An Abomination in a Shadowed World IC

[MightBeABook]

Relaxing alone on a quiet evening, Eria finds violet fire flaring up in front of her, out of which falls a neat and sealed envelope. She recognizes quickly enough the traditional method of long-distance communication in the Memory of the Wyrm. Inside, in a quick and cramped hand, the letter reads:

Eria,

Burn or otherwise destroy beyond retrieval this letter immediately upon reading it. It has come to the attention of the Council of Remembrance that the path to a certain artifact may have been opened by the necromancers of Skull City. While the details of their working are unclear, there has been talk of late of a “breakthrough,” which they have decided to share with the world. The First Scholar has received an invitation to a demonstration of sorts, and would like you to accompany him, nominally as a bodyguard. In truth, it will be your task to investigate “behind the scenes,” so to speak. You will likely be detected in your efforts, so you must take all care to appear innocent and curious, giving no hint of an ulterior motive. Offer no threat to them, and at all costs do not engage in combat – the necromancers in their home could match the entire Council blow for blow. Act in a manner befitting a guest with perhaps too much curiosity for her own good, and remember that your own life and the good will of the necromancers outweigh the value of any information you stand to gain. You will be retrieved on the morning of the twelfth of the month by the First Scholar, so complete any preparations you must before that date. Wyrm's speed,

Councillor Gaius

[Toptomcat]

"...huh. Damn."

Eria reads through the message once, twice, a third time- carefully committing it to memory. A voice comes up from downstairs:

"Dinner, Eria!"

She puts down her book and zips downstairs. A sizzling skillet is on the stove, tended by a diminutive woman with cat ears and a tail: Eria takes it off the flame with her bare hand, tossing the letter into the fire as she does so.

"Is that..."

"Yep. Orders."

Emily pauses for a moment, then nods.

"I still haven't gotten used to them going directly to you. Fifteen years of little purple flames from nowhere at all hours...you know it caught my sheets on fire once?"

Eria grins.

"You had to beat it out with your pillow, right? You've told that story before, mom..."

They talk with warmth, with ease and comfort. The meal's a good one: a juicy steak, with baked potatoes stuffed with cheese and butter and broccoli roasted with garlic and lemon. Eria quaffs from relish from a fuming cup of nitric acid dissolved in quicksilver, and sprinkles the occasional pinch of garnet and quartz dust on her potatoes.

"...so the assignment is espionage, of all things."

"What? Why? They've been prepping us for merc work for months! The recon unit was finally beginning to gel. They've got better spies."

As she finishes with the meal, Eria starts eating her pewter mug- taking big, clean bites out of the metal without apparent effort.

"I know, I know. It's Skull City, though- the necromancers have some kind of breakthrough they're demonstrating to the world. An artifact, maybe. So not only is there likely to be lots of magical security-"

"-but the intel they want is going to be itself magical, and they haven't got an agent with a better arcane education. Looks like the right call from the higher-ups, hon."

"Spying, though...eccch. Give me a good, honest column of infantry to blow sky-high any day of the week."

"Can't get around it, kiddo. I'll make spaghetti with clams."

"You're the best, mom."

Emily hands Eria the dishes one at a time: Prestidigitation, that little gem of spells, takes care of cleaning it, and Eria stacks them neatly, one at a time.

"Okay, an espionage gig it is. What's the cover? You legal or illegal?"

"That's the worst part, actually: it's notionally a bodyguard job. For the First Scholar. So I'm legal- or as close as it gets to legal with a power that doesn't recognize formal diplomatic immunity. But I don't know how I'm supposed to come up with a reason to go off and poke around when my cover identity gives me no excuse to do anything but stick to my client like glue!"

"That's ridiculous."

"Thing is, mom, it's also an honor. Accompanying the First Scholar...is it something I can turn down? They've only just started sending me the envelope instead of you. They finally think I'm reliable. Can I risk that?"

Emily sets down the last plate with an audible clink.

"Yes, hon. Absolutely. If there's a good reason for that cover, there's no harm in getting it clarified- and if it's as ridiculous as it sounds, it's going to endanger the mission for no reason. I will back you on this all the way. If they start sending me the orders again, I'll send 'em right back. Until their sheets catch fire."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Councillor:

I await this assignment with eagerness and will begin preparing immediately. However, I have concerns about the viability of the proposed cover identity. A bodyguard has little excuse to leave their client's side to go snooping. Unless there is a compelling reason that the cover identity must be a bodyguard, I strongly suggest that this aspect of the plan be reconsidered.

I have two suggested alternatives.

A consulting expert on necromancy is one possibility. It would give me an excuse to ask detailed, technical questions and 'talk shop' with Skull City's masters, which could lead to them giving something away without any infiltration at all. And getting carried away with curiosity and enthusiasm for my subject would be a plausible excuse for being found somewhere I shouldn't be.

I could also pose as the young relative or apprentice of one of the Speaker's staff. Children are curious, children are harmless, children have a kind of social invisibility that is priceless for a spy.

There are other possibilities: of course, the ultimate decision is yours. I trust your final choice will be made with...

Wyrm's cunning,

Eria Berlinetta

Emily Boothroyd

[MightBeABook]

It is perhaps five minutes after your reply is sent that another violet flare appears before you.

Eria,

My apologies for the lack of clarity in the first message. The First Scholar was but one of many intellectuals on the continent invited to attend this event, and the invitations all allow for a single companion to be brought. Most of the Council will be attending, either as an invited guest or with one of the other members, but we imagine we will be watched more closely than less well-known companions. Your cover as a bodyguard is not explicit - it is simply the assumption many will be making when you do not appear to be a close friend, family member, or knowledgeable colleague of the First Scholar. If you feel you would be best served by claiming otherwise, feel free to give whatever story you wish, but be aware that many will believe you are there as a bodyguard, whatever you claim. Be cautious, Eria. If, as we suspect, their discovery will lead to a way of finding the Sword of Kas, there are a great many powers that would happily kill for it, some of our "rulers" among them.


Councillor Gaius

[Toptomcat]

Once more Eria reads through the message three times, memorizing it before incinerating it immediately. After a moment's thought, she dog-ears one corner of the envelope and throws it back into the fire without a reply in it- a prearranged signal for orders received, understood and accepted.

"That's Gaius for you. You can always count on him to get it right...once he's exhausted every other alternative."

Eria gives her mother a sidelong, scandalized look.

"Councilor Gaius is one of the leading arcane scholars of his generation. He's worth ten archmages in the research lab-"

"-and one hungover apprentice when it comes to public speaking or correspondence. I admit it, he's a genius, but a genius at Counciling he is not."

Eria sighs.

"Maybe. But his work with you is what separates me from Luna. If it weren't for him, my guts would be rotting out of my body and my wits would be oozing out of my skull. That counts for a lot.

And anyway- he's not just a lab rat. There's good sense behind the orders he gives, even if you have to dig to get at it."

--------------------------------------

"Captain Steinitz."

The man is on his feet in an instant, his posture ramrod-straight as he tosses off a crisp salute.

"Sir!"

Eria nods.

"At ease."

She gestures at the horsemen in the field as they make a shakily coordinated right-angled turn and loose an arrow in unison.

"The exercises are going well?"

The captain's apologetic grin pulls at the prominent scar on his weathered face.

"Well enough, sir. I've got enough horsemanship drubbed into them by now to make them decent scouts and fair skirmishers. They still aren't well-rounded cavalrymen: formation work and close-order combat still no good, horse archery still needs work.

At this point, though, expecting more would be a miracle. They're learning fast."

"Excellent. Scouts and skirmishers is all they absolutely must be, to fill their envisioned role- but no one ever won a fight who stopped training when they'd done all they absolutely must.

And I have good news for you, captain: you're going to have some more time to whip them into shape. No operations to even begin planning until the twelfth at least."

Steinitz raises an eyebrow.

"That is good news. I'll make proper horsemen out of them yet. Of course, we go too long without action and we'll start getting morale problems...?"

"It won't be a issue. The Wyrm's resources aren't unlimited: we're too expensive to be allowed to sit idle indefinitely.

For now, you can take the focus off of scouting missions and concentrate on shoring up their weaknesses. Also, spend a little bit of time wargaming a smash-and-grab scenario against an opponent heavy on undead troops and necromantic support. Get in, get a single well-guarded item of materiel, and escape under heavy pursuit."

Steinitz's eyebrow goes further this time, almost all the way up to his close-cropped hairline.

"Yes, sir."

"And I need some spellcasting. Have you got...hmmm...divination, augury, guidance of the avatar, and sending prepared?"

"Yes, yes, no, and yes, sir. Once each."

"I need the following message sent to our chief archivist in Dressel-"- a pause for Steinitz to pick up a pen- "Summarize Wyrm intel on Skull City. Medium priority, seventy-two hours. Be general: include geography, people, government, economy, military, relations. Eria."

The captain nods, counts the words, nods again.

"Yes, sir. I'll let you know if I get a reply. The other spells?"

"The divination is to answer the question 'what is the nature of Skull City's recent 'breakthrough'?'

The augury is to evaluate the outcome of seeking an intel-sharing arrangement with the Keepers on the same matter."

"...on...same matter." Steinitz finishes writing it down, then looks up. "I'll prepare guidance of the avatar for you tomorrow, then?"

"Yes. And Steinitz: burn those notes once you've finished. This is hush-hush, is that understood?"

Another sharp salute. "Yes, sir!"

--------------------------------------

Eria finds her next stop nestled deep within the pages of a battered first edition of Xtis Cee's On Illusions.

"Radu! I need your help with something."

The portly gnome puts down his book, takes off his spectacles, and rubs his eyes before replacing them.

"Anything for you, boss. What's up?"

"Skull City's necromancers. They publish anything you know of? Books, journal articles, spells?"

Radu frowns in concentration.

"Ummm. Good question. Not coming up with anything off the top of my head: they can't be prolific. But that doesn't rule it out: necromancy is not my ball of wax, y'know? I don't keep as current as I could."

Eria leans in and gives him a big, beaming smile.

"Could you find out? Visit a few of your old Arcane Order buddies, wine and dine 'em on our dime, find out what the faculty of the Protectorate's biggest and best college of magic thinks about Skull City?"

A sly grin makes its way across the wizard's face.

"We~ell, that depends. When you say it's on the Wyrm dime, are we talking about Taverne Anglaise money? Those old mages live it up pretty good as it is: it takes some serious chow to coax them out of their ivory tower..."

Eria rolls her eyes.

"The Taverne Anglaise it is, you old glutton. You've got sixty hours and budget for two lunches, two dinners, two people apeice. If they haven't published a thing, I want rumors, scuttlebutt, informed speculation.

And as far as the eggheads are concerned, this isn't Wyrm business, got it? You're there on your time off, pursuing research of your own."

"Ooooh. Cloak and dagger business." Radu waggles his eyebrows. "My lips are sealed, boss."

"That's what I like to hear. You need a teleport?"

"Naaah. I'll fly it."

--------------------------------------

"Rin. I have a new assignment for you. Fieldwork."

"Oh?"

The lanky changeling stands fluidly, stretching like a cat.

"What kind?"

"Two related jobs, actually. The first: I need floor plans for a building in Skull City."

"Which one?"

"The building they're hosting a widely attended gathering in on the 12th. Beyond that, I don't know which one. Finding out is part of the job."

"How?"

"Direct infiltration is a possibility. But security is likely to be high, even before the 12th. You could try seeing if they hired an outside architect: necromancers can use zombie labor, but without serious engineers on hand, it's hard to get very far even with the best of magical support.

That's only a suggestion, though. I leave the methods entirely up to you: find the right palms to grease, marks to fool, minds to read. Take other intel about the event if you can get it, but don't get overambitious: as I said, security is going to be tight. There's going to be counterintelligence guys out there: take no risks."

The changeling nods laconically.

"Okay. Second?"

"Get a good idea of how Skull City relates to its local trading partners. What they buy, from who, on what schedule, what kind of reputation they've got.

Even if they're determined to be as mysterious as possible, bottle themselves up tight and rely almost wholly on magically-created goods, there are things they'll need. Can't mine onyx in a swamp, can't make skeletons without onyx. (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/animateDead.htm)

And that's probably not what they're doing: total self-sufficiency is possible in theory, but an enormous pain in practice.

The info will be useful for its own sake. But it's also to lay the groundwork for possible later infiltration. Maybe during the event, maybe afterward. I haven't made my mind up on the scale, either: anything from one agent to a reinforced cavalry company.

Understand?"

"Yes."

"Any questions?"

"No."

Eria stares at the changeling for a moment, feeling faintly bemused. Capable spy though Rin may be, she's never been easy to talk to when not 'in character' as someone else. She turns to leave.

"Thanks."

For Rin to volunteer anything is a bit of an event: Eria wipes the look of mild shock off her face before she turns back.

"Aaah...what for, exactly?"

"When I'm not in the field, they make me teach."

If 'Thanks' was an event, this is an all-time Rin-Speak Record Breaker. Eria waits a moment to see if there's anything more coming, nodding encouragingly.

"...I'm not good at it."

Eria waits another little while to see if this unprecedented flood will continue, but as the seconds tick by, it seems increasingly unlikely. At last, she speaks.

"I'll be sure to keep you busy, then."

[MightBeABook]

Captain Steinitz approaches Eria shortly after she finishes with Rin. "Sorry, sir. The Divination failed, and the Augury said we'd see no consequences from knowledge sharing. Headquarters sent this, though." He proffers a sealed envelope.

Most of the reply is fairly dry, going through details of their few imports and notable individuals - basic dossiers for the eight members of the Circle of Bone are included. The most relevant information, however, is as follows: The Skull City lies in the Dead Swamp, within the province of Jin, realm of Duke Crimson. The City lies roughly at the heart of the swamp, and relies on magic to supply its needs, rarely interacting with the mundane world for any purpose. The necromancers govern themselves, generally following a secretive group known as the Circle of Bone. Skull City is ultimately a place of learning, albeit one focused on the darker aspects of magic, most especially those dealing with death. Skull City is informally recognized as a power equal to any of the factions vying for place in the Protectorate, for all that it technically is ruled by Duke Crimson. They get along especially aware with Lord Dainur, the trapped devil, but maintain at least neutral relations with all but the Pelorites. Those who have traveled there have universally noted that the city itself and the area immediately outside it is cloaked in powerful magics, but they only seem to respond to those with status among the necromancers. The exact extent of the forces they could field is uncertain, but it is likely they could raise an army of very great size given sufficient time.


-----------------------------

Radu's report, several days later, is less useful. "Boss, seems the necromancers keep pretty much to themselves. Knowledge of anything substantial is kept mostly inside the City. Best I got was from a fellow who was apparently invited to some shindig they're throwing soon. Says his instruments for watching the planes have been more active in the last couple weeks than they've been since before that bad business down in the Desolation a couple decades ago. Another guy says they've got a cheaper way of doing permanent animations than the rest of the world, but he didn't have any proof."

-----------------------------

Rin does not contact you again in the week after being sent on his mission.