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HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2013 1:23 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
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Volkadav, Barovia

14 May 774
Barovia-town

My dear Baroness von Zarovich,
I congratulate you on the successful conclusion of your posting to Nova Vaasa; I have heard nothing but good things of you in your time there from Ambassador von Wachter. Reluctant as I am to call you away from your family so soon after returning home, I have been informed that your talents may be particularly useful in another field of action. Could you meet with me in Immol to discuss another assignment? 25 May, the Red Feathers Inn, noon.

Respectfully,
Vasili von Holtz

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2013 1:37 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

The Bergsforg Mines, the Jarenberg, Hazlan, Forbearance Red Diligence, year of the Displacer Beast (13 May 774)

The runner, a Rashemani boy of about ten, finds you outside the mine discussing a new shaft with the crew foreman and gives you a quick bob of the head. "The Jarenberg's compliments, zir, and yer to come this evening, tell him about the mine and yer progress, after the supper hour."

You nod and are about to turn away when you realize that he didn't say quite what you had expected. You meet with a Jarenberg--Renhalt Jarenberg, technically your overseer, practically perhaps your closest friend--on Red Diligence of every month, to discuss the mine. You don't meet with the Jarenberg-- Isam Jarenberg, head of the household, Thane of the Nordvestmark, member of the Landsraad...well, ever.

Until this evening, it seems.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2013 3:48 pm
by NeoTiamat
ELENA VON ZAROVICH

"How do I look, Ushka?" Lena said, adjusting her hair with the aid of a small pocket mirror. The hour was 11:49 according to her pocket-watch, and the Barovian woman was determined to look absolutely ravishing. "Do you think Vasili will be impressed?"

The fox regarded her mistress with head tilted to one side, one ear standing up and the other sort of folded down. After a moment, she sneezed.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." Lena murmured, regarding herself in the mirror once more. It would have to do. She ran a hand through her hair to give it an artfully ruffled look, and then closed the mirror. She wished her eyes weren't such a boring brown color, but as the Dementlieuse said, c'est la vie. "Well, may as well make yourself useful. Hop on."

Ushka twitched her nose, and leapt lightly onto Lena's shoulder, curling up with her fluffy, red-orange tail wrapped around Lena's throat. She looked rather like a particularly colorful fur wrap, at least till one noticed the bright, yellow eyes. Lena usually wore dresses and gowns with fairly sturdy shoulders, precisely so that there was something for the fox to hang onto.

"Let's go meet Vasili." Lena said, pocketing the mirror and checking the time as she strode down the street to the inn. One minute to noon. Show time.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 12:31 am
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

Blackwood House, Mordent, 21 January 774

This was a different dream. For one thing, there was no woman in it. For another, it seemed less a memory and more...more like a foreign country, like the first time you had gone to Dementlieu and held a handful of coins with different faces and inscriptions, so like and yet so different from those you had known before.

You were somewhere high up; the air was strangely clear and somehow gave the sense that you were under water, ripples of light hurrying over the landscape spread beneath your feet, and you had the sensation of
space; you were quite sure that the mountains you saw at the eastern horizon were many hundreds of leagues away, but you also felt you could, with a moment's attention, see the trees on those mountains, and with a moment's attention more, count their leaves.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to two figures in the middle distance; regarding them, you realized with a shock you could not explain that one of them was Darius Isfahani, who had been with you at the Chateau Malchance when Dementlieu went mad--went mad most recently, that is. But the figure conversing with him was...was two figures? You could see the leather band wrapping the hilt of Darius's sword quite clearly, could see that his dark glasses were in a different style and that he had a new tattoo--a seven-pointed star--on the back of his left hand, but all you could see of his interlocutor(s?) was a dark and indistinct figure with golden eyes.

As you looked, those strange gold eyes (were there two, or four...or was it more than that?) were turned on you, and the darkness shifted. Turning, Darius looked at you, and you saw recognition cross his face. Nodding, he bowed deeply to the figure or figures, and at this you woke.

***

So, all in all, it was less surprising than it might have been when the letter arrived, on a blustery day in mid-February, with the rooks tumbling in the wind among the towers of the manor and cawing at one another along the eaves.

Duality Red Honesty, Year of the Displacer Beast
The Iron Fastness, Estgard, Hazlan

To Richard Blackwood, greetings.

When we last spoke you mentioned your desire to visit Hazlan at some future time and I told you that my father's house would make you welcome if you wished it. I urge you to make that visit now. Wiser heads than mine recommend it, as I think you have seen. I hope you will profit by it; I hope I and my family may do so as well.


Then a short series of runes, and the signature:
Darius Isfahani

An afternoon in the library to transliterate the runes reveals that it is only a name--but a strange and powerful name indeed:

VOSSATH NOR

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 2:46 am
by Isabella
Image

Richard pulled himself straight in his chair, listening to the sounds of his neck and spine popping. He sat in the small church that adorned Grimshaw, his home town, making use of their eclectic collection of books - Lord Blackwood's library was a very fine one, but it was definitively Western focused. The young man set his books aside, careful not to smear ink on the pages. Writing with his left hand usually left ink smudged upon it, and he'd received enough reprimands in his life about that. He pulled a handkerchief from his lavender vest and rubbed at his palm, looking down at the runes that he'd translated. Vossath Nor.

It explained a few things, at least. It explained why Darius had been in his dream, an occurrence that had nearly left Richard writing to Hazlan, to request an explanation - and how ridiculous that would have looked! Not so ridiculous at all, it appeared, now that Darius' letter had come.

It left more questions than answers. It was not so surprising for Darius to be terse, it was expected, really. Richard wasn't sure when the last time they'd spoken even was, for sending a letter from one end of the Core to another meant their correspondence was an infrequent thing. And yet... "as I think you have seen". He could only have known about the dream, to write such a thing. Had Darius engineered it? Or perhaps the "wiser heads", with shrouded form and golden eyes. Whichever one it was, it left Richard deeply unsettled.

"I-I am fond of you, D-Darius, but not... not quite that much," Richard said aloud to himself, and then chuckled wryly.

What else did they know? Did they know about that Rashemani girl Richard had met, not so very long ago, holding a chunk of stolen Vossath Nor stone? It seemed like they must have, if they'd written that name on this letter. And if that were true, it left Richard feeling even more wary. What else did they know? And what could they hope to gain, from Richard visiting? Richard tapped the letter idly against his chest.

He'd have to refuse, of course. He couldn't leave his family, not with Sarah in her delicate condition - not that Richard really had a use here. Alice was the one who knew herbs and tinctures and potions, Richard was an over-glorified nurse. But it was a matter of family solidarity, and he at least helped mind his nieces, since their mother was currently unable to. This whole business with the dream and letter left him with a disturbed feeling he could not explain. The wind howled through the chapel rafters, and Richard suddenly felt very cold.

He idly massaged his left hand, then reached out to take his pen from the inkwell, pulling over a fresh piece of parchment and pausing to put his thoughts in order. He had far too many thoughts, these days.

After fifteen minutes, he sighed, quietly cleaning the nib of his pen and putting his writing supplies away. He would write later, when he could better clear his head. The wind and the cold were distracting him, he decided, and it was past time he headed home.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 10:11 pm
by DeepShadow of FoS
*Ulp!*

"The--THE Jarenberg? Did you say I'll be meeting with his Grace* tonight?"

The boy nodded.

"Ah, hmmm, no, that won't do. That won't do at all. Maybe you've mistaken me for my father? Mother says I'm the spitting image. In Mordent they have those spectacles that help you see. Maybe you need spectacles. How many fingers am I holding up?"

The boy stared at him, then looked at the foreman.

"Don't look at him! He's not holding up his fingers. Didn't you hear me? Maybe we should test your hearing, too, but I don't know what we'd do about that. Spectacles rest on your ears, but they only help your eyes."

A lithe feline form landed on a nearby outcropping. "There's nothing wrong with the boy."

"Are you certain? Hearing is a critical skill in a messenger! How am I to send a reply if he can't hear correctly?"

"Like this:" she turned to the boy, keeping her distance to avoid frightening him. "Tell the Jarenberg that Vasili will be ready to report to him tonight after supper, as requested. Now what did I just say?"

The boy repeated it back.

"Good," Leila purrs. "Now off with you. The master should know you're too busy for his teasing."

Vasili watched the boy retreat back down the mountain. "Maybe he doesn't need spectacles after all. I'm sure his mother'll be relieved. They're expensive."

Leila sidled over to him as the foreman went to collect the records she had requested.

"It's a mistake!" Vasili muttered miserably, "I'll have to decline."

"You do that. Let the Jarenberg know that you aren't at his beck and call just because he gave you food, clothing, shelter, pocket money, education, social standing and restored your severed tongue. See how that works out for you, eh?"

"That last part's an exaggeration. He barely paid for half of the healing, and I'm almost done working it off."

Leila raised one eyebrow. Vasili took off his cap and began to screw at it nervously.

"It's after supper, but he'll want me to eat with him. And drink. I haven't done either in 85 days--that's a new record! If I don't eat or drink, he'll think I've poisoned the food, and he'll have me killed, and I'll never speak to you again!"

Leila raised the other eyebrow, her too-human face pulling into a lopsided smile. Vasili huffed, his breathing becoming rapid.

"You're a wicked creature!" he snarled as he turned his back on her.

"Darling," Leila purred as she nuzzled his flank, "I am what you made me, and you are what I made you. We've been doing this dance far too long to change partners now."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

* Insert proper honorific here. My references say this is the proper address to a duke or duchess when one is below the gentry.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 11:52 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

The Red Feathers Inn, Immol, Barovia, 25 May 774

There are probably not many men who would keep a baroness--especially not a Von Zarovich, and a celebrated beauty--waiting. Apparently, Vasili von Holtz is one of them. It is about a quarter past the hour when he comes into sight, conversing animatedly with the burgomeister, who he dismisses with a last friendly word before entering the inn. Looking around the common room, he seems about to cross to the landlord when his eyes fall on Lena seated at the window. Approaching her unhurriedly, he smiles.

"Milady von Zarovich! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Immol? How is your father?"

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 10:01 am
by NeoTiamat
ELENA VON ZAROVICH

"Milord von Holtz, how very lovely to see you." Lena said, almost as if she hadn't been discussing various ways of stringing von Holtz up by his ears a moment ago with Ushka (the fox had been in favor of nipping von Holtz on the nose, which Lena had certainly considered). To be fair, Lena could never stay mad at the man, given that she'd known him since she was a gangly girl in her teens.

"My father is as he usually is, hale and hearty," And drunker than a peasant at a wedding, Lena said with a smile. "but I can only stay in the countryside for so long before I feel a dreadful urge to start singing with woodland creatures, so I thought it best to visit the town."

Ushka flicked her ear and raised her muzzle as though to start a warbling sonata, which was cut off when Lena tapped her paw. The fox gave von Holtz a decidedly canine smile.

"And you, I trust you are well?" Lena said, increasing the wattage of her smile a little.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Wed Jun 26, 2013 8:27 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

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.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 27, 2013 5:31 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

It was to be a day of surprising news from far places, it seemed. When Richard entered Blackwood House, somewhat perplexed and rather more than somewhat damp--it had begun to drizzle on his way home, the wind dying and the wet increasing proportionally--the footman bowed and murmured, "Your visitor is in the parlor, Master Blackwood," in a way conveying intense interest and mild disapproval.

The interesting and not-quite-respectable visitor, drinking tea from the second-best china and conversing politely with Alice, proves to be a tall, thin man with the dark skin of a Souragnien of the lower classes, wearing the garb of an anchorite and half-rimmed glasses. At Richard's entry he smiles broadly, revealing strikingly white, straight teeth, and rises to extend his hand to Richard.

"Master Blackwood. How pleasant to see you again. Your sister has been entertaining me with tales of your days in Port-a-Lucine--a time of great excitement, that must have been!"

Alice gives Richard a raised eyebrow from behind the visitor's back and shakes her head slightly; whether she intends to show disapproval of the visitor or of his description of their conversation isn't quite clear.

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Thu Jun 27, 2013 6:36 pm
by Isabella
Image

Richard, who had been expecting one of his more local Mordentish acquaintances (and been hoping for one of his Dementlieuse friends), burst into a bright and genuine grin. "Why, M-Mister Marcel Boudreau," he greeted in return, strongly clasping the other man's hand in both of his own. It was all he could do not to pull the man into a hug, but the presence of his own house and own family kept Richard within the bounds of propriety. Even so, the young noble was unusually animated when he sat down to join the two in the parlor - manners and duty left him stiff, but friends made him fluid.

"F-father is out-out-out in the fields, so we are your, your hosts, for the moment," Richard informed. He ignored his sister's look. He could guess the source of it well enough, Lord Blackwood would throw a high holy fit if he caught the Anchorite in his own house. Had it been a random Souragnien traveler, the Master of the House would have endured with sternness, and only shown his temper when the guest had safely left. This particular man, however, had been a voodun before he was an Anchorite - which Lord Blackwood still could have borne, save that said voodun had given Richard Blackwood a rather large number of decorative scars, upon the younger man's request. Marcel had moved on before the fallout, unaware of the consequences, but the fight between Richard and his father afterwards had been catastrophic.

Alice simply sighed. Of all his relatives, she was the most tolerant of Richard's unorthodoxy, but there were limits to her good temper. "If you will be so good as to excuse me, I shall fetch us more tea," she said pleasantly enough, with a curtsy. "And I had best check in on our young nieces - they have been too quiet for my liking, which can only mean they have found some manner of trouble."

"I-If it is a quiet trouble, perhaps-perhaps you should leave them to it, s-sis," Richard replied. "To-tomorrow we can keep them busy by, by having them fix it."

"You have gotten sly in Dementlieu, haven't you?" Alice asked, with what might have been a faint smile. "No, no, I shall have none of your mischief, Richard. I know they have firmly charmed you to take their side, and I doubt Father will find himself as amused at the notion."

Richard sighed as she departed. The unspoken warning was a fair one, no one in this house had the nerves for such a row, right now. For the moment, however, he pushed it aside. "E-Ezra bless you, how have you been? It-it's been ages, I-I-I wasn't sure you-you'd pass by this way again. I am sure the tales of your-your travels greatly outpace m-mine."

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 10:17 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image
You now think you must have confabulated the conversation--surely your father would never have had it with you in earshot, nor would the Jarenberg have visited your parents' quarters--but you remember lying, almost asleep, mouth slowly filling with blood again, and hearing their voices outside your room, your father's angry, afraid, whining:

...can't afford it, Your Grace, Ezra alone...your pardon, Your Grace, the Name alone knows...two thousand at least, maybe three thousand, and for a half-wit...don't see how we can possibly...time away from the mine...

And the Jarenberg's, cold and firm: ...House of Silence...very pious and capable of great miracles, my mother's cousin...Isam Jarenberg desires him particularly to help his young retainer stricken by the hand of Mytteri...no more than a thousand.

And it had been exactly as the Jarenberg had said. Only much later had you understood how much it had galled your father to know that the name Boritsi meant so little here and the name Jarenberg so much.

There had been many at the Red Academy who had claimed to look down on the House Jarenberg for a variety of reasons--the rumors ranged from cannibalism (false, at least as far as you've ever learned) to going armed in their own halls (perfectly true) to inviting their serfs to dine with them (a matter of opinion, but it's really not that different from the Dannouth making the fountains of Toyalis run with wine on their family day). Somehow, Vasili doubts that many of them would be able to maintain their facade of disdain if they were here with him now, waiting at the door to the map room for the audience to begin.

Renhalt will be present after all, and that's something; he gives you an encouraging smile and raps at the door.

"Enter."

The map room--always one of your favorites, though you've been here rarely--but there's no time to admire the relief map of the Jarenberg holdings, or the beautifully done but comically inaccurate map of the Core on the opposite wall, because he's waiting for you. You've been preparing for this moment, so you don't let your eyes rest on the scars even briefly; you meet his bleak blue-eyed gaze for just a moment to acknowledge his attention, then drop your gaze as a retainer ought to do and admire the pattern of his red-and-silver robe and wait for him to speak.

"Vasili Boritsi. Tell me about the Bergsforg."

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 10:40 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

"I should hope so, Master Blackwood," Marcel replies, seating himself again. "No rest for the wicked, as Bastion Wachter warned us, though I hope I haven't been as bad as my travels would have it. I spent a few months in Borca after I left you...Oh! May I see how they healed?"

Looking at Richard's hands and forearms with a practiced eye, he nods. "There. Rather good work, if I do say it myself. I remember your being a bit...unsure of your father's reaction. Did he take the unveiling well?"

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 10:55 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
Image

Forbearance Red Courage, Year of the Displacer Beast

Your brother Artabaxes finds you at the top of the Red Stair, watching the stars coming out and arguing with Iofur Sigurdssen, the astrologer, about whether he can really see the Firebird by the naked eye already. It is easily visible, red and ominous, by use of eagle-eyes, but you aren't convinced it could really be detected without them. Then again, Sigurdssen has been staring at the stars for the last seventy years--he saw the Firebird the last time it came--so perhaps he really can. But...

"Altan. The Old Man...excuse me, Master Sigurdssen, the Thane...wants you. Says you're to come now."

Re: HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 11:01 pm
by Nathan of the FoS
CATTIA JARENBERG

Forebearance Red Diligence, Year of the Displacer Beast

The note is in your uncle's hand, short and simple.

Daughter--please attend me in the map room directly after the evening meal. I wish to interview the young Boritsi and would like your opinion of him.

Daughter--that means official household business; if it were informal he'd say niece, or use your name. Boritsi, that means the mines. Your opinion, that means he's thinking of trusting him--trusting a Boritsi?!--with this official household business.

It seems it will be an interesting evening after all.