by Sam Ferguson
Rhonda shrugged. “Well, we’re headed southeast, so those larger things out west can bite me, and I’m not worried about an owl.”
Shuggra huffed. “Go out west and the big monsters will happily bite you. As for the malfis owl, you are only proving my point that you outlanders shouldn’t be here.”
The group ignored Shuggra and mounted their very large steeds. Then they galloped out to the southeast along the road to Panterra as fast as the beasts could carry them.
The group passed by a few Greencap guards along the way, each also riding their own rhiquin. The guards would hail and greet them, and then move aside to let them pass.
To Brian’s delight, the rhiquins moved twice as fast as the horses had, and they not only scared off raptors, but a whole herd of steggos turned and ran away from them as the rhiquin’s vibrated their fur-tufted antennae. About halfway to Panterra, a jathler even saw them, roared, and turned away quickly.
“I could get used to this,” Brian said.
“Much better way to travel,” Mike agreed.
They galloped straight through the night, traveling about a hundred and fifty in-game miles without incident other than a small pocket of bandits that tried to hit them with arrows only to get blasted by Mike and Atheron firing back with spells.
As morning dawned on Prirodha, they saw the tall walls of Panterra in the distance. They galloped toward the wall, happy to have finally reached a new location. As they neared the city, Brian could just see a pair of guards near the gate. They appeared to be satyrs, standing on goat-like hind feet and holding large bardiches. Along the top of the wall was a row of satyrs armed with bows.
A loud, low horn bellowed out over the forest.
The rhiquin skidded to a stop about fifty yards away from the tree line before the clearing that surrounded the front of Panterra.
“Why did they stop?” Brian asked.
“Rhiquin have a noise that they hate also, it comes from the horn of a—”
Shuggra’s words were cut short as dust exploded all around the group. Massive ropes, each as thick as small aspens, sprang up in a grid beneath them to form a gargantuan net. The group and the rhiquin were launched into the air, helpless and unable to retreat.
Brian realized that the gaps in the net were large enough to fit through, so he prepared to jump down, but just then a second net with holes only the size of a fist sprang up to wrap the first net, fully trapping everyone.
They bounced and swayed as the nearby trees strained to support the combined weight of eleven rhiquin and the people riding them two feet off the ground.
From around a large oak came a finely dressed satyr with white fur. His silk robes covered his plate mail armor, and he was flanked by six bodyguards. A crown of gold sat upon his brow, and each finger sported a gold ring with a different gemstone.
“I am Pripanthan. Welcome to Panterra,” the satyr said. “Rored told me to expect you and promised a very high price if I was to catch you for him.” The satyr smiled and extended his arms out to the sides. “You have all made me a very rich satyr.”
17
Pan’s Gambit
“I assume those black masks hide orcish faces that hail from Pythos, the fallen capitol of the satyr kingdom.”
Atheron turned to Shuggra in disgust. “You’re an orc?”
Chris elbowed the dwarf. “Keep your tongue,” he said. “We aren’t full orcs.”
“Ugh,” Atheron said. “Even worse. Half-breeds.”
“Yes, yes, please, by all means, ignore the satyr that has you captive and stop to squabble over racial differences.” Pripanthan folded his furry arms. “I’ll wait.”
“If it is Rored who hired you,” Brian began, waving to the others to be quiet, “you should know that he kills anyone that doesn’t comply with his view of order in the world. I have seen him tear the assassin guild down to almost nothing just to please his sense of orderliness. He won’t spare you just because you have helped him once. I highly doubt his idea of ‘order’ has any room in it for satyrs at all, let alone any of the natural races.”
Pripanthan snorted and glanced to his bodyguards. “Do we fear this... Rored?”
They laughed and shook their heads.
“And did your kind fear the orcs before they fell upon Pythos?” Shuggra hissed.
Pripanthan’s eyes narrowed on her and he stepped closer. “Normally everything I do is for gain, but you... you I would kill for free. The sound of your orcish cries would be payment more than gold itself.”
Shuggra squirmed and started to say something, but Brian reached over and put a steadying hand on her. She turned to him, narrowed her angry eyes from behind her mask, but then relented and kept silent.
“Ah, I see you have learned to train the green-skins,” Pripanthan said with a nod of approval.
“I’m sure we can work out a deal,” Brian said.
The satyr laughed. “Rored has opened the Morr’Tai coffers to me. You do understand how lucrative that can be, don’t you?”
“Let me have a go,” Rhonda whispered to Brian.
Brian realized she was right; she was the one with the experience in speechcraft and the charisma bonus. Plus, she had the most money of the group anyway. If anyone was going to appeal to the satyr’s good side—assuming he had one—it would be her. Brian nodded.
“I have a proposal for you, fine satyr, and I ask you to listen with open ears, though I know it must be hard to imagine betraying your master’s wishes, owned as you are by the infamous and ruthless Master Rored,” Rhonda said, with a touch of dramatic flair thrown into that silky voice she had used on the wandering trader.
The satyr tilted his horned head to the side and scratched his goatee. “Own me? Oh, ho-ho no!” the satyr laughed. “No one owns Pripanthan. It’s not possible. I am free and will ever be so. I am, in fact, heir to the entire satyr kingdom.” He stopped and looked at Chris and Shuggra. “I would wager those two know something of my name.”
“I have heard of you,” Rhonda spoke in a soothing tone, elbowing Shuggra in the side to keep her quiet. “I had not looked to find someone of such means, position, and reputation in the employ of a mere guild-head. A usurper of a guild position. I would have expected to see someone of more… lowly stock working under a master of slaves and fools.” Rhonda shook her head and clucked her tongue sadly.
Brian wasn’t sure how this was going. Pripanthan looked furious, sputtering angrily as he searched for the right words to say. “Nonsense,” he finally fumbled out. The satyr’s guards were also visibly riled up by Rhonda’s words. Some of them drew swords, and all of them were shifting their weight in anticipation of some action.
“Rhonda, seal the deal already,” Brian muttered out the side of his mouth. “Before this gets out of hand.”
Rhonda began again. “Great satyr prince, the one who should now be king, would it not be more fitting to cultivate new sources of wealth and support, rather than hiring out as a mercenary for day wages from those who think themselves your better? Our party, for example, has a reputation for regularly producing both a tidy profit for investors, and an increase of honor and reputation for those who associate with us. Proper acquaintances for a king, don’t you think?”
The satyr looked like he was considering her words but was, as yet, unconvinced. Rhonda had already noticed the attitude.
“A sample payment is already available of both product and coin to encourage the alliance,” she suggested. “If you will control your guards, I will demonstrate.” She almost didn’t wait for him to nod his agreement before producing a number of items at once from her satchel. Brian hadn’t even noticed her maneuvering her arm and hand to allow her to retrieve the items, but in a moment several things happened at once.
A potion was applied to the nets that held them aloft, burning through the ropes and causing them to wither and snap apart within seconds. Rhonda tossed a potion to Mike, who downed it in one great gulp—most likely a magic-boosting spell to bump his
capacity past 100% for a limited amount of time—and then blasted Pripanthan’s guards with a freeze spell before erecting a force field around their group. While Brian and the other companions inside the protective magical shell were still picking themselves up off the ground, Rhonda was already approaching the satyr prince with a sack of gold dangling from her hand, taking slow, seductive steps toward him.
“My friend, Pripanthan. May I call you Pan? Such a lovely name. My fellows and I mean you and your people no harm,” she said in that smooth, calming voice as she casually swung the sack back and forth. “We seek only to become friends. How much is Rored paying you, my new friend Pan?”
The satyr recovered from his shock quickly and snorted disdainfully, apparently unimpressed by the sudden change in leverage. “You couldn’t possibly have enough to cover it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Pity a captured woman,” she said ironically. “Allow me the chance to barter for my freedom.” She smiled and bent over a bit to look the satyr in the face now that she was arm’s length away.
The satyr’s eyes widened a bit. A smile pulled at the left corner of his mouth. “All right, my sweet.” The satyr stroked his goatee once more, eyeing Rhonda’s avatar carefully. “Rored has offered me ten thousand gold pieces for the lot of you.”
Rhonda smiled. “Oh... well see, I have ten thousand gold on me right now. You know what they say, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” her sweet tone appeared to be like a siren’s song to the satyr. His grin widened and his ears flicked. “Ten thousand now, and a stake in the profits of our future endeavors. More than that, a new friendship.” Rhonda took the satyr’s hand, turning it palm up, and placed the gold into his palm, letting her fingertips brush his skin and linger for a minute longer as she smiled playfully.
Brian rolled his eyes. He knew it was just to get them out of a jam, but he couldn’t help feel a little jealous at her flirtatious manner. The best he’d ever gotten from her was a smile or two here and there. Still, the ploy seemed to be working well. He couldn’t deny that having an ally on top of their freedom would be useful, given the way things were shaping up, so he kept his mouth shut.
“And how do I know you are worth the investment your freedom would represent? Rored may also have been a valuable ally.” The satyr’s guards were unfreezing now and looked none too happy about the situation. Pan beckoned for them to stand down as he awaited Rhonda’s response.
Rhonda nodded and threw in a little playful giggle. “May I offer you my own talents? You see, I am a uniquely talented alchemist. I can make all sorts of elixirs and potions. Is there something you desire?”
“Wine?” Pan asked, suddenly eager. “Can you make wine?”
Rhonda’s response was immediate and enthusiastic as she swept her eyes across the entire crowd of satyrs, each of whom had perked up noticeably at their commander’s question. “Yes, I could make wine.”
“Can you make Soobee wine?” he asked.
“With the necessary ingredient list, I can make positively anything that has been imagined on Prirodha.” Even Brian’s eyebrows shot up at this statement. Exactly how high was her alchemy level? It usually took him months’ of game play to max out a skill.
The satyr’s ears flicked again, and he bleated. “Oh yes, I have the list,” he laughed and pumped the bag of gold in the air as he turned around to receive a delighted cheer from his guards. “Come, you pay me ten thousand now, make Soobee wine, and we will discuss future returns on my investment.” He put out his hand to seal the deal.
“And you let all of us go with no tricks?” Rhonda asked, looking at the outstretched hand as hers inched closer to his.
“No tricks,” Pan promised.
“Deal,” Rhonda said, taking the offered hand as Mike extinguished the force field.
A moment later, Pan snapped his fingers with his free hand.
An army of at least fifty satyrs sprang from bushes and behind trees with spears and bows.
Rhonda frowned and turned to Pan, trying unsuccessfully to retract her hand from his grip. “You said no tricks.”
Pan held up a finger and smiled. “This is not a trick, this is insurance. You play nice, and they will play nice.” He then pulled her close, and before she could react, the satyr planted his big, bearded mouth atop Rhonda’s lips and kissed her long and hard. Finally releasing her, he backed away, taking the bag of gold and smiling ear to ear as he bleated once more and his ears flicked. “That, my sweet, is a trick.” He turned and began sauntering toward the first line of his personal guard when he began sifting through the gold in the sack, counting to himself quietly.
Brian wasn’t sure if Rhonda was going to punch him in the back of the head or go for one of her exploding potions. His own first instinct was to run and tackle the satyr himself, but he remembered the small army of satyrs ready to defend their master. He wasn’t so sure Rhonda would be as logical as he saw her hand twitch toward her satchel. Brian stepped toward her and took her hand, nearly earning himself a reactionary slap in the face, but she calmed down as he silently shook his head, trying to communicate understanding with only his expression.
“My sweet, the gold is good,” Pan finally turned back toward them after having satisfied himself that the sack contained sufficient gold. “I accept your first payment, and so I shall show you all the same courtesy.” Pan clapped his hands. The satyr warriors put their weapons away and snapped to attention. “The eleven of you are now my guests. You are free to go about Panterra as you please, but do keep in mind that while pleasure seeking is allowed, wanton destruction is not. No fire spells, no summoning monsters, and no murdering my citizens. These crimes will be met with harsh and irrevocable violence.”
“We have no interest in harming your people,” Brian said. “Perhaps some trade, and then we will be on our way.”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Pan said as he furrowed his bushy brow. “I assume you mean to continue on to Nigel, then cross Biel Pass on your way to Bielshire, is that correct?”
Brian nodded. “How did you know that?”
Pan shrugged. “It is what Rored thought you would do. Where or how he came up with that idea I don’t know, but I do know he will be setting an ambush for you in Biel Pass.” Pan smiled and gestured to his soldiers. “You see, I have my insurance in case you tried your tricks, and Rored has his own insurance in case I failed to catch you.”
Brian folded his arms. “And why should we trust you?”
Pan laughed. “Trust me? You probably shouldn’t. I am a fickle soul, but I have officially counted you as one of my investments. Now, fail me on my returns, and I will completely sell you to the right bidder. Don’t misunderstand me. I follow the gold, for the gold buys all the pleasures in this world. That is all there is to it.
“You see, the previous king had it wrong. He spent his days in court trying to govern and protect the whole satyr kingdom, but in the end he had nothing but a sword in his back for his troubles. I say eat, drink, spend all the gold you can on whatever you like, and to Hammenfein with the rest of it. One day will eventually be my last, and I would rather have a lifetime of pleasurable pursuits fulfilled than a list of broken dreams and empty promises yet to be realized. Don’t you agree?”
Brian frowned. “So don’t trust you about Rored?”
Pan laughed again. “No, no, DO trust me about that.”
“But you just said...”
“I said I would sell you out. I didn’t say I had,” Pan clarified. “Big difference.” Pan studied Brian for a moment and then the satyr’s smile vanished. “Listen, right now, you are the highest bidder. You are offering me more than Rored. Therefore, I am going to protect my source of income. Saving you from an ambush is the surest way I have to keep gold flowing into my hands.”
Brian nodded. “Got it,” he said.
Pan turned to Rhonda. “Now, about that wine...” he snapped his fingers, and one of his bodyguards produced a small parchment and handed it to her.
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Rhonda smiled and nodded. “I can make this.” Her avatar knelt on the ground and pulled out an alchemy set. She worked the mortar and pestle and then poured the mix into a large pot over a fire. He had noticed, watching her craft over the days they had spent together, that roughly the same animation was used for every potion, though some required use of an alembic or other pieces of fanciful equipment he didn’t know the names for, while other potions just required a cast iron pot. About four seconds later, the animation ended and she handed a bottle to Pan.
He eagerly drank from the bottle. His ears flicked and turned pink. He bleated loudly and grinned. “Mmmm. This is good wine. Come, you must make enough for all my faithful servants,” a cheer erupted all around, “and I must give some of this to my wife.”
“Wife?” Rhonda asked.
Pan nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, my wife. She can never get enough Soobee wine.” He held up a finger and winked at Rhonda. “Don’t worry, my sweet. There will be time for us later.” Brian thought he might need to intervene again, but Rhonda swept away the look of disgust quickly and kept her cool. “Go gather whatever ingredients you need to fulfill my order, then come and find me at the palace with the rest of the wine!” He swept his arm with a flourish and his guards produced an elaborately decorated litter from… Brian didn’t even know where it could have been hidden. Pan seated himself comfortably, and his entourage proceeded down the road ahead of them.
Brian caught up to Rhonda about the same time as Mike. Mike leaned in and whispered, “You little home-wrecker you.”
Rhonda backhanded Mike. “Shut up, or next time I log off for a meal I’m going to take the rest of your chocolate milk mix.”
Mike gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Brian snickered and the group walked toward the gates of Panterra.
[LOCATION DISCOVERED: PANTERRA]