"A high-risk mission, General? What danger will we face? And to what end?"

By Kol Korran, I silently pray. Let it be gold. Lots and lots of gold.

"A high-risk mission, General? What danger will we face? And to what end?"

By Kol Korran, I silently pray. Let it be gold. Lots and lots of gold.

"Personnel and materiel recovery, Captain," he replies.  "I'm sure you appreciate that I cannot share further details until you are committed."

Material recovery? That sounds hopeful.

"Yes. You have my commitment, sir."

Heh. Someone important in the wrong hands, then. And some thing.

"Sir." I take a step towards the general. "I am at your service."

As if I'd refuse.

As I wait for the others to all play along with the general's game and pretend they want to go, I scan the room slowly and carefully, looking in particular for any clues as to what this might really be about.

[Perception: 20+10=30]

As I wait for the others to all play along with the general's game and pretend they want to go, I scan the room slowly and carefully, looking in particular for any clues as to what this might really be about.

[Perception: 20+10=30]

The room is very impersonal, which perhaps tells you something about the general in itself.  The furniture made of solid, heavy dark wood, which appears to come standard in these halls, although the general's is slightly more ornate and polished, as befits his rank and class.  There's a single large painting on the wall, an odd choice - it appears to be a stylized rendition of some sort of cataclysm, painted in the Karrnathi style, but definitely not generic military wall art standard.  The books on the shelves are...well, you can't read the titles, can you?  Some of them have gold leaf, so there's that. 

Lurking in the darkest corner of the room, far from the fire, you think for a moment that you catch a glimpse of...motion?  But no, there's nothing there, you decide.

General ir'Dulinch nods to both of them, then looks to Valenae and Astra.  "And you, Corporal?  Soldier?"

"M'lord?" I respond absently, automatically, as I squint at the corner.  I snap my eyes back to him when I realise I really should be paying better attention to the general in the room and dig my nails into my palms.  "At your command, sir," I reply flatly.  And if you want me to pretend I'm happy about it, that's too fucking bad.

The book rises into the air once more, this time opening itself to a page near the middle, facing down. It starts flapping around the room like a bird, keeping just out of the General's reach.

I look uncertainly at General ir'Dulinch, but don't dare ask any more questions.  I do start carefully shuffling backwards again to be near the door, though.

The book... someone's trying to tell us something. I stare fiercely around the room. What is it saying, this flying book? Who else is here?

[perception 5+19 = 24]

The book... someone's trying to tell us something. I stare fiercely around the room. What is it saying, this flying book? Who else is here?
[perception 5+19 = 24]

You don't spot anyone.  Weird.  The books appears to be just opened to some random page in the middle.

I'm becoming a little annoyed with this invisible trifler. The unit is already nervous and the little soldier looks about to bolt.

"Pardon me, General." I say, then I address the air with as much diplomacy as I can muster. "If you please, player with air and matter, introduce your good self, so we can be well met and in harmony."

[diplomacy 12 + 14 = 26]

"Gods, don't get it started," the general mutters, in a voice so low you weren't really intended to hear it.

The book pauses in mid-air for a moment, as if considering a reply. Upon the General's remark, it descends and gently settles on his head like a hat. No other response is forthcoming.

[Although the more perceptive might hear faint laughter coming from the corner of the room, just for a moment.]

My head whips over to the corner the laughter came from and I peer into it instead, hand unconsciously straying towards one of the handaxes strapped to my side.

[Perception: 11+10=21]

ir'Dulinch removes it without comment, very, very calmly.  Then his eyes narrow in thought, and he actually...not smiles, but something akin tugs at the corners of his eyes and mouth.  He goes to his desk, opens a drawer, and draws out what looks to be a perfectly ordinary steel gate or door key.  He hands it to Leatherleaf.

"Take this with you on your expedition.  It may prove useful."  The he grits, sotto voce, "Or you can drop it down the first bottomless pit you find."

My head whips over to the corner the laughter came from and I peer into it instead, hand unconsciously straying towards one of the handaxes strapped to my side.

[Perception: 11+10=21]

Nothing there, as far as you can tell.

I raise an eyebrow, but thank him and take the key, securing it quickly in the flat leather wallet riveted to my armour at my hip. Evidently the key has something to do with the invisible one, whether a means of communication or a summoner. Perhaps one of the others will be more informed on the matter.

The key looks mundane and has no markings, but you notice that it feels cold even after it's been in contact with your body for long enough to warm it.

Finally. I was beginning to think I'd have to steal every teaspoon in the Fort and hide them under his mattress. Again.

"Wait, what?", I call out from the darkness. "Why would you do that? I thought we were friends!"

Finally. I was beginning to think I'd have to steal every teaspoon in the Fort and hide them under his mattress. Again.

"Wait, what?", I call out from the darkness. "Why would you do that? I thought we were friends!"

"Field testing to see if you have any practical utility," he replies, then growls, turning to face the shadows, "And if you do not, I am melting your key down, forming it into a bullet, and shooting it into the arsecheek of my worst enemy."

Well. This is interesting. I gently tap my fingers on my wallet.

Interesting indeed. I'm sure I've heard that phrase before...volunteer...mission of importance...oh yes, years on the front. Means we're going to die.

Oh look, a flying book called...I hate being right.

And a ghost. Good company then.

"Of course I volunteer, General. I love these missions."

I'm still ruminating the loss of explosive tipped bolts when the General's conversation with the disembodied voice brings me back into current focus.

Mindfulness.  Stay present.  The past is intractable.  The future unknowable.  There is only now.

A poltergeist.  A possessed cursed key.  In the possession of a General.  So ... someone once important and valuable to be valuable enough still.  Or ... doesn't matter.

Given the General's attitude, we've all been 'recommended' and he's currying favor or paying off old debts to dispose of some inconveniences.  Competent enough to get the job done, expendable enough to be forgotten.  He's just throwing one more apple core into the bin.

Heh.

Welcome to Special Forces, comrades.