

Kali

P.S. I am sorry, but I lied earlier. I was not afraid to say it at all.

Takahiro,

Enclosed you will find the story of your birth, and the truth about your mother and her fate. I am told you have been seeking answers to these questions, and so I have taken the liberty of providing them.

Your first reaction will, of course, be to assume that I am either lying or have been lied to, myself. And you are, of course, right to be skeptical. Though I could tell you how I know these events are true, that would require me to reveal both the extent and nature of my power and it would be unwise for me to do so. But, you very reasonably require proof of my claims, and so I shall give it to you.

I know these events to be true in the same way that I know that the man you affectionately call your grandfather is, in fact, your grandfather. You think the term is merely an honorific, but it is instead a literal truth. One could go so far as to say that you have your grandfather’s eyes.

I know them to be true in the same way that I know that your lover, Renshii Meida, is hiding her pregnancy from both you and your grandfather, and that the child she carries is your son. (Congratulations! It’s a boy!) She intends to hire a midwife in secret, and to carry the child completely to term without ever revealing either her pregnancy or your son’s birth. You are no doubt aware she commands considerable magic, and is more than capable of hiding her condition, even from you.

I know them to be true in the same way that I know that your unfaithfulness to her far exceeds even her wildest speculation. While she may be willing to quietly tolerate the occasional liaison as an acceptable price for her own designs for the Jade Throne, the extent of your reckless philandering, along with an accounting of its frequency, is becoming public knowledge as you read this. It will almost certainly test her limits.

These are difficult times for the regent of Minkai, and I realize that these revelations merely compound your problems. Normally, I hate being the one who delivers such terrible news. But in your case? I found it quite satisfying. My only regret is that I could not do so in person, but I am sure you understand.

Kali

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 25, 4713

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Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Mid-Morning)

atsue, Ivan, and I popped into the middle of a field of ash and rubble. This was, at one time, the village where Soto Takahiro was born. I expected it to still be here, but I guess that was too much to ask. We took in our surroundings. Whatever happened here? It happened some time ago.

Hatsue had never been here before, but it was in the general region she and Jiro had been patrolling. From what she could tell, bandits and probably more than a few oni had laid it to ruins.

I sent Nihali up to keep an eye on us just in case, but there wasn’t a living soul in sight, and barely enough standing ruins for one to hide behind. My teleportation spell had brought us to what seemed to be the center of town, perhaps a marketplace with shops. We picked a direction and walked until we found what looked like the remains of people’s homes.

I was frustrated, and I let it show as I pulled out the specially crafted incense. “Unless someone has some insight into which pile of rubble is the right one, here is as good a place as any other. Whenever you’re ready, Ivan.”

He cast a spell, and I felt good fortune flow through me. I soaked it in for a moment, then cast my spell: the one that was our whole reason for coming here. The incense was consumed in a brilliant flash, leaving only an aromatic smoke behind.

The world around me faded to darkness.

A woman lies abed in the throes of labor, attended by a midwife and her assistant. A middle-aged man stands nearby, intently watching and occasionally pacing. He has a forceful, commanding presence, but the two women pay him no mind as they focus on their work.

The labor has clearly been long and difficult. The mother is exhausted, each contraction accompanied by a desperate, wordless plea for it to end. The midwife does what she can to ease her discomfort, but there is little to be done.

At last the child is delivered. He cries, he takes his first breath, and the assistant cuts the umbilical cord as the midwife examines him and wraps him in linens.

“It is a…healthy boy. Congratulations to you.”

The midwife’s smile and happy demeanor don’t cover the hesitation in her voice.

The exhausted mother doesn’t notice.

The man does. The midwife looks up and finds him watching her. Fear crosses her face.

The man walks over to the midwife, takes the baby from her, and says, “He looks perfect to me. The very best any parent could want in a normal, healthy human child. Don’t you agree, midwife?”

She shrinks visibly under his stare. “Y-yes, of course, m’lord. Absolutely.”

There is something unusual about the child’s eyes. It is subtle, but unmistakable.

The man turns away, still holding the child. He walks to a nearby table, hands the infant to the assistant, and pours a cup of herbal tea. While the two women attend to the newborn, he removes a pouch from his belt and sprinkles something into the water.

Neither sees him do it.

“Well, Yuriko, you have a perfect, wonderful son who will bring joy to you for the rest of your days. That was quite a difficult labor, though. You are fortunate to have survived such an ordeal.”

He hands her the steaming cup of tea. “Your midwife prepared this. It will help you regain your strength.”

As she drinks, the man takes the child back from the assistant and studies him closely.

“Yes, you will do fine, my grandson,” he says to the child. “Very fine, indeed. You shall be named Takahiro.”

The teacup shatters.

The assistant cries out as Yuriko convulses on the bed. A trickle of blood runs from her mouth and nose. Then she goes still.

The man watches without emotion.

“It seems I spoke too soon.”

I was lying on the ground. At first, I thought I was on the beach in Sandpoint, Jefy Theern looming over me. But my hands were covered in dirt and ash, not sand.

Ivan and Hatsue helped me to my feet, and my confusion faded as my strength returned. One of them had cast a spell to help me recover.

“Well?” Ivan asked.

I nodded. “We have what we need.”

Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Early Afternoon)

y meeting with Meida’s handmaiden, Mio, went well after a somewhat rocky start: her idea of a discreet meeting place was the gardens on the grounds of the Imperial Palace. This was a questionable decision since it’s difficult to have privacy in a space that is open to the public with people walking through it. I had to insist that we get out of earshot to discuss a matter as sensitive as Meida’s secret pregnancy. For reasons only the gods understand, she found this suspicious. It’s hard to believe she has survived for any length of time in her position.

Once we got away from bystanders, however, her attitude changed dramatically. I put on the ring Isao had found for me, and which I had prepared in advance with potent persuasive magic, and from that point on I could do no wrong. The fact that I actually knew what I was talking about became largely irrelevant.

The whole point of the meeting was to slip a message to Meida without someone else seeing it (the plan to actually kidnap her never got past the “crazy idea” stage because there were just too many factors outside our control). For that, I had to trust that the handmaiden would accept and deliver a sealed package to her mistress, and ensure it remained sealed until then. Magical compulsion was my best bet for pulling it off. We’ll know later tonight or tomorrow whether or not that worked.

Preparing for this little visit was something of an ordeal. Because I was walking into the lion’s den, I had to look like someone else without arousing suspicion if examined with magic. Once again, that meant no magical disguises, and also stripping myself of most of my magical gear. Zosi was able to alchemically darken my skin and whiten my hair so that, with the help of silver and purple robes from Koya, I looked like a servant of Pharasma: exactly the sort of look you’d expect in a professional midwife. Once my hair was tied up in a bun to hide its length, even I didn’t recognize myself.

I am actually a little bit worried that Pharasma will find this deception more than a little offensive. Logically, I can tell myself that it’s all for the greater good, but my gut also knows that the greater good is used to justify any number of terrible acts by well-intentioned people. Ultimately, I want Meida out of this fight, or her role in it diminished, so that her baby won’t suffer for her mother’s sins.

Hopefully that motive is pure enough.

We also have some light reading for Takahiro. Getting that into his hands was a more daunting task, so I took a chance on the Raven Prince and asked Ivan to send to him.

Have a story for Takahiro. He’ll love it. You will too. Willing to deliver? I promise there’s no trickery, no magic. Just words.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Sounds intriguing. Deliver it to the place gate. I’ll make sure it’s received.

It’s been an eventful day. This morning saw Takahiro’s first real retaliation for the mayhem we’ve been causing. Since he doesn’t have hostages to threaten and doesn’t know where we are, he had no victims. So he simply made some up. The homes and businesses of two prominent merchant families were completely gutted sometime before sunrise. The heads of the two merchants were found impaled on pikes, and their families have vanished. Each was accompanied by a public notice, accusing them of having raided the palace, and thus they were executed for treason.

Olmas spent the morning doing damage control, and even left a similarly public response at one of the scenes: The Amatatsu brought you food. The Jade Regent brings you death. Which do you support? I thought it was a nice touch.

I am actually surprised this sort of thing hasn’t happened sooner. It serves as a reminder that the longer this drags on, the harder it will be for us to keep the momentum. And also that time is not on our side: there are a lot of people in Kasai that Anamurumon can kill out of spite. We can’t protect the whole city. The only way to put a stop to it is to go straight to the people in charge.

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 23 – 25, 4713

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Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Late Afternoon)

aranoid? Me? Maybe just a little. Occupational hazard.

I was thinking about Ito as we climbed out of the Well; if he did have a phylactery of some sort here on the island, where would he hide it? Somewhere out of sight. Somewhere difficult to reach. Somewhere most people wouldn’t think to look.

Somewhere that we were actively discouraged from going earlier by Amatatsu Onoko. If that’s who she really was…

OK. That’s who she really was. But at the time I wasn’t trusting anyone but us.

We weren’t out five minutes when Koya came up to Dasi. “Do you know, there is not one single urn with the remains of the Shojinawa clan anywhere to be found? Isn’t that peculiar, don’t you think?”

“Peculiar”? That’s not the word I would choose. I’d probably settle on “suspicious”.

Then she asked, “Do you know of anything in this country’s history to account for such a thing?”

Do we ever. And that’s when my thoughts turned to the lake, and Onoko’s insistence that we not mess with the water level. What was she hiding…?

OK. That was just a coincidence. But. We weren’t wrong about the lake. For generations, it seems the other royal families of Minkai expressed their opinions of Shojinawa Ito by tossing the remains of the entire Shojinawa family into the water. And one of the sealed urns we found down there was lined with lead, and just happened to contain Ito’s phylactery.

Olmas and Hatsue hacked at it until the wooden box was reduced to splinters, then Ivan burned it to ash. So, no more Ito.

Ameiko is interring Shigure’s remains as I write this. Hopefully he will be more agreeable—and considerably less choleric—after that’s done.

I am not holding my breath.

Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Later Afternoon)

had this crazy idea as Ameiko was wrapping up with her relatives.

“What if we were to kidnap Renshii Meida?”

Everyone looked at me like I was out of my mind.

“I’m serious. Hear me out. If…if I get that meeting with her handmaiden—the one that’s looking for a midwife—what if I do more than just try to get information from her? What if I can actually get a meeting with Meida?”

I am not above using magic to pull this off. As distasteful as it is, it’s less so than killing a pregnant woman. It’s what mom would call situational ethics. That, and Shelyn gave me this ability for a reason.

“All I need is a piece of extravagant jewelry. A brooch, a ring, a necklace…something I can keep hidden until I meet with Meida’s handmaiden.” Then I reveal it. Put it on, uncover it, whatever. At that point, she would find me fairly persuasive without questioning why. And it wouldn’t require me to do something as obvious as cast a spell in her presence.

“If I could get alone with Meida, and if Radella was close by, and Ivan was with her and keeping tabs on me with that spell of his…I could suppress her magic, and Radella could jump to us using the coin. We could capture her, and then use the coin again to get away.”

It is a lot of “ifs”. And the timing would have to be perfect. But we could do it. We could knock one of the pieces off the board (a metaphor Ivan and Hatsue would appreciate). Why bother trying to sow discord when we can just divide them up directly?

I’d need to go there in disguise. A mundane disguise, because I have to assume that Meida can see through magic, or at least detect it in her presence. I’d have to darken my skin, whiten my hair, basically look like someone who trained in Pharasma’s church and dresses accordingly. And I’d have to do it without any of my magical protections or enhancements. I’d need to look the part well enough that even Meida wouldn’t suspect.

The others think I’m crazy. They point out it’s dangerous not just for me, but for Radella, too. And that if it goes wrong, we weaken ourselves considerably. And it depends on several factors that are outside our control.

These are all excellent points.

But part of me really, really wants to try it. Sometimes you just have to aim big.

Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Evening)

e met the Raven Prince tonight. He was waiting for us at the docks of the Imperial Shrine.

So I guess he read our letter.

He didn’t have a family Seal with him, so he was just a ghostly image at first. We had to circle around the island in the boat and dock again, something he seemed to expect, as he was not the least surprised. He came alone and was just sitting there, waiting patiently. So this was apparently a temporary truce.

Dasi and I approached.

“You’ve been causing quite a bit of trouble.”

I answered in Tengu. “We’re going to keep causing it. I didn’t expect to see you here, but I suppose I am not surprised.”

“I wanted to see for myself the ones responsible. She is the last of the Amatatsu heirs?”

“The Amatatsu family survived the journey across the Crown. It is possible there are others we aren’t aware of, but as far as we know? She is the last.”

That he was here talking to us at all, almost certainly without Anamurumon’s or Takahiro’s knowledge, implied there was some angle we could work with him. So I decided to show him some of our cards. “Soto Takahiro has the other families’ Seals in the vault below the palace. They can be used to start new family lines.”

“I see. Interesting.”

“How much do you know about Anamurumon’s history?”

“Enough.”

“Would you agree that information has value?”

“It does. But I will not betray my employers.” Another hypothesis confirmed: his relationship with Anamurumon is strictly business. And the Emerald Branch was right about him having his own code of honor.

“I assume you care about the future of Minkai. I don’t think the same can be said about your employers.”

“I do. Loyalties and allegiances can change, of course, but I will not violate my contract. And what do you know of this Amatatsu? Is she a good leader?”

And there’s the rub. We started all of this because we know Ameiko, trust her, and value her as a friend. Mom once called this a crusade, and I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s right. It may have started as something else, but the farther we’ve come, the more glimpses we’ve been given into Minkai’s future. This isn’t some hack’s play about a noble-born child, hidden away for their safety, growing up in a foreign land only to return to their ancestral home as an adult, and fight to restore their birthright. The people here have to live with what comes next.

We’ve rallied behind Ameiko because we know her and believe in her, but…can we prove that she’s a good leader on her own merits, and not just compared to the alternative?

“We are being honest with one another here, so…I don’t know. I can only tell you what I believe. I have seen true leadership from her. She has heart, strength, wisdom, and cunning.

“And she cares about her empire. I don’t think Soto Takahiro can say the same.”

Finally, he got to the heart of this conversation; perhaps the real reason he was here. “But would she be willing to…employ someone like myself?”

That’s when I knew our letter had gotten through to him.

“Only she can answer that. Would you like to meet her?”

They had a brief exchange, with Olmas nervously watching from a polite, but not foolish, distance. I wasn’t worried, though: if he intended to move against her, or us, he wouldn’t have announced his presence. Especially so brazenly.

He clearly liked what he heard from her. Both of them, in fact, seemed satisfied as she walked back to the boat. Maybe, just maybe, we had accomplished something here. Obviously, given what he said, we don’t expect him to turn on Anamurumon, and we will likely still be facing him in battle, but he can certainly choose the manner and means of his support without breaking the terms of his contract or tarnishing his honor. Note to self: if Ameiko does employ him after taking the throne, remind her to be very specific in his contract.

“One more thing,” he said, as we were preparing to leave. “I would like the rest of the play.”

This actually took me by surprise. “The whole thing? But…there are thousands of pages. There are stacks and stacks of revisions!”

“I would like to burn it.”

Well. That explained that.

It was hard to give it up, of course. But it helped to know that it was being donated to a worthy cause.

Sarenith 24 (Kasai, Morning)

e stayed the night. This wasn’t the original plan, but our unexpected meeting with the Raven Prince put us behind schedule. We were already going to be tempting fate by putting into port at dusk, but the delay meant arriving well after dark, and according to Isao, after the newly imposed curfew as well. So here we are.

We’ve been given another task. Because what we need right now is another thing to do.

What we told the Raven Prince yesterday about the Seals? That was all true. Ameiko learned about them while communing with the spirits of the Five Families. “We can still feel their presence, somewhere deep under the Palace in Kasai,” one of them said. “The burden lies with you to find four worthy families to be elevated in our places. The Seals have the divine power to establish new ruling families in such a case as this, by Shizuru’s infinite wisdom.” The future of Minkai is in your hands; you’re our only hope. And so on.

So all we have to do is raid the palace and recover the Seals. I guess I’ll add that to our list.

We’re not stupid. It has occurred to us that we could just go for the throne right now and put an end to the whole thing (or try to, at any rate). In solving the one problem, we more or less solve the others. In theory. What has been holding us back are the hostages: as long as they are there, a single alarm or message could get them all killed faster than we can intervene. So as tempting as it is to just go for broke, it would do us no good to put Ameiko on a throne that’s sitting in a pool of blood…blood from the people she is supposedly liberating.

And now we’ve added this. We don’t know if he can destroy the Seals, but we have to assume that he can. We have to assume that Anamurumon wants Minkai badly enough that he’s willing to torch its future if it’s taken from him.

Of those two problems, the hostages are the more immediate and best defined. Can Anamurumon destroy the Seals? It seems unlikely, though we have to assume the worst. But there’s no question about what he can do to prisoners. We need to get them out, and we need them to come out unharmed. That will eliminate much of his leverage over Kasai, and in the process boost confidence in Ameiko as a liberator and the rebellion in general. Anamurumon will still have ways to terrorize the city, of course, but they’ll be harder and more costly.

Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Small Hours)

he hostages are home safe, but it was a harrowing raid that almost left two of them dead. Normally we are a lot more careful than this, but we had only a few moments to observe the floor of the palace where they were being held, which meant we had to fill in the gaps with guesswork. And by and large we guessed wrong. A few sloppy tactics on our part, combined with a gross misunderstanding of the guards’ sense of duty, nearly cost the women their lives.

Fortunately, we had agreed early on that getting them out, not fighting their jailers, was the goal. As soon as I had the opportunity, I teleported the prisoners to freedom, four at a time. This meant leaving my friends to handle the fighting with only limited magical support, but considering how many close calls we had, that decision was almost certainly the difference between life and death for the captives.

Itsuru has moved quickly. He mobilized his army and built support in central Minkai much faster than any of us anticipated. Rumor is that an army is marching on the province and is just a few days away from Kasai. Since his own men didn’t cover 1,000 miles in a week and a half, obviously he’s got the support of Akafuto as well. The approaching force is reportedly large enough that Takahiro has committed much of his Typhoon Guard to meet them in the field.

Their absence from Kasai is visible. The city was on tight lockdown before, and in theory that hasn’t changed, but there are fewer guards to man checkpoints, enforce the curfew, and, of course, carry out arrests. According to the Emerald Branch, this thinning of Takahiro’s forces extends to the palace as well: they are operating with a skeletal garrison. All of this is, of course, good news for us, and probably why we had such an easy time sneaking our way in. That being said, we have learned firsthand that the ones who are left are not necessarily flunkies. The fight has been made easier, but it certainly hasn’t been made easy.

Ivan’s Journal

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“I really wish I could have seen Abby and mother one last time but the path that she walks is impossible to ignore. I still remember the first time our father took us to the druid community, Abby lit up like it was the most amazing place she had ever seen. To her the druid village has always been her real home and deep down I have always known this was her path. Although I will miss her this is the path that she was always meant to walk. I can’t really blame the druid elders for banning any communication with me, the druid seer did foretell a possible future where my visit would bring destruction to the community and it is not like a battle oracle and an ultra-peace loving druid community are a good match. All of my life people have talked about home as if it was some special place that magically makes everything better. My path has always been to wander the universe doing the will of the gods, except now it has gotten confusing.” Ivan contemplates quietly

Ivan looks over to the sleeping Hatsue and then watches as Olmas tries to calmly explain to Amieko that she should just keep her sword in the scabbard during the trip into the well of daemons. Ivan laughs to himself remembering a time when she was someone we all strived to catch up to in battle. Fate it seems has sent her down a different path and this time all that we can do is marvel at how she is able to take on the challenge of leading a country.

Ivan’s thoughts drift back to Abby “A least they said that they would let her have the travel journals where I wrote about the plants, animals, and landscape. Hopefully when we get back to the city there will be some time to pop over to Sandpoint for a couple of hours and drop off the journals. Now that grandfather is gone there really isn’t anyone I need to see, although it would be enjoyable to see the gulf once again. “

“While we are there I need to make sure Hatsue tries the bacon. It will be interesting to see what she thinks of western food. I wonder how she will handle being the one that is different from everyone else, Will anyone even suspect that she is form Minki. I am not sure if there isn’t more than a few people that even know that Minki exists. Hatsue might think we come from Barbarians when she learns that most people have never even heard of Shogi. Of course Hatsue may not even be interested in going to Sandpoint with me.”

Ivan looks back over at Olmas and suspects he is having a conversation with Suishen “I wonder what they are discussing. Going by Olmas’s expression it looks like Suishen is winning the argument. Suishen should really be grateful that Olmas has been so accepting of his annoying traits. It takes a special person to be able to put up with all of the shit that comes out of Suishen. Although before we found him Suishen did spend a lot of years by himself. I can imagine it would be really hard to be side lined for so many decades. It looks as if fate has brought the two of them together and provided both of them with exactly what each of them needed. It looks like they were meant to walk the path together.”

Looking over to Radella Ivan ponders “I really hope she can find a dragon to destroy the amulet before it takes her over. I wonder how such an item even could get created. “

Ivan quickly looks around to make sure neither Kali nor Dasi are paying attention “I have to be careful if ether one of them even suspects I am curious about the amulet they will explain it to me in detail. That’s 2 hours of my life that I would have regretted. Oh good it looks like they have no clue that I was curious about the amulet. I have noticed that with those two it is very dangerous to act like you are interested, they can go on for hours and hours.”

Pathfinder Game Journals

Journals and character backgrounds for Steve's gaming group.

Author Archives: John

Viore Lucan, mid-20s Cleric of Sarenrae

Seraphina Amara Kinsey, early 20s human Slayer

Legacy of the Night Walkers

Bel, Age 13

Bel, Age 12

Remi Letter to Julia: Aug 2020

Vlad’s Tale

Remi’s Journal

Vladimir Pavel, 25-year-old human Magus

The Jade Throne

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 26, 4713

Sarenith 26 (Kasai, Early Morning)

(Imperial Vault, Mid-Morning)

The Letters

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 25, 4713

Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Mid-Morning)

Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Early Afternoon)

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 23 – 25, 4713

Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Late Afternoon)

Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Later Afternoon)

Sarenith 23 (Imperial Shrine, Evening)

Sarenith 24 (Kasai, Morning)

Sarenith 25 (Kasai, Small Hours)

Ivan’s Journal