Colonizing the Dark Continent (For Weiss Ritter)

[Xatarias]

(Insight roll: 13)


You progress fairly quickly, scrambling over moss-covered boulders slick from the mist generated by the gurgling stream. As obstructive as the water is, it's mercifully cooling on your skin, a fortuitous boon as midday approaches and your sweat evaporates as fast as it generates. Telai keeps easy pace with you, laden with her large pack and breastplate. How she manages to stand upright much less trek through such uneven terrain is a marvel. Her sharp eyes constantly scan the surrounding woodlands, bayonetted musket held loosely in both hands.


Reaching a bend in the stream, you both decide to break for a breather. Telai is just about to dispense rations when you notice a the foliage overhead rustle as it is disturbed by unseen padded feat. Your curiosity turns to alarm as an ominous hiss breaks upon the air. You only just manage to pull telai behind a boulder before a dart impacts her previous positioning. The wickedly barbed object is fashioned out of some kind of thorn and bears the menacing glint of poison on its tip.


(Speed roll: 8)


Another hiss and a second missile flashes from the bushes on the opposite end of the bushes. This time the dart grazes your leg, leaving a gash that burns with every movement. Telai hauls you to your feet and pulls you in the direction of the trees.


"Come on! We're sitting ducks out here!"


You can feel your injured leg seizing up as you plunge deeper into the jungle. Your heart beats an adrenaline fueled tattoo, only quickening the circulation of toxin in your bloodstream. You might be able to power through its affects, but without Telai's monstrous fortitude, your chances aren't likely. You need some way to counteract the poison.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

"Telai!" Nathaniel hissed as he pulled the husky southerner back. A dart, likely fired from a blowgun if the sound that preceded it was any indication, improvised from a thorn and coated in some sort of poison.


Another just like it flew from another set of bushes. He twisted to evade but the thorn cut deep enough to leave its poison in the wound. His leg buckled while he gasped and it was only Telai's swift intervention that kept him from sinking to a knee.


Nathaniel could only grit his teeth and nod as he forced himself to sprint after his lieutenant as swiftly as he could. Whatever the nature of the poison, it was already making it hard to move. At first ti "merely" caused that relatively minor scratch to feel like it was on fire, but then the muscles in the afflicted leg began to freeze up.


"Telai..." The young man groaned under his breath, pressing against the largest tree trunk he could find that stood between them and what he was fairly certain were multiple assailants. It wasn't impossible that the Assassin could learn to fashion such weapons from the jungle herself or have either recruited or controlled "allies" who could execute such an effective ambush in such terrain, but there was another, even worse possibility that sprang to Nathaniel's mind. The squirrelmorphs. If not the warchief of Brokenstream's clan, then perhaps some other faction or clan that wouldn't have any reason to trust his species or acquaintances of Alestra and the Hillfolk.


Nathaniel held his pistol in one hand while the other frantically reached into his personal pack. Telai could see herself from the way his afflicted leg was growing unnaturally stiff as a board that he wouldn't be able to run much further without some attempt at treatment. His sharp eyes swiftly scanned the green horizon for any other tell-tale signs of their pursuers for he or Telai to turn their muskets on even as the other hand searched for some of the medications he'd dabbled in.


After all, knowing how to treat the same poisons and other compounds he applied to his own weapons was something of a required secondary skill, and his expedition's encounter with the giant wasps had prompted him to conduct a bit of a study on the Dark Continent's venoms. The surface may have only just been scratched, but perhaps it was enough for some of the compounds he'd made in the event something similar happened to he and Telai again would counteract...whatever had been applied to that dart?

 

[Xatarias]

(Intellect roll: 18)


Concocting the antidote to an unknown chemical compound is too much to hope for, but your knowledge of physiology is sufficient to catalogue the myriad of symptoms you are experiencing. While curing the cause of your ailment is out of reach, counteracting its symptoms might not be.


You tear through your pack, fetching your store of reagents and begin haphazardly measuring out quantities of herbs, powders, and liquids. There isn't time for fine-tuning the dosage, but if this didn't work, you'd likely be dead anyway. A puff of noxious smoke from your mixing mortar prompts you to tip back the vessel and choke down its contents. You barely get the vile stuff down, but its affects are almost immediate.


Your vision sharpens with new clarity and the fatigue that previously overwhelmed you fades away. You heart beats thunderously, supercharged with a flood of adrenaline stimulated by your alchemical mixture. Most importantly, the stiffness in your leg seems to alleviate- still stiff but workable. Hopefully the chemical high will last long enough for your body to expel the ill effects of the poison-laced darts.


The trees rustle overhead with unseen interlopers, but they must not have seen you because the signs of their movement soon peel off into the distance. You have some time to maneuver, but the prospect of your pursuers giving up the chase is too much to hope for.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel tried not to think about potential side effects or unexpected chemical reactions his improvised concoction might have with the poison being rapidly pumped through his veins as he tipped back the vessel. He wasn't just racing against time. Their pursuers likely had a far better grasp of this area than he and Telai. The young Avalonian half-expected another dart to come at him from one of his flanks to undo whatever good the counter-agent might have accomplished.


Yet none came.


Nathaniel's eyes widened, drinking in a dozen new details about the world around him while his heart beast faster still, pumping adrenaline rather than toxin through his body. He could move his afflicted leg again as well. The mixture he hastily assembled certainly wasn't a proper cure, but it didn't feel like a mere placebo or pain-killer either. He could most certainly work with this.


The young man's eyes darted upward as his would-be assassins scampered through the canopy above and his grip on his pistol tightened. They might have missed he and Telai in their initial sweep, but he doubted they would give up so easily. With their natural advantage in this forest and the uncertainty over how long his compound would keep him battle-ready, there only seemed to one way forward.


Or so Nathaniel's adrenaline-charged brain concluded as he swiped a moderately heavy stick off the ground and advanced as silently as he could in the same direction he'd heard the assailants flee. He motioned for Telai to follow his lead and then ducked behind the next largest bit of cover, whether it was tree trunk, log, or bush that would have afforded him both protection and serviceable view of the area. The stick was thrown through the underbrush, skipping across the ground like a well-aimed rock bouncing across a pond. His prodigious powers of observation, further heightened by the surge of adrenaline that deadened him to all but this struggle for his immediate survival, were turned towards picking out any tell-tale sign of the assassins' presence should any of them fall for the ruse.


The sound of tress rustling again, the quivering of a branch supporting unnatural weight, or perhaps he'd even be so lucky as to spot one of the darts flying into a bush for him to trace back to its owner's position. Anything that would guide his pistol's aim.

 

[Xatarias]

(Insight roll: 16)


Telai futilely reaches after you as you break cover. Your thrown stick makes a satisfying clatter as it bounces through the underbrush and you are satisfied to hear the return of your assailants. However rather than being content to shoot from afar, they close for a more guaranteed method of execution.


Two squirrelmorphs drop from aloft to where your stick landed, spears in paw and at the ready. Decked out in cut foliage and painted green with plant juices, it's not wonder you didn't spot them earlier. However in this exchange, you have the upper hand. In the moment the squirrel commandos realize they haven't dropped on a hapless opponent, you have clear line of sight and a easy shot at the nearest one.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

It had occurred to Nathaniel that their attackers might sacrifice their cover in favor of the certainty a spear or knife through his gut, but he hadn't dared to hope that they would be so rash! Telai's concern was lost upon him as the same adrenaline that sharpened his senses and allowed him to move with confidence seemed to blind him to all but the enemies before him.


The second the closest one came to a halt, the young man whipped his pistol forward and swiftly took aim at the humanoid squirrel's torso, its center of mass, with practiced precision. There would be no chance taking here. The trigger was pulled and a ball of hot lead discharged with a roar that would have given most beasts pause. Nathaniel's other hand reflexively went to draw his rapier, though in truth he expected the other to be dropped by Telai before that became necessary.

 

[Xatarias]

(Precision roll: 12)


Perhaps the result of your jittery drug-induced high, your shot goes wide causing a sapling to explode in a confetti of wood chips. The squirrel warriors flinch at the discharge of your weapon and swivel in your direction. One fumbles for his blow gun, but a terrifying roar causes him to fumble.


Telai streaks past you and swings her musket into the squirrel you had originally marked for death. The butt of the gun catches his midriff with a sickening thud that lays him flat out on the ground. The remaining squirrelmorph immediately takes to the canopy and flees the scene, leaving his companion to his fate.


Your formidable amazon companion stands over her captive, bayonet readied against his throat. "I thought we had an understanding with this tree-jumpers. What the hell is going on?"

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel mentally swore as his shot went wide. Perhaps he'd whipped the pistol out a crucial inch or two too far to the side in his haste to gun down the assailant before it could retreat back up into the canopy? Side effects of this electrifying adrenaline surge aside, the young man was a skilled shot by any reasonable measure, but lagged behind particularly talented and dedicated pistoleers. Mitigating this was why he'd aimed for the center of mass rather than a more ambitious target and yet it still wasn't enough!


Thankfully, Telai was there to snatch victory out of what could have been a very nasty defeat as she rushed forward in a blur of steel and hardened muscle. He wasn't even sure the poor squirrel quite knew what hit it before the Southerner's bayonet was pressed to its throat while its companion fell back. A true retreat or a mere tactical withdrawal to strike again the moment their guards were lowered?


"The clan we met apparently views Alestra as something of a sinister witch who did...something to some of their warriors in the past, and they have a warchief that is suspicious of our kind at the best of times," Nathaniel said while reloading his pistol with the same swift, practiced air he'd discharged it with. Presumably with better results this time.


"Of course, these two could have been from another clan altogether. Perhaps ones with their own reason to distrust any friend of Alestra's? Or perhaps they are rivals who don't appreciate the likes of us giving their enemies metal that could be melted down into speartips and arrowheads,"


He re-holstered the gun and approached their captive, signing a series of questions in what he'd learned of the language Brokenstream's clan employed at the very least. Who are you? Why did you attack us?


"If our species really aren't so different, then I fail to see why they would be any less divided by culture and nationality than us."

 

[Xatarias]

The squirrelmorph gives you a baleful glare and makes no move to sign a response. Telai snorts.


"Come on Nathanial, we don't have time for this. Maybe Brokenstream has it in for us, maybe he doesn't. I can think of a handful of reason in my head why these buggers had it in for us and you've probably got dozens. But I don't think we can wait around until he's willing to give us the answers. What if more of his friends show up?"


As if reinforcing Telai's statement, a gust whips through the forest, pelting you with a maelstrom of leaves and twigs. Squinting through the tree tops, you spy the billowing peaks of a storm front in the distance. You're no weather expert, but such an abrupt change from the previously sunny skies makes you think that you are in for more than a gentle shower.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel frowned and icily stared down the squirrelmorph. He took a deep breath and nodded only reluctantly at Telai. He hated giving up with information, potentially invaluable information, at his fingertips, but he would have been forced to concede her point even if she wasn't the military expert.


"Fine. Deal with this one as you see fit," He crossed his arms, waiting for Telai to either knock out or kill their would-be killer before reaching down to collect some piece of evidence from the squirrelmorph. A blowpipe, knife, or some other smaller tool, perhaps? Its spear if need be? Something he could examine and compare with the craftsmanship of Brokenstream's tribe or perhaps even show to them at a later date.


"Hrm..." Nathaniel squinted up at the rising storm. It wouldn't be pleasant to travel through if they were caught up in it, but perhaps its ferocity would be enough to dissuade more of their tree-hopping "friends"? If it didn't, it was going to make hearing the cunning warriors before it was too late nigh impossible.


"Ready when you are, Telai," He said at last, glancing over his shoulder as he exhaled an almost weary breath. Now that the immediate threat was gone, all he had left was the tingle of an adrenaline surge that would likely fade sooner than later, and the uncertainty of whether the poison's effects would return at the worst possible moment.

 

[Xatarias]

Telai hesitates a moment before striking the anthro warrior between the eyes with the stock of her weapon. She quickly binds the unconscious squirrel and rolls him into cover beneath some bushes.


"No reason to escalate things." She mutters, although it's clear Telai was far from comfortable with the idea of killing a captive in cold blood.


You follow the stream, this time from several yards deep in the underbrush. Your progress is much slower this way, but you are less of a target for any other war bands that might try a second ambush.


The weather continues to get worse, the surrounding tree trunks moaning under the strain of fierce winds. A crack of thunder rips through the forest accompanied by several flashes of lightning. Somewhere in the distance. The strike was close, likely igniting a tree somewhere. Traveling conditions as bad as they are, it's unlikely you'll even make it half way to the coast by nightfall. More pressing, however, is the need for some type of shelter against this storm.


Your bleak thoughts are interrupted by Telai pointing in the distance. "Nathanial look."


A stumbling figure emerges from the treeline on the far side of the stream. The person is cloaked and clearly wounded, heavily favoring their left side. Telai takes cover behind a log and readies her musket.


"H-help..."


The figure's hood falls back and you startle, recognizing the face revealed. Sister Agatha feebly begins to ford the stream towards you and promptly slips, collapsing against a boulder. You can see a stream of blood flowing over her fingers, dripping into the waters surging at her feet.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel nodded slightly at Telai. "I was thinking along the same lines myself, plus it may force this one's comrades to retrieve them rather than pursue us. But this is your are of expertise and I wasn't sure what the odds of a predator finding them instead were,"


With his prizes looted from the unconscious warrior's form, the young Brightland braced himself for the upcoming journey as well as he could. At the very least, the poison lingering in his body rendered his leg stiff and occasionally painful to move. The storm made everything worse. The wind buffeted his body and each sway and groan of the nearby trees made him tense as if he expected on any of them to fall and crush him beneath. His teeth were gritted and his hand tightly wrapped around his rapier. They weren't going to make it back on schedule. They would need somewhere secure to rest once night fell, but where? Open ground would leave them sitting ducks even if a mere tent could stand up against these winds, caves seemed to be in short supply, and he could say he was comfortable trying to roost beneath even a seemingly sturdy tree.


"Hm?!" Nathaniel tensed, his blade rising several inches from its scabbard the moment Telai called for his attention. He frowned in bewilderment at the sight of the hood and cloak and then...the figure spoke.


"Sister Agatha...?" His eyes flickered over the missionary's form. Her exhaustion was obvious but-Gods, was that blood!


Nathaniel rushed forward without thinking, mentally cursing himself for his rashness even as he reached out to support the wounded woman. At least he had Telai guarding his back. "What happened?! We were just attacked by Forest Folk warriors. Did Brokenstream's people do this to you?!"


One arm wrapped around the woman's waist while the other frantically searched through his bag for bandages.

 

[Xatarias]

The wound stretching across Agatha's left side is shallow, but judging by her slow pulse, the priestess of Anora has lost a lot of blood. Bandaging your patient's injuries is an ordeal as she hangs limply against you. It's only after Telai aids in supporting Agatha that you manage to securely fasten the linen bindings around her midriff. All the while, the winds continue to howl and rain begins to streak the sky.


When you repeat your questions for the third time, the sister's eyes seem to gaze past you, barely taking in her surroundings. "I don't... Nathanial?... W-we need to leave. Brokenstream is dead and the tribes... It isn't safe. There's... There's a cave to the north... The boneyard... We'll be safe there."


The lucid moment gone, Agatha's eyes flutter shut and her eyeballs rapidly moving underneath them. She says no more save for a few incoherent mutterings.


Telai face matches the bleakness of your situation. "This isn't good. We're deep in the squirrel's territory and if they've gone berserk..."

 

[Weiss Ritter]

"Thank you," Nathaniel said swiftly to Telai while he wrapped the priestess's wound. The blood loss was considerable despite the shallowness of the wound. Obviously, Agatha had been fleeing for some time, but he had to wonder just how deliberate or accidental her predicament must have been. Especially since he and Telai just encountered a hunting party that probably could have killed her quickly if they wished.


Nathaniel froze when Agatha finally managed to offer a coherent answer. A number of possibilities sprang to mind. A coup by the xenophobic warchief who fumed throughout the trade negotiations? Perhaps the Assassin moved to counter his perceived alliance with Alestra and the Hillfolk by throwing the squirrelmorphs into violent chaos. There was only one thing Nathaniel could actually say at the thought of being trapped between the Lentani on the coast and a guerrilla army spread throughout the forest.


"Fuck."


The curse was spoken loud enough to be heard even over the storm, loud enough to perhaps give even Telai pause.


"We need to get to that cave," Nathaniel said tersely, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing. "We can't make it to Newport, Agatha needs time to recover if she is to survive-much less tell us what happened-, and a cave will give us the closest thing to a fighting chance against the squirrels if they find us again,"

 

[Xatarias]

Telai does seem startled at your normally cool-headed manner breaks down. Her face is tight with worry as she helps you hoist Agatha between you. No doubt the lieutenant thought you had a plan for every eventuality. Seeing the reaction of not a tactical genius, but a flesh and blood man pushed right to the brink was no doubt troubling for her.


"Right then, let's get out of this damn wind." She shouts over the maelstrom.


Your already slow pace becomes excruciatingly sluggish, the shared load of Sister Agatha both cumbersome and exhausting. You head north, up the stream bank while keeping an eye out for this "Boneyard" Agatha mentioned. A hilly rise ascends to your right and the stream becomes larger as it is fed by an additional tributary running from the tree line. Squinting through the rain, you look for this new waterway's source and see the dark outline of limestone boulders slickened with rain and the shadowy recesses of a cave.


Trudging your way up the muddy slope, you make for shelter. The cave is shallow, carved from the small stream at your feet. Your keen eyes spy the small opening that feeds the water running down hill, far too small for you to pass through. Telai manages to light a lantern and you stumble back as the stooped interior reflects the off the yellowed remains of countless skeletons.


Imbedded in the walls surrounding you is a grizzly collage composed of bones from every vertebrate imaginable. They tangle together, some as small as shrews and others mammoth. Large ribs that would dwarf a stomper form intervals of archways overhead, like the vaulted ceiling of some perversion of a gothic cathedral. Telai breaths something in her native tongue.


"You wouldn't think me superstitious if I said I had a bad feeling about this place, right?" It would be generous to call the southerner's smile strained.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Some small part of Nathaniel regretted his outburst, no matter how subdued or brief it might have been. It wasn't just a matter of pride over the crack in his unflappable mask. He'd heard some of the jokes about the amount of time and money the Avalonian elite, whether nobility or merchants, spent on getting the most fashionable clothes and the grandest of manors. He was even inclined to agree that in some cases, the frippery of it all was an abominable waste of resources, but in the end the image a leader projected was as vital as their charisma and ability to listen, delegate, and plan. Avalon's armies and fleets prided themselves on their aura of irresistible power, Telai could end most fights before they began with a mere glare and flex of her biceps, and he played the part of the endlessly patient, level-headed commander who only needed a bit of time to come up with a brilliant solution to solve all his followers' problems.


And now that image was being chipped away in a way that the...tension between them that began in the bath had failed to do.


Nathaniel's jaw was clenched tight and every lean muscle in his body grew taut with tension. It wasn't all from his breathless exertions as they hiked through the forest while being constantly battered by the wind and rain. The one silver lining to all this was that the frustration and anger numbed the soreness in his limbs and gave them strength they would not have had otherwise.


Simply calling the cave the "Boneyard" wasn't nearly enough to prepare Nathaniel for what awaited them when they finally arrived.


His eyes widened at the sight of the morbid collection and a sharp intake of breath, a suppressed gasp from him, echoed through the gave. The young man swiftly scanned the entirety of the chamber, or at least what Telai's lantern exposed, with his gaze lingering on the truly mysteriously large ribs.


"No. There is nothing about this place that isn't ominous," Nathaniel glanced back at his lieutenant. Her face was strained trying to maintain a false smile. His was struggling to retain a veneer of calm dignity.


As always, Nathaniel's mind was rushing to try and make sense of what he saw, and not one of his thoughts was comforting. Was this Boneyard some sort of natural landmark? Then something must have put even those titanic bones here. A squirrel-made one? He and Telai could only hope that the hostile tribes weren't inclined to come here often or examine it deeply. Were there even more sinister threats to contend with in this place? It hadn't occurred to him until Nathaniel actually saw the morbid spectacle for himself, but what effect might sleeping here might have upon him? Alestra implied connections of a sort with the environment were possible for one "gifted" like him. If the Song's power almost took a will of its own when he slept, then what would resting amid all this death do...?


Nathaniel tried to keep the worry out of his expression, though what resulted probably wouldn't have been much more comforting to Telai. "What other choice do we have, though?"

 

[Xatarias]

Telai props Agatha against the far wall and sets her lantern down, spreading its light out in a circle and casting long shadows about the place. Creepy as the cave is, it's location on higher ground means that most of it is relatively dry. Given the frequency of lightning strikes and the moan of fallen trees outside, this is likely as good a shelter as you could hope for.


"We'll have to make the best of it until morning, " Telai says slipping her breastplate over her head. "Hopefully things will die down by then and Agatha will be able to move on her own." With her usual air of practicality, Telai strips the rest of her clothing off, wring them out and laying them on the cave floor to dry.


This prompts you to check the comatose priestess. Agatha's breathing has steadied and she seems to have fallen into an exhausted sleep rather than the fitful half-consciousness from before. Her robe is so torn and blood-soaked, that it doesn't make sense for her to wear the damp thing and Telai deftly shreds it off her body and wraps her in a blanket.


"At least while this storm rages on, we won't have to worry about any ambushes. You'd have to be insane to mount an assault uphill in this weather."

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel tensed a bit at Telai's sudden nudity, but whatever surprise and embarrassment he might normally have felt passed in an instant. After everything they had been through and the threats they would have to conquer still, it was impossible to just stay in the mood for that sort of thing. Plus, the southerner's reasons for disrobing were perfectly logical, and Nathaniel soon did the same.


"I'm inclined to agree..." Yet there was a hint of doubt in Nathaniel's tone even as he dried off the muskets with one of the spare blankets. "This continent has a way of surprising us, though, and I still have to wonder how all these bones got here. Does standing watch in the usual shifts sound logical to you?"


Both of them would need enough rest to keep their senses from getting dull by tomorrow, but all the sleep in the world would do them no good if something or someone took advantage.

 

[Xatarias]

Telai agrees to your proposition and beds down while you take the first shift. You sit near the mouth of the cave, keeping an eye on the shadowy landscape outside. Flashes of lightning illuminate the surrounding tree line, accentuating their gnarled trunks and branches, prompting eerie imaginings of clawed hands reaching towards the heavens, as if to rend the very sky itself. To call the experience discomforting would be a gross understatement.


It is a relief when Telai rouses herself some hours later to relieve you. You trudge bonelessky over to Telai's abandoned bedroll and wrap yourself in for the remainder of the night. You are too exhausted to care much of the Telai's feminine scent on the sheets. What worries you have of the Song overwhelming are put aside as your body reels from fatigue and rebels against the logical portion of your mind. You attempt to heed Alestra's advice, spreading out your consciousness with the surrounding psychic landscape. The technique seems to work and you quickly fall asleep...


(Intellect roll: 21)


The sounds of your father's party descend from the bluff above, but you feel not temptation to rejoin the revelry. As far as you were concerned, the old man living on another year was merely the delay of your own rise to power and not cause for celebration.


You moodily prowl the moonlit beach, kicking at the rolling waves in the surf and spoiling the finish of your expensive riding shoes. What you wouldn't give for something interesting to happen. The social niceties demanded by your station, the machinations of your fathers business partners. It was all such a simple game, one you had mastered early on and abandoned for more tantalizing distractions.


Perhaps if you could persuade one of those highborn handmaidens to accompany you to your "workshop". But was it worth the risk of discover? Not to mention, your reputation as something of a recluse was not likely to inspire trust in even the most naïve of quarry. Someone familiar then? One of your many cousins?


The mere suggestion of something so taboo has you thoroughly worked up. The finest details of when, how, and where fit into your mind and your smile broadens...


No.... No this isn't you. Some part of you reviles the familiar twisted consciousness that enwraps your own. You had to escape! Esca-


No it wasn't worth the risk you conclude sulkily. You continue your walk and content yourself with poking at beached fish with a sharpened stick. The sight of its bright innards calms you if only for a moment. You fling away your implement and are just about to return to the party when you hear it.


The ethereal sound is a chorus so beautiful that you nearly weep at the feelings it conjures. It strikes at your deepest parts, soothing, resonating... You stagger in the direction of its source.


She lays sprawled on a sea-sprayed outcropping, blonde hair damp against her supple human half. The rainbow-glint of her scaled tail holds your gaze with its scintillating undulations. You think it is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen until her face lights up with an angelic smile.


"You have a beautiful song. Tortured and lonely, but what is the brightness of a star if there is no shadow to embrace it... Would you like to share it with me?"


No!


You tear yourself awake in a cold sweat, relieved to be whole once more. You can feel the memory that was coiled around your consciousness in your sleep slither away into the depth of the song. Terrible as it was, you were able to wake yourself this time. Perhaps with time-


You are wrenched to the present as a pistol barrel is shoved into your mouth, its priming mechanism clicked and ready to fire. Agatha's smile is illuminated by a crash of lightning as she motions you to your feet. At the foot of the cave, you see Telai prone and motionless.


"Your companion won't be helping you, Nathanial. I split my attentions last time and won't make the same mistake again. I have Telai immobilized, but that can change. One wrong move, and you'll be treated to the sight of your dear lieutenant ripping out her own tongue. We're going for a walk, just you and me.'

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel almost didn't want to comply when Telai awoke to take his place. Oh, he was certainly exhausted both physically and mentally, but watching the storm rage and contemplating the myriad of threats they faced was enough to get his adrenaline flowing all over again. Still, there was no arguing with his lieutenant or denying the simple fact that depriving himself of even half a night's worth of sleep would endanger them all. Even his mind couldn't fight mental duels or concoct winning strategies on nothing but fear.


The used bedroll felt like a bed worthy of a king to the scion of the Brightlands as he slipped in between the covers. His eyes shut almost immediately, his mind clearing of all worry after he used the technique Alestra taught. It had been too long since he had something resembling peaceful sleep. This was long overdue...


Nathaniel gasped softly in his sleep, his entire body tensing during the brief instant his mind was able to reassert control over the dream. It was happening again! Only...worse! Living the nightmares that came before was horrific, but during the brief instants he recognized what was happening it was easy enough to recognize the memories for what they were. This though? Aside from the instant or two brooding over a father who had the audacity to not die when it was convenient, the start of the memories could have been among his own.


Then the carnal thoughts came, striking just when he was almost about to relax. They weren't as strong as the ones that threatened to snuff his consciousness out before, if only because the Patron was denied an actual victim, but the same callous disregard for people as anything but tools and plaything was there. It struck him like a bucket of cold water, momentarily awakening his mind to the twisted cocoon being woven tight around it, but then the rush of memories overwhelmed him again.


He couldn't struggle. His mind didn't even realize it needed to. Once again, he became the Patron. Nathaniel could smell the salty sea air and feel the water brush against his boots as the world seemed bent on condemning him to a life of tedium at the beck and call of his inferior. And then, like an agent of the gods themselves, a siren offered herself to him.


The familiarity and bewilderment he felt helped his mind to remember itself. Finally, Nathaniel was able to force himself awake with a breathless gasp.He shot up from the bedroll, his hands immediately darting up to his eyes to rub the sleep from them.


...Agatha couldn't have asked for a more perfect opportunity to shove the pistol into his open mouth.


His shock and fear were as naked as he in the brief moment the lightning illuminated the cave. The harder expression that set in scarcely a moment later might have been as satisfying for Agatha to observe as his surprise at her ruse, no that all the hints and doubts the Avalonian entertained snapped together like a twist puzzle. The shallowness of her wound was deliberate. Agatha hadn't just gone to the boneyards on her own to lure them here rather than because the blood loss made her foolish. How could the assassin so effectively turn the squirrels against them even if she had been living on this continent for this long? She knew and lived among them. Perhaps that also explained how some of their warriors could possibly have been sent to Alestra.


Why hadn't he suspected sooner?! Of course, it wouldn't have mattered if he had. The "missionary's" half-dead state prevented any questioning that could have given her away and made her seem positively harmless. No doubt as planned.


Nathaniel could do little but rise and gesture that he would comply. His other hand pointed to his drying, if not dried, clothing. A silent request that she at least allow him to cloth himself if they were going back into the forest...or wherever Agatha wanted to take this "walk". He was hardly in any position to refuse.

 

[Xatarias]

Agatha chuckles at your gestured request and shakes her head. "Oh no, dear. I'm not leaving anything up to chance. Besides I like it this way, only a breath between us."


She looms closer until her pert bosom tickles your own bare chest. Agatha trails a hand down your arm, her touch the mocking resemblance of sensuality... Then again, her twisted mind might actually be aroused by the razor-edged atmosphere. You flinch as your consciousness reflexively recoils from the growing psychic presence encroaching on your defenses. Agatha's dark mind pulses like an enflamed wound, seeking to overrun you with its corrupted taint.


Agatha turns you towards the cave's entrance, pistol presented to the small of your back. She nudges you forward and you stumble off barefoot into the muddy landscape. Mercifully the worst of the storm has passed, the lightning now far off in the distance. However a drizzle still persists, and you are soon shivering with cold.


Your captor directs you along the stream bank until you arrive at an iron door, set into the mossy ground and cunningly concealed behind some shrubbery.


"Open it."


Doing as you are bidden, the doors scream on rusty hinges and you spy a sparsely lit stairwell descending deep into the bowls of the earth. A stench of fresh carrion and bestial musk wafts up and assaults you nostrils, but it is nothing compared to the psychic aura of this dark abode. Terror, madness... And pain.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel tensed and even had to suppress a shiver as Agatha's hand trailed down his exposed flesh. He had difficulty handling...this sort of thing at the best of times. Unsurprisingly, being held naked at gunpoint while his assailant might very well have been taking some sort of perverse pleasure in the power she wielded over him compounded the young man's usual apprehension.


Her mind brushed against his. It was like being forced to inhale the fumes a blacksmith's efforts to burn away their junk metal and other, rotting garbage. Searing and so offending to the senses that maintaining consciousness was a struggle and every instinct he had screamed for him to pull away. Yet, Nathaniel's mind would have felt more like a coiled spring than anything else to Agatha. Even the face of her power, his will remained iron. He wanted very, very much to just lash out at her with all the vast mental strength as his disposal. To show her that the way their last duel ended was no mere fluke.


But a single twitch of her finger would be all Agatha needed to end his struggle. Even if he won the mental clash, even if she was instantly forced to release Telai, Nathaniel was certain Agatha could pull the trigger faster than he could reduce her to a gibbering wreck.


He had no choice but to turn around and allow her to guide him through the forest. Even shivering from the rain and the colt steel pressed against the small of his back, Nathaniel's  curiosity compelled him to glance over the door almost eagerly as he opened it. It reminded him more of his homeland than something built by the squirrels or Hillfolk. Was the rust due to a lack of use, proper maintenance being unfeasible, or a deliberate effort at concealing it on Agatha's part? The stairs received similarly curious treatment.


And then Nathaniel remembered where he was and why.


He very nearly backpedaled as the fetid stench and psychic aura hit him as hard as any assault Agatha was likely to muster. The assassin no doubt stopped the reflexive moment before it could even begin. Nathaniel's heart had been beating swiftly ever since he was forced out of the boneyard. Now, it pounded so heavily he could feel it in his ears. His entire body felt numb as he truly began to comprehend what awaited him. This was a woman trained by the man whose mere memories had haunted his sleep. Everything he could do to break a person down...oh gods...


The young man's growing terror would have been almost palpable even without Agatha's ability to molest his very mind. For a moment, he honestly considered lashing out at her with everything he had, mentally and physically, even with the pistol set against his back. A relatively quick death and a minuscule chance for freedom weighed against allowing her to do with him as she pleased for as long as she deigned to keep him alive...


But he didn't. Fear of even that death mingled with the hope that, somehow,he would escape given the time and opportunity stopped him. Even so, when Nathaniel descended down the staircase, it wasn't just the cold that made him shiver.

 

[Xatarias]

It's when you reach the bottom few steps of the staircase that the soles of your feet begins to peel away from the floor when something wet and sticky. As your nose adjusts, the initial horrid stench of the place slowly begins to be replaced by a nauseating metallic scent.


Agatha's lair is poorly lit nightmare of sputtering candlelight and shadow. The rusted bars of iron cages dominate the large circular chamber and the bones of dead squirrel folk and humans litter the floor. You see a work bench stretching across the far wall, cruel devices of unspeakable purpose neatly arranged on its surface.


Prompted by the prodding of Agatha's pistol, you step a few feet into the room and nearly fall to your feet when a enormous streak of black fur slams against the bars of a nearby cage. Cracked, yellow teeth gnash against scarred metal as the beast futilely attempts to break free and devour you. It takes a few moments for you to recognize this rabid creature as a particularly enormous hillfolk.


There is no intelligent light in this creature's gaze as you saw in Ruan and his kin. The hillfolk paces the confines of its enclosure, leering at you with the rage-filled bloodlust of the abused and broken. However aggressive the original hillfolk were before Alestra's arrival, you know that this specimen's condition is the product of careful manipulation. Torture and conditioning of the cruelest manner is the only logical explanation for the pure madness bristling before you.


"Well that's strange, Wilfred normally doesn't warm up to strangers so fast, do you Willy? You know what they say, animals can take the measure of a person in ways people just can't."


Wilfred, as he is called, immediately cowers with a pitiful whine when he catches sight of Agatha, pressing himself desperately against the farthest corner of his cage.


Agatha's appearance prompts a din of howls, whines, and the rattling of metal. It immediately is silenced when Agatha lets out a feral scream of her own.


"Quiet all of you! Feeding time will come after I give our guest a proper welcome." She turns a gracious smile to you. "So how do you like my army? I don't have the delicate hand of Father, but I make do with the tools available. Utterly obedient after years and year of work... Rewards for when they behave, punishment when they don't... And then more punishment, just to keep them on their toes."


You don't know which is more frightening, the surrounding factory of barbaric oppression or Agatha's crooked smile upon seeing your reaction to her workspace.

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel felt his stomach churn from the smell of Agatha's abode alone. Then he set foot in the chamber proper. There was a brief moment where he felt numb and deaf at the sight of the squirrelmorph and human corpses strewn across the floor and the many, likely well-maintained, tools of torture resting atop the work bench.


"Grah!" Nathaniel cried out, his arms raising into the start of a fighting stance that would have done nothing more than make him feel slightly better about himself against the hulking brute battering its body against the cage. He stared in silent horror as it stalked him from behind the bars only to cower at the mere sight of his mistress.


For a moment, Nathaniel was almost relieved by the terrible cacophony of bestial noises Agatha's presence caused. She had turned these people into feral beasts, but even if nothing could be done for them, even if fear and hatred were the only emotions they were capable of feeling now, perhaps if he could just get one of the cage open at an opportune-


The young man jumped as Agatha bellowed with a ferocity that rivaled anything her "pets" were capable of. Every single one of the raging prisoners fell silent and that brief flicker of hope was crushed. The assassin could likely cow any of them with a mere look. There would be no karmic justice at the hands of the people whose very souls she sought to murder.


"Years?" Nathaniel's jaw clenched and there was a hard look in his eyes as they swept over the corpses again. "I'm surprised neither Brokenstream's people nor the Hillfolk realized that...something was amiss. Your 'army' doesn't seem the best equipped for moving undetected through the forest. I would think even someone with your capabilities...Agatha? Is that even the name you prefer? Would have trouble keeping them secret."


There was some curiosity in the Avalonian's gaze as he looked over the cages and attempted to count the prisoners' numbers. Just how large was this 'army'. "It's certainly...impressive for what it is, but I have to wonder about its purpose. Is all...this just a hobby to you, or were you planning to eliminate your target this way?"

 

[Xatarias]

You look around Agatha's dungeon and count nearly a score of the captive Hillfolk. Some seem to be in better condition than others, but all bear the natural strength of their race and an engrained ferocity that no sane warrior could match. One red-eyed individual snaps at you as you pass by, spraying spittle eliciting an affectionate chuckle from Agatha. She reaches through the bars to caress the beast's pointed ears, all the while training her weapon on you.


"Oh I won't say it hasn't been a challenge, but everyone needs a hobby." For a moment you think her coyness will remain in place, but then she continues. "The squirrel folk are reeling after the death of their beloved leader. His assassination was quite grizzly I'm afraid. One of my better pieces of work if I do say so myself."


She leans closer, with a prideful smile on her face. "Now mix in a cadre of blood-crazed hillfolk into that moment of uncertainty and you have a race war. The syndicate is not interested in sharing this continent with a bunch of filthy primitives, Nathanial. We had hoped that you would begin the process usurping their influence, but instead you began building a coalition with the subhumans. And so you forced us to take up more dramatic methods in achieving our ends. I hope you're happy."


She reaches over into the shadows and tosses a pair of manacles at your feet.


"Of course none of that matters to you. Your replacement will arrive in a matter of weeks and you and I will be off to the Eastern Lands to meet someone who's very interested in your newfound capabilities... We can even take that busty redhead to keep us company if you behave."

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel's eyes burned into Agatha every step of the way. Even the fiercest snarls and heaviest blows her "pets" could bring against the bars  could barely tear his gaze away from her for even an instant. Right now, the young the scholar was as much a caged predator as they were. Oh, any one of them could likely tear him in two before he could even scream if given the chance, but unlike Agatha's other victims Nathaniel was neither broken nor blind to even the slightest opportunity to reverse their fortunes. Not yet.


He glared right back as the false priestess leaned into his face, beaming with perverse pride. His tone was about as dry and withering as it was humanly possible to get without dipping into naked rage. "On the contrary, I am positively guilt-ridden. I'll be sure to be much more...aggressive about achieving my goals in the future. Hypothetically, if my expedition and I did come to this continent guns blazing at the "filthy primitives", would you have kidnapped me the moment you stopped pretending to sulk over 'My poor congregation!', or would you have pretended coming with you to be "introduced" to the syndicate was an invitation? You don't strike me as the sort to suffer wild cards and even potential rivals well."


Nathaniel ceased giving Agatha a cold glare just long enough to glance down at the manacles and pick them up. He hesitated a moment and then took a bit of a gamble. He tried to lock them around his wrists in front of rather than behind him. If he could accomplish that, the chain linking the cuffs could serve as a metal garrote even if it was short and he would be able to manipulate his environment fairly freely. The problem was that Agatha would have to be an utter fool to let him get away with that unless she planned to suspend him from a ceiling by the link. She would only need to make a gesture or a single command to thwart him, unless the false priestess was feeling particularly inattentive or arrogant.


Either way, Nathaniel's frown deepened and his glare intensified at her words. "How considerate of you. I'm flattered you would go so far out of your way on my account to make this trip more comfortable. Is that an idle offer, or were you planning to have Drail carry her for you? I'm still not entirely sure whether that...missionary position you took up with him was how you planned to get control over a member of my expedition, or actual stress relief after living among the squirrels for so long..."

 

[Xatarias]

Agatha doesn't seem concerned when you snap on the manacle with your arms forward rather than behind your back. Indeed, she seems more interested in addressing your "misguided" methods of colonial conquest.


"Your pathetic clinging to that feeble notion of ethics is what's holding you back Nathanial. This far from civilization, there is no moral high ground. Cause a bloodbath, emerge victorious, and no one will do anything but sing your praises back in Avalon. There were so many options available to you. Did you know that Brokenstream dotes on his grandchildren? No, because it would never cross your mind to hold them ransom to ensure the chieftain's complicity.


"Or you could have armed dissidents within his tribe. The ensuing civil war would last as long as you kept the black powder flowing and you'd be free to clear cut the coast without interference. You could have even struck a deal with the Lentani to ensure security for your operations... Regardless, all that ceased to matter the moment you gained your abilities and sought out that woman. Once you've become initiated, you will see the world with new eyes just as I have."


She gestures you back against the wall several feet from her workbench. Agatha begins fumbling with the lock on one of the many surrounding cages. The action is difficult as she remains stalwart in keeping her pistol pointed towards you. Suddenly, she flinches and her aim wavers.


A voice rings out in your mind accompanied by a familiar tendril of consciousness that. Telai is beyond her control now, Nathanial. You need to move. NOW!


The connection breaks and there is a split second where you recognize hesitation in Agatha's expression as if she is unsure whether you know what just happened. Coming to a decision she straightens her aim and pulls the trigger...

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel fought hard not to exhale a relieved breath as Agatha failed to protest over the way he locked the manacles. He was still bound and naked in the heart of her private dungeon, but he could work with this. For all Agatha's gloating and sociopathic lecturing, she hadn't won yet. By her own admission, it would take weeks before the syndicate reinforcements could arrive to truly begin enforcing their plans and the planned journey east would give him the time he needed to act. If he was lucky.


"And what about you?" He asked dryly. "Are you sure the pleasure you take in your...work  hasn't blinded you to alternatives either? What does your vision for this continent look like? Is a stockpile of lumber and minerals all you see? Were you planning on coercing the squirrels into weaving their silk for you or teaching your workers to do it instead? I can't imagine how making enemies out of the people whose tools and ingenuity you're counting on to turn a profit for you will backfire. Or were you thinking that if you torture and kill enough of them, it'll all work out without hurting production?"


Nathaniel gestured wildly towards one of the feral, caged Hillfolk. "Is THAT all you see them as? You couldn't think of any other way than a savage bloodbath to profit from this entire continent? Forgive me if I'm skeptical of the assassin trying to give me business advice..."


He watched coldly as Agatha fiddled with the cage's lock. Despite her perceived slip-up with the manacles, she wasn't so incautious as to completely drop her guard to him. But the moment she did-!


Nathaniel's body tense the instant Agatha wavered. The voice barely needed to say anything more than "Telai" before his mind lashed out with all its considerable might. The crushing wave of psionic power rushed to batter aside Agatha's startled defense while Nathaniel himself sprang forward and to the side. His shoulder was aimed to slam into Agatha's chest and midriff, afterwhich he intended to wrench the pistol from the stunned assassin's grip...assuming his two-pronged assault did indeed send her reeling.


Agatha was no psychic weakling herself, and she was by far the more experienced combatant. Physically...well, the only thing Nathaniel had going for him there was surprise and the hope that if the bullet connected before he could reach her, he would be able to power through it...somehow.

 

[Xatarias]

(Speed contest: 14)


(Intellect contest: 20)


The pistol goes off as you charge forward and a searing hot pain rips through you as the bullet clips your upper thigh. The momentum of your charge carries you forward and you impact into Agatha's midriff. The twisted assassin is taken off her feet and you fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs.


(Normal sustained: [X][ ][ ])


The pain you feel from the gunshot augments your psychic assault, fueling it with primal desperation. You gather your consciousness into a unstoppable avalanche and direct it against Agatha's ill prepared defenses. She screams.


There is no precision here, simply the purest contest of wills. Tangling with your enemy's corrupting presence is like thrusting your arm into razor wire, but you press on, seeking the foul heart of her consciousness with the intent to rip it out.


(Normal wound inflicted)

 

[Weiss Ritter]

Nathaniel flinched and gritted his teeth as the hot lead tore through his flesh. Not too deeply, not enough to permanently cripple him, but enough that he wouldn't be running or kicking his way out of this easily. As he and Agatha fell, the blond twisted and grappled with her as well as he could with his manacled hands. The savagery of his assault may well have surprised Agatha as much as his initial assault. Nathaniel tried to throw his weight down atop her, all while biting, head-butting, and hammering down upon her with both hands clenched together. Whatever it took to pin the assassin beneath him.


Pain, adrenaline, and desperation fueled his efforts. If Agatha did find herself trapped beneath the enraged Brightland, he would have lunged down to seize her neck. It would have been squeezed with all the force his hands could muster, pulled so her head was raised just above the floor, then violently slammed down. Again and again.


It was...definitely in Agatha's best interests to win the physical battle at least. She wouldn't have needed to feel the white-hot anger Nathaniel wielded against her mind to realize what he wanted. The hate was in his eyes. He wasn't going to stop until she was unconscious or dead. He didn't care which.