SPQT -- Massive infusions of data

It turns out not to have been terrible that Carrie and Al didn't make it this weekend, though possibly with them around there would have been smaller data dumps. Please, everyone, read this carefully. We need a plan! Obviously, we can't meet the ogre king's deadline and we can't expect anyone else to bail us out, though Sofia is still hoping her Uncle will pop in. That would be a lame way to resolve stuff and it might not even work. Inspiration, that's what we need.

We have basically two major problems: 1. The ogre king says he'll attack us if we aren't off the island by January 1. Not only are we unwilling to leave, but taking ship in the stormy season is hazardous. 2. The insane scrying device is very convincing about the threat of an invasion of Tarantium by the Changese empire in the spring, but every time I try to communicate directly with Uncle, it attacks me psychically. I have sent one animal messenger, but don't know if it will get through, or if the message will be legible.

The messages referred to on Nov. 14 are being retconned, since I didn't have time to write them on the night, but if people want to see them I will post them when I write them.

November 10 - The wild elves sent a message to their people, tying an arrangement of knotted strings and feathers to the spoonbill's feet that presumably will communicate the relevant information. I spent a good bit of time with the Harbormaster today. The ogres and hobgoblins look serene. The group we diddled has resumed its trek to the Tomb, no doubt looking forward to their arrival less eagerly than they did when they set out. The Harbormaster wants tus to leave, and is quite childish about it.

Following my thought last night about the "men in black," I attempted to scry the men who invaded Uncle's villa last spring - and to my surprise, I found them! They and dozens like them, all dark-skinned with slanting eyes, were practicing a peculiar fighting style in a large building which appeared to be made primarily of paper or parchment. Placards with squiggles on them adorned the walls. When I moved out of the building, I found it had a strange curved roof and was part of a compound, something like a military base. Men in the uniforms of my nightmare were drilling on the square. A large dias supported an enormous round plate of bronze or copper - a gong (but who could sound it without going deaf?), or the shield of some monstrous foe, defeated and it's arms taken as a trophy? At one end was a building like a temple, full of bald priests conducting rituals among demonic-seeming idols. The snake/dragon motif of the bowls left behind in the deserted house was prominant. In the place where one would expect the altar was a gilded throne in which a clothed and painted statue sat, before a picture of itself ascending to the sky. At the opposite end of the base was a building which I would guess to be the legate's home, but I found no rooms of obvious military import, only a household going about its business, and a study (?) with a set of armor, clearly ceremonial but probably also functional, on a stand.

I think I retreated before anyone noticed me. I had a great deal to do preparing for the banquet, which I am delighted to say went off well. Alissa came despite the short notice, and to my great joy speaks Elvish. I decided against troubling her to send a message to Uncle - supposing the Harbormaster has the means to attack her, too? And she has already done so much for us! I will try to talk sense to it. We were a little hard up for entertainment, which I'm afraid consisted of sailors' hornpipes, one of Alfredus's poems (which I doubt a tenth of the audience understood), and Robyn telling a story in Elvish, which if nothing else is a pleasant language to listen to. During the meal, one of the animals spies I had set returned to my hand, and when I spoke to it informed me that three ogres, two with swords and one with a big bow, were a day's walk away. Robyn, Alfredus, and some archers will meet them tomorrow. I trust they are merely messengers and no hostilities will result.

Decimus has begun making his wand of lightning, and I don't expect we'll see much of him for a time.

Nov. 11 - I thought Robyn was better acquainted with etiquette than that! He actually broke the seal on a letter addressed to me and read it through before giving it to me. The ogre king gives us until January 1 to depart and tells us that "If there is any one thing all the inhabitants of the island can agree on, it is that we want no part of your empire." The implication is that we will gain no allies here, as we are assumed to be the forerunners of Tarantine hordes. Fortunately, I have the recent memory of Domina Alissa's face at our table to assure me this is not quite the case. I would not wish to involve her, or the Utopians, or the wild elves (assuming that we have not mortally offended them by rescuing two of their number - Robyn informs me that their pride seems to be somewhat hurt) in a situation from which we can, in time, walk away but they cannot. If we can see this through on our own, I will be the happier for it. If only I could talk to Uncle!

I am setting animal spies every place I can think of. This will eat into my spells on a regular basis, but the forewarning is useful.

Robyn had a long, long talk with Ambassador Amanodel about the people I saw in the Harbormaster, and his report just came.

Nov. 12. I asked the Harbormaster to grant me a maplike vision of the world so that I could see the Empire and Chang (the land the Men in Black are from - the Ambassador recognized their description). He replied: "Why would I want to do that?" and returned to his theme - nearly constant, and a great wear on the nerves - that we should pack the ship and leave. I persuaded him to give me the data I needed, but not to let me talk to Uncle, which would have simplified everything. Chang is at the other end of the world from Tarantium. Sailing east from his country, Ambassador Amanodel took a year to reach this island. Chang is west of his land, separated from Tarantium by two mountain ranges, the country of the orc hordes, the country of the dwarfs, and the Gilded Leagues. It appears that, when the great fortress to the east blocked the entrance of the orc hordes to the lands of the Empire, almost a thousand years ago, the attentions of the orcs were directed into Chang.

As nearly as I can tell, correlating the information the Ambassador gave Robyn, what I saw, and the events of the spring, the Changese intend to invade Tarantium, using ordinary troops following elite forces of nin-ja assassins, who were formerly small mercenary bands but have for the past century or so been trained in large numbers in the service of the Chang emperors. How they are to get here and the strategy they expect to use puzzles me. The Ambassador says that their navy is negligible. The Changese use magic, but even a teleport circle seems an awkward way to transport large numbers of troops.

Nov. 13 - Robyn and I commenced surveying the island via the Harbormaster. It is tedious work, since he is forever trying to bully, coax, argue, or torment us into leaving, and I am forever hoping to convince him to let me speak to Uncle. I fear I am a great coward - I don't want to try sending again unless I'm sure I can resist the Harbormaster's attack, or that he will not attack me. Gaius was so troubled at the idea of his privacy being invaded, and the things I saw were so terrible! I must do it - soon - regardless.

Nov. 14 - Roseat spoonbills to the leader of the elves, Alyssa, and the Utopians. I cannot ask Alissa or F. Petronius for help, for I have nothing to offer them, but I have asked that they pray for us, and, if it is convenient, requested that they send word to Uncle about our possessing information as to the possible invasion of Tarantium. I hope I have made a good enough argument for the wild elves to loan us a little assistance. Meantime, prayer is must avail us. Nov. 16 - Another fire in the night. Primus saw a bolt of fire descend from the sky, but I could not detect a source of magic.

Nov. 23 - Had a scare today - scryed the green dragon! The Elf Fortress on the map turns out to be identical to the Tree of Life - an enormous tree-castle, deserted now, and the dragon slumbering on a heap of treasure beneath it. The sight outraged the Harbormaster. The ball, where apparently his consciousness resides, lifted itself from the pedastal, and hurtled toward the door, which Robyn sprinted to close. The Harbormaster demanded that we open the door. I took him between my hands and asked "Why would I want to do that?" He declared that he must go roust the dragon out of the sacred tree, which it defiled by its presence.

Not about to waste the rare opportunity of having something the Harbormaster wants, I attempted to bargain with him. I have suspected before, but am now quite sure, that he is mad. I persuaded him that there was some small chance he would be defeated by the dragon, and that it would be better to have help. He declared that he would round up every elf on the island. (The wild elves, informed of this, were not enthusiastic.) I refused to let him out without a deal - we get what we want, beginning with sending for Uncle and the Harbormaster consenting to talk to him. He said he would have to think about it. I extracted a promise that he would not attempt to deal with the dragon beforehand. He made a promise that would last till morning.

Decimus is wild with envy that he missed this, and he and Tamara have gone to sleep in the scrying room. I am pulled a number of different directions on this. I will pray for the power to summon a lesser planar ally in the morning, in case things go awry - surely Orus would send me a celestial being, in need, who can do what I cannot and free the Harbormaster of his self-chosen prison. This is a last resort. I would rather gain his cooperation. It takes ten minutes to summon a celestial of the type required, so I will have to decide whether to go in with the ally at my side, or wait till negotiations have failed. I will sleep on this matter. NB - cast "detect undead" on Harbormaster. I should have done that weeks ago, but I feel that my brain is being torn to shreds, pulled in all directions by a dozen different worries. Is it possible, in need, to turn him? I failed last time, but don't know why. Did he attack me because my turning could damage him, or merely because he interpreted my attempt as an attack, and did not wait to learn whether it could harm him?

Nov. 24, early morning. Oh, what a night! I wakened with a dagger in my side and a hobgoblin assassin looming over my bed! I rolled aside, missing his second stroke, cast hold person, threw my blanket over his head, and screamed bloody murder. Alfredus charged in from Greta's room, waving his flaming warhammer, which damaged both the hobgoblin and my blanket. As we were binding the miscreant, we heard Gaius scream down the hall. Alfredus ran. Greta and I finished binding, and I left Greta sitting on his chest, with her dagger pressed to his eyelid, trusting her judgement in any exigency that arose.

Gaius was herding the children out of their room and Alfredus was fighting a fire. A hobgoblin had stabbed Gaius, who fought back valiantly with his gladius. When Alfredus appeared and went into a rage at the sight of this monster attacking children, it hurled a vial toward the small children huddled in the corner. Alfredus deflected it, with his hammer, directly into the hobgoblin's face, with astonishing results, for it appears that the vial contained alchemist's fire. When we finished dousing that fire, we spotted another down the hall. I nearly choked on the fumes, but we got it out. Other fires had broken out all over the compound. Fortunately, there are spare blankets. We have ruined a large number of them fighting fires tonight.

In the end, the tally is as follows: One assassin, killed by the Ambassador. One, captured in my room. One, killed by Alfredus and Gaius. Two captured and one killed by Robyn. One killed by the Sunshine Boys. Four of our sentries dead. As a matter of form, we interrogated the prisoners. None spoke Tarantine or passable Achean, but one spoke Gaelish, so Alfredus and Robyn asked the questions. As anticipated, they had been sent by the Hobgoblin King to "wreak havoc." As far as we could tell, they had no specific information through the halflings or otherwise, but had selected their targets by picking the biggest building within the wall and aiming for the best-located rooms. We must do another room-shuffle, it appears, and make all the upper floors guard posts.

After determining that none of our elven guests had further questions, I authorized a formal execution, with Alfredus as executioner, he to choose the method. It is perhaps unkind of me to choose Alfredus for such duty; but he is so soft-hearted, I know he will choose a quick method, and so strong, I know there will be no need to strike twice. He broke their necks, and our people are satisfied. I do not want to taint the air with them, but the bodies must be burned. I have smelled enough crematory bonfires. Nevertheless, I will light four more tonight, when we have the funeral for the sentries.

I have bathed and prayed, and go soon to face the Harbormaster. I must talk to Uncle, come what may, for the Changese will be attacking in the spring, and that is bigger than all that goes on here. I have been reading in a work I brought, but have not perused in a long time, and been reminded of a spell I have never cast, which will increase my ability to send without succumbing to the Harbormaster's attack.

But I can barely be said to have a plan.