Date: Fifth of June, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: Bandit Outpost ?, Carrion Road, forty days to Chedal.

Job Arseoth scratched his chin and eyed the next room, “I don't think the necromancer is here, just minions he left behind a long time ago. We should rest for a bit, regain some strength and patch our wounds before pushing on. This feels a bit like a bunk room, so the rooms past the dining room should be a kitchen and then leader's quarters. If there is a separate loot room, it'll be in or behind the boss' bedroom.”

Candle laughed a bit, “done this before Job?”

Job shook his head, “yes and no. You get a feel for these things as a gutter-born, particularly when it comes to where trouble might come from.”

Blue winced at Job's bluntness, but didn't disagree. “Anyone know Mending?”

Job and Candle both readied the spell in answer.

“Job, just keep watch for anything coming then while I help Candle fix her armor. Raiment or not, it's not self-repairing.”

Job raised one eyebrow, “Candle and I could fix it faster if we worked together.”

Blue sniffed in aristocratic disapproval, “you are a male, and not married to the lady. Keep watch.”

Candle rolled here eyes and made a shooing motion to Job, “Not quite the same in this day and age Blue, though I appreciate the thought.”

Job shrugged in acceptance, if not understanding, of the aristocratic tradition before leaning on the door to the dining room, hands loose and ready to cast. “What do you ladies plan to do when we get to Altheim? I'll need to get in tough with my friends, see about getting a permanent job and someplace to live. Pun intended, of course.”

Blue hummed in thought, “I expect I could get you some sort of court position. It's what I plan to do anyway, politics don't change that much, so I should be able to get you a related position easily enough.”

Job coughed politely into his fist, “I appreciate the offer Blue, but that shouldn't be needed. Besides, how are you going to establish your identity?”

“I... oh...”

Candle mewled supportively, “I'm in the same predicament, but Job has a few connections that may make things easier. Plus there is the Clan SiDiabolo name, though I expect that to be difficult to invoke.”

Job shrugged, “I recall rumors of Lord Trebor being associated with Lady SiDiabolo so that may be your way in. That was before your...” job gestured vaguely, unsure of what to call Candle's change.

Candle rolled her eyes at Job's back. “Call it a rebirth, akin to a phoenix and its ashes. And here you can have this back. Catch.”

Job turned and caught the small leather box against his stomach with an “oof” of surprise. He glanced down, scrubbed a thumb across the leather to remove some of the caked on dust, and stared at the familiar box.

“I can't believe you managed to salvage the SiDiabolo Deck while we were running like hell out of Armageddon Reef. I thought for sure that your Working had consumed it!”

Candle shook her head, “not the deck, only six of the cards. They'll be back in a century to two, don't fret.”

“A century to two?”

“Unless you manage to draw the last card in the deck in one human lifetime somehow, in which it'll take between ten and a thousand years to re-appear. The Tower card should prevent that, unless you manage to draw it last, so I don't expect that to happen.”

“One in seventy eight odds doesn't sound that good.”

“Mmh, the Ten of Wands and the Ten of Pentacles could also prevent you, though they can be counter-acted. Not sure how common powerful Remove Curse scrolls or casters are, and I've not seen and inverted Flesh to Stone spell in... five hundred years or so? I recall Chronicler Innoch could pull that feat off, but it was a fading skill after the Seminal War and is probably lost to time now.

“So three in seventy-eight cards would or could prevent me from drawing the whole deck?”

“Yup! The Tens of Wands and Pentacles were put in for the 'party game' version of their effect, and The Tower card... that one might not actually stop you from drawing the whole deck now that I come to think on it. I was never exemplary with the metaphysics of the Soul. I was a mage in that life, not a priest.”

Blue snorted, “I was. You had to be to serve in the Scaled Court. What do those cards do?”

Candle shrugged, “in no particular order: transmute to stone, slow transmute to gold, and ghost transformation.”

“And by human lifetime you mean?”

“Less then a century from first card pulled to last.”

Blue bowed her head in though, “those three cards would make it difficult, but not impossible. Multiple people could draw cards, or one person could draw and another could counter unwanted effects. Complex, given the rumors I have heard about that particular deck, but not impossible.”

Job cleared his throat, “so why was the SiDiabolo Deck created? It seems a.. powerful thing to be a mere party trick.”

Candle nodded, “It was made to cause scandal by virtue of being indistinguishable from regular 'party decks'. The transformations were more... intimate but also difficult to conceal, the effects lasted long enough to guarantee word would spread, and with the right command could be made permanent as a measure of revenge against the abusive.”

“But Wish spells? Those are usually the domain of archmages and the like.”

“SiDiabolo, remember? That's what the clan did. I didn't make the deck, my father did, but I helped him design it. In his hands, he could determine exactly which card a person would draw. Now that he has passed on...”

Job flexed his metallic hand, “and with the fallout from the Seminal War, Wild Magic has taken hold, causing that 'scry' feature to be lost.”

Blue cleared her throat, “you can look now Job. Actually, let me take the watch and Candle can bind your...”

Job put one hand to his inured shoulder, “ There, shoulder and robes repaired. Complex as my arm may be Mending does work on scratched metal. Ready to press onwards?”

Blue pulled her gladii from the remnants of the minotaur skeletons, “now I am. Is the necromancer still ahead of us?”

Job furrowed his brow in concentration “ No, there is no one here but us. Bastard must have used an escape route.”

Candle popped her knuckles one after the other, “she didn't come past us, but we also didn't give her much time to take things with her. Come, let us search her quarters.”

Job led the way forward into the dining room and to the doorway on its far side. Trying the handle he found it locked. Kneeling down to squint through the crack in the door Job peered into the room beyond.

“The door isn't barred at least. Kitchen: fireplace, empty shelves, a table, and a door ajar into a room beyond.”

Candle tapped his shoulder with a claw, “Allow me. Better to Knock then beat it down. Curo.”

The sound of a deadbolt slamming open with a resounding 'CLACK!' filled the dining hall.

Job pushed the door but it didn't budge. Standing up, he tugged on the handle and it swung open on squealing hinges.

“If he hadn't noticed us earlier,he would have heard that for sure. Probably louder then breaking the door down.”

“What? Still more polite to Knock then just smash it down. Faster too, come to think of it.”

Job rolled his eyes and searched the kitchen.

“Fireplace ashes are warm and the table has grease stains on it. Plate on the floor, looks like a meal of meat and potatoes. Necromancer left in a hurry probably when the skeleton guards up front triggered an Alarm.”

Candle strode to the door on the far side of the kitchen and pushed it fully open, “bedroom through here and a kicked-over ladder leading to a ceiling hatch. She's long gone. Empty chest in the corner but blanket still on the bed. She took all of her important possessions with her.”

Blue joined Candle in the doorway, “more like anything that might identify her. There, in the corner; a weapon stand.”

Candle stepped into the room and returned to the kitchen a moment later holding a glaive taller then she was at eight feet in length, the last quarter of which was a wide blade with a upwards-curved tip. The sharpened front third of the blade was noticeably brighter then the back edge.”

Job nodded in respect, “looks like you found your weapon then. A glaive, an interesting choice for a Paladin.”

Candle shrugged, “A proper naginata is too good for the likes of a honorless necromancer.”

Blue nodded in approval, “the traditional weapon for the noble ladies of the Scaled Court, though most were hardy competent in their use, preferring to rely on holy magics. Given the black scales left behind in the bed, I'd guess this was the weapon of one of the Branded, left behind when the left in a hurry.”

Job frowned in thought, “is this necromancer someone we'll need to chase down then?”

Candle shook her head, “no, we'll rest upstairs in the basement, then head to Chedal and on to Althiem. None of those skeletons were fresh and the door was locked, so I have to wonder if she was a necromancer at all.”

Blue shook her head, “she was enough of one to command those undead. A Cleric of the Branded at least, but off on her own...? Much is in flux with the final destruction of Alexandria. She is either an outcast or a survivor. We'll see her again eventually, should fate demand it.”

Job nodded, then wandered over to the bed and knelt to examine the mattress, “Straw stuffed. Our bedrolls are probably more comfortable, so this'll have to do for tinder for tonight's fire.”

. . . - - - . . .

Date: Eighteenth of June, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

Location: Carrion Road, twenty seven days to Chedal.

Job Arseoth blinked in the noontime sun and squinted into the woods to the left of the roadbed. He thought he saw a bark-clad elf between the trees but shook off the thought as the wandering thought of a bored mind.

A few hours later Job saw a glimpse of the same figure again, flitting form one tree to another with a elven child chasing on her heels. He listened hard, trying to hear footsteps, but only birdsong graced his ears. As he turned to continue down the road, Job though he heard a pair of feminine giggles.

Just after dusk, and shortly after Candle and Blue had curled up in their bedrolls, Job felt the whisper of an enchantment spell try to wrap itself about his mind. He quickly shoved it aside, sprung to his feet, and spun about, quarterstaff in hand.

“Once is chance, twice is coincidence, thrice is intent. Show yourself, spirit of the woods, and tell me why you tried to beguile me.”

A green haired elf lounged in the lower branches of a large oak tree, just barely visible at the edge of the firelight. The elven child peaked out from behind a branch further up the tree, a braid of green hair draped over her shoulder.”

The adult elf just smirked, but the child looked worried.

“Mommy, what do we do now...?”