Post by apn on Apr 28, 2022 3:30:56 GMT -5
A militia man, slight of build and looking more like a scholar in his round thin rimmed glasses than a soldier, stood to one side.
He looked incredibly uncomfortable and pale, sweat rolling down his face at the sides.
"Report, Sergeant Fortheringay." said Franick quietly.
The Sergeant licked suddenly dry lips. "The poison was beyond my skill to heal sir. A street urchin came to us as we inspected Rathmere and said to bring the man here to save his life or naught else would. The others wouldn't come in. I ... I couldn't say what it was that carried Rathmere in here." he said, white as a sheet and clearly nervous.
"Sergeant?" asked Captain Franick, narrowing his eyes.
"I'll not say sir." said the Sergeant.
"I will." cackled the crone.
"The spirits of the long dead who are bound to me for wrongful misdeeds in life!" she laughed. Suddenly she cried out "GHOSTS!" making those of a more nervous disposition laughed even as she cackled away to herself.
Fortheringay wouldn't look at his Captain, finding somewhere else to cast his gaze. The once knight sighed and nodded. "You did the right thing." he said with a hand on his Sergeants' shoulder.
"Indeed he did. Rathmere may have a heart blacker than sin but these last three years he has done that rarest of things - start to tip the balance for his evil." she hissed through gap toothed teeth. "There is light where once shone darkness. Never enough to fully atone, no... but enough that the lords of light see value in saving the mans' life."
"And how can we do that, crone?" asked Franick.
The woman narrowed her eyes at the slight then smiled again. "In the jungles a days ride from here is a temple long overgrown and forgotten, claimed by nature. There where sunlight is fierce but jungle rain runs pure and unending is a plant that grows which can cure this poison, aye and many others. It has Blue, Purple and Yellow flowers on it and spiked leaves. When crushed, boiled and added to jungle water that sired it, the plant will save Rathmeres' life." a pause then "It's also not bad for boils and gets stains out that nought else will touch." she added, matter of fact.
"I'll have a group sent out to..." started Franick.
The witch cackled. "A group will perish! The jungle will claim them and... there are other dangers."
"What dangers?" asked Franick. "I'll not send men and women out to their deaths without..."
The crone held up a hand. "Think you the future is set? The Jungle troll currently leaving a two foot high coiled steamer behind a tree near the temple might move on, or might stay and pick the eyes from whomever you send. A yellow diamond death adder could decide to stay for the night or climb into the trees ... and avoid the shiny backed mongoose that fancies it for its tea. Or it might stay and bite Will Darness, the ordinary farm lad who trod in some mystery shyte and forgot to clean his feet before he trod the grapes that fouled the batch and sealed the families fate. A noble outraged and shamed before his peers, recriminations, loss of business and reputation and selling up, destitute and sneered at until they moved clear out of the area cursing bad luck and a bad batch. 'Bad batch'? Aye you can call it that when you tread in the Grey Hand Uruck packs droppings. They like their diseased rat curried and spicy as hell."
Will blanched and gaped. How could...
The crone looked about at all gathered. "We are, unknowing, pieces on a chess board that the gods play amongst themselves. The pieces change, the board shifts but there are rivals in play misted even from me. I know because I see all and where I look to see who you oppose, I see mist. Pah!" she spat.
She looked up - not far from her stool - into the eyes of the Dwarf. "Klarrrrchur Deathaxe, cheeks burning with shame from the loss of the axe his father crafted for him, mighty warrior and yet unable to stay on deck as his honour was hefted along with his mighty thewed form into the sea by a storm. A rival who took that opportunity to advance is now being recruited for the Khazan Death Horde. How does it feel to know you didn't check the ropes that bound you to the deck? What is the first lesson they bang into your head Dwarf?"
He bristled and she hissed "Check th' bloody ropes, fore they'll save yer life an' more besides. If ya do nowt else, check th' ropes." she said in an accented Dwarven voice that sounded like someone else had said it. In particular a bosuns mate on a certain ship to a young Dwarvish seaman on his first voyage.
"Still, that pales compared to the Princess Ravenfair, daughter of Theorfair the Glittering, King of the fairies in the fair Faerie kingdom of Brightland. Musing on her upcoming nuptials to the rival Prince of Star Haven, bitter longtime warring rivals of Brightland and finally it looked like there might be peace 'tween the warring nations. She sat by a puddle - a lake to her - and ran a finger to make ripples as she sang. Then the sky went dark and she looked up to see the world coming down on her..."
"Except it wasn't a world was it Klarrrrchur Deathaxe? What was it?"
Klarrrrchur mumbled something.
The crone cackled "What was that? Me ears ain't what they was! I'll tell you shall I?" hissed the old woman with a glance at those gathered. "The Dwarves' boot. Half drunk, merry as can be an' he didn't hear the Fairy singin' though to be truth it comes out as a high pitch squeak ta them can't listen right."
"SQUISH!" hissed the Crone and she banged a hand on a rickety junk strewn table. Even unconscious Rathmere seemed to jump.
"Now the war has ramped up, Brightland thinkin' Starhaven killed th' Princess an' not listenin' ta reason. Even now one o the cities, Sparkling Vale, is under siege. To us it sounds like insects buzzing about but ta them its fiery spells, crushing acorns, beetles rending with mandibles an' hornets swooping down to sting mercilessly whilst the young an' old scream and run or fight and die."
"A moment in time, just a moment. A ripple cast out on a pond." said the crone. "A ripple that grows into waves and even a crashing flood that leaves devastated lives in their wake."
The tent was silent for a moment.
"There is a chance to atone. To turn the tide even if a little. Franick, will you trust these three to bring the plant and a healthy jar of water back?" She glanced about and dusted off a jar, cracked the top off and sniffed inside, tipping something out and drying it with a filthy sleeve before setting it on a table.
"You three... your deeds, knowing or otherwise, mark you. Mind we're all marked, none of us stay as pure as when we was born. Life will do that." said the crone.
The tent seemed to grow... darker? The crone leaned forward, face in shadow though her eyes seemed to glitter. "The mist hides the future for me but I see enough to know powerful forces are in play. They want revenge and more besides, they want a war to smash the world asunder! This is the opening shot, the first roll of the die, cast here." she said with a look at Rathmere.
"This man..." she says, looking at Franick "Cannot order you, but you can choose. Which path do you take? A boat to Khazan, glory and gold? An adventuring career that might see you live a few years before a Trolls' club smashes you to your knees and your life flashes afore thee?" she hawks and spits then continues "Or wander into the jungle for a plant this day an' save th' life of a former Pirate, a man steeped in evil but trying to change who saw something in you, something I see. They call me the crone and I see many things. In you all in this tent I see something else. Hope. I see hope and I see a chance that a vast and terrible war might be averted..."
She shrugged. "Or not. There's profit ta be had in war an' its the innocent do most o the payin'. Choose." she hissed.
OOC Klarrrrchur earns 50AP for the snippet of his past. The human adventurers round that up to 60AP apiece.
Klarrrrchur is on 193AP
Will Darness is on 207AP
Firdle is on 351AP
He looked incredibly uncomfortable and pale, sweat rolling down his face at the sides.
"Report, Sergeant Fortheringay." said Franick quietly.
The Sergeant licked suddenly dry lips. "The poison was beyond my skill to heal sir. A street urchin came to us as we inspected Rathmere and said to bring the man here to save his life or naught else would. The others wouldn't come in. I ... I couldn't say what it was that carried Rathmere in here." he said, white as a sheet and clearly nervous.
"Sergeant?" asked Captain Franick, narrowing his eyes.
"I'll not say sir." said the Sergeant.
"I will." cackled the crone.
"The spirits of the long dead who are bound to me for wrongful misdeeds in life!" she laughed. Suddenly she cried out "GHOSTS!" making those of a more nervous disposition laughed even as she cackled away to herself.
Fortheringay wouldn't look at his Captain, finding somewhere else to cast his gaze. The once knight sighed and nodded. "You did the right thing." he said with a hand on his Sergeants' shoulder.
"Indeed he did. Rathmere may have a heart blacker than sin but these last three years he has done that rarest of things - start to tip the balance for his evil." she hissed through gap toothed teeth. "There is light where once shone darkness. Never enough to fully atone, no... but enough that the lords of light see value in saving the mans' life."
"And how can we do that, crone?" asked Franick.
The woman narrowed her eyes at the slight then smiled again. "In the jungles a days ride from here is a temple long overgrown and forgotten, claimed by nature. There where sunlight is fierce but jungle rain runs pure and unending is a plant that grows which can cure this poison, aye and many others. It has Blue, Purple and Yellow flowers on it and spiked leaves. When crushed, boiled and added to jungle water that sired it, the plant will save Rathmeres' life." a pause then "It's also not bad for boils and gets stains out that nought else will touch." she added, matter of fact.
"I'll have a group sent out to..." started Franick.
The witch cackled. "A group will perish! The jungle will claim them and... there are other dangers."
"What dangers?" asked Franick. "I'll not send men and women out to their deaths without..."
The crone held up a hand. "Think you the future is set? The Jungle troll currently leaving a two foot high coiled steamer behind a tree near the temple might move on, or might stay and pick the eyes from whomever you send. A yellow diamond death adder could decide to stay for the night or climb into the trees ... and avoid the shiny backed mongoose that fancies it for its tea. Or it might stay and bite Will Darness, the ordinary farm lad who trod in some mystery shyte and forgot to clean his feet before he trod the grapes that fouled the batch and sealed the families fate. A noble outraged and shamed before his peers, recriminations, loss of business and reputation and selling up, destitute and sneered at until they moved clear out of the area cursing bad luck and a bad batch. 'Bad batch'? Aye you can call it that when you tread in the Grey Hand Uruck packs droppings. They like their diseased rat curried and spicy as hell."
Will blanched and gaped. How could...
The crone looked about at all gathered. "We are, unknowing, pieces on a chess board that the gods play amongst themselves. The pieces change, the board shifts but there are rivals in play misted even from me. I know because I see all and where I look to see who you oppose, I see mist. Pah!" she spat.
She looked up - not far from her stool - into the eyes of the Dwarf. "Klarrrrchur Deathaxe, cheeks burning with shame from the loss of the axe his father crafted for him, mighty warrior and yet unable to stay on deck as his honour was hefted along with his mighty thewed form into the sea by a storm. A rival who took that opportunity to advance is now being recruited for the Khazan Death Horde. How does it feel to know you didn't check the ropes that bound you to the deck? What is the first lesson they bang into your head Dwarf?"
He bristled and she hissed "Check th' bloody ropes, fore they'll save yer life an' more besides. If ya do nowt else, check th' ropes." she said in an accented Dwarven voice that sounded like someone else had said it. In particular a bosuns mate on a certain ship to a young Dwarvish seaman on his first voyage.
"Still, that pales compared to the Princess Ravenfair, daughter of Theorfair the Glittering, King of the fairies in the fair Faerie kingdom of Brightland. Musing on her upcoming nuptials to the rival Prince of Star Haven, bitter longtime warring rivals of Brightland and finally it looked like there might be peace 'tween the warring nations. She sat by a puddle - a lake to her - and ran a finger to make ripples as she sang. Then the sky went dark and she looked up to see the world coming down on her..."
"Except it wasn't a world was it Klarrrrchur Deathaxe? What was it?"
Klarrrrchur mumbled something.
The crone cackled "What was that? Me ears ain't what they was! I'll tell you shall I?" hissed the old woman with a glance at those gathered. "The Dwarves' boot. Half drunk, merry as can be an' he didn't hear the Fairy singin' though to be truth it comes out as a high pitch squeak ta them can't listen right."
"SQUISH!" hissed the Crone and she banged a hand on a rickety junk strewn table. Even unconscious Rathmere seemed to jump.
"Now the war has ramped up, Brightland thinkin' Starhaven killed th' Princess an' not listenin' ta reason. Even now one o the cities, Sparkling Vale, is under siege. To us it sounds like insects buzzing about but ta them its fiery spells, crushing acorns, beetles rending with mandibles an' hornets swooping down to sting mercilessly whilst the young an' old scream and run or fight and die."
"A moment in time, just a moment. A ripple cast out on a pond." said the crone. "A ripple that grows into waves and even a crashing flood that leaves devastated lives in their wake."
The tent was silent for a moment.
"There is a chance to atone. To turn the tide even if a little. Franick, will you trust these three to bring the plant and a healthy jar of water back?" She glanced about and dusted off a jar, cracked the top off and sniffed inside, tipping something out and drying it with a filthy sleeve before setting it on a table.
"You three... your deeds, knowing or otherwise, mark you. Mind we're all marked, none of us stay as pure as when we was born. Life will do that." said the crone.
The tent seemed to grow... darker? The crone leaned forward, face in shadow though her eyes seemed to glitter. "The mist hides the future for me but I see enough to know powerful forces are in play. They want revenge and more besides, they want a war to smash the world asunder! This is the opening shot, the first roll of the die, cast here." she said with a look at Rathmere.
"This man..." she says, looking at Franick "Cannot order you, but you can choose. Which path do you take? A boat to Khazan, glory and gold? An adventuring career that might see you live a few years before a Trolls' club smashes you to your knees and your life flashes afore thee?" she hawks and spits then continues "Or wander into the jungle for a plant this day an' save th' life of a former Pirate, a man steeped in evil but trying to change who saw something in you, something I see. They call me the crone and I see many things. In you all in this tent I see something else. Hope. I see hope and I see a chance that a vast and terrible war might be averted..."
She shrugged. "Or not. There's profit ta be had in war an' its the innocent do most o the payin'. Choose." she hissed.
OOC Klarrrrchur earns 50AP for the snippet of his past. The human adventurers round that up to 60AP apiece.
Klarrrrchur is on 193AP
Will Darness is on 207AP
Firdle is on 351AP
He's also looking to buy a bedroll and some plain (cheap) copper rings to use as disposable Foci via the Hocus Focus spell.