I did put something Félix can do in Pepa's sheet, what with negating her mood swing debuffs. I'm not actually sure of a stand alone Trait for Félix....
I will never get used to trains. Kit thought solemnly as he sat in the large passenger train car that pulled from Sacramento to Discovery Bay.
A Couch Class ticket was all you could afford without bankrupting yourself, but even so, he liked riding a horse or walking to where he needed to go, but these cumbersome iron horses. But while that was just his own opinion on the matter, seeing all he had explored from the mountains to the coast with some speed and comfort.
It was exhilarating to see how fast it was going,it was as fast as the swiftest set of horses and even then he couldn't help but stick his hand out the window and feel the wind rush through his hand like a child would have.
He smiled as he pulled it in and gave the action a small chuckle,it wasn't much, but it did tell him how much the world had changed.
How much would it change, some of these are from thirty years ahead of my time…and the rest even more.
Would I have even found a place to belong in such a time?
Discovery Bay was a boom town, but one with a good location that would outlast such a thing, Kit could tell that they were gonna try to make the city last the long haul as much as they could.
From the paved streets and lights to the bustling amount of ship traffic to the city's towers of glass stitched together from iron and steel.
To an eye unused to such a thing, it looked like a place out of some fantasy novel dream with the twist of an industrial society like some painter and an industrialist decided to make a city a work of art rather than let it grow naturally.
But Kit wasn't here to judge how pretty it looked…much but he was here for a very good reason, to make himself take up the pencil and quill and become literate.
That was the goal, and it would help in so many other ways, like writing down his skills or making notes on the best spots to hunt…or making letters, and making where the Firebird had been.
Now was to find someone that would want to be a teacher to a Mountain man like you?
Hmm…OH that sounds like a fine idea!
---------------------------
Diplomacy Check: Put your name out there in a Newspaper!
DC:35/55/75
Rolled: 37!
Well…they got your name out there alright, and that meant paying a fee for an ad, which somehow led to you being made a guinea pig for some sort of nonsense involving a feud between two newspapers who wanted "THE KIT CARSON" to be their…spokesman.
Did they just call you the thing that held up a wheel? Now that's nonsense!? And an insult to the men who made wheels for carts and wagons!
So you managed to make news for when you violently insulted them for comparing you to a spoke on a wheel.
It even made the news as "Mountain Man insulted by the Newsman: Goes on Tirade against offer."
It was only after that it became news that it became clear your reputation took a jump or a dip depending on who he asked. But it was out there now…and it was what you wanted.
And you sat in some seaside cafe some days later, not even closer to your goal of learning how to read or write better.
Maybe it was your lot in life to be the mess of an illiterate mountain man, more suited to the wilds then the city.
Who Found You?:
1-Jason Chandler
2-Abby Bullion
3-Captain Briux
4-Barnibus Bullion
Rolled: D4 => 3
"Now I've seen a lot of things in my time, but I've never seen a man insulted by Newspapers wanting to make him a spokesman and calling it an insult." The young woman said with a coffee in her hands as she watched the ships, be they steamers or sailing ships come and go.
"Well, I didn't like how they considered me a name and something to tout out to sell papers all I wanted was for people to know I wanted to get some help." He said with a glare of indifference.
"Then why not just ask?" She said between taking a sip of her coffee.
"I don't believe in half measures, its not how I work or live, I'd assume that you'd understand?" Kit said calmly.
"I do have an inkling, grew up in a mining town and well they don't do half measures in the Saloon." She said. "Though given how dangerous things are, can't do that as much anymore."
"Shame, you sound like your fun at parties." He said.
"So what's exactly brought the Legend Kit Carson back to civilization raising a ruckus?" SHe asked with half a smile on her face.
"Well if you must know, I'm looking for a teacher to teach me how to read and write." He said. "I'm the one who's tracking THE FIREBIRD…I'm sure you heard of it?"
She had a look of shock for a moment. "Oh, so you are the one who warned my Father about the firebird's migration?"
"The very same, and if some form of payment is needed I just want to learn how to read." He said.
"Okay." She said broadly.
He blinked. "That's it?"
"Mr. Carson I have to live with a man who has a dozen different ideas in his head and he's the sort of man who'll drop anything to go on an adventure. Despite that, I've been helping teach an entire bunch of young bucks how to be as good as him and me. You will be a challenge." She said.
"And I enjoy such a challenge because its different then what I'm used to doing…now meet me in the big house over there." She pointed at the SEA building near the center of town. "We start tomorrow."
--------------------------------
Abigal Learning Check: Teaching the Bucks in Class
DC:30/60/90
Rolled: 28! (FAILURE!)
Abby has lost control of the Classroom and it has descended into a degree of Chaos!
Learning Check: Kit Carson's First Day of School
DC:25/50/75
Rolled: 79!
He's taking to School very well, his spelling is improving and he's now learning to read from Sir Walter Scott's The Lady of the Lake, and is learning to love reading.
(POV Shift: Abby Bullion)
Today was her day in the classroom, which meant that it would mean she would be tormented and heckled by her students (Ranging from 12 to 35, the oldest being Mr. Carson, but many others were older than you).
Now she just had to continue where they left off when Jason was in charge of the room.
Let's see, OHH, we're reading poems by Lord Byron!
Alright everyone we're reading Byron's "She Walked in Beauty."
She only got halfway down the third stanza before the class seemingly got bored of her and started doing something else.
WHY DOES THIS EVEN HAPPEN TO ME! They are never this bad when we go horse riding!
The younger students began to crowd around board games, jacks, and other assorted children's games and toys, they were being kept an eye on by an older woman who was reading a newspaper.
The other women began knitting and otherwise began gossiping about the newer students and Mr. Carson's peculiar dress, and the lingering smell upon his rugged frame.
The Men on the other hand began playing cards and gossiping about the news and other people, and or reading the paper, or talking about other classes they were in.
And Mr Carson, was reading …The Lady in the Lake…by Walter Scott,
Oh god…it happened again…might as well ask if they need help with anything, and they start smoking I will BOOT THEM with the birtch!
---------------------
(POV Shift Kit)
He looked at the words and struggled for a moment, mumbling what they meant, he…knew the spoken word well enough its just reading it is hard.
"My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee." He said, feeling something warm down his cheeks.
And he continued to read only stopping to reread a passage again and look at Ms. Bullion who was watching intently in between trying to keep her classroom quiet so that he could read in peace.
So this was how men lived forever?
Had I known I'd have beaten the mountain ages ago.
"Thanks." He said smiling.
"I only hope you can stay and help for a while, Mr. Carson, we could enjoy your expertise." She said.
"I'll keep it in mind." He said as he leaned back in his chair to read.
The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
Sir Walter Scott. The Lady and the Lake.
Reward:
Kit Carson is now infamous for his tongue lashing against the Newspapers of Discovery Bay much to the amusement of the population. Thanks to the SEA-sponsored Schools and reading classes he gains +1 Learning and has read his favorite book.
Abby Bullion has once again lost control of a Classroom much to her embarrassment and has at least helped Kit get better at reading.
AN: This is somewhat funny...if only because of the Mood whiplash of Kit Carson yelling at Newspapers and Abby losing control of a classroom almost immediately.
But Kit is learning the greatest joy in life, reading.
The Celebration was in full swing at the new Casa Madrigal. Alma watched with a smile on her face as her family laughed and danced with entire village. The abuela hadn't realized she hadn't seen them so happy in so, so long.
"Oh Pedro, if only you were here to see this. You would be so proud of our grandchildren. "
Dolores was the first to realize something was wrong, as she usually is. Stopping her tango with Mariano she turned her gaze to the mountains still surrounding their Encanto. Another, louder, crack echoed off the horizon causing everyone else to turn in alarm. They watched as the spires heaved, and crumbled. Toppling to the earth in a cacophony of falling stone.
Dolores collapsed to the ground covering her ears, Mariano holding her close. It seemed like it took so long for all the walls that protected them for 50 years to come tumbling down, and yet no time at all. The sound unknowingly mixed with hoofbeats, the dust obscuring the approaching threat. They were so close when the first person cried out in alarm.
Alma looked down to see her worst nightmare play in front of her eyes. The dusty metal armor atop horseback. It couldn't be. Not again. Not in her home! Alma screamed, ordering everyone inside Casita as fast as they could.
She didn't join them.
Instead Alma grabbed the closest horse, the one Bruno rode that day, and hopped on. Alma urged the beast as fast as she could, racing to intercept the soldiers. She wasn't thinking. Not now. She would protect her family if it was the last thing she'd ever do.
It was.
Alma reached the river first, and sent her horse back to el casa. The old woman was under no illusion she would be going back. She stepped into the water and stood tall, unwavering, and waited. The horses stopped at the water save one. A brute of a beast ridden by a man even more so. A cold look on his bearded face, as if the woman before him was little more than a log fallen in his path. Alma Madrigal met his gaze without fliching. She would not be cowed by a man such as he. With the same look as the one that took her love away 5 decades ago.
The conquistador opened his mouth and spoke, "By the authority of the Crown we claim this land and it's people for Spain. If you comply no harm will befall you."
"This is not a place for violence. You may stay and resupply if you wish, but you will not take our home from us."
"Señora there is no question I will be taking it. It is up to you whether it is willingly or by force."
"I would rather die than let you take my home from my family!"
"If that is your choice then so be it."
The man drew his sword and held it high astride his mount, the sun glaring off the polished metal. Alma closed her eyes.... and heard a sound. A whisper on the wind.
A soothing sound. Like a music box kept in a drawer that reminds you of times gone by. A sound that brought to mind soft dark hair, loving eyes, and the sweetest voice.
"Pedro..."
The sword falls.
Alma Madrigal dies with a smile on her face.
_______________________________________
The elder watches from a red river as hundreds of soldiers galloped past her as though she wasn't even there. She averted her eyes. She couldn't see this sight again. However when she turned away like a coward, she saw something impossible. No, not the wolf standing like a man. Beside the odd creature that felt like an old friend stood a man she thought she'd never see again.
An old woman breaks into a run, and a young woman leaps into the arms of her love.
Pedro Madrigal utters his first words to her in over 5 decades. "Oh mi mariposa, how I missed you. I am so glad you let your walls down."
"Pedro.... our familia... why!? I open my cocoon, and the world forces it's way in to hurt us all over again!"
"It'll be okay mi amor, I promise you. You can't hide in a shell forever. They need to go out in the world and spread their own wings. Look and see."
"What will I see if I look, other than a repeat of the past?"
"A miracle."
And so she turned in his arms, and bore witness to hope for the future of her family.
Death was kind enough to let her watch until the end.
_________________________________
As the Invaders led by Cortés raced into the now empty village the very earth heaved once more. Horses stumbled and men cried out in fear and alarm as golden light shone from the house up ahead and from the cobbled path below. With a sound like an anguished roar the road attacked, stone ripping from the ground and crushing man and beast alike as the house ripped itself from it's foundations.
While many men froze in fear one voice rang out, "Do not falter in the face of a heretic demon! It takes the form of a building, so raze it to the ground!". Vicente de Valverde astride his own horse beside Francisco Pizarro's began shouting verses from the Bible as the conquistadors rallied, lighting their torches and gunpowder.
But it was no use. The construct refused to catch fire, the bullets couldn't pierce the golden lights, and no amount of bodies could stop it's furious charge. The lumbering domicile stomped and kicked it's way through the men in it's grief. The creaking of the wood and stone sounding like crying as the house ran, and ran, and ran. Fulfilling the last wish of it's oldest companion. Protect the family. It vanished over the rubble of the Madrigal Mountains and kept going, disappearing into the Colombian jungle.
________________________________
Hernán Cortés watched as his men cleaned up their new settlement. It would take a lot of work to fix up from a quant simple village but the massive piles of rubble surrounding the area will provide all the needed materials to create his new capital. He'll build walls as high as a mountain from which to rule this New World!
There was something about this place. That light. It was mesmerizing. Gold in the form of light, running through his fingers, over his armor. He wanted it. Gold was the greatest power in this world, and he'd take as much as he can get his hands on.
His peer Francisco Pizarro ran up and saluted, "Cortés.".
"What is there to report?" He returned the salute.
"The mountains were full of gold captain. It's just sitting there for the taking!"
Cortés felt a smirk grow on his face. Yes, this place would be the seat of his power. Why else would God himself tear down the mountains and lay the very gold he sought at his feet. This was a sign.
"Tell the men to collect it, all of it! I may not have found El Dorado, but I will make my own City of Gold! We will smelt it and gild our very walls! From this day forward I am the Governor of New Spain, and this will be my Ciudad de Oro!"
"There's more. Vicente found a strange burned out candle in the rubble of the foundations of the demon house."
"A candle? What use is a spent candle?"
"I am unsure, but Vicente swears on God's name that he felt something special about it."
"Let the man play with his wax in his own time, we have real work to do."
"Si Governor Cortés."
_______________________________
Colombia conquered and renamed New Spain.
The Encanto Valley has been resettled as the capital of New Spain(The Gilded Country), Ciudad de Oro.
Hernán Cortés has become the Governor of New Spain.
Remnant of a sundered Miracle found.
Alma Madrigal is now deceased.
Casita and the Encanto inhabitants escaped north, fleeing New Spain.
Hernán Cortés (full name and title Don Hernán Cortés de Monroy y Pizarro Altamirano, Marquis of the Valley of Oaxaca) is the secondary antagonist of DreamWorks' 3rd full-length animated feature film, The Road to El Dorado. He is based on the real-life Spanish conquistador of the same name. He...
villains.fandom.com
Martial - 16 - Cortés is a seasoned soldier and commander of men. Diplomacy - 12 - Flogging may be his preferred approach, but he knows how to use his tongue as a whip just as well. Stewardship - 15 - Hernán not only went to law school, but he also managed a plantation, and once worked as a notary. Intrigue - 8 - He relies more on threats and violence to uncover lies than investigation. Learning - 13 - He is a learned man, not some savage. Occult - 5 - He believes in rumors of a lost City of Gold, and that was before The Upheaval. Cortés is also a deeply religious evangelist, but he twists the word of God to his own ends.
Hidalgo - Hernán Cortés is a member of the petty nobility of Spain, and current Governor of New Spain. +10 Diplomacy to loyal Spaniards. +15 Stewardship in spanish controlled territories.
Spanish Conquistador - A leader of the spanish conquest of the New World. +15 Martial when performing a conquest action.
Ancillary: Brutus - The warhorse that replaced Altivo. + 10 Martial in battle.
Nemesis: Tulio and Miguel(and Altivo) - These 2 have made a fool of Hernán for the last time. The next time they meet the con men will die, and he will get back his horse!
Priority: El Dorado(Gold) - Cortés sailed to the Americas in search of gold and glory. Now that he is here nothing will stop him from being the one to find and conquer the lost City of Gold, and no one will get in his way. Gold is worth more in his eyes than the lives of his men.
A Spanish conquistador, best known for his expeditions that led to the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire. Born in Trujillo, Spain to a poor family, Pizarro chose to pursue fortune and adventure in the New World. He went to the Gulf of Urabá, and accompanied Vasco Núñez de Balboa in his crossing of the Isthmus of Panama, where they became the first Europeans to see the Pacific Ocean from the Americas. He served as mayor of the newly founded Panama City for a few years and undertook two failed expeditions to Peru. In 1529, Pizarro obtained permission from the Spanish crown to lead a campaign to conquer Peru and went on his third, and successful, expedition.
Spanish Conquistador - A leader of the spanish conquest of the New World. +15 Martial when performing a conquest action.
El Cuarto del Rescate - The Ransom Room is considered to be the place where the Inca Empire came to an end with the capture and eventual execution of the Inca Emperor Atahualpa. After the battle of Cajamarca, Atahualpa offered Pizarro to buy his liberty by filling the room where he was kept prisoner with gold and the two following rooms with silver, up to the level of the reach of his arm. The Emperor was tried and executed anyway. +10 to execution, +15 to abduction, and +20 to extortion actions.
The son of Francisco de Valverde and Ana Alvarez de Toledo, and was related to many noble families of the region, in particular to that of Francisco Pizarro, the conquistador of Peru, and that of Hernán Cortés, the conqueror of Mexico. In 1515 he was sent to study at the University of Salamanca. While a student there, he later asked to be received into the Dominican Order, which he was in 1523 at the Priory of San Esteban at Salamanca. He became a professed friar of the Order in April 1524, and was ordained a priest within the next few years. Valverde accompanied Pizarro as a missionary on his intended voyage of the conquest of Peru according to the 1529 agreement.
Evangelical Truth - Friar Vicente called upon the Inca to renounce all other gods as being a mockery of the truth. +15 when working against other divinities. +25 when spreading his own religious propaganda.
Dos Oruguitas - 2 Caterpillars, 2 sacrifices, 1 family, 1 miracle. By sacrificing her/his life Alma/Pedro can provide +200 on a roll to keep their family alive and unharmed.
I probably should have come up with this before Home Is Where The Miracle Is, but it exists now!
So, Governor Cortés has set himself up in Colombia(Now New Spain) in between the Aztec(Tzekel-Kan) and Incan(Yzma) empires. Been in power there since The Upheaval. I feel like his faction would be full of infamous Spanish Conquistadors like himself. Hernán was responsible for conquering the Aztecs, while Francisco conquered the Incans. The men who took Mexico and Peru.
Martial: Defend the borders
Stewardship: Repair the Fleet
Diplomacy: INTERRUPT: Receive a messenger
Intrigue: Investigate the EITC
Learning: Improve cannon foundry
Occult: Enchant the cannons
Vex: Care for Dallben
Martial: INTERRUPT: Get Drafted
You read the documents in the early sunlight. Vex is sleeping, after another week out on the docks. Dallben is still bothered by his hand and requires daily medical attention. The burns have closed, and at least it doesn't weep anymore, but there is stiffness and pain. It can't be good for an old man. You offered amputation, but he declined. You hope he knows what he's doing.
Only Lord Kelvin is up, sitting next to you at the table, drafting plans for an improved foundry with furious speed.
Still. If you ignore the hurt in your realm, and the existential dread threatening both from land and sea, it could be a relaxed Sunday morning. And then the damned mirror in your pocket vibrates.
You take it out, listening to the chilling voice, nod, throw in a price or two. Then you look at William:
"I am going to take whatever troops are up right now. I have been summoned by the Empress."
She doesn't call herself that, but better to soothe the staunch monarchist.
"In my absence, you shall be..."
You do not get to finish. Kelvin interrupts:
"Yes, yes, I will inform Vex she is to reign. Now go off on your little adventure."
You are woken up, rudely, by loud banging on your door. Still in your nightshift, you open it a tiny bit and see the white-bearded face of Lord Kelvin. He speaks quickly:
"King Igthorn has answered an urgent request for help. You are to be his steward again."
You brush your long black hair out of your face - you haven't even braided it yet - and reply, sweetly as you can:
"I understand. Give me five minutes."
You close the door in his face just as he tries to tell you something.
Then you go back to your bed and scream into your pillow.
The captain of the King's Guard - thankfully off duty when Igthorn had absconded with so many of his troops - sighs. Toadie brings him another cup of tea, and you are surprised at his usefulness as a page.
You two have been brooding over the map for some hours. You do not know strategy, but you do know logistics, and together you have hammered out a plan for how to to prepare for invasion from the east.
It's a bad plan, with scouts spaced out. If one goes silent for too long, the King's Guard will investigate and fight off the Cauldronborn that, by that point, will certainly have killed the scouts.
You take a sip of the heavy wine, to lessen your guilt. If there's one thing about being Regent, it's that at least no one prevents you from doing that.
(Except one. But he's in the infirmary.)
"It's a good plan, milady."
You shake your head, violently.
"If the Cauldronborn attack, these men are dead."
The captain pauses, then:
"It's the best plan we have."
"...Can we at least give the scouts some of the magic weapons? So they can sell their lives at least?"
He nods. You know these blades will come from the Guard itself - Dallben couldn't produce more after the Horned King hurt him so. You take another sip of wine and silently curse Igthorn. He has good reason, for sure. But still, you feel the resentment.
Effects: Defense Plan for Dunwyn implemented. -10 to all rolls to invade Dunwyn on land. Additional -10 if the enemy relies on invulnerability to mundane weaponry.
Vex gains +1 Stress
DC 50 + 20 (Sudden Lack of Troops): + 23 = 70 + 15 + 6 = 91
Your personnel losses were smaller than feared. You'll drink to that. The rest? The rest is money and labor. You plunder the treasure chamber - really, why save 14000 gold? - and throw it at the problem. Some rearrangements, freeing the jail from minor villains in exchange for some hard work on the shipyards, and an additional food allotment for the harbor town. Hm. Maybe you should name it Vexington. If Igthorn didn't want that, he better should have been here. And so the harbor town is now Vexington. Yes!... You might be a bit drunk.
But that doesn't change your mind for numbers, and the action plan you write down will bring the construction back on track. You cannot do anything about the lost time, and you alter one of the hulls into another Wrath-class vessel - trade ships don't bring in revenue when they're sunk, after all - but other than that? The repairs to the harbor should go on smoothly if expensive. And if Dallben manages to do his magic, the next time Salazar appears, he'll be in for a rude awakening.
If nothing goes wrong, this time next month, you will have your trading vessel - armed, of course - and another Wrath-class galleon. Now if you only had some good crew for those ships.
Effect: Harbor rebuilt. Igthorn's Wrath fully repaired and ready for combat. (Ships's experience at Trained.) Hulls laid for Trading Ship. Additional Wrath-Class is being built.
Lost 2000 gold
You drink another sip of wine and curse the timing. With the King away, of course the East India Trading Company decides to knock on your door. You stand up, straight, carefully wearing this ugh dress. It seems to have been made for the former princess and was liberated and bestowed upon you for formal occasions, and you hate it. But you have to admit it makes you look pretty, and harmless.
One of the braves opens the door to the throne room, where you sat on a smaller stool before the dais. Your desk is filled with papers, contracts, and - on top - a letter to the family of one of the killed seamen. Carina is currently in the back room, dressed as a servant. Later, she will bring tea to you and your guest. Your attempt to get her to offer wine was met with harsh denial. Dallben is not here, but he promised the protective sigils should prevent mind-clouding magic from gripping you too harshly.
The EITC counters with pomp and circumstance. Two redcoats (thankfully, unarmed) escort a richly-clothed man into the room. The man doesn't strike you as familiar, but he is jovially smiling, his eyes roaming the room in wonder. In other words, a mark.
He comes closer, and then looks at you, bowing slightly.
"Hello, young lady. My name is Weatherby Swann. I am looking for King Igthorn. Where might I find him?"
The bastard has the gall to see you as a servant, or maybe a daughter. You huff, before explicitly not bowing in return.
"Welcome to my throne room, envoy Swann. I am Regent Vex of Dunwyn" - oomph, that's a claim - "and in the absence of our great King Sigmund Igthorn, first of his name, I rule here."
He is taken aback, but only for a second. Then, the damn man seems even happier!
"Oh my, what fierceness. I am very sorry for my assumption, Lady Dunwyn. You just remind me of my daughter. Elizabeth is her name, and she is just as self-assured as you are. Sadly, I have lost her in the Upheaval, and haven't found her yet."
A tear rises in his eye, and you wonder if he isn't such a superb operator that he is faking this entire persona. He can't know that you are an orphan, can he? Playing on your heartstrings? You recall Robin's warning, the words almost carved into the parchment. A quick gulp, and then your entire mind is focused on your opponent.
The envoy bows, this time deeper, and sets up to introduce himself again.
"Please, excuse my ignorance. I am envoy Weatherby Swann, sworn to service of King Alfred the Second, born Cutler Beckett. As a remote cousin of the British crown, he is the rightful heir and ruler to the United Kingdom and Great Britain. Your sovereign bids you his greetings. He and his esteemed organization, the East India Trading Company, are working to re-establish law and order in the British Isles and the world. We have already sent a representative to the Horned King and the newly-founded United Kingdom. Certainly, they will think their independence hard-earned. But either they will see the advantages of a renewed, strong British Empire, or, in the case of the Horned King, to be crushed under our heel.
In light of these new developments, I bring with me a charter for Dunwyn to be one of the Kingdoms in the new Great Britain under King Alfred, to be serving the greater glory of our nation, whilst also enjoying the protection of our navy and our allies. We will ensure your safety against external threats, and only ask you to bend your knee - which you should be doing, anyway."
He takes a long roll from his coat and offers it for you to read. You scan it quickly, searching the crooks and nannies where you would hide snares for the careless reader. As you do so, he takes out a small chest, and offers it:
"Though we are not without recompense for coming back under the safe folds of Britain's wings. I carry with me a small gift for King Igthorn.
He opens the chest, and in there are beautiful gems, carefully cut. And, to his credit, they are not simply glass. Still, you harrumph.
"Trinkets. Baubles. Lord Swann, with all due respect," - and you do think the amount due trickles through in your tone - "Dunwyn does not recognize King Alfred's supremacy over the Walisian lands. We are working together with the United Kingdoms led by Prime Minister Marian of Lochley. We are open to contact, and further negotiations, of course. But I can already see several terms that conflict with our future interests. Now, please, I do not claim that we shall never come to bow before King Alfred's crown"- for example, when Hell freezes over - "but even if this was a more favorable treaty, Lord Swann, I would fear that such an important document I'd have to run up the chain. Sadly, King Igthorn is currently unavailable, defending fair Dunwyn against undead intruders."
For a moment, something strange happens. Swann seems to be delighted. Why? What was your mistake? Where did you go wrong?
Then, you hear porcelain shatter, and Carina stares at the envoy.
"Grandfather? You are alive?!?"
The guards are hurried out, all of them, both yours and his, and then you sit down and listen.
It is a hurried story she tells. She describes her adventures, meeting Jack Sparrow, falling in love with Henry - "It wasn't love at first sight. Attraction, maybe? But I think that he did not act on it was very sweet", - she describes her memory's history. Will Turner, leading the Flying Dutchman. Elizabeth, the Pirate King - and this sends the envoy into a shocked chortle before he says:
"I very much do not approve of such behavior. But if she has to fall into piracy, it is good that my daughter at least has standards and aspires to leadership!"
Her eyes shine as she tells them about Will and Elizabeth rejoining, about her children, and about the hole in Lizzie's heart Weatherby's death had left. Weatherby interjects sometimes, claiming manners she describes to be just as he knows, and sometimes there is a turn of phrase that opens his eyes in wonder. He holds Carina's hand - she does not need comfort after the initial surprise, but you think he needs it.
When she has finished her tales, holds him by the arm, asking him to stay. Weatherby - you can't mentally call him an envoy anymore, not after that story of hardship - gently takes her hands off his arm, and rises. Wide-eyed, she stands, tears wetting her eyes, and continues, pleading, desperately:
"No, please! Listen to me. The East India Trading Company is evil. They work with Davy Jones, and they would kill Elizabeth without hesitation. They would kill *you* without hesitation. And it would break Elizabeth's heart. You love your daughter. Don't do that to her. You cannot go back there!"
Swann: 99
Carina: 78.
Once again, Weatherby smiles, holding her hands and radiating a paternal warmth you have never known, and which absence you have never felt so enviously.
"Oh, but that is why I must. Either you are a very confused young woman, or you tell the truth. If the former, I am safe with the company, and if not, I need to be there to help her."
And then he closes the door behind him, leaving the last of his family behind.
Results: EITC contract has been denied without giving them Casus Belli. Weatherby Swann has been set in doubt; he does not believe Carina's story fully, but he will research it on his terms. Regardless, he personally is very favorable to Dunwyn.
Vex gains +1 Diplomacy
Stealing an EITC uniform had been easy. Sneaking aboard the envoy's ship and stowing away? Child's play. Staying out of sight of her unknown grandfather-in-law? Less so. Even though not for his keen senses, but for your desire to connect to family. (And for all the juicy tales he could tell you about Mother.)
The journey takes a while. You hide in the bilgewater and the stores and sometimes even pretend to work. But if there is one flaw in the EITC, besides the abuse of power, pettiness, arrogance and greed, it is that they believe themselves to be untouchable. Grandfather has not come out of his cabin often, which is very fortunate.
The ship, the HMS Diamond, now lies at bay on a small island. The settlement seems made for servicing ships - publicans and shipwrights are the most common jobs, as well as some more... unsavory professions. Though you do not begrudge the women these tasks; if anything, that they have to do it breaks your heart. The seamen have been granted liberty, and it is not the only EITC ship harbored here. Next to it lies the Endeavour, the flagship.
And its seamen, too, have been granted liberty, leaving only a hull crew protecting closely guarded secrets. Beckett himself - he will never be a King to you - has left the ship behind, and only his second in command remains of the command staff.
Ian Mercer is very good, but you have the advantage of him. You know about him, while he doesn't know you. He does not know you are here, nor that you are even active in this timeline.
If it was a fair fight, he'd beat you. If you would ever try this again, he'd certainly anticipate you. So, to quote Jack, that's not an incentive for you to fight fair, is it?
You wait until Mercer's being called away - you smirk. You knew that would happen. Grandfather certainly would stumble at some point, and Beckett would become nervous, and call for his lapdog. You only hope they do not do anything stupid.
You hide in the shadows, adding a few drops to the rum portion - one of the problems with liberty, the Quartermaster can only badly check how much rum is handed out. Not a sleeping drug, but one that'll make them just a bit more drowsy. Enough to get to the afterdeck, and climb into the cabin from behind.
You enter the study. The desk is almost drenched in paperwork, plans, timetables, letters... all of them clearly visible in lanternlight, carelessly left on, strewn around haphazardly. You curse. Whoever works here really works here. They will know if you take anything.
Still, you sift through the files, checking for names you know to be important, either to Igthorn or yourself. No mention of Elizabeth, or Will, but this here, this looks... yes! At least some of their plans for Sherwood Forest!
You gather what's most important. Now how to escape? And how to cover your tracks? You wonder how to proceed in the soft lantern's light when it comes to you. Yes. The chain is thin. Almost precariously so. You twist it just a bit, and then climb out the window. As you jump down into the sand, you can hear the glass shatter. Running into the night, you twist your head only once, seeing fire pouring from the cabin window, and men forming a bucket chain to save the ship. Time to go home.
Effects: Rough layout of EITC plans have been found. Personnel records recovered - number and size of EITC ships is known. Proof of intrigue against Sherwood Forese found, but not spy names. Fire has temporarily damaged the Endeavour.
All rolls against the EITC will gain a +10 modifier for the next two turns
Defense Roll (Mercer) = 71: 58 + 22 + 10 + 15 = 105
Does Right Place, Right Time activate? No!
You still wonder why Kelvin has accepted Igthorn thrusting the burden of leadership on your shoulders again until you visit the foundry and see the bushy-bearded man ordering six dozen workers around with a maniacal glee. The heat is almost unbearable, worse than any smithy you have ever visited. Sparks fly where a small electrical generator is used to power some strange kind of lance that somehow magically binds metals to each other.
They even bathe the barrels in water? And drag some metal carriage through it?
Kelvin looks at her. "Come, girl, hurry. You want a report? Everything works well."
He turns and yells: "SMITHERS! More gently, you fool!"
Everything really must be going well, for Smithers remains un-quilled.
Then the madman continues: "The cannons will be rifled. And we can do it quite quickly. Better get a dozen carriages, girl. You will be taking a new loadout for the Wrath with you. Britannia will rule the waves again!"
Effects: Cannon foundry upgraded. Future cannons will have both a gunlock and rifled barrels for greater accuracy over great distances. Igthorn's Wrath will be retrofitted with (potentially enchanted) cannons.
Dallben really shouldn't be up yet. His hand is wrapped in gauze, and he is pale while he sits next to one of the large 36-pounders from the Wrath. This is one of the newer designs with a gunlock. Far safer for the crew. He is mixing a strange paste with his left hand in the mortar, and you are surprised to see Carina holding it.
"For a woman of science, you seem quite learned about the hidden world, my dear", and is that an avuncular smile on his face?
She laughs, gently, and replies:
"Oh, yes. I do not behoove with that mystical nonsense. But I have learned, to my pain, that just because you do not believe in magic, that doesn't change that magic believes in you."
His eyes wander to her arm, the tiny crustaceans still growing on it.
She nods.
"A family curse, so to speak. I've married into it. But back to Armando Salazar. He is an utterly repulsive man, I have to say. And I know with certainty he'd rather sell out his crew than risk his life. Arrogant, far too convinced of his superiority. He had in my memory unlearned how to be a good captain after his curse."
"And what, exactly, did you say the reason for his state was?"
"Ah, that is not very well known. Henry worked on it in his spare time in between taking care of the children. But by then, the problem did not seem so urgent. We thought him dead for truth."
His face falls, as he can see her smile fade.
"So, where is your husband?"
She shakes her head, violently.
"I do not know. But the Dutchman sails and that gives me hope. As for my children, I shall not rest until I find my Will and Maggie. How about you, do you have a family?"
He sighs. "I hope so? There's this boy, my apprentice. Taran. But I have lost him during the Upheaval. I have searched for him, but without Hen Wen, I cannot find him. I hope he is under some shroud not...."
He breaks off, and then they both sit and concentrate on the work, Carina reading him his notes, and making some suggestions where her better knowledge of nautic myths gives her the advantage.
Effects: Igthorn's Wrath has been equipped with enchanted cannons. They are not, by design, more destructive than normal ones, but they will bypass magical defenses of up to middling strength. (I.e. the Silent Mary will have problems. The Silent Mary with a shield cast by the Horned King, not so much.)
You tumble a bit. Your once steady hand is shaky, both from the headache and the brutal sight. Dallben's hand is swollen, leathery. The skin has turned black and the stench is ugh. But you try your best to keep steady as you remove the gauze. Dallben grits his teeth, desperate not to scream. Thankfully, the salve has worked, at least a bit, and the wound remains dry. As you take the tweezers, he jokes, weakly, that you shouldn't drink the sterilizing solution.
"It's just a bit of wine, old man. It helps me through the day."
Dallben grimaces in pain as you pull one of the deadened pieces of skin out of his ruined hand. Not all damaged parts have died off already, and you are very careful to try not to hurt the healing parts. But Dallben has to bite his tongue not to cry out.
When you pause - being this meticulous is exhausting - he tells you:
"Listen, Vex. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a glass of wine. At your age, you should water it down, of course. But if you say it helps you, that is a treacherous route. At first, it's a crutch, and then it weakens you until you rely on it more and more. Always be the master, never the slave."
He sighs and looks at you with deep sorrow.
"I know you are utmost burdened, but please, child, do not run away. We both know you are stronger than that."
You swallow your bilous reply at his wide black eyes, his worry-framed face, and continue to work, salving his hand and binding it tight. Then you leave, without another word. When you come to your room, you see the pitcher of wine you had ordered. Shouldn't you take just a sip?
Results: Dallben's wound is not infected. He is recovering, but slowly. Vex has been warned about alcoholism; will she listen?
DC 50 = 48 + 7 -5 (Drunk)= 55 Bare Pass
Igthorn Adventure: The Power of the Sundrop
Igthorn moves to the castle of the Mirror Queen to help out. Read what happens in Tireless Traveler's stunning adventure!
You snore and drool. The thick felt enveloping the ledger is so warm and soft, and honestly, it has been a day. Just like the last three. You dream of selling weapons, just you and your wagon, and an easier life, and you kind of miss it but you also feel the absence of something so strongly.
Then, a large hand and a slightly nasally voice wake you up.
"Now, now, shouldn't a young girl be in bed at this hour? You little rascal."
You can't say the words are spoken with warmth, but they are said with fondness. Bleary-eyed, you force yourself to look at the intruder, even with the headache starting to hammer down.
"M..my King? You're back?"
Your heart pounds, mostly in happiness, that he is finally back, and you can go back to not killing people. His Kinginess (damn Toadie) smiles at you, and he looks worse for the wear as if he had just gone ten rounds with an angry grizzly. But even then, he seems strangely vital, more fit than he has since you met.
"I see my castle still stands, I didn't see any changed flags or violent mobs, so you must have done it right, Vex. But what's that what I'm hearing about you being in the line of succession?"
You blush in worry, claiming desperately - and, honestly, slurred by wine and sleep - that it's an honest mistake, but he waves it away.
"The EITC are idiots. Dangerous idiots, because they know what they are doing, but idiots, because they do not understand this new world. It doesn't matter. But you should be sleeping in your bed, and not on your chair. Come, let's get you some rest."
You stand up, wobbly, and almost fall. He catches you, and then holds you up like a doll, or a daughter.
"I must have overworked you if you're so tired. I'll carry you, and tomorrow you can sleep in. Lord Kelvin, that great artisan, will fill me in."
You nod, and say: "What h'ppend."
He chuckles and begins to spin a tale.
You are asleep before he carries you out of the throne room.
Current status:
Stress Vex: 7/10
Dunwyn Loyalty: 6
Warband Loyalty: 20
Mercenary Loyalty: 10
Ogre Loyalty: 0
Navy Loyalty: 10
Hero Loyalty:
Toadie: 100/50
Vex: 30/50 (Insane amount of trust, parental figure)
Dallben: ???/50(at least 10)
Lord Kelvin 15/50 - (you let him work on his machineries.)
Carina Barbossa 5/50 (opening the college for women)
City Funds: 12,570
City income: 5,700
1000 Local Tax Revenue
1600 Trade Tax Revenue
1000 Wood harvesting
450 Granite trade
1000 Trade with Lady Bane (Alchemic ingredients) + 10% = 1100
Spoiler: The adventure went... interestingly. Igthorn is now at 27 Intrigue. Which is close to the human maximum at 30. Yes, Igthorn in another quest would make superb Spymaster. Oh, and for the time being, he's at +5 to both Martial and Prowess, though that won't last forever.
Meanwhile, Vex, she of the literally unusable diplomacy, has managed to beat Weatherby Swann at his own game and almost managed to sway him over to you. Well, that last one was Carina. Of course, now the EITC thinks Vex is Igthorn's daughter, or at least ward, and officially in the line of succession. I wonder whether you guys will vote to clear that up.
Carina has shared some of her backstory with you; it's only Vex here, but you may presume that she updates Igthorn while pursuing her personal action. (Yes, your heroes have personal actions. No, you do not get to choose them.)
Oh, and an expect an interlude soon-ish. You are, after all, not the only player in Dunwyn...
A/N: @Cyberphilosipher and I pulled double duty on this omake. He wanted to write a slice-of-life omake, and I suggested a reaction piece among the Agrabah heroes. This was the result. I hope you all like it.
A Peddler's Farewell
It is never easy to say goodbye. Be it from sickness, war, famine; and the slow march of time.
Things stand still for a moment to process that moment where one realizes that they are no longer among them.
It is the burden of living that makes the loss so painful and difficult.
Across the city, shops are closed, men are lined in their finery; the women throw petals and flowers in remembrance.
Even the dogs and cats understand how profound a loss such as this is.
But none feel the loss as acutely as the Royal Court and the many friends that were left behind in his wake.
(CP)
----------------------------
(CP)
Funerals were always solemn affairs. They had once thought such a thing would be a distant occasion, done when a life had reached its end. Surrounded by friends and family with grand stories, laden with wisdom and a legacy that will outlast the century.
It was a beautiful dream, but reality was always cruel in its tidings.
Such is life, death and all the world in between.
---------------------------
(CP)
Lawrence was underdressed. If only in spirit, the Peddler had always insisted he prance about in finer works, and filled with a great sense of unease; he still felt like a stranger in these lands.
Garbed in a black tunic without a hood or anything to cover his head, it reminded him how young he really was. He had so many years left ahead of him now, with so many choices and consequences.
The Peddler had made him laugh on more than one occasion, to dispel the monotony that was civilized living and his own homesickness brought about. He had reminded him of his friends in college, laughing with quick wit and charm and a smile that always seemed to disarm and drive away such demons of loneliness.
Lord who is forever watching, give grace and serenity for this man, for he is a servant and loyal follower of your word and privileges…and he's got a wit you'd like.
Ned had always considered himself a sentimental man, and he would miss him now and always.
It was all he could do, mourn, prepare and move on.
-----------------------------------
(CP)
Jasmine had always considered herself a woman who would know when to allow herself grief.
She had held few people in esteem or trust for many reasons; but the Peddler had always found himself among those she trusted, be it from kind words of encouragement from the days after she had lost her mother…to advice on courting men when Aladdin was "Prince Ali". "Arm's length until you've met the parents and then only shake the world once you're in the wedding bed."
It was in its own way honest and hilarious with how brash it was, but she had always thanked him for that strange bit of advice, and the stories of what is outside the castle, from the spice and peppers he had dried and brought to the banquets to sketches of far away places.
He taught her how to dream of a whole world outside the walls of her world, and for that she was thankful.
-----------------------------------
(TT)
William Robinson had seen death on many occasions. When the Titus capsized at the deserted island, the entire crew save for his family had died. They found several corpses on the ship when going over it for supplies.
The Upheaval had, ironically, blessed his family with safety and purpose. While the treehouse hadn't survived past six months, given the radical change in climate, having a city at hand in which to live more than made up for the loss. He worked with good men and women, accomplishing goals that he was proud to contribute to.
The Peddler was one of the first people to reach out to the foreigner family; he hadn't held Will's origins against him, and his travels made him more accepting than most of strangers. His English was fluent, albeit accented, and his cosmopolitan lifestyle made him not only gregarious, but as it turned out a gifted mimic. He and Francis became fast friends, and the youngest Robinson adored the funny man.
Now, as it turned out, it was time for the Peddler to teach his son one final lesson. Francis's face was grim, an expression never before seen on his young face. Will kept his own feelings internal, but his gratitude towards his wife as she squeezed his arm in silent support was boundless. He would avenge this good man, if it was the last thing he did.
--------------------
(CP)
Sadira remembered how kind he was, before everything. When she had been young the Peddler had a little bit of a game/tradition that he had always had when he entered the city.
If you help me unload I'll get you something warm.
The prospect of a free meal was something to which all the children in the city looked forward, and she had always recounted it as one of her fondest memories growing up on the streets.
It was only after she had met him again after the 'Sand Witch Case' as Holmes had called it, that she truly appreciated how kind he truly was.
He was patient and collected, worked hard and enjoyed the simplest games and grandest stories of heroes and villains.
He even named his beloved daughter (whom to Sadira's knowledge was her own form of successful merchant…somewhere in the world) after a great and magical princess.
Sadira reminded him of her, it was always unstated, but it was a comfort to her that he thought of her in the same breath as her.
It was everything. Now she had to say goodbye to the smiling Peddler one final time.
Now, it was time to think of his smile as he rode off into the stars above.
--------------------------------------
(TT)
Razoul's face was without expression as he led the Honor Guard through the streets of Agrabah. Behind them, the body of the Peddler was carried in a shroud, permitting the city one final opportunity to say farewell to a beloved figure.
Razoul was not a sentimental man, but even he could appreciate the joy the Peddler had brought to all who knew him - and not solely for the foreign trinkets and doodads he brought with him from locales near and far. It was known to only a few that he had been a talented songwriter, and that most of the songs he performed in the marketplace were of his own creation. "Arabian Nights" was especially popular; Razoul had left more than a few coins for the man in appreciation of his performances.
With his death, Razoul felt that night truly had fallen upon Arabia. A gloom suffused the city, a grief that transcended mere words. Razoul, never one to consider himself a wordsmith, didn't bother trying. Instead he showed it with his actions. His respect for a good man, gone too soon.
After the funeral, he would spend the rest of the evening comforting his own children, who were inconsolable from the news.
He wished the Detective every bit of fortune in discovering the killer, and would take no small joy in removing their heads from their shoulders in recompense for what they had taken from Agrabah.
----------------------------
(CP)
John Watson wasn't a man who allowed grief or death to deter him, he had seen it happen many times - first in the Anglo-Afghan War and the subsequent mess that was dealing with the wounded, then on many operating tables on the ship returning to London all those years ago.
And then after so many years working with Holmes on case after case - the Speckled Band, the Study in Scarlet, the Baskerville case, and the investigation into Moriarty and his syndicate, to name only a few - he had seen no shortage of bodies there. Some of their manners of death were so hideous that he could scarcely recount the details in his journals, merely hinting at them.
From one perspective, the Peddler had been just another corpse to one who had seen so many. Yet few of the men he had known had been so…alive, so vital a force, as the Peddler. When he entered the room, you knew he was there.
From his masterful charisma to a force of charm and a voice like silken robes, the Peddler dominated all forces of communication, without overpowering his intelligence, or the intelligence of others. His wit challenged you, made you think and smile when you figured it out.
It was for all senses a man who made it an experience the likes of which cannot be scarcely matched in this age.
Perhaps any age….it was a being of joy and the heart weeps trying to fill the void of what was lost.
John would cherish these moments, for they were glimmers of light in a world that was so uncertain.
-----------------------------
(TT)
Sherlock Holmes was, despite all appearances to the contrary, in possession of a deeply sensitive soul. He adored music, and while his abilities as an artist only extended so far as to help him accurately sketch a crime scene, he found a great deal of value in creative works of all sorts. A mind as restless and acute as his stagnated in the absence of stimulation.
It was for this reason that he found more enjoyment in the company of the Peddler than most. The pair had bonded over their enjoyment of music, and on more than a few occasions Holmes had accompanied the gregarious man in the marketplace on his new violin.
Now that voice was silent. Holmes was too, as he followed the funeral procession.
He would play a lament for him that night on his violin.
—-----------------------------
(TT)
All of Agrabah turned out for the funeral of the Peddler. He had been a very popular man, and the entire city mourned his loss.
Young Ernest Robinson was solemn as he stood by the grave of a man whom he had counted as a mentor. Beside him, his older brother Fitz rested a hand on the sword sheathed at his waist.
The silence stretched interminably. Finally, Fitz broke it. "I've always wondered…people called him The Peddler. But what was his actual name?"
"روبن", Ernest replied.
Fitz blinked. "Eh, sorry, my Arabic is still rusty. Does it have an English equivalent?"
Ernest shrugged. "It's always tricky, translating across languages. Names especially. But as near as I can tell, the closest word English has is 'Robin.'"
I wonder on a scale where every faction would rank currently. Assuming a faction constitutes running either a city/town and possessing territory that grows/expands.
Tireless is correct, with the way things have changed the Sultan has been teaching Jasmine what she needs to know in order to rule as Sultana in case of his passing.