Tentigo, with a surprisingly well healed and almost unnoticed scar across his throat, is on top of the owe list, and therefore continues his quest with new vigor: to find Felicia and guard her purity!
Punchline of doom: violence, consequential for violence.
When communicating with someone, able to come up with a quip that will create a strong emotional response.
Man in chains, led by two guards. He tells them something, and they both start laughing uncontrollably, letting their guards down. He kicks the shit out of them and runs away.
Duke Stanislaw Emeraldvale, “Keeper of the Promise”, “Bearer of The Shield of Truth”, member of the Order of the Guardians of Strathmore (knighted by Queen Gemegishkirihallat herself!) and secretly a cultist worshiper of Bombabotavibi, is also back, with a new shiny ring he has stolen as a part of his new cunning plan.
Make Tentigo do shit in my behalf - willingly.
Fulfill the ancient prophecy of the Dark Prince by wearing my stolen ring while drinking a plagued person's semen, harvested by a stranger.
A fucking thief: Covertly. Potent.
Can literally strip-search a fully armored suspicious clairvoyant without his victim noticing.
On the airplane, the Duke calls a steward. While asking for a mint he goes through all of the steward's pockets, searching for a cellphone. He thinks he finds it. But then the cellphone grows in his hand. And then it rings.
A sick man. Possibly related to the Malkuna Birkhoffs.
Fuckin' werewolf: violence, potent.
In his crinos form, he is able to really fuck people up.
Twin sisters, raised since infancy by a simple but good-natured trapper, not knowing they are actually foundlings, left on his door in a basket along with a rough looking steel ring, decorated with strange symbols.
to reveal their ancestry and claim all of Emeraldvale as their own.
get hold of a sick man's sperm, castrate him if needed, and use it for their concealed purposes.
Super natural rubber girls: Myself. Far reaching.
Can twist and fold as though made of rubber. Sometimes it almost looks like they can change the shape of their body to fit in tight places.
With one twin already in the cage and the other squeezed to the floor under his weight, the officer feels quit confidant when he handcuffs her, so her next maneuver takes him completely by surprise: she folds her leg backwards, twisting it like she was a rubber doll, and reaches out for his handcuffs keys with her toes. While she pulls the keys out, the other twin twists around the cage's bars, half of her body already outside the cage. He gawks at her, stunned. How the hell did she get her head through the bars?
A skinny, silent fellow. Always dressed in black.
Obtain the heart of the resurrected man, without the rest of Tentigo around it.
Forbidden Lore: Maneuvering. Potent.
A dramatic dark ritual for every occasion.
It's almost midnight, All Hallows eve, and the cherry trees are in blossom, so every last one of them has at least two hauntings and a poltergeist ready for the big occasion, but only he remembers the ancient calendar. The forth night of the fifth moon is when the stars themselves do battle, which allows him an altogether more elegant weapon. For a wickeder age.
An old, tormented ghost of a man who made a deal (and two children) with the devil.
Avenge his granddaughter's abduction.
Despair: Maneuvering. Potent.
Can really bring folks down with all his moaning.
A leather clad dwarf, at the service and disposal of Duke Emeraldvale. He is gaunt, olive skinned and sports an aquiline nose, so the gimp in the pictures below must be his cousin or something.
Live to see Duke Stanislaw's mutilated form groveling in the mud, beggin for pennies.
School of hard knocks: Action. Potent.
The fact that he survived these streets as a child is all the proof you need of his sharp wits and understanding of his environment.
The man in the street. The traffic light. The ledge. How surprised they would all be to discover they all work for him.
A painfully sexy and extremely composed woman, with a finger in every pie and piehole in town.
Enslave Joe and Bobi, and make a fortune off their particular strength.
Wyrmtongue: Self protection. Broad. Maneuvering.
Can change your perception of reality with a careless whisper.
“Of course that was not your basic plan,” Odrade said.
Waff's eyes snapped wide open. She was reading his mind! “I am dishonored,” he said. “When you saved my life you saved a useless thing.” He sank back.
Odrade inhaled a deep breath. Time to use the results of the Chapter House analyses. She leaned close to Waff and whispered in his ear: “The Shariat needs you yet.”
Odrade sat back. That gasp said it all. Analysis confirmed.
The busy port city of Caspit-Timnath, hustling and bustling with rich merchants and wise philosohers.
In a wicked age, on a moon lit night, a solitary figure is sitting on the grass in the village center. It's old Gordon Shaki, contemplating his past. He recalls that night with the beautiful women who appeared out of nowhere right when he offered the gods “everything” in exchange for being able to craft the perfect sword. He recalls how shocked he was when she evaporated the exact moment his semen exploded into her womb. And how happy he was half a year later, when his firstborn, Bordon, was born. He was also sad, because his wife did not survive giving birth to the gigantic baby, but deep down he knew the boy wasn't really hers. It was the deamon's child. And he loved it!
He recalls the second visit, a year later, right after marrying his second wife, and the second birth that followed it. Melvin was as huge as Bordon, and his second wife did not survive her labour either. He recalls how he slowly became aware of the sacrifice creation requires, be it his offspring or his wonderful swords. He remembers how his boys started making the very same swords without him ever needing to explain anything to them.
Eventually, all those sacrifices begun to weigh heavily on his soul, and he realized this diabolical madness has to stop. He also realized that now that his sons are forging their own blades, the only way to stop it would be to kill them, and himself.
“What are you doing here?”, a voice behind him asks. He looks back to see the neighbour's boy, Tentigo, standing behind him and staring in bewilderment. “Go home, kid!” he shouts. “But I'm standing right here!”, the boy laughs, “no need to shout!”. Gordon just frowns, until eventually Tentigo shrugs and turns away. “Oh, and please say hi to Felicia for me”, the boy adds before running home.
Felicia. If he'll kill his sons, what will be of his granddaughters, Felicia and Kilo? They will be orphaned! Perhaps they should be killed too? Killing his own granddaughters? His own sons? These maddening thoughts have plagued him for so long… He pulls out the latest blade he made. Admires it. Than, with a single guilty swing, he cuts his own head off.
In a wicked age, 12 years later to the day, the tormented ghost of Gordon Shaki meets the confused ghost of Tentigo, recently released from her mortal coil by Agumi's blade. “What are you doing here??? You can't die! You have to protect my granddaughter's wombs! Go back! They must never have children! Never! No matter what! You must. Go. BACK!!!”
“There is nothing more to do here”, says the doctor sadly, standing up from Tentigo's bloody corpse. The few people who carried his blood spewing body into the doctor's shop are not surprised, considering how deep the foreigner's sword cut into his throat. “He was a bit of an asshole”, one of them says, “but he sure was a funny asshole”. “Yes”, agrees another, “and now he's dead”.
“Well, in that case”, says a familiar voice, a bit like Tentigo's, but hoarser and lower, “I would like to drink to being dead for the first time in my life!”. Everyone looks amazed as Tentigo slowly sits up and smiles at them. His voice is changed, but his delivery is perfect, and they laugh so hard that some of them, the doctor included, soil themselves on the spot.
Tentigo's player chose the Oracle Nest of Vipers, and a card from it. Then we draw another three.
Jack of Clubs: The ghost of a suicide, a person overcome by guilt and shame, who finds in death no release.
7 of Clubs: A noble house's signatory ring, left behind in a street brawl.
9 of Clubs: An underground chamber, eerie with blue-green lights.
7 of Spades: A fur-trapper, simple but good-natured, and his daughter.
We did cool stuff! Here it is! For your viewing pleasure!