Draconic Shenanigans Episode 2

 Well life has been a mixed bag at the moment. Progress is being made on the shed/studio with some of the insulation layer going in. This is being a little time consuming as it involves pin tacking the fleece into place but it seems to be working. I decided to go for fleece after discovering that some forms of polymer foam insulation are the most flammable substances on the planet, the Grenfell Tower Fire being a case in point. As I had no idea what type of polymer foam boards had been originally used to insulate my shed I decided to play it safe and replace the lot. After all, it had been through a previous house move and was sixteen years old so I figured it needed an upgrade.

On the downside I have discovered that the marine ply that forms the inner most skin has started flaying its layers apart and is also going moldy as I had no choice but to store it out in the rain. Therefore I have a lot of extra work on my hands as I'm going to salvage what I can before buying new stuff. Sigh, one step forward, two back.

Never the less, we have had another play in Draconic Shenanigans so here is chapter two:

Chapter Two: Country Roads

If Kaelin noticed Jeremiah being less than polite at the breakfast table then she didn't mention it, chalking it up to the lack of sleep he'd had last night. That and she was more concerned with stuffing down as much of the food the few remaining staff members had prepared as she could. Jeremiah had made sure that he was sat on the same side of the table, even if it was as far away from her as possible to avoid the flying pieces. The mess creation came to a halt when the main door banged open and the armor statue filled the door way. Kaelin saw Jeremiah freeze and as the armor statue stalked across the room he slowly pushed his plate down the table to Kaelin.

"I'm suddenly not hungry. Hartseer here" he muttered with a nod to the armor statue, "Has that affect on my appetite." Kaelin shrugged and started stuffing Jeremiah's food into her maw as fast as she could as Hartseer reached their table. Hartseer shifted the load he was carrying over one shoulder and revealed it to be a man held up by the back of his shirt. It had the effect of scrunching said shirt up under his arms and pulling it half up over his face.

"His Majesty states that this one," Hartseer said, his tone the one most people would have used to say 'this dead dog', "Is to join your crew." He lowered the man to his feet, released his collar and left while the man pulled his clothes straight and brushed them down.  Once Jeremiah was sure that Hartseer was gone he reached out to reclaim his plate from Kaelin. Her knife sprouted from the table top just in front of his hand. With a sigh he withdraw his hand and tucked them carefully up his sleeves, wincing as he did so.

"Forgive our ill mannered friend," he nodded at Kaelin, "She is making up for a depraved childhood."

In answer Kaelin ripped an extra large chunk out with her teeth and chewed with her mouth open, somehow smiling as she did so as Jeremiah shuddered.

"Do you have a name?" he asked their new companion.

"Ulrich Brekka," the man smiled and doffed a non-existent hat, "Gentleman of fortune and despite the circumstances of our meeting, fortunate to be here."

"Yeah well," Kaelin shrugged, "That would be all of us."

"Jeremiah Maat," Jeremiah stood to hold out his hand, "Our ill mannered friend is Kaelin and upstairs is one Thorian Vandervast but I don't think he will be joining us today. He discovered the delights of firewater last night and it seems to have had the effect of a sledgehammer to the skull for him."

"Oh the joys of strong liquor," Ulrich grinned as he shook Jeremiah's hand, "They are so many that the Gods saw fit to punish us for them. Are you troubled by a similar condition my friend?"

"Unfortunately not," Jeremiah sat with a wince and rolled back his sleeve, "I had an argument with someone last night and they left their mark. I don't suppose you know any healing methods that could speed things up?"

"Phew," Ulrich whistled as he looked at the stained bandages on Jeremiah's arms, "I'm afraid all my knowledge of such things just says get to a healer and sooner."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Jeremiah was glum, "But I tell you what hurts more? My feet. I don't think I have ever walked as far as I did yesterday."

"Ah well," Ulrich brightened at once, "Surely it will be easy enough to procure a conveyance from this establishment?"

"Doubt it," Kaelin burped, leaned back and started to pick her teeth, "Just about everyone here ran off to the abbey last night to help out with the 'accidental' fire." She looked pointedly at Jeremiah, who just as pointedly looked away.

"Better and better," Ulrich still smiled, rising to his feet again, "I work better with a smaller audience." He doffed his non-existent hat again and strolled outside whistling. He lent up against the wall, exuding the air that he belonged there. Despite this the first group into the yard didn't truly believe that he was the new stable master and would see to their horses, preferring to look after their animals themselves. Ulrich retreated, knowing not to push his luck as the Lady of Fortune seemed to be upset with him recently. As he waited he began to distinctly hear a loud crowd heading down the road. He frowned. He could hear voices but not footsteps. That meant voices raised, which was either a traveling festival or a lot of people who were really angry. After a while, as the sounds of footfalls and cart wheels mixed in with the voice sounds he started picking out words such as 'filthy murderer' and 'hell spawned demon'.  He carefully stepped back into the shadows of the stables. That did mean that he was cornered if he was rushed but as he was damn sure he hadn't murdered anyone, he considered himself fairly safe from the mobs outrage. It would be better to stay still for a while rather than run and give the mob a moving target.

In the tavern, Kaelin cocked an ear and listened intently for a minute.

"Anything interesting?" Jeremiah asked without looking up from his contemplation of his injuries. Kaelin's only answer was to grab the bread left on the table and bolt for the back door. Jeremiah frowned and then shrugged, looking around for any food Kaelin hadn't demolished. It was as he was hunting out something else for breakfast that he heard the angry voices coming from outside the Inn. A glance out the window revealed a crowd of sweaty, grubby, soot stained and above all, angry people, including the owl lady who ran the Inn. Deciding to err on the side of caution he followed Kaelin's example, though at a much slower pace, trying to sidle round to the side of the building as he didn't see Kaelin between the Inn and the woods. Unfortunately for him his clothes, his build and his face did not fit the profile of a sidler.

"There he is!" the yell and several dozen faces turning in his direction let Jeremiah know he'd been seen. Turning to run he soon realized that all the trappings of abbot were going to slow him down far too much as the mob was gaining ground distressingly fast. With a choked sob he tore the chain of office from around his neck and flung it to the ground, wobbling towards the wood with a little more speed. The sounds of foot falls behind him let him know that he wasn't going to make it. He turned and gasped a hasty prayer to his god for confusion on his enemies.

"There he goes!" a bunch of the mob tore off in a new direction.

"You idiots!" another bunch roared, "He's there!" Jeremiah breathed a sigh of relief that his god had relented in their ire and had granted his request, continuing the waddle towards the woods as the mob behind dissolved into confusion and conflict as each person  believed that they and they alone had seen the real Jeremiah disappear in a direction different to the one he'd actually taken.  He waddled among the trees for a way and then lent up against a tree trunk to catch his breath, making sure to keep its wooden bulk between him and the mob.

Ulrich watched the mob with interest. He wasn't entirely sure why the mob had gone from being ready to tear his new companion limb from limb to this boiling sea of mismanaged aggression but he wasn't above taking advantage of it. Plastering a concerned look on his face he slipped out of the stables and ran back down the line of the carts and wagons to the one on the end of the row, were the orc crossbreed in the leather waistcoat was struggling to hold the horses heads as the beasts were spooked by the growing noise and stink of confusion.

"Here," Ulrich said, snatching hold of the halters and adding his weigh to holding them. A couple of minutes of quiet murmuring and stroking had settled them enough that they were standing steady, though their ears twitched and their tails flicked as their legs quivered.

"You go," Ulrich said to the orc crossbreed, "They need you to hold the bastard, he's a right fighter!" The orc crossbreed hesitated for a second, indecision flickering over his face and then he dropped the reins and dashed off towards the malstorm near the Inn. Clicking his tongue, Ulrich started leading the horses off down the road away from the Capital, the abbey and now the Inn.  Once you were away from the noise, it was quite a lovely early morning, the sky clear and not cold. He found himself smiling with the simple joys of life as he lead his new team and wagon way from all the pointless noise and fuss. He wasn't even that surprised when the sullen faced young woman who had been introduced as Kaelin appeared out of the hedgerow as if she'd just sprouted from it.

"Ah, I was hoping you'd appear," he smiled, "I think you'd be much better at this job than I am." He extended the reins to her. The look he got back was flat enough to be unfriendly.

"The only thing I know about horses is that they make good eating," Kaelin stated and then walked down  to the tailgate and swung herself up on to the wagon bed. She lent against the side and looked at him.

"Well, are we going to get along then?" she gestured sarcastically. After an wordless exclamation that was part surprise, part disgust and part outrage Ulrich set off down the road, muttering about peasants and 'horse eaters'.

In the woods, Jeremiah straightened as he re-caught his breath. Listening for a moment, he reassured himself that the mob at the inn was still too confused to organize a successful hunt but he decided to keep low as he made his way through the woods and back to the road. It was a decision he re-evaluated several times as he squeezed passed trees that left green powder on his clothes, squelched through mud, stepped in something that stank and fell on his back side as something with feathers and a yell loud enough to wake the dead spun up from the brambles shrieking at him. By the time he hauled himself through the hedge and out on to the road he wasn't sure whether he wanted to scream, cry or kill someone. A flicker of white in the corner of his vision made him stamp down on the last impulse and he instead looked for his companions. He waited and waited... and waited. He frowned, it didn't sound like the mob was hanging them so where were they? He turned and felt his mouth falling open as he spotted the wagon trundling away from him in the distance. He bit back the urge to scream obscenities at them as the mob at the Inn was beginning to reform into a crowd and he really didn't want their attention again, hitched up his robes and set off at a suffering run behind the wagon.

Kaelin lay in the back of the wagon, gazing up at the sky with her hands behind her head. The creak of the wheels, the steady clop clop of horses and the squeak of harness leather was very soothing to one that had gone on short sleep the night before. In her dreamy, half awake state she wasn't fully aware of something out of place until she distinctly heard a gasped curse word that referred to her grandfather. She looked round in surprise, wondering who shared her opinion of her unlamented grand sire. Jeremiah, shining like a cherry, sweating like a hog in a muck heap, was waddling with some speed towards them along the road, puffing and blowing hard enough to put a blacksmith's bellows to shame.

"Stop the wagon moment," she called to Ulrich, "We forgot someone." Ulrich halted the horses and looked round as the lost jelly that was Jeremiah wobbled and shook its way up to the wagon and threw itself on to the wagon bed with no regard for Kaelin's efforts to get her legs out of the way. He lay on the wagon bed and heaved and gasped for air. Ulrich raised his eyebrows but then swung himself up on to the driver's seat. He gripped the reins, clicked his teeth, slapped the reins down on the horses' rumps... and promptly steered the wagon into the ditch.

"Hell's teeth!" Kaelin swore as the lurch threw her against the sweating hillock that was Jeremiah.

"Told you that you would be better at this job than I would be," Ulrich observed as he swung himself down and went to the horses' heads, "Now if I lead and you would be kind enough to push from behind, with a little luck and a lightened load..."

Jeremiah groaned and slithered feet first out of the wagon. As he and Kaelin put their shoulders to the tailgate of the wagon he thought he saw a white figure standing on the far side of the field beyond the hedge, watching them with avid interest.

"Why don't you come and help instead of just watching?" he yelled but the figure didn't move and when he saw Kaelin frowning as if she wondered if he was going crazy he grumbled something and put his shoulder to the tail gate. The first heave ho resulted in him sitting on the road and the wagon still being stuck in the ditch. Jeremiah took the deep breath of the eternally put upon.  The second managed to heave the wagon back on to the road. Without asking Jeremiah heaved himself up into the cart and screwed himself into the corner with the air of one who does not mean to move for the rest of the day. Ulrich had joined him before Kaelin had realized that he was moving. He smiled at her and gestured for her to take the drivers' seat. Kaelin shrugged, settled herself in the driver's seat, took up the reins... and snarled at the horses.

With screams of absolute terror the horses bolted. Jeremiah tumbled along the wagon bed and just managed to grab hold of the side as he pitched out, resulting in him hanging on by his finger tips as his legs splooshed through a mud puddle and brown water splashed up from the wagon wheels.

"What the dragon do you think you're doing?" Ulrich yelled. In reply Kaelin snarled at the horses again. They plunged forward, mouths open, eyes wide, froth flying from their bits. Jeremiah managed to dig his feet into the mud and skip, scramble and scrabble his way back into the wagon... in time for it to once again crash into the ditch, this time with a sharp crack of splintering wood. Ulrich slammed into the back of the driver's seat with a winded oath. Jeremiah flew forward, caught his lower half on the back of the drivers' seat and wound up head down, wedged between the toe bar and the double tree, feet flapping helplessly in midair. Ulrich leapt out and ran to the horses' heads, having to duck flaying hooves as the horses reared and bucked and lashed out. It was only after Kaelin had left the drivers' seat and retreated down the road a ways that the horses began to calm.  It was more minutes after that before Ulrich was sure he could safely leave the horses and go to pull Jeremiah out from where he'd been having a wonderful, headache inducing inspection of the cracked main axle.

"Sorry old bean," Ulrich said as he helped Jeremiah back on to his feet, "But we're going to need your shoulders again."

Jeremiah looked down at his ruined finery, lifted his arms to heaven in a gesture of defeat and stepped down off the wagon bed. His mouth tightened as Kaelin stepped up beside him and he took that ire out on the wagon with a heave that shoved it complaining back on to the road.

"Nice one," Ulrich complemented, "But we're going to have to take it slow if we're not going to have a broken wagon by the end of the day." With a groan Jeremiah flopped down into the wagon bed and waved a hand in acknowledgement. Kaelin said nothing as she sat down beside him so Ulrich shrugged and turned the horses heads to the road, leading them by the reins to make sure they didn't have any more mishaps.

It was probably due to the noises of protest being sent up from the main axle that none of them saw the unfriendly men waiting either side of the road before it was nearly too late. The bandits burst out of the bushes whooping like mad men. Jeremiah immediately thrust forward a hand and yelled as series of words that curdled in the air like old milk. The shadows boiled forward like smoke from a pyre and one of the bandits reeled back, coughing and hacking, his skin pitted by little burning embers.

On the other side of the wagon one of them swung at Kaelin but missed, his sword tip scrapping down the wood. Kaelin snarled at him but the snarl just kept on going and growing as her bones bubbled and her jaw reformed, fangs springing out of her gums with the sound of nails being hammered through a plank of wood. The bandit opened his mouth to scream...

Kaelin launched herself at him, teeth snapping tight around his face as her body flew passed his ear. Wrenched round by the power of her attack, his neck parted with the sound of shredding meat and the red jumped high.

Ulrich blocked out the attack aimed at his torso and slashed back, one falchion for the block, one for the attack. The bandit he was facing clumsily tried to match his speed and agility but found himself folding over backwards as his ribs parted.

Kaelin leaped from one kill on to the back of the next, fangs and claws now at full extent. Even Jeremiah covered his mouth as she shredded the foe beneath her and the bandit that still clutched at his scorched face sank to his knees and began to babble, eyes fixed on a now unaccompanied arm.

Ulrich turned as a bandit standing on a slight rise pointed a very fancy looking sword at him and tried to yell a rallying cry. Ulrich went to work with a calm precision that defied the violence with which it was executed, cutting the bandits feet out from under him and then removing the man's head as he fell. The last bandit on his feet looked at his leader's rolling head, looked at were the snarling, red splattered thing was rising from the minced remains of one of his friends, turned, grabbed the babbling man by his arm and started running, crashing through the bushes as fast as he could.

Ulrich panted as he waited a beat to make sure they really were gone and then he went to the horses to once again calm them down. The noise of cracking bones made him look round once. He looked away quickly as Kaelin's human face re-emerged from the shape of the other thing that had taken her place. The liquid reforming of flesh made him swallow back rising acid.

"Guess I should have figured it out," he muttered once he was sure of keeping breakfast on the inside of him, "And if you don't mind, could you find some way of cleaning up. While the horses can smell blood on you they are going to freak out."

Kaelin stood looking at his back as if she expected more of a reaction but when he didn't say anything else she shrugged and wandered back down the road a little way to where she'd seen a potter's hole full of water. It turned out it was shoulder deep and through the water was colored with the clay that had been dug out, it did the trick. As for being wet, well she'd been rained on before. Only humans thought they had a right to be dry when ever they wanted to be.

Jeremiah wrinkled his nose when Kaelin walked back but Kaelin walked passed him and settled in the back of the wagon. The now calm horses twitched their ears as they sniffed but they didn't try and bolt. Ulrich breathed a sigh of relief and then called for Jeremiah to come and hold the horses' reins.

"Why?" Jeremiah asked, eyes narrowed.

"Don't worry," Ulrich assured, "I just need both my hands for a moment." The moment Jeremiah had taken hold of the reins Ulrich promptly frisked the body of the first bandit that he'd killed but from his look of disgusted the dead man hadn't been carrying anything of value. The other man however was definitely carrying something of value.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Ulrich asked, turning to his companions, holding aloft the blade the bandit leader had been wielding.

"It's a sword," Kaelin said, sounding bored. Jeremiah looked more closely.

"That's elvish..." he trailed off, frowning as he looked closer. The blade was most definitely elvish but there was something about it that was making alarm bells ring in his mind. Then Ulrich tilted the blade, testing its balance and Jeremiah realized that the edge of the blade, instead of the razor sharp, paper cutting straight edge that would be true elvish, was serrated. It had been deliberately fashioned to inflict as much pain and damage as possible on each and every cut. It had been lovingly made to make the victim scream as they bled out. He remembered books in the abbey library that had recorded the survivors' stories babbled by patients that had claimed to have escaped a sect of elves that seemed to relish pain for pains sake. These crippled individuals raved about cavern cities of tormentors and torturers that seemed to live for nothing but inflicting as much agony on their victims as possible.  Not one of the survivors had lasted more than a month after they had been found brutalized in the wild lands on the edges of civilization, their minds so broken by what they had endured that their bodies had failed despite the best nursing care that could be give to them.

"I'd keep that if I were you," Jeremiah nodded slowly, "I'd keep that very safe. It is the very best craftsmanship I'd judge, probably worth more than anything else we have put together..."

"Keep it?" Ulrich interrupted, "You nuts? I'm going to sell this beauty as soon as I see someone rich enough to sell it to."

"Well, that's your choice as it's yours by right of conquest," Jeremiah tried his best to imitate Kaelin's 'I don't give a hoot shrug', while secretly wiping his brow the moment Ulrich's back was turned.

"Well," Ulrich grinned once he finished strapping on his new sword belt, "Shall we get on? I'd say it is shaping up to be a beautiful day." He took the reins from Jeremiah and led the wagon off, whistling a jaunty tune. Jeremiah sat back down in the wagon bed and wondered if he should tell his companion what exactly their whistling friend was now carrying but Kaelin seemed to have gone to sleep already. Jeremiah pulled out the book he had taken from the abbey, flicking through the pages to where he'd left off the night before the guards had kicked his door in.

The  wagon creaked on down the lane, bird song blending with Ulrich's tune.

Draconic Shenanigans Episode 1

 O.K. something of a change for my blog post but I have taken on the hobby/job/task/all of the above(?) of game mastering a role play game using the Savage Worlds rules. In part to give my players who can't make it to the sessions a heads up about what the team got up to and partly to keep a record of what went down for myself I figured that I would write up a quest report after each game session. I also figured that it would give my blog post readers a taste of my writing style so once my studio is ready to rock (see last post for the hurdles between me and having that done) and I have updated my book, you'll be able to tell if it would interest you. I am also seriously considering complying it into a book or two once we have completed the campaign, if that ever happens. As role play games are collaborative writing they have a habit of dragging on for a fair amount of time.

So without further ado, here is:

Draconic Shenanigans

Chapter One: Guardian Angels

 It must be said that waking up in prison is never a pleasant experience. Waking up in a dungeon is even less so. The first thing Kaelin's nose complained about was the smell, heavy and thick with despair and terror. The straw that crackled under her was at least clean, a marked improvement upon many prisons she had been in but the bucket in the corner hadn't been emptied since yesterday morning and prison rations never agreed that well with her guts. Part of her admired the constitution of the orc crossbreed in the cell opposite. He looked like he could quaff down poison and bounce back up asking for more. Under thick green toned skin, muscles rippled and bulged across his frame. He was polite though and rather confused, not that it was difficult to confuse an orc crossbreed, their brains tended to be inherited from their full orc parents but his confusion seemed to be more an innocent misunderstanding as to how he had caused offense. He was certainly a more pleasant companion than the fat man who had been dragged in yesterday morning. He had gone on for what she considered to be hours, first in a loud, strident voice that was obviously used to projecting itself in large spaces and then, after the guards had made their opinion of his temper tantrums blatantly clear, in a grumbling mumbling that had dragged across Kaelin's nerves like an iron nail across a slate. She really didn't have any time for self pity. Do the crime, expect the time was a lesson she'd learnt the hard way. 

Some days she considered what life would have been like if she'd had a 'normal' family. It could have been a happy home, hard days of work for the daily bread followed by warmth and comfort and the shared security of a home with parents who cared and siblings that annoyed and humored her in equal measure. Equally, it could have been a hell hole of beatings and torments and siblings who made everything just that much harder to bare. She'd never had the chance to find out. She shrugged in the gloom, unseen as the orc cross breed snored on.

 The sound of hard footsteps echoed from the stairway and the guards straightened on either side of the doorway.

"Captain Marasuya," the guards salute as the female dragonkin strode into the dungeon.  In his cell Jeremiah stared at her in open amazement. Her yellow eyes met his and chilled him to the bone with their complete disregard but the scales surrounding those eyes were a beautiful, decadent royal purple. She was royal purple from head to toe in a solid shade that still showed signs of hard training and the scars of old wounds. It wasn't a dyed shade as a mark of rank, it was her birth colour. Memories of old texts in the abbey library stirred in the back of his head. Night dragons were rare, resulting as they did from an unusually fertile mating of a Lava dragon and a Sky Dragon, an event in itself that was uncommon in the extreme as both species were known for being highly territorial to even their own kind. Dragonkin descending from a Night dragon were said to be so rare to be always hovering on the edge of extinction yet here was one in the flesh and hard edged with authority and the confidence that brought.

The movement of one of the guards shifted and that brought his attention to them. His eyes flicked from them to the Captain, unable to stop. The dark shade of their scales had disguised it from him earlier in the dungeon gloom but now he could compare them he could see the familiar resemblance. All three dragonkin had the purple tone to their scales. He'd heard tales from the walking monks who visited the city that the greater majority of the city guards were 'royal dragonkin' but he'd always brushed it aside as unimportant, a detail he didn't need to consider as he worked his plans. As Captain Marasuya unrolled a scroll and glanced at it he wondered if he should have paid more attention.

 "That one," Captain Marasuya gestured at the skinny woman who's sullen expression never changed.  "That one," the snoring orc crossbreed was indicated.  "And... the fat one." Jeremiah opened his mouth to protest but then snapped it shut, silently promising that night dragonkin or not the guard captain was going to die a horrible painful death. If he did it right he might even be able to make her suffering last beyond death. That was such a comforting prospect that he managed to bite back on the protestations as the guards cuffed him.  The orc crossbreed had to be cuffed awake to get it out of its cell, which was marginally entertaining to watch but a sharp crack rang out and Jeremiah snapped his head round to see the sullen woman straightening up.

"Try that again and it will be more than a slap up the back of your head," Captain Marasuya promised as she tightened the woman's cuffs. So one that was good with locks, Jeremiah filed that away under 'useful information'. He didn't have time for more as he was dragged up stairs and down them, first through tunnels and then through more well appointed corridors to finally be shown in through a heavy, dark wood door into a room that blazed with light. A glance told him that this wasn't the throne room, being smaller and lined with books, scrolls, letters, reports and centering on a massive, heavy desk that two men sat at.  The throne room was just a show room compared with this room, this room was the nerve center of the kingdom, its air alive with the scratching of two quills over parchment.

 At the desk two men sat, the elder facing the door, the younger sat on the short side of the desk to the man's right. The elder had blonde hair swept severely back from his forehead as well as a mustache and beard trimmed to hard shortness, the younger brown haired and clean shaven but the family resemblance was clear above their identical raven black garments. Neither looked up as the prisoners were shown in, continuing to write as if totally alone, the younger sometimes extending the document his worked on for the elders inspection, to receive either a minuscule nod or a subtle shake of the head.

Despite his efforts to keep focused on the pair Jeremiah found himself being distracted  by the thing that stood behind them. It looked like a suit of armour that had somehow been crossed with a statue of some silvery white metal. It was posed in stoop so that it looked like it hovered over the pair at the desk its hands clasped in the small of its back.  The chest plate and helmet looked like they belong to an exquisitely wrought suit of armour, the helmet of the full face type, molded to look like a handsome man with an exotic high brow, furrowed with great care, a nose that continued the line of that brow over high cheek bones and a strong chin. Thin ropes of what look like threads made of black steel crowned the helm like hair, braided in a warrior's check. The limbs however, where not of a suit of armour being made instead of thick rods that clustered in bone like groups but even that was subtly wrong.

Jeremiah stared at it. Extra senses, honed over years of training in the faith of the abbey and other, more secretive studies, told him that this... this towering thing was alive, alive in a way he could not understand but could not deny, the pulsing life force throbbing through the silvery metal. The sight of it, the feel of it left him cold.

The two men at the desk laid down their pens at the same moment and looked at the prisoners, the elder steepling his fingers and gazing at them levelly over the tips. His gaze was almost as unsettling as the glass gaze of the statue armour behind him.

"I suppose," King Tatsuya said quietly, "The first question is - do you believe in angels?"

"I don't consider myself to be a religious person," the sullen woman said after a moment, the unspoken 'why should I care about Gods who don't care about me?' hanging in the air.

"Can't say I know what an angel is," the orc crossbreed admitted.

"Of course I believe in angels," Jeremiah smiled, pleased to make himself stand out from the other two.  

"A surprising statement coming from one such as yourself," King Tatsuya's expression of disapproval didn't change, "A fallen priest, a career thief and one guilty of grievous bodily harm."

"In my defense," the orc crossbreed spoke up, "I didn't mean to cause anyone harm, I just fell over."

"Unfortunately, Mister Thorian Vandervast I cannot deal with intentions, only with results," King Tatsuya's eyes were chips of brown stone, "To wit, you are all guilty of crimes that should see you dancing the hemp fantango. However, I consider that to be a waste of resources that the city and the country can hardly afford so I have a proposition. Our frontier town of Nether Wallop has recently stopped sending the contributions that are expected. My offer is that you discover why and in return you keep your heads out of the noose."

What he saw in the faces of the three on the other side of his desk he didn't say but a certain amount of disbelief was there.

"Why us?" the sullen woman spoke up, "Surely you have troops there?"

"We do have troops there, Miss Kaelin," the younger man, Prince Relian spoke for the first time, "And the reports they have managed to send are equally concerning. However, troops will merely deal with the symptoms of the problem, they will not deal with the problem itself, hence why we have assembled your team."

"The question is whether you take the contract offered to you or do you provide Mister Sloop a new pair of boots?" King Tatsuya asked.

After a moment the three in cuffs nodded their agreement.

"Very good," King Tatsuya took up his pen again and pulled another sheet of parchment towards him.

"See them out," Prince Relian added to Marasuya as he also turned back to the paperwork.

Half an hour later, with their processions returned to them, the three found themselves on the stairs that lead down from the Palace gates to the main square below. As the massive door of black, iron bound wood slammed shut behind them, Kaelin turned her head and snarled. It was not the snarl of a narked off young woman, for a second something canine rippled over her face.

"He's going to send someone to follow us," Thorian stated with a sniff through his tusks.

"That is a very astute observation," Jeremiah noted, his eyebrows raised.

"Makes sense," Thorian shrugged, "He let's us go with no guards, gives us back all our stuff and just assumes that we'll do the job. That says he's going to send someone to follow us. I don't know about you but I don't want to come back here." He dug in his pockets, pulling a scrap of much crumpled parchment from one and a charcoal stick from the other. He scribbled a complicated set of pictures on the parchment and then stuffed it back in its pocket. "So shall we do it then or do we try and run away?"

"I've no where better to go," Kaelin shrugged, her sullen expression unchanged.

"Well, if we do go then perhaps we could call by my abbey on the way?" Jeremiah suggested, "I left some personal items there when I had to hurry off here and..."

"Yeah," Kaelin's expression changed for the first time ever, a malicious smirk spreading across it, "Hard to remember your clothes when the guards drag you out of bed."

"Doh!" Jeremiah turned on his heel and stamped down the steps, an irate jelly fish that had been dragged across a couple of cobbled stone streets, wrapped in a cotton night shirt and thrown like a bowling ball into a pile of straw.

"So where's your abbey any way?" Thorian asked as he hurried to catch up with Jeremiah.

"Oh to the east," Jeremiah waved a hand airily but didn't stop striding forward.

"So on our way then," Thorian nodded.

"You think we should follow through on this contract?" Kaelin asked as they made it down to the main square.

"As I said," Thorian shrugged, "He's going to have us followed so we might as well."

"Fair beans," Kaelin shrugged as well, "As I said, I've nowhere else to go."

They managed the walk through the city fairly well, though Jeremiah seemed to be driven on by the sniggers from some of the people they passed by, his night shirt flapping round his ankles. As they passed out of the city and into the less traveled country lanes beyond he gradually became slower and slower until the others strode comfortably ahead, pausing every now and then for his wobbling, sweating bulk to catch them up.

Kaelin didn't seem to care if they made good time or not, gazing round with disinterest at the fields and hedgerows, sniffing every now and then like a questing hound. Thorian carried most of their conversation undeterred by her monosyllable answers.

As mid afternoon dragged on they can to a high wall to the left of the road, behind which rose a church and several sprawling buildings as well a farm land.

"Is this that abbey thing you were talking about?" Thorian asked as the puffing, blowing Jeremiah waddled slowly up to them as they stood outside the gate house.  He shook his head, sweat dripping off of him as he bowed over.

"You sure?" Kaelin raised an eyebrow.  Jeremiah gasped and gulped for breath then gestured further down the road. She struggled and turned to head on.

A couple of hours later as the sun worked its way towards the horizon the road disappeared into a wood but the savory smell of cooking had nothing to do with the forest. Instead, it had everything to do with the tall, slapdash building to the right of the road. It had the wonky but sturdy appearance of a building that has been well built and then built again and again and again, gradually spreading out and up as pieces were added on as they were needed. A sign hanging at the front declared it to be 'The Pointy Hat'.

"Ah," Thorian appeared upset for the first time since that morning, "I'd better not go in, my kind aren't usually welcome in these places..." he trailed off as someone came out of the door and crossed the yard towards the stables baring a tray on which several foam topped tankards were balanced. Her eyes were large, her nose sharp as a knife blade and curved at the tip, hooked like an owls beak. Instead of hair a double crest of feathers crowned her head and more feathers pocked out from the cuffs of her blouse.

"Um excuse me," Kaelin called, uncertainly colouring her voice for the first time that day.

"Oh hello," the lady stopped, the twin feather crests standing up like perked ears, then her nose wrinkled ever so slightly as if she didn't believe what she had just smelt.

"I um..." Kaelin floundered.

"How much for some rooms," Jeremiah didn't quite demand, "Food and drink."

"Two silver for the rooms," the lady enunciated her words strangely, giving addition emphasis to the oh sounds, "We have a pot of brown boiling on the hearth, fresh bread and boiled ham as a serving with the rooms."

"And do you have such a thing as hot water on the premises?" Jeremiah tugged at something under the collar of his nightshirt.

"Oh yes," the lady seemed relieved at his question, "A wash house round the back, hot water always on the hearth, two silver extra."

"I think I can manage that," Jeremiah finished fishing a pouch out from his nightshirt and counted out the coins, "What say you friends? A good wash and then dinner? Call it my treat."

"I think I might like that," Thorian beamed.

"Yeah sure whatever," Kaelin shrugged again and set off round the back. Despite her miss givings Jeremiah seemed genuine about it being his treat as they entered the eating room and the hostile stares she'd expected didn't happen either. Granted that could have been the large orc crossbreed sat on the high stool by the door, wearing a leather waistcoat and bowler hat with a heavy blackthorn club studded with cold iron and silver on his knees but as they found their seats they began to realize that they weren't the only oddities in the room. There were several elves, a contingent of dwarfs, some of the gnome folk, even what looked like a group of kobolds sitting at a table in an alcove. Then food arrived and she forgot all else, focused solely on devouring as much of it as fast as she could. Thorian, to everyone's surprise did actually possess a set of flat wear but when he saw Kaelin laying into food he tucked them away again and set too with a will. After a moment Jeremiah shifted round to the end of the table.

"Next time I'll make sure you're sat opposite each other so that I am out of range," he muttered, even as the Kobolds sniggered at his discomfort.  It was as they were sitting back from the wrecked they had made of the meal that the price tag Kaelin had expected dropped.

 "Look, I'm sorry about this," either Jeremiah was genuinely uncomfortable or he was a stella actor, "But I made a mistake earlier to day. I wasn't truly paying attention and that abbey we went passed really was my one and well... I did leave it under something of a cloud so I was thinking that it might be better to go back now..."

"Wouldn't the gates be shut for the night by the time we get back there?" Kaelin picked at her teeth as she interrupted. 

"Yes," Jeremiah rolled his eyes, his expression of long suffering tolerance, "As I was saying, I'm sure that your talents could let us in by a side gate that I know of, so how about it?"

"Like I have anything better to do than take an evening stroll," Kaelin shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm in," Thorian rose, "Though I have to say that I think this place would be worth a visit again." He pulled out his crumpled bit of paper and draw a rough pointy hat in a circle.

"Thank you so much," Jeremiah seemed unable to completely hide his sarcasm.

The evening was cool and by the time they made it back to the abbey, dozens of stars hanging in the sky. Jeremiah led them quietly down beside the wall away from the road 'til they eventually found the side gate set into the wall.

"There you are, my dear," he gestured to it while beaming at Kaelin. Without a word Kaelin held her hand out.

"But you said..." Jeremiah protested.

"I said I had nothing better to do than take an evening stroll. I said nothing about opening gates for you," Kaelin's fingers said for her 'pay me'.

"How much?" Jeremiah drew himself up coldly.

"Oh I should say.... fifty silver," Kaelin guessed.

"Fifty!...." Jeremiah bit the protest off and after a moment fished in his money pouch for five gold coins. Kaelin made the coins disappear much faster then he produced them and then crouched down by the gate. A second late a lock clicked and the gate swung open.

"Come in, come in," Jeremiah beamed as he swung the gate open wide.

"Wow," Thorian breathed, "This is some fancy digs. I could get used to living here."

"Yeah, why don't you set up a deck chair," Kaelin dripped sarcasm but Thorian seemed immune to it.

"Do you think I could?"

"In fact that's a good idea," Jeremiah smiled suddenly, "I think that it is a very good idea indeed. There should be a wood store over that way, why don't you help yourself. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

"Gee thanks," Thorian strode off in the direction Jeremiah pointed in.

"Meanwhile my dear," Jeremiah smiled more warmly at Kaelin, "I think we'll see to retrieving my property."  He lead her over to the cloister door where her little tools made short work of that lock as well.

It was as they were walking through the silent halls of the abbey that they first became aware that they might not be as alone as they had hoped.  Jeremiah noticed the footsteps but as they were unchallenged he brushed it off as the imaginings brought on by their activities. Kaelin hesitated for a moment and as she continued walking on she focused her ears more sharply.  She looked back when she realized the foot steps following them were metallic. There was nothing there but she thought she saw something scale straight up the wall into the shadows drenching the roof beams. After a moment she shrugged and continued following Jeremiah. She heard a clatter in the distance and an orcish curse but no alarm was raised.

The door to the library creaked a little in the silence but it seemed that the monks were secure within their walls and didn't feel the need to post a guard at night.

"Almost there," Jeremiah said gleefully, leading her through the corridors of dark book shelves to the back of the library to where a wrought iron fence cornered off part of the library from the rest. "Time to work your magic my dear."

Kaelin's hand shot out.

"But I already paid you," Jeremiah protested.

"That was for getting you into the abbey," Kaelin whispered, "You said nothing about robbing the library. Fifty silver or do it yourself."

Frowning like a thunder cloud Jeremiah watched another five gold coins disappear about Kaelin's person. A moment after that the lock clicked open. Jeremiah pushed passed her in his eagerness, hurrying down the rows of books, unheeding of the sound of something shadowing them in the rafters. He reached out his hands... and stopped in disbelief. There was a gap in the bookcases.

"How did they know? Just how did they know?" he asked everyone and no one. He looked around wildly and his eyes fell on the lecterns against the wall. Their wood was still white with newness and they were topped with locked boxes rather than open books.

"Do you think..." he almost expected the hand that shot out but he still ground his teeth as he counted out the coins. She made a show of checking that they were genuine before pulling out her tools. The lock fought back but it gave way to her on the second try. Jeremiah pushed her aside and reverently opened the lid. His smile wasn't overly pleasant as he stroked the cover of the book revealed and then lifted it from its case.

The scream echoed and re-echoed through out the entire abbey, nerve shredding and overwhelming. It seemed to be coming from the very walls.

Kaelin and Jeremiah turned and dashed for the door, threading their way through the maze of the library, their route slowing their escape.

"There they are!" they heard the shout as they exited the library. At the end of the corridor, the novice master and his pupils were charging towards them, heavy clubs in their hands. Kaelin instantly started running, trusting her sense of direction to guide her back to the door that lead outside. Jeremiah, however, stood his ground and grinned, flipping the book open to a well known page. The words curdled in the air as he spoke them and the novices faltered in their charge as the shadows shifted and writhed. Then the shadows coalesced into ten skeletons that creaked a salute to Jeremiah.

"Kill every monk in this abbey," fire flashed in his eyes as the novices screamed.  The skeletons turned as one and raised rusty swords as they advanced on the fleeing novices.

Something dropped head first from the ceiling, flipped in midair so that it landed hard enough to crack the flagstones beneath its feet. Turning it missed with the first blow but the second smashed a skeleton into bone splitters and shards. The armour statue that had graced King Tatsuya's study straightened to its full high and let loosed a deafening war cry as the skeletons stepped nearer.

Jeremiah was already running. He bolted through the corridors and fairly flew up the stairs to the abbots chambers. A stern man stood in the center of the first room, pointing at Jeremiah the moment he flung the door open.

"You!" the man said, "Get out of this Holy place!"

"You!" Jeremiah bellowed back, "I should have know it was you, you underhanded sneak, undoing all those years of work." He crossed the room and seized the abbot by the throat, lifting him off his feet. To his credit the abbot did his best to smash Jeremiah over the head with the poker but Jeremiah's rage had taken him by surprise and it was barely a glancing blow. With a snarl Jeremiah slammed the abbot to the ground and then stamped on him with all his weight behind the blow. The abbot cried out and lay there gasping as something inside him crunched. Satisfied Jeremiah turned to claim what was his.

A second skeleton burst into dust and third exploded into shards. Silvery limbs twisted and turned, flicking aside rusted blades and smashing glimmering metal through tomb dry bones.

Kaelin threw herself out of the door to see Thorian sat with his feet up in the deck chair he had successful made out of logs.

"What do you think?" Thorian patted it with pride.

"I think we should go, right now!" Kaelin skimmed across the lawn.

"Would that have something to do with all that noise?" Thorian frowned and pouted at the same time.

"Yes!" Kaelin yelled as she bolted towards the wall door.

"Oh," Thorian whined as he pulled himself to his feet and lumbered after her, "And I didn't do anything this time."

Three skeletons shattered in quite succession, exploding like corked bottles over pressurized. The dust of their second demise gave the sixth the chance to step back. The armour statue snarled.

Jeremiah, now clad in the robes of the abbot, picked up the mace of office and then put it down again. He strode over to where the abbot had managed to get himself on to hands and knees, weakly crying for help.

"This," Jeremiah hissed as he grabbed the abbot's hair and yanked his head back, "Is for all the years you ruined. I declare this sacrifice for the glory of Klu'ga-nath!" The name stang his mouth as he spoke it but then the red flooded across the abbot's carpet and he felt his god's approval. Turning he took up book and mace and left the abbey for the last time.

In the corridor the armour statue struck out with a flurry of blows that sheered through two more skeletons.

Jeremiah ran out of the cloister door and saw Thorian's efforts. The deck chair was surrounded by a pile of excess timber. A tinderstick soon had the chair blazing nicely, the flames jumping to the pile of wood. Happy that enough of a distraction had been made he hurried over the lawn and out the side gate.

The last of the skeletons shattered like brittle glass and the armour statue turned, swords suddenly no longer in its hands. It strode through the flickering shadows as the fire alarm was raised but it did not bother with a gate to leave the abbey grounds, instead vaulting to the top of the wall in a single leap, metal claws digging into the brick work of the crest. With silent purpose it bounded off into the dark, tirelessly coursing over fields, hedges not even breaking its stride.

Kaelin made it back to The Pointy Hat first but she waited outside the circle of its light so she could grab Thorian's arm and lead him round through the edge of the woods to the wash house.

"What's going on?" Thorian asked but Kaelin hushed him quick.

"There was something else going on at the abbey and I don't want to be seen until I figure out what," she murmured. They waited, watching a feral orange glow growing down the road.

"Is that the..." Thorian started.

"Yes," Kaelin stated, sourness tightening her mouth then her chin fell slack as Jeremiah came lumbering into the yard, dressed in the robes of the abbot, panting and sweating.

"Fire!" he coughed, doubled up, gasped and spluttered then tried again, "Fire! Fire at the abbey! Horrible, horrible accident! Help!"

For a second silence reigned and then pandemonium broke out. Shouting and yelling people scrambled left and right, ordering and counter ordering but after a while horses were harnessed, carts hitched and a most of the staff and residences of The Pointy Hat trundled off down the road towards the abbey.

"A good nights work," Jeremiah beamed once the last of them were out of sight and headed towards the wash house again. Kaelin shook her head and went scouting for a vantage point from which she could kept a look out. She hadn't seen it but she knew that there had been something else at that abbey and that left her hackles up.

Thorian shrugged and wandered into the tap room of The Pointy Hat. He spotted a bottle that had been left on a table.

"Don't mind if I do," he said to no one at all and picked it up. He choked on the first mouthful, it was like swallowing liquid fire.

"Wow," he gasped, "Wow wee." Then a grin spread across his mouth without him wishing it to. He took another swig. It tasted even better.

"Wee!" he sang to the ceiling, "Lovely stuff!" He drank again. "Lovely jubbly! It's... oh it's gone! Oh, oh well." He looked about him, wondering what he was supposed to be doing. It was difficult to focus all of a sudden. It was very dark outside and it seemed to be getting dark inside. Dark, something about the dark, something you were supposed to do when it was dark.

"Bed! Knew it would come, huk, come to me," he hiccuped, "You're supposed to go to bed. Now bed, which way is bed." He pouted about it. "Up, upstairs." That was it, up was good. He turned in that direction and several tables got in his way. That was really mean of them. It took quite a bit of shoving to get them out of the way but none of them broke. That was decent of them. The stairs were more problematic, they keep jumping out of his way.

Kaelin listened to the orc crossbreed's efforts to find his bed but eventually his rattling snores let her know that he'd found somewhere to sleep. She on the other hand waited until Jeremiah came out of the wash house.

"I suggest we mount a watch tonight," she stated, "I'll take first and wake you for your turn."

"Of course, of course," Jeremiah nodded and heaved his bulk up the stairs to find his own bed. For Kaelin the wheel of the stars took far to long but nothing stirred in the night and in the end she called it time, waking Jeremiah for his watch. She saw him to his post but she didn't go to the bed that had been provided for her, nor did she return to the watch point she had stood in for the first few hours, instead finding herself a corner tucked under the eaves of the highest extension. It was the closest she could feel to security. After a while, her eyes drifted closed.

Jeremiah found himself more forgiving about being woken up in the middle of the night than he would have guessed but it was quite entertaining to watch the twin glows of the burning abbey and the start of the dawn. The fire glow did seem to be fading but all good things come to an end.

He stretched.

"Nearly dawn," he observed, enjoying the first twitters of the birds. Then something cold that felt like a hand closed on his ankle. His cry was muffled by a mouthful of mud as his face slammed into the ground but whatever it was didn't stop with just pulling the ground out from under him, ripping him backwards and then up until he'd described a perfect semi circle and his momentum had died. At which point it let go of him so he slammed back first on to the ground. Spiting and gasping he looked up to see the armour statue standing tall against the sun rise, spreading its arms wide. Then its arms began to split, first at the shoulder, then the elbow and finally at the wrist. Before Jeremiah could yell the sword blades seemed to grow from between its knuckles, apparently either unfolding from inside its arms or snapping into existence from some other dimension whose doorway just happened to coincide with the figure's arms. Then it struck.

Jeremiah screamed as he found his arms pinned to the ground by two of its blades and probably the only thing that kept it from hitting an artery was the excess padding he carried. He gazed up in terror as it posed its second two blades to quarter him like a game bird upon a butcher's block.

"Lich!" it spat the word with the venom and bile that people usually reserve for the word witch with a capital B.

"They made me do it," Jeremiah whimpered, "You have know idea what it was like. They never gave me a choice about where I wanted to go or what I wanted to be. They..." He's words disappeared in a squeal as it lent its full and not inconsiderable weight on to the two pinning swords.

"For some reason my master, his Majesty, seems to believe the usefulness you can serve outweighs the danger you represent," it snarled, "But try something like that again and I was tear your lying tongue out of your head!"

"I guess that as you can talk you have a personality," Jeremiah tried to shuffle his thoughts into some sort of order but the burning in his arms was destroying his concentration, "Do you have a name?"

"You may know me as Hartseer," it hissed at him, "And if you harm the innocent again your HEART is exactly what I'll take." One of its free swords disappeared, folding/flicking out of existence, then it dug its fingers into the skin under his ribs until he screamed with the knowledge that it could do exactly what it promised.

"Define," Jeremiah gasped when it finally let off the pressure, "Define innocent."

Hartseer pushed his face into Jeremiah's until all he could see was the glare of beyond human hatred in Hartseer's sea green glass eyes.

"Someone who is not you," Hartseer hissed, then yanked the blades free of Jeremiah's flesh. In a single bound he vaulted over Jeremiah's prone form and disappeared into the fading gloom. Jeremiah rolled over to watch him go but didn't dare cry out to start a chase. Instead he gripped his injured forearm in his other hand and started muttering the prayer of healing.

A moment later, his roar of 'balls!' echoed over the fields, sending startled birds whirling into the sky as his god did not answer his plead.

(Well, there you are, four days of work later and the first chapter of Draconic Shenanigans is written up. On to the next.)