In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 595):

"Don't waste it, it's a sedative!"

Brennan sighs, the deed being done, then relieves the Inquisitor of her belt of many pockets, writ of Inquisition, and badge, if present.

If she has amber, he takes that too.

He also drains some of her blood into a vial and dashes a good bit of it into the chalice that hangs from his belt.

"Let's go," he says at last. "If that's the sort of help we can expect from The citadel, I suggest we take our chances at Losthelm. Besides, our allies should already be there."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:34, Tue 30 July 2019.

Ciryl slaps at Brennan's hand has he goes to remove the Inquisitor's belt and badge and rifle her pockets for a writ, "Have some damn respect for the dying," he hisses tersely.  The inquisitor's blood is in ready supply and he does little to stop Brennan claiming any of it.  "What allies?  Your mercenary didn't seem interested in having any part of us once we turned back and I haven't seen Deev all night."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 597):

"There will not be another opportunity to access the body unhindered," Brennan replies easily. "And they will be at the rendezvous, if not Losthelm itself. Bryce has nowhere else to go and Deev is one of us."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:34, Tue 30 July 2019.

"This is not an opportunity to 'access the body,'" Ciryl replies, just as discouragingly.  "You don't have to like the inquisition, and if their help comes with a wasp sting attached I understand why, but I'm not going to stand here and let you deny a dying woman's request just before rifling through her pockets.  If you want nothing to do with the inquisition then that is precisely what you get; nothing.  Go find out where your undead witch wandered off to."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 599):

Brennan begins to reply, but frowns when Cyril reaches the end of his sentence.

"Where my what now?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:33, Tue 30 July 2019.

"Where did Titus go?" Ciryl clarifies.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 601):

Brennan blinks and look around.

"I have no idea."

He sighs and waits for the Inquisitor to be dead enough to loot respectfully.

"Then perhaps you should find him before he does something else stupid," Ciryl suggests.

((he's not gonna make looting easy for you.))
This message was last edited by the player at 05:10, Wed 31 July 2019.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 603):

"He'll turn up again soon enough. Either here or on the road. The man's an illusionist. If he doesn't want to be found, he's not going to BE found."

Brennan raises an eyebrow, then folds his arms crossly.

"You did not seem to have an aversion to rifling through the possessions of others during the battle," he says. "This isn't some vanity project. I'm not looking for coins to spend at the nearest tavern like a common cutpurse."

"The belt contains whatever contraband this Inquisitor may have collected so far. Ritual pieces, perhaps. And oils, ointments, and similar items that could be useful on the road ahead. The amber is necessary to protect ourselves from the Inquisition's sight as we travel, and as you saw, it grants a measure of power against demonic influences. Which we may well need. As for the writ and badge..."

Brennan exhales sharply.

"Fine, THOSE are vanity projects. But only Partially. I want to at least confirm she HAS them, so we know she is who she says she is. They will also allow us to know her name. There is power in Names."

His expression softens somewhat.

"Besides, are not the least bit curious as to who she really was?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Wed 31 July 2019.

"I wouldn't have had to rifle through others' possessions if they'd been conscious," Ciryl replies to Brennan pointedly before gesturing to the discarded helmet, "Might've been amber in there, but it looks like it was burned out, whatever good it'll do you.  I don't want to know what uses you have for Inquisitorial contraband, but if you intend to travel with me, I won't be having it.  Until today I didn't have anything to do with the Inquisition and if I can't keep it that way, I am not going to give them more reason to be after me.  And it's for the same reason I am not the least bit curious who she was.  She was an Inquisitor, that's good enough for me to want nothing else from her, and if that's not the case she's a damn sight better at faking it than you are.  If you can't let your vanity project go I'd be happy to have the Master of Arms pass along her name and cause once she's put to rest."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 605):

"I was conscious!" Brennan protests. "You just don't know what to look for."

He waits for Ciryl to finish.

"We all want nothing to do with the Inquisition. But while some people are content to hope and cross their fingers, I intend to take more active measures to protect myself. You fear contraband? You ARE contraband. All of the Chosen are."

Brennan folds his arms and stares at the medicine man.

"Inquisitors can see through each others' eyes. You have been seen aiding and abetting Titus and myself. Your identity is known to them. Unless you plan on traveling to the Citadel, where you will be thrown into a cage far less pleasant than the one this one tossed you into, I recommend you stick with us. That may mean doing some things that make you uncomfortable."

He gestures toward the body.

"I'm not unreasonable. We can compromise. I will leave the badge and the writ and assume she was on the level. I will even leave her belt, but not before I've searched it. If she possesses relics or texts or runes, I simply must have them. They will make the path to Losthelm and beyond far easier for everyone."

"I have been seen cooperating with the inquisitor.  I have been seen aiding in the destruction of a demon.  I have been seen holding her accountable and doing little else to keep you or Titus away from the inquisition.  I am not going to be jailed for that. She didn't have the first idea what we are and I'm beginning to wonder if anyone else in the inquisition does either.  You're the one who keeps saying they're after us because of what we are, but only evidence I've seen is that they're after you because of who you are," Ciryl speaks as he slowly picks himself up off the ground and stands to look Brennan in the eye.

"I am a law abiding citizen.  I have rendered aid where it was needed.  I have done nothing wrong and intend to keep it that way.  If the rest of the inquisition has seen what she's seen then they've seen all the contraband she's kept in her pockets and if any of it is missing when they get here they will know you stole it and hold anyone traveling with you accountable. So what you 'simply must' do is walk away from her and leave well enough alone.  I don't know how you have so much faith that people will flock to you given time and opportunity and at the same time have so little regard for them that do."

He chokes up on he cane so that he can rase the handle to waggle at Brennan's face, "Whatever you think you or we or whoever was chosen for, it is not to subvert the inquisition.  That is your mission, and I'm not interested in it."  He looks over Brennan's shoulder before getting a response and speaks louder than their conversation had thus far been, "Master, the inquisitor's unconscious.  She took the worst of the fight.  If you can have your men help me move her somewhere she might rest, it's the best chance she has.  If you could get a long board or something to move her on, she's in delicate condition."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 607):

"I couldn't care less about subverting the Inquisition. I want them to leave me, and you, and everyone like us alone."

Brennan shakes his head as he gathers his things, unwilling to further escalate matters at the present. He checks to see what's missing from among his belongings as he does so.


When he is satisfied that all is more or less in order, he prepares to take his leave.

"You were Chosen by the First Men. That makes you a witch in the eyes of the Inquisition, and they will burn you for it no matter how helpful you are to them." Brennan says at last. "I'll take my chances with the road. This world is quite literally going to Hell. Or, rather, Hell is coming to it. Worse than Jack are coming. Worse than Jack may already be here, if truth be told."

Brennan arches an eyebrow.

"But it doesn't have to be that way. It isn't too late, not yet. We have been Chosen to do something about it. And the tools we need to complete the job aren't at the Citadel. They're at Losthelm."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:10, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 608):

The Master of Arms makes a face that imparts perfectly his lack of desire to be ordered around.  However, he does make a small nod to one of his lieutenants, who bounds off to fetch a stretcher.

They will return shortly

In reply to GM (msg # 609):

Brennan extracts the Wasp Sting from the Inquisitor.

"You have a lot of use for that?" Ciryl asks, though he doesn't actually stop Brennan from taking it.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 611):

Rather more use for it lately than I'd like, Brennan replies, shoving it primly back into his belt pouch. It is a nonlethal countermeasure. I should think you'd appreciate that.

"That really depends on what's put in it.  See that you keep it nonlethal." Ciryl replies, a wary eye on Brennan.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 613):

[Titus continues to do his thing]

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 614):

After collecting your belongings, Ciryl, Brennan, Deev, and Titus reconvene at the Inn and then make their way to the northern gate of DuckTown.  They are closed at this hour, but the guards there are quick to draw back the bolts and open it to let you pass.

In a few minutes, the lamps of the town are no longer visible and the only thing you can see of the town are the dark walls and the reflection of the moonlight upon the lake.

It is early evening, the sun having gone down only an hour or so earlier.  So the group is able to make their way to the logging camp where you left Bryce the day before.

"Still alive?" is the greeting you receive.  The logging camp has already gone to sleep for the night, but Bryce has apparently volunteered to sit watch over the fading embers of their cookfire with a pipe and some beer as company.

In reply to GM (msg # 615):

Titus smiles at Bryce.

Yeah, I'm fine.  Everything's fine.  Never been better.

We killed a demon.

He lifts his shirt to show the ropey scars from Jack's claws.  He scrubs his hands through his hair.

Got any extra?

He asks indicating the beer.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 616):

Brennan nods, flicking a bit a of a smile at Cyril as he is vindicated by the mercenary's presence.

"Yes. And so long as everyone here refrains from making ill-conceived pacts with any additional ancient and unspeakable ones, we should be able to make Losthelm without much further difficulty."

He glances over at the logging camp briefly, then helps the group set up camp.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 617):

Titus feigns shock and indignation.

ME?! I would never!  We have much more important business than to get sidetracked from going to losthelm.

Titus says with a combination of self-deprecation sarcasm and earnestness.

Ciryl rolls his eyes at Brennan's triumphant grin but doesn't contribute to the conversation about how stupid and distracting Titus is.  He grunts slightly as he unhitches his mule from his cart and makes preparations for camp, the prospect of a full night's rest a greater temptation than any demon could offer.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 619):

The group is left unmolested to set up camp and rest for the first time in what seems like ages.

If told the story of Springheel Jack, Bryce will react with the correct amount of disbelief and frustration.

The night passes without anything of much note.

OOC: Recover 1 Echo and you are no longer suffering a die penalty from exhaustion.