Tomboys and Troublemakers pt 3

[wilphe]

She's quick, she's smart. Honestly if she has the recall of a bard she should do fine. And Bruno can put some polish on her, you remember from our time in Altdorf that I engage in wizardly politics by not engaging in it. It is all I can do to master magic and medicine, a human lifetime only allows so much

He remembers that Gimgroth could not read, and therefore does not broach that subject with him


On arrival at the Temple he diverts into the Hall of Justice - which is a functional but small bureau with a fair amount of lawbooks. It's not the focus of the Temple here, but few are without at least some attention to this aspect of the Goddess.

There is one clerk on duty

You seek guidance brother?

Wighard smiles thinly

The Most Holy Matriarch Lisegund has charged me to kill a certain Cecilia d'Orgremont

Most unusual

Is it not, but then I do not expect the Church of Shallya to be practiced at putting contracts on people

And this troubles you?

Gods may be omniscient and infallible, or at least as close to that as to be all but indistinguishable to a mortal, their servants are not

Before I even think about finding this woman, I must satisfy myself as to the verity and gravity of her offence and the impossibility of redemption

[MrAbdiel]

The Phlegmatic knight trudges up the stairs with the rest of the company. The hour of his relief is fast approaching, but he is robbed of the joy of anticipation by the vexation within his mind.

Spoiler: OOC:

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88 on the roll. I'm here, though!

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

As the group moved through the temple-town, Regine remained quiet and focused, mostly on their surroundings. The people in the street, shop-owners opening the front of their holdings and chatting with their neighbors, the scent of freshly cooked bread wafting down the street from the bakeries, the warm sun in the sky. The girl had a ticking clock within her counting down the hours she had left to enjoy the world, while her newly sharpening senses, ironically, helped her appreciate the scents and sounds of lively town market through which they moved.

The thief swallowed and inhaled, before angling her body to depart the group.

"I will catch up with you at the temple, mon ami's, I'm just going to offload something!" she explained, her figure easily sliding out from between her fellows before disappearing into the street crowds like a ghost.

It didn't take long for her to re-emerge in the storefronts and shopping booths where she would open her slingbag and produce various items and wares to offload, including the weapons she wore. Her crossbow, her sword, dagger, a silver bracelet she had pinched and even the dark leather armor she wore - all of it plied through the stores and being converted into a sack of gold coins.

oOo

Regine drew herself up the stairs towards the magnificent temple, a noticeably large sack of coins tethered to her hip. Being a rogue and a thief, a temple dedicated to the Goddess of Justice seemed and unlikely place for her to go, and even now in her...troubled state, Regine felt uncomfortable around the sanctity of judgement and sentencing. Nevertheless, Verena was also a being of knowledge, so if anyone had the smarts to deduce a reversal for her terrible bout of recent luck, it was one of her cultists.

If any of the rest of the group looked in her direction, Regine would return a nervous, but sincere smile.

"We should ask one of the brothers or sisters about information pertinent to our...situation."

[LarsWester]

She's quick, she's smart. Honestly if she has the recall of a bard she should do fine. And Bruno can put some polish on her, you remember from our time in Altdorf that I engage in wizardly politics by not engaging in it. It is all I can do to master magic and medicine, a human lifetime only allows so much

He remembers that Gimgroth could not read, and therefore does not broach that subject with him

Gimgroth turned his face away from the man before answering Wighard. Oh of course I didn't mean to make a pressing demand upon your precious time Wighard. I understand.
His pride wounded, that he had humbled himself to ask for a favor from his learned trusted companion, only to be rebuffed and passed off to someone else. Gimgroth kick a few pebbles laying in the road. Perhaps he had misjudged Wighard or perhaps the time and trials the man experienced while they were parted had changed the man. Gimgroth tried not to let his disappointment show outwardly as they arrived at the Hall of Justice.

[wilphe]

Wighard knew there was an obvious way to make this awkward by making any reference to Gimgroth's (former?) illiteracy. He's not sure how he has managed to do so by not doing that, but he certainly has and he is genuinely upset for doing it.

Gimgroth, however you took my words I never, never meant you to think that I would not.

I have taught Siobhan, I have taught Maxine, I have taught Jasmine's collection of waifs and strays. I mean, I mean, I know you weren't around for most of that but the idea of refusing never crossed my mind.

I can teach her as much of what I know as is safe to teach her and I think she shall learn fast.

However I don't, I can't know everything.

There are some things I cannot teach

I cannot teach her how to act as a court bard, because I fit in there as well as you do. By being too useful, frankly too dangerous, to be ignored.

That's not an approach you want for Beatrix because her equivalent of us would be a diva people tolerate only for her talent. At best that is lonely, at worst it means your tongue cut out when you finally go too far

No, for that we have to go to Bruno

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Regine listened to the exchange between Grimgoth and Wigard. The thief didn't know the dwarf that well, but she did know that the stunted folk could be prickly and see easy offence where none was intended - was he like that too? Nevertheless, the idea was that Grimgoth hoped that Wigard would teach someone in his care how to read and write, a valuable skill to be sure. Regine, believe it or not, had acquired such a skill during her time in the orphanage and on the streets. Afterall, what good is a thief who cannot read the ledgers of cargo boats or produce documents of their own that others could follow?

However it did suddenly pop an idea into the girls mind: the fat sack of coins adjoined to Regine's belt, and how best it might be spent. She was in the temple of Verena, after all, the goddess of reason, deduction, yes unfortunately justice, but also learning. What if she could use those funds to foster some type of local school for children? An orphanage and school to ensure at least a few dozen children don't end up like she had?

Pursing her lips, peering around the beauty of the temple itself, Regine exhaled and pondered the qualities of the idea, as it was surely a tempting one - and about the way to employ those funds in as short a time as she had left.

"Monsieur Roche," Regine would gently nudge the knight.

"Did you want to speak to one of the most knowledgeable or learned priests about...you know."

The implication was clear: his brother.


________


(OOC: Regine is asking Bertelis that on the assumption that during their time together, he's brought him and his situation up to her. If he wouldn't have, then ignore this.)

[bramblefoot]

at the lighthouse: the company of the burning slug reaches the verenan lighthouse and are greeted by ysolde von mountbatten, an older priestess whos grey hair has streaks of white in it. she walks with a slight limp, but otherwise is hale and hearty. she stares each of you in the eyes, seemingly missing nothing. she greets everyone but sir bertelis heartily. "so, what can i do for you fine adventurers today?" she asks,leading you inside

ysolde von mountbatten

[farothel]

"Thank you for receiving us, your honour," Bruno said, making a low bow, "we are here to bring you information and also to seek the same to help us in our quest. We are charged by multiple people to search a number of artefacts of different natures. These we found out are all located in Moussillon. Since none of us are native to this accursed region and the knowledge of the priesthood of Verena is legendary, we ventured here to seek your knowledge. The first thing we seek is the so called Red Knight. He has certain artefacts and also keeps hostage a family member of one of my companions."

Spoiler: OOC rolls

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I guess a charm roll is in order
(1d100)[30] vs 87 (97 if she's a noble, as I have etiquette).

[MrAbdiel]

Bertelis plods sluggishly up the steps, distracted and tired-looking as ever; though Regine's words focus him.

"Yes.. Yes of course. That's why we're here." He tries to straighten up a little, though the whimsy of humours today rob him of the more professional, respectable air he is owed - so much so that the priestess seems to pick his scattered nature immediately, and rebukes him with the subtlety of her disregard. Bertelis is wounded by this - but Bruno, faithful Bruno, articulates the matter about which he is concerned, and he is once more glad to know the Baronet Richter.

Spoiler: OOC:

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Gonna leave the social to our most social fellow. It's more focused in this scene, and we're less likely to lose information or have questions lost in the mix. I think we're all pretty keen to get some answers then get to adventuring again.

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix


Regine instinctively lurked within the centre of the group as they moved into the Verenan Lighthouse, the goddesses predilection towards judgement and law and order infusing an almost supernatural instinct of caution within the master thief.

Smiling slightly as Bertelis was reminded of his purpose here, the thief nevertheless perked an eyebrow at his sluggish response, as if he was distracted by something. Granted, he looked tired...as she did...oh no, had he been visited during the night as well?! It wouldn't be in his character to withhold such a traumatic experience, so such a thing was doubtful, but nevertheless...

The question was asked: the red knight. Vampires.

Regine listened, and listened well, she, more than anyone else in the group, had the most riding on the following words...

[LarsWester]

Wighard knew there was an obvious way to make this awkward by making any reference to Gimgroth's (former?) illiteracy. He's not sure how he has managed to do so by not doing that, but he certainly has and he is genuinely upset for doing it.

Gimgroth, however you took my words I never, never meant you to think that I would not.

I have taught Siobhan, I have taught Maxine, I have taught Jasmine's collection of waifs and strays. I mean, I mean, I know you weren't around for most of that but the idea of refusing never crossed my mind.

I can teach her as much of what I know as is safe to teach her and I think she shall learn fast.

However I don't, I can't know everything.

There are some things I cannot teach

I cannot teach her how to act as a court bard, because I fit in there as well as you do. By being too useful, frankly too dangerous, to be ignored.

That's not an approach you want for Beatrix because her equivalent of us would be a diva people tolerate only for her talent. At best that is lonely, at worst it means your tongue cut out when you finally go too far

No, for that we have to go to Bruno

A smile spreads across Gimgroth's face but is quickly chased by a frown and worried brow. Once again Wighard I fear I am honor debted to you. I should never have thought so low of you that you would refuse the request of a friend, even if he's only a humble dwarf mercenary. It's merely her letters and numbers I request you teach her. Gimgroth's joy in Wighard's agreement to Beatrix's education won over his own self loathing. I know you don't stab with a hammer my friend. Gimgroth continued with a laugh. The social graces and high manners are better instructed by our noble companions. Otherwise what's the good in travelling with two Barons if they can't raise the social practices of your ward?

[dojango]

Jasmine watches as the pleasantries unfold, but as the others talk without getting to the heart of the issue, she blurts out and says, "There's a lot of weird stuff goin' on. Which is normal in these parts, I reckon. But if ya haven't done an accountin' of yer 'esoteric' collection recently, I think it might be good if ya double-checked ta make sure none of it has walked off recently. Because as we all know, yer a repository of strange and dangerous information and I just think we should double-check ta see if none of that has fallen inta the wrong hands."

[bramblefoot]

alright, so ysolde will walk you inro the sitting room, with a small plate of fresh-baked delicacies. she will sit
across from you, and nosh upon a small cookie-like thing "soo, how can i help the company today?" she asks, pulling a piece of vellum out as if to take notes "questions will be answered one at a time"

[farothel]

"Well, your holiness," Bruno said, "as I mentioned, we're looking for the Red Knight, as he might have some artefacts we're looking for. A demon sword we have to find and destroy, but also a spear that's sacred to Mannanan."

[bramblefoot]

ysold will steeple her fingers. "weve detected a pulse of magic coming and going around the environs of mousillon. it stinks of rot. as for the spear, we saw a trio of masked and hooded riders leaving with a bundle. it could be the spear, but the urchin who saw this disappeared after the report"

she will exhale, and say "the red knight is also in mousillon at last deep scrying, which was a week ago"

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Regine remained quiet as she listened to the Wise Woman tell her tale, the caution of the Red Knight catching the thief's interest in particular.

[farothel]

"Any idea on where in Moussilon," Bruno asked while taking some notes, "it's maybe not the largest of the provinces of Bretonnia, but it's large enough that it would take a long time to search all."

[wilphe]

Gods may be omniscient and infallible, or at least as close to that as to be all but indistinguishable to a mortal, their servants are not

Before I even think about finding this woman, I must satisfy myself as to the verity and gravity of her offence and the impossibility of redemption

The clerk nods sagely

That is an acceptable answer

However we were told to expect you and you alone

Wighard looks sternly at him

Herr Grimdurson is my sworn companion of longstanding, he has saved my life and I his. And unlike many other Champions his commitment to Justice is unquestionable.

There is a brief pause

Very well

The clerk produces a key, proceeds over to one of the cabinets, unlocks a drawer and takes out a slim sheaf of papers bound with red twine and sealed with wax.

The folder is adressed to Wighard bears two marks that he recognises as Tilean abbreviations, one an owl with

Spoiler: SPTO

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Solo per i tuoi occhi (For your Eyes Only)

at four corners, the other a sword of justice with

Spoiler: SSSDSDS

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Sul Servizio Segretissimo della Signora della Saggezza (On the Lady of Wisdom's Most Secret Service

He places it on the desk before the two companions

Do you know what is within?

A few days ago some of us received a vision to take all our information on this woman and prepare it for you. The folder does however seem slightly thicker than when I put it away

Very well, do you wish to remain here while we open it?

I would very much prefer not to, but I shall wait outside to ensure you are not disturbed

[wilphe]

Wighard takes a knife and slashes the twine, within are a few letters, reports as well as another smaller envelope with the same marks as before and also addressed to him that he puts to one side


The reports are those of her superiors at various temples commending her skills and compassion, but in a few cases noting that she spends too much time debating the best way to help people rather than simply getting on with it.

He reads this through for the benefit of Gimgroth

A common debate within the Cult of Shallya, between those who want to do the most good and those who think you should not waste time thinking about that and just help whoever is in front of you at the time

The letters go between a minor noble in Brionne, his feudal superior, the The Most Holy Matriarch Lisegund and a Handmaiden of the Lady called Laudia Quenay.

She was in a village in Brionne that was suffering greatly from the Vermillion Flu. She was working to help the people when the Lord Lohenain demanded more taxes. They asked her to speak to him on their behalf
She agreed.
He refused
She accused him of being deaf to their plight
He said he would show her deafness and cut her ear off
There was a riot
Afterwards she could not be found

The Lord and his Lord demanded to the Matriarch that she be cast out of the cult and outlawed. The Matriarch refused but then got an obliquely threatening letter from Handmaiden Quenay to the effect that the Cult of Shaylla would not be allowed to threaten the structure of Bretonnia

Then there are few reports of Cecilia's whereabouts, apparently being passed amongst the Herrimault bands to avoid Lord Lohenain and the Maidens' vengeance. She passed into Mousillon a few weeks ago.

[MrAbdiel]

Ysolde purses her lips.

"I... may not be entirely at liberty to say. But if he has a captive of some station, then..."

The matronly priestess looks indecisive; almost pinned by some aspect of the conversation not revealed. With exasperation, she looks over her shoulder to another figure; a blonde woman at the fire side of this level of the lighthouse-monastary. Her blondeness itself is less remarkable than the fact of her blondeness's apparancy; most of the women in Bretonnia who have passed the age of reason cover their hair completely that its color would not be plain to someone from across the room. But the blonde woman makes a gesture with one hand, a come-hither hooking with her index over one delicate shoulder, and Ysolde breathes a sigh of relief. She lets the party past to cross the room to this new interlocuter - all but Bertelis.

"Not you, my good knight. Here; I have higher things to speak to you about. Talk with me, a moment. You, and your squire..."

Bertelis, in his state, is easily enough led by this command. "I will... Ah... We reconvene after, I suppose." He, Maxime, and Ysolde peel off to an alcove for a discussion of what one must assume is great import.

Regine, Jasmine, and Bruno are permitted by, as the blonde woman leads them to a quieter edge of the library-level of the lighthouse where a balcony beyond presents the glimmering sea.

Spoiler: The Maiden Eugénie Gavreau

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She is jarringly beautiful; lovely in a way is disquieting and somehow accusatory. Her skin is cleaner and smoother than a woman's should be, even pampered and wealthy women whose hands know no labor. But it's not a wicked discomfort, at least. For a grown man, at least, it is familiar as the puzzling rush of unknowable chemistry fizzing behind the eyeballs; when as a boy he met a girl who for the first time registered to him not as an alien species but a fascinating creature whom he might spend every day of his life pursuing to know.

"This... Red Knight, you see... It is a complicated business. A royal matter, and a spiritual one. The crown, and the churches, are in concert and competition here. It is not dissimilar in the Empire, I think." Her Reikspiel is academic and clean and only lightly lilting with Breton sway. The comment, and her attention, seems to be directly principally to Bruno, as the group's spokesman and noble member.

"In fact, you are wandering into an entwined matter... and one, it will become clear, that requires a measure of deception with which a Knight of Bretonnia is not permitted to operate. Not one who takes his vows seriously, anyway." She takes a quarter turn and a couple of steps closer to the balcony so the sun can fall on her, shining warmly on her face, the shelf of her collarbone, the swell of her bust, and the scandalous measure of her blonde hair that sits forward of her gauzy wimple. The moment invites pursuit - perhaps some subtle expression of power, over a listener? Some kind of game to which the rules have not been explained?

"I am the Maiden Eugénie Gavreau. I have many answers for you - about the Flylord's cult within the city Mousillon, and its current ... ah... territorial conflict with the Red Knight. But before I answer them, I must ask the three of you..."

She turns to face you all now. Now, the sun is behind her; it lims her face in a golden corona, letting her countenance become darkened by the shade and difficult to regard directly with the sunlight skimming around her.

"Would you rather die, than become a monster? And, supposing the answer is yes, would you hold in honor a friend who would take your life, if they saw you becoming such a monster?"

The question is spoken in absolutes; the tone of it suggests there is no room for half-measures, or a creative reinterpretation of what 'monster' means. It is a plain, brute query. She waits, patient and interested, for your answers.

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix


The Maiden had...not been what Regine was expecting. Admittedly the master thief was not particularly knowledgeable on most religious matters, at least beyond that of what peasants accumulated in drips and drabs during their time on the mortal plane. But to her a priestess, or "Maiden" in this case, would be a woman who was senior in years and distinguished in presence. Not...this. She barely looked a day into 30, her appearance so heavenly crafted to appeal to lustful gazes she might have deliberately adopted it as a practical joke to separate the genuine from the lecherous.

Nevertheless, the Maiden spoke. She certainly had a flair for showmanship, Regine would give her that, as the master thief folded her arms and listened as well as she could, her eyes remaining fixated upon the wise woman.

"This... Red Knight, you see... It is a complicated business. A royal matter, and a spiritual one. The crown, and the churches, are in concert and competition here. It is not dissimilar in the Empire, I think. In fact, you are wandering into an entwined matter... and one, it will become clear, that requires a measure of deception with which a Knight of Bretonnia is not permitted to operate. Not one who takes his vows seriously, anyway."

Regine furrowed her brow as she listened. She had not reached the heights of her professional skill back in L'anguille by being ignorant to the movements of the wealthy and powerful, and she could...in a way, imagine that some formerly aristocratic knight, now turned into a blood-drinking creature of the knight, yet maintained the trappings and mantle of his former chivalric notions, would be embarrassing for the established gentry. Thinking of it in terms closer to her heart, it would be as if a close friend had died, only for an uncanny valley doppleganger to dress themselves in their clothes and to pretend as if they were really them. Desecration and insults both.

"I am the Maiden Eugénie Gavreau. I have many answers for you - about the Flylord's cult within the city Mousillon, and its current ... ah... territorial conflict with the Red Knight. But before I answer them, I must ask the three of you...Would you rather die, than become a monster? And, supposing the answer is yes, would you hold in honor a friend who would take your life, if they saw you becoming such a monster?"


This struck closer to home for the thief. Swallowing, pursing her lips and peering at the Maiden, a part of Regine wanted to step forward and seize the woman by her collar and shove her against the wall before demanding to know who she had been talking to, and what she really meant. But, of course, Regine did no such thing.

"I would do the deed myself," Regine answered, first among the trio, and forcefully so. Her usual playful charisma was remiss as those words were projected with force and determination, as if she were on trial already and answers were demanded of her.

"The Red Knight - can he be redeemed? Can he be brought back from his condition?"

[farothel]

Bruno wasn't sure if splitting up here was a good idea, but as Bertelis agreed, he wasn't going to say something. They could always compare notes later.
"If by monster you mean becoming some undead thing or a chaos thing or something like that, then the answer is yes to both," Bruno said to Eugénie, speaking Breton to train himself in the language, "and I can tell I will not hesitate to release my friends and companions from such a fate. Non-violently if possible, otherwise if needed. I've seen what happens with those who turn."

He waited to see what more they would be told about the red knight.

[bramblefoot]

bruno, jasmine, regine: the maiden will sigh, and a cloud seems to pass over her face. she will speak softly about the nature of monsters

"Men can be reasoned with, monsters are by nature unreasonable. This is the fundamental truth that courses through the veins of our world, staining the fabric of reality with its ominous hue. Look upon the faces of men, see the flicker of understanding, the glimmer of empathy that resides within their souls. They are creatures of reason, flawed as they may be, they harbor within them the capacity for discourse, for negotiation, for understanding.

But monsters, ah, monsters are a different breed altogether. Born from the darkest recesses of the mind, forged in the crucible of nightmare and fear, they know not the language of reason. They are the embodiment of chaos, the antithesis of order, the very essence of irrationality made manifest.

Look into the eyes of a monster and what do you see? Madness. Hunger. A primal, unrelenting thirst for destruction that knows no bounds. They are the predators that stalk the shadows, the harbingers of despair that lurk in the forgotten corners of the world. To reason with a monster is to speak to the wind, to plead with the storm, to beg for mercy from the void.

For monsters are not bound by the laws of men, nor are they swayed by the whims of conscience. They exist outside the realm of morality, outside the boundaries of civilization. They are the aberrations, the anomalies, the twisted reflections of our deepest fears and desires.

And yet, for all their terror, for all their savagery, there is a perverse beauty to be found in the nature of monsters. They are the embodiment of chaos, yes, but they are also the embodiment of freedom. They are free from the shackles of society, free from the constraints of morality, free to indulge in their most base and primal instincts without fear of repercussion.

In a world governed by order and reason, monsters stand as a reminder of the darkness that lurks within us all. They are the shadows that dance at the edge of our vision, the whispers that haunt our dreams. And though we may strive to banish them from our midst, to erase them from existence, we can never truly escape the truth they represent.

For in the end, we are all monsters. Bound by our own desires, shackled by our own fears, we are creatures of chaos masquerading as creatures of reason. And in the depths of our souls, we know that no matter how hard we try to deny it, no matter how fiercely we cling to the illusion of order, the monster within will always be there, waiting to be set free."

bertelis and maxime:

ysolde will sit down, and offer a hand to bertelis. "your thoughts seem clouded sir bertelis. tell me, have you tried reiki? i learned from a master from far cathay. it may help to relieve you of some of your madness. i can give you a treatment now, and it may remove some of those stormclouds upon your brow."

wighard and gimgroth: nothing else happens. can i have your next moves?

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Admittedly, before joining the Burning Slug company, Regine knew very little about the metaphysics of the world. She still didn't. But she had learned a few things. Perhaps it was being teleported to a magical island where she fought...things, mutated things that were the essence of Chaos. Perhaps it was this disease-ridden Nurgle cult that were squatting on the horizon, or the fanged horrors of the night that had laid claim to her for induction into their ranks. But the master thief was rather skeptical of the priestess' claims of relativism in the face of such terrors.

"If we're all monsters...then why fight them?" she asked, with visible curiosity and uncertainty.

"Are you saying there is nothing that can be done for the Red Knight except to slay him?"

[bramblefoot]

the maiden will place a hand on regine "some are redeemable, while others pretend and scheme. it is our job as servants of order to redeem those who can be redeemed, and put those who cannot to the torch or the sword. Every job you can do should be done as best you can. plagues may batter cities, and beastmen may pillage, but we will endure, as we have before. take heart, for there may be a day when the trumpets sound and we must all do what must be done to ensure the safety of our homes and families"

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

the maiden will place a hand on regine "some are redeemable, while others pretend and scheme. it is our job as servants of order to redeem those who can be redeemed, and put those who cannot to the torch or the sword. Every job you can do should be done as best you can. plagues may batter cities, and beastmen may pillage, but we will endure, as we have before. take heart, for there may be a day when the trumpets sound and we must all do what must be done to ensure the safety of our homes and families"

Regine looked confused. Indeed, she looked - and sounded - somewhat irritated.

"Art thou deaf, woman?!" she snapped.

"I ask not for riddles; I asked if the Red Knight is beyond redemption! Is he forever cursed with his affliction, or are there means to prevent or return those who are transformed into such monsters?! Can he be salvaged - or is he lost to damnation?! Are those cursed with vampirism eternally set on its path, or can they be brought back and restored to a living station, their soul returned?"

I die in 72 hours, I don't have time for this mad-womans rambling! she thought indignantly to herself.

The Master Thief had, for the first time, allowed her anger to get the better of her. Her knuckles were white as her hands were balled into fists, and a temper was visible across her face. Suddenly, as if realising what she had done, Regine exhaled, her eyes looking downwards as her cheeks flushed a shameful red.

"I am sorry...madame..." she brought her right hand to her forehead as if to massage it.

"Please, forgive my outburst. I am...just very...this has been very trying. It weighs upon my soul in many ways, and I am unfamiliar with the multiple layers of consideration ones in your station must grant such spectacular situations. I apologise, madame," came her sincere words.

[dojango]

Jasmine says, "The witchhunters say somethin' similar bout monsters and such. Tho they like ta think that 'burning' and 'redemption' usually go together. Suppose they would agree about monsters lurkin' in the heart of men and all that, and that only faith in Sigmar is yer shield. Suppose that might be true too. But I've seen monsters get created ya know. It's like, horrible little rat people and weird glowing goop and all that. Dunno how much faith helps there and how much a fast mind and faster hands helps. And then some people choose ta be monsters cause they think it might better their station. And sometimes it might even work! Speakin' of which, I ran across a guy consortin' with demons and a while back. I tracked him down ta L'Anguile so he's probably manipulatin' the rebels as we speak. Someone should probably look into that, not us though, since we're kind of persona nongrada with the rebels."

[MrAbdiel]

Spoiler: Jasmine!

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(Feel free to put up Jasmine's response to the question about monsters, and killing friends who are becoming monsters; I'm just moving on in this moment to get this revelation out!)

Having diverted her attention to Regine's questions for a long moment - long enough that Regine might be suspicious of her insight - the Maiden Eugénie Gavreau returns to her commentary about Mousillon. Apparently, the answers supplied to her question are sufficient. She draws in a quick breath through her nose, her chest swelling with the beginnings of a tale relevant to the situation.

"Two hundred years ago, Mousillon fell to shame and ignominy. Maldred of Mousillon, the last Duke, attempted to seize the vacant throne with a False Grail ruse. When he was discovered, he fled to his city and the truly annointed king, Gaston de Beau Geste, laid siege. But the Red Pox came, then; tearing through both armies and especially the poor peasants of the city like a consuming fire. In the end, Gaston was able to walk into the city when the Pox took all the fight out of it, and found Maldred dead of the sickness within. This kind of tragedy has stained the land deeply; it continues to spit up its suffering today. But it is not without lure, to travelers fair and foul…”

“This Red Pox, you see, is a product of the rat-men; they have released it several times in Tilea and Bretonnia, each time to devastating effect. Over this, the Fly Lord became jealous. He sent a host of warriors as part of an invasion of Bretonnia, planning that some would survive and make their way south to where the rat-men toiled and boiled their plague. But brave King Jules, Jules the Just, died deflecting that invasion; some northmen fled on their boats, and a handful survived in flight in the land. One such chaos knight was Sul Konarr, who struck out alone to discover the secrets of the skaven’s plague. He lay in wait through the siege, and the chaos the Pox caused; and after the city was condemned, he wandered to the northern gate, where a city’s worth of plague dead were buried. He summoned a daemon to aid him - a ravenous beast of plague that sniffed out the secrets of the pox from the dead. But before he could complete his work, he was struck down by a questing knight, Jean-Robert of Bordeleaux. He was a knight of great favor, and he wielded a spear blessed by Manaan - thought, at the time, to be a contender to inherit the Duchy from the sonless duke. Unfortunately, like Jules the Just, he perished in the doing of his deed, and never returned from Mousillon. Or so it was thought.”

The Maiden moves again, with an eerie grace that borders on inhuman, off the balcony and back into the lighthouse library. She stops in front of a painting of a small gathering of well dressed knights, wizards, and priests; though their details are difficult to make out as the party’s eyes adjust from gazing out at the sun.

“Since that time, there has always been in existence a small order - a secret society devoted to watching the world for signs of the Red Pox, to spring into action and thwart it and the forces driving it. Its first member was Alumon the Joyful, squire of Jean-Robert of Bordeleaux, who knew the circumstances of his demise. The Secret Society of the Blooded Cloth thwarted many small outbreaks of Pox, both launched by skaven and agents of the Fly Lord. Its membership changed, its leadership shifted, and eventually, after a failure to stop the outbreaks in the Middle Mountains and in Miragliano some forty years ago, the order fractured and fell apart. That was our… last roster.” She gestures to the portrait, where seven proud warriors, mystics, and adventurers stand in collegiate stillness for the portrait.

Spoiler: The Figures In The Picture

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The first figure is a knight of Bretonnia, tall and blond and somewhat narrow of build. It does not take a scholar of heraldry to notice the iconographic similarity between the knight’s tabard, and Bertelis’ - though those trained in that particular school might discern that the similarities places him not on the du Roche side of Bertelis’s family - his mother’s father, perhaps. The plaque beneath the picture identifies him as Alain du Bordeleaux.

The knight is Imperial, and his gold and green stag iconography is recognizable too. The Baron Konrad Richter, late father of the current Baron Franz Richter, gazes out stoically to the artist capturing the moment.

The woman beside him has a youthful flare and holds her embroidered robes of the College of Heavens closed with coquettish suggestion. If not for the elements of the swirling dragon tattoos visible on her arms, this would be all but unrecognizable for the woman some of the party knows as The Maga Onyll.

To her side stands a Heirophant in gold and white, a White Wizard whom only Wighard would recognise. When Wighard apprenticed under Master Maher, of course, he was not so young.

The third and final imperial wizard in that assembly is familiar to most of the party. Regal in bearing yet somehow confidently warm in the rendition, Professor Petrus Lorrimer gazes out, looking not a day younger than when he intersected so many lives four decades later.

Beside him is Maiden Eugénie Gavreau. She looks as hauntingly lovely, cresting the peak of young womanhood, in that portrait as she does in life gazing up at it, though there is no telling if Lorrimer’s method of deflecting the year’s burden is related to hers. It is easy to imagine that Death Wizards and Damsels of the Lady come at the problem of aging from opposite directions.

The last two-legged member of the Order of the Blooded Cloth in the image has certainly aged. A black haired boy, no more than ten years old, grinning with a gap in his teeth stands with his fists on his hips, and Lorrimer’s hand on his shoulder. A great, scruffy mastiff lazes at his feet; and a silver hammer pendant hangs prominently around his neck. The plaque identifies him as Johansonn the Boy Pilgrim - but imagination and a logical leap identifies him to some as Johnson the Hammer, Witch Hunter of Sigmar, long before his infamy.

“What we didn’t know,” the Maiden continues, “was that the source of the Pox’s resurgence was in Mousillon still. The rats go there to get their slaves infected, and then harvest it from them. Cultists of the Flylord do the same. They do so because the Chaos Knight, Sul Konarr, is still there; the daemon he summoned is bound into his sword and revives him even when he is slain. This is good for him, because he has been slain more than once - Jean-Robert of Bordeleaux, once though dead, makes war on him now as he has for two hundred years in fits and starts. The Red Pox nearly took him, but it seems he was not ready to die - he gave himself to the teeth of a vampire so he could live on, keeping Sul Konarr pinned in Mousillon, maddened by his inability to complete the deed. Thus, he became the Red Knight; lunatic jailer of the chaos champion who bears the Red Pox’s secrets in a daemon blade. Johnson and Lorrimer continued to work on the problem past the breaking of our fellowship - and more fool we, for the success they had. It took many years of unorthodox seeking of answers for him to learn the magics he needed to break the demon blade - in the time intervening, he had designed a spell to suppress to slumber the daemon within it, and had gone to Mousillon and inflicted it upon the sword with the aid of Johnson, and the Vampire Hunter, Le Bécassine."

“Magic rewards poetry, you see; it likes poetry. A daemon is bound in a sword; to bind it further, so it cannot act from within the sword, he made the key of his spell another sword. So long as that sword persisted, the Red Pox remained dormant, and the Chaos Knight remained impotent to release it. I suppose Petrus did not trust our fractured members with the knowledge of which sword and where; but I expect some in the Du Roche family knew; and I suspect that is why Petrus encouraged young Bertelis to extend his errantry journey in the empire, rather than going early back to Bretonnia. I suspect he spent those last years of his life, before the New Carissa affair, doing his best to cultivate those noble and good prospects who might inherit this task after him. But I further expect that the Red Knight is responsible for Petrus’s death, and Bertelis’ mother’s death much earlier; for that vampire has his spies too, and is desperate to complete his vow to kill Sul Konarr. Somehow, he learned that the spell Lorrimer used against the daemon blade was bound to the sword once owned by Alain du Bordeleaux, and passed by him down to Bertelis. I myself might never have known, had it not broken in your battle at Trundheim and briefly released the daemon from its sleep long enough for the pox to rip its way through Bordeleaux before, I was surprised to discover, you had somehow come upon a smith capable of reforging a broken blade into a new one. It is strange that Grungni would be the god foremost responsible for thwarting the flylord in this tangled web of schemes, but here we stand, with many gods having taken hands in the exchange.”

She exhales deeply, and regards your group with what seems like distant affection; as if she is far away, within her own mind.

“It is a convoluted matter. The summary points are these: Sul Konarr’s cult has been hunting Lorrimer’s confederates for many years. They have been targeting your families and trying to kill your party to see that reforged sword broken, or atleast to remain far away from Mousillon. The Red Knight’s agents have been doing everything they can to draw you toward the city, particularly by vexing Bertelis’ family to draw him back to Bretonnia. You will have to destroy both - the Chaos Knight, Sul Konarr, and the Red Knight, Jean-Robert. The Fly Lord’s servants do not die easily - you will likely need both the Spear of Manaan that killed the chaos knight the first time, and the Company Blade that subdued the Daemon in the sword, to do the deed. But the Red Knight is not a vampire without power. You will find Le Bécassine the hunter of vampires within the city, working with a dwarven slayer towards common purposes. They may be your allies against the vampire. But here is the rub:...”

Her eyes dart across the room to where Bertelis is speaking at length with the priestess. The knight looks tired, battered, and haunted, as he often does.

“You must not permit Bertelis to take part in the fight against the Red Knight. His mind is badly damaged, and in precisely the kind of state that is most vulnerable to the twisting of a vampire like the Red Knight. This vampire has put a great deal of resource into making sure he confronts him, to avenge the wrongs done to his family. You must not allow this confrontation to take place. Subdue him if you have to. Let him save his wrath for the Chaos Knight following. If he confronts the Red Knight in person, you may find your convictions about killing a friend turned to monsters to be put to trial.”

With this done, she produces a slim scroll of vellum and hands it to Bruno lightly. When he unfurls it, he finds a map of the city - apparently drafted by one Matthias Thornhauser, for his master, Lord von Siert.

“Do you see this? The the River Grismerie has two great branches. You must cross the first by boat to enter the Duchy of Mousillon - beware the Dracoleeches in the water. The second branch runs through the city itself, and forks again within it. You must make your way through the shantytown at the South Gate to enter the city. The people gathered around the gate, in the Chapel Quarter, and inside the wall on the south side are poor, often misshapen wretches but they are not wicked more than men tend to be as a rule. But the majority of the city, north of the bridges, is sunken, ruined, flooded, cursed, and doomed. The locals call it Lost Town. That is where you must go - to this damned place. Do not try to enter the city from the north - the hills there contain the mass dead from Red Pox two hundred years prior, and your task is difficult enough without inviting the weight of that dark magic on yourselves. The Red Knight has fortified a crypt in the Old Cemetry; you can expect he will be protected by lesser undead, but much of his force is devoted to street war against Sul Konarr, who quarters near the North Gate. He can only hear the slurred whispers of his Daemon Sword so close to those cursed hills; he does not stray far. Under no circumstances should you approach the Ducal Palace, in Lost Town. There is villainy there also, but unrelated, and perhaps even more dire than that which you must now confront. Do you understand?”

Spoiler: Map!

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[LarsWester]

He reads this through for the benefit of Gimgroth

A common debate within the Cult of Shallya, between those who want to do the most good and those who think you should not waste time thinking about that and just help whoever is in front of you at the time

The letters go between a minor noble in Brionne, his feudal superior, the The Most Holy Matriarch Lisegund and a Handmaiden of the Lady called Laudia Quenay.

She was in a village in Brionne that was suffering greatly from the Vermillion Flu. She was working to help the people when the Lord Lohenain demanded more taxes. They asked her to speak to him on their behalf
She agreed.
He refused
She accused him of being deaf to their plight
He said he would show her deafness and cut her ear off
There was a riot
Afterwards she could not be found

The Lord and his Lord demanded to the Matriarch that she be cast out of the cult and outlawed. The Matriarch refused but then got an obliquely threatening letter from Handmaiden Quenay to the effect that the Cult of Shaylla would not be allowed to threaten the structure of Bretonnia

Then there are few reports of Cecilia's whereabouts, apparently being passed amongst the Herrimault bands to avoid Lord Lohenain and the Maidens' vengeance. She passed into Mousillon a few weeks ago.

Gimgroth smiled hearing Wighard's express his esteem of the dwarf's worth. He stood by silently as the wizard shared the contents of the sealed envelopes. When the man paused Gimgroth rubs his hands on the side of his armor. This Cecelia seems like an honorable woman. I would not seek her blood on our hands. Something doesn't add up in my slow mind Wighard it sounds as if the High Matriarch has had quite a change of heart to go from defending this Cecelia to asking for her murder.
Does this vast change seem right to you? You are more familiar with the politics of humans than I am.
Perhaps there is something I am missing to explain this change but heard it not in what you just shared.
I'd rather take both the ears of that Lord Lohenain as a blood tax myself. What say you, friend?

[wilphe]

Wighard looks at the last unread item

The envelope

I'll bet this is what appeared in this file after the priests prepared it

It doesn't bear the secret marks of the main bundle, just Wighard's name in simple, but immaculate handwriting

Something doesn't add up in my slow mind Wighard it sounds as if the High Matriarch has had quite a change of heart to go from defending this Cecelia to asking for her murder.

Maybe she has not, I have heard that Shallyans are discouraged from thinking too deeply on who best to help, not because that's a distraction from helping people - though that is the official reason - but because then they might start thinking that the best way to alleviate suffering would be to fix things about society. Like maybe have a few less Lord Lohenain's in the world.

Officially, these people are flirting with heresy

Unofficially, they never seem to lose their connection to the Goddess.

But the Church of Shallya can't acknowledge them, because it wouldn't be allowed to exist if it did. I believe that is what Handmaiden Quenay was threatening.

To them Cecilia d'Orgremont is no longer a priestess, she is an agitator


He breathes out slowly

Let's see what this last envelope says

He breaks it open and reads, he can almost swear that it is re-writing itself as he opens it. In response to what he just said? In any case it is in the same neat cursive as his name


Do not judge the Matriarch too harshly Magister

She has the good of the cult to think about

As long they stick to treating symptoms of injustice and not the causes they can work and do good

Many people would suffer more if they were to be supressed.

If an innocent woman has to die, well what is being a Shallyan about if not about sacrifice for the good of others?

She may even have asked you because you would have doubts, there are plenty of thugs and assassins without scruple she could call on if she really wanted to find them.

In any case it is the Handmaiden Quenay who has decided she needs to die

I cannot say if she speaks for the Damsels as a whole, but I understand she is a cousin to Lord Lohenain

I can use someone like Cecilia d'Orgremont, but she will not be safe until she leaves Bretonnia

You could perhaps kill Handmaiden Quenay but even if she is acting without sanction the Damsels are unlikely to welcome the death of one of their own.

So I would like you to get her out, anywhere but Anguille. Your friend The Lord Reissner would be good, but I leave it to your discretion

This will clear your debt to me and more

The letter is signed with a simple "V" that flows into an owl