Assistant Governor Cordwin
As the eventful day drew towards evening, Gorfang took a walk through his palace, exploring it. Carelessly he passed the ballroom, offices, reception rooms, and so on. Rather more interesting were the kitchens - where it occurred to him that he could call for food or drink from anywhere and it would appear - and the liquor stored just off Bardrum's office. As he went, he took the opportunity to talk to some of the staff. Some were frankly terrified, but most seemed to regard him in a simlar light to people like Velg'nin - powerful and not human, but just another important person.
|
Assistant Governor Cordwin |
Returning to his office, he collected Cordwin and asked him to show him where the money was stored. It was clear that this was something Cordwin had been expecting, and dreading. Sighing, the assistant governor collected some keys and guided the orc down through the palace and into the cellars.
Passing through various store-rooms, they traversed gates, doors and corridors until they reached a small, secure room. Gorfang's eyes lit up. It was stacked high with gold; coin, bars, odd worked items; piles of credit tiles from Guild Venter; and other bits of paper he assumed were also valuable.
Cordwin began to talk with all the tact he could muster. "Purely from a translation approach," he said carefully, "there are two words in the common tongue which you may or may not have encountered; embezzlement and impeachment." Gorfang raised an eyebrow. Cordwin continued. "This money is the core of all the business and finance of the city," he continued. "If it's removed, the city will stop working." Gorfang eyed him for a moment, wondering if the little man was trying to trick him, but he seemed to mean it, so he turned away. There wasn't any pleasure in taking this, anyway, he reflected. It wasn't plundering; it was more like picking one's own pocket.
He eyed the heaps of documents, and asked if Cordwin had any matches. The man paled slightly. "These are, if anything, slightly more important," he replied. "This one, for example, is the consitution, and that may save both our necks. In that is laid out the impeachment process that changes what we - you - did from the murder of a high government official in office to the killing of a wanted criminal."
On the way out they passed another room filled with pigeon-holes, each occupied by a single dusty bottle. "The palace wine-cellar," commented Cordwin with some pride. "Some of the best wines in Pterus."
Back in his room, Gorfang summoned a meal, and was amused when it arrived, complete with dusty bottle of fine wine, just as he'd specified. As he ate, he considered. This was fun, and probably profitable if handled properly; but it couldn't go on forever. Either some administrative crisis would arise for which he wasn't trained, or with which he would become bored; or the government would send a replacement to take over. Make the best of it!
 DM Note: Eloy is a member of the Lossal Guild of Assassins; but this fact is only known to the other players - no other character knows it. |
 Eloy seeks out his Guild |
Eloy strolled through the streets of the city as the sun sank, turning the things he'd been taught by his new guild over in his mind. While the Guild headquarters was maintained for training, record-keeping, administration and so on, regular contact for field members was arranged in public places, following a complex rota; today's contact location was the coffee-shop Alakanga's
The designated contact-man was a retired assassin named Artin; once one of the Guild's best poisoners, he was too old now for active service. But a slayer who lived to be that old was an exceptional person - too useful to waste - and the Guild found work for such people. He settled back as Eloy made the tiny signals that identified him as a member, and signalled for another cup of the scalding brew.
Eloy sat opposite him, and asked the first of the questions on his mind. "Is there a tab on the new Governor?" Artin shook his head and chuckled. "Given his record in recent events it would be an expensive business even if he weren't Governor. As he is, anyone wanting to play wouldn't get any change out of fifty grand. Which hopefully will discourage everyone; unlike those fools at the Thieves' Guild we don't underestimate him."
Eloy nodded, relieved, and then Artin spoke again. "There is someone with a death mark on him," he added, "probably whoever it was who commissioned the Kingdom of Loonies to rob him. That contract's off, or so I hear." He shook his head, dismissing Gorfang from consideration. "There is a tab out at that level," he went on, "Velg'nin, the Mercenary Guildmaster. But Principa's taken that one on; if you want it you'll have to take it up with her." Eloy shivered slightly. He knew Principa by reputation; very blonde, very lovely, very psychotic. A cruel sadist and a born killer. He wouldn't be stepping on her toes.
Clearly reaching the same conclusion, Artin moved on. "There are a few more available," he continued. "Here's the list."
| Name | Profession | Fee | Commission From | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Carkel Doomhanger | Hunter | 7,500 | Commercial rival | Has an address on Vine Street, but is only in town one week a month. Is here now. |
| Alpad | Furrier | 250 | Wronged wife | Address and business on Fur Street. Security is poor. |
| Malpad the Gaunt | Stablemaster | 1,250 | Not stated | Malpad's Stables, off Execution Square. Four tough guards. |
| Shade | Clockmaker | 10,000 | Not stated | Address and business off Money street. Shade is a dwarf and a skilled fighter, approach with caution. |
Eloy took the list, with an eye to picking up some of these contracts if time allowed.
Méabh walked back through the palace to Gorfang's office and collected Lynien, who'd been eying up the fittings more to annoy the orc than with any real intention of stealing anything. Telling Gorfang that she was going over to the Mageguild to do some research and to look up Erilas, she invited Lynien along. When the pair mentioned that they'd likely be staying the night together at the Guild, mental pictures of what this might mean flashed across Gorfang's brain and his libido bubbled. Méabh and Lynien departed. slightly puzzled at the orc's distracted air. Maybe he was back on the devilweed again?
On the way over, Méabh explained in a little more detail what the trip was for. The little box the imp Tubalcain had been so keen to retrieve had contained a sketch-map showing the way to Erilas' rooms at the Guild, and Méabh was beginning to question her patron and mentor. She wanted Lynien along as an extra pair of (specialist trained) eyes and ears, to watch out for anything inconsistent.
As they strolled down the Lord Street, Méabh glanced behind, and by chance noticed a man following them. His mastery of the art of concealment and shadowing was impressive; it took her several tries to describe his location to Lynien well enough for the tiefling to spot him.
As the pair reached a turning in the road, Méabh made a production of bidding farewell to Lynien as they swung around. As soon as they were round, Lynien slipped Maedar's Ring on and vanished from sight, doubling back to loop around behind their 'tail'. Méabh tucked herself into a doorway to try and ambush him, a spell rising into her mind as she did so. The 'tail' rounded the corner - smack into Méabh's perfectly-timed Hold Person.
The man rolled his shoulders, as if shrugging off the rain - and then ran off at a ninety-degree angle, heading for a side street. Méabh was astounded - he'd resisted her magic! For a moment, she considered another Orb of Force but changed her mind for something less lethal, and flung a Web into the air above the fleeing fugitive. Dropping down, it landed neatly atop him, as well as around a dozen innocent bystanders. The citizens thrashed and struggled as they were entrapped in the strands. But the fleeing mystery man slipped through them as they dropped off him, and ran on down the side street. With the web between them, there was no way Méabh could follow and she stood helplessly as he escaped. Then she noticed a couple of the strands at the far side flick aside as something invisible and fast-moving avoided entanglement and disappeared down the street. She shrugged. So much for taking Lynien to the Guild!
There being nothing else to do, she carried on to the Mageguild, entered the building and made her way to the quadrangle. There, she started slightly as Lynien popped back into visibility next to her. "Any information?" she asked the tiefling. "I'm afraid I ended up killing him," Lynien confessed. "But I got some information from the body. He wasn't human - he was Fae Mhor!"
Erilas |
Reflecting on this, they carried on until they reached the tower Erilas lived in. He opened the door to Méabh's knock, and greeted her pleasantly, then turned to Lynien. "You brought a friend?" he inquired politely. Méabh performed introductions, but noticed that Erilas and Lynien were not getting off to a particularly good start; they were watching each other like wary cats.
Erilas seemed out of sorts, and Méabh asked if anything was troubling him. Erilas told her that the spell he'd been researching had failed at a critical juncture, and he'd lost all the work. Aware that prying into another wizard's spell research was poor manners - and remembering her father's lethal approach to security - she dropped the subject, though she remained curious.
She queried the wizard about the map she'd found, and about Iboleth and Tubalcain. "Iboleth?" mused Erilas. "Yes, I remember him, promising lad. Specialized in scrying and clairvoyant magic. Was working as a sell-spell but got himself hired as Bardrum's staff wizard. Shame he got caught up in all this." Méabh mentioned the imp. "Little fiend, around so high? No, Iboleth never had a familar as far as I know. I'd be interested to know where it got this map. You sure it didn't come from the Thieves? Anyway, thank you for bringing it to me and I'll be sure to take the necessary action."
He placed a paternal hand on Méabh's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Méabh, but due to the time I've lost to this project I've no new gadgets for you today. I have one coming along that should be ready in about a week." Méabh noticed that Lynien, while still poised on her toes as if in the lair of a monster, was beginning to tire of the shop-talk and eye up some of the smaller valuables in Erilas' workroom. "Time to go," she said firmly. Lynien bade Erilas a stiff and wary farewell, and the pair left.
Méabh's sanctum was a few minutes' walk away through the sprawling Mageguild precincts, and once there Lynien looked around approvingly. "You've made a nice job of this place," she commented, dropping into a comfortable chair and accepting a chilled drink from Méabh's magical box; she called it a fridgator. A thought struck Méabh, and she drew a bowl of water, casting a Scrying on it to try and see what Erilas was doing - a shocking breach of Guild ettiquette.
The image cleared and she could see Erilas' workroom. The mage was seated at a lectern, reading a book. Instantly, he leaned forward and rested his arms comfortably on the front edge, covering the pages completely as if by accident, and looked up at the point where the spell's nearly invisible point of view was located. "Really," he said reprovingly, "that's not very polite." Hoping he hadn't identified her as the perpetrator, Méabh cancelled the spell.
Lynien decided to stop over with Méabh for the evening, and wanted to find a runner to notify the others, but Méabh stopped her. "We have more sophisticated tools here," she said. Opening a small cupboard, she extracted a small metal object, rather like a ball with wings. "This comes with the room rental," she explained. Holding it in her hands, she spoke to it, explaining as if to Gorfang where the two of them were, and telling it where to go and who to tell. Then she tossed it into the air and it took wing, darting out of the window.
 Pepterus Region - click it for larger image! |
The next day, Cordwin arrived quite early, armed with large numbers of documents and lists for the Governor's signature. He'd clearly considered that the orc would have a very limited interest in administration. He was quite surprised when Gorfang selected several at random and read them carefully all the way through.
The results were quite satisfactory; while Cordwin was doing the bulk of the leg-work of running the place, he appeared to be doing it honestly and competently. One startling fact emerged from reading the documents that had eluded Gorfang up to this point; he wasn't Governor of Lossal, as he'd imagined - he was Governor of Pepterus Region, incorporating Lossal, Mouldward, Kellan and Anthas!
Once the signing session was over, Gorfang took his leave from his assistant and headed out into the city, down through the market square and to the Blue Knight. There, he retrieved Shamlakh from the stables. His ferocious steed was a little disgruntled at being left in the tavern stables for several days - though the money and the threats Gorfang had left had meant he was well-fed and cared for - but was mollified by his new quarters in the Palace stables, and especially by the fare offered by the palace kitchens' meat store.
The orc returned to his office, where a footman came to advise him that one Eloy Brackensen was requesting an audience. "Hmmm, no, I don't think so; my diary's full today," boomed Gorfang in a voice pitched to reach the waiting human. Rewarded by Eloy's indignant snort from outside the door, he signalled the man to let him in.
Together, the pair cooked up the idea of a public holiday to celebrate the recent transition of power. After a few alternatives, it ended up being simply 'Gorfang Day". The orc wanted to hold it straight away, but Cordwin disagreed. "Make it a few days from now," he said. Gorfang began to growl, but Cordwin explained that to get the best benefits from a feast day needed some gathering of supplies and planning. This did make sense, and Gorfang grudgingly accepted the 11th as Gorfang Day.
A few days later, the battalion of Dragonarmy troops requested by the panicky Bardrum arrived outside the city. The bulk of them bivouaced to the north, but their commander, escorted by ten men, rode into town and presented herself at the Governor's Palace.
Rinlan Myrrlnor
|
When she and her two aides were shown into the Governor's office, Gorfang, Eloy and Méabh all took a deep breath. The woman was deeply beautiful; not possessing the overwhelming presence of Méabh or the inhuman foxiness of Lynien, but human and very lovely. She came to a parade halt in front of the desk and eyed Gorfang carefully. "I assume I am addressing the Acting Governor of Pepterus." It was not a question. "I am Rinlan Myyrlnor, commander of Kolaushi Castle, and my presence was requested by Governor Bardrum in order to suppress civil unrest in this city." She glanced around. "This would appear to be unnecessary," she continued. "My scouts have reported nothing out of the ordinary in the city or the surrounding area. "
"It would seem that there is nothing for me to do here."
Gorfang smiledd at her. "No," he said, "but there is a celebration planned for tomorrow; you and your men are all welcome to stay for it." Rinlan grinned back and removed her helmet, placing it on the desk with a sharp click. "We would be delighted," she responded. "The men will be glad to know that they won't have to fight today." Gorfang blinked. "Warriors that don't want to fight?" he asked disbelievingly. Rinlan eyed him speculatively. "Of course, you are from a warrior culture, where battle is for plunder, or glory, or tribal rivalry," she said uncritically. "These, however, are professional soldiers. They are paid, whether or not they fight, whether or not they march, and so for them a good day is one where they are paid and don't have to risk death or mutilation." Gorfang shook his head. Humans could be so strange.... "Well, you are welcome anyway," he said. "Do you or your men need anything?"
"Not much," she told him. "Permission to camp outside the walls and to indent for supplies; we look after our own. Liberty to enter the city in controlled groups for furlough is appreciated." Eloy leaned forward. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked meaningfully. The red-haired soldier looked him up and down. "Maybe," she said. "I'll look you up when I come off duty."
Once she'd left, Méabh, Lynien and Eloy looked at Gorfang, their thoughts set rolling by the talk of Acting Governor. "What are our jobs, then?" they asked. "and what are our salaries?" Gorfang considered that, and turned to Cordwin. "Come to that," he said, "what's my salary?" The Assistant Governor coughed. "Well, the Governor earns five hundred in gold a month," he replied, "but your associates haven't yet been assigned specific posts so I can't answer for them." Gorfang pointed at Méabh. "First Advisor," he stated; well, it was her advice got us into this, he thought. "Three hundred and fifty," said Cordwin. Gorfang looked at Eloy for a moment. "Bodyguard," said the human. Despite the ridiculous unlikelihood of this as an idea, Gorfang rolled with it. "Bodyguard," he confirmed. Cordwin thought a moment. "For a specialist bodyguard, two hundred and fifty." More specialist than you know, thought Eloy. They looked at Lynien. "Security specialist," she supplied. "Three hundred," suggested Cordwin.
"Right," decided Gorfang, "we'll have a month's each in advance, I think. Dig it out, Cordwin."
The day selected for the great celebration dawned bright and warm, and the population of Lossal turned out in force. A generous amount of the gold stored beneath the palace had flowed out to local businesses to provide food, drink and entertainment, and a city-wide party was soon well under way. The presence of several hundred of Rinlan's troops added some new faces, and by and large the mixture was a joyous one. There were, of course, exceptions. The inevitable brawls broke out, soon squashed by Rinlan's military police, and two actual fights with weapons, the survivors of which Nashruf hauled away to the dungeons in Prison Tower.
The Kingdom of Filchers, of course, nearly died of ecstasy. Half the city staggering drunkenly around in unfamiliar streets was good enough, but add hundreds of soldiers doing the same thing made it a lucky dip of delicious proportions. Almost as much money as the Palace made back in tax disappeared into the Kingdom's coffers.
Gorfang ranged through the town, quaffing an ale here, sampling a roast there, laughing and roistering with the best of them. Many townsfolk hadn't believed the description of him related by those who'd been there on the night, and were startled to see that the Governor was actually a real orc!
Towards evening, Eloy and Rinlan strolled through the impromptu bazaar in the main marketplace. Each was dressed rather less martially than was their usual wont, with no more than two or three weapons each - practically naked. A flagon of exceptional wine passed back and forth as they walked, and the conversation was light, spiced with the thrill of possibilities. Neither seemed in a hurry to rush into anything; the company and the maybe was enough.
Méabh spent the day tucked up in bed with a stack of good books, only the faintest murmur of the revelry outside penetrating her sanctum.
Nothing much, of any description, happened in Lossal on this day.
Two days later, City Watch commander Nashruf appeared at the palace and requested an audience with the Governor or his assistant. Gorfang gave directions for him to be shown in, and the man marched in. Coming to a parade rest in front of the desk, he doffed his helmet and came to attention. He looked distinctly nervous.
Seeing that this was going to be a struggle otherwise, Gorfang invited him to sit down and spent a while relaxing him before asking what he was here for. Nashruf coughed, and looked rather embarrassed. "We seem to be short of criminals and crime, m'lord," he said hesitantly. Gorfang blinked at him for a moment. "I really wish I could take the credit," Nashruf continued with a small smile, "but I can't. There's nearly no crime today and yesterday, and my men report a complete absence of any known members of the Thieves' Guild. It's quite outside my experience."
Assuring the guardsman that he'd investigate, Gorfang thanked him and sent him on his way. Then he turned to Eloy and Lynien. "Something funny going on at your guild," he commented. "We'll go and take a look," said Eloy, glancing at Lynien, who nodded.
An hour later, the pair were standing in the third rate fortune-teller's shop that was the front for the Kingdom's headquarters. Unusually, there was no-one on duty there, and no guards lurking in the back near the secret entrance to the warren beyond. Eloy and Lynien loosened their weapons and opened the panel, moving silently into the dark, quiet passage.
As they penetrated deeper into the hidden warren of ramshackle rooms and corridors that occupied the space between and below the block of shops, their alarm increased at the continuing absence of anyone. Finally, at the edge of the lair proper, they found a body. Sprawled in the middle of the passage, the man had been lavishly and extensively tortured. Eloy bent and examined him quite carefully. Despite some fairly horrific wounds, the man had not died of them; he showed most of the signs of having died from poisoning. Sure enough, on his neck were two holes, close together, discoloured round the edges; vermin bite.
With a sinking feeling that their suspicions were being confirmed, the pair moved onwards. The dark silence of the lair was a marked contrast to the usual half-lit, bawdy, boisterous atmosphere of the guild, and the growing tension invested every shadow and corner with potential danger. The sensation of horror was noticably increased by the location's familiarity. A walk into danger in an unknown tomb was one thing; a walk into danger through once-familiar environment sinisterly altered, silent and ominous, was ten times worse. Even Eloy and Lynien's hardened nerve was close to breaking.
As they entered the main core of the Guild headquarters, they came on more and more bodies. All had been violently abused, violated, desecrated in ways that made their heads reel. None had died from those wounds or abuse; all had been poisoned, and all bore the fangmarks where this had been done. The sizes varied from tiny to frightningly large.
In the centre of the lair was 'King' Bregulid's throne room. Many slain thieves were scattered around this, but the investigators' eyes were drawn to the 'King' himself. Bregulid was spreadeagled on the wall, nailed cruelly to the wood, naked and covered in injuries. His death appeared to have been slightly different; every one of his bodily orifices was stretched, distended and torn, as if something had torn its way out of him from the inside in all directions at once. Something caught Eloy's eye, a difference, and he looked closely at the corpse's right palm. Carved into the flesh was an intricate glyph. For a moment it meant nothing, and then the magic of the Translator's Ring asserted itself and Eloy realized it was a character from the language of the Fae Mhor. It was called Shandol, and was usually branded into the faces of rejected slaves on their way to die in the arena; it meant Failed Minion.
At this point both Eloy and Lynien decided that enough was enough. They knew now what had happened here; the feeling of danger was growing (they were both, after all, members of the exterminated Guild). They turned and left the place of death, and were more glad than they had ever been to feel the daylight and the fresh air on their faces.
Two days after that, Nashruf the watchman returned to the palace to report progress. His people had sealed the scene and were removing all evidence of the events of the last couple of days. The secret had been kept, and as far as the general population was a aware, crime figures had simply tumbled under Gorfang's administration, and his government was getting the credit.
Nashruf also brought news of a murder. Normally, killings were rather ten-a-penny, especially in the poorer districts, but this one had caught the public imagination, both because of the otherwise low crime rate, and because of its' peculiarity. Kelasen, a successful property-merchant, a seller of land and houses, had been found dead on the doorstep of his own home. The unusual part was the nature of his death; his body was almost completely dissolved in acid.
The last major transaction in his records was the sale of the house of one Belarang Vulpold, proprietor of the Museum of War and Conflict. This individual was now missing and Nashruf clearly considered him the prime suspect. The house itself had sold for a very low price. Eloy went and had a look at it, and discovered the reason - although located in a quite well-to-do area, not far from the museum itself, the house was a gutted shell.
 Gorfang Governs- click it for larger image! |
A week later, the replacement Governor arrived from the capital. He was escorted by a company of elite Dragonarmy cavalry, led by the lizardman Shraltir, a hero of the Tarlanor-Kordasa war. The Governor's name was Alael Linril, and he was every inch the career politician and diplomat. Immediately after arrival, he requested a meeting with Gorfang and Cordwin. He brought two guards and a recorder scribe, and Eloy and Shraltir tagged along for their own reasons.
Linril thanked them for coming, and then got down to business.
"As I understand it, you two have been responsible for the removal and death of Gov. Bardrum - for whom I have correctly prepared and filed impeachment papers here," he lifted some documents slightly. "Then you have taken control of the ciy, and successfully suppressed the civil unrest caused by the actions for which Gov Bardrum was impeached."
He paused for them to confirm, deny or comment.
"Normally, the penalty for the killing of a Regional Governor in office is death- by fire, if I recall correctly. Fortunately however, Gov Bardrum’s formal impeachment removes this legal protection." There was a pause.
"However."
"You can, I am sure, see how bad it could be for law and order if it became known that an unpopular Governor could be murdered out of hand and replaced by any fighting man who happened along. No incumbent of the office would survive Tax Day! So this is what I propose to announce to the citizens..."
At this point, however, he was interrupted as Gorfang boiled over. "Get out!" he roared. "I was prepared to do business over this, but not with someone so arrogant and high-handed! You're trying to bully me, and I don't like it. I am the Governor; please leave now!" Linril started to protest, and Gorfang laid a hand on the hilt of the Veldrin. Shraltir's tail began to twitch, and he stepped closer ready for trouble. Urbanely, Eloy took the Tarlanoran's elbow and guided him towards the exit. "I'm sure we can sort something out," he said as the doors closed, "but you need to approach the governor differently."
Linril sighed. "I don't see the problem," he said wearily. "If I can project the coup as an officially-sanctioned change, with him - and you I suppose - supporting the real Assistant Governor in executing the impeachment, rather than as some bloody-handed orc barbarian murdering a government official and usurping his authority, it would mean I could reward him, shake his hand and send him off on good terms rather than having to try and arrest him. Having seen him, I don't fancy the latter...."
As they walked, a piece of paper fell from Linril's sheaf and fluttered to the floor.
“Following Gov. Bardrum’s impeachment for misgovernance by a properly constituted quorum of Guild representatives, and his subsequent refusal to step down, and his implication in the murder of appointed Guild couriers en route to the capital, Assistant Governor Cordwin, assisted by [insert names here], effected his removal from office and a return to order pending the appointment of a replacement Governor, The State of Tarlanor wishes to express its’ gratitude to the above-named individuals, who are hereby appointed to the post of Honorary Advisor to the Governor and granted the Freedom of the City.”
 |
 |
 |