by Daniel Heck
You find him in a corner, gabbing with two women at once. You close to within a few inches of his face. The women nearly spill their drinks.
“Explain yourself,” you demand.
Stephano chuckles, “Must you make a scene? I told you what I would do for you, but can it not wait after all?”
“Not that.” You emphasize the ‘that’.
“Very well,” he says grimly, setting his tankard upon a nearby table. “But not here. Come with me.”
He leads you through an archway and out into the royal courtyard, then turns toward a weedy section of garden unviewable through any windows. A mental alarm goes off within you.
“What did you hear?”
“All,” you reply.
“Then I am sorry for these actions.” At that, he rushes you. You ready your sun talisman, but Stephano spears your midsection just as you begin to focus, and the shot goes wide. Your bones crunch against the hard soil, and you shout. Only then you do realize that you are probably out of earshot from those who could save you.
As he is a much larger man than you, Stephano keeps you pinned even as you struggle mightily. He slugs you in the jaw. Pain ripples through your skull, stunning you long enough for him to wrap both mitts around your throat. The oxygen in your system runs short, your vision lightens and your head swims as you silently admit just how much you underestimated his strength.
“May the Arcanites reward me for ending your pitiful existence,” you hear, just before everything goes black.
Go back to the previous choice, or start again.
You follow through on what seems like a natural connection.
You say to Darlayne, “Shall we see if we can calm it or get it to move out of the way? You can speak with animals, yes?”
The tracker crosses her arms. “That is a blatant misperception of the ranger community, perpetuated by decades of inane schoolyard lore.”
Titania reels and pauses, then sticks a finger in Darlayne’s face. “I’ll tell you something, miss. I used to be an educator in Sungaze before earning a prominent leadership role there. I happen to know, without doubt, that what I taught my pupils came from trusted sources. We even had one of your comrades come and speak to them about his experiences in the woods.”
Darlyane retorts, “Somehow I doubt that he or she had the time or the flexibility to…”
You intervene, “Can we avoid this bickering, if you please? It accomplishes little.”
Both women roll their eyes at you, but back away a little from each other. You continue, “Darlayne, surely you possess some sort of knowledge pertaining to non-verbal cues, or to what this creature might be saying in some general sense? More than a simple priest such as myself might have?”
Titania blurts, “Either that, or she’s a fraud and a tainted harlot, as I suspected from the beginning!”
Darlayne gasps. “You did not just say that!”
“Yes, I did.”
A tear starts to well in the tracker’s eye. She turns her back on the rest of you, an action Titania mimics.
This mediator, you reflect with disdain, is going a solid oh-fer-two on the day.
More importantly, since you’re the only one left willing to cooperate…
Give it a try yourself.
You push harder and concentrate even more intensely, blocking out every possible external stimulus. Sweat gathers on your forehead and drips into your eyes as you request:
I need more. Which dragon possesses this hoard? Where can I find it? Is there a way to…
A backwash of magical energy flows into you, and you lose all control. Something in your brain stem snaps, as if an invisible force throws a switch with a violent lurch. Titania reaches out, but you barely see what’s happening, as your eyes roll back in your head, your limbs splay in wild disarray, and your entire body convulses with madness.
Through tears, your lover opens the door and calls into the streets for help. Soon, you’re surrounded by three strong men who, while trying to remain calm and gentle, sometimes employ force just to get you to stop moving around. When you start clawing at your face, they tie you with rope for your own safety. You emit a high-pitched yowl, followed by several guttural syllables of nonsense.
They haul you to the medical ward, where, to the tune of ultimate irony, the staff bind you to the same bed that your missing godfather once occupied. Upon consultation with magical professionals, Titania learns that the duration of this kind of problem can vary immensely from case to case; you could return to normal after a few weeks, or maybe not for entire years.
Either way, as hallucinations dance within your vision and your ears ring with nonexistent pipe music, you’re able to occasionally string together a coherent thought, which repeats itself in ever-deepening tones:
Thomerion shall prevail…
Thomerion shall prevail…
Go back to the previous choice, or start again.
“No one ever said helping others was for the weak,” you preach, “so I’m going in.”
Titania says, “Be careful.”
She watches as you burst through the doors. True to your ears, the fight involves almost a half-dozen orcbloods, although one large human makes his presence more than known. Only through reflex do you duck a sucker punch, and thereafter you get tangled in a mess of limbs and pushed halfway over the top of a table. The innkeeper shouts over the din and more blows land on various bodies as you lay sprawled there, waiting for the huge creature pinning you to move.
May the gods help these cretins!
You twist away and straighten up once again, only to get drenched by a mugful of ale. As your face and chest drip pitifully, you hear gales of hearty laughter from an orcblood, which promptly end when he gets socked in the jaw. “Shut your face!” shouts another brute.
Enough.
You wipe your eyes, retrieve your sun talisman and point it toward the roof. Concentrating as best you can, you focus energy into the item, and white light blasts forth from it in a wide radius, causing several in the room to shield their eyes and stunning others into paying attention.
“This ends now!” you shout.
The action halts dead. Everyone stares at you for a few awkward moments. Then, the troublemakers glance about, grunt or mumble a few words, and slowly disperse. You think you hear one apologize to the innkeeper and arrange to pay for damages before he leaves.
One orcblood, smaller than the rest, remains sitting in a corner. You almost wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t shuffled his feet in an obvious attempt to elicit pity. Now that you do, however, you close the distance in a hurry, as blood trickles from a large gash in his forehead into his eyes.
You kneel beside him and hold your hand a couple inches above the wound. Channeling a halo of healing magic, you watch as the gash closes. The orcblood smiles a toothy grin.
“Would you like help up?”
“No,” he grunts. “I fine.”
His knee pops as he stands, and he flexes his arms and knuckles. He takes a kerchief from his vest pocket and dabs away some of the mess.
“But,” he continues, “thank you.”
“What’s your name?” you ask.
“Galumnuk.”
“What happened here, Galumnuk?”
“I just waiting for woman, when stupid drunk stranger start insulting others. Get out of control fast. He been in here before, never know when to quit.”
You arch an eyebrow. “You weren’t also drinking?”
“Galumnuk hate taste of alcohol.”
You laugh out loud. Nowhere in Ambrosinia have you heard such a surprise.
“Did your date ever show?”
He hangs his head. “No.”
You smirk and pat his shoulder, taking care not to poke yourself on his spiked armor pads.
“I can’t imagine why not. Titania,” you call out, “it’s safe now.”
She pokes her head through the door and scans the spilled fluids and toppled furniture.
“What a mess,” she grumbles. “Are you both all right?”
“I am fine,” you say, “This is Galumnuk. Galumnuk, meet Titania Vermouth.”
He shakes her hand in both of his, and bows his head. She half-smiles, a little taken aback by his unusual grace. “Happy to meet you,” she replies.
“What you two in town for?” the orcblood asks.
“Do you know Katalina, the fortune-teller, perchance?”
He grunts and crosses his arms. “That fraud? She rip off Galumnuk, take gold and spread lies.”
You and Titania exchange dubious glances.
“You no need her,” he continues, “I lead you to what you need. Besides, Galumnuk want to help, after you helped.”
“That’s very valiant of you to offer,” Titania says kindly, “but we’re investigating some strange visions that have to do with Thomerion.”
“All the better. Come.” The orcblood saunters further into the inn.
Titania looks to you for approval. Wary but willing, and figuring this is at worst a minor distraction, you shrug and beckon her onward. You follow Galumnuk to a small chamber, then wait patiently as he retrieves a key and unlocks the door. He offers you seats at a small table and nudges a tray of appetizers thereupon in your direction. You decline. Titania reaches for and starts to nibble on a bit of goat cheese.
Galumnuk leans against a wall, his tone casual as he speaks, “Six years ago, I fight for Koraxon. When church of Thomerion join with Koraxon, things started changing. Visions, you say? Sound familiar. I have brother who have them too.”
You raise an eyebrow. Titania leans forward, in rapt attention.
“An old friend,” you explain, “suffered from the seal of Thomerion and an accompanying disease at that time. Did your brother as well?”
Galumnuk scratches his head and thinks briefly.
“No.”
You slump, confused.
“May not matter,” Galumnuk says, “For visions are sign. After all, Thomerion people treat their own as badly as they do others. This why Galumnuk left alliance, and Koraxon.”
Titania asks, “What did you learn while working for them?”
“Near end of conscription, just before I leave, friend recruit me into Arcanites.”
“Arcanites?” you ask. “Who are they?”
“Galumnuk not know much. They secret group of wizards, strong in mind but weak in body. Wanted bodyguards. Seemed to plan something big, something dangerous.”
You frown, concerned.
“So dangerous… that even Koraxon government now want nothing to do with them. I heard they sending envoy to Ambrosinia, to propose alliance.”
This nearly sends you falling from your chair. The two countries have been odds at with each other since well before you were born.
“We need to talk to that person,” you postulate, “even if only to learn more.”
“Or….” Titania offers, “we can investigate the Arcanites themselves, and get to the root of the problem.”
“Galumnuk know where their headquarters is,” the orcblood says.
“And you didn’t report this to any authority before now?” you ask.
“Would risk head, to gain what? To help brother? Until now, Galumnuk not think he have anything to do with them. But with your help, I brave. We find solution, together.” The orcblood pounds his chest.
“I still think,” you say, “that this deserves further deliberation.”
Where does the group go next?
We intercept the envoy.
We infiltrate the Arcanites.
“Tavern brawls are bound to happen every now and again,” you comment, “but perhaps those involved can handle themselves well enough.”
Titania nods with force.
You wait for a minute, until finally the commotion fades.
New shouts ring through the entryway, and a gang of orcbloods pour, or stumble, out into the open. Some hold their heads as they bleed into their eyes, while others seem merely discombobulated. One bolts into a nearby alley and pukes forcibly. None are in proper shape to do anything but go to their homes and rest.
A middle-aged human planks himself near the doors, stomps his feet and shakes his fist.
“You cretins are lucky I’m not having you arrested! By the gods, get out of here!”
You and Titania try to sneak past the throng to reserve a room, and get to within a few yards of the innkeeper, but he dismisses you with a brusque wave.
“We’re closed,” he harrumphs, “I simply can’t take any more of this ruckus today…”
“But,” you object, “we’re only here to…”
He has already turned his back and gone inside, stooping over to clean up an apparent mess.
You consult Titania. Disappointed but not discouraged, she notes the pleasant weather and proposes that you set up camp near the shorefront. The morning comes faster than you anticipated, and you stretch, ready and eager to find Katalina.
A fortune waits to be told.
“Where may we find you, should we ascertain the fee in the meantime?” you ask Stephano.
“I am scheduled to meet a friend at the stables in the early afternoon tomorrow. Find me there.”
You let him fly away, then turn to Titania.
“We may as well have as much fun as possible while trying to win some money...” you offer.
“The comedy competition?” your lover concurs, excitement tinging her voice. You snicker, nod and shrug.
“Superb! I have a new gimmick I’ve been waiting to try on just the right audience. Picture this,” Titania says with a grand gesture. She pauses dramatically… “Who’s on first watch. What’s on second. I don’t know is on third.”
You squint and scratch your head. A long moment passes while Titania encourages you to ‘get it,’ but she eventually exhales in frustration.
“See, the main actor sets up the joke, then the comedian gets confused because ‘Who’ and ‘What’ are the actual names, not questions.”
You cross your arms. “If you have to explain it, then it’s probably not going to come across as being very funny.”
“Just trust me.”
As she explains the concept further and you begin practicing in earnest, it becomes clear that you will either need to be comfortable not cracking a single snicker during the entire performance, or instead must keep up with the difficult demands of precise comic timing.
Which role do you play?
I set up the jokes as the ‘straight man.’
I execute the punch lines as a comedic powerhouse.
“How shall we reach the northern isles?” you ask.
“Let’s start by asking around the capital for help,” Titania says.
Together you travel to Whitetail’s popular Pig’s Foot Inn and Tavern. The barkeep, a stout, red-haired woman, sees the concern in your eyes right away. She steps out from behind the counter with arms extended.
“Bartleby, my friend,” she proclaims, patting your cheeks.
“Hello, Josephine,” you reply as you smile and blush a little.
You explain your need in no uncertain terms, while withholding the possibility of the demonic gate.
“Goodness,” Josephine says as she scratches her head. “It makes a person wonder why anyone would go up there, but I won’t pry. My best guess as to how would involve flight.”
“Flight?”
She nods. “Have you heard of the Shieldwings?”
You and Titania exchange glances. “We have not.”
“They’re an independent militia, and their specialty is taming and riding gryphons. They don’t often associate with the public, but they’ll be appearing at the Spring Festival just a handful of days from now. Perhaps they'd take you where you want to go.”
“Now, just wait a tootin’ minute!”
The voice came from a nearby man, with heavy chin stubble but light clothing. He stands, approaches and shoves a finger in your face.
“You bes
t not be messin’ with them paladins,” he croaks. “Stuck-up charlatans. On the other hand, I’ve got a crew braving the choppy weather by heading that way tomorrow.”
What do you do?
We hitch a ride with the sailor.
We wait for the Shieldwings.
You approach the sailor, negotiate for a short while, and shake his hand in agreement that he won’t charge for the trip, so long as you help him and his crew gather water from the isles. You conveniently omit the knowledge that you’ll need to confront a dangerous yeti, probably waiting to tear your heads off.
You return to your house, filled with cautious confidence. That night, fits of discomfort wrack your sleep, but you do not dream. You feel a tug at your shoulder; Titania gently wakes you. Darkness pervades your room, as it is not yet dawn.
You rub your eyes and sit up. “Anxious to get going, are we?” you mumble.
“Beauty rest is overrated,” she says.
After some preparations and a simple breakfast, you meet the sailor and his crew near the marble fountain in the town square. Only there do you realize that he’s not paying for horses. The trip to Sungaze, where his ship is docked, will take nearly twice as long as you’d originally hoped. You offer to hire mounts, but he ignores you completely.
Any benefit compared to waiting until the festival is now cancelled out, you reflect. Yet, an agreement is an agreement.
The extra time lends itself to conversation. You and Titania purposely lag behind the others, just out of earshot.
“So, my dear,” she begins, “under the circumstances, I’m reminded of a question I’ve long been holding onto, but never been able to ask.”
You cock your head, intrigued. “Ask away.”
She speaks in a tone of heightened drama. “What… is the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”
