The Religions of Fanatika

*Grandmaster knocks on the door of the small house. Within a few moments, a tall, stocky Englishman answers the door.*

Congreve: Aye, what do you want?

GM: Bill, its me.

*Grandmaster removes his hood.*

Congreve: So it is! Grandmaster, my old friend, how have you been!?

GM: I have been fine. But not all is well, I fear. May we come in? Their is strange business we must discuss.

Congreve: Certainly.

*The four men step inside and close the door. They sit down, Shaitan and Alexander removing their hoods. Congreve puts on a pot of tea.*

Congreve: So GM, who are your friends?

GM: This is Shaitan, Prince of Vanir of Fanatika, and this is Alexander. We come to you today with an unusual request.

Congreve: What is it?

Shaitan: We were wondering if you could translate what is written on this script.

*Shaitan hands the piece of paper to the Englishman. Congreve ponders it for a moment and then speaks excitedly.*

Congreve: Of course I can, friend Shaitan. Its nothing but Ameranglish. I've been speaking it since I was a lad, I have. Let me see.....

*While Congreve reads through the script, GM explains Ameranglish to his confused companions.*

Alexander: What is this Ameranglish he speaks of?

GM: Its not really a difficult concept. In the northern Anglo-American border region, a strange dialect of English has become prominent. It sounds similar yet different to English, has different rules, and uses a slightly different alphabet. A normal English speaker can't understand it; you have to learn it like a seperate language. I thought that it might be Ameranglish when I saw it.

Congreve: Aye, lads, this is troubling indeed. From who did you get this piece of devilry?

Shaitan: We took it off the slain Llew Silverhand. He murdered one of my hunstmen and many of my dogs, so we tracked him down.

Congreve: Well, that makes it all the more troubling. Seems its a communique to some associates of his in Japan, damned westerner barbarians. Something about carrying out a terror attack against Fanatika. It mentions something about simultaneous attacks against Leningrado, Padmativa, Palanthus, and Dacula, followed by an attack on Kyoto. Then Japanese and rogue English troops would move in and capture the cities! For god's sake, he was planning a coup! They wanted to overthrow Queen Liz, bless her soul, and take control with the military! You are sure he's dead, that he didn't get a message off to his partners?

*Grandmaster looks at Shaitan for a brief moment.*

GM: Yes, he is quite dead. Thank you for your help, old friend. We must warn your government about the proposed coup d'etat. I swear I will return for a more pleasant visit.

Congreve: Make haste. The coup might still be on!

*With that, the trio of riders leave the house, remount, and start out of the city, heading for London, the seat of English power.*

The companions get only a few yards when Shaitan suddenly reigns up and turns back the way they had come.

Shaitan: A moment please, gentlemen. I have a task for master Congreve.

Shaitan knocks on the door of the house and the 3 travelers are again let into the small abode.

Shaitan: Master Congreve, will you take a message for me? These attacks could well be in their stages and a word of warning could save many a life.

Congreve: Well, ser, you see I'm not much of the traveling type, don'tcha know...

Shaitan: I understand perfectly, friend Congreve. I myself would greatly prefer to stay in my abode. Events of the day tend to foil these plans, however. I assure you that you will be greatly rewarded if you deliver my missive. You will need to travel only as far as Padmativa and you will go with my marke. I must go to Elizabeth as there may be no time for the runaround that my untitled friends would receive there. I cannot spare Grandmaster as his knowledge of your ways will be necessary for us to reach her court at all. Alexander would attract too much attention trying to cross back to Fanatika. You are a native though, and could make the journey easily. With my marke you will pass through Fanatika easily.

Congreve: Um...well...it's maybe not quite so simple as all that you see...

Congreve visibly wilts under Shaitan's probing look but does not seem any closer to agreeing.

Grandmaster: Please, Bill. It could be the difference between life and death for hundreds. Depending on how deep this infestation is, it could spell the difference between peace or war between Fanatika and England.

Congreve: All right, then. I'll do it. Don't know how I'm going to get there, but I'll do it.

Shaitan begins writing on a scrap of parchment then carefully blows the ink dry before rolling and sealing the makeshift scroll. He reaches into his belt and removes his dagger, the hilt of which is a match to that of BärenReißzahn, the sword of state in Vanir.

Shaitan: You will take my spare mount. In fact, she is yours to keep, so treat her well. If you should be stopped by any Fanatikan force, show them the dagger and tell them you ride with my missive. Deliver the scroll to the Prince of Fal Morgan in Padmativa. The dagger will get you through the normal hogwash to see him. He will wish to interview you after he reads this. You should tell him of all we discussed here, and your own conclusions of its import. He will give you a fitting reward.

Shaitan reaches out and shakes Congreve's hand.

Shaitan: Thank you for your help, Master Congreve. You may well be Fanatika's greatest hero.

The companions then remount and continue their travels lighter by a horse but lighter in the spirit for knowing that their countrymen will receive warning of the impending attacks.

*The 3 riders head off through the south gate, in the direction of London. Meanwhile, the lone rider Congreve sets off west towards Fanatika. Along the way, the trio spots a formation of English swordsmen running through drills in the countryside.*

English Sargent: Men, forward. About left, halt. Draw swords. Forward, march.

*The English soldiers march around, following their officer's orders.

English Sargent: Halt. Swords ready. Charge!

*The troops rush forward into a thick forest of leather punching bags used for training. The trio stay out of sight, not sure what to make of the troops but hoping it is only a routine training excercise. Suddenly, Alexander spots something peculiar.*

Alexander: GM, Shaitan, look! Do you see that on the sargent's lapel? It's a silver hand!

Shaitan: By the spirits, your right! But what business does this drill sargent have with Llew Silverhand?

GM: I wish I knew, sire.

*Suddenly, the troops wheel about again. They sheeth their swords and stand at attention. Suddenly, a man in a black cloak walks over to the sargent and stands next to him. He begins to speak to the assembled troops.*

Cloaked man: Brothers, soldiers, Englishmen! Listen to my words. I come to you today with dire news! Those bloody Fanatikans, with their warmongering and unmitigated aggression, have launched a surprise attack against English sovereignty! Fanatikan troops have landed at Warwick and Canterbury! They are approaching London as we speak! Will you stand here idle? No! Follow us, and together we shall march into Fanatika and burn their cities to the ground! That will teach them to attack English soil!

*A bloodcurdling war cry of "Hoo-rah!" erupts from the enraged troops. They immediately begin to march in the direction of the Fanatika. Meanwhile, the sargent and the cloaked man walk off and begin to talk in secretive voices.*

GM: By the spirits! We didn't invade England! He's lying to get the troops mobilized! The sargent must be in on the terror plot!

Shaitan: I fear so, my friend. We can only hope that Mr. Congreve can get to Padmativa in time....

GM: Then we must get to London before they can stage the coup! If we can warn Elizabeth and her guards in time, they might be able to call off their forces and keep control of the country.

*The trio ride on with furious speed, making way for London. Even when questions are called to them by guards, they do not stop. They have one purpose only: to warn the Queen.*

Prince Padma arrives at his Fortress in Padmativa after a long ride from the Marillion, where he attended the Knighting ceremony of CivGeneral and Stuck-As-a-Mac. At this time of year, Castle Kultis is just too cold for real comfort, so he spends as much time as possible in his old fortress on the South Doughnut Coast. Just as he is settling in by the fire with a warm mug of mulled wine, a servant appears.

Servant: Sire, there is a man here to see you. He says he just arrived from England.

Padma: Tell him to come back tomorrow. I am too tired to entertain visitors, tonight.

Servant: But, Sire, he says the matter is urgent, and he carries the dagger of Prince Shaitan!

Padma: Shaitan's dagger! What could this mean? Don't just stand there, knave, send him in!

The servant hurries out, and Padma strides to the fireplace, deep in thought over what this portends. He turns back to the door as the servant returns, with a disreputable-looking man behind him.

Servant: Master William Congreve, my Prince.

Padma: Master Congreve. What brings you here this night, to so disrupt my rest?

Congreve: M'lord, I am just a humble Englishman. But just the other day, a gentleman of my acquaintance, who is known to me as Grandmaster, (at this, Sir Padma gives a start, but motions the man to continue) arrived at my dwelling in the company of two other men, who were introduced to me as Alexander and Prince Shaitan. They asked me to translate a scrap of paper that they had come into possession of.

Padma: How do I know you are telling the truth, knave?

Congreve: M'lord, I was asked to show this (here he pulls out Shaitan's unique dagger) and to give this scroll to the Prince of Fal Morgan.

Prince Padma takes the scroll and breaks the seal, holding the scroll so the light from the fire shines on it. He skims it quickly, the color draining from his face as he does so. He sits heavily into his chair, then looks up at Congreve.

Padma: Here, you. Sit down next to me. You, servant! Fetch a glass of wine for this good man!

Padma and Congreve then spend the next half-hour reviewing the discussions he had had with the three companions in Dover. Finally, the Prince stands up, and Congreve scrambles to his feet.

Padma: I thank you for deivering this information to me, Master Congreve. You shall sleep here in my fortress tonight, before you ride home tomorrow. But first, may I have Prince Shaitan's dagger? You shan't have need of it as a pass-key, again, as troops of my own household shall escort you to the border of England. Besides, it ill-fits you to be carrying such a blade.

Congreve bristles a bit at this, but hands the dagger over. The Prince chuckles.

Padma: Nay, I mean no disrespect, my good man. But this blade is a mate to the BärenReißzahn, and even I will handle it no more than necessary. It shall await here until Prince Shaitan returns for it. But here is a small purse of gold as a reward for your good faith to our mutual friends.

Padma gently places the dagger on the mantle. Then he calls his servants.

Padma: Off to bed with you, now, Master Congreve. I have much to do yet, this night. You, fetch me some paper and sealing wax. You, wake our four, no, five best message riders. There are urgent words that must be dispatched.

When the paper is brought, Padma begins to write out the warnings he has received. He seals each message with his signet ring, and then distributes them to the waiting riders.

Padma: Deliver this to Sir Octavian, down in Leningrado. You, take this to Palanthus, and give it to Sir Donsig. This goes to Sir jdd in Dacula. And this must find its way as swiftly as possible to Sir Plexus, out in Kyoto. And finally, this must be delivered personally to our King, in Bavaria, that he may know what is happening in his lands.

As the last of the riders leaves, Padma turns once more to his servant.

Padma: Now, go fetch the captain of my guard. We have much yet to do before morning.

Brother Adam and Sister Eve prepare for their Winter Festival Night Service. They have been back in the Marillion for a while now and still wait for word from good Brother Alexander, Brother Grandmaster or Prince Shaitan...

Brother Adam: (pacing) But is it right to have a celebration while our friends are in possible danger? Mayhaps we should postpone...

Sister Eve: (suddenly interupting) No! We cannot. The Spirits themselves chose the time for the Winter Festival, and it must be celebrated in the proper fashion, despite the circumstances. I am sure that our friends will understand. Besides, the people are expecting it, and we cannot let them down.

Brother Adam: (relenting) You are right of course. We must bolster the spirits of the people. We will remember our friends in the Service, and beseech the Spirits to bring them back safe to us.

As if in answer to their prayers, a pelican lands by their window. Brother Adam quickly goes over and retrieves the message tied to its leg.

Brother Adam: I recognise this bird; it is Brother Alexander's!

He begins to read and confirms that the message is from their friend.

Brother Adam: Harken unto this, "My dear friends, I send scant news for I fear what would happen if an enemy should intercept this message. I can tell you that we are all well, and are pursuing another matter. We do not know when we will return.
I would however, request that you have the Winter Festival Service as planned, we will be there in Spirit.
May the Spirits bless and keep you."

Sister Eve: I am greatly happy that they are alright.

Brother Adam: As am I. We will of course respect Alexander's wishes. Come my dear Sister Eve, we must get everything in readiness...

Brother Adam, Brother Joseph and Sister Eve walk up the ailse between the rows of people seated in the Mission. The Mission is decorated with garlands of holly, ivy and mistletoe. A large fir tree has also been brought in and decorated with brightly coloured ornaments, symbols of the Spirits and other novelties. The three Spiritualists reach the front of the seats and turn to address the congregation...

Brother Adam: It is indeed an honour to be with you all at this very special time of year. The Winter Festival is the Spirits' way of banishing sad thoughts at this time of year. The bareness of the ground and the darkness of the sky will not deter us from worshipping the true Spirits! Let us sing to their Praise!

Brother Adam leads them all in the song, "The Spirits Truimph."

Sister Eve: This day sees a great joy upon the world, for in the Winter Festival we look forward to another year in the grace of the Spirits. The land is cold and bare, but soon Pyra's warmth will shine on us again and the land will be covered in the plants of Spring.

Brother Joseph: But let us remember the events of Fanatika during the last year as we look forward to the new year. We have suffered terrible wars with our neighbours and with each other. We have made and lost allies. We have had political intrigues and we have had terrorist attacks on our own soil. Nemesis the Spirit of Justice has been thwarted on occasion. And our friends Brother Adam and Sister Eve suffered capture and torture at the hands of a terrorist alliance of evil.

Brother Adam: We have endured much misfortune as a people, but we have come together in these troubles and fought them united for a time. Let us pray that these lessons will not be forgotten in the new year.

Sister Eve plays the Lyre, so beautifully that it seems that Lyra the Spirit of Music is here.

Brother Joseph: Let us pray. "Oh Spirits, Alpha, Terra, Pyra, Aqua and Aria. Thank you for all the bounty of this year, may your generosity continue into the next. Please watch over our friends who face danger in the name of justice and security. We who are your faithful servants pledge to continue to use the skills and resources that you have bestowed on to us, to your glory. In your name."

The Mission is alight with a thousand candles. The whole building seems alive with a pure, clear light. Brother Joseph leads the congregation in the song, "Love Came Down at Winter Time."

Sister Eve: Merry Winter Festival to all, and may Alpha, Terra, Pyra, Aqua, Aria and all the Spirits watch over you all.

The Service is over, but the special Winter's Feast is just begining. The whole congregation comes together and feasts on the best foods and not a small amount of Brother McNulty's Special Reserve Whisky.

Brother Alexander stops his friends Prince Shaitan and Brother Grandmaster briefly as they travel...

Brother Alexander: My two friends, comrades-in-arms, I must speak with you.

Shaitan: Then do so.

Alexander: We came together for a common purpose, to save our friends Brother Adam and Sister Eve. After that, we stayed together in order to find the mysterious killer of the hunters. We did that also. We further traveled to find out the message we found on the dishonoured one, and now we make our way to warn the English Queen of the threats to us all.

Grandmaster: This we already know, my friend. What is on your mind.

Alexander: I must be honest with you. I have always been a wandering adventurer. A man who lived be his own mettle and steel alone. When I came to the Spirits, I became a more centred soul, one who has dreams of settling before hearth and home. But I fear, for all the friends I have made there, that Vanir is not to be that place.

Shaitan: Why is that? Are we not good enough for you?

Alexander: By no means! Any man would be honoured to be accepted in such a place. It is just, I know that I am a servant of the Spriits. I am compelled to spread the good word of the Spirits, but fair Vanir already has a Mission with three good clergy there already.

Grandmaster: I see. You wish to spread the word of the Spirits in a land that knows them not.

Alexander: Indeed. I have had communication from good Anhk Morpork. A small and recently formed district. They ask for a Spiritualist to minister to them. I am no clergyman, but I read from The Book of Spiritualism every day. I feel that my destiny lies there, where my words and my sword may do good.

Shaitan: I am indeed sorry that you will not live in Vanir. But I understand your reasons, my friend. I will not stop you if you wish to go.

Alexander: (Shocked) By the Spirits! Do not tell me that you think I wish to leave right now! No, my good and dear friends! I speak of leaving only when our mission is completed and all Fanatika is safe from such evil terrorists. I pledge my sword to stay with you until that time!

Grandmaster: Well said. Very well. We have tarried too long already. Let us return to our journey and do our duty for all Fanatika!

The three travellers make their way onward. Brother Alexander is much relieved that his friends have accepted his reasons and still remain his comrades.

The companions made their way across England. They were equally concerned with speed and stealth so kept to trails instead of roads and rotated the horses to preserve their strength. Still, some terrain on the way to London was not readily passable except on roads and they were twice waylaid. The first time was by a band of highwaymen, attracted by their superb mounts. These 7 bandits met the justice of the road. The second time was by a group of British archers. Two horses were lost and Grandmaster received a deep wound to his left shoulder in the archers' deadly ambush. Shaitan's bow and Alexander's sword made fast work of the English and the companions quickly fled the scene of the attack, judging (correctly) that more English troops would be nearby.

Those troops gave chase and it took the Fanatikans over an hour to lose them. by this time Grandmaster has lost a goodly amount of blood and Shaitan worried over his ability to continue. Alexander packed the wound with spider webs and a particularly pungeant herb and bound the wound tight. Grandmaster's complexion improved almost immediately and he proclaimed himself fit to continue.

Down to 3 horses now, the riders had to slow their speed lest they lame their mounts. At York they traded their Marillion champion mounts and a goodly bit of gold for 6 lesser but fresh beasts. They also acquired cloaks of the local short cut style and odd colorations favored by the English. After this they were able to keep to the roads and made very fast time. Within just a couple hours they were approaching the outskirts of London.

Written by Brother Jeremia:
Dear Sirs of Fanatika!
I must adress you with a disturbing message.
As you surely know, i am the personal assistant of Sir Disorganizer in TSort. During his absence, i am using his account to write the logs of his journey.

I now have to inform you that my master is missing!
I did not receive any notice of him since the last log entry of his pilgrimage and am now afraid he was maybe captured.

As i am a fully trained Zen-Fighter, i would like to join any rescue force you will send. Also brother Arnubis, the curator of the TSort Populace Centre, would like to join in.

Our only problem is that we do not own anything as our believs forbid us personal property, so we would need some horses and maybe some weaponry (some sticks would suffice) to be given to us during the resuce mission.

Part 1 @ Dis: Damn.... yet another Spiritualist gone missing. If you two men wish to aid in finding him, you have permission to borrow two of my blades, fine iron longswords I crafted myself. You must speak to another about a horse, as I do not have any extras.

Part 2, back to the roleplay:

*As the group reaches the outskirts of London, they are stopped yet again by gate guards. As usual, they are questioned before they can enter.*

Guard 1: Stop there, sirs. Who are you that wish to enter London, Seat of Elizabeth and Heart of the English Empire?

*GM begins to respond to the man in poor, French-accented English.*

GM: We are.... diplomats, yes that is the word.... diplomats, from fair France. We come to... parle, parle... ahh, bon, speak... to your Queen of urgent matters of the state. Will you let us in?

Guard 2: You are bleeding, good sir diplomat. Why is that?

GM: We were.... how do you say?... ambushed... we were ambushed on the road. Bandits, they killed three of our escorts. My men here, they are all we have left. Please, let us through, by decree of Saint Joan d'Arc.

Guard 1: Aye, you may pass. Good luck with ye, speaking to the good Queen. Has a temper on her, she does, so watch your tongue.

*The three men enter the city and head to the Palace. Their they are stopped again by guards, and again GM tells the same story. Again, they are allowed to pass through, this time escorted by the palace soldiers wearing strange furry hats. Their horses are stabled, and they enter the Queen's throneroom.*

GM: Please, monsieur, if you would be so kind as to leave us alone, we have important matters of the state to discuss. It doesn't befit the ears of soldiers to listen to the words of rulers, now, does it?

*The guards leave, so that only the three men, Elizabeth, and her bodyguard remain.*

Elizabeth: And you are...?

Shaitan: Allow me to introduce myself, fair Queen. I am Shaitan of Vanir of Fanatika. This is Grandmaster of Aegir, and Brother Alexander of the Community. The story of being French diplomats was only a ploy to get us to this point, I hope you will understand. We have ridden many miles to war you of grave danger. After fighting a camp of terrorists in Russia, we came into contact with Llew Silverhand. We were forced to kill him, and found this on him.

*Shaitan hands the scroll to Elizabeth.*

GM: We brought it to a friend in the northlands of your country to interpret it, and were shocked to hear what it said. We then rode here to warn you.

Elizabeth: If you speak the truth, it is troubling indeed. But how do I know that this is for real?

Shaitan: We have Llew's pin to prove it.

*The Prince of Vanir hands the Queen of England the small, silver pin.*

Elizabeth: So then you did kill Llew Silverhand, and your story is truth.

GM: Aye, it is, m'lady.

Elizabeth: Then you are true friends of England. Is there anything else you must tell me?

GM: Yes, I'm afraid there is, ma'am. On the way here, we saw a formation of English soldiers mobilizing for war against Fanatika. We think that a terrorist convinced them into believing that Fanatika had attacked England. Furhter along the road, we were attacked by archers who were also on a war footing and headed for the Fanatikan border. You must recall these troops and tell them that Fanatika has not invaded England.

Elizabeth: I shall dispatch riders immediately with this message. Now, as to the attempted coup, have we any idea who might be behind it?

Alexander: No, I'm afraid not...

*Suddenly, the door to the throneroom bursts open and in pour scores of English soldiers, wielding swords and spears.*

Written by Brother Adam and Sister Eve...

Say no more good and devoted servant. On behalf of the Spiritualists, you may go to whatever shop or business and purchase anything you need in order to locate your master. We would search ourselves, but we fear it would be useless for us, as we know not the lands of Fanatika as we should. But here us, When you find our friend Disorganiser, whose actions in a large part secured our freedom, we promise to do all we can to help him. Just send us word and we will be there.

@Dis and/or McNulty again, not on the roleplay topic: If you desire weapons, come to the FWS and, along with the money promised to you by McNulty, you will receive a 75% discount off whatever you buy, meaning that it'll be free to you and nearly free to the Missionaries. Everybody wins.

Our problem is that we, as spiritual people are not allowed to lead a force or rescue squad. We will help any force going on a SAR mission, but we wont be allowed to lead it. I also hope Sir Shaitan allows us to use some of vanir's fast horses.

Brother Alexander launches himself directly towards the intruding soldiers. His blades flash in a scintillating display as he cuts down two swordsmen who were surprised to find anything except the queen and 3 French diplomats in the room.

Alexander: Ware the Queeen! Raise the alarums! Treachery! Treachery!

Shaitan sees the Queen's Guard moving, not toward the intruders but towards the queen herself. This would normally be expected but the quardsman's sword was already unsheathed and he was looking at the queen instead of the potential danger. He reached for his belt out of habit to draw his dagger. When his fingers came up empty he immediately drew his sword. Although it was a pale weapon compared to BärenReißzahn it was a serviceable weapon with a true weight.

Shaitan: Elizabeth! Duck!

Trusting that Elizabeth would obey the command despite the source, Shaitan threw his blade at the closing guardsman. Elizabeth did indeed duck, throwing herself to the other side of her throne. The blade spun off in flight, swords being exceptionally poor for throwing weapons, but the guardsman was distracted and missed the chance to strike Elizabeth. Shaitan grabbed a standard pole from next to the throne and held off the swordsman as best he could.

Grandmaster had been only a fraction behind Alexander and the two succeeded in taking and holding the doorway. The two veterans seemed to be partners in a dance as one parried a blow directed at the other or blocked a strike so his companion could launch an attack. Their skill and cohesiveness as fighting partners was lost on the English that fell at their feet.

Shaitan (ducking a sword strike): Elizabeth! Get out of here! Find your loyalists.

Elizabeth: And have my crown rest on the sacrifice of Fanitikans? Never!

With that, Elizabeth grabbed the other standard and began whacking at the traitorous guardsman. Unfortunately she was more hindrance than help and the swordsman was able to strike her with the hilt of his sword despite Shaitan's best defense for her. The Queen of England slumped to the floor like a sack of meal.

Shaitan (to the traitorous guardsman): No matter the outcome today you will live the rest of your life knowing you are a base traitor. I will do my best to make your suffering as short as possible.

Shaitan used the standard pole as a makeshift quarterstaff and started landing blows on the swordsman. The traitor's armor deflected the bulk of these but blow after blow on his helm began to disorient him. The Prince of Vanir was eventually able to knock the traitor off of the throne dais where Grandmaster dispatched him with an offhand blow.

Shaitan retrieved his sword and the three companions together relaimed the doorway and managed to close and bar it. Immediately there was pounding from the other side as the traitors tried to break down the thick double doors with makeshift rams. Alexander went to attend the waking queen while Shaitan and Grandmaster grabbed anything that would move to bolster the doors.

Elizabeth: Well, it appears that the situation may be a mite more dread than even you advised.

is that the same Alexander who lives in Ankh Morpork or do i have a different one?

He doesn't live there yet, BCLG. Same guy, but he won't be moving in until after this RP is over.

The first days of the WInter Festival had passed, with no sign of any activity by the terrorists. Prince Padma was starting to think that maybe the warnings were spurious, after all. Still, he wore chainmail under his robes, and the Flame of Fal Morgan was always at his side.

As was his custom during the holiday, the Prince was holding court; hearing grievances from the peasants who worked his lands, and dispensing justice as necessary. He had just finished settling a dispute between two peasants, concerning a pig, and a cartful of turnips. The line of supplicants was nearly at an end. He would hear one more case, and then close the court for the day. Three men approached the dais, with a halting gait that bespoke of years of toil. The first began to speak in the thick, uncultured accent of the local peasantry.

Man: Sor, we got us a probl'm. We bin workin' the lands all these yars, wi'out thought o' reward, but now, we think that these lands should be English!

With that cry, the three men drew out swords they had hidden beneath their rags, and launched themselves at the Prince. At the same moment, a hue and a cry went up outside the fortress, as more men began to attack the guards. The Prince, however, almost before the three had started moving, had drawn the Flame of Fal Morgan and was ready for the rush. He leaped up to stand on his chair, and the first of the three to arrive saw his sword go spinning across the hall just before he received a mailed boot squarely in his face. The other two pressed the attack, and Padma was required to use all his skill with a sword to parry, as he was driven back on the dais. The man on his left was clearly just a hired thug, only semi-skilled at swordplay, but the man on the right was clearly well-trained with a blade. The Prince caught the eye of his Guard-Captain, who was hurrying up behind the attackers.

Padma: Code Three!

The Captain stopped, and Padma gave him a swift nod, while parrying another thrust. The Captain, his internal struggle showing clearly on his face, as the desire to help his Prince warred with his training to follow orders, suddenly turned and rushed from the room. Now Padma gave his full attention to the men facing him. A quick feint with the sword, and he suddenly spun, his boot connecting solidly with the temple of the thug on the left. Now he was alone with the swordsman. A grim smile played across his features. He started to taunt his adversary as their battle played back and forth across the room.

Padma: I was wondering when you traitorous dogs would try something. I expected something better, though. These thugs you brought couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag. You hear that whistling sound? Those are arrows taking out your forces outside. I have archers stationed on the roof. I told the Captain of my Guard to take care of that situation first, because I knew I could handle you by myself. You've failed, traitor. Just like you've always failed. Yes, I recognized you as soon as you appproached me. How could I forget the man who tried to drive me from Kultis in my youth. You failed then, and ... you ... failed ... now.

With those last words, Padma drove the sword from his attackers hands. The unarmed man, by now enraged, hurled himself at the Prince, as if to rend him with his bare hands, only to impale himself on the royal sword. At this point, the Guard-Captain rushes back into the room, followed by a squad of Pikemen.

Captain: Sire! Are you all right?

Padma: Yes, Gregory, I'm fine. Take these two (indicating the two unconscious thugs) to the cells. They will be questioned when they wake up. I doubt they know anything though. This one (giving the swordsman's body a nudge with his toe), hang the body by the front gate of the city as a warning.

Padma wiped the blood off his sword using the dead man's clothing. He stopped, as a glint of silver caught his eye. He twitched back the rags on the man's chest, and there was a small silver pin, in the shape of a hand.

*From inside the fortified throneroom, the trio could hear the noises of battle outside. The traitors had given up trying to ram the door, as it was now heavilly bolstered. The sound of flying arrows and clashing swords were audible, even through the thick wooden door and stone walls.*

GM: Well, it would seem we're trapped in here. Two options come to mind.... we could stay in here and wait the battle out or we could go out there and bring the fight to the enemy. Alexander, Shaitan, what do you think?

Shaitan: We will only be safe in here for so long. If the revolutionaries win the battle outside and can amass large numbers, they can knock that door down and we'll be stuck in this room like cattle waiting to be slaughtered.

Alexander: Aye, I've always been a free-ranging spirit. I can't stand the thought of being trapped in thisd room.

GM: Nor can I. If we are going to die, let us die in the open air, not in captivity like prisoners or animals. Für sieg!

*The other two men echo the cry, and then together they unlock the door and charge out. The men outside are fighting to a standstill, with the revolutionaries trapped between the palace walls and the Loyalist forces. The traitors are caught by surprise when the Fanatikan warriors emerge from the palace and into their undefended back ranks. The three men barrel through the lines of soldiers, cutting them down in huge numbers as they struggle to turn and brace under the simultaneous onslaught of arrows and spears from the Loyalists. One terrorist rushes through the doors and into the throneroom, intent on removing Elizabeth from power, but he is dispatched by Shaitan's bow. The fighting is hand to hand now, each of the three foreigners taking on at least 2 enemy swordsmen simultaneously, while the increasingly organized Loyalist and Regular Army forces make charge after charge into the front lines of the usurpers, each time being repelled but inflicting heavy casualties. Then, a loud crash is heard and several terrorists are thrown aside. A catapult has been brought to bear, and now the masses of enemy troops are being bombarded. The traitors panic, unsure of how to deal with such a weapon, and begin to run in all directions, trying to escape their own deaths. Alexander, Grandmaster, and Shaitan cut them to ribbons as they pass by. They begin to run into the lines of loyal English soldiers, who brace with shields up and slaughter the ill-trained warriors as they make contact. Within a few minutes, the battle seems to be over.*

Shaitan: And so it has passed. The forces of evil are once again defeated, the English Queen is safe, and a lasting peace has been ensured.

GM: I'm not so sure, m'lord. It seems almost too easy. They would have known that the Army and other loyal men would make a stand. They must have prepared greater numbers than this....

Shaitan: You worry too much, my friend. All is well, you will see.

*Suddenly, their is the sound of twanging bowstrings and a wall of arrows tears into the crowd of victorious fighters.*

Alexander: By the Spirits, what was that?

GM: Look!

*Up on a hill, right outside the city gates, stands an organized force of archers. They wield powerful Longbows; upon second glance it is obvious that they are Regular Army longbowman who are backing the coup. They launchy another salvo of arrows, again cutting down large numbers of unprepared Loyalists. Then, they begin to march on the city. A man in a black cloak commands them. They open fire on the gate guards, but with their last breaths the guards lock the city gates to keep them out. Now the defenders will have time to prepare.*

Loyalist Sargent: Men, ready your bows! Do not fire until ordered!

*Suddenly, the tops of ladders are seen over the city walls. The archers are trying to scale the walls and enter the city! The longbowmen become visible, standing on top of the walls.*

Loyalist Sargent: Loose arrows!

*Those Loyalists with bows open fire on the enemies atop the walls. They fall in droves, victims of superior English marksmanship. Those that survive return fire, inflicting heavy casualties on the Loyalist troops. Grandmaster is hit in the arm and Alexander in the shoulder.*

Shaitan: My friends, are you alright?

GM: Aye, I'm fine. Pay attention the enemy!

Alexander: I'm fine as well. Don't worry.

*Shaitan takes aim at an archer whose head is only just visible over the top of the wall. The arrow finds its mark, dropping the man 10 ft. to the base of the wall, and knocking other soldiers off the ladder he had climbed. Grandmaster takes a bow from a fallen Englishman next to him and also begins to shoot down the enemy archers. Then, suddenly, a large explosion is heard.*

Alexander: The hell.....?

*Another explosion is heard, and a house near the palace collapses. Their is another, and another, and more structures begin to fall, closer and closer to where the troops are located. Then one more explosion rings out, and a number of Regulars are thrown across the steps of the palace. The traitors are firing a Cannon at the defenders! The crowds of defenders begin to disperse, looking for cover under structures of stone or iron. With the Loyalists unable to fire at the next wave of archers, the enemies climb the walls and begin to amass on top of them, forming up into companies and firing salvoes at soldiers and civilians alike. Their is bedlam in the streets as more and more archers form up and more and more arrows rain down upon the city. The traitors are in full force now, waiting for orders to descend the walls and enter the city. The three Fanatikans, along with many noble English fighters, enter the palace yet again to protect themselves from the devastating arrows and cannon fire.*

As the three friends battle insurmountable odds in London and Padma has had to deal with an incursion in his own castle, and the good Pilgrim Disorganiser is missing, Brother Adam, Sister Eve and Brother Joseph make their way to the Marillion after visiting the Rebel Tavern...

Brother Adam: It was indeed good to see our friends in the Tavern, and pay back some for their part in saving us, but I cannot shake a feeling of unease I have.

Brother Joseph: I thought that I was the only one. I too have a sense of dread, as if the troubles of Fanatika and her neighbours are just begining.

Sister Eve: Come now, let us not have such words. We have had a goodly time in wonderful company in the Tavern. Let us not spoil the convivial mood.

Despite her words, Sister Eve has a sence of trouble ahead as well. It is said that the Spirits look after their people. And tonight is no different...

Brother Adam: Well, here we are at the Marillion. I suggest we go to the Mission and pray to the Spirits for calmer times, and to watch over our friends.

The other two agree.

They reach the door to the Mission, but find the door locked.

Brother Joseph: Strange, why is the door locked? I know of no time, when these doors were locked.

Sister Eve: Aye, we never had these doors so.

Joseph and Adam try pushing the doors, but to no avail. It is a great puzzle. They decide to try the side door.

Sister Eve: Well, this door at least is unlocked.

They open the door and quietly go through. They are shown a shocking sight. Many members of the Marillion household are gagged and bound to the seats of the Mission.

Adam: (quietly) By the Spirits!

Walking amongst them, are black clad figures, they have pots of lamp oil in their hands and are splashing it around the Mission.

Joseph: Snake terrorists! I killed too little of them.

Eve: They must have been sent to the Mission before our rescue arrived! They mean to burn the Mission and kill the entire household!

Joseph: (angrily) I wish I had kept that sword that Brother Grandmaster had given me! I would give them all justice!

Adam: If we attempt any rescue, they will just light the oil and kill everyone here.

Eve: Then what will we do ?