011: Then came the lawyers, then came the rules

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Blackbird moves along, leaving the githzerai woman behind. The last tenant on the western side of the cavern is at work painting. Judging by the interior of his dwelling, that would appear to be all he does--canvases are stacked up haphazardly against the walls of his hut, crowding around the free space available. There's no bed or furniture of any sort. He would not appear to need them--the painter has the look of a zombie about him, a man of once stolidly average looks now gray and flaking.
<Steph> "Is he, uh, alright?" asks Stephanie, peering at the confined artist.
<Julia> "I think you were too late in rescuing this one from mortal peril, dear host," Julia points out.
<El-Cideon> "I have found one's definition of cheerful vitality may vary widely," the painter says drily.
<El-Cideon> "Better here than burning at the hands of overzealous adventurers, wouldn't you say?" Blackbird points out.
<Franceska> His ability to justify his actions is quite versatile, Franceska muses.
<Julia> "Well, I might," Julia admits in a tone that suggests she's likely a minority. "But an awakened zombie? Or some other kind of undead?" she peers curiously at the painter, clearly far more interested in his metaphysical state than whatever story he might have to tell.
<El-Cideon> The voice inside the cage is a cracked, strained thing, and there's a halting delay to the delivery which suggests speech comes with some struggle, but there is nonetheless a suggestion of mordant humor about him (although perhaps that's the only kind available to him now). "In practice, something like your first guess," he says. "The king was interested in preserving my talents to serve future generations of his family. He was not greatly fussed over how this was accomplished."
<Steph> "Um, wow! So, uh, how's that been working out for you?" replies Stephanie. "Living forever, could be a pretty sweet gig, right?"
<Julia> "On the plus side at least you're not a vampire?" Julia offers positively. Still, zombies are otherwise near the bottom of the undead totem pole, self aware or not.
<Franceska> "Did you know there was a plus side to being a zombie?" Franceska quietly asks Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> His laugh is the sound of rocks wearing down to dust over eons. "I have encountered many a man who would agree with your assessment," he says to Stephanie. "Mm, yes," he acknowledges in response to Julia. "I would miss the sun."
<El-Cideon> "I'm still not sure I see one," Rosemund whispers back.
* Julia then looks up at the roof overhead and frowns slightly. "Do you allow your... exhibits, to get some sun now and then, sir Blackbird? The health and psychological benefits are important."
<Franceska> "Are there health benefits for zombies?" Franceska whispers to Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> Blackbird laughs. "Well now, if you yourself traveled here on foot, you should know that the surface of Mithardir can be a hazardous place indeed! What kind of patron would I be, exposing my subjects to sandstorms and the like? Really!"
<Steph> "Oh, yeah, it's really nasty on your skin!"
<Julia> "Yes, but you weren't always here, were you?"
<El-Cideon> "It is no matter," the possible zombie says. "The sun will wait. I have time."
<El-Cideon> "Well, yes," Blackbird acknowledges. "They were established upon the roof of my tower."
<Julia> "You do at that," Julia nods to both of them.
<Steph> "What're you painting?" asks Stephanie, trying to peer at the easel.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund considers Franceska's question. "Well...they don't get sick or anything like that," she admits.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie sees that the current work is, on first glance, principally black with a blue dot in the center of the canvas. On second thought, she thinks she recognizes this view: it's the well, from the bottom looking up. Escape looks an awfully long way away--without being able to visually capture something as immaterial as wind, the artist has instead represented the well as a twisting, vertiginous climb imposing despair through subtle shifts of perspective.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie also notices that he is in fact missing a finger.
<Steph> Just looking at it is enough to make her feel a little gloomy. In fact, it really does, since she's going to have to climb all that way back...
<El-Cideon> He watches Stephanie, observes her mood. "Yes, exactly," he says.
<Steph> "H-hey, don't read my mind!" she complains.
<El-Cideon> "My apologies," he says. "Generations I spent as royal portraitist. One learns to recognize moods."
<Steph> "Oh," she replies, scratching her cheek in embarassment. "Well, that's ok, then. I suppose. Not like I can really whine about it anyway when we're all here peering at you, huh?"
<El-Cideon> "One must cast aside pretense of privacy, yes," he admits.
<El-Cideon> Blackbird laughs lightly. "Well, Allister here lost that long before I found him," he says.
<Julia> "Really?" Julia asks dubiously, considering it to be more self-justification from their host.
<El-Cideon> "It is truth enough," Allister agrees. "I was something of a royal secret, for reasons you can no doubt observe. A kept creature. I knew captivity long before my current patron conceived of my current habitat."
<Steph> "Well, hey, at least you've still got your passion for art!" replies Stephanie, sounding slightly hopeful.
<Franceska> "Can zombies have passion?" Franceska murmurs to Rosemund. "He doesn't sound very passionate."
<El-Cideon> He shrugs, shedding dust. "I would like to think that I keep myself creatively challenged, at least." He eyes Stephanie curiously. "You are a very optimistic woman. Would you like to have your portrait done?"
<El-Cideon> "Usually they can't think or do much or talk at all really," Rosemund whispers back. "Except maybe things like, 'Mmrghmgh brains.' You know--you know, maybe it is only their mouths that do not work properly and they can think well all the time and are simply not able to tell anyone!" She shivers. "Oh, that is an awful thought."
<Franceska> "You won't let me become a zombie, will you?"
<El-Cideon> "Never!"
* Julia pouts at the line of Rosemund and Franceska's conversation.
<Steph> "My portrait? Sure! Oh, but do I need to pose or anything?" she asks, curiously.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you should consider that offer an honor!" Blackbird says to Stephanie. "Allister here was the royal artist for two hundred years of kings and queens! Before the madness bred true and one put his kingdom to the sword."
<Franceska> "So you would be the last in a long line of crazy people?"
<El-Cideon> "If you like," the zombie says, ignoring Blackbird's prattle. "Sometimes it is of benefit to leave such aspects to the whim of the subject. It can prove to communicate things about them which I would not have considered myself."
<El-Cideon> To Franceska: "I? Not precisely. I was merely uniquely suited to observe their decline."
<Franceska> "Oh no," Franceska apologises. "I was talking about Stephanie, of course. There was no offense intended, so please don't eat my brain."
<Steph> "Queen Stephanie the first..." replies Stephanie, momentarily lost in a fantasy.
<El-Cideon> He chuckles at Franceska. "I do not eat. Fear not."
<El-Cideon> "Queen of what?" Rosemund has to ask.
<Franceska> "Really?"
<Steph> "Queen of Limbo~"
<El-Cideon> "If you like," Allister says, sounding thoughtful.
<Steph> "It's just absurd enough," replies Stephanie, sounding thoughtful herself. She strikes an imperious, regal pose, trying to look stern but finding it hard to keep her face from smiling for more than a few seconds.
<El-Cideon> "No doubt the general thrust of his story becomes clear to you by now?" Blackbird cuts in. "Striving to be the best at his art, such dedication, ah! And to be noticed by the royal family, and made their dedicated artist, the highest honor! So much so that one among them decided such talent should be guarded carefully, hoarded away, preserved like a frog in ether. Locked away, a tool to be employed on special occasions and otherwise forgotten. Only able to watch as he all he knew went to madness and dust around him! Many men would bargain with fell powers for eternal life, but one must wonder how often they come to regret their desires, no?"
<Julia> "I'm sure it'd be fine without the being locked away part," Julia insists.
<Franceska> "Not particularly often, judging by this example?"
<Steph> "Shush, everyone! Let him concentrate," insists Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "I live with the knowledge of impermanence," Allister acknowledges, "and it is a bitter thing. Most fine artists are outlived by their work. I am able to observe the very subjects of mine crumble to nothing. It enforces a certain unwelcome distanced perspective."
<El-Cideon> He lifts his current work off the easel, sets it aside. "Well, I am in a contemplative mood now. I believe I shall resume my work, if I may."
<Steph> "O-oh! Is your work for sale?" asks Stephanie, suddenly.
<El-Cideon> "Money...is of little value to me," he says with an almost amused expression. "What is it you would like? I do strive to keep myself busy, and have all manner of pieces cluttering my room. Portraits, landscapes, still lifes, abstracts..." He gestures around his cage.
<Steph> Stephanie sniffs. "Well, I like to trade, and even as a layman I can see your work is special," she insists. "But there should be some kind of fair exchange." She taps her lip. "Something to think about for when we speak next?"
<El-Cideon> "My desires are few," he says, turning back to a blank canvas, "but perhaps you may prove as inventive as you appear."
<El-Cideon> Blackbird leads the group away from Allister's cage. "I found him in the ruins of his city, trying to stem the tides of time and preserve it all by hand. Such noble persistence, so sad!" On his arm, his companion sighs beautifully. Blackbird steps across the way to the east side of the gallery.
<Steph> "Oh, we were never introduced!" remarks Stephanie, smiling brightly at the slutty escort.
<El-Cideon> She detaches herself briefly for a curtsey. "Loveless," the blond woman says in dulcet tones before latching onto her patron once again. "She has the most brilliant voice, hasn't she?" Blackbird says. "Perhaps later you may hear her sing."
<Steph> "If you would not mind," replies Stephanie, taking a moment to properly memorize the blonde's features.
<El-Cideon> Blackbird brings you to the northmost exhibit on this side of the gallery. The interior of this hut is a stone basin set into the floor of the cavern, filled to waist height with brilliantly clear water. The inhabit of this exhibit--a shockingly picturesque woman with the pointed ears and long, exotic features of the fey--looks perfectly at home in her watery environment. She is naked, slender, and the epitome of liquid grace. A capacious mane of silvery blonde hair falls to the water and floats on the surface around her, but does little to afford her any modesty. She appears as sad as she is beautiful, and in sullen silence looks upon you with listless eyes.
<El-Cideon> Marina is unsuccessful in concealing a little gasp.
<Julia> "You even have other fey in your exhibits?" Julia asks, for all that she knew in advance, surely it must be harder to justify for him.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, I assure you her story adheres to the theme of the place," Blackbird enthuses.
<El-Cideon> "Ailara, won't you share you tale of woe with our guests?" Blackbird says to the woman. She sighs, with audible resignation, looks over each of you in turn. "If I must."
<El-Cideon> "Time...time escapes me," she says, in a voice that should be beautiful, clear as the water she resides in, but simply has no life to it. "Fifteen years? Twenty? I lived in Arvandor. The uplands, where the waterfall comes off the mountain."
<Franceska> "Aren't we still in Arvandor?" Franceska confirms with Marina.
<El-Cideon> Marina's attention snaps away from the woman as if breaking from a trance, blinking distractedly. "Arborea, yes, but not Arvandor," Marina corrects quietly. "Arvandor was the forested layer."
* Franceska frowns slightly. "Is she that pretty? Or are you under the influence of strange mind-controlling magics?"
<El-Cideon> "It was a quiet life," the nymph continues. "Peaceful. Some I suppose would say dull, but I find such people simply haven't experienced the unpleasant consequences of an 'interesting' life. Mine became 'interesting,' in Blackbird's sense, when the human colonists arrived."
<El-Cideon> Marina whispers to Franceska, "Aren't they the same thing?"
<Franceska> "No, I am fairly certain they aren't," Franceska whispers back.
* Julia listens attentively, wondering if said colonists are the refugees from her home.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, spoken like a woman who's never known love," Marina speculates quietly.
<Steph> Stephanie recognizes the face of a woman who, most likely, is a total sourpuss- well, not that she can blame her. Still, she doesn't feel up to prodding that kind of dead look...
<El-Cideon> "We had the good grace to welcome them," Ailara says. "Myself, Ariost and his dryad grove. The villagers fled war and strife in their home country. It wouldn't do to turn them away. So we turned away, withheld our distaste as they cut down trees, raised buildings. Began to remake our world as the one they'd known." She frowns. "An unfortunate compulsion of humans. But they had suffered, so we made allowances."
<El-Cideon> "They did not. They built a forge, belched smoke into the sky. Set up a tannery." She wrinkles her nose in remembered disgust. "Have you ever been near a tannery? They dumped their filth into the river, knowing there were none of their own kind downstream to disturb with such offenses. They felled the woods and did not bother to replant."
<Julia> Who knew civilisation was so disgusting? Julia sure didn't! Maybe when she's a lich and doesn't need to eat or anything she can just live in a cave and not bother anyone?
<Franceska> "Did you tell them to stop?"
<El-Cideon> "Ariost went to negotiate with them," she confirms. "I do not believe they understood the nature of his argument. Their mayor asked by what means we could demonstrate that this land was ours? What had we built to demonstrate this? Where were our deeds and titles? He could only presume according to his city standards that the land was unowned. He walked away laughing."
* Franceska nods in understanding.
<El-Cideon> "One of them--one of them was quite taken with me, however," she says with a faint smile. "A young man. Innocent enough, as close as could be found in a human town. He spied me one day while fishing. We talked. Became close. So you understand that when Ariost thought to attack the village at night to destroy the means by which the villagers despoiled our home, the workshops and the tannery, I was...concerned, for the loss of life that might occur alongside this."
<Julia> "Sounds like a difficult situation," Julia agrees sympathetically.
<Franceska> "I can understand how choosing to kill everyone at night instead of asking them where their own deeds and titles came from would be difficult to support," Franceska voices.
<El-Cideon> "So I warned him. And he warned his kin. And they armed themselves. And when Ariost arrived at what he expected to be a restful village that would not trouble his act of sabotage, he instead found a hostile force. They attacked him and his forest kin, and what then could he do but defend himself? In a rage, he killed any man that took up arms against him."
<El-Cideon> "They don't really hold with paperwork in these parts," Marina quietly corrects Franceska.
<Franceska> "Precisely."
<El-Cideon> "It was never my intent to provoke violence," the nymph concludes, "but from my wish to protect one life, I precipitated an act of slaughter. I know not what happened to the women and children of the village. Fled back to the portal and scattered on their own side."
<El-Cideon> "Ah, led astray by true love!" Blackbird laments sadly. His companion pouts appropriately.
<Franceska> "To be perfectly honest, I can't see why you would take the blame for something like that. They were clearly rash on both sides, and unwilling to reconcile their differences and work out a mutually beneficial treaty. It was a foregone conclusion, in that situation."
<El-Cideon> She looks surprised that her story is received with an argument. "We spoke to them peaceably and amicably. How does one cope with a party that will not negotiate, will not understand another's rights?"
<Franceska> "Just because you speak the same language is no guarantee of carrying your message across. Much like there are language barriers, cultural barriers can prevent proper understanding. It seems, from your story, that both your friend and the humans of that village never took the time to overcome them. You tried, but ultimately it was not enough. However, I would not blame you for their failures."
<Julia> "I wonder..." Julia ponders that question, looking at Blackbird.
<El-Cideon> She looks unconvinced, but favors Franceska with a respectful nod.
<Franceska> Properly convincing her would probably take longer, and it sounds more like a task Rosemund might want to do. Franceska glances at her discreetly, to see what she would prefer.
<Steph> "It's easier to just hate people than get along. What gets me is that this is a world with so much space, and there's still not enough to share," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund gives her an encouraging smile. Franceska trying to cheer people up! Clearly a direction Rosemund approves of.
<El-Cideon> "One would think they could have just moved," the nymph agrees quietly.
<El-Cideon> "Well, I trust we have all taken sufficient heed from this cautionary example of passions overriding reason?" Blackbird assumes.
<Julia> "Yes, certainly," Julia blithely agrees.
<El-Cideon> Blackbird sweeps on to the south, his bodyguards buzzing along in the air above.
<El-Cideon> The next cage is absolutely opulent in its furnishings: lavish bed with silk sheets, colorful tapestries decorating the walls, fine wood furnishings--this is a man who means to ride out his captivity in style. Sitting upright at a desk, reading a book, the inhabitant stands to attention at your arrival. It's a human man: dark hair, mustache and beard, all of it immaculately trimmed; fine clothes, expensive, black and red, a professional outfit of some kind (Franceska may recognize the cut of a career bureaucrat from personal experience). He is quite handsome in a sharp, dangerous sort of way, and there is a generally imposing air about him.
<El-Cideon> "Morgan, my dear friend!" Blackbird announces. "Would you believe we have human guests for you today? Oh, a chance to pour out your miseries to your own kind, such an opportunity!"
* Franceska studies the man calmly. If they free him, might he help them find another has-been hero to free?
<El-Cideon> He returns Franceska's gaze, steady and unwavering, before responding to Blackbird. "Opportunity indeed," he observes with a wry twist to his mouth.
<El-Cideon> "And from where do all of you hail?" the man says, addressing his visitors.
<Julia> Not wanting to tip their hand about being from the same place as Marcus, Julia lies! "We're from Peldervale, most of us."
<El-Cideon> OOC: bluff!
<Julia> roll 1d20+15
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+15 and gets 29."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+14 and gets 32."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> "Is that so?" he says casually, favoring Julia with a knowing look. "For my own part, I called Redmarble home until the ingrates slung me out," for the briefest of moments there's a crack in his composure and seething hate boils out for...someone. Someone somewhere else. "A small Solati town, but prosperous."
<El-Cideon> OOC: K:Local could be rolled on the name should anyone be inclined
<Julia> So many people from Solata in this plane! "Thrown out for what?"
<El-Cideon> "For saving them," he says bitterly.
<Franceska> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+12 and gets 31."12 [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> There's a gleam in his eyes as he unwinds his story. "We were remote. Not much involved during the war. Riper pickings for devils and demons elsewhere. So mostly the worst of that business passed us by and the crown ignored us save to sweep through come tax season. Other sorts didn't ignore us though."
<Franceska> "How unfortunate," Franceska says dryly. "What sorts would that be?"
<El-Cideon> "The hills and the mountains above town--all manner of unsavory creatures hide out in the western reaches. Subhuman trash pushed out by the kingdom ages past, mostly. Gnolls in our case. Hyena folk. Savages. They'll eat you if they get their hands on you, and if you're lucky it'll be after they've killed you."
<Franceska> "So you killed them first and then got chased out?"
<El-Cideon> "I was working in the governor's office when we got signs of trouble. Minor position, basic clerk and functionary. I clawed my way up from nothing though, will alone." He beams with a frightful pride at his own perseverance. "All sorts of paperwork came across my desk. City watch reports. Requisitions. Logistics. Whatever better-paid men didn't feel like dealing with that day. But I was sharper than them. I could draw out a minor observation from a routine incident report and see it for part of a larger picture. I could tell something was coming. We were soft from years of peace, easy pickings."
<Franceska> That doesn't sound a yes. "So you tried to pick a winning side early?" she tries again.
<El-Cideon> "I never killed a man myself," he responds to Franceska. "A true mark of success lies in commanding others to do the same, wouldn't you say?"
<Franceska> "For some value of success, certainly."
<Steph> Stephanie snorts, at that. "You were seeing a surge, right? A surge of banditry in the making? Those fuckers boil out the hills every now and then and shut down all the roads, the ingrates."
<El-Cideon> He chuckles darkly, nods to Stephanie. "I knew what had to be done, yes. The trouble was convincing anyone else to listen."
<Steph> "Ain't it a bitch when people just ignore you?"
<Franceska> "Hm? Did you say something?"
<Steph> "Not to you~"
<El-Cideon> Another eager nod. This comment seems to resonate, and he continues with heat in his voice: "I had every piece of information necessary to demonstrate a great band was coming our way. But I was no one of consequence and men, in truth, are not creatures of reason. It is not facts that convince a man to follow you. It is conviction, power, force of personality. These were things I lacked. So I had to turn elsewhere for these gifts."
<Steph> "Huh. So you weren't always the charming guy you seem?"
* Franceska wonders whether forging a few orders from higher ups and intercepting correspondence never occurred to a midlevel bureaucrat.
<El-Cideon> *This* comment he doesn't deign to answer in detail. "I made a bargain with...unfairly-maligned parties. I was rewarded with a degree of influence over mortal minds, which I employed with abandon to save my city from itself. I bent the wills of other men, grew in public esteem through speeches and demonstrations, forged them into a disciplined force of resistance, so that when the horde came, we were ready. We broke them, chased them back into the hills, silenced their mewling whelps."
<Franceska> "Demons or devils?" Franceska asks matter-of-factly.
<El-Cideon> He turns to Franceska. "What sort of madmen could believe any bargain a demon offered him?"
* Franceska returns his look evenly. "Would you like a list?"
<El-Cideon> He laughs, bitterly. "Just so. The world does teem with fools, does it not?"
<Franceska> "Yes, it is quite unfortunate. But even if you got chased out, with those talents wouldn't you be able to rebuild your life anywhere in the world?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes," he says, barely constrained fury contorting his features for a split second. "Were I not confined, unquestionably so." He casts Blackbird an acid look that the fairy merely laughs away.
<Steph> "So I'm guessing some bright spark clued in on you, huh, and got a mob together?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund tugs at Franceska's sleeve, casts her a sidelong glance that suggests just maybe this one should stay in his cage.
<Franceska> "What about the devil who made this bargain with you?"
<El-Cideon> He nods to Stephanie. "Yes. Only afterwards--*after* victory through my order--did the cowards lift a hand to oppose me. Some priest--" he spits the word, "--knew where my newfound talents originated. To this day I know not how. Somehow he pierced my enchantment, aroused a self-righteous crowd to chase me from the city. I was on the road, in flight, when he--" he nods to Blackbird, "intervened. 'Saved' me, so he'd like to think."
<Steph> Stephanie snorts. "Was he one of St. Cuthberts?"
<El-Cideon> To Franceska: "I have not seen or heard this creature since my exile. Though I wonder sometimes--it wasn't long ago that my captor had an uninvited guest," he looks to Blackbird, who simply radiates ignorance, "of whose identity he won't deign to inform me. I have my own suspicions."
<Franceska> "What admirable loyalty!"
<El-Cideon> To Stephanie, he gives a curt nod.
<El-Cideon> "It would only be sensible to monitor such an investment as myself," he agrees.
<Steph> "Sounds to me like you got played," muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> The glare he turns on Stephanie could bore holes through granite.
<El-Cideon> "It is a valid question, is it not?" Blackbird muses. "Whither the origins and means of salvation, if death is one's alternative?"
<Steph> "Oooh, scary. But you know the Cuthberite morons are in bed with devils too, right? Probably wasn't some great magical insight of theirs," she remarks, stretching out her hands. "Probably, they got tipped off."
<El-Cideon> "There are things worse than death!" is Rosemund's confident counter to Blackbird.
<Julia> "But why would they turn on one of their own?" Julia asks.
<El-Cideon> "Cowards, whoever they might bow to!" Morgan snaps.
<El-Cideon> "Really, dear?" Blackbird responds. "Could you prepare me a list? I admit to some curiosity!"
<El-Cideon> "Owing fiends your soul is death beyond death," Rosemund continues with salutary conviction.
<Steph> "It's what they do, you know?" replies Stephanie, glancing at Julia with a shrug. "Throw away their toys when they don't need them anymore, sounds pretty devilish to me. I mean, then they die faster, right, and- and you get their soul. Tough break," she adds, turning back to Morgan.
<El-Cideon> Morgan just looks silently at Rosemund, with all the respect he might have for a stupidly bleating sheep. At last: "Curious hobbies you have for an evangelist."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund just blushes furiously, and with visible effort refrains from shouting her actual reason for being present in Blackbird's gallery.
<Franceska> "Did you actually trade your soul away?" Franceska asks curiously.
<El-Cideon> "And I saved thousands," he says. "And who knows what more I might have done had I the chance to turn my talents to the war itself. Do you not think it a noble act? Should they not have been *grateful?*"
<Julia> "Well, you did save everyone from being eaten by gnolls," Julia gives him that. "Sometimes the ends do justify the means."
<El-Cideon> He rewards Julia with a fierce smile.
<El-Cideon> "Well, we have one more ahead of us if you are not overly fatigued," Blackbird concludes. "Shall we away?"
<Franceska> "Certainly."
<Steph> Stephanie grunts. "Mmhmm."
<El-Cideon> Blackbird trots on to the last cell. Plainly furnished on the inside, bed and cabinets the like of which you might see in any common craftsman's home. An old woman is sitting on the bed. Short, stooped, somewhat withered with age, gray hair wrangled into a sloppy bun. She has a look of despair and mourning about her as she looks up at your arrival. "Oh, it is time again, isn't it?" she says without much enthusiasm.
<El-Cideon> "In your own time, Darla," Blackbird says, the soul of compassion as the woman wipes away a tear.
<Julia> "H-how long have you been in here?" Julia asks the old woman worriedly.
<El-Cideon> "This cell, milady? Only but a few weeks now," she says, composing herself. "Before that, I could only guess, there weren't proper seasons in the Lord's realm. Couldn't be less than two years? Three?"
<El-Cideon> "Darla is another of Solati extraction originally," Blackbird explains. "Oh, but your nation has been such a factory of misery these past decades!"
<Julia> Oh... she'd been worried that she'd been in there since she was young and grown old in captivity. Then again, it's still impolite to write off three years. All in all she ends up looking a bit awkward.
<Steph> "Oh, but it's much nicer, now!"
<El-Cideon> The woman nods to confirm Blackbird's words. "Well, that cheers my heart a little," she says to Stephanie. "We all shuffled off some twenty-five years past, when the troubles made it so you could hardly step out for a loaf of bread without fearing for your life."
<Steph> "You were part of the colony on Arvandor?"
<El-Cideon> She shakes her head. "No, milady--there was an old mine near my town of Bridgeton had a doorway somewhere else. Plane of Earth they said. Sometimes adventurous folk would tromp down there looking for riches. Some of them actually came back! So when Miss Senacott turned the town over to the fiends, well, some of us were desperate enough to climb down ourselves, set out for another world. Couldn't be a worse one, we all thought."
<Steph> "Steph, call me Steph, I'm no lady," replies Stephanie, rubbing her head.
* Franceska snorts.
<El-Cideon> She manages a fragile smile. If there's a jest to be made from that comment, she's clearly not the one to do it. "Of course, Steph. Short for Stephanie, is it? It's a nice name."
<Steph> "Why, thank you!"
<El-Cideon> She nods, draws herself up for a round of recollection. "Well, it wasn't so bad on the other side. Dark, and you feel heavier, but you know, I was together with all my family and sometimes that's all you need. So we all walked a few days, us and the other families came through with us, not sure where to set down, afraid someone was going to come through after us. Found some dwarves set up shop mining by this big gorge. That was something we understood, so we set up next to them. Built a town. Hard living, but there's some feeling of reward to that, isn't there? Had a quiet twenty years or so."
<Steph> "Did you get on alright with the dwarves?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, for the most part. Wasn't them what was the problem. Was the neighbors. These djinn like to say they run the plane of Earth. Showed up not long after we did and a few of them built a 'trading outpost.' Turns out one of the things they trade is people. Didn't make any move to enslave the lot of us, but they sort of...I heard the word once, 'insinuate,' and I think that has the right feel to it. Suddenly it seems like everybody owes them money."
<Steph> Stephanie suspects she knows how the story goes from here, but keeps her peace.
<Julia> "I've never understood slavery," Julia shakes her head in disgust.
<El-Cideon> "Well, all us town folk, we came there like one big family so we'd mostly look out for each other, and we mostly agreed we'd just deal with them for necessities and that's that. *Mostly.* But a few folk sidled over the chasm to the djinn side and took some awful lessons in making money off of other folk. One of 'em set up a gambling house. All bright and shiny, town didn't have anything like that before. Took a little while before folks started to notice anyone got in debt would disappear."
<El-Cideon> She nods to Julia. "It's an awful thing to force another to labor for you," she agrees.
<Franceska> "Was anyone leading you at the time?"
<El-Cideon> "Mr. Nomos was mayor when we left Solata and he kept on being mayor when we got to the other side," she says. "These days it's his son doing the job, or it was last thing I knew. And what he said was it's an awful thing what the djinn do with other folk, but it's their world and they've got their cities and their soldiers and we're just one little town. We don't have to like what they do elsewhere, but it'd be a fool's job to try and fight 'em about it, he said. So we let them do what they like on their side of the chasm and they keep their slaving out of our town, that was the deal. Except money has a way of sneaking around rules like that, it turns out."
<Franceska> "People never learned?"
<El-Cideon> "For me it started with my daughter," she says. "Rachel, my youngest? She had eyes this for this young gadabout had more style than sense. I told her he was trouble, I told her so many times--" She sighs. "He'd hang about the gambling house for the excitement, you know, not much else of that about town for young people. Disappeared one day and of course she went looking for him and then she, well, I don't have to paint you a picture like that dead fellow over there, do I?"
<El-Cideon> "So, I thought, I knew what would happen if I tried to gamble her back. So I decided I had to cheat."
<Franceska> Franceska's eyes drift towards Stephanie of their own accord.
<Steph> "But I bet it'd be hard, if you ain't used to cheating?"
<El-Cideon> She nods to Stephanie. "I wouldn't know how, all I knew was making clothes and raising children. So I went to Miss Granville--she was this lady sorcerer just moved in from another world, hated all the slavers, kept telling everybody we should kick them right out of town. She made me a charm that would meddle with the games, make them work my way. Told me it would break if somebody got suspicious and cast a spell to check for it so I had to make good of things before that happened."
<El-Cideon> "It worked," she continues. "It worked very well, wasn't long before I had enough I knew I could pay off whatever Rachel owed them, buy her back. The charm stopped working, so somebody must have done something, but I had enough. The owners, they were suspicious sure enough, tried casting their magics, but they couldn't pick up anything...so instead they brought out the *lawyers.*"
<Franceska> "Sensible of them."
<El-Cideon> She blinks at Franceska.
* Julia rubs her face in her hand.
<Franceska> "That is when you brought your own, correct?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, well I'm no lady of great sophistication, you know?" she admits. "They'd talk and talk and talk and my head would spin around. So I had to leave the money there and then I left to find one of my own to talk to them in their own legal language and you wouldn't believe how they dragged it all out. Weeks I had to wait. Got to keep the money in the end, but it didn't matter. Turned out they traded Rachel to some monster leaves east of the chasm, they say it's one of those, one of those awful squidhead things has a taste for brains." She sobs and closes her eyes. "To this day I think they made that trade just to spite me."
<Franceska> "Every plane I heard of so far is horrible."
<Julia> Even for a morbid necromancer obsessed with unwholesome medical practices, this is a bit much for Julia. "They really are!"
<Steph> "I'm sorry for making you dredge it all up again," replies Stephanie, looking at the woman with pity. "You did what you could do."
<El-Cideon> "It's a nice enough town, our side of it," she insists, wiping away tears. "You wouldn't believe people doing it all in a generation or so, it's all lit up with magelight and there's bridges over the gorge and all...but the world ain't all ours to do with as we please, and more's the pity."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, don't worry yourself, Stephanie," she says. "It isn't you makes me tell the story all the time."
<El-Cideon> Blackbird, oblivious as ever, concludes, "Oh, the vagaries of time and chance are cruel things, aren't they?"
<Franceska> "This doesn't really seem to have to do much with chance or time."
<Steph> "Well, I am a bit of an enabler," she quietly confides.
<El-Cideon> "Doesn't it, though?" Blackbird continues. "If only she'd been there earlier, or if the cards had gone better for her daughter...well!"
<Franceska> "It is foolish to expect that cheaters will play fair, so I doubt that it would have made a difference," Franceska muses. "Was that after that trade that you picked her up?"
<Steph> Stephanie snorts. "Gambling halls are rigged," she points out. "The house always wins, so the more Rachel played there, the more certain it is that she'd eventually lose. This is about greed, and about human nature." She shrugs.
<El-Cideon> He nods to Franceska. "Oh yes! I could hardly recruit a subject before their story had reached a suitable apogee, could I?"
<Franceska> "You could have recruited the daughter," she points out. "Do you know if the story she heard of her fate is even true, by chance?"
<El-Cideon> "Really now, the daughter was of much less interest to me," he says. "And if that did prove to be true, she would hardly be in a condition to share her story, now would she?" he adds with a laugh.
<El-Cideon> ~