Hellebron's voice had hit more pitch than she had intended, barely hiding any indignance. She was pacing around, agitated, her every step echoing through the empty temple halls, while Morathi lied in a comfortable recliner with a bowl of luscious grapes within reach.
“And quite a bit, I should add,” Morathi mentioned while plucking a grape off the twig. “Why, wasn't there some issue in one of the temples, lately? Something about laxity?” She tossed the grape into the air and caught it with her lips.
“Laxity caused by your taint! And my dignitaries were very skillful in removing it. All of it.”
“Today the temple, tomorrow...?” Morathi sighed and snatched another grape with a sincerely bored expression on her face. “What does the Temple have to offer its subjects? A vague promise of pleasing a divine being who may or may not be a Chaos—”
Hellebron raised a hand, cutting Morathi's phrase short. “We've been there already, no need to go over it again.”
“Regardless, Hellebron, the Temple simply doesn't have anything to go for it. What have you done, lately?” A wicked smile rose on her lips. “Other than obstructing my fan club—and why is that, I wonder, jealousy?—you have very little to check off your to-do-list.”
“Oh, really? Then what accomplishments would you have to brandish? Record use of chains in a private party?”
“I don't mean to brag,” Morathi replied while inspecting her nails, “but I did, for instance, manage to retrieve a wholesome of artifacts from the jungles of Lustria.”
“Such accomplishment!” Hellebron called out in a laugh. “You stole some plaques from bipedal lizards! You'll have to do better than that.”
“Correction: you will have to do better than that.”
Hellebron stopped mid-pace, and turned to face her nemesis. “Is that a challenge?”
Morathi cocked her head gently, observing her next grape. “More of an open invitation. I don't expect enough competition to call it a challenge.”
Hellebron stared dead ahead for a moment, taking in the arrogance, and finally took a deep breath to serve a reply.
°°°
“She told her to take her expectations and forcefully insert them into her—?”
“Just about, yes,” Tarbo interrupted Anleth. “The exact wordings escape me right now.”
Young Anleth Lareight nodded slowly. While she could guess what the exact wording had been, her imagination wouldn't quite cooperate on the subject. Perhaps that was a good thing.
A fresh breeze ran over the open ocean. Anleth filled her lungs with the cold air, in the meantime observing sailors running back and forth, doing whatever is needed to keep the ark afloat.
It was the first time ever she had been at sea; truth be told, she had expected it to be worse. That was more than she could say for a certain sorceress.
“Mistress Mioralynthia has never been at sea, has she?” Anleth inquired.
Tarbo smirked, a grin setting on his lips while staring all the way down at the sea. “Oh, she has; she's just repressing the memory.”
The ark—a Black Ark, to be precise—was apparently fairly common in grotesque raids committed overseas. It was a large vessel kept floating partly by magic, she was told.
“I heard these arks were daemon-infested,” she raised with a frown, then looked over the deck.
Tarbo chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure. I just put my boot on one.”
Anleth cocked her head, then forewent any other question about it. She was told to go with the expedition so she would gain battle experience. She wasn't sure of how much battle was to be expected during a raid, which was typically more of a surprise attack than a full-scale war.
The raid was led by general Sohnerin. She wasn't acquainted with him; all she knew was what she heard. The man was known to be a ruthless and efficient raider with unquestioned loyalty to the Temple. All in all, it wasn't surprising to find him in charge of the raid.
Sohnerin had the instructions given to him, and only to him. He kept them close to his heart, memorized each and every location they had to raid. The message Hellebron had given was clear: return with artifacts and be showered in gold; otherwise, well... better return with artifacts.
°°°
Sohnerin barked orders left and right to have camp set up on the beach. Slaves braved the nearby jungle with axe and machete to clear terrain and build pallisades, all to the rhythm of the washing sea.
The jungle was an imposing sight once one disembarked from the ark. Suddenly, all you could see was a veritable wall of wood and large leaves. There wasn't a lot of room on the beach, either.
“How are you feeling?” Tarbo asked when Mioralynthia walked up to him on the beach.
“Relieved,” she shared, then gazed at the seemingly impenetrable jungle ahead of them. The sun shone starkly on the sand, and she had to shield her eyes with her hand to see what looked like even more vegetation. “Have you ever been here?”
Tarbo shook his head. “No, but Sohnerin reportedly has. He'll know how to deal with this.”
“He'll have to,” Mioralynthia replied with a sneer. “Nobody else knows what we're doing here.” She threw a glance at Tarbo, hoping he would prove her wrong, but he merely lifted his shoulders. No such luck.
“Sohnerin wants this done as quickly as possible. I suspect we'll be conducting our first reconnaisance and raids soon.”
Mioralynthia nodded thoughtfully, then turned her head to Tarbo. “What do you wear in a jungle, anyway?”
“Beats me.”
°°°
The dense vegetation seemed to close in on the expedition from every angle. The silence of the elves stood in stark contrast to the lively chitter from jungle creatures, from parrots to frogs to bugs. For many soldiers, this was their first time in a jungle, and they didn't like it one bit.
Anleth shared their feelings silently. She looked around vigilantly, but found herself staring at tree trunks, large leaves moving in a sultry breeze, and sweaty foreheads from the damp, oppressive air.
Luckily, shades were scouting the path ahead of them, but she imagined this terrain wouldn't be their particular forte, either. A group showed up just now, and went over to Sohnerin to report. The general looked pleased, as much as could be read from his grim features.
“Sir,” Anleth addressed Tarbo, “can you hear what they're saying?”
Tarbo shook his head quietly. When one of the shades passed him, he beckoned him closer and inquired. “What does the terrain look like?”
“crappy map,” was the answer.
“I agree, I don't like the looks of it either. Perfect for an ambush.”
Anleth frowned. What on earth were they talking about? When the shade moved on silently, she closed to Tarbo again and asked exactly that: “What was that?”
“Oh, I see you haven't met Haksor yet. He's good at his job—very elite, so he claims—but he talks kind of funny.”
Anleth didn't fully understand, but she assumed it was one of those things she would learn in time. After all, that was why she was here.
“No, I don't like this at all,” Tarbo repeated to himself while looking around. “Captain, I want you to stay close to Lynthia. See to it she doesn't get hurt.”
Happy with the assignment, as well as the thought of actually being able to do something, Anleth maneuvered through the columns to meet up with the sorceress.
°°°
The giant lizard bellowed loudly when it plowed its horns through the hastily assembled ranks. Some smaller lizards sat on top in some sort of big basket, prodding with spears.
Mioralynthia looked around in an effort to maintain some sort of view over the battlefield; the truth was that she barely knew what the battlefield was. Fighting was everywhere, and the concept of ranks was a very theoretical one at the moment.
Anleth had her own share of confusion, having her sword at the ready and trying to stay between the sorceress and any adversaries, which was proving to be a very difficult endeavour given the fluid nature of the battlefield. “Lynthia, do something!” she suddenly exclaimed, wondering what was holding her back.
“And do what? Blow up half our own ranks? I can barely see in this mess!” Nevertheless, when she laid eyes on the grotesque creature far ahead of her, she waved her hands and started chanting the spell that rose to mind.
An aura of chill revolved around Mioralynthia; Anleth was familiar with the feeling. She scanned the environment systematically, trying to spot any threat to either her or the sorceress.
What was that? Anleth squinted her eyes in an effort to see into the bushes, where narrow, strawlike bambu sticks rose out of. Instantly, tiny darts flew out and into the rank to her right, levelling a few soldiers nearby. It didn't take her long to react when the blowpipes aimed at her.
“Look out!” she shouted when she threw herself against Mioralynthia, interrupting the spell, leaving a few sparks lingering idly in the air.
“Look out!?” Lynthia yelled over the top of her voice. “I told you! Magic and armour don't mix! Do you want me to explode? I...” She blinked a few times, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue overwhelm her, and a dull sting in her shoulder. “Anleth, I'm...” she uttered to the motionless body lying on her—Anleth had clearly taken the brunt of the fire—but her mind flushed warm, and all turned black around her.
°°°
There was bad, there was worse, and there was this. Tarbo shook his head quickly, feeling sorely out of place in the middle of an ambush. His eyes scouted for Sohnerin, but failed to meet him.
“teamz!” Haksor yelled suddenly, and Tarbo agreed: they were outnumbered, and it was getting worse by the second.
“Signal the retreat!” he told Haksor, pointing him to the hornblower. “Get there and tell her to signal the retreat!” Immediately, Haksor ran off, gliding gracefully over the field of battle.
In the meantime, it was up to Tarbo to find the general. He took a deep breath and went in the direction he last saw Sohnerin.
°°°
An island... she was on an island. Anleth noticed she was already sitting up, leaning against a palm tree, staring at an azure coast.
Someone threw a strange, pink, disc-like object over the beach. Sand jumped up near her when a Cold One with a big smile, tongue sticking out, dashed past her, yipping happily. It leapt and caught the disc in mid-air with its jaws, violently tearing it apart as soon as it caught it. After which it wagged its heavy tail busily, proud of its achievement.
She frowned. Lynthia was floating in the air? Actually, she was more of walking upside down. Anleth was aware that, as a sorceress, she could do wondrous things, but this defied her belief.
Suddenly, her view was obscured when Tarbo lowered his face right in front of hers, a thick stub of smoking tobacco clenched between his lips, and his eyes covered with strange, dark glasses.
“You call this a hallucination, private?”
°°°
“Feeling better?”
Mioralynthia walked up to Tarbo on the beach, much like she had done the day before. Only this time, both already knew what was out there, in the jungle. She merely grumbled something resembling a “goodmorning” while holding her throbbing head.
Tarbo smiled amused at the sorceress. He knew what it felt like to be hungover, so he wouldn't fuzz over her bad mood.
“What happened?” she finally asked.
“You were hit with a mild poison. Luckily, it merely took you out for a night. Our young captain, Anleth Lareight, took so many, she's still out cold.”
Mioralynthia shook her aching head, dismissing that topic. “I meant, what happened?”
Tarbo took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “I found Sohnerin out in the jungle. He was fighting off some very serious opposition. Finally, they aimed their crossbows at him, but he took it like a man.” He cocked his head and looked sideways at Lynthia. “All of it.”
“...Crossbows?” She couldn't recall the enemy using crossbows. Slowly, the idea sank with her. “Are you saying he was assassinated by one of our own?”
°°°
You find yourself in the officer's meeting room. That makes sense, since you're an officer, but the reason is different; you're not here to coordinate your raids, but because you were summoned.
Most others that are here are unknown to you. The Temple summoned its people from all corners of the homeland, and most of these faces, you have never seen.
Then again, the ark was supposed to be daemon-infested, and you haven't seen one of those, either.
“Officers, please be seated,” Mioralynthia calls when she enters, stroking her forehead. She doesn't appear to be very amused. “As you may know, general Sohnerin's body was found yester's eve. He was a great man, and so on, and so forth, that's not why you're here.”
She takes a deep breath and continues. “Sohnerin was assassinated, his belongings stolen and the map missing. We don't know who did this, but we do know it was one of our own.”
“How do we know that?” a clever officer asks.
“I am told not to give away such information while the investigation runs. But I have seen the evidence and it is very compelling.”
You look amongst yourselves and find many confused and indignant faces. Why would anyone murder the general? The shares were fair, and he was the only one to have all the information of the raid. Then, it dawns to you... of course. He was the only one with all the information. You're left dry now.
“You are the only surviving officers that have no explicit alibi or evidence clearing your name,” Mioralynthia explains. “You will have to find out amongst yourselves who you believe should be jailed and interrogated.”
You gather that the interrogation will not be very pleasant. After all, you are aware of the pressure that is on the Temple to find artifacts and return triumphantly. But another question rises, which one of you voices: “Why not jail us all? If what you say is true, then that will certainly lock the culprits away.”
Mioralynthia shakes her head slowly. “We haven't the means to raid this land without you, officers. If we are to return with any artifacts, we will need your leadership and guidance. We can't make due without you because we haven't the time; we were ambushed, so our enemy is aware of our presence and they will move against us.
“No, you will have to decide who is worthy of our trust, and who isn't. The rest of us will try to take over the leadership of this... mess.”
And so, the first day begins. Amidst confusion, doubt, and new-found distrust.
___________________________
- Players
- Moridin Nae'blis
- Telrunya
- Ashnari Doomsong
- SleekDD
- XtremeNL
- The Liger
- Morvai
- WhiteBoyPolka
- Stickman
- SBOD
- getwisteerd
- Malevion
- Spire
- DarQ`Zar
- Drakhan
- The Golden Arrow
With 16 players, 9 constitute a majority.
It is now Day. You may post and vote at your leisure. Deadline is set to pass between Tuesday 18h and Wednesday 18h, GMT.