Tomboys and Troublemakers pt 3

[wilphe]

Wighard appears upstairs and stares deeply and silently at the portrait as the Maiden Eugénie Gavreau speaks

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Regine listened in silence, her eyes fixated upon Maiden Eugénie Gavreau the entire time. She took note of how the woman had apparently ceased to age, as the Maiden standing before her barely looked a day beyond her captured image in the painting of the portrait of her fellowship and prior companions.

Strange.

But, most of the more nuanced and finer details went over Regine's head. She had, after all, only been with the Burning Slugs since they had passed through her home-city of L'Anguille, which was approximately six months ago. To the Master Thief's understanding, they had been traveling together for years prior to that encounter, and had, evidently, accumulated quite the backlog of allies and enemies. Now, however, their future was dominated by two competing warlords of ruin: Sul Konarr and the Red Knight.

Both represented a change. A terrible change, but a change nonetheless. The Red Pox, like a bloodied scythe, had cleaved through every population into which it spread, severing thousands from their mortal coil and leaving the most horrid and putrefied of corpses in its wake. Those who reveled in such contamination were worshipers of the Chaos god of pestilence and plague, Nurgle. The Master Thief had to fight hard to repress the shudder that slithered through her shoulders when she thought of such a malign entity. To be slain was immediate, to be seduced promised at least some pleasure and to be tricked was simply mortal existence. But rotting away beneath a thousand epidemics to the amusement of a noxious idol? Skin and tissue sloughing from the bone, epidermal tissue blossoming with sores and pustules, fever seizing the mind and cancerous growths swelling the body and splitting its dimensions to allow the mélange of humours contained within to spill forth?

Shudder.

Then there was the Red Knight. Insane, evil, immortal, supernatural and metahuman. Regine's knowledge of vampires had been growing exponentially these past few days ever since her educational 'encounter', and though she were far from an expert she knew enough to understand the lineage of the fanged ones and what type of sovereignty they felt entitled to administer upon the hapless mortals that were unfortunate enough to find themselves beneath their dominion. Who knew what wicked decrees this Red Knight would impart on his subjects, enforced by his own crimson-stained blade and that of his minions. Regine doubted there were many freefolk rushing to place themselves at his service, outside of the desperate and the sycophantic who hoped to join their dark master in eternal unlife.

And so that was the choice for Mousillon. A disease-spreading madman, or an insane butcher.

The agony of choice.

But, still, when the Maiden had finished speaking, the Master Thief noted that she still had not answered her simple question. Though the history lesson and current evaluation was important, Regine had a burning need to know brewing within her chest, a sense of urgency that drove her to pester until its demands were met. She was not seized by any pedestrian curiousity, this was, literally, a matter of life or death.

"Maiden Gavreau, I thank you for your insight and beg forgiveness for my prior outburst," the girl spoke out, her voice tempered and diplomatic.

"But please, I am not a woman of puzzles, nor an academic or scholar. I deal in simple terms: is the Red Knight beyond salvation? Does any cure for vampirism exist outside of bodily destruction? Are those on the path so turned only able to be rescued with death? Or can their transformation be stayed, or reversed? Please, Maiden Gavreau, direct, simple answers. Yes or no?"

[bramblefoot]

the maiden will accept regines apology. "many that live deserve death. Some who die deserve life. Do not be so keen to deal out death and judgment, for in the tapestry of existence, the threads of fate are interwoven with complexity beyond mortal comprehension. To wield the power of life and death is to dance upon the precipice of hubris, for who among us possesses the wisdom to discern the true measure of another's worth? Let us tread lightly upon the paths of judgment, lest we ourselves become ensnared in the tangled web of our own righteousness." she will take regines hand "sometimes we must make our own decisions. even the very wise cannot see all ends, and i cannot spoon-feed my own opinions on one such as you. you must learn to fly on your own, or be forever earthbound"

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

the maiden will accept regines apology. "many that live deserve death. Some who die deserve life. Do not be so keen to deal out death and judgment, for in the tapestry of existence, the threads of fate are interwoven with complexity beyond mortal comprehension. To wield the power of life and death is to dance upon the precipice of hubris, for who among us possesses the wisdom to discern the true measure of another's worth? Let us tread lightly upon the paths of judgment, lest we ourselves become ensnared in the tangled web of our own righteousness." she will take regines hand "sometimes we must make our own decisions. even the very wise cannot see all ends, and i cannot spoon-feed my own opinions on one such as you. you must learn to fly on your own, or be forever earthbound"

Regine blanched at the Maiden's words, her hand held within the priestess' own soft grasp.

If I do turn into a vampire, then I am going to come back and drink all of your blood, then we'll see if you're still singing that 'tangled web of your own righteousness' tune...the thief thought bitterly to herself.

Calming herself down, but finding it difficult to do so due to the growling beast within her, Regine forced a smile and a nod, followed by a small curtsey.

"As you say, Madame Maiden..." she spoke.

[dojango]

Jasmine just shrugs and says, "Ya make judgements of life an' death every day o' yer life without realizin it or caring, sometimes. Every day you walk by a beggar while wearin' a golden earrings, or ya decide that you'll have the chicken betrayed by his protector or the fish that dies a gaspin' death without understandin' why. You make a judgment when ya think that whatever ya got going on..." she waves her hand around to indicate the temple "is more important than the quest you once sought ta do. Stoppin' moving ta take a rest is a judgement cause the world don't stop when you do. And if you want to stop and think about what judgement you want to make you'll often find ya just made it and you might not like the one ya did. Don't you worry about our judgment, cause I think you'll find it was already made."

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

The Master Thief retired from the 'front' of the group after her words had been spoken and met with cryptic, apocryphal words from the Maiden. To say that Regine was disappointed would be an understatement - her heart beat rapidly within her chest, an anxiety pushing up from the pit of her soul to chew at her nervous system.

She wanted answers. She needed answers. Yet the most learned woman of an educated religious organisation was nothing but a font of indecipherable words.

A claustrophobia gnawed at Regine's spirit, a sense of enclosure compressing upon her psyche as she peered about the room, at the Maiden, her companions. Her instincts as a thief had been part of the story of her success, and all of them screamed in her ear to get out of there this instant! Swallowing, exhaling, the girl felt a bead of sweat form across her forehead and run down the side of her angular face, before she drew a hand up to swiftly rub it away.

Breathing out again, inhaling, exhaling, Regine rubbed her lips together.

"Thank you, Madame. Fellows, I must take my leave - I have somewhere I need to be!"

The thief curtseyed once again, her tall, lithe figure moving with her practiced grace before straightening up and departing. She moved past where Bertelis and the two ladies had entered, and the antechamber of the temple before exiting the building entirely. Once outside, Regine inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with cool, fresh air while she still could. A tear in her eye, the world abuzz as heart-beats throbbed in her ears, her swept her gaze around the crowded street in which every scent and sight was sharper than she'd ever known. Each bead of sweat on every passing commoner. The mead-laden breath exhaled by a tavern patron across the road. The perfume of a passing lady seated in her carriage. Every facial feature in focus and detectable on men and women dozens of yards away as if they stood right before her.

The change was occurring. Accelerating, even. She did not have much time left.

[farothel]

Bruno looked at the departing Regine.
"I can understand my companion's sentiment," he said, "while the information you provide certainly is useful, would it be possible to give us the condensed version.
The faster we can get to Moussilon to destroy these characters, the faster this whole issue can be left behind."
He ran through his mental checklist about things they had to ask about.
"Our dwarven friend also has some artifact in Moussilon: a piece of the crucible and the Hammer of Kinslaying I believe it's called. Any information on that should be very welcome."

[MrAbdiel]

The Maiden Eugénie Gavreau watches Regine retreat from the room, with only the barest shadow of a smile on her lips. Whatever pedagogic apparatus she had spun into motion for the girl, she seemed to think it was still spinning. Bruno's request for clarity calls her attention back to him; her eyes darting to his countenance with the swiftness of an alighting hawk - and perhaps some measure of its mysterious hazard.

"I fear I know nothing of a dwarven crucible, or pieces thereof, within the city. Our scrying here at the Lighthouse is a matter of marrying portents and riddled auguries to reports from scouts and conventional telescopy on the city across the river - it is the great players, the cult-runners and the war-bringers, whose motions make themselves visible to us. Of dwarves in the city, I know merely that a dwarf on his self-destruction vow has fallen into the company of Le Bécassine, the vampire hunter, who has been habitually working to contain the vampire threat within the city. I would seek them out on your way in, perhaps in the Bridge District, within the superior tavern in the remnant city - 'Fallen Heaven'."

"The two should be distinct, even if they have more companions. Dwarf death-seekers have a very unique appearance even aside from dwarves in the common. And Le Bécassine is a man of the Southlands whose profession has drawn him to many places in the world. Men of such complexion are not common, north of the Gulf of Medes. The dwarf may help you find your dwarven problem; Le Bécassine will certainly help you navigate to your vampire problem, though I expect this may accrue a debt he will want repaid some day."

"The condensed version, for your benefit, Baronet Richter, is this:

The Red Knight dwells near the Great Graveyard in western Lost Town, within the city. He wields the powerful Spear of Manaan you will need to thwart another foe. He is a warrior knight, a strategist, a necromancer, and most notably possessed of powers of hypnotic charm that will prove too effective upon Sir Bertelis du Roche for you to permit him to join that conflict, even if his honor demands it. You must kill this knight, and take the Spear of Manaan.

Sul Konarr dwells near the northern gate in Lost Town. He wields a daemonsword, the daemon within having mastery and power over the Red Pox, blessedly suppressed right now by a spell Petrus Lorrimer previously wove into the steel of the sword your friend Glod reforged into the Company Blade. Sul Konarr is a mighty knight of chaos, and his repulsive god snatches him from the grip of Morr and returns him to life in a bid to preserve the Red Pox. You may strike him down, but within a day he will return; you need both the Spear of Manaan, and the Company Blade, to kill him entire.

You may choose which of the two wicked men has earned your freshest wrath. The Red Knight has tormented Bertelis' family extensively, and is owed a debt of reprisal even if you cannot permit him to deliver it himself. Sul Konarr is ultimately responsible for the cult that snared your cousin, Baronet. The slumber that fell on Altdorf was some matter of ironic reprisal for Lorrimer's sleeping the daemon in the sword; I expect it was your group's proximity to the fragments of that broken sword that prevented you from falling to its effects. Likewise, the nurglites trying to kill your group in L'Anguille were driven from Sul Konarr's command. He would be extremely well defended with daemons and cult followers in Mousillon, as would the Red Knight, if they were not so dedicated to burning out each other's strength with their old hatred for one another. You must kill one, then the other. Once that is done, you may use the stones that the Hammer gave you long ago to destroy the Daemonsword and banish its occupant, forever scattering the power of the Red Pox from this world. And the Church of Manaan will desire their Spear back, certainly. There, now. Is this clear?"

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Temple of Morr

Spoiler

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Though vice and carnality compelled her to walk into the tavern and order the best bottle of spirits for herself and all within, the brewing sense of purpose aimed her in other directions. Squaring her shoulders and gathering her resolve, Regine instead headed towards the Temple of Morr.

The Temple of Verena was almost the centre of this town, its towering edifice created to keep watch on the brooding denizens of Mousillon. However, smaller houses of worshipers to other deities existed, one of them being the God of the Dead, Prophecy and Dreams. His domain was that of the soul, the afterlife and discerning what may come to pass, while his priesthood tended to the mortal and deathly concerns of the common folk...Regine now being among them. The thief had never had had much time for Morr, which was peculiar given her particularly dangerous and daredevil-esque lifestyle, where a knife in the belly was a near constant threat in the rough and cut-throat streets of L'Anguille. But, when you're young and on top of your game, you feel invincible. It wasn't until the spectre of death loomed upon the horizon that ones mortality was truly considered.

The Temple of Morr itself was half cemetery, half place of worship. Descript looking walls formed the outer barrier of the consecrated ground, while what looked like a mausoleum dominated the central space of holy acreage, the rest containing crypts and graves neatly maintained beneath the crooked arcs of dead trees. Confronted with this imagery, Regine moved along the tiled walkway towards the heavy, oaken doors of the crypt and pressed her hands against them. Compressed by her weight and effort, the large doors creaked open and the thief was immediately hit with the scent of burning incense and the distant echoes of sombre chants. The flickering candlelight revealed a modest interior adorned with symbols of death and eternal rest while the cold stone floor underfoot seemed to absorb the sound of each step the thief took towards the rows of simple wooden benches where she slowly took a seat. Clad in dark robes, a Priest of Morr approached with measured solemnity, his features obscured by the shadows gathered by his cowl, with little save the visible wrinkles across his jaw betraying his true age.

"The Temple of Morr welcomes you, child. If you seek the sermon, we hold them in the sunrise and dusk of each day," his gentle voice rumbled from within his cowl.

Regine pursed her lips, peering forward across the morbid interior of the temple.

"I am not here for a sermon..." she said before inhaling, the wood of the pew chair creaking against her body as she shifted her weight.

"I...I'm not long for the world, father. A disease has me. Incurable."

Even the solemn silhouette of the priests aged features piqued at this abrupt admission.

"Pray tell, child, you cannot be so sure - "

"I am," was her immediate response. "Within a week I'll be gone. That's why I'm here. Tell me..." her voice weakened, swallowing once, "what will happen to me? Where will I go?"

The priests solemnity was palapble. Composed as he was, he was human in his core, presented with a girl barely 20 summers old who knew her end was near. The world was a cruel place, fairness was not its virtue and Regine was a visible reminder.

"When one's mortal journey concludes," he began, "Morr, the merciful god of death, gently cradles the departed soul in his divine embrace. In that ethereal realm, the spirit undergoes a solemn judgment, where the purity of its essence is weighed against the shadows of darkness. Should the soul emerge untainted, it is guided to Morr's Garden, a tranquil haven bathed in serene light, where rest eternal awaits. There, amidst the whispering leaves and blossoming flowers, the departed find solace in a timeless serenity. Yet, for those souls stained by the impurities of necromancy, chaos, or malevolence, Morr's judgment may lead them to darker realms, where they may face the consequences of their earthly transgressions. Our sacred duty is to honor the departed and ensure their peaceful passage, shielding them from the clutches of the profane and maintaining the delicate balance ordained by Morr himself."

The Master Thief swallowed gently, the vision of her right eye blurring for a moment before reaching up and wiping the tear away.

"Have you practiced the black arts of necromancy, in your life, child?" the priest asked, his tone expecting a negative - which he received as Regine shook her head.

"Have you formed pacts with the denizens of Chaos?"

Once again, Regine signal a no. "I have fought them and thwarted their spread throughout the world," she answered matter-of-factly, "several times."

"This does your soul credit. Have you performed malevolence? Have you committed murder?"

"No."

"Have you...forced, yourself, upon someone? In perversities or labour?"

"No."

"Have you swindled others?"

To this Regine pursed her lips, swallowed gently once more and nodded. "Only from those in the game, who knew the stakes. Never from the commonfolk or those who seemed decent."

"Theft is theft, child."

"I..." Regine started, her voice catching in her throat, "I liquidated all that I have, all that I've made..." the thief then reached behind herself, detaching the thick coin purse from her lower back and drawing it around to rest in her lap. "I intended to use it to set a building in motion. Perhaps an orphanage and school. Something that will benefit others."

The priest nodded. Whether this was a gesture of approval or understanding only he knew.

"Do you wish to remain here at the temple for your final days? We will ensure the proper rites are performed over your remains, to keep your soul safe from Chaos so that you may pass to Morr for judgement. You have not practiced the black arts nor conspired with dark powers, you have not committed murder, rape or enslavement, you have fought the agents of the Chaos gods, and though you have swindled and indulged in vices, you are committing your ill-gotten gains towards more altruistic and noble purposes. I dare not presume what Morr's judgement will be, but he is merciful and understanding."

"No, I...I won't be available. I won't be here. Do you need...well...all of me?"

"A lock of hair, your full name; these can be conduits for the prayers of the rites."

The Thief nodded, sighing a gentle exhale of relief. Drawing her left hand up to her black hair to gather an ebon lock around her fingers, she used her knife to sever it from her helm and then tie it into a knot. This was followed by Regine reaching her fingers into her purse to retrieve some of the gold coins within, before presenting them along with her physical token.

"My full name is Regine Vivienne Lacroix."

The priest extended a hand forward to receive the necessary items, his head bowing solemnly as he did so while retaining those shadows around his features. However, one brow visibly perked when Regine asked a more direction question.

"You mentioned before...the practice of necromancy, tainting the soul? Are the undead beyond Morr's judgement?"

"They present a grievous challenge to Morr's divine order, they - "

"If someone is turned into an undead, against their will, does their soul pass on for judgement while their undead form remains here in the material realm?"

The priest's gaze held a touch of sorrow, "A soul that succumbs to undeath against its will faces a lamentable fate, caught in a paradoxical state between the realms of Morr's judgment and the material world. When one is unwillingly transformed into an undead being, their soul, still tethered to the mortal coil, undergoes the divine scrutiny of Morr. The outcome, however, is twofold. If the soul is found pure and untainted by the dark forces that animate their undead form, it may pass into Morr's Garden for eternal rest. Conversely, if the soul is deemed impure, it may be condemned to the chaotic realms, while the undead husk continues to roam the material realm, a macabre testament to the unholy forces that ensnared it. The priests of Morr strive to guide these wayward souls, offering prayers and rites to ease their passage and, if possible, liberate them from the cursed existence that binds them between life and death."

Regine pursed her lips and nodded in thought, another inhale, exhale, before needing to wipe another tear from her eye. "So the body will remain as an animated being, but the soul, if the rites are performed, will detach from the undead husk and pass on for judgement?"

"Indeed, that is correct, child. However, I must ask: this seems to be an oddly specific line of thought..." the priest asked, clearly suspicious. But Regine gently waved his scepticism away.

"My traveling companion...his brother is a knight. Or, was. His body was re-animated against his will, in Mousillon..."

"A bleak and lamentable place."

The thief took several long moments to compose herself, before straightening her shoulders. "But. If you perform the final rites over what I have given you, with my full name, that will ensure safe passage of my spirit to judgement by Morr?"

"Yes, child."

Regine rolled her lips together, her eyes getting warmer.

"Good. And your temple assists with wills, last will and testament, yes?"

The priest nodded.

"Good. Yes, good," Regine said, standing up and rolling her shoulders.

"I wish to create mine. I want to make sure this," she held up the purse she cradled, fat with coin, "is put to a good use once I am no longer here."

"Of course, child. Follow me, I will take you to our scribe and clerk, he will assist you."

[bramblefoot]

bertelis: ysolde will clap a hand on sir bertelis' shoulder. "go with the lady, and may she protect you." she will rise, and walk out of the area

bruno and the rest: the maiden will give a small nod. "may the gods smile upon this venture. i will be watching your progress with great interest. do your duty with cunning, and no small amount of luck, and the day may be yours" the maiden will curtsy, and walk away.

wighard: youd hear a cough, and a small portal opens. magus trakores eye is looking through the portal "you have carried the wand well magister, but i will take it back now. every good student must be tested on responsible usage" an old withered hand pokes through, and magus trakores voice sounds in wighards mind still, that demon release was wonky, but ill give it a demerit. surely we can work something out neh?

regine: whats the plan now?

[farothel]

"One last thing, mylady," Bruno said to maiden's back, "maybe some form of repayment for your information, we have also come with information of our own. In the city, Master Wighard and myself recognised a symbol. It belongs to a necromancer named the Renderer. He's a nasty piece of work and he likes old books and magical artifacts. I think it's best if you did an inventory of your works, especially the more dangerous ones, to make sure nothing is missing. Also be on the lookout of said sign and this necromancer or his followers. I'll draw you a picture of the symbol so you can look out for it, if you wish."

[wilphe]

"you have carried the wand well magister, but i will take it back now. every good student must be tested on responsible usage"


Thank you Magus. If you don't mind, statistically how many students think "They have recognised my greatness! This means I am special and awesome!" and start abusing their power?

still, that demon release was wonky, but ill give it a demerit. surely we can work something out neh?

I expect I shall have to answer for that at some point, but frankly Morr seems happy and I would rather please a deity and have a demerit in the eyes of my order than vice versa.

Besides so far it appears her actions have been mostly benevolent, and she has expressed interest in exploring a permanent change in allegiances.

Between her and the Skaven it may be my fate to redeem the otherwise irredeemable

[bramblefoot]

bruno: the maiden nods "ill take it" she will wait for bruno to draw it out, and her brow crinkles "that seems legitimate, and that worries me. be careful" she will walk out after placing a hand on brunos shoulder

regine: the priest of morr will take the pouch, and nod "i will get the orphanage's construction started now. peace be with you" he will turn on his heel with precision, and walk into the back

Spoiler: ooc

Show

if there is nothing else, lets cut to the tavern

[MrAbdiel]

Back at the tavern, Bertelis packs his things, cycles through his morning prayer... and considers that tomorrow, he will likely be spending the night in a tavern in the Cursed city. He convenes with the rest of the party downstairs.

On another day, he might be very eager to learn what was shared with the group by the damsel they spoke to; or why Regine slunk out early. But today, burdened with apathy as he is, he is loosely content to trust they are confident the party has what it needs to proceed.

"We... ought to make the crossing as soon as possible. It's still early; but I would hate to tempt a situation where we are seeking entry into the city in darkness."

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix


Regine thanked the Priest of Morr and spoke her last peace at the temple. She knelt at the shrine to prayer and she conversed briefly with other Priests. Nothing else could be said or done, and the thief had felt a great weight off her soul when she had handed that sack of coins over and received the churches legally-bound assurances that the gold would be spent towards the ends she desired. She had not been an evil or malevolent woman in her life, Regine could content herself with that. She had not stolen from anyone who hadn't had skin in the game, or who couldn't afford it. She had not slain anyone. She hadn't backstabbed anyone. She was not an angel of virtue...but she wasn't unworthy of eternal rest either, right? She did not want her name on the orphanage and school that would be constructing using those funds, because she didn't want her one true altruistic move to be one of ego and recognition. She wanted the sum of her ill-gotten gains going to something decent and pure. If she could point to any work produced during her paltry years on this material plane, that would be it.

The Master Thief arrived back at the inn in oddly high spirits, considering the dishevelment of her departure. Regine had walked through the door carrying only a bottle of excellent Bretonnian spirits, Château L'Ambroisie Royale. Aged for twenty years in barrels hewn from the grand oaks of the Limousin forest to produce among the finest alcohols that man could make - and the thief held a flagon in her dextrous hands. That her senses swept the inn and drew in every mote, iota and spec of sensation no longer bothered the thief. Indeed, she was growing used to it: the scent of sweat upon the brow of the brawny farmer at the bar. The odour of mead, beer and 88 proof spirits in the air. The gently burning fires situated in several points about the tavern, each fuelled by wood from different sources. All was laid bare to her extraordinary senses, and so it took no effort from the thief to spot her companions and discern details about them that only one with a microscope could acquire.

Spotting Bertelis and a handful of others already gathered around a table as the regulars of the tavern clung to the bar, the thief approached quietly and slipped down in between the members, next to the Knight. Placing the bottle of golden-amber beauty upon the bench, its glass emblazoned with the finery of its label, Regine surreptitiously put an arm around Bertelis' waist and leaned over to bring her lips towards his head where she kissed him upon the cheek.

"One does not simply walk into Mousillon on the eve, chevalier!" she spoke cheerily, drawing her hand away as she beckoned over the barkeep to deliver drinking cups for the spirits she had delivered.

"At the height of my success in L'Anguille I would only ever enter the lions den if I gathered and knew all details that I could; including escape routes and refuge! We cannot leave today in a rush, monsier, such haste will damn our chances!" she beamed brightly with that roguish grin of hers, "Mousillon requires caution and patience, lest we all join the overcrowded earth six feet under!"

[wilphe]

We want to take the horses when we cross the river or leave them, Odmar and Berthold here?

Wighard looks at Gimgroth then at Beatrice then back

Get more bardic inspiration as a direct witness, and you probably want her where you can keep an eye on her. I support whatever decision you make though.

[farothel]

"I would leave as many people as we can," Bruno said, "if only half the stories about Moussillon are true, it's not a nice place. Odmar and Bertold are certainly not made to go traipsing around there. Well, nobody really is, but we're at least used to that kind of stuff. If it were up to me, I would even leave Siobhan, Beatrix and Maxime here and go with just the core group. We can leave messages with them, so that other people we nominate are aware of what's happening should we fail."

[wilphe]

Siobhan is side questing aboard Trundheim remember, someone has to steer the damn thing.

For the other two, you can leave them here but there's a good chance they get attacked or they sneak off trying to follow us, and get captured. Yeah there is a possibility they don't get captured and appear out of nowhere to safe the day or escape and appear out of nowhere to safe the day.

But the most unlikely scenario is that we tell them to stay here, and they do, and absolutely nothing happens to them

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

Regine started dispensing the Château L'Ambroisie Royale cognac, before sliding one each before those present and giving them a smile that invited them to enjoy it.

Taking a sip of her own, the girl sighed and exhaled gently as if she had just dipped her feet into warm, bubbly water after a long days march.

"Magnifique..." she uttered softly to herself.

"From what I hear of Mousillon, the very ground is tainted. Several wagons filled with barrels of fresh water and rations should receive eminent priority."

[LarsWester]

Wighard looks at Gimgroth then at Beatrice then back

Get more bardic inspiration as a direct witness, and you probably want her where you can keep an eye on her. I support whatever decision you make though.

Gimgroth meets Wighard's gaze and turns to look at his charge pondering for a moment which path before had the most danger for the young woman. Surely the path before the company was one fraught with threats each step of the way, but what threats would Beatrice face left here alone with his protection. The girl already made a name for herself in the tavern where they were staying but also perhaps made a rival of the other bard. Would it be safer to have her face all the coming dangers but behind his shield and under his eye? Trapped in a dilemma for a moment before finding a possible solution finally the dwarf turned toward Beatrice speaking with a firmness that relayed the finality of the executioner's axe. Beatrice you will return with me to the Verenan Lighthouse prior to the company's departure. I wish to arrange a matter of further education for you. I have spoken with Magus Wighard and he has agreed that when you accompany us he will instruct you in the matters of reading and writing.
However we will not have him start with the ore in the stone so to speak. You are to spend the days when we are in Mousillon with the priestess and monks of Verena. I will leave coin enough for beginning your education in numbers and writing and reading. That way when we return and set out again with you in our company Wighard will have a foundation with which to continue your education.
Beatrice smile disappear at the tone of her adoptive father's voice. She knew there would be no dissuading the stubborn dwarf from his chosen path still she offered a weak protest. Don't I get a say in the matter.
No. came the soft but firm response. Not in this case.

[MrAbdiel]

Bertelis is blur-eyed and distracted until Regine kisses his cheek.

Knights Errant are tacitly encouraged by the legends of their forebears to engage in des rendez-vous romantiques de bon goût - tasteful romantic endeavours, abroad. It is impressed upon the young noble men going out into the world that they are expected to come home, become knights, and marry noble maidens then to bear noble children. Strictly speaking, the best way to do this unencumbered is l'abstention. But many, perhaps even most young knights see their errantry as a 'last gasp of freedom' and there are certainly gallant Breton oats sewn in Teutogen soils. Such things are avoidable in individual cases, and inevitable in the whole.

But as long as the Companions of the Burning Slug have known Bertelis, he has precious little romantic instinct towards grateful townsfolk, wayward merchant's wives, or dark-eyed fortune tellers. All that is romantic in the hedgehog knight seems to be bound up in the sword-and-chivalry part, and not the forbidden love or carnal adventures that populate the second half of that category. The learned may speculate on the reason for this stunted libido.

Still, something transformative happens in Regine's brief moment of flirtation. He doesn't flinch or fall from his chair or even blush, but that feminine contact calls out of him some dormant mannish instinct that heaves aside his phantom fatigue and malaise, at least for now, and draws him back to the moment. As with many changes in Bertelis' mental health, this goes undetected by him, but is visible and apparent to any of his friends watching it happen.

"Mousillon requires caution and patience, lest we all join the overcrowded earth six feet under!"

"Certainly, Ma'amselle. Though I am anxious to be underway... Perhaps we best plan to make our crossing at first light. Since it is... Near now to midday." He notes the time, as his eyes swing to the cognac the once-thief has acquired. Perhaps it is best to leave very early, so to have time to navigate challenges. And if they plan to drink a little before they go, it is best to do so earlier, so not to be hung-over in any measure...

We want to take the horses when we cross the river or leave them, Odmar and Berthold here?

"Anguished as I am to pen my horses up again, I think they are best here. I think Bruno is right - our associates, proven as they are, are best left here. Mousillon is a place of much deceit and suffering; we dare not bring over the river anyone we will have to leave behind at a shady tavern, only to find them imperilled and our efforts split again."


After Gimgroth has made his decision and Beatrice is condemned to relative safety, Bertelis turns his glance to Maxime. The 'lad' seated beside him has been eying Regine with barely masked hostility since she arrived at the table, but his attention snaps to the knight as the order he anticipated comes to pass.

"I shall task you to see that Beatrice, Odmar, Berthold and the beasts are safe here. It is unlikely the necromancer making these marks will make some effort of malevolence, but if he does, he will be yours to oppose - alongside the many priests, guards, and fighting men of this place."

Maxime sighs. "Is it likely, at any point in this squirehood, that you will tire of leaving me behind? If I were expected to teach knighthood to myself, I might have done that at home."

This is more sass than Maxime has shown in a while, and given Bertelis' mental volatility, it's uncertain what kind of response it will produce. As it turns out, it's a measured one.

"Boy, you have fought norscan pirates, daemons, and witches since you have followed me. You've seen wilder action that a score of other squires might have hoped. Sulk not. Un chevalier cherche le Graal, pas le mamelon."

"From what I hear of Mousillon, the very ground is tainted. Several wagons filled with barrels of fresh water and rations should receive eminent priority."

The knight gives a nod, mitigated by a side to side sway of the head. "You are right that we shall have to carry our own water, but we cannot bring barrels and wagons with us. Just our waterskins. I know there is a well, near a grail chapel in the south city; I understand it is where most of those who still reside get their water. We can replenish there, if we need to."

[wilphe]

And what is wring with drinking wine like any self-respecting true son of Brettonnia?

He briefly looks at Bertelis and Regine, it seems out of character for both them, but it's also quite likely some or all of them will die tomorrow.

Do what you have to do, Bully can you draw my shot and reload fresh for tomorrow please?

I have some letters to write, Maxine it will be your duty to send these on should we not return

He will pen a few, one to Emil, one to Master Maher and one to Deanna

Spoiler: Deanna excerpt

Show

My mouth may have to sully your name tomorrow. If so, know that it was only to protect someone very dear to us both and I truly wish there could have been another way and I can only beg your forgiveness

I am better for knowing you

I remain Miladay, you most obedient and devoted servant

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

The thief noticed the way her contact with Bertelis almost stunned him from his thoughts, the press of her lips against his cheek for but a moment shocking him from whatever ruminations clouded his mind and distracted him from the present. She could not help but slightly smirk, before turning her gaze back to the glasses she had poured of the incredibly expensive and rare Bretonnian cognac she had purchased to share with her colleagues.

Reaching her hand towards the cups, Regine gently slid them forward to each person present, hoping they would at least try it. Even Maxime received a glass before her carrying that beautiful amber liquid, that shot-sized volume likely worth more than the 'lad' earned in a few months. The thief was not imperceptive. Oh, indeed, her senses were now sharpened to an almost supernatural degree and few things escaped her notice - including the look the squire had shot her.

In response, Regine issued her own response: a subtle, little wink and then a smirk.

It was no easy task they had been given. A vampire knight and his undead minions. A Nurgle chaos lord with his own insane cultists. The two had been warring with each other into a stalemate: the immovable object and the irresistible force. And their little coterie was to succeed where both of these powerful antagonists had failed? And with what help - the vampire hunter?

Regine felt an intrusive pang of bitterness enter her transforming heart: fat lot of good that useless incompetent had done.

"Do we have any plan to destroy either of these foes, this Red Knight or Flylord, before entering Mousillon? Or are we hoping that the information we might receive from a vampire hunter may prove adequate to formulate a feasible scheme? The Madame Maiden," another useless incompetent, Regine thought dismissively, "said that the Spear of Mannan that the Red Knight possesses will defeat the Nurgle lord...but the Red Knight possesses this weapon yet has failed to vanquish his foe, so what's our plan?"

[bramblefoot]

wighard: bertelis seems a little too anxious to leave. could it be that his eagerness to fight the red knight has clouded his judgement? also, his insistent desire to leave without proper provender could spell doom later. You gonna call him out on that?

gimgroth: beatrice nods, and pats gimgroths arm "of course father" she says "when shall i expect you back?"

[dojango]

"We could use a couple wagon-loads of powder I reckon. Lure the bastards over and then... pop! Like in Langooley." Jasmine says, butchering the name of the rebel city. "Failin' that, the cursed city is just across the bay. We can make arrangements with the locals to keep us supplied periodically. Odmar can work out the details with the local smug... uh, free merchants... on our behalf."

[MrAbdiel]

Bertelis grimaces - at the notion of weaponizing powder again, and at the memory of the debacle in L'Anguille.

"...Effective as a grand detonation can be, the only powderhouse within the Duchy is the one back in Bordeleaux... and we know how that turned out. But you're right about the locals. There is still a community scratching out its life, in the south of the city. They are a hub for criminals and fugitives because it is easy to disappear there, but we will be able to find food, water, and supply. They may merely need someone who... understands the dealing of 'free merchants' to make the deals. But for certain, you are right; if we struggle too much, you can have Bully send one of his pigeons over to Odmar to arrange a shipment of supply for us to pay on the return. They will have our horses as collateral. Still, I have faith that those invested in the fluidity of scruples will carry us through." He glances between Jasmine and Regine, with the faintest suggestion of a smile. It is useful to have friends fluent in crime. "I only regret Emil could not be here, to lay eyes on a paradisal community with no lords or kings inflicting their will on the people."

"As for defeating these foes... From the recounting you have given me, it sounds that the Sul Konarr has been 'killed' by that spear more than once; but the daemon in his sword is capable of restoring him to life, even in its diminished state. We will need the nearness of the Company Blade to protect us from the daemon's worst magics, and the Spear to strike the champion down. But before you joined our troupe, back in Altdorf, a certain witch hunter tasked us to come to Mousillon to destroy this sword, and gave us three sacred stones for its pommel to do so. Between those three things - the Spear, the Company blade, and the sacred stones, we have all we need to put the plague-knight down and destroy the weapon that has kept him alive as a menace to the realm of men."

"As for the Red Knight... I fear there is no secret way or special deed to be done. All we know is that he has defeated Sul Konarr more than once, so we must assume him to be very fierce. But we vanquished a vampire before - perhaps one of his underlings, I wonder now - a Lord Armata, in Westvein near Altdorf. We must confront him, show no fear, and overcome him with superior might and purpose. More specifically.. if we can find that Vampire Hunter and his dwarf friend, they might have insights we do not have."

[farothel]

"Then we best get started with the gathering of those supplies we need," Bruno said, "and while I don't understand the Bretonnian reluctance to use gunpowder, in this case I'm with Bertelis. Those big explosions we can best avoid if possible. There's still innocents living over there, how few and far between they actually might be."

If nobody objected, he would head into town to get supplies. Everybody is welcome to join, but maybe best to limit it to a few people.

[wilphe]

I would prefer it if we could avoid wanton destruction, apart from the deaths of innocents and destruction of property we appear to have many enemies who favour causing city shattering kabooms and getting us to take the blame.

It's a lot harder to deny that sort of thing if you make it your MO.

As for leaving the horses as collateral, that should not be necessary. There is plenty of money in the communal fund.


He places a pouch with 240 GC in front of Bruno


There are two long hundreds in there if you need it, but spend it wisely. Don't let Jasmine spend it all on superior pipeweed and inferior powder. Some healing potions and whatever else you feel necessary

I shall ask the kitchen here to prepare us some rations to go, liquid will however be hard to carry.


As for confronting the Red Knight, her Ladyship was most insistent that you do not. You can either accept that and hold back, or flout it and force the 5 of us to fight him and you at the same time. That doesn't seem like a hard choice.

[BananaPhone]

Regine Lacroix

"As for defeating these foes... From the recounting you have given me, it sounds that the Sul Konarr has been 'killed' by that spear more than once; but the daemon in his sword is capable of restoring him to life, even in its diminished state. We will need the nearness of the Company Blade to protect us from the daemon's worst magics, and the Spear to strike the champion down. But before you joined our troupe, back in Altdorf, a certain witch hunter tasked us to come to Mousillon to destroy this sword, and gave us three sacred stones for its pommel to do so. Between those three things - the Spear, the Company blade, and the sacred stones, we have all we need to put the plague-knight down and destroy the weapon that has kept him alive as a menace to the realm of men."

"As for the Red Knight... I fear there is no secret way or special deed to be done. All we know is that he has defeated Sul Konarr more than once, so we must assume him to be very fierce. But we vanquished a vampire before - perhaps one of his underlings, I wonder now - a Lord Armata, in Westvein near Altdorf. We must confront him, show no fear, and overcome him with superior might and purpose. More specifically.. if we can find that Vampire Hunter and his dwarf friend, they might have insights we do not have."

Regine listened quietly while she took another sip of her cognac, noting that no one else was touching the glasses she had poured and put before them. That was...a shame.

But, for Bertelis' words, the Master Thief, who had made her success in planning and executing heists, was not filled with confidence.

"If...might..." Regine tilted her left hand back and forth as if they were on unsteady ground.

The thief paused, thinking, tilting her head back and forth, thinking back to her particularly big jobs and dangerous situations that she'd managed to evade and move through.

"Maybe we could take the vampire knight on his own turf. Catch him off guard when he's not prepared or when he's vulnerable, hit him hard and fast. But one wrong move," Regine then snapped her fingers "and we're dead."

Once more the thief looked at the others, her expression begging the question.

"Okay - what of his minions? He's a necromancer, qui? So assumedly he has a number of undead henchmen. How many? Just a few? Or will we open the doors to his crypt only to be greeted with a battalions worth? Are they just corpses he raises from the victims of the Red Pox into zombies? Or has he surrounded himself with skilled Whites raised from former knights that wield weapons and wear armor as he does? Does he have mortal agents in his employ, hoping to receive the Blood Kiss if they serve their master well - are they open about their allegiance, or could we encounter the overtly vulnerable who are sleeper agents waiting for their chance to strike? Does he have local authorities on his payrole or frightened into serving him with mortal soldiers?"

Once more she let the questions hang in the air before continuing.

"Where even is his place of rest? Or does he move around? How many entrances? Any secret passages we can take - or that he knows of and will use to trap intruders? If we have to flee, are there any escape routes or will we be trapped?

How will we learn even half of what we need to know? From the Vampire Hunter? What if he's already dead? What if he doesn't have any further insight than that which we already know? What if his information is flawed? What if he's already dead but has been replaced by a fake who'll deliberately feed us misleading information? Or what if there is no Vampire Hunter, and he's just a tale spread by agents of the Knight to lure hopeful vampire slayers to their deaths? If, might, may, could...this is a powerful vampire Knight who has defeated Lords of Chaos, and he wields a spear - a spear that was magical, yes? An enemy like that you'd be foolish to rush in with just steel, spirit and faith - I have no doubt many have tried, and they're all dead. We need more time to prepare and gather intelligence to prepare the best plan. I did not get to the top of my game before I was twenty in a place like L'Anguille by winging it."

As for confronting the Red Knight, her Ladyship was most insistent that you do not. You can either accept that and hold back, or flout it and force the 5 of us to fight him and you at the same time. That doesn't seem like a hard choice.

Regine nodded her head at the sorcerer's words.

"Qui-qui; the Madame Maiden", or Madame Useless as she should be called, Regine thought bitterly to herself, "was most strident and persistent that you, Chevalier Bertelis, do not confront the Red Knight. He has powers of mental domination to which you are uniquely vulnerable and will be unable to resist. You will become his unwilling, but obedient man-at-arms.

See? This is what I am talking about. You wouldn't have known that unless you were just told; you would have rushed in armed with just purpose and steel, only to fall under his spell and raise your sword against us instead, and within the hour we would all be getting re-animated as his mindless henchmen."

[wilphe]

Wighard realises he hasn't touched the spirit offered by Regine, he takes it, warming the vessels with his hands and drawing in the scent as he waits for Bertelis' reaction