Tales of Telluria: Birthright and DeathRight

Prelude Part 2
Trailing the Demon Box

Our Cast of Characters

Valmon Silverwolf – Randy
Bonabelle Goldenleaf – Cameron
Pietra Malander – Josh
Assurius Pickman – Trent
Icarus Asimov – Austin
Dimitri Malander – Jeffrey
Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ

Duke Meepo (disguised Kobold)
Dragonkeeper Deekin (disguised Kobold)

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Prelude Part 1
The Shackling at Muffin's Honor

Our Cast of Characters

Valmon Silverwolf – Randy
Bonabelle Goldenleaf – Cameron
Pietra Malander – Josh
Assurius Pickman – Trent
Icarus Asimov – Austin
Dimitri Malander – Jeffrey
Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ

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Pre-Pre-Lude Part 2:

Our Cast of Characters:

Jeffrey – MIA
Josh – Skesh the NPC Dwarven Theif
Cameron – MIA
PJ -Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ
Trent – Asurus Pickman
Austin – Icarus
Ray – Valmon
JP – MIA

Party Wipe

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Gruncle Caldo tells Yet Another Story
The Old Man and the Sea

Hey! Come here, you two. Give your gruncle a hug. I got yous presents, see?
Yeah, I know Hearth’s Warming was last week. I… hadda go away for a while.
Here. It’s that Toofensmhirtz Dragon & Pierro the Slayer action figures all the kids are talking about.
Oh, that was last year, huh?
Look, her tail whips when you turn her head behind her. Is that cool?
Well, it’s supposed to. Lemme see that.
Huh. Guess I shouldn’t’a put it at the bottom of my saddlebags. No worry. It needs a little glue, is all.
What? What’d I say?
Well of course I didn’t mean “glue” like from you old pony sprinkles. I meant “paste”. Slip of the tongue. Comes from spending so much time abroad.
No, I guess paste won’t fix that. Here, give it back. I’ll make it right. I’ll use some… special paste. Bring it back good as new.
Dammit, kid! Don’t give me that look. You think your uncle’s a monster?
I am not shouting. Just gimme the lousy toy already. I said I’d make it right, and I will.
Get back here, you two! Arianthana, tell these kids they’re acting crazy.
You know what? Forget it. Keep the toy. Keep it, throw it out, I don’t care.
I’ll tell you a story, how about that? I’ll sit right here in this chair and start talking. If anybody came in here and sat behind me, they’d hear a good story. With magic, and the sea, and hot babes in—
I mean romance. It’s got magic and romance. Okay, okay, Arianthana. It’s got magic.
I tell ya, it’s hard to be an artiste around here.
I’m starting the story now.
This is the story of the shark man and the sea people.
He wasn’t always a shark man. At first he was a landed farmer, a villager like you and me. Nothing different about him at all. That was his problem.
He had a job figuring how much money the rich people had and how they could keep more of it, and if he did something really clever, his boss took the credit, but if he messed up, he took the blame. Ladies wouldn’t give him the time of day. They were all down at the docks, ogling the shark men.
Now the shark people lived in the sea. Look across the bay on a calm day, water shining like a mirror, you’d think you never saw nothing more peaceful. But the sea people were there, just under the waves. On stormy days you’d see their heads bobbing between the breakers, them smiling like those big widow-makers were a kiddie ride. And at night they’d roll in on the waves, shake the water off their flat webbed feet, sharpen a claw on their scales, toss their stringy seaweed manes back, and stride into town like they owned the place, which they did, at night.
They were mean, ugly, sharp-toothed bastards, but they got respect.
So one day our hero finds himself in an alley with a guy says he knows a guy who knows a shark man. He forks over a month’s bits for a tarnished gold chain that might’ve been copper underneath. “Just put it on and wait,” the guy says.
“What’s the catch?” he asks.
“Why should there be a catch?” the guy says. “Anytime you want out, take it off and throw it away.”
So he puts on the chain. Nothing. Weeks go by. Then one day he sees somebody on the street stare at him and look away quick. He reaches a hand to his neck, finds slits there, opening and closing each breath he takes.
His hands stretched out into claws. His hair stiffened and turned to scales. Not long after he was riding the waves and rolling into town at night himself.
He’d never felt so alive. Ladies loved him. When he finally found the one he wanted, she took him, teeth, scales, and all.
But he started biting her. Couldn’t help himself. Those long needle teeth, they had to bite. Then he’d run back to the water, and she’d follow, wading in after him until he disappeared under the waves.
Then one day she bit him back. Took him by surprise. He looked at her neck, saw a gold chain and a baby set of gills.
“What,” she said, “you thought there was only one magic chain in the world?”
So they went into the bay together, which was okay, until one day she took up with a great white dire shark with long gleaming black teeth and swam off.
By now he’s buddies with the sea people. They’re okay guys, mostly, but like I said, they bite. They drift. After a few years he’s surrounded by strangers again.
So he climbs back onto shore, shakes the water from his mane, and reaches for the gold chain.
But he couldn’t find it. His scales had grown over it. He clawed at his neck until it was bloody, but that chain was in too deep. So he went back to the sea.
But every Hearth’s-Warming Eve, he comes out. His gills don’t work right in the air. He blinks in the harsh sunlight, lurches around on webbed feet, and goes to the houses of the people he used to know. Sometimes he comes inside, dripping marsh-water all over their floor, and tries to remember how normal people talk. Sometimes he just looks in at the windows. So he can still recognize them. So he can keep them away from the water.
Yeah, Arianthana, I know they weren’t listening. It’s okay.

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Gruncle Caldo Tells Another Bedtime Story
Beauty & the Beast

Kids. Kids. Your gruncle’s had a tough day. I can’t take one more minute of screaming. It’s bad enough I have to hear it at work.
A game? That’s a great idea. Lemme see what’s on. Grab me a beer from the—
—okay, okay. I’ll play a game.
I got a great game. The best. It’s called “Dragon”. I’m the dragon, see. And this—this box of toys, over here, is my treasure.
So the dragon lies down on this sofa here, like this, see? And it’s sleeping. And you gotta sneak past the dragon without waking it and steal all its treasure, one piece at a time.
I’m going to sleep now. So just sneak past, on your toes. Real quiet. Yeah, that’s—
OW!
Oh, kid. You are pushing your luck.
Did I ever tell you about your little brother? The one you don’t have no more?
No. No, I don’t think I should tell you a story. Or anything else. You’re dangerous enough already.
I’m gonna tell you a story now, aren’t I?
Clever little bastards. Heh.
Okay, whaddya wanna hear? The bearskin? How the bear lost his tail?
What? I like stories with bears.
I don’t know that one. No, I dunno that one either.
Now you’re making stuff up. The stinky cheese man is not a story.
Beauty and the beast? Oh, boy, do I know that one.
Once upon a time, see, there was this swashbuckler who fell in love with a beautiful dame. If you could’ve just seen her walk into a room. The way she swayed her hips should’ve been a crime.
I don’t mean some winking low-class burley-que come-hither. I mean she’d glide. Every piece of her added something to it. Her feet rolled around her ankles, her ankles rolled around her gams, her gams rolled around her hips, and her hips just rolled around and around and did slinky figure 8’s behind her. Waves on top of waves, none of ‘em ever stopping or slowing down. Just sliding, curving back, and coming around again. Made everybody else look like puppets jerking on strings.
Sure that’s the story. Don’t tell me I don’t know the story. Every man knows this story, sooner or later.
But you shoulda seen her smile, kids. Like she had stars inside her.
Do not ever tell anybody I said that.
No. No, you’re not getting another story. You can’t prove a thing.
You ever walk outside on a cold night under a full moon? Everybody scuttles by in a trance, hunched over cold, staring at their own breath, footsteps bouncing off the brownstone. Maybe a drunk’s eyeing you from a doorway and you’re wondering if you should roll him before he rolls you. Maybe you step into something nasty leaking from a dumpster, again. Maybe some dam’s leaning out the window, shouting for the world to hear at some mumble-faced guy down on the street. And then you look up, and hanging in the gap between two slum buildings is the moon, shining like a hole cut through the night all the way to heaven. A world away but maybe you could reach out and touch it.
Now imagine it was right there on the street with you. But you still couldn’t touch it. You could only look. Maybe lean in a little, catch a whiff of its perfume.
It’d drive you crazy, right?
Better the moon should stay in the sky, kids. And better that swashbuckler had gone home and had a cold shower. But he was a fool. When she turned his way and smiled, he smiled right back and stepped up to her, like he thought he could get inside her to where all those stars were. And then he looked into her eyes, and he felt the shape of her through the heat and pressure of the air, and he was lost, kids. Lost.
No. No, he is not a big stupid-face.
Did you at least get what I said about the moon?
Look. Say it’s the night before Nightmare Night, and there’s not a candy in the house. Not even one of those lousy waxy candy corns. You know there’s bags and bags of it all around you, stashed away secret, but you can’t have any.
Oh, so the moon and the stars and all is dumb, but candy you understand.
Pearls before swine, I tell ya.
Now I don’t want you thinking the way a swashbuckler feels about a dame is the same as a girl or a boy feels about a bag of candy. It’s more like…
Eh, close enough.
But he really wants that candy. It’s the only candy in the world for him all of a sudden. If he can just get that candy, nothing else will matter. Only it ain’t candy, it’s a metaphor.
What it means is, she ain’t really candy, okay?
No, I don’t got no candy.
So he took her out to parties and such. Fancy ones where old nobles with monocles told stories and old dames in dresses with too many frills laughed at them like they were funny. Wild bacchanals where everybody danced to crazy music and people slept under empty wine kegs. If she said she liked the sound of the water, he’d take her on a riverboat cruise. If she said the moon was beautiful, he’d get a magic lasso and haul it down outta the sky for her.
Turns out there’s a law against that. Who knew?
Now the amazing thing, kids, is that it turned out this dame, she loved candy too. I mean, of course she did. Everybody likes candy. But it seemed like a miracle. And she wanted his candy.
No. I told you, it’s a metaphor.
What it means is, she liked him. Oh, it’d be easy to sneer and say she liked the parties and the pearls. But I think she really liked him. They lit up the night together. And one day he finally did get inside and see all those stars.
Also a metaphor. Ask your mother.
So the two of them, they got hitched, and she moved into his place. They laughed a lot, smiled at each other a lot, and did other things a lot. It was great. Pretty soon some kids came along, fuzzy and cute. Happy ending, right?
But the more they were together, the more the things she liked about him before, she didn’t like no more. Before, she liked that he laughed too loud. That he could pick her up and swing her around in the air when they danced. That other people moved aside when he walked down the street. That he said what he thought, and didn’t take guff from no one or care what nobody thought.
But now it was, “Keep your voice down! Don’t be such a hood! Don’t burp! Wipe off your hooves! Pick your clothes off the floor!”
I ask you, kids: Can a pony be the kind of swashbuckler who cuts his own path through life if he can’t fart in his own home? If he’s worried about whether his dirty socks are in the dark pile or the light pile?
No. No he can’t.
Yeah, I said fart. That’s not the important point here, kids.
That’s pretty good, but to really make it rip you gotta use your pits, like this.
Yeah, see, your gruncle knows what he’s talking about. Now work on that all day tomorrow for me, and I’ll come by later and see what you got, okay?
Anyway. That dame, she couldn’t be happy. She’d stand there watching him, like she wanted to say something, and he’d say “So what is it?”, and she’d say, “Nothing.” So he’d go back to whatever he was doing, and then she’d suddenly burst out with, “We never go out anymore.”
Like he was gonna keep buying her things and taking her places forever. What did she think he married her for, am I right? She knew how the game went.
And like they had time for parties or riverboats anymore. She was busy with those kids, and he was working late every night, trying to put food on the table. He’d come home after a hard day, just wanting to sit down, have a square meal, and rest his feet. And she’d kinda hover over him, and if he wasn’t quick with a word about how tender the goat was or how tasty the spanakopita was, she’d say, “You don’t appreciate how hard I work for you!” Which was ironic, what with him being just home from busting his balls all day for her.
Ask your mother.
Then she’d want to talk. Like he hasn’t heard enough talk all day. She’d say, “I’ve been alone with the kids all day, and you come in and don’t speak a word and sit down with your nose glued to the front of the games papers like some dumb animal.” Like she’s been waiting all day, but now she can’t wait just till the end of the quarter. Like how a cat knows to sit on the paper just when you’re reading something good.
So sometimes he’d stay a little later at the bar to watch the cock fights, catch up with his pals, like guys do. Nothing wrong with that. A fellow needs a break sometime. Then he’d head home with a smile on his face. Not four sheets to the wind or anything. Just a little warm glow from the bar. And she’d be waiting for him, and I don’t mean waiting the way that makes a man happy.
“We need to talk,” she’d say. “About our relationship.” “We don’t got a relationship,” he’d say, “we’re married.” And then she’d start crying, and blowing her nose into her fancy monogrammed silk handkerchiefs he bought for her. Damned expensive things for a little shred of cloth that you fill with snot and stuff into your pocket, if you ask me.
“You never tell me I’m beautiful anymore!” she’d sob. While she’s standing there in something frumpy, glaring out from under a hair that looked like a rat’s nest. I mean she’d started to let herself go, kids. And he’d try to do his duty anyway, get a little sugar from her, but the store was closed.
Or she’d say, “You never buy me pearls anymore!” “What’s the matter with the pearls I got you before?” he’d say. “Did they go bad? Did they invent some new pearl-stringing technology?” And she wouldn’t answer.
Then she’d pull out the big guns: “You just don’t understand!”
And, kids, he didn’t. He didn’t have a clue why everything had gone wrong. She’d said she wanted to settle down, and he’d settled down for her. Now he had a good job, a couple of decent kids, a comfortable armchair, and somebody to snuggle at night without having to go out and tear up the town first, but it wasn’t enough for her. He just didn’t get it.
He didn’t get it until the day he came home after one or two or three rounds at the bar, and the house was empty and there was nothing on the table except an empty wine bottle and a vase with a couple of flowers and a plate of half eaten mutton. He didn’t think much of it, just took off his shirt and sat down in front of the wager rolls chewing on the mutton, spitting the gristle out onto the floor, until he heard angry stomping and she came down the stairs wearing a red dress and a snarl, and he remembered the kids were at her mother’s because it was their anniversary.
She musta done herself up earlier, but her makeup was running down her face and smeared all around her eyes and in her hair, like she’d been crying and rubbing her eyes. She stomped over to him, leaned over right into his face and brayed like a damn donkey. She called him stupid and crude and other things I can’t tell you until you’re older, and some of them were true. She said she was gonna leave and take the kids with her. Her lips twitched and twisted all out-of-shape, like rubber bands, spraying him each time she spoke, and her breath stank. She was plastered good, kids.
Meanwhile he’s standing there, looking around at the house. It already seems empty, like it was before she came. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs but he can’t hear her no more. It’s like when you’ve planned a job for weeks, you think you know how everything’s gonna go, and you bust in the door and the wall’s painted green instead of white. Everything slows down while you stare at that green paint, trying to figure out where you are and how you got there.
Then she leans into him, grabs his hair, blows her nose into his chest, mumbles something and passes out.
And that moment, kids, was when he realized what had happened:
The beautiful dame he’d married had turned into a horrible beast.
And that’s the story of beauty and the beast.
How does the story end? Hah.
It never ends, kids. It never ends.

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Grunkle Caldo's Bed Time Story
For Impressionable Children Only & Never to be repeated to Korra

A story? You want a story? I got stories. I’m fulla stories. Let me think…

Once upon a time, there was a handsome swashbucklin’ adventurous Renaarian, footloose and care-free. He was sort of a business man, and sometimes business is good, and sometimes not so good, and when it’s not so good is always just the time when everyone wants their bets paid up and he’s got to find a place to lay low but if you spend a few hours every week in the castle than they think you’re a big shot with connections. So this adventurer…

What? No, it’s not about me. It’s a common story. What you call a universal theme.

You want something from a book?

Kids. Don’t you know nothing good comes from a book? Books are traps to keep the smart people from taking over.

Okay, okay. Gimme a book. I don’t care, any book. No, not that fat book. Fat books are the worst. That skinny book over there, gimme that.

Okay.

Once upon a time, see, there was a curious little girl named Goldilocks. Thick curly golden hair, like they was done up with a curling iron. She and her family lived right up against the forest. Probably some kinda farmer. Rubes, all of ‘em. What? Sure, the book says that.

One morning Goldilocks was out picking flowers and wandered into the forest. She walked and walked and walked until she saw a cottage in the distance.

This cottage, three bears lived in it. Papa Bear was a big guy, the kinda guy you take with you when you want to make an impression but don’t feel like talking. Mama Bear, she was just regular bear-sized. Still pretty big. And there was Baby Bear. Sometimes you call a really big guy Baby or Tiny or Junior.

The three bears were eating breakfast, but their porridge – I think that’s oatmeal – was too hot to eat. So they went for a walk while it cooled. Right as they left through the back door, Goldilocks slipped in through the front.

Sly. I like this Goldilocks.

Maybe they left it unlocked. That’s important, kids. If you have to force the lock, it’s B&E. If you don’t, it’s just trespassing, which is only a misdemeanor. They really oughta explain these things if this book is supposed to educate you.

So first thing she came in, she smelled the sweet, steamy porridge. “I’ll have just one bite,” she said.

This is a thing people do. You visit a guy’s place and he’s not there, he’s hiding out, you leave a mark to let him know you were there – a card, a drawing of his kids with a note, something like that. Then he knows you mean business, and maybe you don’t have to visit him again. Eating his porridge is a little what they call ambiguous, but whatever.

I don’t know why she needs to send these bears a message. Maybe she really is hungry. Maybe we’ll find out.

First she put her muzzle in Papa Bear’s great big bowl. “Ow!” she yelled. “Too hot!”

So then she tried Mama Bear’s medium-sized bowl. “Brrrrr! Too cold!”

She sure talks a lot for somebody casing a joint. That’s why talking to yourself is a bad habit, kids. Looking at you there Petra.

Finally, Goldilocks took a lick from Baby Bear’s tiny little bowl, and it tasted great. “This is just right!” she said. And she ate it all up.

What the hell? She…

Who wrote this book?

Hell? That’s a place where all the high rollers go, and they shoot craps and play poker all night long, which is forever because the night never ends, and if you say “Hell!” enough you might get to go there. But it’s a bad word, so only say it if you’re really angry.

Okay, okay. Back to the story.

After walking around the forest all day, Goldilocks was a little tired. “I need to sit down for a while to rest my sore feet!” she thought.

What? Sit down and rest in the middle of a job?

No. Kids. This is all wrong. Who can tell me what Goldilocks’ first big mistake was? Besides living on the edge of a goddamn forest, which is for small fry.

No, Petra. Going into the cottage was a good call. You have to take opportunities when they come.

Good guess, Bonabelle, but I figure she’s got a knife or something on her. Even farmers aren’t that dumb, to run around without some kind of protection.

That’s right, [Jeffrey Character]! She should’ve gone through the place fast, finding the exits, getting the layout and inventory so she could come back later with a cart and somebody to stand guard duty. There’s no money in a grab-and-dash, not usually.

This book, you can tell it was written by somebody who worked a day job, never pulled a heist or a con in his life. Maybe read a few novels. No, I figure it really happened something like this:

Goldilocks scanned the downstairs for valuables. In the foyer was an ink block print of the senate. “This print is too cheap,” she said, “you can buy one for a dozen silver!”

In the living room, over the sofa, was a gold-framed oil painting that said it was by Master Vetruvius. “This painting’s too valuable, would bring on too much heat, and I wouldn’t know where to fence it,” she said. “It’s outta my league." So she left it on the wall and made a mental note to try to find out if it was an original and who would pay her a finder’s fee on it.

Finally, upstairs in the master bedroom she found a framed sketch by Turner. “This one’s just right!” she said. She knew that taking it might make the bears take out an insurance policy on the big painting, and those insurance agencies can be a bitch, but that would be somebody else’s problem. She grabbed the sketch and went for the drawers.

What? A bitch is like, say, somebody who says you have to eat the same old broccoli every day, while she’s secretly got ice cream waiting for her in the freezer, some fancy neapolitan number, that you know she sneaks out and eats while you’re away. And the ice cream just sits there and smirks at you when you see it, acting innocent, like you’re too dumb to know what’s up. So you and your buddies come in one night with a blowtorch and melt the –

You know what, ask your mother. Tell me what she says. Now where was I?

The first drawer was full of earrings and cheap trinkets. “This stuff’s too common,” she said, and shut the drawer and went on to the next one.

The second drawer had more useless kitsch jewelry, but it was inside a big quartz jewelry case, with “MOMMA BEAR” etched on the front. “This case isn’t common enough,” she said. Engraved jewelry and such is always trouble. She shut the drawer and went on to the next one.

The third drawer had some nice emeralds and rubies, set in lockets and stuff, but pry them out and nobody can tell where they came from. “These stones are just right!” she said, and stuffed them in her bags.

Just then, the three bears returned home from their walk, and they walked right in on Goldilocks. Because she didn’t have nobody standing watch. They saw her standing there with their Turner sketch and her saddlebags full of their jewels, and they didn’t even call the guards. Papa Bear said a few words, Mama Bear laid down some big sheets of plastic, and Baby Bear tore her to shreds on the spot. Then they put her in their porridge and ate her all up.

Like I said, she shoulda had a friend watching for them. Remember, kids: Friends are important. That’s, like, a moral or something…

Hey, look, your mommas are here and I’m off the clock. Go on, you little bums, get outta here. Sweet dreams and remember you gotta steal like nobody’s watching, you punch like you’ll never be hurt, and slander like there’s nobody listening!

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Pre-Pre-Lude Part 1
New Players take the Stage

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Our Cast of Characters:

Jeffrey – MIA
Josh – MIA
Cameron – MIA
PJ -Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ
Trent – MIA
Austin – Icarus
Ray – Valmon
JP – MIA

Our heroes meet on the long, winding halfling caravan from the capital to Dundenvale. Arianthana and Icarus had already met while on business to the College of Magic and worked a job to deal with a haunting once before. However, they noticed Valmon immediately as he stood head and shoulders over all the rest of the men of the caravan because he was the only other medium sized sentient visible. While Arianthana had portentous dreams destruction and a male drow, Valmon had heard of a madman at a haunted keep to the south and was investigating, while Asurus sought a Fugitive Murderer.

During a break on the dusty summer road circumventing the fens of the lizardfolk, Arianthana chilled drinks for the tired caravaneers as Icarus studied spells from a human skinned book and children dared one another to touch his backpack of many hands. Still in his campaign cloak, Valmon gambled with [insert name here] in the wagon of his halfling family.

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The End of the Beginning Part 4
Two Weddings and a Funeral
Korra Lander – Jeffrey Chang
Pierro Malatesta – Josh Puey
Bruno “Felix” Trickfoot – Cameron Hogarth
Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ
Trent Lilly – Observing
Austin Lilly – Observing
Ray – Absent
JP – Observing
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The End of the Beginning Part 3
Korra Lander – Jeffrey Chang
Pierro Malatesta – Josh Puey (Absent)
Bruno “Felix” Trickfoot – Cameron Hogarth
Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ
Trent Lilly – Asher “Tradefolk” Lore
Austin Lilly – Observing
Ray – Observing

Felix and Asher fly into the the College of Magic and tell the attending Mage Knight about them breaking into the Silver Flame Slayers for investigative purposes. Asher presents his Father’s writ from the College of Magic and the evidence against the Silver Flame Slayers. They were able to get sanctuary for Asher Tradefolk.

Piero and Korra fled to Senator Constantina’s villa before a messenger came and fetched them to go to the Senate. Arianthana informed the Senate about a plethora of crimes that were committed underneath and in the city.

Arianthana addressed the Senate. “You may have seen the false dawn from the fires in the Halfling quarter. Within the sewers the seeds villainy were sown and if they were allowed to sprout, they would have destroyed this very Senate. Who’s treachery, do you ask is responsible for this? None other than the Silver Flame Slayers!”

The Senate erupted into verbal infighting with Senators throwing their arguments for one side or the other. Korra shouted above the fray “Have not the College of Magic been our faithful allies against Kalamar and on the Frontier? What has the Silver Flame Slayers done but jeopardize that alliance?” A Senatorial inquiry was started towards the Silver Flame Slayers.

Felix put forth a motion to have the Senate

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The End of the Beginning Part 2
Part 2: Temple Tome Tussle
Korra Lander – Jeffrey Chang
Pierro Malatesta – Josh Puey
Bruno “Felix” Trickfoot – Cameron Hogarth
Arianthana Dawnchaser – PJ
Trent Lilly – Asher “Tradefolk” Lore
Austin Lilly – Observing
Ray – Observing
JP – Absent Cleric of Mechanus

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The docks district, a Silver Flame Warehouse for ‘provisions’ as the night deepens in darkness our ‘heroes’ battle one another by flickering torchlight. Korra sails across the marbles and cracks one of Asher’s ribs as he reaches for a particularly weighty tome written in no less than three tongues most ancient. However, Asher had used his cantrip Mage Hand to hurl the sunstone away from himself so that he might be able to use the powers of his infernal heritage to cloak him in the protection of darkness once more. Yet before he was fully able to enact that plan, Pierro had pounced upon him. Aritanthana’s investigative instincts had been set off and she sought to bring the man to justice, but had qualms as to what sort of ‘justice’ the Silver Flame Slayers might mete out! She summoned forth more light and while the mighty malatesta no longer had the unquenchable thirst for blood that made him an exile prince, he contained enough anger to wrestle Asher to the ground. Felix “Bruno” called for his friends to stop this foolish fighting as more would be coming whom might wish them all even graver ills! His please fell on deaf ears so he lit torches.

Outside, the Cleric of Mechanus tended to the oddly injured Slayer and then helped him seek his comrades to inform them of the ransacking of their secret storehouse of magical tomes. Later, the party realized that they might be able to use the existence of these tomes as leverage with the College of Magic against the Silver Flame Slayers.

Yet, Asher still had a few tricks of his sleeve, with magic and speed born of the desperation to finish a life-long quest, he slipped free from his attackers and deeper into the forest of marbles. Arianthana realized that this Tiefling could not truly get a fair trial, he would either be a creature protected by the College of Magic, or one put to death by the Sliver Flame Slayers as part of a blood feud extending through his whole family line… one that had wrapped in both the Lander and Malatesta lines.

Arianthana calls upon her divine magics to try and keep the Tiefling from fleeing further into the darkness as Pierro, Bruno, and Korra scramble across the marbles. Alas, the marbles conspire with the bookshelves to foil her progress to finally slay the brother of the mastermind behind her father’s death. Thanks to Bruno’s light and Arianthana’s spells Pierro was able to tie him down so that Felix, eerily calmly, could question him. Luckily, a Malatesta never wears the same shirt twice and so he tore it to shreds to tie up Asher so he could make no further escapes. Finally, Asher was forced to face his greatest fear… though he’ld slain ogres and even a dragon… what frightened him to the core of his being was… talking wtih his friends honestly about his innermost fears, most especially that the Malander line would succeed in snuffing out his Lore family tree!

Just in time, it’s noticed that the book Ahser was trying to make off with was flying away with an Imp, an oddly familiar looking one at that! After being recovered, it’s discovered to be a Grimoire of True Names of Planar creatures, including Demons, Devils, Angels, Genies, etc.

*Bruno calls for calm and reason but then must beat a hasty retreat

*Pierro must, against his usual nature, calm Korra so that they can truly get to the heart and truth of this matter of the Silver Flame Slayers calling upon her father’s adventuring party to put an end to the entire Lore line

*Arianthana finds proof that the secular and magical laws are opposed as provided by a captive Asher himself!

*Fleeing silver-tipped cross-bow bolts

*Seeking sanctuary at the College of Magic and needed to regroup

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