Peering In From The Outside

Not intentional at all, simply a matter of having had quite a bit to do recently. The Spectator ran into the Fallen Queen at a supermarket. The Queen showed no hint of recognition, the Spectator felt it best not to see how thorough the Black Bishop's shoddy work is. There was no trace of the Black King, which leads the Spectator to believe that at least for now dear Shayde hasn't been brought back onto the board. The Spectator has a new guest. Cathy, the mother of the young Pawn causing so much uproar of late. We've cuddled a fair bit while studying up on the Black King. I've begun researching various plays written by those haunted by the Black King to see if I can be of any help to the Knight of a Dead Tongue. And just to indulge myself some, she is extremely comfortable to hug for long periods of time.

A crimson light in the dark approaches the Fallen Queen. An offer accepted, the Fallen Queen follows the Black Bishop off the board. The Grey Rook has gone silent, the Librarian's grief fuels her resolve. The Spectator has seen the Black King, in town on other business. Sometimes, she would catch a hint of mist pouring from one side of his face. The clock ticks, mist rolls in. Square by square, the board becomes harder to see.

In light of recent events (fret not, the bargain is still in effect, so far. The Spectator has simply had quite a bit on her plate to deal with, not least among them a 1920s hard-boiled detective novel), the Spectator thought it best to record the events leading up to, and the details of, her bargain with the Black King. The Spectator and (as followers of the Grey Rook's chronicle have noticed) the Grey Rook himself had met after a... long period where the Spectator was the last piece on the board, a White King battered from all sides. Before checkmate, the Grey Rook approached her with a bargain--cease all direct opposition (that is, actively fighting the Black King) and she would be allowed to live. Obviously, the Spectator has been pushing this wording as far as she can--an oversight several of the Knights have found useful, I'd wager. However, events earlier this week had placed the bargain in jeopardy, at least until one of the Black Rooks approached the Spectator yester...

Forgive the Spectator's radio silence these past few days. After Jean left, there was an... incident, involving a Revenant who had misinterpreted the Spectator's deal with the Black King. You see, the word of the agreement was that the Black King would leave the Spectator be, so long as she did not directly oppose him. Nowhere did that agreement's wording include indirect opposal, or aiding the White Army. This Revenant, in that regard, was rather mistaken, and broke into the Spectator's home to inform her that the deal was off, so to speak. The Spectator's temper boiled over. A canister of mace held just far away enough to cover both eyes, emptied. Earplugs removed while he clutched his eyes. Foghorn held down at point blank until it went dry. The intruder broke the Spectator's nose and kissed her goodbye under the eye with a pen knife (the Spectator was in the hospital getting the cut treated and stitched together earlier today). The Spectator had been boi...

The land of the shifting sands is the earliest mention of the Black King's neverending game. The Lower Kingdom venerated the Black King as a god. The Scriptures of the Cross and Star have attributed the results of the war to a plague. Such is their right and it is not an entirely inaccurate description. The details of his reign in the Lower Kingdom are sketchy, at best, as the man that chronicled his finds was often in his cups. Suffice to say, the Black King was... sometimes... sated with a sacrifice. Other times, however... there were many plagues back then that have not since resurfaced. The Black King fed well during those times. Later, he returned to the land of the shifting sands. A man named Moses had advised those of true hearts to paint an X on their doors in sheep's blood. What the Scriptures of the Cross and Star do not reveal is that his brother Aaron then went around and added a circle to those markings. Those doors were safe. The Black King took the childr...

The Wayward Knight, supplies drained and resolve tempered, draws her Crusade to a close. A sword shines in the otherworldly night, re-opening the Black King's wound suffered at the White King's hand. The Wayward Knight's piece rolls off the table. Godspeed, dear Knight. It seems your friends have begun organizing under your name. I suppose it's true--people shall always band together under times of adversity, even if it's from shared grief.

The board's been silent lately. Well, perhaps not completely silent--the Cartographer yet continues his work, the Songbird's faith in herself is wavering, and the Fallen Queen has issued a warning to the Lost Knight and his Damsel. That last has the Spectator concerned, in all honesty. The Spectator will dispose of too much jargon and crypticisms this post. The game's rules are odd, but the Spectator isn't bound by them during the intermission. Call it filler, if you'd like, but the Spectator would like to indulge herself and talk of something to take her mind off the game. Constant vigil has the unfortunate side effect of leaving one deeply depressed. The Spectator has spoken with the Lost Knight, our conversation can be found on his blog. It may be of help, it may not--much was said and little revealed, unfortunately. Perhaps she'll get in touch with the Knight of a dead tongue, and enjoy a coffee with the one who held the Wayward Knight's heart--and y...