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fter years of playing, Qoren knows the pieces in tirachen as well as the scars that mar his face. But today it is one in particular that preys upon his mind: the traitor piece, cat who hunts alone. Piece against piece, symmetry soon broken by the deployments on both sides. Red and white pieces: red as blood, white as bone. And the traitor piece, black as betrayal. Long seasons have passed since Qoren last left this garrison on the Black Wall, as one of the few volunteers stationed here permanently. He would have left it upon a summons from Qenar's high magistrate; not for him to question the law's peculiar demands. Instead, the executioner came to him. [GM's note: high magistrate, executioner, same thing. "Executioner" arose several generations ago due to a high magistrate who carried out very many executions and earned a reputation for death-dealing. The term just stuck.] And this after an unexplained absence of five weeks. According to the rumors--soldiers stationed on the Wall being quite fond of gossip to pass the time--even the magistrate-heir, Darra Ejien, would say nothing on this. For Cat to linger here at a northern garrison, instead of reporting back to the Stronghold...is unusual. [Qenaren week is 5 days. So it's not *quite* as long as you'd think reflexively.] Cat sits across the table now, seeming unperturbed by the drafty quarters--through late spring the bitter winds have a habit of sneaking past the walls--though he wears only the black robes and breeches of his position. He meets Qoren's eye over the tirachen board, and the corner of his mouth curls up in something that doesn't quite remember how to be a smile. Still delaying his move, the executioner says, "In my years as a magistrate, I have never seen a wraith walk in human form, or heard of one such in the Ashen Lands. None of the legends say why this is so, though they speak of the Shatterer's bargain with the Ghostwolf." [According to old, mouldering, and not necessarily reliable histories, the first marshal--known only as Ghostwolf--bargained with a trickster god of broken chains, the Shatterer, that some of the wraiths might have a home in Qenar and guard its law.] "I came here to ask you, because you know something of the wraiths--" His voice is ironic. "Do you trust them? Do you hate them?" His mouth tightens, and Cat adds, "And what would you do if one of them had your face?" Qoren begins with the faintest touch of irony in his voice. "I suppose I do have ... a bit more experience with wraiths than most," as he gestures to the left side of his face. "Trust them? You, above all, should know that the wraiths are as individual as we are, and that trust can only be earned on a case by case basis. However, that I suppose is not the answer you're looking for." Qoren's gaze then moves to the scene of red and white and black before him. He gingerly takes two of the pieces, one black and one red from the board, one the general, and one the traitor piece. Holding them up before him, he says, "I trust the wraiths as I trust any man." Cat's answering smile is reflexively cynical. "And how, indeed, would you know what answer I seek? I will take what is given me...as do the wraiths." He glances down at the tirachen board, and for a moment his eyes hold the darkness of a snuffed candle. While carefully replacing the pieces, he continues, "As for your second question, no, I do not hate the wraiths, at least not any more. I've had many years to come to terms with that incident from my youth." Qoren gaze returns back up to Cat, with his one eye. "Aye, I remember that," he says dryly. "I've learned that a blind hatred does no one any good. Besides, it was not the wraiths who killed my friends and left me a cyclops, but an individual. Oh I suppose, if I were ever to meet that one individual I might take an eye for an eye, but I see no reason to ruin my life over revenge and anger. I was spared by some miracle, and I'm not about to waste a second chance on life for something as foolish as vengeance."
[Substitute appropriate weird mythical creature for "cyclops" here.
"You are wiser than many Qenaren, then." Cat is silent for a moment. "You are one of few. And while in our years we have had little cause for vengeance, there are those who believe it is better to strike now and find security in the westlands rather than wait for them to flood our defenses. "And your third answer?"
Qoren smiles slightly at some inner joke as he answers Cat's last question. "If a wraith were wearing my face, I suppose I'd be flattered. I wouldn't think anyone would want to look like a one-eyed monster. As for what I'd do, it would depend on what the wraith was doing. If the wraith was doing good deeds, I'd do nothing. If it were slaying innocents, then I'd be the first on the scene to make sure its ugly head were severed from its body.
"Of course, all these answers are from a simple soldier on the wall. I'm sure you already have your opinions, most likely more well informed than I."
Speculatively, Cat taps an undeployed commander. "You sound much like my brother--and you know what *he* became."
[GM's note: Said brother being Vanen Miris, one of the youngest commandants in Qenaren history. Currently Vanen is commandant-errant and regent of Moruhan.]
Qoren smiles a very crooked smile at Cat and says, "I don't suppose you would inform me more so that my opinions might be more useful, otherwise," as he gestures back to the board, "it's still your move."
Forward: Qoren's Prologue 2
Chess knight image courtesy of Mystiqal's Animated Icon Library.
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