Rabble Rousing

Elverandil seemed sure that some of the markings on the silver knife represented the great Houses of the vampire kindreds - the ones that Mazahir had served. He was unsure, however, and wanted to refer to his libraries for confirmation. Moreover, he was in haste to report back to the Elváthien - the King's Council - the very bad news that the arcane wards protecting Belamir weren't as good as they thought they were. Having thanked the adventurers again for rescuing his son, he turned and rode away. The travellers resumed their journey northwards.

Two days later, riding across an unremarkable piece of land, gently undulating and grassy, they came upon a standing stone. Centuries of time had weathered its' surface almost to a natural appearance, but on close examination, it was possible to see that it had been raised by the craft of man.

Surya drew rein. His companions looked at him in puzzlement, and he explained that this place was the field of Thallan; the stone was the monument placed by the Tellarans to mark the site of the greatest battle ever fought between humans and elves. A battle in which Surya's grandfather had fought.

In days gone past, a ceremony had been held here every year, simple and straightforward, but a ritual of honour and troth. Clearly, since the Invasion and dissipation of the Telarran people, this had been forgotten, and had not been done for hundreds of years. Dismounting, Surya approached the stone, muttering the words of the ceremony at first, then declaiming them as the feeling grew. Hildraft, too, could feel it; the pride and honour of a whole warrior nation had once been focussed here. As the ancient words fell from his lips, Surya felt strangely at peace; more so than he had for some considerable time.

The words ended, and the moment passed. Remounting his horse, the last pure-blood Tellaran turned from his country's heart and back to his own dark path. The feeling of the rightness of what he'd done remained with him, however.

Two days after that, the company descried a group of riders coming towards them. It was soon plain that these were actively moving to intercept them, and so they fanned out and waited for them. The figures grew clearer as they approached; six soldiers, in the livery of the ruler of Tellare, Vane the Mace. They drew rein facing the group.

It became rapidly obvious that someone who'd been in the Duck and Ferret had squealed; the corporal leading the patrol was equipped with a very accurate description of the people he was looking for. Convinced he'd caught some dangerous bandits, he attempted to arrest them.

Towards the rear of the patrol, three soldiers raised and readied the mysterious Invigilator weapons, and appeared to discharge them at the companions. Nothing happened, and the men began to look puzzled and examine the devices.

Hildraft and Surya drew their weapons. Watching, Hildraft became aware that the phenomena he'd observed were stronger; as the sword Tormentor cut the air, an almost tangible trail of darkness followed it, and the link between sword and bearer was more pronounced, more natural. There was evidently some effect on their foes as well, for their faces blanched and some of them shook with fear.

With a rush, the Tellaran was among his foes. Lashing terrible blows right and left, he cut down two in an instant, and toppled another from his horse with a crippled leg. The cruelty and relish with which he inflicted death and injury was not lost on the Hand of Kord.

Bringing his own powers into play, he advanced closer and raised his hand and sent a bolt of holy fire to blast one of their opponents. As he did so, a tremor ran down his spine. A great feeling of oppression and futility seemed to be pushing itself into his soul, draining his will to fight and overcome; he felt lessened, polluted, reduced. Perhaps because of this, his blast was insufficent to neutralize the soldier he's targeted, and he was forced to close and engage him in personal combat.

The priest used a spell designed to combat active magics, but to no avail. However, just as he struck his foe and clove him from shoulder to chest, the oppression lifted, and he was himself again. The last opponent was soon felled, and they turned their attention to the wounded prisoner. Hildraft favoured the idea of killing him, but Surya roughly bandaged him and pushed him onto his horse. "Go back to your master," he told him, "and tell him he no longer rules here. The Last Tellaran is back." Goggling at him through pain and shock, the soldier lurched off.

Two hours after midday, in a light rain, the party rode back into Oterto. The town was busy, with the inhabitants going about their daily business, working, buying and selling; occasional off-duty soldiers were mixed in with them, apparently peacefully enough.

Riding in, the party decided to make what they could of the de facto gathering of the town's population. Springing from his horse onto the town well, as near the centre as made no difference, Surya began to speak as Hildraft quietly wove an Enthrall spell.

The warrior told again the tales of the group's adventures, as he had in Belamir, working through from their "journey" from the past, the Slaying, the Kingmaker Quest, and their eventual arrival in Tellare itself. Into this he wove the thread of the last pure-blooded Tellaran, and finally wound up with an impassioned appeal for the people to arise and throw off the rule of the Kin invader.

Literally spellbound, the people listened and reacted, many being swept along by the eloquence of the tall man in the black armour. Several of the younger men seemed prepared to follow him, though they were also dubious about their chances unarmed against the soldiers of Vane the Mace.

As Surya spoke, Hildraft scanned the crowd for familiar faces - Delgarde or some of his asssociates - but saw none. Sack, meanwhile, was going around with the hat. The effects of the spell were felt here, too, and he collected a sizable hatful of silver and copper coins.

Then another voice was heard. A figure stepped forwards, dressed in the uniform of Vane, with a captain's rank marks. Standing easily, speaking without anger, he began to speak against the rising Surya was trying to trigger. It quickly became apparent that, as an orator, this man was little short of a genius; speaking unaided by the magic that enwrapped Surya, he was holding his own in the debate.

His technique was simple; singling out individuals in the crowd, he reminded them of the bonds linking the community and the garrison; one man was his brother-in-law, another had been fishing with a friend in the garrison that morning, a third had been healed by the garrison physician, and so on. The villagers looked from one to another. Of course, they wanted to rise up, throw off foreign oppression, be free, control their lives, be better off. But... these aren't nameless foreign oppressors; these are Tom, and Magnus, and Ostergard; these are people we know.

So the mood of the people veered back and forth as the afternoon wore on and the two orators spoke. Surya told of the Battle of Thallan, of the forgotten monument two days away, and what it meant, the pride of the warrior race. The captain described how the other Dragonrealms had plunged into chaos with the slaying, how in parts of Oret the lizardmen have driven out all the humans, and how in Orwin whole communities have been wiped out; then he contrasted it with Tellare, where his fort - big as it was - had no dungeons or cells, and there was stability, prosperity, peace. He appealed to the crowd: "How many people have been dragged to death or imprisonment in our castle?" There was silence. Clearly, no-one had.

"Where is Delgarde?" demanded Surya. "I don't see him; have you got him locked up somewhere?" The captain shrugged. "If I were to catch him, I would hang him as a bandit and murderer," he admitted; "I am bound to keep the peace, and he and his associates stab my men in the back when they can."

Surya began debating the right of Vane to hold a land not his own; but here, the issues became political, and were simply beyond what the ordinary villagers understood. The audience began to lose the thread of the debate, and Surya saw that he had lost.

As he climbed down from the well, the rather confused villagers concluded that what they'd just seen was - more or less - a good show, and applauded and cheered, entertained more than anything else. Despairing, Surya and Hildraft retired to the inn, where they shared a drink with the captain, whose name was Gruthal. He was friendly enough, though he hinted strongly that he would prefer not to see them in Oterto again.