Henry Group RP Forum

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Rune couldn’t help but give a small smile as she cleaned him up. Focus Rune. Focus. “What’s a matter, not a fan of the rugged messy look?”  a joking tone is used but there’s obvious curiosity behind the question.  Rune looks around. No one besides the guard at the cave entrance. “Sure, care for a little climb?” Rune gestures to a tree maybe 50ft away from the cave entrance with wide branches, perfectly comfortable for sitting while enjoying the view. “Some view and privacy would be nice. I’m not really looking forward to talking to everyone today.”  There’s no sign of Runes usual playful smile and he makes his way over to the tree and waits for Stella, ready to boost her up should she wish.

“Oh, I like the rugged look all right. I might not be able to keep my hands off you if I don’t smarten you up.” Stella gave him a shadow of a smile. She accepted his boost and scrambled up into the tree, reaching for one branch after another, her muscles tightening and flexing, the toes of her boots digging into cracks in the bark. She had spent many happy hours as a little girl pretending to be a squirrel. As they got higher, the wooded slopes dropped away before them, revealing a vast canopy of forest beginning to shimmer green under the brightening sun. Stella squeezed into a crook in the trunk and settled herself comfortably, close enough that she could kick Rune’s foot gently. “Happy now?” She stretched her shoulders, took a few deep breaths, and tried to relax. “I wanted to show you…” Her pulse started to race just thinking about sharing this. She caught herself pressing her hand over the base of her throat, covering the vulnerable hollow there. “I wanted to show you what happened while you were gone. Just so you’d know.” The locket gleamed as it dangled on its chain from Maev’s hand. Stella barely held her flinch inside. That sly little gleam felt like a slap in the face. Because Rune had had that locket just an hour ago when he had left to go investigate these screams that had clearly been feigned. Was there blood on the locket? Had this bandit woman murdered him? One look in Maev’s cold eyes and Stella knew. Yes. She had definitely killed him. His corpse was probably being used for target practice right now. They were probably reading and laughing at the letters Rune had written to his daughter before they used them for kindling. And the seething rage that overtook Stella then tightened her hands into fists. Rune had only been going to help these people. He hadn’t deserved this. He hadn’t even - Back in the tree, Stella caught herself gripping the bark. Hard. She pried her fingers off one at a time and cleared her throat, trying for calm. “I know you don’t trust me. And I’m not trustworthy, so I can’t blame you for that. But I need to tell you the truth for once and I need you to believe it, so I just wanted to show you this first. Really show you.” Standing at the lowest point of this rocky ravine, with her party still hundreds of feet behind her, Stella calculated fast. She was exposed to fire from at least half a dozen bandits hidden behind bushes, probably more if she took the time to spot them. And Maev must be a spellcaster because she had just Misty Stepped clean out of Stella’s reach. It didn’t take a tactical mastermind to realise Stella would be dropped in the first round and her party would be massacred in a futile attempt to save her. Hendrick and the others would never just abandon her. Her only real chance of survival was to cast Invisibility on herself. Just ghost out and leave everyone to die. But there was still a distant chance that Rune was still alive. He might be getting interrogated right now. Beaten. Tortured. And her jaw clenched as her heart squeezed tight with rage and grief. No. She wasn’t leaving this ravine without getting him back. Dead or alive. Stella spoke very slowly. “What did you do to my rogue?” Even now, her heart still raced at the memory. Stella pressed herself back into the tree, drawing one knee up, gripping her hands together. Her family had always said she was too soft, too full of feelings. Stella had argued that she could be just as smart and ruthless as they were, if they gave her a chance to prove herself. But Stella wasn’t feeling very ruthless right now. Quite the opposite. Once everyone had stood down, Rune sauntered up to her like he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked bruised and wounded, but undaunted. Her heart finally unclenched and she threw herself at him in a fierce hug, feeling him freeze at first before he slowly hugged her back. Stella squeezed him so tight, she might never let this stupid idiot out of her sight again. And when he teased her and kissed her on the forehead, it felt like affection. Felt like reassurance. Stella blinked several times and cleared her throat. She was the real idiot here, not Rune. Getting emotionally involved with a party of adorable misfits? Fuck. “If they had seriously harmed you, I would have done my best to murder every last one of them. That is the truth. And you need to know that before I tell you anything else.”

Rune carefully boosted her up, making a quick inspection of both Stella as he did so, as well as the surrounding area, then climbed a little more gingerly. While he had climbed many times in his life, usually up chimneys and alleyway walls, he had come to rely on his Mystic ability to just teleport up such obstacles. A memory flashes to the front of his mind, the night he climbed the Potters house to look down into his lovers room, where his daughter would be born. Shaking his mind free he continues his climb. Looking out over the wooded hills, Rune gives a small smile and nod as he sits on his branch, lazily laying back. At Stella’s words Rune closes his eyes, and Stella could once again feel The warmth of his presence around her mind. I wonder what they did to avoid a fight with Maev? I was struck down without warning. Rune pays close attention to each memory, carefully judging exactly what Stella felt and her actions. The knot of worry she felt was one that Rune hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t like it at all. Rune occasionally lightly taps Stella’s foot with his own as he takes a moment to absorb what she’s shown him.  Well she does care it seems, even now. A lot judging by that broken bark. But why? She didn’t seem to appreciate me to well before. If anything I thought I had made her rather annoyed with my persistence. If only I could read her mind fully, then perhaps I could be certain. Still it’s hard to argue how she felt and acted when I returned or how fiercely she would’ve fought in vengeance. Who is she really? A cold hearted killer that plays people like a fiddle, or a softer warmer person that’s hiding beneath an icy shell. Hmmm. “I’m sorry I’ve worried you so much. I didn’t realize you cared this much. Nice job defusing that situation with Maeve. I was shot without any chance to talk. Rune gives a rueful smile and continues.  You have my trust. What else is on your mind?” Perhaps she does trust me. I hope I’m making the right decision by doing this. Again.

“I didn’t realise I cared that much either. You should get kidnapped more often.” Again a shadow of a smile from Stella. Even the teasing felt half-hearted. Nothing about this was amusing. She had to take a few more deep breaths before she could launch into her explanation. She had learned all about secrecy at her mother’s knee, and if she had ever revealed too much information on a mission, there had been consequences. Immediate ones. Severe ones. All of which made it physically difficult to get out the words. Even with what she had just shown him, there was a real chance Rune was going to cut her throat for this. They couldn’t talk about this, even in thieves’ cant. Maev and her bandits probably all spoke it, and Hendrick could apparently hear a whispered conversation clear on the other side of Khorvaire. So Stella switched to speaking to Rune only in her mind. “ I know you’ve been suspicious of me. And every time something happens, I tell you now is not the time to talk about it and you get even more suspicious. But whatever is going on here, it’s serious business - more serious than keeping my secrets. The Blademarks are not supposed to be shipping wagon trains of wights across Cyre. I’m not sure this is even a coup. I think it might be something worse. It will take a major political heavyweight to make the Blademarks back off, and even if they get taken out of the equation, we still have problems here. Like that psionic fucker. And all the corpses that are probably rising as zombies right now. So I really need your help and I owe you the truth first.” Stella braced herself for the inevitable. “I’m not the sweet bard who sings for her supper. I’m a College of Whispers bard. Our specialty is espionage and infiltration. I’m here to gather intelligence on an unrelated topic for a certain political faction. I’m not allied with the Blademarks in any way, but I also don’t have permission to just murder them. That’s why I wanted you to take point on that mission - in case some Deneith asshat somehow recognised me.” Thaldrin had known with one look, after all. Stupid clerics. “I’m telling you this right now because I really need you to pull out some ridiculous psionic skill that lets me contact my superiors for orders. I think they could maybe apply enough of a lever to make a real difference here. Or just tell me what the hell is going on. But Pylas Maradal is on lockdown - I can’t get to a message station. And even if Hendrick can cast the Sending spell, he’d need to be familiar with the target, and he isn’t. And I can’t wait weeks for couriers to trek back and forth. So you’re my only hope. Tell me you can send long-distance psionic messages.”

She seems very on edge. This isn’t likely to be good.  Rune listens carefully in his mind, weighing her words. His face betrays nothing, an impassive mask. Rune has known she was no ordinary woman but a political spy? That was impressive indeed. It explained a lot of Stella’s behavior, that was for sure.  Just what is she wrapped up in? A political spy just sitting around a tavern? Taking up a job with random strangers she’d never met. What information could she possibly be collecting. Strange to say the least.  Rune considered all his options and how he could help. While he wasn’t capable of long range communication just yet, he could certainly familiarize Hendrick jusssst enough so he could send a message. Or he could offer to stealth in with Stella to Pylas Mardel. His powers would certainly make that easy enough. Ultimately however, Rune needed to know more. A lot more. “I can certainly help, but before I do anything, I’m going to ask for something in exchange. It’s a lot to ask but I think you’ll understand.” Rune pauses and gives her a once over deciding how his proposition will go over. Not we’ll most likely, but let’s see how far she’ll go. “From now on, I want us to be a team. Nothing romantic, but a Proffesional duo who keep each other informed of everything. This means you’ll always allow me to talk to you telepathically and inform me of what you know about a given situation. Of course I’ll do the same. I also want to be allowed access to all of your memories for 15 minutes. Again, I’ll allow you the same. Do we have a deal, partner? Rune places careful emphasis on the word partner and extemds a hand towards her. His words carry a heavy weight, in that he expects these words to be binding. His eyes show a familair feirceness from there walk but this time, it’s guarded, a trust he’s giving begrudgingly. “I don’t know how your people work, but from now on, I want a part. I help you do all your assignments but will never have to follow your rules. I’m your perfect ace Rogue. A wildcard never to be expected by your superiors. You like having protection and freedom, this will do just that. 

For the second time this week, Stella could only sputter. “ What? That’s not… That isn’t… What? ” Was he serious? Rune hadn’t even asked who she worked for. She could be a political assassin for all he knew. She could be working for the dictatorship of Karrnath with its countless undead soldiers. Or worse! And he was willing to team up with her without knowing the details? Why? Stella could be charming when she wanted to be, but she was hardly the type to inspire such devotion. She was barely a shadow of her fierce older sisters. Was he truly so lonely that he would throw himself at the first cause that came along just to have somebody on his team? Fuck. She should have seen this coming. Of course a man separated from his only child would wander the world searching for something to believe in. He would look everywhere for some semblance of belonging. Stella badly missed her family, but that was nothing compared to Rune. She couldn’t imagine the pain. Well, this had gotten intense. “ Rune .” Stella hopped down onto a low branch so she could take his warm hand in both of her smaller ones. She met his eyes, that strange blue edged with gold. “ We would make a fantastic team. I knew that from the moment we tried to impress each other by forging those documents in the Black Orb Inn in Taer Valaestas. And I’ve already chosen to trust you. I’ve given you all the leverage you need to blackmail me, threaten me - Maev would probably incinerate me like she incinerated those poor Blademark idiots if she found out. But if I gave you fifteen minutes to view all my memories, I would be risking my family. My parents, my sisters, we’re all in deep. Everyone who ever brought their problems to us for help would be in danger. If any harm were to come to anyone because I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut… ” Stella’s teeth ground and she had to stop herself imagining all the things that could happen to them. “ It’s not that you’d tell anyone on purpose, but any mid-level spellcaster can just burn a spell slot to read what you’re thinking. That psionic asshat could probably open up your mind like peeling an orange. It’s just not safe. I can give you my own secrets, but I can’t give you other people’s. ”

Rune hears her points and felt her small hands. Blackmail? Ha. Like anyone would believe him over her. I suppose it’s fair that she doesn’t want to share any secrets about her family. Still, hopefully she’ll share as time goes on. “Alright that’s fair. Let’s share what you can about you. Also, about what led you down this path. Your training and what not. Who do you work for anyway? Why were you in that tavern and what information are you collecting? Lots of questions and your partner needs to be brought to speed.” He gives Stella a glimpse of his old smile. He leans back, maintiaining his hold on her hands but not fully pulling her, merely not wanting to let go. “Tell me more about you. Your likes and dislikes. Things that made you laugh or cry or both. People you’ve truly loved. What your family was and is like. Show me you.”

Her partner. Stella tested that phrase out a few times, trying to get her mind around it. The whole concept was foreign to her. Operating alone in enemy territory required an extreme degree of self-reliance. She had never been meant to work within a team; she only infiltrated teams in order to betray them. So no partners. Especially not the type who would ask her about her likes and dislikes, what made her laugh, what made her cry. Rune might have claimed this wasn’t romantic, but it certainly was personal. This felt like the brink of something dangerous. Like one wrong step could trip her into a killing fall. But maybe she needed to risk that step? Maybe she needed to risk the fall. Because one tiny low-level bard couldn’t take on murderous psionics and naval blockades all alone. It was a tactical decision, really. Stella looked down at where her thumb absently rubbed circles on the back of Rune’s hand. Yep. Tactical. Well, in for a copper crown, in for a golden galifar. “ You caught me. It wasn’t a coincidence that I was in the Black Orb Inn that night. I spent weeks lying low in Taer Valaestas before that, setting up opportunities. That was the night someone finally bit. You want to know what I’m really doing here? ” After all the scheming, all the worrying, the humour of the whole situation finally struck Stella. She tried and failed to smother a laugh. “ I have bad news for you. There’s another spy in the party. And I’m here to watch them. ”

Rune looked up in the sky and sighed. Here we go again. Maybe things will be better this time.  Quietly Rune enjoyed the feeling of Stella’s hands, memorizing their softness but as well as the callouses. The way she abesently rubbed circles reminded him of Moca, and how she would do the same when he was sick. Closing his eyes he listened to her voice inside his head. Oh great. Not only is there one super deadly spy but now there’s two AND they might kill each other. The memory of noticing Hendricks pack opened and Stella being dragged into the forest by Varrons doppelgänger, sprang to mind. The way the man in charge of the changelings referred to Hendrick as “The Eye” and treated him as some sort of assassin.   “Are we talking about poor Hendrick?” Rune continues to go through his memories, looking for every detail that may support his theory. 

“ Hendrick indeed. ” Stella heaved a very deep sigh. “ My… client is concerned about what the Silver Flame is scheming in their theocratic puppet country. They know Hendrick works covertly in enemy territory and they want to know more about the specific part of the church that he works for. That’s all. I’m not going to harm him, not now. I wasn’t happy about what he did at the Starhaunt, but when I confronted him afterward, well… ” She showed that memory to Rune. Hendrick taking her hand, asking her to hold the party together. Trusting her. Stella had known he was playing her, but it had worked anyway. Stupid insight modifier. “ So that’s complicated. I’m still trying to figure out how to get the information I need without betraying his trust even more than I already have. And now you can imagine why I didn’t want to answer your questions after Thaldrin forced me to out myself to the entire party in a Zone of Truth. ” That had been a bad moment. A very bad moment. Stella had spent the next six hours waiting for her party to kill her. “ I needed more time. I needed Hendrick’s speech, I think. I needed all of you to rescue me from those doppelgangers. I needed you to get yourself kidnapped like an idiot so I could realise I really didn’t want you to die on me. ” Again the half-hearted smile. “ And this whole Blademark situation is way over my head and I really need backup. So there’s that. ”

Well atleast he knew all the players in this little game now. Still Hendrick didn’t seem like a religious assassin but Rune supposed that was the point. Not going to harm him for now hm? I wonder if her orders may change that.  Rune feels the memeory and weighs it against what he saw that night, a slight pang of jealousy at how easily Hendrick had wormed his way into her emotions. Surprised at how much Hendrick cares about this little group. The fact he was likely going to be hunted wasn’t encouraging either but Rune had a solution for that if Hendrick was interested in starting over. “Clever little cleric isn’t he? Have you gathered any useful information during your “intimate” moments with him? “ Rune gives a sly teasing grin.  “I can see why you’d want a little help. You seem like you’re used to being solo though, have you ever had a partner before? Not to mention have you ever cared about strangers this much? You haven’t learned much about me jusy yet. Just my one terrible secret....”  Rune realizes perhaps he has shared a little much. Still she didn’t know that he liked shoulder runs and that he loved jumping off tall buildings and then teleporting to safety. There’s was plenty she didn’t know....right?

“ Intimate? That’s not… It wasn’t… ” Stella’s face heated up, and it got even hotter when Rune gave her that sly grin. “ Hendrick is very confusing. That’s all. ” Or maybe Hendrick knew exactly how to play with her feelings because he lived the same dangerous and lonely life she did. Not that Stella could protest - he had used his considerable insight skills to persuade her to shelter and protect his party. That was more kindness than she deserved. “ No. I’ve been assigned to work with fellow operatives before, but I’ve never had a real partner. Not like this. ” Stella hopped up onto Rune’s branch to sit next to him, leaning her shoulder against his. She kept his hand captured and even wound their fingers together so he couldn’t escape. It felt comforting. Affectionate. Like all of the tightness in her muscles could ease just for a few minutes and she could breathe a bit deeper. “ And I don’t like getting… emotionally involved. It compromises your judgement. It makes you hesitate. It makes you panic when you’re trying to bargain for someone’s life. I was trying to avoid that. ” Her thumb still traced over the back of Rune’s hand. She should probably stop doing that. Any time now. “ As for you? ” Stella couldn’t keep her sneaky smile inside. “ I think I’ve learned a lot about you. And I don’t just mean what you told me about your daughter. Want to know what I know about you? You’re more of a risk-taker than I am. I’m guessing you’ve been lucky and not many jobs have blown up in your face. You’re a smooth liar, but you’re not so good at silence - you like to keep talking and pushing your luck until it snaps back in your face. You get a little bitter when you feel you’re being treated badly, but you don’t like confrontation. You prefer to brood. Yet you still have hope and faith in other people. You reach out to them with your whole mind to accept whatever secrets they want to share with you. Should I go on? ” Stella furrowed her brow and pretended to think hard. “ You don’t like women wearing much makeup, so I’m guessing you aren’t into highborn ladies in fine dresses and jewels. You like them a little more down-to-earth. I think serving wenches in taverns are probably in serious danger with you around. Do you like to gamble? I imagine you do. You prefer games of skill to games of chance, because you can’t show your cleverness and experience when you’re just rolling dice. ” Stella raised her eyebrows. “ How am I doing? I can keep this up all morning. ”

Runes grins only grows larger as Stella blushes, enjoying flustering her a little and wondering if maybe there had been some action there. Perhaps on the forest floor after he snuck away? Sneaky little bard and naughty cleric. It would make for an interesting story atleast. As Stella hops over and leans against him, Rune lays a head on her shoulder, intentionally taking a loud, long breath of her. She smelled of strawberries and vanilla, with just a bit of sweat. A perfume perhaps? It smelled wonderful and could only imagine what it smelt like after..... Nope, nope don’t go there. Her hair, a short blond, was soft and it shined as it reflected the sunlight. It was a little greasy from the lack of a bath house. Damn not the bathhouse thought again. Rune nuzzled in and focused on her thumb as it circled his thumb. He made a careful point to cross his legs a little as Stella began to list what she knew or thought she knew about him being right on about 95% of what she said. Her sneaky smile was endearing and made Rune feel all the more special.  “I can see why your a spy. You collect information like a sponge to water. Though I must say most woman are safe from me. I’m not quite the shark you seem to think I am. And while I bet you could go on all morning , what surprises me is how closely you payed attention to all the little details that make me who I am.”  Rune lifts his head, his face only a few inches away from Stella’s. “Do I intruige you Lady Stella? Just why do you care about your little squishy rogue?” Rune waits patiently. A small quiet smile sits on his face I didn’t want to make her agree to any romantic relationship but maybe that’s how she feels? Should I put the brakes on and just relax? Let’s see what she does. I’m just looking at her after all. While holding hands. Tightly. Hmmm.  Rune for the first time hopes Stella can’t read thoughts. Hopefully she’s not watching him too closely either. Stupid manhood. Always making it hard to think around woman and making some of his thoughts obvious. 

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time: Night of the 21st of Arryth Who: Hendrick, Maev Sangrey Huon, Marlow, Kolvar, Ilbrynn, Ayda, Fae, Gantar, Thorrul, Cidraeg, Marcel, Vydahl, Durst. Maev stifled a yawn, her eyes blinking rapidly. She poured over the plans for the Tower that Wolf had given her, clenching a blueprint with whitened knuckles. No fortress was impenetrable. There had to be some way in; someway to make up for today. Huon, Marlow, Kolvar, Ilbrynn, Ayda, Fae, Gantar, Thorrul, Cidraeg, Marcel, Vydahl, Durst. The day had started so well. The ambush had been planned for weeks, everything and everyone had been in position according to design. And then those adventurers had shown up instead of the Blademarks and everything went to hell. Maev toyed with the locket on her neck, doing her best to shut away its denizens from her mind. There was too much blood shed today to grieve for anyone else. Huon, Marlow, Kolvar, Ilbrynn, Ayda, Fae, Gantar, Thorrul, Cidraeg, Marcel, Vydahl, Durst. The names kept repeating in her head, over and over. She had watched most of them fall in front of her, butchered like cattle by Blademark veterans or that psionic monster. Nothing she could do to save them. In her minds eye Ilbrynn and Thorrul collapsed on either side of her, bleeding from their ears and eyes, giving her a pleading look. Save us. Why can’t you save us? Now he was cutting down Fae right in front of her- brave Fae , trying to cover the others’ retreat. The alien man had nearly bisected her. Who was he? Why was the convoy transporting him- and those things? What in gods’ name were the Blademarks really doing? Maev scowled. The answers had to be in those documents that idiot Rune had stolen and kept to himself- or perhaps not, according to the pessimistic reports of her surviving soldiers. And now he had run off somewhere. Wolf had vouched for him, so she’d try to stay patient- but with everything happening her patience was wearing thin. When was the last time she had slept through the night? Before the Mourning? Huon, Marlow, Kolvar, Ilbrynn, Ayda, Fae, Gantar, Thorrul, Cidraeg, Marcel, Vydahl, Durst. “Excuse my second interruption this evening, Lady Maev . Would you be inclined to grant me a second audience?” The priest? What could he want at this hour? Maev tensed reflexively, but considered his actions during the fight. He seemed more steadfast and reliable than his companions; age no doubt had brought some wisdom and tenacity that his youthful compatriots lacked. Or maybe not. Bringing up Varron was not just tactless, it was pointless; she didn’t care if the brutish elf was alive or dead. But she respected his dedication to his allies, even if they did not deserve it.As for his questions… she had no answers. “I’m sorry, Hendrick, was it? I had no notion that the enemy was transporting those abominations. Nothing like this has happened before. I’ve never seen such creatures in my life, except…” She frowned. Except after the Mourning. The Blademarks couldn’t have captured live specimens, could they? Maev wanted to believe it was impossible, that no living creature would consort with such vile monstrosities- but she couldn’t say for certain. They were fumbling in the dark, one and all. Huon, Marlow, Kolvar, Ilbrynn, Ayda, Fae, Gantar, Thorrul, Cidraeg, Marcel, Vydahl, Durst. I will avenge you. “Except once before, and I hoped to never see them again. I have no idea what House Deneith is doing with these undead horrors, or who their nightmarish leader with the mind powers was. The most disconcerting thing to me is that a house heir was taking orders from it… and that it didn’t seem to care at all when he died. I’m hoping your roguish friend has some answers for us. I haven’t had a chance to speak with him.”

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time : Night, 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Assorted members of Maev's Marauders, Morim ir'Soras Morim took several deep breaths after the gag came off, savoring the feeling of fresh air while he could. He tensed at Stella's offer of wine. Sure, she could drink some to "prove" that it wasn't poisoned or drugged, but all that said for certain was that she was unaffected by whatever was in the cup. Then again... who knew what tomorrow might bring? He shrugged and nodded to indicate he'd partake. It was no Aundarian vintage to be sure, but in his circumstances it might as well be ambrosia. Morim closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the flavor, remembering better days back home. Before the war. Before the Blademarks. Before ever coming to this accursed country. Opening them again, he examined his interrogator. What more could she want from him? What more could he tell her that hadn't been said? Morim had pored over everything in his mind ever since Maev had returned, but there was nothing there, nothing to explain her rage, her fury, her sorrow- except for one thing, perhaps. The Tower. Perhaps it was best for her to follow her lead here. He looked at her expectantly.

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time: Night of the 21st of Arryth Who: Hendrick, Maev Sangrey "...except once before, and I hoped to never see them again." So Maev had run into those monstrosities before. She seemed very concerned, like her mind was having to work overtime to make any sense of these occurrences. While she was talking, Hendrick never felt as if she was paying him any attention. She was barely even getting out the things she wanted to say to him. Her eyes revealed a story of pain, anger and confusion. He was glad he managed to get her out alive and that she was strong enough to destroy those undead horrors. Her friends had not been so lucky, massacred on after the other, without ever really standing a chance. "I am sorry for your loss." Hendrick gave her the look of a man who had been there before. "Don't fault yourself for things that lay outside your influence. You did what you could and we managed to get out a quite a few of our respective friends." "So you had seen these things before? These abominations to this world? How? They were vile and vicious, but not beasts. They were smart! And I don't understand how these blademarks could work with creatures such as these either. I mean, what could they possible believe to gain that would warrant such uncontrollable risk." Hendrick started stroking his beard, a thing he rarely does anymore. Usually he has some sort of idea of whether to trust people with information or not, but this was different. This could be the end of it all. "I have to tell you something. I will need your full attention, please leave these other thoughts for a moment and listen." He waited for her to slowly focus on him, her tired eyes opening up somewhat unnaturally. "This psionic madness, this creature. I have seen something like this before. I have been there. The massacre in the barracks in Taer Valaestas . Nala , Blue and me. I have spoken to a young guard, Jenkins ,  who had commited an act of terror in the city. He wanted to be brought in. I interrogated him, probed his mind for a night. He was there, physically. But mentally, sometimes it was him, but mostly not. There was something else. Some darkness, madness even. We brought him in. I should have known, but I think its magic had some influence over me as well at the time. So we went to the barracks. The young lad, he just turned. The thing took over. It killed them all. Every single one. It was not even a fight, it was a slaughter. The same magic we saw earlier today. People's minds melting. We managed to put the lad down, but the power that had possessed him had also killed two of us and made sure to frame us for the events. We had to flee. This is why we are trying to leave. This power. I have never seen anything like it." Hendrick turned silent. He sat there, looking at the hands with which he had to free Jeezargo . "This, whatever this is will have to be stopped. We have to. Somehow."  Hendrick glanced over at the blueprint Maev has been studying at a time she should be resting. "What is this you are looking at? I think we are past the luxury of secrets now."

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time : Night, 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Morim ir'Soras His eyes closed to better enjoy the wine, and a small smile tugged at Stella’s mouth. She liked wine, but it was chocolate that made her close her eyes and savour. She let him drink as much as he wanted before capping the flask and putting it away. It seemed this Blademark wasn’t much of a talker when Maev wasn’t smacking him around. He just watched her warily. “I’m checking you for facial fractures. Keep very still. I have a nervous disposition.” Stella lifted her hands, slowly, and took him by the chin so she could examine the damage. Her fingertips pressed lightly, searching out the bones underneath the worst bruising. No crackling, no splintering. Just some wincing. “All fine. I see you’re giving me the silent treatment on purpose and not because your jaw is broken. I’m going to take a look at your wrists now.” The rope had bitten tight, leaving dark welts. Painful, but not too damaging. Stella wouldn’t have untied him even if his hands had been pale, mottled and cold, but she might have burned a Healing Word on him. “Somebody knows their knots around here. Looks like you’re keeping all your fingers.” Or he would if he survived this, which he wouldn’t. Maev was going to kill him. The Blademark had seen too many faces, heard too many names. He was a dead man. Killing him made strategic sense. Maev wouldn’t draw it out. She’d make it quick. Yet the certainty of what was coming still brought back the irrational tightness in Stella’s chest. It felt like she was the hurt one, the trapped one. The one who was waiting to die. “Do they cover this at Blademark school?” Stella still studied him, caught in memories. “Interrogation resistance. Tactics and counter-tactics for capture situations.” It had most certainly been covered in the nest where a little starling had first learned to fly. “It’s a subtle art. What secrets you can afford to give up without betraying your team. How much you can hold back before you make yourself useless enough to be executed. The limits of your tolerance for pain, fear, starvation, humiliation, isolation. But nobody can tough it out forever. And once you realise how fragile you really are, how profoundly you can be violated, you’re never whole again. You never get that confidence back, that strength. You just… learn to pretend. So you can get through each day.” He was lucky that Maev Sangrey still had some scruples. He could have been a hollow shell of a person by now. What was Stella even doing here? Not helping anybody, that was for sure. Just remembering. She sighed. “Do you need anything that I can reasonably provide? Light? Food? Warmth? Company?”

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Ah. This was going to require diplomacy. “ Well, truthfully, I was concerned you might be another spy. Or an assassin. Or worse. Actually, at one point I thought we might have the same target. But I figured out that you weren’t a threat to me and then I regretted hurting your feelings. And it seems I’m invested in keeping you alive. ” And holding his hand, apparently. Stella wasn’t sure where to even begin explaining the intensity of the isolation and loneliness that she lived with, the craving for even the simplest contact with someone who didn’t want to harm her. How tightly she had learned to bottle all that up. Not tightly enough, it seemed. But Rune was trying to figure out where he stood with her, and Stella owed him a real answer. Both of them were grownups, they could handle a frank conversation. “ It’s pretty obvious we have chemistry and if this job had been a simple one I probably would have dragged you to bed by the collar before we went our separate ways. I’m sure you would have made it worth my while for one night. But this is a very complicated situation that doesn’t have space for further complications. What I really need right now is a good friend who provides advice and tactical support. ” And maybe hugs.

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Well she wasn’t wrong. I am an assassin I just haven’t gotten a job yet. “Hey I am to a threat. I just choose not to be.” Runes ego has been stung and he gives you a pouty face that couldn’t look any more faked. Invested? An odd word choice but I guess it’s her idea of having a friend.  Professional but a good friend. Sounds good to me. Thank the gods she clarified that one. Rune nods and lays his head back on your shoulder . “To be honest I’m not sure I’d let you drag me off. I’d need a few dinners first.” Rune smiles to himself. “Complicated? I suppose. I like having someone I can go to cuddle and release stress too. I can definitely handle the good friend part though. Advice is doable but it’ll be full of sarcasm I hope you realize that.”  “So I have my ideas on how to help you. But I’m afraid you haven’t begun sharing your memories quite yet.”  Runes tone is playful but also full of curious expectation. 

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time : Night, 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Morim ir'Soras Stella was showing him far too much attention for standard questioning. As far as Morim could tell, there was no strategic value in providing such comfort- the interrogator was looking for something else here. Something personal. Soothing a guilty conscience, perhaps? Gods, was she the executioner, come to offer him some unconventional last rites? Whoever she was, she was no priest. She listed off various methods for breaking down a sentient being's will as as casually as one would read items from a shopping list; and she was a little too trained in diagnosing his particular type of injuries. A professional then, a person accustomed to the grim business of extracting information. Morim had been trained to resist interrogation... but she made him not want to. His voice was naturally soft, and Morim had to try hard to keep it from quavering. Avoiding Stella 's eyes, he spoke. "I have family in Breland. Tell them I'm sorry I won't be there for my brother Eliam's graduation next Spring. Tell them I'm sorry I skipped Cirra's wedding for this assignment. And tell my father I'm sorry I failed." He paused, preparing for his last betrayal. He was fairly certain he would never make it out of the cave alive, but if the Blademarks really were up to something... there was one place that would definitely have proof. "There's a tower   to the north of Pylas Maradal. Dul Zhakaar.    A private stronghold and dock for House Deneith. Comes across as nondescript in all official documents, only a token garrison, but... I've heard stories.  ' Marks in town say the place is cursed; a prison for special House enemies, a lab for dark magic, a transport waypoint for slaves, all kinds of rumors. The ones who have actually been there, though, won't say a word about it. Tightlipped at the mention of it. I had a friend who kept pressing a Vet about it a few months back- harmless teasing- and eventually they transferred him there." Morim remembered Rictor's face when the orders came down. He had gone straight to the Logistics officer and begged for him to reconsider. "I haven't heard from him since then." Morim steeled himself and met the half-elf woman's gaze. "If the convoy was off course, and transporting the monsters your boss said they were... there's no other place I can think they'd be going. And that's all I know. You can tell her as much." He slumped back against the wall, hoping against hope that that was enough to save him. He'd worry about any other consequences if he survived tomorrow.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Bow. Check. Rapier. Check. Dagger. Check. Stella worked down her inner checklist methodically as she finished cleaning and binding a gash in her upper arm. She had to pull on one end of the makeshift bandage with her teeth to tighten it enough to stop the bleeding. The pain made her teeth clench, but it was nothing compared to the state most of the others were in. She wiped her hands on her leggings, then stretched the tired muscles in her back and shoulders, checking she could still draw and fire. Mobility. Check. Grip strength. Check. Barely concealed panic. Double check. Thirty minutes. After assaulting a fortified position, surprising the guards, cutting through wave after wave of reinforcements, defeating a heavily armoured House Deneith captain, then storming up multiple floors of an excessively well-defended tower, they had just thirty minutes to tend their wounds, gather their strength, and prepare for a final combat. If they were lucky. If this wasn’t yet another ambush. If the psionic didn’t unleash some fresh nightmare on them just to get a kick out of watching. Of course, it would be easier to rest if Rune’s mangled screams weren’t still echoing through the eerily deserted tower. Oh, and if the psionic wasn’t still watching them. Listening to them. Even giving them chatty updates on how much fun he was having torturing Rune right now. And the moment Stella let herself think about that - the appalling suffering Rune was going through, and whose fault that was, and the sickening certainty of dying here, and what would happen to the rest of the party - she would have a complete breakdown. She would hit the kind of uncontrollable panic attack she had been suppressing for years. And as the world’s most stoic cleric kept reminding her, she needed to stay focused. For everyone’s sake. Speaking of Hendrick, he had been diligently patching up the others. Wolf and Blue had both gotten badly battered during so many rounds of combat, and Nala could barely stay on her feet, the statue had wounded her so severely. Now Hendrick was trying to bind up a cut to his wrist, which Stella knew from experience was a fiddly task with only one spare hand. She sidled up. “Mind if I help?” He could manage by himself, but for some reason, she felt the need to do one small thing to even begin to make up for this monumental fuckup. And taking over cleaning and binding the cut calmed her somewhat. Slowed her heartbeat and steadied her hands. Clearly not a problem Hendrick had - his hands were always steady. It was anyone’s guess how he stayed this calm, even after the psionic had taunted him personally about failing to protect his friends. Maybe it was faith? Maybe that was the difference between them. Because Stella couldn’t stop thinking about everything she had done wrong to lead them to this point. All the lies, and all the distractions, and all the mistakes. Rune, don’t rush ahead. Rune, don’t engage the bridge guards until the other team is ready. Rune, don’t move until I give the signal. Rune, don’t go into the tower. Rune! She should have known. Of course Rune would be so reckless, so full of his own strength and confidence, that he would sneak ahead into the tower and explore by himself without even telling them. Of course the tower would be full of traps and enemies. Of course the psionic would capture him and torture him. She should have stopped him. She should have flattered his ego so that he wouldn’t feel such a need to prove his worth. She should have taken him by the throat and impressed her will on him. She should have… Fuck. Stella took a few more deep breaths and focused on patching Hendrick up before she lost her cool altogether. “Hendrick…” What did she even say to the man who was about to find out she had betrayed him from the beginning? The truth, maybe. Thirty minutes was long enough to squeeze in a full and sincere apology. But there was still the tiniest possibility she might be able to keep her family out of the firing line if she could just keep her mouth shut a little longer. After all, in the next hour either she would be dead or the psionic would be. And confessing here wouldn’t save any of them. So Stella chose to sin by silence one last time, knowing it would not be forgiven. “Thanks.” For being the calm one. For always advising her to hold back. For providing unwavering protection in the face of intense violence. For putting everyone else before himself. For not blaming her too much. For more things than Stella could even list in the few minutes they had left. “Just thanks. For everything.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line So many wounds. The magic constructs had left large dents in armour and equipment. Deep cuts. Cold burns. People were not looking good. They had to take a break. There was no way they could fight such a powerful foe with open wounds. However, even with regained strength, Hendrick did not think them to be a match for this sadistic madman. He did feel reminded of the Starhaunt, although the Thaldrin incident could have been resolved better if tensions had not risen as high. He tried to focus on bandaging people. Nala looked massively bruised. Some of her scales were shattered. He would have loved to just let the flame magically heal the wounded and restore them to full combat effectiveness. But he was tired. Very tired. He didn’t let it show, at least he tried not to, but there was little divine energy left in him. He barely managed to tend to the wounds of the others without his hands starting to shake. He tried to ignore the mental scars he could see in those tormented faces, at least for now. Having finished with the most grievous wounds, it was finally time to look after his own cut. “Mind if I help?” “Ahemm, yes. Sure. Thank you.” She started mending his wound, with some nervous but well-trained movements. Hendrick felt glad Stella was around, it was nice having someone trustworthy and capable at his side and as assurance for times to come, should his flame get extinguished. However, he hoped it wasn’t an impossible task, even for her. He admired her a lot. Her skillset was very impressive and her intellect was by far superior to his own. Thaldrin realised there was something about her. She did know Hendrick was working for the flame, without him ever having mentioned it. But whatever she was here for, she seemed loyal. Maybe even looking for guidance. “Hendrick. Thanks. Just thanks. For everything” “Oh, no need to thank me. I am glad you are here.” His voice broke a little bit. He noticed the fear and sadness coming up. He really questioned following this madman into this tower of his. Please don’t let me be the cause of any more death. He did fear for Stella’s life, he just couldn’t deal with that again. It would break him.  “Whatever happens, don’t let his words get to you. We are united now. Nothing else matters once we get there.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line The slight break in Hendrick’s voice just about cracked Stella’s heart in half. Fuck. She barely knew anything about Hendrick, but she could tell he had been too stoic for too long. Two of his friends had died in the massacre of over a hundred innocent guards in Taer Valaestas before Stella had even joined the party, and the five days since then had been one terrifying confrontation after another, building to this night - hour after exhausting hour of brutal violence while being forced to listen to Rune begging for death. Nobody could shoulder that weight alone. And it stabbed her in the feelings that Hendrick was still trying to reassure her when she had done nothing but betray his trust. Stella hastily tied off the bandage so she could take his hand in both of hers. Just looking at her smaller hands around his made her think about Rune, and her grip tightened even as she swallowed hard. “I have a lot to confess to you very soon if we both survive this. A lot that will need to be dealt with. But I’ve got you, Hendrick. I’m your backup and you’re mine. I’m trying my hardest to look after your party. And I need to get our rogue back.” Those screams. Like Rune couldn’t keep the pain in even though it was destroying his throat to scream so loudly. Stella couldn’t imagine ever sleeping again without dreaming of this tower. “Do you know of any healing that can fix the damage this psionic is doing to him? Any clue if he will ever be whole again? Because I don’t have to tell you that we’re very likely to die trying to save him.” Or what was left of him.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Why now. Hendrick tried to hide his disappointment. He had known something was up. Maybe she was another eye sent by Gautreme to clean up some loose ends. Or maybe she answered to some different power. Or maybe she just had some personal agenda against him. Regardless of what it was, it had to be bad, very bad for her to bring it up now. She clearly was heavily invested with his companions, otherwise she would not feel the need to right some wrongs. But now? He couldn’t help but feel trapped. Hendrick moved his hands slowly out of her grasp, taking hold of hers by the fingers. He couldn’t start doubting now. “You have the fire in you, Lady Stella. I saw it the moment we met, the many times we fought and I see it now. This is what I go by and trust in. This evil, tormenting our common friend. It has to go. It cannot linger in this world.” Rune’s screams barely noticed in Hendrick’s mind any longer. The only reason Rune was still alive was so that he could scream. Crushing their spirits. This wasn’t about killing Rune or anyone else. He wanted to take something away from them. Slowly, painfully. He knew these kinds of games only too well. From either end. “I don’t know whether we can fix him, if we get him out alive. I don’t believe this will be easy. He will likely never be the same again. But he is one of us. And I will try my hardest to get him back. Not just his body, but also his mind.” They were likely to die. But this was not what the men and women needed to hear. “Stella, I do not share your negativity in the face of adversity. The situation is looking grim, but you have been in bad situations before. This is not about odds, it is about beating them! Look at our fighters over there. They don’t need doubt, they have enough of that themselves. Lead them to victory! It is the only way to get Rune back.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line That would be a no, then. Hendrick had no special cleric power that would piece together a shattered mind. And he wasn’t willing to accept the very real likelihood that they were about to sacrifice their entire team, including Maev and Wolf and this new elf Zeth, on a suicide mission to rescue the broken shell that had once been a friend. Faith again. Hendrick had it to the point of blindness. Stella didn’t even believe in herself, let alone anyone else. She had complete, heart-stopping faith only in her family, and they couldn’t save her now. But for some inexplicable reason, she just couldn’t bring herself to disappoint him. Fucking clerics. Stella heaved a very deep sigh and took her hands back. “Well, you have a special talent for talking me into things, Hendrick. Much against my better judgement. So I have to hope that you can… help… Rune.” Even though Stella knew from very bitter experience how many pieces you could break a person into. And that little encounter had been nowhere near as sadistic as this. Anyway, even if she’d been willing to make a break for it, the psionic would not take too kindly to losing his new playthings. He could probably activate some sort of lockdown protocol to trap them here. So even though Hendrick had a tragically misplaced faith in their chances in general and her leadership in particular, one way or another, the only way out was through. Stella leaned against the wall beside Hendrick, letting the stone support her aching muscles. Her voice went soft with tiredness. “This is the whole point of the Silver Flame, isn’t it? Fighting evil. Lighting up the darkness. All of your cleric brothers and sisters faced this moment in the past. They all dug down deep and found that last bit of fire they needed to fight one more time. I guess that’s the power of faith.” She rubbed her gritty eyes. “I’m not sure if we’re dealing with a literal demon or just an especially creative sadist, but I’m guessing we need to cleanse him with fire either way.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line There they were leaning against the wall. The room was filled with magical contraptions of all sorts, some of which they had slain on their path to the top. There were his wounded companions, some he had known for a while, others he barely knew their names. None of them had been alongside him for what would constitute a long time though. He didn’t know these people. He knew about them and some of their desires and fears. One picks those things up after a while. But truly knowing someone, no chance. Yet their path was set. Why they were walking it, he genuinely couldn’t tell anymore. Things just fell into place, maybe more out of place really. And now they were here. “Well, you have a special talent for talking me into things, Hendrick …” Talking her into things. This is what he wanted at some point, but now he felt regret. Stella shouldn’t be here. But I guess neither should he. Or anyone else for that matter. But he was here. Right now, with a group of somewhat capable people. Maybe this was their calling, his calling. He had failed the flame in so many ways, whilst rooting out dissent and finding enemies within. The ways of the flame are not easy to follow, even for the highest of priest. Maybe it could just be that simple. Maybe this was it. “I suppose I have to apologise to you. I should not have talked you into this that one night. But would do again. I needed you to help me take care of people. It was too much to ask. I had no other choice though. But now I have a choice. Don’t fight a fight you cannot commit yourself to fully. You stood down with Thaldrin. I accepted that. You can try to leave as well. I won’t stop you, I even tell you to.” He paused for a little. “I wish I could say the same for that creature upstairs.” He realised that it was too late to give her the option to flee. He wanted to show her some sign of affection that could make things better. But there wasn’t really anything that could excuse his oversight of leading her into this death trap. “I am sorry.” “…I guess that’s the power of faith.” Faith, hah. He managed to keep down a snarly laugh. He had seen faith. People who have not experienced it think of it as this thing. This perfect idea. You have faith in the flame, in the sovereign host, whatever. You believe, that is it. But faith is different. Everyone feels different. People argue about what is right and what is wrong. Massacres have been committed in the name of faith. He had slaughtered and murdered in the name of faith. Too much even for his fellow followers. It took him years to understand that evil can not only be cleansed, but redeemed. It had helped. They gave him another chance, but he was indebted. His life was theirs, would be until the end. This was the clearest he had seen in years. This was where his special talents could shine. This was where the old Hendrick needed to return. And he hated it. Maybe he will never find back to who he was before these last few days. Before this tower. “I know the Silver Flame has many critics. We have massacred innocents, in order to extinguish those that are too wicked to be kept alive. Nothing will ever bring those lives back. Many of us have sinned. We have sinned. But now. Nothing has ever been clearer. There is no innocence left here. I have to follow the calling.” He sighed deeply turned over and looked into her dark brown eyes. “Frankly, I do not know how much resolve I can still muster. As you said, this is where this last bit of fire has to be found. This flame, this roaring fire has to be fuelled with not only my faith, but some of me. Zeal some people call it. I cannot guarantee what will happen in there. But this is it. Something will happen. I will die or I will succeed. But I fear I will change. I trust you, for what it is worth. Try to bring me back. I think you are one of the few people that possible could.” The only one.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line “Leave?” Stella managed a laugh, a hollow one, as she stared blankly at the carnage in front of her. The destroyed armour, her shattered companions, the blood spattered all the way up the wall. Five days. Just five days with this party and she was ready to face an appalling death at the hands of a psychopath rather than let them down. “Yeah, I’ll think about that.” Both of them knew the truth. Maybe it was duty, maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was pure stupidity. It didn’t matter now. Neither of them was going anywhere. The world tilted from her tiredness, and Stella leaned harder against the wall. She was so exhausted, she could barely even think about throwing herself into another battle. Her muscles ached and burned. Stella forced herself to dig out a ration bar and some water from her pack. Small bites, small sips. That cleared her head a bit. “You don’t owe me an apology, Hendrick. You did the right thing that night. And I let you. I could have stopped you right there.” Should have, really. She hadn’t deserved his trust. She had even tried to subtly warn him, but she hadn’t been willing to break cover. And now this psionic was going to reveal exactly what she was, and even though Stella desperately wanted Hendrick to hear it from her first, she still couldn’t bring herself to speak her family name out loud. Not here, not now. Not with the psionic listening. “I’m sorry too.” That was all she could manage to say. Out of all her mistakes, this whole situation had to be the worst. The sick feeling of dread in her stomach had settled a bit by the time she finished her ration bar, managing to swallow the last few bites. Stella had no love for a theocracy right on the border of her own homeland, nor for the many sins they had committed in the name of righteousness, but she couldn’t find it in her to say anything about the Silver Flame right now. After all, she had also done dark deeds for a cause she thought was right. Maybe she and Hendrick were the same that way? Maybe they were two bad people trying to do good. She looked over at Hendrick just in time to totally fail her saving throw against that cleric gaze that seemed to read her soul. Stella swallowed very hard, struck by how much she didn’t want to know how Hendrick might change in there. She spoke softly. “I don’t think you’re running low on fire, Hendrick. Quite the opposite. I think it must take a lot of effort to keep all that fire in check. I think you’d have to bury it down very deep so it doesn’t burn everyone. And I think letting it all out again might be explosive. But we need to burn this man down. We need to burn him very badly. So you incinerate that son of a bitch, and leave the collateral damage to me.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Hendrick listened to everything Stella had to say. She was too smart, not to understand the situation they were in. Nothing he could say would change that. But he didn’t want that anymore anyway. She deserved to know how dire things looked. He also leaned back further against the wall. Stella was eating tiny bites of her ration. Hendrick could never eat straight before battle. He never could keep food down. Back at home people joked about the fire burning so strong in him, the food would start smouldering on the way down. No wonder it didn’t stay there. Even before that though, Sara did that to him as well. Somehow, having known her all his life, he started being really nervous around her one day. First he thought he had caught some disease or something, but the clerics couldn’t help. It did not take them long to figure out what was going on. Sitting here with Stella, this room of terror laid out before them, it did remind him of the stable slightly outside the village, they used to flee to, when the trouble began. Burning houses, howls of rage and despair, the screams and hasty movements. The evening shadows cast by the raging fires. There was this one night, he remembered the wind. It was cold and loud, at least that was what is feeling suggested, but it was more like it took out all the noise of everything else. It was quiet, very quiet. The howls seemed distant, the screams were barely noticeable. Sara was sitting next to him, leaning against the cold stone wall. They were on a slight hill, scared. They were young, Hendrick was 6 years of age maybe. Children of that age don’t really get things. He was scared, but not horrified or anything else really, when he saw his home explode in the brightest flames he had ever witnessed. He knew this was bad, but he couldn’t work out why. All he did was putting his head on her shoulder and watch for hours. “I hope you understand what you ask of me. Or what I ask of you. Who knows at this point. Maybe this is where words fail.” He leaned back even further and placed his head on Stella’s shoulder. He felt like saying goodbye, or something meaningful. But he really couldn’t think of anything that would make sense to him, let alone anyone else. This was how he wanted to spend his last few sane moments.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line The moment Hendrick leaned his head against her shoulder, Stella closed her eyes and let go a very deep sigh. She might have won a little too much of Hendrick’s trust considering he was about to find out she was a traitor, but she couldn’t deny that this small moment felt steadying. Felt calming. She hadn’t realised she was so starved for any kind of friendly contact. Too many years of lies, maybe. When was the last time she had touched another person other than to deceive them before this party? She couldn’t even remember. “I do understand,” Stella told him in a low voice. “And I will not flinch from the consequences.” If Hendrick burned out his last candle tonight, or if half the party got incinerated taking this psionic out, that would be on her. “Burn whatever you have to. I’ll take care of the rest.” They sat for long minutes in silence. Stella focused on just breathing. In and out. In and out. Until her heartbeat slowed and settled. Until the world steadied around her. Even with the metallic tang of blood and armour on the air, as long as she kept her eyes closed, she couldn’t stop thinking of Rune. They had sat on the tree branch this morning just like this, his head against her shoulder, their fingers twined. Gods, she should have stopped him. Should have protected him. It wrenched her stomach to think of what he must be suffering right now. But she couldn’t do anything for Rune for another… how long was left now?… twenty minutes. And she had done all she could for Hendrick, or maybe Hendrick had done all he could for her. They were both prepared for what was coming. Gently she took her shoulder back. “Sit tight. You still have a few more minutes. I need to check on Nala.” She levered herself to her feet, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles, and headed over to her favourite dragonborn girl.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Hendrick remained leaned against the wall for a few minutes, nourishing his zeal with graphically detailed memories of the slaughter at the barracks and the caravan. For a while he even focussed on Rune’s screams, they didn’t seem real anymore. He must have been screaming so much, they seemed monotonous, as if he lost the will to even shout out his pain into the world and was trying to be as dead as possible, whilst still being kept alive against his will. He got angry with himself. Sitting there, resting and even going sentimental. The self-loathing was a powerful tool once again. Stella was doing what he should be doing now. He got up with purpose. Zeth and Maev were engaged in a conversation. It sounded like Maev was trying to get the prisoner they found to maybe give them any more hints on what they could expect upstairs. The creature was probably watching everything they did, for whatever sick pleasure. “Maev, Zeth. Is there anything more I can do to help you or anyone else getting bandaged up? I will not want this abomination to live, because I have not done everything in my might to stop it. There shall be no carelessly secured wounds or anything else. Check your equipment. Zeth, is there anything, anything you can tell us? Maybe not even about him, but about you. You seemed competent, but I have not seen enough to understand how you are going to help us in the carnage to come.”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Who: Hendrick, Zeth (and Maev). With his saviour asking for information, Zeth felt responsible for providing what little information he could, but the more he tried to gaze through the mist that laid heavy upon his mind, the less he was able to perceive, it all seeming like shadows dancing in his mind, to vague and abstract to gather any real information from. “Maev, Zeth. Is there anything more I can do to help you or anyone else getting bandaged up?" Zeth gave a small apologetic bow to Maev, before turning to answer the colorfully dressed man. "I Have no physical needs, that need tending, my body is slightly tired from the ordeal I've been through, but the matter at hand takes precedence." Zeth tightened his grip, feeling his muscles tense and relax, letting the tension slowly crawl over his skin and steadying himself, readying his body for the fight before letting it relax again, keeping himself keen and prepared whilst checking for any wounds. He sighs as he relaxes again finding nothing. "I do however have another problem, one I doubt you can solve good sir, I see things not as they should be, but warped, my perception of things clearly not working as it should, as I doubt you dress as colorfully as I see you." Zeth smiles to the man. "I will not want this abomination to live, because I have not done everything in my might to stop it. There shall be no carelessly secured wounds or anything else. Check your equipment." A sliver of sadness can be seen on Zeth's face for but a moment before he smiles once again "I miss no equipment, I have all I need right here..." He says looking over his body, breathing slowly but deeply, like his masters taught him, each breath pushing the tiredness of torture futher and futher away. Zeth looks back up and once again gives a friendly smile, despite the ordeal they are placed in. "Zeth, is there anything, anything you can tell us? Maybe not even about him, but about you. You seemed competent, but I have not seen enough to understand how you are going to help us in the carnage to come." His smile becomes a frown and he bows once more "I am sorry, but there not anything of use that I can remember, nothing I can share to cast light or clarity upon our situation." Coming to face Hendrick again Zeth thinks for a moment at nods at the the man. Zeth begins a small mantra "I fight through my body, through my body I fight." He says, his focus now back on Hendrick. "I need no weapons or tools and as you see," Zeth gestures to his body "I've yet to take a blow, I'll do my best to provide you all with the safety that my body and mind can provide, I'll safeguard you behind myself to the best of my ability." A mournful look overcomes the elf as he bows once more. "And I am sorry, truly, for you and your friends here, I hope we can finish this quickly and end this suffering. And I hope you don't mind me asking, but what've brought you all here good sir? What trial are you trying to overcome?" Zeth says as he looks intently and Hendrick, giving him a peaceful but determined look.

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Who: Hendrick, Zeth (and Maev). Hendrick gave the new member of this hopeless mission a stern inspection. His eyes gazing up and down. Zeth was barely carrying anything. No obvious weapons or armour, his loose grey robes were the only form of protection visible. Yet as Zeth had pointed out, he had not been hit so far in their ascension up this tower. He had heard tales of these fighters. They were trained in monasteries and learned to perfect their self to not require any weapons or armour for combat. He had seen him move fast and hit and kick enemies with deadly precision. "I miss no equipment, I have all I need right here..." “I have heard tales of warriors like yourself. In my understanding, and correct me if I am wrong, your punches and kicks can hit as hard as weapons.” Hendrick was genuinely impressed, he somehow in all his travels had never managed to speak to someone with Zeth’s abilities. “I am very glad we managed to free you out of this prison of yours. Unfortunately, it seems you still suffer from of the ill-effects of your imprisonment. I wish I could help you with some of my magic, but it is all but spent. I might be able to help you tomorrow, although I cannot guarantee that.” Hendrick had to briefly chuckle, before his face turned to ice again. “Colourful clothes are probably something I am not known for. Maybe your teachers had a way to lessen the fragilities of the mind, although you likely had to use all that power to survive those shameful tortures.” “And I hope you don't mind me asking, but what has brought you all here good sir? What trial are you trying to overcome?" “Do not feel sorrow, your imprisonment was in no way related to us trying to take this tower by force.” Hendrick paused for a moment, looking for the precise words. “We are here, because great evil has overcome our respective friends. Many have died a pointless death in the face of this evil. And we have come here for revenge, but also the knowledge of having to stop whatever is transpiring here. For everyone’s sake. For their sake, your sake, my sake.” Rune’s screaming bounced off the walls over and over again. At that point, it was hard to tell which specific noises were his, and which were echoes of pain already cast away by yet more of the same. “And for Rune’s sake.” “Trial? I compliment your calm in the face of this. I wish this ordeal could leave me as unscarred as it seems to be the case with you, friend. I think we are on some sort of trial, I am at least. But my vision seems to be too clouded to see fully what this trial might be. Maybe being able to name it is the first and most important step.” Finishing his visual inspection of his new monk ally, he noticed the brushes and paint. Hendrick pointed at them. “Is that a hobby of yours or is it part of your calling?”

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Who: Hendrick, Zeth (and Maev). “I have heard tales of warriors like yourself...” Zeth smiled at Hendrick, for it had been long since he had met anyone who knew of monks and their like. "Indeed good sir, my punches and kicks may strike as hard or as fast as many weapons, but with it I've learned to trust in the power of oneself and to restrain myself, weapons are for killing and my body is no weapon." Zeth gives Hendrick a well meant nod and a compassionate smile, but he's cut short by the dreadful screaming of Rune's torture. "Colourful clothes are probably something I am not known for..." Zeth chuckles with him, "Yes I thought as much myself, perhaps you prefer simpler cloths like myself good sir. I've figured that my vision might impede me, but I can assure you it will not be of importance." Zeth takes a deep breath and focuses his eyes "Descerning friend from foe, is never a problem. When you treat both the same." He says straightening his posture, removing the weak spots in his defenses. “Do not feel sorrow..." "I understand fully good sir. No sorrow to be felt over that." Zeth gives a knowing nod, before giving Hendrick a saddened smile. "I cannot say I do not agree with you, but, by oath I am sworn not to kill, if I land the last blow on him, I will not strike him dead, If your conviction and will beckons you to end him, then so be it, I can't fault you that and you're fully in your right to want so." Sighing deeply Zeth calmly closes his eyes and brings his hands in front of himself to emphasize "One shouldn't fight with a closed hand, filled with wrath nor justice, blinded by it's own course, but an open one, one willing to accept, forgive, and give compassion, one open to the outside and willing to learn from it." Opening his eyes again he looks at hendrick, Zeth's eyes kind and warm. "A simplified version of the values taught to me, but it should provide you with the insight you need good sir. After all you strike me as an insightful man." "Trial? I compliment your calm in the face of this..." "I could say the same for you, your calm is undoubtedly a strength to be sought to by your friends. And you need not worry good sir, I will do my best to protect you all from harm. Though I'm afraid that is all I can offer to help at this point. My mind seems clouded as well." Zeth blushes a little having Hendrick take interest in his hobby. "I'm humbled good sir, but it is only a hobby, I like painting the world as I see it, calm, beautiful and with life peeking out from every corner. Though I'm afraid, that may not apply well to this situation. My skills with the brush are not much to speak of either I'm afraid. I'd love to sit down and paint a picture when this ordeal is over, It helps settle the things that pull at us in our minds. I believe it to be a virtue to be as still as a painting in ones heart."

Night of 22nd Aryth Penultimate Floor, Psionic Torture Tower End of the Line Who: Hendrick, Zeth (and Maev). Hendrick was pleased to find such a pleasant individual on his journeys. A spark of hopefulness and life soothed his mind. “If ever your trial permitted, I would enjoy seeing your colourful lively version of myself on canvas.” Hendrick smiled, a rare sight these days. Zeth seemed to have a way of understanding his path like no one else he had met so far. But the smile didn’t last long, Rune’s agony brought an end to that with one piercing shriek. “I thank you for your help. And do not worry, I will not push you to disobey your vows. If the situation arises, I shall have no problem doing what I feel needs doing. Maybe another time you can teach me more about your ways and the path you follow, but not today. Not now.” Hendrick tries to remember what he had read and heard about these monks and their ceremonies ways for any small interaction. He tried to reconstruct as closely as possible the bow he thought might be appropriate. “I apologise if I have offended your culture, but I wanted to show my respect. The best of luck to both of us in battle. To all of us. Flame save us.” Hendrick walked of swiftly, knowing there was not much more time. He decided to try and retrieve some form of poison for the coming fight, however a vial of acid was what he could extract from the remnants of the mechanical spider. Everyone was rested somewhat. The biggest wounds have been dealt with. There was fear, but also dedication and valour in the men and women he was about to win or die with. He walked up onto a slightly elevated position and managed to get their attention. “Do you hear those screams? Listen! Listen closely. I see fear in you, anger, grief, maybe even shame or frustration. The path here was tough, riddled with disaster and death. I wouldn’t wish any of this upon anyone else, let alone this group of amazing people here. One of ours is up there. He might be gone past saving, but his captor is still there, laughing in our faces. Listen to the torment! The torture! Listen! I cannot sit idle with this happening in the world. We cannot outrun it. We cannot hide. This will end now. We made it up here and suffered through his wicked game. This is it. Follow me! The only thing left to do is kill the fucking bastard!”

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower Creak. Creak. Creeeeeeeak. The old wooden steps that led down into the hold of the ship played an ominous little background tune as Stella padded down them. She had to steady herself against the rail because burning that much adrenaline, magic and rage had tired her out to the point of shakiness. Even the slight motion of the ship threatened to throw her off balance. She paused at the bottom of the steps. The smallest glow had kindled in the far darkness of the hold, concealed behind stacks of lashed crates. For the hundredth time tonight, Stella rubbed her gritty eyes and tried to think. It seemed pathetic to even worry about her own survival now that she understood what was going on, but on the other hand, she would be no use against the Dreaming Dark if Hendrick burned her to death in the next sixty seconds. A rational person would prepare for combat right now. But after everything that had happened in the last few hours, she just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face even trying to harm him. Let him kill her, if he had to. She took one last moment to speak to Kashtai. The little green orb gave off an unearthly glow in the near darkness. “If anything goes wrong here, tell Maev everything you told me.” Maev probably wouldn’t thank her for that, but Maev would step up. No question about it. In the dimness, she found Hendrick praying with his candles. He looked just as tired and beaten as she felt. His armour still had a scratch where she had almost stabbed him while caught in the grip of that illusion. The candles flickered, placed exactly where he had murdered that poor Blademark and burned his body to ashes. And that made Stella as sad as it made her seethe. Partly because she had been a prisoner herself and she knew exactly what it was like waiting to die. And partly because it felt like she’d done this to Hendrick herself - piled on kindling and set fresh fire to something that had been banked and smouldering for a long time. Burn whatever you have to, she had told him. She just hadn’t imagined him murdering a helpless, unarmed prisoner. But she had promised not to flinch from the consequences. So rather than delivering a strong lesson on acceptable behaviour, Stella slowly, reluctantly slipped her shortbow off her shoulder and laid it down. Then her broken rapier. Then her dagger. After some thought, she even unbuckled her lightweight leather armour and slipped it off, letting herself breathe deeper and move easier. It felt like a million years since she had taken her armour off even to sleep. Unarmoured, she became intensely aware of the light pressure of her shirt against the fresh dragonmark that felt as hot and tender as if it had been seared into her with a poker. But even that didn’t matter any more. She paused at a polite distance, but Hendrick was either deep in prayer or pointedly ignoring her, so she took her cue from him. She seated herself on the floor, leaving enough space between them that he didn’t have to feel crowded, settled back against the solidness of a crate and closed her eyes. Deep, slow breaths calmed her and relaxed her muscles. All her exhaustion pressed down to the point that she might never get up again. She might just stay here forever. She spoke in a very soft voice, even softer than she intended. A tired voice. A defeated voice. “Do you want to ask questions? Or do you want me to talk?” She opened her eyes to study him. Tired as they both were, with her armour off and her magic tapped out, Hendrick could probably still cut her in half with minimal effort. She was no Thaldrin, that was for certain. So Stella spoke her next words knowing exactly what she was risking. “Or do you just want satisfaction?”

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower Hendrick had heard her approach the minute she set foot on the steps. Those careful steps. She used to be able to sneak up on people in the past. This time it was mostly about staying upright and not tumbling down those stairs out of exhaustion. He had to focus hard to not let his raw emotions get the better of himself. He had a ritual to conduct after all. The way she approached did not help. The look was the same she gave him on that first night. This intense question. Is it life or death you want of me. But this time, she didn’t have any fight left in her, like the prey that had been chased by its predator for days, somehow awaiting that freeing final slashing of the neck. If it had saddened him them, nothing could describe how destroying this was to him now. The only thing he did since silencing the prisoner was regretting that decision. And no matter how often he had thought about it, he could not come to a place where he should have let him live. Since the Flame he never did. But his time during his travels had changed him. He had remembered what it was like before. Compassion. Forgiveness. Even love. Stella’s face said it all. The dragonmarked, who for some reason had known more about Hendrick than anyone should. I guess, if she wanted to kill him, she would have had plenty of opportunities by now. He had known something was not right since Thaldrin had exposed her, but he did not anticipate a dragonmark. He had trusted her, because she was exactly what his friends needed at the time. What he needed really. Whilst he knew, that her intentions weren’t of the noble kind, he was surprisingly hurt. He had seen this coming all the way along, but that wasn’t soothing in the slightest. He had only been hurt like this once before. The following day he had joined the Church. They helped him get through stuff and he owed them his life. A debt that would likely be paid off soon. “Do you want to ask questions? Or do you want me to talk?” Hendrick was surprised at how broken her voice sounded. He felt the urge to build her up, he hated to hear her suffer so obviously. Usually she at least attempted to hide that under a layers and layers of pretend feelings and emotions. “Or do you just want satisfaction?” The words pierced his flesh. He didn’t know whether he was angry or just disappointed. He opened his eyes and tried very hard to look emotionless. Seconds later, he felt hollow, only his skin tingled with excess of hot and cold. But the rest was just emptiness. He stared in her direction for a while, not knowing how to respond. His shield and the still bloody dagger lay beside him. After a few minutes he managed to collect himself somewhat. He pushed his shield away and slowly got up. His dagger he sent sliding along the floor even further. He didn’t even really know why, but Stella’s defeated eyes gave him no choice but to start taking his armour off. He reached underneath his robes to loosen the leather strings holding the metal armour parts together. The process was tedious. He had not done it in a while. One bit after the other dropped down on the floor, sometimes briefly revealing bruises where his protection had kept him safe before the robes covered over them quickly again. Once done, he pushed them a good few yards away before returning to his spot of prayer. Hendrick gave her the most welcoming face his worn body and mind could muster. “Pray with me. You can tell me what you feel needs telling afterwards. Or ask questions I hope I can answer for you.” He pointed at the empty floor opposite him and the candle.

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower It felt like Stella had spent a lot of time recently waiting to die. Never more so than that last thirty-minute rest in that nightmare tower with the screams of a friend echoing around them. This took her right back to that waiting moment, the seconds ticking past as Hendrick stared at her, some nameless emotion crossing his face. He should just do it. Just get it over with. The silence felt strangling. Then he slowly began to disarm. The shield that he had had to put up between them. The dagger, still sticky with blood. Even his armour. Stella’s hand rose an inch off her knee, but she checked herself before she could try to help him with the buckles. That was a moment of warmth that happened between friends. Not between betrayer and betrayed. It looked like she wasn’t getting burned to death today. She was resigned to dying, but that was still a relief. She was just glad it wouldn’t be Hendrick. Inhale. Exhale. Stella stared at the empty floor across the candle from him. Tiredness weighed her down so hard she could barely think, and she hadn’t even taken the worst of all that combat. The psionic had held back on her, she realised that now. He had wanted her alive. For the dragonmark. So all that bruising, battering damage everyone else had taken should have gone to her. Slowly she stretched her stiff muscles enough to get up, move to that spot, and sit. The candle burned between them in the darkness. She had never been religious. Her family followed the Sovereign Host; the Flame was an upjumped cult in their eyes. Yet there was something calming about the twenty minutes of silence that followed, Hendrick sometimes muttering his prayers, Stella just staring into the single flame, thinking about all the lives lost in the last forty-eight hours. The slaughter she’d witnessed. The numbing impact of so much violence and pain. She had so many regrets, so much guilt. She could have saved so many lives. And the absolute worst failure had been Rune. When she shut her eyes, she could still see his body burning on that desolate beach as the night pressed down. Her throat closed tight as she swallowed hard. Inhale. Exhale. The candle burned down to nothing, leaving the two of them in the darkness. For the first time in her life, she had run out of lies. She only had the truth. In the listening silence, she finally gave up the secret that she had never once let slip in eight years of intense covert work. “My true name is Sofia Stefano Medani. I’m a specialist counterintelligence agent for House Medani. And I have mortally sinned.”

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower The darkness slipped in faster than he had expected. His prayers stopped and there only was silence. Even the boat seemed to hold back its creaking for this moment. Usually he preferred the light, but this was not the time for light. His eyes adjusted a little and he could see a hunched figure infront of him. The only light was the reflection in Stella’s eyes, although he did not know what they reflected. He was glad she managed to relax a bit and seemingly wipe away her fear of being murdered, at least for now. “My true name is Sofia Stefano Medani. I’m a specialist counterintelligence agent for House Medani. And I have mortally sinned.” House Medani. The Brelish and their spies. Of course, they were neutral, or whatever they want to call themselves. He hadn’t had the pleasure dealing with their kind for a while. Poor girl. The world is at war and they sent their youngest out into the world for their dirty work. Often with little chance of ever being able to return. Hendrick had seen this kind of life. He had lived it. He wasn’t dragonmarked nor was his institution as renowned for their agents. Ultimately it was the same everywhere though. Highly skilled broken people doing despicable things. In the name of something bigger than them. He sighed, remembering the events of this day. He reached out his hand to shake hers, a way to formal greeting he found, but he didn’t know a better way. “Hendrick van Lichtenfels. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sofia” He kept hold of her hand, still shaky and warm. She was trembling with fear of some sort. “You do not need to confess before me, I am not here to judge. But you can tell a friend.” He moved up closer to sit next to her and listen carefully to what she had to say.

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower Stella had imagined all the ways this conversation could possibly go. Rage. Contempt. Disappointment. Nothing but the kind of ringing silence left after an explosion. But she had never imagined that handshake - never imagined Hendrick giving her his full name in return. There was nothing more important, more meaningful, between spies than giving up your real name. An enemy who knew your real name could uncover all your secrets, all your weaknesses, and destroy you. For Hendrick to tell her this was an act of trust far greater than letting her put a dagger to his throat. And Stella had not reacted fast enough to stop him. “No. Hendrick. No! You can’t tell me that. I’m not trustworthy. I’m not safe. I’m not…” The words choked her and she could only stare at where he held her hand in the darkness, intensely aware of the warm roughness of his palm, the calluses on his fingers. The weight of this silence. She was supposed to be at his mercy right now. She didn’t understand him at all. Even though he had told her not to confess, it felt like she had a lot of sins to confess to. A lot of guilt weighing her down. He had probably figured it all out by now, since he was a spy and she was a counterspy, but it would be tragically sad if she missed this opportunity to make Hendrick understand what a lying traitor he was dealing with. He deserved to know. So she just burst out with everything she had kept so silent. “I betrayed you. Severely. From the beginning. I was never just hanging around in the Black Orb Inn at Taer Valaestas waiting for a job. I spent weeks building this identity, planting stories, figuring out how to slip into your party. Just to get closer to you. I almost killed you at the Starhaunt. After what Thaldrin had to say, I think I only held back from giving you that last little push because I figured I’d get caught. And after we talked that night…” This felt like the absolute worst part of this whole story. “Even after you decided to trust me, I still moved against you. I think I convinced myself it wouldn’t be so bad if I only searched for intelligence on you, as long as I protected the rest of your party.” Stella started laughing. Bitterly. “I wanted to tell you in the tower tonight, when we took those thirty minutes to rest. But I still hoped I could make it out of there without that thing finding out which House to punish for all this.” How stupid of her. She should have known there was absolutely no chance her family would get out of this unscathed. She caught herself still holding his warm hand. This was getting a little pathetic on her part, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. It felt like she had no hope left, no fight. Nothing but resignation. “I can’t do this to you any more. I just can’t. Please don’t forgive me. I don’t think I can take it.”

Night of 22nd Aryth On the Ship, After the Tower Hendrick listened intently. There were so many things, that started to fall into place now. No wonder she was so nervous around him all the time. No wonder she feared the response of a seasoned spy. As breaches in trust go, that was probably as close to straight-up murder as it gets. Her warm hand was still shaking, ignoring his sincerest efforts to make her feel comfortable and safe. He would have to lie pretty well to even slightly pretend this wasn’t a heavy blow to him. Sure, he was played, and he played her a bit in return. But he did never do anything that wasn't of best interest to her. Or at least what he thought that was at the time. The Starhaunt had changed his life. He had lost his purpose, he had lost his dignity, he had ultimately lost his life. Even his only personal joy, his pipe. All gone. All that was left to him was to serve the will of the flame. The will of the same flame that wanted him dead, cleansed of all his many sins he had committed in their name. Maybe the only reason she didn’t end him at the time was so that she could watch his slow demise. For whatever sick pleasure that might have given her. She should have just killed him and saved him this perilous journey towards a certain and insignificant death. Without having fulfilled any purpose. He had offered her everything he could give at the time. Full, unconditional trust. And he hadn’t expected her to stop doing her intelligence work, but he somehow had hoped for her to not try anything in their sleep. Maybe he hadn’t gotten through to her at all. His breathing fastened involuntarily. He retracted his hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tensing of the muscles too much. “I won’t judge you through your actions in the name of your family. We both had lived a similar life. Maybe too similar.” So many things to say crossed his mind. So much he wanted to just drop in now, but he knew better. His training kicked in and he calmed himself a bit. He turned towards her, her head hanging low. Don’t forgive me she had said. “You know what. You are right after all.” It was hard to keep his voice down. There was anger and pain, but not the clinical kind the flame had shown him. This was wild, uncontrolled. “This was the Eye of the Flame talking. Your friend Hendrick though will judge you. Look, I understand why you did things. And what you did was awfully smart and whatnot. Just don’t believe for a second I would have pulled something like you did back there. I believe in truth and trust for what little it appears to be worth. I am not putting myself above you here, we both are as low as they come. But this kind of shit is not easy to swallow. And for what? This?” With an insanely fast movement, Hendrick had opened his hidden pocket, took out his small book and slammed it on the ground, whilst simultaneously enchanting it with magical light. The darkness got banished instantly and his eyes were in pain, but he did not lift his stare of the book. “Of Heretics and Fiends” it said. “Professionally I forgive you. But personally I am not impressed, Stella.”

The sudden slam of the book on the deck between them made her jump. Light stung her eyes. But that well-deserved stab to the feelings hit hardest. She had known this was coming for days, yet she had critically failed to guard herself against the emotional impact. Because she would rather go back to that nightmare tower right now than face Hendrick’s justified anger. If she tried to speak even one word right now, she might crack clear in half. Just shatter apart from all of the sadness and grief that wanted to escape. It took all her effort, all her years of training to force it all back down. She took deep breaths until her heart rate settled and her eyes stopped stinging. Her face had become blank now. Her hands lay clasped and steady in her lap. This was survival. So she didn’t break into a million pieces. She could try to defend herself. Explain how much she adored her family, how weak they still thought her, how badly she needed their approval. Tell him that this was the first time she had ever made this confession to anyone. Protest that she had tried desperately to shelter and rescue his friends, even at considerable cost to herself. But although all of that was true, it just wasn’t enough. Nothing would be. She had done this damage to so many people in the last eight years. So many. Hendrick was just the first one to find out in this way. Stella had always been long gone by the time her victims found out what she had done, if they ever did. Just moved on to a new target and bottled up all those feelings like a good little spy. She didn’t even understand this physical weight of guilt, this choking tightness in her chest. It made no sense. She wasn’t supposed to care. Just a few days ago she would have pounced on this little book that glowed between them, full of spy curiosity. Now she couldn’t even look at it. This mission was over. Finished. Burned as dead as Rune’s ashes. “I’m so sorry.” She had to swallow several times to keep the emotion out of her voice. After everything she had done, it would be pure cowardice to flinch from judgement now. She had no right to be sad. “You’re absolutely right. You trusted me, and I grievously betrayed you. I have no excuses. I’m just sorry.”

They sat in silence for a little while. Stella’s shattered face was brightly lit by the symbol of her betrayal lying on deck, immovable, separating them so diligently. There weren’t many options left now for Hendrick. Whatever had happened in that tower, he knew they needed to interfere. It wasn’t like he had something to lose. Stella was capable and the best person to lead them to some form of success, although it might well be costly. Question was, will they work together or will they walk together. His instincts were to just walk away. Ignore what transpired here today. He had functioned under much worse conditions. Excelled even. She was well-trained enough to get herself together and, maybe through his fault or some other circumstance, she seemed to understand the importance of what was to come. They would function. All the bones in his body urged him to stand up and just leave her in this corner. But his heart painfully reminded him of Sara. He had walked away back then and started to function. The path seemed to have gone full circle to allow him and chose differently. The path he wouldn’t have been on, had he not decided to let Sara suffer in silence in her own mess. Stella’s restraint at the face of the book was impressive. Maybe it was just shame though. The way she controlled her breathing showed her thorough training. Most people could have been fooled by her emotionless exterior. But Hendrick had seen that too many times. Maybe she was in as much trouble as Hendrick. He had been on his last legs after all, why should it be different for her? “What is it House Medani needs?” Hendrick picked up the book and started flicking through some of the pages.

Her apologies clearly counted for nothing. She had expected that, but it still stung. And this silence felt intense. Felt dangerous. It didn’t take that cleric insight modifier to realise that she had pushed Hendrick to the very edge of his patience. Maybe he was rethinking whether he wanted that satisfaction after all. Stella had to hold in a whole lot more bitter laughing at what Hendrick asked next. Ah, yes. The all-important question of what House Medani needed. She loved her family dearly, but considering they were sitting on vast piles of gold inside fortified enclaves while running a thriving counterintelligence business, they could probably survive without her for a time. “House Medani needs to not be obliterated by what we came across in that tower. That’s what they need.” They needed that more than even Hendrick could possibly understand until she told him about the Dreaming Dark. “I was born a Medani, and unless I get excoriated, I will die a Medani. Their heritage is my heritage. Their power is my power. I make my own decisions about what’s best for them. So if you’re asking whether I’m going to kill you and take your book, the answer is no. Absolutely not.”

Hendrick sighed. Maybe it was the best they could do right now. "I think your people might overestimate the value of this little book here." Funny, how that old confusing collection of information could lead to so much trouble. Most of it was surely outdated by now. Hendrick remembered his earlier years. The dubious tasks. He always accepted. No questions asked. Although, thinking back, those assignments were never optional. He knew, failure to deliver was never an option either. Hendrick knew that, Gautreme did, Thaldrin knew better than all. He didn't want that sort of blow-back for Stella. He tried to convince himself that her skills were of utmost importance to the mission, and that was the only reason he cared so deeply. "Look, I cannot do this without you. I can't have you being in trouble with your family, not with all the problems I am already causing. I assumed by now, that killing me is not your intent." Stella's eyes showed resignation, whenever House Medani or her family was mentioned. Apparently it was the same story everywhere in that line of work. He felt her pain, he knew that experience all too well. He slowly lifter his arm and patted her on the shoulder, leaving his hand there for now. "We will work this out. I still trust in what we can achieve together, Sofia. I guess I still trust in you, somehow." A statement he knew to be true, but the pain was not going to go away anytime soon. 

Suddenly a thought was given birth in the back of Hendrick's head. Something or someone was watching them now. Something new. He leaned over and pulled her in gently with his arm around her shoulder. As silently as he could muster, he whispered: "Something is watching. It hasn't been for long. It is over there somewhere. I would suggest not spilling any more sensitive information, before this is dealt with. How do we do this?" He remained close like this to keep up the appearance, at least that is what he told himself. Even though his shoulder still hurt lifting his arm from the wight's arrows.

For some reason, Stella had never quite managed to get used to the distinct stab of pain and shame that came with being a disappointment. She’d had enough practice, having consistently disappointed her family since she was very small. But a tiny part of her still shrivelled up when she realised they had ended up exactly where she had hoped to avoid - a severely fractured team forced to bury their resentment for the sake of survival. And the sad part was she didn’t deserve even that much forgiveness. Which was why it startled her so much when Hendrick wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her into him. They had gone way past the stage of possible violence, so she just relaxed into it, letting herself lean into his warmth. "Something is watching…” What? Now? For fuck’s sake. “Azur.” It came out in the barest whisper, even though she wanted to growl. Everyone else on this ship had earned her trust to one degree or another. They had all walked through the fire together. So unless Zeth really was a sleeper agent just waiting to be activated by the Dreaming Dark, that left their new friend Azur. This was why she trusted Hendrick’s perceptiveness absolutely. He would never let another person listen in on this exchange of secrets. And he missed nothing. If he was awake, he was on guard. They should find this idiot now. They should interrogate him. They should - The fresh dragonmark seared into her skin began to wake up. Stella stiffened immediately. Her stomach plummeted with the sudden realisation of what was happening to her. It felt like the mark was contracting, tightening her whole body. Like some kind of strange warmth was kindling there, heating from a smoulder to a burn. From a murmur to a scream. The intricate and distinctive pattern that all Medani knew so well began to glow through the worn fabric of her shirt. Holy fuck. Her pulse surged as her adrenaline spiked. The Mark of Detection. It wanted to seek. It wanted to know . And if she only understood the mysterious new power it held, she might be able to point straight at their listening friend through any amount of darkness. She had reached for Hendrick without thinking, seeking his steadiness, his calm. Now her grip tightened on his arm, maybe to the point of pain. The dragonmark still smouldered with ominous light. No. No. She couldn’t even explain why, but every inch of her rebelled against this new and invasive change. It had to stop, it had to sleep. She pressed her palm over the burning mark and brought down all the force of her will into one single refusal. Slowly, reluctantly, the glow began to dwindle. The heat started to cool. This was probably normal for a dragonmarked, but to some panicked part of her, it felt bad. It felt wrong. She had to take deep breaths to get herself under control. Finally, when she took her palm away, not even the tiniest gleam remained. Well, then. That had been a new and painful experience. Stella managed to relax her shoulders and unclench her jaw with some effort. Azur was even less her favourite person right now. She kept her voice to a whisper. “I don’t think we can seriously harm anyone here without Maev’s permission. We need her on our side. And I think she’d be fine with us interrogating him, if we just asked her. It might be more productive to just lie low and see what he does. Unless he leaves the ship altogether, there’s nowhere he can hide from us.” Just like there was apparently nowhere she could hide from her bloody dragonmark.

Hendrick had to clench his teeth to avoid screaming out in pain. Her small hands showed strength he did not think possible as she squeezed the bruises on his arm, where she earlier had nearly drawn blood. Her face painted a picture of agony and shock. The dragonmark seemingly did not care for her well-being as it burned underneath her shirt, lusting for something. He had never seen one from that close. Fascinating. Dangerous. Probably unholy, for the lack of a better description. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” He moved in front of her, one hand on her shoulder and attempting his other hand to press down on the hurting dragonmark. It was searing, even Hendrick felt the awful heat burning his hand. He quickly got out his waterskin and gave her something. “You need to calm down. Think about chocolate. And puppies.” Hendrick gave her a smile. He gave her his last ration. “Here, eat something. It might not be quite as tasty as chocolate. But it should take your mind other places.” He moved got the blanket from his backpack and placed it over her carefully, trying to avoid inflicting any more pain. “Think about your breathing.” He reached for her bag and placed it next to her, avoiding opening anything he shouldn’t see. “There, I bet you have some good stuff left.” He gently grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hey lovely, look at me. Calm down a bit, I will be back soon. I will find something to take your mind of it.” He cast some nice light onto one of the crates and left urgently. Hendrick moved fast, although never forgetting about being spied on by what could well be Azur. He rushed towards Maev and borrowed a dragonchess set of her, after explaining Stella needed to take her minds of the events, a notion she just about accepted. “Don’t scuff the pieces, they were my father’s.” He did also hint that Azur might well be spying on them and that as per her request, she would have to decide what should be done. He pointed out that he did not have any prove of this and he did not think him to be a hostile spy, but he did not want to withhold potentially crucial information after today. He hurried back towards the lower decks, trying to account for any of his and Maev's friends. He found Stella huddled up in the blanket, having successfully calmed a bit. He presented the nice looking dragonchess set. “Have you played before? I could show you the basics.” He gave her a friendly smile, hoping this would keep her mind away from the pain and hopefully calming the power with which she was cursed.

She didn’t realise she had hurt Hendrick until he winced and she remembered stabbing him just an hour or two ago. Clearly even his heavier armour didn’t protect him from lingering bruises. Stella let go hastily and snatched her hand back. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m fine. Sorry.” This was the first time she had seen Hendrick so outwardly worried about anyone. It was… strange? Sweet? She had always known he cared greatly for his party members, but he had never tried to tuck someone up in a blanket before, nor called them by endearments. Maybe it was just as hard for him to resist looking after people as it had been for her to resist providing some semblance of comfort to a prisoner. Or maybe she had messed him up pretty badly in the last few days. “Chocolate and puppies?” Stella managed a laugh. “Now you’re speaking my language.” She took his advice and dug her last flask of wine from her pack, then settled back to drink slowly in his absence, keeping her palm pressed against the mark. It still radiated warmth. The slight pressure of her palm felt like it kept it contained somehow. Held everything in. Magical light still glowed, holding back the darkness. She must present a nice, soft, unarmoured target for whoever was watching. Letting them spy on her stung her pride - she might not be as sharp-eyed as Hendrick, but she was a daughter of the Dragonmarked House of Detection. It was her whole job to know who was watching. She should find their uninvited guest right now and drag him kicking and screaming into the light. The dragonmark kindled with heat again, starting to just barely glow between her fingers. It felt like something waking up. Something that would be alert and lethal if she only let it. Gods damn it. Stella growled under her breath and forced herself to think of cheesecake. Rich, delicious cheesecake. Maybe salted caramel sauce. And an armful of happy puppies. Hendrick returned in just a few minutes, with the dragonmark now cool and silent again. She didn’t bother asking if he was still keeping track of whoever was spying on them; he definitely was. It was refreshing to be able to just leave it to him. Having an unknown audience was decidedly creepy, but they had had enough downtime for Hendrick to get his radiant power back, so she could just leave that to him too. Giving her time and space to think hard about the Dreaming Dark. “Oh, I know how to play dragonchess.” In fact, it was a constant metaphor in her family. Their symbol was the basilisk, and dragonchess had a basilisk too - a tiny figurine waiting on the lowest board, the subterranean realm, freezing enemies with its petrifying stare. “Just not half as well as my family would like. I’m sure you have plenty to teach me.” There were no good moves in dragonchess. You didn’t get to protect anyone, or save anyone. You just moved and killed, moved and killed. Until you had cleared enough of the board to strike at the king. Maybe that was their future now? Maybe that was why that poor bastard Morim ir’Soras had had to die. Because they had to start killing and keep killing to win this game. “Let’s play.”

Hendrick was glad she wanted to play. He had not had the chance in a while and it was a perfect opportunity to find out more about Sofia herself. He had seen many good agents and highborn, who were used to playing the game of politics and intrigue. But few had mastered the art of expanding this façade into the game, adapting their style of play to who they are trying to portray. She started off with a rather classic variant of the Brelish opening. Aggressive. Sending her pieces forward as far and fast as possible, mostly focussed on the middle board. Hendrick tried to play a positional game, giving up the centre-field to the ever-rushing armies of hers, a style which had originated in Cyre and many places have found their variants. He manoeuvred into good or even great defensive positions. Her attack was bound to be costly, although her attacking play developed faster than expected, taking short-cuts, which to his surprise left little opening for a counter-offensive on his part. Instead he decided to start leveraging the sky-board, filled with powerful pieces, ready to strike at their foes from above. “You are quite a formidable opponent, Stella.” Even on the board he thought. Her game was calculated, cold. She near recklessly had pushed the advantage, without ever being in any serious danger. Hendrick realised, that his strategy might have been to passive. Stella didn’t wait for him to catch up. Her space advantage developed into a pace advantage very quickly and in order to keep the trades even, Hendrick had to allow her to bring in both sky and underground boards. Particularly the underground board got developed very effectively, at the cost of many turns, Hendrick used to stabilise. Her use of the basilisk was well-trained. Stunning centre pieces of Hendricks defense allowed her to set up a powerful sieging position and there was not much Hendrick could do. He needed time to leverage his advantage in the sky and throw his ground forces into hers. Her masterful use but also overly pronounced attachment to the basilisk seemed to show some deeper meaning, something that was not just the game. She even sometimes showed restrain. Seemingly she did not want to kill every last piece after all to march her way to the king. She seemed to be looking for a way of ending this in a more caring manner. Nothing was allowed close to the basilisk though. Hendrick rationalised a gambit of the mage, recklessly playing his powerful piece. She had to bite. He could see the joy in her eyes as she backstabbed it with a simple thief and had gained a massive numerical advantage. But Hendrick was on the button now. And her greed had opened a small hole in her siege force, which his skyboard could focus upon. Stella slaughtered, brought the pain masterfully. She had no qualms about killing anything, even though it drew her forces further and further apart. The moment the Hero threatened to move against her basilisk, all hell broke lose and she scrambled all available forces to intercept. She was still up numerically, Hendrick forces were nearly extinct. However, her love for the basilisk had left her King with a minimal defence. She had lost focus on the ultimate win condition. Three swift turns, attacks from the sky followed by a lone cleric was enough to end her Kings reign. Hendrick had barely any forces left. Stella looked distraught. “You play very well, Stella. I was expecting having to teach you the game, but you nearly destroyed everything I had on the board.” He knew that this cold aggression wasn’t what she would play like naturally. Maybe that was someone else’s doing as well. He looked her up and down. The pain and anguish from the dragonmark seemed gone for now as she was tucked underneath his blanket. Although, she seemed unusually disappointed by the loss. Seemingly not so much the loss itself, but how and why she lost a game she had dominated all that time so expertly. “I am looking forward to playing with you again. Maybe you can teach me your style a bit and I let you into some secrets of mine.” He smiled at her, glad her seering pain was no more.

The whole time they played, whoever was eavesdropping on them only heard periods of intense silence broken by Stella having way too much fun. Taking out his mage with her thief made her particularly happy. “Ahaha! Backstab!” By Medani standards Stella was no more than a decent player, but she must have learned more from her patient father than she’d realised. They had spent countless hours in the peace of his study with the rain drumming against the window, though the real lessons he’d been teaching her had had nothing to do with any game. He’d been so proud of her on the rare occasions when she managed to beat him. So even though she had to hold in a scowl when Hendrick finally defeated her after a hard-fought battle, she couldn’t help but wonder what Hendrick had been subtly teaching her with this. Not just game tactics. Something more meaningful. “Once again, you outwit me. I think I know a lot of people who would pester you to play with them.” Stella smiled for real. Maybe she hadn’t damaged their friendship so irrevocably. A few lone pieces still stood on the cleared boards between them. The cleric piece had survived, but her basilisk had not. “Ever feel like a metaphor is staring you right in the face?” Stella rested her chin in her hand, her elbow on her knee. She spoke so softly that their eavesdropping friend would have to creep forward to hear. “We’re playing by a familiar set of rules, within three limited boards, with a defined number of pieces. It may be complicated, but all the possible moves are known. All the strategies are mapped. But what’s truly out there is going to smash the board and scatter the pieces. And we have to be ready for that. There will be no rules any more, no limits. There will be so many more pieces. So many more risks. I don’t know if there even is a win condition. I think we just try to hold the line as long as possible.” She picked up the kings of both colours, positioning them defensively back to back. Everyone else out there was still playing the wrong game. They were facing off against each other instead of preparing for what was coming. There would be no nations any more, no factions. Just freedom or enslavement. Bringing back all the captured pieces, she began building rings of defences on all three levels, even spilling out onto the floor. She didn’t bother with the usual rules and strategies about what pieces could go where. All that was over now. All her pieces were defenders. She calculated angles of attack and lines of fire as she positioned her paladins with their short-range aura bonuses to reinforce allies. Oliphaunts were heavy cavalry, dragons airborne artillery. Her imagination rearranged it all faster than she could move the physical pieces. In thirty seconds she had run out of pieces and it still wasn’t enough. Too many holes in her defences. It wasn’t hard to imagine this as Khorvaire - dozens of undefended cities, hundreds of millions of helpless civilians. And there were so many nightmare things out there. Fine. Stella threw up her hands and gave up on trying to craft any kind of defensive strategy with the dragonchess boards. “I wasn’t meant for this. I was the shy one in my family. I was never brave, I was never clever, I was never special. But this is all we’ve got.” This little ship and everyone on it, heading out into the vastness of Kraken Bay. “I need to know everything you can teach me. I need to be able to run this team by myself if you run out of candles on me. I need to be…” Smarter. Tougher. Bolder. A lot of things. “I have a lot to learn. That’s all. So I hope you like to teach.”