An Alliance, Forged

You emerge from your lair just as they're crossing the naiad's stream, one hand on your sword. You regard them levelly.

"Holly was attacked again," you say. Ladrieth opens her mouth to speak, but you raise your hand for silence. "She lives, but is not able report in detail what happened. I know that there are a great many adventurers who could be responsible. I realize that it is unlikely to have been you three. But I must be certain."

Wordlessly, Ladrieth approaches you. With a wave of her hand, she opens her... quest menu?

"After I respawned in Thaeldir's Crossing," she says, "our guild had officially all died while out trying to complete that quest, which means it ended in failure." She scrolled through the menu, and sure enough:

Quest: Slay the Forest Demon! Quest Failed.

Forest Demon? That Marshall really is overselling it.

"Very well, then. Good." You turn outward, facing all of them at once. "Good day to you, Longstriders. Enter under my roof, humble as it is, and be welcome this day as my guests."

You turn back into the magical light of your lair.

Behind you, you hear Ladrieth's voice, "Oh, wow, this looks way different." You turn to find her lingering just outside the doorway, looking around at what you've made.

"It's still a work in progress," you say, "but I'm happy with it so far."

Her and Wylahael's attention lingered on the pool in the center of the room. Ievos was more concerned with the magical sconces.

"So," you say, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"We're here about the proposed alliance between yourself and our guild," said Wylahael. "Originally, while we resolved pretty quickly to stick with quests from the Aldermen instead of the Marshall, we were going to wait a bit longer to consider the issue. But things changed."

You lean back against the wall. "I'm listening."

"Civil war," says Ievos, "Aeldrandollir is tearing itself apart."

Aeldrandollir—literally "Lands of the Elder Folk." Not the only land ruled by elves, but the largest by far, sprawled out as it is across seven shards. And also the dominion to which Thaeldir's Crossing owes fealty—or, perhaps, owed.

"What exactly happened isn't clear, but the emperor and most of his family are dead. His advisors formed a regency council, and then a couple claimants popped up. Now there's at least five different armies running around."

"Before," says Wylahael, "we could rely on the crown to deal with the Marshall, if we could keep him weak enough. But now there's nobody to replace the Aldermen. And they're all too busy dealing with each other to care if he takes control, as long as he keeps the Shard Gate open."

Which all makes sense to you, except the Shard Gate...

You could not see all your comrades slain around you, for all your gaze was captured by the Eye Unseeing. You'd seen its like before, but even still you were enraptured by its singular infinity, its absolute restriction. It is the liminal given form. You reach out to it–

"Before we begin making plans," you say, "we should make things official. Do you accept my offer?"

All of them nod. "We are in agreement," says Ladrieth, "the Longstrider Guild has decided to accept Squire Merovon's offer of alliance."

"So let it be sworn," you say. "Upon the glory of my Master-That-Was. Upon the light that is Faerie. Upon the power that is place that is mine." Reaching out over the pool, you call up the power of the ley focus. The air becomes thick with fey magic, your instinct bending it into the shape of an unbreakable vow. "Upon these things I promise you alliance—that your enemies shall be my enemies, that your cause shall be my cause, that my blood shall be shed for you and yours. I promise you things things, so long as you promise me the same."

Each of them, a little unsure, reaches out over the pool like you have. Small motes of golden light kindle, dance through the air, and die, even as they dance unceasing across your eyes.

Ievos is the first to speak. "Upon the depths and winding shape of the wild places."

Next is Wylahael. "Upon all that is just and righteous."

Ladrieth stands surest of the three of them. "Upon the light of the stars that is the fire in my blood. Upon these things, we swear to you in kind."

You draw in a shuddering breath. "So it is sworn, and so it shall be."

Invisible power surges up out of the pool, and each of you cast nine shadows as every sconce flares bright. Ievos and Wylahael flinch.

Ladrieth shudders. "Fuck," she says, "that was stronger than usual."

"Together, you spoke with the strength of your guild," you say. "While it may only be you, at the same time it is more than you. Besides which, the oath was bound by a ley focus, a place of concentrated magical power. It's bound to be a bit more."

As the light fades, you open your Fame menu with a gesture.

Fame: 398

Forged an Alliance! +145 (Expanded)

Allied with a Guild of Heroes! +50

Ally has Minor Fame. +15

An Oath, Thrice-Sworn. +9

Allied with a Hero! +20 [x2]

Hero is a guild member. +10 [x2]

Hero is a guild representative. +10 [x2]

Well, that's the pending notice sorted. Now that you know how much you have, you'll have to think about spending some of it some time soon.

"Uh, guys?" you look to see Wylahael poking her head put the entrance of your lair. "Something's up?"

You join her at the doorway, alongside Ladrieth and Ievos, and you see what she means. A blanket of fog lies thick upon the ground. You can just barely make out the naiad's face, and you think you see a mixture of shock and confusion."

"What in the name of the stinking pits are all of you doing on this side?"