# Legacy: Battle for A Nation's Soul



## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 13, 2004)

Welcome to the story hour for my Forgotten Realms game.  The title is still tentative, but for now it's "Legacy."  I'll update this as often as I can, but the group's meetings are kinda sporadic.  For further information about the campaign, my notes are posted here.  That's it for now, on to the first part of our tale...

** edited to add: C'mon!  Gimme comments!  I need comments!  I've finished writing up everything that happened in our first session -- I need to know how it's written, if it's interesting, and if I should even bother to do this the next time we play.  And I can't know those things if you don't tell me!  So please, comment! **


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## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 13, 2004)

*Prelude 1*

Three Years Ago

From the journal of Link Sharloe:
_Aranna, my daughter, has just returned home.  She’s been gone for more than a year.  Apparently there was some trouble down in Sembia, and the merchants’ council did what they do best: threw around their money to entice others into doing their work for them.  Aranna has been vague about exactly what transpired down there, but she did give me bits and pieces of the puzzle.​Roughly fourteen months ago, the daughter of Merchant DuBrul was kidnapped, and ransom demands were issued.  Although no one knows what these demands were for sure, many of the rumors being whispered make them sound twisted and inhuman.  So of course the Council did not want to fulfill these demands.  Therefore, they sent out a call for adventurers.  They wanted these adventurers to find out who the kidnappers were, and where they had taken DuBrul’s daughter.  And of course, they wanted her brought home.  Since this was Sembia, they had no qualms about throwing around more money than most adventurers could count as an incentive to get the job done quickly.​My daughter was among those who answered the call.  As her investigation began, she found herself crossing paths with three others: the dark elf Azek, son of my old comrade Chazmyr; the tiefling wizard Mourgram, escaped from the Thayan Zulkir of Conjuration; and Anciano, a deep Immaskari wizard.  The four of them soon realized that they could do more good together than alone, and banded together to find the girl.​Over the next six months or so, they followed numerous clues and leads, doing everything in their power to locate the kidnappers and the girl.  I don’t know a lot of the particulars of their investigation (Aranna said she “didn’t want to bore me with the details,” which I think means she doesn’t want me to know they were basically clueless until they finally caught a lucky break), but I know it wasn’t easy for any of them, and they made more than a few enemies in that region.​Finally, they caught their break.  A series of clues led them to the hiding place of a secret Zhentarim cell in the region.  Once there, they found evidence linking the cell to the kidnapping.  In a brief but fierce battle, they defeated the Zhents, and found where the girl was hidden.  They returned her home to her grateful family, who of course showered the four friends with coin.  Riding high off of their victory, the four of them traveled together for several more months, looking for a combination of adventure and trouble (and more often than not finding both).​Before too long, however, they all felt the pull of their reward money: Mourgram wanted to do some work to his tower in Waterdeep, Anciano wanted to open a College of Evocation, Aranna wanted to bring hers home to me and ask me to “make her stuff,” and I’m not sure I want to know what Azek wanted to do with his.  So the four of them – once uneasy companions, now friends – parted ways.​Although I’m glad to have my daughter home again, I have to wonder how long it will be for.  I have a suspicion that now that she’d been bitten by the adventuring bug once, it’s only a matter of time before she feels it again.  And when she does, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of these new friends of hers…​_


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## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 13, 2004)

*Prelude 2*

The first rays of the morning sun wash over the landscape, bathing the city of Suzail -- capital of Cormyr -- in their light. At the center of the capital, the royal palace can be seen, its design and structure the definition of the word “majestic.” Already many of the citizens are gathered at the palace walls, waiting to hear Princess Alusair Nacacia Obarskyr, Regent of the nation, address the populace.​As she steps to the edge of the balcony, the sunlight reflects off her magnificent golden armor, enhancing her considerable presence. At her side, as ever, stands the beautiful battle-wizard Caladnei – her most trusted ally and friend. Raising her right hand to hush the populace, Alusair opens her mouth to speak…​
_Somewhere else – somewhere deep underground, far from the morning light – a beaten and haggard you man awakens to a familiar sound: that out a key turning in a lock, followed by a loud creak as the heavy metal door to his cell swings open… _​
Alusair continues to address the populace, assuring them that she is doing all she can to quell the unrest Cormyr has suffered in recent years. She begins to call for volunteers to supplant the forces that have been amassed for her latest campaign, when Caladnei cuts her off.​“My lady!” Caladnei cries out. “Your nephew!”​Before the battle-wizard can say anything more, the Regent is gone, running back into the palace and towards the chambers of her nephew: the infant Azoun V, heir to the throne of Cormyr…​
_The sudden light streaming into his cell hurts the young man’s eyes, and he is forced to cover them with his hands. Even without his eyes, however, he knows the sounds he hears all to well. The harsh breathing, the heavy footsteps, the metal chain dragging across the stone floor – the troll is here to torture him again… _​
Alusair rounds the corner, entering into Azoun’s chambers, several of the palace guards hot at her heels. What she sees when she enters is like something from one of her worst nightmares: the infant king’s personal guard lay scattered about the chamber, all dead. And as for the boy himself, he is in the clutches of nearly a dozen ebony-skinned elves – drow!​Before the Regent can find her tongue again, the dark elves have sprung into action. Several of them flank the one holding Azoun – a woman, and their leader, from the looks of it – as she moves towards the windows. The others draw their weapons – scimitars and crossbows – and move to intercept Alusair and her entourage…​
_The chain strikes the young man again, this time square in the chest. He falls to the ground, gasping for breath, only to be hit by a fierce uppercut from the troll’s powerful fist. He sails backwards, the chain catching him in the temple as he slams into the ground… _​
The battle is quick and chaotic. The palace guards are no match for the vile and honorless dark elves, and are quickly dispatched. Princess Alusair, however, refuses to fall. Already several crossbow bolts protrude from her torso and shoulders, but the drow poison they carry refuses to take hold. The dark elves have tightened their formation, seeking to prevent the Regent from reaching their leader before she can escape…​The female dark elf, Azoun balanced in her arms, waves her hands through a brief spellcasting, then steps out of the window. Those of her number who had been flanking her quickly do the same. Seeing this, Alusair screams out in rage and redoubles her efforts to break through the ranks of the dark elves who seek to impede her progress. For her trouble, she receives three more crossbow bolts, and this time the sleep poison takes effect…​
_The young man’s left eye is now swollen shut, and the vision in his right is blurred by the blood that runs freely from his forehead. His arm hangs useless at his side, and his breathing is labored and painful. He knows a few ribs are cracked, if not outright broken. He wonders how much more of this punishment he can take… _​
The female holding onto Azoun in the lead, all twelve of the dark elves slowly float down the palace walls, towards the soft ground below. From the back of their hasty formation, one of the warriors that faced Alusair cries out to a warning in the drow tongue to his commander. She glances upwards, and sees that on the roof of the palace, Caladnei is pointing directly at them! The battle-wizard’s hands go through the motions of a spellcasting, and a bolt of lightning arcs out from her hands, striking the dark elf closest to her. The bolt then moves towards the next in the formation, then the next, working its way towards the dark elves’ leader…​The female dark elf, reacting as quickly as possible to the situation, begins waving her hands through the motions of a counterspell. Unfortunately, this causes her to release her grip on her captive, and the infant Azoun (now free of her levitation spell) plunges towards the ground below…​While the female counters the lightning, another of the dark elves recovers enough to loose his own counterattack upon Caladnei. Reaching towards his neck, he tears loose a string of many-sized pearls, hurling two of the smaller ones towards the battle-wizard…​
_Over and over the troll’s fist connects with the young man’s midsection. Stars now dance over his vision, his one good eye threatening to give out. Maybe trying to take the chain from him wasn’t the best idea, he thinks. He’ll have to remember that… if he survives… _​
Caladnei barely manages to dive out of the way as the twin pearls strike her former position, erupting into huge blasts of magical fire. Coughing to clear the smoke and ash out of her lungs, she struggles to regain her lost footing, as the palace roof begins to collapse…​The dark elves all see the chunks of debris falling towards them, but they have almost no time to react. Several of the quicker-witted ones reverse their descent, instead floating upwards and arcing away from the first wave of debris, but still running smack dab into the second wave. A large rock strikes the male holding the string of magical pearls, which fall from his hands to the ground below…​Although they all try valiantly, in the end none of the dark elves are able to escape the rain of stone debris that has fallen upon them. As each of them is struck, their spells of levitation fail, and they plunge towards the ground below. Thinking quickly, the female begins the incantation to create a doorway in the ground below to catch both herself and the infant Azoun. 
The doorway indeed materializes -- but unfortunately, it does so mere seconds before the string of pearls strikes the ground, trigging a massive explosion the likes of which much of Cormyr have never seen!​
_As the troll’s fist connects with his cheek one final time and consciousness finally fails him, the young man slumps to the ground, glad that his torture is finally – for today, at least – over. As the final vestiges of coherence fails him, he catches a glimpse of a shape outlined in the light behind the troll – and what appears to be a dozen eye-stalks staring intently at him… _​_ 

As the young man fades into darkness, you catch a brief glimpse of the devastation that has befallen Suzail: charred bodies litter the streets, the palace’s foundation has been damaged, Alusair and Caladnei are both injured… and then, as suddenly as it began, the vision-dream ends.​
You don’t yet wake up, however. Instead, you find yourself somewhere else…​_​The chamber is large and well-lit, thanks to a wagon wheel chandelier that overlooks a central hearth. Spread across the room are six long tables, and at the head sits a performance stool. You recognize this place as the Everful Chalice Tavern, a place you and your companions have frequented from time to time. When you were last there, it was busy, loud, and full of people. Now it is almost entirely empty, with only one individual sitting on the stool. They are wearing heavy grey robes, and a hood covers their head. You cannot make out any features that would help you identify them –​“I need to speak with you.” The stranger’s voice, unmistakably male, snaps you out of your reverie. “Please, meet me here at first light two days from now. The nation of Cormyr needs your help – in fact, its very future may depend on you.”​​


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## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 13, 2004)

*1: Nothing Important Happened Today, part one*

The Present

The sun had begun its slow decent towards the horizon, marking the inevitable end of another day.  In addition, the slow onset of evening served as a signal to those of Beregost’s population with a taste for fine spirits: the Everful Chalice Tavern was once again ready for them.​ Azek’Mourn entered the tavern slowly and deliberately, as were so many of his movements.  Despite the fact that his true features were masked by the magic ring his father had given him, he always felt nervous entering places like this.  After all, there weren’t too many places where a drow/sun elf hybrid was given a warm welcome.  Something about the ashy grey skin and the pale blonde hair, he supposed.  But, that was why he had the ring.  With it, he could appear like anything he wanted to.  More often than not, he chose the guise of a sun elf male – but the option to look like literally anything was certainly a handy one to have, especially in his given line of work.​ After having given the room a quick scan and not seeing any sign of the man he was supposed to meet, Azek decided he might as well enjoy himself while he waits.  Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered himself a mug of ale, and then began scanning the room again.  After maybe fifteen minutes, a familiar face walked through the door – one of the last ones Azek had expected to see at this particular junction, in fact.​ Entering the tavern, Aranna Sharloe took a quick look around.  At first glance, she saw no sign of her contact.  However, she did spot an old friend at the bar – rather, she spotted the favorite disguise of an old friend.  Excited to see her childhood friend again, she started towards the bar.​ “Azek!”  The disguised dark elf, which had averted his gave from the room just long enough to take a swig of his ale, was caught off-guard and swept into a bear hug.  After fighting to keep his ale in his mouth and not spit it all over the bar, he turned towards his “attacker.”  What he saw was a tall thin human female, probably in her mid-twenties, with her brownish-red hair tied back in a ponytail.  In her green eyes he saw both warmth and friendship.​ “Aranna?  What are you doing here?”  Azek was a little bit confused.  He knew why he was here – he’d had a dream telling him to meet someone here.  What about her?  Could she have had the same dream?​ “I’m meeting someone here.  A guy in grey robes.”  A quick look at the dark elf’s face, trying to read his expression.  “You are too, aren’t you?”  Azek nodded.  “Well, I guess we’ll wait together, then.”​ The two old friends ordered more ale, scanning the room once more.  A few moments later, it was Aranna who broke the tension.  “Hey, Azek?  My father’s missing one of his favorite wands – You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”​ Azek tried, but was unable to completely hide his smirk.  Aranna’s father was known as the “Greyhand,” and was a wizard of some repute.  When they were children, Azek wanted nothing more than to be a wizard, and would sneak into her father’s laboratory any chance he got.  Some habits died hard, Azek guessed.​ The tension broken, at least for the moment, the two friends began laughing and swapping stories of their adventures since they had last seen each other.​ Afternoon turned fully over to evening, then evening to night.  Still the dark elf and the human waited, searching for any sign of their contact.  Soon after nightfall, the doors to tavern swung open again, and the two friends were greeted by even more familiar faces!​ Standing in the tavern doorway was the arguably most motley trio ever to grace the town of Beregost.  Most striking was the albino – a deep Immaskari standing at almost seven feet tall, he was covered in a thick grey cloak that was identical to the ones worn by War Wizards of Cormyr.  At the albino’s side was a muscular giant of a man, wearing light armor and holding a mace in his hands.  On a chain around his neck, he bore the symbol of the Purple Dragon Knights.  Their final companion seemed normal enough at first glance, but upon closer inspection was actually the most frightening of all.  Upon initial inspection, he seemed to be a grey-skinned human.  If there was enough light or reflective surfaces nearby, however, you would notice that he neither cast a shadow nor a reflection.  If you could tear your attention away from that fact for a time, you would see that his eyes were red.  All of these things together should tell even a casual onlooker that he was indeed not human, but rather a tiefling.  Adding to his imposing visage were his bald head and numerous tattoos, which would generally mark one as a Red Wizard of Thay.  This man, however, wore the blue robes of Mystra.​ The albino gestured towards the bar, having recognized Azek and Aranna, and the trio headed in that direction.  The albino placed a hand on the dark elf’s shoulder.  “Azek, is that you?”​ Turning to get a better look at the face to which the hand belonged, Azek’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Anciano?  Is that you?”  When the albino nodded, the dark elf grabbed him and began shaking it.  “It’s been, what, three years?”​ “Something like that.”  Anciano gestured to his tiefling companion.  “I trust you all remember Mourgram?”​ Azek and Aranna both nodded, and greeted him as well.  Aranna gestured towards the giant man at Anciano’s side.  “I don’t believe we’ve met, however.”​ Anciano put his arm around the man’s shoulder, which caused him to grimace.   “This is Aeron, but I like to call him ‘Tiny.’  He’s kind of my bodyguard.”​ “Bodyguard?  I can see we’ve got some catching up to do…”​ Out of the corner of his eye, Anciano saw the barkeep gesturing him over.  Shrugging his shoulders, he did as the man asked and approached.​ The bartender leaned in closer and whispered, “I take it you’re all here to meet the man in grey robes?”  Anciano nodded lightly, sure he didn’t like where this was going.  “Well, he asked me to give you a room for the night.  It’s my best room.  He also said to tell you to be down here at first light.  That’s all he said.”  The bartender handed the albino a room key, then went back to his work.​ Returning to his friends, Anciano repeated what the bartender had told him.  They all agreed that something was definitely suspicious, but since they’d come this far, they may as well see how it plays out.  They spent the next several hours talking and catching up on everything they had done, then went to their rooms to rest and prepare for their morning meeting.​ 
The companions met back at the tavern the next morning.  To their surprise when they arrived, the barkeep was on his way out the door.  “Place is all yours,” he said.  “He’ll be here shortly.”​ The empty tavern was eerily quiet, not at all like the loud and boisterous atmosphere it had held the night before.  Warily, Mourgram, Azek, and Anciano all took seats, while “Tiny” took up a position near the doorway and Aranna went into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.  She returned moments later with plates of meat and eggs for each of her friends.  They ate their breakfast in silence, anxious for their contact to arrive and the meeting to start.​ Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the air near the hearth crackled with magical energies.  To Mourgram’s eyes (which had been enhanced to discern magical auras), the room was being effected by a spell of teleportation.  Their contact had arrived.​ The man was tall and of moderate build, his body cloaked in thick grey robes, with a grey hood covering his head.  “I bid you greetings,” he said.  Slowly, he pulled his hood back, revealing his face.  What they saw was a young man, his fiery red-orange hair pulled back into a ponytail and his lengthy goatee tied into several braids.  “My name is Charro.”​ Mourgram leaned over towards Anciano and whispered into his ear.  “He’s covered by a powerful illusion.  That’s not how he really looks.”​ The albino stepped forward, looking the newcomer in the eyes.  “So, tell us what we’re here for.  We all had the dream, and I assume you’re responsible for that.  Did that really happen?”​ Charro nodded an affirmative.  “It did indeed.”​ “And what about Alusair and Caladnei?  Are they okay?”​ “They are both grievously wounded, and are receiving the best care possible.  They are not why I am here, however.”​ Azek could hold his tongue no longer.  “Then why are you here?  Is it about the boy getting tortured?”​ Charro seemed surprised by this question.  “You saw that?”  The companions all nodded.  “I hadn’t expected that.  At least you’re slightly better prepared now than I’d originally hoped.”​ Mourgram again leaned in close to Anciano to whisper, “I bet he’s the next heir or something.”​ Charro laughed.  “Well, perhaps.  We’re not entirely sure.  I was hoping you could retrieve him and we could find out.”​ Anciano chuckled.  “What about Azoun?  Isn’t anyone trying to find him?”​ “Some of the most powerful people in Cormyr are doing so around the clock, and have been for the last several days – ever since the attack.  Thus far, however, they have been unable to find any trace of him.  The current consensus is that he is either dead, or no longer on this plane of existence.  Either way, I feel it is necessary that we assume the worst and begin to plan what to do next.  Thus why I ask you to find the boy.”​ Mourgram frowned.  “We’re going to need time to think it over.  Do you have some way for us to contact you when we decide?”​ “Of course.”  He handed the tiefling a silver ring.  “This is a ring of seeking.  It will allow you to contact me when you are ready.”  After handing over the ring, he began running through a series of arcane gestures and phrases – a spellcasting.  The air around him began to once again crackle with magical energy, and as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.​
The companions exited the tavern, then paused to consider their options.​ “I don’t trust him,” said Mourgram.  The others all nodded in agreement.  “And I don’t like how quickly he dismissed the chances of finding Azoun.  I think he’s just trying to make a power play while the infant is missing, and doesn’t want anyone to find him.  That’s why I think we should do just that.”​ “I can head back to the guildhouse in Baldur’s Gate and see if they’re heard anything useful there,” Azek offered.​ Anciano nodded.  “Tiny and I will go back to my college in Cormyr and see if they’ve been calling on any of my students for anything.  Mourgram, you can head back to the temple of Mystra in Waterdeep and see what they know.”​ Aranna stepped closer to Azek.  “I can go with you,” she said.  “Besides, I haven’t seen your family in a while.”​ Their courses decided, Mourgram cast a spell to send Azek and Aranna to their destination, and then did the same for himself.  Soon thereafter, Anciano and Tiny magically departed as well.​
Although small compared to other guilds, the Black Hands were still more than large enough to be a highly profitable operation.  Almost immediately upon Azek and Aranna’s arrival, members were attempting to administer reports to the young dark elf.  He brushed them off, telling them he was only there for some information and then he was leaving again.​ A tall, lanky human male with a constant five o’clock shadow and long jet-black hair, Zane was one of Chazmyr’s most trusted lieutenants.  It didn’t take long for Azek and Aranna to gain an audience with him.  “Azek!  Good to see you again!”  What can I do for you?”​ “I need some information, Zane.  I know there are some regular groups in and out of Cormyr, and I need to know what they’ve been reporting lately.  There’s been some craziness going down up there lately, and I may be getting drug into the middle of it.”​ “Most of the normal Cormyr people haven’t been getting around too much lately.  That same craziness you’re talking about has totally screwed their normal patterns, so I don’t have anything to give you, man.  Sorry.”​ After leaving Zane’s office, Aranna looked at her dark elf friend.  “Well, that was a bust.  Hope the others are having better luck…”​
The city of Suzail had indeed seen better days.  The destruction which the drow invaders had wrought was extensive.  Many wondered if the city, in fact the whole nation, would ever truly recover from the events of that day.  The air crackled with magical energy, and the duo of Anciano and Tiny appeared in the center of the town square.  They had stopped off at the albino’s college in New Tilverton, but practically all of his students had been called to Suzail to assist with one operation or another.  So they had come here, hoping to find some answers.  Anciano gave the area a quick scan, then set out towards the highest-ranking guardsman he could find.​ “Excuse me, Captain?”​ The captain, a muscular man of middle age, turned towards the albino.  “What can I do for you, sir?”​ “Captain, what can you tell me about the current operations here?  What is a priority and what isn’t?”​ “Well, sir – the Regent and Caladnei are in the lower levels of the palace (they’re the least damaged), getting the finest care we can offer.  We knights are working on picking up the debris and keeping the populace under control.  And any magic-users who aren’t on the medical staff are trying to find King Azoun.”​ “So we haven’t given up on finding him?”​ “Of course not, sir!”​ “Thank you, captain.”  Anciano began walking back towards the center of town.  The air in front of him crackled with magical energy once again, and Mourgram appeared before him.​ “Well, the ring’s at the temple of Mystra now, so that should keep ‘Charro’ off our backs.”​ “Cool.  So now what?”​ “I don’t know.  It’s too bad we didn’t have any way to see past his illusion and find out who he… really… is…”  A pause.  “Damn it!  I’ll be right back!”​ “Huh?”  But Mourgram was already gone, leaving Anciano and Tiny alone in the square again.​
Returning to the temple of Mystra once again, Mourgram made a beeline directly for his chambers.  He scooped up the ring Charro had given them, and began inspecting it closely.  Turning it over in his hands, he made sure he covered every square inch of it.  Sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a tiny symbol carved on the inside of the ring: the mark of the wizard who made it.  More than likely, Charro himself crafted this ring and marked it with his true name.  Satisfied with his findings, the tiefling headed to his library to find out which wizard the mark belonged to.​
At the Black Hand guildhouse, Azek and Aranna were rapidly becoming bored.  Chazmyr was out on “business,” so they couldn’t bother him.  They’d had dinner with Azek’s mother, Aya, but then she had to leave for a meeting.  The two friends were just about to wander out into the city and see what kind of trouble they could get into when their thoughts were interrupted – by a voice that seemed to be coming from inside their heads.​ “Guys!”​ “Anciano?  How are you doing that?”​ “Never mind right now.  Can you get to a portal and get to Suzail?”​ “Sure, we can do that.”​ “Okay.  Make it as soon as possible.  More information when you get here.”​
Several hours later, the five companions were once again reunited.  Anciano had invited them all to stay at his college while they compared their findings, and the other agreed.  None of them felt very comfortable about discussing their findings in public, and the privacy was welcome.​ Mourgram held out the ring Charro had given them, making sure to point of the wizard’s mark on its inside.  “You guys see this?  This is the mark of the wizard who made the ring.  I’m fairly sure ‘Charro’ didn’t think about that being there, and that means that it’s probably proof of who he really is.  So I hit my arcane library and did some research on who that mark belongs to.”  He paused and took a deep breath before continuing.  “It’s the mark of Vanderghast – former Royal Mage to King Azoun IV.”  Another pause.  “I think Charro is really Vanderghast.”​


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## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 15, 2004)

*1: Nothing Important Happened Today, part two*

Twelve hours and several fact-finding trips sooner, the companions had their next destination planned.  Anciano found out from the local guard that Vanderghast was believed to have maintained a cabin in the region known as the King’s Forest.  When it was mentioned that the area had been overrun by orcs since Azoun IV’s death, Aranna sported a frightening glint in her eye.​Calling in a marker with the local knights, Anciano acquired horses for himself, Tiny, and Azek.  For himself and Aranna – the most skilled trackers of the group – Mourgram summoned a pair of phantom steeds.  At first light, the five of them set out towards the cabin.  They rode for the better part of the next nine hours – twice they were stopped by orc patrols, but only momentarily at most.  The brutish creatures were no match for the powerful adventurers.  Finally, they arrived at their destination: a lone cabin in the very heart of the forest.​“It’s magically trapped,” Mourgram announced.  Undeterred by the warning, Anciano approached and knocked.  The albino stepped back in shock as a burst of electrical energy sprang forth from the door!  Frowning, Mourgram produced the ring “Charro” had given them.  “It’s us.  We’re outside your cabin.  We need to talk.”​ The door to cabin swung open, inviting them to enter.  The interior was divided into four rooms: immediately upon entering was a small table and chair; to its left was a pair of bookshelves that appeared to contain powerful arcane tomes; in front of the library was a small hearth; and next to the hearth was a single-person cot.  In the center of the cabin, overlapping all four rooms, was a magic circle.  Charro stood waiting in the circle, his arms crossed over his chest.​“I’m glad to see you decided to return.  We have much to do.”​Mourgram stepped closer to the wizard.  “Drop the act.  We know you’re Vanderghast.”​ The wizard smiled.  “Took you a little longer than I thought it would.”  His entire body seemed to wrinkle and distort for a moment, and the magical illusion vanished, leaving the true man revealed.  Dressed in heavy robes covered with the arcane marks of a high wizard, he wore a Purple Dragon cloak clasped around his next by a brooch bearing the seal of Azoun IV.  His face was sharp-featured and angular, with only the weariness evident in his eyes betraying his true age.  He had growth of beard that seemed to have evolved beyond his control, and his long grey hair was splayed over his shoulders.  He was indeed the wizard Vanderghast, but he obviously had seen better days.  “Is this more satisfactory?”​ The companions nodded.  It was again Mourgram who spoke next.  “So, have you really given up on finding the infant Azoun?”​ “Of course not.  But finding him is going to take time – time we don’t have right now.  Events are already brewing that could spiral out of control and plunge this nation even further into chaos.”
	“The nobles are making plays for the throne already, aren’t they?” Aranna asked.​ Vanderghast nodded.  “If the young boy really is an heir to the throne, that gives him rights to the seat and would end the petty political squabbles.”​ “What about Azoun?  What if they find him?   What do you do with the other guy then, just send him on his way?”  Anciano was obviously displeased with where this conversation was heading.​ “It would still be many years until Azoun was old enough to sit on the throne himself, and I’m sure something could be worked out when the time came.  And you forget, we’re still not sure if this boy really is an heir or not.  That’s why we need to find him and make sure.”​ Mourgram still wasn’t convinced.  “How did you find out about this guy, anyways?  I mean, how come no one knew about him before now?”​ “No one knew because no one was looking,” Vanderghast explained.  “I found him because I had requested several divinations be cast to search for the heir to the throne.  Obviously, at the time I meant Azoun, but what I got instead was this other boy.”​ The five companions all looked at each other, and nodded their agreement.  They were decided.  They would help to find the boy and learn of his true lineage.​ Azek, who had been quietly leaning against the wall the entire time, drew himself to his full height and looked at the wizard.  “So, where is he being held?”​ “He is being held somewhere among the Aphrunn Mountains, which are located in the land of Turmish.  If you wish, I can transport you there.”  They nodded.  “Very well.  Step into the circle and I will send you there.  Once you have found him, contact me with the ring and I will prepare for his arrival.”​ The former Royal Mage’s hands began gesturing, weaving the components of a transportation spell together.  Quietly he whispered several arcane phrases, and the circle began to glow with magical energy.  The air around the adventurers shimmered and wrinkled, and then they were gone.​ As they faded away, the five friends could swear they heard the old wizard say, “Good luck.”​
Seconds later, reality bent and distorted once more, depositing the quintet of adventurers at their destination.  The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and they could see nothing but mountain for miles and miles – much further than the limits of any of their eyes could see.​ “So, how do we find him?”  Azek asked.​ Aranna knelt down near what looked like a narrow dirt path.  Brushing off a small stone, she picked it up and inspected all of its sides.  Then she leaned closer to the path itself, sweeping her fingers across it and trying to get as close a look as she could.  After several moments, she stood back up.​ “There’s no tracks,” she announced.  “Odds are they’re underground somewhere around here.  I think it might take a long time to find them, though.”​ “Maybe not.”  Before anyone could ask what he was thinking, Mourgram had sat down on a large stone and produced a fine mirror from his travel pack.  Gazing intently into the mirror, he muttered a handful of arcane words and gave a verbal description of the young man they sought.​ A fog washed over the image in the mirror.  After a moment, the fog gave way, revealing a dank cell that was obviously located underground.  Kneeling in corner was the young man they had all seen in the vision – he looked like he was even worse for the wear than they had originally assumed, if that was even possible.  The image panned once around the room, showing that the boy was alone, and then the mirror returned to its normal state.​ Mourgram returned the mirror to his bag.  “Alright, gang, gather around.  I know where he is, and I can get us there.”​


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## SurfMonkey01 (Apr 15, 2004)

*1: Nothing Important Happened Today, part three*

It had been a long time since the young man had seen another person, let alone the light of day.  The only contact he had, day in and day out, was his jailer: a powerful troll by the name of Adirwec.  At least twice a day, if not more, the troll would come to “check” on him.  More often than not, a chain was involved.​ Today, however, looked to be different.  For as the young man lifted his head to investigate a sound he had just heard, he found five individuals – four men and one women – materializing in the center of his cell!​ “There he is,” the tall albino one said.  “We should get him out of here.”  The albino turned towards the muscular knight-looking one.  “Tiny, go with him.”​ Another man – this one grey-skinned and wearing blue wizard robes, handed the boy a ring.  “Here, take this,” he said.  “Tiny, get close to him.  You two get to go visit the clerics of Mystra until we’re done here.”  The grey-skinned man waved his hands in strange motions and muttered unintelligible words, and the young man felt himself begin to slowly fade away…​
“Alright, folks,” Anciano said.  “Time to find us a troll and –"  He let his sentence trail off as a sound from outside the cell could be heard: that of a door creaking open.​ Mourgram leaned against the door and looked through the tiny opening in its center.  “It’s the troll!”​ Quietly, the four friends assumed their positions.  Aranna moved towards the back corner of the cell, knocking her longbow with several arrows.  Azek faded into the very shadows that blanketed the walls.  Anciano stationed himself to the side of the doorway.  And Mourgram held his stance in the center of the room, preparing himself for a spellcasting.​ The cell door swung open, and the troll immediately bellowed in rage as he realized these four strangers were not his prisoner.  Before he could do anything else, however, Azek’s short sword was buried in his side and Mourgram had begun the incantations of his chosen spellcasting.​ A wave of energy seemed to roll from the tiefling’s hands and wash of Adirwec, who immediately felt its pull.  A sudden rush of fear overwhelmed the troll, along with an uncontrollable urge – to run away, as fast as he could.​ The troll turned and ran.​ Aranna loosed her arrows, all of them striking true and burying themselves into the troll’s back.  Anciano sprung into a spellcasting of his own – several balls of electrical energy appeared at his feet, and at his command rolled towards the troll.  The electrical balls trapped the troll in the corner, and within seconds he had fallen.​ Nodding to one another, the quartet set out down the winding hallways, searching for clues as to why the young man had been held here or who his captors were.  Azek led the way, his trained eye constantly on the lookout for traps.  After a time, their wanderings brought them to a warped wooden door.  From the other side, dozens of chittering little voices could be heard speaking in the draconic tongue.​ “Kobolds,” Azek announced.  Cautiously, he swung the door open.  The chamber was not very large, and contained almost nothing to speak of.  It only contents were a large pile of gold and gems, and the two-dozen kobolds that were currently “swimming” in it.  Mourgram, however, saw that the room contained at least one surprise.​ “The back wall is fake,” he announced – mere seconds too late.​ A mighty roar came from “behind” the wall, and a hideous form literally stepped through it.  Standing over eight feet tall, it was a horrid insect-like creature with a pair of terrifying pinchers instead of hands: an Umber Hulk.​ Azek immediately sprang into action, tumbling and rolling through the sea of now-frightened kobolds.  Coming to his feet next to the Umber Hulk, he drew both of his swords and buried them deep into the creature’s side.  The horrid beast squealed in pain, and then struck the dark elf with both of its pinchers, locking him in a powerful grip.  When Azek could not break free, the beast bit deeply into his shoulder.​ Aranna loosed several arrows from her bow, burying two of them deep into the beast’s chest.  It again cried out in pain, this time dropping Azek.  Anciano swung his sword towards the Umber Hulk, and five streaks of multi-colored energy arced from the sword into the creature, striking it down.​ The frightened kobolds attempted to escape, but were easily slain.  Mourgram produced a magical bag from his travel pack and loaded the treasure into it, hoping they would have time to sort it out later.  Meanwhile, Aranna attempted to patch Azek’s wounds as best she could.  He would be fine for the time being, but he would require professional care when they returned home.​ Over the next several hours, they explored every square inch of the underground tunnels, finding no evidence of either the boy’s true nature or why he was there.  Soon they had only two rooms left to search – and they could clearly hear a humming coming from one of them.​ Opening the door, they found the chamber to be almost completely empty.  It only contents were a small stone slab situated in the room’s center, and a glowing magical orb which rested on the slab.  To Mourgram’s sight, however, the orb was revealed to be nothing more than an illusion.​ Azek squinted his eyes for a second, trying to get a better look at the room’s far wall.  “There’s something over there,” he announced.  Approaching the back wall, he found a tiny seam in the stone.  Feeling the wall around the seam, he triggered a switch, and the hidden wall panel opened.  Revealed behind this panel was the source of the humming: the true magical orb.​ Perfectly round and no bigger than a crystal ball, the orb was gold in color and seemed to carry the auras of every variety of magic.  Although they could not be sure until they studied it in detail, Anciano and Mourgram were fairly sure they were looking at a fabled Orb of Dragonkind.  Carefully, the tiefling loaded it into his magical storage bag.​ Azek was about to open his mouth to speak when a loud creaking noise could be heard from the next room: the door had just been opened.  As quietly as he could, the dark elf pushed the door to the room they currently occupied shut.  Through the small opening in the door, they could see a round creature with a dozen eyestalks protruding from the top – a beholder -- floating past…​Once the beholder was clear of the doorway, Azek swung the heavy chamber door open once more.  Aranna loosed several more of her arrows at the aberration, striking it twice.  Azek vanished into the shadows once more and emerged behind the beholder, sinking his blades deep into its back.  Enraged, the creature turned to face the dark elf – and that was when Mourgram and Anciano appeared within the space the creature had last been looking at.  Several of the beast’s eyestalks began firing their powerful magical rays at it attackers, but none of them struck their intended targets.  Anciano entered into another spellcasting, and the beholder fell to the ground, its movements sluggish – almost as if its strength had been completely sapped.  Two more arrows from Aranna, and it was finished.  The boy’s captors had all been slain.​
Hours later, the quartet had returned to the temple of Mystra in Waterdeep.  Upon arrival, they were informed that the young man had been receiving the finest possible care, and that he was going to be fine.  Tiny had voiced their concerns about the lad’s lineage to the high cleric, and he had agreed to do everything in his power to find out the truth.  The friends were encouraged to rest for the evening, and they would be informed of any finding in the morning.​At first light, the companions were awakened by a young page who informed them that the high cleric had uncovered the answers which they sought.  Gathering up their belongings, they returned to the temple.​“I have been able to concretely determine the young man’s lineage,” the high cleric began.  “Part of the child’s bloodline is partially-diluted elven blood.  And the other part is indeed the bloodline of former King Azoun IV.  This young man is indeed an heir to throne of Cormyr.”  He sighed.  “Although I believe he may need some more time to recover from his ordeal, I know that the situation in Cormyr is dire and that he may be able to restore some order there.  Thus, I am releasing him into your care.  Whether he is ready for it or not, I sense that this young man has quite a destiny to fulfill.”​
Before they left the temple, Mourgram had used the ring to let Vanderghast know they were coming.  The wizard had requested that they meet him not at his cabin, but rather just outside of Suzail.​ “Welcome back!”  Vanderghast turned towards the young man.  “It’s an honor to meet you.  We have so much to do, and so little time in which to do it.  I certainly hope you’re ready.”​ “So, what now?”  Anciano asked.​ “Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind allowing our new friend and me to stay at your college for a time.  It’s one of the most secure places I can think of, and it gives us a quiet place where I can teach our young friend here everything he needs to know for what comes next.”​ “And what does come next?”  Aranna inquired.​ Vanderghast offered her a half-smile.  “Now, my dear, we save Cormyr.”​


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