Roland, Fournost to the Keep

[Wired*Nun]

One of the books Father had brought Roland when he was young was an epic called Lord of the Rings. Although real life turned out to be every bit as magical as the books, still they held a special place in his heart.

About a year ago, it occurred to him while rereading them for the umpteenth time, that he could visit Middle Earth, or at least, something like it. Father said that one could find anything you wanted in shadow. So, leatherbound edition in hand, his favorite gelding Bill (after Sam's pony) beneath him, Smoke in a scabbard on his back, sketchbook in his saddlebags, Roland set out to find Middle Earth.

It took him months to find. He had to tweak and tune for every detail he wanted, reading and adjusting until he felt he got it right. He felt he could have worked on this for a lot more time, as the more one wanted to control within shadow, the more time it took. For example, it was easy to find a shadow with hobbit-like people living in hobbit-like villages. If he wanted to find Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin and all the rest, it could take years.

He was satisfied to explore the Middle-Earth analogue, smoking the pipeweed, drinking the ale, visiting the Elves, Dwarves and Men. He passed easily for one of the Dunedain, the Rangers who roamed the world. He was content for a time.

He decided he would like to see Fangorn. He wondered what the Ents would make of him. Would they sense his difference? Think him a wizard? Were there enough Real People that had read the books, walked in this shadow, to cause it to be what he wanted? Could he find, and talk to, Treebeard? Maybe he should go look for the Entwives.

A few days later found him approaching the ancient forest. Isengard should be to his north, as he approached from the couth, the civilized lands at the edge of Gondor. In this place, the War of the Ring was long over, at least fifty years by his reckoning. He wondered who held the Tower now?

As he rode nearer he encountered a strange scene. A dozen wood elves stood near the edge of the forest, staring at another of their number. The one lone elf faced a glowing mass. A burning bush? His education had included the Bible, along with other holy books...but this elf looked like no Moses. While the watchers were clad in greys and greens well suited to blend with the forest, the other one had the look of the magus about him. In fact, he seemed to be interacting somehow with the glowing mass.

Observing closely, Roland's impression is that the elf-wizard is trying to affect or control the thing in front of him, without much success. In fact, the glowing ball reminds him of bits of the Pattern in a way. He knows from heresay that shadow magic is unlikely to be able to contend with Pattern energy, if that is what it is.

As Roland rode slowly nearer, the others turned to regard him solemnly. As he approached them to within earshot, the construct suddenly flared and the wizard cried out, flung up his hands, and fell backward. One of the wood-elves tended to him while the rest regarded Roland.

Roland held up an empty palm in greeting and spoke to them in the language of men. "Greetings, and well met." Before he could go on, he noticed the construct drifting toward him.

It stopped about twenty yards away and changed its mein. It formed into something of a...doorway perhaps. The leader of the elves stepped forward, and said in lisping man-speech, "It seems it wants you. It smells of ancient wizardry, but not as the evil so recently banished from this land." The elf-lord stared at Roland. "I do not know you. You look like a man, but you are not, nor elf, nor any other of the races I know. What are you?"

You realize the other elves have subtly shifted their stances, imperceptibly readying their weapons for immediate employment.

(your move)

[Shutter]

Roland allows his eyes to flicker to the weapons the elves are carrying, just enough to let them know that he noticed the movement. He lowers his hand and rests it on his thigh, near enough that he can draw Smoke quickly if need be.

"I am a Man, but not as Men are in these parts of the world. I come in peace, as a traveler should. You do not need your weapons for me." The last sentence slightly louder than the others, for the entire group to hear. "This construct does seem to regard me, it may hail from a land near my people's home. Can you tell me how it came to be here, and how you came to deal with it Sir?"

[Wired*Nun]

"It appeared just a moment before you did. Perhaps it has come for you. I now regret giving Althionel leave to experiment, but he is young, having not even reached his first century. We shall withdraw, and meddle in your affairs no more." The group withdraws, carrying Althoniel, who is still unconscious, to regard you from the edge of the forest, about an hundred yards off. Elvish eyes should have no problem following whatever woudl happen next.

The glowing ball expands somewhat, and drifts in Roland's direction, its aspect as a doorway growing more pronounced all the time. If he stands still, it will encompass him eventually, but it does not seem to be hurrying.

[Shutter]

"I am sorry for your friend, if I had the arts of a healer I would offer them, but I do not. Should he ever see any magic like this again, I hope he will leave it alone should he have the option. Fair well."

After the elves have removed themselves to a safe distance Roland regards the approaching construct. This would probably be a good time to get advice from my father...It might even be good to see him again, it has been a few years now I think...No...I may not be ambitious but I do have some pride...

"Construct. Do you have a voice?" He speaks loudly, directly towards the approaching doorway.

[Wired*Nun]

The lines inside reform thenselves into a word. "NO." Then...."COME"

[Shutter]

"I'll take the written word in lieu of a voice. I would appreciate further explanation before I enter into an unknown portal. What are you, where are you from, where would you have me go, and why? Feel free to answer whichever of those you find most pertinent"

[Wired*Nun]

"MAZE" comes the next word, then a picture resolves itself inside the glow: your father, stretched on a rack, naked, a leather-clad torturer with a glowing brand, tapping it lighly across the taut skin of his middriff. Though he does not cry out, the muscles convulse with obvious pain. Blisters raise where the metal touches him. Then the picture disappears, replaced with the glowing word: "HURRY."

[Shutter]

Roland's rage explodes as he draws his sword and stand up in the stirrups. Before he charges in blindly a little voice of reason asserts itself. Could be a trap you know. 'Tis only a visual, no guarantee that it is the real thing.

"Are you with me or against me construct?" He asks as he gets out his trump deck and shuffles his father's card to the top. He immediately begins to focus on it trying to establish contact quickly.

[Wired*Nun]

Trump contact starts, then is abruptly cut off. Withing the construct, Julian's head jerks up, eyes open, then falls back as if in disappointment. The scene begins to fade, and the construct begins to slack off in strength.
A kind of high-pitched wailing starts, setting Roland's teeth on edge.

[Shutter]

Sword in hand Roland spurs Bill forward into the construct's doorway, slowing to a walk just before they enter.

Well if it is a trap, they've put in some serious effort.

[Wired*Nun]

A moment of falling feeling, Bill jerks in surprise, then his hooves find purchase on packed earth. Roland finds himself in a large courtyard, at least 200 yards square, forming essentially a large square donut around a donjon or keep in the middle. The keep is about forty yards square. He can see three wooden walkways, two levels each, from what seems to be the second and third floors of the outer ring to the inner keep. There might be a fourth behind, if everything is symmetrical. It is daytime, but he suddenly has other things to think about.

Roland's attention is jerked away from the architecture as he realizes there is a man on horseback in full armor, with a mace, charging at him. Peripherally, he realizes that there are other armed men about, but none threatening him right now. The man will be within sword range in less than two seconds.

[Wired*Nun]

Continue in the thread "In the Courtyard"

[Shutter]

(Presuming that the man with the mace is brandishing it in a threatening manner)

The hell?

Roland only has time to spur Bill towards the other man and raises his sword to meet the mace. "Who are you?" He shouts out before they meet. He swings fast and hard hoping to cut the head from the mace, turning it into a short stick rather than a deadly weapon. Should this succeed he'll be on the lookout for the temporary flying object he will have just created, doing his best to avoid it.

[Wired*Nun]

Despite his surprise, Roland executes his plan flawlessly. Smoke slices through the wooden handle of the mace, which flies past his left shoulder and falls harmlessly to the earth. The man and horse are gone by. Wheeling about, the man seems nonplussed by the half-weapon in his hand, and calls something in a language Roland does not recognize. He does not seem to be trying to murder you anymore. In fact, he seems to be complaining about something.

A number of men at the edge of the field are looking curiously at you both, as if wondering what to do next. One fellow, armored but unhelmeted, and carrying an ironbound, somewhat ornate quarterstaff, walks toward you and call something questioning, but with authority, in the same unknown language. It sounds a bit like Thari, but not enough to understand properly. Roland catches what might be the word "weapon."

[Shutter]

Roland looks about himself quickly in all directions, looking for archers, snipers, catapults or anything else that seems capable of killing him from a distance. If he is satisfied that there is no immediate threat he will lower his sword and address the man with the quarterstaff in a variety of languages, hoping he stumbles on one that they share in common. He begins with Thari and works his way through the languages he has picked up in Shadow. The general theme of his message is "Who are you and where am I?" though he changes up the exact wording for no particular reason.

[Wired*Nun]

The man changes to a much more understandable form of Thari, and asks, "What in hell are you doing, Hinton, using live steel at practice? And since when did you choose Tharini as your manner of speech? Have you been drinking again?" The other horseman rides up slowly without hostile intent, but stops out of blade range.

[Shutter]

Roland looks at himself and at Bill making sure that he still looks like himself. He surreptitiously examines his reflection on his sword blade.

[Wired*Nun]

It's hard to see, but there is something definitely different about Roland's appearance. Cries of "He's drunk again" mix with less understandable mutterings and derisive shouts. "Get off the field and clean yourself up, sleep it off. And don't bring live steel to my practice field any more, unless you want my staff upside of your noggin! Then you'll really have something to sleep off." The marshal gently grabs Bill's bridle and starts to lead him off the field.

[Shutter]

Roland sniffs his own breath. If it does not smeel like alcohol at all then he sheathes his sword and dismounts quickly. He faces the Marshal and breathes in his face.

"I am not drunk Sir. I need to talk with you. Now. In private."

[Wired*Nun]

The man purses his lips, then nods, taking his hand off Bill's bridle. He turns and hands his staff to another man, who commences to shouting something about the next contest.

Following the man off the field, Roland notices a foppishly dressed young man, almost a boy really, perhaps in his late teens, standing on the overhead walkway. He waves in Roland's, or perhaps the marshal's, direction, but the marshal doesn't seem to notice. His colors are blue with gold trim, nothing Roland recognizes immediately.

Entering an arms room, the marshal motions Roland in, then closes the door. There is a door leading farther in, there is a meduim-sized window in the room, and it looks like he closed the door for some limited privacy rather than any attempt to trap. "What's all this then?"

[Shutter]

Roland files away the youth for further reflection and follows the marshal into his office.

"You do not seem to have seen me appear out of thin air in the courtyard. You seem to recognize me. I do not recognize you, this place, or the name you use to address me. The sooner you can tell me where I am the happier I shall be."

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, gods, what is this, then? Have you started eating mushrooms as well? Here's a piece of advice, Hinton, go back to your bunk, sleep it off, and I'll only dock you the price of that mace shaft. In fact, I'll lead you there myself, if you'll stop with your babbling." He opens the door, steps outside, and heads to the right, glancing back to see if Roland is following.

[Shutter]

Roland follows the marshal out the door and looks around for anything suitably heavy that he can lift it, but under no circumstances could a normal human. He draws his sword again, slowly, so as to make it clear he does not intend to harm anyone.

Should it look to him like Smoke, his sword, he will hold it up lengthwise towards the marshal.

"Hold a moment. Do you recognise this sword, does Hinton have a sword like this?" Should an appropriately heavy object be nearby he will lift it and set it down again smoothly, making sure the marshall sees.

"If you still do not believe me then simply tell me if there is a maze nearby and I will leave you be."

[Wired*Nun]

After watching Roland pick up and set down a full water barrel of some fifty gallons or more - with one hand, no less - he backs away in confusion. "I'll...need to call the mistress. Please wait here." He turns and enters another doorway a few yards down, leaving Roland essentially unattended. The young man is gone from his overhead perch. The sun is hot but the air is cool, with the hint of a sea-breeze. Bill looks at his master quizzically. There is a mountain range in the background, snow-capped, that can be seen over the walls. It seems Roland has a few moments before the "mistress" is notified.

[Shutter]

Roland sheathes his sword and leads Bill to stand in the doorway of the marshal's office. Roland himself enters the office for a moment of privacy. He withdraws his Trumps and shuffles out Caine's. He concentrates, increasing his force until either he makes contact or he begins to approach his limits. No sense in weakening himself before he has to deal with the Mistress, whomever she might be.

[Wired*Nun]

Caine's card does not grow cold. It feels like nothing more than an ordinary, if expensive, piece of pasteboard. A quick check of his others reveal they are cold, but Roland cannot reach anyone with casual attempts. It feels as if there may be a general block in place.


(GM: Please supply a list of trumps you would logically have, in your private character concept forum, along with any reasoning for anything unusual.)

[Shutter]

Putting away his Trumps Roland leads Bill back out into the courtyard where he was left by the marshal. He keeps a wall to his back and an eye out for ambushes, but otherwise waits with an appearance of calm.

Where am I? What is wrong with my Trumps? He tries to feel around a bit in Shadow as he moves, to see if he can get any sense of how easy or hard it is to move through Shadow in this place.

[Wired*Nun]

Shadow seems unusually thick and real here. It's not that there isn't enough of it...perhaps, too much. That doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's the way it feels.

A boy of about ten barrels around the corner and skids to a stop in front of Roland. His page-boy cut and tights make him something of a caricature as he stops at attention and intones formally, "I am to guide you Upstairs, sir." He does a smart about-face and begins a measured march down the way. Three steps later he stops, turns around again, gulps, and says, "I forgot. One minute, sir." He then bolts off past.

Thirty seconds later he comes back around the corner, resumes his former position with all the dignity he can muster, and says, "Your horse will be attended to. Please, sir, follow me." Again, he spins on his heel, and heads off.

[Shutter]

How strange...I've never been in Shadow like this.

Roland follows the boy patiently. After they've gone a few steps he asks "Tell me, what do they call this place?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, sir, it's the Keep, sir. The Keep of the Four Worlds. It's a place of great wonder and adventure. I have only recently been taken on, sir, as my father Arandan is the jailer here, and he says he wants me to have a better career. Sir." He blushes self-consciously. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet, sir, this page business. The Young Master has been disciplining me but I am really a blockhead."

He leads through a couple of doorways, down a corridor decorated with a couple of antique tapestries, and debouches into a wide hallway running left and right. Its ceiling is at least thirty feet high, and he turns right, heading towards what Roland takes to be a grand staircase leading up and to the left

[Shutter]

"Ah yes, of course." Roland doesn't miss a step following the young boy. Whatever answer he was given was guaranteed to be surprising and he was ready to not act surprised.

Where do I know that name?....Right, dad told me about it. Magic, potent shadow sorcery...curious.

"Who rules the Keep these days?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, sir, Queen Jasra does. She's kind of sick right now, though. The Young Master intends to see you, I think. He's waiting for you in the upstairs hall." As he says this, he leads up that grand staircase. There are mirrors on both sides, and Roland notices that he seems to be himself now.

Two armsmen watch the pair go by impassively from the top of the stairs, and the page turns left yet again and knocks on a large double door. If Roland's sense of direction is correct, the courtyard is to his left, somewhere.

No one opens the door. The page knocks again, a bit louder, expressing some dismay.

Roland realizes belatedly that he does not even know the little fellow's name.

[Shutter]

"What is your name boy, and what is the name of the Young Master who I'll be meeting?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, I AM sorry, sir, I am called Aaron, after my uncle, who is the winemaster here. Perhaps when I am older I will be allowed to apprentice to him, but they won't let me drink yet, of course." He gives a little grin, seemingly relaxing a bit with Roland. "Kind of hard to be a winemaster without at least tasting it, I guess. What IS the problem with this door?" The armsmen are observing the situation, and one says, "The Young Master has guests, Aaron, perhaps he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Oh, yes sir, you asked me about the Young Master. His given name is Dunstan, though of course I am not allowed to use it." He looks around, at something of a loss. "Perhaps we should wait in the Waiting Room." He gestures across the landing at a doorway with a heavy curtain drawn across it.

[Shutter]

Roland looks over the door, estimating its strength. He checks to see if the hinges are on the other side or not. He also listens carefully, hoping to hear something beyond the door.

"Aaron, since Dunstan is busy, perhaps you should you take me to see Queen Jasra?"

[Wired*Nun]

The door opens away (inward). There's no way to say how strong it might be, as it is heavily decorated in a baroque style. There might be faint voices on the other side.

"Oh, no, sir, I cannot do that, since it was the Young Master that sent me, and the Queen being so sick and all, she only sees him and her physician." He pulls aside the waiting room curtain to reveal...a waiting room. "I can ring for some tea, or some wine or something. The wine here is quite good, I am told."

[Shutter]

"No thank you Aaron, I will be fine. Why don't you go now and tend to your studies; work hard and enjoy what life brings you. That's all the advice I can offer you." Roland turns to the armsmen and addresses them politely once Aaron has left.

"Guards. If I do not speak to someone of authority very soon, I shall rapidly become very violent. Please do whatever you can to see that that does not happen."

[Wired*Nun]

The armsmen look at Roland oddly. Probably not expecting someone who they thought was a guest to threaten violence of any kind. Maybe it seems remarkable that you would say that with so many armed men about.

"Sir, on the one hand, I don't think any violence will be necesary or desirable. On the other hand, the Young Master is quite...whimsical at times, and might have actually...forgotten you are here...or have gotten...distracted by...something." He seems to be groping for diplomatic ways of saying things that might sound insulting if someone overheard.

The other guard growls something under his breath, and walks over to the door, and pounds on it with his gauntleted fist. "Goddamn household staff, can't trust them to do more than dress themselves," he mutters under his breath.

[OOC: I've stalled a bit here, but I need to let some of the other players give input before the door opens, really. If you see any of the others post, I should soon be able to forward the story line. If there's anything else you want to try or ask, feel free, otherwise, we need to pause for a bit.]

[Wired*Nun]

The door is suddenly flung open and a gaudily-clad servant motions frantically for Roland to come through. He sees a small room with another set of double doors, and as he starts in that direction, the man turns and rapidly walks to the other doors, making ready to open those as well. Assuming Roland enters the anteroom, the butler flings open the doors and announces, "Another guest, sir." He backs quickly sideways, out of view.

You see before you a very large fellow indeed, about 6'6 and 300 pounds, carrying a metalbound chest over one shoulder on a strap. There is also a much smaller fellow, a shade under six feet, with pale skin, dark eyes, bone-white hair. He is carrying some kind of firearm over his shoulder, and wears one on his hip along with a large knife. Across the room, near the head of a large dining-table you see end-on, stands the young man you saw from the railing above in the courtyard.

Go to "Down in the Cellar" to continue.