[Season 9] The Game - Oziah/Jaezred
Oct 27, 2021 18:51:18 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Wren Lunaboult, and 2 more like this
Post by Oziah Daybreaker on Oct 27, 2021 18:51:18 GMT
A series of conversations taking place immediately after the events of Tanner's Flagpost (the game), after Dance of Swords Part II and A Farewell To Faust, respectively.
Co-written with Jaezred Vandree 🍷🕷🖤
“Lady Oziah. I heard that an adventuring party ran into Langston Farstep. Was it your party that I saw earlier today? What happened?”
“Farstep set a trap. Adventurers are getting in the way of his plans. The gauntlet has been thrown.” A brief, foreboding silence. “Faust is dead. Staying at the fort for now.”
A pause, then another casting of the sending spell: “I’ll be at the fort tomorrow. We can speak at length there.”
“Good.”
The great hall is silent as the grave, dark in the late evening. He sinks into the armchair opposite of her where she sits solitary by a large fireplace.
“Langston disguised himself as an orc and convinced some settlers of that kind that a day away from Daring Heights would be a good spot. The orcs then caused a ruckus and of course the adventuring community was called to help. It was a trap. There was a wall of force, and some sovereign glue on a flag post. I think Ivan is missing some skin from the palms of his hands. Then there was.. a Disintegrate spell. And then he got away before we could capture him.”
He doesn’t offer platitudes. She is grateful.
“Do you know Delilah? She seems intent on hunting Farstep and Jack.”
He looks surprised.
“We have worked together several times in the past. I didn’t know she was after them. I sent the message to you because I’d heard from Jack that Farstep was dealing with an adventuring group when we were dealing with him. I was merely curious if Farstep had set a trap for you as Jack did for us.”
“She seems intent. And competent.”
“Then I certainly feel sorry for the two of them, to be hunted by someone that formidable. But are you suggesting that I help her somehow? I don’t know anything more about those two than what everyone else already knows. I don’t have notes on them.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“You should get some then.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that if I don’t run in the same social circles as them. Suppose I’ll have to invite them over for tea."
“You’re either obfuscating for reasons beyond me or you’re being slow on the uptake, my lord. This is the game. And I intend to play it. And I’d appreciate your help in doing so.”
“I don’t know who you think I am, Lady Oziah, but I don’t have a particular grudge against either Jack nor Farstep. Nonetheless, I am sorry to hear about Mr. Greyheart. He was most fine company.”
“Not a grudge perhaps. But a vested interest in the goings-on of powerful individuals is your forte, is it not?”
“Not at all. I gossip entirely for fun. I left politicking behind in Menzoberranzan.”
“You’re a highly competent man, Jaezred. A powerful caster. We haven’t known each other for long but I find myself invested in the hunt for these two. And if you’re as uninvolved as you claim, I’d be in your debt if you were to lend me your aid and get involved. I’m going to end Langston Farstep. Simple as that.”
“I’ll help you with that if I am able,” he says quietly. She nods her thanks.
He goes to the bar and returns with two drinks. “To Faust Greyheart,” he toasts, “and a painful and agonizing death for Langston Farstep.”
Later, she takes his knight with her queen and he glances up briefly.
“So why have you forsaken the Flourished Hook in favour of this place again?”
“You’ve been busy elsewhere. Left me all alone in Port Ffirst.”
“My apologies,” he smirks. “But are you sure that is your sole reason for suffering this glorified dormitory? Perhaps there is something — or someone — that pulls you back to this place?”
She takes a drink and moves her queen again.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me where you’ve been spending your days. And nights. Or we can get drunk on good whiskey and continue to be cowards, both of us. You said it yourself, my Lord; Men are swine. I’ll raise you - Women are inescapable.”
“So it’s a woman then.”
She looks at him, deadpan. He grins.
“What was it you said to me at the circus? ‘Never fall in love, Lord Jaezred’? Do you believe in second chances, my lady?”
“I believe in you getting your king out of the bind he’s in before I check mate you.”
“Fair enough,” he replies, raising both palms. “I think I shall continue being a coward today — may the Goddess forgive me.”
(The game of Dragonchess is a draw.)
"I've given much thought to your request. I will agree, on two conditions: first, you will inform me of any run-ins you had or will have with either Farstep or Jack; second, you must be discreet and keep this all strictly to yourself. Let us go to my room to discuss further."
He turns to her with a sombre smile. "Would you care to join me for some mulled wine, Lady Oziah?"
"I would like nothing better, my Lord."
A sharp, lethal grin tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“I thought you didn’t have notes.”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you. No offence.”
“None taken, my Lord. Rest assured I have no dog in this fight apart from getting my hands on Langston. I don’t intend to sell or betray anyone. I’m not getting involved in this for the theatrics or backstabbing.”
He nods. “Good. That is what I thought. Well, now that we’re all comfortable and out of the rain, let’s begin. Whatever questions you have about Langston Farstep or the mad modron, I shall try my best to answer.”
She wastes no time on pleasantries.
“Do we know what they want? They’re clearly working on some sort of plan.”
“Not really. Farstep has said that they both want freedom, but we still don’t know what that means. Whatever it is, their plan is grandiose and stretches across multiple planes of existence.”
“And I take it that means we don’t know where they’ve set up a base of operations? They must have one.”
“Correct. Frankly, they’re running rings around the Archmage Aurelia Archleson and I doubt we’ll ever find their base at this rate.”
“They’ve been collecting.. Items? Someone referred to it as a ‘shopping spree’.”
“And a stealing spree. Tuning fork materials, the containment seal...those are just the ones we’re aware of. Farstep — he has an extensive history of stealing strange objects in the Dawnlands.”
“Fantastic. All the hallmarks of a devious masterplan and no leads on where they intend to carry it out.”
She frowns for a moment before shrugging pragmatically.
“You don’t have to tell me about your contacts. I understand it’s a delicate situation. Feel free to tell them about me - I’m sure you already have. I don’t blame you. I know how these things go. My offer is this: I’ll report on anything I find and in return, I’ll be allowed to partake in actionable information regarding their whereabouts and given a chance to separate Farstep’s head from his shoulders. I’m not too invested in Jack, but if he’s of value to you or your associates I could be persuaded to assist in his capture.”
She holds her goblet out for him to top up the mulled wine.
“How does that sound, My Lord?”
A mage hand pours more red into her goblet.
“You have a deal, Lady Oziah. But as we agreed earlier, you need to tell me about any past encounters you’ve had with either of them. Now I know about Coldleaf — is there anything else I should know about?”
“We encountered Jack in Gadenthor. A simulacrum much like the others. There was a construct not unlike a giant crab. I’m afraid I wasn’t aware of who he was at the time - Delilah filled me in on the way back. I’m not sure if he achieved some sort of goal in Gadenthor. Perhaps it was another part of their stealing spree. The crab construct was disposed of and Jack turned into snow. That was it.”
He knits his brows together. Delilah again. “Gadenthor? The Netherese ruin stuck sideways in the ground in Harnash?”
“The very same.”
“What the Hells was he doing there? When was this incident?”
“Getting his tentacles on something arcane, I’d assume. The whole ruin is riddled with magic. Their scholars are practically salivating at the thought of all that ‘unknown potential’.”
She squints a little as she counts the days.
“It was two tendays ago, I’d say. 4th of Marpenoth.”
“I see.” A pause. “What were you doing there?”
She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Working a job, my Lord. As far as I’m aware that’s fair and legal, is it not?”
“It is...I was wondering if your party was there looking for him.”
“We weren’t. Delilah put the word out that she had a job that needed doing in Gadenthor. There was gold in it for us, and information in it for her. They wanted us to clear out a section of ruins. Then we ran into Jack.”
“Information about what?”
“Not sure. Could have been about Jack and Farstep. Could have been about something else.”
There is another pause. “That was the first and, so far, only time you’ve come face-to-face with Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say ‘a simulacrum much like the others’? What others do you know of and who told you about them?”
She raises both eyebrows at him.
“Because adventurers gossip, Jaezred. Other’s have run into them, both Farstep and Jack. This appears to be their modus operandi. You’re not the only one hunting them, you are aware of this fact? At this point I’d say 99% of the residents of this Fort would pay good money for information on their whereabouts. I came to you specifically, because 98% out of those 99 are incompetent.”
She levels him with a look.
“Like I said. I’m not here to withhold information.”
He fixes her with an intense stare for a moment, then nods. Before he can say anything, she continues.
“My turn.”
The wicked grin is back.
“Why is this important to you? We both know it’s personal for me. But why are you getting involved?”
“Money,” comes the breezy reply. “To fund my expensive lifestyle.”
He smiles at her, but the subtlest twitch in the corner of his mouth gives it away.
Her eyes widen, just a fraction, and her eyebrows climb steadily higher.
“Oh. I see.”
The moment stretches out between them. Oziah cycles through a range of emotions before seemingly settling on a rarity - compassion.
“I am not a good person, Jaezred. But I am no hypocrite. I’m happy to continue being a coward, if that’s what you wish.”
The smile on his face drops like a bag of rocks. He looks away from her, out towards the window. There is embarrassment on his features. And...shame.
“In any case,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve given Miss Delilah the same request you asked of me. What was her answer?”
She hesitates for a second.
“She hasn’t given me one, yet.” Something in her voice carries just a hint of the same emotions that he wrestles with.
Jaezred’s gaze slowly returns to her. His jaw drops a little. He swallows, considering his next words.
“Do you trust her?”
“I don’t know. But I want to. And that’s the dangerous part.”
“I know that feeling,” he murmurs.
She takes a drink.
“It makes absolute arses out of us all.”
The smile briefly returns to his face.
“That memorial was surprisingly decent. I think it would be good for us to take the rest of the day off,” he says, standing up to stretch. She graciously doesn’t comment on the change of topic.
“Just one last thing, Lady Oziah — if you do run into either of those two again, be on the lookout for soul coins. Try to bring one back intact if you can. I have a...couple theories about them, but I need confirmation.”
She sets her goblet on a side table and stands up, giving him a small smile.
“I’ll do my very best. Until then. My friend.”
“Be well, abbil*.”
She gathers up her cloak, gives him a small bow and makes for the door.
*Drowic word for comrade or friend, often used ironically.
Co-written with Jaezred Vandree 🍷🕷🖤
“Lady Oziah. I heard that an adventuring party ran into Langston Farstep. Was it your party that I saw earlier today? What happened?”
“Farstep set a trap. Adventurers are getting in the way of his plans. The gauntlet has been thrown.” A brief, foreboding silence. “Faust is dead. Staying at the fort for now.”
A pause, then another casting of the sending spell: “I’ll be at the fort tomorrow. We can speak at length there.”
“Good.”
The great hall is silent as the grave, dark in the late evening. He sinks into the armchair opposite of her where she sits solitary by a large fireplace.
“Langston disguised himself as an orc and convinced some settlers of that kind that a day away from Daring Heights would be a good spot. The orcs then caused a ruckus and of course the adventuring community was called to help. It was a trap. There was a wall of force, and some sovereign glue on a flag post. I think Ivan is missing some skin from the palms of his hands. Then there was.. a Disintegrate spell. And then he got away before we could capture him.”
He doesn’t offer platitudes. She is grateful.
“Do you know Delilah? She seems intent on hunting Farstep and Jack.”
He looks surprised.
“We have worked together several times in the past. I didn’t know she was after them. I sent the message to you because I’d heard from Jack that Farstep was dealing with an adventuring group when we were dealing with him. I was merely curious if Farstep had set a trap for you as Jack did for us.”
“She seems intent. And competent.”
“Then I certainly feel sorry for the two of them, to be hunted by someone that formidable. But are you suggesting that I help her somehow? I don’t know anything more about those two than what everyone else already knows. I don’t have notes on them.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“You should get some then.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that if I don’t run in the same social circles as them. Suppose I’ll have to invite them over for tea."
“You’re either obfuscating for reasons beyond me or you’re being slow on the uptake, my lord. This is the game. And I intend to play it. And I’d appreciate your help in doing so.”
“I don’t know who you think I am, Lady Oziah, but I don’t have a particular grudge against either Jack nor Farstep. Nonetheless, I am sorry to hear about Mr. Greyheart. He was most fine company.”
“Not a grudge perhaps. But a vested interest in the goings-on of powerful individuals is your forte, is it not?”
“Not at all. I gossip entirely for fun. I left politicking behind in Menzoberranzan.”
“You’re a highly competent man, Jaezred. A powerful caster. We haven’t known each other for long but I find myself invested in the hunt for these two. And if you’re as uninvolved as you claim, I’d be in your debt if you were to lend me your aid and get involved. I’m going to end Langston Farstep. Simple as that.”
“I’ll help you with that if I am able,” he says quietly. She nods her thanks.
He goes to the bar and returns with two drinks. “To Faust Greyheart,” he toasts, “and a painful and agonizing death for Langston Farstep.”
Later, she takes his knight with her queen and he glances up briefly.
“So why have you forsaken the Flourished Hook in favour of this place again?”
“You’ve been busy elsewhere. Left me all alone in Port Ffirst.”
“My apologies,” he smirks. “But are you sure that is your sole reason for suffering this glorified dormitory? Perhaps there is something — or someone — that pulls you back to this place?”
She takes a drink and moves her queen again.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me where you’ve been spending your days. And nights. Or we can get drunk on good whiskey and continue to be cowards, both of us. You said it yourself, my Lord; Men are swine. I’ll raise you - Women are inescapable.”
“So it’s a woman then.”
She looks at him, deadpan. He grins.
“What was it you said to me at the circus? ‘Never fall in love, Lord Jaezred’? Do you believe in second chances, my lady?”
“I believe in you getting your king out of the bind he’s in before I check mate you.”
“Fair enough,” he replies, raising both palms. “I think I shall continue being a coward today — may the Goddess forgive me.”
(The game of Dragonchess is a draw.)
"I've given much thought to your request. I will agree, on two conditions: first, you will inform me of any run-ins you had or will have with either Farstep or Jack; second, you must be discreet and keep this all strictly to yourself. Let us go to my room to discuss further."
He turns to her with a sombre smile. "Would you care to join me for some mulled wine, Lady Oziah?"
"I would like nothing better, my Lord."
A sharp, lethal grin tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“I thought you didn’t have notes.”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you. No offence.”
“None taken, my Lord. Rest assured I have no dog in this fight apart from getting my hands on Langston. I don’t intend to sell or betray anyone. I’m not getting involved in this for the theatrics or backstabbing.”
He nods. “Good. That is what I thought. Well, now that we’re all comfortable and out of the rain, let’s begin. Whatever questions you have about Langston Farstep or the mad modron, I shall try my best to answer.”
She wastes no time on pleasantries.
“Do we know what they want? They’re clearly working on some sort of plan.”
“Not really. Farstep has said that they both want freedom, but we still don’t know what that means. Whatever it is, their plan is grandiose and stretches across multiple planes of existence.”
“And I take it that means we don’t know where they’ve set up a base of operations? They must have one.”
“Correct. Frankly, they’re running rings around the Archmage Aurelia Archleson and I doubt we’ll ever find their base at this rate.”
“They’ve been collecting.. Items? Someone referred to it as a ‘shopping spree’.”
“And a stealing spree. Tuning fork materials, the containment seal...those are just the ones we’re aware of. Farstep — he has an extensive history of stealing strange objects in the Dawnlands.”
“Fantastic. All the hallmarks of a devious masterplan and no leads on where they intend to carry it out.”
She frowns for a moment before shrugging pragmatically.
“You don’t have to tell me about your contacts. I understand it’s a delicate situation. Feel free to tell them about me - I’m sure you already have. I don’t blame you. I know how these things go. My offer is this: I’ll report on anything I find and in return, I’ll be allowed to partake in actionable information regarding their whereabouts and given a chance to separate Farstep’s head from his shoulders. I’m not too invested in Jack, but if he’s of value to you or your associates I could be persuaded to assist in his capture.”
She holds her goblet out for him to top up the mulled wine.
“How does that sound, My Lord?”
A mage hand pours more red into her goblet.
“You have a deal, Lady Oziah. But as we agreed earlier, you need to tell me about any past encounters you’ve had with either of them. Now I know about Coldleaf — is there anything else I should know about?”
“We encountered Jack in Gadenthor. A simulacrum much like the others. There was a construct not unlike a giant crab. I’m afraid I wasn’t aware of who he was at the time - Delilah filled me in on the way back. I’m not sure if he achieved some sort of goal in Gadenthor. Perhaps it was another part of their stealing spree. The crab construct was disposed of and Jack turned into snow. That was it.”
He knits his brows together. Delilah again. “Gadenthor? The Netherese ruin stuck sideways in the ground in Harnash?”
“The very same.”
“What the Hells was he doing there? When was this incident?”
“Getting his tentacles on something arcane, I’d assume. The whole ruin is riddled with magic. Their scholars are practically salivating at the thought of all that ‘unknown potential’.”
She squints a little as she counts the days.
“It was two tendays ago, I’d say. 4th of Marpenoth.”
“I see.” A pause. “What were you doing there?”
She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Working a job, my Lord. As far as I’m aware that’s fair and legal, is it not?”
“It is...I was wondering if your party was there looking for him.”
“We weren’t. Delilah put the word out that she had a job that needed doing in Gadenthor. There was gold in it for us, and information in it for her. They wanted us to clear out a section of ruins. Then we ran into Jack.”
“Information about what?”
“Not sure. Could have been about Jack and Farstep. Could have been about something else.”
There is another pause. “That was the first and, so far, only time you’ve come face-to-face with Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say ‘a simulacrum much like the others’? What others do you know of and who told you about them?”
She raises both eyebrows at him.
“Because adventurers gossip, Jaezred. Other’s have run into them, both Farstep and Jack. This appears to be their modus operandi. You’re not the only one hunting them, you are aware of this fact? At this point I’d say 99% of the residents of this Fort would pay good money for information on their whereabouts. I came to you specifically, because 98% out of those 99 are incompetent.”
She levels him with a look.
“Like I said. I’m not here to withhold information.”
He fixes her with an intense stare for a moment, then nods. Before he can say anything, she continues.
“My turn.”
The wicked grin is back.
“Why is this important to you? We both know it’s personal for me. But why are you getting involved?”
“Money,” comes the breezy reply. “To fund my expensive lifestyle.”
He smiles at her, but the subtlest twitch in the corner of his mouth gives it away.
Her eyes widen, just a fraction, and her eyebrows climb steadily higher.
“Oh. I see.”
The moment stretches out between them. Oziah cycles through a range of emotions before seemingly settling on a rarity - compassion.
“I am not a good person, Jaezred. But I am no hypocrite. I’m happy to continue being a coward, if that’s what you wish.”
The smile on his face drops like a bag of rocks. He looks away from her, out towards the window. There is embarrassment on his features. And...shame.
“In any case,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve given Miss Delilah the same request you asked of me. What was her answer?”
She hesitates for a second.
“She hasn’t given me one, yet.” Something in her voice carries just a hint of the same emotions that he wrestles with.
Jaezred’s gaze slowly returns to her. His jaw drops a little. He swallows, considering his next words.
“Do you trust her?”
“I don’t know. But I want to. And that’s the dangerous part.”
“I know that feeling,” he murmurs.
She takes a drink.
“It makes absolute arses out of us all.”
The smile briefly returns to his face.
“That memorial was surprisingly decent. I think it would be good for us to take the rest of the day off,” he says, standing up to stretch. She graciously doesn’t comment on the change of topic.
“Just one last thing, Lady Oziah — if you do run into either of those two again, be on the lookout for soul coins. Try to bring one back intact if you can. I have a...couple theories about them, but I need confirmation.”
She sets her goblet on a side table and stands up, giving him a small smile.
“I’ll do my very best. Until then. My friend.”
“Be well, abbil*.”
She gathers up her cloak, gives him a small bow and makes for the door.
*Drowic word for comrade or friend, often used ironically.
