POVERO Chapter Eleven

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alhoon
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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Dungeon Cell:

The moment Elissa turns away, Fild addresses Richard. "Don't despair Lord Savelle. If poisoned assassin blades, a botched rescue, a Faction War, Aldron's armored warhounds, a secret tunnel, a cadre of Foeble guards and more haven't managed to keep Lady Elissa away from you so far, nothing will.
And by the Gods, this city has already seen enough sadness. We all deserve a little happiness and uplifting, a little reassurance that within this mess, something went good, that someone found love and happiness. And the Gods know too Lord Savelle. You and Lady Hoblin are the future of this city. And you belong together."
Fild is actually not sure whether he speaks such to comfort the young noble or himself.

"But enough of my prattle. What did you want me to do Lord Savelle?"
"You truly see what a person is made of, when you begin to slice into them" - Semirhage
"I am not mad, no matter what you're implying." - Litalia
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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alhoon wrote:Dungeon Cell:

The moment Elissa turns away, Fild addresses Richard. "Don't despair Lord Savelle. If poisoned assassin blades, a botched rescue, a Faction War, Aldron's armored warhounds, a secret tunnel, a cadre of Foeble guards and more haven't managed to keep Lady Elissa away from you so far, nothing will.
And by the Gods, this city has already seen enough sadness. We all deserve a little happiness and uplifting, a little reassurance that within this mess, something went good, that someone found love and happiness. And the Gods know too Lord Savelle. You and Lady Hoblin are the future of this city. And you belong together."
Fild is actually not sure whether he speaks such to comfort the young noble or himself.

"But enough of my prattle. What did you want me to do Lord Savelle?"

''It's a small favor, one that hardly seems important now, after all that..."
He shrugs.
"I found something in the canal last night, after the fighting and our escape. A phial. I think maybe Aldron dropped it in his flight. I'm no apothecary, but to me it looks like some sort of elixir. You know he drugged me..."
Richard stands, and reaches into his belt pouch.
"Here."
He pulls out a hand-length glass tube filled halfway with some sort of liquid. It looks cool, bluish in the soft red glow of the man's hand.
Without ordinary light, Fild cannot tell what color the stuff really is.

''My father always uses a gnome when he wants something like this identified. He says all of you can do the trick, or at least, so he's heard. I just thought you could tell me what this is, and if it would be useful to me in my quest.''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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DUNGEON CELL:
Fild takes the tube, opens it and sniffs at it, inspecting it. "Be careful with these Lord Savelle. Aldron has used poison too many times. I think I would need a bit of light to inspect it. "

Fild does his best to identify the elixir. While checking, sniffing, shaking the phial he asks Richard, "If you don't mind me asking, is your quest to reunite with Lady Hoblin, or you have other plans in mind?"
"You truly see what a person is made of, when you begin to slice into them" - Semirhage
"I am not mad, no matter what you're implying." - Litalia
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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alhoon wrote:DUNGEON CELL:
Fild takes the tube, opens it and sniffs at it, inspecting it. "Be careful with these Lord Savelle. Aldron has used poison too many times. I think I would need a bit of light to inspect it. "

Fild does his best to identify the elixir. While checking, sniffing, shaking the phial he asks Richard, "If you don't mind me asking, is your quest to reunite with Lady Hoblin, or you have other plans in mind?"

''To reunite with Elissa, of course. I suppose I ought to be thinking of getting revenge on Aldron for his betrayal, but it's hard for me to think that way about him. He was my good friend, or at least I thought he was. We went on many a hunt and ride together, and talked about the future of our families and the city. "
He sighs.
"It's time. We tempt fate just by remaining so long."

He raps on the door, three times.

Footsteps in the hall.

The jailer's voice,
"They've gone. Hurry now, good masters."

Richard bundles the gnome in his cloak.
"Tuck your feet in and hold very still, Fild. It won't do for anyone to see my bundle wiggling about."


And then the aristocrat carries Fild out of the cell, out of the cold dungeon hall, up stairs, through a creaking door, around a corner, another door, and into a space with multiple voices and other noises.
Still walking, into a quieter area.
Fild can't see anything, bundled in the cloak as he is, except occasional weak impressions of heat or coolness.

Then he feels himself being lowered.
Something hard and flat under the cloak.


''Nature calls, stand a little off, will you?"
Richard's voice.

The cloak's top edge falls aside. Fild blinks in the sudden wash of light. He's in a courtyard, paved, blue sky streaked with cirrus clouds overhead. A wagon partly shades him on the right, and on his left a stone wall rises up taller than a man.

Richard whispers, "Quick , take a look and tell me what you think it is. My guards are looking away. After you have your guess about the bottle, I think you'd better cling to the underside of this wagon."

Fild may hide behind the wagon wheel and examine the potion.

Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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Wagon outside dungeon
Running behind the wheel, Fild looks at the potion he had sniffed. He has already judged its temperature compared to the environment thanks to infravision and now he carefully checks the color. He takes another sniff and mostly content it's not a poison, risking touching the liquid with the edge of his fingernail, taking a very minute taste.

He quickly passes the potion back to Richard Savelle. "It will really help you a lot Lord Savelle. Anyone drinking this, would become very persuasive for some time. I think we figured how Aldron made such elaborate plans and fooled everyone. You know, Alfonse, our wizard, is not one to fool easily. In case you need to hire a wizard, he's your man.
I don't know if this potion would be enough to convince your future father-in-law to give you Elissa's hand. I am glad you choose to forgive Aldron and focus on the things that really matter, like winning Elissa's heart. Despite what she said in the dungeon, she's a woman that climbed down a wall in the middle of the night with strangers for a chance to be with you. She evaded assassin's blades and still thought of you.
I don't know humans very well, but I'm pretty sure there's a future for you two. As for Aldron... I can't be sure that was your friend Aldron. He may have gone mad, bewitched or something else. Or he may actually have been pretending for years.

Thank you Lord Savelle. I will never forget I escaped prison, carried on the back of a man of your station after putting you all to so much trouble. I wish you all happiness in case I don't meet with you again Lord Savelle. After all the damage we've done to this city, I hope your wedding to Lady Hoblin will be the silver lining, the one good thing.
I will hang under the carriage and let go on the way. "

And with that, Fild tries to hide under the carriage unless Richard Savelle replies..
"You truly see what a person is made of, when you begin to slice into them" - Semirhage
"I am not mad, no matter what you're implying." - Litalia
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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Savelle spills a little wine from a pocket flask, and sighs aloud.
''That's better.''
He hands Fild a gold ring set with flame-red gemstones.
Without a word of explanation, the young man walk round the wagon.
''Thank you'' he says, loudly.

One of his guards responds, ''Wha--we're only doing our duty, signore."

''I know. Let's get inside. But first, one of you take this wagon and bring back supplies for a feast. We should celebrate tonight. "

''Yes, signore, with pleasure."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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MIDDAY

AT THE FRISKY FRIAR


Fild, sans armor and weaponry, has returned to the inn.

Damien has come and gone to the docks. He reports three ships leaving the city today, on which berths might still be obtained for modest sums of money:

east to the Kingdom of Rycemer

south to the Old Cities

west to the Isles of the Zikandroon
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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FRISKY FRIAR:

Fild, hidind, suggests to his friends to go for the islands. He makes a long and complicated argument that boils down to "I like their name".
He also asks someone to go buy him a short sword, a shield and some armor with his share of the money they got so far.
"You truly see what a person is made of, when you begin to slice into them" - Semirhage
"I am not mad, no matter what you're implying." - Litalia
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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THE FRISKY FRIAR

The adventurers discuss their future, which way out of the city they ought to take...



THE COUNCIL HALL


"We require answers. Street fights, the pirate attack on the waterfront, arson, burglaries, kidnapping and assassination attempts, armed bands rioting and clashing at the Folbre estate--- the Council's questions about all this cannot be so lightly dismissed, Master Savelle."

Master Savelle rises from his chair on the dais , steps forward and turns to face the speaker at the central podium, sweeping his arms out in a gesture as if to encompass the whole company assembled with him on the platform: aristocrats, guild masters, and other leading men of the city.

"I intend to cooperate fully, signore."
Master Savelle paces across the stage.
"But the elders must allow for our own investigations, in conjunction with the Watch, to conclude. We shouldn't wish to falsely accuse anyone, after all. What we do know for certain is that Master Folbre plotted against my family and the Holbins, and that his plot has blown up in his face like a barrel of smoke powder in a fire.''

The eyes of the elders and guild leaders in the front of the hall, along with many men who've gathered in the benches on the ground floor to observe the meeting, now look up to where Mistress Holbin sits in a prominent position near the elaborately carved balustrade of the ladies' balcony. She says nothing, but dips her fan from her face and nods toward the dais ahead of and below her, in a slow and deliberate manner.

Murmurs in the audience. Silence on the stage.

Then the elder who had begun rises and Master Savelle returns to his seat.

"Very well. Is it agreeable to all of us that we return to the discussions of harbor and canal security for now, and the request for additional moneys made by the naval arsenal, and return to the question of the faction fighting tomorrow morning--assuming no new outbreaks of riotous behavior?'
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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Re: POVERO Chapter Eleven

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LATER

Gertie sits on the floor her back against the wall, working on the coffer lock. She pauses to look about, but there are no strangers here, just her friends.
More fiddling...
The mechanism clicks.
"Got it!"
Gertie flips the coffer lid and peers inside.

"Thom, Alfonse, you guys might want to see this."

Anyone peering over the burglar-girl's shoulder sees
VIEW CONTENT:
Scrolls tied with ribbon, scroll-tubes, unrolled charts, letters affixed with seals, a couple of very sturdy looking metal-faced books.













MEETING AT AN INN

Jacobus drinks his sour wine while the others whisper, chat, squabble.

Ten years writing for the Poveran stage. Well...plaza, street, tent, open field more often than a proper stage, to be honest. He didn't always get paid as a playwright and actor, and his doxy wasn't cheap, nor was ink and paper, or rum...so he quit.
Two years writing broadsheets and slogans, collecting stories, starting rumors, setting up pub brawls, all for Aldron Folbre and he'd been paid well enough.
And now he wasn't getting paid anymore, and maybe someone who knew what his work had been would blab and...


"Alright, you know why I called you here. Let's take a frank look at our situation."
While he waits for the chatter to die, Jacobus looks around the large wooden table. He counts six Folbre swordsmen, bloodstained blue-and-white gambesons peeking out from under the drab cloaks they have kept on, even in the stuffy room.
Twice as many footpads, dockyard bullies, and branded convicts.
And a crew of seven stranded pirates, their sailor's clothing marked with soot, some of them with blisters on their hands, arms, faces.


The speaker, satisfied of his audience's silent attention, goes on,
''The Serpent's gone, fled. "

Grumbling.

He adds, "And I know for a fact he took your pay with him and his picked men."

More grumbling, louder now, and some muffled oaths. Dark looks from some of the criminals at the Folbre soldiers, and the soldiers inching their hands towards those sword hilts in response.

Jacobus stays on message.
"We're all in the same situation here, men. Nobody has been paid. And none of us will be, not by Aldron Folbre. So let's not fight over it. We need to work together. That's why I called you all here, so we can figure out what to do next. Some of you might want to just bolt, but I have plans and I am happy to offer you all a part in forming a new gang. We'll have fair shares among us all, perfectly equal, and none of this one man lording it over the rest, though of course we'll have to vote on a leader."

A voice--quiet, familiar-- from somewhere near the darkened fireplace,
"Equal shares? Voting? Words to stir mobs. But you've let me down this time; your agitation hardly helped raise the mob as I needed."

Men turn, some reaching for weapons, some just staring in surprise.

Jacobus stutters, for once finding his words won't come out smoothly.
"Master Folbre...uhh...'


Aldron addresses the whole gathering, "It's true I cannot reward you all now as you deserve. Fortune ran against us this time, alas. But I have other plans, always other plans. I will reclaim my wealth and station. More--this city will bow before me. So come with me if you want gold and glory. Or stay here if you want to live as hunted men, leaderless, on the run from the Watch, the Thief-Catchers, Savelle and Holbin assassins."

Folbre partly opens one panel on his lantern, allowing a beam of yellow light to illuminate his face and upper body.

Jacobus rises. "Hold on a minute, Master Folbre. You've left out the third option. They can choose their own leader. You've failed, and now it's time for another."

The lantern flickers.
Thwump

A sudden impact and then a dull pain in his chest.
As he falls to the floor, fingers wrapped around the crossbow bolt sticking out of his breast, Jacobus sees the other men getting out of their seats.

A burning sensation spreads in his chest. Hard to breathe. Can't make words.

Footsteps.
A boot nudges him, sends him flopping onto his back.

Aldron looks down at him, with that handsome face twisted in disgust.
"Serpent. I've never liked that nickname, you know. My men never used it when they thought I could hear. It's unflattering, and really too theatrical for my taste--although sometimes flash is called for."
The fallen merchant-prince leans in closer, smiling, a perfect mask of friendliness.
"You should feel honored, Jacobus. It's like something from one of your better shows. The poison on the bolt was originally purchased to kill a fine lady and now it's killing the man who was to pen a play about her murder by her lover. It will produce quite exquisite death agonies--just a side-effect, which I feel obligated to warn you of before the real pain sets in. Goodbye now."

























END OF ADVENTURE
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
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