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New pendants!
These are a few of the new pendants I will be uploading to Etsy in the near future (they just received their final gloss coat, and need polished and photographed) We have a fox; a yoni pendant with red coral; two black dragon fangs; two white Flames of Tar Valon, one with a blue stone and the other with a green; a twisting snake, and an infinity loop with a bloodstone inset in the lower circle.
Pendants are currently $20 each, and will be available on Etsy.
THE WHEEL OF TIME (s1)
The Dragon's Fang and the Aes Sedai symbol
Scroll
“Jonathan.”
Jonathan doesn’t turn to look at the person addressing him, he knows who it is, and he would like to get these last few books into place before helping her.
He does not want to climb back up here again.
“Yes, how can I assist the Royal Mage today?” he asks.
“I. Uh.” Sayora shuffles around the ladder to look up at him as best she can. “I have come into possession of a scroll, and I’d like help dating it, if possible.”
“A scroll, you say?” Jonathan puts the final book into place. “Well, that’s certainly unusual…”
“That’s why I came to find you.” Sayora backs up as she sees him grab the sides of the ladder. “You specialize in these sorts of things…”
Jonathan slides all the way down the ladder, and pulls off the set of gloves he’s currently wearing.
“Right, well.” He stows the gloves in his inside vest pocket. “Let’s head over to the appraisal space, yes?”
He leads her out of the shelves of books that make up the Royal Library and towards where his desk is, near the front.
Just past it is an old, carved stone table, inlaid with Runes in moonsilver around a circular matrix.
Jonathan grabs a new set of much lighter, cotton-spun white gloves and puts them on. “Let’s have a look at your mystery scroll, then. May I?”
Sayora produces an ornate canister of tarnished moonsilver, with a few purple gems inlaid at the caps and in the center, and hands it over to Jonathan.
“...Hm.” Jonathan looks over the designs inlaid in the metal. “...I’m not familiar with this design…”
He opens up the canister and produces the scroll itself, written on aged silk that is still mostly-white, wound around a pair of wooden handles.
He sets it down, and rolls it out to find very few words, with the centerpiece of the thing being a massive arcane array with what look like unfinished Runes laid into it.
“...Sayora, what did you find?” He stares at the drawing, and the scripts around it. “...this is Noctran. How did you get this?”
“...It’s a, uh. Long story.” Sayora shifts nervously. “...it’s an old array. Like the kind used before Noctra sank, but…the scroll seems…older.”
Jonathan walks over to his desk and grabs a loupe, and places it down on the silk, leaning over staring at the scroll through it intently.
“This silk is quite old,” he notes. “Old enough that I’m not sure how it’s in this good of a condition.”
“If it’s Noctran…being in good condition at all is sort of a miracle, right?” Sayora asks.
“Perhaps. It depends on many things.” Jonathan stands back up. “You’ve handed me something of a mystery, Lady Kestrel. I’ll want at least the rest of the day to examine this, possibly tomorrow as well, to see what I can discern.”
“Can I sketch out the array, first?” Sayora asks, pulling out a notebook and a pencil from her fancy mage robes.
“Oh this will be sitting here for at least the next hour, before I try to find comparison works in the Archives.” Jonathan walks over to his desk and begins going through the drawers. “So feel free to sketch out or take down anything you might need for your immediate research needs.”
“Oh good, thank you.” Sayora begins sketching immediately, scribbling away in her tiny notebook.
Jonathan, meanwhile, assets many of his appraisal tools down along the edge of the appraisal table, and looks over the artifact before him.
It pays being the Royal Archivist every so often. He never got to look at things like this back in his prior line of work…
Leak
Celeste cocks her head quizzically. “What exactly are you suggesting, Jakobi?”
“That we leak our plan to the enemy, Empress,” Jakobi responds.
Isaac bursts out laughing.
“Have you lost your damn mind?!” General Anfen shouts.
Isaac’s cackling only gets louder.
“Someone tell the human to shut up!” Captain Gerrax shouts.
“I knew I liked this one!” Isaac grins.
“Silence, the lot of you!” Celeste looks between Isaac, who is grinning like a devil, and Jakobi, where she can see the mental pieces falling into place behind his eyes. “...Jakobi, explain yourself.”
“Quite simple,” Jakobi says. “If we leak the plans to them deliberately, Jarro will assume it’s us trying to play him for a fool. We keep some extra troop movements up north, while otherwise proceeding with the attack as planned.”
“...you want him to think we’re bluffing?” Anfen asks.
“No.” Celeste crosses her arms. “Jakobi wants Jarro to think we’re lying.”
“The bastard cat wouldn’t let himself be caught off-guard by intelligence that is clearly fed to him to obscure a true plan,” Isaac points out. “He’s too egotistical not to think we’re trying to outsmart him, when we’re not. We fool him by telling him the truth!”
“And this is why we keep Mister Kirsbane around,” Jakobi says to Captain Gerrax. “He understands the nature of trickery.”
“...how certain are you that this will work?” Celeste asks.
“Depends on how much effort you will let us put into making the leak look real enough,” Jakobi says. “It’s a delicate line to walk.”
“You need to make it look like you tried,” Isaac points out. “But you need to make it look like you tried.”
“I dislike how much this human is influencing this war council,” Captain Gerrax notes. “He is not a member of our military.”
“Shut your trap, boy!” General Anfen snaps. “Kirsbane has the backing of the largest human mercenary group on the continent! He’s here because we’re paying him to be here!”
Gerrax bows his head. “Apologies, General. I spoke out of turn.”
“You spoke out if ignorance is what you did!” Anfen snaps. “You’re dismissed!”
Gerrax pauses, then turns and leaves.
“Kirsbane!” Anfen places both hands on the table and leans towards the human. “If you were to assist with this scheme, what would you need from us?”
“Ink, paper, and wax,” Isaac answers. “As for how we deliver the letter to Jarro, I will leave that to your spymaster.”
“...do you know which humans in the coastal cities might be Jarro sympathizers?” Jakobi asks Isaac.
“...I may indeed, yes.” Kirsbane nods, stroking his chin.
“Then all I need from here is Her Radiance’s permission,” Jakobi says to Celeste.
“...granted,” Celeste says. “Keep me appraised as it progresses. Sir Kirsbane, please inform me of any extra gold we may owe you for your assistance in this matter.”
“Oh, you won’t need to pay me for this!” Isaac cackles. “This I’ll be doing for the fun of it!”
Sour
Shiraki takes a sip of the juice and instantly recoils, hissing angrily at it.
“What, what’s wrong?” Astrid asks anxiously.
“Sour…” Shiraki hisses.
“…sour?” Astrid repeats.
“Sour!” Shiraki grabs her waters kin, takes a swig from it, swishes it around in her mouth, and spits it out onto the forest floor. “Blegh!”
“…was I supposed to cut that with water?” Astrid asks.
“Yeah.” Shiraki runs her tongue along her front teeth a few times. “Geh. Uh, yeah, straight citrus juice is…uncomfortably sour, especially for leonine and kitsune. Usually you cut it with water and mix in a little bit of honey or sugar to help make it enjoyable…”
“…so when they had me drink it straight—“
Shiraki turns and stares at Astrid with a look of dull surprise. “They made you drink straight lemon juice?”
“Lime, actually,” Astrid clarifies.
“That’s worse,” Shiraki points out.
“Well apparently they wanted to make sure I kept my slim figure or…something like that,” she says. “I only barely remember the specifics, only that everything was for me being the prettiest bride to a god that likely doesn’t exist…”
“…wow.” Shiraki frowns. “That’s messed up. Not even my siblings do that to their—well. Okay.” Shiraki looks upwards for a moment. “…no, nevermind, at least a few of them do that with their concubines…”
“…your family sounds terrible.”
“They are, yeah.” Shiraki shrugs. “Most of them, anyway. It’s why I left.”
“Are you sure they’re not a cult, either?” Astrid asks.
“They probably are.” Shiraki takes a bite of jerky. “The more I learn about what you went through, the more I see the similarities.”
“…well, at least we’re both free now…” Astrid sighs, hugging her legs to her chest. “Not that I know what to do with said freedom…”
“You’ll figure it out. Like I am.” Shiraki holds out a piece of jerky to her. “Here. Eat.”
Astrid stares at the jerky for a moment, and then takes it and begins gnawing on the end of it.
“We’ll be in the next city by noon tomorrow,” Shiraki says. “We can take some time to explore things then.”
“Explore?” Astrid asks. “Explore what?”
“Who you are,” Shiraki answers. “What you like, what you don’t like, what you can do, the like.”
“…that sounds like an ordeal,” Astrid huffs.
“A bit.” Shiraki takes another big bite of her jerky. “But it’s worth it, I think.”
“And how do you know that?” Astrid asks.
Shiraki shrugs. “Well, I’ve been at it for the past 346 years, so…if I thought otherwise, I’d probably have stopped by now, y’know?”
Astrid frowns, and stares at the jerky in her hands. “…fine. But only because I don’t have anything better to do. Now pass me back the water skin, please.”
Foil
Andrill knows the small crowd that accompanies a street-con when he sees one.
Normally he’d leave it alone. Some people have to make a living, and the people that tend to lose their money on stuff like Fast-and-Loose or a monte of some kind tend to be there more for the show (or are idiot nobles who can afford to be scammed out of a few coins).
The problem comes when he recognizes the voice coming from within the gaggle of spectators, calling out a very particular scheme.
“Ahaha! Sorry, sir, but it seems fortune favors me now! And double means double!”
Andrill pauses, and takes a moment to fish his mask out from his bag, outting it on his face and switching the broach on his cloak so it faces outwards.
He hasn’t worn this persona in a while.
It will be sure to spook him.
“Would you like a go, sir?” the con-man calls out. “You look particularly lucky, perhaps sleep should see who fortune favors most!”
He shimmies through the crowd and pushes the man aside as he’s about to sit down.
He takes the seat across from the con instead.
“Hey!” The man Andrill just pushed aside grabs Andrill’s cloak as if to pick him up.
Andrill flicks his wrist to place his push-dagger against the man’s shoulder. “This man is doing his best to rid you of your money. I suggest you go spend it on some of the girls down the street. They’re much prettier.”
The man looks down at him, and Andrill squints at him through the fox mask covering his face.
“…whatever, man.” The man lets go. “Weirdo…”
As he and his friends leave, Andrill picks up one of the dice and looks at the man across from him.
He’s significantly scruffier than he remembers, but the same short brown hair, spindly arms, and suede vest tell him this is definitely Ourick’s numbers-man.
His blanched complexion tells Andrill that he has exactly the level of surprise he wants here.
“Hello, Dice,” Andrill says pointedly, grinning. “Up to your old tricks?”
“You’re supposed to be dead…” Dice replies.
“Ah, Ourick certainly thinks that, doesn’t he?” Andrill holds the die up between his index and middle fingers. “Shall we play?”
“W-what do you want?” Dice asks.
“Why are you this far north?” Andrill rolls the die on the table. “…Four. Come on, now. Pick one up and roll.”
Dice hesitates, before picking up one of the dice and rolling. “…five.”
“Darn.” Andrill picks up his die. “Again. Why are you this far north?”
“I—I’m visiting my—“
“Don’t lie to me, Dice.” Andrill rolls the die again. “…four. What’s Ourick want up north?”
Dice rolls without looking. “…he wants to expand. Make a play on the gangs in Sollinux.”
Andrill picks up both dice, and tosses one of them at Dice. “That’s not going to happen.”
Dice tosses the die in front of him. “I don’t control what Ourick does!”
“Not does he, in this instance.” Andrill rolls. “…oh, look at that. I win.” He picks up his die. “Again.”
Dice carefully picks up his die and begins shaking it in his hand.
“You’re going to hand me all the gold you’ve swindled from these people,” Andrill says calmly. “And then you’re going to leave. And if you tell Ourick you met me, I’ll find you, and make you wish you hadn’t.” He rolls his die. “…six.”
“…four…” Dice squeaks.
Andrill pulls his mask off his face and leans across the table to Dice. “You tell the Twins that if they move on Sollinux, they’ll end up dead. And you can tell them I told them that.”
“But you said—“
“I said you can’t tell Ourick,” Andrill snarls. “The Twins know when and how to keep their fucking mouths shut. Now. Gold. Please.”
Dice nods nervously, and pulls up a small box from underneath the table, filled with gold coins.
Andrill turns it around to face him. “This is your haul? Really?”
Dice nods. “That’s all of it. Swear to Nyx Herself.”
“You’re not doing so hot outside your home turf, huh?” Andrill snarks.
He feels a hand on his shoulder.
“Andrill,” Luna says from behind him. “We don’t need to resort to this anymore. Leave the man alone.”
“…of course, milady.” Andrill stares directly at Dice.
He claps the box closed and picks it up for the table, bowing deeply to Dice. “Many apologies, sir.”
Dice stares in silence at the Dragonborn, towering over both him and Andrill.
“I hope you didn’t give him anything,” Luna says to him. “If so, I will repay it.”
“N-no, ma’am, we were just having a…friendly conversation…” Dice stammers.
“We will need to have words about this, later,” Luna huffs at Andrill. “We agreed we were past this sort of thing in the big cities. Thank the Goddess I came upon you before things got out of hand…”
“Foiled again, it seems.” Andrill still hasn’t taken his eyes off of Dice. “Ah, well. I really should be trying better at this whole rogue thing, what with trying to learn morals and such. Apologies, Empress.”
Dice’s eyes go wide at the term Empress.
Andrill picks up the box, and tucks it under one arm, waves in a cheerfully threatening manner to Dice, and falls in line next to Luna as she walks down the road.
“…who was he?” Luna asks after a short distance.
“A bad memory,” Andrill replies bitterly. “One that’s seemingly come back to try and haunt Sollinux.”
“…I see.” Luna looks down at him. “Should we be worried?”
“Very,” Andrill replies. “We’re going to want both Morgan and Kira around. Things are about to get very messy…”
Helpless
“Woah, okay hang on––” Morgan struggles slightly to keep her footing as the two guards drag her out of the tavern. “Guys, I can walk if you just slow down a bit, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding––”
“Sit down.” The left guard forces her down onto a bench. “And don’t move, miss.”
“I saw her take it!” The dragonborn storms out after them. “She must be arrested at once!”
“Please start from the beginning, sir,” the right guard asks calmly. “Tell us what happened.”
As the dragonborn and the guards go back and forth, with occasional glances her way, Morgan puts on her usual act: be small, look frightened, act like you have the jitters.
Now just find the right levers in the lock on the manacles, and don’t rush it.
Slow is calm. Calm is smooth. Smooth is fast.
Plus, she needs the guards to start arguing with the dragonborn. They’ll get there, they always do.
As it starts, she slips the manacles off her wrists and ducks around the corner, pulling her hood up as she ducks into the inn next door, with a hushed finger to her lips at the four patrons and innkeeper in the foyer.
They all freeze at the sight of her, until she holds up a set of five gold coins, at which they all make a point of turning and ignoring her presence.
She casually grabs the doorframe, foists herself upwards, and then climbs up into the rafters above.
It takes the guards maybe five seconds to realize that she’s gone, and when one sticks his head inside to look around, neglects to look up.
“Did an elf run in here?” the guard asks.
“Elf?” The innkeeper squints at the guard. “Boy, this is the north. You think we get elves up here?”
The guard snarls in annoyance, and ducks out of the building and can be heard shouting as he makes his way down the street.
Morgan waits five seconds, before dropping down from the rafters.
“Thanks, folks.” She tosses each of them a coin. “Much appreciated.”
She turns and nearly runs face-first into an annoyed-looking kitsune.
“Nyx’s tits!” Morgan stumbles backwards and tries to pull a dagger.
Andrill grabs her wrist before she can go for it. “Don’t. I’m not the guards, I’m not going to make the mistake of thinking you’re helpless.”
Andrill looks past her. “You all can go now.”
The group all head into the back room, and a dark-haired woman in a fancy white coat steps out after them.
“Goddess above, Andrill, what the fuck?” Morgan squints at him, and lets go of her knife, leaving it sheathed. “...the hell are you doing here?”
“You stole something from a friend of mine,” Andrill says. “You didn’t know it was important, I’ll bet you didn’t even know who she was, but you need to give it back.”
“What? No, that’s not how this works.” Morgan puts a hand on her hip, opposite of where her blade is. “I didn’t even steal anything valuable beyond just gold and moonsilver.”
Andrill holds out his hand.
“...this is about the pendant, isn’t it?” Morgan asks. “Some coddled dragonborn noble got sad that one of her fancy heirlooms went missing, so she hired you to take it back?”
“This isn’t about money,” Andrill snarls.
“Oh, so you ended up in bed with her, and she thinks you stole it, huh?” Morgan scoffs. “Well, unfortunately for you––”
Morgan tries to draw her knife, only for her knees to buckle as they can’t keep up the rest of her body.
Morgan lands on all fours, her hands and knees pinned to the floor, the weight of the world seeming to have been put on her body all at once.
She hears heavy footsteps as the woman behind her walks around in front of her, and as she struggles to look upwards, Morgan sees the woman’s eyes glow with an unknown power, and he hear and coat float around as if weightless, or underwater.
This isn’t magic.
She’s seen magic before.
This is something else.
Fear grips Morgan for a moment as the woman kneels down to look her in the eyes.
Morgan struggles, but cannot lift her hands or legs from the floor.
“I am not playing these games,” the woman says coldly. “Give us Luna’s pendant back, and you will walk away uninjured.”
Y-yeah…yeah, okay, okay, it’s…in my bag…” Morgan groans.
The woman steps forward, reaches into the bag on her hip, and produces the pendant.
“I am glad you saw reason.” The woman gets up and heads for the door. “Let’s go.”
“Right behind you.” Andrill falls in line.
As they leave the doorframe, whatever spell or power she cast on Morgan vanishes, and Morgan flips over onto her back, limbs aching, gasping for air.
Who in the hells was that?!
