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[Vortigern]

When they saw the beacons light up, the four attacking legions had no choice but to begin their assault. As they moved closer Blaise was given a new appreciation of just how many soldiers made up four legions; the horizon seemed to be nothing but the enemy.

"Light protect us," he murmured fervently. Blaise worked a little magic, guiding what little light there was amongst the darkness towards his eyes, allowing him to see through the shadows and know what he faced. The blood drained from his face as he saw what was before them. Ballista bolts the size of men hurtled toward the Wall. "Cover!" Blaise shouted, dropping to the floor. The first bolt hit the rampart squarely with enough force to smash the crenellations to splinters, the chunks of rock scattering across the Wall. One of the larger shards of rock hit the beacon full on, knocking it over and sending the blazing logs all over the floor. Scrambling back to his feet, Blaise reached out a hand, drawing in the flames to spare his men.

More and more bolts came crashing into the Wall, breaking portions of it away with each impact and sending the defenders scurrying for cover. Enough of this, Blaise thought furiously. If he was going to die it would be in battle proper, not in the opening volleys. He gathered up the energy from the spilled beacon, concentrating it in his hands, and then launched it across the night in a blazing arc that ended explosively atop the foremost ballista. Though the detail was beyond his vision, Blaise could feel the iron buckle and the wood ignite. That was good enough for that one. He withdrew the fire, pulling it up into another burning line streaking through the night, taking it to ballista after ballista until they all became unusable.

"You could have done that to begin with," said Varashi, appearing almost out of nowhere at Blaise's side, as Drow were wont to do in the night.

"I didn't see them in my first sweep," Blaise replied, confused. It didn't make sense. He should have seen the ballistae, but somehow they were hidden from him. He suspected magic would play a role on both sides tonight.

"The battle has begun," the Drow murmured, more to herself than to Blaise. The legions charged.



((Here we go, heavily outnumbered in open warfare, our capable and battle-hardened characters have a strategic advantage but that's about it. Let's see how it goes, shall we?))

[Copaman]

Vieran and Liiara stood together on the ramparts after the ballistae had been destroyed. "Oh, great," moaned Vieran as the troops poured forth towards them. "Well. How would you like to approach this one?"

"Like this," replied Liiara, just before setting a patch of land ablaze in what was more of an explosion than anything else.

"We both know you can't keep that up forever. Like it or not we'll have to go down there at some point."

"You're right, but for now I'm getting quite a bit of enjoyment out of this - in a non sick-and-twisted way, I promise." She set another swath of soldiers on fire, not bothering to look as they quickly burned to nothingness.

"Shall we, then?"

"One more? Pretty please?"

"Fine... but hurry it up."

She blew one patch of grass to nothingness, and the two headed down from the wall to join the fray.

"I hope you didn't wear yourself out too quickly," he said before the two of them joined the fight, "as I'm going to need you to watch my back."

She laughed at his statement. "I'm feeling good tonight, can't you tell? You'll be watching mine!"

[Vortigern]

Blaise drew his sword. In these close quarters any magic he wielded was as likely to hurt him as the intented target. The Sorgraenes came pouring over the wall by their hundreds, instantly driving a wedge through the Aiyrene defences. Blaise leapt into the fray, first blow cleaving the skull of the poor unfortunate at the far edge of the line. The next blow caught a very surprised Sorgraene in the chest, blade slicing through his armour like a hot knife through butter. Ah, magic, Blaise thought happily. It was a real advantage, however you used it.

The first Blaise knew of his side's imminent defeat was a colossal roar that rose up among the attacking troops as the gatehouse fell, the oak-and-steel gates flung wide open, allowing a steady stream of attackers through into Aiyrene sovereign territory. Taking a moment to look around as he found a brief lull in the fighting, Blaise saw that this operation was smooth and determined. The first action of the Davishers through the gate was to take the wall on the other side of the gatehouse from where he now stood, racing up the stairs to quickly gain an even footing with Blaise's allies.

Blaise could see that the Wall was lost. He had had enough of this already. This battle was his only as far as he thought he could win it; that was what being a mercenary meant, and his employers were well aware of that. He raised his sword above his head, blade hanging down as his fingers rested around the hilt. The mercenaries amidst the Sorgraene soldiers instantly recognised the symbol for surrender and began the call.

"Lay down your arms!" came the cry, over and over again. From the corner of his eye Blaise could see Sholl surrounded by eight men with spears, poking at him and keeping him at bay. Blaise worked a little whispering tube out of the air and spoke to the minotaur.

"Do as they ask, Sholl," he said. "They know the rules. They won't harm you as long as you surrender." Sholl looked around, confused, but clearly recognised Blaise's voice. Vieran and Liiara stood atop a little mound of corpses they had wrought between them, swords still levelled but surrounded by enemies on all sides.

"You cannot fight everyone, deathknelf," someone said, a powerful, resounding voice, clear over the sounds of battle continuing nearby. Neither Vieran nor Liiara said anything.

"Put your swords up, friends," Blaise shouted to them. Reluctantly they did as he bid.

"A wise move," continued the voice, its owner stepping forward to reveal himself to Blaise. "Hello, Watcher." Blaise's brow furrowed as he recognised his enemy. "It has been a long time since last you walked this country."

"I've been busy," Blaise replied. "I would've thought you'd be long dead by now, Murad." The Janizar chuckled heartily.

"It takes a great deal to bring down men such as I, my friend." Blaise nodded appreciatively.

"I recognise you," said Vieran suddenly. "You were at the Maughold three years ago."

"Indeed I was," answered the mercenary captain. "I presume you were with his grace Tom Joad?" Vieran replied in the affirmative. Murad returned his attention to the Watcher. "Well, Blaise, may I suggest you bring your band of soldiers over to our side? This war will not end well for Aiyris."

"I can see that." Blaise did not even need a moment to think of his answer. "Any of my men that wish to sign on with your corps will be welcome to do so. Any that wish can let themselves be ransomed back to their company if such is agreed, or can leave to go elsewhere." Murad inclined his head in agreement.

"We may be killers for hire, but we are honourable. Let it be so." By this point the fighting on the more southerly stretch of wall had come to an end, Aiyrene militia and mercenaries alike posed in surrender. "Enough blood has been shed this night."



((Hooray! A return of an old friend. Anyway, I'm'a leave this up to you guys. I've got a plan whether we join up with Murad and march on Aiyris or if we head off and go our own way. What do you feel like, pitched battle or something more quest-like?))

[mike_]

Several of Murad's soldiers shouted in surprise and halfway-leveled their weapons as Varashi materialized next to Blaise and Murad, silent as the moon. As ever, her pale robes shown in the moonlight and distant watch-fires of the Wall. Her sword was sheathed, and her arm-rings were not in her hands, but her opposers were still tense now that they were aware of the Drow within their company.

"Honourable," she said, her clipped tones belaying a strange, foreign sort of wisdon. "Decisive. Yes. I would rather have my sword beside yours than against it. However much I would rather not place myself here in this little war, it seems that I have no choice in the matter. And I will not continue this conflict on a worse-faring side.

"As for the rest of you, my friends, you may decide where you go from here. But I am going with the Janizar."

[Vortigern]

((Pitched battle it is, at least for a little while.))

Varashi was the first, but by no means the last, to change her allegiance to Murad's side. The Aiyrene militiamen were taken prisoner while the mercenaries swore their new oaths.

"I find it a constant source of puzzlement how easily loyalties can shift, whether in war or peace," Varashi commented as she and Blaise looked on.

"Survival comes first," Blaise replied. "For these men soldiering isn't a necessity, it's a lifestyle choice. They get paid to put their lives in danger, but they can't enjoy it if they're dead."

"Not all of them, anyway." The puzzlement this time was Blaise's. Varashi glanced at him, catching the surprise, before turning back to face the sight of mercenary rededication. "I have heard tell of Nyasi witches with the power to resurrect the fallen."

"Rumours and speculation." As a practical mage, Blaise had little time for the idle gossip and myth-mongering that went on in academic circles. What far-distant magi could or could not do was of no interest to Blaise. He had much more patience for the here and now.

"Perhaps not. Though what I have heard seems always to suggest that the resurrected are not themselves, as once they were." Blaise snorted.

"Plain old necromancy is nothing new, Varashi. There are instances of magi from Stavangr, Trivandor, Tyburn, even Envael raising the dead into a shuffling mob of variably decomposed arrow fodder."

"Yet there is still no explanation for how Winter Vayu was able to return from the dead," she pointed out. Blaise had no answer for that. The Black Paladin was a mystery indeed. Privately he suspected that Vayu had never in fact died, but had simply disappeared for a while and re-emerged with a new identity, albeit one that ultimately was seen through. At least, that's how history will tell it.

His leadership duties fulfilled, Murad came to join them.

"More than five hundred new men in my corps, old friend," declared the Janizar. "Our numbers are now greater than when we set out upon this endeavour." He chuckled as Blaise frowned. "Yes, my friend, you did that little hurt to us through this battle."

"That's almost embarrassing," Blaise said. "So you mind filling us in on this whole invasion thing?" Murad raised an eyebrow.

"Where I come from, we at least make a pretence of subtlety," he commented. "Though I appreciate life in Valenti is somewhat more... brusque. As I understand it, the grand scheme is not to invade Aiyris itself, but to lay siege and claim the surrounding territory." Blaise nodded. It made sense. Aiyris was far too well fortified to take in a single season's fighting, and a stranglehold on the city's resources would prove immensely valuable to those on the receiving end.

"You spoke of your homeland," Varashi said suddenly. "May I ask where that is?"

"I am from provincial Khirvan, originally," Murad answered, unperturbed by the abrupt question. "Though the majority of my education took place in Pergat, at the Naval College."

"And most of your soldiers are also from Khirvan?" she asked.

"Those that have been with me the longest, yes, though our numbers have swelled to a point where we Khirvani are at a disadvantage in our own corps," he added, with a wry smile.

"Khirvani swordplay is a joy to observe," Varashi complimented him. Murad smiled properly at that.

"My father would be immensely pleased to hear so," he said, fingers twirling the end of his moustache. "Now, I must be about my duties. A camp must be established before relief comes courtesy of those beacons you so helpfully set alight." Blaise held up his hand in apology. Blaise turned to speak to Varashi, but she had disappeared once more into the darkness. Blaise shook his head in exasperation and went to find Vieran. Perhaps the deathknelf would fancy a few hands of runestones.

[Copaman]

"So quick to change coats, Vee? We could have taken them all on."

Liiara's sense of humor was not far removed from her partner's; despite the bickering and the teasing, it was all in good fun.

"Come on. You and I both know that the humans would have simply settled from throwing insurmountable numbers at us. You would have had to detonate yourself if you even wanted me to have a chance to live," was Vieran's reply.

She chuckled. "I'd prefer us to both stay alive. Gods only know where you'd be without me."

"Probably drunk somewhere with a whale of a human in my bed, in all honesty..."

"Worst part is I know you're right. We should probably help set up this camp, if we want to earn our stay...?"

"Agreed."

[{IP}jimmyman]

"What in the bloody 'ell is goin' on 'ere" Don shouted drunkenly as he walked out of the stables him and Sholl had been sleeping in.

After the shout though, a small group of armed soldiers promptly noticed his appearance and rushed towards him.

"Thank someone above I didn't arm meself," Don murmured to himself as the soldiers closed on his position, "now boy don't ye dare point that damned spear at me. I'll poke yer eye out."

"I-I'm sorry master dwarf, but we can only be so cautious," the lad responded squeamishly, "we've attacked-," Don looked past the young soldier and spotted Sholl strolling back towards the stables, surrounded by a good number of soldiers.

"Ye damn bovine! What the 'ell is goin' on," he repeated his previous question.

"We get attacked. Then Blaise surrendor and we join. Get weapons Don," the minotaur responded.

"Will i ever get one normal night of drunk sleep," Don muttered as he turned around to retrieve his weapons and armor.

[Vortigern]

“Head through the catacombs, Blaise,” the Watcher muttered as his magelight flickered along the ancient stone walls. “It’ll be easy, Blaise. Nobody’ll be expecting that, Blaise.”

“Talking to yourself isn’t exactly helping,” Varashi murmured at his side.

“Well, neither did getting attacked in a confined space,” he retorted. “If I see that bloody Janizar again I’m going to give him a right old slap.”

“Give him one from me too,” said Vieran, unhappily poking at the stitches Liiara had inserted into his arm. Liiara slapped his hand away from the wound.

“According to our directions, we should come up near the east gate just up ahead,” Varashi announced. Given her fire magic and drow night-sight, she had instantly claimed responsibility for the map.

“That’s assuming that map even vaguely resembles what’s actually down here,” Blaise muttered to himself.

“Sholl punch hole in wall if there no door,” said the Minotaur.

“Aye, a forthright solution to an unhappy imprisonment,” Don added. “Although ye might wish to punch out the ceiling.”

“Anyone know how far underground we are?” wondered Vieran.

“Nae too deep,” Don replied. Of all of them, Don was far and away the most comfortable down here. Blaise idly wondered what it was about dwarves that made them so at home in subterranean pastures. Probably a height thing, he mused. Low ceilings, low heads, it works. “So we just pop up out o’ th’earth and open the gate, is tha’ it?” Don asked.

“That’s the hope,” Blaise replied. “Whether it’ll work is another thing. And whether there’ll be anyone to come through the gate when we open it is yet another.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Don muttered, echoing the thought they had all been sharing these past minutes. “Almost as bad as the part about us nae meeting owt down here.”

“Be quiet, Don,” ordered Varashi. “If this map is indeed accurate, our exit should be-” She stopped as she looked up at the solid wall before her. “It seems our map is, after all, somewhat inaccurate.”

“So, turn back or push on?” Blaise asked the group.

“Does anyone know the way back?” Liiara wondered. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which was ultimately broken by Blaise again.

“Push on, then.”

* * * * * * * *

“Who would have thought all this was right underneath Aiyris?” said Vieran in astonishment, looking out across the vast chamber, lit by Blaise’s magic. Liiara gently cuffed him on the back of the head for breaking the awed silence. They stood there for a while longer, taking in the unbelievable sight before them. Vaulted ceilings arched high overhead, ringed by intricately carved columns depicting scenes of bacchanalian debauchery. The columns were topped by a grey stone frieze running in a full circle around the exterior of the cavern, displaying a sight that stirred a dim recollection from somewhere deep within Blaise’s subconscious. From up on high hundreds of figures looked down on the immense room, and as the group each surveyed them, Blaise heard gasps of surprise from the two deathknelve, and a moment later the sound was echoed by Varashi. It was then that Blaise realised why he recognised this scene; an artist’s impression, sketched in a dusty old tome from the recesses of the Great Library in Valenti, in Shakayn’s Lighthouse, of what he had named ‘The Hall of the Gods’. The book had claimed the room had once housed the mightiest of beings, great warriors, greater scholars and magi greater still, people so powerful that they were as gods to the mere mortals of the realm. The book had also questioned whether those who had once held council in this vault were themselves even mortal, whether the moniker he had given the place might not be more appropriate than ever he, the author, could know.

At Blaise’s side Vieran and Liiara were both silently mouthing a litany, a religious offering to the gods they recognised above them, crowded into the stonework among the deities of all Arsencia. Varashi had drawn the sign of the cross in the air before her in thin streaks of flame, the symbol showing her reverence for the beautiful drow goddesses that stood interspersed among their equals.

“They all look at that,” rumbled Sholl, drawing attention away from the artwork for the first time since they had seen it. Blaise had no idea how long they had all been staring rapturously upward, but he was sure it hadn’t been good for his neck. He followed the line of Sholl’s outstretched arm to the wide stone table that stood alone in the dead centre of the room, and briefly wondered why he had not noticed that immediately.

Blaise, Don and Sholl stepped out toward the table, but Vieran, Liiara and Varashi remained still, posed in unthinking obeisance to the gods they so revered. Blaise gave a mental shrug and proceeded forth regardless. As they stood over the table, Blaise took in the lines and patterns that criss-crossed its surface, trying to figure them out, but the size of the table made it difficult.

“It’s a map,” Sholl announced, his greater height allowing him a much clearer view of the whole thing.

“Can you lift me up to have a look at it?” Blaise asked Sholl. The minotaur acquiesced with a grunt, hoisting Blaise atop his shoulder with an easy motion. From up there the Watcher too could see the map, the lines and bumps fading into hills and rivers and roads and towns. A moment later he understood why he hadn’t seen it for what it was sooner. The table was made from concentric rings which had slid out of alignment. The coastline was the easiest marker to use, and Blaise set about instructing Sholl for where the shift the table back into place. Within a few minutes the map was complete again, and deathknelve and drow had joined the group at the table, having completed their oblations.

“Why didn’t you just magic it into place?” asked Vieran, chuckling as he watched Sholl manoeuvre solid rock around.

“Can’t you feel it?” Varashi said, surprised. “Nothing magical will touch that table. It has too much magic of its own to be affected by anything we could do.”

“How can a lump of rock be magical?”

“There be a great deal o’ power in th’earth, lad,” Don responded. “We dwarves ha’e been usin’ that power to do what we do for thousands o’ years.”

“Besides, Vee, look where we are,” murmured Liiara, still in awe of the beautiful chamber. “I get the feeling normal expectations will be somewhat subverted in a place like this.”

“Something else,” Blaise broke in, eager to divulge his latest discovery. “This map is current. If you look there-” arm outstretched, he suited word to deed, “you can see Anaburg. Twenty years ago that was just a little town on the river, but here it’s a full citadel.”

“So somebody’s been down here quite recently?” Vieran enquired, fingers reaching instinctively for his swords.

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Blaise reassured him. “I think the table adjusts itself somehow.”

“So we here?” Sholl asked, poking at the little nub of stone that represented Aiyris. The minotaur leapt back in surprise, dislodging Blaise from his shoulder. The fall knocked the wind out of Blaise, and he got up a few moments later, about to reproach the others for not helping him up or even asking if he was alright, but then he saw why they were silent. When Sholl touched Aiyris on the map, a line of silver liquid had trickled out, and now headed north, snaking back and forth to avoid the main roads through Mirmida, further until it left the battle-scarred land of city-states altogether and entered Trivandor, where it abruptly swung east. For a few seconds more the quicksilver continued moving, coming to a halt in a place Blaise knew by reputation alone, and that reputation was fearsome indeed.

“Bylazora,” Varashi whispered.

“That was impressive,” Vieran admitted. He paused. “So a table wants us to go to Bylazora, is that where we’re at now?”

“I think first we have to figure out a way to get the hell out of these damn tunnels,” Blaise replied, remembering for the first time the nature of their subterranean plight.

“I think I can help there,” said Varashi, a little half-smile playing at her pale blue lips. “Up there, do you see?” She pointed out what she meant. “That is Arif, patron goddess of prisoners and travellers.”

“That seems an odd combination,” Blaise commented.

“Both seek her blessing to achieve freedom. She isn’t looking at the table,” Varashi continued. “She’s pointing to that wall. The one that doesn’t have any moss or lichen growing on it.”

“What would cause that?” Blaise wondered aloud.

“That wall is an illusion. I’m willing to bet that behind that wall is our path to freedom.”

“And from there our path to Bylazora.”

“Should we send a message to Murad?” Liiara asked. Blaise chuckled.

“He’ll be fine.”




((OK, so that's us out on the road again, heading north through a war-torn region with all the attendant perils. Bandits, displaced peasants, the usual chance of Arsencian monsters leaping out for no apparent reason, and a quest! Even if we don't know what it is just yet.))

[Copaman]

Liiara walked over to the illusory wall. She pressed against it with a finger and found that it was somewhat firm but gave a bit.

"It's almost like a membrane. I've never seen anything like it."

His knowledge beneficial, Blaise chimed in. "It's meant to hide the fact that it isn't actually a real wall. Anyone down here not paying attention would brush up against the wall and not notice that it isn't actually a wall. Can't just have people falling through a wall now, can you?"


"Guess not. But how do we get through? Push harder?"

"That's one way. Or you could use magic to get through. I've heard of these before, they should grow back."

She lit her fingertip up just the slightest, and cut a small slit in the illusion. Sure enough, it began to form itself back up. Then she noticed the line she had cut was a little distorted from the rest of the wall, almost like scar tissue.

"I could melt the whole thing away," she said, "but the wall would look nothing like it does now. Which would mean that whoever comes down here would know that someone went through their magical wall. Which might not be what we want. So... who's up for busting through?"

Vieran raised his hand. "I've got it." He backed up a bit, started his sprint, and dove through the membrane-illusion.

He poked the backside of it, stretching it on the other side. "It's not that bad," he said, and the others soon followed through.

[Vortigern]

The merry band of six made their steady way north, staying well clear of the main roads where they were likely to encounter the mercenaries and thieves that made Mirmida such a terror for the natives. Nominally Blaise was still in charge, but the further they progressed the more he began to feel like he no longer had any say in his own affairs. As they made camp one night Varashi came to sit at his side, her white robes almost luminescent in the twilight, the multi-hued glow casting unusual, beautiful shadows across her lithe, firm body.

"Do you ever wonder if our fates are truly our own?" she asked him.

"A heavy subject for a pleasant evening," he replied, a touch evasively. Varashi was not fool enough to have not noticed, and gave him a moment to think of a better answer. "Ever since Valenti it has seemed that our paths have been set for us. A part of me wishes I had never left."

"But a much louder part of you is glad to be in the midst of something wonderful," she finished for him. "The gods often play with their mortal worshippers, or whichever people are unfortunate enough to cross their sight."

"What about you immortals?" Blaise wondered. "You and those two," he nodded in the direction of Vieran and Liiara, who even now still squabbled over who was to set up their tent for the night, "seem to be just as caught up in this as the rest of us."

"As far as the gods are concerned, we too are mortals." Blaise paused, thinking through his words for the next part.

"So do you think we're here as part of some cosmic scheme to..." He got stuck there, being entirely uncertain of what cosmic schemes might be designed to achieve.

"To do whatever it is the gods have in mind?" Varashi attempted, but naturally she too had little notion of what thoughts occupied eternal beings. "I would not presume myself so important, but the evidence does suggest a greater force at play. The turns we took entirely at random in the catacombs of Aiyris led us to a chamber hidden for centuries, millennia perhaps, and before that we encountered an old friend of yours to send us there, and before that we all happened to be in Valenti at the same time, and to encounter Parrail and his caravan to bring us east. It would be a fool indeed who discounted such things, but an arrogant fool who assumed it was all put in place to bring him to his destiny."

"So what you're saying is, you think something's up, but you don't want to admit it in case you're wrong?" Varashi smiled. Blaise suddenly realised he had never seen her laugh. Perhaps she was simply too calm, her self-control and placid demeanour not lending themselves to outward shows of emotion.

"Succinctly put," she agreed, and the two of them shared a comfortable moment's silence before Vieran broke it with a characteristic lack of tact.

"How's about getting us a fire going?" he enquired loudly. Blaise chuckled and conjured a flame in his fingers. Varashi stood up and closed her eyes. She swept her arm down and around, before drawing her fingers in to a tight fist. Blaise could just about hear her singing very softly. Twigs and small branches began to writhe across the ground as her magic took hold, the forest responding to her request with its dead offshoots, the lost pieces arriving to warm the body of one of its chosen people. It never ceased to amaze Blaise quite how much drow could do, for all that their power was based in the same element as his.

As the fire built itself they all came to sit around it, warmed by the oldest magic of all.

* * * * * * * *

"Apparently Tashhad's been very calm this year," Blaise explained. "All the fighting's been in the south. We should be able to just walk in and pick up a few supplies and new clothes, clean ourselves up and sharpen our swords."

"That'll be a nice change," Vieran commented. "Anyone mind if we stick around for a few days? There's a particular itch I'd like to scratch." Liiara cuffed him across the head none too gently. "Ow," he said.

"One night, at least. We could all do with a decent night's sleep, and the gods know I could use a decent drink instead of the gnat's piss they call beer in the villages around here."

"Aye, an' perhaps a little city life will ha'e taught 'em the value of fine cookin'," Don added. "That last place had nae idea how to cure meat. It wa' nowt short of sinful."

"And we can trade in these old nags for real horses," Liiara added, looking down at her mount with particular distaste. Blaise couldn't blame her for that; it was squint-eyed and looked, even among horses, to be unusually stupid. Just as he thought that it pulled to the right and gently headbutted Vieran's aged, pot-bellied gelding. He stifled a chuckle.

"What about Melidat?" Varashi enquired. "Usually they and Tashhad are going at it hammer and tongs."

"Rumour is the dukes have got a truce for this year, because neither one can afford to field a standing army, and the southern cities are all too busy fighting each other." Blaise yanked at his horse's reins; he had come out none too favourably either. The only horse in the group that seemed worth having was Don's little pony, which they had only been able to buy because it was too small to be of any use in the fields, but still apparently ate as much as any other horse. He looks ridiculous, Blaise thought, not for the first time. He looks like someone dressed up a child in chain mail and gave it a go on the local donkey.

"Then let's get to the city and get rid of these idiotic beasts," Varashi agreed.


((Big city time. Enjoy! Or at least show up. Come on, guys, think active!))

[Copaman]

((Are all cities walled? Or do some of them just grow up out of their suburbs?))
((Vort: The Mirmidan cities all have walls because they're constantly fighting, and the Stavangr towns do because of the minotaur, but there are a lot of places that don't. However, walls are also a sign of prestige if they're big and impressive, so some cities go for that too.))



Vieran looked ahead as the city of Tashhad grew larger in the distance. Already they were into its surrounding towns, lively with people running about. The city itself was separate from the towns around it - a large wall held in a decently sized tract of land, and then the city began inside that wall. The idea was that the surrounding towns could fall but the city would still stand; the land held within its gates offering not only shelter for refugees from the surrounding towns, but a small stream of produce as well.

"I think," he pondered aloud, "the first thing I will do is have a proper bath. Or I will eat. One of the two. Maybe I'll do both at the same time."

Blaise called back to him from a length in front. "Don't kid yourself. We all know the first thing you'll do is try to find yourself a nice girl with questionable morals."

"No, not right away," Verian offered in defense. "I'll smile nicely and use my charm to woo a few, and then I'll see them later that night. Believe it or not getting women in bed is not always my first priority."

Liiara gagged on her bit of food, caught in a surprise burst of laughter. "You're such a liar, Vee. Your first priority is women."

"No! Sometimes I want to survive! I'm telling you they aren't my first priority!"

"You want to survive because if you die you won't get any more women."

Don joined in, sensing that the heckling would provide him needed drunken entertainment. "'Ell, even I know you're after a fine lass. Ye've got it written on yer bleedin noggin."

"Y'know," he whined, "I really thought you guys were my friends! At least help me pull if you're going to tease me like this!"

[Vortigern]

Blaise requested another bath be drawn by the tavern girl as soon as Vieran was done with it; the trials of life on the road left everybody needing a long soak. With the littlest of magics he heated the slowly-cooling bath to the ideal temperature and sank down into the water with a grateful sigh. From his washbag he withdrew a small razor, and slowly, methodically began removing the scratchy little beard that had grown across his face over the last couple of weeks. Beards were all very well sometimes, but given the choice, Blaise would go clean-shaven every time. The stubble drifted through the bath-water, but Blaise didn't care; he had been dirty for too long to notice if the water wasn't perfect.

Eventually the water began to grow cold and his fingers wrinkled like little pink prunes, so he decided that was enough. He stepped out of the bathroom and was overjoyed to find the tavern girl had set out some clean clothes for him. She'd charge him for them, of course, but money was far less important than actually feeling clean every once in a while. It was amazing the luxuries one could get used to living in the big cities. He nodded approvingly as he dressed himself; the girl had an excellent eye for sizes, or maybe she had taken a quick peek at his own clothes to help her assessment. Either way, Blaise was comfortable, and a comfortable Blaise was usually a happy one.

He headed downstairs, but found none of his friends anywhere to be seen. Outside he discovered Don and Sholl, partaking of Don's potent mix of tobacco and Trivante herbs, and they pointed him in the direction of Vieran, Liiara and Varashi. The three of them had apparently headed off to find a busier tavern where Vieran could ply his trade as a womaniser with greater success, or at least with more options left after his first few rejections. (Blaise chuckled to himself at that thought.)

Soon he arrived at The White Hart, the tavern Don had directed him to. Inside he found very little to distract him, and found his friends conspicuous by their absence. Doubtless this one had not been busy enough for Vieran's tastes.

"Next one, then," Blaise murmured under his breath, and left. At The Frog he found a similar absence of blue-skinned drinkers, so moved on again. The King's Head (featuring a fairly brutal portrait of the beheading of the last king of Mirmida) provided him with a much more vibrant atmosphere, but again no sign of the three he sought. He frowned, and turned to leave, thinking to give up the search and go home to smoke with Don and Sholl for a while, but something stopped him.

"Blaise?" said the surprising voice. He turned, and found himself staring down, and then up, at a friend whose presence he had not enjoyed since the last time he was in Mirmida, for all that he was certain they had both travelled a fair portion of the world since.

"Harald," he said, unable to think of a witty response. The giant northman cackled heartily and swept Blaise up into a bearhug, lifting him from his feet as though he weighed as little as a child, to which Blaise's only response could be desperately gasping for air. Eventually Harald put him down, and bade him join them for a while.

"So what brings the Varyags to Tashhad?" Blaise wondered.

"You might call us a fact-finding mission," Harald replied. "The Duke decided he could use a few advantages, especially with all this noise about a magic sword and a god-warrior carving up Ateni, so he's hired us to head north to Bylazora and find him some exciting new weapons to beat the shit out of Melidat with."

"Hm," said Blaise. "That was frank. I was expecting you to be at least a little more circumspect."

"It's a fool's errand," put in one of Harald's men, who he had introduced as Thorkel.

"But we're being well-paid for it, so that's not our problem," announced another (Breglaf? Blaise couldn't be sure; they were all giant blond men with plaited hair and beards), to a general chorus of cheering. Blaise quickly considered his options, and could find no fault with the most obvious revelation.

"You know, I'm actually heading up to Bylazora myself," he told Harald. The Varyag raised an eyebrow in question, and Blaise shook his head, chuckling. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you why. But I'm with five others and the gods know we could do with some fresh company."

"We're moving out at first light tomorrow. You're welcome to join us, but don't hold us up," Harald decided. "Between you and me-" he leaned in close, "-we've been hearing too many rumours to ignore saying the fighting's coming north in the autumn. Davish and Sorgrad have apparently launched a major assault on Aiyris, and if they're not careful they'll present easy targets to this Sheratene god-warrior. And with that kind of strength behind him, he could more or less walk through the north slaughtering where he wants. We want to be long gone by that time." Blaise nodded.

"I've been hearing much the same. And you're right about the assault on Aiyris. I'm not sure who won, but a lot of the city was burning when we left. Murad was leading the attack, so it really could have gone either way."

"Dangerous times, as ever," Harald agreed. "So let's get through them like we always do. How do we do that?" He let his companions finish the sentiment for him with a hearty roar of "Drink!".



((There you go, now we've got company and y'all have got one night in Tashhad before we're heading out. I'm sure we can find some villains to fight/show off against along the road north.))