A Corrupt Visitor

Previously, the heroes had been anxiously awaiting the day of Epidemius’ arrival. Emrys had discovered that Pip had been hospitalised at the clinic with serious injuries sustained in an attack on the wine shop. Neamhan and Quentin had returned from the Seat of Friendship with Quentin’s memories restored after a confrontation with the Good Sisters. And Dame Pauline and the Morvrayne riders arrived at the Careless Wanderer, with news soon following that the delegation had been attacked, leaving Highlord Gauthier wounded.

Third Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is waning, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waning)

While the rest of the heroes remained at the Careless Wanderer, Neamhan took flight, soaring across the skies above the northern coast of the Lyrian gulf, heading west to deliver Quentin’s message to his father. Chakuq entertained the heroes, as well as the Morvrayne riders, with an exciting story of horse rustling. Quentin sat in quiet contemplation, Luca was considering breaking his bond with Blackstar, while Emrys prepared to spend the evening in communion with Toruviel.

Chakuq spent some time talking with Ramsey, the cook for the Careless Wanderer, and managed to convince him to prepare a lavish feast for the heroes. The cook explained that the recent events in the city, the ongoing curfew, and the coming winter meant that supplies were getting scarce, but Chakuq agreed on a price that allowed Ramsey to get excited. He promised a roasted boar, stuffed with apples and mushrooms, basted in ox fat.

After several hours of flying, Neamhan saw the camp of the Beauclair delegation come into view. She circled above the camp and observed that several carriages, supply wagons, and tents had been destroyed by fire. The different factions within the delegation were tending to their wounded, and that several of the horses and oxen had to be put down. Neamhan reckoned that one in five people were wounded, limping, walking on crutches, or were sporting bandages.

After Neamhan had landed she walked to the modest Morvrayne quarter of the camp, and found Lord Dorian’s large pavilion. She was recognised by the moustachioed guard who took her inside the lavishly decorated tent, where she found Ser Croy and Lord Dorian. Lord Dorian seemed to have some burn wounds on his hands and forearms, which had been coated in a thick layer of soothing salve. Despite his wounds, Lord Dorian was self-conscious for wearing a set of spectacles to read some important documents, which he quickly took off.

Lord Dorian explained that the delegation had been attacked by agents of the Dark Queen, though he could not explain why the delegation was targeted. He mused that they must have followed the delegation for some time and jumped on the opportunity when the Lyrian knights rode for Kingsport. Several of the perpetrators were caught, and Monsieur Beauregard was in charge of their interrogation, and had learned that they belonged to the Cult of the Dark Queen.

Highlord Gauthier had been critically wounded in the attack, and was being cared for. Neamhan’s offer to care for the Highlord was declined. When she offered to help Lord Dorian, he accepted her aid after some hesitation. He intimated to her that the only time he had seen the healing abilities she displayed was when the Ladies of the Woods had attempted to heal his older brother. There was a bitterness in his voice.

After reading Quentin’s letter, Lord Dorian penned a response:

My beloved son,

I am well, the highlord is badly injured, we will make for Kingsport in the morning, but the injured and wounded will slow us down.

Your father,

Lord Dorian

When Neamhan asked Lord Dorian about the Ladies of the Woods and pressed the point when he refused to speak on the matter. Lord Dorian grew angry and scolded for forgetting her station. Lord Dorian presented Neamhan with the letter for Quentin and then promptly dismissed her.

After accepting the missive, Neamhan bid her farewell and departed from camp to the now familiar copse of trees where she transfigured into her eagle form and took off for Kingsport.

Back at the Careless Wanderer the heroes had remarked that Falka had not been seen all day, and that she had not returned to the inn for the evening.

Luca, preoccupied, went up to his room and attempted to break his bond with Blackstar, something which turned out to be more difficult than expected. The Senhadrim spirit inside the powerful staff refused to let Luca go. Luca threatened to bury the staff, but it did not seem intimidated. Luca insisted that he was his own man, with his own autonomy, which Blackstar thought laughable; Luca had not been his own man since he had consumed those mushrooms and fell under the influence of Aurion. Blackstar seemed open to complying with Luca’s wishes if Luca would vanquish a rival that it claimed could be found to the east. This rival used souls for its own gain, but was neither celestial, abyssal, nor infernal.

For Emrys, who always had a less adversarial relationship with Toruviel than Luca did with Blackstar, the evening was spent in quiet communion with the blade. Toruviel reassured that their relationship with Emrys would never be that of Luca’s with Blackstar, and shared what they could remember of Epidemius; a fallen angel who used to embody the very nature of movement, manifesting as a great, fiery wheel. Now, all of that energy had turned inward, resulting in a violent core of malevolent entropy.

All of the heroes found themselves seated at their table in the Careless Wanderer. It was quiet, and outside it was dark. Through the glow of the hearth, the candles and the lantern lit at the front door they could see snow falling down in the darkness outside. A barefoot man in simple grey robes entered the tavern, it was father Devon. He asked whether he could sit with the heroes and discuss the following day.

Father Devon reasoned that confrontation with Epidemius should be avoided, considering the amount of death and injury it would lead to. He begged the heroes to take a different approach. When asked what the alternative to confrontation would be, father Devon suggested negotiating. Epidemius, he reasoned, did not attack the first time he appeared to state his demands; it was the crownsguard and custodians that initiated the attack.

Everything beyond the people seated at the table fell away, as if a great distance separated the heroes from the staff and other guests at the Careless Wanderer. Father Devon seemed to lock the people at the table into the conversation and that disassociation was not an option. Neamhan tried to leave the table but found herself unable to.

Father Devon seemed to grow frustrated, barely contained anger overtaking him. He argued that confrontation is the death of possibility, that the Epidemius is fighting to prevent the great desolation. The more frustrated he got, the more he barked his retorts, blood spattering from his mouth. A buzzing noise started to grow in the back of the heroes’ minds, like the cacophony of a thousand insects.

The visage of father Devon continued to change, with skin thinning, cracking and horns bulging through the skin on his forehead. Stag-like antlers sprouted from his neck and shoulders. He continued to argue that a confrontation was not in the heroes’ interest, but this time switched to voicing the argument from the perspective of Epidemius. He claimed that death was not his goal, that his divine word was decay, and that his tool was pestilence. His goal was to study, so that they could arm themselves against oblivion, resist the great desolation.

He also claimed that he was talking to the heroes at great danger to himself by infiltrating dreams that Pazuzu, the Prince of the Aerial Kingdom, the Weaver of Dreams, had been feeding the heroes. He claimed it would not be long before Pazuzu would detect him and abjure him from the contact with the heroes. He wanted to bargain.

I am talking to you at great expense and danger to myself. Once I identified you as targets for the Prince of Aerial Kingdom, it was easy to stow myself away and enter my weave of dreams. It will not be long before I will be detected.

Chakuq’s first response was to mark Epidemius. Quentin unsheathed Róisín. Epidemius, through the guise of father Devon, laughed through bleeding gums and barked that Xamael had been weak compared to him. He possessed a divine word, after all. The likes of Xamael would be under his command.

Fourth Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is waning, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is in low sanction)

The connection was broken shortly after, and each of the heroes woke up, bathed in sweat, with their heart racing, bolt upright in their own beds. It was the middle of the night. Neamhan had just slipped into her reverie only an hour or so previously, having returned from her flight back to Kingsport. Each of them tentatively got out of bed and opened the door to the hallway, only to find each of them standing in their doorways, looking at each other. They immediately realised that this had been a shared dream.

Anticipation and Trepidation

Previously, the heroes were preparing for the arrival of Epidemius, gathering support, and rallying a defence of the city. Quentin wrote a letter, bound by steel, to his father, which was delivered by Neamhan. Céleste, the socialite wine merchant, came to the Careless Wanderer to buy up any surplus wine stock, but the heroes had no time to find out what had happened. And Quentin and Neamhan visited the Seat of Friendship, at Neamhan’s insistence, and attempted to restore Quentin’s memory of his betrothed, which was taken from him by the Sisters of the Grove. They were confronted by the sisters, but were at least partially successful. But at what cost?

Third Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is waning, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waning)

It was the late morning when the heroes were nervously awaiting the confrontation with Epidemius they expected to happen the next day. Chakuq returned to Steward Square once more to investigate its layout and find any helpful vantage points.

Luca attempted to read Aurion’s tome, but found that the pages were blank. He turned to Blackstar, knowing this to be the source of Aurion’s disapproval, and tried to break his bond with the weapon. To Luca’s surprise and further disappointment he found that Blackstar refused to break the bond. Frustrated by being caught between the weapon and his master, Luca pivoted and started to prepare a ritual of protection ahead of the confrontation with Epidemius, for which he needed the true names of his companions. He knew it to be a gamble, considering his master had forsaken him, but Luca tried anyway.

And Emrys checked and double checked his belongings, more to keep himself occupied than anything else. He found some letters the crusaders had written while they were in Old Llygad. The heroes had them translated by an elf that was among the crusaders and it had given them insight into the Silver Crusade during the Age of Fear. Emrys stumbled upon a letter which wrote about how to treat certain wounds with a demonic origin and he decided to pay a visit to father Devon at the Temple of Pholtus to share the knowledge ahead of the confrontation with Epidemius.

At the clinic, Emrys found that the beds were full, and the patients were afflicted by the burden that Epidemius had put on the city. The patient that father Devon was tending to was the almost unrecognisable form of Pip, the halfling accomplice to Céleste. Father Devon explained that he had been the victim of a brutal attack on her wine shop. Looking over the notes, Emrys found that she was horribly wounded, and that the burden of Epidemius was making her recovery even more unlikely than it had been under normal circumstances.

Emrys returned to the Careless Wanderer after sharing the treatments with father Devon and found that Quentin and Neamhan had returned from their trip to the Seat of Friendship. Quentin was sullen and morose after the confrontation with the Good Sisters and after Neamhan had restored his memory of his betrothed, being left with a feeling that something had been returned to him which he had willingly parted with, and for Neamhan to pay the price for that, one way or another.

Quentin and Neamhan have a falling out, and Neamhan goes to cool off upstairs. Quentin admits feeling overwhelmed and betrayed. Emrys assured him that he has friends that will help him carry the burden. Astrid, tired of watching Quentin’s frustration, told him that if he wanted to determine the course of his own life, he should stop letting others direct it for him, giving a pointed look at Neamhan walking away.

Dame Pauline and the Morvrayne riders arrived at the Careless Wanderer, and were reunited with Quentin, their lord and commander. Dame Pauline was given a room, while the Morvrayne riders found beds in the common room. Wojciech, the stablemaster, took the Morvrayne mounts to be cared for and bumped into Chakuq on his way across Steward’s Square. Chakuq joined the stablemaster and helped him with the horses at The Bridle, north of the square. The two Silesians found a kinship in their common heritage, despite Chakuq being a mountain tribesman and Wojciech a plainsman.

A message was delivered to Quentin by a courier from the rookery. It was a letter from Lord Dorian:

My son, there was an attack on the camp last night. Highlord in critical condition. Your father, Lord Dorian.

Quentin wrote a hasty reply, indicating that he was unable to send help due to the impending arrival of Epidemius. Neamhan took the letter and promised to deliver to the hands of Lord Dorian. As she is set to depart, Dame Pauline wishes her a swift and safe trip.

While the heroes continued to wait for tomorrow with some trepidation, Chakuq shared a story, with some measure of pride, about stealing the horses from an enemy encampment. All the while, Luca was wondering where his friend Falka had been all day.

Red Eye

Last week, I flew to San Francisco for a couple of days to hang out with Eva, Scott, and the girls. The flight over was eleven hours, but went by smoothly. The flight back, however, was another matter. I knew it would be a rough one (flying west to east always is, for me), but the girl sitting next to me deciding it was okay to use me as a back rest, and the guy in front of me thinking it was completely appropriate to throw his seat back, spill my drink, and then continue to lay his head in my lap for the next nine hours, was a bit much. It’s 2024; I thought we had all stopped putting our seat back without at least having a conversation with the person behind you first.

It was worth the fun time in San Francisco, though. Seeing Eva and Scott was really nice, playing video games with the girls was great, and taking a driverless taxi was cool too.

Mourning the Loss of a Number

When I moved to the UK I switched my Dutch mobile subscription to a prepaid number so that I could hold onto the number. I had that number since 2001, so I would want to keep it. One of the stipulations was that you’d have to use it at least once every six months or so. Unfortunately, I must have missed using it, and it got disconnected and assigned to a new subscription.

Goodbye, +31 653 212 414, you will be missed.

A Fun Day

My passport is expiring soon and I was offered two choices; for a renewal, I could either go to the embassy in London or return to the Netherlands and do it at the airport. A quick investigations of those two options showed that doing it in the Netherlands was about three times as expensive, but it would afford me the opportunity to go and see my family, which I had not done since early December. So I booked two tickets, one to fly round trip to Amsterdam on the same day so I could submit the application, and a second for a weekend the next week in which I could pick it up. Today I went to submit the application.

I got up super early in the morning, drove to the airport, flew over and had a pretty smooth time submitting the application. The only snag was that the passport photos which I had made in England were not in the right format (despite the photographer assuring me that it would be valid for Dutch passports.) The lady who helped me apply told me that my photo was rejected because of my “cage fighter ear”, which I thought was funny. Luckily I could get new ones made at the airport, which took five minutes, and are actually better photos, despite getting very little sleep.

I took the train into Amsterdam, met Moulsari, my brother, his new girlfriend Kataryna, my friend Mounir, and Ruurd and my sister for a big, steak lunch. Had a blast. Ruurd and my sister dropped me off at the airport. The airport was quiet. I breeze through security. Flew back to England and drove home. I’m pretty tired, but I’m feeling good about it. It was such a fun day.

Next week I fly back on Thursday evening, pick up my new passport on Friday and fly home on Sunday. I’ll have a bit more time, and if it’s half as fun as today was, then it’s worth the time and effort.