Rhiallis: The Stag King’s Bride

      Today’s snippet, titled “The Stag King’s Bride”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there may be mature themes and naughty language below.
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      “…and this is not the first of such stories we’ve heard.”
      “I’d like to go with you guys, I would, but-” Mira held her hands up helplessly. “I’ve just got so much on my plate today. Irabeth and Anevia are coming and if they recommend it – I’m golden!”
      Sadie harrumphed a bit, but did not plead any further. Rhiallis nodded, understanding. The Appletree Inn was of as much importance to Mira as The Inheritor’s Heart and the Keevy-Corweir House were to her and she knew that if she had an opportunity to get the Governor’s Seal of Approval for them, she would want to do so.
      “If you hear us screaming-”
      “I’ll come running,” Mira grinned.
      “No way,” Sadie said, pulling a face. “If you can hear us screaming all the way up here, evacuate the whole city! It probably means The Storm Lord is on us!”
      “Not really something to joke about, Sadie.”
      “Bah. Relax, Rhi. It’s probably nothing. Just some jerk.”
      The pair headed out; a teenaged halfling with more skill than professionals thrice her age and a young aasimar who had seen sixty winters, but still felt half a child at times. They had been hearing strange things for days, all about the priest who had come to re-open and restore the shrine of Erastil. Lately, the rumors had turned darker and when one of the housekeepers mentioned that he had been harassing and abusing his female congregants, they had decided that something must be done.
      Of course, by that time, the others had already headed out to seek another nest in the southern section of the city, and only Mira, Sadie and Rhiallis remained at the table. Once their fasts had been broken, the pair set off toward the half-rebuilt chapel dedicated to Old Deadeye.
      “Ugh!” Sadie grimaced, holding her forearm to her nose. “What’s that smell?”
      “Evil,” Rhiallis said. “Or at least – something rotten.”
      The building was a humble, wooden structure that seemed to consist of just three rooms; a bedroom, a small meeting or commons room, and a chamber to worship in. The place had been ransacked and the odor grew stronger as they approached the ritual room.
      “Sick!”
      Rhiallis had to agree. Cryptic letters, painted in blood gone dark, spelled out something she could not read. Entrails were splayed across the shattered statue of Erastil and as Sadie moved closer, murmuring a translation under her breath, an uneasy feeling grew in the pit of her stomach.
      “It is like a warning, or maybe a spell? A hex? Something like that.”
      “What does it say?”
      The hin wet her perfectly shaped little lips, pushing her dark red locks over her shoulder. “It says: just as Delamere now weeps tears of fire, so shall those who follow, go to the pyre. Are you familiar?”
      Rhiallis shook her head, nudging aside some rubble with her toe. “No, no I don’t think I know of a Delamere. Strange that it rhymes in common – does it rhyme in Abyssal too? And what- what is that?”
      Crouching, Sadie used a piece of wood to pull the object nearer. Unscathed by the damage done to everything else in the room was a heavy book, bound in a dark-green leather, which bore the title “The Stag King’s Bride”.
      “A book.”
      It sounds rather… naughty. Like something I’d find tucked away on James’ bookshelf. The Stag King’s Bride or The Virgin and the Vengeful God or Bedtime for Baby G. That last one – I shudder to think. She chuckled to herself. I wonder what he would make of this desecration. Perhaps I should have stopped at his workshop to-
      “Rhi?” Sadie was poking her knee rather insistently. Rhiallis wondered how long she had been daydreaming about her next rendezvous with James while her friend tried to get her attention. “Should we take this back to Aimsley? Or Athy?”
      “Or both,” she nodded.
      “The cleric here, his name was Jesker Helton, apparently. He’s no where to be found.”
      “Well, we’ll see what Aimsley and Athynacoius have to say about the book, and go from there. We ought not make any decisions without the rest of the Order.”
      “Guess so.”

* * * * *

      “It is just – ugh – brimming with heretical beliefs. I’ve never read anything quite like it,” Athynacious was saying, flipping through The Stag King’s Bride, as they all gathered around a table at The Appletree Inn. “Delamere was an old priestess, a heretic – who believed that any settlement bigger than fifty-three people was inherently evil and if there was a fifty-fourth person, they would be a betrayer. And you see here – after all his weird notes in the margins, this is the notation that matters.”
      He turned the book around, holding the page open to the very end. Scrawled in a heavy hand were the words:

that Delamere… she was RIGHT!!!

      “We have to find him, and stop him,” Sadie said, curling up her tiny fist.
      Cuiliwen slid an arm around the hin, agreeing silently and adding her support to Sadie’s resolve.
      Rhiallis looked at the others in turn: Sadie and Cuiliwen were emphatic, and Athynacious seemed to be nodding in agreement. Only Lady Penance, her friend Lenore, seemed reluctant.
      “Where would he be headed, do you think?:
      Athynacious did not miss a beat. “The Weeping Hills. That’s where Delamere’s tomb is rumored to be.”
      Rhiallis nodded.
      “What do you think, Lenore?”
      The laconic paladin paused, tilting her head to the side. “He has to be found and the truth of it discovered. If he can be saved, so he shall, but if not – the evil must be cleansed. That is true. Yet – perhaps it is not right of the five of us to make that choice without the others.”
      “They’ll agree with us though,” Sadie said.
      “Korael will want to track him, Niro will want to bash him – he’s feeling all peacocky after meeting his idol, Aimsley will want to study him and Celeste will want to smite him. And Mira – she’ll be fine with whatever we decide.”
      Rhiallis gave the elf a long, pensive look. She had nailed down the possible motivations of each member of the Valorous Order of the Golden Sword relatively quickly – considering she had known most of them just a few days.
      “Well, that’s settled then. In the morning, if everyone is in agreement and we’re all prepared. We’ll head into the ‘Wound to track Jesker.”

– – – – – – – – – – –
Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me

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