#earthrunes

"Nay? Twould be better for us to be the spirits of the dead, with frightful miens, than to impose upon the spirits which deserve respite."

"Oh agreed." Siv says "I could change you to look like former victims. Still solid though."

"Symon?" A concerned whisper.

"What?" a little short, and then he softens his whisper - the difference in tone may not even be audible to a non-sluagh.
"...yeah?"

Siv looks at him "Well, what do you think so far? Oh and what did you need the ship for? "

"I wanted your help for getting him out of the jail... and away from any baronial jurisdiction." He whispers.

"Ah, that you got" She says "If it helps you, Zara, and my mother then obviously I'm in. Dangerous, but fun" Her eyes sparkle "Yes, dashing break out and punishment"

"The breakout, yes. But the punishment..." He frowns.

"Is Symon's purview."

"Aye, up to you, Symon. my mother trusts you with this, so do I" A nod to him

"Just offering up what I can do, you still decide what we WILL do"

"He claims to have no fear of death, in fact, he wanted it. I think I'd like to challenge that notion." A cold smile.

"Take him to the edge and dangle him so to sepak?" Siv asks

"Over, and over, and over again. He can beg for mercy. When he is broken, then the real work will begin."

He nods to Zara, "In which I seek your aid, and guidance."

Zara nods.

"I believe soothsay will work well here, and Da'an may be convinced to aid us."

Siv takes a slow sip. She's beyond fear, but can be creeped out, She hides it well

A pause. "If he wets himself, we might get bonus points."

That makes siv chuckle

A huff, he laughs. "I have heard good things about waterboarding." By good, he means bad. Terrible, awful, things. But still, paling in comparison to the man's crimes.

"So... the plan, then. Symon, please correct me if I misspeak? Firstly, we take the man from his holding place, to Siv's ship. There, we shall go to neutral waters to work. Enchanting him at some point, I presume."

He nods. "Though... no plan survives contact with the DM - I mean, with the enemy."

"Bastards, those DMs"

"Ahem." A small grin, as he taps his chest. "I guess, guilty."

"Still say that fort save penalilty was overdone. My rogue had a potion of slow poison"

He spreads his fingers and shrugs. "Da'an, and Dice... two immutable forces."

Any earlier reticence has faded.

"I very much like the shape of Symon's sentence - I agree, tis better than the shooter forgetting his name, but for him to be aware, and yet have the world discard it from their lips ever and ever again."

"He wanted to be known, and die in fame. He will be no one, and live forgotten.".

"Just."

"What's to keep him from killing again as a phantom no one notices?" Siv inquires

"Oh, he shall be noticed - tis his name that is gone."

"And he shall be imprisoned."

He nods. "I will not forget him. We will not."

"He will live, and eventually die. Unknown, unloved, forgotten."

"Oh that's almost poetic in auld celtic style. Unsung"

“The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.”

He flushes a little, mottled, and mutters, "English Class. It wasn't all boring, I guess."

"...the poem was about the virtues of patriotism, I think. But I liked the sound of the last bit. I memorized it."

"Vali will be so pleased you listen at school" Siv teases

He narrows his eyes a bit, then shrugs, deciding perhaps Vali's pleasure is not the worst thing. "I made it the subject of my English final. I was fond of the bit about how titles and money mean nothing.

"If there such breathe, go mark him well. For HIM, no minstrel raptures swell. High though his titles, proud his name? Boundless his wealth as wish can claim. Despite those titles, power and pelf, the wretch - concentred all in self.... and then the end, I already said."

"I suppose he is, in a way, a traitor. If not of country, of morality."

Zara nods.

"of life" siv says "But aye"

He nods, agreement.

"I shall work it into a bunk, I think." He considers, and sighs. "I got an A on my analysis of that poem, Anne Marie STILL has it on the fridge. Dross it shall be." He actually seems rather glad to think of it going.

"Do we have a time table?" Siv inquires

"Let us examine..."

(Fade to logistics!)