Yeoldebard
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They stood outside Bookmaker, taking in the large three-storey building. “Take him to a book store.” Coradiel’s voice played back in Godwin’s mind. He had a bad feeling about this, but Arlo had told them to act natural. This was anything but normal. Still, the excited gleam in Arlo’s eye at the sight of the store made Godwin’s stomach flip. No matter how many Grey Maidens they’d had to pass, no matter what nebulous traumas awaited in the future, Godwin could have this moment, here and now,
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“Announcing the Korvosan Four: Master Arlo of the Orisini Academy, Mistress Rusne, Dame Sera of Pharasma’s church, Sir Godwin of Iomedae’s church. Each a distinguished individual, united in the defence of Korvosa.” The herald’s words fell on deaf ears. Quiet conversation continued between the gathered nobles, each clustered in tiny groups throughout a wide hall. It made the throne room feel much larger than it actually was. Flickering braziers offered a warm light that stretched into the mage-
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Arlo left before dawn. A hastily scribbled note explaining his departure was weighed down by twenty gold sails. The creaking door no doubt told the whole house of his absence, and Arlo melted into the shadows before Tayce could catch him. He just knew she’d argue about the money. But the Soldados would need all the help they could get in Magnimar. Arlo was happy to offer a little more. And he was eager to move. Fragments drifted in his mind, disembodied voices that starred in his latest nigh
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Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and... Opium?
Yeoldebard commented on Yeoldebard's story chapter in Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and... Opium?
One must imagine the poor crocodile being utterly confused when its tasty morsel vanished mid bite. -
Andaisin’s body crackled with unholy power. Torrents of phlegm and bile congealed around her, and boils and pustules grew before exploding across her body. A claw formed from the rainbow of revolting humours, growing steadily into a scythe on the undead’s hand. It hissed through the air as Andaisin rose above the ground to float just out of melee reach. Arlo’s pistol shattered the eerie silence of the undead’s transformation. Andaisin’s head snapped back as a hole punched through her skull. Sh
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He floated in darkness, waiting, watching. Sakis remained between realities, and for only one reason: Louis still lived. They slumped in on themself, utterly ignored by the soldiers splashing through the river while officers futilely tried to restore order. Under the shade of a tree, the worst of the sun was diverted, and with a mild breeze whispering off sea and river, Louis was in the best spot they could be under the circumstances. But would it be enough? Sakis knew the drill — the instan
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Warmth. Weight. Comfort. “Arlo, I need to pee.” “Mhm…” The bedroom flickered around them, though there was no sign of a candle. Wrapping an arm around Godwin, Arlo sank back into the mattress, letting it engulf him- “I really need to pee.” “Okay,” he murmured, holding Godwin tighter. A soft gasp… then, “Do… you want me to…?” “Go pee...” Oblivion hovered, then swooped like a hawk, knocking Arlo off a cliff. Warmth. Weight. Wet. Arlo swam in a sun-baked lake. Heat sprea
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Magic had no grounding in scientific fact. It operated on its own rules. Given enough experience, a wizard could fundamentally alter the entire universe. Alchemy suffered similar problems. How was horse hair supposed to cure blindness? At least some things were realistic: Saltpeter and black powder still went boom no matter what plane you were on. Even with bumping his [Craft: Alchemy] as high as he could get it, Arlo still found the notes he dug through confusing; not least because some wer
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“Alright, let’s get this party started.” Arlo strode up to the double doors, reaching for his bag. He froze as his stump bumped the haversack. Right… two handed operations were flat out. No disabling traps, no unlocking doors. “I don’t suppose anyone else knows how to disarm a magical trap,” he said, looking around at his companions. The Deer stepped forward, raising his hands. A sonorous chant rumbled from behind his mask, and the air changed. Gone was the miasma of death and despair. Gon
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Torchlight spilled out from the guard post, properly illuminating the carnage before them. “How did you two see them?” Godwin demanded as Arlo explored the guard post. “Darkvision,” the kitsune brushed off, prying open an empty crate. Nothing. Not even any proper weapons. He was more than a little disappointed — what kind of guard post was this? Stepping over the dead bodies — bodies he had killed — Arlo motioned to the other door. “We need to find a way around these doors,” he said. “Th
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The Hospice of the Blessed Maiden
Yeoldebard commented on Yeoldebard's story chapter in The Hospice of the Blessed Maiden
The Deer did point out that he'd killed Arlo before, yet Arlo is still alive. If Pharasma doesn't want someone coming back, they're not coming back. Ergo, Pharasma is okay with Arlo being alive for some reason. At his core, the Deer isn't a violent person. He acts as a midwife, bringing new life into the world. It is his compassionate nature that sees him used as an assassin. The church recognises that he will ease his targets into the afterlife, and send them off as gently as he can. -
It seemed they always found their way back to West Dock. Passing warehouse after warehouse, Arlo steeled himself for the confrontation ahead. The walk through the city had been quiet, sombre. Carts rolled through empty streets, piled high with corpses. To the south, smoke filled the air with the sickening stench of burning bodies. And waiting in front of the hospice itself, a mask Arlo couldn’t escape made itself known. “The church of Pharasma has heard your concerns,” the Deer said quietly.
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The gala opened with a bang. Arlo reloaded as his shot blasted through a zombie’s head. The other five creatures turned with deceptive slowness, stumbling toward the group. Another shot caught one in the shoulder, and Godwin stepped up. The paladin’s sword swung easily, decapitating the injured undead. At his feet, Zuriel leapt back, dodging the falling head with a loud hiss. Beside them, Arlo engaged with his rapier, taking one more shot at the nearest zombie before skewering its head with
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“Do you do that every morning?” Godwin averted his eyes as Coradiel groaned out Arlo’s name. He was already half dressed, but his eye caught motion in the bed, the blanket rising and falling in a way that made little sense until he realised- “Every morning,” Coradiel agreed, rising naked from the bed. Godwin looked away again, his face heating. “It’s part of my prayers to Arshea. If I ignore the goddess, I lose my divine protection.” “You have to… touch yourself… to prove your devotion to
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Preparations for their next march began at 2am, not three days after taking Alexandria. Louis formed up with their demi-brigade on the road just inside Alexandria’s gate, waiting with growing impatience as other soldiers marched past. Their heart cheered at the sight of field guns rolling between divisions — at least their next conquest should prove easier than the first, not that Alexandria had been that difficult to subdue. Beside them, Sakis looked at the cannon indifferently. Around 5am, w
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They couldn’t fight a vampire. Not without serious preparation. Sera and Godwin split up outside the alley, Godwin to Arlo’s apartment, Sera to the Cathedral of Pharasma. She met the Deer outside the church. The masked man stared impassively as Sera hurriedly explained the situation. Holy water, stakes, cloves of garlic, they needed the works. And Sera knew the church was bound to help. An undead like a vampire, loose on the city? Such a thing would be disastrous normally. Unfortunately, Ser
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Depends. Undead in general are immune to disease, but that doesn't mean they magically have a cure to every disease out there.
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For several days, there was nothing for them to do. Godwin chafed as the cry went out each morning. “Bring out your dead!” Every call was just a reminder of how bad things were getting. How impotent he was. There was no way for Godwin to fight the plague — he wasn’t a healer. Even Sera was struggling. Pharasma was giving her [Remove Disease] spells, but she could only cast two a day, one of which had to be used on herself daily to prevent infection. Dawn broke on the third day since their
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A mousy woman met the group as they returned to Arlo and Rusne’s apartment. Old, with jaundiced eyes that darted furtively, the woman groaned as she stood up from her seat on the floor outside the apartment. “Are you the Korvosan Four?” she asked quietly, glancing warily at Rusne and Coradiel. “That’s us,” Arlo replied tiredly. Bandying words with Doctor Davaulus had taken any semblance of good mood from him — the man was like an infant when it came to medical knowledge. No, medicine did not
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White marble towered above the surrounding shops and homes. The Grand Vault of Abadar was a radiant vision of opulence. Morning sunlight glowed off the facade, and Arlo found himself squinting against it, as though the god himself was standing before the kitsune. Yet before the magnificent doors, at the base of steep stairs, an unruly crowd gathered, demanding entrance to the temple. Acolytes and city guards held the crowd at bay, but the defenders were haggard, exhausted by what Arlo could on
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“What are we searching for exactly?” Coradiel hesitated as he handed out potions of [Water Breathing]. Arlo knew that look — a small doubt had crept into the paladin’s mind. What were they searching for? If the ship really was the source of the coming plague, exploring it might give clues to finding out what plague they were up against. That was the only benefit Arlo could see. The same effect could be wrought from a [Diagnose Disease] spell once they found a patient. Forewarned was well and g
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Something poked against his butt. As he drifted back into consciousness, Arlo knew exactly what that something was. Yet he didn’t move. The world was still for a timeless moment. His bleary mind worked sluggishly at the problem. Of course Godwin was hard. Of course he was going to press that hardness into Arlo. What was Arlo going to do about it? He should get out of bed. He should get ready for the day and wait for Godwin to wake up, and never speak of this. But he was tired. Tired of r
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Arlo awoke slowly. Warmth enveloped him from all directions. Static threatened his fur from the blanket covering him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind was too busy piecing together the night’s activities. There was something about Elysium, and Desna. He’d been swinging. Someone spoke to him about love, and hope. The warmth moved. The bed underneath him creaked, and the blanket flew off him. Arlo grumbled his displeasure, reaching blindly for the errant fabric. His hand landed on
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Egypt? Doubtful. It was the middle of summer; who in their right mind would order an invasion of the desert in summer? Louis kept their ears peeled for the true destination, but everyone seemed to insist they were going to Egypt. What’s more, Sans-Culotte had been renamed. It was now L’Orient — damning proof of their destination. They were bound for Egypt. In layers of wool. In the middle of summer. Louis was dead. Yet it took a week before the fleet finally emerged from Malta. Setting off
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To be fair, the cosmology of Golarion is divided into various factions along alignment. If a deity personally reaches out to smite a lich, that opens the door for any other deity to do the same, which would almost certainly ignite a celestial war that would destroy Golarion. This is why Desna's one of the scariest deities in the pantheon as a whole tbh; she has personally slain multiple demon lords, and it is only through the sheer grace of other good-aligned deities that war has been averted thus far.
