So currently we have a tie on whether or not to loot the workshop. 1.A (stay together) is winning as is 2.G (track down and hire Trakk to hide her). I will check back in 18-20 hours and see if we still have a tie.
In the meantime, I have another Interlude I have been playing around with which may interest some people. As I have said, events continue to play out even when you are not present at a location. For example it seems Christine and Serpent have gotten into a little adventure...
Interlude 1: The Honeymoon
The thick canvas of the tent strains in the wind. Another cold, bitter evening in the Beserk lands, on the great island known as the Strainer of Krakens. She hates the cold, that and the lack of proper amenities. Everything they have, they have brought with them from the empire, courtesy of Derryth.
She still is not sure about the farmer, the woman can be completely insufferable most of the time but every now and then the farmer really surprises her. Her bravery, her loyalty, her generosity... maybe she will not have to kill Derryth after all... maybe.
She gives her head a shake, that is something to deal with in the future. Right now she has more pressing matters to attend to. As it stands they are easily the richest people on the entire island and with wealth comes power, with power comes problems and Christine has had far too many of those to deal with in the last few weeks. Speaking of which, she will have to deal with another one shortly.
The crack of a whip brings her back. She surveys her surroundings. Christine stands suspended, striped to the waist. Her arm and legs bound by thin but strong ropes. She can not see him but he is somewhere behind her... somewhere behind her with that damned whip.
The silence is deafening, finally he speaks, "You will tell me where the artefact is girl or I will make this painful."
Her defiant response is immediate, "Never!"
"Very well then," he stresses each syllable, drawing out his reply. She knows what will come next.
She bites her lip as he strikes out with the whip, "How many lashes will it take? Forty? Fifty? You body will give out before my arm does!"
He strikes out again and again and she counts the lashings in her mind, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen... thirty three, thirty four... forty six. She is so close, she will give in, she will tell him everything... every secret she has ever had... everything she has ever wanted... she is completely at his mercy.
She screams.
So he stops.
She can hear him panting behind her, she can feel him untying her as quickly as his shaking hands will allow "Oh Wyrd! I am sorry Christine, I did not hurt you did I?"
Free now she turns to him, frustration and anger competing within her, "Damn it Serpent! Why in the name of the Goddess did you stop! Now we have to start over from the beginning!" a wicked smile creeps onto her face, "Well unless you want to play the captured spy this time and I can be the savage warlord?"
The physician shakes his head emphatically, "No, no. This is your fantasy dear and I am sorry I ruined it," he leans in, brushing her silver locks from in front of her eyes and deftly plants a single kiss on her lips.
As angry as she gets with the man. He has a way with her. In moments he can bring her back to her senses. She pulls him close, "Sorry I yelled dear. I am glad you care for me. Maybe we can do something else instead, hmm..."
Their privacy does not last long. A deep, bass voice calls out from just outside the tent, "My lord? My lady? The council is ready to meet you. May I come in?"
She sighs as she pulls her robes back up around her. Serpent nods to her once and calls out to the voice, "Yes Captain Leo. You may enter."
The captain looks every part the man of war that he is. Two weeks ago he was in command of their escort, a squad of twelve riders, now he leads almost one hundred Berserks in open rebellion against the Council of Seven, now the Council of Six.
"Thank you my lord," Leo bows low, "The Council army has arrived, my men count at least four of the enemy lords and their leader."
Serpent waves the captain off, "Alright Leo, thank you, we will be out in a moment."
The captain gives a second low bow and exits the tent, striding back out into the dark.
Serpent sighs and drops into a nearby chair, he raises one hand to his brow, "I can not believe we are doing this. Do you think it will actually work dear? Can we win?"
She looks at her husband, the man needs a little reassuring so she saunters over and drops onto his lap, "Dear we are doing what we have to..."
She thinks back. A lot has happened in little over a week.
Their party crossed the empire without any real difficulty. The odd bandit attack, easily dispatched by her spells or their horsemen, but nothing truly dangerous. They stopped at the best inns and when no lodging was available they would sleep in their tent, it was relaxing... enjoyable... then they reached the island...
The forty two tribes of the Strainer of Krakens were in an uproar. Not four months earlier seven of the tribes had banded together under the leadership of some 'great prophet'. The prophet's magic and the warriors of the seven tribes had succeeded in subjugating three quarters of the island by the time they arrived. Tyrvard's tribe, the Konthasos, naturally resisted and helped put together an alliance of their own. The rebels met to choose a leader and it was at that exact moment that she and Serpent rode up in their magnificent coach with their finely armed horsemen...
In hindsight what happened next was not all that surprising. The rebels attacked them, they lashed out with their magic as their horsemen moved to cover them. Serpent drew Tyrvard's sword and began channelling through the blade, it glowed silver as he readied his spell.
When she thinks about it, it still makes her smile. Her husband standing at the head of their horsemen, a greatsword glowing in his hand, casting a spell she taught to him... naturally the Berserks took this as a sign from their gods. They now had a prophet of their own, someone to lead them against the council, against the lowland scum, and so overnight Serpent had become King of the Northlands and she was his queen.
Queen Christine... oh she likes that... has a certain ring to it in fact.
They fought their first battle two days ago against one of the seven. Leo's tactics, the courage of the Konthasos and her magic had seen them through it. They had even managed to kill one of the seven.
News of the victory spread.
Now they stand at the head of a little over one hundred warriors, an alliance of twenty seven tribes.
They have brought their enemies to battle here, on the fields of the lowlands not far from the hill they call The Chevin. Here they would fight them, here they would kill them and secure the whole of the island. At least that is the plan.
"... Christine? Sweetheart? You still there?" her husband holds her her, waving a hand in front of her face.
Her eyes sparkle as she stares at him, "Yeah, just drifted off for a second, it has been a strange week..."
"That it has," he pulls her closer, she rests her head on his shoulder, "But like you say, we can not abandon these people-"
"Or our thrones Serpent, we will get thrones right?" she looks up at him, "and crowns, and silks, and gold, and-"
He chuckles a little, "I am sure they will treat us well if we win."
'If we win' he says, she dwells on that for a moment. These 'lowlanders' and their warriors do not concern her. She has her magic, her warriors, her husband. They can deal with a few savages even if they are slightly outnumbered... but this 'prophet', if he is even half as powerful as they say, will be a problem.
Thankfully she has a few tricks up her sleeves yet, "Serpent dear, I have to step out for an hour. I will be back before the battle but I think there are a few things I can do to increase our chances."
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He did not want to let her go.
He loves his wife dearly, more with each passing day in fact but he also knows that she will always do what she believes is best. Rare is the occasion when he can alter her course, rather it is his job to see she survives this mess.
"Where is she," he mumbles. He stands at the head of his hundred men. Leo has taken his cavalry around and is waiting in ambush to hit the enemy's rear but Christine is still missing.
He looks to his left and right. Tall, proud Berserks stare back at him. Bran of the Iron Skin, Tyrvard's cousin, a great bear of a man covered from head to toe in bright red hair stands to his right, the Berserk notices him staring and gives him a wink, "Death or glory cousin!"
To Serpent's left stands Angtyr with Screaming Iron, Tyrvard's sworn brother, now Serpent's sworn brother, the big man gives him a single nod and a slap on the back, "Ready to drive these lowland bastards back to their swamps brother?"
"Yes, I just wish Christine was back," the physician nods.
The Berserk gives him a sympathetic look, "Ah, your girl looks like she can take care of herself and if she should die... Well there will be dozens of fine northern lasses lined up to enter your bed!"
Leo has leant him a suit of armour, leather mostly but off good quality. In his right hand he holds Tyrvard's blade, he has not the skill to wield it but as a symbol it serves its purpose and when he channels his spells through it, it glows slightly. The Berserks take it is a good omen and it bolsters their morale greatly.
The enemy drawn up against them outnumbers them two to one, a core of fifty Berserks supplemented by levies drawn from the lowlands. But things are not as bleak as they first appear, fully half of the enemy are fit for little more than dying, the rest draw their strength from their lords and their prophet. Should they fall the battle will be over.
Serpent turns to his men, he should probably give some sort of speech but what? He thinks for a moment, he is not a man of action, he is not a leader of men. He wishes Gareth was here, or Derryth, or Tyrvard, or any of them really. He feels so alone and so weak.
Then he remembers one of Derryth's little pearls of wisdom.
Once he had asked her how she became so brave, so strong, so determined in the face of overwhelming odds, up against mad mages and ancient gods. She had leaned in and whispered in his ear, "The answer is simple Serpent. I fake it. Every day I tell myself that I have a duty to those that trust in me. I am not brave but for them I can be. I am not strong but for them I will be. So for me there are only two roads," she held up one hand, palm facing the darkness above them, "Death," then she held up the other and made a fist with it, her eyes ablaze, "Or victory,"
Now months later he remembers her words and draws strength from them.
He has a duty to these people and those he left back in the empire. He will not fail them, he will not fail Christine, he will not fail himself, he takes a deep breath and he fakes courage for them, "No speeches men. I have not the tongue for it. Fight for me! Bleed for me! Die for me! And I promise to free your people! Death or victory!"
"Death or victory!" the call is taken up by his army as Serpent mounts up. He is no horseman but the beast is well trained. It will take him where he needs to be. With one final glance over his army he gives the signal to advance.
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The Prophet reclines in his tent. Alone except for a serving girl and his pet crow.
The rebels have finally offered battle. His lords will crush them and he will rule the entire island. It has been an easy affair when all is said and done. His new master has given him everything he could need to humble the northmen. He will conquer them, then lead them in war against the empire. His master promises him victory after victory and until last week he had no reason to doubt.
He stands, buckling on his ornate armour, he turns searching for his sword...
No reason to doubt at all, then the Seventh had fallen up in the highlands and this rabble had come down to challenge him. Some minor mage had stirred them up against him but he was strong and his master stronger still.
He will succeed. If anything this little rebellion has revealed every traitor in his midst. He will ride out there and crush them all. First though, he could use a drink...
"Girl, more wine!" she quickly grabbed a pitcher and a glass and fills it up for him.
He snatches up the glass and drinks deeply, "Another!"
Dutifully she fills another glass for him and again he empties it. A strong drink, but good. He turns to the girl, she intrigues him. He grabs her by her silver hair, staring into her grey eyes, he gives her a sinister grin, "Girl what is your name? How would you like to be mistress to a king?"
She does not break his stare, "Why be mistress my lord when I can be queen?"
Confused, he pushes her away, "If that is the way you want it girl perhaps-"
A great cheer can be heard from across the battlefield, "Death or Victory!"
He frowns, "You will remain here girl and I will deal with you after the battle!"
Sweetly she replies, the ghost of a smile haunting the corners of her mouth, "Oh but my lord, I intend to deal with you right now."
His eyes narrow, "Who are you girl?"
The smile spreads into a vicious grin, "They call me the Black Spider where I come from but here I am Queen of the Northlands."
The Prophet draws his blade and advances on her, but this girl, unarmed and unarmoured betrays not the slightest hint of fear, two words leave her lips, "Good bye."
She casts a single spell... not at him... but into him...
The Prophet staggers backward crashing through a table. The pain is immense. He tears off his armour as his stomach begins to bubble and squirm. In horror he watchs as his skin begins to crawl, to writhe, to tear.
He screams.
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She has really outdone herself this time. A two part, magical poison. Get the target to ingest it and then cast the spell to active it. Still the next part was going to be rather... unpleasant.
Naturally all the noise alerts the guards. Good, she needs an audience for what is to come. Four of them burst in. She makes sure to memorize each of their faces. When she becomes queen she does not want any of these incompetents guarding her or Serpent.
"Boys you might as well drop your weapons," she drops into the most comfortable looking chair in the room.
"What did you do to the Prophet, you bitch!" shouts the closest man.
That is no way to talk to a queen. She demonstrates her displeasure by blasting his head off with a single, silver bolt of energy, "Now then you three are going to stand right there and watch this. Then you are going to run out of here and tell everyone what you saw. This war is over. You have lost."
On cue their 'prophet' lets out another scream. His stomach has swollen up to twice its natural size and it is rolling. Slowly at first the flesh gives way accompanied by a wet, ripping noise that turns her stomach slightly. Still she has to put on a convincing act so she sits there and watches. Smiling though part of her wants to run from the room.
With one final sickening pop the man known as the 'great prophet' is no more. He is split in half as dozens of newborn spiders pour forth. It takes a little doing to control them all but she only has to get them moving towards the door and the guards. Once they are on their way nature will handle the rest.
Three guards and over forty spiders pour out of the tent into the camp. The panic spreads like wildfire.
Her work done, Queen Christine, slips out the back of the tent headed back to camp.
The crow sits and watches. Attempting to digest everything it has seen. It has so many things to share but first it has to escape, find its brethren and get the message south.
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Serpent fights on, bolts of silver energy and webbing burst forth from his blade as his Berserks fight and die around him.
Four of the council had been present at the battle. Angtyr had decapitated one at the beginning of the fight. Leo had skewered another when he hit the enemy rear. Serpent had even captured one himself with a well placed entanglement spell. The final enemy lord was doing his best to rally his soldiers but something had panicked them. Their entire camp was in an uproar and the prophet had yet to make an appearance. At this point victory was almost guaranteed. Then the challenge came.
"Mage! Are you going to hide back there and let other men die in your stead? Fight me!" this lord is a typical Berserk, big in every way except imagination.
Casually Serpent points his blade at the man and unleashed a pair of silver arrows. The first hits the man in the shoulder, the second catches him in the stomach. He collapses in the grass and the Berserks moved in for the kill.
Throughout the battlefield Berserks howl their victory to the sky. The enemy routs.
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"Forty six... forty seven... forty eight! Forty nine! FIFTY!" she screams the words as Serpent winds downs. After a moment he slips her out of her bonds and the two of them curl up on their bed.
"So how was that your majesty," he grins at her.
"Wonderful, your majesty," she rests on her stomach, her back still a bit tender from the silk whip, "Ah, a queen Serpent! I am a queen, and you are a king! Isn't it wonderful!"
He smiles at her, happy for her but also worried, "We will see my dear. In the end it may simply be an honorary title. The clans will meet in the coming weeks and we will see what comes of it. There are also the final two traitors on the loose and the one we have captive awaiting interrogation. They could cause us all a lot of trouble..."
"Shhh dear," she places a single finger to his lips, "Leave off with all these troubles till tomorrow. Tonight... tonight we celebrate..." the smile she gives him promises a very enjoyable night for them both.
A3 voters... What happened to not getting greedy again? 
