The Mayor and The Deacon

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Ivastaen 14, 5118

by Irar Deacon of Koar and correspondent of the TownCrier

Mayor Lylia and Deacon Irar meet to work out differences between them. Philosophy, politics, and religion all lead to the violent result of a direly injured Deacon. Events were recorded from the perspective of Irar.



[Moot Hall, Mayor's Office - 7976]

At the varnished modwir door, a red bear skin rug stretches across the polished hardwood floor. Twin velnalin hide chairs face the Mayor's pine desk, while behind it sits an incurvated bone armchair. A great stag's head and a dark-framed sketch are mounted above a cobblestone fireplace set into the western wall. Refreshments are offered atop an oak bar beside a tall arched window. You also see a basket of sticks, a large detailed map, a large dog bed and a bone-ringed dart board with some stuff on it. Also here: Stormyrain, Mayor Lylia who is sitting Obvious exits: none

Stormyrain nods firmly.

Stormyrain smiles at you.

You bow to Stormyrain.

Speaking to you, Stormyrain greets, "Deacon."

Speaking to Stormyrain, you say, "Captain."

Speaking to you, Stormyrain says, "Nonsense. We're just discussing difficulties."

Lylia smoothly says, "Nonsense, not at all."

Stormyrain says, "Rooks, Malluch."

Stormyrain waves her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Lylia says, "Prelates."

You nod.

Lylia smiles.

Stormyrain groans at Lylia.

Stormyrain mutters, "Prelates."

You say, "Prelates."

Lylia says, "At least that is one we do not have to trouble ourselves with any longer."

Stormyrain says, "Thank Jastev."

You ask, "They are as hard to find as rooks these days, yes?"

Lylia asks, "How good that we have a better one in place now. Lheren Hochstib has become Prelate, yes?"

Lylia says, "I quite like him. A level-headed man."

Stormyrain adopts an agreeable expression.

Stormyrain says, "Yes. I like that Hochstib."

Stormyrain takes a drink from her hazelnut coffee.

Stormyrain dusts off her hands.

You say, "Quite fond of him myself. A bastard who dragged himself up through the muck to his position."

Lylia takes a drink from her amber iced tea.

Stormyrain looks thoughtfully at you.

You say, "I... didn't come to talk about the Prelate."

Speaking to you, Lylia says, "One who has the wisdom to understand how to temper faith with practical considerations. I admire him."

Lylia asks, "Ah, was there something else on your mind?"

Lylia takes a drink from her amber iced tea.

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "Please, Mayor, I know insults when I hear them."

Lylia mildly says, "Do you? Your ears must be more sensitive than mine. I am quite oblivious."

Lylia chuckles.

You sigh.

Lylia says, "But then, I have always been a friendly sort."

Lylia smiles.

Lylia takes a drink from her amber iced tea.

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I wanted to apologize, that I'd presented diplomatic difficulties for you."

Lylia inclines her head.

Lylia says, "I appreciate that, Deacon. Truly."

Stormyrain twists her head slightly, cracking her neck. She looks relieved.

Lylia says, "I do understand your position, believe it or not. Any evidence of Grishom Stone's activities in town are bound to unsettle."

Stormyrain says, "If you will both excuse me? I should get back to my paperwork and the hour grows late."

Stormyrain furrows her brow.

You nod at Stormyrain.

Stormyrain mutters, "Grishom."

Stormyrain places a hand over her heart.

Stormyrain bows to Lylia.

Speaking to Stormyrain, you say, "Evening Captain."

You bow to Stormyrain.

Stormyrain places a hand over her heart.

Stormyrain bows to you.

Speaking to you, Stormyrain says, "And to you, Deacon."

Lylia bows to Stormyrain.

Lylia smiles.

Opening Shots

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "There's no reason to provoke or insult me, Lylia. I'm not your enemy."

Lylia says, "She is a wonderful woman. The Landing is lucky to have her."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I understood your comments in the town hall.”

You say, "Well then."

Lylia says, "Pardon me. I had to see to a minor matter."

You nod.

You say, "Of course."

Speaking to you, Lylia says, "I do not expect to have diplomatic relations with Stone as though he were simply some other nation or town, you know."

You shake your head.

You exclaim, "I don't care about that, Lylia!"

Speaking to Lylia, you exclaim, "We were friends!"

You say, "I acted foolish and said foolish things and I will not forgive myself for insulting you."

(Lylia drops all pretense at smiles and easy courtesy, her face now as still and forbidding as an alabaster statue.)

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I care less about that and Stone and anything else, and more about the fact that I have lost a dear friend."

Lylia coldly says, "Forgiveness is earned, and whether you forgive yourself or not is not my concern."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I lost my temper, I said things I shouldn't have. I acted like an utter arse."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "But damn it Lylia."

(Lylia fixes you with an unblinking stare.)

Lylia indifferently says, "We are not enemies, Irar. You would need to mean more to me to become an enemy. You would need to be far more powerful. You would need to matter."

You chuckle.

Trust and Mail

Lylia asks, "Now, would you care to return to this matter of secrecy? What have I held secret?"

Lylia leans forward and rests her chin in her hand, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Lylia says, "Please outline for me, in clear terms, what you feel I have kept too much to myself."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I do not feel, at this point, that we have established a basis of trust."

Lylia asks, "Between one another, you mean?"

You shrug.

Lylia asks, "Or are you judging my ability to earn the town's trust at large a failure?"

Lylia says, "I would simply like to be perfectly clear."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I don't have to judge that."

Lylia says, "A good answer."

Lylia says, "Now, let us talk of trust."

Lylia asks, "You broke mine when Stone bound you, and you turned on me. When have I broken yours?"

You ask, "How did I break yours?"

(Lylia rests her clasped hands on the desk.)

Lylia says, "Accusing me of cowardice. Failing to conduct yourself usefully under duress. Maligning me in letters, apparently."

You ask, "In letters?"

You peer quizzically at Lylia.

Speaking to Lylia, you ask, "What letters?"

You growl ferociously!

You stare at Lylia.

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "What letters."

Lylia smiles back at you, returning your stare with a serene gaze.

You glare at Lylia.

Lylia says, "I am not an unfriendly mayor, you know. Not yet."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "You intercepted my mail."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "How dare you."

Lylia wearily says, "Oh, do stop glaring. Someone read a missive that was dropped."

Lylia waves her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "You could've read the envelope. You spied on me."

You frown.

Lylia says, "The Prelate gets his mail regardless. How fortunate you are that someone retrieved the letter instead of throwing it down the well."

Lylia says, "You should be grateful that he received it still, just as I was grateful to have heard word of it."

Lylia asks, "Or would you like to charge me with spying as well as cowardice?"

Lylia raises an eyebrow.

Speaking to Lylia, you ask, "And what great truths did you learn?"

Lylia says, "That you consider me 'unfriendly.'."

Lylia chuckles.

Lylia says, "I find it almost endearing."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "That I am afraid of the witch Raznel? That Stone has returned? That I want to displace the blood marble."

Lylia says, "These are not news to me."

Lylia says, "And I would welcome a visit from the Prelate. This one, at least."

You say, "But no, you intercept a confidential communication between a deacon and his prelate and the best you can derive from that is that the deacon thinks you might be unfriendly."

Lylia dryly says, "He is a practical man and would elucidate for you the difference between faith and rigidity."

Lylia warns, "I would not make such accusations as that, Irar. The letter was not 'intercepted.' I heard word of it."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "You realize I could've proclaimed you a heretic witch, a monster, an abomonation, evilto be burned."

Lylia narrows her eyes.

Lylia flatly says, "Do so, if you wish."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I just told him I was worried we weren't friends."

Speaking to Lylia, you ask, "Why would you even do this? What information was possibly gained that helped you?"

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I just wanted to bless a new altar and was worried."

Lylia asks, "We are back to your wanting to paint yourself in glory that you have not burned me at the stake. Is this how knights earn their spurs, Irar? Failing to rape, burn, or murder?"

Lylia raises an eyebrow.

Lylia says, "Or how Deacons earn Second Watcher, perhaps."

Lylia says, "You assume I did this on purpose, Irar."

Lylia says, "Which means you are once again assuming you are important enough to bear watching."

Lylia smiles quietly to herself.

Lylia says, "You are not Grishom Stone. He bears watching."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "No, I don't think you did it on purpose."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I think you saw an opportunity and took it."

Lylia coolly says, "Thank you for that shred of courtesy."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "I really don't understand why, Lylia."

You shake your head.

Lylia says, "I could write you a list."

Lylia dryly says, "In small words."

(Lylia ticks off points on her fingers. fairly spitting her words in rapid succession.)

Lylia says, "Called me a coward."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "When you're two thousand years old and all your memories turn to dust in your mouth, enjoy your smug knowledge."

Lylia says, "Threatened diplomatic relationships."

(Lylia continues relentlessly as though she hadn't even heard you.)

Lylia says, "Accused me of spying."

Lylia says, "Defamed my greatest virtues."

You ask, "How did you know of my letter?"

You ask, "How did you know of my letter, Lylia?"

Lylia asks, "As I said, it was dropped. Someone brought it to my attention. Would you not try to return an envelope you found to some authority?"

Lylia raises an eyebrow.

You say, "Bull shit."

Lylia says, "Add another to the list. Accusing me of lying."

Speaking to Lylia, you say, "In four hundred years you should lie better than that."

Lylia says, "It is no lie."

You exclaim, "It was dropped!"

Lylia incredulously asks, "Why would I lie about something so small?"

You hear an unpleasant wet crunching sound from the shadows.

You exclaim, "Oh, the Deacon's letter given to a guard at the outpost was somehow dropped in between the gate and the barracks!"

Lylia says, "At some point, the letter was dropped, yes, and then brought to my attention thereafter. I do not know its full provenance."

You shake your head.

Lylia asks, "How would I?"

You say, "I am not that foolish."

(Lylia knocks a quill from her desk.)

You say, "My letter was dropped in between the gate and the Prelate's desk."

Lylia asks, "Oh, no. Look at that. Here we are, in this office, and a quill has dropped! What has become of it?"

Lylia wrings her hands.

You say, "And it made its way to you."

Lylia leans forward.

You hear an unpleasantly wet slurp and faint crunching in the shadows.

(Lylia gets the quill and puts it in its proper place on the desk, squaring it neatly.)

Lylia simply says, "Yes."

You say, "You could have at least thought up a more clever story."

Lylia says, "That is the story I was told of it."

Lylia looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs.

You ask, "You have four hundred years on me, and the best you have is that it was dropped within a few dozen meters?"

Lylia smoothly asks, "Would you like to recant on calling me a liar, or would you like me to become the 'unfriendly mayor' you wrote about, Irar?"

Lylia says, "I have shown remarkable forbearance as you stood here in MY office, breathing MY air, and accusing me of everything from cowardice to lying..."

Lylia stands up.

Lylia walks toward you.

Lylia asks, "And then you wish to be applauded for failing to denounce me?"

You ask, "You are honestly trying to tell me that my letter was intercepted within that short of a distance.. and then you thought it right to read a private letter from me to the Prelate?"

Lylia silkily says, "Oh, I would like to see you try."

Consequence of Challenging a Mayor's Authority

You ask, "What gives you the right to read a letter from me to the Prelate?"

You say, "It is no law of the Landing."

Lylia harshly asks, "What gives you the right to stand before me as though you are the one who orders me about!?"

You say, "I am a citizen bringing my concerns to you, as all are given the right to do."

You say, "And you are a public servant, elected to serve the wishes of the electorate."

Lylia counters, "No, you are a zealot who has forgotten how much forbearance it takes to listen to these calumnies!"

You say, "You are honor bound to honor our orders."

Shadows dance between Lylia's outstretched fingers as she issues a command in archaic Faendryl.

Lylia gestures at you.

 CS: +540 - TD: +326 + CvA: -21 + d100: +90 == +283
 Warding failed!

Your right leg explodes!

You fall screaming to the ground grasping your mangled right leg!

You are stunned 3 rounds!

You are no longer stunned.

You struggle, but fail to stand.

Lylia commands, "Now kneel, and hear me!"

You struggle, but fail to stand.

You struggle, but fail to stand.

Roundtime: 6 sec.

Lylia glares at you.

Something pulls you to your feet.

You say, "I will not."

You hear someone chuckling.

Lylia says, "Then get out, or die."

Lylia says, "Friendship? Never, not this side of the grave."

You ask, "You'd turn to violence?"

You say, "You've taken off my leg because we disagreed."

You say, "You've lost control."

Lylia asks, "I shall revel in grinding the dust of your children's children beneath my well-shod feet. Why would I wish friendship with you?"

A severed human leg flings itself in to the air one last time, then falls to the ground, still twitching.

You say, "Call me a zealout but I'd never harm you."

You say, "You are my Mayor."

Lylia says, "I do not befriend the bleating sheep that provides me with cheese or the rat that steals it."

A severed human leg pulsates unpleasantly a bit, dripping blood.

Lylia says, "Good. Then hear me when I order you out."

Shadows part along the wall and Cruxophim steps out of the darkness.

Bits of dangling flesh fall from a severed human leg.

Cruxophim surreptitiously glances at a severed human leg.

Lylia turns around.

Cruxophim leans against the door, taking a momentary rest.

Speaking to Cruxophim, Lylia says, "Ah, hello, dear."

The severed human leg finally stops twitching and decays away.

Lylia smiles.

Cruxophim gives Lylia a strong, encouraging smile.

Lylia smoothly says, "The Deacon was just leaving."

Lylia smiles at you.

Cruxophim wipes some blood off his face with his hand.

You say, "The Deacon was not just leaving."

Lylia asks, "Really?"

You say, "The Deacon was just brutally murdered."

Lylia asks, "You are going to remain here to accuse me more?"

Lylia says, "Murdered."

Lylia laughs!

You say, "Near enough."

Speaking dubiously to you, Cruxophim observes, "You don't look very murdered to me."

Speaking to Cruxophim, Lylia asks, "Is he dead, then?"

You have a completely severed right leg.

You say, "I'm missing a bloody leg."

You ask, "How did that happen?"