Vincent had a problem. There was no use denying it, reluctantly or otherwise, he would need to do something. He carefully looked around one last time in some forlorn hope he was wrong. But he was not surprised to find that he was right: Not a stone in sight. During his long watch he had thrown all the available stones skipping away after the first, down the hill. Hours had past and he was thoroughly stoneless now. His once strong nerves could take no more. Center it was then. He stood and stretched. He renewed his cloak of invisibility and set off hoping some clue would come to light.
Having offered his assessment, Connor returns to Anna and kneels in front of her. The pair have a relatively quiet conversation, though it is not exactly a calm conversation. For Anna's part, something Connor says draws a stern, unmistakable look and an accepting nod...likely more said in the expression than in the exchanged words. When the conversation is over, Connor stands and moves off and speaks with Storold. He summarizes the situation with the stones in a brief and concise way and says simply that he'll be back in a little while and to remain vigilant with all he has done so far.
Connor moves off again, out of the sight and attention of most who are still on edge from the sudden change in the stones and the resulting alarms, and he is not seen again within the monastery for some time...
In a few places within central Mistone, a few people claim to have seen a hooded figure of a man of medium build and in dark clothing. In each report, he is reported to have appeared "out of nowhere", taken something from the ground (or perhaps left something, yet nothing was found in any instance) and vanished as if he was never there at all. Near the desert, such reports were dismissed as the "Sand Ghost", but no one could explain the impressions of footprints left behind in the sand. In comparing the reports days and weeks later, the other unusual thing that comes to light is that all sightings seemed to happen around the same time of day despite the improbable separation between locations.
*Storold renews his wards and tries to build in some advance warning based on his experiences an Connors advice. This is to avoid being run down by a group of knights rushing his location near the stones*
Dalianavera sat cross-legged on the hillside above Center, her long supple tail wrapped around her torso… not too far from where she allowed herself to be taken as a prisoner months earlier. She had come full circle once again. It was almost funny how existence manifested in circles. Nothing was linear it seemed. The Gold worked in mysterious ways. She watched the top of the building where her “Little Vincent” was currently located. A poor confused man, her key, the father of her child, and one of the few things in all the pits she had developed an attachment for. She would see this through to the end. She would protect him. She continued to watch and waited for the sign to manifest that would prod her into action again. Patience was a virtue she had developed over centuries.
_______
Sergeant Kalvin of the Vehl Guard pulled Aesthir aside and grinned. In a low voice: “I do not envy your position my friend. Captain Andrew was very clear. The stones are the property of Co’rys and we should take them into custody and move them to the city. I fear it will mean no end to the trouble he will pile onto you if you do not see that order through. I stand ready to support you sir.”
The day in Center seems unremarkable in most ways. A merchant cart arrives, another departs. The sounds of voices conducting business and settling differences among the many stands and kiosks that litter the settlement carry on the wind. Stories are told. Children run and play. Patrons enter and leave the inn at a regular pace. A few who are so-privileged appear from nothing in a wash of magic within the circle of standing stones near the edge of the main part of the settlement.
At about the same time, another smaller wash of magic swirls briefly near Vincent just a few meters away, though a casual observer would not notice such, nor would such an observer have any reason to believe that something or someone now stands in that very place. For a few moments, all is quiet, as if nothing happened at all.
"Greetings, Vincent," says a voice coming from the location of the minor disturbance. "I did say we would see each other again..."
Vincent does not appear to react to the arrival at all initially. He appears to be watching over three merchants haggling over the price of poppies. The trio are engrossed and appear to see nothing. Nonetheless an astute observer might have noticed the merest hint of an arched eyebrow appear. After the new arrival speaks there is a brief silence as if Vincent has failed to hear him. A moment passes. Vincent has all the appearance of one interested in all things poppy, he does not move but stands stoically like a statue.
"Yes by my reckoning you are a little late!" at last he flatly remarks. His eyes still locked on the three merchants who appeared to be finishing up their discussion. "Still here we are. What news?"
"One must prioritize," the voice replies unapologetically. "The news I believe you know already, and news is not the purpose of my visit. I come bearing a message. Well...two really...possibly three, but definitely two, at least."
Vincent grimaces at the unapologetic tone, seems about to say something and pauses is if he has been distracted by something. He delays a moment before asking.
"Oh dear the raven master will be as poor as these prattling poppy merchants now I suppose. Please what is your unknown information then?"
"It is a message, as I said," says the voice. "You are advised not to approach Moraken's domain. If you still intend to meet with him, another location must be chosen. He will employ every means at his disposal to prevent your approach, in fact, which will certainly be...messy."
There is a slight pause before the voice continues. "Yet I suspect you are even now rethinking this intent, or at least you have assigned it a lower urgency than a day ago, as you are idling here instead of traveling."
Vincent visually seems to imagine the pain and shivers at the prospect.
"Well Moraken seems to have lost his appeal suddenly. Thats, well thats life saving information perhaps !" He pauses, shaking his head at the thought, wondering what he has got himself into before remembering "But you had another?"
"Indeed," the voice replies, its tone somewhat ambiguous. "For the second, tell her that this land is under my protection, and she is creating quite the disturbance. It's really quite distracting. Yet, if she has some reasonable purpose, I would be willing to parlay under truce and hear her reasons. Otherwise, do tell her that my tolerance for her activities will steadily decline."
Vincent is briefly a silent enigma, before he suddenly sparks into life bustling amongst his belongings he produces quill and green coloured ink and makes some notes speaking aloud as he writes."My protection....reasonable......uh huh.......decline....right." I think I have the second part then. He shrugs. I make no guarantee about delivery of course as Moraken of the first message has closed that door. I remain in the hands of others here. He puts aside the ink uncertainly.
"Oh, but she is close, Vincent..." says the voice with some subtle emphasis. "close enough to watch you even now...close enough for her intervene were I to pose some grave threat to you, I suspect."
"Looks like I'm done here these things are duds"
"Gonna get some fresh air and a change of scenery. Let me know if anything happens I'll be around"
*Vrebel offers a nod to Storold before he leaves the monastery. He salutes to the knights outside brielfy and shakes hands with the cook before packing up his horse and heading in the direction of Vehl.*
Mangus situates himself at his post with some of the newer recruits. He entertains them with stories of his childhood as an orc growing up in a human Village. He makes them laugh from time to time as he describes some of the strange methods his grandmother employed in raising him. None of the recruits bothered to mention the strange curiosity of a human woman raising an Orc child.
Dalianavera looked up from her contemplation, suddenly alert. Her black eyes with no pupils were unfocused, yet they saw much. She smiled. The one who walked the planes in this world was near. She could feel him. He was a smart one. Within seconds she sensed her planar anchors outside of Center. She suspected that he would bring them as she had sensed their movement over the last few hours, slowly consolidating. They no longer moved though. Her eyes focused and shifted to the town again, and the location of Vincent. She contemplated her next move, alert for any sign of danger to Vincent.
The Knights saluted Vrebel, offering smiles and thanks for his assistance. He had developed some very good friends in this campaign. Strong bonds built upon shared suffering, duty, card games, jokes, and drinks… the sustenance of soldiers. As Vrebel mounted his horse and prepared to depart he was stopped briefly by Unit Captain Vercilaas. “Thank you for helping to bring my friend out of that crypt Vrebel. I will never forget that. If you have need of anything, do not hesitate to look me up.” He salutes and turns away and heads back into the monastery. It appeared the Captain had a softer side after all…
// When you are ready for your reward, let me know and we can meet in game.
-----------
The recruits make some room for Mangus… a lot of room. It had taken a lot of time and effort on his part, but Mangus was beginning to overcome some of the prejudice that often accompanied interactions with his race. He had proven himself in battle and within camp. He had shown both respect and compassion… and it was being returned three-fold. They pass him some ale and a chunk of recently roasted venison and listen to his stories.
There is a slight rippling of magic as the shroud of invisibility drops, revealing the shape of a hooded man, his overall features impossibly shadowed for the time of day. In the next moment, another pull on magic with a different feel, and a silvery metal sphere appears in he man's right hand.
"Return this to her," he says, giving the ball a toss in Vincent's direction. "Tell her I'll be where more of these are in one place in three days time."
No sooner than the words are uttered, leaving no time for a response, the man vanishes, not just from sight but from the rooftop entirely, leaving only a rapidly-vanishing twist of magic in his wake.
Hundreds of miles away, a hooded man appears in the courtyard of Jesom's hope and mingles about with the other people moving from one place to the other. He makes his way back to the chamber with the stones, finding Anna along the way.
"Miss me?" Connor asks of her with a warm smile.
"One round fer me an' Gimpy here Harry!" Mangus drops a few more coins on the rough hewn plank of aged hickory at which he is seated. Seated next to him is a gray bearded dwarf with a peg leg and a patch over his right eye. The two of them pulled up to the bar only moments ago. Mangus could be heard rattling on about some tall story about a quick thinking fellow playing an old school shell game with an overzealous lacky in the middle of a power trip. But the details of his story were vague as the only part that could be heard was the very end as they were entering the bar.
The dwarf seemed to be paying just enough attention to ensure that Mangus would buy him a few rounds of drinks.
Mangus continued...
" Ya see Gimpy, me gramma taught me two things Er don never fergit's! Deh first thing is, iff'n you walks into er card game an' yew don' know who is being played, den yer deh one who's being played!"
The dwarf blinks and nods in response, graciously accepting his first round of beer.
Mangus continues...
"An' deh second thing is... ...is... ...erm... ...Deh second thing Er don' never fergits... ...is...
...Well, it don' matter too much! Deh main point is we was successful in our goal! An' dats all dat matters!
Drink up Gimpy! Gonna be Er long night!"
Vincent stares stupified as the silver ball lands and rolls to his feet. He peers down with arched eyebrow studying the ball whilst memorizing the instructions. He waits a moment staring at the exit point. He gathers his cloak about him and pulls it along swirling in his wake. "This was not a good day to give up drinking! Luckily I'm a specialist." he explains to himself. He wanders over to the travellers campfire long the haunt of adventurers down the ages. Indeed had he not picked up work at that very spot from time to time. He needed time to think.
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Topic: End Game (Read 6797 times)
