Yeoldebard
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Arlo gazed around their new home. Barely furnished, the place was badly in need of cleaning. The single window in his room was beyond grimy, the kitchen still held bits of mouldy food from the last owner, and the walls were some kind of brown mush colour. A hundred gold jingled in his coin purse, reminding him just how broke he was. Some of that would go toward food. Some toward paint for his room. Let Rusne account for her half of the apartment; she had nearly 200 gold left the last Arlo knew.
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Gaekhen’s body was returned to Cressida Kroft in one piece. A visit to Pharasma’s Cathedral ensured any residual negative energy was dealt with, the body was repaired, and the corpse prepared properly for the Shoanti. By the time Arlo saw Gaekhen again — of course he refused to enter the cathedral — the body looked no more than an hour or two dead. As they moved through the city, Arlo listened for rumours. A ghost ship had been spotted off the Old Dock. Cults of Urgathoa were searching for way
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The sound of parchment tearing filled the quiet library. Arlo rubbed at his arm as Sera ripped the scroll in half again, completely ruining the magic contained on it. “We could have used that. It was [Command Undead], not [Animate Dead].” “I refuse to even command a corpse,” Sera said vehemently. “It goes against everything I stand for.” “I agree with Sera. If there’s undead to fight, we’ll destroy it, not command it,” Godwin added quietly. “I hope we live to regret this decision,” Arlo
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Boards fell from the sealed door. Godwin assaulted them with a vengeance, tearing them out with nary a tool in sight. Arlo shook his head as a plank went flying. Repressed rage? The anguish of loss? Emotions drove Godwin regardless. Arlo would need to take the lead on this fight. The door was freed. Godwin wrenched it open. An unholy reek slammed into them. Seconds later, a deformed arm slammed into Godwin. The paladin was shoved back, his HP dropping by 6. He brought his shield to bear with
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They delved quickly. They delved deep. Eerie patches of glowing moss lined the walls, providing just enough light to see by, albeit light that was cold and blue. Sera had already cautioned the group to avoid touching the stuff — who knew what was diseased and what wasn’t down here? The deeper they walked, the mustier the air grew. Rot developed quickly, and Arlo adopted his vigilante guise just for the lemon-scented mask that would keep his nose somewhat free of the sickly-sweet smell of death
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Let's hope not.
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“Do you want to be with me?” Not, “I’m not interested”. Not “Leave me alone”. Nothing. Varion was incensed. His own son, shacking up with the Acadamae Killer. Okay, so Arlo hadn’t killed Cassandra. It didn’t matter. He was a human — kitsune, whatever — and he’d be dead before they knew it. Godwin was setting himself up to get hurt. Again. Varion remembered that crush he’d had when he was 80 years old, pining after that aiuvarin. Thirty years later, and the aiuvarin was dead. They’d had to
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Summoning him mid march is already crazy risky. Doing so in a ship packed full of sailors and soldiers? The only thing saving them in that instance is the sheer darkness below decks.
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Cressida Kroft blushed furiously when she read the letters from Amprei. She handed them off to a clerk, and slid a handful of platinum crowns across the table. “Five hundred gold for a job well done,” the field marshall said. “Go and rest. You’ve earned it.” Sera scooped up the coins, distributing them in a matter of seconds. She didn’t trust the others to do the deed — Arlo and Godwin refused to meet each other’s gaze, and Varion was glaring at them both. Varion. He was an enigma to her.
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The excitement of departure was hampered by cruel reality — it took some hours for the fleet to properly organise outside Toulon before they could truly be underway. Not that Louis was aware of the delay — they’d quickly been stuffed back into the upper gun deck by an officer even before leaving the rade. Requests went out to open the gun ports. They were immediately and ruthlessly quashed, relegating the passengers to wallow in foul darkness. Above them, the sound of sailors in various evolut
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The stench hit him like a club. Cloying, sweet, spicy, smoke wafted into Arlo’s lungs, wrenching a cough from him. The room they walked into was filled with the vapour, obscuring the silken partitions and the luxurious beds and couches from view. Arlo could hear soft groans and whimpers as people lolled about on the furniture in various drug induced hazes. A short, skinny man — tall halfling? — wandered languidly toward them, pushing a cart holding a hookah. Arlo swayed into Godwin, hissing, “
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It took a week to receive their next call to Cressida’s office. When they arrived in the office, it was to an unexpected surprise. A distinguished man stood to greet them. Silvery hair was tied back in a rogue’s knot, and his sharp face was lined with the weight of years. He carried them well, in Arlo’s opinion. A low-cut white tunic showed a near-scandalous amount of skin, and black gloves covered a hand Arlo knew was missing two fingers. “Master Orisini,” Arlo breathed, dipping into a deep
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From his earlier exploration, Arlo knew the general layout of the area, if not the specifics of All The World’s Meat. For example, there was a disused sewer tunnel that ran under the shop and emptied into the river. A perfect entrance for skulks. Varion disagreed. Vehemently. “A mage does not belong in such foul environs,” he snapped as the group stopped outside the tunnel. “Well, maybe you can clean it up with some magic so it isn’t as foul,” Arlo said. He pushed into the sewer, his lem
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“Did you hear? They caught a butcher in North Point giving out humanoid meat as free food!” “I heard the Hellknights are giving up on Korvosa and making plans to leave the city.” Arlo strolled through the streets, listening to passerbys murmur and speculate. It had been a few days since the king’s death, and things had settled somewhat. There were no longer flash mobs roaming the streets, but people were still on edge. And his group hadn’t been called on once. Varion seemed overly please
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Arlo’s ears flattened against the ringing of hammer on steel. Heat enveloped him, like a dry sauna — did Golarion have saunas? Certainly not in Varisia. “Thanks for doing this with me.” Godwin stood beside him, watching a dwarf beat metal into shape. “Father would have a fit if I asked to wear armour.” “He’ll have a fit anyway when he sees you,” Arlo pointed out. “At some point, you’re going to have to tell him the truth. And when it happens, regardless of what he says or does, you’ll feel s
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“So, what got y’all into adventuring?” The group pressed down a crowded road. The presence of the guards ensured people scattered quickly, leaving plenty of space for Arlo to breathe in. He and Godwin still kept in a tight-knit group, with Varion behind and Sera bringing up the rear. Mauro was further behind the cleric, but his boisterous voice still carried even above the murmur of the crowd. “What gets anyone into adventuring?” Arlo called back. “We were forced into it through circumstance
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The party set out early in the morning. Plans were made, abandoned, then made again. Arlo pointed west, then north, picking out two separate orphanages. They settled on Riverside House near the docks — Arlo knew the way well enough, and there was little chance of running into anyone else, as most of the rioting seemed centred near Castle Korvosa. Arlo took the lead, having Godwin bring up the rear of the large group. Varion and Sera kept to the sides, making sure no one wandered off as they mo
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The order came down. In the morning, the 2e demi-brigade d'infanterie légère would enter Toulon, making for the Place d'Armes. From there, they’d be marched to a place of embarkment, then rowed out to one of the waiting ships. Where were the ships going? England! Don’t be dumb; they were in the Mediterranean. There was no way the army would send them through Gibraltar and through the Atlantic to then brave the English Channel — the entire fleet would be mincemeat, no matter how large it wa
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A bell tolled once, ringing throughout the city, then fell silent. Arlo led his new party up the docks, and the bell tolled again. He froze at the sound, his hand inches from the side door to the fishery. “Hold on a minute,” the kitsune muttered. And it took a minute. The bell tolled again. And Sera blanched. “That’s a death knell,” she said. “Someone died.” Arlo looked out along the West Dock. It remained dead except for a few hooded individuals all looking toward Castle Korvosa, rising
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“So, what can everyone do?” It broke up the tense silence among the trio as they hurried toward the West Dock. It was an important question. It was a question that went unanswered. “I trained at the Orisini Academy after Gaedren had me kicked out of the Acadamae. I can use both rapier and pistol proficiently.” “And you’re a kitsune who hides his activities by day, hunting people you declare criminals by night,” Sera added. Arlo winced at the loud declaration. What good was a secret ide
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Thrust into a new reality, Arlo Green is once again tasked with recovering an artefact of immense power for his lich overlord. With a new cast of friends and enemies, and the heartbreak of losing his old party, will Arlo be able to complete his mission?
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Arlo scrubbed at a metal pan. Sweat dripped from his brow, and he had to keep drying his fur off. The scratch of the steel brush grated on his ears. The smell of half-eaten food infested his nose. Fuck this. Glancing around to make sure no one was coming, Arlo snapped his fingers. A miniscule strand of magic brushed over the pan, lifting most of the food stains and making them vanish. Close enough. Still, Arlo sighed as he took up his brush again. Memories slipped through his mind. Once
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It took three weeks to return to France, bouncing all the way over rough dirt roads. Every bump sent lightning through Louis’ body, and threatened to upset the leeches attached to their thigh. The occupants of their wagon changed daily, but thankfully no one else died in front of them. They still died — bodies were hastily buried in shallow graves during the nights — but Louis rarely saw the foetid corpses, and for that, they were grateful. The leeches were slowly weaned off them. At one jolt
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Laharpe’s division was granted a single day to recover, a single day to settle under the command of General Menard, himself under Massena… or was it Vaubois… maybe Augereau? Louis didn’t know. And after a short, furious siege of a walled town not two days after the ambush, they didn’t care. A respite was given for several days after the capture of Milan — Louis didn’t know exactly where that was, but they did know the city was supposed to be wealthy. A few days of searching turned up no gold,
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For the next few weeks, Louis fought battle after battle, action after action. It seemed every day threw their life in jeopardy, and every night forced them on the march to the next day’s peril. Yet… they were moving forward. Not back. That meant they were winning, right? It all stopped one day. Suddenly Louis was permitted to sleep. Suddenly the marches went uninterrupted by cannon and musket fire. For nearly a week, by their count, the war abated. Rumours flew — the Austrians had fled the co
