Shadowrun - Harlequin (3rd edition compatible).pdf - Shadowrun (ENG) - Pomidoros

CONCEPT, OVERALL STORY,

and GENERAL BLAME

Tom Dowd

Sam Lewis

DEVELOPMENT

Tom Dowd

EDITORIAL STAFF Senior

Editor

Donna Ippolito

Assistant Editor

Sharon Turner Mulvihill

WRITING

Physical

Ken St. Andre

Hates

John Faughnan

Past

W.G. Armintrout

Loves

Jerry Epperson

Counterstroke

Paul R. Hume

Spiritual

Lester W. Smith

Future

James D. Long

Present and

Additional Material

Tom Dowd

PRODUCTION STAFF

Art Director

Dana Knutson

Cover Art

Todd Hamilton

Cover Design

Mike Nielsen

Illustration

Joel Biske

Jeff Laubenstein

Jim Nelson Tim

Bradstreet Terry

Pavlet

Larry MacDougall

Earl Geier

Layout

Tara Gallagher

SHADOWRUN and MATRIX and HARLEQUIN are trademarks of

Rights Reserved. Printed In the United States of America.

Published by FASA Corporation

P.O. Box 6930 Chicago, IL

60680

Emile:

I write to you this evening, driven by the need to tell

you of the amazing event I witnessed today. As you know,

my employment for the last season has been in the

household of one Monsieur E, a nobleman of much

culture, learning, and influence with this fair citys most

illustrious citizens.

These past months have been the most joyous of my

life. Never have I had the opportunity to remain so close to

a mind as brilliant as Monsieur E.s and never have I

dwelled in a house where I am treated with such respect.

As I told you, I believed for a time that all was glorious with

the world.

A few weeks ago, just before the festival and just after

my last letter, there began a sequence of events leading to

the amazing occurrence that I just mentioned.

The first sign of the chaos to come was the

disappearance of an illuminated manuscript that my

master had lent to an acquaintance of his, a Monsieur R.,

of the university. From what I have been able to learn, the

manuscript disappeared from Monsieur R.s library under

the oddest circumstances. Even more mysterious than the

theft is the dagger of the strangest design and construction

that Monsieur R. found in the exact place where the

manuscript had been. He gave it to my master, thinking

that Monsieur E. might recognize some connection

between the dagger and the theft. Though I know not

whether he has, I have witnessed him standing in the

garden latent night, examining the dagger.

What followed was a bizarre series of thefts,

disappearances, reappearances, misunderstandings, and

allegations that culminated in a minor scandal in the

palace that has damaged my masters reputation. In

addition, these events contributed directly to the

dissolution of a relationship between my master and a

Mile. M., the young lady with whom he was deeply

enamored.

As it happened last evening, only I, a few scullery

maids, and my master were present in the house, the rest

having been sent on various trips and errands. After an

uncommonly light day, 1 was up later than usual, reading

a manuscript from the library. Monsieur E. must have

noticed my light and come knocking at my door. When I

opened it, I found him standing there in the hall, his face

showing an expression I had never seen before. He

appeared as I imagine might a veteran who has readied

himself for the most important battle of his life.

Before I could say anything, Monsieur E. grabbed me

roughly by the shoulders. "André," he said, "at dawn I

finish this and I need you by my side. The time for

reckoning with that fool is here." As you can imagine, I was

aghast. By his words and tone, I could only infer that he

intended a duel and was instructing me to be his second.

Though 1 am far from being an old man, the spring of

youth is long since gone from my body. To expect me to

fulfill the role required was sheer folly. In my surprise. I told

him so directly. My master reacted only by smiling wider

and reaching out to twitch my left ear in a

manner that seemed completely natural but completely

out of character for him. "You need not worry," he said. "I

require only your presence."

He grasped me again by the shoulders as though we

were the oldest of friends, then released me and made off

down the corridor toward his rooms. Stunned, I stood

there watching him until he disappeared behind his doors,

knowing he was happier than 1 had seen him in weeks.

I will spare you and my pride a description of the fear

that tore at me during those few hours before sunrise. By

the time the first glimmer of morning appeared, however, I

had sufficiently steeled myself for what was to come.

Monsieur E. wished me present and I would not disappoint

him.

I found him in his study, carefully tending his sword in

that odd manner of his. (You will perhaps remember a

previous letter in which 1 described the mysterious silver

stone he used to maintain the razor-sharpness of his

arms. I must say this blade is one of the most lethal

weapons I have ever seen.) As I entered, he finished his

work, sheathed the weapon, and tossed it to me. He was

wearing a simple white tunic. black breeches, and boots.

Over that, he wore a full cloak cut from cloth the

seamstress told me hed brought back from Persia. His

eyes were alight with a fire that, truth be told, frightened

me. "André," he said, "let us be on our way."

I followed him out, but instead of heading for the

carriage as 1 had expected, we made our way on foot. We

traveled south for a short distance, but I could not imagine

where we were heading. As it turned out, our destination

was the river, or rather, one of the new stone bridges

crossing it.

Halfway across, Monsieur E. stopped and declared

that we had arrived. With those words, the fear I had

fought aside returned with a cold vengeance. Not only did

my master intend to duel that morning, but in a place as

public as the town square! Now, admittedly, anyones

chance of discovering us would only become likely when

the city awoke at dawn, but even in the dark, some

travelers were about. Not to mention the likelihood of our

being interrupted by a patrol.

No matter. I swallowed hard and dug my fingernails

into my palms. My master needed me and I would be

there.

We had stopped only a few moments when I spied

two figures approaching the bridge from the opposite side.

Closest to us was a tall man, who moved with the long

strides and deliberation of someone with military training.

My fear arose again, but the sight of the second man

drove it from me.

As they approached the bridge, this other man

quickened his stride and all but pranced ahead to the edge

of the bridge. There he paused, bowed grandly, and

turned to his companion. I glanced at my master and saw

that a hard look had come into his eyes, but I could make

out the barest trace of mirth about his mouth. I turned to

look back across the bridge, and my master surprised me

by placing his hand upon my shoulder. "Whatever

Shadowrun - Harlequin (3rd edition compatible).pdf

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