The Amaranthine finale – 18 Jun. 2019 – Heret
Jul 3, 2019 21:57:51 GMT
Sunday, BB, and 1 more like this
Post by Heret Velnnarul on Jul 3, 2019 21:57:51 GMT
20 Kythorn, 1396 AR
at the Gilded Mirror, Daring Heights
Triumph! Victory for Titania in the Amaranthiad. And, better still, no ascendant at all. All remains as it was. Most satisfactory!
A remarkable contest to end the games. Each court had its team, save that Night & Magic had two, perhaps because Sarastra had won so many more points in earlier games. With me for Titania:
With a mass of mechanical assistants at our command, and supplied by the queen with a quantity of mithral besides, we were directed to create a colossal machine, a kind of vehicle or body in which we were to ride like parasites in the body of an animal, governing its movements by means of levers and cranks.
After some little conference, we instructed the metal servitors to construct a dainty four-armed figure of mithral, plated partly in gold, iridescent-winged like a butterfly. In each lower hand it held an immense longbow, to be drawn and fired by the upper hand opposite. We seated ourselves inside the armoured form and, with a little practice, became accustomed to work together to move it around.
When the allotted time expired, we walked our creature out into the great arena and beheld the others:
The victor would be the last one whose construct remained intact, or least damaged after a fixed time. A combat to the ‘death’, in other words, or to the sounding of the bell.
It began, and we put our agreed plan into action, flying up above the fray and allowing the others to attack one another. Predictably, both of Sarastra’s creatures attacked Jack’s, while Ulorian’s turned against the leonine engine. We quickly saw that all the cylindrical objects – the large ones on the River King’s lumbering vehicle and the smaller ones in the humanoid’s hands – were ranged weapons flinging out large balls or drums like slingshot. These, then, were the gravest threat to our aerial construct. Fortunately Ulorian’s seemed to be of poor construction, for one destroyed itself almost immediately, so we focused our arrows on the humanoid. Even more fortunately, a few moments later when the River King’s other weapon swung toward us, it too burst and caused the whole construction to fall apart in flames (though its crew, by whim of Tymora, were able to escape safely).
But by this time we had stuck three or four arrows (in truth something more like the quarrels of a siege crossbow) into the humanoid machine, and it now turned its projectiles against us, leaving the tiger and the five-limbed thing grappling. Landing on the ground – more heavily than we intended – we fired back. The damage was heavy on both sides, but heavier on theirs: Sarastra’s construct fell.
With that, the time ran out, three teams still in contention. After quickly assessing the damage, the little machine judges delivered their verdict to the announcer Celandrine, who declared the winner: the Summer Queen! Much jubilation within our battered vehicle.
Sunday was called forth to be formally invested with nobility by the tall, resplendent, smiling Titania. Such a hush fell that we all heard her careless reply – I remember it still: ‘No, you’re alright. It was fun, though. Thanks for letting me play.’
Such strange idioms! But the meaning was clear enough to provoke a rumble and roar of astonishment in the crowd, and a cry of rage from the queen – that turned soon to a thunderous laughter. I fear the odd little devil has made an enemy. Not the first, I suspect.
Of course for me, for the Company, for fruitful commerce, the result could not be better. No fey meddling in the Council of Daring Heights, no freedom for the demented jester machine, no victory for the progenitor of plagues, and now not even an elevation for the benign but still unpredictable Sunday. I felt a great weight of worry fall from my shoulders and set to heartily congratulate all my fellows, giving each a few coins as I did.
As I sat writing these words, a servant here knocked at my door and brought in a pouch with a note attached: ‘Sorry for snapping at you during the last game. I don't like Mechanical things. Sorry for any trouble coming your way about rejecting the prize. I'll speak to Titania and say you knew nothing about it. You helped her win anyway. Here's something for your trouble. Sunday.’ Inside the pouch 1,000 gp and another note (why a separate one?) reading ‘I owe you a favour - within reason.’ Remarkable! Confounding! This young woman I understand not one bit. If she ‘snapped’, I have no memory of it, certainly not 100 pearls of it! And to wear so little finery that I thought her a person of copper or steel at best, and disdaining my gift the other day as if she knew not the use of money at all; but now to give such substantial gifts on such strange pretext. Perhaps I have got her quite wrong; she must be of silver or gold rank at the least! Did she consider my gift insultingly small? Or is she from some culture wherein it is an offence to offer a gift to one who has more wealth than the giver? Mysterious indeed. But a welcome replenishment of my purse after the divers expenses of these games!
Also gained in reward from Titania:
Tomorrow, I must turn my full attention to Company business. However satisfactory today’s events, in sooth they merely bring matters back to how they were before these faerie diversions began. Here on this plane, G is grumbling about his understocked library, and the foreman is pressing for the logging road to be gravelled or paved. Meanwhile discussions with C progress too slowly for my liking, and there is still the troubling matter of creatures in the tunnels. Much to do!
at the Gilded Mirror, Daring Heights
Triumph! Victory for Titania in the Amaranthiad. And, better still, no ascendant at all. All remains as it was. Most satisfactory!
A remarkable contest to end the games. Each court had its team, save that Night & Magic had two, perhaps because Sarastra had won so many more points in earlier games. With me for Titania:
- Sunday
- BB
- Traavor
- Ginead
- Igrainne
- and a stranger whose name I have forgot.
With a mass of mechanical assistants at our command, and supplied by the queen with a quantity of mithral besides, we were directed to create a colossal machine, a kind of vehicle or body in which we were to ride like parasites in the body of an animal, governing its movements by means of levers and cranks.
After some little conference, we instructed the metal servitors to construct a dainty four-armed figure of mithral, plated partly in gold, iridescent-winged like a butterfly. In each lower hand it held an immense longbow, to be drawn and fired by the upper hand opposite. We seated ourselves inside the armoured form and, with a little practice, became accustomed to work together to move it around.
When the allotted time expired, we walked our creature out into the great arena and beheld the others:
- another humanoid form, but with three legs and a strange cylindrical projection from each hand, and with head fashioned as if wearing a strange hat with its broad brim turned up at the two sides (for Sarastra)
- a particoloured monstrosity with five writhing tentacles, each of a different nature (for Jack, of course)
- a thing shaped like a cat or a tiger (Sarastra's second)
- a heavily armoured, domed thing with two large cylinders projecting from it (for Ulorian).
The victor would be the last one whose construct remained intact, or least damaged after a fixed time. A combat to the ‘death’, in other words, or to the sounding of the bell.
It began, and we put our agreed plan into action, flying up above the fray and allowing the others to attack one another. Predictably, both of Sarastra’s creatures attacked Jack’s, while Ulorian’s turned against the leonine engine. We quickly saw that all the cylindrical objects – the large ones on the River King’s lumbering vehicle and the smaller ones in the humanoid’s hands – were ranged weapons flinging out large balls or drums like slingshot. These, then, were the gravest threat to our aerial construct. Fortunately Ulorian’s seemed to be of poor construction, for one destroyed itself almost immediately, so we focused our arrows on the humanoid. Even more fortunately, a few moments later when the River King’s other weapon swung toward us, it too burst and caused the whole construction to fall apart in flames (though its crew, by whim of Tymora, were able to escape safely).
But by this time we had stuck three or four arrows (in truth something more like the quarrels of a siege crossbow) into the humanoid machine, and it now turned its projectiles against us, leaving the tiger and the five-limbed thing grappling. Landing on the ground – more heavily than we intended – we fired back. The damage was heavy on both sides, but heavier on theirs: Sarastra’s construct fell.
With that, the time ran out, three teams still in contention. After quickly assessing the damage, the little machine judges delivered their verdict to the announcer Celandrine, who declared the winner: the Summer Queen! Much jubilation within our battered vehicle.
Sunday was called forth to be formally invested with nobility by the tall, resplendent, smiling Titania. Such a hush fell that we all heard her careless reply – I remember it still: ‘No, you’re alright. It was fun, though. Thanks for letting me play.’
Such strange idioms! But the meaning was clear enough to provoke a rumble and roar of astonishment in the crowd, and a cry of rage from the queen – that turned soon to a thunderous laughter. I fear the odd little devil has made an enemy. Not the first, I suspect.
Of course for me, for the Company, for fruitful commerce, the result could not be better. No fey meddling in the Council of Daring Heights, no freedom for the demented jester machine, no victory for the progenitor of plagues, and now not even an elevation for the benign but still unpredictable Sunday. I felt a great weight of worry fall from my shoulders and set to heartily congratulate all my fellows, giving each a few coins as I did.
As I sat writing these words, a servant here knocked at my door and brought in a pouch with a note attached: ‘Sorry for snapping at you during the last game. I don't like Mechanical things. Sorry for any trouble coming your way about rejecting the prize. I'll speak to Titania and say you knew nothing about it. You helped her win anyway. Here's something for your trouble. Sunday.’ Inside the pouch 1,000 gp and another note (why a separate one?) reading ‘I owe you a favour - within reason.’ Remarkable! Confounding! This young woman I understand not one bit. If she ‘snapped’, I have no memory of it, certainly not 100 pearls of it! And to wear so little finery that I thought her a person of copper or steel at best, and disdaining my gift the other day as if she knew not the use of money at all; but now to give such substantial gifts on such strange pretext. Perhaps I have got her quite wrong; she must be of silver or gold rank at the least! Did she consider my gift insultingly small? Or is she from some culture wherein it is an offence to offer a gift to one who has more wealth than the giver? Mysterious indeed. But a welcome replenishment of my purse after the divers expenses of these games!
Also gained in reward from Titania:
- small crystal trophy
- potion said to make the drinker invisible to the eye.
Tomorrow, I must turn my full attention to Company business. However satisfactory today’s events, in sooth they merely bring matters back to how they were before these faerie diversions began. Here on this plane, G is grumbling about his understocked library, and the foreman is pressing for the logging road to be gravelled or paved. Meanwhile discussions with C progress too slowly for my liking, and there is still the troubling matter of creatures in the tunnels. Much to do!
