7 – 10

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“Behind you!”

“I saw it!”

Wandshots cracked through the falling snow; a katzil demon squawked in pain as it was cleaved out of the air. Weaver kept up his fire, taking fragments off the eaves of the building over which the creature had been trying to escape, and then it was lost to sight behind the structure.

Joe was the first around the corner; his boots skidded on the light dusting of snow dancing down the street. Between that and the sharp wind he might have lost his footing, but he was too in tune with his body and environs to overbalance. This was the first he’d seen of the snow actually reaching the ground and staying there; he factored it into his calculations without a conscious thought.

The demon raised its head and hissed at him, an orange glow rising within its mouth. His wandshot pierced its skull before it could spit fire at him, and the katzil flopped back to the ground, thrashed once, and fell still. Immediately, it began to disintegrate into foul-smelling charcoal.

Weaver arrived, wands up, and came a lot closer to slipping than Joe had. He caught himself on a lamppost, however, scowling at the remains of the demon. “Right, good. There’s that one dealt with. Have you seen…”

They both lifted their heads at the distinctive sound of Billie whooping. In the next second, a flare arced into the sky from the next street over. It was quickly caught and blown off-course by the winds, but fizzled out before it could land on anything and start a fire.

Joe and Weaver set off without a word.

They were slowed by an accumulation of trash in the middle of the alley down which they had to travel, but in less than a minute were stepping out the other side, to find two of their party standing back-to-back in the middle of the street. McGraw still held his staff in a wary position, peering around at the rooftops; Billie was sliding something long and metallic into one of her pouches. Five large clumps of charcoal lay in the street around them, crumbling and blowing away. The acrid stink of them was almost painful, even carried off by the wind as quickly as it was.

“There y’are,” the gnome said cheerfully. “Turns out we didn’t need the rescue, but glad to see ye nonetheless. Best not t’get separated.”

“Good thinking,” Joe agreed. “We had to chase after that bird-serpent thingy, though. No tellin’ what havoc it would cause, loose in the city.”

“Not that much,” McGraw said, resting the butt of his staff against the cobblestones and straightening up, apparently satisfied the danger was past. “Katzils rarely attack people unless ordered by a warlock. You can usually tell one’s in the area by scorched rooftops and a sudden absence of rats, cats and small dogs in the neighborhood. Those khankredahgs were a bigger priority,” he added, nodding toward one of his erstwhile targets, by now little more than a black smudge on the pavement. “They do attack people. You see any of those, take ’em out first.”

“Duly noted,” Joe said, nodding.

“You have missed one, nonetheless,” Mary announced, appearing beside them. They hadn’t even heard her approach in bird form this time, what with the shrieking wind, but none of them were startled by her comings and goings anymore. “Above that apartment complex to the west.”

“I just had a wild thought,” Weaver said. “Being that you’re by a wide margin the most powerful person here, it seems like you could be doing a lot more than recon.”

“The key to having power is to know how it is used,” Mary said, unperturbed as always. “I find the most potent way to influence the world is through information. For instance, rather than running around to a side street after the katzil, you can pass through the public house in the base of the building. It has entrances on both sides and is currently unlocked.”

They turned to look at the door toward which she nodded; only the sign labeling it “The Devil’s Deal” revealed it was a pub. The door was shut tight, the windows darkened, its silence in keeping with the crisis in the city, but still somehow even more eerie. Pubs were meant to be places of laughter and vitality.

“You sure?” McGraw asked uncertainly. “Looks buttoned up pretty tight from here,”

“I assure you,” the Crow replied, “I have observed the entrances in use. Time is short.” She ascended toward the roof of the building with a raspy caw, her dark little wings seeming to have no trouble in the wind.

“And there she goes, not through the pub,” Weaver muttered. “I have a personal rule against taking directions from people who don’t follow their own.”

“Obvious, innit?” Billie said cheerfully. “Somethin’ in the pub she wants us to see. If you think the Crow’s out to get us, by all means sit here an’ freeze. Me, I think it’s worth havin’ a look at.”

They started toward the pub’s closed door, McGraw muttering as they went. “I didn’t see a katzil head off in that direction. Reckon there actually is one?”

Joe made no reply. Billie was first to reach the door, but she stepped aside, allowing him to grasp the handle and pull it open.

There was a short entrance hall beyond the door, lined with pegs for coats and stands for heavy overboots, all depressingly empty at the moment. An inert fairy lamp in an old-fashioned wrought iron housing hung overhead, swaying in the breeze admitted by the open door.

They trooped through in single file, weapons at the ready. The hall made a sharp left into the public area, where the group came to an immediate stop.

It looked like it might be a cozy place to have a drink in better times; not large, and with a disproportionately huge hearth along one wall. In addition to the usual tables and benches there were battered old armchairs upholstered in cracked leather arranged in small clusters in the corners. As Mary had said, there was indeed another hall leading from the opposite side of the room, presumably toward the other street. The fireplace was dead and dark, as were the wall sconces. It was not at all dim, however, lit as it was by the glow of the seven alarmed clerics in Universal Church robes who stood huddled in the middle of the room.

The two groups stared at each other in surprise for a silent moment. The priests weren’t armed, at least not visibly, but the glow around them at least partially came from a divine shield covering their party.

“What are you doing out?” a middle-aged woman near the head of the group demanded finally. “There’s a curfew in place!”

“We’re officially deputized for the duration of the crisis,” Joe informed her, holding up the lapel of his coat, to which was pinned the pewter gryphon badge Bishop Darling had given him. “Could ask the same of you.”

“We answer to the Universal Church,” she replied, still studying him warily. “Deputized? How old are you?”

“Collectively, oldern’ the Empire,” Billie said cheerfully. “Look, we can yammer on about who’s entitled to be out, or we could address the more pressin’ matters at hand. There’s demons still on the loose in the street. What’re you doin’ huddled in a dark pub? Could use the help out there.”

An unreadable look made its rounds through the clerics. “We have our orders,” a younger man said cryptically. “If you’re on demon cleanup duty, don’t let us keep you.”

“Now, I might be mistaken,” McGraw drawled, “it wouldn’t be the first time. But ain’t that the insignia of that new summoner corps his Holiness is building? Seems like demons on the loose would be right up your alley.”

“I told you, our orders—” He cut off at a sharp gesture from the older woman.

“Never mind,” she said, speaking to her companions but keeping her eyes on the group standing by the doorway. “This position is clearly compromised anyway, we’ll fall back to the secondary rendezvous. You do what you like,” she added directly to McGraw, “but if you intend to help, keep out of our way.”

They filed rapidly out the other hall exit. In moments, they were gone, and the party stood, listening to the door bang shut behind them. The only sound in the room was the faint sound of wind from without; Weaver had neglected to properly close the door through which they’d come.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Joe muttered, frowning after the departed clerics. “Holy summoners, hiding in a bar when there’s demons loose in the city?”

“They were not all summoners, holy or otherwise,” Mary remarked. They whirled to find her perched nonchalantly on the edge of the bar. “Did you note the slight divide in their group? Three in one cluster, four in another. Of the four, only one was a priestess. They also included a mage, a witch and a diabolist.”

“…a strike team,” McGraw said, thunking the butt of his staff against the floor. “In the wrong uniform? Well, they’re used for discreet ops often enough.”

Joe’s eyes widened as the equation added up in his head. “…they don’t want the demons un-summoned. They summoned them!”

“Cor,” Billie muttered.

He whirled to look at the group. Billie was frowning in consternation, McGraw in thought. Mary was watching him with the faint smile he associated with a teacher waiting to see if a pupil would understand a lesson. Weaver’s face was uncharacteristically blank.

“We have to tell the Bishop about this,” Joe said urgently. “Which way did he go?”

Weaver heaved a deep sigh. “Kid, this is a pitying expression I’m wearing, in case you failed to interpret it.”

“I told you,” Billie said, scowling. “I said it. That fellow gaining new powers fair makes my hackles rise. Gods only know what he might do with ’em. Not what he told us he was gonna, that much you can bank on.”

Joe’s eyes darted back and forth. “…did you all know about this?”

“Suspected,” McGraw muttered. “Had an inkling. Ain’t exactly the kinda thing one asks one’s powerful employer, though. ‘Scuze me, your Grace, but would you happen to be up to anything especially villainous this evening?’”

Weaver just shrugged.

“We were sent out to, first, attempt to lure the Black Wreath into an ambush, and second, destroy any demons they had unleashed,” Mary said calmly, her eyes fixed on Joe’s. “Ask yourself, why would they unleash demons?”

“They…they’re…the Black Wreath,” he said lamely. “Demons are what they do.”

“You cannot afford to be so naïve, Joseph. The Wreath call up demons only to use them. When they find demons otherwise, they put them down. Aimless summons of uncontrolled demons are less likely to be the work of the Wreath…”

“Than an attempt to lure them out,” Billie finished. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, in the middle of the city!”

“Let me just point out,” Weaver said, “before anybody goes on the warpath, that that was a mixed group of Universal Church and Imperial personnel we just saw, who were probably responsible for the demons loose in this neighborhood, if your theory is correct. It may be satisfying to blame Darling, but even if he could organize something this big, he couldn’t enact it on his own. This must’ve been done at the highest level. Bet you anything he’s not the only Bishop playing a part here.”

“There are many forces at work tonight,” Mary said calmly. “Some at cross purposes, most with more than one agenda. Best not to act in haste.”

“Act?” Billie snorted. “As to that…what’re we s’posed ta do, then? Just go back to killin’ demons like nothin’ else is going on?”

“Few things in life are simple,” said McGraw, “but some things are. If there are demons on the loose in the city, no matter who did it or why, killing ’em is a good use of our time.”

“But is it the best use?” Mary asked with a smile. “Joseph, did you still want to know which way the Bishop went?”

Embras managed one step backward before the front door of the warehouse banged shut, then froze.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “there we are, of course. The question becomes, then, which of you do I attempt to go through?”

Price raised an eyebrow.

The warlock held out one hand, palm-up. “Young lady, if you would be so kind as to step aside—”

A ball of shadow began to form in his palm, then abruptly exploded; Mogul staggered backward, clutching a burned hand and staring around himself at the piles of crates hemming them in. Several of those nearest were emitting a faint golden light through cracks where the boards did not fit together snugly.

“You’ll want to be careful of that, old fellow,” Sweet said cheerfully, strolling around the corner behind him. The two elves paced silently at his sides, their expressions curious. “Want to know what’s stored in this warehouse, a literal stone’s throw from the Dawnchapel? Why, whatever was lying around! Relics of just all kinds, sacred to a whole smorgasbord of gods, that had been cluttering up the temple where Justinian needed to make space for his own projects. Frankly I’ve not idea what most of ’em even do, but I’ve got a pretty good notion what’ll happen if somebody starts trying to throw around infernal magic in here.”

“Yep,” Embras said, taking two steps to the side and angling himself to keep all of them in view. He stuck his burned hand in one of his coat pockets, tilting his head forward so that the brim of his hat concealed his eyes. Only his grin was visible. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Antonio, this was mighty fine work. Mighty fine work. How’d you manage to arrange all this? One professional to another.”

“Oh, but that’s the best part,” Sweet said, grinning in return and coming to a stop a few feet from him. “I didn’t arrange this! Nor the mess you encountered in the Dawnchapel. In fact, I did my damnedest to get you to come at me, but I guess that was a little too obvious to get a nibble. No, all this was just here; you just ran afoul of Justinian placing his new toys exactly where you were most likely to trip over ’em in the dark.”

“Well, that’s just irritating,” Embras remarked. “I believe I’m gonna write him a very sternly worded letter.”

“Tell you what I did arrange, though,” Sweet continued, his grin beginning to slowly fade. “You’ve already discovered the Shaathist blessing blocking shadow-jumping over the city, I’m sure. You probably deduced the presence of a lot of Huntsmen rounding up your fellows. Here’s what you don’t yet know: those Huntsmen will be herding the Wreath toward the Rail stations, which are right about now being inundated with the Imperial soldiers who were sent to Calderaas earlier in the day. The Third Silver Legion has been re-sorted into squads off site, one of which will accompany every unit of the Army, with shield-specialized priestesses at the front. No doubt a good few of your warlocks will still manage to use those syringes of theirs when they see what’s waiting for them, but enough of them will be pacified on sight that we stand to take plenty alive.”

“How did you manage that?” Embras asked mildly. “You’re talking about hundreds of people. Thousands, even. I don’t mind admitting I haven’t heard a peep about this, and I’ve got eyes and ears in places you wouldn’t believe.”

“Simple operational control, old man. All of those soldiers and Legionnaires were kept in the dark; they were ordered to respond to the crisis on the frontier, and when they got to Calderaas telescrolled orders sent them right back here. The Huntsmen have been sequestered on rooftops all afternoon, in parties constantly watching each other.”

“Hnh,” Mogul grunted. “At what cost? I do know that hellgate in Last Rock isn’t a feint. Are you really so obsessed with capturing me you let that thing stand open? My people weren’t behind it, nor was my Lady. There is no telling what’s gonna come boiling out.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Darling said condescendingly. “That’s being taken care of. Worry about the here and now.”

Mogul finally lifted his head, meeting Darling’s eyes. “Take a good look at yourself, Bishop. The bards lie about a lot, but they tell a few solid truths. The man standing over a well-executed trap giving a soliloquy is seldom the hero of the piece.”

“You’re just stalling, now,” Sweet said, stepping forward. Behind him, Flora and Fauna moved to flank. Price held her position, watching with perfect poise. “Obsessed I may be, but I’m not the one with a foot in the snare.”

“Fair enough,” Embras agreed, adjusting his tie. “Well, relics or no relics, I do hope you’re not expecting me to stand here politely while you—”

“Oh, keep it in your pants,” Darling said scornfully. “I didn’t go to all this trouble to kill you. No, I don’t intend to capture you, either.”

“Oh? I confess to some curiosity. That would seem to exhaust all the likely ambitions you might have toward my person.”

“Remember who you’re dealing with,” Darling said grimly, taking slow steps forward. “I am, first and foremost, an Eserite. I brought you here, Embras, to take something from you. Something you’ll be hard pressed to do without. Something you will never get back, until you finally submit yourself to my will.”

He came to a stop finally, with barely a foot separating the two men. Mogul withheld comment, simply staring challengingly into Darling’s eyes.

Suddenly Sweet grinned and swiped his hand across the space between them. Embras reflexively twitched backward, disarranging his hat as the brim thumped against the crates behind him. Grinning madly, Darling held up his fist, with the tip of his thumb poking out from between two fingers.

“Got yer nose!”

Embras gaped at him.

“All right, that’s a wrap,” Sweet said cheerfully, turning around and swaggering back toward the path between the crates. “Pack it up, ladies, we’re out. Embras, old man, you’ll wanna take the first left on the path out the other side, it’ll lead you straight toward the administrative offices. Past the secretary’s desk is the manager’s, and past that is a cleaning closet. Sewer access is in there. You have a good evenin’, now!”

Price caught up as he reached the crates and they stepped out into the shadows side-by-side, leaving the lamp behind. Flora and Fauna, however, hadn’t moved. They were staring after their tutor with expressions very similar to Mogul’s.

“What. The. Hell.”

“Are you ever gonna actually fight this guy?” Fauna demanded shrilly.

“Look, if you just want somebody to play practical jokes with, we can find you a friend.”

“Hell with that, let’s find him a girlfriend. He’s clearly pent up.”

“All the way up to the skull!”

“Girls, girls,” Darling soothed, turning to grin at them. “Not in front of the mark, please. I know exactly what I’m doing, as always. Embras knows, too. Or he will once he’s had time to think it all over. He’s having a stressful night, poor fellow. We’ve got exactly what we came for, now it’s time to go. Chop chop, our guest has a stealthy exit to make. Respect the exit.”

He strolled off again into the shadows. With a last, wary glance at the completely nonplussed Embras Mogul, the girls finally followed him. There really wasn’t anything else for them to do.

“I swear,” Fauna muttered as they wound their way through the dark maze of crates back to the entrance, “if I don’t hear a full explanation of all the aimless running around we’ve done tonight, I’m gonna kill somebody.”

“That would carry a lot more weight if it wasn’t your response to everything,” Darling said cheerfully. “Thank you, Price.”

“Sir,” she said, pulling the door open and stepping aside to hold it while Darling strolled out into the windy streets.

He came to an immediate stop, the glowing tip of a wand inches from his face.

“Evenin’, Joe,” he said mildly. “Something on your mind?”

“Lemme see if I’ve got this straight,” Joe said, glaring at him. “You send all the troops away and have summoners call up demons in the city, creating a crisis only more summoners can fix. And then, when the Black Wreath shows up to help the civilians you’ve put in danger, you land on ’em with Huntsmen and whatever else. That about the shape of it?”

Darling held up a hand at his side; Flora and Fauna halted, having been about to dive past him at the Kid. Behind Joe, the rest of his party stood in a semicircle a good few yards back, dissociating themselves from him with distance.

“You have the aspect of someone who’s just made several assumptions,” Darling said, “and plans to make a few more.”

“I asked you a question.”

“Joe,” Flora warned.

“That’s about the shape of it, yes,” Darling said, nodding. He kept his eyes on Joe’s. “Minus a number of highly significant details.”

“That,” Joe said flatly, “is easily one of the more evil things I’ve ever heard of.” He shifted his grip subtly, the wand’s tip glowing a touch brighter; Flora and Fauna stepped forward once. “And you made me a part of it.”

“Did you see those crocodile-lookin’ things with the gorilla arms?” Darling asked. “Yes? Those are called khankredahgs. One of them killed Bishop Snowe’s servant in her own home a few weeks back. The same night the Wreath attacked us in my house, remember?”

“That has noth—”

“There’s something called the Rite of Silencing,” Darling pressed over him, “it’s what the Wreath does to members who try to betray the group. See, what they do is, they get the traitors in a pit that’s been made into a summoning circle. They’ve bound them beforehand, you see, so they can’t use any magic they possess. And then they call up khankredahgs in the pit with ’em, and the whole cell stands around above and watches them get eaten alive.”

He took a step forward, then another; Joe actually stepped back to avoid jabbing him in the eye with the wand, but did not lower his arm. “And not just the would-be traitor, either,” Darling went on, staring him down. “Anyone deemed close enough to them. Spouses, siblings, children. The exceptions are any children considered too young to be responsible. Those join the onlookers, and get to watch their families being torn apart. These are the people we’re talking about, Joe.”

“What they do has nothing to do with what we do about it,” Joe growled. “If we can’t be better than them, then what’s the point of fighting ’em?”

“I only wish I could tell you how close the Black Wreath was before tonight to overthrowing the Empire,” Darling said. At that Joe’s eyes widened and his hand wavered a fraction. “I can’t, though; the pertinent parts are actually Sealed to the Throne, and most of the rest is merely classified. But yes, Joe, we’ve been walking the knife’s edge for months now. The prospect of an Elilinist government coming to power is a real and extant one even still. This night’s work has broken the Wreath’s spine in Tiraas, but they are not dead, and Elilial certainly isn’t. They’ll be back. They’ll never stop. Have you ever given any thought to what life would be like in a country ruled by the Black Wreath?” He paused for a moment, giving Joe a chance to answer. He didn’t. “I have. And I, and others in the government, the Church and the cults, have had to consider what is appropriate, and what is necessary, to stop that from happening.”

“Appropriate?” Joe all but whispered.

Darling slowly lifted his hand and pushed aside the wand. Joe offered no resistance. “I won’t know for a few days exactly how many people were hurt or killed due to our scheme tonight,” he said quietly. “We’ll probably never have a full accounting of the damage. But this is something that was carefully considered at the highest level. The Emperor, the Empress, the Archpope. Myself, the head of Imperial Intelligence, others. Not one of us are going to sleep well for a good while, if ever. And someday, Joe, when you have had to make a brutally hard choice like that, then you will be in a position to make judgments about those who have. They probably won’t be correct judgments, but you’ll have earned the right to make ’em.” He pursed his lips, and shook his head. “Till then… Grow up.”

Darling turned and walked off up the street. Flora and Fauna paced after him, staring at Joe in passing as he slowly lowered his wand to point at the ground. Price brought up the rear, seeming totally unperturbed.

A small hand touched his leg just above the knee. He looked down to meet Billie’s eyes. She jerked her head significantly at the two elves, then very clearly mouthed “Not now.”

They listened, for a long moment, to the wind, and the sound of distant hunting horns.

“Welp,” McGraw said finally, “I guess we won.”

“What is victory?” Mary mused aloud. “And who are ‘we?’”

“Just in case you were wondering,” Weaver told her, “that inscrutable act of yours isn’t impressive. It’s just annoying.”

“I can live with that,” she said with a smile. “Annoying I may be, but I have achieved exactly what I set out to, tonight. I wonder who else can say the same?”

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29 thoughts on “7 – 10

  1. Wait, the troops sent to Last Rock turned around in Calderaas? Is anyone going to help with the hellgate or is it up to the freshmen class, three terrified privates and an angry Arachne?


    1. To me you just described a bit of an overkill (minus the privates, but I’m sure they’ll be useful as a comical target for all of Arachne’s puns), so I guess they’ll be fine. Remember, the Gods themselves asked that it happened that way, surely if one knows what to do in face of a rogue hellgate it has to be them.

      Loved the chapter D.D., the nose joke made me laugh to tears for 10 good minutes, a bright start for my morning thanks to you.


      1. Overkill?
        Arachne said she never went up against a dragon on her own, because those are more than an even match to her.
        The freshmen have lots of potential but they are only now realizing it. They are far from being effective fighters.

        And the privates… are there for the comedy. 😉


  2. Funny thing is, Elilial’s plan shows no signs of relying directly on the Black Wreath at all. She’d need supporters to claim the throne in the name of her child – but it’d work better if they couldn’t be dismissed as her worshippers. If I understand correctly, the Tiraan empire uses some form of primogeniture and her child would be the Emperor’s firstborn; add in some basic politicking and she’d have those supporters.

    This could be a dangerous message to send to someone who has recently lost the lives of six of her children to interference or treachery. I’m not sure whether Darling knows about that, if not I suspect he’s going to find out.


    1. Elilial’s original plan included the Black Wreath setting up the seven daughter summonings, which went catastrophically wrong. So Elilial has reason not to trust her followers. Also, the Wreath’s involvement in the summonings was not confirmed until much later in the story, so it is entirely possible that she is using them for something now, but narrative secrecy is covering that up.


      1. I don’t think the Black Wreath betrayed Elilial during the summoning of her daughters. Someone else, probably the pantheon, interfered.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. The speech from Darling to Joe was one of the most assholish thing I even saw.
    Sure the rite of silencing is harsh but isn’t it logical for an illegal secret religion to have a deterrent when you see the authority response to the wreath? Isn’t it a little bit hypocritical coming from the guild with a policy of sending brutes after would be traitors and harass acquaintance of anyone who pissed them in the hope they will have an excuse for striking back?
    And what with the “grow up”? This whole argument in the end come down to : the persons with the most powers have taken this decision, since it was a hard decision and taken at the highest level, it cannot be criticized.

    The only thing that could have been a sound argument was the fact that the black wreath would be bad rulers and he doesn’t develop on it. Between bad rulers and bad rulers who unleash demons on their city, the wreath would have to do a very bad job to be worse.


    1. Agreed on most of this. Both the story itself and comments by DD Webb have made a point that Darling is a manipulator and a liar. Speech by such a character, especially in the face of a pissed-off ally, is likely to be, well, manipulative. It is probably especially effective because Joe is young – mathematical sense is not people sense and it usually takes some combination of time, training, and hard life experience to develop detection and counters to manipulation.


    2. Yeah, while it is true that Joe does jot have the whole picture, all this was only done to.allow darling to kick embras in the balls.

      Not a good day for our sweet bishop…


  4. Thorough review later, but my immediate thought is on Darling’s message to Embras:

    “Screw around in my town and you will go down.”

    Or something similar. Basically, Darling made a point that he rather thoroughly outplayed Embras and then let him go. Although I really did expect Darling to do something about his personal Elilial obsession with this.


    1. Oh, a bit more than that: the message was also, “I’m not on the same page as Justinian. I may hate the vast majority of what you stand for, but may be open to negotiation for future collaboration… but only if you don’t treat this like a passing, point-scoring game, doofus — up your act, or get Justinianed again.”


  5. I was hoping this chapter would be at the university because I was really looking forward to the next chapter but this was just as good. Darling’s justifications for actions were not great as he did not address Joe’s points but until we know more about why the gods are bastards and how the black wreath would govern I’m inclined to give darling the benifit of the doubt. From the number of POV chapters we have had from him we know he is mostly a moral person who is able to compromise.


    1. Darling is a decent and even laudably moral person according to his own ethics. What people seem to keep forgetting is that his ethics are basically those of the mafia.


      1. Well, I don’t forget that he works for the mafia and pretty much ordered his two enhanced thug to murder people to create terror in Tiraas. What I’m wondering is why people are even listening and taking seriously moral arguments from the bishop of the god of thievery. Moral relativism can’t be that common amongst the people (or even the other cults).
        I was baffled once at one remark from Trissiny that there wasn’t anything wrong with Principia, that she just followed a different cult that didn’t had the same worldview. Well, with that reasonning there wouldn’t be anything wrong either with following the goddess of cruelty or any other unsavory cult.
        Once again moral relativism is a theory that is not really viable in a civilisation. Beeing in accordance with ones principle doesn’t mean much to the society when you’re a murdering lunatic and releasing dangerous agressive beings into a densely populated city puts Darling on my “stop wondering why he is doing something and just put him down list”.
        Seriously guys, letting demons roam free in the city, just shoot down anyone that had something to do with this, that’s insane.


  6. i don’t really have any respect for either embras or darling anymore…when writing a mastermind character they always fall into the evil overlord list of what not to do. makes them seem like a clever moron rather than a mastermind. only mastermind character i like in this is justinian because his actions and reasoning hasn’t been fleshed out not to mention he hasn’t really failed on the evil overlord list… never leave an enemy alive when you can kill them with little to no repercussions.


      1. both have repeatedly left a foe broken and ready for the taking limp off and lick its wounds, whats even worse is that they both know this foe is a massive threat and they did it for theatrics darling is worse because he wasted time gloating in a death trap to a cornered foe giving him time to think rather than just end it. embras is somewhat more forgivable in that he did it in front of an agent of the press and outright killing members of the universal church in front of him would have been a bad idea if he still planned on using him. but he could have just as easily killed both and found a new press agent to use.
        but webb said this confrontation isn’t over… so I’ll wait. if embras just walks away I’ll stand by my opinion but if he gets tracked or something i might revise it to darling only partially screwing the pooch on the overlord list, EMbras doesn’t seem to be the kind of man to not prevent tracking spells and trackers from following him, especially after a situation such as this.
        the smartest move would be to torture him for info, or not even confront him and track him. talking to him like that was nothing more than a massive dick comparing contest between the two of them when so much more was at stake than their precious egos.


      2. @jokes on you, i was just pretending to be retarded

        If you are referring to the continuing Embras / Sweet flirtation:

        1) Killing on either side would bring down the wrath of their respective organizations and almost certainly result in a Thieves Guild / Black Wreath war. At which point their various other enemies would destroy their respective organizations. In other words, their interactions are dominance games / counting coup because being truly ruthless might be a short-term gain but would be a long-term disaster.

        2) In this last encounter, Sweet basically pointed Embras at Justinian by first showing Embras that continued attacks on Sweet would be stupid but that they had a common enemy. If Sweet had killed Embras, that would be one less tool Sweet had against Justinian.

        3) In general, both organizations and both men work towards making their enemies fight each other. Killing their enemies would be counterproductive.

        4) We haven’t seen the whole unraveling of the plot. There have been several times where characters did something that looked short-term stupid but later facts painted their actions in a different light.


      3. @unmaker
        for embras your first point may be true in that he had witnesses which i stated makes his actions more forgivable to many unforeseen possibilities from that outcome. but lets be honest with sweet here, he has embras in a warehouse surrounded by holy relics, not a single person knows where he is or that sweet has him cornered, he can’t send a message out through his infernal communications because of the holy relics, he is figuratively a fish in a barrel where literally any member on the board could have been the one to pull the trigger if embras was to die, because the empire and the church was all out in full force that night. but as i stated even approaching him was a dumb decision when he should have been tracking him, you always watch where the rat runs when cornered because it typically leads you to more rats. sweet by making his presence known shattered any attempt to gather more info from following him because now if embras has half a brain he wont go to any of his other followers.

        2nd point you made, yes he did. good job on that. but the actual value in having him pointed at justinian has its limits because its a sword that cuts both ways. its a tool to have pointed at your enemy but if you can throw it out of the equation all together do it and be rid yourself of the hassle of making sure it cuts the other guy more than yourself

        3rd point… while making your enemies fight each other is a very strong point of subterfuge so is actually eliminating your enemies. and embras is a very dangerous tool to try and use. booping the nose of a caged tiger just to let the tiger know you are there and a potential threat higher than what you were once perceived as is a great idea after pointing it at the bear you wanted it to attack in the first place.

        4th point i agree with on general principal.


  7. Typos:

    Relics of just all kinds, … that had been cluttering
    Relics … which

    This was the first he’d seen of the snow actually reaching the ground and staying there; he factored it into his calculations without a conscious thought.
    (a ‘but’ in the middle would indicate contrast, which seems to be the point of this sentence)


  8. Darling may be right most of the time, but I’m sure getting tired of him telling people to ‘grow up’ just because they don’t have the same warped morality as him. And for that matter, his fondness of never telling anybody the bigger picture definitely doesn’t help either.


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