The Paladin's Dilemma 2: A Question of Culpability

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>>286025
>Gun-Axe

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It isn't unusual for rovers to stop outside a new city, so bringing your wagon to a halt along one of the many turnouts used for just such purposes wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary or even questionable. Dismounting from the driver's board near the top of the wagon you walk over to the horses and pat their withers hard, the massive beasts nodding their heads and snorting. You stretch, popping aching tendons and cracking joints, until you feel slightly less stiff. Imjii never seemed to have that problem; perhaps a trait all elves shared, or just her own strangeness at work.

With a smile you detach the feed bags for the geldings from the side of the large wagon, and fasten them to their bridles. You'll let them graze later perhaps, but they need the nutrition of the oats and barley after the haul they made. Climbing back up you open the seat, to pull out a grooming brush, regretting that you didn't get it on the way down from the way your knees ache. Then it's to work brushing them down.

Heather steps out of the back of the wagon, dressed in her half-cloak, her unusual headdress not present. The horns, she claims, make people less likely to question her about the unusual leggings she has. Necromantically grafted to her leg bones, the metallic 'boots' are more weapon than leg covering in design, suiting her nature as an esoteric magus and unarmed warrior. She seems to have no issues being mistaken for one of the corrupted blood, which is fine by you as long as it doesn't get you kicked out of a township.

She fetches a second brush and assists you in the grooming by starting on the other horse. It somewhat surprised you that she assisted at all the first time; her flighty nature and excitability makes her seem more the child than she actually is, resemblance aside.

You have a good grasp of the basic laws and regulations of any give city in this country, and this one shouldn't be any different. It's a little close to the wilds, so they might have some rules regarding unexpected monsters or raiders, but otherwise, you can pretty much keep to yourself and expect to be left alone.

Though that so very rarely happens with someone like yourself.

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"Have you thought about what we're gonna do if we meet some real rovers? I mean, we don't really look much like rovers. Not that they're bad or anything, but I haven't dealt to much with them myself, aside from the passing by." Her question is a good one, but easily answered.

"Nothing. We're traders, passing by, and we'll share news with them. They don't change much outside of their superstitions and traveling paths." Heather nods, though she doesn't seem entirely convinced. "During the war Banth was able to use their assistance to deliver slow messages and gather more information than you might expect. Rovers are a sharp eyed folk, given to gossip, but reliable and trustworthy - if you can get them to give their word."

She seems slightly more mollified by that and resumes her grooming. After a few minutes, the question she really wants to ask bubbles up. "What exactly is Banth. You call him a shapeshifter, but that doesn't really mean much, since there's so many ways to change shape. He sounds like a druid, but you also make him seem....well, less than a druid, you know?"

You consider carefully.

[] Explain what Banth really is, since it's better she know ahead of time.

[] Tell her she'll have to ask him herself; it's not your place to tell really though it's not a secret.

[] Ask her how much she wants to let you tell Banth about her since the same question will undoubtedly be asked by him.

[] Give her a very basic, simple answer, and let her discover the rest herself.

[] Write in.

>>286118
>[X] Give her a very basic, simple answer, and let her discover the rest herself.

>>286118
>[X] Give her a very basic, simple answer, and let her discover the rest herself.
Eh, it doesn't seem our place to tell strangers about our friend's nature, if the circuitous descriptions we've been giving are any indication.

>>286118
>[] Give her a very basic, simple answer, and let her discover the rest herself.

[X] Give her a very basic, simple answer, and let her discover the rest herself.

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You consider her request carefully. It is a reasonable sort of request, but Banth is a complicated person. His religious convictions are quite far apart from yours, but he has not abandoned the peoples of the world for the wilds of the world. This new situation is as much, perhaps more a threat than the depredations of the Tyrant Child - Jaas, Heather said her name was - had been.

More and more you think that many of the things she was doing were designed to incense people into fighting against her empire.

"Banth was a person much like you and I. He chose to become part of the natural world, rather than merely serve it, while keeping his human soul. It has made him quite different, but I'm afraid that's as much as I can explain myself." You continue grooming the horse a bit longer and then stop, patting the massive workhorse. "As for his being a druid, he was an adherent to their beliefs, yes."

You clean off the brush before climbing up to the wagon's bench and replacing it, and she hands you the brush she was using also cleaned of debris. "How long will it take him to get here do you think?"

A much easier question. "Not too long. A few days at most according to your maps." You certainly have no doubts about her mapmaking skills; you've never seen such detail, outside of a few royal command works.

When you climb down she's standing next to the built in ladder. As you look down at her curiously, she looks up at you and asks in an uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, "I realize that we are not truly under any time constraint that I know of, but are you certain that we should be wasting so much time as we gather allies? I mean, I'm pretty impulsive, it's true, but they're moving their plans every day we're not doing anything. Bureaucracy might be slow, but it is also a constant." Her worry is quite real, and you agree that it isn't exactly unfounded.

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"For an immortal, you are very impatient Heather," you point out mildly, making her blush rather blotchily. "Unfortunately, the problem is that the kind of power, the kind of people we need for such an endeavor are few and far between. Imjii has the run of an entire mountain and the forests it overlooks; Banth patrols an area almost three times as large as that; Urlgaffe runs a kingdom all his own. You had to raise me from the dead, and most of my other friends are only mortal themselves." She bites her lip and looks abashed. "Are you suggesting that you know of others who might be abler to help us? I know of two others whom might join this cause, though they refused the last time."

"Not...not really, no. Well, maybe. But that's in a different place, on the way to the Gryphonmount." She hesitates. "I don't know that they would help either though."

[] Time to have a heart to heart about your plans for this campaign.

[] Agree that it would be best to be doing something, and offer to accompany her into the city.

[] Ask her what she would like to be doing instead of waiting.

[] Time to get a better handle on her non-combat powers and see if you can be using those in addition to your own to prepare.

[] Write in.

The Paladin has Crafting of Magic Arms and Armor, as well as access to Commune Spells when his Angelic Companion is at home within his blade, an ability he can use once per week. He also can try and make contact with his religious institutions, but that brings up the danger of alerting the tsochari to his presence - and he is a man of legend, and quite a historical figure now.

>>286530
[] Ask her what she would like to be doing instead of waiting.
[] Time to get a better handle on her non-combat powers and see if you can be using those in addition to your own to prepare.

>>286530
>[] Agree that it would be best to be doing something, and offer to accompany her into the city.

She needs to tell a bit more about The threat we face. How do the monsters take over people, can you detect them etc.

I'm assuming that detect magic doesn't work. But if they are a sort of a parasite, we could be able to flush it out from the host body. Maybe the host retains their memories after? Maybe they are veggies? Does the lady know?

Also, have they identified already some key players who have been taken over?

Finally, how did they find out about the danger and why more people are not fighting against them?

And OP, your writing is great and engaging, but do run it through a spell checker. There are some typos that it could fix.

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You give her a gentle smile and ask the obvious question. She might be old, but the process that makes them immortal doesn't necessarily make them wise per se, it seems. "What would we be doing aside from waiting at this time? If the enemy is set in their places as you seem to believe, then there is little enough you and I could do on our own." That does frustrate her, as you expect. "I could make more weaponry, or armors, yes, bhut to do so with effectiveness agaisnt the enemy, I need to know more about them as well. I don't know what sorts of abilities you have that might be put to use in preparing for a full scale battle agaisnt the creatures either." That seems to strike a chord and she looks thoughtful, rather than irritated.

Climbing back down you walk to the door of the wagon and open it up, pulling on a heavy traveling cloak. "As things stand it might be a good idea to take the lay of the land, and some extra clothing and an actual bath might be worth the trouble of going to the city. In the mean time we can discuss a few things of vital importance." She walks around the wagon to slip inside and collect what you presume is traveling gear, seemingly mollified by the act of doing anything but waiting.

You step over to the horses, and remove their feed bags - along with their traces and tack. Keeping a firm hold of their bridles, you begin a slow, sonorous chant, an invocation that resonates with their dutiful nature and herd instinct, instructing them mystically in their new duties. By the time she rejoins you, you've finished and both of the horses are calmly cropping grass and wandering slowly around the wagon...at opposite sides, protecting the wagon from those who might be foolish enough to take advantage of a lone rover's wagon. Heather looks at them suspiciously, quick on the uptake.

"What did you do to them?"

"Instructed them on how to be guard animals, which will last near a day and a half. They won't be useful for anything else, unfortuantely, but in the mean time, our home is in good hands."

"Hooves."

"Well, yes."

She is wearing a lightly longer cloak, and has the horned headdress on once more as well as a simple and unadorned walking stick. Handing you a small belt pouch she explains one thing that the Immortal Empress - and the Tyrant Child is now known - did for the world. "All gold coin was minted in her likeness and marked with the symbol of the empire. There's almost no gold coinage that isn't hers, which makes trading in gold much easier. silver, well, that's usually considered by weight instead of by coin, and almost everyone has a scale for it."

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"I'm not sure if that's entirely an improvement or merely unsettling," you comment sourly. Your enemy is truly going to be legendary. Pouring out the coins, you see a number of gold coins with a vague likeness of her, the other side stamped with the imperial seal she instituted. About a third of the silver coins in your hand are recognizable, throwbacks from counties and kingdoms that existed before the reign of the Tyrant Child. There are a dozen copper coins as well, and these you separate out and pocket. None of them look familiar.

Taking your new sword from the stand next to the door, you buckle it on, but you don't concern yourself with armor, though pulling on a pair of very thick leather gloves that you made from leather she had set aside for one or another of her seemingly infinite number of projects just makes good sense.

"I hope that the languages haven't changed too much," you comment idly, and she shakes her head. "That's one small blessing then. I think anything we buy should be small and easily carried by one person. We can bring the wagon down for a complete outfitting when Banth arrives."

"All right," she agrees readily, which would make you suspicious if it weren't for the fact that she is terribly easygoing as long as she is doing something. You suspect most of her kind have that issue.

As you begin your walk, about two hours worth if her so far very accurate maps are anything to go by, you do bring up the thing of most importance. "These tsocheri. Tell me about them. How does one recognize their influence? And are they an infernal creature, or something from beyond the veil like the githyanki? How does one recognize someone taken over by them?"

Heather frowns, considering your question carefully. "Well, from what little those of us who have encountered them have learned, they are a parasitic creature from a cold, dark world. Light doesn't bother them, but they don't like it. their bodies are dense, incredibly dense. It takes weapons of incredible sharpness or even denser alloys than steel to cause them great harm, though they can still be injured by ordinary weapons wielded by strong arms or skilled warriors."

"That's unfortunate. I doubt the same can be said of their hosts."

"No, their hosts remain flesh and blood. They need something at least the size of a very large dog or a halfling to hide within - gnomes are pushing the limits, from what we've discovered. When they're not in a host they can consume small animals with ease. they're venomous, a stinging venom that causes incredible pain and a nervous reaction, like palsy with a side order of acid in your veins." Banth told you of some fish and odd creatures that have similar venom, and the effect would be ideal for forcing your victim to obedience.

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Heather mincingly walks along some cobbles in the path, half-prancing, half-hopping along them before it become hard packed dirt once more. "You can sometimes catch glimpses of the creatures inside the throat or ears, sometimes the navel or the..." she blushes suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at her.

"I'm neither chaste nor ignorant. Your taste in lovers is your taste, and so long as they're unharmed and not children, I've little enough to say on the matter." You gentle rebuke makes her blush harder.

"In any case...sometimes you can catch glimpses of them. The more powerful ones tend to be larger and easier to see that way, but some are more clever than others at hiding it. If the person is alive, they take pains to avoid letting people notice their monstrous companions." Heather looks up at you seriously. "They can cause their victims intense pain through some unknown method. It isn't magical, but they can make the person suffer so much it kills them. The few that we've rescued from their clutches say that the creatures speak inside their minds, and that there is no language issue. The ones that know magic of their own can move through solid matter and bodies, making their invasion easier. Otherwise...well, lets just say that the process is unspeakably brutal and not a little bloody even if it doesn't actually harm the person much."

"There are many kinds of harm," you murmur softly, and she looks down, abashed.

"they're from another world, but not beyond any of the veils of the worlds I am aware of. I'm afraid I don't know much more than that. They're very good at infiltrating, if the host is alive. they're not quite as good at impersonation, but when they get their slithery bodies inside a mage who is dead, they can manage some extremely nasty tricks using their stolen magics."

It wouldn't take too many of those to assist their brethren in a takeover of a township, or even a kingdom. The head of a magical school, the vizier of a powerful kingdom, a lone witch of great skill. Any one could cause turmoil and trouble for a kingdom. In concert...you have to suppress a shudder.

[] To more pleasant talk, what skills can she bring to bear on long term preparation?

[] Focus on the enemy: numbers, locations, organization.

[] What allies does she have that are of a comparable power to yourself and herself? It sounds like she wasn't alone in her...study.

[] Try and pin down some details concerning her encounters with these creatures. How do they fight, what tactics do they use, do they grasp strategy well?

[] Write in.

>>287272
[] Try and pin down some details concerning her encounters with these creatures. How do they fight, what tactics do they use, do they grasp strategy well?

You know is the MC a guy or gal? I've been thinking guy since the use of Lord but just want to be sure.

>>288944
can we vote on MC gender? or at the least, a one-off rule 63 spelltrap in the elf's forest?

[X] What allies does she have that are of a comparable power to yourself and herself? It sounds like she wasn't alone in her...study.

>>288944
>>289315
It's a guy. It was stated in the first thread, no?

I'll write a response post shortly.

>>290128
Not really.

>>288944
Could be either.

>>289315
I don't think I have enough readers for a conclusive vote, honestly. And if Imjii wanted to make the MC the opposite gender, she would be able to do so with only a little effort. Old elves are strange.

>>290332
They wouldn't call the MC 'Lord' unless it's a guy. They would call the MC 'Lady' if it was a girl.

MC = Guy.

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"It sounds like you've fought these creatures yourself," you comment mildly, and she nods, looking down at the ground. Her reticence is understandable - you've fought the possessed, and it really can cause spiritual turmoil - but your need to know is greater. "Were they a friend, or perhaps a lover? Boon companion?" Your words are gentle, but her reaction is surprisingly vicious.

"How do you know?" she snaps, her expression angry. Heather clutches the walking stick in both hands, almost threateningly. When she sees your sympathetic expression, she lowers the staff. Several deep breaths later, she nods. "He was a friend of mine, yes. We'd captured one of the creatures, had it trapped in a large enchanted jar. We knew they could steal spells, but we didn't know...some can cast spells on their own, spells that we've never heard of. He was on watch, and it cast a spell that let it pass through the glass like a ghost and it slipped into his body the same way. His scream woke a few of us, including me."

You walk in silence for a short while, and her expressions run a rather wide gamut. No gambler's face whatsoever. "He...at first, he fought us because it made him. He was a ruins-thief by trade, one of those archeoppteryx-"

You smile and quietly correct her. "Archeologists."

"-yeah, that." Heather tugs her hood down, and scrubs her face with the back of her sleeve. "He was good with a lash, and he had one of those ones with glass and sharp bits of steel in it. He fought us hard, like we really were the enemy, even as he tried to escape. It was forcing him to fight, causing him agony when he would try to resist and get captured. When it realized we were going to win with his help..."

You wait patiently as she goes over the experience, as she's probably done for weeks, maybe months. "I was looking into his eyes when it happened. I saw the thing inside his throat, it surged, and there was a tiny trickle of blood from his nose. The light in his eyes went out and he kind of...sagged into me a little." A haunted expression slips across her face before she steels herself to continue. "Then he was someone else entirely. I mean, he didn't care what we did, he fought. He fought hard. He wasn't any stronger but he was more...more careless, more..."

"Less concerned about you hurting him."

"Yeah. His expressions were...wrong, they were mockeries. He chanted a spell and killed tow more of us, but I hit him in the head with the Divine Fist, and he - it - died. Just collapsed, a dead body." She shudders and then stops, leaning on the staff. You stop and turn to face her. "Two dead bodies. But they're smart, they're damned smart."

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She hesitates and then shakes her head. "I'm fine, fine. They're poisonous," she continues, startign to walk again. "But their poison is in little tiny stingers at the ends of their...tentacles. They don't have limbs. they don't really have bodies, just a mass of tentacles joined at the head where the mouths are, and where some but not all of the eyes are. They...ugh, they can literally bore through your body, between your muscles and skin and bones. They can live between all that and they eat you. Magic can heal you, if you are alive, but if the body is dead, well, it only lasts a few weeks." She shudders. "Uh, anyways, poison. They have to get a lot of tentacles on you to inject the poison, because they're small stingers, but their tentacles are small, so your plate armor won't be any better than anything else."

She leans on the walking stick and pauses again. "They're not really strong, but they are smart. Tactics and strategy they understand perfectly well. That's how they got around the fact that they're undeniably evil, and so priests and paladins could sense them. They made it a subject of debate in the courts and the churches alike, and they got that tied up in a mess, and I'm sure there are a number of other creatures that were perfectly happy to help."

"We never really rely on that ability, you know." She looks at you, confused. "There are many ways to hide the magical nature of evil, and it was never truly reliable. Most of us use it for places and objects, not people. People aren't as cut and dried as all that. And an evil person might only be hateful and hurt and never actually cause anyone but himself harm. No reason to hurt a man who is already hurting inside just because they're suffering."

Your explanation leaves her thoguhtful. "I hadn't thought about it that way. Anyways...when they fight outside a human body, they mostly just try to grab onto you and shove their bodies inside yours, even if they have to tear open a hole and go inside that way. The poison is strong in a high enough dose, too much and you'll be a twitched bundle of agony, easy to invade."

You make a note to pick up a polearm or two in town. Ones with forks or tines added on.

"The biggest problem is they're tough, I mean ridiculously tough. They use that to their advantage. But they aren't quite as tough inside a human body. They suffer injury when they're connected to a body, living or not. they must have to expose something or open up in some way that makes them more vulnerable. They don't respond to exorcisms, but they are a parasite, so spells that work on those work on them just fine."

"Do you have any allies that are as strong as you are? Aside from myself. If you do, now is-" You hold up your hand as a voice intrudes upon your consciousness.

My lord paladin. I will be among you. Your return is disheartening.

You could send a reply to Imjii immediately, but you instead choose to finish your question. "Now would be a good time to let me know about them so we can make plans to seek them out of not, depending on how much interaction with the enemy they have had."

She looks at you seriously. "You think they're already compromised?"

"I have to consider the possibility, especially if these creatures are as intelligent as you claim. It seems like there might be a few ways to test for them, mundane ones. It would take some experimentation, but it's not impossible that we could find a way to prove their existence to others with minimal effort and maximum...proof." You don't like the ideas that might work best, but this could be one of those unhappy situations were might really might make right.

"That's true. There's maybe two that compare to me and you. One is an acsetic, a changeling girl."

"There are male changelings?"

"...yeah?"

"Strange. They were unheard of in my time."

"....uh, okay. Anyways, she's capable. And the other is one of the Meistersingers, and he'll help in a heartbeat. I'm absolutely positive that Jillian will not be infected. Schmidt...that's harder to say. He's one of those people who likes to make it obvious what he's doing."

"Well, when we have Imjii and Banth with us, we can decide what we will do then." You're nearing the city, and there's more activity on the roads, so talkign in public about these sorts of things might become problematic. But more importantly, Imjii is going to arrive soon, from her message, though 'soon' is relative when dealing with an elf old enough to be considered 'ancient' by elven standards.

[] Suggest she send missives to her friends to join you on your way to wherever you decide to go next.

[] Since Imjii and Banth will be joining you here, arrange to go find her friends yourselves.

[] Have her friends start on your way to meet you, then intercept them by surprise...just in case.

[] Wait until Imjii arrives, and have her use her formidable divinations to discover more about Heather's allies.

[] Write in.

[] Include a response to Imjii's sending. Please suggest ideas. 25 word limit.

>>290693
>[] Have her friends start on your way to meet you, then intercept them by surprise...just in case.
>[] Include a response to Imjii's sending. Please suggest ideas. 25 word limit.
It is, I would not call if I did not think it was warranted. Please make haste, there is much to talk about.

>>290693
>[] Have her friends start on your way to meet you, then intercept them by surprise...just in case.
Shouldn't let them connect with any of the body-snatchers in the city, yeah?

>>290779
+1

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The city is good sized, and there is a lot of activity on the streets. Many of the streets in this area are wider, farmers stalls opened by local growers and the like to take advantage of those newly entering or leaving the city. The walls are fairly thick, but they lack both buttressing and crenelation, meaning they were not likely to keep marauders out.

At least, not marauders on two feet..

There are a number of guards at the wide gateway to the city, and the gateway is flanked by large sets of bars meant to be dragged from housings along the wall and chained together at night, another sign that people are the threat here. The guards are haphazardly checking wagons, larger sacks, and the like, perhaps lookign for contraband, and a number of the more well know people are simply waved in with little more than a nod to the niceties. Strangers are held up a bit longer, as you and Heather are likely to be. Seems to be little more than a simple laying down of the laws, and nothing more. None of their weapons are confiscated, though once or twice younger people or women will turn over a short sword or mace to their menfolk.

The guard that you are face with is a bit taken aback by your countenance, as they all are. "My..."

"Lord Paladin will do fine."

He looks dubious, and glances at your horn-adorned companion but nods. "My lord, welcome to Turlingshulm. Be welcome." He glances at your blade and then looks at you seriously. "There are dangerous creatures that have been known to enter Turlingshulm from the woods. The law states that all may carry daggers or sticks, but any with the heart of a man who carries a weapon must be willing to step up and defend those within the city or face charges of endangerment of the public. If no such person is in the area of the creature's assault then there is no need to place yourself in danger."

"What do you mean 'with the heart of a man'?" you ask mildly, making the guard flush and Heather titter softly.

"No offense intended, my lord, but women who bear arms as a man might are considered by the mayor 'to have the heart of a man'. Your young ward here would be such a one if she carried a short sword or a spear, rather than a walking staff." You nod agreeably and he relaxes quite a bit. "Aside from that, the Empress' gold is good, and all silver is good by weight. Forgery is punishable by ten years hard labor, so be wary of your coin's provenance."

"Understood, goodman. Be well and may the Gods grace remain upon you." You pass him several pennies and he smiles in return.

"Thank you my lord, grace upon you!" Heather looks back at him as you walk into the city.

"Why did you tell him you were a paladin?" she asks curiously.

"In addition to not having a reason to hide it, I've found when you look like I do, people respond better to that than anything else. There's not much explanation that can be given otherwise." She nods, and jogs ahead a bit to one of the stands.

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As she looks through the heavy fruits with multicolors thick rinds, chattering pleasantly with the heavyset farmer's wife that is minding the stall, you compose yourself and concentrate upon the sending you recieved from Imjii. It doesn't take long for the magic to reawaken and you phrease your request carefully.

It is, I would not call if I did not think it was warranted. Please make haste, there is much to talk about.

The power of the spell fades completely, and you suspect you will either be greeting her tomorrow or be having dreams sent by her. Then again, she has occasionally surprised you in the past. the distant past - she's even older than when you met her last, there's no telling how much more she's changed, or if she's changed at all.

When you rejoin Heather, you add a ripe tomato to her purchase and bite into the juicy fruit with pleasure. It's good, excellent even, soft and almost sweet, refreshing after the walk. She has a thick skinned fruit you don't recognize, which she claims is a mango, even sweeter than apples.

[] Clothing first, then baths, then equipment and a room for the night, gathering news is for tomorrow.

[] Equipment will wait for the wagon, clothing and baths, then the market for news.

[] Baths, then clothing, then a tavern or festhall for well prepared food and gossip.

[] A festhall or tavern first so you look the part of a traveler, the clothing and baths, then market.

[] Write in.

[X] A festhall or tavern first so you look the part of a traveler, the clothing and baths, then market.

>>290956
[] A festhall or tavern first so you look the part of a traveler, the clothing and baths, then market.

>>290956
>[] A festhall or tavern first so you look the part of a traveler, the clothing and baths, then market.
While it seems people like paladins, it might be best to look like them so they'll show us how the ground view is.

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"Goodwife, where might a passable festhall or tavern be? My friend and I are looking to break our fast among good company." Your use of the term goodwife gets you an odd look from Heather, but the farmer's wife chuckles.

"You'll be wanten to try th' Cokerels Cry, if it be a tavr'n, or the Mayr's Settdow'n for a festhall. The Mayr's be th best place t' make meeten, if y' ain't stingy tho', roverman." She chortles at your smile and you hand her a few pennies.

"Thank you kindly, goodwife, and grace be on you." It takes a little effort to start collecting the colloquialisms, but you'll catch on quickly enough.

"Your language is even more archaic than mine," Heather mentions pointedly.

"It's been a while since i spoke with the living," you mention casually, which just gets a nod of agreement from her. "To be honest, i'm surprised you're not gettign more remarks. any remarks, for that matter." With her 'horns' in plain sight and her unusual footwear, she would have been outright vilified when the Tyrant Empress ruled.

"People have become a little more accepting of oddities in the past seventy years," she mentions quietly, before speaking up again. "If there is one thing the immortal Empress managed it was to make most of the world a great deal more cosmopolitan than it once was. you're not gettign nearly the number of stares you'd expect in the past either, you know."

You can't disagree with her really. You're used to ignoring the looks you get, but you're not getting nearly as many as you would have back before you were leading armies against the empire.

As you walk past an alleyway, you notice a quiet but brutal scuffle going on; one young man being accosted by a trio, two of whom were much larger and stronger than he, the third angry and feminine. There isn't much chance of you walking past without investigating, but there aren't any town guard nearby - their tabards are pretty distinctive. Of course, if there were, an altercation wouldn't be happening, would it? Bribery, undoubtedly.

You gesture at your excitable companion to continue on, but she doesn't - she follows you at a discrete distance, curious. She does keep an eye out however.

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You were right - the young woman, twenties, maybe more, is doing the beating. The half-elven youth is hard to pin an age to of course, but he's lanky and at least of an age to be able to fight back, though he isn't doing so effectively. The two toughs are both orc blooded young men, mostly holding and gripping the young man for the woman to hit.

[] Politely interrupt and prevent further violence to anyone by sheer intimidation.

[] Just watch and see why he's getting beaten and by whom and politely turn down offers of violence agaisnt your person.

[] Make it a little more fair on the part of the boy - three agaisnt one is rude, and if it's a trial by combat, he should be given his fair shot.

[] Make it quite clear that you disapprove of three on one by removing the pair of toughs from the equation

[] Write in.

[X] Politely interrupt and prevent further violence to anyone by sheer intimidation.

>>291100
>[] Politely interrupt and prevent further violence to anyone by sheer intimidation.
Let's see what's going on?

>>291100
>[] Politely interrupt and prevent further violence to anyone by sheer intimidation.

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Forty years of fighting gives you a certain appearance that just isn't concealable, regardless of what you are wearing. You pull your cloak off and hand it to Heather without a word, and she takes it, lookign more and more confused by the moment. You don't bother undoing the peace bonding straps to your bastard sword; they're largely meaningless anyways, there just to keep your blade from being yanked out by other people. The orc-bloods have a bar mace and one of their fairly impressive falacatas between them, though the woman has only a dagger. From what it looks like the young man is unarmed though that doesn't mean he hasn't been disarmed. One of the toughs notices you darkening the alley and you stride in calmly, left hand covering the hilt of your sword and malign it obvious you're not interested in drawing it immediately. The other tough looks in your direction and his face turns a darker shade of grey, while the first tries to get his extremely irate boss' attention. You manage to get within five feet of her before the tough actually speaks up.

"Ain't your business, dad, so beat it."

You frown a little and draw a deep breath as the woman turns to you, bloodied gloves on her hips. The young man is on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"I think he's more than learned his lesson," you say in a flat, unfriendly voice, pitched low to carry well. She looks at you, the scar on her cheek an angry purple color from her anger. You look at her unimpressed. "If he's guild - which I doubt given he's wearing black instead of something average - then I really don't have much to say. But he isn't, and you three are. So, lesson's done unless you mean to murder him."

the two toughs looks at one another, the observant one who spoke to you glancing at the beaten half-elf, who has gone to knees and elbows in the few short seconds it has taken to address them all.

"It's guild business but he ain't guild, and you ain't guild either, so get the hell off and take it to the manse if you want to complain," she says before turning and delivering a swift kick to the youth's ribs. The two toughs start fingering their weapons.

You stand up straight and pop the catches to your peacebonds loudly. But more importantly you start to glow.

The air around you starts to turn deep gold, and that radiance increases slowly. The orc-blooded fellows both take steps back in alarm, while the woman glances around at the walls, confused by their rapid lightening. She rounds on you, angry and about to say something, but her jaw drops and her eyes widen. Soft green eyes, full of hate and shame and pain. Pity.

As the light intensifies to bright daylight, you take a single step forward, looming over them in presence if not in fact. "I think you are very much finished here, young lady," you say with a very distinct and unpleasantly informative edge in your voice.

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"...f-fine, take him, you damned angel, and good riddance. He better be gone by nightfall, or you'll be getting-"

"Are you absolutely certain you want to threaten a rover inside your city limits, young lady?" You lower your voice, giving it that low, mellow, mellifluous suggestion that she's about to take a step too deep even for her people to cope with. "I will be more than happy to take it up with your guild's master, if you want to discuss it further. You take your hand off the hilt of your sword. "Unless you want to finish that sentence in front of witnesses?" You pointedly look at the two toughs, who have now taken several steps back. By excluding them, you make her solely responsible for whatever happens next, and one of them has the brains to be grateful for it, and is urging his friend to keep his mouth shut with pointed elbow jabs.

She blanches and the sweat on her brow isn't from the exertion of beating the young man.

"That's what I thought. I'll make sure he isn't any further trouble to you and yours. He causes trouble, you can speak with me and we'll settle it together." You lift an eyebrow. "Are we good?"

"Yeah..." she says unsteadily, then more firmly. "Yeah. Just watch your back, old man. He's trouble, far off trouble that doesn't know better." Ignorant of the local policies, or more likely interfered in guild business and got a beating for it. Not surprising, or unexpected. The bluff concerning being a rover was a calculated risk - rovers have always done well with the various criminal alliances in cities and towns

You wait until all three of them leave before stepping over to the young man and kneeling. He's badly beaten, and his coughs sound very ragged, lung or rib injuries from how his face contorts with the pain. "All right lad, let me take a look at you." You go to your knees as casually fend off his attempt to swat you away, which nearly sends him sprawling. "No9ne of that, I'm not an enemy." He blinks jewel-bright eyes of emerald and they kind of focus on you, one reacting faster than the other. Concussed, and badly.

[] Heal him with your Hand immediately - you'll just have to give it up to whomever is watching.

[] Us the more common clerical manifestation of healing power - at least you can hide that much, even if it won't do him as much good.

[] Change of plans - an inn, then heal him in private. He'll last long enough to get there easily enough.

[] Take him to an apothecary or barber; no need to advertise your presence any more than you already have, even though it was a parlor trick.

[] Write in.

>>291356
[] Change of plans - an inn, then heal him in private. He'll last long enough to get there easily enough.

[X] Change of plans - an inn, then heal him in private. He'll last long enough to get there easily enough.

>>291356
>[] Us the more common clerical manifestation of healing power - at least you can hide that much, even if it won't do him as much good.
This is a fantasy setting done right, QM, I just read through this and the first thread.

>>289315
>>288944
There was a mention by the QM that taking 'Life' in the first post would swap bodies with Jaas, and 'she might even let you keep your gender' or some such. So as much as I'd prefer it the other way (honestly, Life sounds like a pretty interesting quest in and of itself) MC's a guy.

>>291432
Actually, you misread. Life would have been swapping bodies, Body would have turned you into an Elan (where she may or may not have also switched your gender), and Mind was being infected with a psychic cancer that would have turned your mind into hers eventually.

Of them, only Life would have let you keep your paladin nature, but you would have had to convince everyone you were allied with that you were in fact you, and not her, and then tried to dismantle or fix her empire as the ruler of it.

All those options were trap options of course, but that is what enemies give you.

Writing now.

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A glance down the way reassures you that they're at least far enough away to be no threat as you snap the peace bonds of your sword into place. "My cloak, please," you murmur quietly, hoping that she's near enough and paying close enough attention to hear.

Heather is doing both and hands you your cloak, which you quickly wrap the young man in. "I am taking you somewhere safe. Don't struggle, and try not to cough." You heft him easily, and you look down at Heather. "Find us an inn, quickly. She nods and darts out the alleyway, and then pauses long enough to make sure you see her go right, deeper into the city.

Like most of his kind, he has the jewel-toned eyes of the half-elven, and his hair is a deep black. The leathers he is wearing aren't really any form of armor, and he has a simple necklace consisting of copper chain and a simple piece of violet quartz - amethyst, Imjii called it. Despite his injuries and leather he's wearing - not dyed black as you first surmised but the blue-black of a natural hide of some sort, perhaps some exotic creature - he is quite cool to the touch, and he doesn't smell like he's been sweatign at all. All he does smell of right now is blood, which means there's a lot of it soaked into his clothing, a very bad sign. Hen's not dripping, but the blood soaks into your cloak quickly - it isn't a coincidence that it too is black.

You see Heather's bright red hair as she jumps up and down at the entrance to a very nice and most likely very expensive inn. You toss your head to her and she darts back in, confident you saw her. It doesn't take long to get there at all, about a hundred strides or so. She's already paid, it seems, and the owner or desk-man pointedly ignores you as you carry the body into the small waiting area and up the stairs.

Heather is already unlocking the door as you arrive, and you lay him on the floor. "Start a fire, if you don't mind. We need to get some wamth and liquids into him, even after I'm done."

"What do you mean-" She stares while you unbuckle the several straps and expose his chest, pale and surprisingly muscular for his wiry build. You lay one hand on his chest, lift the other, and lower your head.

"Vested by your strength I command that power now be granted to another, one who is in dire need and requires it more than I. By your graces, deliver."

Even as you speak the word 'by', the power explodes to life in your chest and you feel the power rush through your arm and into his body. He gasps and his eyes shoot open, glowing from within as your power galvanizes his body. He tenses, her muscles shaking, and then relaxes, breathing deeply and freely.

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Heather is watching dumbfounded as the glow fades and he remains unconscious. You open his eyes carefully, and both pupils contract slowly in the light from the window, and at the same speed. You study his cloathing, locatign the knife cuts, and checkign them for wounds beneath, which you are gratified to discover do not exist. Then his ribs.

Heather is still staring and you look up at her. "Fire, please." Shaking cobwebs from her brains she crawls to the fire and applies the thoughtfully supplied fire-starter to the tinder under the prepared logs. You suspect she spared no expense, which could be both good and bad. Right now, it is very good, because you have little doubt you could order a bath be brought to your room, and probably more than one.

You haven't found any broken ribs, further testament to your power and his luck. His temperature hasn't changed, and you frown mildly. A spell or some sort of mystic discipline to keep him cool? He can't be in shock, though he is unconscious from exhaustion more than injury now.

Checking the trio of belt pouches, and his other clothing, you cum up with a rather unusual crystal blade that is obsidian-like, but not chipped at all; it seems more like another kind of quartz or similarly black-glassy crystal that has been sheered along the cleavage planes and is triangular in design, a back and two sides forming a single straight edge. The sheath in his boot is clearly deigned to keep the edge away from the leather, so you operate under the assumption it is not just sharp. There are two large rounded stones of crystal similar to the one with a strange magical aura in the wagon, and a small velvet pouch handful of small precious gems, and pieces of silver along side it. Not even coins, just small rectangles and cubes of silver.

Very foreign.

[] Have Heather arrange baths for you and she, and you'll clean him up while bathing.

[] Use the basin here and create the water yourself, so you may clean him up to avoid anyone knowing that you have.

[] Collect a basin of hot water yourself and ask for food and drink to be brought up, at your expense of course, with apologies to the innkeeper.

[] Ask Heather her opinion of his accoutrements and dress; has she seen anything like this in her own travels? Clean him up while you do that.

[] Write in.

[X] Collect a basin of hot water yourself and ask for food and drink to be brought up, at your expense of course, with apologies to the innkeeper.

>>291655
[] Ask Heather her opinion of his accoutrements and dress; has she seen anything like this in her own travels? Clean him up while you do that.

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I'll be continuing early morning again. I didn't realize how late it is.

Thank you for reading.

>>291909
thanks for running

>>291461
This kind of shit is why nobody trusts magical little girls.

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Setting aside his weapon and his property, you start to unbuckle the rest of his leather jerkin and frown. The stitching is very precise, and the inside has a layer of thin cotton sewn to it. You fold it before setting it aside, and turn your attention to his trousers. they too are of leather, and like the jerkin they have a lining of soft cotton beneath. His loincloth is foldened strangely, and knotted even more so, twisted and barely enough to cover him while baring his hips and groin. Which does explain the lining of the leather trouser and jerkin; obviously to avoid chafing when moving too much. The spell or power that protects him from the environment would be an absolute necessity as well, these clothes would be scorching hot even in moderate weather.

"Have you seen anything like this?" you ask Heather quietly, as you fold his breeches and place them next to the rest of his property.

"No, but I do recognize this material," she says, picking up one of the pouches. It's a dense material, soft like cotton but rather than being sewn with thread, it is sewn with very thin copper wire. "Denim. Made by a deep-desert dwelling folk. Very sturdy stuff, won't take normal thread very well. No one else makes it. It's cotton, with a heavier weave. Almost as good as armor against a knife or claws. Breathes nicely too. He could be from there."

Studying the pouch, what she says about the material is fairly accurate. The wire thread used to stitch the pieces together is definitely strong, but more importantly, cutting the pouch would be difficult at best without scissors. Thieves' bane, right there.

"The dagger though..." She picks it up carefully. "Deep crystal. It's rare outside the Harmara Desert, near the cinder-cones. Someone with disciplines like the ones Jaas and I trained in an empower it, make it resonate, and it becomes a much more vicious weapon." She looks up. "He has to be one of the desert folk. I didn't know they were half-elves."

"I've only met a very few half-elven people myself, and I had no idea they could breed true if there is a community of them." You stand up and sigh, looking down at the still bloodied youth. "I'm going to go and have food and drink brought up and fetch a pan to bathe him with. Once he wakes, we can see about baths for ourselves and seeing him on his way."

Heather nods agreeably. "I paid well, so there shouldn't be any issues with that." You hope that the same man is working the desk still.

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Fortunately for you, as far as you are concerned, the same man is standing behind the desk and deigns to look at you now that you arent carrying an unconscious or possibly dead body. You are bloodied, but it's obviously not yours. "My apologies, goodman. Would you be so kind as to have three good meals and a bottle of wine sent up to our room?" He listens attentively. "And if you have a basin of hot water I could take up now to wash up with, I would be most grateful."

"Of course..." He hesitates and you smile wryly. "Lord will do." "...of course my lord. At once. You needn't wait on the basin, Ill have two of my boys bring it up at once."

"Thank you, goodman...?"

"Taggart, my lord. My sons will be Brice and Henrik. Reese is me daughter and she'll bring up your plates as soon as the baking is done." He is polite and forthright, much more at ease with the lack of request for guards, and apothecary, or a coffin maker.

You fish a gold coin out of the pouch and place it on the counter. "Many thanks. My companion and I will be needing baths later - have you a recommendation?"

To his credit he only glances at the coin. "We have a bath house next to the premises, my lord, and if you would like, I can have my wife and daughters take care of your clothing while you bathe." That makes you smile.

"I would be a kindness, Goodman Taggart. Grace for you and yours." He seems a bit taken aback by that, and you make a mental note of it.

"And yours, my lord."

You walk back up, bereft of basin but it shouldn't take too long for someone to bring it if they have baths nearby. With a sigh you open the door and then close it again leaving it unlocked before tugging off the tunic and remaining in your undertunic. Also stained, naturally, though not nearly as badly. Heather is lookign at you curiously and you sigh, this being the closest you've let her see you to undressed.

Considering youll be bathing shortly, you may as well buckle down and deal with it.

[] You are a woman, but...

[] You are a man, but...

[] Put it off just a bit longer. You're in no mood for that explanation right now.

[] Work up to it by asking Heather about her preference - is it something that she's always had, or did it change through the many, many years she's lived?

[] Write in.

I will write the next part after a majority of either gender choice or avoidance of that vote is made.

[X] Put it off just a bit longer. You're in no mood for that explanation right now.

>>297837
>[] You are a man, but...

>>297837
>[] You are a man, but...

>>297837
>[] You are a man, but...
Really don't see why this should be put up to a vote.

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You lean back in the surprisingly comfortable seat and gaze calmly at Heather. "I am not exempt from vanity's lure," you begin, "so the tunic is more for my mental comfort than any need for modesty." That makes her look a bit confused. "Most who serve the Gods of Compassion and Care turn their powers to others first, before themselves, using the barest minimum of the Healing Hand upon themselves. Scars are inevitable, and when you have campaigned as long as I have, it is only natural that scars would accumulate regardless of how much grace one is given." She nods slowly, still having trouble following your intent.

"I am a lord, in body and mind, but the simple fact is that I am beautiful. Which is not vanity, but simple fact." That makes her smile. "My voice only makes the issue worse; both are an inheritance of the bloodline, rather than blessings. Or curses for that matter. Beauty has been used as such before after all." You brush a hand through the once golden locks now mostly silvered and whitened with age, yet still soft and glistening. "The beauty comes from my mothers side, as it always does in our bloodline. My youngest sister was so...I hesitate to say blessed, as it brought her more grief than pleasure, but it skipped the bother and two sisters between."

Her eyes light up and she starts to say it.

"Please don't - you'll only mangle the word. Angel-blooded with suffice. It was an Angel, mind you. Some five generations back, I've been told." Heather nods slowly. "Naturally, upon seeing a face like mine, with a voice like mine, people have difficulties with whether I am lord or lady. Even after I claim the title of lord and demonstrate that I have the build of a man, they often question the title. A meaningless little burden, really, not even worth beign called such."

"I had wondered, especially when you claimed you weren't chaste. Do you prefer..." She tilts her head towards the young man on the floor and that makes you chuckle.

"No, though I've known many a warrior who has. My own affairs are things of the past, and you needn't concern yourself with them, I assure you." The war took up so much time and effort; though there were moments...

A soft tap at the door alerts you to the arrival of one or another of your requests, and Heather springs up, taking a position between the door and the unconscious helf-elf. Raising an eyebrow at her aggressiveness, you rise to open the door, allowing the two strapping young men to carry in a large basin filled with steaming water.

"Pardon, m'lord, says the elder of the two, a shadow of beard across his chin. "Father said you'd be needing this; we bought robes as well, for later." Three of them, which you appreciate. "Where would you have it, m'lord?"

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"Nest to the fellow here is fine. He only looks like a murder victim; washing up and a good meal will improve his situation immensely." The young man looks somewhat relived you don't have anyone tied up, half dead, or otherwise held captive. His younger brother is far more interested in Heather, who is collecting the robes and washing cloths from the side of the tub and the young man's arms. You give each of them several pennies, which startles them both and nets you effusive thanks, before they leave. Following them to the door, you pause as you notice a young woman bringing up several trays; the sister undoubtedly, and managing to carry a bottle of wine as well.

Her brothers step out of her way and she deftly slips past them with the ease of long practice. You avoid taking anything from her right away, as you can tell she has it under control, but precarious control at best. She dips her head in thanks with a smile as you open the door wide for her. Heather is already working on cleaning your stray half-elf up while the young woman sets the food and wine of the table for you.

"Thank you miss," you murmur, givign her a few pennies as well, and she blushes and sketches a clumsy curtsey, which makes you smile. Heather glances up as she blushes and quickly takes her leave, quietly shutting the door after herself. "That should be the last interruption for a while. The owner said there is a bathing house nearby, and that they'll clean our clothing as we bathe."

Your knees pop rather loudly as you kneel to assist Heather in cleaning the poor fellow up, and she glances at you, a flicker of concern across her face. "It's just age and overuse. Nothing painful about it, no worse than cracking your knuckles." She nods dubiously and you both concentrate on cleaning you young man up.

It takes the better part of an hour, but once finished you learn two other things about the young man. One, he has been tattooed across half his back with a design reminiscne to nomadic peoples from the desert. You haven't seen them often, but this example is a great deal more primitive than those you have seen, as though a precursor in style. The second thing you learn is that he's perhaps older than you thought, and bears a number of spell-caused scars: burns, lightning tracery, pale patches of flesh from frost or oddly healed injuries. "Thes elook like magus combat scars, if I'm any guess," you mention idly and Heather nods.

"Close. I'd say they're more from fighting with disciplines of the mental sort. Most such abilities can vary the energies used, so it's common to see all sorts of scarring from people who fight using those skills. I doubt these were meant to be fatal. He's undergone some heavy training."

"That brings up the question of why he didn't fight back. I suspect because he expected to be accused of witchery, or didn't want to antagonize the guild further, but that's merely guesswork."

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Heather nods her agreement. He is resting peacefully, and there's little doubt that's partly from the exhaustion of being beaten near to death, but he's going to need food soon as well. Of course you do have some other considerations.

[] Wake him, and see if he's up to eating.

[] Let him rest; you and Heather need to eat.

[] Do some basic divination over him, see what more you can discover.

[] Clean his clothing while Heather eats; he'll feel more comfortable upon waking if he's not mostly naked, rope or no.

[] Write in.

>>298810
>[] Clean his clothing while Heather eats; he'll feel more comfortable upon waking if he's not mostly naked, rope or no.
Lets see if we can't get information on how heavily infiltrated the desert tribes are, then.

>>298810
>[] Clean his clothing while Heather eats; he'll feel more comfortable upon waking if he's not mostly naked, rope or no.
Maybe Stockholm can be applied? If nothing 'bad' happens while he's out, he might cooperate more.

[X] Clean his clothing while Heather eats; he'll feel more comfortable upon waking if he's not mostly naked, rope or no.