Today’s snippet, titled “Bad News”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Raxim Ope swallowed hard and squeezed Eiralyn’s hand. Even she did not realize the full reasons for his anxiety; he had tried, in his misguided way, to shield her from some of the horrors of his report.
      I’ll need a new deputy, he sighed. It was not unkindly meant, for he was going to miss Ragnakov, but as Phoenixa’s Spymaster, he had many things on his plate and there was no time to waste. Especially not now.
      “Rax, you look like you’re about to vomit.” Eiralyn twisted one of her bouncy curls between her index and forefinger. She had a cute, stubby little nose that turned up just a tad; he loved that about her. “Anything I can do? I could spell you a bit, if you really are nauseated.”
      “No,” he held his palm toward her, shaking his head, “No more spells. There’s nothing you can do, not really.”
      “Dakiru would bring him back, if- if that’s what you’re worried about. I bet even stingy ol’ Baron-”
      “Duke.”
      She made a face. “Right. Duke Gavriil would spring for it. I mean, Ragnakov was a deputy of the Council.”
      There’s a shortage of diamonds, he thought, we have the Iomedaen crusaders to thank for that. Five-thousand gold piece-gems are exceedingly precious these days, even for Dukes and Kings. But you don’t need to know that, sweetling. No one does. Call it a state secret…
      “Master Ope, Mistress Twinklingstar,” a page cleared his throat by way of announcing himself. “It’s time.”
      Hastily, he dropped Eiralyn’s hand as they approached the council chamber door. Not that their affair was a secret, but it was gauche to rub it in poor Hiram’s face. He had had a crush on the pretty gnome even before Raxim wooed her. With an exasperated sigh, Eiralyn stalked to sit behind Ava, who was so fat with a babe in her belly that she sort of waddled. It was quite funny to Raxim, for the Councilor was normally so lithe and graceful. He had never thought of the Baroness- Duchess!, he reminded himself, or Lady Anson, or even Lady Zehavah as ‘fat’ whilst carrying a child. But with Ava, maybe because of the way she carried herself, it was humorous.
      “Well, Master Ope,” Akiros said, his deep voice like thunder rolling across the council table. “I hope you bring us good news.”
      “I don’t.”
      The Duchess, Rizlyn, winced at his frank admission and from the corner of his eye, Raxim could see her motioning for her deputy. Alice leaned forward to listen, then nodded and slipped out of the chamber. Raxim wished that he could have taken a moment to watch her leave – for he really loved to watch her go – but alas, there were important things afoot.
      “I hate to bring such vital news before the Council in the absence of The Duke, General Novokovsky, and Lord Anson, but it really… cannot wait. I’ve finally gotten word of Ragnakov and it ain’t good.”
      Mattias Darling was resplendent and golden, and if Gavriil himself hadn’t been so mighty and handsome, Raxim would have said Mattias had the most kingly look of all the men on the Council. He was sitting in for Gavriil, beautiful Jehanne – his equally golden lover – was in the General’s seat, and sitting in the Warden’s place was Stiggard. The dwarf looked even more out of place than ever, for he had been summoned from the mead hall for this meeting, as evidenced by the bits of fried chicken stuck in his beard and the smell of ale on his breath. His wife, seated behind Lucille, seemed particularly annoyed with him. Still, Raxim knew love when he saw it and Ulrikka’s was visible even as she shook her head.
      “Go on,” Rizlyn said. “What took him so long to return?”
      “He didn’t. One of my men-”
      Raxim narrowed his eyes, interrupting Lofi. “His body was recovered by some of the Marshall’s men. He- He had been returning from Mivon, though we will never know what he discovered.
      “Ragnakov was- uh- well, the Marshall’s men used the word ‘eviscerated’.” Raxim stared at the broad mahogany table, avoiding eye contact as he continued. “And uh, also, his pertinent bits were nailed to some trees.”
      There were gasps from around the table.
      “Who could have done such a thing?” Tamira Hink’s breathy voice was distinctive and he did not even need to glance at her to know she had placed a hand to her bosom in distress.
      “That’s not the worst part.”
      “It gets worse?” This time, Lady Anson spoke. “Just spit it out, if you would, there is no point in delaying the unpleasantness.”
      Raxim nodded. “There’ve been reports from the south. Crofters found slain by trappers, trappers smashed to bloody paste and smeared along stretches of road. Some folks had said it was secret retribution by Mivon, but I don’t think that’s the case at all.
“You see, I get lots of reports from lots of agents from all around. You know, its my job. And sometimes, they stack up so high and I don’t get ‘em read as quick as I’d like. Maybe I’d blame my deputy, but I guess since I’m the one what’s always sending him out to get specific info from the places and people I can’t trust just anyone to get to, in the end it’s my fault.”
      He paused, glancing at Eiralyn for support. Her big blue eyes were wet and he thought that the smile she wore was sad and sympathetic, but to be honest, he was never quite sure where her mind was at any given time. He hoped she was still on his side.
      “Anyway, about two days ago, I finally sifted to a bunch of reports what must’ve come in weeks ago, during the big snows. Some of them were from a few little hamlets we’re in contact with down past the Candlemere and King Vesket’s lands. Word had come through about it – the smallfolk there were tortured and killed to a man, eaten, lots of them. Marrow sucked out of their bones and all. Horrible, truly. Just.. awful.”
      “Why is this just coming up now, Rax?”
      “Look, I mean, they’re not officially citizens of Phoenixa, and I mean, it wasn’t purposeful or negligent. There’s just so much – no, I won’t make excuses. The information evaded my attention and it was my own fault. I accept the blame and if the Council wishes, I will resign my post.”
      “Oh, Rax, no,” Eiralyn reached for his hand across the table. “Surely not.”
      “The failing is mine.”
      “What do we know about the perpetrators? Obviously, they cannot be King Vesket’s men. We’ve just made peace with them. This could be cruel retribution from Mivon, or Pitax. I don’t believe the Narthropples are likely the source. What other enemies does the state have, in the south?”
      “Actually,” Raxim spoke up even as the others began to discuss Mattias’ question. “It wasn’t the Narthropples at all. The Marshall’s men who brought news of Ragnakov had news of them as well. They’ve suffered several attacks in the past few months – lost a band of lumberjacks in their outer territory and their little capital as well – though not by the same killers, I think.”
      “Why not? Do you have evidence to the contrary?”
      “Yeah,” Raxim nodded again. “Plus, the ones we’re really looking for… are trolls.”
      The council chamber erupted in sound.
      Raxim sat back in his chair, his presence utterly forgotten as his peers all began talking at once. Well, you did your duty, old boy. Your fate’s in the hands of the Duke now. Hope he likes halflings more than gnomes…
      He sighed.

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Note: Image is “Meeting room 1” by (johka) from SXC.hu