The Thaumaturge's Study (15 Aug 2002) Alice, Hannah and Nymuae continue on their quest to find proof against the Destroyer.

Corridor in the Palace of All Seasons
This interior hallway lacks windows; instead, the glow from sconces illuminates polished granite flagstones and tapestry-adorned walls. As one of the narrower side-passageways, it is about four yards wide and a few dozen long, terminating in a T at the far end. Doors are placed at occasional intervals along its length.

With the fight over and the attackers fled, the passage seems almost strangely still and quiet. Nymuae rests against the wall as Alice greets their young savior.

The auburn-haired girl returns the blonde child's smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, as well, milady," she says, sheathing her sword as Alice approaches. "I am Hannah, a member of the Golden Hawks. The Lady Sorceress and I are already acquainted." With this, she bows to Nymuae, but her expression turns to one of concern as she notices the bandage around the sorceress's head and the torn and bloodied state of her dress. She hurries over and silently offers herself as another support for Nymuae to brace herself against.

The sorceress shifts her weight from the wall to Hannah, exhaling as she lets the glow fade from her right hand.

While she recovers her equilibrium, Hannah glances back to Alice, and adds, "I was about to ask why those false guards were so interested in the object you carry -- " here she nods at the Optikon tucked under the girl's arm, " -- but perhaps such questions should wait until we find a better place for the Lady Sorceress to rest?"

"Yes," agrees Alice. "Perhaps it would be best to wait. Lady Sorceress?" The little blonde girl regards the injured woman with concern as she returns to her side. When she nears she reaches to place her free right hand on the sorceress's forehead, stepping on her tip-toes to do so. "Do you feel well enough to travel?"

"I will manage," the sorceress answers, bending slightly to Alice's touch. The skin around her forehead seems no more than normally warm, though the bandage over it shows red in a thick line across the front. With Hannah's aid, she starts down the corridor once more.

The three move through the corridors as quickly they can manage, hindered by the sorceress's slow pace and injured leg. Alice offers her a balm, which the lady chews gingerly along the way, grimacing at the taste. As they reach a pair of massive doors, Nymuae motions for the others to halt. "This is her study," she says, with conviction. A great man-shaped gargoyle decorates the door, the split between the doors bisecting it. Its wings spread over both sides, its lolling tongue serves as door-knocker, and its clawed hands as doorknobs.

Hannah looks askance at the huge gargoyle they now face, one eyebrow raised. "This is where you would choose to rest, Lady Sorceress?" she asks. "Where do these doors lead? I admit I've never visited this part of the Palace before."

Alice shivers at the sight of the gargoyle knocker. She lifts her free hand (her other arm wrapped tightly around the Optikon) and takes a moment to inspect herself for signs of scratches or bruises. Appearing relieved by her examination the princess glances over at Hannah and asks, "Do you know Tommy?" She bites her lip then adds quickly, "Oh, pardon me! Lord Thomas."

Hannah gives Alice a lop-sided grin. "Tommy, eh? If I called the Lord Explorer that to his face, he'd probably have me tossed out of the Hawks for good! But to answer your question - yes, I know him. He was the one who sent me to the Palace, in fact."

The blonde covers a giggle at the "tossed out of the Hawks" comment, but she nods understandingly. "He wasn't always so serious," she confides with a hint of her previous laughter still in her voice.

"This is the study of the Palace's court thaumaturge." Nymuae straightens, and leans forward to grasp the taloned door handle. Even as she grips the thumb-lever to unlatch it, the hand turns and grips her. Involuntarily, she gasps -- joined by a squeak from Alice -- as seamlessly the gargoyle emerges, whole and three-dimensional, from the wood of the door. Looming over the three of them, the gargoyle half-grins, half-leers, tongue still lolling as it speaks. "Not so fast, eh? This is, indeed, the Thaumaturge's Study. But my mistress is away, and I'll let none enter save her, or one of royal blood -- and, methinks, thou art neither."

Hannah's eyes widen as the gargoyle seemingly comes to life before them. She reflexively draws her rapier, but from the expression on her face, it is clear that she is unsure as to what good her weapon would do against such a creature.

Alice takes a deep breath, then steps toward the creature. "You stop that right now!" she commands.

The gargoyle grins at Alice. "Why?"

"Unhand me, you creature," Nymuae snarls back, tugging at her wrist. "At the very least, it's rude."

"And thou grabbed me first, fleshling," the gargoyle notes, but he lets her go, anyway, leaving the sorceress to yank her hand free and glare at him.

"Oh," offers Alice uncertainly as she looks back among those with her, "-oh, because, ... " She returns her gaze to the gargoyle and bites her lip, her brows narrowing as she thinks. After a moment of such apparent careful consideration she places the hand wrapped around the Optikon on her hip and uses her free hand and its fingers to gesture at the gargoyle chidingly. "Because being sneaky-grabby is very rude and I'm the princess."

The gargoyle turns a put-upon look to Hannah. "People come here, put their unwashed hands on my tongue, thump it against my chin, and then they wonder at why I don't get this whole 'ru--'" he breaks off mid-syllable to look at Alice. "You're the princess?"

Hannah's gaze goes from the gargoyle to the blonde girl - but instead of being completely taken aback, she merely smiles lightly. "Perhaps you should listen to the child," she says to the creature. "There may be truth in her words."

At the comment about being "the child" Alice turns around and gives Hannah a funny, if amused, look before returning her attention to the gargoyle and nodding to him. "Verily," she tells him confidently. "And maybe you would like something to chew on to take the taste from your mouth, sir gargoyle?"

The gargoyle sucks in his tongue, rubbing it against the roof of his mouth. "There's no princess," he says, sounding not-quite-convinced of his own words. He steps back against the door, folding his arms over his chest and spreading his wings to block the closed -- and knobless -- doors further. "You'll not trick me." He looks over them warily.

"We do not have time for this. She is Princess Angel, daughter of King Marc of the line of Umbrecht, and his lady wife, the Queen Seraph," Nymuae avers. "Now. Stand aside!"

The gargoyle's pointed ears go back, and his nose twitches, but he doesn't move. " ... Princess Angel died at birth."

"And I'm not a ghost! I'm pretty-really-I-think-I'm-sure, anyway. Lady Nymuae doesn't think so," explains the blonde girl. "So could you please let us in, sir gargoyle? I speak true. I swear it. Thrice on my name."

The gargoyle's eyes narrow, watching Alice. "Then say thy name thrice, an' it be true."

Alice nods her head a little and draws in a breath. "I am Princess Angel, Daughter of King Richard and Queen Seraph, of the Royal Line of Umbrecht," she swears.

The gargoyle blinks at Alice, but waits patiently nonetheless as she continues.

Alice gets through the second repetition, but something feels odd, and after she says, "I am Princess Angel, Daughter of ... " she feels a tightness in her throat, a constriction around the words, and she can't force out the rest. Nymuae looks horrified.

For her part, Hannah looks just as dismayed as Nymuae and tightens her grip on her rapier, watching the gargoyle tensely for any signs of threatening movement.

The little blonde girl nearly drops the Optikon as her throat constricts against the swearing. She reaches to her throat and gasps in breath, a mixture of fear and surprise washing over her face. Though clearly pained she manages to glance at Nymuae questioningly as she strains to ask, "D-did I say it wrong, l-lady..?" She inhales sharply and can't seem to get it all out.

Hannah leans down to whisper hurriedly to Alice, "One of the names you swore upon was wrong, milady - King Marc is your father, not Richard!"

Nymuae shakes her head. "It doesn't mean it's not true," she starts to say, then rolls her eyes at Hannah's correction. "Of course!" she says, slapping her forehead, then wincing as she strikes her own cut.

Alice turns to blink at Hannah for a moment before a look of understanding dawns across her face and her eyes widen. "O-oh!" she gasps in a strained voice. "H-ow silly- ... I'm s-sorry." She gives the other girl a uneasy smile before she returns to face the gargoyle, curtsies shakily, then begins again after another few inhales, swearing, "I am Princess Angel, Daughter of King Marc and Queen Seraph, of the Royal Line of Umbrecht." Again she repeats her the words twice more -- this time slightly modified.

The gargoyle rubs the top of his stony head, watching her again with a puzzled expression. As she finishes the third repetition, he blinks once, then twice. He steps flush to the door, wings flattening against it. "Princess Angel," he begins, with a reverence at odds with his earlier informal manner. "May I welcome your highness to the Thaumaturge's chambers." In an eye-blink, he has merged into the doors again. They open of their own accord, swinging inwards.

Study of the Thaumaturge
A grand chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling inscribed with an intricate pattern of violet and lavender sigils, the design of which is inverted on the floor. Oak bookcases with glass doors line the walls -- some containing books, and others holding various curiosities. At intervals between the bookcases are marble sculptures of various fauna. In the center of the room, a two-foot circular dais some nine feet in diameter rests, flanked by two graceful drawing-room chairs.

Once inside, the Lady Sorceress quickly busies herself investigating the various accoutrements of the thaumaturge's room. She grumbles under her breath, the gist of which seems to be derogatory comments both about the other's supplies, and her choice of organizing systems -- or lack thereof.. She seizes books, vials, what looks like a lock of braided red horsehair, a silver knife, and some less identifiable things, all of which she dumps unceremoniously on the dais. "Optikon," she tells Alice, holding out her hand. "Hannah, draw the curtains."

Hannah nods to Nymuae and replaces her sword in its scabbard before doing as she asks, pulling the curtains shut and enveloping the room in shadows. At the mention of the Optikon, she looks to Alice in surprise. "So that's what those creatures were trying to take from you - a fine prize, indeed!"

After supplying the Lady Sorceress with the Optikon, and giving Hannah a thankful smile, Angel searches around for some place to sit and settles on one of the drawing-room chairs. There she rubs her throat tenderly with a hand as the other rests upon her chest. She breathes in heavily as she rests, her face glowing beet-red with both her earlier strain and embarrassment of her mistake.

The curtains, once drawn, leave the room pitch-black. Nymuae raises one hand above her head, and says, "Luminus rubifaceo." A red glow pierces the darkness. She draws her leather-bound spellbook up by its chain, suspended from her waist, and drops it on the dais as well. She flips through it, stopping when she reaches the desired page, then leaves it. Turning to one of the books she took from the thaumaturge's shelf, she opens it, brings the silver knife to its spine, and cuts loose several sheets. She stacks them on the dais, pausing to lean against the low surface. Her breathing is a little ragged, and she scoots to sit on the dais, beside the assembled pile, resting her sore leg.

First glancing at the sorceress to make sure that she is not needed for another task, Hannah approaches the blonde girl and sits beside her in the other drawing-room chair. She gives her a comforting smile. "I would not worry about your mistake overmuch, Highness," she says gently. "Anyone who has been away from Mirari as long as you have should not be expected to remember everything right away."

"'Tis kind of you to say," says the princess as she looks over again towards Hannah. Illuminated by red light, it's impossible to tell if the little girl is still blushing but she sounds better. Her words are less strained as is her breathing. Straightening, Alice settles her hands in her lap and nods slightly. "I should, however, know better. It's simple that..." She bites her lip and shakes her head a little. "... that I was remembering someone. That's all. I was in that way confused." She then blinks and turns to regard Hannah with renewed concern. "You are quite well? You weren't hurt at all? You don't need anything?" she asks. "It's terribly impolite that I haven't asked more. I am truly sorry."

After a moment's rest, Nymuae opens the back of the Optikon, slipping out a slender silver canister. She opens it, and slips of tiny dark sheets flutter down on top of the stack of sheets cut from the book. She sorts the small, dark slips, one between each page, then starts opening vials, seemingly at random, splashing a bit of this or a pinch of that or a lot of something else over them. She half-speaks, half-chants, in an unfamiliar language, while the other two quietly converse nearby.

Hannah shakes her head. "Oh! No, I am well enough, thank you. Only a little out of breath from my quarrel with the creatures that would have liked to take the Optikon from you, but that is all. I am glad I arrived when I did - they were about to carry you away bodily, as they could not wrest the device from your grip!"

"No?" wonders Angel out loud. She smiles genuinely, and inclines her head respectfully. "You are a fine guardian, to be sure. I fear we would have been quite helpless otherwise. We were," she lifts her hands and wiggles her fingers in a gesture meant to imply magic, "distracted, you see."

Hannah grins at the gesture. "Ah, I see. I was wondering why both you and the Lady Sorceress were lying motionless on the floor, as I could not see any wounds upon either of you at the time." Then the other girl sobers a bit. "If I had arrived only minutes later, though, I do not think the outcome would have been as desirable. I managed to get into the Palace through the West Gate just before the attack on the South Gate. If I had come in any later than I did, the guards would not have allowed me to pass."

Angel frowns at this. "Might I ask you of what you saw? The palace, the people beyond its walls? Did you see my mother the Queen or hear anything?" inquires the princess, sounding more than a little concerned now despite trying to seem calm.

Hannah thinks for a few moments before she replies. "All was well at the time I entered here, but not long after I passed through the Gate, the cry went up that the South Gate was under attack. Before many of the guards left to defend it, I was able to question one as to your whereabouts, Highness. That's actually one of the reasons why I'm here - and not one I'd tell to anyone else, for safety's sake. The Lord Explorer asked me to come and give you what protection I could." She pauses again, recollecting. "As for your mother the Queen, I did hear that she was on her way to the South Gate herself, to offer what help she could in caring for her wounded guards -- without her ladies-in-waiting, I might add."

After a few minutes of chanting and adding reagents, Nymuae takes the pages and curls them together in a snug roll, which she secures with the braided horsehair. She sprinkles some additional silvery dust over the roll. She then seals it at the curl with a glob of melted wax poured from a little brass container. She scratches a sigil in the air over the wax, and it implants itself into the wax -- the image of a unicorn's head. That done, she nestles the roll upright in a curious contraption of interlocking horns, its use unclear.

"I believe you," Angel says with another smile. "As to the guard, and guarding, and the attack I will say this: it was likely a trick of the Year's End to escape discovery.You see, we believe Lord April is in fact Lord Eoin of Year's End. Lord Eoin, also known as the Destroyer, and other names, is what I think his true name is. I dislike naming him 'Destroyer' or 'Lord Year's End' as they are faceless names and I find him less frightening to address directly as he is, or was, named. Regardless of what we may call him I believe he is here and that he sounded that attack when my plan to reveal him was realized by him. The attack on us -- that is, Lady Nymuae and myself -- was likely brought by my unwisely confronting him on the matter. I thought you should know this that you may know our current plight."

Nymuae stretches out on the dais next to the various apparatus, closing her eyes and, to all appearances, simply resting.

Hannah's hazel eyes are fixed intently on Alice's own as she speaks. After hearing the other girl's explanation of events, she says evenly, "I cannot say that I am pleased to hear you chose to seek out the Destroyer on your own, Highness, but I am relieved to know that no harm came to you because of it." She sighs. "However, both I and the Lord Explorer believe as you do - that the person we know of as Lord April is an imposter and is in actual fact the Destroyer himself. Lord Thomas is now seeking the real Lord April, along with another friend of yours - the Lady Redmane. I thought you might like to know that the two are together and were well when I left them in the lands to the West."

"My mother the Queen will be gladdened to know that a search is being made for Lord April. I, too, worry for him. He is my uncle and all I have heard of him has been well and good. I think I would very much like to meet him someday." The princess glances towards Lady Nymuae and smiles briefly. "I felt that Mirari would benefit more by my confronting Lord Eoin sooner rather than later. I worry he gathers too much power but now," she gestures towards the bound scroll, "we may well have proof enough to deny him the throne yet."

Hannah nods and says earnestly, "I may be warning the both of you needlessly," the auburn-haired girl includes both Nymuae and Alice with her gesture, "but please do not speak of anything I have told you to anyone but the Queen, and only then if you know for certain that your conversation with Her Majesty will not be overheard. As the Destroyer is within the Palace's walls, then some of his spies may also be hiding here as well, and I do not wish to give away Lord Thomas's movements."

As the girls talk in the dark, red-lit chamber, the sigil of a unicorn engraved in the scroll starts to glow, faintly blue-white. Its luminescence grows, until it suddenly flashes, then fades entirely. A fluting, musical sound briefly breaks the quiet of conversation. Nymuae shifts to sit, gazing at Hannah a moment, then nodding to her. "Understood." She turns to the curled pages, removing them from the device, and slowly unties them, chanting under her breath again.

Hannah then follows Alice's gesture towards the roll with her gaze and her brow furrows in thought. "Ah, so you were able to take an image of the false Lord April with the Optikon? What great luck! That would certainly help to convince many in the Houses of his impersonation!"

"Oh, I'd never risk Tommy or Agatha!" exclaims the princess. She covers her mouth with a hand as she blushes lightly, inclining her head to Hannah in apology, and corrects, saying, "I'm sorry. I never thought anyone would tell me, us," she gestures to Lady Nymuae, "the need to be careful of our friends. I'll do all that I can to try and be certain no word of this slips to Lord Eoin. And I appreciate your protecting them as much as I." She pauses to listen to Hannah's regard of the pictures and nods to this. "He was quite mad about the whole thing. I've never seen anything so mad as he was, or half as frightening for the size of it."

"In a moment, we will know," the Lady Sorceress says, her voice solemn. She shakes out the sheets. "Would you like to look with me?" She flattens the pages onto the dais next to her. The top one is blank.

Hannah looks as if she wants to frown over the risk Alice has taken, but she ends up laughing to herself instead. "And Lord Thomas tells me not to seek out the Destroyer!" she says softly, grinning. She then rises at Nymuae's words, going over to look curiously at the pages on the dais.

Angel nods to the sorceress's offer and draws herself up out of her chair to walk over. As she goes she says, "I regret I was only able to take the single picture. I was, well, startled. And very mad. I was just about to give him the raspberries and tell him just how bad a man he was but I didn't have the chance." Again she blushes but smiles none the less. "The raspberries being an Ainigton custom." Angel stands on her toes and tries to get a better look.

The first several pages are blank in the red glow, as the three crowd around, but the sorceress seems unconcerned by this. Then, Nymuae turns to one that has an image on it. The angle of the picture is slightly askew, but in the background, the shapes of several of the Queen's guard may be seen, along with the walls and windows looking out on the Palace's courtyard. To one side, the arm and side of the queen enters the frame. Near the center of the image, however, is the most distinct figure, the only one turned, looking over his shoulder, to face the camera. He wears the clothing of Lord of House April, but no blond hair crowns his head, not blue eyes light his face. He has raven-black hair, and handsome, sharp features, sensuous lips with a twist of a sneer upon them, and eyebrows that slant toward his nose. But his eyes alone grab the viewer: dark, intense, and even in the dim red light, even through the reflection of a graven image, they speak of a boundless, timeless cruelty, chilling to the soul.

Nymuae closes her eyes, releases a breath she did not know she was holding. "Lord Eoin," she says, simply.

Hannah reaches out and grips the edges of the dais to steady herself as she looks down at the disturbing image. "So this is the true face of the Jack of Hearts," she says quietly. "And he is within these Palace walls, even as we speak. Lord help us all."

As her eyes roam the one developed picture, Angel suddenly gasps as catches the look in the false Lord April's eyes. Her hands immediately cover her mouth to further muffle any startled cries and after a moment to collect herself she leans forward to peer at the man's face in more detail. "I wondered what he might look like," says Angel in a muffled voice. Her tone is uncertain as if she wasn't sure what to say or was too startled to think clearly enough to offer more insightful commentary. "Someone told me once that the eyes are the window to the soul. How awful he must feel."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.