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Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Henri followed the trail of blood, bodies, and debris that started at the unguarded large door, hanging ajar at the end of a disused looking alleyway, then moved further in. Another door hung ajar, this one made of sturdy iron. There were two dead bodies inside-- clearly slaves, given the leg irons-- who had been killed by some kind of sharp weapon. One had a nasty wound to the center of its head, and another had bled out on the floor from a nasty gash through its neck. Many empty cages and leg irons remained, either sprung open, or laying chained to the wall, but unshackled.
He followed the trail of carnage with his eyes, and out another door to the side, where he saw familiar faces, and the sounds of a jeering crowd. What was this, some kind of arena?

The realization that he had come here with no weapons at all irritated him, and made him seethe. He looked at the slaves in the pen again. His anger only got worse. Who in their right mind murders innocent people like that? Angrily, he touched the iron of their bondings and chains, willing them to come unraveled, then form a pool of red hot 'goo' at his feet, along with the door, then willed it into a new shape to go with the kite shield he had over his back: A rather large, and frightening double bladed broad axe, with deep beards.

His eyes glowed a dull red from the combination of using his powers and being angry enough to rip this place down himself. If this was Jazdia's work, he would have choice words with her about this.

Another door, with the peep window opened, was near to the one that had been left ajar, unopened. He could feel magic subtly humming inside, but not from the walls. He rocked up on the balls of his boots, and looked through the slit. A very young girl was inside, chained up, with her head tilted to the side, extolling a drug-dazed expresion from behind a blindfold into the otherwise empty room. Further, enraged, he considered his options. Trying to save her now would cost valuable time-- He wondered if that was why the group had not released her-- but the corpses in the prior room still bothered him. Perhaps it was GOOD that the door had not been opened?

A loud baritone voice like a pit-boss announcer bellowed from the empty hallway.

"There she is! Fiesty lady and her companions! Welcome! Welcome. I see that you are very eager to start! A shame that you are a bit late! Today's match should have been done-and-done! We had seen plundering! Crazy battles! Tight escapes and desperate chases! But fret not! It seems the fight is far from over Ladies and Gentlemen."

FUCK. There was not any time left, it looked like those bumbling fools had gotten themselves ensnared in the arena-- He closed on the gate at the end of the hall. The portcullis gate had slammed down, but it lifted easily. A quick examination showed that the locks had been destroyed. What the fuck? Were they in there ON PURPOSE?

He didn't give a shit, he would get his answers soon enough. Shouldering the still blistering hot axe over his shoulder, where it sent small tendrils of smoke from contact with his coat, he stomped toward the open arena door.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!" he demanded angrily as he stormed in, the gate crashing down again behind him. He felt an odd tingle as he passed through the doorway, which sent a momentary flutter through his core....

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Henri left the constabulary office of the Delving estate, with the crates of aged liquor in tow. He HAD intended to sell them for a tidy profit, but the lack of leads on where to meet his associates had left him with a different use for the aged liquor products.

Starting a circular path from the city's edge, around its perimeter, then moving inward on each pass, he would eventually cover the entire city. If somebody was foolish enough to try and jump him for his cargo, they would certainly regret it, and most likely, not live to tell about it. Thankfully, this proved to not be the case.

The plan was simple-- Ask about the one thing he knew about with certainty. A young elf woman with blue eyes, and prematurely graying blonde hair, who was a retired adventurer, and was connected with the events at the mausoleum earlier that day, going by the name of "Jazdia." Public houses were a likely good place to dig for such a lead, as drunken men were often quite eager to part with what they knew-- or thought they knew-- in exchange for yet another round. In the cases where the patrons were probably not suitable to ask, the proprietor of the establishment could likely be 'convinced' to part with what they knew for the right price. Given the extreme age of the liquor he was hauling-- and thus worth a small fortune for each bottle-- such persons would likely talk once they saw the contents.

Nearly every place he went to either had no useful leads, incoherent or inconsistent information, or knew nothing at all, much to his frustration. The sun was very red and low in the sky by the time he sauntered into sight of the Black Swan-- a mixed class 'dive', from what he could tell-- and showing signs of many drunken brawls, openly displayed gambling, and even more shameless displays of public drunkenness. He initially just milled about within the establishment, tuning his hearing for any and all of the latest gossip. Apparently, 3 men were enraged about a 'rat of a nobleman' who had cheated them at cards. Others were furtively questioning if the perp had gone off with the part owner of The Angel's Share, and some even questioned if she had been involved in the disturbance at the royal mausoleum later that day. Rather than risk causing a brawl over high priced liquor, he had taken the time to unbox a single bottle of the fine "Delving Family" whiskey, and secreted it in the deep inner pocket of his coat before entering. After a 'discrete' conversation and exchange with the owner, he finally got a solid lead on where Jazdia might be. A rather posh and prim little flophouse near the city's central square, called "The Angel's Share." Apparently, she was an "Angel Investor", who had bought into the nearly insolvent business, and had started enacting changes that were not very welcome at the Swan, as it had started drawing away some of the Swan's customers. Henri thanked the man, and exchanged him the agreed to bottle of prize liquor as payment, then headed out into the street, to make for the city's center. He remembered thinking that he had recognized her, since he owned property in that neighborhood, and he kicked himself for not acting on the hunch sooner.

The sun had already set by the time he left the Swan, but he hoped that perhaps he could catch up to the other team there, if they had stayed for the night. If she was a partial owner of the establishment, it would make sense for her to board her crew there, and avoid paying and having room ledger paperwork that could be confiscated and investigated by corrupt officials.

He had made it about halfway down the nearest avenue leading toward the square, when a loud explosion rocked the streets, followed by furtive cries and screaming. Ducking into an alleyway, and temporarily hiding his burdens there, he carefully climbed up the wall and onto the nearest building to get a good view of the city's rooftops. Fire could be seen clearly in the gloom of the skyline at night, and shortly thereafter, another explosion, and finger of orange glare popped up quite some distance away... Then a third.

This was a highly irregular series of events, and with the city locked down, the odds of it being somehow connected with the abduction of the prince and the failed assassination of King Frederick, seemed more than just "highly probable." Sliding down the wall with a loud scraping, and landing with a cross between a thud and a clang, he threw his coat over the hidden chests to hide them further, then skated as quickly as he could to the site of the nearest explosion.

The city guard was all over it like flies on a dead horse, as were the fire brigade, and several angry but well dressed men with stern, stony, and scowling faces. They had gathered at the demarcation line set by the guard commanders and the fire brigades to keep townsfolk and gawkers out of the scene, while the buildings were extinguished and investigated. Henri made discrete inquiries with the guards about the attacks, who owned the warehouse, and what was stored there.

He discretely left the scene of the first warehouse, then once more hightailed it to the next-- repeating his discrete investigatory inquiries, then moved on to the third.

Nothing seemed to indicate a real motive, but a pattern in ownership did present itself. All of the warehouses belonged to a group known locally as "The Black Serpent Guild". They apparently dealt with just about any and all classes of merchandise, in addition to a number of shady and ethically dubious services, but sufficiently 'above board' to be able to operate in the open. The cause of the explosions were believed to be foul play, as none of the warehouses really contained explosive materials that could spontaneously detonate, but many did contain flammable trade goods, such as wax, bottled oil, and bundled fabric yardgoods. No evidence of how the warehouses were bombed was readily apparent to the initial investigators however. Whoever was responsible, had chosen a very discrete method, but the police lieutenant believed there was magic involved, due to the lack of material evidence.

It was well into the earliest hours of the morning by this time, and he was furious that he had essentially wasted hours of precious time chasing after a particularly elusive goose. He returned to the alleyway where he had hidden the cache of old booze, recollected his coat, then headed for The Angel's Share.

It was well into the morning by the time he arrived. While the owner, A gentleman named "Lucas" with more pomp and posh than a man should ever display in public without a license, acknowledged that Jazdia was a partial owner, and had roomed guests for the night, he had no knowledge of where she had gone. Only that she had done so with some degree of practiced expediency, and was expected to return. Henri was pleased that at least she would return here later, and asked the man if he could secure the old, moss-eaten trunks he was carrying. The man initially behaved as if Henri were a deranged beggar man with such a request, but quickly changed his tune after learning of the trunk's contents, and examining them himself. He staunchly refused to hold the merchandise, asserting he would not be responsible for holding stolen goods. Irritably, Henri left the establishment, and secreted the trunks at his own private residence nearby.

Shoppers, merchants, haulers and tradesmen had already taken to the streets and stalls long before, so he took the time to ask about the most conspicuous among them-- the disgustingly overdressed foreign warrior, "Chounan." With smiles and generally pointed fingers, the booth and stall merchants pointed him down the road his quarry had taken, and he moved with haste and purpose.

It did not take too much more time, before he came within earshot of yelling, screaming, and the clashing of weapons. Pausing for a moment, he was SURE he recognized some of the voices.

Gathering up the front of his jacket, he skated as fast as was realistically possible over the uneven cobblestones of the street, and toward the source of the disturbance...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar was a bit perturbed by the sudden and brisk desire Matilda had to pack up and move. While this was a rather odorous location, it was also sheltered and defensible. Not every floor was stinky, and in general, it was quite serviceable.

Also, he hadn't finished repairing the tack yet. What, did she want to just abandon this much kit? Leave the horses to starve to death in the winter? Those horses didn't know how to survive in the wild, they were domestic beasts. It would be a slow and debilitating death for them.

But he also did not want to go back to the dungeon, and she really was his only reason for being out of it. Nobody seemed all that interested in a person like him-- aside from negative interest that was. He had been warned about this from his dad, and had felt the sting of it a bit in town, but his stint in the dungeon was like nothing he had ever encountered. The sounds of the inquisitor 'questioning' people still haunted him. He was grateful to have just been beaten, and even that was a rude awakening. His dad had punished him, of course-- but his dad was actually a very kind, loving and gentle man, and the lectures were the worst part of his punishments-- try as he might, his dad's attempts at physical punishment were rather amusing, in hind sight.

He very much wished he could be home right now. At least Solomon had put the poor creature of that reanimated corpse out of its misery. The stench would still take quite awhile to air out though.

Solomon and Anderson seemed more sensible, in their attestations to stay for the night. That would work and suit him fine. He could get these mended by morning, and if the note was any indicator, the delay would not be a big issue.

but GODS was he hungry...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"Hey, uhm-- The locals at least filled me in on whats they looked like at least.." ventured Cedar timidly, while working on the leather goods.

"But not like I can just pop in in ya heads like I kin when talkin with other critters... Aint no good at drawin neither. But I does know whats they looks like. The locals right hated 2 o'em too. Shit on one. Theys real proud o that one.-- Not sure it helps none, but if I sees one o'em, I'd know."

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"Uh think she's 'at elf girl--" muttered Cedar. "Dont look like human talk on the letter there at da end-- Purdy writin though. Bettern mine nohow..."

He accepted the letter, then fumbled terribly trying to fold it up tiny enough to put into the impossibly small capsule on the bird's dainty foot. He had to remove his glove, and use the filed down nub of his claws to do the delicate work, and they lacked any kind of grip. After a comical display, he finally succeeded though, then headed back outside, leaving the pair of saddles on the floor, with the pommel down, and the trees facing outward.

He returned some time later with another pair of saddles, and no bird, repeating the process twice more, before seating himself near the sudden influx of leatherwork and equestrian equipment, before getting out his twine and knife, along with the leatherworking kit, and setting to work on fixing the straps, cleaning the leather, and general maintenance of the kit, while doing his best to ignore the zombie in the room.

And the stench.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

**Elsewhere, near the tower**

Cedar thanked the crows, then collected himself and his tools, before heading back out over the marsh back toward the lake. The horses were still milling about, nibbling on grass, and being generally ornery about his approaching them. They still did not appreciate his being half bear, despite fully knowing he was not going to eat them. If they had been humans, he would have considered bigotry, but as it was, he knew it was just nature forcing its way to the top. It was a good, natural, and reasonable instinct to have, given how his mom would have handled this.

He chuckled to himself. The idea of his mom deciding that she had had enough of their bullshit, and just eating one of them to make the point, brought a smile to the corners of his face. Despite the wry humor of the situation, it was still an annoyance, as he herded them back toward the tower and into the "stable", where he unsaddled and brushed them down-- wide-eyes and snorts be damned.

Some of them had saddle and strap galds from having their gear on for too long. Absently, he used the modest healing magic he knew to correct it, as he did the brushing. They still distrusted him, but slowly the nags started getting the hint more clearly.

He was climbing up the stairs with a saddle over each shoulder, (the first of several planned trips) when a small grey and black bird noisly landed in front of him and started cooing, walking back and forth, blocking his path.

"What'ya want, lil bird? Ya in the way!"

It just continued moving back and forth on the stair, blocking his ingress, cooing at him.

Irritably, he put down the saddles on the stairs, then crouched down to look at the silly thing more clearly. There was a tiny capsule on its leg, which it was earnestly trying to make conspicuous with its repeated movements on the stair.

A sudden spark of cognition hit him, and he realized it was a messenger pigeon. Carefully, he teased the extremely tiny capsule open and extracted the thin, light bit of folded paper inside.

Reading was not his strong suit-- he had quite a bit of difficulty with it at times. His dad told him it was not really that important, except when dealing with dishonest merchants, tax collectors, auditors, and other "official" humans-- For the most part, if he could muddle through reading the signs outside shops to know what they sold, it was likely good enough, and better than a lot of peasants could do.

He squinted at the tiny text...

--------
Madame Matilda,
It pains me to inform you that I cannot regroup with your party at Hdur at the scheduled time. We had a situation with the city Constable, and the uncooperativeness he and his men displayed cost us valuable hours. Fortunately, we managed to secure crucial information regarding His Highness' assassination plan, and it involved a local group with extensive knowledge of the city's underground tunnels. We will work on this clue and see if we can regroup with you tomorrow.

PS: the pigeon is trained to not leave your side immediately in case you wanted to reply to this letter. If you wished to do so, the password to send him home will be márnanwen, meldë
--------

He looked down at the bird, which looked up at him expectantly, before fluttering its wings. He sighed, nodded at the bird, then picked up the saddles again. The pigeon fluttered up and landed on his shoulder, continuing to coo expectantly at him.

'The things humans trained animals to do', he thought to himself.

He would give the note to its intended recipient, Miss Matilda. HOPEFULLY she was done with, and had dispatched, that shuffling horror Solomon had conjured.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar was taken aback by the 'resurrection' of the corpse. He could tell from the lingering odor that it was NOT true resurrection, and the implication that .. it .. could not meaningfully lie, meant its mind was not its own. Things that troubled and upset him in a visceral way he couldn't put into words.

He quietly collected the leather working tool roll, and left, asserting he was going to go bring the horses up.

Anderson asked if that meant that he had been successful, while matilda commenced her 'interrogation'. This was something he did not have much stomach for. He responded the affirmative at Anderson, then shot a glance up at the angry cawing crows, before making contact.

The birds cawed even angrier at him at first, torn between peevish umbrage of being forced off of their meal, and severe vexation at his unwanted presence in their heads. They seemed somewhat comforted that the bearman shared at least some of their displeasure over 'dinner' getting up and moving again, at least.

Cedar offered them a 'consolation prize' if they would follow him outside and answer a few questions.

At first they did not seem interested, but his mind wandered to the taste of the exotic fruit with the gelatinous seed pulp again, with its lovely sweet and floral flavor. They were more interested in it being soft, and easily eaten by beaks, and by the implication that this bear could just make some grow on demand. They'd be interested in seeing that latter trick, before accepting any such exchange.

Cedar huffed without saying anything aloud, and just let them know to meet him outside, near the ruined wall. They cawed at him some more, then took off to witness the promised spectacle.

Not missing another beat, he headed downstairs then back outside through the way he had come in. The crows had perched at safe locations on the sides of the tumbling wall, and were looking up at him expectantly.

He looked at the wall, looking for the right combination of 'intactness' and 'well fertilized' that the makeshift stable afforded, then planted and guided the growth of another of the lovely vines that produced the soft yellow spheres, guiding it up the wall along the more sturdy of its masonry as its terrace.

The crows seemed to laugh in delight at this development, before fluttering onto the vine near some of the fruit to sample the wares. Excited cawings rang kut as the discovered the bear was not full of it, and had recalled accurately.

He smirked.

The stupid louts, and their choice of stables has tainted the water here, making it unsafe to drink. He made contact again with the crows, who were once again put off by having meal time interrupted, before bemusedly telling them he intended to plant grapes too, for his own reasons. He was interested in clean water, not fruit at this time. Despite feeling like he was a bottomless hole inside, he had been seriously put off the idea if eating by the reanimation of the human corpse. The crows laughed, and extended their own vexations about it, but felt his loss of appetite to be their gain-- if he didn't want the grapes either, they would happily eat them for him.

He looked further along the wall for a suitable place to grow them, with a fairly dry patch nearby that could safely hold a drip catch container, then planted a few grape pits and set to work while the crows ravaged the lovely yellow spheres adorning the wall. A lovely table grape cultivar revealed its identity, with large purple grapes maturing under his care in the waning afternoon sun. Gingerly, he plucked one, and sampled it. It was lovely, but that strange feeling of mingled disgust, unease, and hunger was all that really met his effort.

The crows, having gorged on fruit, eyed the grapes appraisingly before flapping down near him making short calls, apparently satisfied with the peace offering and considering him 'all right' after all, unlike the meal thieves.

He sat down beside the wall to ask them his own questions...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar gladly reclaimed his clothes and boots-- then set about washing the remaining bits of muck (and filth, from the way he came in) from his extremities before re-clothing himself.

"Nice ta get my clothes back on--" he murmured. "Nasty way in though-- an' I JUST had a bath!" He frowned in that inscrutable way he did when displeased.

He turned to face Matilda.

"Looks like 'is place is all cleared out a'eady. Shame-- I werent none too sure if'n there was bastards in 'ere stills er not-- Spent a good hour planting surprises for em, if'n they was... Had jus' gotten all clean from walkin' the marsh all in muf fur for disguise reasons, when Henri said ya was in here aready. Glad ta see ain't no harm done... Lesee what the dumbshits lef' fer us."

Reclaiming his walking stick and leaning on it in his usual manner, he began his own inspection of the room he and Matilda were in.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Shaking off the last bits of muck before heading through the widened wall opening, cedar wished he hadn't. The interior was rank with the stink of horse manure and urine. In the foul deposits on the floor, he spotted the recent footprints of who was most certainly Matilda, if Henri's report was accurate.

He traced them deeper into the compound and found his mark.

She was quite edgy, and rounded on him before scowling and hissing under her breath not to sneak up on her like that. He just dropped his ears a little and frowned at her, but got the hint about staying quiet for the moment, instead just shadowing her discretely. If there WERE any assholes in here, he would back her up with the little surprises he had sewn all over outside.

In fact, he paused a moment to help grow the root system deeper inside, through the gap in the wall, just to be on the safe side.

So far though, the search had turned up no sign of recent habitation besides their own presence there.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar's ears popped up with alarm and his bright brown eyes sparkled with bits of white surrounding them. He shot a glance at Henri, blinked, then tore up the ground on a mad-dash sprint toward the ruins, sticking to areas he was certain were free of hazards, leaving the the odd man behind in a flurry of flying mud chunks.

Henri caught up shortly after, as Cedar was shaking off the last of the mud chunks from his feet. The man seemed eager to get the gunk off the boots he had borrowed as well, as he kicked it off, then scraped it on the few exposed paving stones of the ruins, before the two of them searched for the entrance.