Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Dear Linika,

I don't know if you remember me but we met some time ago in the library and our discussion started with make up. I am sorry to say but I am in a situation where I need assistance and I wondered if you might be available to speak? If not, I fully understand. I am in Viden this trial only, I have to go home tonight. If you are willing, I will be in the library, where we met previously ~ or as close as I can get to there if it is busy.

I hope that you are well. Best regards,

Faith

It was difficult to confirm if the gal sitting amid the bulwark of books truly was the woman "Faith", whom she had met the previous Saun, but Linika would certainly not withhold whatever aid she could provide to any of the few people who had helped her since her arrival in Viden. She could count them on one hand, and even half of them had only done so with the intent of garnering some reciprocal obligation. Even the librarian had seemed as if she was on the verge of refusing to hand over the note until the naer had signed some contract agreeing to curtail her future presence there.

As much as Linika was now motivated to try to fit in to this culture, a threatening glare and a slow lean into the librarian's face brought the desired result. So, her assimilation into this society would be set back a trial or two. She shrugged off any such concern as she turned to approach the virtual castle of stacked books. There was no denying it was Faith, as she dropped the note onto the page the ex-slave was scanning.

When the woman looked up, Linika's eyes rose in some alarm at her haggard appearance, the pregnancy not yet being obvious in her hunched, sitting position. "Hmmm...You look like I must have looked when we first met...Don't hit me, okay?" The remark was only half in jest as she took the seat opposite the human, carefully sliding a couple of stacks aside to reacquire face-to-face contact.

Her brow furrowed somewhat at the odd variety of knowledge represented in what must have been at least two hundred thousand pages, "Inconsistencies in Eastern Astronomic Shifts'?...'Marine Beasts of the Far East'?...'Tales from the Biqaji Beyond?'...'Forgotten Trade Routes: When and Why'?...'Nekhet and Beyond: Persistent Mysteries'?" she muttered as she ran her finger down a stack of spines. "So, Faith, I got your note...uhh...What's new with you?"

The naer looked on in increasing sadness at this one woman who had almost freakishly befriended her not so long ago. She found that she truly wanted to help. But she was no sailor, and her only experiences in any area remotely that far east ended in the tropical jungles around Athart. Even if she had any sort of astrology training beyond the little bits she'd picked up listening to the sailors who'd eventually dropped her off in Viden, there was no personal experience to cross-reference any of it with.

She perused the stack of books, hoping to find some spark of inspiration, but feeling nothing. Faith continued on, expressing the darkest sense of what would be termed a "deadline". The instinct to grasp at straws only served to empower the usual attempts to downplay the assumption of peril to the woman's husband: "I'm sure he's alright...he may have dropped the scroll overboard in some rough sea...whatever anomaly there may be is probably just interfering with this contact...There's probably some limit on how far these abilities can operate." She could see that Faith appreciated her effort to withhold them. She found those words as empty as Faith looked to have found them.

She felt the beginnings of the same desperation forming in her own heart that she could see in the other woman's eyes. How could she, the bright and inventive student of Augiery, chosen at such young age to embark on her mission, now blessed by the Immortal of Intellect, and living in what was considered the most enlightened city on Idalos, draw such a far-reaching blank?

Faith's last words lingered in her mind, mostly unregistered as far as content. It was obviously just some rhetorical hope expressed by a believer in such things as 'miracles'. Yet, something......She couldn't place what seemed to be trying to pique her notice. She ran the comment through her own mind, in her own voice, with her own accent, and it suddenly clicked!

The new ability she'd been graced with, to instinctively know the source of a language or accent! Faith was clearly newly come from Scalvoris with that accent, yet it was an accent slightly adjusted by its ground floor of Rynmere, and even the hated Athart! She had noted something like that before and given it no significance.

It was not that she thought there was any now, but it recalled the man who had spoken at the time. An old pirate, one of those fled from Scalvoris in the last couple of arcs. Oh how he'd gone on about the cowardly way his lifestyle had been squeezed out of his island home. The collusion, the betrayal, the politics of ambition! As well as the oath of vengeance he blathered on about, as if the Immortal of Conquest would hear and avenge him. He'd made the same sort of statement about 'Rask'larn pullin' a meercle from 'er sleeve'.

She took a quick look back at the stack of books before them and scanned the titles more attentively this time. No, there was no such book. There were similar types, but none from the perspective of any pirate clans or crews. Would it make a difference? It very well might. Pirates knew of places no one else did. And guarded these secret locations jealously.

It was not the fear that Faith's husband may have fallen afoul of pirates that energized her suddenly. It was the thought that where some exotic clue may be missing from these conventional sources, some pirate tale may touch on the obscure. She tried to repress her hope. When someone accepted a harsh truth, it was a terrible thing to get their hopes up anew, only to let them crash again.

"Umm...Let me check something. I doubt it will help, but you never know." She tried to sound as if she was resigned to eventual disappointment, but she may have fallen just a bit short. She hurried to what was essentially the "True Crime" division of the non-fiction section. She did not, in truth, even know what she was actually looking for, but some new sense of belief kept her at it, shelf after shelf.

And then it seemed almost to glow on an upper shelf, just to catch her eye. 'Lost Treasures and Lost Tales: Episodes of Piracy Turned to Legend' She snatched it from the shelf and returned to the table, an irrepressible skip in her steps as she laid it down before Faith. Again she tried to prepare for failure, but somehow she had a strange hope in the tales that came from such an unlikely source.

"If you actually find something there, I'll see if I can find this old pirate I know who may be able to shed some further light on it. He'll most likely be drinking at The Devil's Advocate. It's a shady inn some ways across town. It will take me a break or two to get there and back, depending on how cooperative he is, IF he's even there. But I am certainly willing to do it for you."

Just a simple touch of the hand. Until this very moment, Linika would have never guessed it could be so...potent. The need to help this woman surged in her heart in a way she'd never previously felt. Even as she smiled and nodded, even as she turned on her heel and hurried from the library, she wondered if she'd ever truly had a friend before. She'd had her clique back in Augiery, but that was not so much friendship as a mutual acknowledgement of competence and complementary talents.

Several arcs ago, she'd unexpectedly developed an affection towards a sev'ryn child she'd taken as hostage to force the hand of that insufferable Sel'ma. She'd been essentially washed up near Desnind, trying to complete a mission, knowing her retrieval ship had been wrecked in a storm. Sel'ma's interference and threat of exposure had forced her to take the child, to ensure Sel'ma's obedience. For arcs now she'd rationalized that necessity, never having too much difficulty in doing so, as it followed the principles of the culture of dominance in which she'd been raised. Victory was essential, failure not an option, it had to be done.

Now though, as she hurried to the Devil's Advocate, she found her throat tightening, as tears formed anew for the loss of the child, Ber'ine. The death itself had been an accident, one for which she still found the ability to levy the bulk of blame elsewhere; primarily the father, and Sel'ma. Had they not attacked, escalating the close quarters, the child, tied as she was, would not have been knocked into the turbulent waters.

Guilt spiked suddenly, as her forced beliefs that it had been some sort of baggage in the boat - an extra sail, rolled up and leaning against the rail, a coil of rope, a bundle of supplies, wrapped tightly against the damp - that she'd hit with her body as she'd wrestled against her enemies, fell short of absolution. They had been the ones that knocked Ber'ine overboard. They had done it! She had come to admire the child's courage too much. She couldn't have done it!....she couldn't have...

Her knees were suddenly freezing, and she looked to find herself kneeling upon them; her face growing frigid as the tears began to freeze on her cheeks. She heard the whimpering of terrible grief, growing slowly in volume, and realized it was her own voice. Gripping her emotions tightly, she rose back to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. The past was irredeemable; what was done was done. It would help nothing to let it overwhelm her now.

In addition, the naer exile still clung to the hope that what had appeared to be a hateful rejection by Audrae, in the form of the assassination attempt, following Linika's part in the shadow attacks of 716, was in fact only a new means of reinforcing her cover as an "eill", a loathed exile. If that was the case though, she'd once again be expected to have nothing but contempt towards people like Faith.

Her steps wandered slightly, her pace fluctuating, as her mind warred with itself. She was a mass of emotional turmoil as she entered the seedy tavern to search for the old pirate, "Knots". The barkeep, Linus, recognized her immediately from a past confrontation that had culminated in him being on his back with Linika crouching tauntingly overhead, knife at his throat.

She tried to keep her temper as the man assailed her with threats of calling the guard. Linika knew that his warnings had been backed up when the charges were dropped. She was ordered never to set foot in the place again. So she did what the situation demanded; she ignored him. Every eye was turned her way, eager with anticipation of trouble as the naer made her way through the hate to present herself before the crusty old man. In a sense, she was glad of the hostility. It helped her shed the guilt and focus on the task at hand.

Knots was not cooperative however. He found himself the center of more celebration with every belligerent word he cast her way. His grin grew wider with each cheer that erupted, as he continued to grouse down her request to accompany her. But Xypha came to her rescue. Her cold stare caught his squint and held him with a silent challenge to his "balls" to maintain eye contact.

She could see him waver briefly, but pride took over and strengthened his resolve to hold this gaze. Now she sent a Xypha communication, the image of Faith, teary eyed, pregnant, and looking desperately through books. His hard glare cracked slightly and Linika followed up the image with a silent comment, 'Her husband is missing and she needs your help.'

His mein cracked a bit more, and Linika pressed the issue, 'If you come with me, I will give you twenty gold nel.' A new spark gleamed in his eyes now, but he did not respond. Linika leaned in just a bit, 'Okay, thirty.' She leaned in just a bit further, '...and if you don't come now, your tongue will be the meat in tomorrow's stew.'

His eyes flicked instinctively to see her hand twitch on the hilt of a dagger he'd not noticed before. They turned back to her eyes then to find nothing but fearless sincerity and icy resolve...

A little over a break later, they stumbled, Knots first, into the library to plop into a seat across from Faith. Linika lightened the grip on the hilt of her dagger and smiled coldly, "Faith, I'd like you to meet 'Knots', the gentlemen I told you about. He has volunteered to help you any way that he can."

Linika's face broke into a snarling mask as she grabbed a handful of old gray hair and pulled it back to loom over him, face-to-face, "Quit playing games, Knots! I won't let you dodge this question. Why should we listen to this crap, when you can't give us one good reason to think it's anything more than the crap you throw around at The Advocate for free mugs? Details, Knots! We know you can't prove it here and now. But give us details!"

The old man would have cringed further if his head was not held in place by Linika's white-knuckled grip. "But I don't KNOW no details!"

The naer's eyes burned into his. "You know more than THIS shit, Knots. More than this 'No one goes there because no one goes there' crap! Back when people DID go there, what did they say? And don't say they never came back. SOME of them did, or there'd be none of the legends you talk about! Now what did they say that very first time?"

"That time were before my time, Nikki. Aaaaagh....Leave me be!" he groaned as she twisted the handful of hair, wrapping in around the palm of her hand for better leverage.

"You'll be bald long before that, you old rat. A date...a name...Ship or captain's name...a monster...a freak storm...a damn falling star! What started this legend? I saw a lot of weird stuff coming all the way north from Augiery, Knots. But nothing that would make a pirate afraid to sail!" Something in his eyes prompted her to release his hair. She came around and plopped her hands on his thighs as she leaned in, speaking softly now, good cop and bad cop, rolled into one.

"Come on, Knots. She's counting on you." she pleaded with a tilt of the head in Faith's direction, "WE'RE counting on you." She dropped down into a squat to look up into his eyes, giving him a sense of importance as he now looked down into hers. "There's something you're holding back. There's gotta be."

The old man sagged with a sigh, "People laugh at me when I start telling them that one." his voice was a mumble.

"We won't, Knots. I promise we won't....please." the softness of her tone wrapped the steel of her sincerity.

"Ksamknai," the old man muttered. Looking into their eyes alternately for signs of scorn. Linika had an odd look for a moment, but it was not scorn. Knots misunderstood the look, thinking she's just never heard the word. "It's a sea serpent in the east. Rumor says they was a peaceful type, but got changed somehow. In that book there..." he gestured to the 'Pirate Legends' book. "Find any bit about them serpents and you might find what you're lookin' for."

"You're not saying it right..." Linika muttered, seemingly to herself, repeating the word softly with different inflections each time. Xypha suddenly kicked in, as she sat up straight. "Nekhet...It's the language of Nekhet, but I don't know what it means."

"None of the crew did neither, Nikki. But the Cap changed the name of the boat to that. Said them serpents guided him east across the sea to reach the west. But everyone knows them things attack ships, not guide them. And you sink or burn or disappear if you try to push past. But Cap came back with stuff from Melrath and Nayhair. So you tell me."

The old pirate looked like he was ready to ask for nel from Faith, but hesitated as Linika gripped his shoulder with just a subtle shake of the head. The naer turned to the human to let her know, "We already settled payment. Unless there's still something you know, old fella."

The mild hesitation in his face caused Linika's brow to furrow slightly. She hardly heard the thanks Faith was extending to the two of them; mostly nodding out of the awareness that a comment had been finished, and needed a response. Knots however, gave into near panic as Faith commented on her intent to look for more information about the name. "NO! I told you everything. It's all in this tale about Cap'n Briggs. Ain't nothin' to find under them beasties' name."

He started to reach for the book, but Linika was ready with a wrestling hold, slipping her arms over his shoulders and inside his from behind; locking her knuckles behind his back to pin him to the chair. In truth, the bulk of the information under the name was essentially the same, where it referenced the journey of Captain Briggs. But there was one detail of interest left out. A symbol, mystically tattooed, in some unknown fashion, upon the shoulders of the survivors of ships whose crossings had been denied by the sea creatures, was shown in a rough sketch.

Linika could feel the pirate twitch, and his struggle to get out of her grip grew almost manic. Eventually she let him go, but hooked a sharpened naerikk nail into the shirt's seam of his right shoulder as he rose, tearing it open with an insincere but obligatory apology and a promise to buy him a new shirt.

For a moment he glared at her furiously, slapping his hand over the newly exposed shoulder. But the damage was done, Linika, if not Faith as well, had caught all the glimpse they needed to see that the old pirate sported the same tattoo on his shoulder. He looked at the doorway, but Linika was already stepping into blocking position. "C'mon, Knots. Give. What else do you know?"

"I know we burned to the waterline!" he hissed, in terror of the memory. "I was a dead man! And I gave meself up to the sea; passin' out as I drifted, waiting to be eaten from beneath the whole time. You got any idea what that's like? To expect to die every damned tick for a half a trial? Until you finally pass out? Even then, yer last thought is that if you don't get et, yer gonna slip from your piece of wreckage and drown."

Linika made an emotional effort to maintain eye contact as tears glistened in his, "But you're alive, Knots. What happened?"

His eyes rolled as his voice turned mocking, "'What happened' she asks!" Any intimidation Linika may have inflicted upon the old man was shattered by the intimidation of his memory of the ordeal. "Aye! I'm alive! And I'd like to stay that way! I did my run. I owe nobody nothin'."

Linika continued to press for details, but doing it with a tone of desperation nearly matching his. She showed no reluctance to grant that he owed no debt, but did not relent that there must be something he knew. Maybe something he didn't know he knew.