HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

[Isabella]

"A-a-a dream... a dream s-so crisp and clear it was-it was if I were walking through glass..." Richard said, his voice soft and distant. "Y-you must understand, I-I-I am not prone to-to placing significance to dreams when there i-is not..."

Richard groped for the right words, for a moment, before realizing he was trying to justify himself to a man who had made no protest.

"I-I had set to ignore it, when came this letter from a-a friend, and-and-and he hints at things he has not seen and things I-I have not told him... h-he names a name that I-I-I have heard, yet cannot know I have heard it, he knows I-I-I have had this dream, but does not-does not write openly of it. And I-I cannot say I am not unsettled by this..."

"And now you have-have come, this very afternoon, and say you a-are going to this place," Richard concluded, looking up at Marcel strangely. "H-have you heard of-of the Vossath Nor, in your travels?"

[DeepShadow of FoS]

With a slight motion of his head, he indicates to both Renhalt and Vasili that they may go.

Once in the hall, the doors to the map room are barely shut but Vasili starts to shake. His eyes firmly on the ground, Vasili cuts short any follow-up by Renhalt:

"I find the Death's Head Hawkmoth a fascinating creature," he begins abruptly. "It the larval stage it is so vulnerable as to be common fodder for all manner of birds, but once in the cocoon it is so safe that domesticated birds will sort the cocoons out of their fodder and discard them as chips of wood. Yet once they emerge as moths, they are again the prey of those selfsame birds. One wonders why they ever emerge at all. And how do they know the right time?"

Vasili finally looks at Renhalt, his eyes begging him to understand the unspoken message.

[dice=d20+14][/dice]Bluff to send Secret Message.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"H-have you heard of-of the Vossath Nor, in your travels?"

This question, on the other hand, does get a strange look. "Yes," Marcel answers. "I've heard of them. I know a few of the stories about them. I've even seen what is supposed to be one of their towers in Firaz. But I confess I've always grouped them mentally with things like...well, like the Alchemist and his Apparatus, or the small-a alchemists with their talk of the Aureate Path. As legends which have probably grown in the telling so much that they can hardly be considered useful for getting factual information from them. I know the Hazlani and the Pharazians set great store by their power, although they don't seem to know from one story to another whether they mean the human race good or ill, or think of us at all. They are--supposedly--quite distinct from the Fair Folk, although I confess I don't know what the distinctions are supposed to be."

Falling silent, he rubs his wrists as if uncomfortable and then asks, "This has to do with your dreams?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

"And how do they know the right time?"

Vasili finally looks at Renhalt, his eyes begging him to understand the unspoken message.

Renhalt understands. It may be the best thing about him. Making a "walk with me" nod in the direction of the outer door, he says quietly, "I suppose they perceive the changes in the outside world that make emerging a necessity. After all, if they remained in their cocoons forever..."

He makes a little gesture with his hands. Finished.

"The Lawgiver ordains that they grow up vulnerable, then that they hide themselves away and have a time of safety, and finally that they emerge into their adult lives, with the risks and dangers and rewards of that life. I've always thought it must be rather grand to be able to fly, myself."

[Isabella]

"This has to do with your dreams?"

"Dream," Richard corrected, almost automatically. "You must believe me, if I-I had such-such a dream more than once, I-I-I would put less stock in it. But there was something uncanny in what I-I saw, these-these-this strange being with golden eyes... I-I-I am certain it did not come-come naturally to me, and so I must-I must ask, from whence did it come? Something call-calls me to Halzan. H-had you not arrived, I-I-I might have thought those golden eyes did. Per-perhaps I am not wrong, and yet I am hard-hard pressed to think this timing a-a coincidence."

"I-it is difficult to explain," he said, after a pause, placing his hand on his temples and frowning. "At least-at least not with any logic, which-which will be causing me grief enough."

"I-I am not surprised to hear that no-no one can agree on the Vossath Nor - that only-only serves to make them sound more real," he chuckled after a moment. "I-I-I doubt the folk the legends came from could-could-could agree on what they thought of the human race, either."

[Revka et al]

"So, daughter Cattia," he says formally. "Such is the young Boritsi. What do you make of him?"

"He's clearly not the fool that he presents. I get the feeling that he's ready to be done with the fool, and show his true value, at least to some. But what is his true value? When you asked me to join you tonight, I took the liberty of looking through his most recent letters."

Cattia holds up her courier's bag that contains the most recent batch of letters to be delivered throughout Hazlan.

"At first I wondered whether he just communicated better via writing than speaking. I even wondered if someone else was writing in his name. I guess what we just witnessed solves that mystery."

Cattia holds up a sealed message and concentrates until the envelope became transparent,* then hands it to the Jarenberg.

"In addition to dwarves, gnomes and scholars, his correspondents include four prominent members of the Boritsi family, through whom he seeks introduction to his immortal great-aunt Ivana and a Praesidius of the Church of Ezra. Of especial importance is his strong connection to a half-sister back in Bergovista, a product of his father's wandering eye with whom he shares his fantasies of usurping his father's role and legitimizing her into the family.

"And for all this, he's barely a dilettante in matters of statecraft. He may have a tremendous advantage in his double life, but he has the considerable disadvantages of being self-taught and virtually alone. You see how easily I read his letters--any child knows that a wax seal is not enough! Noblemen use two envelopes at least, and someone with something to hide would use codes or invisible ink. He wallows in the luxury that no one would bother to check the scrawlings of a halfwit; a fine bluff, until it's called.

"I think that when he speaks of taking care of workers, he's speaking of himself. His loyalty is with the House because we have taken care of him. If we continue to do so, I would expect that all he has would belong to us.

"One of the things he appears to value is the illusion of being a halfwit. I believe it might be best to let him reveal himself on his own timetable. If we must force him to go public, let's be sure to compensate him for the sacrifice."


* I assume this is within the scope of a prestidigitation spell?

[NeoTiamat]

Van Holtz gives Ushka a slight smile for her acting abilities and Lena a slightly larger smile for hers. Most men would feel their pulse quicken at getting that particular smile from Lena, but Van Holtz might as well not have a pulse at all for all the reaction she gets; if anything, he seems slightly amused.

"Quite well, thank you. As for singing to the woodland creatures, I'm sure you would do it beautifully," he says, "but I can understand your coming to town to prevent it. You might be seen, or heard...very detrimental to one's reputation as a solid, stolid, unimaginative member of the community. I always make sure to be quite private before I begin, myself. Glad to hear that your father is...well. Might you convey a letter from your uncle?"

He produces a envelope of heavy cream-colored paper with an elaborate red seal and slides it across the table, revealing that it is, in fact, addressed to the Baroness von Zarovich--not the Baron.

"That is most unfair, sir." Lena said with a dimpled smile. "Now I'll be consumed with curiosity as to your singing voice -- perhaps you can be drawn out by suitable company?"

Lena spared a passing glance at the letter and then secreted it on her purpose. She would read it later, and in private. "Consider it conveyed."

[Kaitou Kage]

"I was," Altan smiled and bowed to the older man. The younger Red Wizard learned from events in the Academy that he needed to stay close to his family. Cooperation was key to his survival and his family's survival.

"I hoped I could see the Firebird. But my eyes are not so good."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"That is most unfair, sir." Lena said with a dimpled smile. "Now I'll be consumed with curiosity as to your singing voice -- perhaps you can be drawn out by suitable company?"

Lena spared a passing glance at the letter and then secreted it on her person. She would read it later, and in private. "Consider it conveyed."

"Excellent. Thank you. I rather doubt you'd enjoy my singing, milady. Few do." Von Holtz spreads his hands eloquently. What can one do? "But surely you don't lack for suitable company. Or perhaps you do?"

He gives Lena a searching look, and seems to confirm his opinion by what he sees. "I see. There are not so many men who are, shall we say, fitting." A long pause, in which both, perhaps, consider a rather lengthy list: Barovian, of good birth, well-educated, well-traveled, well-spoken, of good estate or at least good prospects, neither too old nor too young, and of course it wouldn't hurt if he were tall, dark and handsome.

"It can be a difficult thing for a Von Zarovich, to find the right one. It is a name which carries...a certain weight."

Sense Motive DC 35

[NeoTiamat]

"It is an honorable burden, a name like Von Zarovich, but it is a burden." Lena admitted quietly, reaching up to stroke Ushka behind her ears. The fox regarded Vasili von Holtz with a bright-eyed gaze, while Lena looked away, quiet and thoughtful. It seemed a moment for it. "Not everyone realizes this, milord." But you do, and I do wonder how... Perhaps a few drops of Von Zarovich blood flow in your veins as well? Perhaps your coat of arms should contain the Bar Sinister?

Lena cast a glance at her interlocutor and smiled. Barovian, and of good birth, intelligent and charming, with a good position in the Barovian state, and most certainly easy on the eyes. A good bit older than her, but hardly geriatric. "Still, perhaps the challenge isn't the finding, but the catching."

And natural 20 for a Sense Motive of 39. Lena's starting her gaming career in style.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I hoped I could see the Firebird. But my eyes are not so good."

"And you so young," Nezar replies, smiling slightly. Glancing the way you have come, his face hardening again, he continues, "My eyes are still sharp, I think, but I have no need to ascend the Red Stair and get lessons from Sigurdssen on how to find the Firebird. I feel its coming in my bones."

Pacing steadily, he conducts you to the Great Hall and stops before the dias, staring out through the Yellow Gate at the night sky as if, despite his words, he is seeing the comet even now. "It came in the year I became a man. The year the Autark ascended to the Red Throne. Sixty-one years ago. Sixty-one years before that, Yorne of the Weeping Eyes died and the Tattered Banner years began. When Yaara the Cruel was burned alive, when Ranulf the Unready was betrayed by his captains, when Haakon the Foolish raised his hand against us and was struck down by Nebuch the Tenth...*"

Stopping, he says turns back to you and says, "But I am tedious. Of course we desire the Autark reign in peace another lifetime. Especially when we are seated beneath the Iron Star and an inquisitor, so careful, so anxious for the sanctity of the Law--or, at least, the will of the Autark--desires to know our inmost hearts. Is this not so? But still, there it burns."

Those fierce gold eyes catch yours, and his real message is visible there, clear as if he had spoken aloud. We have endured too much for too long, but our time has come. Hazlik must fall, and we must bring him to his doom.

*Nezar is referencing the end of the Warrowdine dynasty (Yorne), the Dannouth dynasty (Yaara), the Fangtor dynasty (Ranulf) and the Shadisanet dynasty (Haakon). In case you're wondering--yes, the Firebird has appeared (in false history, at least) on occasions when the ruling dynasty doesn't fall--more often than not, in fact (it's come 16 times since the Dannouth took the throne after the death/departure/disappearance of the Nameless King who founded Hazlan).

[Nathan of the FoS]

"I-I am not surprised to hear that no-no one can agree on the Vossath Nor - that only-only serves to make them sound more real," he chuckled after a moment. "I-I-I doubt the folk the legends came from could-could-could agree on what they thought of the human race, either."

"Well said," Marcel replies, chuckling. "Still..." He regards Richard with a curious gaze. "It's...striking that you should have had such a dream. Some stories have it that that is where the Vossath Nor now make their home--in Tir-na-Nog, the dream world--and that you can dream yourself there, if you know how. But..." he shrugs. "Stories!"

So interested are the pair in their conversation that neither is aware of someone approaching the room until the door swings open and Lord Adrian Blackwood himself walks in, still red-faced from his brisk walk. "Richard! They...Master Anchorite! What are you doing in my house?"

[Isabella]

I knew he was going to show up at the most inconvenient moment, and I let it happen anyway. I deserve this, Richard thought to himself. Unfortunately, no one else in the house did. Richard's only hope was that Alice had been eavesdropping again (she almost certainly was), as her presence would drop Lord Blackwood's outrage into a simmering - and more importantly, silent - anger. No one wanted to disturb Sarah, or worse yet, mother, with yet another quarrel. Which was as much Richard's fault as anyone, he freely admitted it, but he'd be damned if he'd throw an honored anchorite and friend out on his ear, just because his father disapproved. Unfortunately, that damnation had quite firmly come home to roost, right now.

Richard stood, as was appropriate in the presence of his father, drawing himself up to his full height. They made quite a pair, face to face with one another - their jet black hair, Lord Blackwood's run through with silver; their pale skin and dark clothing; their gray eyes, Richard's the color of mist, Adrian's the color of steel. Richard was taller than his father, but not by much.

"He is my-my guest, father," Richard replied, in a quiet, even tone. If nothing else, perhaps he could convince his father to keep their argument down.

Dip...lomacy?

VIEW CONTENT:

[dice]0[/dice]+11
For a total of 26. Let's take it outside, dad. Pistols at dawn, if we must. >.>

[Nathan of the FoS]

"His loyalty is with the House because we have taken care of him. If we continue to do so, I would expect that all he has would belong to us."

The Jarenberg nods and sips at his cup, then pours another cup for his niece and offers it to her. "Renhalt told me the young Boritsi would not wish to eat or drink," he notes. "He is..." A pause for words like paranoid to percolate in the mind, then he continues, "...cautious. A family trait, I would think. My opinion of his loyalties matches yours. With such a father..."

He shakes his head and gazes into his cup, as if seeking the answer to the problem of fathers and sons within it; then, shrugging, he drinks again. "All the better for us. Still, it is well he should stand well with the Boritsi. If their gold backs our iron..."

A quick glance. "Speaking of gold and iron*. Have you learned anything more about your suspicions regarding the Warrowdine?"


*The motto of House Warrowdine is "FRITHR MARGLOTH, OFRITHR JAREN"--"Gold in peace, iron in war"

[Nathan of the FoS]

"It is an honorable burden, a name like Von Zarovich, but it is a burden."

"I've seen how it weighs on some." He doesn't say, like your father, but then, he hardly has to. "Easier to be a Von Holtz, though less honorable."

"Still, perhaps the challenge isn't the finding, but the catching."

Von Holtz raises one eyebrow. "Perhaps so. Well, I wish you the best of luck with both. Loath as I am to leave the most charming company I am likely to have this month, I must be off, I'm afraid. My best regards to your father." Standing, he gives Lena a brief bow and turns for the door.