Today’s snippet, titled “Teleportation, pt. 3”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s Pathfinder Campaign.
Yes, another multi-part chapter. Chapter Forty was a beast – totaling about four thousand words, which may not seem like that much. Still, when you think that an average novel has about a hundred thousand, that’s 1/25th of a novel. Which maybe doesn’t seem like much either but really, it is. I swear, really.
Be forewarned, there may be mature themes and naughty language below.
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She did it again the next day.
This time, they aimed for the young woman’s sitting room and arrived without incident. The house was empty and no one marked their appearance in the streets.
Sadie inquired about a new cloak for Mira, who had lost hers in the pit below Drezen, but could not find a suitable replacement. Rhiallis spent a considerable amount of coin on an enchanted belt. She had always hoped to have the lovely embroidered one she had bought in Kenebres magically altered, but the power radiating from this one was too strong to pass by.
Also too good to pass by, Celeste purchased a strange magical box. When opened, it unfolded into a good-sized boat in the space of a heartbeat. Rhiallis had to admit it would have come in quite handy yesterday, though she had trouble imagining what good it would do them in the middle of the Worldwound.
New Stetven was a wonder of wooden boardwalks perched over muddy streets and they managed to unload a large percentage of goods there. The reddish keep in the center of the city beckoned and Rhiallis would have loved to spent some hours walking the public gardens, visiting the local shrines, and perhaps even taking in a show at one of the many famous bawdy houses. Unfortunately, they had already been gone two nights and there was no time to dally.
After passing a talented silversmith’s stall, they decided that once they returned to Drezen they would commission a local crafter to create a sigil and cloakpins for them. The seven of them were a guild of sorts and some unifying device would make them more visible in the city.
That evening, they gathered around a table indulging in a few too many cups of a local favorite brew – Mistwater. The creamy-looking liquor’s recipe was a well-guarded secret. She was certain it was probably a list of things utterly unpalatable – fermented dog’s milk and fish juice or something – but it went down smooth and tasted vaguely of raspberries.
“We oughta have a name.”
Celeste poked her finger into the table. “Right. People don’t really know what to call us. We could be like, the Liberators of Drezen.”
“Well, we are that,” Aimsley said, twisting the empty cup between her palms. “But maybe something else. More specific to us.”
“The Liberation Division. Or no, maybe like…” Sadie hiccuped. “The Fearless Coral Cats by the Hands of the Gods.”
They all laughed.
“Or the Mighty Nighty Maddogs from Outside Reality.”
“Snowballs of Piety.”
Rhiallis crinkled her nose, giggling. “What about, uh – the Stout Banshees?”
“Banshees are evil, Rhi,” Celeste waved a hand, her eyes starting to grow that glassy look of a woman in her cups. “Gotta be a serious name.”
Sadie took another drink. “The Noble… stone apes.”
“More like stoned!” Aimsley cried, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“No no no,” Celeste said, straightening up. She pushed the cup away and smoothed her hair back, composing herself. “Let us take this seriously.”
“Right, yes.” Rhiallis dunked her fingertips into a cup of water nearby and daubed it upon her face. She had consumed more than the others and was feeling rather flushed. “What about. The seven silver flames of Kenebres?”
“That’s nice. But, we aren’t really of Kenebres anymore, are we?”
“True.”
The hin leaned back in her chair, a pensive look upon her face. “What about The Golden Order? Or the Golden Order of Drezen?”
Silence descended on the table as they mulled it over for a moment. Celeste spoke at last. “The Pious Order of the Golden Sword?”
Rhiallis glanced down at Radiance. “Although some of us are quite pious, I imagine they would not all appreciate that name. Mira, in particular, seems to butt heads with our holy orders. I should not want to alienate the others.”
“No, you’re right. What about… Hmm.”
With a sigh, Aimsley lifted her empty cup again. “I like the Golden Order, but I feel like – even if we tack on ‘of Drezen’ – that it is a little too… common. Vague. We need something solid and strong sounding.”
“I’ve got it.”
They looked to Celeste, who smiled. “Not pious, you’re right. That doesn’t suit all of us. But you now what does? Valorous. We should be The Valorous Order of the Golden Sword.”
Again, they fell quiet, thinking.
After a moment, Aimsley nodded. “I like it.”
“We are, totally valorous.”
“And we have Radiance.” Rhiallis patted her scabbard. “The Golden Sword. It has been with us, almost since the very beginning.”
“So that’s it then. The Valorous Order of the Golden Sword?”
“We’ll have to discuss it with Mira, Korael, and Niro – but I think it is a great name,” Celeste said, clapping her hands. “A suitable, honorable name.”
“Maybe we should all carry gilded blades.”
Sadie shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d wanna be so flashy. It’d be harder to hide. But I do like the name.”
“Where are we going in the morning? We should decide so that we can try to find someone to scry.”
“Ryvandale,” Sadie said emphatically. “One of the merchants I spoke to today recommended it. She said it wasn’t too far south and they’ve been recruiting the finest artisans in the region. If we want to sell our quality goods and find some great stuff – that’s where we should go. The capital of Phoenixa.”
Aimsley nodded. “All right. Did she give you any details I can use to scry on someone there?”
It was all decided in a matter of minutes. Rhiallis threw back two more cupfuls of Mistwater and poured herself into her bed. The last thing she thought, as she drifted off to sleep, was how glad she was that paladins did not suffer hangovers.
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me