MILLICENT: “When did you develop this sudden allergy to hitting people?”
TUELLER: “Because we were looking for someone talk to!”
MILLICENT: “You hit a guy back there so hard people are screaming when they found him.”
TUELLER: “I did, but you’re not supposed to know that.”
MILLICENT: “Now it’s, “No, I couldn’t possibly silence the gardener.”
MILLICENT: “You’re all over the place tonight.”
TUELLER: “I wanted you to talk to the fucking gardener! About gardening!”
STORY: Three guards arrive as the two of you argue, spears in hand.
TUELLER: “Or blacksmithing!”
MILLICENT: “Well, fetch him back and we’ll talk about compost.”
TUELLER: Tueller knew he was being set up by Esinam, that he was being tested, that it was all a game, but he couldn’t help it. He’d tracked the trader through the floating cities of Io for days, sleeping rough, but doggedly following up on the clues to her hiding spot. Honestly, he didn’t even know if the trader was guilty of the crimes Esi had implied, but he knew the trader would be armed. He knew she’d be waiting. And he knew that, no matter what, she wouldn’t be ready for Tueller. He smiled grimly and got to it.
—
STORY: Tueller, the field clears as defeated opponents pick themselves up off the ground and grunt unhappily towards you. “Who is that?” you hear from more than a few directions as you walk. The sergeant-at-arms takes the crown from you happily, slapping you on the shoulder.
STORY: “Most well fought, good sir! Please, this way, refresh yourself. Where is your squire?”
TUELLER: Tueller slaps him back (not with extra oomph)
TUELLER: Tueller looks around for anyone he knows.
MILLICENT: Millie is cheering from the sidelines
TUELLER: “I’m not sure. Should be coming my way.”
MILLICENT: “TUE-LLER TUE-LLER TUE-LLER”
TUELLER: “Whiskey! To me!”
TUELLER: Tueller projects his voice over the field.
TUELLER: As best he can.
MILLICENT: Millie ducks under the fence and runs over.
MILLICENT: “Are you hurt? I didn’t see you take a hit, but…” Millie jogs up
TUELLER: “A glancing blow. I’ve been hit harder by pets.”
TUELLER: Tueller gestures Millie to follow the sergeant at arms, and follows as well.
TUELLER: “This way, Doc.”
MILLICENT: Millie follows, grumbling under her breath, “To me?”
TUELLER: Tueller is keyed up and jovial, but not trusting anyone but the crew.
TUELLER: Under his breath, to Doc. “Sorry. hard to speak in long sentences at volume.”
STORY: He brings the two of you to a small hut, occupied by a handful of workers and another man in armor. “Please, rest, eat, we will come retrieve you shortly.”
MILLICENT: Millie ducks in and looks for the buffet
TUELLER: “Where’s Lah?”
TUELLER: “And Ejo?”
TUELLER: Tueller pours himself a tankard of ale.
TUELLER: And eyes the armored man neutrally.
STORY: Millie, there’s a table with food, but the servants are closer to it than you are, and one picks up a plate to bring it over to you.
STORY: It’s a few kinds of fruit and a slab of unknown meat.
MILLICENT: “Jenny waved him over to a tent. He went to go help, but I was worried you’d be hurt and one of these cavemen would try to leech your evil humours or something so I stayed to watch your violence.”
TUELLER: “It was pretty tame, as far as violence goes.”
TUELLER: “None of these cretins put up much of a challenge.”
MILLICENT: “Is that odd? Should we have expected better?”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs. “I’ve been working out.”
STORY: The Odh in armor behind you scoffs. “Arrogant!”
TUELLER: “Oh, sorry, didn’t see a crown in your hand, did I?”
MILLICENT: “Gentlemen, didn’t you both get out all this masculine posturing on the field of battle?”
STORY: He looks unimpressed. “I do not participate in such thuggery. My sport is for true knights. As for your suitability, we shall see how you fare when we stand before the princess.”
STORY: He takes a bite of what looks like a small peach.
TUELLER: “What’s your sport, sport?”
MILLICENT: Millie sighs and waves down a waiter
STORY: He scoffs again. “You don’t recognize me?”
TUELLER: Tueller takes a big drink on his tankard.
TUELLER: “Should I?”
TUELLER: “I mean, obviously you think I should, but no, I do not.”
STORY: He stands suddenly, looks offended one more time, and stomps out of the tent.
STORY:
TUELLER: “Sorry Doc. That did not advance our figuring out what the fuck is going on here, dear.”
MILLICENT: “No, it did not.”
MILLICENT: Millie hands him a peach thing
TUELLER: “Any luck on your end?”
TUELLER: Tueller houses the peach with three bites, tosses the torus shaped pit to the ground, and goes to grab whatever looks closest to a Ren Faire turkey leg.
MILLICENT: “There’s no alien tech here,” Millie takes a bite. “At least none that I’ve seen. And I’ve been scanning. It’s as medieval as it appears here.
MILLICENT: “Mmmm. Not bad at all.”
TUELLER: “I didn’t get a good chance to gauge their tech on the field. Armor seemed primitive. That sword cracked like pig iron.”
MILLICENT: “So, are we waiting while they carve you a trophy or can we got see if Jenny and Alejo are in trouble?”
TUELLER: “Told to stay here. The implication was that they’d come for me and I’d meet the authorities. Maybe marry one of them. Not quite sure about that.”
TUELLER: “I’ve got no other plans though, just yet, so I’m playing along until something better comes along.”
MILLICENT: “Oh.”
TUELLER: “I am, however, currently single, so who knows?”
MILLICENT: “I didn’t think you were open to the idea.”
MILLICENT: “Marriage, I mean.”
TUELLER: “I want out of here. I’ve got no idea how to accomplish that, but being part of a monarchy is how I got going in the first place, so maybe it’s the route out here as well.”
TUELLER: “We need resources if we’re going to get Peregrine moving again, after all.”
TUELLER: “A bunch of hot air balloons, 80 teams of horses, I don’t know.”
MILLICENT: “Right, we need at least hauling power.”
TUELLER: “The details are…well, the ideas are something you’re better at. I’m just trying to figure out where to put the lever, and how much pressure I can put on it.”
MILLICENT: “If you could trade your princess for some bullocks, that would be a good start.”
TUELLER: “Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world.”
MILLICENT: “I keep forgetting you’re classically educated.”
MILLICENT: “It’s very annoying on someone else.”
TUELLER: “Archimedes pissed the wrong people off and never got to see things through.”
TUELLER: “Still. If someone disturbs my circles, I’m no slouch like him, either.”
MILLICENT: “Yes, yes dist-”
MILLICENT: “I’m waiting for you to say eureka now.”
MILLICENT: “Will you feel better if you do?”
TUELLER: “I’m saving it for whenever I have a eureka moment, Doc.”
TUELLER: “Feel free to jump in with a brilliant idea if they float across your comparably vaster mind.”
MILLICENT: “I have to admit, I’m very close to baffled.”
TUELLER: “Phone’s not working, I take it?”
MILLICENT: “Meeting the leadership of this place should be helpful in getting our bearings though.”
MILLICENT: Millie tries it again
STORY: Nothing, not even static.
TUELLER: “Noma?”
MILLICENT: “Noma’s in the visor, but she went off to work on something and I haven’t heard from her in a bit.”
TUELLER: “Well, leave her to her circles.”
MILLICENT: “There’s nothing on the radio. I don’t like being this disconnected.”
MILLICENT: “It’s, eerie.”
TUELLER: “Yeah, we’re so far off the grid that…I don’t have an punchline to that metaphor.”
MILLICENT: “Now that worries me.”
STORY: Alejo!
STORY: You’re standing outside the tent where Akilah is currently being held. The guard keeping you from entering has just made a rude comment about, well, you’re not sure whether it was Jenny or Akilah, but either way unless you’re considering a career in intergalactic pimping you’ll have to pass on his offer. Four guards are within sight, with Jenny somewhere on the back end of the tent and most likely someone inside with Aki. Everyone but you has a spear, some chainmail, and a fairly casual attitude about your threat level. What do you do?
ALEJO: Alejo grimaces at the comment and steps closer. “This is going to turn sour very quickly!” He says this loudly, intending for Jenny to hear and engage plan B, which is, in general terms, to go in the back side of the tent, deal with the likely guard inside, and get Aki. He also tries to get the other guards’ attention with this.
STORY: Face Adversity + Influence please!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 9 + 2 = 11
STORY: The guard stiffens and looks disappointed. “Don’t make this a bad day, friend.” The tent flaps flutter in the breeze and you catch a glimpse inside the tent and see Jenny dropping the edge of the canvas fabric behind her and reeling back to punch a guard, then it’s just tent flaps again.
STORY: There’s a grunt from inside, and the guard before you looks back quickly, then at you with narrowed eyes. He’s going to make a move. What do you do?
ALEJO: Hit him in the throat and take his spear.
ALEJO: And keep the attention on me.
STORY: You do that! He gasps and clutches his neck, trying to catch his breath, as you ready his spear towards the other guards. They all drop their spears toward you and approach. What do you do?
ALEJO: “This dog hath insulted the honor of not only my house, and my fiancee, but that of Lord Gildrath! Such impudence can not be tolerated! Lord Gildrath is a dear friend. I demand he be called. I demand justice!” and I use the data point on Escarian politics.
STORY: Let’s have Face Adversity + Influence again, +1
ALEJO: He peeks through the blowing tent folds, trying to see if they have made their escape.
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 9 + 2 = 11
STORY: The guards falter a second, looking at each other. The one you punched catches his breath and moves on to vomiting around the corner. You see Jenny and Akilah scurrying off into the treeline behind the tent.
ALEJO: Alejo jabs the vomiting guard, right in the face, as he vomits, knocking him down then tosses the spear at the four guards, not in a threatening way but sidelong, inviting them to have to catch it before he turns and runs at full speed into the nearest crowd.
ALEJO: He runs in the opposite direction of Aki and Jenny.
ALEJO: Leading the guards away from them.
STORY: They run after you, and you lose them in the crowd almost immediately. These guards are not the smartest dudes at the festival, but you ought to keep your distance from any other guards here in case word gets around about you.
ALEJO: Alejo sneaks a strange hat away from an older man who isn’t paying attention, slips it on as a makeshift disguise and heads towards where he imagines Tueller and Millie must be.
STORY: It’s gigantic and floppy, like the hat worn by Robin Hood in the Disney cartoon when he’s in disguise at the archery tournament.
STORY: You make it to the arena as the last onlookers are clearing out, returning to the market and the smaller performances. The competitors are all gone.
ALEJO: He looks for the nicest seeming person still around and then approaches, very friendly. “Pardon. I am from a far away land and unfamiliar with this grand event. Where, if you may know, would the victor be taken?”
ALEJO: Alejo is presuming that Tueller won.
STORY: “To the castle, milord, to be presented to the princess!”
STORY: They point up the distant hill towards a large house surrounded by a small village.
ALEJO: Alejo smiles. “Ahh, the princess. What an honor. Is that done in some sort of ceremony?”
STORY: “Aye, milord, the ceremony will be either their wedding, on the morn, or the sacrifice to the Dark Lord. I suppose that’s also on the morn, as the sun’s beginning to set.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods, and swallows hard. He smiles again. “Wedding or, you say, sacrifice? What pray tell is the sacrifice?”
STORY: “What dost thou mean, milord?”
ALEJO: He shrugs. “Pardon me. I’m so sorry. I just meant . . . if there’s no wedding there’s a sacrifice? What’s sacrificed?”
STORY: “Why, the champion, milord.”
ALEJO: “Right. Right.” He pauses. “Right.” He blows a puff of air and then adds. “You’ve been most helpful. Thank you so kindly. One final question, if I may? Is the ceremony — wedding or sacrifice — a public event?”
STORY: “Aye, milord, it will be here.” She gestures to the empty arena.
ALEJO: Alejo bows, graciously. “Again, many thanks.”
ALEJO: He slips away, back into the crowd, staying away from guards.
ALEJO: He tries his com, fully expecting that it will not work, but trying all the same.
STORY: As you reach back to touch the spot below your ear that activates it, someone grabs your arm with both hands. You turn your head quickly to look, and see a woman in a head scarf – it’s Jenny. Her eyes are wide and her face covered. “Come ON.”
STORY: She hauls you out of the crowd and back towards the woods she and Akilah had darted into. “I can’t get her to slow down. Run, I’ll catch up. She’s going to the obsidian river.”
STORY: Which, you remember, is where the dragon lives.
ALEJO: “Jesus!” He sprints, as fast as he can, towards the river.
STORY: Tueler, a handmaiden enters the tent. “Sir Tueller?”
TUELLER: Tueller bows floridly.
TUELLER: “That’s me, miss.”
STORY: “Please, come with me. You must be bathed.”
MILLICENT: Millie rolls her eyes
TUELLER: Tueller looks to Millie.
TUELLER: “Squire, attend me.” Tueller shrugs apologetically to Millie.
MILLICENT: Millie considers, shrugs, grins evilly at Tueller. “Aye, sir!”
STORY: The two of you are put in the back of a carriage and shown the way up to the royal home, which is beyond the nearby village. Millie, describe the village for me.
MILLICENT: The village is sprawling, built into sections. At first Millie and Tueller assume that they’re enclaves for the various races who live on this planet, but nowhere else in the galaxy besides the Ark.
MILLICENT: But they soon figure out that each trade has it’s street or streets, with a wide central road connecting all of them.
MILLICENT: The village houses appear to circle the central market roads
MILLICENT: The houses are wood and plaster, with an emphasis on tall, thin triangles in the construction
TUELLER: Like A Frame houses?
MILLICENT: Yeah
MILLICENT: Exactly
STORY: You are looking out the window, admiring the architecture, when you see Tiffany walking in the opposite direction.
TUELLER: “Tiffany!” Tueller leans out of the window of the carriage.
TUELLER: “I won!”
STORY: She perks up, waves, and runs after the carriage.
STORY: “Thou hast been victorious?” she shouts happily as she trots along next to you.
TUELLER: Tueller goes to make a thumbs up motion, but stops himself in time, considering it might be a rude gesture.
TUELLER: He shakes his fist triumphantly.
TUELLER: “Indeed!”
STORY: “Huzzah!”
TUELLER: “Forsooth!”
TUELLER: “Now what, Tiffany?”
STORY: She jogs along with you, sometimes dipping behind the doorway and then rushing to catch up. “What dost milord mean, ‘now what’?”
TUELLER: “I am from far away, remember. The ceremonies of Escaria are new to me, and I wish not to offend. Overmuch.”
TUELLER: “Unnecessarily, at least.”
STORY: “Oh! Thou willst be brought to the king’s home, where thou willst be bathed and anointed, and presented to the princess! If she approves, thou will be married!”
STORY: “Oh, it’s too, too romantic!” She holds her hands to her cheeks, smiling.
TUELLER: “Excellent. Excellent. And if she doth not approve?”
STORY: Tueller, let’s have an Assessment + Influence please
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 3
STORY: “Why, thou will be fed to the dragon, like all her other suitors!”
TUELLER: “Right. Right. Right.”
TUELLER: Tueller sighs.
TUELLER: “Okay.”
STORY: “I am sure sh–” Tiffany trips, falling facedown in the mud.
STORY: She picks herself up, wiping the mud off her face as your carriage continues on, and calling to you from her knees. “I am sure she will find thee pleasurable, milord! Gods be with you!”
MILLICENT: “Oh good.”
TUELLER: Tueller leans out for one last moment.
TUELLER: “If you happen to see my friend Alejo please fill him in on all this, goodbye Tiffany!”
TUELLER: Leaning back.
TUELLER: “We may have an issue.”
MILLICENT: “So, the lady or the dragon?”
TUELLER: “Traditionally it’s a tiger.”
TUELLER: “I guess they do things differently here.”
TUELLER: “I’m pretty sure I could take a tiger.”
MILLICENT: “It’s a dragon, though”
TUELLER: “Yes. Sorry. Brain went through a little feedback loop there.”
TUELLER: “Should probably start…ummm…”
TUELLER: “Well. I’m definitely better looking than that Odh shithead, at least.”
TUELLER: “I’ve got that going for me.”
MILLICENT: Space Master, do I know of any alien races that could be mistaken for a dragon?
STORY: Assessment + Expertise please
MILLICENT: “Yes, a tiny hooray for that. Though we don’t know the cultural beauty standards this princess will be coming to the table with.”
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 2 + 2 = 4
STORY: You have heard of one, though they’re not an intelligent race, and quite honestly they’re significantly _worse_ and _more dangerous_ than the dragons of old lore, so you really hope that’s not what you have here. This dragon only had one head, so it’s likely not that.
MILLICENT: Oh phew
TUELLER: Are we alone in this carriage? Just the carriage driver above?
STORY: Just the two of you in the back, the carriage driver is above, yes.
TUELLER: Tueller drops his voice; “So, if it comes to it, I have explosives in my kit.”
MILLICENT: “Oh? How much?”
MILLICENT: “And would you really marry a woman and just leave her behind?”
TUELLER: Tueller rummages through his bag, and hands over a grenade, a triggered charge, and a destructive charge. “Enough for each of us, at least.”
TUELLER: Tueller pauses at the second question. “More worrried about the dragon here than the old ball and chain here, Doc.”
MILLICENT: Millie pockets these
MILLICENT: “That’s fair, I suppose.”
MILLICENT: “Did your classic education happen to include any medieval Terran love poetry? You may need to alter your standard techniques to account for our surroundings.”
MILLICENT: “I don’t think, “Hey, baby, wanna spar?” is going to cut it.”
TUELLER: “I know some Shakespeare, I guess. Not word for word.”
TUELLER: “I’m not sure what comes after ’thou art so lovely and so temperate.”
TUELLER: “Rough winds and darling buds of May? I think? I don’t think we share months, though.”
MILLICENT: “Oh yeah, I hadn’t considered that.”
TUELLER: “There are a lot of cultural assumptions built into that that we’ll have to improvise.”
MILLICENT: “Well, let’s get to work.”
MILLICENT: Can we assume a medieval wooing training montage?
TUELLER: I am curious what Millie’s wooing advice would be.
STORY: Yes! I’d like to hear a couple excerpts.
TUELLER: i’ll put on the Rocky theme.
MILLICENT: hmmm
MILLICENT: “Okay, so sonnet 18 is all out. Too many seasonal dependent metaphors.”
TUELLER: “I wouldnt’ say out. Just only usable in fragments.”
MILLICENT: “130 might be useful, and maybe some Marlowe”
TUELLER: “And hoping they’re not stringent on rhythm.”
TUELLER: “I do not know them by number, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “Oh wait, different flower names, scratch Marlowe.”
STORY: Okay! You discuss wooing for the remainder of the trip. Tueller, tell me about the king’s home.
MILLICENT: “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
MILLICENT: Coral is far more red than her lips red
MILLICENT: and so on and so on
MILLICENT: and then when they’re getting all worked up because you’re going on about how she’s NOT all these things, then you hit them with
MILLICENT: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
MILLICENT: As any she belied with false compare”
MILLICENT: “And bring it home”
TUELLER: “Oh that’s the one about her ugly breasts That’s a terrible idea, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “I think it’s nice.”
TUELLER: Tueller, the king’s home is the only building in the village made out of the same obsidian colored material (umm, probably actually obsidian). It’s also the only non-triangular building. It’s a circular building, about three stories tall, with one entrance on the street with columns. There are statues, of some sort, but with everything made out of obsidian it’s really hard to focus on anything and make out what they are.
TUELLER: It is not particularly defensible, like they’re not very worried about soldiers attacking.
STORY: There’s a small creek outside, not quite what you would call a moat, but enough of a dip that a bridge is required for the carriage. A horse and rider could easily jump or just walk through it.
STORY: The carriage does not, however, enter the home – it stops in front of it as the large doors are opened and a handful of serving maids come to meet you.
STORY: “Sir Tueller! You are to be bathed!”
TUELLER: Tueller gets out of the carriage.
MILLICENT: Millie follows
TUELLER: Looks for guards and such.
STORY: “Not you, milady! You shall join the other squires in prayer.”
TUELLER: “Do what needs to be done, Millie. I trust your judgment.”
MILLICENT: “Oh good, prayer.”
MILLICENT: “_Of course_, _Sir_ Tueller.”
TUELLER: “I hope to call on you again soon.”
MILLICENT: “Yes, well, lead me to the ah, chapel, was it?”
STORY: “Forsooth!”
TUELLER: Tueller nods, and turns to the ladies.
STORY: And you’re led to separate areas.
STORY: Alejo, you move at superhuman speed, darting around trees and hopping over roots as you go, playing out in your head every possible end to Akilah confronting a dragon on her own, and none of them are good. You reach the edge of the clearing and see her waving a flashlight over her head, shouting and squinting upwards. In the dusk fog, the flashlight streams a clear beam up to the sky.
STORY: You hear an earth-shattering noise, halfway between a scream and a roar. The dragon is close, and it’s coming to see what has disturbed its home. What do you do?
ALEJO: Run to tackle Akilah, while looking for the nearest cover to get us to. “The light! Stop the light!”
STORY: You don’t slow down as you emerge from the woods, grabbing Akilah as you dash through the open space and into the woods on the other side of the river. The flashlight clatters behind you both as you half-tackle, half-carry Akilah back into cover. She yelps and catches her breath from the ground where you dove into some bushes, and you both tense up as you are hit with a huge gust of wind, then realize it was from the wings directly above you flapping as the dragon landed.
STORY: It hits the ground with a gargantuan thump, shaking the ground under you. Akilah holds her breath and claps a hand over her mouth. It is easily fifty feet tall, a hundred long. It peers down at the discarded flashlight, batting at it with a claw big enough to run you through, and looks around, sniffing the air.
STORY: After the longest fifteen seconds of your life, it grunts, throws its head back, and howls another terrible call, then takes off, flinging dirt and leaves over both of you as it goes.
ALEJO: “Fucking dragon.” Alejo rolls onto his back, panting, realizing how exhausting the run was.
STORY: Akilah keeps her hand over her mouth and staggers to her feet, watching it as it goes. Once it passes over a hill in the distance, she turns back to you and drops to her knees, straddling your stomach. She grabs your shoulders and shakes you. “Did you SEE that!?”
STORY: “DID YOU SEE THAT ALEJO.”
ALEJO: He nods, still a little out of breath. “I definitely saw it.” He looks up at her and then suddenly grabs her and kisses her. “That was fucking close.”
ALEJO: “That’s something you don’t see on Io.” He smiles up at her.
STORY: She looks at you, beaming. “You didn’t see it!”
ALEJO: He looks at her, smiling and wide-eyed, inquisitive.
STORY: And stands again, as you hear a crashing approach in the woods on the opposite side. You both turn and see Jenny, face colorless, eyes wide. “DID YOU SEE THAT?!”
STORY: She’s pointing to where the dragon departed.
ALEJO: “Apparently not?” Alejo looks to Aki, still confused. “We saw a big-ass dragon. But what did I miss in the rush to save your beautiful hide?”
STORY: Akilah stands triumphantly. “A door.”
STORY: “There’s a door in the side of that fucking thing. It’s a ship.”
STORY: She flops to the ground, catching her breath. Jenny rushes across, watching the sky as she does.
ALEJO: He squints, furrows his brow. Then he looks back towards the sky. “Well shit.”
STORY: Jenny stands with her arms crossed. “Well, that explains the thing about the babies.”
ALEJO: “Sure it does.” He looks at her. “How does it?”
STORY: She sits down as Akilah sits up on her elbows. “We found a caregiver with a couple young kids, and asked her where all the babies were. She acted like we were crazy, because apparently everyone here knows this, but eventually got out of her that the _dragon brings them.“_
STORY: “No one on this weird-ass planet has ever given birth, as far as we can tell. She didn’t even know what we were talking about.”
STORY: “The dragon brings children to them, she says, in exchange for the sacrifices.”
STORY: “So apparently they also sacrifice people, which is… new. Can’t say I’ve seen that before.”
ALEJO: Alejo tilts his head. “That’s fucking awful. Who, or what, is getting their kicks from this heinous crap?”
STORY: Jenny listens to Akilah, nodding along. “And you decided the best way to investigate this was to get killed shining a flashlight at a dragon.”
STORY: Akilah tilts her head, acknowledging the risk. “I mean, I didn’t, though.”
ALEJO: He shrugs. “Got it close enough to see the door, I guess.”
STORY: Jenny scoffs. “Only because he’s faster than, like, any human alive, also do we know what that’s about yet?”
ALEJO: “No, but we’ve got a more urgent problem.” He looks at them both.
STORY: “More urgent than your girlfriend almost getting eaten by a dragon?”
STORY: “Ship,” corrects Akilah.
ALEJO: “Tueller won the match. Now he’s set to either get married tomorrow to the princess, whoever the fuck that is, or sacrificed to the dragon spaceship.”
STORY: Akilah’s humor departs.
STORY: “Ah.”
STORY: “Well.”
STORY: “Huh.”
STORY: Jenny stands. “So let’s go get him.”
ALEJO: Alejo puts his hand up. “We need to be smart about this. I think we can do it in a better place than the palace or big king house or whatever, where he’s likely guarded by everyone right now. The ceremony, either way, will be at the same arena we just came from, tomorrow morning. We can plan to get him and Millie there, I think.”
STORY: Akilah shakes her head. “You want to cut it that close?”
ALEJO: “No. I want that to be the backup. I’m going to go in, alone, and try to get to them. If that works, great. If not, I can get them clued in to the rescue at the arena, where you two can get more support for us.”
ALEJO: “Or get them on the way to the arena, I suppose. Might be easier. We should scout it out.”
ALEJO: He sighs. “And we need to be very careful for guards. They are definitely pissed at the three of us right now.”
STORY: Akilah lays on the forest floor again. “Okay. One thing: I still don’t know whether these people are uncontacted. Nothing about this makes sense, but I haven’t gotten the feeling that anyone we talked to has any idea that this is the weirdest place in the galaxy.”
ALEJO: He nods.
STORY: “Which means we have to be very careful about what we tell them. Definitely no ‘we’re from space.’ Probably no ‘your dragon is a spaceship.’ Otherwise, man. I don’t know.”
STORY: “This is, legally speaking, a clusterfuck.”
ALEJO: “That a legal term of art?” He smiles at her.
STORY: Jenny crosses her arms, leaning against a tree. “Erde-Maris Prime Directive guidelines dictate that the three of us all go back to the beach and get the hell out of here before anyone else sees us.”
STORY: “Meaning we leave Tueller and Millie.”
STORY: She scratches her nose.
ALEJO: “Good thing we don’t give a shit about the Prime Directive guidelines.” He looks at her gently but scanning her face for signs of resistance. “We’re not leaving anyone behind.”
STORY: “Fuck no we’re not, I quit that job for a reason.” She smiles at the two of you.
STORY: “I don’t feel awesome about letting you take all the risk here, though, Cap.”
ALEJO: He smiles broadly, obviously relieved and delighted by her response. “I’m not taking all the risk. I need you two to get the others and organize a rescue. The three of us will go back, scout the arena, the likely routes from the big house on the hill to the arena, and find the best rescue spot. Then you two will go back, get our crew armed and ready for whatever we need to do. I’ll do my sneaky sneaking and either save us all a lot of trouble or get Tueller and Millie up to speed on the escape plan.”
ALEJO: “One more thing, though, if Aki is right and these people don’t know what’s going on, they are at least sort of innocents in this. Victims even. Let’s try real hard to keep the body count to a minimum.”
STORY: And even as you explain, we see a montage of just that – the three of you sneaking back to the festival, keeping out of sight, stealing clothes off a clothesline to blend in and hide your faces, standing on a hill overlooking the arena as you point out elements of the structure and weak spots to Akilah and Jenny. The two of them nod as you make a plan and they depart, headed back to the beach where the rest of the crew deals with your shipwreck.
STORY: Millie, you are brought to a small building, long and tall, with rows of benches on either side of an aisle. The windows are painted glass, crudely done to depict what you assume are their gods, and the altar in the front holds a large open chest, full to the brim with books. Before the chest stands a tall Aect, leading the parishioners in a chant you don’t recognize.
STORY: The whole area is candlelit and smells of thick incense.
MILLICENT: Millie strolls discreetly, examining the painted glass, trying to suss out their belief structure
STORY: Assessment + Expertise, please
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 10 + 2 = 12
STORY: It’s weird, you can’t make sense of it – not because the painting is poorly done, which it is, but because even so the pantheon doesn’t make any sense. To your left is a god of fire, but on the right there’s another, and a goddess of sunlight. There’s overlap, and the domains don’t even make sense as one complete unit. There’s no goddess of motherhood, that you can see, and the one above the altar appears to be a five-headed dragon god that doesn’t appear anywhere else. Some gods make appearances in the iconography of others, some don’t. Their clothing doesn’t really seem consistent from one image to another. It’s all a hodgepodge.
MILLICENT: Does it get me a Data Point?
MILLICENT: Also, Millie will sit quietly in the chapel, trying to put any of it together
MILLICENT: Listening to the chants
STORY: Oh yeah, you get a Data Point about Escarian religion, though you still can’t make sense of it as a whole, you have absorbed enough to make reasonable passing references.
STORY: What do you do?
MILLICENT: I think I look around for anyone not really into it
STORY: Everyone’s deep in prayer.
MILLICENT: Okay.
STORY: You’ve learned what you can here – the question is what do you do next?
MILLICENT: I think I poke around a little bit. Millie leaves quietly through the back door.
MILLICENT: She’s looking for a dentist or an old wise-woman or a royal magician or basically anyone who would do the duties of a doctor in this day and age
STORY: You head towards the back door and end up in the church’s small library. The door is a few feet away, closed and the blind drawn. Some kind of church layperson stops you. “Miss, thou must join in the prayer, or sit in quiet contemplation.”
MILLICENT: “I do my best praying alone. I’ve made a vow to dedicate my mind to the holy mysteries of the universe. The best dedication I can make to the gods is the gift of mine efforts in that regard. If thou wilt, I will turn my mind toward sober reflections of the beneficence of creation, through the reading of your texts.”
STORY: They nod, and gesture to the shelves next to you.
MILLICENT: Millie tries to find the history section and does her best to research the world they find themselves in
STORY: Every single one of the books on these shelves is a fantasy novel.
STORY: Tueller!
STORY: You’re led into the bathhouse in the basement of the king’s home. There, three bowing handmaidens would very much like to undress and bathe you! What do you do?
TUELLER: “Out. I shall bathe myself. None but the princess shall gaze upon me.”
STORY: They giggle and scurry. You see the Odh that previously scoffed at you laying in a small, steaming pool dug into the floor. He looks up as his handmaiden runs away and glares at you.
STORY: “Must you ruin my bath as well?”
TUELLER: “You’re welcome to fuck off any way you like.”
TUELLER: “If you stay you’ll only be well-scrubbed dragon-food.”
STORY: At this he becomes thoroughly offended, and quickly stands, rising out of the bath, fully nude, flexing at you and stepping towards you.
STORY: “Wouldst thou battle here, knave?”
TUELLER: Tueller has not taken off his armor, btw.
TUELLER: Tueller sucker punches him.
STORY: A fight!
STORY: What’s your goal here?
TUELLER: Knock him the fuck out.
STORY: Okay! That’s a Launch Assault.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 9 + 2 = 11
STORY: God damn.
STORY: All right, tell me how it goes! A nude man is trying to fight you.
TUELLER: He flexes and steps towards Tueller, saying “Woulds thou battle here, knave?” and Tueller drives his right fist right into his face. The ridge of his forehead crinkles from Tueller’s fist, and he collapses to the ground immediately.
TUELLER: Tueller moves him onto the obsidian floor, the puddle of water coming off his body mingling in the blood. Tueller leaves no other mark; just makes him look like he slipped and fell on his face getting out of the tub.
TUELLER: Tueller wipes the yellow blood off his fist.
STORY: All right! You’re in a steamy bath room, alone with an unconscious Odh who is probably going to try to kill you when he wakes up.
STORY: What are you doing?
TUELLER: I’m going to try to sneak out and explore! Looking to avoid running into people for now, and just see more of the palace.
STORY: Leaving your armor on? It is… not stealthy.
TUELLER: Hmmm. Weighing some things here.
TUELLER: Fine. Tueller takes off his armor, and stows it as safely as he can. First, he dips into the bath to wet himself, and then puts back on his undershirt and flannel pants. He leaves all the explosives except for a single grenade, and of course keeps his gloves on.
TUELLER: Tueller feels naked without his armor and doesn’t like it at all.
STORY: There’s a place for your armor in the corner, and you’ve gathered that this culture would consider it Very Bad Manners if anyone touched it.
TUELLER: Tueller goes back to the Odh, and checks to see how unconscious he is.
STORY: Assessment + Expertise!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 2 + 2 = 4
STORY: Oh no.
STORY: Not only is he probably brain-damage-unconscious, he’s choking on the blood coming out of his nose.
TUELLER: Well, shit.
TUELLER: Tueller leaves him there to go exploring.
STORY: You leave him suffocating on his own blood?
TUELLER: Yes.
STORY: All right!
TUELLER: I was going to check on him to make sure he wouldn’t wake up when I rearranged him to drown, so, that works alright for me.
STORY: It occurs to me there’s no morality mechanic in this game.
STORY: Anyway! You set foot outside the bathhouse into a crisp, quiet garden.
STORY: Alejo, you’re alone, night has fallen, and the festival is transitioning into evening entertainments: fire dancers, musicians, and food everywhere. What do you do?
ALEJO: Head through the streets, keeping to the shadows, towards the big house on the hill.
STORY: You pass by Tiffany, squatting over a horse trough and washing her muddy face and hands. She doesn’t notice you.
ALEJO: Alejo approaches cautiously, looking around for anyone else. He’s in a dark cloak, with a deep hood over his head. Once he’s sure it’s clear, he flips the hood down and approaches her. “Hiya Tiffany.”
STORY: She immediately brightens. “Sir Alejo!”
STORY: “Sir Tueller thought I might find thee!”
ALEJO: He bows, but straightens again quickly at this.
STORY: “I apologize for my visage, milord, I am in no state to speak to thee.”
STORY: It really is weird watching this kid speak like this.
ALEJO: Alejo dips his head. “Not at all, Tiffany. You are absolutely fine. Please, you say that you spoke with,” he pauses and cannot help but smile a little, “Sir Tueller? Did he have a message for me?”
STORY: “Yes, milord. He won the melee, and was proceeding along to the king’s home. And that he shall either wed the princess in the morning or be fed to the Dark Lord.”
STORY: “But I am sure that it will be a wedding. Sir Tueller is very brave.”
STORY: “And I have never seen a knight so tall!”
ALEJO: He nods. “He is indeed. Brave. And very tall.”
STORY: She smiles excitedly and nods in agreement.
ALEJO: “Tell me, Tiffany, have you ever been to the big house?” he gestures up towards the house on the hill.
STORY: She nods again. “Once, milord! My brother needed me to wait with the mule when he made a delivery. The gardens are _beautiful.“_
ALEJO: Now he nods excitedly. “I’m sure!” He kneels down, so that he can look at her more squarely. “Tiffany, if I wanted to sneak into the big house, to surprise Sir Tueller, give him my congratulations, do you have any idea how I might get in? I want it to be a real surprise.”
STORY: Hmm, let’s make this a Command roll.
ALEJO: –Influence?
STORY: Yep!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 6 + 2 = 8
STORY: She thinks hard about it, sitting on the edge of the trough.
STORY: “In the holy texts, there was a man who dressed as a guard to gain entry to his love’s dungeon. Hath thou a guard’s uniform?”
STORY: “Or mayhap a noble’s retinue, to pose as a lord?”
STORY: “Or – oh! Perhaps thou could join my brother in his deliveries! I will ask him, one moment, milord!”
STORY: She scurries across the wooden porch of the building behind you and into the blacksmith’s forge.
ALEJO: Alejo brightens. “Thank you, Tiffany.” He says after her.
STORY: A moment later, a young human man, no more than twenty, steps out. Though it’s brisk outside, he is shirtless, in loose pants, his skin shining from sweat. He wipes his forehead with a sooty arm, leaving a dark smudge. “Are you Alejo?”
ALEJO: Alejo bows, respectfully. “And you are?”
STORY: “You don’t look like a noble to me.”
STORY: He leans on the doorframe. “You realize my sister is five years old? What kind of nonsense are you filling her head with?”
STORY: From inside, Tiffany’s voice, “I’ll be six this winter!”
ALEJO: “Nobles come in all shapes and sizes, I suppose. I mean no disrespect to you, your family, or Tiffany. She has been exceptionally kind. I am a stranger to this land, as are my friends. Tiffany was gracious to us.”
ALEJO: He gives Tiffany another nod.
STORY: If you liked looking at men, you would probably like looking at this man. He’s strong without being overly muscular, with hair that flops just so. It is a bit odd that he and his sister are different species, now that you’re having a look at him.
STORY: He uncrosses his arms, beckoning you with a hand. “Come in. I’ve got iron in the fire, I need to work it.”
STORY: And he goes back inside.
ALEJO: Alejo follows, with another glance around the area.
ALEJO: “What are you making?”
ALEJO: Alejo watches him, curiously.
STORY: He pulls a glowing piece of metal out of the fire with a great pair of calipers, then lowers it onto an anvil. “Swords, shields, whatever they ask me for.”
STORY: “Why are you trying to get into the king’s house?”
ALEJO: Alejo sizes him up. “Truth. My friends have been taken there. I need to see them. As I said, we are not from these lands, and they have gotten caught up in something they do not completely understand.”
STORY: “This that knight Tiff’s been talking about all day? The big one who won the melee?”
ALEJO: “It is.”
STORY: He nods, knowingly. “Our traditions are strange. The Dark Lord must be kept sated. I hope for your friend’s sake that Princess Elowyn finds him as impressive as our Tiffany.”
STORY: “So far none have met her standards.”
STORY: He bangs on the ingot, starting to shape it.
ALEJO: Alejo lets him work for a solid minute or two. Then, “Please, you seem a honorable man. All I ask is your help to get in the king’s house. I ask nothing more of you. I just need to see my friends before the ceremony tomorrow.”
STORY: The blacksmith blows air out of his lips for a long moment, watching you.
STORY: Face Adversity + Influence please!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 6 + 2 = 8
STORY: He shakes his head, then grabs a loose tunic off a nearby hook and throws it over his shoulders. “Fine. If anyone asks, we just met, and I offered you two coppers to carry these up the hill.” He lifts a tall, narrow barrel with a dozen swords and places it before you. Attached are two straps.
STORY: “I’m not coming with you, and neither is Tiffany. I don’t need to be tangled up in whatever you’re doing up there.”
STORY: “Tell the guards it’s for the delivery from The Bull. They’ll let you in the door. You figure out the rest.”
ALEJO: “Thank you.” Alejo takes the barrel.
STORY: It’s remarkably heavy. You stagger under the weight.
STORY: He laughs at you. “Need some help, there, milord?” The title is sarcastically delivered.
ALEJO: He bows, which winds up being more of a nod. Then smiles. “I’ll manage. Again, many thanks.”
ALEJO: He turns and leaves, almost immediately regretting the choice to heave these things up the big hill.
STORY: By the time you make it to the hill, you’re sweating and exhausted. You’re Clumsy for the rest of the session, meaning you roll FA + Physique to do any significant physical activity.
STORY: Millie!
STORY: There are like five hundred fantasy novels here, making up this world’s scriptures. What are you doing?
MILLICENT: WOW
MILLICENT: TUELLER
MILLICENT: Okay, I have a few questions first
MILLICENT: One big one: are these books diegetic or non-diegetic?
STORY: Meaning?
MILLICENT: Do the books describe the fantasy world we are in by its residents who apparently believe in its existence, do these books describe the fantasy world we are in by outsiders who are explaining the weird names and concepts, or do these books describe _other_ fantasy worlds?
STORY: Assessment + Expertise please!
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 3 + 2 = 5
STORY: Like the images in the main sanctuary, these books make no sense to you. You flip frantically through a dozen books, finding a reference here or there to things that sound familiar from the images in the sanctuary, but nothing consistent. It could be that these are fictionalized accounts of the beliefs of these people, or that they’re descriptions of other worlds this place is trying to emulate, you can’t figure out any kind of consistent message from them that would explain what’s going on here. You do get particularly engrossed in a story about a mage who willingly bonds with a spirit of justice and does terrorism to the church for keeping his people in chains. In your opinion, he was a huge lame bummer but ultimately right.
STORY: Also, the mage was kinda hot, and he really liked cats
MILLICENT: Sounds like a whiny bitch to me
TUELLER: —So, total fiction.
MILLICENT: Great. Is there a common author?
MILLICENT: Common themes?
MILLICENT: Really, much of any commonality?
STORY: Not only is there no common author or theme, they’re not even all in the same language. Many are in English, but some are in other earth languages and roughly half aren’t even from Sol.
MILLICENT: Okay
MILLICENT: Millie sets her teeth.
MILLICENT: “Okay, fine. We can figure this out.”
MILLICENT: Millie paces the library, such as it is.
MILLICENT: “The biggest question is, is this bullshit?”
MILLICENT: Talking to herself
MILLICENT: “So, two ways to go here. Find someone who has to have spent their life on this or beat someone until they talk.”
MILLICENT: Since Tueller is elsewhere, Millie finds a blacksmith
STORY: How do you leave the chapel?
MILLICENT: Quietly
STORY: Let’s have a Face Adversity + Mettle to see if you can sneak out.
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 1
STORY: josh rolled 7 + 1 = 8
STORY: Okay. You think you can slip out the back door, but only if you cause some kind of distraction first.
MILLICENT: Great!
MILLICENT: Millie lines up a half dozen thuribles from sconces and book cases
MILLICENT: She hooks one over a sconce and pulls it up to a horizontal position, letting it swing down its chain length and knock the next one, then the next, then the next.
MILLICENT: A medieval executive’s desk toy
STORY: The man who stopped you before is fascinated with this. “What do you call this?”
TUELLER: —You’re introducing Newton to these savages???
MILLICENT: “Magic.”
MILLICENT: As he stands entranced, Millie ducks out the back
STORY: You _shock_ this person.
STORY: He looks to the priest and rushes that-a-way as you slip out the back door into a crisp, quiet garden, backing up as you slide the door closed.
STORY: Tueller, Millie steps on your foot.
TUELLER: “Sup.”
MILLICENT: “Alack, my lord, your giant stupid boots hath oh hi.”
TUELLER: (Bare feet)
MILLICENT: “Where are your giant stupid boots?”
TUELLER: “Keep your voice down. We are sneaking, and damascium clangs a bit more than I’d like.”
TUELLER: Tueller’s voice is low.
MILLICENT: “Oh, fair.”
TUELLER: “Having a nice time so far?”
MILLICENT: “No, it’s very frustrating. It’s like a medieval world designed by a simpleton. The details are all wrong. I think we should beat someone into revealing whether this is bullshit or find a blacksmith.”
TUELLER: Tueller moves us so we’re as unobtrusive in the garden as possible.
TUELLER: “Why a blacksmith?”
MILLICENT: “If they’re shit, I’ll know. It takes a very long time to make a good blacksmith.”
MILLICENT: “And if they’re weekenders, they’ll be shit.”
STORY: Tueller, Millie, you hear an alarmed and upset cry from a nearby door. Tueller, it’s the door you came from, and those are handmaidens reacting to what they found inside.
TUELLER: “We should move on from here. If there is a palace blacksmith, they’d likely be in a complex on the side of the palace.”
TUELLER: “Some place the smoke can dissipate. Probably that direction, is my best guess.”
TUELLER: Tueller points across from the garden.
TUELLER: And starts leading Millie that way.
MILLICENT: Millie nods, starts looking for smoke in the air as she goes
STORY: Assessment + Mettle, one of you!
TUELLER: “My companion didn’t like me. The old knight from the tent. I left him be.”
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 10 + 1 = 11
TUELLER: —Sorry, Millie, Tueller will tell you he murdered a guy later. You have no game if we’re interrogated, though.
MILLICENT: “There’s screaming back there, did you leave him be in pieces?”
STORY: You quickly find a smoke trail across the way, though it looks like it’s outside the palace grounds.
TUELLER: “He was upset. And a dick. I’ve no idea what he could have gotten up to.”
MILLICENT: “Of course.”
STORY: Also, a Data Point around Escarian architecture!
TUELLER: “I should probably not leave the palace grounds, though. I might sabotage my shot at the princess.”
MILLICENT: “That lands us on interrogating a local.”
MILLICENT: Millie looks around for a local
TUELLER: “I should go back and see what the uproar is soon. So let’s hustle.”
TUELLER: Tueller guides her towards the smoke.
STORY: Alejo, you’re at the front door, facing a pair of guards. What do you do?
ALEJO: Alejo musters his strength, wipes away the sweat, flips the hood of his cloak up and over his head and then approaches. “Evenin’!” He’s adopted a slightly different tone and pace to his voice, just for good measure. “Got a delivery here from The Bull.”
STORY: They glance at each other. Let’s have a FA + Influence for this whole gambit.
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 9 + 2 = 11
STORY: All right! You’re nodded through, pointed down to the armory, and you make your delivery and get paid. The guards assume you’ll make your way out.
STORY: You’re alone in the house, which is something between a mansion and a castle. What do you do?
ALEJO: Slip into the shadowy parts and start exploring. I’m trying to create a mental map of the best possible exits and escape routes, how many guards there are and where, and the best places to head in case of a chase. But mostly, I’m looking for where Millie and Tueller might be.
STORY: Assessment + Mettle!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 8 + 2 = 10
STORY: You move silently through the compound, dodging a few guards in close calls and avoiding notice by any of the house staff. You sort out a pretty good mental map of the place, and are generally comfortable moving through the hallways within minutes. You gain a Data Point about the layout of the king’s house.
STORY: You hear a guard approaching with a chambermaid, the two of them giggling as they turn the corner looking for a place to hide, and slip into a small chamber, keeping an eye on the two of them as you do. Turns out, you were too comfortable, and you hear an “Oi!” barked out from just behind you.
ALEJO: Alejo pauses. Then turns.
STORY: You look into the black eye of the guard you sucker punched earlier, and his face quickly twists up into an angry rictus as he rears back and sucker punches you right back.
STORY: You feel your lip split as this guard gives you no choice but to scuffle. Face Adversity + Physique please!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: ablair01 rolled 10 + 1 = 11
STORY: All right! You struggle with the guard for a few panicky moments, remembering martial arts training from a decade ago as you lock your leg behind his knee and roll him to the ground, knocking his head on a chair on the way down. By the time you both hit the floor, he’s out cold.
STORY: — you’ve got the split lip… but whence the black eye
STORY: The entire battle was fifteen, maybe twenty seconds. You breathe as quietly as possible, listening for the sound of more guards approaching. None come.
STORY: What now?
ALEJO: Where’s the chambermaid?
STORY: She’s in the room you just left with that guard! The sucker punched guard was in a room you thought was empty.
ALEJO: Alejo quickly shuffles to his feet, drags the guard to the nearest spot where he can tie him up and hide him, then slips off his outer guard garments and puts them on.
STORY: It’s done within a minute, and no one comes by. You’re still alone.
STORY: You can hear the guard and his chambermaid giggling and rustling just around the corner.
STORY: Tueller, Millie: there’s a young gardener you’ve been avoiding the notice of just behind the spot you left!
TUELLER: “Oh hi!”
TUELLER: Tueller pushes Millie forward.
TUELLER: “Hail and well-met fellah.”
MILLICENT: “Greetings, young steward of the green.”
STORY: He looks up at the two of you. “H-hail?”
TUELLER: “Shall we compare a summers day to thee?”
MILLICENT: “I say, have you seen it roaming around here?”
MILLICENT: Millie elbows Tueller.
STORY: He looks around. “Seen what, milady?”
MILLICENT: “The mighty updog.”
TUELLER: Tueller closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.
STORY: He looks confused. “I know of no such dog, milady. Perhaps you are seeking the kennel master?”
MILLICENT: Millie gives Tueller the sign
MILLICENT: “Oh, we didn’t discuss this part.”
MILLICENT: “Hit him and drag him somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
MILLICENT: “That’s what the sign meant.”
TUELLER: “How about you ask him questions instead?”
STORY: He gasps and his eyes widen as he runs away.
MILLICENT: “This is why I gave you the sign.”
STORY: “GUARDS!”
MILLICENT: “This exact reason.”
TUELLER: “Millie for christ’s sake, why didn’t you just talk to him?”
STORY: He runs through an open door, his voice getting dimmer as he flees and calls for the guards.
MILLICENT: “You could have hit him at any point there, he was done talking to us after I asked you to hit him.”
MILLICENT: “When did you develop this sudden allergy to hitting people?”
TUELLER: “Because we were looking for someone talk to!”
MILLICENT: “You hit a guy back there so hard people are screaming when they found him.”
TUELLER: “I did, but you’re not supposed to know that.”
MILLICENT: “Now it’s, “No, I couldn’t possibly silence the gardener.”
MILLICENT: “You’re all over the place tonight.”
TUELLER: “I wanted you to talk to the fucking gardener! About gardening!”
STORY: Three guards arrive as the two of you argue, spears in hand.
TUELLER: “Or blacksmithing!”
MILLICENT: “Well, fetch him back and we’ll talk about compost.”
STORY: The one in front looks nervous, particularly about the fact that neither of you are doing much to acknowledge him.
STORY: “Y-you!”
TUELLER: “Put your spears away and go back to your posts! As Escarian champion, the gardener got spooked and fled like a common fool!”
TUELLER: Tueller raises himself up as imposingly as he possibly can.
MILLICENT: “Oh look, it’s the heat.”
STORY: Let’s have a FA + Influence to see how much they buy this.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 3
TUELLER: We are all over the map here.
STORY: How is this even happening with you two tonight.
TUELLER: Well, on either the top or bottom of the map.
TUELLER: We have not spent any time in the middle of the map.
STORY: The guards strengthen their resolve and lower their spears toward you. “Champion or no, you have menaced our gardener! Come with us to appear before King Stanton.”
MILLICENT: “The gardener receives this esteem?”
MILLICENT: “I tell you, noble soldiers, you over-reach.”
MILLICENT: “Send you one of yours to the chapel, find the amaz-ed chaplain and brings us all to the king. Tell him to expect the unbeaten champion of his tournament and a wizard beyond his wise men’s ken.”
MILLICENT: “It is time we introduce ourselves.”
STORY: They look at each other. The one in front shouts. “Enough of this talk! Come with us, now! You will stand before the king for… his judgment.”
STORY: The one on the left mutters, “’Swhat she said, Morrin.”
MILLICENT: Slowly, “Fetch. The. Chaplain. Too.”
STORY: Morrin regrips the spear, hissing back to the one on the left. “Then _you_ get the godsforsaken chaplain, Trevor.”
STORY: “Think you’re so smart.”
STORY: “You two! Come on, and no funny business.”
STORY: Do you go with the guards?
MILLICENT: Millie nods to Tueller and follows the guards.
TUELLER: Tueller goes with Millie, then.
TUELLER: “You could have at least _tried_ to talk to the gardener,” under his breath to her.
MILLICENT: “You could have tried to hit him.”
MILLICENT: “Like you’re too good to hit a gardener all of a sudden.”
TUELLER: “How are we going to find out anything about this place if I knock everyone unconscious? Or worse?”
STORY: Alejo, what do you do?
ALEJO: He adjusts the belt and scabbard, which feels just plain awkward, and then heads back into the hall. He moves quietly, still trying to avoid unnecessary contact, but he’s no longer hiding.
ALEJO: He’s now more urgently looking for Tueller and Millie.
STORY: The moment you step out, the adventure of the libidinous guard and his chambermaid spills out of their hiding place and directly into your doorway. A stray elbow nails you in the eye, knocking you back, as the two of them back into the room you were trying to leave. The three of you fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs and undergarments. The woman shouts in alarm, and the guard looks up drunkenly at you. “Wh–”
STORY: “You!”
STORY: There’s no look of recognition, just anger at his being interrupted. His vest lays open, tunic untied, and the maid shrieks as she realizes she has been discovered. You hear rushed footfalls from at least two people coming your way.
STORY: What do you do?
STORY: The chambermaid busies herself trying to get her skirts back in order. The drunken guard simply points angrily at you and tries to stagger back to his feet.
ALEJO: Alejo helps them up. “Go,” he says to her kindly but firmly. Alejo puts his arm under the drunken guard. “Yup, it’s me mate.” He prepares for the arrival of the people coming his way.
STORY: Her eyes widen with understanding and she rushes out the door before three more guards arrive. They take in the scene with the two of you. The tallest, an Aect who stands rigidly, points at the two of you. “What’s going on here?”
STORY: The drunken guard points at you even as he puts most of his weight on you. “This one attacked me!”
STORY: The three guards look skeptically at him. The one on the back says, “I can smell the wine on you from back here, Alder.”
ALEJO: Alejo is propping him up. He looks to the Aect and shrugs. “Sorry, sir,” he says meekly.
STORY: The Aect nods understandingly. “Who are you, again?”
ALEJO: “Drake, sir.”
STORY: “Drake. Come on, and bring Alder. This is it for you, Alder. I told you one more slip up and you’d be before the king.” He turns around and starts down a hallway.
STORY: Your eye stings. It’s gonna leave a mark.
ALEJO: Alejo obeys and leads Alder along.
STORY: The three of you make your way to the throne room, where the Aect leads the way, stepping inside and kneeling before the king. He’s just about to turn and speak to the three of you when there’s a kerfuffle behind you. As you start to turn, the Aect hisses. “Eyes front, soldier!”
STORY: And consequently you miss the arrival of the people being led before the king.
STORY: Tueller and Millie, you’re led at spearpoint through the kitchens, where the gardener ran, and up the stairs to the main hall. Before it sits a throne, occupied by a lavishly adorned, pink-skinned humanoid man in his thirties. He nods at the guards as they enter and beckons you forward to where he is addressing other followers. “Kneel.” He points next to the figures currently kneeling before him.
STORY:
MILLICENT: Millie gives a florid bow
TUELLER: Tueller goes and kneels.
MILLICENT: Ending in a kneel
TUELLER: A respectful kneel.
MILLICENT: A florid kneel
TUELLER: But one Tueller can jump up from if necessary.
STORY: Alejo, as they join you in kneeling before his throne, you realize the towering, familiar-smelling man next to you is your first mate. Tueller, you hit the ground first, and the man on the left of the currently kneeling group looks up at you. It’s Alejo, with a black eye and a bloodied lip.
ALEJO: “Oh, hey Tueller.”