Yeoldebard
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Breakfast was a tense affair. Arlo sat back against a wall, munching through a biscuit idly while the rest of the group watched with varying degrees of hostility. He didn’t mind — he’d already explained his plan, his reasoning. They were on a schedule, and that schedule meant they couldn’t hit the Arkonas until at least 9 o’clock. Eating breakfast was a great way to kill some of the time left to them. They were still on the move by 7, hopping the Jeggare River to Endrin Isle once more. Weaving
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They refused to approach the river after Sakis’ death. It meant Louis’ throat dried out again, their head started aching once more, as they drained the last of their water, but Louis was adamant. Whatever was lurking in that river, whatever had ripped off Sakis’ arm nearly to the shoulder, it was not getting a taste of Louis. The army slept once more in the field. Louis curled up in a cart, clutching their coat tight around them to ward off the desert cold. They were on the move before dawn br
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Careful eyes swept around the desolate street. Only when it became obvious no one waited in ambush did Arlo emerge from the alley they’d teleported into. “So, bit of accounting to settle before we begin,” he said, still looking around. “That rod is not a Lesser Enlarge Rod. It’s a normal rod, for one simple fact: [Dimension Door] is a Tier 4 spell, and lesser rods can only accommodate Tier 3 spells or lower. The price, then, runs closer to 10,000 gold.” His eyes settled on Rusne, who had mad
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A week passed in interminable slowness. A week sitting on his ass while the city drove deeper and deeper into the schemes of a tyrant. A week of Godwin asking, “What do you hope for this day? What tasks do you hope to accomplish?” He rarely had an answer. Days like these, days in between action, when all could be quiet and calm, when he could indulge in a fantasy of peace and safety, there was little Arlo could think to accomplish. Small things, Godwin suggested. “I hope to have the wall p
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Arlo woke in a puddle of warmth. Limbs tangled within limbs, chests rose against each other, fading back upon contact, and naked crotches rubbed tiredly, pleasant dreams stoking the heat of very real thrusts. He lay across Godwin, Coradiel’s lips exhaling softly against his lower back. A cock poked into Arlo’s stomach, grinding helplessly, and he breathed out slowly, taking it in hand. The member throbbed in his grasp, and Arlo wasted no time stroking, easing Godwin’s body into a quick, tight
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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
