Theaxofwar
Definitely not a Bunny Cat in disguise.
- Location
- Standing right behind you
[X] Strictly Professional
Live in Infamy
- Thread starter Maugan Ra
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- Who knows?
Right 2e. Combat maneuvers arent completely useless (unless they are, grumble grumble early AP balancing grumble)
Agreed, seems to be distinctly non Asmodean too since I'm not sure if proper Gods make witches and even if they did this lady really isn't matching his vibe at all.
Well, we don't know know what circumstances could've forced a foreign arcane caster into thinking Adraestus is her only option. He managed it for Valka after all. Considering the opening for her has already softened a bit (the AP tries very hard to go down the "all PCs did a very bad awful thing and deserve to be in prison, no wiggling out with being 'actually a misjudged good guy' for this AP!" route, while here all of Valka's backstory crimes are have heavy sympathetic elements), I wouldn't be surprised if Elise got some tweaking.
- Location
- Who knows?
[X] Strictly Professional
Eh I'd say trying to be too friendly might raise some hackles, of the "what're you trying to sell me" kind.
Eh I'd say trying to be too friendly might raise some hackles, of the "what're you trying to sell me" kind.
- Location
- United States
[X] Strictly Professional
[X] Strictly Professional
Let's not have a conflict of interest on our side, although we will still try our best to save her. This might mean that we would need more effort later, but currently I'm fine with that.
Let's not have a conflict of interest on our side, although we will still try our best to save her. This might mean that we would need more effort later, but currently I'm fine with that.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Open and Friendly
[X] Open and Friendly
There is no funnier option
There is no funnier option
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Strictly Professional
[X] Strictly Professional
neutronium95
Mad Rocketeer
- Location
- The test site
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Open and Friendly
Vote closed
- Location
- London, England
XII - Three Months of Hell
- Location
- London, England
You have several conversations with Elise Zadaria over the days that follow, comparing notes and ideas on everything from tactics to magical theory, but despite her overtures you make sure to keep everything strictly professional. You neither want nor need friends outside of your immediate team, especially ones bound in service to a god of ruthless ambition. You can't trust such people, and it will be easier to do as Thorn commands if they do not trust you. Not that you know it will come to that, by any means, but if it does you want to be ready.
Unfortunately, any hope of magical collaboration is stymied by the discovery of just how divergent your two traditions are. Where you learned to use arcane geometry to reach across the veil between worlds, drawing matter and energy from one plane to another or constructing local imbrications for tactical effect, Elise draws on a near-exclusively material paradigm. Her power is similar in some ways to the primal strength that Dorgo communes with, but there is apparently a conscious element to it entirely lacking in your comrade's druidic traditions, and you cannot easily discern a common basis to work from.
Perhaps if you had more time or greater information you might be able to bridge that gap, but Zadaria reads your professional distance as a rejection in kind, and after the first roadblock calls an end to your shared consultations. You can't fairly object to that without appearing deeply suspicious or hypocritical, so in the end you shrug and let it go, falling into the familiar orbit of distant acquaintances rather than anything closer.
-/-
After a month, Thorn is satisfied with your physical capabilities. A band of desperate escapees from Branderscar have been forged into a team of lethal operatives, and were he merely interested in obtaining another sharp blade, that is where it would end. He is not. It is not enough for Cardinal Thorn that you be capable agents in his plot to bring down Talingarde - he wants you to understand why.
To that end, your training slackens and your education begins. You learn of Talingarde and its history, of the ways both idealistic and cynical the various kings have justified their rule, of the centres of power and the friction points between them. You learn of the three great metropolises; Mathryn, Davryn and Ghastenhall, and of the heartland whose myriad towns and villages out populate them by an order of magnitude. You learn of the Darians, the Barcans, the clan-councils of the Iraen and the warlords of the northern Orcs. Much that you already know is repeated in greater depth, but Adrastus Thorn makes no assumption and spares no effort. You are faced with alternate historical scenarios and possible futures, asked to sketch hypotheticals and quizzed on your reasoning. Again and again you are tested, and the punishment for failure is more than equal to that you endured in open battle against the Cardinal's summoned foes.
Not all of your lessons come from Thorn, of course. You are schooled in the design and structural weakness of Talirean castles by a black-armoured knight named Wolfram, and in the history of the Iraen by a half-elf named Aiden Kael. Most tend towards a clinical and businesslike teaching style, and though you know that the ultimate aim of this education is destruction and sedition, most of what you learn would not be out of place in one of the great universities of Ghastenhall.
Most, but not all.
-/-
"Torture," Tiadora says, "is a skill oft derided and frequently misused. As an aid to interrogation or a source of information it is quite useless, but there are other purposes at which it excels."
In the cell, a knight of Talingarde sobs like a child. The mere sight of the beautiful blonde woman giving this lesson crushes him into the furthest corner and robs him of all words, and she has yet to so much as acknowledge him. You swallow and turn your attention back to the lecture.
"Torture, properly applied, satisfies two general goals," Tiadora continues, the faintest edge of a smile twisting her full lips as she studies you. "The first is personal pleasure. Those who wield power soon come to enjoy the sensation, and when they tire of merely taking life they invariably go in search of more refined pleasures. A witless child can rob a man of his life in the right circumstance, after all, but the ability to break him first is a pleasure reserved only for a few."
"I don't…" Lisara begins, but then your teacher fixes her with an expressionless gaze and your comrade's nerve fails. She swallows and bows her head.
"One can pursue mastery of self or mastery of others," Mikael says firmly, his voice remaining level despite the scathing look Tiadora says his way, "To derive greater satisfaction from the latter seems the mark of a weak soul."
"The only weakness is imagining one cannot pursue both. Now, quiet, or else volunteer to serve as an example," Tiadora replies coldly, and you know it is not an idle threat. Mikael does too, for despite his disgruntled expression he says nothing more. "The second purpose of torture is the creation of fear. One tormented soul, released back into his community, can do more to dissuade resistance than a dozen public executions."
The logic behind the lesson is a familiar one - such principles of deterrence lie behind virtually all law enforcement you have ever encountered or read about, and while they always fall short of such extremes you suppose that is only to be expected. If mortal cruelty could ever truly match that of Hell Itself, the world would be in a truly dire state.
Tiadora is walking now, leading the way down the subterranean corridor lined with iron-shod doors. You hurry to catch up, even as your stomach twists and a sense of doom settles thickly across your shoulders.
"Some among you are imagining that you will never make use of this lesson, either by avoiding the need or standing on principle," your teacher says coldly, not looking back, and despite yourself you flinch. "To free you of such delusions is our next step."
She stops in front of one particular cell, tapping the metal lightly in a series of arcane patterns. The lock slides open of its own accord moments later, revealing a bare stone cube and a young man with watery blue eyes standing in the middle. He wears a squire's tabard of blue and white, and though he straightens as you open the door there is no hiding the fear in his eyes.
"This is the choice you have," Tiadora explains, cutting off the squire's initial demand with an imperious wave that shrouds the room in magical silence, "You will break this mortal, under my direction, or you will take his place for your comrades to practise upon. Should you all refuse, I will demonstrate on each of you in turn."
She smiles then, her emerald eyes hard and cruel.
"So, dearest," she purrs, "Which will it be?"
-/-
…
-/-
Three Months After Branderscar
"Your training is almost complete," Adrastus Thorn says, giving you a warm, almost paternal smile. "I am very pleased, both with you and all of your team."
You are back in his office, the library where you first met and signed away your life by infernal law. The Cardinal has been absent for weeks at this point, attending to some unknown design elsewhere in the country, but you know better than to think your actions in the time since are unknown to him. He will have received reports, at the very least, and you do not think he will be restricted to such things alone.
"Thank you, lord," you say calmly, folding your hands in your lap and staring straight ahead, "I look forward to putting our skills to use."
"Yes, I'm sure you do," Thorn chuckles briefly, "And you will indeed be given your first assignment in the coming days. But first… I think it is only appropriate to celebrate your graduation with a gift."
He stands then, and makes his way over to the window. You follow unbidden, smoothing down your dress and fixing your expression in face, and then follow his gaze outside.
There are armed men in the courtyard. Half a dozen of them in total, most soldiers in the faded blue of the Talirean military, standing around with the bored air of men at the tail end of a long patrol. At their head stands a knight, currently hammering on the door of the manor, and there is something about his face that…
(Dark eyes pin you to the spot. A harsh tongue pronounces judgement.
"May Mitra have mercy on your wretched, damned soul, for we shall not.")
"Sir Balin of Karfeld," Thorn says softly, confirming what you already know, "Templar, witch hunter, and according to my reports the very same man who caught and condemned you all those months ago."
You nod stiffly, hands clenching into fists at your side. You don't have a name for what you are feeling, but it burns in your heart like acid.
"You called this a gift," you say tersely, not trusting yourself to address the obvious artifice just yet, "What did you mean?"
"We will have to abandon this location in the coming days regardless, now that it has been found, but that leaves the question of the man himself," Thorn says with a kindly smile, "I thought it fitting that the woman who has suffered most of our company at this man's hand be the one to decide his fate."
"Is this a test?"
The Cardinal of Asmodeus laughs. "Of course! When you get right down to it, everything is."
Unfortunately, any hope of magical collaboration is stymied by the discovery of just how divergent your two traditions are. Where you learned to use arcane geometry to reach across the veil between worlds, drawing matter and energy from one plane to another or constructing local imbrications for tactical effect, Elise draws on a near-exclusively material paradigm. Her power is similar in some ways to the primal strength that Dorgo communes with, but there is apparently a conscious element to it entirely lacking in your comrade's druidic traditions, and you cannot easily discern a common basis to work from.
Perhaps if you had more time or greater information you might be able to bridge that gap, but Zadaria reads your professional distance as a rejection in kind, and after the first roadblock calls an end to your shared consultations. You can't fairly object to that without appearing deeply suspicious or hypocritical, so in the end you shrug and let it go, falling into the familiar orbit of distant acquaintances rather than anything closer.
-/-
After a month, Thorn is satisfied with your physical capabilities. A band of desperate escapees from Branderscar have been forged into a team of lethal operatives, and were he merely interested in obtaining another sharp blade, that is where it would end. He is not. It is not enough for Cardinal Thorn that you be capable agents in his plot to bring down Talingarde - he wants you to understand why.
To that end, your training slackens and your education begins. You learn of Talingarde and its history, of the ways both idealistic and cynical the various kings have justified their rule, of the centres of power and the friction points between them. You learn of the three great metropolises; Mathryn, Davryn and Ghastenhall, and of the heartland whose myriad towns and villages out populate them by an order of magnitude. You learn of the Darians, the Barcans, the clan-councils of the Iraen and the warlords of the northern Orcs. Much that you already know is repeated in greater depth, but Adrastus Thorn makes no assumption and spares no effort. You are faced with alternate historical scenarios and possible futures, asked to sketch hypotheticals and quizzed on your reasoning. Again and again you are tested, and the punishment for failure is more than equal to that you endured in open battle against the Cardinal's summoned foes.
Not all of your lessons come from Thorn, of course. You are schooled in the design and structural weakness of Talirean castles by a black-armoured knight named Wolfram, and in the history of the Iraen by a half-elf named Aiden Kael. Most tend towards a clinical and businesslike teaching style, and though you know that the ultimate aim of this education is destruction and sedition, most of what you learn would not be out of place in one of the great universities of Ghastenhall.
Most, but not all.
-/-
"Torture," Tiadora says, "is a skill oft derided and frequently misused. As an aid to interrogation or a source of information it is quite useless, but there are other purposes at which it excels."
In the cell, a knight of Talingarde sobs like a child. The mere sight of the beautiful blonde woman giving this lesson crushes him into the furthest corner and robs him of all words, and she has yet to so much as acknowledge him. You swallow and turn your attention back to the lecture.
"Torture, properly applied, satisfies two general goals," Tiadora continues, the faintest edge of a smile twisting her full lips as she studies you. "The first is personal pleasure. Those who wield power soon come to enjoy the sensation, and when they tire of merely taking life they invariably go in search of more refined pleasures. A witless child can rob a man of his life in the right circumstance, after all, but the ability to break him first is a pleasure reserved only for a few."
"I don't…" Lisara begins, but then your teacher fixes her with an expressionless gaze and your comrade's nerve fails. She swallows and bows her head.
"One can pursue mastery of self or mastery of others," Mikael says firmly, his voice remaining level despite the scathing look Tiadora says his way, "To derive greater satisfaction from the latter seems the mark of a weak soul."
"The only weakness is imagining one cannot pursue both. Now, quiet, or else volunteer to serve as an example," Tiadora replies coldly, and you know it is not an idle threat. Mikael does too, for despite his disgruntled expression he says nothing more. "The second purpose of torture is the creation of fear. One tormented soul, released back into his community, can do more to dissuade resistance than a dozen public executions."
The logic behind the lesson is a familiar one - such principles of deterrence lie behind virtually all law enforcement you have ever encountered or read about, and while they always fall short of such extremes you suppose that is only to be expected. If mortal cruelty could ever truly match that of Hell Itself, the world would be in a truly dire state.
Tiadora is walking now, leading the way down the subterranean corridor lined with iron-shod doors. You hurry to catch up, even as your stomach twists and a sense of doom settles thickly across your shoulders.
"Some among you are imagining that you will never make use of this lesson, either by avoiding the need or standing on principle," your teacher says coldly, not looking back, and despite yourself you flinch. "To free you of such delusions is our next step."
She stops in front of one particular cell, tapping the metal lightly in a series of arcane patterns. The lock slides open of its own accord moments later, revealing a bare stone cube and a young man with watery blue eyes standing in the middle. He wears a squire's tabard of blue and white, and though he straightens as you open the door there is no hiding the fear in his eyes.
"This is the choice you have," Tiadora explains, cutting off the squire's initial demand with an imperious wave that shrouds the room in magical silence, "You will break this mortal, under my direction, or you will take his place for your comrades to practise upon. Should you all refuse, I will demonstrate on each of you in turn."
She smiles then, her emerald eyes hard and cruel.
"So, dearest," she purrs, "Which will it be?"
-/-
…
-/-
Three Months After Branderscar
"Your training is almost complete," Adrastus Thorn says, giving you a warm, almost paternal smile. "I am very pleased, both with you and all of your team."
You are back in his office, the library where you first met and signed away your life by infernal law. The Cardinal has been absent for weeks at this point, attending to some unknown design elsewhere in the country, but you know better than to think your actions in the time since are unknown to him. He will have received reports, at the very least, and you do not think he will be restricted to such things alone.
"Thank you, lord," you say calmly, folding your hands in your lap and staring straight ahead, "I look forward to putting our skills to use."
"Yes, I'm sure you do," Thorn chuckles briefly, "And you will indeed be given your first assignment in the coming days. But first… I think it is only appropriate to celebrate your graduation with a gift."
He stands then, and makes his way over to the window. You follow unbidden, smoothing down your dress and fixing your expression in face, and then follow his gaze outside.
There are armed men in the courtyard. Half a dozen of them in total, most soldiers in the faded blue of the Talirean military, standing around with the bored air of men at the tail end of a long patrol. At their head stands a knight, currently hammering on the door of the manor, and there is something about his face that…
(Dark eyes pin you to the spot. A harsh tongue pronounces judgement.
"May Mitra have mercy on your wretched, damned soul, for we shall not.")
"Sir Balin of Karfeld," Thorn says softly, confirming what you already know, "Templar, witch hunter, and according to my reports the very same man who caught and condemned you all those months ago."
You nod stiffly, hands clenching into fists at your side. You don't have a name for what you are feeling, but it burns in your heart like acid.
"You called this a gift," you say tersely, not trusting yourself to address the obvious artifice just yet, "What did you mean?"
"We will have to abandon this location in the coming days regardless, now that it has been found, but that leaves the question of the man himself," Thorn says with a kindly smile, "I thought it fitting that the woman who has suffered most of our company at this man's hand be the one to decide his fate."
"Is this a test?"
The Cardinal of Asmodeus laughs. "Of course! When you get right down to it, everything is."
Article: What do you decide?
[ ] A Bitter Reunion
You will gather your comrades and see to Sir Balin yourself. He will die at your hand, and all his men with him.
[ ] A Patron's Might
You will ask Thorn to slay Sir Balin and his men, and you will stand right here and watch it happen. Perhaps you will learn something.
[ ] Ships in the Night
You will ask Thorn to let Sir Balin go, enchanted or otherwise fooled into believing this manor house entirely insignificant.