Today’s snippet, titled “Tactics (pt 1)”, 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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      The weight of it was negligible, yet it lay heavy around her neck.
      A thin leather thong, tied to either end of the mandible, secured an artifact of immense importance. Sixteen teeth remained in place, each as brittle as an autumn leaf, each with an individual magical aura. The power they contained collectively was enough to knock both Jensen and Aravashnial off their feet, throwing them back half a dozen feet. The visions it presented to her the instant she donned the thing proved that it was no mere trinket – this jawbone had once sat upon the face of Galevius.
      Rhiallis was a scholarly paladin – not a particularly combat-ready one – and as such, she knew her church history as well as any acolyte and better than many priests. She prided herself on her knowledge of healing techniques and herbs and tincture; on the gregarious nature that allowed her to put people at ease wherever she went, calming the frightened, bolstering the morale of her comrades, and making friends out of enemies; and on her dedication to Iomedae and Her teachings.
      And now I possess – at least, as temporary caretaker – two relics that are sacred to the church and a responsibility that grows greater day-by-day.
      Around her throat, she bore the holy teeth of one of the church’s greatest and most celebrated diplomats. Upon her back, the Lymirin Discourses, a lost volume so powerful that it had quite literally knocked two wizards to the dirt when they dared to examine its magical auras. In her heart, she carried the duty born of Terendeluv’s sacrifice, of the death of her friends, of the lives she still hoped to save. And Viggo. Always Viggo.
      “…and I didn’t see him for a couple of minutes, when he went to relieve himself, but otherwise,” Mytra was saying, “Sosiel never left my sight. I really do doubt it was him at all.”
      “Same. I mean, we did some scouting but I kept my eyes on Nura and didn’t see nothing suspicious.”
      Rhiallis nodded at Mira. “I spoke with Aron, at length, I have come to much the same conclusion about him. He is troubled, yes, and he is terribly upset about the entire ‘shadowblood’ thing. I don’t believe it was him, either.”
      I never meant to touch it again, he had said, and she believed him. I don’t know how it got in my things but once it was there, it was like – it called to me. It begged me to drink deeply.
      “Perhaps it wasn’t one of us then,” Graves said, tossing her dark hair out of her eyes.
      “Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, there weren’t any ruined goods when we woke this morning.”
      Jensen was correct, in that they had not discovered any new sabotage, but Rhiallis held her tongue rather than dispute his assertion that it did not matter. The fact that all three of their prime suspects were under careful watch and nothing happened did not suggest their innocence so much as it implied to her that one of them was guilty.
      “I think-” Athynacious began, but whatever he thought, he was never able to say for at that moment came Kumiko’s deep, strong voice.
      “Scouts come!”
      The command tent was rapidly filled as Aron, Nura, and Sosiel filed in, the former having just returned from their scouting mission, with Kumiko and Celeste on their heels. It was quite crowded, especially once the two halflings – Koto & Fenton – stuck their heads in as well.
      Rhiallis cast a look around at her companions.
Graves, as ever, seemed resolute and stolid. She was unwavering in her faith and dedication; no matter what the scouts reported, she could be depended on. Kumiko too, for all that she was a stranger to this land and to Iomedae’s crusades. The beautiful raven-haired warrior was fearsome in her stylized heavy plate and those black, flashing eyes spoke volumes; someone was about to deliver bad news.
      Celeste crossed her arms and glowered a bit, analyzing each word almost before it was spoken aloud. She would undoubtedly have objections to every plan discussed. Sometimes, Rhiallis thought she was contrary just to be contrary, as if it made her feel important. But that was unkind – most likely, she is just forcing us to rethink our preconceptions, to be absolutely certain before we act. Playing devil’s advocate.
      At her left was Mira, ever the optimist, who seemed to be twitching with anxious energy. Rhiallis cast a glance from her little friend to the pair of new comers – not exactly invited but not entirely shunned due to the importance of their contribution – and wondered if there was a possible love connection there. She hoped so – it was so important that hope and affection bloom even in the face of such overwhelming odds.
      Athynacious, running a hand through his gingery hair, looked almost defeated by the reports. His shoulders stooped a bit and a gauntness haunted his handsome face. Rhiallis touched his elbow to get his attention and smiled, meeting his eyes. She looped a companionable arm through his. “Iomedae will guide us, my friend,” she whispered, in a low tone for his ears only.
      “Aye,” he said, but though his mouth curved a bit, the smile never reached his eyes.
      Jensen caught the by-play, though no one else seemed to notice. His disapproving look was both obviously annoyed by the friendly physical contact and distinctly amused by it. Rhiallis wondered if she would ever warm up to the elven wizard, or if his prickly, snarky nature was designed to keep people at arm’s length.
      The news was grim.
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me