# Journal of the Souls of Legend (completed)



## Nthal

Journal of the Souls of Legend
(Based on a homebrew campaign in the Forgotten Realms)
(This campaign is finished)

Story by Nthal


*Introduction - Harsh Landings*​
_It always seems that the interesting stories, start with the unexpected.  It’s like nothing is ever planned or is part of the hero’s own grand design.  An event occurs, and the hero jumps right in and starts.  And so, it was with me as I jumped right in.  Or rather dove right in._

I ran to the bar and leapt forward, aiming for the hole that led behind the bar.   I wanted to avoid the now inevitable fight between a pair of patrons.  Now, I probably should have expected it, after all when the bar’s glassware is all made of metal you must assume that they have seen a scrap or two and they were tired of replacing the mugs.  The _Smoldering Corpse _bar had indeed seen many scraps, and I as a reasonable mortal, had no interest being anywhere near the Malebranche and the Glabrezu, and their dispute.

I grabbed my pack and ran to the bar and dove for the square opening that led to behind the bar.  Which is when everything started to slow down.  I was flying low to the floor when I saw it; A pinwheel of color right underneath the bar and before I could open my mouth to swear something appropriate, I passed through the threshold.

Passing through, I first felt the warmth on my hands and arms, and then my face.  Bright light flooded my eyes, the scent of a skanky bar’s spilled bub with the overtones of brimstone fell away to something…cleaner and fresher.  The sound of air rushing by my head was growing, as I realized I was falling, tumbling over in the air.  Glancing down I saw the rapidly approaching ground.  I shut my eyes tightly and prepared for a harsh landing.  Then I hit the earth hard, landing on my back, my pack landing on the ground nearby.

This was not the start of a good day

I lay there stunned, at first unable to breathe and barely able to moan with my eyes closed.  Finally, after a moment I started to gulp down air again.  I then opened my eyes, so I could assess where I might be.

I was staring up towards a wooden building, with a pair of very large doors.  I had apparently fell from a large open doorway that was right above them.  Projecting from that doorway was a beam with a pulley at the end.  Overall the wood was worn and grey.  Behind the building in the air were…blue skies?

This set off warnings in my head.  I quickly stood up and looked around.  It was clear I wasn’t in the city anymore.  There was a lot of dirt; but no stone at all on the ground.  But there was a distinct lack of buildings near me, beyond the large building I was near, and another smaller one nearby.  There was some fencing near the buildings.  But what stood out was there was a of living…plant stuff.
This was about as far from the city as I could get.  But that didn’t really answer where I was.  So, I started looking around, trying to find some familiar landmarks.

The first one I was looking for, I didn’t see.  After turning around about three times, I was sure of it. the Spire wasn’t visible.  It’s not exactly something you can miss; a tall thin mountain, a needle miles wide at the base and extending straight up from the Outlands, into the sky.  It was said to be infinite in height, leading to the slang “climbing the Spire” to mean an impossible task.   And at the very top, you can see the city spinning at the top of the infinite Spire; a paradox as how is there a top?   But impossibilities are the province of the multiverse.  But the fact I couldn’t even see it told me I was far from home; I’m not even in the Outlands.

The next thing I realized, was that there was a glowing ball of light in the air.  It was hard to look at directly, but I had a good guess on what it was.  It must be a sun.  That narrowed down the list of planes I could be at; most of the planes on the wheel didn’t have one.  But there was one set of planes that did consistently, but they weren’t on the wheel at all.

Which at that point, I realized I didn’t see a portal either.  While I had been on the ground for only a brief time, there still should have been light from the portal’s swirl.  But, guessing where I fell from the opening from the building’s second floor, the doorway was dark; no swirling color at all.

I then acted on my next instinct and panicked.  Grabbing my pack, I raced to the doors of the building and with effort pulled one open.  The interior was empty of anything living, but there was a lot of dried plant stuff on the ground.  Quickly I spied a ladder that led up to a loft area, saw the open upper door with the beam and pulley, and promptly ran and dove out that doorway headfirst, thinking of home.

I was rewarded with another trip to the dirt.  I landed a tad better, but the pain was still the same.  And I did this again and again.  Each time thinking of something different.  I tried to recall was I was thinking when the portal appeared.  Trying to think what might have triggered the portal.  By the fifth time of landing on the dirt, I gave up.  I turned over on my back and screamed a curse and closed my eyes.

I must be on the sodding prime.   No, I was _hipped_ on the sodding prime.  And clearly didn’t have the key or any way to open a portal to go home.  That was assuming there even _was_ a portal on this end.  It could have easily been a one-way portal.  Considering no-one else had appeared here with me, it must have been bad luck.  I didn’t have anyone that was so red with me that they would have hipped me intentionally.

I was lying there thinking to myself when I heard a voice.  “Er, sorry m’Lady are…are you alright?”
The voice sounded hesitant, almost afraid.  And it sounded like it belonged to a young man.  I kept my eyes closed and replied, “No.  No, I am not alright.  I am laying on the ground here, and with no way to get back to my home.”

“Ah.  Well…er…right,” which then led to a long pause before he spoke again, “So why were you running into the barn and jumping out the hayloft door?” sounding hesitant and now confused.

“Looking for the portal, of course.” I replied.  “I imagine you don’t know what I’m talking about do you?”

After the briefest of pauses, came the expected answer; “Um, not really.  I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else jump out that doorway before without some hay to land in.   But um…are you hurt…did…did you need help…up?”

He sounded earnest and honest enough, and I extended my left arm out and felt him grasp it around the wrist and was quickly pulled to my feet.  At which point I finally opened my eyes.
He must have been in his teens.  Light brown hair and brown eyes.  His skin was well tanned, and it wasn’t yellow stained like many other city goers.  He was not a boy and not yet a man either, with limbs all gangly with wiry muscles that said that he labored hard.

But the instant he locked eyes with mine I could see the color drain from his face and he started to pull his hand away, “By the gods…what…what are you?”

I cocked my head to one side and I’m pretty sure gave him a puzzled look.  But I didn’t let go of his wrist just yet.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I?’  What do you think I am?”

He still was looking at me unnerved.  I usually get reactions with people when they first meet me, as I do have some striking features.   But I had never seen anyone act _this_ way before in the city.

“I…I…dunno.  I mean your hair is …is…is a pretty …um…shiny g-g-gold.   B-b-but your…eyes.   I c-c-can see m-m-m-yself in them.   Like m-m-mirrors.”

Sodding Baator.  A clueless Prime.  This was indeed going to be a long day.

I started talking soothingly and smiled, “It’s alright…my eyes are a bit different.  But I’m not going to nick you or anything,” releasing his arm and holding up my hands up, fingers apart.

He pulled his hand away like it was stung, looking at me wildly and he took a step away from me, but he didn’t retreat further.  “A bit d-d-different.   That…that’s putting it mildly.”

“I take it you have never met an Aasimar?” I said still smiling and still cursing in my head.

“A what…what is...a…Aasim…”

“…mar,” I finish.  Thinking for a second, I then said, “You have heard of angels, right?”  to which he nodded quickly.  Still smiling I continued, “Think of me as…part angel.  And, I’m not here to hurt you.  I’m just a little…lost.  So, if you can point me in the direction of…” to which I then stopped.

Where did I want to go?  I barely knew where I was in the multiverse, and the idea of being lost on a Prime plane didn’t appeal.  But I had no idea what to ask for.  So, I improvised, assuming that there must be a small settlement nearby, as it would be if I were in the Outlands.

“…a town nearby?” I finished.

He was still a little wide eyed, but at the word ‘Angel’ he relaxed a bit.

“You…you do look like one m’lady.  You’re awfully p-p-pretty like what an Angel shou…should be like.   Those eyes are…are…well are a bit strange.   Anyway…we aren’t far from town.  It’s just down the road, about two miles.”   He said, pointing to a road just beyond a nearby fence.  He then frowned and asked. “Um, m’lady, you said you were…lost.  Where _are_ you from?”

I was already picking up my pack and checking inventory to make sure that I still had my daggers and things.  I then looked at him again and responded

“Where am I from?  Sigil, the City of Doors.”

“Ah…. where’s that?”

I just winced and said, “Far from here I’m afraid…thanks for the directions.” And I started to make my way
to the road.

“Uh…ok,” seeming somewhat relieved that I was leaving.  I had made to the fence and was climbing over it, when he rushed towards me a bit and called out.  “Um, sorry m’lady but…what’s your name?”

I glanced over my shoulder and gave him a smile and said.

“Myrai.”

*Session breakdown*

So, when a group of us online decided to meet and play a campaign of Dungeon’s and Dragons, this was my starting point.  I knew that we were going to be in the Forgotten Realms but I wanted something different.  As it turned out, I was replaying *Planescape: Torment* and I had started diving deeper into the setting.  I never had any real experience with it when it was in production and was a broke high school student to boot at the time.

So, the idea popped into my mind of a Sigilite dropped into the Prime with no way home.  A new Yorker dropped on the west coast, and so Myrai was born.

Of course, since there wasn’t anything official, I had to stitch Sigil’s timelines with the realms.  After talking with the DM, we basically decided that timeline wise, that while we were starting in 1491 DR, Sigil’s timeline was only two years after the events of “Die Vecna, Die’ and placing the Faction War about five years in the past.

And so, the game began, and I was its unofficial historian.  The above was the prose that came to mind when the DM just dropped me outside of town.

That was over a year ago, and hundreds of pages of notes ago.  And I am rewriting those notes into something more like a story for no other reason that I want to.

So who is Myrai?  Myrai is an Aasimar, and has metallic gold hair, and eyes that look like they were freshly minted chrome from Chiba (and now I think of it, the cant and Shadowrun have a lot in common chummer…er berk.  Whatever).   You won’t find her stats here, but feel free to guess that, and class(ses) as you go.

So, enjoy!


----------



## Nthal

*Dandelions in Triboar (Updated 9/5/2018)*

*Session 1 – Dandelions in Triboar​*
_Sodding…the Prime.  What crime did I commit to be sent here?   I mean, it isn’t a host of other nasty places like Carceri or Gehenna.  But why at all?   Why now?   Unanswerable questions right up there with “What can change the nature of a man?”   Pike that.  “What can change the location of this woman” was more important at the time.
_​
The town wasn’t far down the road I was travelling.  I hadn’t been very far outside of Sigil before.  A couple of gatetowns in the Outland and Aborea once.  But I was still reflecting on what had happened.  The kid’s reaction to me was strange to say the least.  Yes, I have hair that looks like spun gold (I wish..that would solve a lot of jink issues).   Yes, my eyes are like polished mirrors.  Strong looks sure…but the reaction seemed a bit much.  I had heard that some primes are more isolated than others.   Because of that, I decided to put the hood up of my cloak, covering my hair, and keeping my eyes into the shadows.  Because if he reacted this way, how were others going to?  And he was only a kid.  Adults I hoped would be more receptive.

I hoped.

Then there was a matter on what to do next.  Part of me wanted to head back to Sigil.   But the other part of me, the Sensate wanted to explore.  While it was a prime, it still was an adventure.  Something to be experienced and learn about.  So, I was going to play it cautious, but I might as well make the most of it, while I find a way home.

I guess I wanted to go home mostly because I had just put money down on a kip and had some small mementos stored away.  Nothing valuable, but personal items I didn’t really want to lose.  It annoyed me that in a day or two, those all would be dross for someone else to sell.  

But, I had my daggers, and a mace strapped to the bottom of my pack, some jinx and a symbol of my faith on me.  So, I was sort of prepared to travel.  But not outdoors.  I did do that once in Aborea and was loaned out bedrolls and stuff.  But that was a small problem.  I didn’t know where I was really which was a bigger concern.  Some primes are harder to leave than others after all.  That and finding a blood to do it, or a portal or something was going to take some time.

Then there was the matter of jink, or rather that I didn’t have a significant amount of it.  I could probably survive a month with the thirty-odd jinx I had on hand.  But, I was lanned enough to know, that without a lot of jink, acquiring a portal key, or a spell from a fingerpainter, or even just the local chant was going to be challenging.  Add the fact I had little idea about where I was, didn’t give me a lot to work with in terms of options.  Granted, a festhall with some gaming I could earn some, but I was better at running a table as a host compared with dicing.  Somehow I didn’t think they knew how to play ‘Styxes and Sixes’ here.

Finally, the most pressing matter was food.  Food in Sigil is easy.  Just wandering around the wards could find carts with the stuff…if sometimes of a questionable source.  But some you could trust.  A nice sooty za would be really rum right now.  But I didn’t have any food, let alone za, and I was getting hungry.

So, the town was the only real option.

I strode into town and at first look it was…quaint?   It had all the feelings of a gatetown, but smaller and missing the gate.  It is also not a destination, but a place to travel through to go elsewhere.  It appeared to straddle the intersection of a main road going…

…How DO you tell directions here?  Spikeward and Downward don’t work.   Something to learn I guess.

Anyway, I entered the town and was between what looked to be a place that sold large animals, and another which seemed to be a collection of costermongers with large wagons, and animals to pull them.  I walked onto the grounds of the latter and listened.  I didn’t want to mark myself as a newcomer and get bobbed in the bargain, so I couldn’t take notes.   Really can’t afford to lose anything now, so avoiding getting bobbed was a concern.  But by listening to the ‘mongers and others I found out the name of the town; ‘Triboar’, and it sat on an intersection of the ‘Long Road’ and the ‘Evermoor Way.’  I also heard directions like ‘North’ and ‘West’ but had no idea what they meant.

But one thing did catch my ear, was that one of the ‘mongers was complaining about a rider in his caravan.  A loud wizard, who thought very highly of himself, his father, his projects, and his annoying golden owl.  I was about to ignore them at that point when of one of them said ‘…and he wouldn’t shut up about his planar…thing.’

It was stretching my hopes to be sure.  But a loud wizard shouldn’t be hard to find.  And as it turned out it wasn’t.  But, it was even easier to find the owl.

The owl, was a bright shiny gold color, like my hair.  But the tone was closer to brass, than gold.  It was flying around here and there, but it was following someone heading to a two-story tower in the center of town.  Getting closer I soon figured out who it was following.  

At the time I wasn’t sure, but I learned later it was a gnome.  And for the record, telling gnomes, halflings, and dwarves apart took a bit of learning.  They aren’t common in Sigil, so any mistaken racial assignments are all my fault.

But he was loud.  And he was laying into a guardsman at the tower about someone inside.  I was guessing that the tower must have served as a birdcage along with other functions, based on the phrase ‘let him go.’ I at that point, circled the tower, and placed myself on the edge of a one of the caravan areas and watched.  I then saw two things.

The first was after several moments, the gnome was let inside the tower, leaving his owl outside.  That told me he was planning to leave soonish.  The second thing was more interesting; I wasn’t the only one interested in the gnome.  

Across the way at another caravan area was a Tinman.  He was human, dressed in chain mail and with a shield slung on his back.  And he was watching both the owl and the entrance to the tower intently.

I wasn’t sure if he noticed me doing the same thing.  So, I sank down to the dirt and basically occupied myself with a greensteel file and working on my nails to pass the time.  I didn’t need to see the entrance; I just needed to see the owl.  Or hear it.  It regularly made a sound that was roughly like “Beee-poooo.”   I seemed to remember a story that a power once gave a mortal something like that, so I wondered if this was a bad trope come to life.

Time passed, and the owl got excited, and I glanced over at the tower.  It appeared that the gnome must have paid the bellman and sprung free a human.  I remained seated and looked at the human.
This one was…well dirty.  No filthy.  Like he hadn’t seen a bath, let alone water in some time.  He was dressed in dark ragged clothing and had unkempt hair and a light beard.  But, I noticed he was quickly buckling a short sword and dagger around his waist, but in a manner so that the rags he wore concealed them somewhat.  This gave me an impression that he was a knight of the post.

Fortunately enough, the pair was going to walk right by me.  As they came closer, a small animal darted from the crowd and made a beeline to the dirty one and climbed on his shoulder.  It was small, brown furred, and kinda looked like a real ugly human child, but cute in that small animal way.  I mean it had hands after all.  No idea what it was at the time, but the human started to feed it something, and it gave the human back something in return; something shiny.   I suspected another bad trope concerning a Knight of the Post and his pet.  I just needed a third and the Rule-of-Three would be completed.

As they got closer, the Tinman approached the pair and very intentionally ran into the dirty human, and said, “Meet me at Dandelions” and then walked right past where I was sitting and turned into the caravan grounds.  

The pair were taken by surprise at this and looked at each other blankly.  I couldn’t hear the human, but the gnome’s voice was clear, saying “Well I don’t know who that was either!” followed by soft mumbling, and again the loud response “I think it’s odd, so perhaps we should investigate.  Where is this ‘Dandelions?  And who names a bar after a flower?’  

I agreed with that sentiment; why would you name a bar that?   I’m sure there is a story there, but it isn’t one I really want to care about.  They continued onward, and I remained seated.  I didn’t really want to follow either the Tinman or the pair.   That’s a good way to marked as a cony-catcher or a spiv.

Fortunately, I remembered seeing a ramshackle inn with a flower on a sign, before I reached the place selling the large animals.  So, after a moment, I pulled myself up and backtracked.   All the while I kept the hood up, and at least gave the appearance that I knew where I was going.   And not a soul noticed or cared.

I just hoped that this was going to either lead me home, a way to make some jink, or at least an interesting experience.

As I found out.  It was a bit of each.

*Session Breakdown* 

There is a lot going on in the first session, so I am posting a bit ahead of my schedule, just to get things going.  200 pages of is a lot to work with.

And so, without involving a bar fight (which I was told was another option being considered) we have four people trying to come up with a credible way to meet and start adventuring.  Credit to the DM for giving enough hooks for us to rationalize the characters behavior.

The dialog is fairly close to my notes, as is the name of the bar.  The only things that I retcon’d from my notes was the layout of Triboar itself to match what was documented in Storm Kings Thunder.  And no there isn’t a “Dandelions” there either…but there is an abandoned inn!

Also…you’ll notice that there is a bit of the cant throughout the dialog from Myrai.  I know some people hate it, but in this group it went over very well, and they got very attached to Myrai as a concept.  The language was a big part of that.  If you need translation to terms, go to http://www.mimir.net/cant/cant2.html which is the most complete source of cant online.

Mechanically we are all first level.  Keep that in mind, as we go forward.  We are also not using XP, but milestones.  Some other notes are that this particular Forgotten Realms is a bit more…magic poor.   Fewer wizards for certain.  Otherwise, it resembles the Realms as you know.


----------



## Nthal

*Flint Rock and the importance of tipping (9/13/2018)*

*Flint Rock and the importance of tipping.
*​_
The odd thing, is that while people always are trying to get my attention and talk with me, I’m not really a people person.   Most people aren’t worth the screed they spout; and in turn, I’m not inclined to spent time with them.  On the other hand, when I talk…people take notice.  I’d like to credit good breeding or looks, but its more than that.   Must be the eyes._

Working my way back I found the sign.  It was in front of a dilapidated Inn, that had signs of recent work.  Some new wooden boards side by side by old ones.   The sign to the inn itself was a simple yellow flower, painted on a sign that had carved on it “The Frost Touched Frog Inn.”  I’m honestly not sure which one was better.

Strangely enough, with me taking my time I a had arrived _ahead_ of the dirty pair; The owl gave it away with that awful “Beeepoooo” sound somewhere on the road behind me.  So, I quickly darted inside.

Inside the Inn appeared…serviceable.   The bar itself seemed to be new, but the tables, chairs, and stools were mismatched castoffs; old but sturdy.   A hearth and a low fire, gave the Inn a slightly smokey atmosphere.  But for as bad the Inn looked outside, daylight didn’t break through the walls, and a bit of work had been done to return it to use.
Inside, the Tinman was already seated at a table, not far from the bar itself.  He glanced my way as I entered; clearly expecting the pair, and quickly returned to his cups when he saw it was me.  I quickly moved to the bar and found a seat that was close to where the Tinman was, trying not to be obvious.   And then I flagged down the barkeep.  

“G’day Lass, welcome to Dandelions!  What can I ge…” and like that his voice trailed off once we made eye contact.  He stood there and just blinked with a wide-eyed look of shock on his face.

Sighing, I leaned a bit over the bar, reached for his apron and pulled him closer to me.  And said slowly and quietly; “Please, it’s been a long day.  Yes, they look different, and yes I can see you just fine.  I want a strong ale, a meal, a room for the night, and later I’ll answer questions If you’re nice.”

The barkeeper, recovered quickly nodded “Of of course!  Yes…yes…just a moment.” And scurried off to get the ale.  At that point the dirty pair entered the Inn.   And it became apparent that my placement at the bar really didn’t matter much.

The reason being, is once the gnome saw the Tinman it was apparent that he had only one volume for his voice; Obnoxiously Loud.   It wasn’t hard to listen in.  Pretty sure the kitchen could have listened in.

“So…you are the one that ran into us into the square.   Who are you?” the Gnome demanded.

The Tinman looked pained, clearly expecting a quieter discussion.   “You know, I wasn’t trying to talk to _you_.  And you are speaking a bit lo…”

“Never mind that!   If you want to talk to my associate here, you are talking to me!   Now, who are you?”  he barked…or more yipped and puffed up his chest in response.

Giving up on the lack of discretion the Tinman continued, “Who I am is a man looking for his master.  You may call me, Daneath.”

“And what does that have to do with us?” the gnome asked archly.

“With ‘us’ nothing.  With him however,” pointing at the dirty human “I have been informed by some…friends of mine that he might know the way.”

The dirty human blinked and spread out his hands, “Whoa, look I have no idea what you are talking about.  I don’t know about anyone’s ‘Master’ so I don’t kno…”

He was cut off by the Tinman, “You do…you just don’t know it.”

“It doesn’t matter in the slightest!” said the gnome.  “This one is in my debt and he already has a job to pay it off.  And I am in some haste, so whatever you want will just have to wait!” and with that, the gnome again puffed out his chest and looked indignantly at the Tinman.

“Is that so?” and the Tinman looked at the dirty human “And, what are you doing for this Gnome that is so important?”

The dirty one replied, “He wants to go to ‘Flint Rock,’ He claims he’s trying to find his father.”

The gnome turned and looked at the dirty human, “I didn’t say you could discuss that with anyone…er…what was your name again?”

“You didn’t say anything about it being a secret either.  And since you finally asked, Iesa.” the dirty one retorted.
At this point, the barkeeper slid me a clay mug and said, “Supper’s coming out,” and headed to the trio to find out what they wanted.  I sat there sipping the ale (which wasn’t half bad, if a bit strong on the hops) and remarked to myself that this was the strangest discussion I had heard in a while.  Not the content mind you, but the fact it was out in the open as it was.  Granted it was mostly because the gnomes voice carried, but that seemed to lead to everyone raising their voices.  After a bit of talking to the barkeep, the orders for drinks made and they continued.

The Tinman regarded the gnome “’Flint Rock’?  That is an odd coincidence.  That is where my master left to.”  Both the gnome and the Tinman looked at the dirty human.  “So how do you know the way to a sacred cairn in Elk tribe territory?”
“Elk tribe!” the gnome sputtered, but the other human ignored the outburst, “Let’s say I liberated that knowledge some time ago…”

Well _that_ confirmed it; he *is* a Knight of the Post.

“…and I have been making my way south to go there myself.  But why would your master want to go to an Elk tribe cairn, and why would a wizard be insane enough to go to Elk tribe territory at all?”

The gnome glared at the ‘Knight’ with that, “I didn’t know it was in Elk tribe lands!  And I know full well their reputation on how they treat uninvited guests…and especially uninvited wizard guests!  And considering my father was a powerful wizard, he must have had a good reason.  But I must find him, and I must complete my work!”

“Your work?” both humans together said looking at the gnome intently.

“Yes, yes.  I am building a device that will allow me to breach planar barriers and let me travel!  I suspect my father was building or had a device.  But I haven’t heard from him in years.  So, finding him is imperative to me to accelerate my work!”

I am now fully paying attention to this conversation.  So much so, that I hadn’t even noticed that the barkeep had slid a slice of meat in front of me some time ago.  But here is a possible way home; either the device or the father of the gnome, who I am now certain is a Fingerpainter.

It isn’t going to be quick to get home, but at least the berks can show me around this mudball of a prime.  Now it is a matter of how do I join in on this?

The Tinman spoke “So…what in the Hells is your name?” looking at the gnome.

“Ah, of course!  You have the pleasure of addressi…”

“The _short_ version please.” The Tinman said holding up his hand before the gnome really got started.

The gnome glared, “Ahem that’s just rude!  But I am Beepu, Beepu Tilteepockey of Silverymoon.  But despite your lack of manners, I think we should stick together, as it sounds like we are heading in the same direction for the moment.  Let me get some meals from the barkeeper and we can formalize our plans!”

The Fingerpainter then hopped off of the chair and made his way to the bar.  Since the barkeeper was in the back, the ‘Painter climbed up on a stool next to me and was shouting repeatedly to get the barkeeper’s attention.
At that point I decided to dive right in, and hope for the best.  It beat banging around the town, and pike it; at least I wouldn’t be bored.  So barely turning my head, I address the ‘Painter, “So…you’re looking to travel into the planes?”

“Hmm?  You were listening to our private conversation!”

“Private?  I bet the barkeeper and the cook in back heard your ‘Private’ conversation.”

“Still!  That’s not proper manners to listen in!”

“It’s rude to shout.”

“I’m not shou…ting.” And the Painter realizing that his voice was indeed carrying managed to lower his voice a bit.  At this time the two humans were in a quiet dialog between themselves but were looking at the Fingerpainter with puzzled looks.

“Well, you aren’t now.  Anyway, what do you know of the planes?”

“It’s all very technical, for a common woman like you to understand.  For example, places like the Nine Hells…”

“Baator.”

The Painter blinked, “What did you say?”

“Only clueless primes call them ‘the Nine Hells.’  The plane is Baator, it is inhabited by the Baatezu, and they take a very dim view of primes wandering in uninvited.”

He blinked again, “Yes…yes that’s right.  Who are you exactly?”

“Someone who is willing to trade a bit of sweat and stuff to help you achieve your goals, in exchange for a trip home.”

“Home?  And where is that might I ask?”

At this point, I turn to him, smiling and look the gnome in the eyes, watching them grow wide. 

“Sigil, th…”

“The City of Doors…” he said quietly looking into my eyes.  He blinked and shook his head.  “I’m sorry, but your eyes…I have never seen anyone with eyes like that.”

I shrug, “They’re because I’m planetouched; An Aasimar.  I just happen to show it…stronger than others do.”

“So, you aren’t fully human?”

I pause a second.  I’ve never been asked that question…or at least in that way.  I’ve never thought of myself as either human or part human.

Awkwardly, I answer, “Well, I really don’t know the answer to that question really.  I’m a foundling…so while I know my father was some type of celestial, my mother…I have no idea.”

“How interesting, and do you have skills that can help us on our journey?  What can you tell me about planar mechanics?  Who is your father?  What are you doing in Triboar?  How did…”

At that point I place my hand gently on his lips.   “Tell you what, your friends might have the same questions, so perhaps we can discuss it with them?”

“Of course!  That makes sense…Once I get the barkeeps attention!”

Smiling I turn my head towards the kitchen and barely raising my voice said, “Hey barkeep!”  to which he almost instantly appeared from the back.  He walked up straight to me, and clearly ignored the Fingerpainter.

“Yes, yes…did you need something more?”

I nodded, “A round of your ale for four on me, and whatever…Beepu wants on him.” Tossing the barkeep, a jinx and said,“Thank you.”

The barkeep smiles and catches the coin and looks at the Painter with some disinterest.   “And you want…what?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while!  How do you expect to make any money with service like this!”

“By making room for patrons who actually tip,” was the retort.  

---

Eventually the barkeep and the Painter come to some arrangement involving stew, and I then dismount my stool, and grab my plate and move to the table where the humans were talking.

Neither was startled by me sitting down with my meal, but both did quiet down and look at me quizzically and then at each other.  Their eyes narrowed in suspicion and the Knight was about to say something when the Painter came back to the table.

“Yes, well food is on the way and I found someone that will be very hel…”

“Who is she?” the Knight asked, “And what’s with the hair and eyes?”

I smile, “So nice of you to notice.  It’s a rarity, or so I’m told.  You can call me Myrai, and you might say I’m interested in his success.” Leaning my head toward the Painter.

“And you want what?” the Knight asked.

“Simple things, a tour, a way back to the Cage, jink…” Seeing the blank looks, I realized I needed to be clearer as the Cant was going over their heads.   “Let me…rephrase, I come with you while you explore and find your way to ‘Flint Rock’ and do what you need to, Beepu gets me back to my home city, and I get a cut of money along the way.  Does that make sense berks?”

“I can assume you can pull your own weight, seeing you have got a number of blades on you.  But some of the words you use…like ‘berk’.  What does that mean?”

“Where I come from we call it ‘the Cant’ …It’s a form of slang.  And berk?  Berk means…partner.”  I lied.

“And this place…the Cage?” 

“You mean Sigil?  Well imagine a place that is the crossroads of the multiverse.  It’s a place that has doors to and from anywhere if you have the key.  Because of that it is the trading hub, where anyone can do business with anyone they want.  And before you ask, it’s called the Cage as getting in and out requires that key, and keys change often.”

The Knight and the Tinman both looked at me, processing my words.  I took a good look at them for the first time; both had black hair and brown eyes, but where the Tinman, Daneath, was all muscle the Knight, Iesa, was wiry.  Both had appeared to have quick reflexes, when the ale arrived and both going for the tallest filled mug.  The Tinman was clean shaven, where the Knight had thick stubble on his face.  The Tinman had a sword and a large bow strapped to his pack, while the Knight had his short sword and dagger.  The tinman of course had chain mail and a shield was leaning against a nearby post, while the Knight seemed to have some leather buried beneath his rags.  Perched on the shoulder of the Knight was the brown, short furred animal…I should know what it is, but it’s not coming to mind.  

By contrast, Beepu the Fingerpainter did not appear to be the most athletic.  Standing about three feet in height which made the two humans twice his size easily.  He too had dark brown nearly black hair and green eyes.  More notable was the wide assortment of trinkets and gizmos hanging from belts and straps.  But it’s the owl that really stood out.
The owl wasn’t real.  Well, no it is real, but it isn’t alive.  It’s like a modron; all gears and wires and stuff.   Even sitting there quietly on the back of the Painters chair it made quiet clicking and whirring noises as it surveyed the inn.

At this point I can’t imagine what they thought of me.  But since someone is going to read this journal, I might as well describe myself.  I stand about five foot, with my shoulder length hair worn free.  I wear a set of soft leathers, that looks like a crazy quilted mess of blacks and red (they were leftover cuts, that I helped stitch together), with a light leather cloak, and a boiled leather chest piece.  A dagger on my hip off a belt, which on the other side supporting a pouch that drops down and has a strip of leather keeping it place with my right thigh.  If they paid enough attention they would have seen more daggers; one in a bracer and one in a boot.  That left the two necklaces I wore; one a…personal momento and the other a symbol of my faith.

An eclectic mess.  But it was comfortable, and easy to keep clean from the brimstone infused rain of the lower ward.
The Tinman spoke “Well, if we are going to Elk territory, we’ll probably need all the help we can get.  You can handle yourself, right?”

Smiling I reply, “I can take care of myself, but while I don’t know what this Elk tribe is, from the sound of it they wouldn’t like me better than the Fingerpainter…sorry, wizard here.  But I’ll manage.”

Then from behind me a voice said, “So there you are Iesa!  If you are planning on running, we’d better talk…now.”

The Knight turned his head slightly and was looking at someone behind me and said, “Well, running now would be a waste of an ale.  What do you want Korsos?  It’s not like I’ve done anything.”

“Done anything *yet*,” the voice intoned.  “But truth be told, your fine is paid for, so you are indeed free to go.  I’m just here to give you…advice.” Which I then heard a chair scraping behind me and the sound of someone taking a seat.   Turning my head, I saw a mid-aged human; with greying hair and beard and vivid green eyes.  He had a deep tan and wore leathers that had seen plenty of time outdoors.  A sword was belted to his side and a bow, on which he leaned forward on, holding it in both hands with one end on the floor as if propping up his frame. He was sitting on a chair backwards, facing towards our table.  The final thing I noticed was a chain around his neck, with what looked to be a badge of office, with three pig heads?  No…Boar heads…

Oh, I get it now.  Triboar.   Great; a guvner of sorts I suppose.

The Knight was giving Korsos a look that sat between suspicious and curious.  “Advice?  You could have given me that the first time you had me thrown in that cell.”

“True.  But then it would have been lost on you boy.  Plus, I wasn’t around for the second time.  At that point I normally wouldn’t have cared one whit about you.  But…you surprised me.  I wasn’t expecting you to be the altruistic type.”

“Fat merchants shouldn’t kick kids,” spat the Knight.

Korsos frowned, “No…no they shouldn’t.  But threatening the merchant at sword point till he soiled himself was a bit strong of a response.  Granted he didn’t notice you lifting his purse at the same time.  And because that purse was dropped in those kid’s hands, is the only reason I’m not bringing you back to the tower.”

I looked at the Knight closely; and my gut just told me his story.  A street kid, living by his wits, but not alone.  Probably was with other kids supporting each other, and by extension to any other group of urchins around him.  I could easily see him being a lightboy in Sigil, and later in life, keeping an eye out for them.  We might have a little bit in common.
His voice brought me back to the present, “So, what, ‘don’t do that again’ is that it?”

Korsos shook his head, “No…you need to leave town.  The merchant has made a stink of what you did, and while Darathra might be inclined to believe you, she’s out of town and not due back for weeks.  Malton, her second seems to have taken a shine to you…but in not the most pleasant of ways.   In fact, if he was at the tower today, it would have been doubtful that your friend here,” to which he pointed at Beepu, “and that annoying, noisy construct would have been able to spring you loose.  However, he isn’t back from hunting yet, and won’t be until late tomorrow.  If I were you, I would arrange to be elsewhere by then.”

“Now wait a minute!  Foggle isn’t noisy!” Beepu said defensively.  “He is a state of the arcanotechnical machine.”

“Oh…so you admit to him being annoying?” Korsos said mildly.

“Yes, I do mean…wait…NO…that isn’t what I meant at all!” Beepu replied flustered at the turn of the conversation.

At this point I decided to intervene before the gnome escalated it, “So where do you recommend that Iesa go?”

Korsos looked at me for the first time and did a double take.  But he recovered and quickly answered “Ah, well he could head north on the road to Longsaddle or south to Amphail or Waterdeep.  But I admit, Iesa might get chased in either of those directions by Malton.  You might be safer heading to Yartar if for no other reason is they aren’t likely to help anyone in authority from Triboar.  What I wouldn’t do, is head off into the wilds.”

“Something wrong in the wilds?” I asked.

“Well, two things.  The first is that the Elk tribe which normally patrols and harasses wagon caravans haven’t been seen in a while.  That’s odd enough, but whatever caused that, has also led to a sudden increase of gnolls.  That tells me that the Elk are truly concerned with other matters; they wouldn’t just let gnolls run rampant in their territory.”

Gnolls; spawn from Yeenoghu, one of the Demon Lords of the Abyss.  An extreme rarity in Sigil as they weren’t exactly civilized.  When they were brought in, they were handled like dangerous pets.  And usually a fatality would happen and the Guvners would point out that’s why you don’t bring them into the city, and the Red Death puts them all to the sword; including the responsible party.  But I didn’t realize they were present on primes.  It wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought.

Korsos continued, “Although, I’m not sure in your case which would be worse; a pack of gnolls or a patrol of Elk tribesmen.  Your appearance might be…interpreted in the wrong way.  They barely tolerate elves, and the Elk know that they deal with magic.  It’d be unfortunate if you crossed their paths, as I have no idea what would happen to you.  Beyond being painful that is.”

I had caught on that this ‘Elk Tribe’ were a bunch of superstitious primitives and they didn’t like magic.  Considering that people reacting shocked or surprised around me, made me believe the Elk might take it a bit farther.  And I really didn’t want to become a petitioner to my god just yet.

Shrugging I comment, “We’ll just have to avoid them…no matter which way we end up going.”
Korsos nodded, “Well, I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision, and then leave Triboar.   Good-day to you all.”  And with that, Korsos stood up and left the Inn.

It was getting near dark, and the Inn was getting busier with merchants and some locals.  I start to cut into the now cold dinner, take a bite and chew and looked at the others.

They in turn looked at the Knight, who’s brow was furrowed in thought.  Eventually he spoke, “So if we all want to get to Flint Rock, we should leave tomorrow and head to Yartar.”

“Because of you annoying the merchants here?” started the Painter “You really should control yourself and focus at the task at hand; *MY* task!”

“No,” and the Knight gave a level gaze to the Painter “It’s because from what I know, it is closer to Yartar, than here.”

“Well…that at least makes some sense.” The gnome remarked.

“How exactly do you know the way to the place?” the Tinman asked

“I saw a map once, and I have a good memory for these things,” the Knight commented.

I looked at the Knight carefully; something was amiss, but I couldn’t figure out what.  It was like he was trying to hide something.  It was the way he was looking with his eyes; defensive and suspicious.

After a quick swallow of the ale, I asked “How far is it to Yartar exactly?”

“About sixty miles east…” the Tinman replied, “so almost three days march, assuming we don’t find a ride in a caravan.  But we can see if any of the caravan’s is headed that way on the morrow and get whatever supplies we need.  You all have rooms here?”

The Painter and the Knight shook their heads, while I gave an affirmative nod.   “Well, seems that two of us do, so you should consider staying here.  Otherwise, we can do what we like until then…within reason,” giving a hard stare at the Knight.

The Knight lifted his hands, palms up and half shrugged, “I don’t want to spend more time in jail if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, I for one do not want to pay another set of fines for you, so you should be on your best behavior!” started up the Painter.  “And another thing, you keep your pet away from Foggle!   It’s not a toy!”

“What?  Mo?” The Knight pointing to the animal on his shoulder, “I don’t even think it likes that contraption much.  Too noisy.”

“Anyway,” interrupted the Tinman, “Let’s meet here in the morning and start out.  I’m going to retire for the evening, and get my gear situated.  Till tomorrow” And with that he rose and headed to a set of stairs at the back of the room.

“Yes, yes, that is a good idea.  I must return to my studies!  Much to do.” And with that the gnome wandered to the barkeep and started shouting about a room…leaving his stew untouched behind him.

“Think he’ll miss that?” the Knight pointed at the gnomes forgotten bowl.

“Doubtful.  He looks like he has enough on his mind right now,” as I looked over at the Painter and watched him unsuccessfully bargain down the price of the room.

“His loss.  I’ll be turning in as well; the cell wasn’t exactly comfortable and I need the sleep.  I guess we can talk more in the morning…Myrai right?” to which I nodded.  He then drained his bowl, took the one left by the Gnome, and walked to the barkeep.  It seemed he jumped in front of the Painter in the line, got a key and headed upstairs, annoying the painter even more.  Finally, he manages to get a key and stomps off upstairs as well.

Leaving me alone at the table.  I sat there a moment deciding what I wanted to do.  And after thinking about it, I realized that I was mentally drained, and the pains and bruises from jumping down two stories were being felt.  I really wanted a warm bath to soak in, but I hadn’t seen or even heard anything resembling criers for them here.

I rose, asked the Barkeep for a filled mug of ale and a key and also took my leave of the bar, and headed upstairs.  Soon enough, I entered the room, closed the door and leaned against it, slowly beating it with the back of my head.   I was truly hoping I had made the right choice.

I then realized it was dark, and I reached within and I projected some of myself onto a nearby lamp.  I felt a warmth running up and down my back, and then the lamp glows with a soft yellow light.  No flames or smoke, just a solid light.  Gulping down some of the ale, I start removing my armor and leathers and laid them on the bed.  Sitting beside them, I start muttering to myself some incantations.  First the armor and leathers changed; the dirt and grime of the day dissolved, and then became polished and shined.  Then I start to do the same to my skin, because while I couldn’t get a proper bath, I at least could keep myself clean.  

I check my blades, and my pouch of coins and once all is accounted for, I moved my things on to chair near the bed.  And then I kneeled next the bed and remove one of the medallions from my neck and clasp it tightly in my hands, holding it so I can see the front face clearly.  I run my fingers over the raised surface of it, over the skeletal arm, and the scales.  

And I close my eyes and prayed:

_No one should be alone, in life or death,_
_Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning_
_Death is without deceit and has meaning,_
_I will strive to help those to live, _
_So, they can die at their appointed time,_
_I will honor those who have died before me,_
_For it is their lives and deeds that give us the world today,_
_Bless me to live until my appointed time, _
_So, my deeds will live forever,_
_So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith_
_May Death grant us peace._​
And with that, I kissed the medallion and placed it again on my neck.  I then crawled into the bed, and with the same rush along my back the room darkens. 

Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

*Session Breakdown
*During this part of the session, we were now starting to feel out the character’s relationship to each other.  Some of the conventions of personality start in these early sessions.

One of my character development, was a contradiction.  Sigil and Planescape talks about powers and there is some dynamic between some of the factions.  It describes temples.  But it doesn’t really cover faith and how faith fits with the citizens.  But I wasn’t thinking in terms of a cleric, but a truly devout lay person.  

But the deity I wanted to base it off of was Kelvemor, the ‘new’ deity of death from the Forgotten Realms.  Normally you think of sending prayers to Chauntea for rain and crops, Tymora for luck, even Umberlee for safety from drowning.  But why does a lay person worship a god of death?   And that it itself started a story.


----------



## Nthal

*From an Anthill... (9/27/2018)*

*From an Anthill…
*​_When they say a plane is ‘infinite’ you really don’t have an appreciation for distance until you need to go somewhere.  Then, the journey always seems fraught with issues; taking too long, bad weather, things trying to kill you…all at the same time.  But by that point, all your problems seem smaller anyway.  So, I guess it works out._

I woke with a start, sweating and with heavy breathing.  The dream I had was vivid, but the images were fading.  Images of the past; of war, of betrayal, of pain.

And death.  Far too much of that.

Sitting up in the bed I held my head with my hands and focused.  I tried to calm myself down, when I remembered where I was.  

I groaned, and flop backwards back on the bed.  This wasn’t my kip back in Sigil.  That was a run-down shared space in the Hive, run by a woman that called herself, ‘Blind-Kari.’  And while she was blind, she had the best hearing.  So good, that I wondered if it was a peel of some sort.

No, I was still on the Prime, and I as I recalled from last night, my group of adams were going to head to another anthill called Yartar.  And it was going to take about three days to get there.  I sat up in the bed and grabbed my clothing on the nearby chair.  I started to pull on my leathers when I realized, I wasn’t even sure which Prime I was on.  The names of these towns weren’t familiar.  I made a mental note to ask the Fingerpainter, Beepu where exactly where I was.

I laced my leather bodice, and then strapped on the leather breastplate.  I began to run through my head what I might need for a trip here.  Food and water maybe…doubt any bub is going to keep for the trip, without getting to the stronger stuff.   But I was keenly aware that I didn’t have a lot of jink, and I had no idea what stuff cost here.  I didn’t like the idea that a merchant could just rob me based on I didn’t know the ask for a given thing.  The cost for the room and meal…seemed right.  But I honestly didn’t know.

The leather bracers were next; always a pain to put the one on the right arm.  I reflected that it was an odd coincidence that the three others were all looking for this ‘Flint Rock’ a true Rule-of-Three, which of course made me a Fourth rule.  I wasn’t really interested in the place, just was hoping to find a path home.  But somehow, I suspected it was going to take a while just to get the Fingerpainter’s device running.

And that was assuming I was ready to leave.  While I had my doubts now, I was pretty sure I was going to get distracted and it might be a long time before I go back.  I knew that my kip was going to be picked clean soon enough.   But other than a sleeping shirt and a comb and brush, I didn’t leave anything valuable behind.  The comb and brush were maybe sentimental, as I had had for a long time when I was a “guest” of the Gatehouse.  Memories, but replaceable.

I buckled my belt and strapped my pouch to my leg and started putting my blades where I wanted them; boot, bracer and hip. I steeled myself for a long day, grabbed my empty mug from last night, and then opened the door and headed down stairs.

I was the first one awake it appeared as the common room below was empty.  I could hear some noise that came from the kitchen.

“Excuse me,” I called out, and the innkeep emerged from the kitchen.

“Well, I guess I wasn’t dreaming after all.  And you are up early.”

“I…am?  Ok…does that mean that there isn’t any food ready?”

“Oh, I can get something for you in a pinch.  I have some tea ready if you like.”

“Well I…sure,” realizing that I had no idea what standard fare would be here.  So, I decided to be ‘surprised.’  At least I knew what tea was.  I took a seat at a nearby table and waited.

In a short moment, said tea was in my hands.  I’m not a big drinker of it, but, closing my eyes I was savoring the scent.  Earthy, with a hint of a sharp bitter note.  I smiled, remembering that the new was fun, if sometimes unexpected.

Soon, the Innkeep brought out a plate with a fork, that had some type of smoked meat on it; a sausage of some sort I guessed.   But the yellow fluffy stuff next to it was a mystery.  I poked it with the fork a bit and took a bite.  The texture was soft, and I could taste the hints of salt and a sharp spice. But the substance had little overt flavor itself.  

While I was sampling this, I heard the clinking of metal armor on the stairs, and the Tinman made his appearance.  He saw me at the table and saw my meal.  Commented “That’s what I could use now,” and called to the innkeep to get him the same, and the innkeep diligently served up yet another plate of meat and yellow stuff.  Not too long afterwards, the Fingerpainter and…what was its name…Foggle, came down next.  He took a look at the plates in front of us, and then shouted, “Yes, yes, more of that!” and the Innkeeper, with somewhat less enthusiasm brought out another plate and almost threw it down on the table.

The Fingerpainter doesn’t make friends easily.

At this point, the Knight made an entrance.  Amazingly enough he was much cleaner, with his hair oiled and slicked back, his rags discarded and was dressed in dark leather armor, his blades in the open.  He grinned when he saw us, and called out, “Sorry, probably need another plate!”

“No problem, just started getting another batch ready,” he came out of the kitchen and plopped down a fourth plate, and quickly rushed back.

I had just finished my sausage.  It was a sweet one, and a tad overdone for my tastes.  When I watched the Knight dive into his meal, it was like he hadn’t seen food for days.  Wolfing it down and between bites said, “Been a while, but love eggs.”


My stomach turned.

I looked at him, feeling anxious; “What…did…you…say?”

He stopped eating long enough to look at me like I was from…well I guess I was from elsewhere…but it was a confused look.  “Eggs, why?”

My stomach was becoming less happy.

“You mean eggs…from a…bird.  You *eat* them?” I said slowly.

He just nodded and started eating again.

“I need a moment,” and I stood up and made my way to the kitchen resting a hand on my abdomen.  Looking inside, I saw the Innkeeper cracking an egg on an iron plate over a fire, and was mixing it up creating a pile of… yellow…

I scanned the kitchen and saw an exit and I bolted for it.  I threw open the door and I was outside, somewhere behind the inn.  I saw a well and a small tree.   My stomach was heaving, and I stumbled over to the tree and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach on the ground.

Leaning against the tree, I was panting and the only thought I had was “Eggs?  They eat eggs?!?!”

After a moment, I straightened up.  Reaching within, I use some magic to clean my clothes and my face of the mess I had made.  Turning, I head to the kitchen door and stopped short and reconsidered.  I then instead walked around the inn to the front and re-entered.

The trio had already finished, thank the powers.  The innkeep was hovering around the table, and was looking into the kitchen.  He then noticed me entering from the front, and then he turned to face me with a look of concern on his face, “Are you alright?  Was something wro…”

“I’m fine,” I said cutting him off, “Don’t concern yourself.”

The Knight looked at me with squinted eyes, “What was that about?”

I slumped down in the chair, “You…and the eggs.  That’s…disgusting.”

They all now looked at me with that look that plainly said, ‘You aren’t from around here are you?’  The Knight pressed on, “What?  Eggs are delicious.”

“They come out of the rear of a bird!” I responded in disbelief.  “They are unborn birds.  And you eat them?  That’s just…just not right.   Anyway, just Styx it.”

“What?” all three say looking at me.

I sighed, “’Forget it’ is what I meant to say.”

“Alright…while you were, resampling your breakfast we made some decisions, that I would get some supplies for a trip, and Iesa would check if a caravan was heading to Yartar today,” the Tinman explained.

I nodded, happy to drop the topic on eggs.  “Makes sense, but please be…thoughtful on the price.  I don’t have a huge amount of jink on me.

“What?” all three say again still looking at me.

“Seriously?  Jink…Money,” I said, while rubbing my thumb and finger together.

The Tinman nodded, “Never want to spend a fortune on trail rations.  And it wouldn’t likely have eggs either.  You ready to go otherwise?”

I shrugged, “We aren’t getting closer to Yartar banging around here.”

The Knight then chimed in, “Yeah, seeing that I overstayed my welcome, I want to get out of town.  Let’s meet by the eastern caravan grounds in a bit.”  And he and the Tinman left the inn.   I reach into my pouch and pull out some stingers and hand them to the innkeep and muttered, “Sorry about the mess.”   I pulled my cloak’s hood up over my head, tucked my hair inside, and left the inn.

On the road outside, there wasn’t a lot of people moving about yet.  I guess that meant it was early.  The sun hadn’t risen above the hills to the east.  It was then that I noticed that the Fingerpainter was following behind.

“Well!  It would seem that many things are different here than in Sigil," the Fingerpainter started.

“Well, that’s true in the gatetowns as well.  I just didn’t spend much time in them," I said.

“Gatetowns?  Those are the settlements that lead to the other outer planes right?”

I nodded, “Each one has a gate to a particular plane; Automata leads to Mechanus, Ribcage leads to Baator and so on. But just because there is a gate, doesn’t mean you are welcome on the other side.  That reminds me, I have some questions for you.   First off, where am I exactly?”

The Fingerpainter looked at me and sighed.  “Easy, you’re in Triboar!”

I groaned.   “No, no, that’s…” I started to say.

“…Which sits on the major trade route between Waterdeep and Mirabar as part of the Lords Alliance.  The Alliance itself covers much of the Sword Coast, which is a collection of kingdoms, independent city states and…”

“No, I meant...”  as I tried to get a word in.

“…various dwarfholds.  All of which is sometimes just referred to as ‘The North,’ but this is just a small part of the continent of Faerûn.  Let’s talk a bit about some of the nations and history...”

“NO!” I shouted, whirling around to face him, causing him to jump back a little startled.  I stop a moment to reign in my temper and said, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I was looking for.  I meant what’s the name of this particular Prime Material plane?”

The Fingerpainter frowned, “Well…um…it’s just ‘the Prime’ to those who even know about it.  Most of the folk here, “as he gesticulated to the nearby costermongers starting to stir and pack up in the caravansary, “Don’t even know that.  Maybe the name of the world would help?  We call that Toril, although some older texts refer to it as Abier-Toril.”

“Toril…Toril…” I repeated softly.  It rang a bell in my mind.  Where had I heard that?  It came quickly to me; Kelemvor’s faith started there!  And then I remembered its nickname.

“Godswalk.  I’m on Godswalk then,” I said aloud, and more to myself.

“Godswalk?  I don’t get…oh!  Your referring to our history!  When the Gods came and walked upon the world.  We call that the ‘Time of Troubles!’  Wait a moment.  You didn’t just make that up did you?  You mean that this whole world has been reduced to a simplistic nickname?”

“Looks like it.  It is one of the better-known Primes.  Known for having a lot of strong opinionated mages with enough skill to back them up.  It is also known as a Prime with a fair number of portals.”

“’Better known?’  How many other Primes do you know of exactly,”

I stopped and thought for a moment, “Well, I can name seven, but I know little beyond their names.  People have arrived from each from time to time, but I couldn’t tell you much about the places themselves. And what I know of here I have already told you.”

The Fingerpainter’s brow furrowed for a moment, “Well that seems all too brief.  We have legendary mages here after all!  I’m sure that there is a more accurate description of Toril than say ‘Harmless!’

I replied “Well…’mostly.’   Honestly, it’s just a lack of perspective.  Here, a pack of gnolls is a problem.  On the planes, we get excited if the Great Modron March is going to be headed through a gatetown.  And the fact you are about to say ‘what is that?’” at which point the Fingerpainter lowered his hand and closed his mouth with a pout, “illustrates the point.  No common reference.”

The Fingerpainter thought about it, “I suppose there is merit to your conjecture.  But, I still find it strange that the world is reduced to a footnote of trivia about one event that happened a hundred years ago.”

I held up my hands, “Perspective and experience is what we have, and they are the tools we use to understand the universe.  The broader the better.  But while we are on the topic of lack of common references, I had another question.”

The Fingerpainter seemed relieved on the opportunity to switch topics, “Yes, of course!  What inquiry do you have about this place, its peoples, history or other knowledge!”

“Could you explain what is meant by ‘Eastern’ and ‘East’?”

-----

The extraction of knowledge of the four cardinal directions took some time.  It made some sense in regard to following the path of the sun in the sky.  That doesn’t work in Sigil at all, as there isn’t a sun; it just gets light and dark.  Peak and Anti-peak.  Here they used phrases like ‘Mid-Day’ or ‘Midnight.’  But I got the concept down.  I wonder if other places share the same concept?

Anyway, after some time our pair of humans returned, with the look of good news and bad on their faces.  And they quickly got us caught up on their morning investigation.

The Tinman started first, “Well supplies are easy; so got enough food for a week for each of us.  But…” and he looked at the Knight who without losing a beat said, “Because of the gnolls getting so close to town, the caravans are all holding off leaving for Yartar, instead heading north or south or just waiting to hear if the road is safe.  That means that we can’t get a ride or even offer up guard time.  No one wants to risk it.”

The Fingerpainter rolled his eyes, “You mean we have to walk the road then.  That’s not acceptable!”

The Knight arched an eyebrow, “Well, it’s not like I have the coin to force them to move.  And even after pointing out Daneath here, they didn’t take it as much as an endorsement.  ‘Too green’ they said,” To which the Tinman snorted.

“Um…green?” I said trying to catch up on ‘primal slang’

“Oh…someone new to the job, amateur…you know,” replied the Knight.

“Ah...got it.  So, not much point waiting then.”

“Not really.  But we might have to run a small gauntlet on the way out from merchants trying to sell us anything as we head out.  Along with the hanger ons,” said the Knight, “so keep an eye out for your coin.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” and the Knight grinned, “I am curious on what offers you are going to get.”

And soon enough I found out.  There was one caravan that was semi-ready to go.  Meaning it was mostly packed and ready to move.  Yet the drovers hadn’t hooked up the animals to the wagons yet.  But one merchant was conducting business at the back of his wagon, and it had a small group of women hanging around him.  The women appeared to be shopping, but it what was for sale that was strange.

The women were trying on masks.  Not simple paper formed masks, but elaborate feather masks.  Each of the women were looking at each other and commenting on how they matched hair/eyes/face.  The merchant called out to us as we were walking by.

“Heading to Yartar for the Hate Night!  You’ll want a fine mask for the festivities!”

The Fingerpainter spoke up, “Hate Night?  I have never heard of such a holiday.  And why do you need a mask?”

The merchant got excited, and the humans moved so that the gnome was between them and the merchant.   This worked as the merchant focused all of his attention on the gnome.
“Well, it started several years ago.  Once a year, the Waterbaroness declares that a ‘Hate Night’ is coming, and she holds a grand party at her keep.  And the locals all join in on their own parties throughout the town.  And, by tradition, they are masked balls.” the merchant explained.  “For some reason, feathered masks are used almost exclusively.  But alas, with the gnolls, I am afraid that I cannot make the journey to sell these pieces…but for you I can offer a discount…”

At this point the Fingerpainter realized he had been drawn into a sales pitch but wasn’t skilled enough to extract himself quickly.  As for myself, I looked at the masks, and they were really rum.  Some were colorful, others were black with bright paint.  I wanted to purchase one just because.  But, I was very concerned about jink so I put it out of my mind.

Which is when I met ‘the hangers ons.’  Once they saw our group approach, the women broke off and started to talk to the humans along the lines of ‘Hear its dangerous out there…might be the last trip you make, so why don’t spend a moment with me and go marching off with a smile?”

Jinkskirts.  I can’t say I was surprised; seemed to be reasonable pitch as well.  The Knight, just waved his hand and didn’t make eye contact.  The Tinman, was a bit clumsier in saying no…about six times.  One of them was about to head to the Fingerpainter, who at this point was haggling over the price of a mask, he didn’t even want.  The bartering seemed to make her question if she wanted to spend any time debating price, and so she made a beeline towards me.

Now, in the various wards there are jinkskirts (and jinkshirts) all willing to help cool a cutters heels.  So. I wasn’t surprised or shocked at all at the attempt of selling.  But the encounter here wasn’t one I would forget.

“Hey now, I know that I may not be your…” she had approached, and casually moved in close to embrace me.   She had just draped her arms on my shoulders and took a good look at my face under the hood.

But she didn’t show fear or shock.  Instead, I saw a very different expression cross her face.  One that I would have described as…longing.

She was breathing deeply and was stammering on the words, “Well, I do say that I would be tempted to give you a discount, just…for the experience.”

I remember smiling and removing her arms from my shoulders and holding her hands for a bit.  I looked at her and said, “I guarantee it would be a time to remember.  But…I’m afraid that I might be out of your price range,” to which she made her face into a pout.  “But, it is nice of you to think of us for ‘last-rites.’”   I then release her hands and walked, following the road out of town.  But I was also checking my pouch, to make sure I still had coin in it.  I smiled to myself and shook my head.  I wasn’t some first year Sensate namer; and even then, we didn’t need to pay for that experience; plenty of other Sensates around to ‘experience with.’   

Eventually, the other three extract themselves from their various sales.  Even the Fingerpainter managed not to buy anything.  As we passed out of Triboar, the fields of the farms started to get farther and farther apart.  And eventually, the fences from the far-flung ranches disappeared in the distance.

For a couple of miles, we chatted a bit but quickly we quieted down and focused on the long march ahead.  And it was the first time in a very long time that it was truly quiet.  Only the sounds of wind, the occasional bird chirp and the rustle in the scrub.  It was at this point that I realized what was different.  The last time I was anywhere like this was at my test for becoming a Factotum, in the Gilded Hall in Arborea.  But that was for the experience alone; something novel I don’t think any of us Sigilites had ever done.  But that was more social than anything else.

This; this was about as droll as an experience can get.  No wonder bards are sought after.

Things changed near sundown.  The road we were travelling entered a small valley, and as we meandered through the floor of the valley we saw some carts and wagons.  At first, we were excited to see…well about anyone.  I was ready for any conversation, and a noise other than “Beeeeppoooo” every mile.  But as we approached we quickly realized that something was wrong.

The first clue from a distance, was the lack of any large draft animals at all.  Then the lack of people.  The humans drew blades and moved forward, while the Fingerpainter and I stayed behind them and was ‘being open to’ something unexpected as it were.

As we drew nearer, it was plain that the caravan was a recent arrival to its current resting place; the cloth over the wagons was in in good, if torn condition.  But it also had marks of an attack.  Arrows were lodged in the wooden sides of the wagons and were scattered across the ground.  Approaching we finally saw the corpses scattered around.

But not many; only about four were laying in the dirt, and that seemed to be not enough to manage the five wagons here.  Four of the wagons were open topped, but the fifth was a canvas covered wagon, concealing its contents.  All the wagons were sitting in the middle of the road, which was flanked by shrubs and bushes, about half the size of a human, or enough to hide a gnome.

“Looks like they met a bad end,” the Tinman remarked.

The Knight nodded and crept quietly forward.  Then he froze, placed a finger to his lips.  He was still looking around in general, but he pointed towards one of the corpses leaning back against a wagon wheel.  The shape was roughly humanoid but had the remnants of brown fur on its body and with a faintly lupine shaped head.  On the ground next to it was a mace, primitive but clearly was once a threat in its hands...or paws.

“Yep…gnolls,” the fingerpainter whispered.

I nodded, and I crept forward with the others.  The caravan was pointed towards Triboar and we were just approaching the former lead wagon.  It was against this first wagon that the body was leaning.  

Looking ahead to the other wagons, I whispered back, “Seems we missed what happened here.  But where are the deaders from the caravan?”  I had noticed that the other corpses were also gnoll and not human.

“Deaders? What doe…oh!  Hmm, that’s odd.  They must have been taken.  Gnolls have strange proclivities; none of them are pleasant so I heard.”

“Nice,” I muttered under my breath.  By now the humans were at the second wagon, and were making their way to the third, and the Fingerpainter jogged to catch up with them.  While he was doing so, I knelt near the deader, and noticed something odd.  

While the caravan was attacked very recently, but the corpse was…old.  It looked desiccated and its face looked sunken in, and not at all fresh.  It reminded me of some the zombies used by the Dustmen…or ex-Dustmen rather used in the Mortuary.  I seemed to remember, that they tried to use “dry” ones near the crematories as they lasted longer.  But it otherwise had little more than a basic leather belt around its waist.  While I would have said that a proper burial would be in order, I had no idea what was acceptable.  Everything felt wrong, but it wasn’t anything specific that I could point to, that could say why.

I stood up and turned towards the others.  The humans were standing on the spokes of the wheels and looking into the back of the third wagon.

“Anything, or anyone left?” I shouted to them.

“Nothing much.  Looks like anything useable was taken,” the Knight called back.

I frowned.  I could see the next corpse, which was near the second wagon, and from where I stood it looked about the same as the one by me;  old.  It didn’t make any sense.  At about that time, that brass owl suddenly started going barmy.  And started to repeat the same words over again: “Beepoo, beepoo, beepoo…” 

“What the?” I remembered myself saying, when I noticed my shadow on the ground from the setting sun.  It would be dark soon I supposed, and a camp would be needed.  But, then a motion on the ground attracted my attention, and I saw the lengthening shadow of a second figure, beside mine.  I turned quickly, and not more than a couple of steps away, was the corpse I was just looking at.  It’s mace in its hands (or paws), and looking at me coldly with dead eyes.  It turned at the waist as it was beginning to deliver to me a blow.

“MUSTIES!”

*Session Notes:*
Much of the dialog is an expansion of the original session, some personality and vernacular for each of the characters start to shine through.

So, Myrai is a true city woman.  Never seen a farm, or has any experience on what/where her food is made of.  So, it is completely arbitrary thing about eggs.  Falls under the idea of what food is typical/atypical.

Myrai has heard of a number of worlds, like many planewalkers:  Athas, Abeir-Toril, Aebrynis, Mystara, Krynn, Oerth (Greyhawk), Ortho(Harmonium), and rumors of a very very distant one (Eberron…but the name isn’t known to her).   She doesn’t know much anything about them, beyond small details like Krynn’s folk, believes anything not from there is from the abyss, and Athas as being a wasteland of very dangerous natives.

This is mostly because my interpretation of her arcana skill is strong in planar mechanics, and outer plane knowledge but as we will see later, that doesn’t make her a technical expert on the nature of magic


----------



## Nthal

*...With a spot of violence... (10/8)*

*…with a spot of violence…

*
_It’s a moment like this you wonder about your own life choices.  “If I had made that turn, would I have avoided that gang that robbed me?”  And that was my line of thinking; I just wasn’t sure whether the choice was agreeing to deliver that message to Barkis, or just getting up in the morning.  I’m beginning to think the latter._​ 
The…undead…thing was ready to twist and bring that rusted mace into my ribs.  But at the point it should have started swinging at me, it stopped.   The dead white eyes stared at me, and it shivered intensely.  Like it was fighting some other battle, trying to strike me.  Finally, it stopped apparently losing and loped towards the others.

I had barely any time to digest this sudden change, when I heard the whistling of an arrow.   The arrow streaked at me, cutting my upper arm and I yelped in surprise.  Looking down the line of wagons and carts, a figure had jumped out of the covered wagon.  It had the same form of the undead thing; lupine head, shaggy short fur.  But this one moved far livelier and looked comparatively healthy.  I didn’t like the looks of it, and considering it was nocking another arrow it probably didn’t like me either.

My other three companions also had their hands full, as at nearly the same time that the withered gnoll took a swing at the Fingerpainter, three other bodies suddenly decided to stand up.  But despite the pain in my arm, I was focused on only one thing:

Surviving.

I moved to my right, trying to get a clear view of the gnoll with the bow.  After moving about five paces, I had an opening.   I focused a moment, reaching out to find the gnoll’s life force.  I quickly find it and I utter a single word ‘_zalt’_ and a bolt of crackling purple energy streaks toward the gnoll, striking it hard in the chest.  I then moved and found cover by a nearby tree and crouched low.

The Fingerpainter, didn’t care much for the one that took a swing at him.  He sent his owl skyward and then after some weaving and bobbing managed to conjure a mote of fire, and with force…hit the wagon next to him.   Panicking, he ran to the other side of the wagon, narrowly avoiding getting hit with the mace.   Now, all three the undead gnolls charged at our Tinman, and their weapons were simply knocked away by his shield, and he quickly did a savage cut against one of them.  Then the Knight quickly moved behind it and made a quick slash across the hamstrings, causing its legs to buckle and it falling to its knees.  Then he quickly spun out of the way from the other gnoll that stood beside his fallen companion, who was now swinging wildly at empty air.

At this point another undead gnoll charged at me, and I gritted my teeth together, steeling myself for the inevitable blow.  But, as with the first one it appeared to be struggling with an internal conflict on even trying to hit me.  And again, it failed and charged back into the rest of our group, swinging its club and smashing it into the Tinman’s shield.  I was getting the impression that they were actually _afraid_ of me.  But that was silly wasn’t it?  The undead don’t _fear_ mortals…right?

But regardless of the undead one’s feelings, the live one was a different matter, and it took another shot at me going wide, and it then moved behind the wagon and into cover again.   I returned the favor, and moved out more, flanking him just enough to get a clear shot.  I threw another bolt of energy at it, striking it in the side, 

At this point the Fingerpainter changed his tactics with fire and changed to frost.  Quickly pulling a small flask from a pouch he splashed some water onto his hand and with a quick motion hurled a frozen bolt towards the foursome now packed in close to the Tinman.  The bolt hit one in the rear and it exploded in all directions, striking all the undead gnolls nearby.  I could even hear the bones break from where I was crouched, and two of them fell to the ground.

The two that remained didn’t react or even flinch.  Oblivious to the magic behind them, they continued their assault on the Tinman.  One manages to land a blow on his armor, resulting in a grunt.  But it was enough to prevent him from getting a clean swing at either of the gnolls.  The Knight again struck one of them true with his sword, puncturing deep in the ribcage from behind and felling it.

The live gnoll again took another shot at me, the arrow sinking deep into the tree trunk.  It was getting angry and sloppy, and it started to move closer towards me ignoring any nearby cover from the wagons.  I simply stepped sideways from the tree, and threw another bolt, striking the gnoll again in the chest.  I changed positions, leaving the tree and moving behind a wagon.  Once there I drew a dagger from my belt, preparing for a close-up encounter with the gnoll.  I checked my arm, and the bleeding had stopped for the moment.  My heart was pounding hard, and yet I couldn’t feel the pain from my arm anymore.  What I could feel was quite different.

I felt exhilarated.  I could feel my face ache from the wild smile on my lips.

I felt _alive._

I couldn’t see it, but I heard the whistling of a bolt of fire through the air, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.  Then the sound of a blade swinging and cutting into a dried corpse and then a ‘thud’ as a body hit the earth.  I had guessed that my companions struck true.  Or if not, they weren’t screaming about it.

Several things happened at once then; first I heard footsteps running and a blade cutting air, followed by the Knight’s voice swearing something.  Then from around the corner of the wagon came the gnoll.  Close up I could now see it in its full, ugly glory.  The short fur on its face and body was a mess of blood, applied like war paint.  Its foul stench filled my nostrils with a mixture of rot and filth.  It swung at me wildly, but it wasn’t even close enough to strike me with the rusted blade in its hand.

I recoiled and whispered ‘zalt,’ a bolt streaked out and struck it square in the face.  I could see its eyes roll backward and it sank to its knees, and then falling forward into the dirt.  The feeling of exhilaration had reached its peak.  I felt powerful.  I felt like I finally was in control.
Coming around the wagon, the knight appeared with sword in hand ready to strike.  Seeing the unmoving body on the ground his posture softened. 

“I think that was the last one,” he said breathing heavily.  He glanced at his blade and after seeing no blood on it he sheathed it at his side.  Looking at me again, he had a puzzled expression on his face.

“Are you…alright Myrai?”

I blinked and stammered, “Y-y-yes.  I’m fine.  Why?”

“You just...look…never mind,” he said continuing to give me a strange look.  He then changed the topic. “We probably should finish looking at stuff here and burn the bodies.”

“Sure…I need a moment, and I’ll lend a hand.”  

He nodded and turning around, he returned back to the wagon where the others were.  
I stood there a moment.  I had seen death many times in Sigil.  Of friends.  Of strangers.  From violence.  From starvation.  Many deserved better fates and better endings.  It’s what attracted me to Kelemvor to start with.  Death was a certainty; embracing the end on your own terms was important.  Helping others pass with dignity was another.

But you didn’t _want_ death; you wanted a life to live out its allotment of time.  You wanted to avoid ending to…anything but old age.  

So why was I so…so…excited on killing the one live gnoll?  I didn’t regret killing it; it was a spawn of a demon lord.  It was a plague of corruption.  I was afraid for my life at the start, but I didn’t feel afraid when we attacked each other.  But I was enjoying myself battling it and bringing it down.
I didn’t know what I should have been feeling.  But I put it out of my mind and rejoined the group.

“I assume that’s the last of the musties,” I said as I approached.

“Well I guess that depends on what a ‘mustie’ is.  If you mean the witherlings, looks like it,” replied the Tinman.  

I nod, “Plus one live one.,” I wince as I start to come down from my euphoria and the pain of my arm starts to register.  “I’m going to clean and bandage this.  Anyone else hurt?”

“Just a deep bruise really,” replied the Tinman.  “Nothing broken, and no bleeding.  I’m going to look at the other wagons though, I’ll be a moment,” and with that he moved towards a wagon, with this sword drawn.

The Fingerpainter, raised his arm and his owl returned and alighted on his wrist.  “Filthy witherlings!  This tells me that any gnolls around here are in dire straits,” the Fingerpainter said, punctuating with a ball of spit on the ground.  “Necromancy comes too easily to them.  We don’t need undead in the world let alone undead gnolls.  Both are disgusting enough, but combining them?  I hope this first time is the last time.”

I stared at the gnome, “What do you mean ‘first time?’”

He turned his head to look at me, “Well, I have studied a lot about various schools of magic.  But reading about the undead is a bit different than running into them.”

This surprised me, “You mean, people don’t normally…well…animate them?”

The Fingerpainter made a face, “No!  That’s not proper!  Most goodly folk would consider that an offense.  Wait, why?  What do you do in Sigil with undead?”

“Well, the Dusties…er what used to be the Dustmen, collected the corpses of the dead and interred them in the mortuary based on their beliefs.  But some poorer folk sold their future corpses for jink.  They get animated and used as laborers.”

“Why would they do a terrible thing like that?  The gods don’t normally approve of such dirty things.”

I felt relieved, “Well, being poor has a lot to do with it.  Jink now, for a body that you aren’t going to miss later.  But it’s nice to hear that not everyone animates the dead here.”

The gnome nodded, “in the north here, very true.  Now there are singular places that have more than their needed amount of undead.  Like Warlock’s Crypt I have heard.  But the only nation that has large concentrations of undead servants is Thay, far to the east.  There the Zulkirs that study necromancy, animate…well whatever they want.”

“Remind me not to visit,” I said trying to put the thought of cities crawling with the undead out of my mind.  While we were talking I had with some difficulty cleaned out the cut with water from my waterskin.  I was going to try to put on a bandage when the Knight intervened.
“Let me.  It’s hard enough with two hands, let alone one,” he said.  I nodded and let him tie the makeshift bandage on.  “I have a question though.  Why didn’t the two witherlings attack you?  I saw them run at you, and just as quickly run towards us.  What did you do?”

I thought a moment.  It was a great question, but one I didn’t have an answer for.  “I don’t know…I saw them try very hard to swing at me, but they were hesitant.  But I didn’t _do_ anything.  Not a spell.”

The Fingerpainter chimed in, “Did you use that holy symbol on your neck?”

“What?  No…why would I do that?” I asked, as this was confusing to me.

“Well, those with a lot of faith in their gods, sometime invest power their servants and they can then cause the undead to run and cower.  Many clerics here can do this.”

“Oh…I mean in Sigil while we have musties around, I don’t think I ever saw someone do that.  I don’t know how, and I …don’t _think_ I did anything.  Thanks Iesa, that should be good.” I said, as he finished tightening the cloth around the arrow wound.

He nodded, “No problem.  Sure it’s not too tight?”

“No…it’s fine…really,” I looked at him.  For some reason he looked nervous, or rather skittish.  “I’m not a piece of delicate crockery…I’ll tell you if it hurts.” I said.

“Yeah…right.  We probably should look at the rest of the wagon’s here, see if anyone was hiding or there is stuff we can use.”

And at that moment, the Tinman returned, “Nope…nothing living or dead beyond what we killed.  
And I’m pretty sure this isn’t a merchant caravan.”

The Knight looked up with interest, “Why do you say that?”

The Tinman continued, “No ‘goods.’ Just old furnishings, used farm tools and junk.  Looks like homesteaders to me; probably fleeing their farms because of them,” he said pointing to the bodies.

The Knight looked crestfallen, “Probably means not a lot of coin either.”

“You are welcome to look, but I only poked at a box or two.  Nothing obvious, and if I were a farmer, I’d probably keep my coin on me if I could.  Which means the gnolls might have taken any coin accidentally.”

I look at the Tinman, “What?  They don’t loot?”

“Well…they do.  But not coin.  They want people for…food,” he replied with a tone of disgust. 

“Why am I not surprised.   Well I guess we can take what we need, but what then?” I said.

The Knight then responded instead, “We should burn the corpses and get some distance.   I’ll start looking for a spot for the night.  But I’m going to double check the other wagons before we go.”
I nodded and looked at the mess of corpses.   I guessed that taking care of the dead wasn’t exclusive to uncorrupted peoples of the multiverse.   I then started to drag the corpses into a pile on a patch of bare earth.  As expected, beyond strips of leather and very poor weapons they had nothing of value.   The Tinman came over with some chairs and broke them apart to make some kindling.

The Knight returned with a look of disappointment on his face.   But he did hand the Tinman a clay pot.   He glanced quickly at the contents, nodded and poured the contents on the wood and bodies.
“Hey Beepu, can I get a light?” the Knight called out.

“Magic isn’t an art used to make things convenient because you can’t work a flint and steel.”   The Fingerpainter preached in retort.

“That’s nice.  Just light it so we can leave before any other gnolls decide to show up.” The Knight replied

“FOOM” and with an arrow of flame the Fingerpainter set the makeshift pyre alight, and soon became a roaring blaze.   I bow my head, and utter a prayer, hoping the souls find their just judgement.
We leave the remains of the caravan, and move with some haste, as the light from the setting sun was starting to fade.   The Knight was ranging ahead looking for a place to camp.  Sometime later, just as the sun sank below the horizon, he returned and motioned for us to follow him.   He led us a small distance off the road to a gully.   Down in the gully, the water had scooped out a cut underneath a formation of sandstone, providing cover from above, and a safe place to light a small fire.

I took off my pack and set it on the ground.  The Tinman called out my name and tossed me what looked to be a rolled bundle of cloth, leather and fur.  I looked at him quizzically.

“I found some bedrolls in the caravan, and I noticed Beepu and you didn’t seem to have one.” He stated.   “We should gather some wood for a fire and setup watch.”

“Thanks…didn’t even think of it.  But what do you mean by ‘watch?’” I asked.

He looked at me with surprise, “You really haven’t been outside a city much.  Someone that keeps an eye on the fire, and for trouble.   I assume that you wizards will either want the first or last to get your beauty sleep.”

I give him a level look and replied drily, “Thanks for the concern.  I’ll take the first I guess.  And also, I’m not a wizard.”

“I had wondered about that,” the Fingerpainter chimed in.  “You mentioned being able to take care of yourself.  I thought it was with those daggers.  But now with your explanation of planar mechanics I see I was in error.  You must have sorcery in your blood.”

“I guess...It was only in the last four years I could cast anything.  And I don’t have a book of spells.  So, I suppose it’s accurate.” I said.

“Well, magic is magic no matter what the source.  Now, I don’t think we need watches at all.  Foggle can watch for all of us.” The Fingerpainter said looking at his mechanical owl with pride.

“If it can see in the dark, it’s a help since you’re the only other one that can.  But I’m not going to let it be our only eye for trouble.” The Knight disdainfully said, looking at the owl.

“Well, since _you two_ are the only ones,” pointing at the Knight and the Tinman,” that can’t see in the dark, why don’t you take a watch together with the owl.

“Oh!  That would be a help…only half of us will be blind then.  Won’t matter though…we’ll likely hear them before we see them,” the Tinman said with a smirk.  

And at that moment, I understood why.   I could hear them in the distance.  High pitched yipping and what almost sounded like laughter.

“That doesn’t sound like the gnoll I just killed,” I said listening intently.

“No…those are the hyenas that follow them around.   It’s said after a hyena eats its fill from leavings from the gnolls, that a new gnoll is born…or bursts forth.  Something like that.” The Knight said.  “Anyway, they’re scavengers   Not much for sneaking when gnolls…and food are around.”

“Great.” I said.  “Something to listen to.”

We laid out our bed rolls and munched on the rations; some type of mix of nuts, take and jerky.  Dry but filling and I admit it was better than some gruel I had in the Gatehouse.  The other three were talking some small talk, but I was lost in my own thoughts.  

I always thought I was, if not well lanned was lanned enough.  But here, I was beginning to realize how much I really didn’t know.  We always joked about how Primes were “clueless berks.”  But, now as I said to Beepu earlier it was just a lack of context.  The nearest marauders to Sigil, were always just around the corner, but they were barred by portals or even just the will of the Lady herself.  The last time the Blood War entered Sigil was hundreds of years ago.  The damage was extensive, and that area is called the slags now.  But the war was remote in most people’s minds.

Here, there were no portals, no gates, no walls.  Here the monsters walked free and no power barred them.  For that matter, I can see why powers matter more to the Primes.  It probably mattered a lot to the travelers in that caravan.  I tried to push the thought of their fate out of my mind.  They’re in the deadbook now.

I’m not.

No…_we’re_ not.

I look at the three.  They banter easily about local goings on.  I’ve never been that good at small talk.  Or maybe it’s the small talk is always the same topic; how I am different.  It took a long time to…be let in to a circle of friends in Sigil, almost all of them Sensates.

All but one dead.  And that one…well he had enough torment for a lifetime or twelve.  I didn’t want to dwell on that either.

At that point there was an exchange going on between the Knight and the Fingerpainter, when the Fingerpainter started to snore.  The Knight poked him and pointed out the obvious and started to prepare for sleep.  Looking at the others it was clear that everyone was exhausted from the fight.  One by one, each settled into their bedroll to get comfortable.

“Night all,” I said and got various murmuring in response.  I looked at the owl and it returned my gaze with a slow mechanical blink.  

“I should really get a pet like you I suppose.  But do me a favor, if I fall asleep and especially if I start snoring, wake me up.”

“Beeeppooo.”

“I hope you said, ‘Sure thing,’” and I looked out in the darkness as I started my first watch, hoping for a peaceful night.  From the sounds though in the distance, it wasn’t going to be a quiet one.
*
Session Notes:*
The combat was pretty much as written.  Yes the witherlings wouldn’t attack me, and they were constantly redirecting themselves.  Everyone can start playing guess the power set here.  Also, for people wondering, the wizard never was a fan of using his owl for a help actions.  It was weeks before he asked how that mechanic worked since he read about it online.

Please feel free to PM on questions or comments.  Would love to hear from 300+ viewers of this story.


----------



## Nthal

*...to a Blexburgh*

…to a Blexburgh​_First impressions sometimes get to the heart of things, before you start wasting time trying to rationalize why you disagree with your gut.  But everyone makes a bad call here and there.  It’s when you are in total denial and not listening to anything, ever, is where you need to stop thinking about it so hard.
_
Nothing happened.

That’s it.  No hyenas running through the camp.  No marauding packs of gnolls.  No excitement.  
Staring into the darkness and listening to hyenas wasn’t exciting.  By the time that my watch ended, the noises from the hyenas had faded away to nothing, and only the sounds of insects and pops from the fire remained.  Which was a surprise to me, as the one thing I was dreading, was listening to “Beeepooo” all night.

But the owl was quiet the entire time.  It wasn’t asleep at all, as its head turned often, but it didn’t utter a sound.  This was different than during the day, where it always was making noise.  I knew it was a familiar, but I didn’t know how you went about and got one or how they work.  So maybe it’s noises meant something, and at night it had no reason to make any. 

So, the only time it did make that noise, “Beeppoo” it just pivoted its head looking at me, and then towards the two humans.  Considering that there wasn’t a clock anywhere, this was very helpful.  I moved back into the circle where the others slept, reached down and touched the Knight.  He was a light sleeper and woke with a start.  He turned his head trying to locate me in the darkness.

“Shhh.  Nothing is going on…but it’s your turn,” I whispered.

He blinked and following the sound of my voice looked in my direction and nodded.  “Quiet and dark, guess I can’t ask for more than that.  Daneath up yet?”

“No, started with you,” I said, moving towards the Tinman.  “Been quiet and dark for a while; no howling anymore.”

“Great…could use more light now though.  Can’t even see the wood we had stacked up.”

“I can help with that,” I pulled out a greenie out of my pouch, and with a quick flexing of my mind, no more effort than blinking my eyes I felt the rush up my back, and a golden light burst from the coin.  I then held it out to the Knight.

He was blinking looking at me, “What the…was that real?”

“The light?  As real as the next hour is.”

“No…the wings…wait they’re gone.   I did see them…right?”

I shrug, “Ghostly, not quite there wings.  I know they appear when I make a light, but not other times.  I guess it’s a hidden gift from my father.”

“Beepu said you were related to angels…I thought it was his idea of pulling one over my eyes.”
I chuckle, “No…I don’t think that’s in his spellbook.  He and I talked earlier.  I’m an Aasimar…so yeah part angel.   You can…cover that coin with a cloth or bag to hide the light if you need.  I’ll let you wake him up,” pointing at the Tinman.

I then moved over to where my bedroll was and laid down and covered myself with the wool.  I put my head down, and I could feel the exhaustion catching up with me.

“Wait, who’s your father?”

“Heaven knows,” I mutter sleepily, and I drift off into sleep.

---

I awoke in terror sitting upright with my hand at my throat.  My breathing was labored once again.  Familiar territory.  Familiar fear.  And just as familiar, no memory.

Actually, I’m not sure I want to remember.  Considering I’ve had nightmares for years now.  

I just want them to stop.

“Well I guess I do not need to wake you up,” the overly cheery voice of the Fingerpainter quipped.
I sigh, trying to pull myself together, “No.  I’m quite awake.  Now.”  I stretched and pulled myself out of the bedroll.

“Well as a nice surprise nothing happened.  And as I told you before, Foggle could have easily done all the watches for us.”

I looked at the owl and then at the Fingerpainter, “You’ve got a Tanar’ri’s chance in Nessus of that happening.”

The gnome’s brow furrowed, and his eyes darted back and forth, his mouth silently mouthing words.  Finally, he turned his head to look at me.  

“So…no then?”

---

For the next day and a half, it was marching.  My calves and hamstrings burned the entire way.  We didn’t talk much as I recall.  I don’t remember much about the road or the hills or anything.  The intervening night was as uneventful and as was the morning.

Finally, we arrived.  The road came around a hill and I could finally see the destination.  Yartar was a bit larger than Triboar.   It was situated on a hill where a pair of rivers blended into a third.  The town had a wall surrounding it, and it appeared to be tiered.  The top tier had some sort of estate at the top, and there was a broad second tier with stone buildings.   This overlooked a broad third tier of wooden buildings visible above the surrounding wall.  This was my second impression.  The first impression hit me hard and my eyes widened, as the breeze blew from the town and towards us.  

The smell was overpowering.  It was a mixture of rotten fish, oils, urine and fouled water.  The only thing I didn’t smell was brimstone, which was in the background of all the smells in Sigil.  The sources of the smells were clusters of buildings along the banks of the river, downstream from the city.  Docks were anchored just outside the walls, and large number of barges were docked, and even then, the docks were only a third full.

It was a Blexburgh.  I was underwhelmed at the site and smell.  I only hoped that this plane had more to offer than this city.  

The smell wasn’t lost on the others as well.  

“Wow…I thought that the docks in Waterdeep smelled bad.” The Knight remarked, pulling a cloth over his nose.

“Ah, that smell is from the tanneries downstream from Yartar.  Making leather is a nasty business, best out of sight and out of nasal distance.”  The Fingerpainter said matter of factly.

“I just hope its downwind.” Our Knight replied.

“Well we can hope.  But, where are we going now that we are here?” I asked.

“I can find us a place once we get in the gates,” the Knight said.

“You’ve been here before?” the Tinman turned and looked at him.

“No, but I can find my way around.”

I put up my cowl of my cloak and tucked in my hair again.  Soon we found ourselves crossing the Surbrin river bridge and were walking towards the gate.  Unlike Triboar, there were actually guards standing around the gate.  Or rather, leaning near it.  They seemed uninterested in us, or in anything in particular.  As we were approaching, a heavily loaded wagon had pulled in front of us from a road leading north, with an armed escort.  Leading it was a man dressed in leathers, and a pair of swords hanging from belts.  The guards, where they were bored before, stood more alert and watched as the wagon entered the gates.  But they didn’t stop or question the man, or the drovers.  In fact, they seemed almost apprehensive.  But as soon as the wagon entered the gate, they resumed their relaxed postures and ignored our small band, as well as the other people wandering in.

The main thoroughfare wandered into the city and between the walls and the fact that the tanners were downstream the noxious smell became much more tolerable.  But what caught my eye, was that there were dark sailcloth banners overhead, stretching across the road.  Many of the smaller shops on either side, also had a mixture of dark and white toned cloth.  It certainly felt that the town was getting ready to celebrate the strange holiday they called the Hate Night.

We finally reached an open market.  Here among the customary goods of fish and leather were specialty vendors offering something for the occasion.  Everyone seemed to have feathered masks for sale.  Several were offering cheaply dyed cloth for decoration.  Street urchins were hawking flowers dipped into dark paints, creating what looked to almost macabre bouquets.  Everyone had something to sell for the occasion, as long as it was generally dark, and framed with light colors.

The market sat roughly in the middle of the lowest of the three tiers of the city.  Most of the folk that had entered the town with us at the gate now started to separate and conduct business.  But the wagon that we followed did not stop.  In fact, several of the caravan guards were actively pushing commoners away from…whatever they were carrying.  The wagon continued through and started to move upwards toward another gate leading to the next tier.

At this point the Fingerpainter spoke up, “Well the assault on my nose has been stopped.  So,” and he turned to look at the Knight, “Where is it you propose we stay and plan out our next steps.   That, and food.  Yes food is in order, after those trail rations almost anything would be welcome.”

“Almost,” I said absently as I looked around at the stalls and goods.  “Probably should see when the party is too.”

“Party?  Is that terribly important compared to our journey?” the gnome asked archly.

“Only if you want to buy supplies from a hung-over merchant; might get better deals from someone nursing a headache.” I remarked.

“Hang around a moment, I’ll be right back,” the Knight said as he dove into the throng of merchants and shoppers.

“…and I guess we wait here.” I said.

The Tinman shrugged and was then quickly mobbed by several merchants trying to sell him cloth wraps for his scabbard for the coming occasion.  Since we were on the edge of the marketplace, I just moved to find a nearby wall and waited.  I really wanted to shop and look around.  But the amount of jink in my pouch was only getting lower and I didn’t want to give in to temptation.  Fortunately, the other two were getting the most attention from the merchants, and for the moment they didn’t give me a second glance.

It wasn’t long before the Knight returned and motioned us to follow him.  We quickly cut through the center of the market and entered what looked to be a poorer neighborhood than the ones we had passed earlier.  He quickly navigated us down some narrow streets, and then to even narrower alleys.  I was beginning to believe he was either barmy or lost or perhaps both, when he came to a small set of stairs leading down to what appeared to be a cellar behind a building.  On the wall on the building was a worn sign with dark letters:

*‘The Lusty Bard’​*
“Here?”  the Fingerpainter exclaimed.  “This is a bit off from the main streets and such.  Why this particular place?”

“I’m with him on this,” I said, “I mean, I’m ok with cheap lodgings, but this smells like a den of cony catchers.”

The three look at me blankly.

“I mean a den of…spi…er, well knights of the p…um…”

The blank looks continued.

“Den of thieves.”

All three nod, and our Knight replies, “Exactly.”

The Tinman, the Fingerpainter and I, look at him and say, “Why?”

He shrugs and says, “Well, it’s a great place for local information, the drinks will be cheap.  And besides, what could go wrong?”

*Session Notes:*

Funny thing is that after a year, the map that we used for Yartar has gone missing.  Even stranger, is while there is an official map of Triboar, there isn’t one of Yartar from WoTC.

And as to the Hate Night; we were mystified too.


----------



## Nthal

*The Darks of Yartar*

*The Darks of Yartar.​*

_There are two things you can rely on when you are in a den of cony catchers, is that for certain you know that everyone is looking out for their own interests.  The real question isn’t if your interest and theirs are the same, it’s when their interest changes.

Which leads to the second thing you can rely on, it always changes._


We descended the worn stone stairs, arriving at a battered oaken door.  Without a pause, our Knight gripped the handle, opened it and continued down into ‘the Lusty Bard.’  The gnome followed him, and I followed the gnome with our Tinman bringing up the rear.

Once below, my eyes quickly adjusted and gave me that strange mix of colors and greys.  I could tell the humans were having challenges adjusting to the dark by their squinting and the quick turns of their heads.  The darkened room was typical of a tap room with benches and tables were scattered around and columns supporting the building above.  A bar with some tapped barrels behind it followed the long wall with the barrels stacked on their sides in a rack.  The room was perhaps half full, and while none of the patrons turned their heads to look at us, their eyes told a different story.  Everyone seemed to be watching and sizing us up out of the corner of their eyes.

Despite the name, there wasn’t a bard present, or any music at all.  Only the quiet murmur of the crowd, which became even more subdued as we closed the door behind us and stepped off the landing.  We were outsiders, and it wasn’t clear of at all on what they thought of us.  Personally, I was hoping not to draw any attention to myself; the only women in the room were a couple of serving girls, that were both homely and weathered.  I knew I would stand out and attract attention, but I didn’t want to be picked out to be a cony.

Right after the door closed, the Knight made a quick flourish of his hands and with confidence strode over to an empty trestle table, worn and stained with…well at least beer or ale.  I didn’t recognize what he did, but I guessed he sent a signal or message to the various folks in the bar.  The crowd did react; some turned their heads away uninterested, others shrugged, and a small number seemed to be more interested than before.

We threaded our way between the haphazard collection of tables, when one of the girls wandering around the taproom came by to give us a look over.  She was young, with black hair, brown eyes and olive skin, wearing a crooked smile on her face.  I also noted she was a fair bit more attractive than the other two serving girls who were dropping off drinks to the other tables.  And then she said; “So watcha want strangers?”

“A round of ale for my associates,” the Knight replied.

“I would prefer just some water,” the Fingerpainter corrected.  He then looked at the Knight, “I need to keep my mind sharp in a place like this.”

The Tinman and I said nothing and for me, an ale would be just fine.  But the serving girl looked at the gnome with an arched eyebrow, clicked her tongue in her mouth, held out her hand and said, “A silver for the table then.  Might take a bit to find…plain water.”

The knight shrugged and tossed a stinger to her, which she deftly caught.  As we sat down at the table, she brushed herself next to the gnome and commented, “We don’t usually get much requests here for water; most folks think it’s not safe for you.”

“My mind is more important!” the Fingerpainter replied and was trying to ignore her in his personal space.

The girl shrugged and wandered into the crowd towards the bar.  The Tinman turned his head to look at the gnome.  “Water?  Really?”

“I am not going to justify my beverage choice to you!  But not ordering something would look strange do you not think?”

“I think the water order was strange enough.  You might as well gotten the ale and not drank it.”

“But I was thirsty and drinking from my skin would be rude in an establishment such as this.  And that would have been wasting an ale.”

At this point a different serving girl arrived at the table and asked, “So what did you folks want?”

The Knight looked at her briefly and said, “The other girl was getting us some ales.”

She looked at him for a second with an amused look on her face, “Honey, we got two girls workin’ today and neither of us have talked to you, so what did you want?”

This got the Knight’s attention, “I said I gave an order and coin to the other girl.  You know, the young pretty one with dark hair.”

“Ah…you mean Senya.  Sorry hon’ she isn’t a serving girl here.  And good luck finding her and your coin.  Should have waited for the ale before paying up too,” she said with a smirk on her face, and a stifled giggle.

The Knight, realizing he’d been duped, covered his face with his hand and groaned.  Finally, he muttered, “Just three ales then…” then he looked at the gnome and pointed 
at him, he then amended it, “…and a water for him.”  Nearby, some patrons at a table, snorted trying to hold in their laughter.

“Sure thing,” and she walked off towards the bar.  While this was going on I checked the room out and I was not surprised to see that I couldn’t see “Senya” anywhere.  It was well executed; and established we didn’t know who was who here.  But it was a bit of a ploy for a stinger.

The noise next to me caused me to turn my head as the gnome was patting himself with his hand around his belt and was saying something in a language I didn’t recognize.  He then with a steely glare looked at the Knight, “She took my coin pouch…that…that…Senya.  This is your fault!” and he stabbed his finger at the Knight.
Now it was clear what the cony was, and it appeared that her score was going to be a bit higher than just a stinger.  I couldn’t help myself but smile.  Yet at the same time, I checked my own belongings.  Fortunately for me I had everything still.  Probably because I don’t keep my coin in a coin pouch at my side. 

The Knight had a look of shock on his face, “I told them to leave…never mind.”

“Some pull you have here,” I remarked dryly.  “I feel perfectly at home at this point.  Thanks.” 

At this point the Tinman was laughing as well, “Well…you did say ‘what could possibly go wrong’ after all.”

The Knight’s cheeks had turned a nice baator red and his face scrunched up in anger.  He glared towards the bar, stood up, and waded through the patrons, heading for the keeper.

Just as he reached it, a pair of sounds grabbed our, and for that matter everyone else’s attention in the bar.  The sound of a quarrel being fired, and the sound of it hitting its mark.  The latter came from the back of a human in leathers, and he promptly fell flat on his face not two paces from the door leading to the stairs.  Turning to my left the owner of the quarrel was an elf.  Guessing by the flowing white hair, delicate pointed ears, and the dusky skin I was guessing one of the dark elves; a drow.  Her eyes were cold, and she had the faintest smile on her lips as she looked at the now fallen body on the floor.  Her lithe body was dressed in black leathers, covering what appeared to be fine chain underneath.  In her hand was a small handheld crossbow, and in the other was a sword.  

I probably stared longer than I meant to; she was exotic and unlike any other elf kind I had ever seen.  Most drow never come to Sigil, and those that do, always seem to be ‘Giving the Laugh’ or hiding from someone; their god, their sisters or brothers, or someone.  While rarely seen, everyone knew about them and the power that ruled them.  And the reputation they had was they were capable, cruel, and not to be trusted.  I had only seen one other before in my life, and that one was a corpse. And despite the fact she just ‘delivered the mail,’ she was already intriguing.

But if she noticed me staring at her, she gave no indication.  With a quick snap of her fingers, two men came from behind her and approached the silent man on the ground.  They quickly cuffed him and after opening the door, dragged him to the street above.  The drow paying no heed to anyone around her, followed with an air of smug confidence.  She followed the two men, and the door closed, returning the taphouse to its dim light.  Shortly afterwards, the murmuring started.
The Knight at this point returned, and like others was staring at the door where she had exited and calmly tossed a pouch over to the Fingerpainter.

The gnome was surprised, saying “That was quick; seems to have all my coin in it too.  How did you manage to do that?”

The Knight nodded at the doorway, “Well, the tap keeper was playing dumb at first.  But when that…” nodding his head towards they doorway, “happened, he seemed to change his mind.  I asked about it too, and she is some enforcer for the Waterbaroness here.”

“The local ruler I take,” I remarked “And fortunate for us.  And it didn’t cost you anything?”

“Oh, it cost a small favor owed to me,” came a voice from a figure that had approached quietly behind our Tinman.  “But, a small investment made can pay handsomely; especially for skilled individuals.”  I turned my head to look at the new arrival; the voice indicated a ‘he’ and he wore a full cloak, with his hood up.  And while I was sure the humans, couldn’t see well, I was certain the gnome saw what I saw under the hood.  A smiling face with pointed teeth, solid colored eyes without the whites, and a pair of thick horns curling down around his ears.

He waved his hand, and the serving girl, brought out our drinks, plus a fifth which he grabbed off her serving tray.  With a lazy, practiced flourish he pulled his hood back and continued that grin and spoke “And I see we have four newcomers to Yartar.”

“What makes you think we’re new here?” the Knight challenged.

“Well simple, you tried to warn everyone to leave your friends alone upon entry.  But you clearly aren’t a member of the guild here, so of course the guild decided to put you in your place.”

“How do you know that?”

“You aren’t a woman,” the tiefling continued with that smug smile.  “Or at least I am fairly certain you aren’t a very unattractive one.  And the local guild only accepts women.  But, this is well known to the locals, but not to you.  So, you must be new here.”

The Knights mouth opened and shut a couple of times, as he clearly couldn’t think of a smart retort.

“But, everyone is new once and I for one enjoy new company.  You may call me Mordai.  But please, why don’t you relax a bit so we can chat?  Who might I have the pleasure of addressing?” and he pulled a stool from another table and casually sat down between the fingerpainter and the Tinman and across from me.
“I am Beepu Titeepockey of Silverymoon, and I suppose I owe you thanks for my pouch,” giving a pointed stare at the Knight once again.  “He is Iesa and the large one next to you is Daneath.”

“I see, and well met.  But who is this woman that I see?  While I can see the shape of her face the colors are lost in the darkness.  You can probably take the hood down as the sun won’t bother your eyes here.”

I know that I tilted my head to one side and regarded him.  He was puzzled, but he hid it well with a smooth tongue.  But it was a subtle challenge that hung in the air.  Pulling myself straight, I dropped the hood down and shook my hair free.  “Myrai.  I hope there is enough light for you to see me proper now?” as I fixed my eyes on him.
To his credit, he barely reacted.  Like myself, I was sure he couldn’t have seen my eyes or hair in the dark under the hood.  They would appear flat and featureless.  Only in the light can you see your reflection, and hair in the dark is just grey hair with trending toward light or dark.  So, my metallic hair and mirrored eyes weren’t what he was expecting.

“I would have thought you were an eladrin here in the dark, but you are altogether rarer…Aasimar.” He said with a hint of distaste and a little loud.

The other patrons in the taproom, had noticed this exchange and of course turned their heads to look at this development.  Many of them did doubletakes and the conversation picked up a bit here and there.  I couldn’t make out what was being said, but my “reveal” was causing a stir in this downtrodden bar.

I then smiled, “Your skills at observation are still holding up zu’ling.  But for a friendly conversation your tone concerns me.  Are you uncomfortable with me berk?” and I waited.

Still smiling he replied, “Of course not, but I’m a tiefling not a, what did you say, a zu’ling?”

I had grabbed my mug that was set on the table earlier and took a sip and replied, “I disagree, your coloring and features are very consistent with a zu’ling.  You don’t have the foul complexion of a loth’ling and your features and coloration in combination wouldn’t be typical for a tanar’ling.  But all the word ‘zu’ling’ means is what plane has touched you.  All, are tieflings after all.” And I took another casual sip and watched.

He was processing what I said, and he appeared to take it as is.  This told me two things.  First, because he had never heard the term zu’ling, he wasn’t a planeswalker.  And second, calling him a berk didn’t cause a defensive reaction either.  To me that sealed it; he was a clueless prime.  But, while that certainly true, it didn’t mean he didn’t know things.

“You don’t care for her much, do you?” the Knight said dryly.

“No…considering her kind and mine are polar opposites.  But, now we have formally met you seem to be exactly the people I am looking for…mostly,” He said, not even giving me a second look unsurprisingly.  To be honest, tieflings and aasimar generally aren’t comfortable in each other’s presence.  Being descended from creatures of belief sometimes manifests as physical discomfort.  Not always, and not even universally.  I barely noticed any discomfort with this one, but he seemed more affected by me.

“An interesting offer,” the Knight said, “But we were more interested in some…local information.”

“I’m not an information broker really.   My organization that I…represent is more goal and action oriented.”

“And what organization is that?” the Tinman asked.

“We call ourselves, the ‘Crimson Star,’ and we have interests in strong commerce…and keeping it strong.” Mordai replied.  “Yartar is an up and coming city, and all it needs is some pushes in the right direction.  The right pushes will lead to stronger influence in the ‘Lord’s Alliance.’  And so, we are always looking for capable hands.”
The Knight nodded, “Makes sense.  But I think we have…other plans right now.  But we are curious about some things we saw in town.”

“Oh?  And what would that be?” he looked at the Knight with some amusement.

“Well, we noticed a heavily loaded wagon coming from the north under escort.  I didn’t think there was much around here that would warrant one.  Know anything about that?”

The tiefling regarded the Knight with a look of interest, “Them?  That’s the Waterbaroness’ pet project.  Seems that since the Elk tribe ‘disappeared,’ she has a band of folks looting Elk burial mounds.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared?” the Fingerpainter asked.

“The Elk haven’t been seen now in two seasons, which is unlike them to say the least.  And so, the Waterbaroness made a decree that all burial sites were the sole property of her excellency.  I hear that there is an outpost north of town where they rove the plains.”

“What’s so interesting about these mounds?” the Tinman asked.

“Burial customs of the elk, usually find some wealth with them.  But its mystery if this is some type of crass form of grave robbing or…something else.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.  “But the Waterbaroness has been a bit distracted lately, so getting her opinion is a bit challenging.”

“Distracted by what?” I asked.

“Oh, the Hate Night festivities.” And the tiefling took another drink.

“That was the other question, what is this Hate Night?  I’ve never heard of it.” The Knight interjected.

The tiefling frowned a moment and then spoke, “It started maybe, four or five years ago.  The Waterbaroness announced a celebration and gave a warning.  A grand masked ball at the Waterbaroness’ keep, to which everyone copied.  But the warning was to keep indoors the entire night.  Effectively a curfew on the town…or else.”

“Or else…what?” the Knight asked.

“Well…that is the interesting part.  Each Hate Night a fog rises in the town, and people who wander in it, lose their memory.  It’s all very mysterious, and random.  One year, it happened three times, another only once.  Never the same day, and it can be announced any season.”

I frowned to myself.  I was wondering if it were a planar in nature, specifically to one place where I had heard that holding on to memories were a problem.  The Feywild.  A shadow of the prime that was a twisted mirror of its environs.  But I had never heard of a town so close to a border of it.  It sounded almost like a gate town in this regard.  But on the Prime?   Was it possible?

“But somehow, the Waterbaroness knows exactly when it is and she always enjoys her captive audience in her domicile.  In fact, it’s the only time that every guard is basically off duty; not that anyone can take advantage of it,” and Mordai drained his cup.

We looked at each other, digesting what we just heard.  I thought it was an interesting chant.  The stuff about the Hate Night was interesting local history, if not terribly useful.  But the idea of the robbing the graves of the Elk sounded wrong.  And as I remembered, ‘Flint Rock’ was a cairn…so we might need to hurry.
The Fingerpainter was more blunt about the whole scenario saying, “Well that is all very interesting, but we already have things to do and little time.  So, taking on additional work is out of the questions!”

The Knight flipped a jinx to Mordai and said, “Well thanks for the information.”

Mordai looked vaguely insulted, but pocketed the coin and said, “Well, perhaps when you have finished your…obligations then.  You can leave a message with the tapkeeper here, and it will get to me swiftly.  Good day.” And he stood and sauntered off in the back of ‘The Lusty Bard.’

At that point that the Knight and I heard something in the background.  Sounding like muffled shouting.  Our eyes caught each other as we both tilted our heads at the same time confirming it wasn’t our imagination either.  At that point, a door on the far side of the bar opened, and the shouting became clearer.  
It was a mixture of cheering, jeers and insults and what sounded to be a fight going on.  The door closed, as a patron exited with some excitement and a smile on his face; perhaps the first honest smile I had seen in the taproom since we arrived.  

The Tinman reached out and tugged the sleeve of the smiling man and asked, “Hey, is that a fighting pit down over there?”

The beaming patron nodded, “Yes it is,” and the patron looked at the Tinman up and down.  “Heh, you’re large enough to be a contender.  Thinking on trying your luck on the floor?”

The Tinman stood up with a dreamy grin on his face and said:

“Yes…yes I am.”

*Session Notes*
first, sorry on being a bit late; gaming convention distraction.  Also, again if you aren't familiar with Sigil cant, 'Darks' means 'secrets'   This was part of our earliest sessions, and we were still feeling out the characters a bit, and we had an interesting mix of non-charismatic characters trying to be the face of the party.  In fact, we were very tentative about who was leading the pack.  From my perspective, I was 'tagging' along as I didn't really care about Flint Rock yet.

And of course, still 1st level...which leads to some interesting things we will see soon.


----------



## Nthal

*"Big D"*

*“Big D”​*
_When sizing up your opponents, you always need to look at every angle.  Their speed physically and mentally.  Their confidence; is it real or for show?  Their choice of weapons; big, small, fast, slow, physical or magic?

And lastly; sometimes size does matter.​_
I looked at our Tinman, with what I am fairly sure was a puzzled look on my face.   His attention was focused on the now closed door.  He had a hungry look on his face with the just the slightest grin on his lips.  

The Knight noticed this as well, “Wait, are you seriously thinking about entering the ring here?”
Without turning his head, he nodded and explained, “Yes I am.  It’s how I acquired the money to buy my gear.  It’s a bit of fun”

“This seems to be a waste of time!  Should we not be making plans to…head north?” the Fingerpainter said looking hard at the Tinman.

The Knight turned his head and responded, “Probably not till after Daneath has his fill.  Besides, it’s late afternoon.   We aren’t going to get far in the dark anyway.”

The gnome made a face at this and nodded, “Your probably right there.  We should get a room then at least so I can get some work done.”

“I agree with that.  Come with me and let's make some arrangements.  Don’t get started without me Deneath;  I want to see this.”

The Tinman looked at the Knight and sighed, “Just hurry it up.  I’ll see you inside.  Coming Myrai?”

Startled for a moment I quickly said, “Sure, beats sitting here at a table alone.  Let’s take a look.”

The Tinman and I got up and made our way to the closed door.  A burly guard stood at one side of the door, and quickly sized up the Tinman.  He nodded approvingly and opened the door.  As he was doing so, I quickly grabbed the Tinman’s arm and locking my arm around his.  Smiling I said, “We’ll…you know how to show a girl a good time,”

He was surprised at first, but it was replaced quickly by a wolfish grin, “Well, let’s see what the locals have as far as entertainment.”  Together arm and arm we entered the darkened room.

If the rest of the taproom looked worn down and dilapidated, it was because of the arena we entered.  The owner or owners put more money down here; the bar along one wall looked newer and better cared for.  The chairs and tables around the room were better quality, and the serving girls were more attractive.  The room itself was square, but in the middle was a thirty-foot diameter pit, with a pair of stairs on opposite ends leading down into it.  The pit had a rail, and the tables surrounded the pit in tiered layers, so every table had a decent view of the fights.

Opposite of where we came in, the wall was covered in slate boards.  The boards were covered in chalk and on them were names, brackets and odds.   One board that was in use this evening, clearly covered the odds of various fighters who were in the pit and in front of it were several humans, exchanging coins for chits. 

The Tinman, pointed over to the boards and we made our way to the far side of the room.  Once there, he was looking around and finally settled his gaze on a nearby red-haired human with mutton chop facial hair and holding a flat board in one hand and a quill in the other.   Upon approaching him, he regarded the Tinman and I for a moment and spoke.  “So, you both looking to enter the ring?”

Grinning the Tinman replied, “Of course, but only I.  What’s the setup tonight?”

“Basically, it’s an open king of the ring; you enter one at a time, and whoever holds out for the night is the winner.   But I’ll tell you, the crowd is a bit bored.”

At that I look around, and while the room is pretty full, they crowd didn’t look enthusiastic.  It stood in contrast to the moments before we entered the room where I remember more cheering and excitement.

“Fickle crowd?” I asked

“No…conceding to the inevitable.  Everything is nice and fine, until the ‘Apple-King’ decides to play.  Then, it all stops.  No one likes the odds.”

“For or against this ‘Apple-King’?”  I asked.

“He’s got a good local rep; can’t make money betting for him to win.  And few make coin betting against him. Usually he shows up late in the evening to clean up, but he decided to step in early.   Mucks up the betting,” the human frowned.

“And why is he called the ‘Apple-King?’”  

“Heh, that has to do how he punches.  He hits a bit low most of the time.” The human grinned.

“Sounds like he could use to be taken down a peg.  What’s the rule of the pit?” the Tinman asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, usually bare fisted and no armor.  But when the King is in the ring, we let folks use armor.  Not that it helps much.” The man replied.  “So are you interested?”

“Of course, he is,” as the Knight clasped the Tinman on the shoulders to our surprise, as neither of us heard his approach.  “This is ‘Big D’ after all!”

The Tinman blinked and was about to interject, when the Knight continued, “He doesn’t like talking about it, but he’s well known in the Sword Coast rings!”

“I’ve never heard of…” the red-haired man tried to say

“Of course not!  He’s been on the coast itself; Luskan, Neverwinter and Waterdeep mostly.  This is his first time out this far east.  So, let’s get him in and start the fighting!”

The Tinman turned back to the man and said, “Well…I agree with that.  I don’t mind fighting with armor.  It’s his loss.”

The man nodded, “Alright…let me get your name here…’Big D’ I’ll get it up on the board.”

“Wait no…I’m not call…”the Tinman attempted to correct, before the man walked off towards the main chalk board.  He stopped and turned to look at the Knight instead, “Really?  ‘Big D’?  That sounds silly.”

“Nah…trust me, it’ll work.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see…or hear” the Knight grinned.

“Fine.  Better hold my gear.” As he took off his pack, bow and unbelted his sword, passing them to the Knight.  He looked at his shield and decided to hand that to the Knight as well.  

“Where’s your stuff?” I asked the Knight.

“Oh, it’s with Beepu in the room.  Here, hold his sword.  I need to warm up the crowd.”

The Knight then entered the crowd and was talking to a table with one of the serving girls at it.  As I watched he quickly, hit up several tables, pointing excitingly.

The Tinman ignored this and flexed.  “Well, I don’t usually do knuckledusters.  Prefer blunts.  Still something seems odd about this.”

I shrug, “Kind of reminds me of the ‘Bottle and Jug’ as they do some pit fighting there.  But they are a bit more closed door about it.”

“Oh why?” he asked

“Mostly because some of the fights, people don’t walk away from.” I said and looked the Tinman in the eye.  “It’s a rough place in an even rougher place.”

Looking at the chalk board, I see that they have written his name near the top of the board as ‘Big D.’  Alongside his name were set of odds, but I wasn’t clear on why so many, and what the odds meant.
His name was written below another one, that said ‘Apple-King’ but in comparison it was a single set of odds; in the house’s favor.  No one in their right mind was going to make a bet on a sure winner.

At this point an older blonde, heavy set woman made her way to the edge of the ring and started shouting:
“All right!   We seem to have a new comer to the ring.  Someone with experience and a name.”
At that point I could hear a voice in the crowd.  It sounded like the Knight, and he was chanting loudly “Big D!”

Quickly around the room, others started to cheer and chant.  What was malaise and disinterest before, started to change to excitement.

“Big D!”

“Big D!”

“Big D!”

I nudge the Tinman, “I think you should make an entrance now.”

He nodded and stepped down the stairs into the pit.  He lifted his right arm aloft in beat with the chants.  Encouraging the crowd and drinking in the adulation.

I moved to a rail near the edge to watch.  The Knight kept the chant going, moving in the crowd.  I turned to look at the board, and I saw a flurry of activity.  Bets were being made, odds being revised. 

The woman at the rails was nodding approvingly, “Big D it is!  My, can this…majestic form of a man hold his own?  Does he have what it takes to be the next king of the ring here?  Or does he have yet another set of apples to be bruised?  Because we all know his opponent, our local scourge of the ring, our own ‘Apple-King!’   And into the ring strode in a figure.

The figure was diminutive compared to ‘Big D’ barely half his height.  He wore only a pair of breeches and no shirt or even shoes.  His chest and arm muscles were defined, but to my eye looked wiry.  His brown hair was pulled up into a top-knot and he looked very, very sure of himself.  He looked at ‘Big D’ with a knowing smile.  He flexed and waved to the crowd, unconcerned about the fight.

“Well…get your bets in…no telling how long it will…or won’t last.” The woman said with a smile.   “Now get it on!” and the crowd responded in cheers.

The short figure was quick, skirting around the edge of the ring, while our Tinman circled as well, keeping his distance and sizing up the King.

Finally, the Tinman had enough and made a sudden move and jabbed with his left hand, connecting in the side of the small figures head.  He then followed up with his right fist clenched, bringing it down on the left shoulder of his opponent.  

The crowd for a moment was quiet, but once the two blows connected it grew wild.  They expected something, but not for the heavily armored one to strike first and hard.

The figure was also surprised at the speed of his opponent, and his eyes narrowed into a glare.  Now focused, he moved quickly, throwing a pair of punches and a kick at the Tinman.  None landed squarely, being either blocked or glancing off the chest plate of the Tinman’s armor.

The Tinman saw an opening and landed a right mailed fist into the side of the figures face, but missing with his left. 

“Oh, he’s just pissin him off now,” said a man next to me to another human.  That human nodded, “Yeah.  Not often someone lands a punch on the halfling, but he’s going to make this ‘Big D’ pay.”

The halfling (I guess) again moves quickly and punches three times.  Each one connects with armor solidly.  But if it had an effect on the Tinman, he wasn’t showing it.  Nor did the fact he was punching metal seem to bother the halfling either.  

The Tinman kept close and swung twice, neither finding their mark.  The halfling kicked and punched with quick strikes, but nothing seemed to be a solid hit that the Tinman noticed.  While the halfling was fast, the Tinman had solid reactions; always moving in a way so his armor took the brunt of the punches instead of trying to dodge the blow.

By comparison the halfling started changing his tactics, attacking less and spending more time dodging the Tinman’s attacks.  

After several minutes of probing, the Tinman landed a pair of punches on the halfling, the right pounding down on right shoulder, and the left punch landing with sickening crunch of metal on bone, knocking the halfling to the ground.  

The crowd was wild.  Again glancing at the slate, the chits and coins exchanged was fast.   Money was being made, although it was hard to see in whose favor.  But by ‘Big-D’s name, odds were being crossed off, from left to right, and as I watched another was crossed off again.  It finally dawned on me what it meant; the odds were for how long ‘Big D’ would last in the fight.   And he had defied all expectations; there were only two odds left.

No matter what, the house expected ‘Big D’ to lose.  The payout of the fight was twenty-three to one for him to win.  

But the Tinman was oblivious to this, focusing on his opponent.  The halfling was only down briefly and rolled quickly backwards and was back upright in a flash.  He was bloodied and smiling, altogether unconcerned.  He glanced at another halfling at the side of the ring who gave him a quick hand signal.  And with that, the fight changed.

The halfling changed his tactics.  He repeatedly dove towards the Tinman and only kicked, no longer attempting to punch.  He then kept moving away from the Tinman, attempting to force the Tinman into chasing him.

Looking at the Tinman, I could see him nod and smile; he knew he was being baited into chasing.  He moved himself to an edge of the ring and waited.  He didn’t chase, and let the halfling come to him, as he prepared himself to strike when the halfling got close.

The halfling never let up, and tirelessly came in, kicked and left striking range.  The Tinman was not connecting with any of his swings however, and it appeared that the fight was moving to a standstill when it happened.

The halfling charged in and jumped, and instead of kicking threw a punch which hit the Tinman on the left temple.  Taking the blow, the Tinman spun away from the wall stumbling.  His eyes were unfocused, and his head turned slowly trying to track the halfling.

Only half aware, he didn’t see the halfling dive between his legs and throw a single punch.  The single punch was aimed straight up into the armored codpiece of the Tinman.  And like that, the Tinman collapsed on the ground of the pit.  

The crowd was hushed with the sudden reversal of events, and then it erupted in cheers.  The ‘Apple-King’ at first smiled rose both arms in apparent victory.  But his brow furrowed, and he looked around, mystified at the crowd’s chant.

“Big D!”

“Big D!”

“Big D!” 

I was surprised as well.  But I didn’t have much time to process it, as I made my way to the pit stairs to collect the lump formerly known as Daneath.

The Knight had made it to him first and was checking him over, laughing as he did so.  I reached him and knelt down and held his head.   His eyes were rolled back, and he was breathing, but he was out cold.  The Knight and I with some effort stood up ‘Big D,’ each of us under an arm and dragged him back up the stairs out of the pit.

On the way up, the crowd was excited and still chanting “Big D” and giving all sorts of accolades.  Meanwhile I could hear this shrill voice behind him in the pit:

“Why are you cheering him?  I’m the one that won!”

Dragging him out of the arena, the Knight led me down a hallway to a door, which he kicked a couple of times.   The door flew open and the Fingerpainter glared at us.

“I am trying to work.  Can you not work a door handle yourself?”

“Not with my arms full.  Daneath is heavy.”

“Move!  Let’s drop him on the bed,” I said rapidly tiring.  The Gnome backed up and we stumbled in and unceremoniously dropped the unconscious warrior on the bed.  The Gnome closed the door and looked at the three of us with some disbelief.

“I hope you are satisfied.  We need him functional, so we can get to ‘Flint Rock’ tomorrow.”

The Knight looked at the sprawled-out figure and shrugged, “He just needs to sleep it off.  He’ll be fine.”

“I am a little concerned if he was so easily beaten in the ring,”

“He wasn’t.  In fact, he outlasted everyone that had tried to take on the Apple-King in the last season.”

“So, you lost money on him I suppose.”

“Nope.  I bet on him going down.” Smiled the Knight.

“What?  You bet against him?”

“No.  I just didn’t bet on him to win.”

I laughed.  “So, you just stoked the crowd…and encouraged him with their enthusiasm.”

“Yep, and now we have a legend of note with us; the warrior extraordinaire; ‘Big D’!”

To which ‘Big D’ replied in the only manner he could.  

He started snoring.

*Session Notes*

When you ask your DM to taking on a stronger challenger, and punch above your weight...you get a Hin Fist halfling.


----------



## Nthal

*Crossing the Planes*

*Crossing the Planes​*
_They say that your life passes before your eyes when you are facing death.  All the Sensates I knew said that the mind went into overtime seeing if you missed something.  The priests said that there wasn't any pain and it’s a peaceful experience.  The Dustmen all claimed that you were dead already, and the True Death awaited those who could empty themselves of emotions and attachments.   

Sodding clueless berks they were.​_
The snoring continued through the night as I lay in my bed, my eyes drooping.  I had done my prayers hours before and now I just wanted to sleep.  But it appeared that somewhere during the fight, ‘Big-D’ had broken his nose.  For three days on the road while I took watches, I could not recall the noise that now came from the bunk nearby.  I was seriously thinking about breaking it again when sleep finally won out.

I woke again sometime after dawn.  The Fingerpainter had originally camped himself by a small writing desk near a bed, but apparently, he never bothered to use it.  He sat slumped in the chair, with only the lightest of murmurs to give any indication of still being asleep.   Big D was silent, as it appeared that someone had nearly smothered him with a pillow.  But the occasional movement told me that he still was among us.  

That meant the Knight was the only other one awake, and he was quietly looking at a large piece of parchment.  He had acquired a cup of something, and he took a sip as he continued to read.  “Morning Myrai,” he spoke glancing in my direction.

I groaned, “Thanks for the pillow,” and I pushed myself up by my arms.  “I didn’t think it would ever get quiet last night.”

“Well, Beepu wasn’t using it,” and he turned to look at the unconscious warrior on the bed.  “Might have to rebreak his nose again.  A good hard right to counter the left punch to his face.”

“Don’t think so,” as I sat up and started pulling on my boots.  “The punch hit him here,” I pointed to the upper part my head.  “I bet he broke it when he landed for his dirt nap.”

“Hmm, you’re right.  Doesn’t really change the solution does it?”

“No, and I doubt he’ll enjoy fixing it,”

The Knight shrugged, “Somehow I bet he’s had it done before.  We’ll let him rest a bit longer before we do that.”

I nod, and finish with the lacing at the back of my boot and reach for my leather bodice.  Grabbing it I start to fasten it around me when the Knight asked, “Did you need a hand with that?”

I looked at him with a cocked eye and replied, “Usually that line works better at night…but I’m fine.” I tried to hide my smirk as I threaded the leather strips through the eyelets in the armor.

“Probably right, but we all need help occasionally.”

“Probably; but I’ve been putting on my armor for the better part of a year.  Pretty sure I have it down now.  But…thanks.”

“Sure thing.”  And for a moment it was quiet as I finished fastening on the armor.  Then he asked. “Who were you praying to last night?”

I paused in putting on my gear and looked at him, “Kelemvor.”

“The god of the dead?  That’s not a casual god to pray to.”

“Life isn’t casual, and it tends to be cut short.”

“That’s a bit cynical don’t you think?”

I stop a second and think.  Images of Markell and Elisna and so many others come to mind.  I shake my head, clearing the thoughts away.  “Probably, but after losing enough people you care about…it’s comforting.  You don’t need to seek death, nor does death come to find you.  It’s here always with us.  So, there isn’t a need to pray for it.  You pray to honor the dead, and not to join them… yet.”

“Ok…that’s still a bit grim.”

“Maybe.  But looking at you, you’ve seen the underside of this…place.  Tell me the truth; doesn’t everyone pray to see another day?”

“I guess…but they usually don’t pray to death itself.”

“Somehow I find comfort in it.  It doesn’t matter to me what others do or don’t do in comparison.”  and I finished putting my blades back in their normal places.  “We should wake the others and figure out what we are doing next.”

The Knight was putting the parchment back in his pack, “Well north of here for certain.  I was thinking that we should stop at the outpost that the Waterbaroness setup.  Get information, and make sure we don’t step on any toes.”

“Makes sense to me.  What was that you were reading?”

“This?  Some old notes I wrote a while ago,” he said nonchalantly.  Too nonchalantly.  But he clearly didn’t want to discuss it, so I let it drop.

“Hey Foggle,” I said turning to the golden owl perched on the desk.  “Wake up your master; I’m sure he wants to get moving.”

The mechanical owl was standing watch, with its head revolving constantly in circles.  Now, it blinked its eyes and turned to stare its head at the Fingerpainter silently.  Then the wizard yawned and opened his eyes saying “…alright, alright what is the…Ah!  Morning!”

I looked at the owl; normally it just said “Beeepooo” in the most obnoxious way possible.  But now I realized that it could communicate, without saying anything.  I wondered how much of a conversation could be had with a mechanical construct.  Or did the magic involved create a connection with…something.

For now, it was beyond my ability to do anything like that.  But I wanted something.  The Fingerpainter stretched his arms, jumped down off his chair and then settled his disapproving gaze on the sleeping “Big-D.”

“Well, why is Daneath just lying there?” he said shrilly.

“Most of us were trying to get a decent night’s sleep, and it took a bit to get him to quiet down,” the Knight said.

“What noise?”

I blinked, “What noise?  The herd of gehreleths didn’t keep you up?  How can you sleep through that?”

“Well…my father snored so I guess I got used to it.” The gnome shrugged.  “And what’s a gehreleth?”

“It’s an unpleasant group of beings in the lower planes; and they are obnoxious to everyone,” I replied.  “You really don’t want to meet any of them.”

“Well, might as well get this over with,” the Knight said, and he promptly shook the sleeping warrior.  He snorted and sat up, bleary eyed looking at us.

“Whud are you looking at?  Ah crap…how did I break my dose again?”

“You don’t remember?” I said incredulously.

“Noe.  I…I…remember goin to duh ring.  Who’d I fight?” he asked as he knitted his brows together trying to remember.

“It was…a fight that most others won’t forget, Big D.” the Knight said

“Big D?  Who choze dat name?”

“You did!  Crowd loved it, the fight was spectacular.  One for the ages.” The Knight said beaming.

“Oh.  So, I wun?”

“Not so much.  But it was a great bout!”

“Right.  Hey, wherze my codpieze?”

I pointed to the desk, “It’s over there…might need to see a smith about it though.” I said.
On the desk, lay the iron protector of his apples.  But it had a sizable dent now the size of a childs fist.

“Whad duh?  Whad did I fight?”

“Well,” I said trying to find the right words “Someone with a reputation for…low blows.  Anyway, we should get moving.”

“Whud?  I need dis fixt!” 

“Your codpiece?  We can find a smith.”

“Noe, my doze.”

The Knight looked at him and said, “Well sit on your hands and tilt your head ba…”

“I noe how dis works.  Just doo id!”

CRUNCH!

--------------------------------

Minutes later we left the “Lusty Bard,” with Big D shaking his head.

“I can breathe better now, thanks.  But need to find a smith still.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you two,” and I pointed at the humans “take care of repairs and learn the chant about goings on north?  I’m kind of curious about the Hate Night party coming up.  Might be a way to get work later.”

“More delays!  And what do you propose I do?” the Fingerpainter said.

“Provide me an escort of course.  You can help me find the higher end merchants that might know about the local goings on.”

“I am not a tour guide!”

“No, but did you want to hang around the smithy, or see there is anything else to learn here?”

“Sounds fine to me, let’s meet back midday in the main market,” Big D said, “Shouldn’t take too long with a hammer and we won’t lose too much time.  We’ll see you then.”  And the two humans strode off.

“Wait..wait…” and the wizard half-heartedly started to chase after the humans and then stopped.  He turned and came back to me scowling.  “This is a waste of time.  Wait…You want an invitation, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.”  And I turned and started walking toward the direction of the gate that let up to the next tier of the city.

“What do you expect to do at a party like that?”

“Well I hope to meet people who need stuff done and have jink to melt.  Probably have time enough to get to where you want to go and come back.”

“You mean ‘have money to spend?’  Well…as long as it is a follow-up thing to do.”

“You got it.  And I suspect that you and I are going to need lots of jink for supplies in the future.”

Rubbing his chin the gnome nodded, “That actually does make some sense.  We can afford to make conta…hey, aren’t you going to put up your hood?”

I looked at him,“No, I don’t want to hide while I am here.  I only covered up because I didn’t know where I was and what to expect.” 

I strode through the marketplace, heading to the gate to the upper tier.  Weaving between the ramshackle stalls, I began to get the impression that I was getting attention.  Most of course only saw my hair.  The merchants ahead who saw my eyes however, they fell over each other trying to offer me goods; masks, fruits, everything.  I just smiled and let their tongues behind me tell the tale.  In Sigil, I was just a funny looking Aasimar.  

Here, I was a bit more than that.

The district in the middle tier was much more well to do.  Less merchants in stalls, and more in small shops.  Buildings were of stone with slate roofs, instead of wood and straw.  The merchants were friendlier as well…not that smiles my direction was rare.  

But as friendly as they were, the information I was looking for was somewhat disappointing.  Invitations to the Waterbaroness’ were of course already distributed.  The one seamstress I spoke with basically was swamped with last minute changes to orders for the grand ball, only three days away.  She had no idea how someone could get an invitation now, let alone a dress.

The Fingerpainter did manage to spent some quality time in a couple of shops that had various tomes for sale.  Nothing seemed to spark his interest and he seemed to be flustered overall in the…lack of organization of the shops.  Not that his proposed solutions made any sense either; assigning numbers on the back of tomes, where the numbers meant a particular topic didn’t seem much better.

Eventually we returned to the lower market to meet up with the humans.  We were eating some type of bird meat on a skewer, when the pair strode up to us.  The first thing I noticed was Mo was back.  It only dawned on me then, that I hadn’t seen the creature for days.  But now I saw it bounding across the top of stalls, and landing on the Knights shoulder.  After that, I saw it drop something into the hand of the Knight; something shiny.  I smirked; our Knight of the Post had a squire of the post.
The second thing was Big-D himself.  As I watched him approach, it was obvious that he replaced his codpiece.  It could have been that it was larger than before, or the way he walked.   But it probably had most to do with the metal used was a bright polished silver, instead of the dull iron of before.  It…stood out.

“Nice work,” I said as they approached.  “Nothing obvious to draw attention.”

Big D frowned, “Pounding out the metal caused it to crack, so this was all that was handy in a pinch.  The smith seemed very happy to do it and it didn’t cost me.”

“A generous smith?  Sounds suspicious.”

“Not really,” said the Knight, “He was a winner in last night’s betting, so he was more than happy to support ‘Big D’.”

“Stop that…still a silly name.  I can’t believe I gave that as my fighting name.”

“Anyway,” I interrupted “Did you learn anything about goings on north of town?”

“Not much more; there is a camp a couple of hours northwards where they range out.  Got a contact name.  And oh, it’s real recent.  It was only setup in the last month or so.” Said the Knight. 

“Well that is enough to get started.  We have wasted enough time here!” the gnome said in his most commanding voice.

“I can’t argue with that, beats banging around here,” I said.  “Might as well start walking.”

The others nod, and we started making our way through the crowded streets back to the main gate to the city.  As we walked, I kept seeing Mo darting from the Knights shoulder, to lamps, stalls, gutters, and back.  Always moving.  I then asked the Knight; “Where has Mo been?  I don’t recall seeing him for days.”

“Oh…mostly in the top of my pack; he was sleeping most of the way here.  I think he was bored.  Once we got here, he perked up and darted off.  Didn’t see him till this morning.”

“Interesting.  Also…this might sound silly but…what is he?”

“What Mo?  He’s some sort of monkey.  Why?”

I stopped in the street.  My eyes opened widely, and I stared at Mo on the Knights shoulder.  And I just couldn’t control myself.

I started laughing.  I finally got the joke.

The Knight stopped and looked at me mystified, “What?  Why is that funny?”

I recover a bit, wiping some tears from my eyes, “I just got the point of a particular insult used in
Sigil.” I said in between laughs.  “When you see a fiend that looks like they have been on the wrong end of a scrap, you sometimes hear another group say ‘So, looks like you got beaten by the monkeys’” I was still chuckling and caught my breath and continued; “But I didn’t understand why they would be so insulted, and why it implied it was a bunch of primes that did it.”

“Because you have never seen a monkey?”

“Close…Seen one or two…but never knew that’s what they were called.  It’s hilarious.”

“If you say so…now come on, or we’ll lose the others.”

-----------------------

The road north was really not much to speak of.  Really.  It barely qualified as a road, being just gutted tracks of wagon wheels with weeds in between.  While we were in some hills that came up to the riverbanks near Yartar, now it was flattening out into plains, with only an occasional rise here and there.  Even the trees were becoming sparser and sparser the farther north we went.

Eventually, we saw wisps of smoke ahead of us.  We continued north, and we saw what appeared to be a stockade in the distance.   As we approached, it became clear that this was both very new and very hastily assembled.  Once at the doorway, it was apparent that this wasn’t really a defensive fortification.   It was square, with wooden palisades, with two buildings within.  One of the building appeared to double as a wainwrights and tack house.  Another seemed to be a bunk house, and this one had smoke drifting up from a chimney.  There were several wagons, and draft horses within the fort, waiting for the next load to carry south to Yartar.  There were only two guards at the entrance, and there was only one “tower” which was more of a trestle assembly in the middle of the encampment with a platform at the top, where a lone, miserable looking, guard was posted.

It wasn’t designed to keep people out; it was designed to keep things inside of it with a barred door, and guards at the only exit.  The fearsome elk tribe had never beset it; brigands never tried to rob it.  It was untested, and guards in front of it unconcerned, even as we approached.

Once at the entrance to the stockade, the humans approached and introduced themselves, and quickly head to one of the buildings within.  That left the Fingerpainter, Foggle and I waiting on the outside.  

The Fingerpainter was doing tweaks to Foggle.  He had a small pouch open with various tools he used to keep Foggle going.  As I watched, it was clear that Beepu saw this machine as something more than a mechanical contraption.  The care he took, the apologies he gave when a tool slipped, and the gentle caresses of his hands as he polished it.

“There’s a bit of magic infused into it, isn’t there?  It’s not just clockwork.” I said watching the Fingerpainter work over the owl.

“Well…yes.  The familiar spell binds it to me, so we can converse.  I can even look through its eyes if need.  But the bulk of it is artifice.  Something my family has been doing for centuries.  Especially my father.”

“I thought your father was more of a wizard?”

“Oh he wa…is.  But he had many interests.  His devices infused magic into them as well, but usually the devices helped focus or intensify the magic used.”

“Like planar magic?”

The gnome nodded and continued his work on Foggle, “That was what he last was working on.  I have some of the notes, but not enough to reconstruct what he was doing.   That’s why I want to find him.  It has been two years since he has been home or anyone in the family has heard from him.”

“Makes your urgency understandable,” I said slumping and leaning against the palisade.  “I was once that way about my parents.”

The gnome didn’t even turn, but his tone changed to a curious one, “

“What about your parents?  You mentioned your father briefly, but you did not elaborate.  You have not spoken in a while?”

“More like ‘ever.’  I was given up at birth as an orphan by my father.  He swore the ones that took me in to secrecy and left.”

The gnome stopped and turned from where he sat on the earth, “Secrecy?  About what?”

“About him mostly.  I mean I know he was a celestial of some type, but what kind, what his name was, and anything about my mother.  The two bleakers who took me in swore an oath, and they both died when I was young.  So, I can’t ask them.”

“So, a…say an angel, dropped you off and that’s all you know?”

I nodded, “Yep.  When I got older, I tried to dig up what I could.  But with little to go on, it was just dead end after dead end.  My parents are a deep dark.  Nothing at the Hall of Records, the Factol of the Gatehouse, I even tried asking around the Great Gymnasium for a day before they threw me out.”

“Threw you out?”

“I didn’t pay to go in, so I don’t blame them.  I was probably more of a pest then anyway.   But it’s strange.”

“Being an orphan is already too common if you ask me.”

“It’s more than that.  Aasimar usually…well their progenitor keeps tabs with their descendants and communicates with them.”

“What with letters?”

I shook my head, “No…from the other couple of Aasimar I talked to, they could communicate directly with their progeny in their heads.  That they would receive…guidance directly from theirs.  But I’ve never heard anything like that.   So, he’s silent for a reason.” I said not saying the other possible reason.  Not saying that fallen angels don’t talk to their dependents either. 

“Hey, you two,” said Big D as he walked up with the Knight in tow.

“Hey.  So, what’s the chant?”

The Knight frowned, “Well basically this is a collection point for goods and treasures found in burial mounds.   They basically will offer a contract and you can go scavenge, bring the goods here and they pay you.  But they’re stingy, based on what I say they pay a tenth of the value.”

The Fingerpainter piped up, “Can’t others just take it to another town and sell it then?”

“Well they have also scouts who are looking for wanderers; if they have tribal goods, they take them.  But based on the tone, only after teaching the unauthorized looters ‘a lesson,’ it appears.”

“Ah, so organized grave robbing.  How…civilized,” I said and spat in to the dirt.  I knew that Kelemvor didn’t really approve of disturbing the rest of the dead from the teachings I had read.  “But I suppose we aren’t looting graves.  We are looking for people who seem to be at a grave.”

The Knight nodded, “Yep, which is why we didn’t sign anything.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yeah.  Since the Elk left, more and more gnolls have appeared.  Seems that the Elk had been keeping the cowards at bay.   But not anymore,” Big-D said.  “They have been moving farther and farther south, and pretty much it’s them between us and the rock.”

“What about ‘Flint Rock’ itself?” the Fingerpainter asked with urgency.

“No one knows how to get there.  And there aren’t any tribesmen to ask, not that they would tell us.  So, we are going to have to find it on our own,” replied Big D.

“Well then!  North it is.”  And the gnome folded up his set of tools, put them into his pouch, sent his owl aloft and started marching north.

“What?  We’re just going to wander around and hope we find it?” I said incredulously.

Big D shrugged, “I don’t have any other ideas.  Besides, if we don’t find anything in three days, we’ll have to turn around anyway for supplies.” And he proceeded to follow the Fingerpainter.

The Knight however was quiet, looking at the other two with a look of concentration on his face.  He too shrugged and muttered, “Well it’s the right direction I suppose.”

I looked skyward, and closed my eyes and said, “May Kelemvor protect them,” and then proceeded to follow them into the plains.

The road continued meandering in a northwestern direction.   But we moved off the path and started heading straight north instead.  This made some sense, as Flint Rock wasn’t on a road, so following that wasn’t going to get us far.  The plains themselves were mostly scrub, thistle and other low bushes.  And as we looked ahead we saw few hills. But we made our way towards one, to get a lay of the land ahead of us.

It was midafternoon when we had reached the hilltop, if you could call it that.  It was basically a low mound, with some outcropping of rocks and more scrub.  It was dry and dusty, and no signs of water anywhere.   At least the grasses were low enough that we could walk through them without difficulty.
Looking around in all directions told the same story.  Scrub and more scrub.  And looking north, it continued to look flat.  It made me wonder what flint rock even looked like, or how a cairn would stand out.  It then occurred to me, that most of the groups ranging the plains were mounted, giving them a better vantage point.  Since we didn’t have the means to purchase them, we had to work with what we had.   And what we had was Foggle.

While we surveyed the land with our eyes, the gnome closed his eyes and was looking through Foggle’s.  While he couldn’t go very high, it was high enough to give an idea of what to expect.  I watched with a certain envy.  I really wanted a familiar at that point; it seemed too useful not to have.  But I had never heard of sorcerers having one.  

Being shorter than the other two, I sat down on a rock and thought.  There must be a way to find this place.  Some sort of trail or markers to at least give us a clue if we were heading in the right direction.
As the wind was blowing through the grass and as the Fingerpainter was scouting above, it crossed my mind that something was…missing.  I sat there quietly thinking, trying to put my finger on it.  

“This is not helping.  I will have to send him higher and let him tell me what he sees.  My range looking directly, is too limited.” Said the Fingerpainter, and he opened his eyes and watched the owl silently ascend.

I was nodding in agreement to what he had said when it dawned on me.  Beyond the light rustle of the brush from the sporadic breeze it was dead quiet.   No other noise from the plains beside our own breathing at this point.  No birds, nothing moving in the foliage around us. 

Nothing.

“Hey berks,” I asked and suddenly getting alarmed, “It’s real quiet.  Didn’t we hear birds or animals in the brush earlier?”

The knight looked at me sharply and then cocked his head to listen, “You’re right.  I remember hearing some earlier.  We might of scared any off though.”

One thing about Foggle, is despite being a clockwork, it was very silent as it flew.  It took that moment to land on the Fingerpainter’s shoulder and uttered an excited “Beepooo!”

“He found something that we should look at,” the gnome exclaimed excitedly.  “Not far to the north!”
“How did you get that out of one ‘beeepooo’?” asked Big D, “What else did it say, that a boy fell into a well and is drowning and needs our help right away?” 

“The verbal utterance is just to provide the illusion of audible communication.  I just hear what he says in my mind.  And no.”

“No what?”

“There is not a well.”

“Well,” I said standing up and stretching, “Let’s take a look.”

After a short march we arrived at the spot indicated by the owl.  And at that point I really wish we hadn’t found it.

It looked to be waist high and was initially appeared to be a collection of round rocks and wood, shaped into a pyre.  As we approached, you could hear the sounds of buzzing flies.  Once I was close enough, I could see that most of the rocks were not rocks at all.

They were skulls.  Perhaps a dozen, in a pile underneath and around three small wooden logs.  The skulls themselves weren’t clean, most having flecks of meat and gore attached.   Maggots crawled over the decaying flesh as flies landed and then took off to resume their dizzying flight around the pyre.  

We didn’t say anything; we knew that the gnolls created this grisly thing.  I knew a little more; it was a primitive shrine to the gnoll’s master, the demon prince Yeenoghu.

“I would have rather found a well,” I said with a mixture of disgust and sadness.

“That means there is a pack roaming about,” said the Knight.  “We probably shouldn’t linger here.”
I silently nod, and we continued north.  The scrub and weeds spread in all directions endlessly.  In the distance another landmark, a small rocky rise was evident, and we headed towards it to get a view again with our own eyes.  The owl was once again aloft watching everything from a height.  The sun was maybe an hour or two away from touching the hills when we reached the outcropping.

It wasn’t a lot, random projections of granite boulders of grey and white.  And the elevation was again barely above the level of the plains themselves.  We started the same routine, but Foggle had not flown very high, when suddenly it dropped down to land on the Gnomes shoulder.  

It startled him as well and quickly turned his head to look at the owl.  Then he looked at us; “He saw something in the brush creeping towards us!”

We started drawing weapons.  For the first time, my dagger felt woefully inadequate.  My heart started pounding as I braced myself for an attack.

Big D had drawn his sword, “How many, which way, and what?”

The gnome glared at the warrior, “About six, a bit northeast, but he wasn’t clear on the what part.  But it wasn’t humanoid.”

So not gnolls.  Something else.  At least with gnolls I knew what to expect.  My throat felt suddenly thick and dry.  

Big D nudged the Knight, and they moved together towards where the owl had indicated.  The Gnome and I stayed back behind them, about twenty paces.   The two had made it to a large boulder when we heard it.

There was no animal noise, no roar, nothing of the kind.  But we did hear paws running fast on the ground, moving brush aside, approaching fast.

Big D was hit first, as a large dog like animal jumped at him trying to bite his midsection.   Fortunately, he was able to bat away the assault with his shield and he quickly swung his sword, giving the beast a flesh wound.  Nearly at the same time, two of them came at the Knight.   But neither found its mark, and one received a deep wound for its trouble.

Meanwhile, the Fingerpainter and I respond to the attack in our own way.  The gnome with a quick incantation threw a fire bolt at one of the wounded ones, but it went wild.  I sent off a bolt of purple energy and it struck the one that just attacked our Knight.   Too late we heard more beasts coming from the dense brush.

Flanking the gnome and I, two more beasts appear of the brush, giving me a better look at them.  They were dirty and spotted, with a dog like face and rounded ears.  Their front legs were longer than their rear, causing to lope with an ungainly stride.  But they were fast, and aggressive, their jaw hung open showing heavy bone breaking teeth.

The Fingerpainter had seen them a hair quicker than I and was already moving towards a boulder.  I started moving to follow him, so we could protect each other, when I first felt pain.

I screamed and then felt the snap of bone as one of the beast had dove and had a firm grip on my ankle.  I fell to my hands and knees, unable to stand.  My blood was spurting from the wound, and it was all I could do to shake the beast off my leg.

It didn’t try to hold on, instead backing off and started to pace, waiting.  I tried to scramble towards the Fingerpainter, when the second one leaped at me.  Its face and jaws brushing against my own, and I even smelt and felt the warm fetid breath against my neck.  Its jaws clamped onto me, and I couldn’t breathe.  I felt massive pain and the tearing of my own flesh.

Help.

My blood was spurting everywhere.  I stabbed at the thing wildly, losing my dagger.  I then desperately punched with my fists against the hide of the thing.

Help.

I tried to talk, to scream, but no air leaves my mouth.  I could taste and feel blood fill it instead of air.  The beast pulls away from my neck…taking flesh, meat and more with it.  I try to scream again, but my voice is gone; stolen by the beast.

Blood…is…everwher…

Help.

Darkness grows around me, and then…

Grey.

I am lying on dusty ground, which is the color of bone.  The air around me is cloudy.  My throat hurts as does my ankle.  But the pain is fading away.  It’s quiet.  But not a peaceful quiet.  A quiet…

Nothing.

I feel slow and unrushed.  I stand up.  Why was I on the ground?  But, I slowly turn myself around and see nothing beyond the dusty air.  There is nothing to look at or see.  No…there is something.  I can see a shadowy form in the distance.

This is familiar.  I stare at the shadow and slowly it coalesces into a more defined shape.  
It’s a building.  No, a tower.  While there is light in this place, it isn’t coming from anywhere.  So, the tower fades slowly into view.  It is far away, and the details aren’t clear.   But what I can see is that it has the sharp lines of a crystal.  A crystal that is smoky and barely translucent.

This is not a place I’ve been to.  It’s a place I’ve heard of.  A special place.  Thinking is slow here, 
unrushed so it takes a moment.

This is the Fugue.

I’m…I’m…

Dead?


_No one should be alone, in life or death,
Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning​_


*Session notes:*
This is where I go off on a soap box about my opinion of 5e edition taking a major step backwards for level one survivability.  I like danger and challenges (this campaign has a lot of that.  Spoiler, we aren’t done here.) but I don’t like how little it takes to push a character into the rule set of “Death due to massive damage.”   For the record, the leg bite was 6 hp out of 8.  The neck bit was an additional 12 points of damage due to a critical.  So yes, 18 points of damage.

My complaint is, it doesn’t feel very heroic.  I feel the same way in the early parts of any Bethesda game where giant rats and mudcrabs are deadly beyond belief.  And while D&D has helped casters a lot with cantrips, this is a bit much.  I’d rather have double the hp at Level 1, and keep everything else about the same, so when a pack of goblins/kobolds/hyenas/whatever assaults you and you go down fighting, you at least can take one with you.  4e had at least a better heroic feel in THAT regard.  

There was a total of 5 of the damned Hyenas, and while only a CR0, the dice really weren’t rolling in the players favor.

Rant off.

This is also where, just because you die doesn’t mean there isn’t an interesting story for everyone.  This is where the DM did a great job of turning lemons into lemonade for the players.
Hats off to you sir.

Finally...Mo had a bad habit of appearing and disappearing.  Foggle was always around, but it was never super super active for a while.


----------



## Nthal

*The Darks of Death*

_The Darks of Death

Death is only a Beginning.  It sounds trite or like a bad trope.  But Death is change for everyone that survives.  It’s emotional.  It puts much in life in perspective.  It frames what it means to live.

What most folks don’t realize, is that the Dead don’t have it any easier.  And sometimes, it changes them too._​
I was dead.

I was not upset.  

I was not angry.  

I was not happy.

I was…incomplete.

I stood there in silence, staring at the Crystal Spire towering in the distance above the haze of dust.  The silence itself was almost soothing if almost overwhelming.  I realized that part of it was because I was no longer breathing, and my heart was still. I realized this was the purest moment of quiet I had ever heard.

Or not heard, as the case was.

I hesitated a moment and with my hand trembling I reach up towards my neck, uncertain on what I would find.  My fingers reached out and touched skin that was neither warm or cold.   But, I didn’t feel anything was missing.  Looking at my ankle, it seemed whole.  I no longer felt any pain.

Looking myself over; I looked just like I did moments ago…but everything was grey.  My leather pants were a mixture of grey and black, my skin was a light grey.  There was no color anywhere.  Not me, not the Crystal Spire, not the dirt.  But among the grey one thing did catch my eye.

I noticed on the ground, what appeared to be a thin cord.  I knelt down to pick up and hold it.  The cord was warm, and it felt smooth to the touch, like a strand of soft silk.  One end of the strand trailed off into the distance, disappearing into the haze.   But to my surprise, the other end was attached to me, right at the small of the back, above the belt line.

My first thought was that it was an astral cord.  But those I had been told were silver not white, and I thought they attached high on the back and then disappeared after a bit.  But…it couldn’t be that; I was dead.   But what was it then?

The silence was broken by the sounds of distant footsteps crunching in the dusty earth. Turning my head, I was fairly certain that it was coming from the direction of the spire.  I turned to face what now appeared as a shadowy figure in the distance.

The steps were unhurried, much like everything else felt in the Fugue.  And slowly, emerging from the haze a robed human like figure appeared.   The robes covered the figure’s torso and arms and covered the legs down towards the knees.  They were simple, plain and unadorned; no jewelry and nothing resembling a weapon.  The figure walked in simple shoes, crunching in the dust.  While having the grey color that permeated the rest of the Fugue, the figure had a faint nimbus of light that gave a subtle glow all around them.

Originally, they weren’t headed towards me, but at some point during their lonely march they noticed my presence.  Wordlessly, they changed course and approached where I stood.   

As they drew near, I wasn’t sure of their gender.  Their head was bald or shaven, yet they had no beard or moustache.  The face had sharp features, high cheekbones and a square chin.  As they came close I could now see their eyes; a pale grey. As they neared within five paces, they started to shake their head.  Then, in a somber and quiet masculine voice, he finally spoke.

“Ah, a shame.  Too young, well before the fullness of time.”

“What?  My death?” I replied.

The figure nodded, “So you recognize your current condition.  That will make things easier for you.”

“I’m not clear on that.  How?” I said puzzled.

“I shall explain if you would accompany me.  I am seeking a soul who is to arrive soon.” And he started walking, continuing in the direction he originally was headed.

I fell in alongside him, and now having someone to converse with and focus on, the haze in my head started to clear.  “Sounds fine, I don’t think I have anything else planned right now.”

The figure turned and regarded me, “Humor…how refreshing.   Most that recognize their condition are angry or upset.  You seem fairly calm; a sign of maturity.”

I shrug, “If you say so.  I take it you weren’t expecting to meet me here?”

The figure shook their head, “No.  I was sent to look for the soul I spoke of.”

“So…deaths because of other reasons aren’t looked for?”

“No…we assist and gather them as we perform our duty.   Some do arrive at the City of Judgment on their own.  Others, refuse to approach because of fear or uncertainty.   Many are unclear where they are.  But all are collected all the same.”

“For judgement?”

“Sometimes,” he said.  “Those who may be faithless or false can be.  But the others, a god will send their proxy to gather them, and face judgement at the gods demesne.” 

“I suspect, I may be here a long time,” I said smiling.

The figure turned in shock, “Why?  Surely you have not abandoned or betrayed the gods!”

“Wha…no, no, no.  I am a worshipper of Kelemvor.  This is his home, and any judgement will be here.”

The figure smiled and nodded, “Of course.  Forgive my assumptions.  Yes, the faithful to the Judge and the Scribe are assigned fitting duties here, and rarely leave.”

“Is it…pleasant?”

Again, the nod and smile, “While the souls within awaiting judgement or to be found by their proxies are cared for, nothing makes their stay pleasant or not.  Nothing should detract from the final journey and the fruits of judgement from their god.”

“So, they can fully embrace their future.  But what of Kelemvor’s own?”

“If they are truly faithful, their duties will fulfill them.  We smile, laugh among ourselves and are glad.  The serenity and peace fill you with all that you need.”

“I guess I can look forward to that.  Beats having your neck ripped out by a snarling beast.”

The figure stops and turns, “I’m sorry, but what did you mean by that?”

“What, my death?  Pretty much as I said.  It was th...” and the figure cut me off.

“You should not remember that.”

“What?  Alright, it’s not like I want to remember that…but I do.”

“How odd.” And he continued forward, “You would be the first I have met that did.  Perhaps it will pass, since it was so recent.”

“Well, that would be nice.  I didn’t enjoy the whole dying thing.  I’m sorry, but what is your name?  We didn’t exactly introduce ourselves.”

He chuckled, “Perhaps that is why others do not remember their own death.  And I am called Alionus.”

“Ok, I’m Myrai.”

The figure cocked his head, “No.  that isn’t right.  That isn’t your name.”

I look at him a moment and turn my head back towards the direction Alionus was heading.  “That might be true.  It’s was what I called myself.  If I had a name…no one told me.  But I’ve been calling myself ‘Myrai’ for years, since the early days at the Gatehouse.  Actually, it was really Elisna that suggested it afte…”

Alionus interrupted again, “This is very odd.  You should certainly not remember that either.”  Stopping he faced me, “Are you telling me you actually remember your life?”

“Well…yes.  I’m not a petitioner, so wouldn’t I?”

Alionus shakes his head again, “That doesn’t matter.  Souls are judged by their gods, and then perhaps they are invested and become a petitioner.  But a soul…doesn’t have memories of before the veil.”

“Well…I would prefer that.  My death…the deaths of Elisna, Markel, and however many others I saw.  I want to forget all of the last five years.  Its baggage, and nothing more to learn from it.”

Alionus stood regarding me quietly.   “A cruel irony.  You wish to forget and cannot.”

“So, you don’t remember your …life?”

He shook his head, “No.  It has never been a concern.  For some that arrive here…it does bother them at first.   But we explain it, and the soul moves on.”

“Why do the souls forget?”

“The soul is many things, and the gods can read it and know all of what you were.  But your own memories are left behind, so you can embrace your future rewards…”

“…or punishments.” I finish.  “I always heard stories of ones that willed themselves back to the living.  To finish deeds and duties undone.  Don’t they remember?”

“I know of ones you speak of; revenants.  But no, they simply feel as you said, that something is incomplete, but intensely.  But, even they do not remember.  It takes a great will and a great cause for that to happen.”

“Sodding...I’m again a special case.  Alive with funny hair and eyes.  Dead with memories and a strand attached to me.   Why do I have to be the exception to everything?”

“I’m sorry, but you have lost me.  What strand do you speak of?”

I stop my tirade and look at him in the eye, “Are you barmy?  This strand!” and I scoop up the strand with my right hand, turn around and point with my thumb over my shoulder, pointing to my waistline.

Alionus leans forward to look at my waist where I was pointing.  “I can barely see it.  It’s like smoke to my vision.”

“Well, it isn’t smoke to me, its bright and warm.”  I look over my shoulder at him.  “Do you see anything…else?”

He nodded, “There are arcane sigils that surround it, where the ‘strand’ enters your soul.  I cannot read them but looking at where it connects to you it looks like it isn’t natural.  It’s like it is growing into you.”

“Oh, pike me!  Could that be why I remember?”

“Perhaps,” and Alionus reached out for the strand.  But as I watched, his hand simply passed through the strand. “I cannot touch it.  I feel a warmth as I try, but there is nothing to grip.”

I then reach around awkwardly, trying to get my hands around it.  I do so with difficulty and pull, but beyond minor discomfort I cannot dislodge it either.

“Great,” I say.  “Maybe judgement can fix it.”

Alionus shrugged, “Perhaps.  You have another choice it appears.”

“What?  Sell my soul to a Baatezu?”

“Well…that is another option, but I am referring to something else.  Do you not feel it?”

I stop pulling on the strand and wait.  After a quick moment I feel something; a tugging to my left.  I turn to look and then I saw it.

Forming out of nothingness, a small vortex appeared.  Smoke the color of dusky greys, blacks and fiery reds.  The presence of color stood out and I just stared transfixed.   It was hypnotic, beckoning me. Calling me.

I shook my head attempting to clear it.  As I watched, the fog swirled and shaped itself into an archway, solidifying into grey rock, while the space beneath still swirled with fog.  At the top of arch, there was a keystone, and etched into was a symbol that gave me chills.  

It was a symbol of evil.  Three triangles, arranged in a manner to create a larger, inverted triangle.  The symbol emitted a baleful red light.  A light that seemed to be directed at me alone.  I had seen this symbol before and I shivered.

It was the Symbol of the Lord of the Nine; Asmodeus.

I stood there in fear, feeling a call, a beckoning to enter the gateway.  I turn to look Alionus.  “What is…what is it.   Why is that…”

Alionus looked calmly at the gateway.  “It is a way back.  Someone has used magic, in an attempt to bring your soul back to your body.  And that someone…is a servant of the Lord of the Nine.”

I didn’t understand.  Why would a follower of Asmodeus be trying to bring me back to life?  It had to be a trick.  It didn’t make sense.


I looked at Alionus, “I don’t have to go right?”

He frowned, “No.  Some do.  Some do not.  Most never desire to leave their rewards, although ones looking to escape punishments do take them.”

I stood there defiantly.  “No.  I am not going back…back…there.   I have had enough.   My friends are dead.  Elisna is dead.  Erin is gone.  Markel got what he had coming to him.  There is NOTHING there for me.”

Alionus spoke again, “Are you certain?  These chances at another life are rare.  But, it is up to you.”

I thought, of the small list of people I could think of, there was only one being that might miss me, and I him.  But Nastanal was a creature of belief.  He had seen countless more mortals die than I.  He was already going to outlive me, so what if it was a hundred and forty years too soon.

And as for my mother…I assumed her dead.

And my father?  He didn’t care before, why should he now?

I turned away from the archway.  Certain of my path.  No more pain.  No more loss.  No way to lose.  There was nothing for me to gain in returning.

I started to walk away, and I’m stopped.  Puzzled, I turned my head.  The strand no longer lay on the ground.  It was now in the air, taut as a bowstring.  Leading from me, back into the fog in the archway.

I looked at Alionus, “You said it was my choice.  I don’t…want..to..go.” and I started pulling and straining against the cord.  Pulling more of it out of the archway slowly.

Alionus stood there, his face conflicted.  “I do not…I am not sure…”

I pulled harder against the strand, slowly moving step by step away from the dark archway.  I could do this forever.  I didn’t feel tired.  This was a matter of my will against whatever was pulling me.

And I was winning.

My back was to the archway, so I didn’t see it approach.  But if I had turned around, I imagined I would have seen a black snake slithering out of the gate.  And that snake struck me hard in the back near my shoulder blade.

Because, suddenly I felt PAIN and I screamed.   I turned my head to look behind me, I saw a second strand had attached itself to me.  This strand was an inky black, with only the slightest shine; like liquid obsidian.

As I strained against the first strand, the point of attachment of the second one, moved down my back towards the original one.   Once it reached it, I saw a flash of purple and symbols appeared.  Then, the black strand wound itself around the first, forming a braid leading back into the archway.  Once the braid had crossed the smoke that formed the archway’s interior, I felt it redoubling its efforts and it again pulled my soul.

I grunted, and I leaned away from the archway, my hands now on the dust.  My feet had dug into the dusty earth.  But now it wasn’t enough; I was slipping, making gouges into the ground as I was pulled backwards.

I looked again at Alionus, “Please!” I begged “I don’t want…to…leave.   Help…me!”

Alionus was paralyzed.  His eyes darted back and forth, unclear about what to do in perhaps millennia.  Finally, he straightened himself up and moved towards me.  Standing in front of me he held out his hands.   And summoning as much as I had within me, I grabbed onto his forearms and gripped tightly.

The light was blinding and the pain more so.  Alionus was knocked down to the ground and I lost my grip as my hands stung from the blast.  I was gasping in shock, trying to hold my position, but I was losing the battle.  The Strand was stronger now.  Slowly, inexorably I was sliding towards the archway of evil.

Looking ahead of me, Alionus sat up.  The look on his face wasn’t pain, or confusion.  It was one of revelation.

“Of course.  I understand now.” And he stood and dusted himself off.

“Come…help…me,” I shouted.  I felt for the first-time fatigue.   “Please!”

Alionus shook his head.  “I cannot; I am forbidden.  I have a message for you though.   It is ‘You must go back.’”

I was tiring, I felt tears in my eyes fill as I strained.  The pain as I pulled against the Strand was incredible and my energy was nearly drained.  I was crying, I was angry, I shouted defiantly:

“WHY!?!   What’s the POINT?!?”

Alionus cocked his head a moment as if listening and spoke again.  “You are a worthy disciple.  Your faith will reward you…My…Daughter.”

My Daughter?

My eyes opened wide in surprise.  I lost focus.  In an instant I felt myself pulled backwards and I soon found myself crossing the inky threshold of the Archway.

Grey faded to black.

My eyes opened wide to the light of torches underground.  I laid on my back on cold stone, and I took a sudden intake of breath.  I gasped for air and felt ill.  I closed my eyes, I strained and sat up, and then I turned towards my right, doubling over in pain.  I started to heave and then I vomited.  The taste of bile and what might have been food were purged from me.  I once again felt pain in my ankle, and around my neck and throat.  I opened my eyes and while everything was at first hazy, I was able to see three things:

The first, is that a robed figure walked away from the altar where I laid.  In his left hand a gemstone was disintegrating into black powder, all the while chuckling to himself.

The second, is that I saw Beepu, Iesa and Daneath.  They were in front of the altar and they rushed to me.  They held me and assisted me in standing talking over each other excitedly and tearfully.

But the third thing I saw was what made my blood run cold:  Mordai.  He stood next to the robed figure, having just finished shaking his hand.  His smile on his face told a story of victory…for him. 

Oh, my adams…

…what have you done?!

*Session notes:
*
This was a longer form of a struggle I had as a player.  I had given Myrai a fairly dark back story, with loss and the struggles of the Faction War and the events of Die Vecna Die in her immediate past.

So, if you lose all that, and you are lost far from your home and you get devoured by a beast, why on earth would you come back?

The one thing that struck me, is that behind the scenes here, we have three other players, who were actually invested in Myrai and all them felt it was way too soon to die, and they scrambled to find a solution.  The death was a major point of the story; they rallied to help Myrai.  The DM made it possible to help a poor level one character.

All that left me is to rationalize a reason why.  I had not yet put a lot of thought into Myrai’s future; it was new campaign with new people and I had left a lot open.  But then I had an idea, that would drive her story.  A bit of faith, a bit of fate, and a voyage of discovery.

I wrote a very short (1-2 page) version of this originally, but it wasn’t quite right.  Now, reworking it for consistency, I’m happier with the results.


----------



## Nthal

*Hostage to a Bargain*

_Hostage to a Bargain

I’ve signed exactly one Baatezu contract.  The Baatezu are masters of creating them, having millennia to practice.  And because of that, they are masters in twisting what is written to their desires, and not yours.  And I will say without question, that one contract was the most painful experience of my life.

But I was fortunate in having that experience, because I learned two things.  First, I learned how to protect myself from the worst mistakes you can make with them.  Second, I learned how bad others are in making contracts…on both sides.​_

I stood there, cold and shivering in the darkened cave in disbelief.  I always believed my fate was my own to craft.  To succeed or fail on my own terms.  I wasn’t subject to the whims of others, and by the same token others weren’t subject to mine.  Everyone was free to do as they wanted or needed.

I was surrounded by my adams; Beepu, Iesa, and Daneath.  They were holding on to me as if I would disappear on them again.  My eyes were welling up in tears.  I heard them say, “We brought you back,” as if they had done me a great favor.  I was flattered that, they thought enough of me to even raise me at all.  I should have been able to embrace a new future, with friends that cared about me.

But I couldn’t see that.  I shed tears, not in joy but in sorrow.  My returning had sealed a bargain and their fates.  If I had not returned, they could not be held to any agreement.  They would have been free to do what they wanted.  To seek out their fathers and masters.

I wasn’t going to return, but my absent father decided to alter that outcome.  He had a different agenda, whatever it was.  It didn’t matter what I wanted or needed.  And now, because I wasn’t strong enough to fight his will, it would be my fault that the adams would be held to whatever bargain that was struck.
It also bothered me that compared to my other friends, that I kept surviving.  And the one time I didn’t, somehow I had the ‘fortune’ to be brought back.  Why should I have that luck?  What made me special?  Why did my father push me back to life?  Why couldn’t have Elisna?  She was special…to me.

“What…did…you…?” I started.

“Easy Myrai.  We found a way to bring you back,” Iesa said.

“Yes, they did indeed,” I heard the voice of Mordai.  “I honestly wasn’t sure if you would return at all.  You surprised me.”

I turned my head to look at the smug tiefling.  I felt exhausted and ill.  I was regaining some strength in my legs, but I felt weak as I replied.  “So…some bargain was struck in my…absence?”

The grin never faded, “So right you are.  And we have much to discuss of course.  But you look terrible,” he said with a mocking tone.  “We should discuss things back at the Lusty Bard.  You will be there promptly now?”

I caught the edge in the voice; the threat.  And Iesa was quick to reply.  “Of course, after Myrai pulls herself back together a bit.  We have a lot to tell her.”

Mordai nodded, still smiling.  He started to make his way towards one end of the cavern, when he turned and spoke.  “I think it goes without saying, that you won’t mention this place to anyone.  Unfortunate things could happen if others were even to hear rumors.” And he turned and ascended a wooden ladder at the far end of the cave.

“Myrai, can you move?” Daneath asked.

I nodded and between gritted teeth I said, “I need to leave…now.”

I glanced around me at what was clearly a shrine to the Lord of the Nine.  The triple triangle symbol was painted on a wall, a grey altar with black candles, torches in sconces, all in a rough hewn cave or cavern.  It was really unremarkable, but the place felt wrong.  Like just breathing the air would soil my soul and that the dirtiness would never wash out.

The three led me to the ladder, and with Daneath steadying me, I was able to climb up.  The ladder led up into what appeared to be a decaying barn.  No animals or even fresh straw was here; just a damp wood rot smell.  It was dark, and I could see moonlight shining down through holes in the roof.  The main doors were only partially open and were cbarely hanging on their hinges.  Walking through the barn’s doors I see that we are well deep into anti-peak, with no sign of the sun rising, nor setting.

Iesa took the lead, and silently he led us all down a path that was just off a main road.  As we started down the road, I started to feel a little better, and needed less assistance.  Mordai and the priest I had seen below were nowhere to be seen.

“How long was I…gone?”

“It is just after midnight I’d guess, but you have been dead since the afternoon.”  Said Daneath.

 “Ok, so the big question: Why?” I asked.

“Well, we had gone wandering aimlessly into plains and we were not prepared.  We felt that it was not right that you died, and we should help bring you back.” Beepu spoke, sounding like he was admonishing the others.

“Wasn’t it you that stormed off in a random direction?” I asked.

“Well…yes.  But that is not important now!”

“You’re right about that.  What did you pay the bellman?”

“Um…well…we aren’t sure yet.” Daneath replied.

“You made a deal and didn’t get specifics?”

“Mordai said it was be a for a single task, with no questions asked,” said Iesa.  

I sighed.  This was going to be a mess.  Unlike Mordai’s opinion of Aasimar, I didn’t have a strong opinion on Tieflings in general.  But I did have one on Mordai, and it was clear he had something in mind for us to do.  And I was certain that it would be up a Knight of the Post’s alley.  

As we kept walking, I could see the lights of torches ahead, and the walls of Yartar appearing in the moonlight, not far away.

“Why?   Why him of all the people to owe a favor?”

Iesa shrugged, “We didn’t really know anyone else, and we figured that we might be able to get a deal out of him.”

I looked at him steadily, “What…like a discount?  Is your soul worth so little?”

Iesa looked concerned for a moment, “What do you mean?”

“You had me brought back, not just by any power, but the sodding Lord of the Nine.  Any favor is going to cost your soul.   Please tell me that you didn’t sign anything.”

Beepu at this point chimed in, “I was not for this particular path, but we felt pressed for time.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Yes, but I meant in terms on getting back on track.  But I suppose that could be in jeopardy now.”

“You didn’t answer my questions, especially the important one.  Did. You. Sign. ANYTHING?”

“NO.” all three said at once.

“Well…you might have a chance at saving your souls I suppose.”

“’You?’  Don’t you mean ‘We?’” said Daneath.

I sighed.  “I didn’t agree to anything.  So, I can’t be held responsible for any deal you made at least as far as the powers are concerned.  The Crimson Star is another question.” My pace had slowed as I thought about the question.  “But, I suppose it’s my fault you are in this mess now.  So, I might have some responsibility…I don’t know.  Depends on the price.”

“Your fault?   For dying?” Beepu asked.

“No.  For coming back.  If I didn’t return, you wouldn’t be at risk.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t blame yourself.  A lot of things went wrong first,” Said Iesa.  “Besides, shouldn’t we worry about the now, and not our souls in the future?”

“I wouldn’t call dying the future.  You can die at any time, and then it’s too late.” I said and then I Looked at Iesa straight in the eyes. “And you really, really have no idea on the pain you are going to face on the other side.  Makes anything here a minor event.”

“How do you know?  What happened when you died?” asked Beepu.

“It had nothing to do when I was dead.  It had to do when I was alive.  I’ll leave it as firsthand experience…and I really don’t want to talk about that right now.  But pain forever is that; forever.”

We continued in silence for a while and entered in the main gate of Yartar.   Two sleepy guards looked us over and were about to waive us through when they looked at me.

“Hold a moment.  What in the hells happened to her?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but I glanced down at myself.  I was covered in dirt, dried blood and vomit.  I could see some large tears in my leathers, a set of holes in my boot.   But I had no idea what my face looked like, but I could only imagine it was a mess.

I looked at the guard, “I had a bad day, let’s leave it at that.”

“Are you sure you are ok?”  their hands were handling their poleaxes gingerly; unsure if they should ready them.

“No.  I feel like blex.  But my…friends…they helped me out.  Thanks for asking.”

“If you are sure then miss.” And the guards relaxed somewhat but remained watchful.
As we passed through and began our trek through the lower tier I spoke, “I must look…terrible.”

“Well, it really doesn’t compare with how you smell,” said Daneath.
I winced at that, “That bad?  Let’s get to the room, and find me …a mirror.” I said with a measure of distaste.

“Sure thing…something wrong?”

“No.” I lied.  “Let’s go.”

Yartar was quiet, with only a couple of drunks wandering the streets.  We traversed the back alleys and found our way to the ‘Lusty Bard’ and descended the steps.  Beepu pushed the door open and we entered.
The taproom wasn’t busy at that hour, but the patrons did start whispering when they saw me.  Iesa stepped on ahead to get a room, and I stopped at the tapkeeper.  He looked me up and down and said, “You look like you were on the wrong end of an argument.”

“Nah, I won.   Got any bub stronger than an ale?”

“Got a half bottle of rye.” And he set a bottle on the counter next to a small cup.”

I grabbed the bottle, ignored the cup, and toss him a jinx.  And promptly took a swig.  It was warm and harsh on my raw throat, and I felt a quick rush.

“Thanks.” I said simply and took the bottle with me and headed towards the rooms.
Iesa scurried in front of me and opened the door, and I took another gulp from the bottle as I walked.

“You are planning on sharing right?” Daneath asked as he followed me in.

“Pike that.  Get your own.  Mirror.”

Iesa stepped up with a small polished piece of metal, “Borrowed one from one of the girls…here.” And he handed it to me.

I closed my eyes a second and took a deep breath.  I opened and stared.

I was caked in dirt and blood was spattered all across my face and hair, coloring it a metallic rust.   My armor around my left shoulder was torn to pieces, exposing my skin.  Scabs, blood, and what appeared to be bile and vomit covered my chest.   There was a lot of bruising around the neck, already turning from purple to sickly yellow under my skin.  The image gave me the chills.

Not because I looked like that now, but because I had seen nearly the same look on me five years before.  The only differences were that the blood wasn’t mine and I had a smile like I was on Mount Celestia.  An image I always remembered when looking in mirrors.  It was an image I desperately wanted to forget.  
I tossed the mirror back and take another swig from the bottle.

“This is going to take a bit.”

I put the bottle down on the desk, and I reach into myself for a basic cantrip.  Slowly and methodically from hair to my boots, I start to remove the filth from my clothing, skin and hair.   The other three quietly arranged their packs on their bunks, and just watched me quietly.

As I was focused on cleaning, I felt something within me.  Pausing a moment, I realized that there was a new source within me; something that wasn’t there before.

I opened my eyes and looked down at my shredded leather bodice and concentrated on it.  Slowly I saw tears close, the torn shoulder strap now was reforming back to how it started.   
I had never done this before…could I always do this?   I started to focus deeper when a knock on the door, and it started to open.

I didn’t want to be interrupted and a hot flash of anger arose from me.  Gritting my teeth, I felt like I was pulling on something different than I had before, building within me.  I then released it in a burst, and the door slammed shut, and at the same time I shouted.

“LEAVE ME!”

But it wasn’t a normal shout; it reverberated in the room, many times louder than my voice normally carried.  I could barely hear the scared girl on the other side of the door apologizing.
My companions were startled and stared at me in surprise.  They looked at me with apprehension and concern.  But Beepu was focused and watched me carefully.

“Myrai…are you?...” Beepu asked cautiously.

I ignored him, and I re-centered myself and continued to mend my gear.  My leathers, my boot around my ankle was whole in a matter of minutes.  It was slower than cleaning, but it honestly felt good, despite the effort.  I was breathing a bit heavily now when I turned to Iesa, “Hold up that mirror.”

I looked at myself again.  I was clean, but I still looked like I had a bout with Daneath in the ring.   I touched the bruises on my shoulder and neck.  I concentrate again, focusing on me and not my gear.
It took far more effort to do, but eventually I pulled more energy up from within me and spread it across my injuries. I felt…warmth, relief, it was almost pure pleasure.   The bruises started to change from purple, to yellow, and then disappeared entirely.  I could feel pain in my body dissipate as I my wounds fully healed.  In moments, I looked like nothing had happened that day.

I turned myself around looking the mirror and saw nothing out of place.  As a final touch I changed my scent around me to something with a touch of spice to cover up any ill smells, and I nodded with satisfaction.

“Iesa…please return the mirror and apologize to the girl.”

“Sure,” and Iesa left the room, looking relieved to go.

I grabbed my bottle and sat down on the bunk and took another pull from it, letting the bubs warmth spread inside me.  Honestly it was terrible stuff, but I didn’t care.  I might have looked clean, I felt anything but.  Ever since leaving the shrine I felt dirty.  I would have relished a real bath, with hot water.  But I hadn’t seen anything looking like the baths at the Great Gymnasium.  Nothing close.  Perhaps a larger city?

Beepu, who had been silently watching me spoke, “Myrai, how did you do that?”

“What exactly?”

“All of it.  I spent a lot of time in Candlekeep studying magic.  Some of what you did is not something that 
most arcana casters can do.  In fact, some of it had a more divine feel to it.”

I was about to respond, when I remembered something that Alionus said:

_*‘You are a worthy disciple.’*_

I checked myself and considered my next words carefully.  “I’m not sure.  But I couldn’t do this before I…so I don’t know how I can do it now.”

“You have changed, Myrai.”

I sat there and didn’t meet Beepu’s eyes.  “Well, crossing the veil wasn’t my plan, and it was and wasn’t what I expected.”

“You remember being…dead?” Beepu asked surprised.

I just nodded.  But I realized that I shouldn’t have been able to remember it, just like I shouldn’t have been able to remember being alive.  The Society of Sensation’s headquarters, the Civic Festhall, was filled with sensory orbs containing all kinds of experiences recorded by Sensates.  Passionate ones, sad ones, painful ones, exotic ones.  All kinds.  But the one experience that was never captured, was what happened at the point of death.  There was one where a person died and came back.  But there was nothing in between those two moments.

I had experienced something unique.  But I wanted to understand it and I needed time.  So, I changed the topic, “Let’s find that Kobold King, Mordai and find out how dirty this task is going to be.”

“Kobold King?” Daneath asked.

“I’ll explain after we talk to him.” and I took another swig from the bottle.  “Let’s go.” 

I stood up and opened the door.  Outside, Iesa was talking to the serving girl who I clearly unnerved earlier.  Iesa had gently pulled her close to himself and had an arm around her.  She was holding the mirror close to her chest and was smiling shyly as Iesa whispered to her.  I had seen her before, down in the arena area, but I didn’t know her name.  Her eyes locked with mine as I opened the door.

She gawked at me, looking me up and down.  She stammered, “You..you were all blood and dirt a moment ago.”  

“Half a bottle of rye will do wonders,” I replied.  “Any idea where Mordai might be?”

She looked nervous and nodded, “Yes…I was to um…take you to him as soon as you got in.”

I tilted my head and looked at her carefully, making a guess I asked her, “You are afraid of him, aren’t you?”  to which she silently nodded.

“Him, or his friends that keep him busy?”

Her eyes looked around, and she spoke, almost too quietly to be heard, but I could see her mouth the word “Both.”

I nod and smile, “Just point out the room…he’s not going to remember we were ‘late.’  I look at Iesa, and smirk, “You two can chat later.”

The girl blushes and leads us down the hall to a door near the end, and knocked on it three times, and Mordai’s voice called from within, “Enter.”

Daneath took the lead, followed by Iesa, Beepu and then myself.  Mordai was already seated at a small circular table, with six chairs around it.  In his hands was a goblet, and he was swirling what I presumed was wine.  He was nonchalant, but when he saw me, he stopped and leaned forward, his eyes disbelieving what they saw.

“Myrai, you look so much different now.  I can’t say which is the better look though.”

“You know how to say the sweetest things; must be a character flaw.” And I sat down on chair, propped up my legs on the table and took a swig from the bottle.

He grinned at the retort and replied, “Well put.  And I assume your friends have told you about the deal.”

“Enough to know, you haven’t told them anything yet,” I said, as the others started to sit down on the chairs near me.

“Well, the task itself is simple enough, and remember,” as he glanced at my adams, “It was a no questions asked deal.”

“Yes, yes, now get to the point!  What is the task?”  Beepu said with annoyance.  He clearly wanted to be anywhere but back in Yartar.

“To the point.  Well then,” and he finished his drink.  “It’s quite simple really; the Crimson Star has had some challenges with a particular individual and we need them…eliminated during the hate night, at her own party two nights from now.  That individual is the Waterbaroness Nestra Ruthiol.”

Iesa didn’t look happy, “So, murder then.”

The tiefling shrugged, “A life for a life.”

Iesa, still looking unhappy, “Why?”

Mordai looked at Iesa with a very paternal look, “You realize that’s a question.”

Iesa was about to say something, and he shut his mouth quickly. And instead Daneath spoke “So, what are we going to find there as far as guards?”

“More questions again.”

Beepu had had it and jumped up and started berating the tiefling, “You cannot expect us to be successful, unless we know what we are up against.  How do you expect us to do this unsavory piece of work?”

“Questions again.” He said with mock sadness.
I looked at Mordai, “Well, if you don’t have invitations or a tailor, then your dreams are going to remain dreams.”

He turned his head and looked at me with a grin, “Ah yes; you understand the game then.  And so, I do have access to both.”

Iesa smiled and said, “A means to do the deed would also be necessary.”

“A means has been planned out, and I only have a little bit more information that I will tell you.  Anything and everything else is your problem.  The party will be covered by her house guards and whoever else she hires.  Weapons and armor have never been allowed inside during functions, so I doubt that will change.  You can use this to help you.” And he set a small glass vial on the table.  “Yes, it is quite deadly.  The tailor that you can use, is on the Street of the Larks in the mid-tier.  It’s the only one there, and it is across from a cheese shop.  I’m sure you can find your way, and just mention the Crimson Star, and they will assist you.  They also will have your invitations.”

Silence fell across the room as we absorb the task at hand, and the implications ahead.  

“We are going to need a way out of the party after it’s done I suppose,” Beepu said.

Mordai shrugged, “Sounds like your problem; I really don’t care.”

I drink the last of the rye, and sigh, “I guess that’s it then,” and I stood up and walk to the door.

“So, you are going to do it then?” Mordai said, eying me curiously.

I turned around and give him a flinty glare, “Sorry…that sounds like a question.” The others smile at that, and they stand, while Iesa palms the vial.  And I reach the door and pull the handle.

A grim chuckle came from Mordai, “Well then, just remember.  We don’t like busted deals and we will take pleasure to making…painful examples of those that do break their word.”

“I guess we’ll know soon enough.” I said, and I left the room, with the others in tow.  
Moments later, I throw open the door to the room we let and flopped on the bed.  Exhaustion was catching up to me and I just wanted to pass out and sleep.  

“I can’t believe…” Iesa started.

“What?  That he wanted a grim favor in return?” I said.   “The shrine wasn’t enough of a clue that this was going to be a bad deal.  Sodding Kobold King.”

“What does that mean, ‘Kobold King’” Daneath said.

“It means that he thinks he is very important, but he really isn’t.  My guess is that he really is a low-ranking person in the Star, and he’s using this to get ahead.  He’s not in charge.”

“What makes you say that?” Iesa asked.

“Because if he was, he would have a toady hand out the mission, so his own hands are clean.  That, and if he was that vested in success, he would have hired experts.” I speculated.  “Plus, he doesn’t care if we get caught.  Seems addle-coved to me that you would leave yourself exposed that way.”

“Well, perhaps he thinks very highly of us then,” Beepu said.

“Doubtful…you went to him for help.  We are cheap barkle to throw at a problem and if it works, great.  If not, he’ll just deny the whole thing.”

Everyone went silent for a while.  Eventually, Iesa broke it with the real question.  “Are we really going to do this?”

“I don’t want to do it, but I’m not keen on skipping town with a criminal organization hounding us.” Daneath replied.

“So, you would rather have the Waterbaroness’ enforcers or the person who takes over to chase us instead?” Beepu retorted.  “Morally this is just wrong,”

“So…what do we do?” Iesa asked.

“I’m exhausted,” I said, “And I am not going to make a decision right now.  But, since we can’t ask Mordai anything, we’re going to have to find our own answers,” and I started pulling off my boots and unbuckling my belts with my blades.

“Wait…are you seriously considering going through with…murder?”

“Well…right now she’s a grave robber at minimum.  Desecrating the rest of the dead is a sin, but not a mortal one.  But, something extreme has happened for the Crimson Star to decide this is the best solution.  We don’t understand the darks here.  So we better wise up and figure it out.” And I undid my bodice armor and set it aside.

“She’s right,” Iesa said “We really don’t know what is going on.  Perhaps we can figure it out and use it to our advantage.”

“I agree,” said Daneath. “We need more information.”

“Yep,” I said nodding “So we go to the tailor and we dig up the local chant and start learning.  *Fast*.” And I pulled off my bracers and dropped them on a pile with the armor, belts, and daggers.

“So, what do we tell Mordai?” Beepu asked.

“Nothing,” I said.  “Let him make his own assumptions after we talk to the tailor tomorrow.  Don’t say anything and don’t answer him.”

“Why?”

“Because then you can honestly say you didn’t agree to the job.”

“But I did not say no either.”

“Whose problem is that?  If he wanted certainty…he’s should have had a contract written.”

“He’d be a fool to do that,” Iesa said “That would be asking for death if someone found it.”

“True,” I said yawning “But it also means that nothing is fixed.  Maybe we can change the deal later.  But it won’t matter in four days.” And I stretched out on the bed.

“Why is that?” Beepu asked puzzled.

“Because in three days, the Hate Night will be over.  Then he’ll know if we accepted the job or not.”

*Session notes:*

First off thanks reading my vanity project.  I would love comment in PM if you have them.  XP would be nice too. 

So... there is a LARGE gap here of three players scrambling around to find someone who can raise the dead and figure out if they can get a 500 gp diamond.  There was a lot of running around.  And somehow, they did go to Mordai, and not the two other churches mentioned in town.  If nothing else, it makes a great story and forwarded the plot that the DM had in mind.

The ‘No Questions’ dialog really happened and was actually more ridiculous as I remembered.  The table had some very new to D&D players, and they kept trying to ask Mordai about his motivations and why.  And the DM (rightly) stuck to his guns and made the party go figure it out and sort out rumor and truths instead of spoonfeeding it right there to them. 

Now lastly 39,000+ words later; This was *day one* of a 5 hour game session.  It was one hell of a start.


----------



## Nthal

*Darks of the Past*

(Merry Xmas everyone)

_Darks of the Past

The Society of Sensation teaches that dreams are incomplete experiences.  Normally, they are things your self needs to sort out, understand and *know*.  The Society also says that dreams can be tools; of prophecy, of communication, and of divination.

The sodding problem is figuring out which applies to yours.​_
It was nearing peak, and the brimstone laden rain had finally stopped.  Dirty yellow rainwater that once was pouring from gothic spouts on buildings, were now slowing to a trickle.  The air was muggy, but the rain had cleared the tang of brimstone from the air.  We were on the edge between the Lady’s Ward and the Lower Ward.   Here the rainwater would flow into channels, draining the streets of water.  Perhaps it would flow to the ditch; perhaps it would just sink below.  But unlike the Hive and other places, the roads would be clear of puddles and standing water.

I would have said I was wandering, but the truth was I was being led by Elisna.  She had declared today was my birthday, for no other reason than realizing I didn’t know when mine really was.  And so, she was leading us from the Gatehouse where we lived and across the far side of the Lower Ward in search of…something.  Elisna was very direct, and when she wanted to do something, she just did it.  Never mind that it meant ditching the Bleakers and their chores for us today.  She had a mission, and nothing would stop her.  And I, as focus of the adventure was duty bound to follow.

So, the two of us had spent most of the morning dodging the rain as we made our way across the Lower Ward while trying to stay dry.  We crossed the Ditch at Zaddfun Trestle and headed along Barmy street, passing through the Shattered Temple District.  I had never wandered far from the Gatehouse on my own, and I was drinking in all the sights as if I were a Clueless.  But Elisna had a plan and a destination in mind, and she would not be denied.  So, she pulled my arm, moving me ever forward.  

She led me down Brandy Lane, until it turned into Forgotten, and straight through Anvil’s Square.  I remembered Anze, hard at work there, forging steel for cutters with jink.  But not us poor kids, as we moved with steady determination, or resignation as the case was with myself.   On down Ironmonger, and past Blood Boil, until finally we were on Berk Lane.  

I had no idea why we were traversing the Lower Ward, on the Downward edge.  We had occasionally stole off before, following the Spikeward edge making our way to the Grand Baazar.  That was fun, even though we never had any money.  We could look and dream a bit what a bit of money might be like.  Elisna liked going there with me, as usually the coster mongers weren’t so quick to chase off an Aasimar as they would a Tiefling.  But we always returned empty handed to the Gatehouse, to face whatever punishments the Bleakers had for skipping out on chores.  Truth be told, the punishments were fair and mild considering the time wasted.  But we were never eager to return.

But we were on the wrong edge for that kind of trip and passed through districts I only had heard of by name.  Berk’s Lane wasn’t remarkable really, it was a working district but cleaner than most due to proximity to the Lady’s Ward.  So, the shops were less practical, and more ‘fun.’  And it was just the case when Elisna led me to a small stall in front of a narrow house and said, “We’re here!”

I could smell it, before I even saw the sign; the smell of sugar and spice, cinnamon and honey.  I knew where she had led us to.  Looking up I read the sign: ‘Happy Candies Sweet Shop’ and I almost cursed at Elisna.  The worst thing you can do to a hungry kid, is to bring them within a whiff of food they can’t taste.  And candy was the stuff of dreams for any kid.  So, to stand there in front of bins of sweets and not so much of a greenie in your pocket was the worst form of torture I could think of.
But nothing ever daunted Elisna; not even the impossible.  She marched right to the stall and pointed at a bin with an assortment of sweets.  The aged human calmly replied.

“Two stingers each.”

Elisna shook her head and pointed again at the same bin.

“I said, one jink each.”

Elisna shook her head again and pointed.

“Are you barmy?  Four stingers each!”

I chuckled.  Only in Sigil would you have a shop run by madmen.  In this case literally; Xaositects.  The Chaosmen were random as chaos can let a berk be, and in this case running a shop wasn’t in their favor.  Elisna kept pointing, sometimes picking a different bin, but usually the same one.  And the price kept changing wildly.  Finally, the barmy Chaosman said “Two greenies each.”

And then I was surprised, as Elisna produced four greenies from a pouch she concealed in her shirt.  The pouch was full…far more than the price she bargained down the candy to.  She quickly grabbed a pair of sweets, smiled and grabbed my hand and ran, pulling me down toward Bloodgem Road, as if in fear the price would change again.

After a few moments, we were huddled together in a doorway.  As I tried to catch my breath, I was stammering, “How…where did…you get…the…”

Elisna smiled and pressed into my hand a sweet.  She looked at me and simply said, “Happy birthday.”
The smell of both cinnamon and honey was strong, and the color was as deep a red as Elisna’s own eyes.  My hand trembled; I had never held such a treasure in my life.  I placed the sweet in my mouth, and with that taste my dreams were at that moment fulfilled.  Sweet honey, the burn of sharp cinnamon, and even the unexpected tang of salt assaulted my tongue.  Elisna eyes must have mirrored mine as she also tasted the morsel.  It was pure bliss, that only sugar and spice can bring to a child.

“Thank you…sis.” I said.  We weren’t sisters really; it was impossible for it to be so.  But when others weren’t looking or listening we would call each other such.  We always felt kinship despite being opposites.  

I was quiet and comfortable in quiet moments alone.

Elisna was bold and outgoing.

I tried to follow the rules…when Elisna wasn’t getting me in trouble.

Elisna was a rule breaker, following her whims, and leading me astray.

I was the awkward, gangly, funny looking Aasimar. 

Elisa was a cute as a button Tiefling

We continued to suck on the candies as we walked past Bloodgem Park and turning up the Doomguard Walk.  We held hands, and I remember I was crying.  I had never had a birthday, and the gift was the sweetest one could give.  I was madly trying to think of how I would repay her when hers came around.

“Stop you spiv!”

I turned my head, and I saw a human running, cradling some type of sword to his chest.  Following him was a half-elf, in an apron shouting and pointing at the human running.

The human had turned the corner and was running up the street, right toward us when I heard a sound to my left.  The sound of someone running.  Time seemed to slow down as I turned towards the sound and I saw her.

She was dressed in studded leather and had a pair of swords at her hips.  Her eyes were a colorless grey, and her raven hair was long and wild around her.  But now she showed her teeth in a wolfish grin of a predator who had found her prey.  She was already moving towards us and as she closed the distance, she began to spin.

The first spin grabbed everyone’s attention.  I froze and was transfixed at the artistry and grace of this raven-haired beauty.  So was Elisna as she turned her head to look at the woman.  I could see the spiv in the corner of my eye, and his head was turned towards the woman as well.

The second spin, the woman approached closer, and the sound of metal upon metal rang out as she drew one of her swords from her hip side scabbard.  Elisna was between myself and this woman, and the spiv was approaching Elisna from the rear, attempting to run past us both, as he pushed himself into a run, bumping into Elisna. 

The third spin came, and I heard the sharp whistle of the blade through the air, and the sound of metal on flesh.   I could see the blade cross through his neck, his head coming clean from his body, and with blood spurting everywhere.  But the blade didn’t stop there, as I watched in horror as the blade edge cut into Elisna’s neck as well, severing her head just as cleanly.  The woman passed behind us all with her sword trailing, with a smile of pure rapture on her face.

I remember the sweet dropping from my mouth; like it had suddenly tasted like ash.  I screamed as I watched the spiv and Elisna’s heads and bodies fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.  My heart scarcely beat as I watched their heads bounce on the cobblestone.

I collapsed on my knees on the dirty street.  I had turned toward the figure, who had stopped spinning, and now was occupied with cleaning her blade.  The small crowd around us made no moves, but they all had the same look on their face as they looked at this woman.  A look of fear.

I stared at her in mute shock, and I slowly turned to look at Elisna’s body and head.  Her sweet, like mine, was now discarded together on the road, surrounded by blood.  Her body had fallen crumpling forward, and her head faced towards the sky with a helpless expression.

Time passed slowly and turning my head I saw the Harmonium guards arrive too late.  They had their swords at the ready and approached, but when they saw the woman the same fear that had struck the crowd afflicted them as well.  They were talking, but I never heard the words said.  But their actions spoke more; they didn’t stop the woman as she strode down the street towards the Armory.  She was unconcerned and unafraid of them.  

Of anyone.

I turned back to Elisna.  I was crying, shouting for my sister.  The pain in my heart was the greatest I had ever known.  I couldn’t imagine anything worse and wouldn’t know any for years to come.

Then I saw, Elisna’s body twitch and stir.  As I was kneeling on the ground, I watched with horror as Elisna’s body, mechanically stood upright again.  With precision, it bent at the waist and picked up her own head without fumbling.  She delicately placed the head upon her shoulders, and from what seemed from nowhere, produced a needle and thick cord like thread.

I watched with my mouth agape as she started to sew, fastening her head back onto her neck with the thread.  She snapped the cord, and then started to sew with the needle and cord above and below her pale red lips, stitching her mouth shut.  As I watched, unable to move or intervene she repeated the process, stitching her right eye and then her left eye, closing them forever.

The corpse then turned to face me, and she raised her right hand.  She pointed at me, accusingly for all the crowd to see.  I screamed,

“Elisna…no!!”

I awoke and sat upright in the darkness of the room.  My breathing was labored, and I was covered in sweat.  The sound of quiet breathing filled the room.  Only the mechanical owl, Foggle showed any signs of wakefulness as its head turned in circles on its nightly vigil.

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, covered my eyes and wept.  Before, I could never remember the nightmare, just the feelings at the end.  Now for the first time I remembered; I saw.

It wasn’t history or the past.  Elisna’s death was true.  The fact she became a zombie was true.  But my mind stitched it so everything happened at once.  Making me feel the raw emotions that I experienced nearly a decade in the past, fresh again as if they had happened only moments ago.

“Myrai?  Are you alright?” I heard in the darkness as Daneath spoke.

I was crying still and could barely whisper, “No.”  I heard Daneath move and he was then sitting behind me on the bed.  He reached out and touched my shoulder.

“Please don’t,” and I pulled away.  After a moment I said, “I’m sorry but…” and I stumble on the words and never really finish.  I don’t want to be touched.  I don’t want to look needy.  I want to feel stronger.  Far stronger than I do now.   

Daneath said, “I understand.  At best you’ve had a trying day.  I just wanted…to help.” And he moved back towards his own bunk.

I calmed myself, my tears started to slow, and my breathing became normal.  I was shaking my head and could only whisper one word; “Why?”

“Why what, Myrai?”

I gulped and swallowed over the large lump in my throat and whispered, “Why me?  Why do I keep…surviving?  My…my…sister died, and not me.  Markell, died at my feet and I survived. The Faction War, so many…didn’t survive.   And now the…dog things.”

“Hyenas,” Daneath corrected gently.

“Hyenas…I am back now.   But so many others…so many better people…why me?”

“Doesn’t Kelemvor answer that?”

I shook my head, “No…not really.  He teaches us about death, and how to…not to fear it.  He doesn’t really talk about not dying, and even less is said about coming back.”

“You’ve lost a lot?”

I quietly nod in response.

“I can relate to that.  I barely knew my mother as she died when I was young.  My father…I never knew him.  And as for my master…well that’s why I am looking for him; he’s the closest thing to family I have left.”

I turned to look at Daneath in the darkness.  “I once looked for mine.  Sodding waste of time and jink for me.  I hope that your…our search has better luck.”

He nodded, “Well, looks like we have some dirty work to do first,” and he stretched out on his bed.  “I hope…I hope we can pull it off.”

I laid back down and stared at the roof, “I guess I should be worried about just surviving.  But, I don’t seem to have that problem.”

“There are worse things, Myrai.”

“Yes.  Yes, there are.”

Silently I stared at the ceiling and I heard Daneath fall back into his own dreams.  All the while I wondered about my own.  My nightmare was still vivid in my mind.  But I wondered more about the immediate future.

I realized that I needed to move forward.  Why I was back wasn’t important, if indeed I was dragged back to life for a reason.  What was important was that I didn’t make things worse for my adams.  
It mattered more to me, that I mattered to them.  I was important.

It was a starting point.

*Session Notes:*

I wrote part of this as the raw character background, so Elisna was always lurking in the past.  It however took a bit to flesh her out beyond a name, and a timeframe.  One of the core ideas about Myrai, was coping with survivor’s guilt, that keeps reoccurring.  The other, is that she was closed off to people in general.  Partially because of her introversion, but also about closing herself off and being detached as a coping mechanism.

But that said, part of her story is about reconnecting.  And that reconnecting is important for a number of reason.  Especially for her father.  But’s that’s a chapter far from here.


----------



## Nthal

*Dressing to Kill*

*Dressing to Kill*

_Sigil is a dirty place.  The rain stains everything with brimstone, discoloring cloth and flesh alike.  It’s why we wear leather if we can as it doesn’t stain.  The Lower Ward and Hive will have standing muddy puddles of filthy water.  The worst is the Ditch, an open river of filth and muck where dead bodies are tossed, along with scraps from kitchens and night water.  

But every so often, even the Ditch gets flushed from the waters of Oceanus.  And so, it becomes a holiday, where everyone dives into the clear, sweet water and cleans up a bit.

And some of us clean up better than others. _​
Sleep had finally overcome me, and the next day began.  We wandered out from the “Lusty Bard” and headed silently towards the middle tier of Yartar.  I still felt weak, even after some bread and cheese in my stomach.  I was just thankful I wasn’t retching anymore.  

“So…I guess we need to ask some questions,” Iesa said with a smirk.  “So where do we start?”

“The guards,” Daneath said.  “They tend hang out together in most towns.  With some drinks, I can find out who is working where.  Find out more about the party from their perspective.”

“Well, Foggle can look at the manor from above.  See what we can learn on how to get out and in,” Beepu commented, almost to himself.

“I bet our tailor will know something,” I said.  “Guests, tidbits about the party.”  

“And I want to ask the locals about the Night itself.  What really happens,” said Iesa.  “Because, we’re going to need to get out somehow during the night.”

“Guess we should split up then,” I said.  “I don’t know if we should all go the tailor at once, but I’m going to need to go first.”

“Why?” asked Iesa.

I looked him in the eyes, “Because, it takes longer to tailor a dress than a suitcoat.  We can meet back at the “Bard” later the evening.  Spire’s Ward.

“Righ…what?” Daneath asked.

“Good luck,” as I walked off towards Lark street. 

Truth be told, a moment to myself was nice.  Being cooped up with three men was trying.  Like everything else lately, I tried not to make a big deal of it, but I only now realized that privacy was something I missed.  
Not that I really had any now. All through the market, the gate through the middle tier I felt and heard it.  The stares, the whispers.  I really stood out here.  In Sigil, I would rarely get a second look or a comment.  But in Yartar, it made me self-conscious.  Well, more so than normal since arriving on the Prime. 

Eventually after a bit of looking around on Lark, I spotted the cheese shop.  And then I looked across the street.   The sign was clear enough; a needle and thread.  Striding over to the shop, I took a deep breath and opened the door.

The sound of a bell rang as I stepped inside.  The curtains were closed, and candles lit the room.  It was crowded though, full of dress forms.  Some had coats, others had dresses, all in various states of construction.  The shop was cluttered with racks, bolts of cloth and ribbon and trim.  Buried in the back was a counter where a young male human was focusing on mending a rip in a seam in a waistcoat.  His hand shaking ever so slightly as he worked to sew a straight chain stitch.

Without looking up he muttered, “Who are you picking up for?”

I slowly walked to him speaking, “I need a dress, and I was directed here.”

“Ma’am, it’s a bit late to start looking for one.  My master is already swamped with last minute work.”  He said, without looking up.

I had reached him, and I lifted his chin forcing his gaze upwards and away from his project.   The look of annoyance quickly melted into that familiar wide-eyed look.

“I…uh…well…I…really…the Master…he can’t,”

I frowned, and with some regret said, “I’m sorry, but the Crimson Star said that this shop can help me find one.”
At the mention of the Crimson Star, color drained from his face.  “Of…of…course.  I’ll fetch the Master at once,” and he put down the waistcoat and scrambled towards a doorway that led deeper inside, calling out “Master Gyffor…Master Gyffor.”

Clearly the Crimson Star was a known quantity here, and a feared one.  I just hoped not to scare the boy too much.  Soon he returned with an older man in tow.  “What is the meaning of…” as he came out to talk with me, his eyes grew wider.  “Oh…my,”

I smile apologetically, “Sorry, to disturb you, but I was told that you could help me with a dress.”

“Yes…a courier rudely woke me up last night to tell me that I needed to outfit out four of you.  But I wasn’t expecting a…”

“A…what?”

“An angel such as you.  I was expecting four men actually.”

“Well, the other three men will be around later,” and I extended my hand.  “I thought you would need a little more time with me.  You can call me…”

“No…no.  I don’t want to know, but…” and he bent slightly to kiss my hand to my surprise.  “…It is my pleasure to serve you.  Please, come on back, and let me see what I can use to start with.” And still holding my hand, he gently led me into the rear of the shop.

“Myford, if the other three show up, see if you can stitch them up in a coat and breeches.  I will not want to be disturbed unless it is vital.”

“Oh Myford, one is a gnome by the way.” I call back trying to be helpful.

Myford nodded, “I better start digging in the children’s bin then.   We don’t have much for small folk here.”

Master Gyffor led me into the back and I got a better look at him.  He wasn’t ancient, but he was certainly old.  His papery skin pale and spotted.  He had a full head of silver hair and was clean shaven, and as he turned to look at me with warm brown eyes.

“Let me look at you my dear…Oh my,” as he lifted my arms until they were shoulder height.  “You are…lovely.  I hope I can find something to match your qualities.”

I can feel myself blush in the cheeks as they grew warm.  “Thank you…is there something I can do to help?”
“Help…no.  Not unless you can light some candles for my eyes.   You being here helps enough.  Allows me to pay off a debt.”

“Well,” and I reach within and the warm rush flows up my back as I summon a warm yellow light for a nearby sconce.  “I hope that helps.”

Gyffor blinked as the light flooded the room.  “Yes…that…that will do.  My, were those…wings?”

I shrugged, “You aren’t far off in calling me an angel, but that’s as real as the wings get.” 

“I see…yes yes,” and he started opening a pair of trunks in the back and started lifting out material from them.  “I know I have it somewhere in here…” he muttered, throwing material about.

I started to look around to keep busy as he dug through the chests.  “Well you are helping me with a debt as well.  I’m going to guess mine isn’t as cheap as yours.”

The old man sighed a moment, “Perhaps.   I can’t say that I regret the reason.  Just perhaps the means.   No no, not here…where would…   Perhaps the other one.” And he moved to a large armoire off to the side.   

“So, can I ask you some questions?”

“Hmmm, I suppose.  No no…not here either,” he said as he threw out cloth and fabric out from the armoire.  “Perhaps…the chest here.”

“So, what should I expect at the party?”

“Oh, I’ve never been myself…what is that?  Oh!  That’s where I put that baldric!  Will need to remember that...   But, most of the high-born houses will be there.  I’m told that each of the galas are the same though.  A lot of drink…Why am I keeping this?  Maybe the boy can use it for practice.  The Waterbaroness wanders around interacting with notables from families.  Of course, most have to go through Vicam or that new captain…Arkhan to approach her.  Last several ones she’s been a bit standoffish I heard.   But what do I know?”

“Who’s Vicam?”

More cloth is tossed from the chest as he continued to dig.  “Vicam?  He’s her current seneschal.   Manages the house and house business.  Only been here since last several winters as I recall.  I don’t care for him much.  Seems a bit shifty.  He tried to kick me out of my shop here in fact.”

“Why?”

“No clue.  But finding a new place in the mid-tier is well…difficult.   Would have lost a lot of clients if I was in the lower tier.   I suppose the debt was worth it then.   Ah HAH!”  and with that, he pulled out a carefully folded bundle of dark cloth.  I couldn’t see much of it as he brought it out.

“I had started this for my daughter for a different gala many winters ago,” and he unfolded it carefully and held it up to the light by the shoulders.  I gasped.  I had never seen a dress like it before.  Black cloth with what appeared to be glass crystals sewn into it.  It was like looking at a night sky.  

“That’s…beautiful.  But I couldn’t.”

“No…please.  My daughter never got to wear it…it will suit you.”

I was fumbling for words, “If you insist.  Why didn’t she wear it?”

“Ah, she was taken by a sickness a moon before one of the galas,” he said with a note of bitterness.  But, you appear to be her shape and form.  And…I would rather see it used, than rot in a chest.”

“If it helps honor her memory.  Are you going to want it back?”

He shook his head, “No.  I don’t pretend to understand the Crimson Star, but for whatever reason you need it, I can’t pretend that your need is well…”

“It isn’t.  I don’t want to dirty your memory of it.”

“No.  You can’t.  If you are indeed an angel, then perhaps my daughter can guide your path.”
I bowed my head down and after a pause replied, “Well, I can use all the help I can get.”
The tailor nodded.  “Well…you’re going to need to put this on.  There’s a small closet over there you can change in.”

I nod and take the dress from him. It’s light and the material feels like silk, with a fine mesh netting in panels across the torso and sleeves.  I stare at it dumbly for a moment and look at the tailor helplessly.

“I…uh.  I’ve never worn a dress.  How do I put it on?”

In the end, one of the neighbors found a young girl to help me out with the intricacies of formal dresses.  I had heard each of my other adams come in and out all the while I stood and was used as a form to customize the dress.  The tailor was good; never once was stuck with the needle as he made the changes.  Fortunately, I was only a shade smaller than his daughter, which meant taking it in slightly.  But, while that made things easier overall, I was still standing most of the day, and it was well after sundown by the time I finally walked down into the “Lusty Bard.”

My adams were at a table already drinking, and they spotted and waved me over.

“You know, I got you three ales already, expecting you to walk in.  Where have you been?” Iesa asked.  “You really shouldn’t order so…<hic>…much.”

“The same place you were in the morning, where he,” pointing at Beepu “was at mid-day, and he,” pointing at Daneath “was in the afternoon.”

“Doing <hic> what?”

“Standing…sitting for a couple of minutes…standing…I think I had a long discussion about silks…then more standing.  What in Baator do you think I was doing!?!   I was getting pinched, prodded, poked, and squeezed all day.  I just got out and I’m famished.”

“Does it really take that long?” Daneath asked.

I shrugged, “I admit, today was a day of learning.  I knew it was complicated…but apparently stylish dresses are something else.  I think I have a better understanding of how to get Daneath into his tin, than I do to put on a dress.”

“You mean you have never worn one before?” Beepu asked me with his head cocked to one side and passed me a trencher with some type of stew.

“I was sodding poor growing up, and doing dirty chores and work is easier in breeches.  So why would I need a dress?” and I bit into the trencher, tearing off a chunk with my teeth.

“Just one of the boys then,” Daneath commented.

I thought a moment in between bites, “I suppose.  But it’s more practicality.   Anyway, we should probably talk in the room before Iesa takes another ale for me.”

Everyone nods, and we grab an ale from the taps, and make our way to our private little sanctum.  I didn’t really care for it compared to my room in Triboar.  But it somehow felt safer by comparison.   We all clamber in, and I flop on the bed and immediately start pulling off my boots from my sore feet and started massaging them.  

“So…we learn anything useful that doesn’t involve cloth?”

Daneath chuckled, “That good eh?  Well I did find a bar where the guards hang out.  After some drinks, got them talking.  Sounds like every guard in the town will be somewhere in major buildings.  Once the fog starts, they stay where they are and wait for dawn.”

“No patrols?” I asked.

“Nope.  They all have orders to stay out of it and they were dead serious.” He said and took a sip from his ale.  “In fact, the fog seems to do what we have been told; if you step into it, you lose your memory.”

“Is that it?” I asked.

Beepu spoke up, “Yes and it is very strange.  Some people have said sometimes they see shadows of people wandering aimlessly.  But I heard from a book proprietor that I visited, that the memory loss can be anywhere from the last day, to the last moon.”

Iesa whistled, “That would be <hic> problematic.  No wonder they don’t <hic> patrol.”

“Nope,” said Daneath.  “And the manor will have about twenty on staff for the night.  Which is not a lot really.”

“And no one to cry beef…oh, call for help,” I said.

“And nowhere to run to either,” Beepu said.  “I had Foggle fly above the Manor.  It is not a serious fortification.  A ten-foot wall surrounds it and that wall has one gate at the front.  It is two floors on the outside.  Lots of windows, although that may not help much.  There is a garden on one side and the stables for horses are on the other.”
“It’s not like we have to sneak <hic> in.  But that doesn’t tell <hic> us how to get out,” Iesa said.  “And even then, <hic> while every place has a party <hic> you can’t really move around.”

“What do you mean?” I asked and took a swallow of the bitter ale.

“The mid and lower <hic> tier houses share walls.  But you <hic>  can’t get between blocks without <hic> crossing fog.  Some folks tried <hic> to see if you run across the <hic> street, between parties.  Doesn’t work.  Doesn’t matter if <hic> you hold your breath.  Takes moments I heard.  But, only <hic> when the fog is fully there.  Early evening as <hic> it sets, you have a little <hic> more time, before you <hic> slip off.”

“We’ll be stuck there?”

“Yep, and I found out <hic> something else.  Yartar doesn’t have a proper <hic> sewer.”
Daneath nodded, “I heard that too.  The guards apparently thought about digging tunnels between key buildings.  But there is bedrock below, and few buildings even have basements.  In fact, this building is the only one in the lower tier that even has one.”

“So, no maze of sewer tunnels then.  Why only this place?” I asked

“Because, a family of dwarves owned it and they were stubborn.”  Daneath replied.  “Oh and better yet, the guards all want gate duty for the Baroness’ gala.  It’s a big deal for them.”

“Now why is that?” Beepu asked with his brows knitted in confusion.

“Because, they search everyone going in.  Women included.  Especially the women.  They can protest, but then they can’t come in.” Daneath said taking another sip.  “They seem to like that part a lot.”

“Well, compared to getting dressed that’s…annoying, even looking for blades.”

“Not just blades.  Looking for pouches, crystals, wands and stuff.”
Beepu and I exchanged glances and I said, “Wait…they look for spell casting things?”

Daneath nodded, “Very explicitly.  No spell casting on the grounds…or…”

“Or…what?” Beepu asked.

“They throw you outside, into the fog.” Daneath said.  “No clear reason why, but it has been that way a while.  Related to that; no armor either, but most just get sent away, with few exceptions.”

“This is getting better and better,” I muttered.  “No way out, no armor, no weapons, and no magic.   No wonder the Crimson Star wants us to do this for them.”

Iesa nodded, “Yeah, this isn’t a <hic> lot to work with.”

“Well I was thinking about that.  Foggle can drop off some supplies for us near a window or door.  There are a couple of exterior doors on the manor and there are a lot of windows.”

“Hmmm, might be enough for some pouches and a small blade.” I said thinking.

“Also, in the garden, not far from a servant door is a wooden platform.  A gazebo.  We could hide some gear there in advance,” Noted Beepu.

“And somehow at the party slip outside when we can.  What did we need to stash?” I asked.

“Some weapons ideally.  Can’t easily conceal my armor,” Daneath noted.  “Your chest piece maybe, but…”

“Not with the dress.  Well at least the pouches need to be smuggled in so we can use magic,” I said.  “I know I could hide a blade and pouches under my dress.  But, what about your coats?  I didn’t see them in the shop.”

“Some room.  Daggers sure, maybe <hic> a small sword.  Nothing <hic> big.”

“Any chance on disguising ourselves as a guard instead?” I asked hopefully, looking for a different angle.

“Daneath shook his head, “No.  They all know each other, and they don’t wear helms.”

“Convenient that we <hic>  will be masked then.”

“Well, the guards are part of it, but she also has her staff as well,” I said.  “Both her seneschal and or her guard captain…what was that name, Eragon?...no Arkhan!  They may be a problem in terms of getting close to her.”

“I heard about the <hic> same,” agreed Isea.  “The only other tidbit I heard was while the Hate <hic> Nights, started appearing only five winters ago, the Waterbaroness’ <hic> parties have been tighter and tighter on <hic>security in the last year or so.”

“How many nights have there been?” Daneath asked.

“This is the third in this year, which is not common.”

“Wonderful.  So basically, we have a no plan or path to success and no clear way out.   We should just leave and forget this business,” Beepu said in humph.

“I would agree,” I started to say, “But, when I was getting my dress, I mentioned the Crimson Star.  They were afraid.  So was the serving girl last night now that I think of it.”

Daneath nodded, “I noticed that.  And I asked the guards about the Star, and they really, really didn’t want to talk about them at all.  It was like a bad omen to the guards to discuss them.”

We all fell silent, with only the occasional hiccup from Iesa.  All of us lost in our own thoughts.  All struggling with the same question:

Are we going to this?

“Well,” I said, “I hate to say it…but we probably are going to need to pay the bellmen.”

Frowning, Beepu asked, “Why is that Myrai?”

“Because refusing means we are deaders already.  Yartar and any other nearby ones won’t be safe for us.  And heading into the wilds and its dangers is what started this mess.  I don’t like it, but I don’t see how we have much of a choice.”

“Not really no.  We should have never become entangled in local affairs, and should have…done something…different...” Beepu started and trailed off.

“Let’s hope the gods have something <hic> in mind for us tomorrow.”

“Well, what does that leave for us tomorrow?  Final fittings, the invitations, smuggling blades and spell pouches.”

We all silently nod.  And finally, I said, “Well, it could be worse I guess.”

“How?” all three asked.

“You all could have to wear dresses.”

*Session Notes*

The Eragon/Arakan joke started here.  I take all the blame for it, but Arakan's nickname stuck hard.  Even the DM, who wrote the campaign got the name stuck in his head and swore at me for it.  For the record I'm sorry.

Sorta.

The other item of note that as a player, the discussion on what to do took far longer than even this treatment was.  Lots of die rolls, discussion, plotting etc.  Far more time on plotting than actual dialog or roleplaying.   This isn't bad, but tracking the number of persuasion / investigation / etc checks while necessary, aren't themselves a compelling story.

On a completely different note, was the research on medieval tailoring.  This came up as I was working on this section and my wife commented that a male tailor would never work on a dress; it would be a seamstress.  This got me thinking, and I started parsing through the history of tailoring.  It's a fascinating subject.  But what I found is that modern conventions of thinking, don't apply consistently.  Tailoring was usually fronted and run by men for the upper classes, but many times women were tailors.  But they weren't consistently allowed into the master/apprentice system or even had guild memberships.  The only area of tailoring that women did consistently that men did not was children's clothes, and undergarments.  But not hose...

So which in the end, I changed nothing...but it was a good, if incomplete read.


----------



## Nthal

*It Takes One, to Know One.*

*It Takes One, to Know One.*​_In the Society of Sensation, experience isn’t just everything; it’s the only thing that matters.  Your personal knowledge is the key to the multiverse.  That knowledge allows a skilled observer to understand and react to anything the multiverse throws at them.

And sometimes, at other folks for a suitable price.​_

We ended up sleeping late into the morning, in preparation for the long night ahead and we were very casual until the midafternoon.

It was maddening.

Iesa and Daneath spent some time wagering in the pits.  They managed to break even I heard.  That left Beepu and I in the room killing time.  I was fairly devout, and none of this was sitting well with me.  Murder wasn’t exactly ok with Kelemvor…unless a serious crime had been involved.  I was somewhat hoping that we would hear that the Waterbaroness had earned a miserable violent end to justify taking her life.  Of course, nothing we heard from anyone seemed to indicate this.  All we had was some grave robbing and a broken deal with the Crimson Star.

In fact, I was desperately hoping that we would learn something at the party.  The decision was always in our hands.  We could always choose to do nothing during the Hate Night and run at first light.  So, we weren’t damned.  Not yet.  But a clue would be nice.  I couldn’t imagine that I was forced back into life for this price.  A price that someone else ultimately was going to pay.  But of course, the multiverse didn’t owe me anything, let alone an answer.

While I wrestled with my conscience, I turned my head to look at what Beepu was up to.  He was seated at the desk, which he had scattered a number of large pieces of paper or parchment.  His spellbook was on the desk as well, but it was closed.  Beepu had a quill and ink out, and he was making small notes on one of  the large sheets.

I smirked; of course he had books and writings to look at, to keep his mind away from the mortal quandary facing him.  A book of anything to read would be rum right now.  But I realized that I had never paid much attention to the various documents, papers, and notes that he constantly was working on.  And this was the first time I had ever seen this large sheet.

“Beepu?  What are you working on?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“My father’s notes,” he said a bit distractedly.  “I’m trying to reconstruct them.”

“On the planar device?”

“How did…no wait.  I did tell you about that in Triboar...yes that.  There is so much missing though, that without finding him I’m not sure If I can fully rebuild the device.”

“Rebuild…you mean he actually created it?” I asked, and I moved over to the desk to look at the paper.

“That is what I believe.  And why I have not been able to find him.  He may have used it.” And he started leafing through his own pile of notes.

I looked down on the desk, and I appeared to be looking at a functional diagram of what appeared to be a telescope.  While some of the arcane notations were clear, a lot of the document was written in a language I didn’t understand.  I had to guess it was Beepu’s native tongue.  Part of the diagram focused on a series of rings near one of the ends of the scope, with symbols.  Those symbols were then broken down onto a table in the shape of a large diagram of a wheel, with more notations.  And it was littered with corrections; crossed out words, or entire formulae.  Liner notes, and subscripts everywhere.  Most of it was beyond me until I looked at the wheel and the symbols written on it.  And then I recognized what it was supposed to be.

It was the Great Wheel with a projection above that represented the Inner planes.  I remembered seeing one similar to this in the Civic Festhall, when I started to study Arcana.  It was only two years ago, but the subject of planar mechanics was still fresh.  I notice that the diagram on the desk had notations and some type of math that led to a blank by most of the blocks on the sheet.  The blocks which I guessed was a particular plane.  In fact, only two had notations by them, but I didn’t recognize either.

“What do the notations here mean?” I said pointed at the completed formulas.

“That is the frequency of resonance, that ties to a particular plane.  It is then followed by the musical note that matches.  That one is an A-sharp, two octaves above middle C.  The other one is broken chord of D sharp,A,E flat on middle C, in that order.”

“How did you match it to the correct plane?”

“By deciphering my father’s notes.  He was not very clear.”

“Well I have a guess, that one is on the wrong plane.”

“What do you mean?” and for the first time Beepu turned away from his notes to look at me.

“A sharp is one of the better known frequencies; it ties to the first layer of Mount Celestia.  However, the position on this diagram is wrong for that; it’s in the spot that corresponds to Ysgard.”

“So why is that wrong?”

“Because the other one is also well known to be one for Limbo; the notes almost don’t matter but is always a broken chord.  I have heard it’s the only one like that.  But Limbo isn’t what we call 'adjacent' to Mount Celestia.  Based on how this diagram is oriented, Limbo is in the right place, but Celestia should be…here” I point at a different box six spaces counter clockwise on the wheel.

Beepu looked at the diagram and then at me.  “You are probably right.  Again, my father’s notes are challenging.  Do you know any other notes?”

I shook my head, “I don’t remember the details enough.  Most of the lower planes were flats, and most upper planes were sharps.  But I don’t remember the octave or if a chord is needed.”

Beepu nodded, “Well as I get a bit farther in decoding the writing I’ll check with you on the placement to see if it aligns correctly.”

“If I can help I will.  Granted I probably know a bit more about the goings on a particular plane; less about the chord or high-level magic to get there.  But I do know what is connected to what.”

At that point Iesa and Daneath opened the door.

“…told you he was drunk,” Iesa said.

“Which is why I bet on him to lose.  Made up for those bad proposition bets.” Daneath replied with a smile on his face.

“Don’t suppose you gambled up enough to pay off our friend?” I asked with the faintest hope on my words.

“If only.  Felt fortunate to break even.” Iesa replied.  “But I did try.”

“Anyway, we probably should get over to the tailor’s and get prepped.” Daneath said.

“We going to leave our stuff with him?” Beepu asked

“I’d trust him far more than either folks here at the taps or Mordai.” Daneath said with a shrug.

“Well…let’s go dress the part.” I said.

Moments later we were outside the bar, and as we made our way to the middle-tier, we saw that the populace was going all out with pennants and long strips of black and white cloth bannerets from every surface available.  As we walked through the marketplace, it was crowded with people making last minute sales for supplies, masks, and foodstuffs.  The crowd gave off an energetic vibe.  Everyone was talking in excited tones and were eager for the night to start, which stood in stark contrast to how we felt.  But the crowds did make it a bit slower to get to Lark street, and to the tailor’s shop.

As we walked in, the place was full of empty forms.  Many of the coats and dresses were gone.  Master Gyffor and Myford were both in the front, looking a bit tired.  Seeing us, they gave a wan smile.  

“Ah our last customer,” Master Gyffor said with a note of relief in his voice.  “Myford, you can take care of the three gentlefolk, while I will take her in back, where Maralee and I will help her into her dress.”

Daneath and Iesa were already undoing straps to their armor, as I stepped into the back room.  Maralee was already there.  She was a young teenager that Master Gyffor found to help me in my fittings yesterday, so I was glad to have had her assistance again.

And did I need it.  The number of layers needed for formal dresses was incredible.  She helped me with bloomers, stockings, garters, underdress, crinoline, and finally the dress itself, which was based on a corset.  After I was buckled and tied into the dress, the corset laced up, and the final ribbons put into place, I was ready for the mirror, when Master Gyffor gave me a final surprise.  Turning towards him, I was going to ask a question, when I saw in his hands two items.

The first was something I hadn’t expected; a wig of white hair.  It was in a short conical shape with layers of curled hair, with four tightly wound long curled braids that would cascade down my neck to just below my shoulder line.  I hadn’t even considered one, but as I stood looking at it, and thinking about my own hair color, the need was obvious.  My natural hair would stand out.  But then I saw the mask.

I had been entranced by the masks I had saw in the marketplace, but this one was a shock.  A black enameled mask, with a serene expression upon its face.  Affixed to it were crystals catching the light, and highlighting the cheekbones, nose line, and the lips.  The eyes seemed a bit oversized and had the appearance of being much darker than the already dark lacquer painted face.  Framing the mask itself, were long feathers in black and white in a fan shape.  It took my breath away.

I almost shivered, as I swore I was looking at a stylized version of the Lady of Pain’s own face, with ‘bladed’ feathers.  A face that you would never want to see that close in Sigil.  A face you would never wear as a mask or dare to imitate, lest you be flayed by her shadow, or mazed in her displeasure.  But I was far from Sigil now and how often could you dare to take her Serenity’s own face?  I smiled at the opportunity.

I looked at Master Gyffor, and was trying to find the right words, when he spoke.  “Well, I’m sure you didn’t consider that you would need the appropriate wig and mask for the night.  But these were also for my daughter as well.  They should…unfortunately…cover your beauty well enough.”

I took the mask of feathers from him and looked at the interior and smiled.  The darkness of the eyes was easily explained.  Across the eye holes was a thin black gauze.  It would be enough to hide my eyes.

“Thank you.  I’m glad that…I can honor your memory of your daughter.”

Master Gyffor’s eyes were welling up with tears, and he turned me around and started to affix the wig to my head.   “It’s enough for me that you can wear it for her.  Now there…it’s been fastened to your head.  The mask sits slightly in front of your face, so you can eat, drink and converse easily.  Come, take a look in the mirror here.”

I then looked at myself for the first time, fully dressed.  The black gown, draped over the crinoline giving the impression of wide hips, and the corset slimmed my waist down impossibly smaller.  It pushed my breasts together and upwards, creating a shelf of cleavage.  On the corset below my bust line were patterns of crystals so it looked like you were staring into a starry night.  The crystals were all over the dresses train itself, and not just the corset.  My arms were draped in black as well, with ribbons crisscrossing the length of my forearms and trailing off in lengths at the wrists.  The mask’s serene face hid my silvery eyes behind pools of black, and the wig’s cascade of white curls around my shoulders gave me a cool and serene look.  I nodded in approval.

“It will be a night to remember,” I said.  “Can…can we leave some of our things here?  We don’t really trust the Inn we have been staying in.”

“Yes…yes.  That is not a problem.  Come; your friends are waiting.”

I quickly grabbed a small bundle, from the dressing closet and I stepped through the doorway.  In the front of the shop stood Daneath, Iesa and Beepu.  Each wore a different color of dress coat, with matching colored breeches; red, black and green respectively.  Each also had a mask of black lacquer, with feathers surrounding their faces.  They all were standing talking quietly, when I entered the room.  They stared at me wordlessly for a moment, and then they all gave a florid bow.

“Stop that,” I said and they all laughed.  Perhaps the last time for a bit, considering the serious business ahead.  At that point Master Gyffor, took Myford into the back, leaving the front of the shop to ourselves.

“Well,” Iesa started, “I have the invitations from Myford, so we are ready there.” and he handed envelopes of paper to each of the others and I in turn.

“Master Gyffor will hold our things here,” I said. “Assuming we can get back here.”

“Foggle will take our pouches,” Beepu said and I handed him mine from the small bundle I held.

“What are you going to do with him later?” I asked.

“You will see,” Beepu said with a wink.

“And I will take the other things.” Daneath said.  And we each gave him an assortment of sharp daggers from our gear.  

“How do you intend to get that inside?” Beepu asked.

“I don’t.  I expect a distraction, so I can jump the wall and hide them, before I come inside.  We’ll make an excuse to get them later from the inside.”

“Do you have everything else Iesa?”  I asked.

“I gave the vial to Beepu.  I don’t want to have to taste it in front of guards should it come to that.  Myrai and I should go in first, to get Big D here some cover, then then we can regroup inside.”

“Not that again…but fine.  Good luck I guess.”

I raise my hand and motion the others closer.  Taking each person’s hand in turn, I place our left hands together on top of each other as we stand in a tight circle, and in my right hand I grasp the medallion around my neck.  

“May the powers guide us tonight, forgive us for what we might do, and see us through our folly to the end.”

We all bow our heads and look each other in the eyes and leave the safety of the shop.

It was late afternoon, some hours before sunset.  Iesa had grabbed me by the elbow and we walked linked together as any couple might through the streets in the middle tier.  The black and white banners flapped gently in the air, and the windows of the shops had already set out candles in preparation for the evening.  Some folk were scurrying around with last minute errands, while others were grouped together like Iesa and I, heading to a party spot for the night.

As we walked, I realized it had been years since I held the arm of anyone close like Iesa was holding me.  I probably would have shied away normally, but this wasn’t a normal time.  In fact, it was comforting, considering the danger that we expected to face.

“So…where did you hide Mo?” I asked as we started to make our way up the main road to the third tier.

“Oh him?  Myford promised to keep an eye on him.  I hope he listens; the fog sounds bad enough without an addled monkey running through it.”

“Probably would be a bad thing,” I agreed.  Ahead the gateway to the manor stood; A small gatehouse of grey stone and an open portcullis Black banners and streamers flanked the entryway.  While it certainly looked darkly elegant; it gave me a sense of dread as I felt I looked down the throat of a beast that threatened to swallow us.

“So how do we do this?” I asked as we slowly approached.

“Follow my lead.  And if anyone asks we’re from Baldur’s Gate.”

“Alright.”  I said and then after a moment I asked. “Where is that exactly?”

“South on the coast, big port city.  Here we are.”

We strode casually into the open mouth of the gate and into the darkness of the gatehouse itself.  Four guards stood within at attention, dressed in the town livery and wearing studded leather, and carrying pole-axes.  With them were four more guards with swords at their sides.  They were talking among themselves and they turned and looked at us with surprise as we approached.  One of them with a thick bushy greying moustache and muttonchops approached us.

“Wait, wait now.  The bell hasn’t rung yet!  You can’t come in!” he spoke with a deep voice and with a burbling sound between his sentences.  But without hesitation, Iesa was prepared.

“Ah yes, excellent!  I was hoping that an enterprising captain could help me.  My wife was hoping to look at the gardens here before it became dark and foggy.”

“Well…”the guard burbled, “I’m not a captain, only a sergeant really…I would need to…”

“A sergeant for now!  I am sure you are destined for great things…what was your name?”

“Hurm…oh Kingsly sir.”

“…Seargent Kingsly.  Obviously, a small favor for the guests of Waterbaroness Nestra would be well remembered.”

At that point, I gentley lay my right hand on Kingsley’s left shoulder, and I turned his head towards me with my left hand.  Looking at him through the eyes of the mask and straight into his face I softly said, “Please Kingsly.  If you could perhaps escort us through and then out again before the party starts.  It would mean a lot to me.”  I smiled sweetly as I said this, knowing that while the mask hid my face, that it would help shape the tone and words.

And it worked as I saw the resolve in Kingsly wavered.  “I…I…suppose I could escort you.  I warn you; I know nothing about the garden itself though.” As he looked at me with a smile.

“Wonderful,” I said with a note of cheeriness “Do you need to search us beforehand?  I heard that was needed.”

“Ah…yes…I’m sorry but yes.  It won’t take a moment.  But first, your invitations please.” And he held out his hand and Iesa quickly and gracefully supplied the two invitations.  He looked them over quickly, nodded and then quickly patted down Iesa under the arms, around the back and the outside of the legs.  He then looked at Iesa and motioned to his face and Iesa obediently pulled the mask away.   Nodding, Kingsly then turned toward me and I lifted my arms in a surrender like pose.

“Search away please…I must see that garden,” I said still smiling under the mask.

Kingsly quickly patted me down as well, his hands firmly feeling around my waist and patting down the dress until his hand contacted my thighs.  He was very very brief, far too brief for a proper search, but I noticed that he was blushing the entire time.

“It’s alright,” I said as he was straightening himself up, “I realize you have been given your orders.”

“Ah yes…well, um…I also need to see your face as well.”

“What’s the point of a masked gala, if we can’t stay masked?”

“Oh, you will…we just need to …erm…make sure some scofflaws don’t make it inside.”

I shrug, but I made an effort to squint my eyes nearly shut as he moved my mask aside.  He was more interested in my face, than my eyes and quickly reseated it, nodding and burbling all the same.  

“Now that is done, let’s go and I will show you the garden.”  And with that he gestured us forward through the gatehouse towards the manor grounds.  

The manor was a two-storied structure, with wide windows in the front, and white stucco walls, with a central stair leading to a pair of double doored entryway.  It was a residence and not a fortification; the walls and the gate were deemed enough by the past Barons and Baronesses of manor and so it remained.  Kingsley motioned us towards the left and before us lay the gardens and in the distance a wooden gazebo stood.

The garden was pretty; there were some in Sigil I had seen before, but this one was indeed the largest I had visited before.  I however wasn’t a gardener myself, so I found myself trying to stare at the garden’s plant and nodding a lot while walking arm and arm with my “husband” as Kingsly led us.  Flowers of all sorts of colors and shapes along with various shrubs along the manor and the manor’s curtain walls.  I knew none of their names and was thankful that the mask hid any blank looks I might have had.  As we approached the Gazebo at the end of the trail, a number of things caught my eye.

The first was a nearby door to the manor itself.  I remember that Beepu had mentioned seeing one with Foggle when he did a flyby.  The second was that the Gazebo had on one side, a small side door; probably an access to a storage area underneath.  The third thing I saw was a motion on top of the curtain wall nearby.  I realized it must have been Daneath, but I didn’t look for him further.

“Did you see that door on the Gazebo?” I whispered.

“Yes…very convenient.  D is here too.  He should have seen me pointing at it.”

Nodding at Iesa, I then unlinked my arm from him and strode forward towards Kingsley who was looking around without much focus.  So, he was surprised as I wrapped my arm around his.

“Thank you again,” I said genuinely, smiling under the mask the whole time. “Kingsly.  It is very appreciated.”

“Oh…of course,” he burbled in a sound of joy, “It will be a long night of standing, and stretching out my legs now will be good.” I walked with him slowly back towards the gatehouse and manor entrance.  Behind us I could faintly hear a thump, but if Kingsly had heard anything, he gave no indication.  But not long afterwards, the sound of a bell carried through the air from the gatehouse.
“Ah, it is time.  I must take you back to the gatehouse, but you may then enter the manor.  Please enjoy your time here.”

“Of course, Kingsly.” And with our tour concluded Iesa and I relinked our arms and joined the small throng of guests that had collected by the gatehouse.  We started to make our way up the short set of stairs that led into the manor.  Two guards flanked the doors and talking to them…or rather upbraiding them was a lizard.

No…that wasn’t right.  Its scales were a bright red and as it turned, it was clearly one of the dragonborn.  And considering the orders it was giving, it must have been the captain, Arakhan.  He was dressed in heavy chain armor, and a long sword at his side with his left hand resting on the hilt.  He surveyed the guests, spending scant moments on each mask.  As we ascended with other nobles in their finery and dress, he gave each of us a formal nod in acknowledgement.

We entered the manor’s double doors, we found ourselves in a marbled foyer.  Two stairs curled left and right to a landing that overlooked the floor where we stood.  Beneath the landing a passage opened up into a larger room, while to the left and right doorways led into a hallway and another large room respectively. 

Upon the landing were three figures; the first was dressed in a gown of silver, grey and white with black beading and a black lace mask with feathers spread from a headband.  I couldn’t see her face clearly, but her silvery hair was pulled into tight sets of braids that was bundled and pulled into a wrap at the back of her head.  Our target; the Waterbaroness.   Standing next to her on her right was a man, with shorter black hair and wearing a burgundy dress coat, trimmed in yellows and gold.  His face was covered in a wooden mask with a twisted grin.  I guessed that this was her seneschal, Vicam.   

But it was the figure on her left that gave me chills.  A woman in studded leather, her long bone white hair pulled into a high-top tail, and cascading down to her shoulders, and barely covering her slender pointed ears.  Her skin was like dull onyx and her red tinged eyes watched over us all with a shrewd, haughty glare.  I didn’t know her name, but I knew that face from the first night at the “Lusty Bard.”  

The assassin that found her mark.

And now she was looking down at all the guests below, seeking yet another target.

*Session notes:*

Kingsly was first of many random characters with a distinct silly voice.  And, of course the player of Iesa was particularly fond of him.

This is also the first time we see what Beepu is up to; at this point in the campaign, the device and what it could do was being revealed to the player of Beepu by the DM.  So, it was easy for him to incorporate in Beepu’s constant research time.

The idea of the notes of the planes is because of the Plane Shift spell and the tuning fork needed for each location.


----------



## Nthal

*The glass is always at half something.*

*The glass is always at half something.​*
_Working the gaming halls in Sigil has taught me a number of lessons that I use constantly.  A smile opens as many doors as a pouting frown.  Pretending that you know exactly what you are doing, gets you out of a lot of questions.
But most importantly, the ability to hold your breath is a very underrated skill.​_
Iesa and I stepped through the archway below the staircases, and underneath the trio on the landing.  Underneath the mask of serenity that I wore I felt anything but.  I was terrified; my heart racing and my hands shaking.  I was expecting someone was going to cry beef and point their fingers at us at any moment.  That this was all an elaborate farce and we were doomed before we even started.

As Iesa was leading me, I briefly closed my eyes and prayed.  Prayed that we found our way out of this manor with our lives and our souls intact.

Opening my eyes again, I saw we were in a large hall.   On one side of the hall a large sideboard had meats, such as smoked fish and hams, and all manner of sliced fruits and cheeses, near stacks of small plates.  And everywhere were stewards ready to hand out a goblet and with another one right behind them to fill it.
I noticed that there seemed to be a small parade of stewards and servants entering and leaving a pair of doors that I guessed led to the kitchen.  The ones that left the kitchen scattered everywhere briskly, making their way to the many rooms in the manor.  But while the number of servants running around was surprising, it was the surprising lack of guards that stood out.  I remembered that Daneath mentioned that there were about twenty on hand.  The size of the manor might help us out in the long run; too many rooms to cover.

But the Drow had unnerved me.  While I can’t say she wasn’t supposed to be here, it made me wonder who else might be also be lurking in the crowd working for the Waterbaroness.

A steward approached me with a goblet, and it was quickly filled.  I sipped a little wine, hoping to take the edge off of my fear.  It was likely going to be my only drink of the evening as I wanted to stay sharp.  Iesa also took a goblet and we looked around the room.

The guests were...well...they were boring.  Some of the richer folk had fine dresses and masks, and others…didn’t.   If this was the gala to be seen at, the crowd wasn’t terribly impressive.  I leaned over to Iesa.

“The crowd here doesn’t seem to be laden with coin, or am I missing something.” I whispered.

Iesa shook his head slightly and whispered back “No, Yartar wants to be a player but in truth the nobles aren’t quite there.  Not compared to Waterdeep or Baldur’s Gate.   They do try though…” and his voice trailed off as his focus changed, following a red headed woman, whose busty attire appeared to be more painted on, than worn.

“I know her though…I met her in the second tier two days ago.   What was her…Zoe!  That was her name.” he said quickly.

“And?   Is it relevant, or are you planning on a final fling here?”

He turned to look at me with a bemused smirk below his mask, “Supposedly a friend of the Baroness.   Why…are you jealous?”

I was taken off guard and looked at her; she was pretty, and she had an air of comfort and grace about her.  She was at home in this arena.  Her outfit was a good fit for her frame and complemented her eye’s coloring, being a deep violet.  But I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

“What?  No…focus.   Right now, I’d rather be elsewhere with an ale, and not here with a wine.   And right now, we need the others.”

We circled the room arm in arm, pretending to drink.  Well I was at least; Iesa I wasn’t sure about as I was too short to look into his goblet as we walked.  After some time, the gnome and human entered the room one after the other.   Daneath casually walked towards me, but to my surprise, Beepu did not.

Beepu made a beeline to the sideboard and was steadily sampling each and every morsel on the table, all the while nodding his approval or discarding food he didn’t care for.  I was still staring at this when Daneath came up to me and reached for my hand.

“Mi’lady,” and he kissed the top of it too my surprise.

“Gentlesir,” I replied nodding.  And then I whispered, “What is he doing?”

Daneath turned to look at the gnome continuing down the table at a leisurely pace, sampling more food.  “Well, he did say he was famished.”

“Sodding…we need him to get…”

“I said that too.  Don’t worry yet.  One good thing I noticed; a lot of folks were already in their cups before arriving.”

I thought a moment on that and realized the implication.  “So, are we going as a pack to relieve ourselves, or do you have an idea?”

I could see Daneath’s teeth break into a grin.  “Yes…Iesa follow my lead once we get near the kitchen entrance,” and he tilted his head backwards with his chin pointed to an open doorway.

“Should I be overbearing or just urgent?” Iesa asked.

“Just less than I, and enough so folks miss a gnome.”

Iesa nodded and led me over towards the far end of the ballroom.  On this end, large windows with curtains flanking them gave a commanding view of a pool, that bordered the garden.   The windows were all shut, but I could see outside clearly; the fog had not risen.

“So, you two had a plan?”

“A rough one,”

“You could have mentioned it.”

“Not really, you kept the other tailor busy when we came up with it.”

“Hardly fair.  What did you need me to do?”

“Depends on the kitchen…the door to the garden is in that direction, so we need a distraction once we get there.
Daneath had reached Beepu at the sideboard and gently tapped him, and they both took a goblet and started to make their way to the kitchen door as well.

Fortunately, the guards in the room were few.  Two distracted guards stood lazily near the passage to the Foyer, and two others flanked a door on the opposite wall of the kitchen.   But the kitchen door itself was very busy, as servants kept bringing out more food or took back empty dishes.

But as we made our way there, I noticed that guests were opening side walls in the hall, with men and women waiting standing nearby.  Looking carefully, I saw there were about four panels on the side walls, two on each side with attending servants.  

They were concealing privys!  That meant we probably needed to change our approach.  An idea suddenly crossed my mind, and I pulled Iesa forward so we could pass by the doors,   As I did so, a servant entered, and I got a good look inside.

The doors never really closed so as we slowly crossed in front of them, I could see a busy scene of cooks preparing even more delicacies for the evening.  But I was more interested in following the path of a servant who entered with a pair of trays in his hands, and sure enough I saw him take them to a back wall, where there was a decent sized pile already accumulating in the back.  

I smiled, “I have a better idea.  Let’s move closer and just wait for the noise.”

Iesa frowned a second and then nodded, and soon we propped ourselves near the kitchen door way, crossing Daneath and Beepu.  All Iesa did was hold his hand up, palm outward to Daneath and then that same hand point to his own ear.

Daneath seemed to understand the game was changing and he kept talking aloud, while Beepu looked confused on where he was being led.  

Once we were positioned, where I had an unobstructed view of the Kitchen I waited.  I was looking for a large number of servants leading out more trays of fresh food and a clear view of the pile of dishes in the back.  And my patience was rewarded with a foursome of stewards bringing out a whole pig.

Just as they crossed the threshold, I could see the dishes, and as I expected it was a rough unorganized pile to be dealt with at a later time.  The pile was a balanced mess of serving trays, pots, and pans.  And once the servants and their pig passed us, I reached within.

Focusing on a piece of light within me, I mentally started to shake it.  While some of my powers needed my pouch; this one did not.  In a matter of seconds, I had shaken the energy enough that I released it near the precarious pile.

The kitchen staff could feel a small tremor in the earth beneath their feet.  And they would have paid it no mind, if the pans had remained balanced.  But they didn’t, and the dirty pile of cooking ware slid and fell hitting the ground noisily.

“You idjuts!  Yer not stackin them right!  Get goin, an clean up!” a deep voice yelled in the kitchen.   The servants with the pig didn’t even turn to look and they were moving faster away in fear.   And with that we made our move.
Beepu and Daneath went into the kitchen first, followed by Iesa and me.   They quickly ran over to a hallway that let away from the kitchen, and past a wide set of stairs descending into darkness.  As we did so, we passed behind, what I thought was a very large gnome.  This was a woman in charge of her domain, and that domain had a pile of pans on the floor.

The mess had touched the head cook or ‘Gour’ deeply, and she was very occupied in the shouting at the servants.  And so she never noticed us move behind her.   And we found ourselves in a hallway that turned after some thirty feet to the left.  The hallway continued, but now there were wooden doors down the length, and a large iron bound door at the end.

“What happened to the plan?” Daneath asked.

“The privys and chamber pots are in the hall, so I figured a simple distraction would be easier than a flimsy excuse.” I said.

“Where are we?” Iesa asked?

Beepu answered, “Servants quarters most likely.  Guards as well.  But that door on the end is the one in the garden.”

“You sure?” Iesa asked.

“Positive.  I can sense Foggle now and he is near that door.”  Then Beepu stopped and twisted his head a moment.  Suddenly his eyes grew wide, “We need to move.  The fog; it’s here.”

We ran down the hallway to the door.  It had a large iron bar across it, which Daneath immediately moved out of the way.  But as Iesa tried the handle, he realized that the door was locked as well.

He didn’t swear at all, but Iesa swiftly pulled from his hair a long piece of flattened metal.  He dropped down to his knees and he begun to work the mechanism with it.   Glancing behind us, I saw no sign of any servants, and I created a small ball of light and focused it on one of the ribbons holding the wrists of my dress together, so he could see better.

“Thanks,” he said quietly and after a couple of tense moments, we heard the click of the door.  And with that I magically recalled the light, and Daneath opened it.

Foggle bolted inside in a rush, even before the door was fully opened, and landed on Beepu’s shoulder.  And while Beepu quietly talked with his familiar, we looked outside, and our hearts sank.

We could see the gazebo, and the edge of the garden.   But what alarmed us was the now visible fog.   It was rising rapidly from the ground and what started perhaps mid-calf as we opened the door, it in a matter of moments was already waist high and growing quickly.

Daneath, quickly shut the door, and just as quickly, replaced the bar.  He stood there with his hands on the bar, braced as if to hold it down, almost like he expected something was going to try to get inside.  Moments passed, and he turned to look at us and said, “Well that’s a problem.”

Beepu nodded, “Yes…Foggle was already feeling odd, and the fog was not even that high.   But he still has these.” First, he handed the poison vial to Iesa, who pocketed it.  Then he handed me my small pouch of components, while he took his own and his spellbook from the bag that Foggle had.

I took it and raised my dress to knee height.  With a small piece of thong I tied it around my left leg, just above the garters I wore.  I look at Beepu, and he, rather unelegantly stuffed his own pouch into the front of his breeches.  Then he took the book and a loop of leather, and hung the book beneath his left arm, under his coat.  Considering the book wasn’t terribly large, it was concealed well enough.

“What about him?” Daneath said looking at Foggle.

Beepu without a word, and barely a glance made a wave of his hand and Foggle vanished.

I blinked.  “Couldn’t he have just carried our stuff with him, and you just make him reappear with it, instead of doing this?” and I gestured at the door and us wildly.

“hmm.  That is a good question.  But probably not.  Maybe some very small things inside of him, but I doubt it would work.”

“Fine,” I said.  “So, we are missing some basic stuff though.  Ideas?”

“Let’s hope the guards have a room here and see if they left some equipment behind.” Daneath said.

Door by door we quietly investigated, and we were lucky to find that one room had lodgings for some of the guards.  Equipment options were limited, but we did scavenge two small swords and a chain shirt.
The shirt was just large enough to work with Daneath’s frame, and his shirt and coat were roomy enough that with my help we concealed the armor beneath them.  The swords were short enough that they too could be hidden along the spine underneath both Daneath and Iesa’s coat.  

But Beepu and I couldn’t find anything we could use for weapon.  But if it came for that, our magic would have to do.  Of course, if it came to that, we had other problems.
After we concealed what we could, we crept back to the hallway and listened.  The Gour was still barking orders loudly and the sounds of servants entering and leaving continued.

“So…now what?” Beepu asked.

“Well, we should look around the rest of manor; we don’t know if there is any other way out, and we should at least find out where the other guards are before we do anything.”  Iesa said.  “So, split up two and two and look around.  We’ll head upstairs.”

“Ok fine…so how do we get out of here?” Beepu asked with his hands spread. 

“Easy…we walk out,” and I grabbed Iesa’s ear and started pulling him.

“Ow, ow, ow….what are you?...”

“You dullard!  You can’t just wander off.  You’re not going to embarrass me again!” I said loudly and pulled Iesa into the kitchen and without stopping said, “It’s bad enough that I had to recruit these fine gentlemen to find you wandering around.   What were you thinking!?!”

Beepu blinked a second and caught on, “Yes…yes! I am glad I was able to provide assistance to your Ladyship.” And he followed the pair of us, with a look of pride on his face.

“As am I” said Daneath and he pushed Iesa forward to the door to the large hall we were in before.  “Please let me know If you need help with your husband again.”

The Gour turned and glared at us as we emerged, “What…this is my kitchen.   You aren’t supposed to be here!” she said with tired anger in her voice.

“You heard that dear,” I spat.  “You aren’t allowed in here!  Now move!”

Turning my head towards the Gour I said sounding still angry, “He wont be a problem again.”   And quickly focus some energy on the cooking fire behind her, where a servant stirring a pot looked at us distractedly.

Suddenly, the flames by the cooking fire grew much brighter, causing the servant to suddenly swear and backed away from the flames.  The Gour, turned to look just as I lowered the power to the spell, and all four of us calmly left the kitchen.

I let go of Iesa’s ear and took his arm again, “Lead on dear.”

He looked at me with a wry smile, “Sure thing, as long as we avoid the kitchen again.”

We left the grand hall and saw that Daneath and Beepu were headed to another wing in the manor, while we re-entered the foyer.  The main doors were closed, with a pair of guards in front of them, presumably to prevent ill-behaved guests from opening them by accident.  The landing had guests, but the Waterbaroness and her attendants were elsewhere fortunately, so we made our way to the second floor.  

The upstairs floor was a vaulted gallery, which overlooked both the foyer and the grand hall below and bridged the upper floors between the two wings of the manor.  On the what I remembered being the east side was a hallway, and an opening to a large room, while the west side had a set of double doors.  A pair of guards were in attendance, covering the entirety of the floor it appeared.   

And while I could count, this seemed to be far less than the twenty guards.  So unless they were congregating somewhere else, I was at a loss on where they might be.  What really concerned me was where the host of the party was.

We found a servant with another set of goblets and took them and walked the upper gallery and moved towards the double doors.   As we walked by them, I noticed Iesa reach a hand out and trying the handle lightly.

“Locked,” he whispered.

I nodded and noticed that one of the guards was circling the gallery and would be near us in a moment.  As the guard approached I also recognized him; it was Kingsley.

“Think you can work the lock fast?” I said.

“Sure, but not with the guar…hey isn’t that?”

“Yes it is.  Get ready.”

Soon, Kingsley had circled the landing and was near us, when I dropped Iesa’s arm and stepped in front of Kingsley’s path.  He was surprised momentarily.  

“Ahem,” he burbled, “Oh it is you!  Lady…?” Kingsley blinked and looked my mask in the eyes.

“Kingsley,” and I reached out and grasped his hand that was on the pommel of his sword he wore.  “I wanted to thank you again for the favor you granted me.”  And as I spoke, I turned him so his back was to the double doors, all the while keeping eye contact with the guard.  Iesa moved quietyly behind him and using the burly guard as cover started to work on the lock.

“Oh!  Of course, it was my pleasure Lady...?” and he looked at me expectantly.

“Elisna,” I said using the first name that came to my mind.  “Lady Elisna.”

“Quite a unique name.  Are you from near here?” Kingsly asked.  As I watched I saw Iesa was still working the lock, and I knew I needed to buy some more time.

“No.  No, I am not, I’m from…Baldur’s Gate actually.”

“Really?  That’s a journey for this little gathering.”

“Is it?” I had no idea where the city was at all, as it only was discussed briefly tonight. “The world is such a large place I’m told.  Near, far, its all the same when you are stuck in a wagon for days.”

“Days?  More like a month or so.   You must have been very bored?”

“Yes,” a month?  How big was this place?  “The days blended together horribly.” Iesa was still working the lock I could tell.

“And the dreadful political situation.  Is Dillard Portyr the Grand Duke still?”

Sodding Baator.  I should have asked some questions beforehand.  “Well…the thing is while we were from the area, I never spent much time in the city.  The town I came from had enough politics to deal with, let alone Baldur’s Gate.”  At this point, I saw Iesa move aside from the door and look at me and nodded.

“Kingsley, could you do me another favor, my husband wandered off, and I’m not sure if he is still upstairs or went back down.  Could you poke your head around and if you see him, to tell I’m waiting in the grand hall downstairs for him?  I need to attend to some…personal matters.” I smiled beneath my mask and tried to put on an innocent voice for him.

“Of course, Lady Elisna, I’ll let him know.” And Kingsley with some purpose started to walk across the gallery, without even turning around.

Still smiling, I backed up and Iesa approached me.  “Its quiet inside, we should move quick.” He said quietly.

“Let’s go.” And without turning around I covered Iesa opening the door, and I slipped in behind him.

The rectangular room we found ourselves seemed to be either a sitting room or an office.   The long wall opposite of the door had several large curtains, covering up the windows to the exterior.   A large desk, with a deep burgundy hue sat in front of the curtains.   The walls had shelves with a mixture of books and objects on them.  A closed single door was on the left of me on the short wall, and a double door was on the righthand short wall.  

And more importantly Iesa was right; no one was here.

“Ok,” I said, “Now what?” 

“Well, look around here, I’m going to check the doors there,” Gesturing with his head to the double doors.
I decided that the desk might the most interesting thing to look around at.  So I moved behind it and looked at its top.  Papers where haphazardly scattered on the top, and an ink vial and set of quills and a sharp knife lay in a wooden organizer, while an oil lamp with a low glass bottle sat, with the sticks of wax nearby.
I was beginning to look at the papers, when I heard fast steps.  Looking up I saw Iesa swiftly moving to the curtains.  I didn’t even think and dove under the desk and pulled my dress together, so it didn’t poke out anywhere and I held my breath.

*Session Notes:
*
So yes, stuff was indeed stuck in the gazebo, and there was a rules pow-wow about if familiars could hide in their pocketspace with stuff.  The answer was no per the DM, which I agreed with.  Made the whole scene more fun.

So…the funny thing about adventure maps, the privy is frequently left out, or there is an outhouse outside.  The reality in noble houses there were a fair number of chamber pot used for this, inside in rooms.  But again, see maps.

But what is described here is how one took care of business in the formal halls.  Well, at least it was in Inveraray Castle, home of the Duke of Argyll in Scotland the Home of Clan Campbell, which I toured in 1993.  The paneled side rooms weren’t large, but they were private enough to take care of things and rejoin the main party.


----------



## Nthal

*The Prisoner Dilemma*

*The Prisoner Dilemma*​
_There is a Bleaker joke that goes like this:

“A Sensate says to a Bleaker, ‘You know they say its ‘darkest before the dawn?’ right?’
‘Sure I do.  You realize that it never dawns in Sigil right?’”

It’s still not funny.​_
I heard the double doors open, and then the sound of boots and the clink of armor stepped into the room, in mid conversation.

“…well it’s not like they could sucssseed anyway.” A gravelly voice that spoke with the sibilant sounds stretched out.

“No, but an attempt would undermine the Baronesses’ hold here, and we cannot allow this,” a second cold and tired sounding voice retorted.

“Then hole her up in her room till morning.  The rissssk is too high.”

“No Arakhan, we need her visible.  Nothing is wrong afterall, and as long as she keeps sending Leoras north looking for graves, she’s doing her job and can enjoy her little party here.”

Hiding under a desk was an idea born of panic and my heart was pounding.  My lungs burned, as I scarcely dared to breathe.  If the first voice was Arakhan, I could only imagine the second was Vicam.  I was both praying not to be found and cursing at myself for being trapped in the room with the pair.  While Arakhan came across as someone that was used to “delivering the mail,” Vicam’s voice gave me chills.

“Leorasssss might ssssstart asking questionssss.”

“And the best way to keep him from doing that is to keep sending him out of town.  In the meantime, let our hired professionals sniff out the crowd here.  If the ‘Star’ is intending to make a statement, our reply will be visible and fierce.”

“And what of the prissssoner? How long until we-“

Prisoner?   I strained to listen, still holding my breath.   As I looked out from my position, I saw the curtain that Iesa was hiding behind.  Inwardly I groaned, as I realized one of his boots was poking out.   Not just the toes, the whole boot, as the curtain was caught in the top, basically exposing the entirety of his lower left leg.   
I was staring in horror, as I expected either Vicam or Arakhan to notice this.   But fortunately, Iesa must have felt something was amiss as I saw some quiet tugging, and watched the curtain being pulled out from the boot, and it was lowered quietly to the floor.

“Until they aren’t useful of course.  After the gala we shall resume our…chats.

“You are playing a dangerousss game by keeping them around.   Should be dispozzzed of.”

“They are safely hidden below, and no one is looking for them either.  The risk is small.”

“Well, let’ssss find out where the Baronessss has gone then.” And then I heard the door open, the din of the party outside grow louder and then the sound of the door shutting again.

I waited as long as I could in silence, and I exhaled quietly in relief.  I crawled my way out from under the desk and was helped up by Iesa who had already emerged.  Keeping our eyes on the door to the landing we moved in close to each other.

“Prisoner?” I said “Is it normal for a seneschal to be in charge of a prisoner here?”

“No,”  Iesa whispered back.  “Normally the captain of the guard have such a place for criminals in the city.  Private jails of rich nobles aren’t unheard of though.  But the Waterbaroness seems to be on the level on the law here.  Having a private prisoner doesn’t sound right.

“Perhaps she doesn’t know?”

“That’s not better, if they are going behind their ruler’s back.”

I frowned and thought a moment and said, “Well, we can tell a lot about the Baroness based on the company she keeps; willing or not.”

Iesa smiled, “I agree with that.”  He looked at the doors again before speaking, “And if I had to make a guess on where they could be hidden, it would be the stairs down from the kitchen.”

“Let’s go,” I said, “before they come back.”
Iesa and I made our way back to the landing doors, and he pressed his ear against the wood.   A moment later he lifted a single finger to his lips, and slowly opened the door, pulling it inwards and slipping through.

I followed him onto the landing, closing the doors behind him.  Fortunately, no one seemed to notice where we emerged from and once again we linked arms and made our way back to the twin staircases.

As we descended, I saw Beepu alone talking to a large imposing figure in what appeared to be a uniform.  He was tall, and somewhere in his later years with grey streaked hair that once was a solid black.  His beard and mustache where a light grey.  I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but it seemed to be causal in nature.

“Beepu’s made a friend,” Iesa noted as we descended, also seeing the discussion.  “But I don’t see Daneath.”
Once we reached the floor of the Foyer, I looked around.  The party was getting noisier as the drinks kept flowing.  From here we could see a doorway to what appeared to be a large study of some sort, and the other was a hallway that had a number of doors.  I caught a glimpse of a man in leather entering one, but no sign of Daneath.

“We can likely look around without them for now, “ I said. 

Iesa nodded again, and together we travelled beneath the stairs and entered the Great Hall.  And there in the center was the Waterbaroness herself.  As we made our way across to the kitchen doors, I finally had a good chance to look at her.  She was older than I expected, somewhere in her fifth decade.  Unlike most of the guests, she didn’t wear her mask, but instead it was fastened on the left side to the end of a wand that she carried.  So, I could clearly see the brown eyes, with deep crow’s feet set around them.  Her face was lightly lined, tanned and gave the impression of once being a great beauty.  Her lips were painted a garish red.  Her expression was haughty, and she gave the appearance of constantly looking down upon people, like the guest that she was listening to currently.

Glancing into the kitchen once again, we saw that the staff was very busy preparing food, and the Gour of course yelling at the top of her lungs.  This time it was just simpler to just run across and down the stairs as Iesa and I were fairly quick, even though I was wearing a corset.

Within moments we were descending into darkness.  There were sconces on the walls with torches, but all were unlit.  By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was barely any light at all.  It didn’t really bother me much, everything was dim but visible enough.  The stairs ended into a room that was storing kegs and bottles.  In a corner was a dumbwaiter large enough to move a keg or two to presumably the kitchen.  The room was full of racks, but the racks themselves seemed a bit light in terms of kegs or bottles stored.
But while this was my first impression, Iesa of course saw nothing but darkness.

“Where are we?”

“Probably a wine cellar of some type…oh sorry,”  And I reached inwards and cast a light spell out again on ribbons on my sleeve and allowing Iesa a real look.

He turned his head and surveyed, “Yep, seems accurate,” and he bent down to look at the dust at the floor.  Peering a moment, he moved towards the rows of racks that projected at a right angle from the wall.  There were four of these, with the last fully against the back of the room, instead of projecting into the room.

“Most of the tracks are near the front rack.  But there is another set that leads back here,” and he moved slowly to the far wall and rack.  “And more importantly, this one has marks of heavier boots and not servant’s slippers or shoes.”

As I watched he moved to the racks, and gently pulled.  Eventually he found one that moved, or rather pivoted and swung away from the wall.   He then stepped forward and examined the wall itself.
“It’s stone, but not the same kind as the one around it.  Probably a moveable panel or door.  Help me look for a way to open it.”

I squeezed in next to him and we both looked over the stone and the rack.  Eventually he found near the floor a small pedal that was underneath an adjoining rack.

“There!   Shall we?”

I nodded, “Might get your sword out though,”

He smiled and drew the short-bladed sword from beneath his jacket.  

“Ok, you step on the pedal and I’ll be ready.”

Nodding again, I held out my hand with three fingers extended...

Two fingers…

One finger…

_Click!_
Upon stepping on the pedal, the panel popped out on one side, opening barely the width of a thumb.  We heard no other sound, so he pulled the panel open wide enough so I could get my hands on it as well.  Together we pulled it open away from the wall and soon it jutted out at an angle, uncovering a tunnel.

Peering down it, there was bright orange flickering light coming from the far end.  But it wasn’t enough to light the tunnel, but it was enough to see there was a large room at the end, and from our vantage point we could see a door with bars directly on the other side of the room, opposite of the tunnel.

We looked at each other silently, and I motioned Iesa on with my hand.

Iesa  was very quiet, and true to his trade as a Knight of the Post.  I couldn’t hear his movements at all, as he crept ahead of me in the tunnel.  I followed behind him, quietly as well, but all I could hear was my own heart quickly beating in the darkness of the tunnel.  I stayed behind Iesa, and let him take a decent lead in front of me.
When I was down about midway through the tunnel, I flexed and doused the light from my ribbons.   The flickering orange reddish light ahead seemed be firelight.   Iesa was near the corner, and I was about three paces behind him when I began to smell the sharp smoke of wood, confirming my suspicions about a fire.  But then I caught the hint of…something else.

I closed my eyes and focused on the smell, as they taught us in the Civic Festhall.  By shutting off your most powerful sense, you helped the other four to become sharper.  It was familiar, but being mixed with the burning wood, identification eluded me.  Suddenly the scent become stronger and it was then I recognized it.

Brimstone.

I opened my eyes, and was about to whisper Iesa a warning, when he peered around the corner.
The sudden eruption of heat from the tunnel opening was strong, and I watched as Iesa threw himself back away from the end.  And now the very strong scent of brimstone permeated my nostrils.  

I bolted back down the tunnel wide eyed and in fear.   Coming past the panel, I stopped and braced myself against it and waited.  Iesa was quiet, but not that quiet and he burst out from the tunnel.  Fumbling in the darkness he searched with his hands for me and the panel, and together we pushed the panel closed.

_Click._

We stood there panting a moment, and I watched Iesa put his ear against the door to listen.  I resummoned the light and now could see the lack of normal color on his face, the streaks of ash on this face, and the clear scent of brimstone drifted from his clothing.

After a moment he shook his head, and then leaned back against the panel and sighed audibly.  

“That…that…was…an…ugly…dog.” He said between breaths.

“Let..me…guess…” I said panting, but recovering, “Gaunt and skeletal…spat fire, and…looked ready to use you…as a meal?”

Iesa nodded with a look of confusion on his face, “How did you?...”

“I caught the smell of Brimstone and then once I saw fire…I made a guess.”

“Good guess.”

“Was it alone?” I asked my breathing back to normal.

Iesa thought a moment, “I saw the room was a square with three cells on the far wall, and the Hell…hound.  Only saw one though.”

“Not a nice pet,” I said.  “The generally only serve evil beings like Baatezu.”

Iesa looked at me with a mixture of shock and surprise, “Wait…you’ve seen them before?”

I nodded, “Sometimes a Baatezu or a Yugoloth will bring one to Sigil to sell or trade.  I’ve heard that they keep many a spiv away from your valuables, if you feed them.  So, in the market yes…muzzled of course.  But you can’t forget the smell”

Iesa just stared at me, and then after a few moments, “You know, I knew that you were from a far away city from here…but I didn’t realize how far.”

“Well,” I smiled “Just wait till I tell you about the Baatezu and Yugoloths.  If you thought that hound was bad, their masters are worse.”

“Wait, are one of them here too?”

“I doubt it.  If I had to guess its Vicam’s.  Doesn’t raise my opinion of him much, or the Waterbaroness if she knows about it.  It’s an evil beast.”

“I’ll label it a ‘character witness’ before they hang us for a comparison.”

“Cute thought, I’ll ask the Red Death to…nevermind.  Now what?”

“Well, do you have anything to hurt it?”

I shrug, “I could probably hit it hard enough with my magic.  But it is going to take several tries.  We might get lucky.”

“What if we bring the others?”

“Much better odds, but It’s going to hurt.”

“I have an idea for that too.  But we need Foggle and some meat.”

“Foggle and some mea…Oh!  That is our ticket to the job...but I’m personally fine with a different way if needed.”

Iesa looked at me, “Come on.  You want out of this deal more than any one of us.”

I looked at Iesa, “That’s true…but it’s your head as well.”

Iesa looked down nodding, “Yes, well…If I’m going to murder someone…I’d rather it be a bit more straightforward.  Poison seems…like a cheat.”

I reached out to his face and lifted his chin to look into his sad brown eyes.   I could see the torment in his face, as he realized how the multiverse’s plan for him was taking a turn he didn’t want to take.  He wanted to be in control of his own destiny, and not shoved towards it. 

I smiled sympathetically, “I know…I know what you mean.” And I paused a moment before saying, “Well, let’s get the others and see about putting down this dog.  After I clean us up though.”

“Look I took a bath, this ‘Iesa is smelly’ joke is a bit much.”

“It’s not that…you smell like brimstone now…and it stands out,” I said wrinkling my nose.

Iesa knitted his brow and lifted his wrist to his nose and inhaled.  

“I smell what you mean.”

-----------

After a bit of clean-up with my powers, we made our way back up the stairs to the kitchen and paused near the top of the stairs to observe.  The Gour was still yelling, but the servants were bringing in dishes, and moving less food and drink out at the moment.

“So? Plan?” Iesa said.

I looked at him critically, “You’re a Knight of the Post.  Go sneak out and find them.  And don’t forget some meat from the table.”

“Right…what’s a?...”

I hit him in the bicep, “A spiv?  A Knight of the Cross trade?” and seeing the blank look on his face, “A thief?”

“Oh…sure…right.  So, you are staying here?  Ok, how do we get back?”

“If you push the right most kitchen door inwards and give me a thumbs up, I’ll make a fuss again, and you can bring in the others.”

Iesa pursed his lips together in a frown.  “Yep.  That’ll work again.” And with that he pressed himself against the wall, waited for a moment, and slipped out the door.

It was a while before I saw Iesa’s hand in the doorway and looking again I saw the pots and pans had once again been piled in a haphazardly balanced heap.  I reached inside to the light within me an shook a bit, and once again tremors hit the kitchen.

“You idjits!  I told you to stack ‘em pots proper!” the Gour immediately set off, and I saw the trio bolt towards the stairs.  Daneath actually looked somewhat graceful, and the muffling we had put on the chain shirt seemed to be holding up as he didn’t jingle.  Iesa was as swift and quiet as ever.

Beepu on the other hand was carrying a large plate, with a large cut of cured meat on it, and a dark scowl on his face.  We began our descent again into the darkness.

Once at the bottom, Beepu glared at the three of us, “Now what?  And why did I need to bring a ham?  Do we have a plan or something?  I hate this party.”

“Yes, Iesa has a plan.  What took you so long though?” I asked looking at Iesa.

“Beepu was easy to find by the food.  Big D took a while.” He said looking at the large man.

Daneath was rubbing his neck, “Yeah I was having a conversation and it took me a while to…extract myself safely.   So, what is this about?”

“There is a secret prisoner down here,” I said, “And we need some assistance with the…guard dog.”

“Ok…the meat makes sense now,” as Beepu tore off a hunk and ate it. “But this is not going to be a very long distraction.”

“No, that’s why I’m going to poison it, and then we finish it off.” Iesa said, taking the meat from a surprised Beepu.

“Poison it?  Aren’t we using that on the Waterbaroness?” Daneath said looking at the smaller man.

“We aren’t required to, and this prisoner might have a better understanding of what is going on.”

“How did you find out there is a prisoner here?” Daneath pressed.

“Vicam mentioned it,” I said.

“Vicam?  Did you talk to him?” Beepu asked.

“Nope.  He was talking to Eragon.”

“You mean Arakhan right?” Beepu corrected.

“Whatever.  Right, him.  We were nearby and overheard.” I said shrugging.

“Well, it is probably worth the poison, but is that not excessive for a guard dog?” Beepu asked as he watched Iesa dump the poison on the ham.

“It’s a big dog.”

“What like a mastiff or something?”

“Sure,” I said.  “We just need Foggle to drop off the meat and come back to us, then we can take it out.

“Well…that does sound simple enough I suppose.  No need to take on additional risk.”

We moved to the panel, and Iesa drew his sword out again, and Daneath did the same.  I took my position to press on the pedal, and Iesa listened again at the door.

“it’s clear…I think,” he said.

With a quick motion, and a puff of white smoke Foggle was resting on Beepu’s arm.  Beepu didn’t say a word, and Foogle made a small ‘boop’ sound and took to the air.  Iesa handed the meat to the golden owl and at that moment I pushed the pedal.  Between Daneath and Iesa they quickly opened it wide enough for the owl to fly through, and they both pushed the door shut.

For a moment or two, Beepu just stood and tapped his foot.  Then suddenly he straightened up and waved his hand with some irritation and looked at Iesa and I.

“Wait a minute…Foggle said something about fire and Sulphur?”

Iesa frowned, “Must have found a trap?”

“In the air?”

“Well, once we get past the dog, I’ll look for it.”

“Let’s give it a minute to eat,” I said.  “Then charge in and kill it.”

“Will that be necessary?”  Daneath asked.

“Yes,” both Iesa and I replied.

“Big dog then…” Daneath muttered.

Iesa placed his ear against the stone, and after a moment he smiled.

“It’s wretching, we should go now.”

I pushed the pedal again, and Daneath and Iesa opened the door and started to move inside.

“Beepu,” I said, “Don’t use fire by the way.”

“What?  Why?"

“Trust me,” and I bolted inside.

Daneath was in front, followed by Iesa, myself and then Beepu.   We ran down the length, and soon Daneath rounded the corner with his sword ready to charge the dog, when I heard him exclaim.

“What THE HELL?!?”

“Close enough,” I said, Iesa already had pulled around the corner and I heard the whistling of blades in the air.  Finally, when I stopped at the corner I poked my head around to finally see what I had been smelling.
The hell hound was already bleeding from a pair of gashes in it.  Its mouth was dripping foam, and I could smell rancid bile in the air, mixed with the already heavy smell of brimstone.  Its coat was coarse and the color of coal.  But underneath it, along the ribs was the warm red color of flame and heat.  The eyes of the fiend were smoldering cinders and grey dirty smoke came from its mouth of blackened ivory teeth.

Daneath had his blade in front of him, warily looking at the beast, while Iesa was positioned behind it.  The hell hound was very aware the pair were trying to flank it, and it was twisting its head to look at each of them in turn, trying not to let either take advantage of it.

I looked and summoned a bolt of purple eldritch energy and flung it at the hell hound, striking the fiend in its ribs.  It turned to glare at me, when Beepu rounded the corner, and what was once a confused face turned into one of surprise.   He quickly made a motion with his hand and a beam of white energy sprang from his fingers striking it on its flank.   Beepu then ran behind the corner and me.  He turned to look at me crossly and shouted at me.

“That…is NOT a mastiff,”

“My mistake!” I yelled in return.

Daneath swung and the hound snapped at his hand causing him to miss his mark.  Daneath moved back into a 
defensive stance waiting for the dog to charge.

The hound had other ideas as it turned suddenly, and I could see the red glow from its ribs turn from a bright red, to an orange and then to yellow. It then breathed a gout of yellow flames towards Iesa, and spreading wide and hitting the wall behind Iesa.

The flames licked up the wall, but fortunately, Iesa had side stepped the majority of the flame and stabbed at the hound with his sword.  With a sickening sound of bone being crushed and the sound of the metal hitting something soft and wet the hound yelped in anger. 

I stepped around the corner and again threw a bolt of energy at it, and it turned to face me.  Just as it did, Beepu also stepped around the corner and threw another frosty beam at it, hitting squarely between the eyes.
The hound staggered a moment, confused.  At the last moment it turned to focus on Daneath when his sword came down, nearly severing the head from the body of the fiend.  The beast collapsed on the stone below it, and smoke and embers erupted from holes in the chest cavity.  Soon the entire creature was covered in flames, adding the smell of burnt hair to the already awful odors floating in the air.

I stepped around the corner and moved to Iesa.  His clothing was sooty and had scorch marks on his thigh of his pants.  A large hole there exposed his thigh, which already was crusted with blackened burns.  He grimaced and leaned against a wall, panting heavily.

Reaching him, I reached inside for some light and poured out energy on the wound.   Quickly, the blackened skin sloughed away to new healed skin, and even the red burn marks faded to nothing.   Then I focused on this clothing, repairing them so no tear or mark of flame was visible at all.

“What…the…Hell…was that?” Daneath pointed his sword at the smoking pile of fur and ash.

“A Hell Hound,” I said still using my spells to repair Iesa’s breeches.  “Are you hurt?”

“A Hell ho…er um.  No.” Daneath stopped interrogating me and looked himself over suddenly.

“Well, that’s good.   Glad we poisoned it though.  Could have gone worse.” I said mildly, and I could hear Iesa stifling a laugh.

“Couldn’t you have told us a bit more, before we rushed in?”

“Honestly, I hoped the poison would kill it outright.   Since it didn’t, I’m glad we didn’t use it as intended.  It might not have worked.” I said.

“Now that is an interesting point.  We did assume it was strong enough to work.   We never really looked into that.  Beepu said.  “Perhaps we were never meant to succeed.  Only to fail and be caught.

“Perish the thought,” Iesa said looking down at what was now an uninjured leg and unburned cloth.  “That feels much better, thanks.”

“A Hell hound?  Like from Hell?” Beepu asked looking over the corpse with interest.

“Some are.  They can be found across the lower planes, but they are most common in Baator and Acheron I’ve heard.  They follow orders if you are strong enough and can feed them.”

“But what is it doing _here_?”  Beepu asked still looking at the remains.

“Well…I’m going to guess that Vicam summoned it, or he has a powerful friend somewhere.   Either way, he isn’t to be trifled with, and giving him the laugh is going to be a problem.

“The what?” Iesa asked.

“Escaping with our lives,” I said.  I’m not sure who scares me more now, him or the Star.

“Well?  What now?”  Beepu asked.

“The cell doors; it’s why we are here.” Daneath said, gesturing behind him.

“I’ll look,” I said, and I then took a moment to examine the room.   On one wall farther from the tunnel, were lit oil lamps that hung from the ceiling.   A simple stone table was present as was a older worn, but comfortable chair, as well as a simple rough wooden stool in front of it, while two fire pits flanked the table on either side, each with a set of logs burning within.  There were three cell doors on the walls, each with a sliding panel at the top, and a hinged flap bolted shut, at the bottom of the door, probably for trays or other objects.

Stepping to the first one, I slid open the panel.  While dark, my eyes saw only straw and a stone floor with a hole in a corner.   It otherwise was empty.

I moved to the second one, and again opened the little panel.  Inside was about the same as the first, with only a bucket tilted over on its side in the middle of the floor.

I finally approached the last door and slid open its panel.  The same hole, the same straw.  But this one had an occupant; Inside, lying on the pile of straw I could see a figure.  I could hear an audible groan and could see it shift to cover its face, from the glare of the oil lamps behind me.   The figure was clad in a simple white shift and it moved, trying to stand up.

“Hello?” I said, watching the figure

“You’re…not…Vicam...Who?...” came a thin hoarse voice.  The figure had stood, and was slender and appeared to be slightly taller than I.

“Tell me who you are, and we can see about getting you out of there.”

“Out…out!”  the figure straightened up and while trying to walk with a semblance of dignity, stumbled to the door.  Now at eye level I could see that the person had a shock of long grey and white hair.  Looking at me was the face of a haggard and tired woman, with thin pale lips.   Her skin was once tan, but it too had lightened in the darkness.  The face was deeply lined, looking about seven decades old.  I then noticed her eyes, a deep brown with crow’s feet, but her elegant face once had great beauty, and now held the visage of hope and terror, not arrogance.   It was like and so unlike the one I saw earlier, so I was not surprised when she spoke:

“I am the Waterbaroness, Nestra Ruthiol, the rightful elected leader of Yartar.  Release me, so I can put Vicams’s head on a pike!”

*Session Notes:
*So, from a player perspective, Iesa had the feat “Lucky” and he used it quite a bit, the curtain was one of many places.  

These are the moments that the DM commented, “You know, I have never seen that many cantrips used in one place before,” and we aren’t done yet.

The Hell Hound was…a challenge.  It is a CR 3 monster, and we are all level two.  So, it was a borderline deadly encounter.  If we hadn’t of won initiative, sneak attacked and the dm rolled low for damage, we would have been flame broiled paste on the ground.


----------



## Nthal

*We’re Altering the Deal… - 2/13/2019*

*We’re Altering the Deal…​*
_Some deals are built from desire.  Some are built in desperation.  But many deals are products of their time and circumstance.  So, change enough events around the deal, the deal is going to change.
You just better hope that the exchange is acceptable to everyone, otherwise you will have to pay the bellman at the end.

And that price can be quite steep.​_
The demand wasn’t loud, but the silence afterwards was telling.  I turned to look at my adams.  The look of confusion, consternation, and in the case of Beepu, outright annoyance would have been funny in almost any other circumstance.  Annoyance spoke first though.

“What?  This was not part of the deal!”

“Clearly not, but they couldn’t have known this.  If they did, they would have been a bit clearer,” Daneath said.
“What are you babbling about? Just let me out!” Nestra demanded, but the edge in her voice wasn’t there.  It was closer to desperation.

I raised my hand up to quiet the others and turned to the prisoner. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you did you have a…bargain with the Crimson Star?”

The Waterbaroness closed her mouth and took a half step back in surprise.  Her eyes blinking, she was slow and faltering in replying.

“What?  Why would I…I don’t need to discuss…that is not of your concern!”

I grimaced and continued, “Well, it is a bit.  You see it seems Vicam has well…replaced you?” at which her eyes narrowed like daggers.  Watching her I kept going, “And so we aren’t clear if your replacement turned stag on your deal, or on a deal they made.  All I can say is that the Crimson Star is a bit…upset at the whole thing.”

“Replacement?  Vicam can’t replace me, only the ruling families can at a moot.”

“Well…your replacement looks…like you.  In fact, she’s partying upstairs in your house, while Vicam pulls her strings.” I replied, while I was guessing the nature of the relationship between the fake Waterbaroness and Vicam, I was pretty sure I was on the mark.

“What?!?   That…that…thieving, bottom feeding, low life scum.  How dare he!”

“Well, he dared.  So, did Vicam not like the Crimson Star?”

“He was ‘advising’ me that they were a threat, the same way the Hands of Yartar are.   He is ignorant on how this town works.”

I turned to look at the others and gave a small shrug.  I personally believed her; and to my mind that meant the Crimson Star had the wrong solution to the wrong problem.

Iesa spoke next, “Yeah, the Star doesn’t know the truth.  They just wanted to force a moot.”

Beepu’s eyes grew wide, “Of course, Vicam must have expanded his power base with the families; all he needs is time.  Eventually he could amass enough power and wealth to be named the ruler…”

“…Unless the moot was convened too early, and the Crimson Star sways the vote with their own candidate,” Daneath finished the thought.  “But that might be a risky gamble.”

“Unless their backs are against the wall,” I said.  Turning back to Nestra “Sorry, you might have missed a bit down here.  But you had a cozy deal with the Crimson Star…whatever it was, right?”

Nestra may have been fatigued, but her mind was still sharp, “You could say that.  It also explains the questions that Vicam was asking.  Well…he’ll pay for this.  I will thank the Crimson Star for sending you to get me out then.” She said with a smirk on her face.

“Not quite,” I said with a touch of remorse in my voice, “They did send us.   But they sent us to…well…kill you.”

The look on her face was at first shock and then fear.  She started backing away from the door of the cell, shaking her head.  I could barely see in the light, tears forming in her eyes as she started to mouth the word “No” over and over.

I didn’t really enjoy this.  Honestly, I wanted to see her reaction to help me understand what I should do next.  It hurt me to see the fear in her eyes, knowing that our little band might be the end of her.  But I also wanted to live out my days, and get out of this bargain I felt ensnared in.

I turned to look at the trio, “I think we get her out here, and redo our deal.”

“What, break it?  Vicam controls the city forces, the Star the underside.” Daneath said.  “How are we going to live to sunrise to pull this off…assuming the Star lets us?”

“They forced this on us because they were desperate, and we were convenient.” I said “And besides, Vicam’s sparkling personality probably haven’t won many over to his side.   We can do this…I’m not sure how…yet…” and I turned back to Nestra.

She had backed herself to the far wall and was watching me warily.  “Look,” I said trying to sound reassuring, “The Star did send us, but I honestly think they have no idea you are a prisoner.   But I can tell you that if we did kill your impostor, Vicam would likely kill you anyway and force a moot.  But I have a better idea, for both of us.”

Nestra’s eyes narrowed again at us, “What do you want?”

“I want you to help us with our debt to the Crimson Star.  We’ll help you get out of here alive in exchange.”
Nestra’s eyebrows scrunched a bit in thought, clearly considering her options.  “Well, if you can do it I will see what I can do with that.”

“That’s all I can ask; do we have a deal?”  and I reached through the panel with my arm.  I couldn’t see her with my arm through the panel, but I felt her cold shivering hand grasp mine.  She clung onto it in what imagined was desperate hope.

After a moment of shaking, I withdrew it and looked at Iesa, “Get her out.   Hopefully she can help with some questions.”

“I hope you know what you are doing Myrai,” Beepu said.  “I do not like these political entanglements at all.  There is no telling if anyone is going to keep their deal.”

Iesa had pulled the pick from his hair and began to work on the lock on the cell door. “I don’t,” I said honestly, “But I didn’t like the original deal and the deal maker less.”

The lock made a click, and Iesa opened the cell door, and Nesta stepped out.  She was dressed in a dirty silk underdress, and she looked at us in turn.

“So…it is a Hate Night then?” as she waved her hand at our small band.

“Not at all,” Iesa smiled, “We only do rescues in the finest wear, lest others think we were common adventurers.”
Nestra was non-plussed and the arched eyebrow said everything needed. 

“Well, first off we need to get out of the Manor…on a Hate Night.  The second is we need allies in town.”
Nestra waved her hand, “I’m sure my captain Veladric can get everything under control without having to leave my house.”

“Veladric?” Daneath said, “I thought Eragon was the captain?”

“Arakhan,” corrected Iesa absently, “See Myrai, you have him doing it now.”

I shrugged and looked at Nestra, “I’m making a guess, that your captain has been replaced.  Unless Veladric is a large hulking lizard- “

“—dragonborn,” corrected Beepu.   Nestra in the meantime sighed in frustration and her eyes furrowed in thought.

“--Whatever,” I said “Anyone else that you might trust?  In the manor…outside the manor?”

“Well, other than the head of staff, Marta, no.  She’s always managed the servants and I was never close to any of the others.”

“Who is Marta?” Beepu asked.

“Oh, she manages the kitchen mostly---”

“Loud dwarf that shouts a lot?”  Beepu pressed.

“Yes! That’s her.  Keeps the others in line.”

“She’s a dwarf?” I asked.

“Of course, she is.” Beepu said.  What did you think she was?”

I shrugged, “Thought she was a large gnome honestly.”

“No no no…Gnomish women are more attractive and do not need to yell.” Beepu replied,

“Noted.  Nestra, anyone else in the manor?  That dark elf woman—”

She shook her head, “I don’t know who that might be.”

“Zoe—

“Zoe Arcincella?  She’s a lush as best and a ‘fair weather friend’ at worst.” She said shaking her head.

“How about Leo---” I was about say Leodras, the hunter when I saw Daneath shaking his head quickly and mouthing “No.”   That was a surprise but I didn’t push.

“…never mind.  How about outside the manor in the city?”

She thought a moment.  “Well I would normally say the Crimson Star, but I don’t think I want to run directly to them without some support.   The Iron Blades are loyal to the city…I admit to not having the strongest relationship, but they do keep their oaths.   

“Wait,” interrupted Beepu “Are these the same group led by Arryn Quinte?”

I looked at Beepu surprised as Nestra answered, “Yes!…is he here?  He normally has a standing invitation.”

“Indeed!  I was talking to him earlier upstairs.  I doubt he has left after all.”

“He would support me I am certain.   I just need to talk to him.”

“That only leaves the small problem of getting out of the manor,” Iesa said.  

“Well…I might have an option for that…if I can get to my office and bedroom upstairs,” Nestra said.

“Oh?” Daneath asked, his interest piqued.  “What did you have in mind?”

“There is an escape route for the manor that goes far below.  I have never used it, but the entrance is upstairs.”
We look at each other a moment and we all start nodding our heads in agreement.  I am sure I wasn’t alone in my thought:

This could work.

“Alright.   Here’s what we should do.  We talk to Marta, have her get Arryn down into the kitchen and talk to him, get his support, and then we split and get upstairs to the upper gallery, sneak into her sitting room and use that exit.”

“How are we going to do that?!?  Everyone knows the Waterbaroness!” Daneath exclaimed.

“It’s the Hate Night.  We clean Nestra up, and we ‘borrow a mask’  Who’s going to know?

“Vicam?  Erago….argh Arakhan maybe?”

“The servants can tell us where they are, so we can make our move upstairs when the time is right.”
Iesa was quiet and he started nodding.  “It would work.  No one pays attention to the ‘help’”

“But she’s a mess…no offense meant.”  Daneath pointed at Nestra.

“Not for long,” I said.  “All she needs a little fabric and maybe a belt.   And a little cleaning,”

Daneath frowned, considering his options.   Finally, he looked at us.  “Alright, let’s do it.”
I closed my eyes a moment and centered myself.  This was going to take a little bit of time.  “Nestra, go ahead and take a seat there,” pointing to the larger, more comfortable chair.  “This won’t take too long.”
She moved to the chair and then slumped down in it, clearly exhausted.  I opened my eyes and started to channel energy onto the Waterbaroness.

I first focused on the soiled dress, pulling away dirt, grime and filth that had accumulated on her during her stay.   What once was a dirty shift, was revealed to be a fine silken dress that one would wear in the evenings in private.
I smiled; this wasn’t going to be too hard.   I altered my incantations and I could see her eyes widen, as the rents and small tears in the dress weaved themselves shut.  She was smiling slightly in approval and nodded.   I then focused on her, pulling the dirt smudges that were across her face and arms.   Then, I started pulling away oils and filth from her hair.   She seemed younger now, less haggard and much closer to the noble self that I saw upstairs in her double.

Smiling I turned to Iesa, “Bring your sword over here and hold it out.”

He didn’t question and did what I asked.   I started to work on the ribbons that were woven through the eyelets of my dress on the forearms.   I tied one loose end at the bottom loop and pulled the slack all the way through and re-wove it so all the extra ribbon was running out on one end.   I then cut it on the sword giving me a yard-long ribbon, and then repeated the same with my other arm, and cut that length in half.

I moved behind Nestra with the longer length and began to weave the black ribbon into her hair, building it up into a long pony tail, and letting fall loosely behind her with the black ribbon standing out as part of a hair weaving.
I then took the other two pieces and wound them around her own forearms and tying them off so there wasn’t any ribbon dangling.  Now it appeared to be more a finished formal dress. 

Nestra was nodding seeing what I was doing and waited.

“Iesa, I need to cut the lower half of my underdress off away from the top.   And cut some material out so I can use it to tie to Nestra.” And I raised the black material up revealing the crinoline hoops.

“Um…Ok…you sure?” Iesa asked with a doubtful look.

“Yes, I am…but watch your hands.  I will melt your mind if I have to.”

Iesa smirked and started to cut the crinoline apart, and while I did feel his cold hands on my thighs as he worked splitting it apart, he was polite about it.  He then handed me the remains, and I dropped my dress down again.  It dragged a bit, as it had lost some of its volume, but I bet no one was going to notice.

I took Iesa sword briefly and took it to the remains of the crinoline hoops, and I used it to split the wooden hoops apart.   Then I pulled them together and bound them, so I reduced the diameter of each hoop, so they would be about the same size of the upper hoops in mine.  Then I handed the weapon back to Iesa.

I motioned for Nestra to stand up and motioned for the men to turn around.   I knelt down in front of her and lifted up her silken dress.  Then using some spare cloth from my crinoline, I hung the hoops from her waistline, and then dropped the silken dress down upon them.   Then, I stood up to look at my work.

It wasn’t a formal gown if you looked it at for long.   But it looked like a party dress that would pass casual inspection.  All I needed was a belt.

“That’s…impressive Myrai.” Daneath said.  “I bet with a mask, no one will know.”

“That’s the idea.  I guess I learned something at the tailors.  But it won’t hold up long; the material isn’t that strong.” 

“Wonderful.  Now get me out of here!”  Nestra said, clearly ready to get out of her prison.

Before we returned to the cellar, I use my powers to clean the rest of us, so it didn’t look like we had left a dog fight.  I lit up Daneath’s sword with some light, so we could see the way out.  I could Nestra gasp a moment, but she didn’t ask questions, for which I was perfectly happy with.  We made our way back out the tunnel to the stairs.  Along the way I channeled some more power to give a more…perfumed scent to Nestra.  I was fairly sure she didn’t smell like dirty, filthy straw anymore.   But I wanted to be sure.

Once at the stairs, I canceled the power on the sword, and Daneath and Iesa again concealed their weapons and we crept up the stairs to the upper landing.

“Ok Beepu, go get Marta.” Daneath said.

“What?  Why me?”

“Because if I go, she might feel threatened and call a guard.  Same with Iesa, plus the smell—”

“Hey now, I don’t---”

“-- And Myrai is probably on her bad side from the last time she talked to her.”

Beepu’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times.  He then rolled his eyes, straightened himself up, and marched up the stairs to the kitchen.  I was down with Nestra below the line of sight to the kitchen with Iesa and Daneath in front of me.  So I could only hear what happened next.

“Madam Marta, I need your assistance come with me!”

“Whot da?  Ye aren’t supposed to be in ‘ere.” I could hear the Gour, Marta say.  “I don answer to ye, so get out of my kit’chen!”

“I do not have time to explain, so come with me!”

“I’m not goin anywhe…Hey!  Watcha you tryin to do?”

I could here the sound of Beepu straining and then the sound of a frantic ‘whumping’ sound.  At that point I crept up, and Nestra followed behind me.

When I reached the landing, I saw Beepu was valiantly trying to lift and move Marta.  Marta however was standing as a solid pillar of stone with the darkest look on her face.  She was hitting Beepu on the back with a wooden spoon over and over.
_
Whump, whump, whump._

“Let go of me, ye drunkin gnome.”

“You…must…follow…me!” Beepu stammered and continued to strain to move her.

I really wanted to laugh.  At Beepu mostly, but it was even funnier that the rest of the cooking staff didn’t even turn their heads or help.  They were trying to ignore the situation as if everything was perfectly normal.

Nestra then clapped her hands together twice and Marta’s head shot up ignoring Beepu and looked towards the cellar stairs.  Nestra said nothing and waved her over frantically while putting a finger to her lips.  Marta blinked incredulously and then started moving to the stairs, dragging Beepu with her.  Once she reached the stairs she saw the rest of us.  I simply waved and let Nestra do the talking.

“Whot are ye doing with these trouble—” the Gour started.

“Nevermind that.  I have been a prisoner in my own wine cellar because of Vicam!” Nestra hissed.  At this Marta’s eyes grew wide.

“Whot?  That’s not you orderin the wine upstairs?”

“No!”

“Makes sense now.  I dina think you would use all the pricy stuff first.”

“What?!?  That inconsider…” Nestra started and then stopped herself.  “Listen, do what these folks ask, so they can get me out of here.”

Marta closed her mouth and then looked at each of us, and then settled her gaze on Daneath.

“Alrigh…whot needs doin?”

Daneath looked at her, “Look we need couple of things done.  We need you to get Arryn Quinte down here to talk to us.”

“And we need a mask and a women’s belt or cinch.” I said quietly.

“Yeah, those things too.” Daneath said.  “We also need to know where the other Waterbaroness is right now.  Can you help us out?”

Marta didn’t even blink; she nodded and after shaking Beepu loose she strode into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of servants.  They nodded, and bounded out of the kitchen, one towards the servant’s quarters and the other through a door on the far side of the kitchen that I hadn’t noticed before.

The servant who went to the quarters returned first with a black quilted cinch, and a simple domino mask and gave them to Marta.  She then came over to us and handed them to me, and I started fastening both to Nestra.

“There,” I whispered.  “A guest at your own party.”

“Are you certain they won’t recognize me?”

“Well, your hair isn’t the same as your impostor now, the mask makes it hard to tell you are…you.  So just don’t talk to anyone that might recognize your voice.”

Nestra grimly nodded, and Marta returned, this time with a man I had only saw briefly talking to Beepu.   He was tall and was powerfully built.  Blue eyed, his hair around his head was a solid grey but his face was clean shaven.  Surprisingly he was armored, and upon the breastplate was the face of a dragon looking forward, wearing an gorget.  His face had a confused look on his face as he approached our band crouched on the stairs.

“Now what in…wait I was talking to you earlier about shoes,” as he pointed at Beepu.  “What’s going on here?”

“Arryn…it’s me!  Nestra!”

Arryn stepped down two steps to look at Nestra, “Wait a minute…what’s going on here?   I was trying to talk to you upstairs, but you brushed me off, your excellency.”

“That’s not me; I have better manners.”

“What do…you…wait a moment.  Vicam!  It must be!  What did he do?”

“He’s trying to take over, and I need to get out of here.  Can you give me sanctuary in your compound?”

“Of course, but I apologize for this your excellency, but how do I know…you are you?

“Because I will have the proper evidence with me when I show up!  Otherwise, you don’t have to do anything, Arryn.”

“Alright.  You get to the compound with your proof, I’ll help.  I won’t breathe a word in the meantime.”

“Arryn,” I chimed in, “Do you know where Vicam is now?”

“Yes, he was in the library down stairs with her…er the other Nestra, talking with some upper houses.”

I looked at the others, “We should go now.”

Daneath nodded, “Probably is best.  Iesa and you go first, Beepu and I will follow with Nestra.”

“Ok, see you upstairs.”

Iesa and I moved to the top of the stairs and made our way to the double doors that led to the great hall.  Iesa then spoke,

“Take the other door there.  Let’s find out if the other areas are clear as we go.  If Nestra, has moved, go back and warn the others.”

“Where does that door go to?”

“I think it’s the conservatory on this floor, it’s the other entrance on the Foyer.”

“Fine.  See you upstairs.”

Iesa slipped between the double doors and I walked across the kitchen to the other door.  Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door a crack and once I saw that the people within were occupied, I entered.

The conservatory was paneled in dark red wood inlays.  The large windows to the outside were of course full of mist and fog, so the light was all from some lit candles mounted on floor standing candelabras.  There were some divans and salon seat in the room, and an unoccupied desk shaped object with white and black keys in one corner of the room.

No one had noticed me and was starting to make my way to the Foyer when I saw her.  

The dark elf was leaving a door from the far side of the foyer.  Her hands rested on the pommels of her weapons and she was looking around with a sour look on her face.  It was clear that she was heading to the Conservatory in a manner that was brisk and purposeful.

I gulped behind my mask, took a breath and walked right toward the door.  I walked as casually as I could and stared straight ahead.  Trying not to turn my head to follow her; trying to look like just another patron at a party and not focusing on her.

I entered the Foyer, and she continued to move in my direction.  Soon we were within a couple feet of each other.  While I was focusing on keeping my head staring straight ahead, my eyes turned to watch her as best I could.   We passed within a foot of each other, and I could see her head start to turn to look at me, or at least my mask.   My heart was pounding, and I could feel sweat trickling down my back.  Everything within me was screaming for me to break into a run.

“She’s found me.  I’m going to bite the iron right here.   Sodding…”

Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth opened slightly and was about to say something, when she closed it and turned her gaze towards the Conservatory that I had just left.  I continued my pace, my heart still pounding, and I took one of the graceful stairs to the upper gallery.

As I made my way up, I saw Iesa was on the landing, already ahead of me.   I could see his smile and he offered his hand to me and pulled me to him, so we could again link arms.   But as I grasped him, I could feel that his hands were cold and clammy with a trace of the shakes.  Looking at him carefully, I saw that he was tilting his head to his right ever so slightly.  I took his arm and pivoted so I could see what was concerning him, without turning my head.

On the landing, in the middle of everything was Captain Arakhan.  He was surveying the landing, his eyes narrowed.  He was clearly looking for something, but it wasn’t clear what.

I pulled Iesa over towards the landing that overlooked both stairs coming up from the Foyer, and at the bottom, Daneath, Beepu and Nestra were making their way up the stairs.   I had only moments before they reached the landing itself, where Arakhan could see them.

I looked around desperately, and then I saw something that gave me hope.  Across from me, to Arakhan’s right was a doorway to a small room where there were some guests lingering, and on the wall was a lit torch in a sconce.  That gave me an idea.

“Iesa, stand in front of me, and look at me,” I whispered.

He did so, looking straight at me as if we were husband and wife about to embrace.  His smile beneath the mask exposed his teeth, which he kept clenched tight.

“They’re almost here!  I hope you know what you are doing…”

I barely heard him as I focused on that torch and quickly worked that ball of light within me.   I was whispering quietly syllables of power and then I released it.  

The torch within the room, blazed brighter; what was once a warm orange was now far brighter.   Continuing to whisper, I focused on the light within me and then twisted it and channeled my energy towards the torch, just as Daneath and Beepu made it to top of the landing.

Within the room there was a loud murmur and then a woman’s voice said, ‘Oh MY!’

The torch was now a vivid purple, and the onlookers were all pointing towards it.  But the sound of the woman’s voice, caused Arakhan to turn his head towards the room.  When he saw the torch turn purple his mouth opened and he spoke,

“What issss thisss?” and he turned and quickly moved to the room.  The entire gallery was fascinated with either the light or watching the hulking dragonborn move towards it.  But as he did so, the five of us moved to the double doors that lead to Nestra’s sitting room.  Iesa deftly opened the door and ushered us all in.  As he was closing the door, we could hear the Captain bellow:

“Who is doing _*that*_!?!”

Iesa was locking the door and looked at the rest of us.  “We aren’t going to have a lot of time!”
“This won’t take long.” Nestra said.  She moved to the desk and grabbed several seals on top of it.  Then after opening a drawer, she started pulling sheafs of parchment, looking for key documents.  

“Where’s the exit Nestra?” I asked.

“The door to my left, towards my room.”

I motioned the others to the door.   By now Iesa and Daneath had drawn their swords, and Beepu had summoned Foggle from…wherever he was placed earlier.  Iesa quickly picked the lock and the three of them went inside.
I looked around and saw discarded on a bench, a satchel.  I moved and grabbed it and then stood next to Nestra and opened it.  Without a word she dropped seals, parchment and several other objects into it.  She then looked at me; “Follow me, the rest of what I need are in the bedroom.”

Quickly we moved to the room the others had went.  Once within, Iesa closed the door, and picked the lock again, but this time ensuring it was now once again locked.  Nestra ignored everyone and strode into the adjoining bedroom.

Daneath moved over to a shield that hung on a nearby wall.  He took it down and fastened on his left arm.  Once I saw him grab the shield, I stopped following Nestra and reached within.  The familiar warmth spread through my back and Daneath’s shield now glowed with a warm orange light.  Then I turned to the wall and used another incantation to wipe away the dusty outline of a missing kite shield from the wall.

Beepu looked at me and said, “I saw what you did.  Not sure how, but it was risky.”

“I know, but I needed to get Eragon to look anywhere else.”

“Arakhan.”

“Yeah, yeah right.  I’ll focus on getting it right when I’m not running from the manor.”

Nestra returned, the satchel now full and a key in her hand.  She moved towards a window where a sconce with an unlit torch was attached to the wall.  She twisted the sconce, and revealed a keyhole, which she then inserted the key and twisted.  There was a loud click, and a panel popped open from the wall, which Iesa started pulling open while Daneath shined the shield into the darkness beyond.

“Does anyone else know of this door or key?” I asked.

“No.  It’s passed as part of documents for the next ruler.  I had to break the seal on them to get the key out.  No one else knows.”

Iesa had finished opening the panel and the light uncovered a small closet, with a narrow spiral staircase descending.  Wisps of cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the dust was thick on the stairs.

Without a word, Daneath was the first on the stairs, followed by Nestra and Iesa.  Just as they did so, I could hear the doors to the sitting room unlatch and open.

Beepu and I looked at each other, and he quickly dove inside the closet with me behind.  I turned and seeing that there were a pair of handles on the panel, and I started to pull on them, As I did so, I heard a key in the lock to the room.

“Here we go.” I said to myself, and the door closed with a satisfying click.  Beepu had already descended.  I pulled my dress and the remains of my crinoline together and started my descent into the darkness.

*Session Notes:*
So yes…we had a bit of cat and mouse during this session.  It’s only after reading the notes that I realized there was a third advisor to the “false” Nestra.  But since he never figured in any major way in the story, I’m not going to fix it.

Now, there is a lot to do with Nestra’s dress to make it pretty, which was handled as a skill check.  Now, technically crinoline didn’t exist until the 18th century.  But no one said they don’t exist in the Forgotten Realms.  I did have to draw on some of my personal knowledge of sewing on how this ACTUALLY might of happened, versus the abstract.  Luckily, it only had to last from the kitchen to the secret exit.

Beepu did try to wrestle the cook and of course it went as badly as could be expected.

And yes, more cantrip Olympics.  This is the exact point where I realized I wanted more utility cantrips.  And I have been frustrated with other characters because of lack of options at times.  

And yeah.  The Eragon joke continued…with the DM saying it once or twice as well to his chagrin.

1147 views...someone likes me.  I'm also trying to update weekly now as my schedule is making it possible.  Either that or I'm faster/stronger/better.  Or levelled up.  Or both.


----------



## Nthal

*Descent - 2/28/2019*

*Descent*​_Sigil like most many cities is layered.  Tenements in the Hive are built on top of tenements of the past.  Go down deep enough and you can find forgotten places.  In the Hive, many a kip expand downwards finding remains of rooms, or just piles of broken things.

But every so often, you uncover something you just rather throw back.​_

I made my way down the narrow stone spiral stairs, with one hand on the wall and the other holding up my dress so I didn’t trip.  The dust was thick now in the air, after the others had made their way down ahead of me.  The cobwebs, also broken apart were thick at first, but as the descent continued thinned out to only occasional wisps on the ceiling.  While I could see in the darkness alright, there truthfully wasn’t much to see.  But the sound of us shuffling down, scraping shoes and boots on the old, worn stone seemed incredibly loud.  At one point, I stopped on a step and waited and listened.  Soon, silence enveloped me except for the faintest noises from below.  But nothing from behind and above me.
I took a deep breath and descended deeper into the rock.  As I continued downwards, I noticed that the walls were now damp instead of dry.  And while I was exerting myself somewhat going down the stairs, I noticed the air was becoming warmer.  I could now taste and smell wet dust in the air.  

Finally, I saw the glow from Daneath’s shield shining up from below and I continued downwards.  As I approached I could hear tired breathing, and finally reached the end of the stairs.  They ended in a small chamber, partially finished.  The floors were smooth flagstone, covered in dust.  On a wall was a large iron bound door, with rust streaking down the wood.  On one side of the chamber was a large pool of water.

The shield was leaning next to the door, shining its light towards the pool and the stair’s exit.  The others were sitting on the floor, winded but their breathing slowing.  Beepu was nearest the stairs, and looked at me, and held out his hand.  In it was a small linen bag.  I reached out and took and opened it.  Inside was some meat and cheese.  
It was then I realized that I felt that I was starving, having had nothing at all at the party.  I started to eat and somewhere in the middle, remembered my manners.

“Thanks Beepu,” I said with my cheeks still full.  I swallowed and continued, “When did you have time to grab food?”

“Marta actually,” Beepu said.  “She was sure Nestra needed something.” And his head jerked to one side to where Nestra sat.  She was tearing into a chunk of meat taken from her own cloth.    

“Smart,” I said and found an open wall to lean against and sat down and closed my eyes.  I was tired and sitting down sounded like the best thing to do at the moment.  I leaned my head back again the cool damp rock.  It felt wonderful, compared to how hot I felt.

“So, you fell behind…anything?”  Iesa asked.

“No.  I stopped a while to listen.  I heard nothing above.”  I said.  

He nodded and said nothing more.  

I had finished my small meal.  We sat quietly, each lost in our own thoughts, with only the sounds of our breathing and the occasional drop of water hitting the pool nearby.
Sighing, I leaned forward and started to unpin the mask and the wig from my head.   After a couple of moments both are pulled away from my head and face and I shook my hair free and scratched my scalp with my fingers.  I again leaned my head back against the wall with my eyes closed and breathed in the damp air.   

I could hear the whispers from Nestra, who was seated next to Beepu.  “What is she?” and then Beepu explaining that I was an Aasimar.   In my minds eye I could imagine her stares.  I knew there were whispers; ‘The Lusty Bard’, ‘Fortune’s Wheel’, ‘Bottle and Jug,’…the streets, the Civic Festhall.  It didn’t matter where, there were always whispers.   But here on this plane it was…different.  I was exotic and interesting.  In Sigil, I was different but so was everyone.   I was a momentary distraction.  Here, I couldn’t be ignored in a room full of people.  I stood out, a blazing light in the darkness.  Almost like I had cast my light above my head to say “Look here!”   But right now, I could hear the whispers from Nestra.   Incredulity and apprehension.  The notes in her voice evaluating me, wondering if my heritage influenced my thinking or beliefs.  Beepu, only told her the basics; I was what Sigilites say “Out of Town.”   It really was all he could; as I think he realized he really didn’t know me well.  We were simply adams in a bad situation, making the best of it.

“But does she realize how different she looks?” I could hear Nestra say.

“Did you realize I can hear you?” I said without so much opening my eyes.   She was suddenly quiet, probably embarrassed to be caught gossiping with the gnome.  I then pulled myself up and grimaced and moved towards the pool of dark water.

I knelt beside it and dipped my hand into the pool, pulling up a small amount of water.  It had no discernible odor and I tasted it; it had a slight metallic taste, but otherwise was what it appeared to be.  I cupped my hands and drank my fill, when I heard a noise from the far side of the pool.  

I looked up and saw only the glassy surface of the water.  Waiting I watched and listened again.  But I heard only silence.  Frowning to myself, I blamed it on my fear of being pursued.  I stood and turned to face the others, when I heard it again.  The sound of a something breaking the surface of the pool.  I quickly turned to look.

And once again, I saw nothing but the rippling surface of the pool.  But on the air was the faintest odor of something foul, but it faded quickly.  I was beginning to think that the silence and the darkness were playing tricks with my mind.   So, I turned to face the others and while they were beginning to stir and stretch, none of them seemed concerned.  

“So…what’s beyond the door?” I asked.

Nestra was standing and turned to look at it and frowned, “All the letters about the key mentioned that below was a passage through the caverns.   But nothing talked about any detail; not any door and certainly not what was beyond.”

Daneath was restrapping the shield on to his arm, looking quite incongruous with the dress coat.  “Well, we should be ready.  Caverns and unused passages tend to collect unwanted inhabitants.”

Iesa looked at him, “You’re making that up!”

“No, I’m not.  I always heard that caves were great homes to monsters and the like.”

“He is right,” Beepu commented “Caves are safe places for many creatures, intelligent or not.  We should be careful.”

I was pulling up my dress and tying it to itself, so it wouldn’t trip me up on future stairs or rough floors.  “Well then…” and I gestured to the door.  Nestra moved towards it and pulled the key from the satchel she carried.  The key fit, and at first, she struggled to turn it.   Iesa had moved forward to help, but she waved him off saying “I can do this,” in a tone that left little doubt she demanded no assistance.  After a moment, the key turned and the sound of rough rusty metal on metal sounded as the bolt turned in the lock.

Nestra did back off and motioned to Daneath, like she would any servant.  She was trying to take charge as she normally was accustomed to, and it showed on her face.   She had the rigid expression of someone trying to be in charge but hiding it poorly.  But Daneath didn’t even react and pulled on the great ring on one side of the door.  After a moment, it shifted free.  A little rust, and a lot of dust shook free, as the door opened; its hinges grinding upon each other as the door revealed the darkness behind it.   

I poured power in Daneath’s shield, so the light would remain on it for the humans, and he stepped in the doorway.  He stopped a moment and after looking around, he then motioned us to follow with his head.  We entered at the top of what appeared to be a natural cavern.  Iesa then closed the door and Nestra relocked it again, and we all turned to look at the path forward.

I had never seen the like; pillars of shiny rock descended from the ceiling with some tapering into sharp points, and other into rounded blunted shapes.  On the floor it was the reverse with thick pillars with rounded blunted tops rose to meet once from the roof.  Some met and merged, while others were ever so close.  The colors of soft brown, tans and hints of green and white coursed through the rocky material.   The gallery was large and even with my sight I could not see the edge to the other side.

We started to make our way through the darkened cavern.  The light of the shield created strange shadows with the pillars, and eventually the walls of the far side became visible, guiding us to the left.  We heard little beyond the sounds of water dripping into pools, and the sound of cloth on cloth, and the swishing of the tied-up portion of my dress.  But even those small noises echoed throughout the gallery, making any that we made, that much louder.

“I don’t like this,” Daneath said.  “Something feels…off.”

“Well, no need for us to stumble blindly into trouble!” Beepu exclaimed.  With a wave of his hand, Foggle appeared and with a quick glance he sent the mechanical owl alight into the darkness ahead.  Quickly the brass color faded from view as it flew away from us.  All the while Beepu had that distant bored look, nodding to himself.

“Well, good news Daneath, your supposition is correct.”

“That’s good news? What is your idea of bad news?”

“Well in fact…SHIELD!” Beepu yelled and ran to a nearby pillar.  Daneath barely had time to turn as he raised his shield in time to bear the brunt of a shadowy figure that collided with it.  
The scaly figure and fought with teeth and claws, wrestling with the large man’s bulwark.  Fortunately, the creature wasn’t as skilled and Daneath gave it a quick cut with his sword.
With the creature blocking the light from the shield I peered as far as my vision could, and I saw more of the figures racing to attack our band.  Iesa was already moving towards Daneath, preparing to strike.  Nestra had a look of panic on her face as she looked around her, her empty hand looking for anything to defend herself.  I ran to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her over to a nearby wall.  As I did so, I threw some of my energy into an eldritch bolt, hitting the creature as it clung to Daneath.  I then looked for Beepu.

He was gone; all I saw behind the stone pillar were more small boulders.  I didn’t really have much time to process this as after I heard Iesa thrust his sword deep into the lizard like creature, that the smell washed over me.  It was overpowering; a rotten stench with all the highlights of rotting fish, rancid meat and the sharp smell of bile.  My eyes watered, and I wasn’t even next to the source; the lizard like creature flailing at Daneath’s shield.

Daneath shoved the creature off, and it staggered back giving an opening for the two men to exploit.  Daneath swung at it, missing narrowly but it was enough of a distraction for Iesa to stab again deep into its ribs.  Blood spurted out from the wound and the creature hissing faded as it clutched its side and slumped to the floor.  But by then two more of the lizard-like creatures moved in rapidly from the darkness, and I could hear the sound of claws on stone further in the distance.  

Suddenly I saw, a brightly lit white blade, hurling towards the two approaching the warrior.  The blade slammed into one and it exploded into razor sharp fragments scattering 
everywhere, slicing and tearing into the flesh of the creatures.  Both screamed in a language I had never heard before, and I could feel a wave of cold air hitting my face.  I glanced again on where it came, and all I saw was the same boulder and pillar.

The two weren’t dissuaded by the cold, nor the pain and they rushed the humans, again flailing madly.  There was only mindless fury now as one scratched and clawed against Daneath’s shield.  The other attempted to bite Iesa, but he deftly spun away avoiding the clumsy attack.  Both the creatures stood next to each other, readying to strike again.
I felt then something inside of me…shift.  It was like the sound of the rusty key turning in the lock of the door.  Feeling of something solid shifting in myself.  And with the shift I looked at the pair of creatures.  Reaching within I felt past the light I used before and found something else.  It was darker, and I could feel it shifting, almost like it was a caged animal trying to escape.  But I didn’t spare much time or thought to analyze it.  I mentally reached for it and threw its energy toward the creatures.

A black mist appeared to swirl around them.  As the mist formed, I saw a pair pale skeletal arms reach from within the mist and grasp the creatures.  I could feel something through these arms, as much as I could feel the warmth of another person if I touched them with my own hands.   And I felt their energy fade away to nothing as both creatures slumped down on the floor, neither moving.  And as it faded, I could feel that same energy course through me and dissipate.

If I wasn’t already next to a wall and covering the still cowering Nestra I would recoiled.  I wasn’t sure what I had done, but I did know what I felt.

Power.

From the darkness emerged two more of the creatures, and they charged at Daneath and Iesa.  It was then I figured out what Beepu had done, as I saw a bolt of fire leave a solitary boulder behind the pillar, striking one, just as they clawed onto Daneath’s shield ineffectually.  Iesa however yelled in pain as he spun the wrong way and was slashed by a sharp claw.  Both slashed at each of their opponents, swinging wildly.

I mentally flexed and called the darkness again.  It was easier this time, and I felt again the power extend towards the pair and I realized that what I was feeling was their life’s energy.  And I could feel the skeletal hands rip it away from them and warmth flowing through me as their life ebbed.  But it wasn’t strong enough to bring them down.
But a blast of fire from ‘the rock’ did hit one solidly in its flank, causing it to spin and collapse in heap on the stone.  The other one was stabbed in the torso by both swords, and its hiss faded into a soft gurgle as it sank to its knees and then fell to its side.

It was quiet as we watched the darkness for more, only hearing our own labored breath.  After a moment the ‘rock’ spoke:
“Foggle does not see any more of them, so I believe we are safe for the moment.” The gnome said and Beepu stepped out through the rock.

I chuckled, “And here I thought you turned stag on us.  Smart play there.”  

“Well, I was pretty sure he ran,” Iesa said wincing in pain.

“That’s what I…oh never mind.  Are you hurt badly?”

“He can walk it off I’m sure,” Daneath said. “Now that he’s done dancing like a mad jester.  But we really, really should move from here.”

“Why, do you think more are coming?” Beepu said puzzled.

“No.  It’s because if I have to stand in the stench of these things much longer, I’m going to vomit.”

“Troglodytes…under my…under my home.” Nestra stammered.  “Foul creatures…I had no idea.”

I moved over to her and grasped her hand.  “Well, one problem at a time.  Let’s get you out of here.”

“Foggle found a passage leaving this cavern.  And it is the only one he can see, so it appears to be the only path.”

We looked at other briefly; nothing needed to be said.  And once again, we made our way through the darkness, lighting the way with the shield.  Foggle was now scouting ahead of us, aloft on silent wings.  The mechanical owl led us to a natural passageway, leading downwards.   Like the other cave, the air in the passageway was moist and warm.   Water trickled down the walls, worn smooth over time.  

Soon we arrived at an intersection with passages leading left and right.  Beepu waved his hand and the owl flew down the right passage.  We waited as Beepu concentrated.  He then turned to look at the rest of us.

“No.  Not that way.   There are more of those troglodytes down there,” he whispered, and he tilted his head and he mumbled to himself.  “At least a dozen in a large cavern.  There is a…stream…and what looks like…nests?”  he concentrated more for a moment.  “I do not see another exit however.”

“Well, no sense going that way and annoying the natives,” Iesa quipped.  “So…the other way then?”

“Looks that way,” I said.  And I felt touch of air move past, and I saw the owl fly silently overhead down the opposite passage.  After a moment, Beepu again spoke.

“It is a dead end.   But…wait.  Worked stone!  Not natural.  We should look there.”

We moved down the passage quickly, and we came to a small chamber.  While most of it was natural, one wall was clearly different.  It was worked, but not finished.  I moved towards the wall, and I reached out and touched it.  The surface was streaked with deposits of limestone from the cavern ceiling, but it was thin and flaked away easily.  As I pulled some the flaking stone away I realized I felt brickwork, and mortar.  Scratching the mortar with my fingernails it crumbled easily.

Beepu came and stood next to me, and also probed the wall and the decaying mortar.  “Someone sealed up this passage some time ago,“ he remarked.  Turning to Nestra he asked, “Did your documents mention this?”

“Nothing.  As I said there were a network of passages below, and it exited near the river.”

“How old is the document that discussed it?” I asked.

“It was written by the last Waterbaron perhaps, forty years ago?  But now I think of it, Lardon must have had a note from his predecessor.” Nestra said after thinking about it.

“Well, someone didn’t just build a random wall.  It’s was built for a reason.  Probably to keep those creatures out of…something?” I said trying to think what it might be.

“One way to find out,” and Daneath placed his shield against the wall and then leaned into it, with the wall blocking the light.  At first, he pushed lightly and slowly increasing the pressure.   Soon, the bricks started to shift, bowing outward.  Then suddenly, as the mortar crumbled to dust, and bricks were displaced pushing into a room, and Daneath fell forward into it.  He quickly stood up and pulled the shield from the ground and lit up the new chamber.

“Beepu…. you are going to want to look at this, ” Daneath said.

*Session notes:*

So, we now begin to really use the familiar to handle critical tasks related to scouting.  Because why send a fragile rogue to do it?  We also finally got to play with some new spells and some class abilities.  

Nestra was probably a bit more quiet at the time though; I seem to remember more cowering, but considering she had no weapons or combat skills, we really didn’t expect much.  But we did feel pressure to move and keep her alive.  Which required one of us…well required me to babysit her most of the time.

All the while, “Beepu was a rock” was going to be used…a lot.   It was one of his favorite go to’s to keep out of trouble.  Not that was bad or anything.  But it was one of the many cases of “Abuse cantrips until we break the DM.”

1241


----------



## Nthal

*Passages of Belief - 03/13/2019*

*Passages of Belief​*

_Darkness doesn’t scare me; I can see through it.  But Sensates play a game with a blindfold called “A Game of You.”  A game where you use the senses to understand the universe around you.

The Game is played for many reasons.  And the higher the stakes, the more you learn about the universe.

And yourself.​_

Beepu pursed his lips and stepped to the breach in the wall.  I couldn’t see in the hole, but I could see his face clearly.  His eyes were widening in something between awe and greed.  With a quick motion, he waved towards the room.  Foggle, who was silently flying circles above us, swooped into the hole, and once again Beepu had that faraway look.

I leaned over to Daneath and whispered, “What did you see?”

Daneath looked at me and shrugged.  “Books.”

Of course.  If there were hard and fast rules about the multi-verse, one of them must be that the most pious of wizards could barely contain their greed over the idea of forgotten troves of knowledge stored in musty old tomes.

“Are we going to have time for this?” I asked.

“It’s not like we can hide them from him as we enter the room.”

At this point, Beepu’s eyes were growing wider and he began to shake.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s…a lot.”

Beepu’s head suddenly snapped towards the open hole and he leapt in.  

“Move.” And I gently push Daneath aside and bend down to the opening and step within the chamber beyond. Standing up straight again I sigh.

It could be worse.  The room was large, and I could quickly count perhaps a dozen bookcases.  The dust was thick on the floor, and layers of old cobwebs were draped upon decaying wood shelves.  The bookcases were full of ancient tomes, bound with leather.  I walked to one of the shelves and reached out to touch the spine of a book, and the leather flaked away, crumbling to powder between my fingers.

“No! No! NO!”  Beepu was running from case to case frantically.

“What is this place?” Iesa asked as he stepped in the room, followed closely by Nedra and Daneath.  
I left the crumbling books and stepped away from the bookcase.  Looking at the room itself it appeared unremarkable at first.  A door on one end of the rectangular room, but the other end had a table or workspace.  I walked over to it, and saw the remains of parchment, now just piles of dust in the very dry air.  There were the remains of a candle stub, it’s wax long since melt.  But on the table was a green metallic object.  Lying next to it was a long chain, that split into three smaller ones.  Two attached to the object, while a third lay unattached, with a broken ring laying to one side.

“It might be a temple’s archive,” I said.  “There’s a censer with a broken chain here.  The only place I have ever seen them in were temples.”

“She’s right,” Beepu said with disgust.  “Few the tomes here are intact.  Most have dry rot.  The two I found were written in an old form of common.  But they talked about tithes and families that had paid.  Useless.”

“Well, not if you are trying to count the money,” Iesa observed.

“It’s hard to help people without jink.  Of course, I’m not sure who this temple is dedicated to from things here,” I said while glaring at Iesa.  

“Too many in Waterdeep don’t help anyone,” he retorted.

“Well…this isn’t Waterdeep…wherever that is.  But we should keep moving.  There has to be an exit somewhere.”

“Well, we agree on that at least,” Daneath said and moved to the lone door.  Iesa pressed his ear against it.  After a moment, he nodded and opened the it to the chamber beyond.

Daneath’s shield lit up the room; square and the walls were finished smooth, much like the library.  Unlike the library it was littered with the remains of broken, dry rotted wood.  All of the debris were covered with thick cobwebs.  A hallway led from the center of one wall.  and in the center of the room were the low, relatively intact circular walls of a pool, or an oversized well.

As we entered the chamber, the air was as dry as the library we had left.  As we spread around looking around the room, Iesa stepped towards the well.  

“The well has gone dry…but it is a long way down.”

“Looks like a storeroom,” Daneath observed.  “With piles of discarded shelves, and furnishings.”
I was leading Nestra and I was moving towards the passageway.  I only had a brief look into the darkess and could see it making a turn to the left, when I heard a noise behind me of a small rock tumbling against rock.   Turning, I saw that Iesa was throwing loose pebbles down the shaft.  

“Really?”  Beepu said.  “What if something is down there?”   

“What are the chances of that Beepu?  Anything alive is down here is where the water is…and there is no water down there.”

Daneath was poking in the rotten wood, “Well there certainly isn’t anything up here.”

“See?  You are all over…ACK!” and Iesa jumped back from the wall surrounding the shaft.   Skittering out from the depths several forms, the size of large hounds appeared.  They were black, with a dull shine on their carapaces.  They made no noise, despite the large number of legs, that sprouted from each of them.  Their movements were quick and within a moment, four emerged from the shaft.   Iesa leapt backwards as one scrambled towards him.  The rest split up, with one heading towards Nestra and I, and one each for Daneath and Beepu.

I pushed Nestra behind me, and with a quick utterance of ‘zalt’ I cast a bolt of energy towards the spider as it raced towards me, narrowly missing it.  The others were doing much of the same; Daneath batted away one with his shield and stabbed it with his short sword, ichor emerging from the thorax.  Beepu, cast a bolt of flame at his arachnid foe, and manage to sear off a leg.  Iesa stabbed and ran in circles around the well, neither making headway against the other.

“So…you HAD to do it.  You had to throw stones!” Beepu shouted as he cast another bolt of flame, missing his target.

“_Zalt!_  Well you know where the is water…oh wait!  It’s a dry sodding well!” and my bolt hit the square on the large onyx colored abdomen.

“Mistakes were made!” and Iesa moved next to Daneath, and he switched targets, hitting Daneath’s opponent and laying it low.  In turn Daneath turned and swung and cleaved the other spider into two.  

“I am so glad that you have learned something from this Iesa,” and another bolt streaked from Beepu’s hands and his opponent burst into flames and stopped moving.

“_Zalt_” and I struck the last one between its many eyes, knocking it backwards. “Well, I’m so glad we can put this behind us.  But let’s avoid tossing any more rocks down holes from now on.”

“I’ve got to get out of here.  First Lizards, now bugs.” Nestra was muttering to herself and shaking her head.

“No, no. no.  Troglodytes and spiders.  Very different, details like that are important if you are planning to clean out your cella--” Beepu was starting to lecture.  I gave him a look and he quickly closed his mouth.

“Anyway, this is exhausting.” I said.

“I ag…ag…agree,” and Iesa collapsed onto the floor.  Looking at him, I saw that there was growing stain of blood on his hamstrings.  I ran over to him and put some pressure one the wound.  

“Anyone else hurt?”

“Well, a couple of scrapes from this one, but I’m a bit battered overall.”

I started pulling on the light within me and let if flow from my hands into the wound.  I could the skin closing beneath my fingers, and the seepage of blood slow to nothing.  I motion Daneath over to me and lay a hand on upon his stomach, pouring more energy into him.  I couldn’t feel his wounds, but I felt his body pull on the stream of energy I gave to him.  In a manner of moments, the magical energy flow stopped and where I thought I was tired before, I truly was exhausted now.

“I’m…I’m…I need to rest a bit.  But somewhere without a large hole in the ground.”

“The library?” Beepu said with a glimmer of hope in his voice.

“The hole in the wall doesn’t exactly make that secure,” Daneath pointed out.

“Maybe…down the hall.  Send Foggle.”

“Right.” And with a wave of his hand, Foggle flew down the darkened hall.  He was focused, his brow furrowed when he spoke again.  “The hall turns and continues on.  There is a pair of doors, one on the end, and the other on the side of the hall, about two thirds of the way down.  The one on the end of the hall is open though.”

“Can you see beyond it?” Daneath asked.  Iesa gave out a slight moan.

“There is another passage beyond, more doors.  And a lot more webs.  As I am looking there are tracks here too.  They are scattered, but they do lead back to this room.”

“What about that side door?” I asked.

Beepu thought a moment.  “No…the tracks go by it and I do not see any sign of anything going in or out.”

“Well, I take it that spiders can’t open doors,” said Daneath.  “Let’s check it out.  Come on Iesa…up up up.”  

“I’m moving…just tired,”

Beepu took the lead, and Daneath followed with a weary Iesa leaning on him.  I put Nestra in front of me, and I took the rear, watching the hall behind us for more spiders.  Soon we reached the door. 

 Iesa pulled himself off of Daneath and pressed his ear to it and listened.   After a moment he nodded and moved away.  This time, Beepu pushed open the door and Daneath shined his shield within.  
Satisfied, he nodded and waved us in.  

The room was perhaps a small store room; shelves lined the walls and several barrels lay on their side at the end of the room along with some wooden creates.  The remains of moldering sacks lay in one corner with some type of grain spilling out on the floor.  But there was room for all of us, and more importantly there wasn’t another exit, hole in the wall or open well shaft in the floor.
Beepu closed the door, and Daneath and I pulled over one of the crates to block it shut.  

“Think that will be enough?” I asked.

“It should be from ones we saw before,” Daneath said

“And if there is a _bigger_ one?”

“It better be.  I’m real tired.  Probably the party earlier.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nestra said.  “This doesn’t seem to be the safest place, and can we really delay?”

“Well, If I hazard a guess it might be early morning.  If Eragon—” Daneath started.

“Arakahn” we all correct.

“—him.  If he hasn’t found us, he’s not going to.  But unlike him, we’ve been fighting, and we need to rest.  This is as good as it is going to get.”

I find a wall and slump down.  Nestra looks around confused for a moment and then shrugs and sat down next to me.  

“This is absolutely surreal.  I’ve been imprisoned in my own home, impersonated by someone else, probably hunted by my former staff, and now I am clearing vermin out from beneath my house.”
I turned to look at her, “And now you are slumming with well-dressed adventurers, who were at one point trying kill you and are now deciding if you can take a nap.   Sounds like a full day.”

She chuckled a moment, “Yes, yes it has.  Thank you.”

“You can thank me properly when we get you out of here.  Get some rest.”

The others had taken positions, and Beepu had set Foggle on the crate by the door.  He was trying to read some documents from his spellbook by the light of Daneath’s shield.  He looked at me and held out a copper piece and then said, “Myr could you?...

“Sure,” and I flexed and put a light on the greenie, and the light on the shield winked out.  “It won’t last more than an hour.  So, if you really need it wake me up.”

“We’ll watch first,” and Daneath nudged Iesa who muttered, “Yeah sure.”

“Honestly…let the owl do it.  I can’t keep a night light up for you,” I said.

“We’ll do what we can.  Get some rest Myr.”

I nod and closed my eyes.  And soon darkness over took my thoughts.

Sometime later, I opened my eyes.  I could hear the others sleeping quietly.  My light had gone out, but my vision saw the grey shapes in the room; the five of us, the crates, the owl and the door.   It was unchanged, just colorless.  

I sighed; I was feeling better but not myself yet.   I settled down and closed my eyes when…I heard it.

It was a quiet deliberate noise.  The slow scraping against stone, but many times over.  The sounds of many legs moving softly.  I turned my head and I saw that Iesa was awake.  His eyes were searching the dark, unable to see.   But he could clearly hear the sounds as well.  I watched him finger the hilt of the sword that lay next to him.

I could see him look toward my direction, and he put a finger to his lips.  I nodded, before 
remembering that he couldn’t see me in the darkness.  I wasn’t sure how he knew I was awake and listening.  My breathing?  Did I shift?  Watching him, I realized that while he wasn’t blessed with the ability to see in the dark, he knew how to survive in it.  It reminded me of the Game.  You get blindfolded and some of the most basic challenges involve sound.  So much so, that I almost always close my eyes when I really want to hear something.

But, no matter how he knew I was awake., we both listened to the scraping on stone, fading away.  And I am sure we both felt some relief that the sound wasn’t scraping on the wood of the door.  Soon, silence again reigned and we both let out our stifled breaths slowly.  

I leaned my head back and again closed my eyes.  I wanted to see the light again.  To taste the sweet fresh air, and not the stale air here deep below.  I smiled to myself; how strange.  The air I grew up with was never “sweet;” it was smoky, the tang of brimstone on the tongue.  To say I missed the air outside here with the scent of rotten fish on by the river, and the tanneries nearby was surprising to me.  

I wondered; 

Did I really want to go home?  

What I did I really want?

What did the multiverse want from me?

And once again the darkness took me, before I could answer any of those questions.  


*Session Notes:
*The lord of the rings moment with the well was one of those moments.  We all have seen it, and yet he touched it anyway.

Considering none of us had any real gear, we were very, very conservative on moving around.  Two swords, and spells and almost no armor.

One item you might have noticed were the healing spells;  I took a level in Cleric, but originally hadn’t planned on it.  We were supposed to have two other folks in the adventure, but they dropped out before we started (a barbarian and a cleric).   This ended up being an interesting twist as the DM had us think about “If you are going to multi-class, what is the good reason.”

I’ve always liked Keith Baker’s thoughts on “classes” in the game;  they are rule structures and nothing more.  You aren’t a fighter, you are someone who knows how to use a sword.  So multi-classing is just an extension of that.  But you need the rules as a framework.

So at this point I really started thinking about what the character “Myrai” really was, and it was here I started working backwards on the details of the past, compared to the broad starting point.

1333


----------



## Nthal

*Cracks in the Darkness - 03/27/2019*

*Cracks in the Darkness​*

_I wasn’t popular in the Gatehouse as an orphan.  As a child, I could always make something glow with light, and apparently as an infant I always lit up something in my…whatever it was they put me in, to chase away the dark.  But this woke up all the children in the room, and in turn they woke the Bleakers watching over us.

Soon, I was the only orphan that had their own room, just so everyone else could sleep.  Eventually, it was an imaginary friend, keeping the dark away. It wasn’t until I was three or four…I think that I was put back with the other kids.

But by then, the damage was done.  I was different.  I was special.  And the other kids resented that.  Life was miserable from then on.  The kids never wanted to see my “friend” and there was at least once where I got a severe beating for even turning it on.

But it was when I was older that I discovered, that people would pay good jink for a lit escort to their kip, after a few too many bubs.  It was a discovery that would eventually allow me to pay off my debt to the Gatehouse.

It’s all about need.

_​I was awakened, by a light touch on my shoulder.  In the dim grey haze of my sight I saw it was Beepu.  I nodded; time for the last watch.  I leaned forward, close to his right ear and whispered, “Anything?”

He shrugged, “Iesa told me about the noises, but nothing at all like that.  And nothing else to mention.  Thanks for the light earlier.”

“No problem.  Get some rest,” and I pulled myself off the floor, and watched as Beepu made himself as comfortable as possible in my spot.  I stretched my sore limbs and let my breath out with a sigh of resignation.  While I had least gotten a fair amount of rest, I wasn’t looking forward to the boredom ahead.  While I could have started the day, Beepu still needed more time to recover his magical facilities.

I quietly made my way over to Iesa and ever so carefully I examined his leg wound.  As I had hoped it had healed and wasn’t showing signs of rot or poison.  I then stepped over to Daneath.  His coat was, at one point draped over him, his chain shirt discarded on a nearby crate.  But the coat had shifted during his sleep and exposed his torn shirt.  Below were bruises, which were probably turning ugly colors.  But for now, dark grey was fading to lighter grey.

Satisfied, I centered myself.  I was as rested and needed something to do.  Starting with Daneath, I began the process to magically mend his torn clothes.  Whispering the chant under my breath slowly rents in cloth, and tears in leather all closed again.  I then started to chant a different spell, to clean up the spots of blood and gore that stained his coat and breeches.  It took a bit of time as I would pause and listen again for our hallway stalker. 

I did the same with Iesa, who had less damage to his clothes, but had far more ichor covering his breeches.  Beepu by comparison was only a bit dusty, as was Nestra.

Looking down at myself, I was a bit dirty, and the crinoline was a disaster, but the dress itself was fine.  I really wanted to return it intact if possible.  The tailor said it wasn’t necessary, but it was important to me.  Some minor tears fixed, and it was good enough until I could see everything in color again. 
Looking around again I saw a small barrel with an open top along a wall, and above it clay mugs rested on a shelf, covered in dust.  Examining the barrel, I found it to be old, but serviceable, whatever it held was long gone.  Flexing my powers, I worked over the barrel; fixing rots and making the staves within the hoops, as tight as they were the day the cooper finished it.  Or at least I hoped so.  It took some time, all the while listening for noises in between my chanting.  Once finished, I then cleaned the interior of dirt, wooden remains, and whatever else was left.   I then mentally wiped out the three mugs on the shelf.

I nodded; it would do.  I reached into my component pouch and pulled from it two items.  The first was a bronze symbol of a skeletal hand holding aloft a balance, the second was a necklace which I set aside for a moment.  Holding the symbol, I centered myself and focused on the light within me.  I felt myself coax it, stirring it slightly.  I could feel the energy, respond and resist as if a spoon were stirring in a liquid.  After a second or two of this I mentally pushed the energy to the barrel.

Softly, the barrel began to fill with water in the first time in many years.  The barrel was perhaps half full when the water stopped rising.  I eagerly took a mug, and quietly submerged it in the barrel.  I brought it to my lips and sipped.  It was clean, fresh and sweet.  The Gatehouse’s water all tasted of iron and rust but at least was safe.  The same couldn’t be said of most sources in the Hive; and no one would dare would drink from the Ditch willingly.  But this was the reason there were so many bars; the water had to be good enough to brew ale or beer.  And so, drinking bub like that was far safer than water from unknown sources.  Didn’t help the poor who couldn’t afford much in the way of bub though, but if you could drink bub when you wanted, it was a sign you were moving up in the world.

I moved and sat on the crate blocking the door, next to the ever vigilant Foggle, cup in hand.  I quietly offered the owl a toast.  Then, I sipped more of my creation and rested and waited for either Foggle to tell me, or the others roused themselves from their own slumber.

I put the symbol around my neck, and then regarded the necklace.  It wasn’t much; a tangled knot of metal, grey in the darkness.  In the light it was a mixture of loops; some gold, some silver.  All knotted together, with a chain threading through the loops.  I frowned; it was the only token of wealth I had beyond the few coins I carried in my pouch.  The reality was it wasn’t originally mine; it belonged to Markell a Sensate that I…cared for.

No; that was a lie.  I loved him.  And I watched him slowly die in front me.  I wasn’t sure what broke my heart more; his slow agonizing death or the discovery that he never loved me at all.  I had sacrificed a lot for a lost cause, and I endured great pain as part of that sacrifice.  But because of that, I took his necklace as a reminder.

Not to trust.
Not others.
Not yourself.

That was five years ago, and now I questioned the wisdom of it.  Here I was in the darkness forced to trust others.  Others that with all good intentions tried to save me from death.  They could have easily left my corpse to rot in the plains, stripped of anything of value…including this neckless.   But they didn’t; they found a way to return me to life.  And they did it for less than love and they did it with no guarantee of reciprocation.  They took a chance.  That I was worth such a risk said much about their faith in me.   And I found myself honored to be valued in that way.   

And yet I loathed it.  It was a debt of honor that I couldn’t easily repay.  A debt with strings attached for us all, that imperiled us on so many levels.  I felt trapped and afraid.

That I was being setup again.
That I wasn’t worthy of their trust.
That I still couldn’t trust my own instincts.

I sipped my water again and listened.  My ears straining to hear something to distract me from my thoughts.  Beyond the breathing in the room, nothing else was audible.  Certainly not the sounds of the…thing that stalked the halls.

After an eternity had passed, Foggle started to move and made a solitary quiet “Beeppooo.”   About time I was thinking.  I flexed, and focused my energy on Foggle, and instantly his golden body flooded the room with a soft light.  Then, I moved to gently wake Nestra and the others.

Everyone was sore; we didn’t have much between the floor and our skin.  Looking over Daneath and Iesa, the magic I cast last night appeared to have made an impact.  No open wounds remained on either human.  Beepu handed out the last of the food that he had been carrying with him, and afterwards I showed everyone the barrel.

“What? You just drank out of it?”  Iesa said dubiously.

“No, I created it.”

Beepu looked at me, “Your magic is peculiar,” and he took a deep drink “But certainly effective.  But we need to find a way out.  Fresh water is good, but more food is in order.  And more light!”

“Well this temple can’t be that big,” Daneath said finishing buckling on the chain armor again. “We just need to avoid any more trouble.  Iesa, help me move this out of the way.”  And then the pair pulled the crate away from the door.

“Hey…I thought I tore this…” Iesa said looking at his breeches.

“I was bored last night,” I said.

He patted himself down, like he was trying to see if I bobbed him.  Satisfied that everything was there he muttered “Well, what can’t you do?”

“Right now, food, and having a clear idea how to get out of here.”

“Well, as I recall Foggle found a passage past the open door at the end of the hall, and some doors beyond.  Might as well start there.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Light me Myr,” Daneath said having hefted the shield back onto his arm.

A quick flex, the warmth again and the light faded from Foggle, and once again, the shield would light our way.  While I did this, Iesa listened again at the door, motioning us to remain quiet with his finger in front of his lips.  

“Sounds clear,” and with that he opened the door to the darkened hall.  Before entering it, he knelt down to look at the floor.  Frowning his eyes swept back and forth, until finally he noticed something in the dust.  Not in the middle of the hall, but near the edges.  Parallel to the walls in front of us, and the wall near us were sets of prints.  They were in a rough line, with round imprints in the dirt.

“Two track sets,” he said after a moment.  “Must have been what you and I heard last night Myrai.”

I shook my head. “No.  That’s just a large single track.”

“Wait no… “ and he looked again at the marks in the dust.  His shoulders then sagged.  “You’re right.  It’s one big…spider I guess.”

“That’s larger than most horses!”  Daneath said.

“Well let’s find a way out, before it finds us,” I said.

Iesa took the lead, with Daneath right behind, followed by Beepu, Nestra, and myself playing the rear guard.  We quietly made our way to the partially open door.  Without touching it, Iesa was easily able to move into the hall, with Daneath shining a light.

We all followed and found ourselves in a short hallway that ended just to our right, with a door in front of us, and a second one at the end of the hall on the far wall.  To the left, the hall opened into a larger room, covered in webbing.  With the barest sound of beating wings, Foggle flew into the darkened room.

Iesa had turned his attention down the short end of the hall when he exclaimed, “Well, who do have here?”

Daneath turned his shield towards Iesa, and what was once a shadowy hall with nearly formless shapes, now was lit with a very clear shape of a body on the ground.

Whoever it was, it seemed to meet an untimely end appearing to have fallen suddenly forward onto the stone floor, with an arm extended forward towards the wall.  Its robe had nearly rotted away into dust, and the remains of its skin pulled taut against the bones of his face in the dry air.  It still had the hairs of a moustache and beard attached.  

Iesa was kneeling next to it, prodding the form with his sword.  “He was stabbed in the back it appears…a long time ago.  And before the spiders…no webs over him.”

“They must have come later,” Daneath said.

“Well…Foggle does not see anything but more webs and dusty furnishings.  It winds a bit though.”

“Let’s check the doors here then,” and Daneath opened the door to the first room.  The door made little sound, even though the hinges were dusty with disuse.  Soon his shield revealed a sparse room, with the remains of some beds, and some open chests.  The dust was thick here, and there were again no large spider webs in the room; just smaller cobwebs from normal spiders.

Daneath then moved to the other door and opened that one, it also making little sound.  “Another resting chamber.”

“But that chest is closed…let me look at it!” and Iesa darted inside.
Meanwhile, in the darkened hall, I could see well enough.  I moved past the nervous Nestra, and the distracted Beepu and knelt by the body.  I placed a hand on its back and said a quick prayer:

_You are never alone, in life or death,
May Death grant you peace.​_
Daneath looked at me, as he pointed his shield into the room and nodded simply.  But as he looked at 
the corpse his eyes furrowed.  His head turned back and forth from between the outstretched arm, and the wall.

“What was he reaching for?  It looks like he tried to move after he was struck down.”  He kept looking at the wall, undecidedly.  “Finish up in there, I need the light.”

“Done!  Why?  What did you find?”

Daneath lit the wall up with the shield.  It looked unremarkable.  A finished grey piece of stone.  “I don’t know.  Something?”

Iesa moved to the wall, and then looked at the corpse.  Frowning, he traced his hands over the wall just below shoulder height.  He then stopped, and then leaned close to the wall, with his cheek barely brushing the surface.  He then pursed his lips and blew a steady stream of air.  As he blew, a small cloud of dust appeared…as did a thin straight crack in the wall.  He continued blowing, and several puffs later he was rewarded with the outline of a square, one hand high and one hand wide.

“That’s subtle,” I said impressed with the find.

“This is strange.” Beepu spoke up.   “There is not an exit anywhere this direction.  A bunch of desks and …a …I think I’ll have Foggle get…that!”

We looked at each other.  “No exit…I bet this might open something.” Iesa said.

“Might as well,” Daneath said.  “I really don’t want to back down to those Troglodytes if I don’t have to.”

Iesa nodded and pushed the square stone.  It scraped the nearby stone softly, and he kept pushing until we all heard an audible click.  

Then we heard a loud scraping sound, coming from the hallway we were in before.  I moved over to look down it, and saw a door pivot outwards directly across from the storeroom that we had been sleeping in.  It was even louder in the hall, as stone ground against stone as the door scraped itself open.

This got Beepu’s attention, “What is that racket?” and his eyes focused on the group again, and finally at Iesa.  “What did you do?”

“He opened a door,” I said simply and I pointed.

We moved toward the still scraping door.  It was now open at a right angle from the wall and was still opening.  Shining down the opening, the shield revealed a long hallway, which turned to the left.
“That’s promising.” Iesa said, and he started to move down the hall.  The rest of stood in the hall, and I was looking first towards the doorway we had just come from, and then I looked towards the hall leading back to the dry well.  I was about to turn my head again, when I saw something move.
It was at the edge of my vision, but I saw…eyes.  Eyes that had caught the light leaving the edge of the shield.  Four…no eight glittering black orbs facing down the hall.   And they were starting to move towards us.

“We have a problem…Move!” I said in a loud whisper.

Nestra just ran forward.  Beepu turned to look down the hall, and I saw his eyes widen, and he took off down the hall shouting, “Big spider!  Big Spider!”

I moved into the hall and Daneath backed into it with his shield in front of him.  We both stood there a second, and we started looking at the side of the wall, looking for another trigger.  We were looking at each other with wild eyes seeing nothing.

“Iesa!” we both shouted.  “Do you see a switch or something?”

“What…no.  I can’t see, bring the shield here!”

“That’s not happening,” Daneath shouted.

I felt the rush of air go by me, as Foggle flew over my head and almost got a face full of a leather satchel in the process.

“Sodding…trust me Daneath.” I flexed and shifted the light to the satchel as it flew by.
I could see Beepu’s face light up suddenly, at first perplexed and then nodding vigorously.  “Light is here, Iesa” and grabbing the satchel he moved around the corner, with Nestra in tow.
Daneath was breathing heavily as I stood next to him, his arm poised to strike.

“You know I can’t see right?”

“I’ll be your eyes, I’m not leaving.”  The spider was moving cautiously, but it was getting closer as the soft sounds in the hall grew ever so louder.  I quickly peeked around the corner and with my vision saw it was half-way down the hall.  It was slow and patient, certain we weren’t going anywhere.

“Iesa!  Finding a switch would be good about now!” I shouted down the hall.

“I’m looking!”

Suddenly the spider scuttled sideways and was now in front of the open doorway. “Swing sword…BLOCK!” I shouted, while keeping one hand on Daneath’s back, so he knew where I was.  He swung blindly with the sword, but the shield made solid contact with the forelegs of the spider batting it away.  The spider was being cautious seeking its prey and it backed off.   I quickly cast a bolt of energy at it, and the purple blast shot over the monstrosity, impacting the wall.

The flash was enough for Daneath to get a glimpse of his opponent and he swung again, knocking back a leg against raising his shield in time to prevent the spider from getting a hold of either of us.

Then, we heard the sudden scraping of the door, and the distant shout of “Found it!” from Iesa.  The spider reacted to the loud noise and backed off from the closing doorway.   It made no vocalization or sound beyond the scraping of its furred legs on the walls.   If it was angry or frustrated it wasn’t clear.  But it was unwilling to move towards the closing door.  It backed off, moving backwards to the well room still facing us.  

The door slowly shut in front of us, but I still spoke to Daneath acting as his sight.  “It’s closed, we’re good.”

He nodded and turning around we could see the distant light from around the corner.  Squinting a moment he spoke, “Well um…is the path ..”

“I’ll lead you for a bit…I don’t see anything that you would trip you.”

“Must be nice to able to see like that.”

I smile briefly, “It has its moments…still prefer real light.  Come on.”

In a moment, I guided the large man down the hall and together we turned the corner where the rest stood looking at us.

“Well, glad you held the door,” Iesa said panting.

“It’s a good thing it didn’t know I couldn’t see.  But a sword swinging blindly can look impressive I suppose,” Daneath responded.

“Can’t you make more of those lights?” Iesa asked.

Shaking my head, “No…only one at a time.”

“What about you Beepu?”

“Clearly he can’t” I said.

“How would you know?!” Beepu glared at me and started to waggle his finger at me.

“Because you would have done it already.”

Beepu stopped mid waggle and shut his mouth frowning.  Finally, he said, “Good point.  And correct.”
I finally looked past the others and saw that there was another doorway open in front of us, revealing a room.

“Anything inside there?”

“No, No.  Foggle just did a fly by, and nothing appears to be in the room.”

“Well, that’s good.  Shall we?” said Iesa.

Iesa then strode forward into the room, and suddenly there was a flash of light.

*Session notes:
*Light is a hassle.  I was the only source, and course no torches or even a lantern to share.  I’m pretty sure looking back at the notes, the we probably ignored the rules on light, until it was important.  Like the spider.  A lot of this was counter to most of the players experience, as the DM mentioned that the last several games all had races that could see in the dark.  He also mentioned that there was always an elf, which made watches a bit more work.

That also highlighted that we didn’t share any language other than common.  I don’t think that any of us spoke a language that we shared with another party member.  That also rarely came up, but it did mean that we didn’t have a good way to share things privately…until later.

So why the fear of the spider?  It was a CR 1 monster, and honestly, we felt “Fragile.”  This was intended to be a gritty campaign, and while I managed to survive death once, no one want to repeat that.  More importantly, we had it in our heads that the “weakest” person was Nestra.  And if Nestra died, we would all be up the creek. 

1433


----------



## Nthal

*Water and Light - 4/9/2019*

*Water and Light​*
_I don’t know much about traps.  But I do know about being bobbed and peeled.  To me, it’s the same thing; one is social the other mechanical.

And while I can’t do much about the mechanical, I do know that knowing what the trap/cony-catcher is expecting, it becomes easier to disarm the situation.

Usually._​
We all froze and blinked.  The sudden appearance of light put us immediately on edge.

“What did I do?” Iesa asked, unwilling to step forward or backwards.

“I do not know yet, I need some time to answer that.”  Beepu barked, and pulled out his book and started flipping through the pages.

“So…can I move?”

“Hmm?  Oh, most likely.  If it was going to be harmful, you probably would have been incinerated already.”

“Inciner…what?”

“Turned to ash.” Beepu said absently.

“Ah…great.  Wait.  No.  Not great.  You sure?” Iesa said turning to look at the Gnome with alarm.

“Yes, yes.  Just let me know if something else happens to you.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe you get frozen?” Daneath said sounding helpful.

“Perhaps…shocked?” I venture with a smile and wink at Daneath.

“Good point.  Perhaps poisoned?”  Daneath said thoughtfully.

“True…or maybe he just disappears in a puff of dust?” 

“You. Are. NOT. HELPING.” Iesa said, looking at us in horror.

“Shhh…you are disturbing my focus.  This will take a bit”

Daneath and I stepped into the room, moving past the mortified Iesa.  Even Nestra entered with a small smile on her lips.

While Iesa regained his composure, I looked around.   This was clearly a chapel.  The room was rectangular, with an altar in the middle of the long side of the rectangle, and opposite that was a pair of double doors.  In each corner was a pillar, and upon each was a blazing light, far brighter than my own.  In the room were four stone sarcophagi, evenly spread through out the room.  In the far side of the room was another single door.

Otherwise, the room was empty and dusty.

“Any guesses on who this is dedicated to?” Iesa asked as he moved towards the altar.

“Not yet…and don’t touch anything.  Seriously.”  I said.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll wait for Beepu.  Wonder what’s in those…”

“No.” I said firmly.

“What?”

“No grave robbing.”

“They aren’t using anything anymore.”

“No.” I said simply, and I pointed to the holy symbol on my neck.

Iesa scrunched up his face, “You know, the dead can’t spend it.”

“I’m not disturbing the eternal slumber of the dead.”

“Why?”

“Because I want them to stay eternally slumbered” I turned, glaring at him.  “It’s not like a random chest in a chamber you found stuff.”

“Hey now…” Iesa began to protest.

“Or that pouch from the body?” I retorted.

“Now come on…wait, you saw that?” Iesa sounded surprised.

“She’s got you there.” Daneath chuckled, “But we should really find the fastest way out of here.”

“I just wanted…” and Iesa muttered quietly under his breath.

“Now then.   What is going…oh my!” Beepu said as he strode into the room.  His eyes blazed with a blue light as he looked at the floor and the pillars in the corners.

“What do you see?” I asked looking at him carefully.

“Lines…lines of power.” And he started circling the perimeter counter clockwise around the room, passing the single door, and only stopping once he reached the double doors.  Once there, he took a step back and exclaimed, “Well, well.”

“Well, well…what?” I said a little impatiently.

“Iesa hit on a magical trigger, that covers the floor by the doorway we came out of, and the double doors there.  Both link to the pillars in the corner.  But the trigger does not cover that third door in the corner.”

“Anything else?” I said.

“Yes, yes, yes.  While the rest of the room, the altar and the sarcophagi do not have an aura, the there is another stronger one near the double doors.  It actually appears to be on the ground on the other side.”

“But not this side?” Daneath asked.

“No. The doors have no magic on them at all.”

“What kind of magic is it?” I asked, wondering how I could learn this spell.

“Well…the door is blocking a clear read on that.  But we can probably open it safely.”

“Probably?”  Daneath asked dubiously.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.  Go ahead” Beepu said and waved his hand at Daneath with a big grin on his face.

“Ok…” Daneath said, and he put down his sword and grasped the large handle and was going to pull when…

“Sure, he won’t get incinerated?  Or frozen? Or shocked?” Iesa asked no one in particular.

Daneath glared at Iesa, “Really?  Now?”

Iesa held up his hand with a helpless expression.  “Just…checking.”

Daneath grasped the handle and began to pull.

“Or poisoned…”

Daneath let go of the handle and glared at Iesa, “Now look, if you want to open this door!”

“No, no.  Sorry.” He said sounding almost hurt.  Almost.  And then under his breath I could barely hear “Or turned to dust.”

But Daneath didn’t respond to the comment, and pulled the doors open, revealing a short hallway, that opened into a small square room, with a raised pool of liquid.  The pool was illuminated from another passage on the right, and we could see the reflection of the light on the ceiling of the square room.  I could hear us all inhale sharply though as we saw that light.

The light was the warm glow of daylight, we were certain.  Not the small light of my magic, and not even the stronger, harsher light on the pillars.  It was the warm glow of daylight.  We couldn’t even feel it, and our hearts were warmed by just the thought of it.

Until Beepu spoke.

“Oh dear.  That’s a strong big of magic there.”

“Where?” Daneath asked, freezing.

“Right in front of the doors.  Very strong evocation magic all on the floor and walls.”

“What does that mean?  Myrai can you…translate.”

I shrug and say “Um…well, that means that if you step into that area, you might…”

“Might what?”

“…Get incinerated, frozen, shocked, poisoned, or turned to dust…” I said in a helpless voice, feeling terrible saying the possibilities.

For a moment there was silence as we looked at each other back and forth.

“Well…at least it won’t be me!” Iesa said smiling, clapping his hands together.  “Beepu…do your stuff!”

Beepu’s smile faltered.  “Uh what?  I cannot do anything about this.”

Iesa smile faltered.  “What do you mean?  I thought you were a wizard!”

“I _am_ a wizard…but I do not have the power to counter this.”  Beepu said.

Iesa looked dumbfounded and turned to look at me.

I shook my head “I can do…stuff.  But I don’t know what to do about that.”

Iesa turned to look at Daneath, frowned a moment, and turned to Nestra.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nestra said archly.

“We can’t be this close…and…and…”

“Let’s look around, maybe there is a way around it,” Daneath said optimistically.

Iesa brightened at this and moved to the third door in the corner.  “Yeah, yeah, around it.  Beepu said this door was safe!” and quickly burst into the room.  Just as quickly, he came out with a guilty look.

“I…need the shield.”

Daneath rolled his eyes and walked over to the door, and together entered the room.

Nestra had this point sat down by one of the sarcophagi and shook her head in disbelief.  I was afraid to ask if it was the situation, the chaos that Iesa was causing or both.  

Beepu, had edged himself to the doorway and was looking at the ground frowning.  I walked carefully and stood next to him.  I then asked, “Anything else?”

Beepu nodded, “Yes…the field is not deep, barely a finger width.  But the field certainly does go to the ceiling.”

“Meaning you can’t just send Foggle through, or just jump over it.” I guessed.

“Correct.  And the only thing I am certain of is that it will not heal you.”

“Wrong evocation.” I said frowning.

I looked down the hall, straining desperately for any detail.   When I noticed that there were shadows on the rim holding the pool of water.  Squinting I couldn’t make out what it was.

“Hey Beepu, take a look at that pool.  Can you see the shadows on it?”

“Hm…no I can’t really…wait.  Hold this.” And suddenly Foggle landed on my wrist.”

“Hi…Foggle.  What am I—” 

“Hold him up, facing the pool.”

I gamely raise him to my eye level, not being entirely clear what Beepu wants.

“No no no…higher raise him up with your arm.”

I raise Foggle up and find myself standing up on the tips of my toes.  “Like this?”

“Yes, yes, YES!  It’s writing!  But I can’t make it out at this angle, though.  I can only make out one 
word in elvish…water.”

“Damn it.” Iesa said, with Daneath in tow.  “It’s just a cloak room.   Nothing in there, that isn’t moth eaten.”

“There’s got to be a way.” Daneath said.  “Maybe another hidden door?”

“Might as well look,” Iesa said and started moving to the wall to our right.  “Uh, Beepu…the walls are safe right.”

Beepu nodded and waved his hand, still staring at the magical field I assumed.  Muttering, “Water.   Water.  A clue?”

I thought a moment, thinking back to some lessons in the Civic Festhall that I had attended.  Lessons about the habits of some religions and water.  “Maybe the ‘trap’ isn’t meant to keep us in…maybe it’s to keep others out.”

Beepu looked at me, “I follow the logic.  We are trying to break out and not in.  So?”

“Perhaps we either need to drink from the pool or bless ourselves with it beforehand to come inside the temple.”

“Of course; an infidel wouldn’t understand the ritual!  That’s probably right.  But it doesn’t help us much.  We can’t read the rest of it from here.”

I think a moment.  “I might have an idea.  But I don’t like it much.”

Beepu raised up his arms and hands upwards, “At this point it’s the best idea we have.”

I turned to the pair who were scouring the wall for a door.  “Hey, by any chance did you see any…I don’t know…vials, flasks or cups in that room.”

Iesa thought a moment, “Yes…there were a couple of metal flasks.  Why?”

“Go grab them and bring them here please.  I have an idea.”

Iesa frowned a second, and then shrugged.  He then walked towards the cloakroom, pulling Daneath with him.  After a moment, they returned with a pair of small flasks, about the size you would hold liquor in.

“Great, these will do.  Thanks.”

“Sure thing.  Now what’s your idea?” Iesa said.

“Oh…I’m going to walk through the door and get some water from the pool.”
“Oh, ok that makes...WHAT?!” Iesa said looking at me in shock.  “Isn’t that going to get you incinerated?”

“Or frozen?” Daneath said with alarm.

“Or poisoned?” Exclaimed Beepu.

“Or turned to dust?” Nestra said from her seat softly, not caring if we heard her.

“Possibly.  But I know a trick.  All I have to do is shunt the energy that would maybe kill me, elsewhere.”

“Well shouldn’t you put that on like Daneath or something?” Iesa looking at me with more than little concern.

“Yeah put it on me…wait what?” Daneath spoke and then realized what he was saying and looked at Iesa with alarm. 

“I can’t.  This only is going to work on me.” And I closed my eyes seeking that dark spark of energy.  Finding it with my mind, I focus in stretching it, and wrapping it around myself.  All the while ensuring that a portion is attached to a stream of negative energy.  Mentally I stabilize it to act as a sink, so that any energy or damage would be drained away keeping me safe.   It wasn’t a real shield of magic; if I could do that any negative effects would just bounce off of me.  Here I was more, redirecting it.  All the while the conversations continued.

“Can’t you do that Beepu?” Iesa asked the gnome.

“Let me think.  No.  Very certain. No.”  Beepu said decisively.

“What?  I thought you were a wizard!”

“Not this again…I do not know everything yet, and I certainly have no idea what she is trying to do, and I understand less on how she does what she does to start with.  This is sorcery I have never seen before.”

I took a deep breath, and moved forward toward the doorway, striding with purpose.   My right hand is at my own neck, clutching my holy symbol as I strode towards the threshold of the door.

“Well come on there has to be a better…. MYRAI!” Iesa had finally noticed me moving towards the door and took a step towards it when I crossed the threshold.

I could feel the energy cascade into my being, in a blaze of pure power.  Like I stood in a great beam of light magnified a thousand-fold.  The energy poured into me and I could see only a brilliant white light, leaving spots in front of my eyes.  The darkness that I had wrapped around me, lapped at the energy, sucking at its power and draining it.  But even its thirst wasn’t enough, and I could feel the pain, spread like fire across my skin and soul. 

And then…it was gone.

I was across the threshold, and I looked myself over seeing wisps of white smoke waft away from my skin and clothes.  The hint of burned cloth hung in the air, as I turned to look at the shocked members of the party.

“I guess we forgot the option, ‘Seared by light’” I said, somewhat in shock that I made it across.

“Are you …well, I guess you look…what happened?!” Iesa said.

“I sent the big light somewhere else, so it didn’t hurt me…much.   Beepu, is the trigger still there?”
Beepu nodded, “Yes, it is. It will go off again if crossed, so you didn’t disarm it.  How powerful was it?”

I shook my head clear a second, “Well, I’m not sure.  But without what I did…I don’t think I would have survived.  Stay there.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked to the pool and looked at the inscription on the edge.  My heart sank a second as looked at the words.  Which I was pretty sure was elvish.  Then I remembered, Beepu said one of the words was ‘water.’  He must speak elvish.

“Hey Beepu,” I shouted.  “I’m not sure I can pronounce this right, but can you translate elvish?”

“Of course…just give it your best shot!”  And I saw that the others, including Nestra, were standing in the doorway watching intently.

“Alright, I can do this,” I said to myself, and started at a point on the circle and shouted, “Sagrate aborre o tay eiya e rezo pon aguan absolvican paar enete no mey cofre.”

“That doesn’t make any…of course, you started in the middle of the sentence.  Um, basically its ‘To enter, anoint yourself and pray for…forgiveness?'”

“Right,” and I knelt down to the pool and filled the flasks full of water.  I then dipped my hand into the water and brushed my fingers across my brow, and then again under the eyes and chin.

“Well…here goes nothing.  Please forgive me for…for…any sin I have committed.  I’m not trying to desecrate your temple or show impiety.  I, just…just want to go home.”

I stood and walked back to the threshold to the chapel.  The others saw me approach and started backing up.

“Wait…shouldn’t you do another spell?” Daneath said.

“I am going with some faith here,” I said.

“Yeah, great.  I still might have some doubts—” 

And I crossed into the room.  No light erupted.  There was no pain.  Nothing.  And for a moment, no one said anything.

“Are you a believer now?” I asked with small smile.

“I could be…convinced yes.” Daneath said with a much wider one.

“Well…everyone kneels.  I’ll anoint you and you can pray for forgiveness.”

“About what?”  Beepu asked.

I spread the water across Beepu’s forehead, cheeks and chin.  “Anything you think you need forgiven; just be honest about it.  Then we will cross the threshold one at a time.”

“That’s it?” asked Iesa.

I repeated the same motions with the water, “That’s it.  I didn’t even say it in Elvish.”

“Well that’s good.  I don’t have time to learn Elvish,” Daneath said.

Again, spreading the water across his face, “Well it might come in handy I suppose.  Someday”
“I can teach you all!  It is a simple matter of getting a strong grasp of the five genders specific form and the declensions.  Simple really.” Beepu said with excitement.

“Not today,” and I brushed Nestra face with the water.  Unlike the others she was trembling…afraid.

“I don’t know what to ask you.” Nestra said looking at me with a pained expression on her face.

“You aren’t asking me for forgiveness.  There is nothing I can forgive.  Just ask.  Just believe.  That is all that matters.” I say, smiling at her.

And just to make sure, I anoint myself again with the water, and whisper a prayer for myself and the rest.  Then one at a time we passed through the doors.

Beepu went first, with confidence and calm.

Daneath went next assured…but he still held his breath crossing.

Iesa followed, gritting his teeth and his eyes tightly closed.

Finally, I took Nestra’s shaking hand and together we crossed.

While there was no dazzling light, and certainly no pain, there was a feeling of a weight being lifted from our shoulders.  Perhaps we truly were absolved of some sins.  I don’t know how we could have felt gladder than we did at that moment.

We passed the pool and looked down the hall, and we could see the final remains of the sun as it rose in the distance, putting the tunnel back into shadow.  

The Hate Night was over.

But the ordeal was far from done. 

*Session notes:
*A year later after this event occurred, I realized that I (and not the DM) screwed up.  You see in the campaign I had cast False Life to get by the field.  That was fine.  Except I cast it on Daneath, and he walked through the field.

False Life is a self only spell, so really only I could walk through the field.  So, I did change the story a bit to hem back to the rule, because that type of mistake bugs me.  But I would have done it for them all the same.

And it wasn’t the only time; we’ll get to abuse of another spell I did later, because I didn’t read it properly.  And disengagement movement was another one we kept getting wrong as well.
So, I wish there was a good elvish primer somewhere, or that I had the time to write my own parser for this.  But I don’t know one (or least one I like), and I don’t have time.  I just hacked Portuguese to be elvish…because I wanted to.

The original phrase was close to “Para entrar na minha abóbada assustada, irritar-se com as minhas águas, e orar por absolvição.”  And since it was machine translated…well I’ll let you go figure it out. 


1,533


----------



## Nthal

*Altering the Deal, Part 2 - 04/17/2019*

*Altering the Deal, Part 2.​*
*There is a difference between being intelligent and being smart.  An intelligent person rationalizes everything, and really intelligent people do it to a degree that leaves nothing to chance.

A smart person though, doesn’t rationalize anything.  In fact, they would point out that most people don’t behave rationally at all.  And really smart people come up with solutions that make an intelligent person say, ‘that makes no sense to me!’

Of course, it doesn’t.  It only has to make ‘sense’ to the party that matters.​*

While the light had faded somewhat, we were still able to see.   We moved down the passage and up a flight of stairs.   We arrived in a chamber, with a tall arched ceiling, and near the top, was a rough open window in the rock to the outside.  The light from the window above guided us and fed our hopes.   Below it, the passage was choked with debris.  Not just rock, but roots of plants, soil and scattered leaves. 

We made our way through the passage and we could hear the sounds of the river rushing past, the smell of soil and the taste of moisture in the air.  As we made our way up the passage, we finally arrived at curtain of foliage, and we pushed our way through them.

Finally, we were outside.  The roots covering the passage were nestled in a cluster of boulders in the hillside.   There was no sign of buildings or ruins anywhere near.  Why was a temple here?   Why hide it?   It didn’t make much sense, but it didn’t have to I supposed.  We made our way towards the river, and the brush cleared enough to see that we managed to come out upstream from Yartar far from the fisheries and the tanneries.  We found ourselves on a bluff overlooking the eastern road, entering the town.  We were still hiding in the brush, uncertain on what to do.  A quick walk and we would be in the town itself.  Of course, that would be people with normal business.

“Foggle can see the gate, and a lot of foot traffic entering the city as well,” Beepu said after the owl landed nearby.  

“Did he notice anything suspicious about the guard’s behavior?”  Daneath asked.

“No.  He did not get that close, and I do not believe Foggle would be able to determine ‘suspicious behavior.’”

“Give me some time, I’ll scout ahead and see what’s up,” Iesa said.

“What?  In your finest clothes?  Is that wise?”  Beepu said pointedly.

“I’ll take care of that.  Stay here out of sight,” and with that Iesa moved towards the town.   The sun rose steadily higher and higher, and was near Peak, when he returned.  In his hands, were some rough spun tunics, cloaks, and robes.  But more importantly he had some interesting information.

“What do you mean?   They aren’t looking for anyone?” Daneath said puzzled.

“Yep; the guards are completely bored,” Iesa explained. “They aren’t searching wagons, going in or out.  I made some conversation with some of the locals, and beyond drunken stories about the Hate Night, there isn’t any news.  Certainly, no one is publicly talking about strange events or wanted figures.”

“That seems odd.  With all the strange goings on in the manor that we caused, you would think that at least someone would…react?” Daneath said.

“I don’t think we got away that clean,” I said after thinking a moment. “It might be that they don’t want to cause a lot of barkle.”

“What?” everyone said at once.

“Um…distracting noise?  Or perhaps they want to keep it quiet.”

Iesa nodded, “You read my mind Myrai.   I’m guessing that the guards aren’t in the know yet.  Maybe that Drow has friends looking for us instead.”

“Comforting,” I said drily.  “So, can we get to the Blades without being seen?”

“Well, let’s get everyone dressed up,” and he tossed the bundle of clothing to Daneath, “…or down rather.  I know enough of the town that we can take alleys and stay out of sight for the most part.”

“That’s good. I’m eager to get this over with,” Nestra said with relief.

I start pulling over my head a rough spun robe, “So, get past the guards, get to the blades’ compound, and find some time to get our stuff back.”

“Yeah mostly that,” Iesa said half focused on the conversation.

“We could send Foggle to pick up Mo,” I said with a smirk.

Iesa returned the grin, “Well…yes.  I do want Mo back at my side.   But I doubt he has changed his mind about Foggle.”

We donned the robes and cloaks and made our way down to the eastern road.  The roadway was packed with farmers and livestock, and not cargo and wagons like the western gate.  And as Iesa had said, the guards were barely paying attention to really anyone of note as we entered Yartar again.  
The streets of Yartar had signs of disarray.  While banners were being taken down with care, many of banners and ribbons appeared to have been torn down and damaged during the revelry.  The mood was somber; many folk were avoiding making loud noises, and others were walking unsteadily, trying not to look at the sun at peak.   But few paid attention to us, as Iesa lead us down several alleyways, keeping us off the main thoroughfares.   It was quicker than I expected, as we encountered little in the terms of crowds.  All the while, I felt on edge.   Were we really being watched or hunted?  For the moment I was simply glad we weren’t heading towards ‘The Lusty Bard.’

It wasn’t long before we found ourselves circling a squared, walled compound.  The grey stone walls stood at least three men high, with battlements, and towers on each corner.  We made our way to the front where a pair of guards, dressed in mail stood attentively in front of a heavily reinforced oaken door.   As we approached, I could see their hands move towards the swords at their hips.   They were expecting trouble, and their open helms didn’t conceal the look of concern on their faces as they looked over each of us one by one.   One of them took a step forward and pointed at Beepu.

“You; what is your name and business?” the guard intoned.  He sounded nervous, like he expected trouble but not clear from where.

Beepu was taken aback for a moment, and quickly repied, “I am Beepu, and I wish to see Arryn Quinte at once!”

The guards looked at each other, and the second guard nodded, and pounded on the door with his mailed fist.  “You are expected; are there any others?” and the scraping sounds of wood against metal was audible.

Beepu thought for a moment, “Erm, no.   We do not expect anyone else.”

The guard nodded, and the double door, split open and two other guards emerged, with hands also at their sword hilts, eyes looking around with concern.  The second guard then said, “These are the ones, take them to Arryn immediately.”  The pair nodded and waited for us to follow them.

We stepped inside the compound; it was essentially a walled fort with a large open area dominating the courtyard.   Pells were arranged on one side, and archery targets were arranged on the other.  From here, I could see that guards were patrolling the walls, while none were engaged on either the pells or targets.  Today was not a day for practice it appeared.   The guards led us past the unused equipment, and towards the entrance to an inner bailey.  Quickly ascending some steps, they opened the door, and led us within.

Before long we were ushered into what appeared to be a small dining hall, where the silver haired Arryn Quinte was pacing near the head of the table.   Upon seeing Nestra, the look on his face changed from concern to relief.

“Nestra you are safe.  I was concerned when you didn’t appear at first light.”

“Some…complications underneath delayed us.  But my…guardians saw me through.” Nestra said, gesturing towards us.

We had begun to remove our peasant garb, when a valet appeared to take our robes from our hands.
“I see.  But I do forget myself, I did ask you to prove you are the real Nestra.  Do you have something to show me.” Arryn said apologetically

Nestra nodded and reached into her satchel and pulled out an oblong object and some parchment and handed them to Arryn.  He looked over a pair of documents with interest, and then looked at the object at one end.

“I remember these, and the seal matches.   And not just any seal either; your personal one not the general business seal.  Forgive me for doubting, but I needed to be certain.”

Nestra nodded and pulled out a chair from the table and fell into it exhausted.

“Some food perhaps, Arryn?  We are all quite famished.”  I said, “Especially her excellency.”

“Of course,” and a quick clap of his hands sent the valet out of the room with the discarded clothes, and in a few moments he returned with flagons, bread and cheese.   We dove in, our hunger stripping away any pretense of manners.

“So Arryn, what happened last night after we left?” Daneath asked.  “I know we caused a bit of excitement on our exit.”

“Surprisingly enough, not much.   Arakhan made a lot of noise about a torch, but nothing really happened until very late in the morning.   I saw that that Vicam’s mood changed and was angry.  He was very angry at the drow he hired, as well as at Arakhan.   But it wasn’t clear on what.    But he was certainly eager to get us all out of the house once the fog retreated.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Iesa said tearing at the bread with his teeth.  “It sounds like someone poisoned his puppy.”

Arryn looked at Iesa with a bemused look, “Well if you believe Vicam has tears, I have a decanter full of them for sale.  But he was indeed furious.  I did notice that he certainly didn’t consult or even speak to…the pretender Nestra.  The Nestra I know always wanted to know about the important details.” Turning to Nestra with a smile.

“He did like to try to keep my nose out of things too often” Nestra commented sourly.  “Pity, he actually had potential.  Now I see that he simply wants to grow beyond his place.”

“So, are all the tinmen, and iron for show, or were you expecting trouble?” I asked after swallowing some cheese.

“Well, I didn’t know what manner to expect you, but I was worried about Vicam,” Arryn explained.  

“But I have a few friends in the watch.  Last we heard, no orders beyond celebration clean up and assessing party fines where needed.”

“Thank you again, Arryn for your help.  Can I trust you to help to remove Vicam from my seat?” Nestra asked.

“Of course, your excellency.  Our loyalty has always been to the ruler of Yartar, and you are still that.” Arryn replied, his fist touching his heart.

“While the nap below was helpful…I feel the need to retire and rest properly.” Nestra said arising.  

“Thank you again, Daneath, Iesa, Beepu and Myrai.  Once I have taken back my seat, I will make sure that the ‘Crimson Star’ is aware of you…value to me.  Now Arryn, if you could spare a chamber for me—”

“One has already been prepared…for each of you actually,” Arryn arose from the table and clapped his hands together.  “My valet can show you the way.  Rest well your excellency”, and the valet bowed and led the tired Nedra from the chamber.

“Now let us get going!   We have a lot to do.” Beepu said.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Daneath said.

“What?  Why not!?” Beepu glared at the warrior.

“Because the Crimson Star isn’t paid yet,” Iesa said.  “Nestra can’t do much until she is back in power.”

“Arryn,” I turned to ask. “What are you going to do to help Nestra?”

Arryn sat down heavily and with a frown said, “Well right now I can’t do much.  I have men in the wilderness hunting down some packs of gnolls that have hitting settlements recently.   That accounts for the majority of my men currently.  I usually send them out to avoid the Hate Night.  This whole event was…unforeseen.”

“That’s an understatement.  How long until they return?” I pressed.

“About a week, and I will have a well-armed company.  More than enough to handle the city guards.  But…”

“But?”

“Vicam has Nestra’s coffers.  The various encampments ranging for Uthgardt burial mounds have enough ne’er do wells to outnumber my men three to one.”

Daneath frowned in thought. “Those are bad odds for any fight.  Whose side did you put the city watch in?”

“Vicam’s, because he’s still paying them.  It would be helpful to get the Crimson Star’s support now though, but I don’t know where they are in this either with your…recent entanglement.”
Iesa stopped chewing a moment, “Why?  What forces would they bring?”

“Fighting wise?  None.  But if they choose a side, noble and commoner alike will tend to not bet against them.  Guardsmen stay home, certain paths become more difficult.  That type of thing.  By the Hells, even the nobles might lend men to the effort…if they thought they were backing the winner.”

“We should not be involved in this political theatre!” Beepu shouted.  “I am sorry but we have more important things to do.”

“Beepu,” I said “This isn’t done.  And the path looks like we need to encourage the Star to take a side and have them call off our debt.  We have to show them the real winner.”

“Utter nonsense!  No good will come from this maneuvering and machinations.  We should let Nestra solve her own problems.  Regardless, I need time to decipher these scrolls and catch up on this work I have been putting off because of you Myr,” and he stormed out of the room, almost bowling over the returning valet.  

“Show me to my room! I have enough to do withou—” and Beepu’s voice trailed off as he walked away from the room.

“Thanks Beepu,” I said with my eyes downcast and more to myself.   After a moment I turned to look at the others. “Well, I guess we need to do something that will get the Star’s favor.”

“What did you have in mind?” Daneath asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“We bring them Nestra’s head as originally asked.  The fake one.” I corrected as I saw Arryn looked at me in shock.

“How?  Arryn said he needs the men from the wilds.” Iesa said.

“We go back the way we came, break in at night and,” I gulped as I put the words together “remove her from the playing field.”

“Why would that help?” Daneath asked.  

Iesa’s eyes widened.  “Of course.  Vicam still doesn’t really have his own power base yet, it’s based on Nestra.  He’s lost the ability to make laws and orders in her name.  But if she were to say something in a council or conducting business, everyone would follow her lead.”

“Right,” I nodded. “Without having the fake one, he can’t claim that Nestra is a fake.  Without someone who was convincing, he can’t have her order the others around.  She’s the key.”

“Just the three of us?” Daneath said incredulously.

“We’d be armed this time.  We know the way, and they wouldn’t be prepared for anything.”

“I don’t like this at all.” Daneath said.

Iesa leaned forward, “A quick dash in and out.  And we can end this?  I’m all for it.”

“I’m not!” 

“What’s the difficulty you are having with this Daneath?” Arryn asked.

“It’s not like the passages below are safe; large spiders and troglodytes at minimum.  And house guards.” Daneath explained.

“I have an idea for the spider,” I quickly said.  “And I’m not worried about the house; they aren’t going to have a pack of men upstairs, when they still need to cover the rest of the grounds.  Granted the trogs…we could use more men.”

Arryn thought a moment.  “I can perhaps spare two men to help you.  I do prefer a more traditional fight.  But this isn’t going to be one of those fights, and if you can do this—there might be less blood spilled.”

Daneath looked at Arryn in surprise, “What?  You are taking their side?”

Arryn smiled, “They have the grasp of strategy.  Your enemy doesn’t know you are coming, and they don’t know when.  If I gather all my men together here, they will know who to watch, and where.   Striking now you have an advantage.  The longer you wait, they have time to ready themselves.”

“I admit, you are making a risk Arryn if you do this.” I said.

“That is true.  But, a true commander knows what he can gamble.  I can lose two men to help you.”

“What happens to us doesn’t cost you,” I countered with a wry grin.

“No.  But you are motivated.” 

“So Daneath?  Five is better than three.” I said looking at him intently.

“We should do this.  You are ‘Big D’ after all.” Iesa said in agreement.

“Oh, you have got to be…fine, fine FINE.  Let’s get it over with.”

“Arryn,” I turned back to the old warrior, “Can we have a man drop a message off to a person in town?  They have many of our things.”

“Of course.  And I am willing to do one better.  If you need any arms or armor, I can supply you from my armory.”

“Well, then.  I need some parchment, a pen and a room.   If you can send your messenger to me I will have a package ready for him.”

Arryn nodded.  “Certainly, when will you leave?”

“Tonight, after we rest a bit.”

“Of course.  Now Daneath, you certainly need some better arms.  Come with me.  You might learn something.  You too Iesa.  My valet will deliver your message.” And again, Arryn clapped his hands, and the boy appeared.  He simply said, “Assist her.  Until evening Myrai.” And he stood, bowed and left the room with the curious pair in tow.  

I looked at the valet.  Young, thin limbed, with sandy hair and brown eyes.  But the one thing about him that stood out, was the aura of exhaustion.  Even now he seemed winded, after had escorted Nestra and Beepu off to rooms elsewhere.  But now he stood, breathing heavily and avoiding my gaze.

“Been a busy day?” I asked?

The boy shrugged, “Lots of runnin ‘round.  Arryn’s squire isn’t ‘ere to help neither,” he said while staring at his feet.

“I see.  Do you have a name?” 

He nodded, and still didn’t raise his eyes.  “Jarris, ser—er m’lady.”

“I’m not a noble, but thanks I suppose.  Jarris, I am going to give you a bundle with a note to run to a tailor in mid-town.  I will have a couple of errands for you on your return and after I rest a bit.”

“What kind of errands?”

“Well, I need to see if there is any arms or armor I can use, get some empty flasks, and lastly I need someone to purchase something for me.

“Sounds better than cleaning the scullery.”

“I would have killed for a chance to clean a scullery.  When I was your age, I was polishing the rust off of manacles…for days.”

“By yourself?”

“No... with about twenty other kids.  There were a lot of manacles.”

“I guess a scullery wouldn’t be as bad.  What did you need bought though?”

“Oh that?  I need a large sheep.”

Session notes:

So why did Beepu leave?  Because Beepu’s player wasn’t going to be available for the next session.   The DM didn’t want to play him, nor let us double up.   But we did make an elaborate setup, to do basically what happened next.

1654


----------



## Nthal

*The Past Paths of Darkness - 04/24/2019*

*The Past and Paths of Darkness​*
_If Sigil is anything, it is about belief.  In the universe.  In yourself.  In what you perceive.  In order.  In entropy.    There is even a belief that that powers aren’t what they claim (barmy Athars.)  But it is all about you in the end.

That isn’t the same thing as faith.  Faith is belief in something or someone else.  It requires no proof.  It only demands your trust.  

Finding what you believe in is easy.  Finding faith in something, is a struggle that will last a lifetime.​_
The brimstone stink hung heavy in the air in the Lower Ward.  The dank muggy air, cling to clothes and skin alike here at the Gatehouse.  For the folk in line for bread or healing, or a room for the evening it is something to endure as they wait.  Perhaps they get what they seek, perhaps they sleep the night in the dirty gutters till the morning and start the wait again.  Some might not last that long, and the collectors come for their shells.

I had finished my tasks for the day, and I rested my bones outside the Gatehouse, alone.  I’m always alone these days.  Once I would have thought about sneaking off into the night and getting jinx by lighting people home.  But now, even as the darkness begins to fall, I have no desire to move in the oppressive heat.  No will to chase the jink that would let me leave this place.  Nothing mattered.  Perhaps there wasn’t a point to the multiverse.  It is as it is, and no action would change it.
I sat there looking past the throngs of people.  Their faces covered by hoods, robes, cloth strips across faces.  All to hide the truth of loss.  An eye.  A pox. A scar.  Pride.  Or that there was nothing left to lose.

The fetid air made the alleyways and thoroughfares alike appeared choked with a yellow haze.   I was simply staring into it, when a lone figure, slowly and deliberately made its way through it.  With uneven steps, it unhurriedly walked past the mass of the poor that gathered here seeking out respite from the uncaring multi-universe.

As it approached the entrance way, I could see her…no it, clearly.   The reddish skin mixing with dark purple botches on the arms.  What was once fine copper hair, was now matted against the skull with clumps missing from the scalp.  The hair did not hide the thick leather cord that kept the head attached to the once young body.  No cloth hid the milky whites of blind eyes, no longer needed.  No pox or scar blemished the dead skin of her cheeks.   There was no sign of pride, and certainly not fear on the face of this wreck of bone and flesh that stumbled ever forward.  

Elisna.

I shivered as I saw her…it.  My name day adventure gone wrong, when the multi-verse took the one thing that mattered to me.  My defender.  My friend.  My…sister.  She moved towards the great gate slowly, and none blocked her path, or even gave her a second look.  No one cared about her now as a corpse for the Dustmen.  

She shambled slowly past me, her head turned and locked on a point within the gateway.  It did not turn to face the other living poor.  Or me.  My heart’s wounds were still fresh from the day when she was slain in the streets near the Armory.  And the cold reality of the multi-verse struck hard again.  For, the first time in days I could feel again, as all the emotions boiled forth within me.    

Sorrow.  Horror.  Guilt.

For the first time in weeks I felt the urge to move.  To get away.   To run.  To hide.  I clamored to my feet and ran.  From her…it.  From my sorrow.  My guilt.   My shame.

I didn’t really run far.  Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl as I moved through the dirty streets.  Tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the hazy path in front of me.  I blinked madly and wiped my dirty arm across my eyes.   Soon, I was deep in the Hive, and darkness was starting to set in.  Still crying, I turned and ran into a building with a random open doorway.

No…it wasn’t random.  I saw a warm light, and like a moth to flame I sped towards it and crossed into the dilapidated tenement.  Turning the corner, I sat on the ground, with my scrapped knees pressed against my eyes, and sobbed.  I remembered screaming when Elisna died; I’m sure I cried.  But this seemed to be the big one; the one where you are overwhelmed with the moment and meaning of the emotion.  My heart was giving everything into the effort, holding nothing back, when I heard a sound.

My eyes were full of tears, and I could barely see.  But I remember that dry papery voice; “My child.  What leads you here in such sorrow?”

I turned my head to look at the voice, and I saw the yellowing skin of an old figure.   His skin pulled taut against bones in his arms and hands, which while thin belied a wiry strength.  Beneath a cowl, I saw that his eyes were a pale green, and I could barely see pointed ears and some semblance of hair on his head, pulled back tightly.  His face had a thin moustache, and a thin beard neatly trimmed into a point.   His facial features highlighted strong cheekbones as do many of the Githzerai race.

“My friend…she…she…died…and…and…” I stammered.

“You feel…responsible?  Guilty?  Ashamed?  Uncertain?”

I felt these things, but the word ‘uncertain’ took me by surprise.  I looked at the Githzerai puzzled, mouthing “Uncertain?”

“Yes.  Uncertain on what you should do.  Can do.  Must do.  How to move on, in essence.”

“It…it hurts.”

“Yes.  I am certain it does.  But have you considered there is a reason for that young one?”

“N—n—no.  What good is…pain like this?”  

“So, we remember of course.”

“I don’t want to remember!  I want…want”

“You want the pain to end yes?  Then you must remember in a…useful way.”

“Why remember at all?”

“We remember to never forget the one who passed beyond the veil.  We remember to honor for what they stood for.  What they taught us.  What they meant to us.  And that is why we should not forget.”

“But…but…wh—”

“Why?  Because the lessons the dead give are important.”

“I..I..don’t..under—“ 

“No.  Not yet.  Think about your friend.  What would she want for you?”

I looked at him and turned away my eyes were searching aimlessly as I thought about Elisna.  The times we spent together dreaming of a life far away from the Gatehouse.  A life unfettered with debt, in control of our destiny.  Doing things that were more important than meaningless chores.  A life where we embraced the future.

A life without fear.

With that revelation, it put all the antics she had done into contrast.  She pushed me to do outlandish things, not because she desired trouble for anyone.  But that she saw that my fear held me back from being more.  She always wanted the best for me, even if things didn’t turn out the way she anticipated.  Even my name day.

Still sitting on the ground, my heart slowed and my tears began to dry.  I then felt the hand of the Githzerai on my shoulder.

“I see you have found some peace.  I hope that my small part helps.” He said with compassion and warmth.

I turned to look at the Githzerai in the eyes.  His eyes were tired, but his face was serene and certain.  Around his neck was a simple chain, which hung a bronze disk of a skeletal arm holding a set of balanced scales.

“Are you a cleric?”

He shook his head, “No.  I am not blessed with the power of the divine.  I am a lay priest who assists whomever I can with my lords’ tenets.”

“Who is your power, and what tenets?”

He smiled at me, “His name is Kelemvor, and he is a god of death.  As for his tenets, they are relatively simple.  Live long, help others to live, help others to deal with death, and help those with death who cannot help themselves.”

“The Bleakers say the multiverse doesn’t have a point or purpose, and the best we can do is help the berk next to you.”

“I admire their ethic, but if the multiverse isn’t about life and living, why do we need death then?  It’s a waste of an otherwise wonderous creation.”

Kneeling there I thought more and asked, “Why does a power of death, care about anyone living at all?”

“We believe that everyone has a finite time, and that time should be used to experience, grow and pass on that knowledge.  For a soul to be claimed by their god, they must have time to demonstrate their faith; and the longer the better.”

“Can…can…you teach me more?”

“Of course, all you need to do now, is…” and the hand on my shoulder gripped me tightly, and I watched the skin and tissue crumble into dust.  Looking at his face, I saw the skin sloughed away and then I watched his eye sink back and disappear into his skull.  The pools of darkness held my vision and the darkness burned my eyes, as I could not turn away. I squeezed my eyes shut to hide from the horrific visage in front of me..

_Open your eyes Myrai!
_
I sat up in the room, chest heaving.  The room that Jarris had taken me to, was simple; a bed, a table and stool, and a small chest near the foot of the bed.  I could see the green vial of ink, and the brown parchment paper on the table, along with a half-eaten red apple.

Sighing, I pulled myself up off the bed and stood, stretching.  I was only dressed in a long tunic that I had found in the room.  My dress was sent away with a simple letter back to the tailor.  It said little, only thank you in Celestial and Common.  The under garments were a wreck, and I felt lucky to have the tunic to cover myself.

I had started a second letter, this one to Beepu when the candle I had in the room ran out.  At that point I decided to try to get some rest and slept. Now, I looked at the letter, and was thinking about what I had written, when I realized something was different.

On the table was the remains of a half-eaten apple.  I looked at the apple and realized that It cast no shadow.  It certainly did before in the flickering candle light, but now…nothing.  I looked down at the floor, at my feet and I realized that I didn’t cast one either.   In fact, nothing did.  Not the stool, not the bed, not the table.  There were no shadows, and no darkness.  Everything looked like it was in peak on the brightest day.

I shook my head.  This didn’t make any sense.  Why were there no shadows?  I turned to look at the letter and the writing on it, when I realized something else.

I could read the words.   

My heart started to quicken its pace.  I could always see in the dark, I suppose since birth.  Nothing ever was truly dark.  But before, when I looked around, everything was a shade of grey or black. But I couldn’t read in it; I needed to create or use some form of light.  Otherwise the page of a book would be a uniform grey.  But now in what should have been true darkness it was different.  No shadows from light, yet all the colors that light revealed were visible.  

“What the?”  I pulled my hair forward, so I could see it, and I could clearly see the color of beaten gold.  The inkwell, the apple, even my brown tunic; all had clear color. 

<Knock, knock>

“M’lady, Myrai?” came the muffled, tentative voice of Jarris.

“Come in.” I replied, and the door swung open, flooding the room with shadows and light.  A torch in a sconce opposite my room’s door, barely lit the room.  But in doing so, the colors faded to grey.  The words on the page were there, but much harder to read in the dim light.  

I was absorbing this, as Jarris stepped into the room with a bundle, and on top of the bundle was a simple note.

“Any trouble getting this?” I asked taking the bundle and placing it on the bed.  I was picking up the note as he replied.

“No.  The old man was delighted to get your note and package.  Luckily his apprentice had a cart and we got all other stuff.

“Stuff?  What about Mo?”

“Mo?  The monkey?  He followed along making noises and throwing pebbles at us.  Didn’t stop until we got in the compound and he saw the lean one.  Made a bolt right towards him screeching.  The lean one was happy though.”

I smiled, “I imagine so.”  Taking the note, I saw it had written inside a single phrase:

‘Thanks for the memory.’

I then opened the package, and saw within my pack, boots, leathers, and my belt with three daggers within.  Drawing one, I spun it in my fingers.  It seemed like ages since I needed it or used it.  But the weight of it in my hand was comforting.  Not having a weapon on me during the party, made me feel vulnerable; almost naked.  But with the dagger in my hand I felt confident again.  It was something visible that I wasn’t some cony waiting to be bobbed and peeled.  I was a cutter, and I would make you hurt if you assumed otherwise.

Jarris watched my display silently for some time before speaking again, “You might think about something bigger.  That’s what the men at the pells always tell the recruits when they start with daggers.”

“Well, I guess they might have a point there.  Let me get dressed and finish this note.  Then you can take me to the armory to find a ‘proper’ weapon.”

“Yes M’lady,” and the boy left the room sheepishly.

But once the door closed, blocking the torch light, once again the room lit up with clarity and color.  I could see the reds, blacks, and browns in my leathers, the dull shiny steel color of my daggers.  Everything.

Something had changed within me.  I didn’t understand how this could be.  Why now?  I did feel stronger overall, but I had also eaten and slept.  I decided I would have to ask Beepu later about it…assuming he was speaking with anyone at all.

I put on my gear, hurriedly finished my letter, and left the room with Jarris.  Jarris took me outside to the training yard.  The pells and targets were unused, and the yard itself was empty, although two guards were on the wall patrolling.  Jarris led me toward a different door on the main building and motioned me inside.

There were some oil lamps in the room, and along the walls arranged in neat orderly rows, were weapons.  Spears, swords, hammers, polearms and others all leaned in their racks on one wall.  On the opposite wall were stands of armor, and shields arranged on the floor leaning against the walls.
I walked over to a sword on the rack and picked it up.  I held it a moment, feeling its weight.  It was crafted well enough, but it felt too heavy; like I would exhaust myself trying to swing it.  I returned the weapon to its place on the rack and moved down farther, until I came across a slim blade, with a fancy cross hilt.  Unlike the other weapons, it was sheathed.  I grasped the scabbard and drew the blade, which rewarded me with that fine metal on metal scrape as it came free. 

I saw that while it had an edge, it was meant to be used as a thrusting weapon.  I remembered that some cutters in Sigil preferred blades like this; they were fast, and a hard thrust could create a grievous wound.  After cutting the air for a couple of moments, I nodded to myself.  This would be a blade I could use effectively.

“A rapier?  I’m not sure that’s what they meant by ‘bigger.’”

“Probably not.” And I shifted my dagger to my right hip and attached the rapiers’ frog on my left. “But I can use this better, than those other swords.”

I then moved down the line of armor, and found on a stand a simple chain vest, with some rents in the metal rings, and a bunch of extra leather thong.  Staring at it a moment, I realized it was the chain shirt that Daneath had used during our escape from the mansion.  I knew it didn’t fit well, but I didn’t realize how much extra thong it took to make it work for him.  Looking it over, it appeared to be sized for either a slender man, or perhaps an elf.

I focused a moment on the chainmail shirt and pulled on the light within me.  I poured the energy to fixing the rings, and slowly the rents began to close.

I could Jarris next to me, “You can do that?  Arryn would make me do that with pincers.”

I shrugged, “I can fix some things.  But here, help me put this on and size it a bit.  I draped the shirt over my shoulder, and looked at the floor, when I saw a round buckler on the ground. 

“Perfect.  Just what I need.”

It took a bit to get the armor sized appropriately, but Jarris was a help.  He clearly was working hard to be a squire, if for no other reason than to pass the valet work to someone else.  Soon I exited the armory and entered the yard.  There near the pells stood Arryn, Iesa, Daneath, and two other armored figures I didn’t recognize.  I noticed that Mo was bounding around the roofline, and that Iesa kept an eye on his furry pal’s wandering as I approached.

Daneath was dressed in different armor than when I first met him and was nodding to something that Arryn was saying when I stepped up to the group with Jarris.

“Ah…Myrai.  You look…different.  Like you are expecting trouble,” Arryn noted with approval.

“Well, if you aren’t prepared for trouble, you are going to be surprised.” I replied.

“Indeed.  Now Daneath, remember those strikes and moves.  It will help you gain an edge over your opponent.  I bet Iesa could do the same, if he focused on the technique more.”  Arryn then turned and gestured to the two armored figures standing nearby. 

“This is Berevan and Viceri.  They are solid soldiers and have volunteered to help you.”   At this point, both took their right fist, and thumped their own chest with enthusiasm.  Arryn continued “I found out that the guards at the western gate are former blade members.  They won’t stop anyone in Blades livery, nor will they report your leaving the city at all.  Beyond that it is all up to you.  I wish you luck and may the gods protect you.”

We all nodded our thanks and turned to the pair.  Daneath spoke first, “Well, as I am sure Arryn told you we are taking a hidden path to our target.  There are monesters in the caverns below, and then eventually some house guards once we reach the manor house.  If we do this right, we won’t have all the guardsmen coming down on us.”

Berevan and Veceri nodded.  Berevan then spoke, “This doesn’t seem to be the honorable way to do this.”

I stepped forward and paced in front of the two. “Perhaps not.  But is it honorable to stuff a person who has done no wrong into a cage?  Is it honorable, to summon a foul servant to help keep her penned?” 

Both men shook their heads, their faces expressions grim.  

I continued pacing in front of them, “These aren’t honorable foes.  They have lied and deceived the whole of Yartar from noble to commoner.  Why would they fight on fair terms?  And so why should others die, if we can avoid a larger fight?”

“We are taking the fight to them, where they think they have the advantage.  Our hope is to be swift and to do the unexpected.  Can you handle that?”

The pair didn’t hesitate.  They nodded and said in unison, “Yes m’lady,”

“Alright then.  Jarris, drop off the note under Beepu’s door, and then I will need the…”

“Right away, I’ll be right back with it” and Jarris bounded off without me finishing my sentence.“Alright then.  Let’s do this and get back before the next morning’s light,” Daneath said.

“Great, but what’s Jarris getting for you Myrai?” Iesa asked as he was feeding Mo a small piece of dried fruit.

I looked at Iesa, “Something to keep the spider busy.”

*Session notes:
*
Everyone leveled at this point, although the joke at the table was that Beepu would be behind because he missed the session.  It meant some spells, hp, and stuff, but most of the upgrades were in gear items and less wealth.

1,718


----------



## Nthal

*Interlude: Professor Morkbottom - 5/1/2019*

*Notes from the symposium on “Heroes – Social constructs or deviants?” 

Candlekeep – DR 1842
*
Now as I explained in the last hour, heroism takes on many forms.   But too often it seems that bards and minstrels overlook in their songs the thought behind actions.  Too often we hear tales of heroes jumping into the fray without a care or thought.  But the reality of course is much murkier. And in the case of heroes on their opening steps in their adventures it can be perilous.

So, taking an example from the late 1400s, let us discuss the “Souls of Legend” as we now know them.  As is the case of early heroes, we have a wide array of various writings of the time, but fragmented and often contradictory.  Often the sources themselves seem questionable.  But sometimes we are fortunate to have some complete writings, and even writings from the protagonists themselves.

The first of the heroes is mostly known today as “Big D” as his name has been lost to time.   And as typical for many of the period, he left no written work.  Most of what we know has been come from two sources. The first source are remains of gambling chits with the word “Big D” upon them.  Around these chits is a great oral history of a peerless battlemaster in the ring.  One able to control opponents and guide allies equally on the field of combat.  Here too, the wealth and success of those gambling on his fortunes were legendary in their own right.  The second source of information stands in contrast.  Remains of souvenirs sold by halfling merchants; dented codpieces with small signs in common saying “How about them Apples?”

<Chuckles from the audience>

The halflings of the time had a very low regard for the warrior, but it isn’t clear why.  So, it’s hard to reconcile these diverse opinions from the times, and the one thing that could settle the truth once and for all, something from his own hand, simply doesn’t exist.

A pity.

Next, we have Iesa.   He is a cipher really.  As typical for someone in his profession, he avoids leaving evidence like a plague from Talona.  But we do know of his trade from the writings of his peer calling him a “Knight of the Post.”  We’ll talk about that author momentarily, but even today in the planar cant it paints him and his deeds in a shadowy light.   But from what we can tell, it was used dare I say affectionately. Even in Sigil, this can be seen as a mark of regard,  one that many take in pride.   But for Iesa, it is more nuanced, as we do have a fragment of his own writing.  It shows a man conflicted; growing up in a world and he try to find his place in it.  He calls out to his mother in these fragments, trusting to family and not gods to provide guidance.  It is writings such as this, that places these early heroes in perspective; they are mortal, and they know it, and sometimes the getting by and surviving is the most important thing.

Next, we have the most prolific author of the four, and unfortunately the least accessible; Beepu.  His writings are vast, ponderous, and woefully incomplete.  As typical in the Gnomish writing style of the time, he used written Gnomish as a memory jogger, and so there are gaps throughout his personal writings.   So, an example is that most diagrams are incomplete, as they only can be pieced together with thoughts of the author.  Some others derisively call this “lazy note taking” but considering the multiple volumes written before he ventured out in the world, I doubt this interpretation.  But in his writings that survive, they are almost all about construction of magical items and family, specifically his father.   It is difficult to ascertain context or meaning behind what appears to be the ramblings of a half mad bullywug who has smoked too many herbs for their own sake.

<Chuckles again from the audience…gnomes are glaring>

For most humans, not versed in gnomish this is a barrier to research.  But occasionally, a piece of written text appears that is much more complete in both what is written and context.  In this case we do have a fragment of a letter that is basically admonishing his peers, not to get involved in politics, and to move on to search the north for “Flint Rock.”  It is in clear common, that he also senses mortality and cares for his peers.   This is a direct contrast to our image of heroes jumping in and doing…well…heroic things!  If we didn’t know of the exploits of these individuals, it might seem cowardly.  But is it cowardice or caution?  Should we take these words seriously?

That leads us to the last one, Myrai.  That she is unique is a dramatic understatement.  She isn’t from Toril; a being native to Sigil that gives her a jaded and highly biased perspective on people.  Her journal, once you scrub through generations of planar cant idioms, clearly has a negative view of many folks she encounters.  The closest parallel is dropping a Waterhavian noble among the Uthgardt tribe for a spa day.

<Mild chortles>

But, unlike the writings that the bards have written about her, are strikingly honest and unflinching.  One example is her litany on fiends and celestials; the true immortals and how mortals are nothing more than tools in an endless war.  She shows in her texts, a stark view of the multiverse and mortals place in it.

Which gives one of Candlekeep’s  treasures, an original complete copy of a letter to Beepu from Myrai before they set out on a dangerous undertaking.

 “Beepu.

I know your study and research is your passion is top of your mind.  Your letter is an inspired warning of fools who shouldn’t dabble in politics.  It certainly set “D’s” mind going.

But we are going after her.  Not because of the politics though.  That was unavoidable once that bargain was made.  And I feel trapped in that bargain.  

But the fate of those in politics are their own; I’m only keen to tip the scales in our favor.   And right now, we have two groups that aren’t kindly disposed to us.  Vicam and all the power he has is going to be focused on us for what we have done, and the Crimson Star’s power and influence for what we haven’t done.  All because of that bargain and the choices that led you all to save me; to bring me back.  I can’t walk away from that…gift.  And I can’t let you all pay for it with blood.

So, we can’t repair our standing with both groups; it is too late for that now.  But we can square the deal with one and get the favor of a third, the Waterbaroness, to tip the scales in our favor.  And maybe do the right thing in the process.

During the Factor War five years ago, I spent my time hiding on a battlefield.   The Cage had lived up to its name, letting no one in or out.  I spent my time helping.  Mostly by getting folks out of harm’s way, not fighting or being in the way.  But I did pickup on tactics that the Harmonium used.  

1.	Always have a safe place to retreat to
2.	Don’t leave a safe place for your opponents
3.	And always go into a fight with eyes open.

Yartar isn’t safe for us to go to Flint Rock.  We can’t come back easily without taking care of problems here.  Our opponents are still strong here; and we have a chance to neutralize one and weaken the other.  And lastly, I intend to move fast, strike hard, and get ready to run if need be.
So…thanks for the advice.  It took an hour, but “D” agrees.  Kelemvor’s symbol is a scale held up by a skeletal arm.  With some blessing and luck, I hope the scales tilts our way.

Myrai

P.S. – Iesa is really mad you didn’t use his name in your letter.   I’d watch your component pouch for monkey poop if I were you.”

So, a scion of immortals is also concerned with her own mortality.  But it drives her forward; committing her to taking action and embracing the risk.  But why? Because, it is the safer action?  Because the payoff and good it does is worthwhile?  Because of a debt and obligation to see a deal through?

All of these reason matter to the hero.  Only at the beginning of their path, can we see that they truly understand its cost.

Trandlehard Morkbottom, Avowed of Candlekeep

*Notes:*

I wrote a version of this, so not to reveal to Beepu what happened while he was out.  Let us say…he was surprised. 

Personally, I found the idea of researchers looking back 300 years at the past exploits of adventures hilarious.  So Morkbottom does appear time to time to give folks a different take on events.

1,791


----------



## Nthal

*Retracing the Path - 05/09/2019*

*Retracing the path

Some barmy hardhead once said that ‘Criminals always return to the scene of a crime.’  That’s a load of blex.

They only do if they have a good reason, or they are really daft.

Usually, its’ both.​*

“So, I don’t understand--” Daneath started.

The sun was close to setting, and we had just passed through the eastern gate.  Following the road, we were making our way back to the hidden entrance of the temple.

“Trust me it will work out fine,” I said.

“I’m not worried about the plan.   It just feels wrong to bring it along at all.”

“I’m sure you can be its gallant defender if the time comes.”

“Baaah,” was the only response from the docile sheep I was leading along with us down the road, oblivious to the risks it would be facing in the near future.

Deneath held his tongue as the five of us continued to make their way to the vine covered entrance of the once forgotten temple.  The sheep followed peacefully enough on its own.  I was told by the farmer to avoid looking at it, and it would simply follow along.   He said he ‘bred the smarts’ out them, so he didn’t have to chase them around.  I for one wasn’t to complain.  Before long we had arrived at the vine covered passage.  

“And to think we were so excited to have found the exit,” Iesa commented with a wry grin.  His mood was light as Mo was on his shoulder once again.  The monkey clung onto him as much as a lost child clings to their mother.   I was envious.  While Foggle was interesting and useful, Mo’s behavior was more than just a simple Lim-Lim.  Mo seemed relatable.  But while interesting, it wasn’t what I wanted.

“Call it penance for leaving a job unfinished,” I commented.

“So…what are we facing in…there?” Berevan said pointing to the darkened entrance.

“Well, a trap, troglodytes, and spiders,” Daneath said simply.  “The trap isn’t a problem as Myrai can get us all past it.”

“Troglodytes?” Veceri spoke up.  “Those are like lizardfolk but smellier right?”

Iesa nodded, “Yep, those are the ones.  And the smell isn’t a joke.”

“So, what’s the sheep for?” Veceri pressed.

“The spider,” I said while looking over my gear.

“How big is this spider?”  Berevan asked with some concern.

“About as big as a horse,” and I looked directly at Berevan whose face was taut with a look of consternation.  “So hopefully the sheep will occupy it’s time.”

“That sounds cruel,” said Veceri.

“Well, it was going to be mutton for someone already.  So better it than us,” I said.  
The two men looked at each other with the look that said, ‘What have we gotten ourselves into?’

“Don’t worry,” I said smiling.  “We came through it all once before, barely armed.  I think that together armed as we are, the monsters won’t be a problem.”

“Well, let’s do this.  Light Myrai?” Daneath said hefting his own familiar shield.
I closed my eyes and focused, and felt the warmth spread up my back once again.  Opening them, I saw Daneath duck down into the dunntl.

“Wait…were those…I mean…did I see?” Veceri stammered.

Iesa patted the man on the shoulder, “You did see them.  Don’t point them out to her though.  She gets cranky about that.”

“I heard that,” I said glaring at him, and I followed Daneath down into the hidden tunnel, leaving the darkening sky of the surface.

Heading back into the depths, the tunnel had lost all the warmth we saw earlier in the morning.  The sun no longer lit the corridor with hope.  Now it felt that the darkness we descended into would stain our souls.  It felt appropriate considering the task we set upon ourselves.  It was as if my meager light was all that stood between us and damnation.

We reached the pool, and the here too in the dark the character changed.  The water appeared black, and the elven letters on the rim of the pool gave it a sinister look.  I stepped up to the pool and filled the two flasks I was carrying, so we could leave once our task was done.  

I then anointed myself, whispered a prayer of absolution to myself.  I then anointed each of the others in turn.  While Iesa and Daneath were indifferent to the blessing, Brevan and Verceri looked at me suspiciously.  

“Just ask for forgiveness.  It doesn’t matter what but be honest.”

They looked at each other and consented, each kneeling and kissing the pommel of their swords.  Finally, as a precaution, I touched the faces of Mo and the sheep.  

“Is that necessary?” Iesa asked.  “I mean, I’m not sure that Mo…prays.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does.”

“What do you mean?”

I smile and look at Iesa, “Because he worships you.”

Iesa looked at me and was about to respond, when he instead shut his mouth in a grin.  Looking down he nodded and chuckled at the truth.

We moved down the hall to the still open doors into the main temple.  While I was holding my breath as we crossed, nothing happened.  After we all crossed the threshold, I noticed that Daneath and Iesa both gave out a loud exhale.

“Faith you might have found…trust might take longer,” I quipped.

“Well, considering searing light wasn’t what we expected the first time—” Daneath started.

“Searing light?” the two blades said in unison.

“That’s what happens if you don’t use the water and ask for forgiveness.” I said.

“Wait, what did you expect?” Brevan asked.

“Oh…there was a list.  But it isn’t important now.” I said, trying not to giggle.

“Alright…so, where are we?”

“In a forgotten elven temple.  Keep your eyes open.  If we find anything, odds are it’s the spider.”  Daneath said, all business.

We moved to the ajar panel that once concealed the hidden passageway on this side and we all stepped inside.  Once in position, Iesa put his hand on the lever.  Looking at each of us a moment he nodded, and I could tell he mouthed counting to three and then pulled the level down.  Farther down the passageway, from around the corner I could hear the loud scraping of stone on stone.  I grimaced at the sound remembering how it attracted the spider the first time.  While Brevan and Verceri looked at each other grimly as they noticed the door to the temple swinging shut.

As the scraping noise dragged on I looked down the tunnel and shook my head.  What I saw was strange; everything in range of the light of Daneath’s shield was bright or dim.  But beyond it everything was as bright as daylight.  And I now noticed that it wasn’t just how bright everything was, but how far.  I could easily see in the dark for about twenty or thirty paces, but I could see twice that now.  Another oddity I needed time to think about it.  Time, I didn’t not have now.

The scraping stopped, and Daneath started to move forward when I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Let me lead, I can see farther anyway.”

Daneath’s brows furrowed a moment and he then shrugged and stepped aside.  I moved in front of him and moved forward.  I really wished that Foggle was here to do this for us.  Beepu for all of his annoying quirks was if nothing, reliable.  Foggle was a great asset, and I could only hope that between my new sight, and our friends that it would be enough to make up the difference.

We reached the end of the passage, and the door stood wide open.  Swallowing and suppressing my fear, I looked around the corner.

The last time I was here I remembered seeing the spider emerging from the darkness.  Now, it was bright without a shadow on the wall, floor or anywhere.  I could see the room with the dry well ahead.  What I didn’t see was the spider.

“Baaaah,” the sheep bleated.  It was remarkably calm considering it was in a darkened temple and had followed submissively to the rope I held.  At least one of in group was calm, ironically.

Waving the others forward, I lead the sheep forward to the opening ahead.   I wasn’t really trying to be quiet or hide my movements considering the amount of armor and leather scraping and creaking behind me.  Swallowing, I pushed the fear out from my mind and moved forward and crossed into the room.

It was as dusty and dirty before, but the bodies of the little spiders had disappeared.  The room of course seemed brighter to me, and I could see the walls clearly now.  The main thing that might have been different, were the shrouds of webbing that hung from the ceiling.  But honestly, I wasn’t sure they were really new.  I didn’t have nearly as good a look before, so were they new, or did I just not see them clearly?

I started moving along the edge of the wall; I wanted to stay away from the dry well where we suspected the giant arachnid laired.  We had had all entered the room, and the rest were following my lead when from the edge of my vision I saw a motion.

I turned my head to look.  At first, I saw nothing.  And then saw the slight movement again.  Focusing I realized I saw a large forelimb touching a wisp of cobweb.  And then with horror I realized that what I thought was a veil of webbing hanging from the ceiling was much more.  The webbing draped around the thorax of the monster.  Its unblinking eyes trained towards our band against the wall.  

I didn’t even have a moment to say a word or shout a warning, when it dashed forward.  As large as it was, it was shocking at how swiftly it moved, taking us by surprise.  Its attention was focused singularly at one us as its new prey.  The smallest one.

The sheep.

The sheep didn’t even hear it approach as the spider grabbed at it and bit.  It barely had time to make a half-hearted weak noise.  Iesa’s reaction was quick, backing away from the sheep.  Then he swiftly started to circle around the backside of the monstrosity, making his way to the next doorway.   Mo was even quicker; bolting from his shoulder disappearing into the darkness.  I moved toward the same doorway, never turning my back to the thing.  And Daneath, who was following me was nearly as fast, backing up, with his shield pointing directly towards the thing. 

Berevan and Verceri were stuck flatfooted by the predator, and while I couldn’t see either clearly, I could hear them shout, followed by the whistling of blades.  And then finally, I heard the sound I was dreading; the sound of a blade against the carapace.

The prey and my plan was now forgotten, half wrapped in silk on the ground.  The spider shifted quickly to face the attackers striking it.  Iesa notice the change in focus immediately, and moved forward to strike at the spider, missing with his rapier.  Daneath moved toward it and struck a solid blow against the abdomen.  I focused a moment and send a blast of energy at the thing, striking true as a purple blast of energy flew from my hands to strike its thorax.

The spider turned to face the its greatest annoyance, Daneath.  It quickly spun and lurched forward at him.  Its forelegs reached out to grab the shield and pull it down with its weight, so it could bite him.  But the bite missed its mark, and I saw Daneath take advantage of the moment and quickly reposted, clipping it.  This did leave an opening for Iesa, but the spider pushed him away using a pair of its rear legs.  Unbalanced now, it was able to dodge Berevan’s clumsy swing, but Veceri struck true with a hard blow against the abdomen to which the spider gave out a great hissing sound turning suddenly, causing me to miss with my next bolt of energy.

The spider retaliated against Veceri, batting away Veceri’s shield easily.  It then lunged forward, sinking teeth into his flesh where the shoulder met the neck.  His scream quickly started to fade, and I saw him drop his sword to the ground and he sinking to his knees.  Iesa thrust with this weapon, now the spider was busy pumping poison into the helpless warrior, sinking his blade deeply into it.  The spider shuddered at this, and again, when Daneath’s sword came crashing down on its thorax.  The spider quickly turned again, it’s forelegs again flailed against the warrior’s shield.  

While the spider was focused on breaking through the defenses of the warrior, Iesa took advantage of the spider’s singular focus.   He lunged and thrusted his rapier striking deep into the seam between the abdominal and thorax plates.  The hit was rewarded with ichor spurting from the wound.  The spider shuddered for a moment, and then sank slowly to the floor.  It’s quivering legs curling beneath its body reflexively.

But while the battle was over for the spider, it wasn’t for Veceri.  I ran over to the fallen warrior and laid my hand upon his chest.  I started to pour light into him, trying to stave the bleeding.  The energy came forth in a rush and as I channeled light into him, his eyes fluttered open.  He gasped for air, and then his breathes started to slow down to a measured pace.

Satisfied, I stood up and made my way to the poor sheep, wrapped in the webs.  It was breathing quietly, and lay unconscious on the floor.  I pulled out my dagger and cut away the webbing holding it fast.  I let it rest there on the floor, somewhat relieved it lived through the attack, and a little guilt for using it as bait.

“Anyone else hurt?” I asked, not seeing anything obviously wrong with the others.

“No.  Perhaps thanks to your gambit with the sheep there,” Iesa said pointing at the animal, and as Daneath shook his head.

“Perhaps it was for the best, now that we don’t have to worry about running into it on the way back,” I replied.

“Do you suppose I could go into the well and…” Iesa asked looking at the dry well again.

“And what?” Daneath asked.

“Well, get the coin I dropped in—”

“No.” Daneath and I said at once.  Iesa looked as us crestfallen.  At this point, Mo returned from the doorway leading deeper inside the ruined temple and jumped on Iesa’s shoulder.  Iesa smiled and ruffled the monkey’s fur.

“Well, if we are all good, let’s keep going.  No more spiders; just Troglodytes.” Daneath said to the two warriors.

“So, keep a nose out,” I said.   I refreshed the energy on the shield and took the lead.  Soon we arrived in the rotting library.  Where the air was once dry, it tasted wetter now, and the smell of wet paper permeated the air.  The hole to the caves was still very visible and seemed much as we left it earlier in the day.

We crawled through and made our way down the passageway until we reached the intersection where down headed to the burrows, and the right turn that led to the caves and pools and the iron bound door leading up into the manor.  Beforehand, we used Foggle to scout the way for us.  Now I found myself with the sharper vision and looking for threats ahead.

I really wished that Foggle could do it instead.

Looking down the tunnel I could just barely see it open into a large chamber, but there was no sign of anyone or anything below.  I then turned to the right-hand passage and stepped up into the large cave system that separated us from the spiraling staircase.

I entered the cavern and knew that something was different.  The first thing I noticed was that there was no sign of the bodies that we had left behind from our original decent.  But the second was more relevant; the odor. I could smell that odor that marked the presence of the Troglodytes.  Yet not the scent of decay or death.  

It was then that I could hear the hissing in the cavern.  And then I knew we were being hunted.

*Session Notes:
*So if this sounds like Jurassic Park…it was.  Sorta.  It was a random roll for who the spider went through…and it was the sheep.

1884


----------



## Nthal

*Of Fire and Fate - 05/23/2019*

*Of Fire and Fate​*_There are many regrets one can acquire in a lifetime.  Should have, Could have, Would have.

It is occasionally nice to say though:  “Nope!  I don’t regret that!”

Not that it was obvious at the time._​
The hissing sound came from the left and the right, and within moments our small band was surrounded by troglodytes.  The smell was overpowering, and it took quiet the effort to contain myself and not retch.  

Daneath and Iesa went left, and Berevan and Veceri went right.  I don’t remember how many there were total, but it became chaotic, as the lizard like folk charged from behind stalagmites from both sides.   I focused more on the right side, guessing that Berevan and Veceri might need more assistance. 

The iron blades worked well together against the Troglodytes.  They stood shoulder to shoulder and covered each other well.  Berevan on the right would strike out at one first, and pulled back defensively, allowing Veceri to lunge forward, strike and retrench, readying themselves for the next go around.  Except while they focused one creature at a time, I was able to focus on two at once.

As I reached towards the Troglodytes with some of the dark energy, I realized that if they were close enough, that I could lash it to two of them.  So I coiled my will around a pair, and pulled at their life’s essence.  Tapping it and pulling it away from them in equal measure.  Berevan certainly noticed, exclaiming, “by the Gods,” as ghostly skeletal hands reached out and clung onto our smelly foes.
Meanwhile Daneath was proving himself a more dangerous foe; several times one of the Trogs would miss him, creating an opening for a quick riposte.  The surprised foe then would be brought down quickly with a rapier thrust from Iesa.  

The creatures were disorganized; flailing at shields and attempting to bite at anything within reach.  As they assaulted our party the stench they exuded became even stronger.  I fought as hard to maintain control of the dark magic I was tapping, as much as my stomach to hold onto its contents.   Tears were streaming down my face as the combat dragged on.   Berevan at one point was almost overwhelmed and was staggering barely able to hold up his shield.  But Veceri was able to lean into him and together held up.  

Fortunately, because the troglodytes weren’t organized, they didn’t swarm us all at once, rather streaming in one or two at time.  This enabled us to cut them down quickly in time for the next ones rushing to our weapons.  And soon, we stood over a pile of nearly a dozen corpses.  The only sound in the air was the ones of our heavy breathing and the dripping of water from the ceiling.

“See?  Smelly Troglodytes, decent arms, no problem,” Iesa said with a smile.

Mo ran back on Iesa’s shoulder, and he patted him gingerly.  “And you shouldn’t run off like that Mo,” he chided.

“Let’s get to the door, and see if we can get a quick breather.  It should be close,” Daneath said business like.

We continued to the left and the air became clearer, and within moments we were in front of the bound door, that led upwards to the manor house.  We approached it, and Iesa placed his ear to the surface a moment, straining to hear anything.  After a moment he nodded and produced the key and with a little work, unlocked the door and Daneath pulled it open.

Daneath shone his shield into the chamber.  Nothing had changed.  The scraps of cloth on the ground from our escape.  Iesa quickly looked at the inside of the door, brushing his fingers over the lock.
“I don’t think they found this place,” he whispered.  “There’s no sign that anyone tried to force the lock, or pick it open.”

“Then they haven’t found the door either,” I said.  “Let’s rest and get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Veceri asked.

“That is the question.  Hopefully only some guards.  Otherwise…well we’ll improvise,” Iesa replied quietly.

We sat down on the chamber floor.  I tended the limited wounds our band had, pouring in more light where needed, and then sat down myself.  And hoped.

This was the moment, the gamble we all took.  Well…almost all.  Beepu was dead against it, and stood by his principles.  I guess I could respect that, although I wished he was here.  Sitting there I wondered if I could really do this. 

I wanted to leave.  This town.  This plane.  But that ever-present feeling of being trapped just clung to me.  My friends agreed to a deal that essentially was a “life for life.” 

Mine for hers.  

I didn’t even know who ‘she’ was. 

Could I even turn back now?  I kept telling myself that it was going to work out fine.  That it was for the best.  With my head hung low I did the only thing I could think of.  I prayed.

_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning

Death is without deceit and has meaning,

I will strive to help those to live, 

So, they can die at their appointed time,

I will honor those who have died before me,

For it is their lives and deeds that give us the world today,

Bless me to live until my appointed time, 

So, my deeds will live forever,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May Death grant us peace.​_
I just hoped my deeds were worth all of this effort.

“You ready Myr?” Daneath asked, snapping me back to reality.  I simply nodded and after quick deep breath, stood up and began the ascent up the stairway.

If going down took forever, going up with arms and armor took an eternity.  It was exhausting work, and I lost count of the steps after a hundred and twenty.  But, this stairway had an end, and finally we reached it.

As we approached the top, I changed the light on Daneath’s shield from a bright yellow to a deep red.  Iesa once again stepped in front and listen to the wooden closet door that led into the sitting chamber. He pressed his ear against the wood and we all held our breath.  He took his time, and then he turned his head to look at us and shook it.

“I don’t hear anything,” he whispered.

“Get ready to open the door,” and I saw Iesa hands on the lock mechanism, and I snuffed out the light.
The darkness only highlighted the noises of our breathing.  After a moment I heard the door open, and dim light entered the closet.

We all stepped out one by one.  Somehow Daneath sounded quiet in his armor, more so than Veceri or Berevan.  In the sitting room was a lone set of candles in a sconce.  The door to the adjacent chamber was closed, as was the one to the bedroom itself.  But there were no guards in the room itself.  Mo scampered to a nearby shelf and watched quietly.

Iesa made his way to the doors leading outward and listened.  His head moved sharply upward and held two fingers and then he pointed to either side of the door.  He then bent to the door it self and took out his picks and very slowly began to work the lock.  After a moment, he retracted the picks and put a small rod of metal in the lock.  He then made his way to the bedroom door and listened.  After a moment, he held out a single finger in the candlelight.

Our target was alone.

Daneath moved over towards the door, and Veceri and Berevan were about to follow, when I stopped them.

“No.  Leave this to us, we need you to hold this door.”

The two looked at me puzzled.  “What?  We are in this together, as dirty a deed as it is.”

“No!  Right now, if something goes wrong, we need this door to stay shut.  It will mean the difference on everyone leaving!”  I said hissing.  “This is about all of us going back alive!  I am not ready to die again…and you aren’t going to start.”  And I gestured to the door.

Iesa opened the door to the bedroom quietly and stepped inside, and Daneath entered as well.  

“Look, Myrai, we are here to help do this,” said Veceri.

“Then help by keeping this door—”

And before I finished, an explosion of flame came from the bedroom, and I heard Iesa scream in pain.  From beyond the door I could hear muffled sounds.

“Hold.  That.  Door.”  I said.

“What with?” Berevan asked.

“Block it with the furniture.  Do anything.  This is your mission!” I said, and I turned and ran to the bedroom where I could hear a fight.

Entering the doorway, I saw crumpled on the ground Iesa, still smoking from flames.  Daneath was moving towards a figure standing in the bed.  A figure that I was familiar with.

The room was dark enough that my new site had clarity.  The woman was dressed in a nightgown, made of silk.  Her dark hair was shoulder length and was a chaotic mess.  Her red skin had a slight sheen in sweat and in one hand she held a dagger pointed straight at Daneath.  Her eyes were simple molten orbs of red.  Her horns elegantly curving around her eyes, like a ram.  Her face was a mixture of pain and anger and she cast a bolt of fire, striking Daneath square in the chest, sending embers everywhere.  She was screaming as she wove her magic.  She was going to be heard.

I quickly threw a bolt of energy at her, catching her in the shoulder with the blast, nearly knocking her of balance.  She turned to glare at me, and her eyes kept darting between Daneath and myself.  But she wasn’t focused on me enough for her to hear a simple word I said.

“Lannasa,” I said in Celestial.

Iesas eyes twitched a moment and he blinked.  Still laying on the floor, he quietly reached over to his rapier that had fallen next to him.  Behind me was a racket as many people were working on beating down the door.  I could hear Veceri and Berevan both make strained noises, keeping the guards from interfering. 

While the tiefling was preparing another fiery blast, Daneath swung at her with his sword.  And just as she was about cast the bolt of energy at him again, Iesa sprang up to his feet and lunged, striking her square in the abdomen.  I could see her face puzzled and she turned to look at him in surprise as she fell to her knees.  Her face struggling to process how the foe she had just felled, had now struck a mortal blow.  Her head rolled backwards and she fell down onto the bed.  

She lay gasping for breath, and Iesa in a fluid motion had drawn a dagger, and was about to plunge it into her, when he stopped.  His hand shaking.  His face was contorted and confused; just by looking at him I could see all the emotions I felt before cross his face.

“Spare her; take her with us,” I said.

With those words, he brought the hilt of the dagger against her temple, and her eyes closed.

“Are you serious?” Daneath said.  

“Yes,” I said “She knows more, and we don’t know the questions.  She’s worth more alive.  Bind her hands, gag her, and blindfold her somehow.

Iesa looked at Daneath and nodded and pulled some rope from his pack.  “She’s right.  Besides, can’t call it murder this way either.”

“Put some cloth on her wounds; I’ll fix them on the way down.”  And with that I moved to the sitting room.   A divan, a table and a pair of chairs were pushed up against the doors.  And against them, the two warriors were straining.  The looked at me in desperation and as they did so, the blade of an axe pierced the door.  

Behind me, Iesa dashed out and held out his arm for Mo, who quickly scampered onto his shoulder, and he ran into the closet and down the stairs.  Behind him Daneath ran with a figure wrapped in bedsheets over his shoulder.  As he ran I poured enough energy to prevent her from dying outright.  And then I put energy to make light appear from his gauntlet.  He nodded and ran into the closet and down the stairs.

“Time to go, you first, I’ll close the door.”  Berevan and Veceri nodded and ran for the closet, with me close in tow.  I could hear them clattering down the stairs, following the light ahead.  I could hear the axe blows and could here the bellowing of the captain now:

“Inside!  We cannot let them essscape!”

And I closed the door and fled in down the stairs in the darkness.

As we fled downward it was at first quiet.  Then I could hear the axes on the door above and knew that our time was short.  We pressed on again with our descent.  When we all reached the chamber with the pools and the door we stopped a moment.  I checked our captive and made sure she still breathed, and we exited the bound door.  Once on the other side, Iesa took the time to jam the lock with another iron shard.  

Grinning with satisfaction, Iesa nodded.  And together we fled into the darkness.

-----------------

The gate opened, and Mordai stepped into the marshalling yard of the Iron Blades.   His look was bemused as he looked over the grounds.  Exiting from the main building, Arryn emerged with a similar smile.

“Arryn…it has been a while.”

“Our interests seldom intersect Mordai, so not much reason for social calls.”

Mordai chuckled, “No, I suppose not.  So why the change in heart?  Is there some offer I made that you wish to take advantage of?  But I don’t ever recall making one for you.  You didn’t seem the type.

“All I’m doing is facilitating a meeting.”

“A meeting?  Isn’t that what we are doing now?”

“Perhaps,” I said as I stepped out of the shadows of the armory door. “But, we did need to make sure you were in a mood to listen.”

Mordai turned to face me “Ah, so I was correct you haven’t left town.  Saves me a lot of time.”  He looked at Arryn, “I’m sure she has quite a tale she has spun with honeyed words.”

“She has…but the tale is mostly for you.  I’m just keeping the peace,” Arryn said simply and stood impassively watching the two of us.

“And so, what would you have to say that would have any interest to me?” Mordai said with a tone of distaste.

“Well, I admit we may not be the best in following orders as given.  We do take some pride in not making mistakes.”

“Mistakes?  Like this?” Mordai said gesturing around himself.  “A broken deal is still that; a broken deal.”

“You are absolutely right.  But being unable to ask questions, put us in a bind.  Perhaps we could have done better if we knew what to do with two women each claiming to be Nestra.”

Mordai narrowed his eyes and looked at me, as I approached him in the courtyard. “What game are you playing at?”

“The oldest one.  Practiced by Baatezu, Tanar’ri and Yugoloth alike.  A game of bargains.  And one lesson that you learn very quickly, is that the one with the most information has the most leverage in any deal.” And I circled him, seeing his face getting more confused.

“You are playing with words.  Get to the point, two women?”

I nodded and continued circling, “Yes, one upstairs holding a party looking all rare and fine and in charge.  But little did you know of another, trapped beneath the manor by her own staff.  A captive.  The real Nestra.”

I could see Mordai’s mind racing and thinking, “That’s an interesting…tale.  Original if marked with the flaws of a bad trope used by bards.  And so, you had difficulty figuring out which was which then?”

I stopped and looked him in the eye, “No that was pretty easy.  But your…orders didn’t give much in the way of discretion.  What if harm came to the wrong one.  So, the nice thing about being in the halls of power, is that you can ask the right questions.   And so, we did, and we have a new deal for you.”

“A new…deal.  You are presuming a lot.  Even if I believed you.”

“You should Mordai,” Arryn said.  “After all, Myrai there is telling the truth and you have a good deal on your hands.  If you let it.”

“Alright then,” Mordai again looked at me.  “What deal?”

“Nestra, the proper one is interested in keeping its deals with the Crimson Star as it was before the recent…problems.  In fact, it has come to her attention that her seneschal has been acting against the interests of Yartar, and therefore you as well.”

“You have my attention then, there is more?”

“In fact, one of Vicam’s staff has been impersonating the Baroness for some time.  So, she has seen fit to pass sentence upon her.”

“Worthless.  This imposter is beyond your reach now.”

“Sadly, that is true.  However, she is within yours.”

“I don’t understand,” again sounding puzzled.

“The Baroness has passed sentence on her imposter in person.  And it seems she has some, not so fond memories of her.  So, the Waterbaroness’ sentence places the women’s fate…in your hands.”
Now he was taken aback, “Mine?”

“Of course.  It takes someone sneaky and underhanded to ask the right questions of someone sneaky and underhanded,” I said with a smile, and watching him bristle.  “So, her life is yours.  Yours to question and root out all the conspirators against her Excellency.  Her rewards for you are…great I’m told.”

Mordai looked at Arryn with disbelief, “I admit what I am hearing is…interesting.  And you vouch for this, you agree with it?”

Arryn shrugged, “This is treason we are talking about.  A time when loyalists are rewarded for service.  But the offer is good.  The woman can be brought where you need her.”

“No need, my men are outside the walls here,” Mordali said and took a step towards me, nodding slightly and with a slight grin on his face.  “Our bargain is concluded, and your debt paid.  You do understand the currency of the realm it seems.”

I smiled and stepped close to him and said in a well-practiced voice; “En mar a lechtang’gi et a sanjeb tantok.”  To which his eyes widened in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you spoke…the tongue.” He said eying me nervously.

“When you live among Baatezu and make deals with them, you better understand the pitch you are playing on.” I said.  “Take care Mordai.  The future might be messy, but somehow I think you will do…just fine.”  And I turned and made my way back to the main building in the yard, passing Arryn.

“What did you say to him?  He looks…shocked.”

“A reminder that the games we play, were invented long before us mortals.”

*Session Notes
*
The quote uttered was “I had the oldest and best teachers.”  And as far as my backstory was concerned, if you make a bad deal with a fiend, you better learn something. 

Yep, Mordai was surprised.  As it turns out the players collectively are terrible interrogators.  Partially because lack of skill, and really really bad questions.  But in the end, we realized we didn’t need answers, Mordai did.  So, we made it his problem, and made plans to leave town.
I was really done with Yartar as were the rest of us.  So change was good right?

2,000


----------



## Nthal

*Leaving Yartar - (6/6/2019)*

*Leaving Yartar​*
_Good friends are hard to find.  And what makes a good friend is dependent on what you need.  A good ear, sage advice, support when you need.
But even rarer is one that will lay their life down on the line for you.  The purest form of love you could ask for, but never would.
Rarer still is when a stranger does that.​_
I was smiling to myself as I climbed the stairs.  It seemed like a great chain had been lifted from my neck, and that I could finally move on.  Of course, moving on still meant finding a way home.  I was still trapped here on Toril.  But being trapped there was far easier to handle than being trapped in a debt, and not being threatened by a horrible fate of cutters trying to the deliver the mail.  It was back to the new normal from my perspective.

All of the discussion with Mordai was done in the early morning.  Our schedule was a bit messed up, so it would be a long day ahead, and Daneath and Iesa wanted to get moving as quickly as possible.  But we needed to deliver our good fortunes to our wizard.

Once on the second level, I made way to the chamber that Beepu had been lent as a room.  No one had talked to him since he stormed out of our plan to sneak back into the manor.  I did have a note dropped off, but he never responded.  Not that I really expected a response.

I stood in front of the door, and hesitated a moment thinking about what to say.  I then knocked on the door and waited.  Hearing nothing, I knocked again louder and called out Beepu’s name.  No one within responded.  Frowning for a moment, I considered my options, and decided to appeal to Beepu’s ‘better half.’  I drew a dagger from its sheath, I used its pommel to bang on the door and called out:

“FOGGLE!  Can you wake up Beepu and get him to the door?”

Instantly I started hearing repeated hoots from his mechanical familiar and within moments I could hear Beepu calling out “What? What? What?  Door?  OH!”  The door swung open in a rush, just as I sheathed my blade.

“Oh, Myrai!  Yes, um…come in.” the disheveled gnome said, his eyes still bleary eyed.

“Woke you at your desk?” I asked looking at him critically

“No!  Why would you say that?”

“Because I can see the imprint of your bookmark on your left cheek.”

“Wha…oh.   Well yes.  More comfortable than the straw mattress here.  Too firm.” And he walked back into the room.  As I expected the desk had scattered bits of brass parts, sheaths of papers full of diagrams, and his spellbook propped up on the table, leaning against the wall.  The bed was unused for sleeping as far as I could tell, but clothes and other items from his pack were spread across the surface.  On a small table was a plate with some assorted dried fruits, bread, a pitcher and an empty mug on its side.  Finally, I noticed on the ground by the door, was the note I had Jarris deliver to him; still sealed.

I picked up the letter and chuckled a moment.  “Well, I see you be been busy reading.”

“Yes, yes, something to do while you argue about going back into the manor.  I assumed that once you came to your senses you would come find me.”

I looked at Beepu and then the room and then the letter in my hand, “And so…have you even left this room?”

“No.  No need.  Prestidigitation is good for cleaning anything, including chamberpots, and I do not eat or drink much anyway.”

“So, you have been studying your…stuff for the last two and half days then?”

“Of course I have been….what?   Two and half days?  It took you that long to finally not pursue that path of madness and go back to the manor?”

“No…that was pretty quickly decided after you left.”

“Oh, so you just left to study?”

“Um, no.  We were busy.  In the manor.”

“WHAT?  Why did you not tell me?”

I threw the note at Beepu, “We did.  Somehow I assumed you would have read the letter.”  

Beepu caught and regarded the note frowning.  He simply stared at it with his brows knitted together, and yet made no moves to open it.

“I see.  Well then, is the…deed done?” he asked with the note of distaste as he turned to look at me.

“No.  We chose…a better path.”

“How so?”

“We brought the fake Nestra here.  The real one basically accused her of treason, and we handed her over to Mordai.  And as such we are free to go.”

“Oh.  I see.”

“You sound, disappointed?”

“Well…maybe.  I discovered some things I guess over…two days you said?  But I suppose, I just expected that you would not have been—”

“Successful without you?”

“Yes.  Yes, in fact.  Perhaps I should have gone.”

“Well, what is done is done.  It would have been nice.”

“So, what is next?”

“Well, we are meeting downstairs to discuss that.  Assuming you can break yourself away for a moment.”

“Certainly.  Especially if we can finally get on with our travels!”  and he grabbed my arm and started pulling me out to the hall.  “No more delays!  We should have been moving already!”

Beepu continued to pull me along, like I was a petulant child, berating me the entire way.  And all I could was shake my head and smile.

A quick journey downstairs, and Beepu stood in front of the dining hall, and he with all the majesty he could muster in his three-foot frame, threw open the doors and strode in.

Daneath and Iesa were the only occupants in the room and they both turned at the ‘grand’ entrance.

“Alright then.  Finally.  Flint Rock!”  Beepu declared, challenging the pair to disagree with him.

“No.  Portstown,” said Daneath and he bit into a hunk of cheese in front of him.  Across from him Iesa nodded and fed Mo a piece of fruit from a small pile he had finished slicing.

Beepu was stunned a second.  But he didn’t speak first; I did.

“Portstown?  What in sodding Baator are you talking about?  And what kind of name is ‘Portstown’?  Call yourself after the local industry?  What’s next?  ‘Smithstown.’?   ‘Fishtown’?  ‘Whoreto—‘?”

“Because I have a lead that will help us get to Flint Rock there,” Daneath said glancing at us both.

“Lead?  From where?” Beepu finally interjected.

“Leoras,” Daneath said and again bit into the cheese wedge.

“When did you talk to Leoras?” I asked.

Daneath leaned back in his seat. “Well, while we were investigating the manor, I saw him enter a room sneakily.  I thought he might lead me somewhere interesting.  Turns out, he baited me, and I found myself with a sword at my neck in a dark room.  So, we had a…chat.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t awkward or anything,” I said crossing my arms.  “So, what exactly did you talk about?”

“Well, the short version was, he knew Vicam was trouble, which is why he wasn’t going to interfere with us doing, anything.  He knew that Nestra stopped trusting him and kept sending him out digging in graves.  But more importantly, he knew something about me.”

“What exactly?” I asked curiously.

“This,” Daneath pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow and revealed a tattoo.  The design was well done, but simple.  A snake tied into a double loop.  “I have this tattoo, as does my master.   He also told me something else.  He was traveling with a ‘tinker’; a gnome.’

Beepu’s jaw dropped open, “Wait, together?   Your Master and my father?  That sounds suspicious.  Why would my father follow your master?  I have never seen that tattoo.  Are your sure that Leoras did not pull a fast one.”

Iesa chimed in as he continued to feed Mo, “I thought about it as well, but think about it.  We have talked about Flint Rock, but we haven’t talked much about why we are going since we met in Triboar.  So how would Leoras know?  Plus, why?  He was the one with the sword.  He knew something about what the tattoo meant and said that a half-orc smith in Portstown could shed some light on it.  Even better though, it’s on the way.”

“I’m not one to believe in coincidence,” I said slowly.  “But, this sounds like we should make the attempt and find out what’s going on.  Otherwise we’re in the blinds here.”

They all looked at me for a moment with a questioning expression, before I remember, “Right, in the dark..um not in the know?”  to which they all nodded.

Iesa then spoke up uncomfortably, “And well I…may…know how to get to Flint Rock.”

Daneath’s head twisted suddenly to look at Iesa.  “Wait, what?”

Iesa reach into a satchel and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.  He unfolded it and it was a crude map.  Scattered on the surface were strange words in a common alphabet that I didn’t recognize.

“So, you have a map? How does this—” Daneath started, when Iesa pointed to symbol of a mountain on the top edge of the map.  Next to the mark was a second one.

A snake set into a double loop.

“How did you get this?” Daneath looked at Iesa with surprise.

“Mo found it…I thought.  But I’m beginning to think that wasn’t an accident.”

“What?” I said.  “that he was given it?  To give to you?”

Iesa nodded.  “I mean after I got this, I was thrown in jail, Beepu gets me out, and then I met Daneath.”

“Beepu, how did you know to find Iesa in the jail?”  I asked.

Beepu thought a moment.  “Well, I knew that I needed to get to Flint Rock, because of my father’s notes.  I remember remarking this to a man in Triboar marketplace, and he mentioned that a man who was just arrested could help with that.”  Beepu’s eyes scrunched in thought.  “I don’t remember anything about the person though.”

“It’s no coincidence.  It can’t be,” Daneath said.  “But how does it tie together?”

“That’s the dark of it,” I said.  “Sounds like I’m the only one here that doesn’t have an interest in Flint Rock.  I don’t have a master, I doubt my father is involved, and I don’t have a tattoo like that.”

“You have a tattoo?” Iesa asked with sudden interest.

“What?…no!   That’s not important!  What is, this that this is all tied together, and none of understand how or why.  So, while I don’t have a vested interest beyond seeing if Beepu’s father can get me home, it sounds like we need learn a bit more.”
Everyone nodded.

“So, to Portstown?” Daneath asked the group.

To which we all nodded quietly.

“Get your things, say your goodbyes.  And let’s get out of Yartar.”

It didn’t take long to get our gear together, and somehow word got around that we were learning.  As we made our way to the gate of the compound we ran into Arryn, Jarris, Berevan and Veceri.   I exchanged a quick goodbye with Arryn and Jarris, while Daneath and Iesa spoke at length to him.  I was occupied with the two warriors that had joined us beneath Yartar.

“Goodbye Myrai,” Berevan said.  “And thanks for well…keeping us alive I suppose.”

“And you were right,” Veceri spoke up.  “If we didn’t hold the door, based on the pounding, we might never have left.”

“Well,” I replied, “To be able to tell the tale later, is pretty important.  We can’t learn from others that came before us unless we survive and share it.  Kelemvor wants us to have a full life, so we can pass on the best of our knowledge and works onwards.  So …take what you learn and pass it on.”

Both Berevan and Veceri nodded.  “We will,” Berevan said, “And perhaps there is more we can learn from a god of death.”
I nodded, and so we departed the Iron Blades’ compound and made our way towards the eastern gate and the docks.  While we struck a blow against Vicam, we weren’t sure if we were being hunted.  So, we followed Iesa through the alleys, avoiding guards and giving _The Lusty Bard_ a wide berth.  

The eastern gate was busy with traffic as always, and the guards either weren’t particularly observant, or we were simply paranoid about having a target on our back.  We made our way to the docks and wandered up the river, seeking barge or other water transport that could take us north to Portstown.

It wasn’t long before we found a large cargo barge that appeared to be heading north based on the young crier calling out for passengers.  Finally, we could put Yartar, and its politics and machinations behind.  Ahead the road forward to Flint Rock and eventually home.  But I was chatting with Iesa as we made our way to the pier, when things became...problematic. 

“So, you’ve never been on a boat before?” He asked with some surprise.  Mo was on his shoulder and looked bored as Iesa and I talked.

I shook my head “No.  The only ‘river’ in Sigil is what we call ‘The Ditch’ and no one plys a boat on it.  In fact, the only boat I know of is part of a bar called the Black Sail Tavern in the Lower Wards.  In fact, no one remembers how a boat even got there to start with.”

“So, did you ever learn to swim?”

“Well, normally the Ditch is just a smelly, grimy and horrible river of muck full of trash and…corpses.  But every so often a gate to Oceanus would open and flush it clean.  When that happened, all the orphans would run there to play in the water.  So, I did learn.  I’m not good at it though.”

Iesa shook his head, “I can’t imagine that.  Waterdeep has its charm in the poorer sections, but I can’t tell if I am in awe in what you describe as commonplace or disgusted on how it seems one of the worst cities for crime and filth.”

“You never ask about the nice parts!”

“You mean there are nice parts?”

“Well…sure.  The Lady’s Ward of course, and the Guild Ward and Market Ward have nice parts.  I just…didn’t spend time there.”

“What?  Couldn’t fit in?”

“No…not enough jink,” I said rubbing my thumb and forefinger together.  “You can’t tell me that Waterdeep is any different?”

“No…No I can’t.  Maybe you should visit just to compare.”

“I’d like that actually.  It’s got to be better than Yar—”

“You there, stop!” a voice spoke behind us.  And as I turned I saw that a guard, wearing the livery of the Waterbaroness had grasped Iesa on the shoulder.  I was about to tell of the sod when Iesa spoke with surprise.

“Kingsley!?!” and Iesa started looking around nervously.  Slightly ahead of us, Beepu and Daneath had heard Iesa’s exclamation and had turned to see what the fuss was about.

“My…my friend.  What have you done?   Do you know that Vicam’s men are scouring the docks and bridges looking for you?  What happened?  You are in danger!”  Kingsley was stumbling on his words, clearly surprised to have found us, and his voice was warm and genuinely concerned.  

And scared.

“Umm…that’s a long story and we don’t ha—” Iesa started to speak when blood erupted from Kingsley’s chest, spattering Iesa, Mo and me.  Mo gave a screech and bolted to the buildings near-by, as we stared at Kingsley in horror.  All the blood came from a gaping wound, caused by a javelin that was now lodged through Kingsley’s torso.  Looking behind him, we saw the source.

Arakhan retracted his arm and drew his sword.  His heavily scaled face was sneering at us.  He drew his sword and strode forward, leading a small group of guards towards us.

“That’sss what we do to traitorsss.   And the ssssame fate awaitsss you. 

My jaw hung open in surprise.  Not at the violence directed towards Kingsley and his betrayal.  I was surprised that Kingsley was warning us at all.  In Sigil, no one ever seemed to stick their neck out to help someone.  The Harmonium didn’t have the reputation of being compassionate.  They were the ‘Hardheads’; there to enforce order that they defined.   And here was Kingsley, slumping the to the ground.  His blood was rapidly pooling on the cobblestone.  I turned and looked for Daneath and Beepu screaming “Help.”  I was not going to let this man die!

Beepu, Iesa and I were dumbfounded and were slow to react to the threat of Arakhan and the four guardsmen with him.  Daneath’s reflexes kicked in however and he was truly the man of action.

And his first action was to  bolt swiftly straight to the barge.  Only after he reached it did he turn and realize that we were engaged with various guardsmen, and that Kingsley lay motionless on the ground.  I saw him turn to look at a crew member and shout at him, throwing a coin purse at the sailor.  Then he drew his sword and started to make his way back.

Meanwhile, Iesa rolled to his left towards some nearly warehouse buildings and pulled his new bow from his back, and quickly fired an arrow at one of the guards heading towards us.  The arrow sank deep into the chest of the guard, but he still charged forward in pain, but unable to close with the swift Knight of the Post.

Beepu quickly recovered from his shock, and pulled a vial from his pouch, while Foggle flew straight up from his shoulder.  After a moment he flicked the open vial and a solid bolt of ice shot forth, striking another guard.  The bolt exploded into sharp icy shards, lacerating several of the guards, and one fell down to his knees.

Two of the guards looked at me, standing over Kingsley’s body and started forward, swords drawn.  I was angry; I expected friends to perhaps take a blow for me.  I didn’t expect a stranger to do so.  And while we ‘knew’ Kingsley, he really didn’t know us at all.  I was not going to let him die saving my skin.  It wasn’t right and It wasn’t close to fair.

Staring at the two guards I reached within and pulled at the darkness, and skeletal hands grasped at the throats of the approaching men.  Their eyes had the look of fear at first, and then they glazed over as the fell, slumping down onto the ground.
Arakhan was unconcerned and strode forward toward myself and Beepu who was only slightly behind me.  The ice and cold didn’t seem to bother him at all, and he wasn’t even bleeding.  I swallowed in fear, not particularly prepared to take a beating from the longsword the Dragonborn held.

(See!  I *can* tell Lizardthings apart!)

Arakhan swung at me, but the blade went wide.  I sidestepped to the right, hoping to expose his back to the Knight of the Post’s new toy.  But Daneath arrived first, swinging his blade.  But his strikes were deftly deflected by Arakhan’s shield.
Iesa took another shot at the remaining guardsman, sinking an arrow in his throat.  The guard gurgled for a moment, and fall forward onto his knees, and then flat on the earth.  

Daneath with renewed energy swung again and landed a solid blow again the captain.  He continued to circle him, when suddenly the sneer was replaced with a smile.  Arakhan puffed up his chest and blew icy frost on Daneath, Beepu and myself.  Daneath took the full force of the icy gale, which shielded Beepu and I from the worst of it.  But he too slumped down to the ground.

Seeing Daneath sink to the ground, I prayed to Kelemvor.  Kingsley was hurt, but Daneath was in bad shape now.  I wanted desperately to save both them, but with Arakhan so close to me, I was equally concerned with living.  So, I tried a different tactic.  I pulled in measures of light and dark from myself and focused the energy on Arakahn.  To force him to stop his assault.
At first it seemed to work; his posture softened, and he pulled up in surprise.  But just as quickly he shook his head, and focused his hatred towards us.  

Arakhan looked ready to bear down on the two of us when I heard Iesa shout at the captain.  

“Hey lizardboy, you look like you hatched from a rotten egg!”  .  But he followed up his verbal volley with an arrow, which solidly connected with the captains’ shield.  

The Dragonborn turned to face Iesa.  He bellowed at this new torment, and charged.  Iesa smiled and shot at him again, all the while running for his life as the Dragonborn bore down upon him.  As the captain moved towards Iesa and the warehouses, I knelt down quickly and touched Daneath on the brow and focused some light into his fallen form.  I could see the marks of where the frost had froze his skin, return to a warm pink.

“Get up!  Get Kingsley!  And get to the barge!” I said quickly, trying to recover my energy to save Kingsley.  Arakhan was busy chasing Iesa through the streets, and I could hear the occasional twang of an arrow, followed by it striking the shield.

Daneath looked at me confused, “Wha…why?” he stammered climbing to his feet.

“Because he tried to save our lives, grab him and go!” I shouted at Daneath.  He shook his head and turned towards Kingley’s limp form.  With a heavy boot he snapped the javelin into two, leaving only a stump in his back and the point out his chest, and he carefully picked up the fallen guard, and made his way to the barge.

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  We must make haste!” Beepu said, running ahead of Daneath and jumping aboard, with myself close behind.
“Captain?  Captain?  Captain?” Beepu shouted looking around for someone in charge.  “We need to depart immediately once our friend arrives, but no sooner.”

A stocky dwarf regarded the gnome a moment, and then looked at Daneath.  “You know, that gold was to hold the boat for you.  And right now, I’m lookin to move on to spend it.  Cast off boys!” he barked.

“No wait.  I will double the gold if you hold us here a bit longer!” he said, and the captain raised a hand and said.
“Cast of boys.  Slow like.” and the sailors continued to remove the last of the lines securing the barge from the pier, but with far less haste than before.  They finally removed the last of the mooring lines and slowly the barge broke away, as the oarsmen below, pushed the barge away into the river.

During this exchange, I poured a bit of light into Kingsley.  He would not pass into the Fugue today, but I needed time to heal him further.  A pair of sailors, had picked up his fallen form and moved him to what appeared to be a tent on the deck.  No longer concerned with Kingsley, I turned to look for Iesa.

The delay was just enough, as Iesa came skidding around a corner running for all his worth.  He looked panicked and wild-eyed, and Mo was now ahead of him on the rooftops.  While Daneath had quick reflexes, Iesa had him beat in swiftness on the ground.  He saw the barge was slipping away and focused his efforts to gain speed for a leap across the water.

Close behind running like a lizard possessed was Arakhan.  Even the heavy armor was not enough to slow him down, and he looked to make the same leap that Iesa was about to try.

Beepu and I glanced at each other.  “I do not think I can penetrate that armor at all,” Beepu said as he flung a bolt of fire at Arakhan to watch it strike its chest with no seeming effect.

“Let’s try something else,” I said and reached within.  This time I looked not to the darkness, but to the light instead.  And I grabbed at it desperately, pulling its energy down towards the Dragonborn.

From above, a dazzling white beam of energy appeared  and struck down from above,  squarely hitting the Dragonborn.  He howled in pain as the energy coursed through him.  The strike stopped him cold, and he turned and moved towards some crates on the side, looking for cover from the assault from the heavens.

I was going to have none of it, so while Beepu tried to strike again with a bolt of fire, the cover of the crates where more than enough to deflect the attempt.  No such succor existed from the radiance I was calling and  again I called it down to strike my target.  Arakhan howled in pain, and realizing the futility of hiding, started to move again towards the barge.

By this time, Mo had jumped and easily cleared the distance across the water to the barge.  Iesa, with some amount of grace also easily cleared the distance, landing on the deck with room to spare.

But Arakhan was dressed in much heavier armor.  So, while he strode forward towards us, it became clear that he would not be able to make the jump.  Instead he bellowed, powerless to stop our escape.  I continued to pull light down upon him and the Dragonborn yelled in pain.  Finally, he gave up and  moved farther away from the dock and the torment I provided. 

We stood there, breathing heavily watching Arakhan depart; denied his quarry.  We heard the oars start to pull against the weak current of the river, and we began our journey north to Portstown.

I wasn’t going to miss this Blexburgh.   

Not one bit.

*Session notes:
*
The fight at the end caused no amount of retconning during the session.  The first problem was understanding the simple language of Maxilian’s Earthen Grasp and the phrase “On the Ground.’    Was the dock a ground?  During the session the DM said no, which bummed Beepu’s player out as he felt then that he wasted his spell book choice.  Later on, after much pursing, this interpretation was deemed to be an error.

A second problem arose with my attempt at casting Charm Person.  This actually succeeded at first, and we started to have a dialog, when the DM (correctly) remember that during combat he was have advantage on the saving throw, which he then made.  Then he backtracked and reasoned that I should have known that and asked if I wanted to do something else.

Because we couldn’t hit the AC he had (something in the high 17 or 18, and dice were not working for us) I tried again…which also failed.  High risk, high reward.  I mean how good of a wisdom save could he have?  ( 17 and 20 on the dices, so good enough)

Fortunately, his Dex was terrible.  Which gets to a point about Myrai.  I had a lot of cantrips at that point. About eight.  This allowed me to have quite a bit of utility, as only three were damaging attack spells.  Eventually I would end up with twelve.  I for one loved the flexibility it gave me, pulling out something to turn events in our favor.   More on that type of stuff later.

2,123


----------



## Nthal

*The Return of Big D - 6/13/2019*

*The Return of “Big D"
*
_It amazes me often about who lives and who dies.  The cruelty and unfairness of it all._
_But what amazes me more, is that we get along at all._​ 
We stood on the top deck, winded and watching the Dragonborn fade back into a gathering crowd near the pier.  But my thoughts didn’t linger there long, but instead I turned to look around for Kingsley.

The sailors had laid the guard, face up on a trestle table inside of a rectangular tent on the deck.  I rushed over to him, and already could hear the muttering:

“Ill-luck to bring a dead man on board.”

“He’s surely a gonner.”

“What are we going to do with him?  Pitch him back into the river?”

I pushed the sailors aside and looked over the form sprawled on the table.  What I saw did not give me comfort.  While I stopped him from dying in the street, his fortunes didn’t look good.  The remainder of the javelin still protruded through his chest.  While it clearly missed his heart, it must have pierced his left lung.  The wound oozed blood, but only because it had clotted around the wooden shaft.  But with every breath the wound would bubble with air.

I had seen this before during the war in Sigil.  My mentor in the ways of Kelemvor was a healer.  He commanded no magic beyond the use of his mind to help.  And many were saved by his hand and I tried to learn as much as could.  And the memory of this kind of wound filled me with dismay. 

Kingsley was going to die.  The only question was what would kill him first.  He might slowly bleed to death with the shaft of the javelin.  He might drown in his own blood.  And worst to my mind, was rot would set in, leading to fever.  I knew what my mentor would have done out of duty.

But this man had warned us.  Saved us.  It wasn’t right he pay with his life, for me.  For any of us.  And unlike my mentor, I had something else.

I had power.

But I didn’t have time.

“Guys!  Find some cloth quickly and help me!” I shouted.

Iesa came in first, and his face probably mirrored mine.  “Um…how is—” and Daneath and Beepu then stood next to me, both looking at the stricken form of Kingsley.  Beepu was holding what appeared to be canvas.

“That does *not* look good,” he stammered.

“No, and help me, before he leaves to see the fugue,”  I said moving to the other side of the table.  “But I am going to need your help.” And I looked at each of them in the eyes.  “All of you.”

“Sure Myr…but can you heal that?” Daneath asked doubtfully.

“Not with that piece of wood in him.  We have to remove it.”

“Wait,” Beepu said concerned.  “That will probably cause him to lose whatever blood he has left.  Additionally, it might damage his insides.”

I nodded, quickly and listening to Kingsley’s breathing, I realized his death was approaching fast.  His breathing was labored, and I could hear the sounds of gurgling in his throat as his blood slowly filled his lungs.

“I am damn well going to try.   Take the cloth, and put a bundle of it under him, right where the javelin entered his back.”  The three were still staring at him and didn’t make a move.

“*NOW!”* I shouted, snapping them into focus.  Daneath came to my side of the table, and slowly rolled the guard towards his right, exposing his back.  Beepu took out a dagger and cut some of the cloth he had into two and stuffed a bundle underneath him.

“Ok, lower him down.” He told Daneath.  The big warrior carefully returned Kingsley to lying flat on his back.  As he was shifted, Kingsley started to cough and convulse. 

“Quick, Iesa hold down his shoulders!” and he quickly responded, pressing down on the shoulders, trying to keep Kingsley still.  At the same time, I climbed on top of the table and the guardsman him, using my weight to keep him from moving.

“Beepu, wrap some cloth around the shaft and hold it there.”  I said as I grasped at my medallion at my neck.  

“Daneath, I’m going to say a prayer.  When you hear the word ‘live’..pull the shaft out.”

“Like an arrow wound…yeah yeah got it.”

“Beepu, there will be …a lot of blood.  Just push down on the cloth.   And if I do this right.  It’ll stop.”
Beepu, had shifted to the right side of Kingley, and climbed up on the table and knelt on Kingsley’s right, gathering the cloth around the shattered javelin.  His hands spread it out and he breathed deeply and nodded.   I quickly glanced at Iesa and he nodded, pushing down on Kingsley’s shoulders.

I placed my right hand upon the right side of Kingsley’s chest, and I did so, Daneath moved to Kingsley’s left side, standing closest to the wound exit, and grasped the shaft with both hands and breathed deeply twice and then nodded.

I was now up to me.  I closed my eyes and centered myself; reaching to for the strongest point of light within me.  I took a breath and steeled myself.

I would save him.

Everything felt to be moving through honey; everything felt slow and delibrate as time slowed to my eyes. I Pulled at the light within me and prepared myself to push it into Kingsley.  I then whispered the prayer:
_“I will strive to help those to live.”_​
I could feel the energy start to pour into Kingsley’s form slowly.  But on the utterance of the last word, Daneath lexed his muscles pulling the javelin through his chest, wrenching it free.  As he did so, I felt Beepu pushing the cloth over the now gushing wound.  I could feel the warm blood splashing on my face as it sprayed everywhere.  His body bucked and convulsed again.  I heard Iesa straining to keep him from moving and causing more damage, as I tried to maintain my position on top.

But as the blood flowed out from Kingsley, I was feeling something very different.  Where I was at one point pushing energy into him, now I could feel his soul pulling at it…tearing at it.  It felt like I was drowning in water, as he pulled at the energy I had to give.

_“I will strive to help those to live,”

_​I chanted again with some desperation, channeling more and more energy.  My heart was beating faster, and I was starting to feel fatigue.   But I knew somehow that it wasn’t done.  He needed more.

_I will strive to help those to live,”_​
I was shouting, tears in my eyes as I could feel the last of the light leave me.  I was at the limit and, I could feel Kingsley’s life pull more and more from me.  And then…it let go my own light and it settled back within the guardsman.  He stopped moving, and his breathing was less labored. 

I opened my eyes and saw the aftereffects of our effort.  We were covered in blood.  All of us were all panting trying to catch our breath.  I moved my right hand over to where Beepu held the cloth and pushed it slowly and carefully aside.  At first, he resisted, but after looking at me for a moment, he relented, allowing me to peel away the cloth from the wound.

As I had prayed for, there was no wound.  The skin was whole, with only the slightest hint of a scar where the javelin once stuck out of his chest.  Just blood, darkening and cooling on his softly breathing chest.
“Did…did…did we…do it?” Iesa asked looking back and forth at Kingsley and me.

I nodded, breathing heavily.  “He’s going to need some rest…we all are.  Let’s…get Kingsley off the table and put him…somewhere.” I slowly, unsteadily got off the sleeping man.

“I will see what someone can do for him as far as accommodations,” Beepu

“Might want to see about us as well,” Daneath said.

I stepped slowly out of the tent on the deck and had a good look around for the first time.  There were a scattering of tents and some tables.  A large hole or rather an entrance to the deck below was laden with cargo, and rowing benches on the far sides, allowing the barge to move upstream.  On the deck were an assortment of sailors and some passengers, sitting at tables underneath an awning. 

All of them staring at me.  It took me a moment to remember that I was probably covered in blood.  I moved over to an edge on the deck and pulled out a small mirror from my component pouch.  I then started the incantations to begin cleaning myself off. 

I chuckled to myself, only seven or so days I ago I was doing the exact same thing.  But instead of my own death and return, I stopped someone else from crossing over to the fugue.  Smiling I returned to midship and then moved towards the tiller.  There, a sailor had a steady hand on the wood, while the captain looked over the main.  The dwarf seeing me approach, nodded and spoke.

“Hear you brought a dead man onboard,” he growled.

“I seem to remember that one of your men said it was bad luck,” I said walking to the stern of the barge.  “Well, he’s quite alive now.  That means good luck then?”

“I don’t see how.”

“Another passage to claim fees for?”

The dwarf for the first time cracked a smile, “I guess that may be so.  And I can get the rest of my crew to stop whining.”

“And I don’t suppose that the captain might have something that passes for a decent mug of bub…er…drink on board.”

“I might, is my luck holding?”

I smiled, “I pay my tabs.”

“I’ll see about a clean mug then and see if ye can…hold some fire in your belly.”

“Well, it has got to beat the swill in Yartar,”

“Almost anything do that girl,” and the dwarf moved back towards midship and one of the awnings, and then came back out with a mug and handed it to me with a wolfish grin.  I grabbed it and could smell the potent vapors.  Quickly I took a swallow and could taste the smoke and warmth of the alcohol. 

It was heaven.  And only then did I become aware of an argument among the some of the passengers:
“I’m sure of it.” A human said almost whispering

“Yeer, imaginin things, that’sss not him.” Said another, a bit tispy from cheap ale.

“Not who?” said a third.

“That’s Big D!  I’m sure of it.” Said the first.

“You mean the guy that beat the ‘Apple King?’” Said the second one.

The first one nodded vigorously.  

“Well,” the third one started.  “You should ask.” Pointing to the table nearby, were I saw Iesa and Daneath both sitting.  The two nodded and encouraged the first.  The man then stood up and walked toward my friends.  He had the look of a first year namer in the present of a Factol; Scared.  Awed.  Uncertain.    He reached the table and spoke.

“Excuse me sir.   Are you…Big D?”

The warrior winced as Iesa stifled at laugh.  “Well…I…um…yes.  Yes I am.” He said, guiltily as Iesa barely contained his laughter.

“And you were the one that brought down the Apple King?”

“Well, I admit…I don’t remember much about that bout.”

“Well *I *remember!”  And from another table sat a trio of halflings, and one gave a glare of hatred at Daneath.  He stood and strode slowly over to where Daneath sat.  “And I remember putting a dent in your codpiece as a parting gift.”

The three humans that had fingered or argued about Big D before, were unanimous in their exclamation in awe: “The Apple King!”

Daneath’s face was calm and unconcerned.  But I could see his hands clenching, readying himself.

“So…you enjoy low blows.  Only way you can win?” Daneath said with a touch of contempt.

The halfling’s eyes narrowed with a venomous look, “You entered a ring no-holds barred, and expected a fair fight?  Your brains are as big as your balls.”

Iesa at this point stood up and theatrically spread apart his arms as if welcoming the two.   “Excellent then!  A rematch it is between the Apple King and his nemesis, Big D!   Here and now, place your bets.”

I at this point almost choked from swallowing the fiery whiskey.  I had a moment of dread of having to put Daneath back together again.

Daneath turned to look at Iesa in a mixture of horror and hatred.  “What?!?  I am n—” he started to say when he saw the large amount of coin started to be changing hands, placing proposition bets on the outcome.  In the meantime, the Apple King had shed his pack and other equipment and was stretching out his limbs in preparation for ‘the match.’

I could see Daneath pull Iesa close to him, and him muttered, “Next time, you step in the ring!” to which Iesa only smiled and clapped him on the back.  Daneath stood up and removed his pack and sword belt, placing them on the table.  He then strode forward on the deck towards the Apple King.

The King didn’t hesitate, and quickly threw himself at Big D.  Whirling around the King attempted to land a pair of firm kicks.  But unlike the prior fight, Big D had heavier armor, and the King was having less luck finding open spots to hurt his larger foe.

Big D by comparison started using his new techniques he learned while at the Iron Blades.  So a miss resulted in an opening where Big D could land a punch on the chin.  A normal person would likely be sent sprawling.  But the Apple King, took the blow and rolled, taking the shock and remained upright.

Big D while he could retaliate, had a hard time landing his own punches.  Swinging wildly, and frequently whiffing by the halfling.  The halfling’s blows when they connected clearly hurt, but the armor again kept that from being common. 

It was clear after a moment that unlike their first meeting, the match was far more even.  Big D was taking the punishment from the halfling and could endure it.  The Apple King relied more on never getting hit, so when Big D did land a punch it comparatively did more damage.

The pair circled each other and kept swinging.  The Apple King trying to finesse his way to a victory, and Big D just trying to pound his way to victory.  Finally, it was luck that cast the die on the two combatants.  Big D, moved forward to swing at the Apple King, when he lost his footing briefly on the rough deck.  The Apple King took advantage and dived low and punched high.  With a sickening sound of metal crunching, and Big D belatedly covering his apples.

I could only wince as I saw Big D sinking to his knees.  The crowd on deck was excited.  Mo was hopping up and down on a table, while Beepu had his fingers in his ears as he was attempting to read.  But it was Iesa that turned the entire bout on its head.

“He *cheated!*  I saw him throw something on the ground!”  and with that statement, the crowd’s cheers hushed, and a dead silence set in.  You could hear the wooden boards creak, and the water running by, but that was it.  All the oars stopped, the crowd was silent looking back and forth between the Apple King and Iesa.  Even Mo stopped hopping up and down.  I stood by and took a swallow of my drink, wondering how this was going to end.
Iesa moved forward and pressed his palm against the wood in front of Big D.  When he lifted it and turned it over, there was the sheen of oil on his hand.  He then pointed his finger at the stunned Apple King.  “You cheated!”

The halfling’s face had honest confusion on it and he stammered, “What I didn’t throw any—”

“I saw you,” Iesa shouted.  Then another human, the one that was a fan of Big D chimed in.

“I bet you did!  You couldn’t win a fair fight!”

The crowd now started to shout and jostle.  I put my mug down and went to Daneath and helped move him to the side as the shouting continued and increasing in intensity.

“Did…did I win?” Daneath asked, barely coherent.

I smiled, nodded and replied, “Your fame has once again exceeded you.”  I led him to a low tent nearby and helped him inside, when he promptly passed out.  I returned to the deck, and it was clear now that the majority of the crowd believed that the Apple King cheated.  I also noticed two things about this group.

Firstly, it was clear that the bettors for Big D, were in the majority.  But the second thing was more important.  Almost all the crew of the barge were betting for Big D, and the Captain was now in the thick of the crowd and siding with his crew.

“You don't cheat on my boat!”

“I did nothing of the sort!”

"So…your calling my crew liars?”

“I.  Did.  Not.  Cheat!”

“Right then.  Here’s your stop.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave us here!”

“You start a fight with a passenger, cheat and try to take my crews hard earned coin?  Well, now you can take it to the shore and walk it!” 

I noticed that the barge was being steered towards the bank.  The helmsman was skilled though and kept the barge from running aground or getting caught in the plants.

“But as a courtesy to you; take your passage fees back and you can throw yourself and your two friends off.  Unless ye be needing some help with that!”  The captain said glaring.

Moments later, the three halflings were on the western bank having swam or waded to shore.  They were shaking themselves off when the Apple King turned and shouted. 

“Hey!  This is the wrong side of the river!”

“So, it is!  And your on the wrong side of my manners!”

I made a mental note to myself.  Don’t annoy the captain on their boat.

The excitement was over, and I moved towards a small table with my mug.  I was tired and just about done for the evening.  Night was coming soon and I for once just wanted a good night’s sleep.

At that point, the three humans sat next to me.  And one of them started;

“Wow, so you *know* Big D?  Are you a fan or his—”

This is one of those times I rolled my eyes.  However, I have come to realize that unless you have an iris or clear whites of your eyes, people tend to miss it.  I found that out from Elisna, who as a tiefling had solid red eyes.  And the same problem. 

“I just…travel with him.”

“Oh, wow that must be…oh WOW!  Your eyes…you are…wow can can I?”

“No wait, can I?”

“No me!

And finally, all three said at the same time:

“Get you a drink?!”

I spent the rest of the evening drinking lightly, and shifting mugs, so they ended up drinking what they bought for me.  The conversation was somewhat about me how I looked, and a bit about Big D.  But it was the same dance of each of them trying to get a coveted spot in my tent to sleep in for the evening.

It must have been near Anti-Peak when the last one passed out, and I could extract myself from the table.  I moved again to the stern, where the captain was alone holding the tiller.  He glanced at me amused.

“You were right.”

“About?”

“Your good luck.  Made more in drinks off them drunks than their passage.”

I looked town on river drifting behind us.  “Glad I’m valuable for something then.”

The dwarf cocked his eyebrow and looked at me, nodding.

“Ye'd fit in at Citadel Adbar.  Good food.  Good drinks.  No one pesters you, if you donna want it.  Helps that the dwarves wouldn’t hit on you as much.”

“Oh?”

The dwarf nodded, smiling.  “Nah.  You look too breakable, and you don’t have a beard.”

I laughed at that a long while as the we continued our way north in the night.

*Session notes:*

This is what happens when you get a dialog that goes like this in the game:

“Kinglsey appears to be dying”

“I heal him.”

Sorta boring. 

The second round with Big D was pretty much as is;  a bit more even, and accusations of cheating.

2,214


----------



## Nthal

*Entering Portstown Gingerly - 6/19/2019*

*Entering Portstown Gingerly
*
(And a special welcome to the folks who have shot my pageviews through the roof!)

_My faith spends a lot of time with people preparing for the final days.  Either their own, or someone close to them.
_
_So, preparing someone to live is an uncommon experience.  _​ 
I was up relatively early the next morning, watching the sun rise.  The last time I watched it was somewhere between Triboar and Yartar.  It was still a novelty to me, and this seemed to be a great way to watch it.  Sitting on a chair on the deck, doing essentially nothing but watching.  I could look at the color of the sun, and the colors it painted across the landscape as it rose.  Closing my eyes, I could see the light, and feel the beginning of warmth on my face.  It was a peaceful indulgence.

But truth be told, I was up, not because of the sun.  It wasn’t even because I couldn’t sleep much myself, although that did have a small part in it.  I was truly awake because I wanted to see Kingsley when he first woke.
During the war in Sigil, there were many patients who after taking a grievous wound that weren’t the same.  Most causes were obvious; a loss of a limb, or an eye were enough to break the spirits of a person not prepared to be a casualty.  But there were others that while the wound healed, they didn’t *act* the same.  Some were quiet, some were slow, and some were violent.  The Gatehouse would often take in the last and keep them from others so they didn’t harm anyone.  The others hopefully had family to care for them.

I didn’t know where Kingsley might land.  We didn’t know anything about him.  Did he have family in Yartar?  Anywhere near?  What would he do now?  Was his mind intact?   Hopefully today we would know.
I heard a soft groan from another tent and I turned my head hoping.  But the quick hoot of Foggle, made it clear who was stirring.  And not long after, Beepu crawled out of the tent that we had shared.  He pulled himself upright and stretched.  Seeing me he both yawned and waved.

“Morning.  I guess you slept well,” he remarked.

“Well, once the three humans passed out on the deck I could think about it.”  I said gesturing at the still forms by the table nearby.  “Daneath and Iesa were up longer, still talking when I finally called it.  Thanks for…being a gentlegnome last night?”

“Oh well…yes.  I do not take as much room as the others, so it only made sense.  And besides I do have manners.”

“Yes…yes you do.”

“Ahem, any sign of the others?”

I shook my head, “They were snoring right before sunrise.  Saw Mo somewhere, probably looking for food or something.” And I looked behind Beepu at the tent that held Kingsley.  “And nothing from our…friend yet.”
“Yes.  Quite the conundrum.  Hopefully he can tell us a little more on what we left behind.”

It was then I could a hear a groan from Kingsley’s tent.  I pulled myself onto my feet and walked over to the closed tent.  What I heard was some muffled whispering and frantic searching.  Presently, the flap to his tent was flung aside and Kingsley, wild-eyed and confused emerged.  He stood up and was starting to look around when I addressed him.

“Are you feeling better Kingsley?”

He turned to look at me with surprise.  “I…well…I guess?  I thought I was dreaming.   But I don’t know what was dream and what was real.”  Looking around for the first time his confusion continued, “I don’t quite know where I am for that matter.”

“I’m told this is the River Surbrin, and you are heading north on a barge.  What do you remember?”

“Well…I…swore I was dead.  I remember seeing you and the dark-haired fellow.  And I…I was stabbed?  Yes…I remember that.  But—” he looked at the tunic he wore, that had a clear hole on the left side.  But looked under it, clearly trying to find something else.”

“Well, you did have a javelin sticking through your chest.”

He looked puzzled, “But I don’t see a wound...or blood even.”

“No, you would not,” Beepu said.  “Between Myrai and I, we cleaned up most of your blood.  And she used some magic to close your wound.

“So…I didn’t die?”

“Well, if we didn’t remove the javelin, you probably would have.  Seemed too good a person to visit the fugue so soon.”

Kingsley stopped looking for the wound and looked at each of us, “Well…thank you.   I owe you my—”

“No,” I said.  “We’re even.  Your warning probably saved us.  So…why did you?”

He stood there thinking a moment before talking again, “I had been a house guard for about six years, and the last year had been strange for certain after Vicam arrived.  Then…Nestra seemed to change.  I put it out of my mind for a while, but when I saw you and the other fellow I knew something was going to happen.   And something *did* but they wouldn’t say what.  Had us search the rooms and the guests.  Then the next night was even stranger.”

“How so?” Beepu asked.

“Well, I was downstairs, when the upstairs sergeant called for help.  Then all of us were trying to break down the door to Nestra’s room.  We finally made it through, and there was dirty smoke in the air, but nothing else.  No one else.  It was another guard that found the hidden door, and we all charged down the stairs only to be blocked in a room with another door.  At that point some of us were told to go back upstairs and secure the house.  Did that, got little sleep and then in the morning we were told to start looking for several guests.  Her for certain, and you being the only gnome at the party, plus the other two men.  I had no idea why, and I was just surprised to see you at all.  You just didn’t seem the type to cause trouble.  It didn’t feel right somehow,” he rambled, recalling the haze of the last several days.

“Well, Eragon—” I started

“Arakhan,” Beepu corrected.

“Right, Arakhan.  He seemed to take it personally that you told us.  Thank you.”

“Well…I’m glad I could…help.” Kingsley said, his face plainly looking like it needed to sort things out.
“It was a great help,” said Iesa who had crawled out from his tent.  “After leading Arakhan around the docks for a bit, he clearly wanted to kill us.  And I for one appreciate being alive.”

“I have to agree with you there; he wasn’t pulling hits with his sword.  Probably would have bled right there if Myrai hadn’t of helped me,” Remarked Daneath.

I gamely shrugged, “Glad to help…we should try harder, so I don’t have to maybe?”

“So Kingsley,” Beepu started to ask.  “Did you leave anyone behind?”

“Wha—oh no.  Family passed away a while ago.  Don’t have a wife or anything either,” he said, almost disappointedly.

“No one?” I said frowning.  “I mean it could be worse, but somehow I don’t think you can go back to Yartar.”

“No…probably not.” He said glumly.

“Well cheer up!  I can write you a letter of reference!  This barge should continue up to Silverymoon.  If you want you can go to my mother’s place there, and she can help you get established!”  Said Beepu enthusiastically.

“R—really?  You would that?”

I turned to look at Beepu, “You can do that?”

“Yes, yes,” Beepu said waving his hand nonchalantly.  “Least we can do.  There was no way for Kingsley here to know that he would be, well ending his employment.  So, it is the least I can do to get you restarted.”

I was surprised, and a little envious.  I could only offer what I had.  I didn’t have a family like Beepu.  And have the confidence to offer what he did, with the certainty that his mother would help.  The same offer that I had from Beepu for his father’s help.  Beepu was not the easiest to get along with, but I wouldn’t ever say that he wasn’t generous.

“Well…thanks.  That will help,” Kingsley said with some tears in eyes.  “Now If you don’t mind, I’m starved…I need to…”

“Please!  Don’t worry about it.  It’s not your week to die, and perhaps the change will work out for the best” I said hopefully.  And with that he started toward one of the tends, where some cheese and bread were already laid out.

“That’s generous of you,” said Daneath.  “You are sure your mother will help?”

“Of course!  No question at all!”

“Well, that’s good.  Now, what do we do about Arakhan?” said Iesa.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well…he might not give up easily.  We might need to disguise ourselves at the next stop just in case.” Iesa said.

“Makes sense, but can you do it?” Daneath said.

“That could be challenging,” Beepu frowned.

“Bet I can,” Iesa said and then started looking at me.  In fact, all three were.

“Wait…what?   I can just cover up under a hood, right?”

“Well, that’s the first thing that a person searching for another looks for; someone trying to hide features.” Iesa said.  “We’re going to have to do something about your hair.”

I felt defensive suddenly, “I…well…sure…I guess.  Nothing permanent right?”

Iesa smiled, “No, not at all.  But…I don’t know what to do with the eyes.”

Beepu was frowning, “Well…we could cover her eyes.   As if she were blind.”

“Any magic you could use?”  Daneath asked Beepu.

“My illusions would work only if she stood still.  I will have to think of something else.”

“We have some time to figure it out right?” I asked, somewhat alarmed at the attention about how I looked.

“Well, we’ll need an idea by tomorrow, before we dock,” Daneath said.

“And what are you berks going to do?  I mean he’s distinctive per Kingsley,” and I pointed at Beepu.

“Fake beard and a burlap sack.  He keeps Foggle hidden,” Iesa replied, and Beepu shrugged and nodded without much fuss.

“And the Big D?”

“Fake mustache and braid his hair.”

I blinked,” And yourself?”

“Well, I was going to cut down my hair, so I had some for the beard, and darken my skin, and wear a hat.”

“A hat.” I less asked, than stated the obvious.

“Myrai, you are just very…distinctive.  The gold and the eyes are dead giveaways.”

“I bet he doesn’t even show.” I said.

“Can we take the chance?” Daneath asked?

“I…I guess not.  We’ll take care of it tomorrow I suppose.”  I said defeated.  Turning away to look at the passing water, I realized that it was an odd argument to have.  It made sense that we might be looked for.  So why was I putting up a stink about it?

Frowning I thought about it and I realized that deep down…I wanted to be distinctive.  Like it or not it was me.  I never wanted to hide who I was in the Gatehouse, in Sigil, or even when I first arrived a hood was fine.  But the prospect that someone might actively look for me and I had to hide was uncomfortable.

The next morning found myself sitting down on the edge of the deck, with Iesa seated on a stool behind me.  He was rubbing some smelly oil through my hair that he claimed would alter the color.  He had already trimmed his hair down, and honestly it looked like an improvement.  It was strange having another person work their hands through my hair like this.  It actually felt a bit relaxing, as he gently pulled sections of my hair and coated it.

All the time I was thinking about my eyes.  How could one disguise them?  I sat and thought, and something then just fell into place.  One of the incantations I knew could alter aspects of my voice and presence.  Could I use that?  As I thought about it, I decided it was worth a try.

“Iesa, what color is my hair turning out?”

“Well, I would describe it as coppery at the moment.  It doesn’t really want to get much darker.”

“Ok,” and I remembered that green eyes worked well for that color, and I sat and thought about Beepu’s eyes.  I then focused both light and dark energy, and painted magic over my eyes.  I pulled out the mirror from my pouch and looked.

The hair was coppery alright; metallic copper but not as shiny as my natural gold.  But my eyes were now a bright green.  I focused a little and toned it down to be less vivid and after some trying had a look that I could live with.

As a red head I was going to be tolerable.  But the first thing I discovered was that I had to constant put energy in keeping up the appearance.  It just wouldn’t stick around for very long.  The second thing I found out was that it was giving me a headache.  At least I knew when the spell was working.

“Well, I’m about done.” Iesa said.  “Hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Same here, and no you didn’t.”  I stood up on the deck turned to face Iesa, raising his chin as I bent down.  His eyes locked with mine, and I watched his jaw drop and his eyes blink with surprise.

“How did you—”

“A bit of effort, even now.  I need to actively keep it up.  But I gather it works for you.” I said with a smirk.

“Looks good, what else could you want?”

“A wide brimmed hat obvious.  This actually hurts to do.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Great.  Are we the only ones getting off in Portstown?” I asked.

“Yes, everyone else is travelling north past the ruins of Nesmé and eventually Silverymoon.  That includes Kingsley.”

“Well, then we don’t have to explain to others leaving the boat then.”

“Nope.  And hopefully this will be enough.  Oh, before I forget here is some coin I owe you,” and he passed me a small bag of coin.

“From our findings?”

“Yes…minus some expenses.”

“Expenses?  Like the orphans that were waving their hands at you as we left Yartar?”

“Ah…yes.  I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I don’t think the others did.  But I’m sure they could use the help,” I said approvingly.

“Well let’s get ready to leave.” Iesa said, clearly happy that the discussion on his soft spot was over.

It didn’t take long to get our meager things.  Daneath was surprised at my new look, and his new braids screamed dwarf.  Beepu looked like a poor gnome with a patchy beard and simply nodded at my new look.  Foggle was hidden…somewhere.  While Mo was bounding around the boat.

“Isn’t Mo somewhat distinctive?” I asked.

“Yes, but I’ll carry him in my pack once he burns off some energy,” Iesa replied.

The barge was pulling toward the dock and the crew was getting ready to cast mooring lines to fasten the barge to the jetty.  As this was going on, I took a moment to thank the captain for the journey.  He looked at me and laughed, saying he wasn’t sure if he was drinking more now or before to have a missed a second woman on board.

Finally, we said our goodbyes to Kingsley.  Beepu gave him a letter, and Iesa gave him some coin as well to “Help him get restarted.”  Kingsley had tears in his eyes and simply said “Thank you.”  I touched him and gave a simple blessing.
_
Bless Kingsley to live until his appointed time, 
_
_So, his deeds will live forever,_
_
So be the will of my Lord, so when Death comes,_
_
All will know his worth forever._

He looked at me and nodded and asked, “And when is my time?”

I shook my head, “It’s not for us to know.  But I’m pretty sure it’s not today, and probably not tomorrow.”

“What about the day after?”

“Pretty good if you don’t annoy the captain.”

“I guess that will do.  Thanks, Myrai.”

And with that final good bye, the four of us walked down the gangplank and stepped into Portstown.

So, if I ever said that I was disappointed in Triboar or Yartar, looking around I realized that indeed it could get worse.  Portstown was optimistic in being called a town.  It couldn’t be larger than twenty buildings, which would put it at half the size of Triboar.  And it was far poorer, with most of the buildings in rough shape.  Even calling the buildings, ‘buildings’ was a stretch in most cases.  At least one was a burned-out shell and others ready to fall apart.  The main road was a muddy track leading through the town.  Few horses of any kind were visible hitched by the buildings, and only a few people were making their way around the town.

“Guys, other than Beepu and his sack, we’re going to stand out just on the virtue of the towns inhabitance being this poor.” I observed.

“That is why I chose this sack.  It gives off the vibe of poor and unwashed.  I learned that from ‘the Dirty One’ here.”

“Hey!  I was in jail, they don’t give baths in jail.” Iesa said hurt.

“Can we move, I’ve got a large headache already,” I said resisting the urge to rub my temples.

“Whatever, we need to find that smith,” Daneath said, his patience already a bit thin.  He was eager to get on the next step.

“Keep your ears open then,” I said and started down the main road, and the rest followed.  Daneath stayed with me, and Beepu and Iesa stuck to each other on the other side of the street.  As we made our way, we quickly found the local Inn, but also heard that distinctive sound of hammer on an anvil.  Daneath and I looked at each other, nodded and made our way to the noise.

On the very edge of Portstown, stood a smithy.   It was a large building, larger than I would have guessed for a town of this size.  As we approached I whispered to Daneath.

“Let me go in first…I have some actual business I want done.”

“Business?”

“Yes, an actual transaction.  Once that is done, he might be more willing to talk.  Wait for the others and see if anyone else is paying attention.”

“Sure, why not.  It’ll let others catch up anyway.”

Nodding, I strode into the smithy.

It probably would have been dark for most eyes, as there wasn’t a light source anywhere, and most of the windows were shuttered.  But to me, everything was brightly lit with no shadows at all.  But what I saw on the walls surprised me. 

Large weapons; huge axes and blades were fastened to the walls.  They were hung above the reach of people, which told me these were trophies, and not items for sale.  The walls otherwise had various tools, horseshoes, some weapons and shields.  Standing tall at the anvil was a grey skinned half-orc.  He didn’t wear a shirt or smock, and his chest was covered in scars from weapons and burns.  He barely lifted his eyes to look at me as I entered.

“What did you want?” he asked simply in a deep gruff voice.  His tone was what I expected, someone who talked when necessary.

“I’m looking to have some work done on a shield,” I said as I browse over the weapons that hung on racks on the side of the smithy.  There weren’t a lot, but what was there was good quality.

“Work?  The shield you are carrying barely looks used.  What work could you need done?”

“I would rather the sign of my faith be on display for my friends…and foes to see.”

The half-orc snorted a moment, “So what, they fear you?  That might be a stretch,” he said derisively.  “So, what did you want on the front then?”

“A set of balance scales held aloft by a skeletal arm”

The half-orc looked up at me and stared, his eyes focusing on me.  As he did so, I pulled out my holy symbol out from under my armor with the image I described.

“You aren’t what I would expect for a doomguide.” He said, looking at me carefully.

“Death can wear many guises.  Why would his faithful…or acolytes be different?” I said with an edge of challenge in my voice.

“True enough.  I have seen many battles and many deaths.  And some are more pleasing than others.  Did you have a preference on how it is done?”

“Well, if I had a day to have it done what could you do?”

“I’m not much for gilding, encrusting or untherin styles”

“Untherin?”

“It’s an eastern technique, where you make a dovetail channel and pound gold flush into it.  There’s also fake Untherin which is a simple pattern that you hammer gold into.  Works just as well.  But it isn’t exactly scary, and it takes a week.  But what I can do etch it and fill in spots with lampblack.  Seems more fitting.”

“Alright, that sounds good.  So, how about I buy a shield from you, and you etch it, and I pick it up tomorrow evening?  You can take this one as part of the trade.”

“Ten gold then for the shield and work with the trade,” he said.

“Done,” and I pulled out a pouch from beneath my armor and removed five gold coins.  “Half now in good faith with one small request.

He took the coins from my hand and looked at me quizzically.  “Request?”

“Yes.  On top of the business I have, my friend outside has some questions, and you might be able to answer.”  I then turned and raised my voice to say, “Hey D!”
The half-orc frowned, “I’m no innkeep with rumors.” As Daneath came inside with the other two in tow.

“Well, thank you for your business.  And I do hope you can help.” I said, and I looked at Daneath.
Daneath was taking in the trophies and tried to start off casually;

“So…wow, how much is that axe up there?” he said completely missing its importance.

“It’s not.  Is that the question?” the half-orc growled.

“Uh…no.  You see I am looking for someone and I was pointed your way by a mutual…acquaintance.”

“Not ‘friend.’  Who?” the Half-orc bluntly asked, clearly on edge.

“Leoras of Yartar.” Daneath said as nonchalantly as he could.

“Leoras.  Not a friend.  And why would he send you here?”

“Because you might know someone that can help me find someone else.”

“Know some people.  Do you even know who you are looking for?” he replied, his arms crossed.  His agitation was visible and clear in his voice.

“Someone with a tattoo.”

“Look.  I don’t have time to play with words.  I have a commission to do,” nodding at me, and turned to get a shield that hung from the rack nearby.

The headache was getting to me at this point, and my patience was running out.  “D…show him.” I said simply pointing at my own arm.

Daneath looked at me a moment with a pained expression and then nodded.  He rolled up his sleeve and exposed the snake tattoo on his arm.  “This tattoo.”

The half-orc turned to look, and he looked like he was about to drop the shield as his eyes opened wide.

“No.  I won't help you.” He said shaking his head slowly and with a touch of fear in his voice.

Daneath looked at Iesa with a puzzled look, and Iesa simply shrugged in surprise.  Turning back to the half-orc.

“What?  We need to talk to someone who has this mark.  Why will you not—”

“Because,” he interrupted “I swore not to.”

“Please,” I appealed.  “We’ve come a long way and its important.  If there anything you can do…”

The smith thought for a long time, and finally nodded and raised a meaty hand.  “I won’t lead you.  I’ll tell you where to go.  But I can’t guarantee you’ll…”

“Get what we want?” Iesa asked.

The half-orc turned to look at Iesa and said:

“Survive.”

*Session notes:*

Ever notice that its hard to find French toast, or French bread, or wines from Burgundy in D&D?  Well, you also can’t do Damascening either, which is a style of inlay used on armors. So Unther has now replaced Damascus.   

Source of this type of stuff below:

https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/dect/hd_dect.htm

2,781


----------



## Nthal

*The Grove of the Brethren - 6/26/2019*

*The Grove of the Brethren
*
_There is nothing a bottle of bub can’t fix._
_Except the real problem._​ 
“This seems like a setup,” Iesa muttered.

“Why is that?  Because it always is?” I retorted.  We had left Portstown and were on the road out.  I had dropped the magic concealing my eyes.  However, the headache was still there and had not faded.

“No…yes…right…Crap.  It’s too convenient is all!”  Iesa stammered.  “A short hike outside of town, and follow a path after hitting a stream?  That’s it? “ he exclaimed, as Mo skittered ahead from shrub to shrub.

“You _want_ a long arduous quest?  I for one just want to find my father.  If this happens to be the shortest path, so be it.”  Beepu lectured.

Daneath was silent throughout the discussion.  His face was knotted in concentration, but he was unwilling to share his thoughts.  Ever since the half-orc had reluctantly gave us directions, Daneath seemed to be steeling himself for something.  A fight?  An argument?  I couldn’t tell. 

“Well remember that the smith also didn’t say we would survive,” Isea tossed back.  “Why should I feel comfortable.”

I stop and turn to look at Iesa, “Fine, let’s go back now.”

“What?” He was taken aback and looked at me in surprise.  In fact, everyone had stopped and were looking at me.

“We came all this way, to get answers and all you are doing is shouting screed.” I said leveling a gaze at Iesa.  “I don’t care if you’re afraid or paranoid.  I already know you don’t like it.  But what I am *not* hearing, is something better to do.  So, either get ready to dance, or go home.  But tell me now, so I stop wasting my time.”

Iesa’s mouth hung open a moment taken aback and stunned into silence.

“Let’s get this over with,” Daneath said, continuing down the trail.  “Coming?” he glared at us and turned to continue down the path.

Iesa and I stared at each other for a moment and we both nodded.  We knew we were heading into trouble, fighting now was a waste of energy.  We all followed Daneath, making his way on the trail.
The directions were simple enough:

“Follow the main road out of town until you hit a stream.  Just before the water, you should be able to find a game trail on your left.  Take that trail until you enter a grove of trees.  What you are looking for will be there.” The half-orc said grimly.

“And what are we looking for exactly?” Daneath had asked.

“They’ll find you.”

That was all we had to work with.  It had been a while since we had found a game trail and were making our way to some trees settled into a small valley.  Considering that this wasn’t even going to take a day, on one level this did seem too easy.  But something else was bothering Iesa and I couldn’t finger what exactly it was.  So, there was only one recourse.

“Beepu.  What’s got Iesa going on edge?”

“Oh.  That is simple.  A woman.”

I wasn’t sure I believed what I heard.  “A woman?”

“Yes.  As Iesa and I were looking for the smith, he ran into an elven woman, and I he had some words with her.  If I did not know any better, I would have said he was smitten.”

“And?  What happened?”  I was very curious at this point for reasons I didn’t even understand.
“Well…nothing?  As I recalled he approached her, said something, and she gently laughed and walked away.”

“That’s it?  You didn’t hear more?”

“I was busy looking for the smithy, and it did not seem important.”

“You know Myrai, if you are jealous you could just say so,” Iesa said with a wicked grin on his face.
I could feel my face flushing in embarrassment.  “What?  Of you?  Not likely.  Mo on the other hand…you might break his heart.” I said glibly and strode ahead of Iesa so he couldn’t see my face.

“Sure Myrai.  Whatever you say,” Iesa chuckled.

Jealous?  Why would I be jealous?  I liked Iesa certainly.  And he was attractive in that unkempt style of his. Clean him up a bit, and he could easily make many women swoon I was certain.  But beyond flirting with me on occasion, he never really showed interest in me.

Did I miss something?  He had a cute and playful personality, but I never gave anymore thought to it than that.  Should I have?

That had to wait, as we crossed some boundary and found ourselves in the outskirts of the grove.
Now Foggle was flying about ahead of us and slightly above us.  Before we had arrived in Yartar, he did this daily.  So much so I frequently forgot he was around.  So it had been a long while since he had done this type of ranging.  At some point though, Beepu stopped in his tracks and looked around flustered.

“Where are you?” he muttered to himself aloud.

“What’s wrong Beepu?” Daneath asked.

“Foggle.  I…I cannot feel him.”

“Wasn’t he just ahead of us?” Iesa said.  “Perhaps we should catch up with him.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Beepu said, and we jogged along the path.  At a certain point when we ‘crossed-in’ the grove he stopped again, looking confused.  And then Foggle, flew down and landed on his arm.

“What happened?” I asked.

Beepu focused a moment and then looked at me.  “It seems we have crossed into something.  He could not talk to me, but it was more than that.  From his perspective we disappeared from his sight as he watched.”  Beepu looked at each of us in turn and then said.  “We have crossed into a magical field of some kind.  We should be cautious.”

Now we were under the shade of the trees, I could feel the hairs on my neck rise. The air felt alive.  An almost primeval air surrounded us, and the whole atmosphere felt…The trees felt like they were closing in, watching us.  I could see it on everyone’s faces that they felt the sudden change.  Even Mo, who normally charged around chattered, was silent and apprehensive.

We moved slowly through the trees, looking and searching for something we couldn’t see.  We knew we were entering someone’s demesne, but little idea who…or perhaps what.   But as far as we knew, and we were warned; we were likely uninvited guests.  And perhaps unwelcome as well.

Finally, we entered a clearing, with a solitary oak in its center.  A small brook ran through the center, circling around the large tree.  Various bushes, and ground foliage was scattered around ground.  Some wildflowers had blossomed, giving the floor of the clearing vibrant yellows and violets.  It looked tranquil.

And yet, it felt anything but.  The omnipresent feeling of being watched.  No being *judged* hung there in the air.  There was no birdsong or rustling of animals in the brush.  This included Mo, who had drifted to Iesa, and now sat on his shoulder.   Beepu’s minion seemed loud by comparison, with metal gears whirring as it took off to fly above us.

We were looking around apprehensively, when I spotted her.  Standing next to the oak tree I saw a woman leaning against it, watching us.  Her skin was a deep brown, her eyes had the lightest grey.  At first, I thought she was an elf, but then I realized I was seeing something far more fey.  Her fingers were longer and thinner, trailing off into long tendrils.  Her hair moved in the breeze in a cascade of oaken leaves attached to flexible shoots that hung loosely down to her waist.  All of this concealed the fact that she wore no clothes, and probably had never had.

A Dryad, I thought to myself.  I heard of them from stories.  The Sensates had many stories about many of the fey creatures as they were fairly common in Aborea, where the Sensates had an enclave established for training and…rehabilitation.  The stories told were lumped into two main categories.  The first was all fantasy and romance, where protagonists of all type chased the maidens of the wood for a dalliance.  Fun stories and of course the most common.  But the second group were more practical and interesting.  Dryads were fey and were fickle.  They were focused on their domains with care and joy; but that did not include trespassers.  Especially, non-Fey.  While I knew enough about creatures of belief to know how they looked upon mortals as barely animals, the Fey would take a very similar perspective; even to true creatures of belief.  For while they weren’t truly immortal, they had all the attitude of one.  What they wanted is what they got.  If they needed a man for something, they would take them.  The fantasies are all from then ones who leave their clutches.  The second set of stories tells the rest of the story of the ones who never leave…dead or at all.
All of which were enough to take me aback, but it was the severe look on her face that gave me chills.

‘We were not wanted here,’ was what its face said.  

Daneath broke the silence of the grove first, “Ahem.  We were hoping that—”

“Leave this place.  He is under its protection,” the Dryad said in a strongly accented voice.  She was now no longer leaning against the tree, but had taken a step forward, fists clenched and staring hard at us.

Iesa spoke up, “We need to just talk to him, and we’ll be gone.”

“No.”

“This doesn’t have to be a conflict,” I said hopefully.  “We don’t need to fight.”

“I…disagree,” she simply said.

From the bushes burst out a barrage of sharp spines.  Daneath reacted first, placing his shield in front of him and ducking for cover.  I was lucky with several grazing me, and two more splatting against my shield.  I threw a bolt towards the dyrad and hit her in the leg.   Beepu, took a single needle as a flesh wound, and started to move to a nearby rock for cover.  but it was Iesa that took a full shot to the chest, with blood spraying everywhere as he sprinted towards one of the bushes.
The dryad face appeared frozen, regarding us all with an indifferent expression.  She raised her arm palm up and then flexed, closing her root like hands into a balled fist.  A greenish emanation of light appeared around her hand and I could feel the energy spread out from her.

From the ground, first the grass grasped at my legs, and then roots erupted and wound around my legs and ankles.  They pulled at me, holding me in place.  Beepu had some cover but was equally immobilized by the grasping roots.  As for Iesa, he had already moved far from the grasping tendrils, and Daneath easily broke their hold.  Unrestrained, he moved towards one of the bushes spitting needles at us.

I watched with surprise, as the bushes started to move on their own accord.  What once appeared to be a simple shrub now looked to be a short-hunched figure, covered in conifer needles.  And now, they had a single focus; Iesa.  There were three of these vicious bushes all throwing needles at Iesa as he scampered looking for cover, as he tried to safely close with one.  Fortunately, Daneath’s break from the spell holding Beepu and I was a welcome distraction.

Iesa closed with a bush and made a quick cut with the tip of his rapier and managed to lop off a side of the bush.  Unfortunately, the bush swiped at Iesa, and a knotted ball of needles struck him in the gut, winding him and causing him to sink to his knees.  Daneath however led with his shield and cut the bush down, while more needles bounced off his armor and shield. 

As I saw Iesa fall, I worried less about the roots holding me fast, and instead called the light within, to close Iesa’s wounds and put him back into the fight.  The shrubs from Baator however focused their fire on Iesa and Daneath, giving me breathing room.  Or rather us. 

From behind his rock, Beepu had pulled out some clay from his pouch and quickly made a small hand with it.  And with a couple of words, the earth erupted around the dyrad and took the form of a giant hand, which grasped and squeezed the fey.  If it caused her pain or any type of discomfort, it wasn’t obvious.  She made no noise, and her face kept the same flat expression.  But I could hear what sounded like creaking wood coming from her, as she did struggle to free herself.

My magic had the effect I expected, and Iesa quickly scrambled to the next shrubbery, parrying its blows until Daneath closed and chopped at it with his heavy sword.  The shrub momentarily distracted twisted to defend itself, giving Iesa an opening, allowing him to cut the second bush down.  The last shrub threw more needles at Iesa and moved away, trying to keep distance from the pair.  This barrage was as accurate as the last, and Iesa was faltering again.

The Dryad twisted in frustration, unable to move and act.  But it still held us fast with its spell.  It turned to look at Beepu with that frozen face.  I would have felt more comfortable if she looked angry, or in pain, or even annoyed.  That inhuman look of permanent disdain was she offered.  She didn’t even utter a scream.

I could only pour more energy into Iesa, unable to strike a blow at anyone.  But Beepu, focused and briefly released her only to grab and crush her body again.  Now the wooden creaking sound became louder, and the Dryad twisted more and more attempting to free herself from her bonds.  But he then threw a bolt of fire striking her form.

I can’t unhear that sound; it was primal.  A horrid mixture of fear and revulsion as the fire licked over her.  Her face finally changed from impassive to one of frustration and fear.

Fortunately, keeping Iesa alive was enough for the Daneath and he to strike down the third shrubbery, with Daneath taking a mild punch to the gut with a ball of needles.  Now that didn’t have to pour more energy into him, I threw another bolt of energy at the dryad, striking it in the chest.  But it was Beepu that finished her off.  First there was this sickening sound of wood cracking and shattering, followed by another bolt of fire to her midsection.  The Dryad then lost…cohesiveness, as her body broke apart into ribbons of fiber, leaves and loam.  And as she collapsed, so did the ensnaring magic holding myself and Beepu in place.

We were looking around a moment, for more murderous vegetation when we heard the unexpected sound of slow clapping.

Turning around there standing on a rock in the open field, was a halfling.  He was unassuming, with tousled black hair and bright blue eyes, and his weathered brown face had the slightest smile upon his lips.

“It was about time that you arrived,” he spoke confidently.

Daneath’s eyes narrowed “We were what? Expected?  And who are you?”

“Yes.  Our organization values its privacy, and we do try to keep tabs on people that are important to us.  And my name…is not important for this conversation.”

“What organization are we talking about?  Some part of the Zhentarim?” Iesa said confused.

“No…not the Zhentarim.  But, I am bound by certain strictures and codes.  So, without the correct currency I can’t say more.” He said, crossing his arms in front of him, and looking at us expectantly.
Beepu and I looked at each other blankly; neither of us had a clue what currency he was talking about.  Daneath’s mouth opened and closed as he stood thinking about what the strange halfling wanted. 

Suddenly, I heard the ringing sound of a thumb flipping a coin.  The halfling caught it in the air and then held it up.  It was more of a large token than a proper coin, but on one side was the same mysterious looped snake symbol, that was tattooed on Daneath’s arm.

“Is that what you are looking for?” Iesa asked with the faintest tremor in his voice.

The halfling regarded the piece, “It is.  And it buys you some answers…and your lives today.”

“Our lives?” Beepu exclaimed.  “While I do appreciate the offer, I do question the necessity!”

“To be fair, it was  essentially paid for by his master,” the halfling said.  “But the organization normally keeps its secrets close.”

“What organization exactly?” I asked feeling more than a little lost.
The halfling looked down and smiled, “The Kerhak.  We…adherents serve our master’s ends.   We are given power from him, and we are to use them for his ends alone.  Your master was one of these adherents.  As am I.”

“So, you know my master then?  Where is he?” Daneath asked.

“North I assume, travelling.  Running in fear I suppose.”

“Fear?  Fear of what?” Daneath pressed.

“*The* Kershak, his master.  Because he broke one of the rules in accepting the power.  The Kershak will always reclaim his power.  As it grants many abilities and long life.  But if one of us has children, it…diminishes us all.  Makes us weaker and makes it harder to reclaim.  And so, it is your Master, your father ran.”

Daneath was taken aback, “What…he never said—”

“No, he didn’t.  He did expect you to find me.  He said as much when he travelled here with an older gnomish fellow.”

Beepu’s ears pricked up, “What?  They were here…together?”

“From what I know they were..friends.  But I couldn’t tell you how or why they travelled.  He paid dearly for me to…delay the inevitable.”

“The inevitable?” Daneath asked fearfully.

“The sins of the father must be paid in blood.  His blood and his progeny.” The halfling said simply.

“I thought you said we paid for our lives already,” Iesa said concerned.

“And you did.  You all will walk out of here alive today.  But should you return, you would not walk out again.  And at some point, in the future, I will not be able to delay the inevitable either.”

“Great.  Daneath, I don’t know what to say but sorry?” Iesa said guiltily.

“Well, your brother I am certain appreciates your concern,” the halfling said smugly with his grin growing wider.

“Wait…what did you say?” Iesa looked at the halfling in shock and involuntarily took a step toward the halfling.

“You hadn’t figured it out?  Why else would you have a Kershak coin?  You are both prodigal sons of your father.  How wonderful.  I am…glad I could at least clear up that mystery for you.” 

“You are certain of this?” Daneath said.

“Of course, unless you think your father is a liar?  But I wouldn’t worry about it much.  Your fate is written; the Kershak will have his blood.  And the blood of those who help his quarry escape his wrath.”

Beepu started to look concerned, “Wait what?”

“Oh yes, your father I suppose is a marked man as well.  As are you.  Both of you,” he said pointing to Beepu and I.

“This has got to be a soddening joke,” I said uncomfortably. 

“No.  The Kershak isn’t known for its sense of humor.”

“So, why are you letting us go then,” Daneath asked intently, becoming more alarmed.

“Because, I…respected your father and owed him a debt.  It is now paid in full and then some,” He replied mildly.  “I will not pursue you…for now.  I do hope you find your fathers.  The next time we meet, will likely be your last,” and with that utterance the halfling jumped down from his stone onto the earth.  But we never heard him land or saw him walk away.  He simply vanished from sight, leaving the four of us standing confused in the diming light of the afternoon.

After a moment Beepu spoke, “So.  How could you be such a dolt Iesa?  You have a map with this mysterious Kershak symbol on it. A mysterious coin with the symbol on it  All mysteriously in your possession from a mysterious benefactor.  We have Daneath with it as a mysterious tattoo.   So, it is no mystery that you are brothers.  The only mystery is why my Father is involved.”

I looked up at the sky.  I had heard the story and the threats and was quite done with it.  “I’m going back to town,” I said and started back towards the trail that let us in.

“Myr…what’s wro—” Iesa started and reached for my shoulder to stop me and turn me around, when 

I swung with my fist and punched him dead in the face.

“OW!  What was that for?!?”

“For dragging me into…this!” I said, “First you get me killed wandering in the plains, even though we had a map.  You have me brought back in a barmy bargain with a criminal with ties to the Lord of the Nine, and now…now I find myself marked for death, just because I travelling ‘helping’ you.”  And I started stomping off in frustration.

“Where are you going Myrai?” Beepu shouted.  "To the Inn, to get drunk since I can’t go home.”
I was not in the mood to talk and led the way back to Portstown.  Beepu was following right behind me, but said nothing.   Iesa and Daneath were talking, excitedly however.  The threat to their lives far from their conversation, as they were excited to be brothers.

It was dark when we reached the inn, and I had barely remembered to cast the magic to cover my eyes again right as I walked inside.  The lower floor was segmented into two sections, one being a general common room, the other was a little nicer, presumably for those with more coin.  I headed straight to that section.  My foul mood must have been on full display, because the tapkeeper looked concerned as I marched up to his bar and growled for a bottle of whiskey.  The keeper just nodded nervously and handed me a bottle and a glass to fill.

“Anything else?” he asked with a note of concern.

“A room for the night,” and I slid about twenty coins of gold to him.  “Will that cover it?”

He simply nodded.  He retrieved a key from a cabinet nearby and slid it to me.  Meanwhile, I pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a long drink from the dark bottle.  It was strong, and the burn was harsh and raw as it poured down my throat.   I could feel the rush of the alcohol warm its way through me and could begin to feel the calming effect work its way to my head.

After a moment Beepu came over to the bar and joined me on a stool beside me.  He sat silently there looking at me with concern.  I wasn’t very receptive and was seriously thinking about dropping the spell on my eyes so I could focus more on the drinking when he spoke.

“It was not exactly fair to punch him you know.”

“Probably.  I should have punched Daneath was well.  That would make it fair.”

“Or say what you—”

“Beepu, I know.  And it also isn’t fair that you *and* I now living on borrowed time.”

“Yes.  I do not understand why my father was involved.”

“It’s that gizmo you have in your pack.  They probably were looking to go somewhere.”

“But that magic can be found in many ways.  Why my father?  What was so special that he brought to the table?”

“I wish I knew.  If we are lucky we can ask him.”

“And if we are not?”

“Then I hope he left you a note.”

“Perhaps that isn’t the worst case.  I am going to call it for the night.  I suspect you will be drinking for both of us.” And he slid off the stool and headed for the stairs.

“Night Beepu,” and I took another long swig.

In the common room, there was celebration.  Iesa had bought a round to celebrate his new brother, and Daneath for the first time in a while was smiling.  Both looked complete.  They didn’t care about the threats anymore.  They had each other; a family long since sundered now reunited.  The patrons around them eagerly helped them celebrate with raucous laughter.  But when the singing started, I grabbed my bottle and made my way to the stairs unsteadily.

I opened the door, threw my energy at a candle to light the room in a soft red light, and closed and barred the door.  I dropped the pack I carried on the floor, and removed the sword belt and peeled off the armor I wore, letting it all fall in a heap.  The gambeson, shirt and pants followed.  I climbed onto the bed naked and sat upright in the bed with bottle in hand.

“It was not exactly fair…” kept running through my mind.

I was happy for Iesa and Daneath really.  Finding each other to be more than comrades, but family.  And their family was connected to Beepu’s via his father.   And there it was: a Rule of Three.  Three souls searching for their father.  Intertwined with destiny.

So of course, that made me a 'Fourth Rule.'  An exception.  I tried looking for my family once.  Cost a lot of coin, and I found nothing.  My father remained hidden.  My mother, I knew even less.  Siblings?  I had no idea.  And the closest surrogate, was dead all because of my name-day. My last love…died in front of me, as I helplessly watched.  Finding out he never loved me made it even more painful to bear.

It didn’t help that I didn’t really know how the others thought of me.  Was Iesa joking?  What about Daneath?  Beepu had some respect for my abilities, but that didn’t say anything about me.  And I had just acted like an ass in such an endearing way in front of all of them.  At least it was honest to them.  To myself?  I wasn’t sure.

I sat there, feeling the tears flow freely down my cheeks as I drank to quell my thoughts, and dull the pain in my heart.

It wasn’t fair. 

I wanted more than partners in crime or acquaintances.

I wanted more than memories.

I wanted _family._

I _needed _family.

I needed _someone_.

*Anyone*.

But all I could do was sit there and cry in the dim light, naked and unconnected.  I don’t remember when the darkness finally took me.  I was just glad that for once, I couldn’t remember the nightmares that plagued my dreams for an evening.

*Session notes:*

This dialog was a long time ago, and my notes were rough because I was tangential to the main story here.  But it was indeed now DaddyQuest.

2990


----------



## Nthal

*The Road North - 07/04/2019*

*The Road North
*
_Travel is the gateway to discovery said some Sensate who was a blood for certain.  It always sounds simple and nice, like a stroll in the Lady’s Ward looks to be.
_
_But here, it felt more like the Lower Wards, at night.
_
_What worried me was finding the prime version of the Hive.
_
_What scared me was walking into something worse. _​ 
I awake painfully with the warm light from the sun shining into the window on my body and face.  I opened my eyes slowly, drinking in the pain in my head; justly earned.  At least the dreams were gone for a night, but this wasn’t a price I could afford often. 

I pushed myself up by my arms.  It was an awful mistake as far as my head was concerned.  Breathing heavily, I sat up and massaged my temples and looked around for the first time.  My armor, gear and clothes were in a heap on the floor.  Near the bed was an empty wash basin and pitcher on a table and some cloth near it.

I was going to reach for my pouch buried in a heap on the floor, but I stopped a moment.  I grasped my symbol of Kelemvor and whispered to myself some words and tones and pulled on some light.  I turned and looked at the basin and the pitcher both now filled with water.  I grabbed the cloth that sat next to it and used it to wash off my face and hands.

The cool pure water felt good against my skin, and I realized it had been a very long time since I actually washed ‘normally.’  Maybe five years ago since I found out I had magical talent and another year after that, to figure out I had a spell that I could to clean myself.  It was a simple trick I taught myself after the Faction War.  Creating water on the other hand, was new to me.

When I first could cast spells, I was ignorant on how arcana worked.  After I discovered I had some ability at it, I then attended any lecture I could at the Civic Festhall.  I now understood its principles, and with much trial and error I learned how to cast basic spells. But I never could put my finger on how managed to actually *do *it.   They talked of sorcery and connections to dragons, and wizardry and study.  But I didn’t study it, and as for draconic blood I had no idea.  But I learned what I could about aracana and things related to it.  And I found that I enjoyed the talks about the planes and planar travel most.  The thought of travelling; to go wherever you wanted when you wanted.  The idea of freedom.  At the time. I thought this mysterious gift of magic would provide a means.

But it wasn’t until I left the cage, for the one I found myself now, that something had changed.  I used the magic I had before to remove soils, dirt and the like.  It was practical; staying clean in the Hive was a challenge and the Civic Festhall was a mess after the war.   But now?  I saved Iesa, I could call upon the light’s radiance on Arakhan, repairing things and now…water.

Many in the Hive never saw pure stuff.  Most in the Hive avoided water; much of it there wasn’t safe. Even bub was safer.  But once, when I tended as a hostess for a dice game called ‘Styxes and Sixes’ I got a strange tip.  A shot glass full of water from Oceanus.  It was not a typical tip, but the Sensate in me was curious so I tried it.  the taste was one I would never forget.  Clean, pure, and sweet.  I then understood why it commanded the price it did.

I finished with the cloth and lifted the pitcher to my lips and drank.  I knew that in a bit that the pounding in my head would lesson.  It tasted much like the sip I had of Oceanus.  But how could I create the water?  Cover my eyes?  Heal? *Any of it?  * I just felt I was plucking or pulling on threads of power.  A Strand that I could sometimes make what I want to happen.

A Strand that seem to have its own mind at times.  The speakers said that most of magic was fluid.  You commanded, and it obeyed.  When casting, I felt like I was wrestling or fighting it the entire time.   But during other times, I could feel it within me, twitching and waiting…for something.

I could have asked Beepu. But while we were in the elven temple, I remembered that he said that he ‘was mystified on how I did things.’  Not sure if one of his book’s would shed much light there either.  I’ve seen his notes; and the language he uses has some of the symmetry of Celestial, but the grammar is …well.  Florid?  Ponderous?  No…
Wordy.

Not as break teeth as Infernal.  That was painful to pick up.  Safe thing to do with fiends and tieflings around.  So much so that many contracts are written in it.  I can swear in Abyssal too…but I doubt I want to have a conversation in it.
But what I did note, is that some the spells in the spell book, might be workable if I can scribe it into a more orderly form.  Less gaps.  More order.  Less words.  Not Modron level efficient where I need a cryptix tube to decode it.  Just understandable to me.

I put my hands on the table and looked out the dusty window.  Thinking a moment, I realized that whatever the Strand was, it had power.  It was my skill with it that was lacking.  Here I was pushed to using it beyond the simple incantations I discovered.  Perhaps if kept pushing, or pushed harder, it someday let me rip apart reality and let me have the freedom I wished.  I couldn’t pull that much yet from the Strand.  I needed time, patience, discipline.  Study might help, if I knew what do look for in a tome.

I knew I wasn’t going to get an answer on any of those questions today.  I so I dressed myself, donned my armor and weapons and grabbed the rest of my things.  I quickly started the spell to change my eyes, and then made my way down to the ‘nice’ side of the bar.  It wasn’t hard to find Daneath, he was standing and glaring at a table, where his newfound brother sat.

But sitting with him, was an elven woman.  Obviously the one that Beepu talked about before.  The way that Iesa looked at her, said it all; he was smitten.

I didn’t know many pure-blooded elves as they were rare and elusive in Sigil.  But you could almost feel it when they entered a room.  They had that otherworldly look, delicate features and grace that would make you weep if you stared at their glory too long.  And this one was no exception, with long auburn hair and green eyes.  Her light tanned skin had perfect complexion, which her dress showed off quite a bit of.  Her arms were bare, and the dress was stylish, with a simple squared cut out at the top, and slits below the waist, allowing her to show off her legs.  But it was her face that was the most striking and the most telling.

She was bored out of her mind.

Iesa was talking to her and she was avoiding talking to him.  I approached Daneath, to see what was going on.

“Hey,” I said casually.

“Myr,” he responded frowning.

“Should we…find a temple for them?”

He chuckled, “Might be a good idea, not sure what’s more urgent.  Confessing or marrying him off.”

“True.  Hey…I’m…I’m sorry about last night.  I was a bit out of sorts—”

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised.  Finding a brother was not what I planned on.”

“True, that was quite the surprise.  But the headaches were getting to me and…well at least you are getting closer to your goal.  I’m—”

“Not anywhere closer to home?”

I nodded, “Still feels far away,”

“Well, those two are going to be awhile, and Beepu was still doing stuff upstairs.  Why don’t we get some supplies and get ready to fix your headache?”

I smiled, “You say the nicest things.  Should we get a room for them?”

“That’s optimistic don’t you think?”

“Some healing magic then?”

“Closer; he may take some hits.”

“Can’t fix any damage to his own ego.”  I said holding up my hands in a look of helplessness.

“I’m sure he’ll live; let’s go,” and the two of us walked out into the morning sun. 

The creatively named Portstown, didn’t look much better in the morning light.  But it was reasonably supplied, so finding food, some rope and other items for the trail was easy enough.  We also stopped by the smithy where I picked up my shield.  The light-colored steel now had an etching of the skeletal hand and scales, clearly visible with the contrasting lampblack.  I thanked the half-orc, and which he nodded agreeably enough.  But he did glare at Daneath the whole time.

We also found out a little about the goings on in town; pretty much both overland trade and farming was in dire shape.  While the Uthgardt tribes were a handful, they tended to rob, and take the things they wanted, which was seldom.  But with their disappearance, the gnolls started to appear everywhere, and they didn’t steal anything.  They slaughtered, destroyed, and were just a terror.  The river was the only lifeline the town had, as many of the ranchers and farmers had already fled to Yartar to the south.  Grim times for the town indeed.

With gear, and my spell induced headache in tow, we returned to the Inn and to our surprise, little had changed.  Iesa was still chatting up with the elven woman, who still looked uninterested in the conversation with him.   But surprisingly, Beepu was there sitting with them.   Mo, I noticed was laying limply on the table by Iesa’s arms.  It appeared that the monkey had given up and was attempting to surrender to Iesa and end his jealousy and boredom.  Foggle was on a rafter above watching the table.

Beepu was of course, loud and trying to discuss Arcana with someone who wasn’t interested.  Well she sort of was, Iesa wanted him to bolt.

“Well, I’m not sure what places time would act like that.  Meaning time could be longer or shorter?”

The elven woman nodded simply but said nothing.

“Well I am sure that I could research and disco—”

I interrupted, “Time changes?   Like time dilation and compression based on exiting the place or…plane?”

The woman seeing me for the first time looked at me puzzled and spoke, “Yes.  That sounds right.”

“Feywild most likely; most other planes don’t alter time.  Limbo sometimes can, but it takes a strong will to do so on a large scale.   And even then, it takes a lemon of some skill to do it at all.”

“A lemon?” Beepu asked confused.

“Oh sorry.  Term for someone that is skilled in chronomancy.” I said.

“Oh…well, how do you know it wasn’t Limbo then?” Beepu asked, trying to sound assured in his own knowledge.

“Well, was gravity subjective?” I asked.

“Meaning could I…change it?   No.” the Elven woman said, staring at me with surprise.

“Limbo has both subjective and morphic gravity.  That means down is where you think it is, and how strong is also under your control.  So…Feywild until you know more.  About done here Beepu?”

“Well, you should get some supplies, right?”

“Already done,” Daneath said smiling.

Beepu blinked a moment, “Yes.  I guess that does settle it.  Good day. “ he said looking at the woman.   “Are you coming?” he asked Iesa.

Iesa was complexly flummoxed at the turn of events having both been shut out of the conversation, and now being denied the conversation he wanted to have.  “Well I..um…kinda wanted to…um,”

“Sounds like it!” Daneath said grinning.   “We have a long march ahead of us,”

Iesa looked as if he was going to say something, when Mo jumped up and started to pull on Iesa’s arm and pointed towards the door.  Then Iesa’s face scrunched up and he let out a sigh.   Defeated by his own monkey.

“Well, um…goodbye lady…?” Iesa asked the Elf looking for a particular answer.

The elf had a wan smile and left her seat saying, “Goodbye.  Perhaps we will see each other again…when you have time.”

Iesa helplessly tried to maintain eye contact as well dragged him outside.   He then at all of us with a glare.  “Hey now, I think she was in trouble!”

“Truly.  The boredom could have been fatal,” Daneath quipped.

“I’m serious!  She was being evasive and wouldn’t tell me her name, so I wouldn’t be in danger.”

“Well.   We should keep you safe,” I said.

“You’re not listening!  She was in hiding!”

“In the open in an inn?” Daneath asked.

“Um…yes?  Why not?”

“Iesa, if she needed help, she would have asked,” I pointed out.

“I think she was unsure whether we could help,” Iesa said, still looking over his shoulder as we walked out of town.
“Tell you what, after we are done and if we have time, we’ll come back.  Deal?”  Daneath said, offering a compromise.

“Sure. Deal!”  Iesa said with a big smile.

Beepu pulled my head down so he could whisper to me, “Are we coming back here?”

“Beats me, I wasn’t planning on it,” I said honestly.  Standing up again I looked at Beepu with a cheeky smile.

The moment I was out of town, I dropped the headache inducing spell.  Having to continually cast it was trying on my patience, and I was happy to be done with it.  At the same time, I casted the other spell to clear the dye from my hair.  Truth be told, it was starting to itch.  Someday I could find a town with a proper bath and would spend far more time than needed in it.  But not for a while I guessed.

Finally, Iesa started to use the map.  He quickly discovered that the grove was clearly on the map.  So using that as a landmark with the river, Iesa figured out what direction we needed to go.  So, we followed the road to the river, but instead of following the game trail to the grove, we headed northwards, into the plains.  We were supposed to continue on until we came to a valley or something.  The map was only readable by Iesa, and he wasn’t very comfortable working with it.  But he did have a sense of direction, and for someone city bred through and through, he did seem to know his way outdoors.  Far better than any of us.  Daneath was just eager to head forward on the journey, Beepu frequently claimed that he could look into anything, if only he had the right book.  I would have rather spent time in a larger city.  Something better than Yartar at least.  The outdoors was…interesting, but I wasn’t comfortable in it.

As we walked, Mo would dash in and out of the waist high grass and brush, always jumping on Iesa, then bounding off.  Foggle on the other hand flew above us, communicating silently with Beepu on silent, mechanical wings.   We appeared to be following another game trail, or perhaps a trail that the Elk tribe left behind.  But it seemed that nothing had passed this way in a long time.  Or at least that’s what Iesa said.

There wasn’t much to say on the march, until Beepu spoke up suddenly;

“What holes?” and he looked up quizzically at Foggle, who was flying in a circle, waggling it’s wings erratically. 
We all stopped and looked at Beepu expectantly.  He stroked his chin as he had a silent conversation with Foggle about something.  It was a moment or two before he spoke.

“Foggle says there are holes on either side of us in the brush.  Person sized.”

“Person sized?  Like a Beepu person or a  Daneath person?” I asked feeling nervous.

“Daneath plus si—i—i—!” and his eye grew wide as Daneath was covered in a shower of dirt.  Behind him was a large insect with long antenna, and flailing legs.  But the pincers on the mouth of the monster were enormous, and liquid from its mouth dripped with an acrid smell onto the ground.

We were already moving.  Mo ran for some nearby brush for cover, while Iesa drew his weapon and lunged in for an attack, hitting the creature squarely it is rusty brown midsection.  Unfortunately, the blade didn’t penetrate far, and whatever it was seemed unfazed by the strike.  Beepu on the other hand moved into the brush, but before doing so, flung a bolt of fire at it, also hitting it squarely.  And I did nearly the same thing on the opposite side, but I used a blast of eldritch energy instead of fire.  I also, didn’t hit it.

Unfortunately, Daneath’s reaction time was slower than normal, and the creature vomited up more acrid bile, spewing the content right at Daneath.  He tried to interpose his shield in-between himself and the monster, but the blast showered him head to chest with liquid, and I could smell the acid burn flesh.  But Daneath while wounded, was far from out.  In a scream born of anger and pain, he swung with his sword striking a hard blow on the lowered head of the insect.  The resounding crunch of the chitin, and the spurt of goo from its head was a satisfying sound.

Iesa struck again, this time with better results, causing bile and other fluids to spurt from the creature’s side, followed up by another bolt of fire from Beepu in the brush, hitting it were a nose might be for a normal creature.  But that was enough to bring it down, and it flopped unmoving on the ground, leaking more acrid liquid from its mouth and other wounds. The bulk of the monster was still below the earth, but it didn’t retreat.  It simply quivered for a few moments, and then died.

I was paralyzed a moment.  That acrid smell was familiar, and even more so when it struck Daneath.  I shivered as the memory came back to my mind after being buried and forgotten.  It was acid being used on flesh, on the night that Markell died.  The screams of pain.

My screams.

I shook the memory loose.   It wasn’t the time.  It would *never* be the right time, but certainly not now.  I moved to Daneath and grabbed out a skin of water I had at my side, and poured it over his head and torso, trying to wash the acid away from his skin.  I then focused a moment and put some light into Daneath.

“Thanks, that…feels…better,” he panted.

Beepu emerged from the brush, followed by Mo.  “An ankheg!  Nasty creature.  That explains the holes.  And perhaps why the game trail is lightly travelled.”

“I want to see one of these holes,” Iesa said and moved into the brush.

“That is probably not a good idea!” Beepu shouted at him.

“Why?”

“Because they can sense you before you can see them!”

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that can….HELP!” and we heard the sound of something else bursting through the ground and more dirt flew in the air.  It wasn’t surprising.  Just like the Well in the elven temple, Iesa _had_ to throw a coin in.  And so Iesa _had _to look at the hole.  And here he was face to face with _another_ ankheg.

But this one was much larger, and it lowered its head to snap its huge mandibles at the hapless Iesa.  Fortunately, it missed, allowing Iesa to stab it in the abdomen, but the thick plates took the blow.  Beepu launched another bolt of fire at it, and it struck one of the flailing legs.  Daneath then charged into the brush, and he struck a solid blow on another leg, slicing it off, ichor spurting everywhere.

I cast another bolt at it, and this one struck it in the thorax, but the damage we were doing seemed insignificant to this one.  Even the loss of the leg barely warranted a reaction.   But it swung its head around looking at each of in turn quickly and ultimately it focused on Daneath biting down.  The sound of its mandibles scraping the metal on his armor gave me the chills.   Daneath again grunted in pain and the smell of acid on flesh again permeated the air.  But the ankheg could not hold down the warrior and Daneath beat the monstrosity off with pommel strikes down on its head.
Iesa kept circling it, trying to get a blow from behind.  Then he lunged and stabbed with his thin blade striking true.  The blow sprayed the air with more ichor.  Meanwhile, Beepu’s fiery blast struck it again, as did my bolt of energy.  Both of us certainly didn’t want to get any closer than I had to, and for me the memories of what acid can do to skin if it was untreated encouraged me to keep my distance.

But the ankheg reacted to the greatest source of pain, and swiftly turned and clamped down on Iesa.  He howled in pain from the beasts’ attack and once again the smell of more acid on flesh permeated the air.  Iesa was caught in its maw, and the ankhe reared its head, lifting Iesa up into the air as it attempted to chew and slice Iesa into smaller pieces.
But Daneath was having none of that; he wasn’t going to lose a brother he just found.  He swung at the ankheg sinking the edge of his blade deep into its thorax.  He retracted it, causing bile to spray the air.  But Daneath quickly spun and his blade cracked open part of the carapace, causing bits of its innards to fly in the air.  It would be a fatal blow, as the ankheg opened its maw and dropped Iesa to the ground, and then waivered a moment, quivering before it too flopped over on the ground, with bile gushing from is throat.

I rushed over to Iesa, and poured the remaining water over his chest wounds, and focused my light on closing them.  He was breathing heavily with his eyes closed, but I saw the tension in him give as the healing reduced his pain.

“And that is why you do not start poking into holes like that!” Beepu shouted chidingly.  “Have you learned nothing from earlier life lessons?”

“I’m alive right?” Iesa retorted.  I helped him stand up again. He grunted in pain, as he wasn’t fully healed yet.  I looked at my face for a moment, and with a voice of concern asked, “Myr?  You look ill.  Did it?...”

“No.   Just…bad memories that I’d rather forget.” I replied, shifting to avoid his gaze.

“Sure.  Right.  Hey Beepu, is there anywhere around without holes so we can rest?”

Beepu looked at the airborne Foggle for a moment and then replied, “We are nearing a downwards trek into what looks to be a gorge.  I think that is what you were looking for.  We might find a place near the entrance.

Daneath said, “I’m all for moving, and I’m not taking votes.”

No one disagreed and with a quickened pace we headed to the gorge.  We reached it without additional encounter with bugs and after Foggle looked around, saw no more holes.  We stopped for our midday rest while we considered our options.

The gorge itself was a dry river bed that led down into a wider floor of the gully, while rough scraggly hills adjoined the walls.  Looking over Iesa’s shoulder the path led straight through the gorge, and unhelpfully told us nothing about the hills on the east and west.

“So, through it is the only way?” Asked Daneath.

Iesa nodded, “According to the map it is.  I’m sure we could go over the hills, or go around them instead.  But we might have a challenge getting back on track.

“That might take a bit of time,” I said.  “We have food for what a tenday?  So, unless we find stuff out here, we only can afford five days of travel on the map, before we have to scavenge or go back for more supplies.”

“Right,” Beepu said, “All the more reason to avoid delay and travel as far as we can.  All in favor of following the trail as is, say so.”

At that moment there was a bellowing noise.  A deep angry shout using a language I couldn’t understand.  It of course came from deeper within the gorge, as the sounds of the fury released bounced from wall to wall within.

“Alright you heard that, we go around,” Beepu said without missing a beat.

“I think we should go forward,” Iesa said with confidence.

“Why is that exactly?” Beepu asked with surprise.

“Easy, hear how angry that voice was?”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s not angry at us!”

“Are you sure it will stay that way?” I interjected.

“Only one way to find out.  And you already pointed out the food situation, so…”

I closed my eyes a second and thought a moment about the options.  I then nodded, “Alright…lead on.”

“I’m going to hang back a bit…I’m not real sneaky,” Daneath said.

Iesa may not have been the outdoorsy type, but I was impressed on how hard it was to hear any sound from him as he crept towards a clearly very angry…thing.  In fact, the create ahead sounded like it was talking to itself, but not in any language I could understand.

Beepu and I saw motion though the brush and we moved to take cover behind a tree.  I looked at Beepu and then pointed upwards.  He nodded and focused a bit before replying.

“It’s an..ogre?  No, it has two heads.  An ettin I am guessing,” he whispered.

“Does having two heads make it smarter?”

“No.  It is like taking an ogre and then dividing their mental faculties by half and giving each head that half and still losing something in the exchange.”

“Great.  Anything else?”

“Stronger than an ogre.  More violent.  Also, probably can outrun us.”

“So maybe we sneak Daneath by and ignore it.”

“Yes!  I agree,” Beepu said with a firm nod.  But then we heard a sound that made me very concerned.  Iesa started to *talk* to it.

“Hey hey, big guy!   What’s the matter?

My mouth dropped open for a moment, “What is he doing?” and then I heard a couple of words next to me and turning my head I saw that Beepu had disappeared.

“YOUZ HEP SMASH LIL LIZURDS” I could hear the big creature say, followed by a similar voice say; ”HE NOT HEP.  HE FUD!”

Grimacing I crept forward as best I could and soon I could see what sounded like a disaster in progress.  There near a hole or cave in the rock stood this large misshapen figure.  It must have been three heads taller than I, and was dressed in ragged uncured hides.  And on the shoulders of the ettin were two heads, one head had a shock of filthy brown hair, while the other head had a balding pate, with long brown hair on the sides.  As a bonus I was downwind from it, and it stunk like someone had rolled in a slaughter hour floor, and then forgot to bathe.

For a year.

I then heard next to me Beepu who said, “He better not mention us,”

“Nice spell.  Thanks for the support,” I said dryly.

“Anytime!”

Iesa was talking again, “No we aren’t food!  We can help!”

“We?”  Daneath said as he caught up to us, clattering next to myself.

“Oof!”

“What the…Beepu?”

“Yes, it is me.  Watch where you are…never mind.”

“YOUZ GET SACK!” / “SACK FROM LIZURDS”

“Lizards…in that hole?” Iesa pointed to a pile of stones wedged into a passage leading into a rock face.”

“LIZURDS TOOK SACK,” // “COVER HOLE WIT ROCK”

“LIZURDS NO LEAVE,” // “WE NO GET SACK”

Iesa was nodding, “So if my friends—”

“I knew it!”  Beepu hissed

“—help you get your sack, we not food, right?”

The ettin heads turned to each other and then looked at Iesa again and said

“LIL ONES GET SACK” // “OR LIL ONES FUD”

“Sure, sure, sure…Let me get them.  No eating them!  Hey guys, come out!”  Iesa called to us as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“I am going to kill him!”  Beepu’s voice seethed.

“Well.  At least he won’t see it coming.” I said trying to sound positive.

"What could possibly make this any worse?"

*Session notes:
*
So, the elf and Iesa dialog was about as short as that.  But there at least three attempts to get a name out of her.  None did work of course.

We were still third level as well, and we were very concerned about being crushed, especially after the hyena incident.

It was also about here, I originally started expanding Myrai’s back story a bit on how she got some of the skills she has. 

3,219​


----------



## Richards

I just started reading this Story Hour the other day and it's been very entertaining.  I'm only as far as the pit fight with "Big D" against the Apple King but I decided to skim ahead and see if you'd gotten any feedback yet - and it looks like I'm the first.  (That's a common downside to these Story Hours: you don't always get a whole lot of input from the readers.)  But well done!  This is an enjoyable read and it's been interesting finding things out about the main character as she in turn finds things out about the world around her.  Keep up the good work - I'll be reading in fits and bursts as my free time allows.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Thank you!  You are indeed the first to comment, and it does mean a lot to me!  

I'm about a 3rd of the way on the story, so I'll be here a while. 

Please, enjoy, and for others reading, would love to hear from you!


----------



## Nthal

*Kobolds – the other kind of Lizard - 07/11/2019*

*Kobolds – the other kind of Lizard*

_I kinda like Kobolds.  Any creature willing to build anything in the Hive that improves things, is due a bit of respect.  Even if it was only a sewer.  But it was the only sewer in the Hive._
_
Of course, that was Sigil.  I had no idea how the rest of the multiverse looked at them.
_
_Or why._​
I looked at Daneath with resignation.  “So.  Kill him in his sleep later?”

“Sounds good.  Wait…are we talking about the ettin or Iesa?” Daneath asked.

“Does it matter?” Beepu said somewhere next to us.

“We can discuss and pick…afterwards,” I said.  “Let’s go.”

I closed my eyes a second, gathered my will and walked forward towards the source of that rotten odor.  Stepping out of the brush into a clearing I reached Iesa and the…Ettin.

Its right headswas locked on a hole in the wall of rock.  The left one was staring intently at Iesa, who was projecting an aura of calm.  The ettin was dressed in a rotting hide of what might have been a deer or elk.  Its body was caked with dirt, and what hair it had hung in greasy clumps at the side of its heads.  What I wasn’t expecting though was the expression on the ettin’s faces.  The one staring at Iesa was what I expected; angry, suspicious and stupid.
The other head however, had a look of determination as it stared at the opening in the rock.  Even as I moved into clearing, and the first head glanced at me with suspicious, it never turned its gaze away.  But the look of anger was clear on its face.  But it was the tears in its eyes that surprised me.

“So…he’s lost a sack?” I asked looking at the first head, staring a Iesa.  It gave a sideways glance and spoke.

“LIL LIZURDS TAKE SACK // GET…SACK…BACK.” The second one said slowly and sadly. 


“No problem!  Right Myrai?” Daneath said clambering behind me.

“Sure…otherwise I am sure that Iesa can apologize for all of us.  Beepu, I hope you are following us.”

He said nothing.  But Foggle flew into the rock fissure ahead of us, which I took as a yes.  I looked at Daneath, and flexed some power and lit up his shield, and we all made our way inside.

The interior of the cavern wasn’t like the one below Yartar; that one seemed to be carved by water and smooth.  This seemed to be like the rock fractured and shifted creating smooth walls, and jagged stones across the floor.  The entrance wasn’t very wide, maybe three or four paces across at most.  But beyond this bottleneck, the cavern opened up to a much larger gallery. From where I stood I could see some pillars of rock and on the opposite wall, there was a ledge looking over the chamber at its rear.  Near the back of it,  a passage was visible on the right leading deeper.
We stood there a momen, as the brothers eyes became accustomed to the darkened interior.  Mo, who had been scampering on the ground, quickly climbed onto Iesa’s shoulder and looked around nervously.  While normally Daneath would take the lead, this time Iesa did, which surprised me.  But after a moment I saw why.  Kneeling down he pointed at the ground.

“Pit trap,” he whispered.  “Definitely kobolds.  Watch your heads and your step.”

Iesa, Daneath and then I pressed our backs to the right-hand wall to avoid the trap.  I kept my eyes looking at the far ledges.  Watching for signs of movement and listening for anything out of the ordinary.  My vigilance did not go unrewarded, as I heard behind me a snap, and the sounds of gravel and the sound of a gnomish voice go “Oof.”  Quickly looking behind, me, I saw that the pit was now wide open, and the dust wafted upwards.  And from the bottom I heard choking and coughing.

“Beepu!   Iesa just pointed that out!” I said disappointedly.

“Well yes.  Only problem is that I cannot see where I am stepping as I cannot see my own feet.”
I kneeled down and thrust my arm down in the pit.  “It’s a good thing its shallow.  Can you grab my hand?”

“Yes, I think so!  Harrump!” and I felt his hand in mine and I pulled the still invisible gnome out.   

“Just step where I do.” I said shaking my head.

“That fall hurt, can you work some magic and heal me?” He demanded.

“Fine,” I said with resignation.  I concentrated a moment and then reached out my hand to where I thought Beepu was.  My fingers quickly found his nose, and that was enough contact to allow some energy to mend his injury, whatever it was.

“Hey Myr, can you see anything?”  Iesa called quietly.

“I don’t see anything, but I wouldn’t rely on that,” I said.  While the gallery was as bright as day for me, there were many rocks, ledges, pillars and other obstacles scattered around the area.  I was sure we were being watched, especially after the noise the trap made when Beepu fell in.

“Well, it will not matter Foggle can probably spot them,” Beepu’s disembodied voice said.   And Foggle who was circling lazily right above us, flew deeper into the room.  I watched its golden body drift through the air, as Beepu focused to look through its eyes.  But as it approached the rear third of the room I head the snap of a crossbow, and it was followed by Foggle exploding, with brass and bronze parts scattering and bouncing across the floor of the room.  It happened so fast that the mechanical owl never made a noise, beyond the ringing of metal parts on the stone.

“No!” Beepu seethed. 

“Don’t suppose you saw where the shot came from?” Iesa asked, focused on the darkness in front of him.

“Not at all.  We are going to need to find all the parts, so I can put him back together.” He said angrily.
I looked down towards the end of the room, and for a moment I thought I saw movement on the ledge near some small rocks piled together.  I waited a moment, and I saw a head peak over the rocks.  It was about gnome sized, but with a long snout and reddish scales all over it.  It was clearly trying to hide, and it made no sound.
Once I saw the head, I threw a bolt of energy at it and heard a yip as a shower of purple sparks appeared after I struck 
it.

“About there, on a ledge.”

“Well then, watch your feet!” and Daneath and Iesa moved forward, taking the light with them.  This wasn’t a problem for Beepu who could see well enough in the dark, certainly not a problem for me.   I moved forward a bit, so I could get a better view of the kobolds, while Iesa and Daneath looked for a way up onto the ridge.

Moving forward was tricky as Iesa and Daneath soon discovered.  After ten paces each was presented with different problems.  First a net dropped from above narrowly missing Iesa.  Daneath’s choice of path apparently had tripwires or snares.  But the big man was stronger than the material and just plowed his way through.  Finally, moving forward I saw another target and struck it, and a bolt of fire streaked from just ahead of me finishing it off.  Beepu then faded into view and took cover behind a stone pillar.

It wasn’t much of a fight really.  In a matter of seconds, Iesa had lept onto the ledge and was stabbing at the Kobolds, while Daneath drew the fire of several crossbows.  Beepu who was now several paces in front of me, couldn’t be seen, and kept shooting with fire bolts easily hitting targets.  And while I was perhaps visible, I had the impression that I was out of their visual range, allowing me to pick them off as quickly as I could see them.  It didn’t help the kobolds that they were terrible shots with their crossbows, with quarrels shooting wide, or bouncing off of Daneath’s shield.  It wasn’t long before the sounds of quarrel fire and yipping ceased.

I made my way to the ledge where Iesa was standing.  As I approached he spoke,

“There is a passage up here leading down deeper into the rock.”

“That is good.  Now help me up on that ledge!” Beepu demanded, his voice still angry at the recent obliteration of his owl.

“Where’s Daneath?” I asked

“Here,” he replied.  “There is a ladder that you can climb up, on the far end before the cavern narrows and descends.”

“So which way down?” I asked.

“I’d say this one.  I bet the main passage has more traps.  Plus, this entrance had a boulder here that is meant to hide it.  They didn’t close it in time.”

“Wait for me to climb up then,” and IBeepu ran down to where Daneath indicated the ladder was.  While he did so, Iesa pulled me up onto the ledge directly.  On the stone shelf were scattered bodies of Kobolds, about seven in all.
As we waited for Beepu to catch up, I felt a rush of satisfaction.  We weren’t on the edge of death or defeat or anything like that.  And I clearly wore it on my face.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself Myr,” Daneath commented.

It took me aback a moment.  Sure, I was happy to on the winning side, and not having to save someone’s skin.  But enjoying myself?   I thought a moment and realized that I did relish the fight.  It was like the time with the gnolls and their withered zombies.  But this was more intense for some reason.

“Are we ready?” Beepu’s voice asked.

“Sure, we’ll follow you,” Iesa said gesturing toward the small tunnel down.

“Well then let us…wait.  Iesa!  Get moving!”

With an impish smile, Iesa took the lead down the passage, moving slowly.   His eyes looking for surprises.  As the passage was about to open up, he stopped.  He then pointed at a thin rope strung across the floor.  It was hard to see, even with my vision as it had been coated with ash that was very close to the color of the surrounding rock.  The rope snaked its way along the wall until it reached a bucket hanging above.  I wondered what they might put in that bucket, but then I had second thoughts about it.  Iesa moved the line out of the way and tied it tightly so it didn’t dump the contents.  Then we snuck into the next vault.

It was similar in some respects to the one we just left.  We were on a ledge overlooking the floor of another room.  But on the floor of this room, there were many lean-tos scattered around the floor.  There were a number of smoking fires, and there was debris of all kinds along the floor.  Bone, wood, shattered stone, hides and junk.

There were a couple of kobolds visible around the fires.  And while most of them were distracted, a couple of them were watching the entrance and saw us.  A tall lean one, festooned with feathers and small bones started to yip something in perhaps draconic.  It pulled a pot hanging from its belt with a leather thong  and stared at it when it suddenly became lit with fire.  And when it did, the kobold wasted no time to hurl it high over to the ledge we stood on.

We all reacted differently; Daneath raised his shield, Iesa stepped behind a boulder for cover.  Beepu simply backed out of the way of the detonation that was to follow.  As for me, I dove for the floor, covering my head as I did so.  I felt the warmth and then heat of fire, and the sound of a dull roar as the world around us was engulfed in flame.  After the din had died down, I looked around, and of the two I could see Daneath and Iesa were fine, while I was a little singed.  My ears were ringing from the explosion, and the air tasted of smoke.

I crawled up to the edge and threw a bolt of energy at a visible kobold, knocking it down.  Pulling myself back, I could hear scampering and claws on stone, as some of the kobolds ran towards us via a ramp.

“Hey Beepu,” I yelled “It would be really rum if you could make stuff explode like that.  It would save a lot of time.”

“Amateurs!  Not everything needs to explode to be effective!” he retorted.  He then chanted a moment and tossed some sand from his pouch in an arc in front of him.  As the sand hit the ground, I heard noises below me.  Peering over the ledge, a number of the Kobolds had fallen down in small heaps.

Snoring.

“Point made!” I shouted and rolling to my side I found myself face to face with an angry pair of the little lizards.  Now, Iesa made his move, moving from his boulder and quickly dispatching another one with a quick thrust.  Meanwhile Daneath also stepped forward and slashed at one standing over me, running it through.

I glanced at the other one, who was readying to stab me with a pointed spear.  I rolled to my right and flexed a moment and called down a radiant beam of light onto it.  It yelped in pain and started to run back down the ledge.  But it wasn’t fast enough as a bolt of fire streaked from nowhere and hit it square in the back, causing it to fall over the edge of the ledge into a crumpled heap.

For the moment, nothing else approached us. But we could hear soft raspy snores from the lean-tos below.  I stood back up and looked around and saw that there was another tunnel that opened into another cavern.  Iesa saw it as well and quickly moved down of the ledge and stood next to the passage.  He then cocked his head to listen.  He turned to look at us and said, “Sounds quiet down there, and there is some torchlight below.  I’m going to check it out.

“Wait a moment, you barely can see as it is I’ll come with you,” I said.

“I’m going to take care of things here.  Give me a hand Beepu.”

“What?  I am not some murderous vagrant!”

“They did shatter Foggle into shiny pieces.”

I didn’t hear how the rest of the conversation went, as Iesa and I crept down the tunnel.  It wasn’t long, perhaps fifteen paces we found another trap.  It was right before it opened up into the next chamber. At that point, Iesa motioned for me to stop.  He pointed at the walls and I could see pieces of wood with rusty swords fastened to them.  The wood was bent, ready to snap forward and cut and intruders to ribbons.    He pointed to another thin ash colored rope on the ground, and we both stepped over it.

Stepping into the room, it was clear that we were in some kind of hatchery.  The remains of eggs hells were scattered in what looked to be nests lining the walls of this circular room.  On one end was some small bags, but one large on made of crudely stitched hide stood out.  Iesa and I looked at each other and nodded smiling.

We moved over to the pile and Iesa looked into the smaller sack, and I heard the clinking of coin and the sloshing of liquid.  He opened the sack and pocketed the coin and looked at the vial briefly, before pocketing that too.  I stepped over to the larger bag and looked it over.  It was not small, and it would likely take Daneath to move it.  But I decided to look inside to make sure that this was the right sack.

I don’t know what I expected to find.  I opened the crude hand stitched sack and my nose was assaulted by the smells of rotting meat.  I covered my mouth, holding back the urge to vomit as my eyes welled up in tears.  I was about to close it, when I saw something silvery. 

Still holding my hand over my mouth, I reached inside and retrieved a small silver bag, barely the size of a deck of cards.  It held something soft that with a little give, like wet sand.  I quickly summon some power to clean the exterior of this pouch.  I then loosen the silver drawstrings, revealing a find powder.  I grasped as small pinch between my finger and thumb.  The texture was like a fine sand as I rubbed it between my thumb and fingers.  Lifting it up to my nose I sniffed.  I caught the order of pepper and I then had a strong urge.  I quickly pulled the strings closed, and then sneezed, narrowly avoiding sneeze scattering the contents.

“I can smell that sack from here, and it’s nothing to sneeze at Myr,”

I rubbed my nose, trying to wipe away the smell, “Funny.  This seems to be an emergency item belonging to someone.

“I wonder who?”

“Good guess they are the rest of the contents of the sack.”

“Oh.  Well, forget that.  Let’s get out of here.  Hey Daneath!  Need you to carry this!”

Moments later, I saw Daneath striding down the tunnel.  In front of him, he held the unconscious kobold that threw the pot of fire at us.

“Think this will be proof enough we did the job?”​
“I guess so,” Iesa started.  “But you need to watch out fo—”

The sounds of whistling blades, and blurred motion for the tunnel walls cut him short.  In a flash, what was once a corpse, was now a flayed pulp of bone and muscle, barely recognizable as a humanoid at all.  Daneath stood there in shock, covered in blood and gore from the assaulting blades.

“—for the trap.”

I stood there in shock.  The fresh corpse had a strong resemblance to someone who had crossed the Lady of Pain’s shadow.  I had seen the results of that only once, but it was vivid memory.  I could only assume that the soul of the kobold wasn’t shredded as well.

“So much for that,” Iesa said, dropping the remains to the floor, and wiping the bloody mess from his eyes and face.

“I think the sack is good enough,’ I commented.  “Mind carrying it?”

“Why me?”

“Because Iesa needs to make you sure you don’t kill yourself on a trap on the way out, I’m not strong enough, and as for Beepu; it’s larger than him!”

“What are you saying?  That I cannot pull my own weight?” Beepu asked fuming.

“No.  I assume you can’t pull something greater than your weight.  That and you need your hands free.” I pointed out.

“For what?”

“I think you need my light to help find all the parts for Foggle, if you want to put him back together.”

His eyes popped out a for a moment before replying.  “Quite right.  Are we done here?  We are wasting more time!”  he said with his arms crossing and glaring at all of us.

“Guest that’s me,” and Daneath grabbed the sack and with a grunt started the climb out of the kobold warren.
The climb out wasn’t long.  It took longer to find all the parts to Foggle.  But that had a lot to do with Mo stealing pieces when Beepu was distracted.  Eventually he declared that he had found enough, and he had enough spare parts to rebuild him.  We then, avoiding the pit in the front made our way outside.

The Ettin hadn’t moved.  The left head stared suspiciously at Iesa as he exited the cave, while the right was peering around Iesa looking for his sack.  When he saw Daneath lugging it out of the darkness, the head smiled and almost looked to be crying.

“​KILL LIZZURDS // SACK.  GIVE SACK!”​
Iesa nodded and smiled.  “Yes, no more lizards and we found your sack.” To which he gestured to his brother’s burden with a flourish.  “Now, be more careful next time!”

The ettin reached out and took the foul container from Daneath who quickly stepped back.

“WE HAVE SACK.  PUT DEM IN SACK // NO PUT LIZZURDS IN SACK

“LIZZURDS SMALL.  MORE MEAT ON DEM // TOO MUCH WORK

“YOUZ NEVER LISEN // YOUZ STUUPID

“NO YOUZ  // TAKE BACK STUUPID!”

The exchange become less and less sophisticated, but we didn’t stay to listen to its conclusion.  We made good time putting distance between us and the Ettin, just in case it made a decision involving us getting into that sack.

By nightfall,we had emerged from the gully, and we looked for a place to camp.  Iesa soon found a small clearing near a stream that seemed adequate.  As soon as we set up tents, Beepu asked for my light and started working on Foggle.  He pulled out a small brass pot, and lit some incense.  He then proceeded to take some tools and he began the slow task of rebuilding the owl.

I was by the fire, taking our rations and adding some flavor to them, making them more palatable.  But I was really lost in my own thoughts about the fight, when Daneath noticed my distraction.

“Myr, what’s bothering you?  You’ve been acting odd since the cave.”

I thought a moment and looked at him, my face scrunched up a bit.  “I’m bothered by…well how much I…enjoyed that fight.  It seems wrong somehow.”

Daneath nodded, “Well, being victorious can warp your perspective.  I mean the winners of a war don’t dwell on the ugly side.  So, I’d say it’s normal.”

“It’s just.  I remember someone that killed…a lot of people. And she was, *driven*.  She reveled in killing for sake of killing.” I said, thinking back to the long raven tresses of the Sinker that butchered Elisna.  “She reveled in destruction.  She embodied it.”

“A sinker?”

“It’s a nickname for a faction called the Doomguard.  They were mostly destroyed in the war in Sigil, but they believed the universe was going to fall apart.  And that was the normal order of things.”

“But you don’t?”

“No.  I never believed that.  Death might come, but life was to be experienced.  Creating things and experiencing new things was important.  But then I find myself…enjoying the fight and wondering if…”

“If that’s who you really are?” Daneath asked.

“Well Myrai,” Iesa said coming over and sitting by the fire.  “You don’t exactly come to mind when I think of murderous destruction.  Too cute for one.”

I shook my head, “The woman was beautiful.  Wild, untamed, dangerous.  She inspired so many.  So many to kill and destroy.  So many Sinkers would die for her.  Many did in her name.”

“What happened to her?”

“Before the War started, she and several others disappeared.  Might have caused it to start and everyone was blaming the other.  She was probably sent to the mazes by the Lady, but…no one knows.”

“The mazes?” Iesa asked curiously.

“The Lady can throw who she wants into a prison of sorts.  It’s said that you will live forever in the maze, never starving, never aging.  But it’s a prison that has a way out.  A way that few ever find.  And in five years, no one had heard from her, or the others.”

“Not a very nice Lady?” Daneath commented.

“No.  She’s not called the Lady of Pain for nothing.”

Iesa shuddered, “Well…I wouldn’t worry about it.  You're making it bigger than it is."

“You’re…probably right.  I’m going to turn in, wake me for morning watch.  Night.”  And I moved to my bedroll in my tent nearby and took off my armor and weapons.

I wanted to believe it was nothing.  But something kept nagging me about the fighting.  Something I couldn’t put my finger on.  It wasn’t about casual destruction.  I had felt the exhilaration several times.  But it wasn’t the violence.  It wasn’t the victory.  It certainly wasn’t glory.

I laid there turning it over in my mind over and over, never quite finding the answer before my dark dreams once again took control of the evening.

*Session notes:*

Foggle exploding was overdue.  It had a price on its head for certain.

The is only the first time we got magic items.   We the players rolled for them.  And we rolled…poorly.  That would continue for a while on treasure.

3,496


----------



## Nthal

*Plains of Blood - 07-18-2019*

*Plains of Blood
*
_There are no cemeteries in Sigil.  The Dustman take care of the dead according to the beliefs of the deceased.  That could be a burial in the earth, submerged in on ocean, picked apart by carrion birds of the sky, or incineration by great flames.  Only the last is performed in Sigil, the rest the Dustman take care of.
_
_While I hated the Dustman for what they did to Elsina.  For the ones that didn’t sell their shells, they did honorable work.
_
_So I guess that most Dustmen are people too._​ 
I know that I gave Iesa a start when I sat up suddenly, gasping for air, and clutching my symbol of Kelemvor.  It was the first night that we had to camp in the wilds, and it had been a while since anyone noticed my nightly torment.  I stared helplessly into the night; trying to remember what it was about.  Why could I not shake this nightmare from my mind?  Why could I not remember it?  I guess I had some time to mull over it until dawn as I had drawn the last watch.
I pulled on my armor and weapons and crawled out of my tent to relieve the brothers.  Iesa saw me and had a look for concern on his face.  He pointed at me and was about to say something, but I waved him off.  He shrugged, and Daneath and he retired for some sleep.

Foggle of course sat on a branch watching over everything.  It never slept, and my understanding was that it had good night eyes.  Still, we still took turns as only Beepu would trust the owl with our skins alone.

I should have focused more on the watch, but the nightmares frequency was troubling me.  I guess they have been a recurring thing since I was perhaps fifteen turns of the wheel, but they were sporadic.  Rarely was it clear in memory on what I saw or did.  But it was always clear emotionally.  Fear.  Dread.  Guilt. Sorrow.  Loss.  But now, there was something else lurking within; but only the barest glimpse.  A revelation just beyond the grasp of my dreaming mind. 
My dreams and nightmares weren’t usually this mysterious.  But as I thought about it more, my nightmares have been more frequent ever since…

I died.

Granted, dying was horrific.  Coming back even more so.  But I didn’t dream about death or dying.  It was something else lurking in my head that refused to let my waking self, see.  But what was strange was unlike nightmares before, I had the same feelings each time.  The same intensity.  I wondered if I was experiencing the same nightmare each time. 
I sat there mulling over my dreams for hours getting nowhere.  Finally, the sun rose, spilling red orange light across the grassland we were in.  To the north were low hills, but they were far in the distance, with a lot of rolling grassland in between.  But I noticed something now as the sky started to brighten.  In the distance were pillars of black smoke.  They were widely separated from each other and whatever was causing them, was fixed.  Once the sun rose above the horizon, I woke the others and pointed them out.

“Well, we’re not alone out here,” Iesa said grimacing as he squinted looking into the distance.

“Nope.  But who should we expect to find?” Daneath said as he tightened the straps to his armor.

“In a word; trouble.” Beepu said grimly, and he sent Foggle aloft.  “But, we will see them before they see us.”

We started heading north.  Somewhere ahead of us was another gully surrounded by hills per the map.  But there wasn’t much in the way of landmarks.  So, our best guess was to head north and find a piece of high ground and see if we could get a better idea of where to go, and to use Foggle to maneuver through the grass safely.

It wasn’t long before Beepu gave us an indication of something interesting, and he pointed towards a narrow column of sputtering smoke nearby.  It wasn’t as dark or thick as some of the others, and we hoped that this may give us an idea what may lay ahead.

Following Foggle, it led us to a small cairn in a cleared area of grass. It was a simple affair, a pile of rounded stones stacked into a pile, with a smoking pyre of wood in the center.  But as we approached, our curiosity turned and twisted into horror as we realized the truth of what it was.

The stones, weren’t rock, but were piled bleached skulls.  Some had marks upon them indicating injuries, others the marks of teeth.  All of them were human or humanoid stacked together, with the remains of bloodied soil as a crude mortar.  Beside the smoking wood pile, was a sundered half of a log, hollowed out to form a basin.  Within it, was a pool of congealed blood, with unidentified lumps of…something within.  Finally sticking up on end behind and bowed over the smoking wood was a stave, from which hung three stones wrapped in rope and hanging from the top of the stave.  A rare breeze blew the rocks, and they clicked together quietly over this display of blood and gore.

“This…this…isn’t Elk tribe is it.” Iesa stated flately.

“No,” I said looking at the effigy of a triple headed flail  “It’s a shrine to the Tanar’ri lord known as the ‘Ruler of Ruin;’ Yeenoghu.”

“Gnolls,” Daneath said and spat.  “Can’t say I’m surprised. 

“Foggle does not see any packs nearby,” said Beepu hopefully.  “Perhaps we can sneak through them?”

“Let’s hope so.  I doubt we will find any Elks tribesman though,” Daneath said.

We left the grisly display undisturbed and continued onwards.  We said little now, pushing our way through the tall grass.  Our ears strained to hear anything out of the ordinary.  But we heard nothing.  Not birds, not animals, not even the wind on the grass.

We trudged north, constantly scanning the horizon for gnolls.  And sometime after the sun climbed to peak, Beepu stopped and motioned us towards him.

“There is a depression nearby,” Beepu said concentrating, looking through Foggles eyes.  “And an open pit it appears?”

“But no pyre?” Daneath asked.

“No, I am having Foggle fly in closer to—”

And then we heard a strange sound and a flash of red light, followed by a high pitched “BEEP” and the sound of metal parts hitting the ground.

Beepu closed his eyes and looked upwards mouthing the words “Not again.”

“I take it we need to get those parts back?” Daneath asked, to which Beepu nodded.

We ready ourselves and head towards the direction of the depression.  It was not far, and for three of us it was a simple divot in the ground the size of a barn.  Several small hillocks of dirt and rock were spread around the depression, breaking through the top of the tall grass spread around.  Finally, in the middle was a large open pit.  Beepu of course could see none of this, as the top of the grass was above his head.

“So where do we start?” I asked.

“The pit, and work our way out I guess,” Iesa suggested.

Having no better idea, we make our way into the depression.

Iesa was in front, followed by Daneath, and Beepu and lastly myself as we headed toward the open pit, when I noticed the odor.  It was one of blood, sweat, rot and wet animal hide.  I was about to shout a warning, when a pack attacked us. 

A group of figures dashed out from crouched positions.  It was sudden, and it appeared that their cunning was enough to conceal themselves even from Foggle’s sight before he was blown out of the air.  So, we barely had time to react to our assailants.

The first two collided with the brothers, each slashing with swords.  They snarled and the look on their faces screamed volumes about their Tanar’ri master.  Madness, bloodlust, and hunger all mixed together as their yellow eyes looked at us as their next victim.

Beepu meanwhile had a problem; while the gnolls were no longer concealed, they might as well been from his perspective.  Beepu stood well below the tops of the grass around us and was blind to the snarling band that attacked us now.  He muttered under his breath, faded from sight, and I watched the grass part as he dashed to a nearby hillock.

“Great,” I muttered, and soon I was under attack by two of the dead withered gnolls.  Or would have been, because as they closed I could feel a kind of…resonance as they approached.  It was uncomfortable, but as they both came to me and looked to swing, they froze.  Their clawed hands clutched swords, but the blades twisted in their hands in frustration and their bodies writhed and shivered.  Then, they turned and headed straight for Daneath, a couple of yards away.
The first time this had happened outside of Triboar I had no idea what happened.  Now I was more certain.  That dark strand of magic was the resonance I felt, and it what was protecting me from the witherlings.  I didn’t know how exactly, but I suspected that if I attacked them directly, that the resonance effect would be broken.

Fortunately, I could cast magic at the living pair already on Iesa and Daneath.  I grasped at the gnolls, summoning skeletal hands to claw and grasp at them both, while I held my ground from the fleeing witherlings.

The brothers Iesa and Daneath, now worked as brothers in arms.  Daneath would take the lead hitting the beasty creatures with his sword and forcing openings so that Iesa could thrust and slash with devastating effect.  Working together they easily brought one down, before the two witherlings reached their position. 

Of to my left I could hear swearing and the sound of crumbling dirt giving way.  As assumed that Beepu was trying to climb up a hillock to get a better view, and hopefully assist.  Since the witherlings couldn’t see him, and they couldn’t approach me their ire was focused on Daneath who was closer to me than Iesa.  They swung wildly, striking Daneath’s shield and hitting not much else.

I then focused my effort on the second gnoll, I pulled on that dark strand of energy and wrapped it around the gnoll and then sent a blast of purple energy at it.  The bolt hit it forcefully in the chest, and the additional energy pulled and rent the flesh of the creature, causing it to howl in pain.  My heart pounded quicker as I heard that sound, and I looked for other targets, when I saw another pair heading straight for us.

Iesa took advantage of the gnoll’s distraction and laid it low with a vicious cut across the throat.  All the while Daneath bashed the other witherling off-balance with his shield and landed a crushing sword blow on the shoulder of the creature, nearly cleaving it into two.  All the while, Mo screeched from Iesa’s pack, as if warning him about the additional combatants coming towards us.

And again, from my right I heard more dirt shifting and more grunts, as Beepu must have been looking for a way to gain some visibility of the battle.  I in turn pulled the darkened thread from the corpse of the dead gnoll and shifted it to one of the charging pair.  I sent another bolt of purple energy at my target, striking true.  I could hear a cry of anger from it as I heard bone crack, and could see flesh rend.  It shifted its gaze towards me and charged.  Deneath finished the last witherling and moved himself between the gnoll and me.  Iesa took advantage of the distraction that Daneath’s movement caused and thrust through the last witherling, causing it to drop.

The gnoll pair split, one heading for Daneath, and the other heading straight for me.  The first swung it sword, and blood spurted from Iesa’s side as it found a gap between the boiled leather Iesa wore.  The other was able to close to me and swung.  But I batted away the blow with my shield.  While I did so I focused on the dark strand and called another skeletal hand to grasp and claw at the gnoll, while the other spell also stripped away its vitality.

Daneath and Iesa again together exploited the holes of the gnoll’s defenses, and swiftly brought it down.  Then both ran over to assist me as the gnoll again swung ineffectively, clipping my shield once again.  I focused again and laid the last gnoll down, just as Daneath and Iesa reached me.  I relaxed a bit standing straight and looking around for more to charge out of the brush.  My cheeks and face ached a bit, and I then realized that I must have had a large grin on my face.  I turned away from the brothers in shame and horror.  I didn’t want to be seen enjoying this.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

My thoughts were interrupted by an “Ah HAH!  No…wait.  Where are they?!” from Beepu’s voice nearby. 

“I think you missed it,” Daneath said calmly as he started to wipe the gore from his blade.

“Did he even see it?” Iesa asked.

Regaining composure, I turned to look at the pair and shrugged, “Who are you talking about?  It’s only us three.”

“Very funny.  Now help me down!” Beepu’s voice said.

We all looked around with sly grins aimlessly.  “Wasn’t Beepu here a minute ago?” asked Daneath mockingly.

“Not sure.  Might have fallen into another ankheg hole.” I said looking around.

“We’d see that.  More likely a rabbit hole.” Iesa said.  He then bent down peering into the grass.  “Beepu?   Are you in there?”

From on top of a mound of rock and dirt, Beepu appeared with a look that could melt iron and said angrily.  “I. Am. Right. Here!”

“Hey nice of you to jump in and help!  Appreciate that.” Iesa said waving at the gnome.

Beepu glared and started to slide his way back down the floor of the plains.

“Myr, nice of you to send two of them our way.  How did you manage that, and not this one?” Daneath commented while nudging the corpse with his boot.

I shrugged, “I…I don’t think the dead ones *could* attack me.  I can feel them want to and try, but my…my magic scares them?”

Beepu had walked up at this point, “So you invoked something?”

“No.  I didn’t *do* anything.  I just felt it happen.” I said.

“Well, at least you helped,” Daneath said with a smirk.

“Hey!  I was going to—” Beepu started.

“Let’s find Foggle,” I said. “And get out of here.  This place feels wrong.”

We continued to make our way to the pit, and once I stood at the edge, I regretted it.  The smell that it emitted was one of the foulest I could have imagined.  Within it, the skeletal remains of…people were scattered in pieces, rotting in the open air.  If I had to guess there might have been twenty corpses dismembered within.  I kept staring in horror drinking in more details, unable to turn away.

“Go find Foggle.  I…need a moment.” I said as a sank down to my knees.  The others moved away, looking for the brass familiar as I stared at the mess below me.

I wanted to do something.  I didn’t know who the corpses were once.  I didn’t know if they died fighting.  I didn’t know what the gnolls were doing with them or even if they were done with them.  What I did know is that they deserved better.  A better fate.  A better end.  A better passing into the fugue.

I thought a moment, trying to find the right words for this.  Trying to remember a prayer that my mentor taught me.  Finally, one came to me.  While I couldn’t bury them; I could give a blessing.
_
“We see the unknown before us and beseech You,_
_“May their souls pass to the Fugue for Your judgement and rest,_
_“May their kin remember them and their deeds,_
_“For while their shells left behind may be forgotten,_
_“Their souls shall travel far past failing memories reach,_
_“Let their souls rest, and provide succor to those who remain,_
_“So, they will be remembered.  So, they will be honored,_
_“Blessed be the unknown fallen. _

I grasped at the some of the dirt next to me and stood.  I cast the dirt across the pit of gore.  My head was bowed as I shed tears for the fallen.  None of them met their end in the fullness of time.  I could only hope that their souls could rest beyond the fugue.

“I found him!” Daneath said, lifting the owl from the grass.  “Looks like he’s in one piece, but he does have a hole in him.”

“Let me see!” Beepu said rushing over.  “Yes, yes, yes.  You are right it appears.  I will have to repair him again this evening.

In the distance we heard yelping and the mocking laughter from hyenas.  The sound gave me the chills from the memory of the last encounter I had with the dog like animals.

“We should get going before they show up,” Iesa pointed out.  “Are you done Myr?” 

I nodded, and we restarted our trek northwards, quiet and lost in each in our own thoughts.  The sounds of the hyenas faded in the distance, which we took as a good omen for passing by unnoticed.  Eventually as the sun started to kiss the horizon to the west, Iesa found a place we could rest for the evening.  It had a source of water and was nestled low between two low mounds of earth.   We lit no fire for the evening, as we didn’t want to attract the attention of packs.

Beepu was hiding under a blanket with my light, so he could repair Foggle, without the light being seen.  I chewed my rations slowly, occasionally adding some desperately needed flavor.  Of the many foods I missed, it was Za I missed the most.  Folded bread with meats, cheeses, mushrooms and sauces, baked and sooty.  So, of course my jerky now tasted as perfect as my memory could recall.  It was a pity I couldn’t do the heat or the texture to make the illusion complete.

But I sat there, thinking about the magical forces I could manipulate.  The strands of darkness.  The strands of light.  And now I realized that I didn’t even fully control them.  These strands affected things around me without my input.  Preventing the dead from attacking me.  Allowing me to see perfectly in darkness.  So, what was this Strand of magic I controlled? 

Did I really control the Strand? 

Or, did the Strand control me?
*
Session notes:*

DM 2, Foggle 0.  We never were sure what shot him.

And yes, Beepu technically did nothing.  He couldn’t climb, and he couldn’t see.  Might as well been visible, but I did have better armor so it worked out.

3712


----------



## Nthal

*A Final Kiss of Mercy – Part 1 - 7/25/2019*

*A Final Kiss of Mercy – Part 1

*
_When you are young, it is easy to laugh at death.  To face it brazenly and with bravado.  To boast about cheating it with friends and laughing with drinks afterwards.  We are quick to deny it’s hold and smile knowingly with our comrades that death is thing to be beaten, and that immortality can be won._
_
When you are old, it is easy to welcome death, the peace it grants after the toils of your labors.  You made it to the end of the game and can look back at all the great things you have done, smile and move on.
_
_It is hard when you feel your labors are incomplete, young or old.  It is hard to invite death in for some tea when you truly want more life.  It is hard to just let it go._
_
And sometimes the only choice we get, is how.  If we get that choice at all.
_​
I sat there shivering in the cold, early morning light listening.  Most of the time after anti-peak involved the sounds of yapping hyenas in the distance.  They were too close for my tastes, but Foggle was an asset here.  Beepu realized that Foggle could understand us just fine, so he instructed his familiar to follow some basic instructions about scouting around our campsite, and to make sound if there were trouble.  I used it a couple of times when the howling and yipping got close, but Foggle didn’t make a sound.  So, I suppose shivering in the cold was a bit better than having a fight with any wandering packs.

The light of the early morning was a deep crimson, scattered across a solid gloom of clouds.  It seemed fitting out here with gnolls wandering about.  I stood and stretched my cramping legs, all the while trying to keep my arms and torso covered with the woolen blanket I had.  I felt on edge for some reason.  I wanted to get moving, but the humans were going to need a bit more light to travel safely. 

But since the reddish light was growing, I turned to Foggle and said, “Well we have some better light.  Go up a bit and see if you see anything interesting.” 

Foggle blinked with its mechanical eyes, and with a hop, spread its wings and silently circled upwards.  As it did so I finished stretching and started to pack up my simple lean-to.  Almost fourteen days here, so little of it in a proper bed.  Not even a proper bath in that time.  I shouldn’t complain; I’ve had less.  But it doesn’t mean I liked it.

Suddenly there was a flurry of wind and wings, and Foggle landed on top of a small boulder near me.  I was a little surprised as most of the time it was utterly silent.  But it became clear it was trying to get my attention.  It stared at me, and then turned its body.  Its head twisted to keep a level gaze with my own while it turned.  Then, the body stopped, and both wings flapped and stretched, pointing to the north east. 

“I’m guessing you found something then, Foggle.  But not a threat?”

I pause a moment, and then move to Beepu’s tent.  I reach in and found his body and shook him saying, “Hey, have a dark here.  What did Foggle find?”

From within I heard, “Wha...what?  One moment.  Interesting!” and a bedraggled Beepu emerged, looking for his familiar.  Seeing it on the rock, he cocked his head and then said.

“He has seen something…odd.”

“Odd?  That’s a bit vague.”

“He is fairly smart, but he usually lacks context.  Seems in this case that he has found someone.  Someone that is not a gnoll and that he does not see as threatening.”

“And he wants us to take a look?”

“He is advising that we should.  I tend to agree.  Afterall a person out here might have information.”
“Beyond ‘keep away from gnolls’ I’m not sure what barkle they might have.”

“It is on the way, it will take little time and we might learn something.”

“Fine.  Let’s get the others up.”

We rouse the brothers, who were still tired from the midwatch in the evening. They rubbed their eyes and quickly equipped their gear, as Beepu and I finished packing up our things and assisted with the other items in camp.  Mo oddly enough was still sleeping, so Iesa made a kind of nest inside his pack near the top, so the monkey could continue sleeping.  It wasn’t long before we were ready to move and follow the oddity that Foggle had found. 

It was farther than I thought it would be; the first light must have given some clarity to Foggle’s sight.  it must have been almost a mile before we reached another depression in the plain.  As we approached, I saw the circle of carrion birds overhead, and I dreaded what we would find.

It was similar to the charnel pit we found before, but the grass had already been burned to ash on the ground.  Some standing stones were scattered around, perhaps fifteen in all.  There were four large piles of bone.  Each was a mixture of blackened ones by fire and bleached by the sun.  The piles surrounded another crude altar to the Tanar’ri lord.  On top of the altar I could see the remains of a body sprawled on top of it.  There were wisps of smoke from what must have been a pyre behind the altar, its fires long since spent.   But while the fire burned low, there was a pervasive sense of dread.  A foul energy hung in the air, like a weight on my chest, making me labor to breathe.

Looking about I frowned; what did Foggle see?  There was nothing here to—And then I saw it.  On the altar I could see an arm start to flail wildly.  Whoever lay upon that foul plinth was still fighting for his life.  From their mouth came noises; not of a normal person in pain, but a soul being wrenched and twisted. 

I wasn’t clear on what was happening to the figure on the altar.  I was clear that it was a trap.  No gnolls, no hyenas, a victim left alone.  The dark wasn’t that it was a trap, it was only what would springing the trap bring onto us. 

We looked at each other a moment.  There were no words spoken.  We slowly made our way down towards the altar.  Daneath drew his sword, then he and I took the lead.  Iesa pulled out his bow and notched an arrow, and with Beepu followed a distance behind us.  And the sight as we grew closer filled me with grave concern.  The figure was a male human, dressed in shredded and bloodied robes.  His face was covered in blood.  It wasn’t splashed randomly, but it was painted on with random shapes across his forehead cheeks and neck.  His right arm was bound to the altar, but his left had wormed its way from the bonds and was thrashing.  As he thrashed, he shouted incoherently:
“_Fargh’tan!  Gajhstkrin anjaztz konat Yeenoghu.  Fargh’tan, Fragh’tan”
_​
The language was Abyssal, and while I only knew some words from that hideous language, the grim fact that he was shouting the Tanari’ri lords name did not bode well. 

As we reached his side, I could smell the strong scent of rot.  As I looked over the figure, I saw the cause.  Both of his legs above the knee were missing, the bone visibly splintered.  The rent flesh wept blood and discolored pus on the stone and tattered remains of his robes.  The sight was so familiar of another time.

I closed my eyes to the grotesque display in front of me.  I had seen this before.  Smelled this before.  Five years ago.  The only difference was the man was screaming in Abyssal, instead of planar common.  I was shocked out of my reverie by Beepu behind me:

“I know that man!”

At that point bursting from two of the pile of bones flanking the altar came, monstrous figures.  They weren’t skeletons, but instead a horrific effigy of bones knitted together to create large hulking figures now bearing down at us.

“Oh sodding—” was all I had time to say as the abominations bore down on Daneath and I.  Daneath stood his ground and the thing swung a knotted mass of bone, knocking away his shield and allowing his second arm to swing and impact Daneath hard in the chest.   Daneath sank to a knee and out of the corner of my eye I saw him tremble as he attempted to put up his sword to shield him from the next blow.

I was expecting that the thing would react like the witherlings, and that the second one would turn away with that shuddering feeling and attack someone else.  But the strange resonance wasn’t there, and it swung, connecting with my shield.  I used the blow’s momentum to spin away from it second swing which missed me completely.

Behind me I heard Iesa fire his arrow into my opponent, piercing it deep somewhere in its torso.  That was followed by a blast of fire from Beepu, striking it where a person’s abdomen would be.
I turned to look at Daneath; he was cowering behind his shield, unable to act rationally. 

“This is *not* the time,” I shouted.  I took a step towards Daneath and flexed.  I could feel the rushing surge up my spine, and I felt the flare of my personal energy burst forth into my hand, causing my ‘wings’ to flare visibly.  I quickly laid it on Daneaths shoulder and felt a brief moment of resistance.  Then it suddenly faded.

And Daneath reacted, yelling in anger as he swung his blade into the arm of an incoming blow.  I heard the cracking of bone, and saw the balled fist deflected away from Daneath.   But it was the second fist that connected solidly with his shield and I watched Daneath stagger with the blow.
That distraction of watching Daneath was one I could ill-afford.  The other one slipped past my guard and I felt the its balled fist hit me in the ribs.  I yelped in pain and pulled some energy from the dark strand, causing a skeletal hand to appear and grasp the things neck.  I watched bones break and turn to dust as I kept focusing on it.

“TWANG” and an arrow careens wildly into the grass and I hear Iesa swear something.

“You must focus!” I heard Beepu yell, and another bolt of fire hit the one facing me.  The bones creaked and smell of scorched bone permeated the air.  Meanwhile, Daneath swung and connected with his opponent, sending a shower of bone shards flying.    But as hard as he hit it, it looked unharmed.

This wasn’t good.

Daneath and I stood side by side, with our shields up.  As one of them swung down to hit me, I defected it.  Daneath did much the same and was able to riposte the strike, chipping away at what resembled a ribcage woven by drunken spiders.  While he was landing strikes, they didn’t seem to even slow it down.

I heard Iesa’s bow again and another arrow hit the one in front of me, connecting solidly in the arm.  But it wasn’t enough to prevent it from swinging at me again, and I took a grazing hit, while I was able to use my shield to roll with the blow on the second strike.  I reached out again with the dark strand and I felt the energy connect.  I felt the energy that held the thing together shatter, and the monstrosity collapsed into a heap of decaying, scorched bone.

The second one was having challenges now trying to land a blow on our warrior.  But as it tried, arrow and flame struck at its midsection.  It staggered briefly at the new attack, but its focus never left Daneath.  It beat down on the warrior’s shield, providing another opening and Daneath thrust deep into its body.  Of course, there was no blood, only the splinters from the bone and not a great amount of that either.  I changed tactics and using the light strand, I threw a bolt of purple energy at it, striking it in what might have called the head.  Iesa’s arrow finally connected with it, sinking deep in the upper body so the fletching wasn’t even visible now.

These things didn’t moan or scream.  The only sound we heard was the sound of bone creaking and scrapping across each other as it moved, or the sounds of the brothers’ weapons chipping away at it.  Daneath held his ground as it pounded at the large man, who tried to bat them away and reply in kind with this sword.  But one landed a solid blow again, causing the warrior’s knees to buckle, and then he fell.

I again throw a purple blast of energy at it and watched as another arrow found its mark.  But it was a blast from Beepu that brought the pile of bone down into a smoldering heap on the ground.  As it fell, the human stopped its tirade and fell quiet.

We waited a moment in the new stillness, expecting more things to jump out the piles of bones.  When nothing occurred, I moved over to Daneath and poured a little light into him.  He responded with a groan and pulled himself slowly to his feet.  I then looked at the dying man and found my voice again;

“Iesa, help me lift this man,” as a ran over to him, I drew out a dagger and started to cut the bonds holding his right arm.

“Sure thing, but where…are we going?” he replied as he grasped the man’s left side and with me on his right and together, we lifted the now unconscious figure upright between us.

“Back to where we camped?  Anywhere but here,”

“Back then,” Daneath said looking around as we ran, as Iesa and I carried out the gnolls’ victim.

“Beepu,” I panted.  “Mind explaining who this guy is?”

“Yes!  Gregor here was a colleague in Candlekeep.” He said excitedly.

“Candlekeep?” I asked

“It is a massive library on the edge of the Sword Coast.  Perhaps the largest one of its kind in the world”

“You don’t say,” I grunted as Iesa and I carried the limp torso back towards our prior night’s spot.

“Yes.  He was a member of another school there.  I have not seen him in years.”

“So,” Daneath asked as he twisted around looking for foes as we made our way back.  “What is he doing here of all places?”

“And what is this that horrible smell coming from him?” Iesa asked

“I have not the foggiest idea why he is here.  We will have to ask him.”

“The smell is rot, and it’s probably killing him.  Back to camp, talk there,” I grunted as we moved the unconscious torso out of the foul altar’s pit.

We backtracked and made our way back to last night’s campsite.   Iesa and I were winded by the time we got there with the man.  Beepu quickly spread out a bed roll, and Iesa and I gingerly lowered him to the ground, so I could see what could be done.

Underneath the blood markings, the man’s skin was very pale, his breathing shallow.  I had felt the tremors wracking through him as we carried him, and he shivered as he lay there on the ground.  I knew he was feverish as I could feel the heat when I carried him, and I suspected he was in bad shape.

I knelt next to him and I peeled away some of the robe away from his legs and more of the nauseating smell polluted the air.  I pressed gently on his abdomen and found it distended and taut.  He was bloated, and it was clear that the rot had set in deep within his bowls.  The man was on death’s door, and I was surprised that it had not taken hold yet.  I then remembered a tale I heard drinking in the *Bottle and Jug* that gnolls weren’t born; they were made from their foes.

Could that be happening here I wondered?  That night it was a story.  This day it was a possible reality.  A grim one.

As I examined the man for other injuries, the man’s eyes fluttered open, and he started a wracking cough.  He looked at us confused at first and then his eyes settled on the gnome.

“Bee…Bee..Beepu?” he sounded incredulous as he spoke haltingly.

“Yes, it is I.  What are you doing here Gregor?”

Gregor leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  His breathing was labored.  Daneath put a bedroll under his head, while I uncorked a waterskin and touched it to his lips.  The man reached up and grasped at the skin and swallowed repeatedly.  Finally, he lay it back against his side, mouthing the word “Thanks.”

“Gregor,” Beepu asked again intently.

“Looking…for…artifacts.” He stammered.

“Artifacts?” Beepu asked staring at him intently.

The figure nodded, “Yes…the Elks…buried…many things at…Flint Rock.”

Iesa and Daneath looked at each other, “Flint Rock?” Iesa asked suspiciously.  “What do you know of Flint Rock?”

“A grave…blocked by a…door.  The door…is a…game.  Either you open it…or…or…it takes…your life.” Gregor stammered.

Beepu sat on the other side of the man and grasped his robes, “You were not alone.  Who else?” he demanded.

“An…Avowed named Chriton…and four appren…tices.  Including my…self.”

“And, where are they?” Daneath asked.

“The door…won.  Took their lives.  Tired…so…tired…” and the man looked like he was near to passing out. 

“How far is this door?” Iesa asked, as he pulled out his map with the markings.

“Not…far..from…here.  Half..a..day,” and he closed his eyes and lay there breathing heavily.

We silently looked at each other for some time.  Then Beepu spoke first:

“Well, lets head back to town,” he said.

“What?  We are almost there, and you want to go back?” Iesa said.

“We cannot let him die here!” He exclaimed.

“Beepu,” I said softly.  “He’s almost done.  He has the stink of rot, and it has already settled into his organs.  He has almost no blood.  And it seems that may be cursed to…”

“To what?” Iesa asked apprehensively.

“To turn into a gnoll,” I finished.

“All the more reason for us to head to town.  Its his best chance to—”

I looked upwards for guidance I guessed.  But upon doing so, I realized we had a new problem circling above us.

“Beepu.  I can’t give him legs,” I started.  “I can’t cure the rot and keep it away.  There is a flock of carrion birds above us that is going to attract gnolls from everywhere.  He isn’t going to make it, and we might not either if we try.”

“We cannot just leave him to die.” Beepu exclaimed.

“What else can we do?” Iesa said puzzled.

“Myr is right.  All we can do is give him a clean death.” Daneath said.

Beepu whirled and confronted Daneath, “We cannot do that!  We can save him.  We should save him.”

As the three fell to arguing, stayed kneeling besides Gregor holding his hand.  This was so familiar to me.  It was only five years ago during the Faction War.  An eternity ago.  But I remembered it clearly…
*
Session notes:*

This was an argument.  I would say the argument took longer than the encounter itself did.  It was one of things I did like about this campaign.  Nothing was ever morally straightforward.


3,931


----------



## Nthal

*A Final Kiss of Mercy – Part 2  - 08/01/2019*

*A Final Kiss of Mercy - Part 2
*
_The Faction War was a “short war.”  The Blood War was far older, and still rages today.
_
_But every time I hear it being called ‘short’ I only have one thought.
_
_It wasn’t short enough._​ 
But I remembered it clearly…

The Faction War was a mess.  The Factols had vanished.  The Sinkers and the Hardheads were fighting openly on the streets.  Ely Cromlich was arming anyone who asked for a blade.  Factions were taking sides, and blood was spilling everywhere.  If that wasn’t bad enough, it was in the middle of this, that the Blood War spilled into Sigil for the first time in long memory.  Tanar’ri and Baatezu portals opened up between different groups of Sinkers and Hardheads.  The fighting took a grim new turn as this new chaos broke out everywhere.  

The Civic Festhall was a safe haven for a while, but once the fiends invaded, no where in The Cage was safe.  A large pack of Tanar’ri assaulted the Festhall, looking to take revenge on an old slight by the Factol Erin Montgomery.  But while they looked, many others paid the price.  The poor most of all.

I was in a tenement off of Founder’s Fence, with my mentor, a Githerzai who simply referred to himself as “the Speaker.”  I never knew his given name, but it was he that taught me all I know about my Lord of Death, Kelemvor.  He taught me the litany’s, the precepts and the principals.  But it was on the 34th day of the War that I finally understood their importance and took it to heart.

The Speaker brought us to Founder’s Fence with a purpose; to help anyone we could. I didn’t have any magic then, and I wasn’t a soldier, having only a solitary dagger to my name.  But while he had no magic himself, he was a good healer.

The Lady of Pain had shut the portals down, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.  It stopped the Blood War within the Cage from getting worse, but the citizens were panicked and desperate.  Violence was spilling everywhere.  And the poor sods found succor where they could.

I was walking alongside of The Speaker, when we came up to one such place.  A makeshift infirmary, and we both quickly set to work.  It was grisly, messy, and it seemed to never end.  There was no priest or even or any other skilled healers here; they were all near where the fighting was, healing the solders of one faction or another.  Or the rich.  Or their faithful.

But the poor, had no such access to magic or skill and had precious little faith left.  Many died to their wounds, bleeding to death or their shells too injured to continue.  But many more died to rot, as it set in driving victims to fever, chills and then death.  Those who survived through both simply sat and waited.  Everyone had lost someone or something, and all that remained were shattered memories.

We helped as many as we could.  Kelemvor teaches that death should come at its ordained time and you should fight to live against things that prevent it.  That was easy, to help tend and bandage wounds.  To ease the sufferings of small ills.  But what I learned that day was harder.

The Speaker had touched me on the shoulder and said to me, “There is a man in that room there,” he gestured to the back of the dingy tenement.   “I have done what I can, but it will not be enough.  He may need Kelemvor’s blessing and…your help.”  He handed to me a cloth wrapped bundle, holding something long and heavy.

I slowly unwrapped Inside of it gleamed a long piece of metal.  A stiletto, long thin, with a triangular shaped to it, made of Baatezu greensteel. 

I trembled as I held the bundle and I looked at my mentor and asked, “The young smith, right?  I remember some of the others talking about him.”  I looked at the blade, uncertain and then I looked again at my mentor.

“How do I know he’s…ready?”

“Ask him.  Do not push.  Traditionally, he should ask three times for certainty.” He said somberly.  “I have shown you how to use the blade.  But for you to become a proper Doomguide…all you must do is help him pass the veil, on whatever terms he wishes.” And he again gestured to the back.
I took the bundle in my hands and walked slowly to the rear of the building. 

“How do I know I’m ready?” I said to myself.

At the back was broken doorframe, leading to a small darkened room.  I took a deep breath and I stepped inside.

There laying on a bed of straw was a young man, barely older than I was.  He had strong burly arms, marked with soot and the occasional scar.  His build was clearly one of a smith, young and strong in his trade.    But now, his skin was sallow and pale, and glistened in sweat.  But his abdomen looked to be bloated.  Looking him over, I saw that his left thigh was crushed, no longer straight or firm in definition.  Blood oozed through the bandage soaking it thoroughly.  But it was the smell of that told me his time was nearly over. A rotten miasma, which was strong in the small space. 

The man opened his eyes and looked at me.  He then smiled with hope and started to prop himself up, wincing in pain as I moved over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“An..an angel?” he asked with a raged whisper.

I bowed my head down guiltily, “I’m…I’m sorry no.  I just…look the part.”

He collapsed and sunk back into the straw, “Are there any…any healers that will come.”

My head still bowed, “I’m sorry, but…other than The Speaker, there are no skilled healers here, and he told me that he has done what he can, but--”

“So... I’m going to…?” letting the sentence trail off, unwilling to say the word.
I nod slowly and quietly.

“Can’t you just…take my…take my leg and—”

“There is a modron with a bonesaw here, but…your leg is shattered; Just muscle and skin.  There isn’t much to saw.  You would likely bleed to death if the…”

“If the what?”

“If the rot doesn’t take you first.  It has…set in deep.” And I laid my hand on his forehead and could feel the heat as he burned to my touch.

“So…why are you here?” he asked with a note of anger.

“I…I am here to help.  I just…can’t heal you.”

“How?  How are you--”

“I’m…a...Doomguide.”

“And…what does?...”

“Provide comfort where we can.  To provide guidance if needed.  And to…help you if wanted to...”

“Help me?…ah…I…I see…” he said as the implications sank in and the tears started to flow down his face.

I held his hand fast, “We often don’t get the time to face death,” I said.  “But when you do, it should be on your terms.”

“So…I might bleed away.  I might go mad with fever.  Or I can…ask for your help?”

“Yes,” I said softly, still holding his hand with mine.  I could feel that I was trembling and hoped he didn’t notice.  And in my other hand, I still clutched the bundle with the greensteel blade within.

“Does…it hurt?”

“The pain…ends.  No one wants to prolong it,” I replied.

The man in bed turned his head, no longer wishing to face me.  The tears still streamed down his cheek.

“It’s not fair.  I…I…I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to.”

“Old Sensates say the same thing,” and I gave the slightest smile

He chuckled a moment, “I guess I’ll be in good company then.”  He lay there for a while, avoiding looking at me.  “But I don’t have to?”

“No.  It’s your end.  Your choice.”

“What must I do?”

“You…ask three times, and if I feel that you are…in your own mind I…grant you peace.”

He looked at me a moment and then he asked a question as he realized something.

“You’ve…never done this before?  Have you?”

I shook my head, “If…If you want I can—”

“No, no.  You’re fine, I guess.   Are you…alright to do this?”

I closed my eyes a second and breathed deeply and nodded, mouthing yes silently on my lips.  And then I finally said, “Yes…I can do this.”

“Are you…sure?”

I looked at him for a moment and then I looked down at our clutched hands holding tightly.  Finding the courage, I spoke again:

“It…doesn’t matter if I am or not.  It matters that I help someone in need.  It matters that I help you.”

He was quiet with his tears for a moment.  “I don’t want to lay here and wait for…something.  If you can...”

I shook my head affirmative and then said, “That’s one.”

He nodded, “I’m…I’m glad you are here then.  I’ll do want your help.”

“That’s two,” I said quieter, and I could feel my own eyes tear up.

He nodded and then he turned to face me.  I knew that he was looking at his own reflection in my eyes.  Wondering what had gone wrong that it was to end…at all. 

“You have such…wonderful eyes.  I have never seen any like…I wish…I wish…”

He then took a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

“I’m ready…please.”

As he closed his eyes, I shook loose the cloth from the blade, and I took at look at him as he lay there rigid, bracing himself, and grimacing.

It was all wrong.  My tears flowed freely now, and I released his hand and brought my left hand behind his neck, as I leaned over him, and kissed him straight on the lips. 

I could feel him tense a moment, and then he relaxed returning the kiss.  In that kiss I could tell that, he forgot where he was.  All he could feel was the love from another person.  And as he let go of his concerns, I then with my right hand, thrust the stiletto between his ribs, pointing upwards behind his heart.

His eyes flew open in surprise and then he released his hold on my lips and gasped.  Pulling back, I looked into his face and saw the look of what was at once surprise, soften into a faint smile, and finally a look of peace.

I sat there and cried, never tearing my eyes away from that face.  The from behind me I felt my mentor’s hand on my shoulder, and then I heard him whisper in his dry papery voice:

“_Speed well on your journey beyond the veil,
_
_“And may the Judge of the Dead speed you onward hence,”
_
I heard him withdraw; leaving me there alone with my raw emotions.  I was unsure what I should have felt; Sorrow?  Relief?  What surprised me was that I felt exhalted.  And while I didn’t understand why, I took solace that I simply felt. 

My first mercy.  My first kiss.

There were others I kissed during the next several days following.  We wandered the Hive, helping.  And I kissed many.  Far too many; thirty nine in all.  Young and old.  Men and Women.  Tielfing, humans, bariaur, genasi, and githerzerai.  The worst ones were children.  Too many did I kiss, and with all of them I did I ask their forgiveness.  And yet, each at the end was the wiser and more compassionate than I.

And now, I was kneeling next to another man, faced with an even grimmer fate.  Not injury to his body, not rot, but the loss of a soul to an Abyssal lord.  But now, my companions argued on what the right course was; try to save him or put him out of his misery?

“This is wrong; we cannot decide this,” Beepu exclaimed.

“Beepu, what you believe we could do, doesn’t matter.” I said softly.

“Of course, it matters!  We should do everything we can to—”

“And what about what _HE_ wants?  That’s what matters; not what we think.” Said, barely raising my voice, letting the anger I felt through my clenched teeth.

And now, I stared at Gregor with sympathy. His breathing was ragged and labored.  I leaned forward towards his ear.

“Gregor…I—”

“I know,” he whispered.  “They cursed me.  I’m going to…to...”

I started to cry, “I..I..think so.  I don’t know…but you were talking earlier in Abyssal.”

“I…I know I am done for.  Take…take me while I still have my soul.  _Please…”
_
I looked at my companions, and they slowly nodded.  Beepu clearly didn’t agree with Gregor’s choice, but he understood it and appeared to respect it.

“How do we do—” Iesa started.

“I’ll take care of it,” I responded softly.  

I took Gregor’s hand and I leaned close to him and I whispered:

“_Speed well on your journey beyond the veil,
_
_“And may the Judge of the Dead speed you onward hence,”
_
I drew out from my boot, the same greensteel stiletto.  My tears still flowing.

And I gave him a Final Kiss.

*Session notes:*
In the end after we did this, I wrote a version of this mostly to explain why.  Writing that story, really is the genesis for turning the campaign into a prose format.

4,123


----------



## Nthal

*Doors - 8/7/2019*

*Doors
*
_A closed and locked door is perhaps the worst thing you can present a Sensate.  ‘What’s hiding beyond it?’  The idea of interesting things beyond waiting to be experienced makes a Sensate like a cat.  The cat is on the wrong side of every door.
_
_Of course, a planeswalker with any experience will point out what should be obvious._
_Some doors should stay *shut.

*_​
I sat up again and looked at the man, now sleeping peacefully in the arms of death.  My tears were gone, and within me I felt a strange mixture of peace and exaltation.  Each time I gave a final kiss, I felt this way.  One part of me always wondered - *why*?  Why should I feel that way killing someone?  Even if they asked for it?  Even if they needed it?

Beepu’s face was dark and his face scowling at me.  And I couldn’t say that he was wrong.  But I didn’t see a way to save him.  But shouldn’t I have tried?

Iesa and Daneath appeared to be in agreement in the necessity.  But as dangerous as each man was, I could only see Daneath actually doing it.  Iesa, while capable and no coward to a fight didn’t seem the type to carry out an errand of mercy.

All of these things they each wore on their face openly as each looked at Gregor in his repose.  Finally, Iesa spoke.

“I couldn’t make that kind of choice,” Iesa said.

I turned to look at him, “I hope you never have to.  Any of you.”

And turning back again to look at Gregor I whisper to myself:

“Or I.”

Daneath nudged Iesa and I could hear him quietly say “Lets see if we can find some stone and build a cairn,” and both left the campsite, leaving Beepu and myself with Gregor’s body.

I looked in my pouch for a pair of greenies and some cloth, and I knelt by Gregor, and put a coin on each eye, and then bound the cloth around his head to keep them in place and began to utter a prayer.  A prayer to allow the body to rest peacefully as the soul would travel on.  Somewhere in the middle of this, Beepu finally spoke.

“Myrai.  I cannot…agree with what you believed was right.  But I can say at least you treated him with dignity.   But, what if he said no?”

I stopped and thought a moment.  “If he wanted to face his end head on?  I wouldn’t have stopped him.  Might have restrained him though in case he…turned.  And then, we would be fighting for our lives, and perhaps his soul.  Then, I would be blessing his shell, so it didn’t rise again.

“His shell?”

I nodded, “I don’t know where the term came from, but the Dustmen use it when they refer to the fragile bodies holding our soul.  Anyway, we would have likely killed him, in a more painful way.”

“Are you really certain?”

I nodded, “As certain as anyone can be.  If I was wrong, well…my god will judge me at the end of things.”

He remained silent, until the brothers returned.  Daneath and Iesa moved the body to what appeared to be a dry creek, with lots of worn rounded stones.  By peak, we had covered the body and made our way northwards once again.

We threaded our way between several smoke pillars from more pyres.  As we neared sundown, we came to what appeared to be a large earthen mound, in the middle of a rising bluff, overlooking a nearby river.  As we approached, I realized it was a humongous stone slab, laying half buried in the earth.  And in the center was a carved rectangular opening leading below.

Flint Rock.

We stopped a moment; it had been almost fourteen days since we set out looking for this place.  And now, none of wanted to move forward.  Three of us sought clues to the family that had left behind.  And as for me; I was looking for a glimmer of hope for a way home.  But as I stood in front of the rock, I could feel that nothing ahead was right.  That something dark lay ahead; disturbed from its endless slumber.  Something that gnawed at me.  I did not want to go in.

But the brothers, and Beepu were far more motivated, and they stepped cautiously into the opening that led down below the rock.  I gamely followed, producing light on the shield so the brothers could see.

The vault we entered was a decent size.  On the ground were deeply inscribed grooves, creating sweeping curves and whorls in rock.  The room was supported by five solid pillars of rocks, each carved with symbols of animals and humanoid figures. 

Even the roof of the vault was covered with these carvings, deep in the rock to withstand the ages.  Some had signs of pigments; blues, reds and black being the most common.  This gave the room an aura of primal power.  One of strength and might, but animalistic.  Even now, as the dust and the wisps of cobwebs on the upper reaches of the gallery.  But there was a feeling of this was something in the long past. Of ancient glories almost forgotten.

Almost.  On the ground I saw the remainders of ash and soot.  Coming over to investigate, found bits of bone, leather, cloth and left-over bits of metal.  The others investigated similar piles scattered around the room.  It was then I saw it on the wall.

It was a circular shape with a diameter half again my height.  On it in relief were circular disks, three in all arranged in a triangle, with symbols of animals, weapons and other shapes.  On the floor in front of it, was another pile of ash, but this one had a dagger laying on the ground, and the burnt remains of a book, now discarded with many of its pages turned to ash.

I kept looking at the rings, trying to make sense of what it was for, as the others started to talk.
“These must have been Gregor’s companions,” Daneath said as he poked in one pile with his sword.  “But what did this?”

“That did,” Beepu said pointing at the shape on the wall.  “My guess it is the door they spoke of.  And that is a very complex puzzle lock.”

“So, you have a plan Beepu?” Daneath asked.

“Yes of course!  I am going to study it, and remember the last position on the marks!”

“What does that tell us?” Daneath asked confused.

“Well, it is clearly incorrect as it killed them.  So we can be certain to avoid this one.”

“There has to be a faster way,” I commented.  “I mean if time wasn’t a problem sure I bet you 
could.  But somehow I can’t imagine your fathers not leaving behind something else as a clue.”

“Are you doubti—”

“No, just the speed.  And that that you have to do this blindly.”

“Wait a minute…” Iesa muttered, and he reached into is side pouch, and drew out the map we had been following.  We moved over to his side and clustered around.

Normally, Iesa was very protective of the map, rarely letting any of look at it or the drawings written upon it.  Now we looked together at the strange document.  I could see the path we followed; the mark for Flint Rock, the canyon we passed days ago.

Across the document were scattered symbols and arcs and more circles; some dark and some faint.  I looked at Iesa quizzically hoping for a clue on what I was looking at or for.  And I as looked, I could see his eyes widen and the look of comprehension spread across his face.

“I understand it.  The circles on the map are the positions that need to be used on the wall.” He said quickly, tracing his finger across the marks.

“That does not help us,” Beepu started.  “We do not know where to start or end and we only know one position to avoid.”

“They’re numbered,” Iesa said.  “This map has the sequence,”

“How?  I do not see any numbers.”

“It doesn’t work like that.  But for those who understand the cant, it’s clear.”

“That is a bit to stake our lives on,” Beepu frowned.

“I’ll take it,” I said.  “What do I do?”

“Same here,” Daneath said.

Iesa turned to look at me with surprise and then looked at both of us nodded.  “Go to the wall and turn the upper disc so the symbol of an axe is on top.  Then turn the lower right disk so the Axe symbol is near the center of the three, and the lower left one so the axe is on the opposite side of the center.  Then touch each axe.”

“Alright,” and I moved over to the symbol on the door.  Hesitantly I reached out towards the right most disc, grimacing and expecting to become the next pile of ash.  But my hands touched the stone with no ill effects.  The stone itself felt cold, and rough as I moved my hands over it to fine a grip to turn it.  It wasn’t smooth to turn, but nor was it a huge effort.  As I started to turn the disc to align the Axe symbol, I saw Beepu step up and start to do the same with the left disc, while Daneath stood between reaching the upper one.

In moments, the axes were aligned, and Daneath started to count upwards; “One…two…three!” and we all pressed the symbol.  As we did so I know I scrunched my eyes shut and tensed waiting for the blow…

…that never came.  I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath, until I had to let it out, which was followed by everyone else.

I chuckled, “Well, at least Iesa got that one right,”

“Hey!” Iesa said looking up from the map.

“Well, if he gets it wrong, I will have some strong words to say,” Beepu said archly in a mocking manner.

“Good news, we won’t know or care if it does,” I said.  “What’s next?”

“Thanks a lot…oh…um upper disk with the snake symbol at the bottom, the right disk with the snake in the middle, and the left with the snake opposite the middle.

The three of us followed the instructions, and again did a count down and press.  Then Iesa gave out the final set:

“Elk symbol at the top of the top disk, the Elk symbol opposite the middle on the right, and the Elk opposite the middle on the left…But then press the sun symbol on each disc.”

We complied with the rotation and after looking at each other, Daneath again counted it off:

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

This time when we pushed on the symbols, we felt and heard a loud snap and then silence.  We looked at each other nervously, and then we heard the sound of stone slowly scaping against stone.  Taking a step back from the lock we watched fascinated, as the rock gradually sunk into the ground, exposing a tunnel descending beneath.

I flexed and cast a light on Daneath’s shield, while he strapped it back onto his arm.  Shining it down the passage, I could see it descended gradually out of my sight.  On the ground there was a thick layer of dust.  But looking closer I saw there was a faint outline of two sets of prints heading downwards.

“Hey, do you see that…?” and I gestured to the faint trail, when I noticed that the boots led only one direction.

“They don’t come back out,” Daneath said completing my thought and turning to look at each of us.

“What does that mean?”  Iesa asked with a note of worry on this voice.

“That there probably is another way out!” Beepu said confidently.

“That’s one possibility,” I muttered to myself quietly not wanting to mention another possibility, lest I curse us with ill thoughts.  Daneath, started moving downwards, and I quickly followed him, with the others following close behind along with Foggle overhead, and Mo on Iesa’s shoulder.  The brothers drew their weapons, while Beepu and I were ready with incantations if the need arose

The passage descended deeply into the earth.  Soon I could taste moisture in the air and smell damp earth.  But more than that I felt cold; like the warmth was leaving me as we proceeded.  I could tell that Beepu at least felt the same as I heard him rub his hands rapidly over his arms in an attempt to stay warm.  But was another feeling that preoccupied me as we continued downwards.

It was that gnawing presence.  As if the shadows here beneath the earth were trying to sustain themselves on my soul.  It was a discomforting feeling that made me anxious.

Soon the shield lit up an ornately carved stone door of granite.  There was again whorls and circles, but not totems or other shapes on it.  As I stared at it, Beepu broke the silence.

“There!  A lock.” And he pointed to a metal box on the left side of the door with an oddly shaped keyhole.

“I’m on this,” and Iesa stepped forward and knelt down in front of it, pulling a leather satchel from his belt pouch.  We waited as Iesa carefully poked and prodded with picks inside the lock. 

<<SPRONG>>

“Damn!”

“And?” I asked.

“I’m on this…but I just broke my pick.”

“Well…pull it out,”

“I uh…can’t.  It’s jammed.”

“Really?  Now?”  Daneath asked incredulously

“I will not let us be thwarted by your inability to pick a lock!” Beepu said angrily, and his hands started to move as he started to cast a spell.

“Oh, come on!  It’s rusty with all the moisture!” Iesa said standing up and spreading his hands outwards.

“Sure that it isn’t you that is rusty?” I asked.  

Before he could respond, Beepu said; “There!”

I looked at the door and it didn’t seem changed.  Or open.

“Beepu, it’s still closed,” Iesa said.

“I did not open it.  I made it easier to deal with the lock.” The gnome said archly.

I looked at the door again and realized that there was a difference.  The rusty metal lock mechanism was changed to a light brown color.  Staring at it closer I released it was a type of wood.  I turned to Beepu confused and was about to ask the obvious, when Iesa spoke up first.

“I can’t pick a wooden lock!”

“You don’t need to,” Daneath said as he lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door with his weight.  The lock broke apart into splinters and the stone door swung open.

“I can’t pick that either,” Iesa said crestfallen.

“Come on,” Daneath said and he led the way inside.

We arrived at an intersection and ahead of us was another door while passages led left and right, turning around corners in both directions.  Daneath walked over to the stone door and looked it over and turned to Iesa:

“Ok, here’s your chance to redeem yourself,”

“Umm…I can’t”

“Why not?” Daneath said with some surprise.

“There isn’t a lock,” Iesa said pointing at the sides of the door.  Looking at it, not just the lock was missing.  There wasn’t a latch, a handle, or even a pull ring.

“Can you turn that into wood?” I asked Beepu.

“Definitely not.  Too large.”

Daneath put his shoulder against the door and pushed but the stone refused to move.  He tried to push it sideways.  He even tried to find a grip to pull on it to no avail.

“Rusty?” Iesa asked mockingly.

“Not helping.” Daneath said in frustration.  “Let’s try another passage.”

Returning to the intersection, we headed to the left, and found another intersection, with stone doors on the left and right, and the passage continuing straight turning a corner.   Checking the doors, we found that beyond some artistic differences, they were the same as the first one we found.  No lock or handle.

“Well this is a problem,” Beepu observed.

“Maybe if we found some tools?” Iesa said.

“We can keep an eye out I suppose.  Let’s keep moving.” I said.

We continued down, and the passage opened up into a small room, with an exit opposite the passage we came from.  The room itself had a pair of statues of human like shapes in two of the corners, while a low altar of stone sat in near the center of the wall towards our left, and between the statues in the corner.

Stepping into the room I looked at the altar, and it seemed unremarkable.  There was melted wax from long ago, crumbling with age on the surface.  I looked around and was puzzled; I still felt on edge, and the gnawing was present.  But this wasn’t was I was imagining from a barbarian tribe.  This seemed more sophisticated.  All of it did; the stonework, the doors, everything.

Beepu started to chant something and his eyes opened with a dim white light now flashing within.  I knew the spell in question, and I watched him search the room for dweomers.  He stepped forward towards the altar and then stepped around it toward the wall behind it.  I watched him, curious to what had gotten his interest.  The I was surprised to see him walk right through the wall and disappeared.

I stepped up to the wall and reached forwards.  I half expected to feel a wall, but my hand passed through it as well.  I was about to step through, when Beepu stepped out again, holding a bundle.

“What did you find?” Iesa asked.

“It’s just an alcove, with the remains of cloth and leather.  But this…this is in good condition,” and he held up a short cloak.  While it was short, in length, it was broad at the top, as if made for a human sized frame.  It was a deep maroon, with a fur trim around the hood and edges.

“It’s interesting, why is it intact then?” I asked.

“Because it appears to have a warding enchantment on it.  Why do you not try it Myrai?”

“Me?” I was surprised.  Somehow, I thought he would have taken the cloak right then as a first finders claim.

“No, you.  After that incident with the hyenas and the bone things; you probably could use it best.

“Go ahead Myr,” said Iesa while Daneath nodded.

I reached out and grasped it; the maroon material was thin supple leather and the fur was luxuriously soft.   I pull it around me and fastened it with a pin that was already attached to it.  Somehow this cloak felt comforting just by wearing it.  And I admit that I felt wilder somehow wearing it.

“I don’t know wa…thanks,” I said sheepishly.

“Well, lets keep moving then.” Daneath said and led us down the opposite passage.  Following it we turned a corner, and then it turned again, coming to yet another intersection.  Two stone doors again on the left and right, but this time a wooden door was in front of us ten paces from the intersection.
“Can you open that?” Iesa and Daneath asked each other, both gesturing at the door.  Both stopped a second and briefly laughed and then each graciously offered the first crack at the door.  Finally, Iesa stepped up to it and then disappointed said:

“There isn’t a lock; just the door handle.”  He then grasped the handle and pushed open the door.  
Daneath flooded the room with light, exposing a wall full of scrolls and a table covered in dust.

“One moment!” and Beepu rushed inside to look at the shelves, eager to find something he could use or learn from.   His eyes were still aglow from his incantation, and I suspected he was quietly recasting the same ritual over and over again.

Mo bounded onto the table, kicking up a cloud of dust, while Foggle effortlessly circled near the ceiling in the room.  Looking around, there was a door that was on the left of the entrance way, similar to the one on the way in.

Beepu quickly snorted with disgust, “The moisture has destroyed everything.:

“This is strange.  Scrolls?  Aren’t these barbarians like…savages?  That’s how they were described in the bars.”  I said looking at Beepu.

“Perhaps they are not.  Or were not.  No one has been down here in a while, our fathers notwithstanding.”

“Well we keep looking then,” Daneath said, and he reached and pulled open the door.
I turned to look at him, and he stood still at the doorway and didn’t move.

“What’s wrong Daneath?”  I asked.

“What do you mean?  I can’t see in the room; even with your light.”

“Wha?...” I said and took a step forward and stood beside Daneath.  To me I couldn’t see any darkness at all, but I could see that my light didn’t brighten anything either.  But that was all what I was able to process as I saw a figure stepping in front of the door.

“Get out of the way!”
*
Session notes:*

So, I scored a cloak of protection and it became a running cloak.  From there on there were many times that I saved from being hit by magic, or an opponent missed by 1 to the cheers of “The cloak!”   What was strange was that at the time, no one else wanted it. 

After having my bacon saved repeatedly, there were lots of regrets in turning it down.

4,263


----------



## Nthal

*Faith healing - 08/15/2019*

_Belief is the strongest thing in the multiverse.  It transcends the mortal self and forges places and powers.

Most of the time you don’t question what you believe in.  When you do that is normally a crisis.

But sometimes we don’t know what we believe.  And there is an interesting journey from there. _​
I grasped at Daneath and tried to pull him back.  Just within an arm’s length, I saw a shape of a tall, extremely slender figure, almost sickly.  But where its face should have been was smooth and featureless.  Silently it reached for the big warrior and I only had a moment to throw a blast of energy, striking it in the midsection.

But I was too late, as the form grasped at Daneath, its shadowy hand like appendage, passed through his armor.  I could hear him groan in pain, and he staggered backwards, breathing heavily.  Within me I could feel that sickly resonance, but stronger than I had felt before.    

Iesa whirled, drawing his rapier and stared at the entryway where Daneath stumbled backwards from.

“What?  I don’t see anything,”

“I cannot see in there,” Beepu said frantically, looking for something to throw his magic at.

“It’s there!” I shouted, pointing wildly at the opening, and then I looked again.

“*They*…are.  Move!” and I pulled Daneath backwards away from the door.  Within the next room, I saw three figures slowly and deliberately moving towards the opening.

Then, the three figures suddenly surged forward.  I felt slow as I watched the entities moved with a fluid like grace and speed.  One reached for Daneath and he swung desperately with his sword, attempting to fend off the shadowy foe.  A second one flowed straight towards Iesa, who thrust straight into its amorphous chest, then he spun avoiding its grasping tendrils. 

The third one streamed towards me, and I could feel the resonance again; the Strand vibrated and struggled against the negative energy that the figure exuded.  The feeling was intense and I could see it struggle to grasp at me.   Time felt slow as I watched it strain towards me. Finally, it twisted and rushed towards Beepu.  He scrambled to the back of the room and as I watched he faded from sight, leaving the shadowy form without a target for the moment. 

I reached out with the Strand and a pair of skeletal hands grasped at the shadows in front of me.  I could feel them rend and tear at the foul energies holding them together.  Daneath and Iesa both swung again, both finding success with their swings.  Daneath was fortunate that the undead thing scraped against his shield, while Iesa’s agility was enough to keep himself safe.

Then the hairs stood up at the back of my neck and turned to see the third one reaching towards me.  I barely had enough time to raise my shield keeping it between me and the shadow, but once again the strand held and it twisted and tried to attack Iesa this time, with no success.

Fortunately, Beepu didn’t stay hidden, as he threw a bolt of fire at the shadow attacking Daneath.  It started to dissolve into a fine mist.  With that one down, I focused on the Strand again, this time pulling on the lighter energy.  Instantly, a beam of radiant light struck Iesa’s attacker, causing it to dissolve in the air as well.
Daneath whirled and charged the last one on his brother, cleaving at it twice with desperation, while Iesa attempted to lunge at it.  His blade didn’t strike it, but it was enough of a distraction that Beepu’s second Fire bolt found its mark and the last one fell, its form dissolving away.

The large warrior was winded, and he sunk to a knee, breathing heavily.

“D…what’s wrong?” I asked reaching over and steadying his shoulders as he gasped.

“Feel cold…tired…the armor feels…heavy,” he panted.

“Sodding…they must have drained him.” I said.

“What in the hells were those things,” Iesa said looking over his blade, unsure if he wanted to clean it.

“Shadows.  Creatures of undeath that rob you of your vitality.  Make you weaker,” I responded looking over Daneath to see how serious his wounds were.

“Well, that was more than I expected.  And I still cannot see into that room, now that they are gone.” Beepu said peering towards the doorway.

“Give me a moment, and I rose and walked into the room.  If it was dark, I couldn’t see it.  All the rooms, the halls looked the same to me; well-lit and no shadows.  As it turned out, the room was mostly empty; with only some moldering cots and mattresses ravaged by time.  On a table nearby, I found a small coin purse falling apart with a case of dry rot.  I could see the glint of golden metal and I swept up the coins and pocked them for later.  Once I saw the room had no other exit I returned to my compatriots.

“Nothing much, some jink is all.  Better Daneath?”

The warrior shook his head, “I’m real tired, but I don’t want to stay here.”

We retrace our steps to the first intersection and come past another pair of impassible stone doors.  Continuing past that the passage twists and turns until we enter a large hallway, with pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling.  Here there were remains of banners, their color leached away with time.  Here also were more carving and symbols on the walls.

This all felt primal in some way, unlike the other room which had a more spiritual feel to it.  I traced my hand on the carvings in the rock, wondering about the Elk tribe.  Why did they create this?  Why did they seal it away?

But as I wondered, I could feel the wrongness too.  Some shard of darkness was near.  No, not darkness; sickness.  It was now strong enough to make my stomach turn. 

“You feeling alright?” Iesa asked.

“I…no…I don’t know.  Something isn’t right.  I’ll be fine let’s keep looking around.”

Iesa nodded and touched me on the shoulder.  He moved and stayed close to Daneath who still was having difficulty.  But he refused help from Iesa and kept moving. 

The chamber had an exit on the far end, and we continued on.  Soon we found another pair of stone doors.  But now the sense of wrongness was getting far stronger, moving from discomfort to borderline pain.  I gritted my teeth, trying to push it away from my mind, keeping focused on my surroundings.

The passage opened into a square room, with a passage leading out ahead on the far right of the room.  As we entered, I could finally feel the source of pain.  I closed my eyes and tried to shake my head to clear my thoughts, letting out a groan.

“Myr?” Daneath turned to look at me with alarm.

“Can’t…can’t you feel it?” I said between clenched teeth, trying to steady myself as I leaned against the entrance way.

“Feel what exactly?” Beepu asked puzzled.

Opening my eyes, I pointed to the far corner of the room. 

“That…the pain it gives off.”

In the far corner was a statue of a majestic Elk its shoulder line was taller than I and colored a dark black. The statue was standing in a pool which edge was decorated with carved patterns.  But what caught my eye most was that the statue was covered in sickly green moss on its back, that oozed and dripped a brown liquid in to the basin.  I was almost sure that the moss was glowing, but with my vision it made it difficult to be sure.
“I do not feel anything at all,” Beepu said as Foggle landed on his shoulder.  “But that statue has seen better times,” he remarked.  I now noticed that Mo, was avoiding the statue altogether as he scurried around the room.

I stepped carefully towards the figure, each step accentuating the pain that gripped me.  As I approached, I realized that it was actually made of wood.  But the statue wasn’t carved from it, but it was rather grown into its current shape.  The black color was a product of mold from the moisture, and it covered the body where there was no moss.  It’s antlers were easily wider than I was tall, and also dripped with moss. 

What was this?  Why could I feel it?  Why only I?

“There isn’t much here, we should keep looking,” Iesa said after glancing into the pool, looking for valuables or signs of his father.

“We can wait a moment.  Right Myr?” Daneath asked.

“We should look for a way to open those doors is what we should do!” Beepu exclaimed frustrated.

“I’ve been thinking; those are probably tombs,” Daneath said.  “And I don’t think our fathers came here to rob graves.

“I thought the Elk built cairns,” Iesa commented.

“This…this is far _older_,” I said stepping next to the Elk figure, “This place…hasn’t been used in a long time.  But I think Daneath is right.”

“So now what?” Beepu asked the brothers and they began to talk.  But I ceased to pay attention to them. The pain was intense, as I saw the moss had invaded deep into fissures in the wood.  As I looked at it closely, I realized that this looked familiar.

It resembled the rot that stole so many on the battlefield.  The discoloration, the ooze, the swelling in the wood.  I realized then that the statue wasn’t trying to hurt me.  It was simply radiating its own pain.  I couldn’t take it any longer.  I didn’t know if I could help, but I needed to do something to lessen it. Anything.  I reached out with a hand and touched the wooden muzzle of the statue and started to pour some energy into it. 

The reaction was swift.  At first the light flowed into the statue easily. The darkness inside was hungering and trying to swallow it all from me.  I gasped and then tried to force more energy into the darkness; trying to overwhelm it.  I felt my face contorting in pain as I pushed harder and harder.  Around me I knew there was shouting, but none of the words meant anything to me.  All that mattered was defeating that core of darkness inside the wooden form.

I pushed again, and I could feel the Strand within me twisting and coiling.  It was active in fighting the darkness. But the battle had moved beyond the statue; I was now a part of the battlefield as I expended more and more power.  I wasn’t in control in any tangible way; all I could do was brute force; my light against the dark.

And I was losing.  I was tiring my reserves from the Strand waning.  The darkness was eager to consume again; and I had unwittingly exposed myself.  Sweat poured off my forehead as I strained to find more energy from the Strand.  All the light was gone, and only the scant amount of dark threads were left.  Somehow, I knew that tapping those would make things worse.

I was going to die.

I could barely think coherently.  My left hand reached up to touch the holy symbol I wore.  My fingers brushed the scales and the bones, and I then gripped it tightly.  It was my shield that had protected me.  It was my beacon that lit the way.  And it needed more.  Like it wanted proof of my faith.  Could I sacrifice all?  Would I?

The decision wasn’t hard.  I reached within again, but not to the Strand, but that small part of self that brought light and could cure ailments.  It was all I had left and I with desperation I threw it at the darkness.  I could feel the energy flare up and down my spine, and I could see the flash of light in the corners of my eyes as my ethereal wings appeared.

The energy struck the darkness and I could feel it recoil.  It was almost like my wings had swept forward to surround it and hold it place as I started to rend it asunder.  I was screaming now something, words in Celestial pouring from my mouth as I tried to crush the darkness with my will.  With my faith.
Then the Strand reacted.   Not the light, but the darkened threads reached for the core I fought against.  And then suddenly, I felt my being swallowing it, wrapped tightly in threads of light and dark.  But as I did so I felt a final burst of darkness leaving me in all directions.

The pain fell away, and my knees gave as I fell on the floor, my hand leaving the statue.  Iesa came to me first and lifted my torso up so I could.

“Myr!  Myr!  Come on now!  Talk to me!” Iesa said frantically.

I blinked barely comprehending trying to catch my breath.  I felt violently ill and could barely talk.  “I…I..”

“Yes, come on.  You’re ok.”

I stammered as my thoughts started to coalesce.

“The darkness…something is…coming.”

Beepu heard that and threw Foggle in the air down the passage we came from.  Daneath, swallowed and tightened his grip on his sword, and faced the passageway, the shield shining the way.

“Those tombs are open, and we hav—”

And with that figures entered the room and swung at Daneath blocking the passage.  He swung striking the clumsy assailants easily.   Iesa stood, drew his rapier and lunged, plunging his sword deep into another figure, felling it.

In a panic, I stood up.  I might have been tired and exhausted before, I now had something.  My unease was now nausea but I choked it down and I quickly hurled a bolt of energy at the figure that Daneath struck.  It was only then I realized that I was striking musties.  But these were much more focused and faster.
Beepu had a different concern and he shouted, “I’ll be right back!” and ran towards the passage that we had not explored yet.   As he did so, he faded from sight. 

More musties arrived and they unleashed their anger on the brothers. One pounded Daneath’s shield ineffectively, while the damaged one an and another manage to land solid blows on Iesa.  All the while I could hear Mo screaming, looking for cover.  I reached out toward the pair and summoned the skeletal hands to grip and hold a pair, causing one to fall.

But Iesa’s luck had run out, as I saw him being clobbered with fists from the pair, falling to the floor.  Daneath, despite his exhaustion, screamed and again started to swing at them and backed up towards where I stood.  They thrashed at Daneath as he moved, but it did move them away from Iesa, who lay in a pool of blood on the floor.

I heard a noise and turned just in time to see two more musties emerge from the other passageway.  Once again, I could feel resonance as they struggled to focus their attacks on me.  And once again Daneath bore the brunt as they twisted and unloaded their fury upon him, battering his shield and him.
Daneath and I stood back to back, surrounded by four of them.  Iesa was running out of time and I was desperate. 

“Sorry D,” I said as I reached with in and plucked at the dark strands within me.

“What—”

And with that I freed the darkness that I just claimed from the Elk.  I screamed and tendrils of darkness erupted from me, battering all the musties around me.  But it also battered Daneath who grunted as the tendrils flailed against him.  I ran past the musties and they barely had any energy to respond.  But I knew that with the resonance was gone, any protection I had was gone with it.

It was at this point that a solid shard of ice emerged from the passage, It exploded on a musty dropping another one to the ground and cutting others.  Beepu faded back into view and moved away from the doorway looking to get a better view of his foes.

Daneath swung and cut down another one, just as I reached Iesa.  I quickly placed a hand on him and pulled desperately on a strand to heal him.  But all I could do was stop him from dying.  And that was enough.
Beepu blasted another one with a bolt of fire, causing it to fall to the ground in heap.  And Daneath struck it for good measure to ensure it stayed down.

Our ears strained to listen over our breathing.  Listening for signs of more assailents.  Moments passed before Beepu spoke up again.

“Foggle didn’t see any other active ones.”

“What about the way you went down?” Daneath asked.

Beepu shook his head, “It ended in a large oaken door.  I don’t think there were more than two stone ones on the way to it.

I pulled off my pack and placed it under Iesa’s head.   I was tired, so tired.  But I started to pull some incantations to clean him up.  Mostly to see his wounds clearly, but also to wipe the filth and blood away.  As I did so, Mo approached Iesa and sat next to his head. 

As I watched I saw the monkey pull some of Iesa hair and stroke it.  He would drop those strands and repeat with a new handful.  His eyes, so human like looked on the fallen Knight with sadness and hope.  He continued to stroke his hair.  I was struck on how…human it was.  Mo was always there in the background, but not always in front of everything.  But now for I, he was the center of the world as he tried to heal his…

Master?

Friend?

Father?

How did Mo think of Iesa?   All I could do is gently stroke the monkey’s fur.  It may have been the first time he had let me, or it may have been the first time I tried.  But the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know; he loved Iesa.

“Myr…some warning next time—” Daneath started.

“I said sorry!” I said looking him in the eye.  I needed to get to…your brother.

“Yeah…thanks,” Daneath said appreciatively.  “Think we are good to rest a bit?”

“I hope so!  I am not carrying him!” Beepu said.

“Good.  Rest would be good.” I said.  Moving to a wall and sitting down wearily.

“Myr, what was it you were screaming in that language…with the elk that is?”

“Celestial?  I...I don’t remember.  There was a lot of pain.  Do you?

“Something like…’E kohana ma ko’o makunanae’ ?”

“Oh…it’s a plea for help.” I said.  But that wasn’t quite correct.  The better translation was:

_‘Help me my Father.’_

*Session notes:*
So some of the spell casting done for drama’s sake (the last bit at the end), but I did burn all my other slots healing to purge that elk.  It was a moment of high drama.

Here also was really the first time I tried to humanize Mo.  It wasn’t a familiar so keeping track of it was a pain, especially since he never was in combat.  So where’s Mo was a constant challenge to remember.


----------



## Nthal

*Of Powers and things (8/22/2019)*

_It is a given that mortals don’t have a full understanding of what immortals want.  Not fiends.  Not celestials. Not Slaadi.  Not Modrons.

But whatever we think we know about their desires, we have even less understanding about Powers.  And to pretend we do is folly.

And yet we do anyway and miss the truth. _​
We rested by the Elk; the room felt to me clean now that the darkness had been purged.  Daneath both were wounded, but Iesa was worse off.  I moved from my spot at the wall and sat next to him and checked him over.  No cuts, but a lot of bruising from where the musties pummeled him.  But his breathing was steady and easy.

As I touched his chest checking for bleeding, he awoke with a start.  He sat up with a wild-eyed look, his head turning around.  Mo quickly screeched in delight and jumped on his shoulder and clasped his arms around Iesa’s neck.  Iesa, turned to look at him and smiled, and ruffled the fur on its head.  I smiled and said, “I’ll leave you two alone,” to which Iesa gave me an amused look but said nothing.

I moved to Daneath then and asked, “Anything serious?”

He shook his head, “No, but I still feel weakened from earlier.  I want to sleep it off.”

“Perhaps we can soon!  These things burst out of the tombs after all.” Beepu said.

“I’m not big on robbing the graves here.  And besides, I’m going to guess your father wouldn’t have opened them anyway.”

“True!  But there is another door at the end of this passage.  One of oak.  But I admit to being very tired as well.  I do not have much strength to manage any significant magic.  What about you?”

“Now that I have rested, I feel better.  I can probably manage more arcana if needed.”

“Well, let’s move and avoid things if we can.  I don’t want to die here,” Daneath said somberly.

“I second that,” Iesa said quietly.  I turned to look at him, and while Mo had certainly ha lifted his spirits earlier, he seemed distracted.

“Then, let’s move,” Daneath said, and I flexed and refreshed the light on the shield.  We then moved into the far passage to look for the door.  As we made our way there, we passed the remains of the two stone doors, shattered on the ground.  Beyond them was only a small alcove, and moldering remains of cloth and leather.  But not far from that stood the oak door.

This one was similar to the one we ran into the entrance.  Iesa stepped up to it and examined the lock for a moment, and then retrieved his tools from his pouch and started to work on it. 

<<SPRONG>>

I could see Iesa close his eyes and grimace in frustration.  “Beepu could you…do your trick again?”

“More rust?” Beepu said with a smile and was already starting the transmutation.  In moments, the metal lock was now flimsy wood, and Daneath broke it open.

“I’m going to have to practice,” Iesa said shaking his head.

I touched his shoulder as he put away his tools.  “Well, just think of it of saving it for when you really need it.”
“Heh I guess,” and Iesa stood up, and we resumed our exploration.  The tunnel continued straight for a while and then started to widen.  Before the others could see, it was clear that the passage ahead of us descended.  But there was an opening on the left before that.

As we approached, I heard a sound.  I glanced at the others and found them returning my glance. 

“Is that…crying?” Iesa asked in a hushed tone.

“From that passage?  Take a look.” Daneath whispered, nudging Iesa forward.

“What?  Why not you?”

“I’m in heavy armor, do I sound quiet?”

“You’re in heavy armor what’s going to hurt you?”

“Fine, if you two are going to argue about it,” I said stepping forward, before Iesa caught my arm.

“No…I’ll do it,” and he moved down the hall, with Mo following quietly behind him.

“What has gotten into him?” Beepu wondered aloud.

“I think I have a guess,” I said.  “I have seen this before, after someone gets seriously hurt.  You have proof you aren’t invincible.”

I watched Iesa in the distance peer looking into the room, and I saw him stiffen, and then slowly back up.  As soon as made some distance, he started to run back to where we stood in the hall.

“What’s the matter?” Daneath asked, almost annoyed.

“Well…it’s a woman crying--” Iesa started.

“A ghost?” I guessed.

To which Iesa nodded, “I could see through her…so…yeah.”

“Did she notice you?” I asked.

Iesa shook his head.  “We avoid her...I’ll try moving really slow along the opposite wall.”

“Wait are you…” I started.

“I don’t know if I can handle another fight,”

“Ok…let’s go.” I said.  But as we made our way down the hall, I crept towards the side passage, and looked within.

The figure was indeed a woman, kneeling in torn furs and homespun cloth.  Her auburn hair was long and braided, and her skin was a dark sun kissed color.  But as Iesa said you could see through her.  She paid me no mind, as all of her focus was on a casket resting on a bier.  It appeared to be damaged from a broken part of the ceiling, crushing it.

I looked at her for a moment.  She wasn’t like the other undead; she didn’t seem to want to kill us.  I wasn’t even sure if she heard me at the entrance, or even if she cared. 

Unlike the other undead, I wanted to help her somehow.  I remembered tales of spirits being laid to rest by helping it.  Completing an unfinished task, a blessing or prayer, and even returning the bones of the dead to their resting place.  I was half a mind to enter the room, when I felt a tugging on my leg.

Looking down I saw Mo release his grip on my breeches, and pad back over to Iesa.  Looking at him, he had an exasperated expression on his face, and perhaps a small bit of fear.  I turned to look at the spirit in the room and sighed.  I remembered an old maxim that my mentor, the Speaker told me once:

“Remember, while we serve our lord; the needs of the living outweigh the needs of the dead.”

I turned my back to the spirit and quietly moved to the stairs and followed the others down.  All I could do was mutter under my breath; “May Kelemvor grant you peace.”  I wanted to do more, I felt I could have.  But the fear in Iesa, the battered Daneath; both came first.

We continued down the stairs until it opened into square room, which then led into a large room.  Since I was last in the line, all I heard was a gasp, and Beepu running to the right side.  The brothers turned and followed.  I caught up and looked down at the kneeling gnome, to see what had caught his interest.
It was a leather pack, with brass colored fittings.  But on the flap covering the opening, was a rune I didn’t recognize.  But then it dawned on me. 

It wasn’t old and rotten; it was in very good shape.

“This…this is my fathers!” he whispered.  And he opened the pack and looked inside.  I could see papers, similar to the plans he poured over, and I also saw a small book.  His hands were quivering as he undid the clasp that held it shut.  He opened it and started to flip the pages.

“It’s a journal, but it was only partially filled out.  But there is a note here…” and he quickly started to scan through it his eyes flashing back and forth, digesting it.  It seemed to be eternity as he read, before finally Iesa spoke up.

“And?”

“What?  Oh sorry.  Forgot you were here.” Beepu said guilty.

“So what does it say?” I asked.

“Well, it is a personal letter, but it says a couple of things.  The first is that there is a piece of a device here and the schematics to build it.  It is basically another copy of the device that they have.  The other pieces are elsewhere, and I must find them. 

“The second is that he is travelling with you father, helping him somehow.  Oh, he calls him Umbra.  It looks he is running from the Kershak, but it does not say why.”

“Where were they going?” Daneath asked intently.

“Let me see…oh my.” And Beepu looked at me in the eyes.  “They were trying to get to Sigil.”

“What?” I asked.  Beepu now had all my focus.  “How?  What key did they have?” I knelt on the floor grasping Beepu’s shoulders, on verge of shaking him.

“The device would take them there directly.  It says nothing about a key.”

“That…that’s not supposed to be possible,” I said my voice dropping to almost a whisper.

“What do you mean Myrai.  You’re here,” Iesa said.

“Yes, that was different.  That’s why I was looking for a key and portal to Sigil, or somewhere I could get to that has well known ones, like Sylvania.”

“So, what’s the difference?”  Iesa pressed.

“This is going to take a bit.  Sigil is called the ‘City of Doors’ for a reason.  It has portals to everywhere in the multiverse.  All you need to find one, and the key and, poof there you are.  The key could be a piece of bone, or something weird like the breath of a cat.  There is a brisk trade for the locations for both.  Some portals are permanent, others are temporary.  Some work in both directions, and some are one way.”

“So, this device creates a portal to Sigil.  That is not strange.” Beepu beamed.

“No,” I said shaking my head. “Sigil has another nickname; it’s called ‘The Cage,’ by us for a reason.  There are no physical doors or main gate into Sigil at all.  Because of this people like to go to Sigil and hide.  We call it ‘Giving the Laugh.’

“Ok.  I think I understand that,” Daneath said, and I watched him trying to work out the implications.  “But if there are no entry ways into Sigil, how do you get there or leave?”

“Only by portals that are…created by the Lady,” I said reluctant to say her name, even here so far away from my home.

“The Lady?” Daneath asked confused.

“We…she has been called the ‘Lady of Pain’ for a very long time…since before there were Tieflings.  But she is the ruler of the city.  Sure, the factions ran…er used to run the city’s services and handle crime and laws about theft, commerce and other stuff mostly.  But she sets the big rules.  You don’t worship her, you leave her Dabus alone, you can’t be a member of a faction anymore, you don’t threaten the city.  But there is a big one that she enforces; she controls all the portals in and of Sigil.  All of them.  There isn’t a spell that can breach that.  Tanar’ri Lords can’t.  Baatezu can’t.  Angels can’t.  Powers can’t.  It’s why the Blood War doesn’t flood the city, or why it isn’t a staging area for fights elsewhere.”

“Are you sure that’s true?” Asked Iesa.

I nodded, “During the Faction War, she shut every portal down after a bunch of fiends from both sides of the Blood War started killing each other, and then Sigilites.  I guess she did that to prevent more from coming in.  But that also created new problems.  No food, no water, nothing was coming in or out for days.  No one could enter.  No one could leave.  After the war ended, the portals reopened, and a bunch of people left because of her new rule about factions.  At least those with keys did.  I stayed, partially because I didn’t have a reason to leave.  But also; I didn’t have a key.”

“So how did you get here then?” Daneath asked.

“I…was in the Smoldering Corpse bar, when a fight broke out.  I dove to get behind the bar, and somehow *that* triggered a portal.  I crossed it and landed on my back on a farm in Triboar.  But I don’t know how I triggered it.  It might have been someone else for all I know.  I found Beepu, followed him to the Dandelion’s bar.  There he told me that his father might be able to help.  But I thought he meant he knew where a portal was or had a spell that could get me close.  Not a device like you are talking about,” I said looking at Beepu.

“So I do not see the problem,” Beepu said.

“The problem is that the edicts of the Lady are *Law*.  Its not supposed to be possible.  It would...change a lot of things if it is true,” I said, not wanting to say more.

“Well, I do not have all the pieces yet anyway.  I will need a lot of time to read through these notes to even determine how to build it.”

“Well, pack it all up.  We should see if there is an exit near here,” Daneath said, sounding tired.
I nodded absently, lost in my thoughts.  A device that could get to Sigil directly?  I couldn’t think of anything more dangerous.  Every power and proxy would want it.  No power can set foot in Sigil now, but this…this might change that.  But even if it didn’t the Blood War could spill there, powers could send their proxies at will into the city. 

Assuming someone with it wasn’t just mazed on the spot by the Lady.  Or worse, flayed body and soul.  Beepu may not realize it, but we might become marked by every proxy from the Abyss to Mount Celestia wanting it.  Some might just want to trade, but a lot just might try to take it by force.  But I suppose it was a problem for later.

Once Beepu had repacked his things with his father’s, we continued across the room to the next hall.  This hallway was carved with more shapes into the side of the rock.  Animals, stars, weapons, and people.  Finally, the hall emptied into a large circular room.

This room was lit with a cool blue light streaming from above.  There was even the movement of air, and the light bounced off of dust, stirred up by the air.  The walls had more carvings, but these has splashes of colors; crimson, ochre, and indigo the most common.  But here, they were probably a faded reminder of their former glory.  The center had a dais taking up perhaps half of the room, and in the middle of it was a gnarled stump of a tree.  Yet was if it was plucked from the ground, exposing deep inter twining roots and then suspended above the earth.  It was old gnarled and dead; none of the branches above had leaf or flower.  While it was a marvel to look upon, a motion among the roots caught my eye. 

A figure dressed in tattered robes made of fur and leather emerged from beneath the tree.  As we slowly approached, I could see that he wore a magnificent headdress toped with a rack of elk antlers.  Streaming from the antlers were ghostly feathers and ribbons.  And then I realized, that he too was a ghost, long forgotten in the halls beneath Flint Rock.

He stepped towards us slowly, his eyes were featureless, but his head turned to each of us in turn.  He looked at Iesa for a moment, then Daneath.  As he turned and looked at Beepu his head cocked to one side as if surprised, and then he looked at me.  I felt like he was peering deep into me, searching for something.  I was expecting chills or cold, but instead I felt warmth as he looked within me.   And I wasn’t sure if he took longer with me than the rest, but it felt like it nonetheless.  Finally, the apparition spoke.

“You have purged the darkness left behind by others.  For this we are grateful,” its deep echoing voice said, resonating within the chamber.  “You have calmed many of the restless souls here, and yet did not disrespect our eternal slumber.  Go forth in peace, living ones; for beyond the veil there are gifts for you.  But do not return again to this place.”  And with the final word, the spirit broke apart into motes of light that scattered beneath the roots of the tree.  As they danced, a doorway of light coalesced and hung in the air shimmering.
We looked at each other, uncertain, and perhaps leery of taking the first step.  Finally, I did, as I thought to myself, a portal is a portal.  I stepped beneath the roots and took a deep breath and closed my eyes.  Then I walked into the doorway. 

It felt warm, refreshing and alive.  That feeling spread through out my limbs and gave me a feeling of peace and calm.  I then felt the warmth of the sun on my face and on the skin of my arms.  Floral smells invaded my nostrils and the scent of cold dust fell away.  The tension of days of toil, of fighting, of surviving fell away from my shoulders and back. 

It was strange; the feeling was familiar.  Almost the same as when I helped others pass the veil into the Fugue, or the first time I knelt to give myself to Kelemvor.  It was a pure feeling washing over me.
I opened my eyes, and found myself alone in a green field, with wildflowers covering the hills in a carpet of colors.  Colors I had never seen and never dreamed of before.  A brilliance and beauty that brought tears to my eyes.  Then I saw…

It strode in the field of flowers.  It was of colossal size and my mind could barely hold its image.  It was majestic, perfect in shape and form.  The nimbus of golden light made it hard to look at.  It didn’t just almost blind the eyes, but my mind as everything else fell away from perception.

Its head turned only slightly, and it regarded me silently.  It’s impassive gaze saw through me, seeing me for everything I was and could be.  I knew then that I was in the presence of a power.  Something we talked about with disdain in Sigil; far away from their direct influence.  Thinking of them as distant cold beings, unable to comprehend mortals and their challenges.

As I stood in the presence of the Elk, I knew then that they were wrong.  I had committed myself to my own power, the one that was there at the end of things.  A point to reflect on all that had been done with your life.  To me I saw that as different than most powers, an exception to the others. 

But the Elk that I saw before me was for life as the Elk tribe lived in the now.  It cared in the most primal and pure way that anything could.  It was beyond my comprehension.  But even now as I stared at it, I could feel it caring even about me; an insignificant mortal, far from its charges.  And in that moment a brief flickering of…gratitude.  And then the nimbus increased in intensity, blinding my vision.

As the light faded from my eyes, I found myself standing on a familiar plain, far less colorful, and far fewer flowers.  I was no longer alone, as the others stood with me.  Beepu too had tears in his eyes, while Iesa and Daneath looked at each other with surprise, each holding an object.  Iesa held a short blade with a wavy edge, and Daneath held a longsword, etched with runes.

I looked about, and I realized we were far south, not a day’s journey away from Portstown.  And as the sun was setting in the western hills, I wondered how far we had left to go, and what challenges we would face next.

*Session notes:*
So, we all got a reward at the end of this…almost.  My reward was next to that ghost, that I couldn’t convince the others to face it.  All I needed to do was a ceremony.  The DM did feel guilty about it.


----------



## Nthal

*Strange dreams, stranger gifts – 08/28/2019*

_Things never seem to last.  Ragpicker’s Square is full of the refuse and broken things of Sigil.  The poor pick through it, looking for anything that could be of value, no matter how low.  

It’s a testament to how nothing stands up to the ravages of time.  How things change from useful to junk.

But sometimes you can find value in the garbage.  And sometimes it finds you._​
We made for a nearby hill that looked promising for the night.  We didn’t say anything as we made our way there.  Even as we setup camp, we didn’t talk.  Each of us had an experience and each of us were trying to sort it out.  So, it wasn’t until a fire was going, and we started to munch on the stale rations did we say anything.  And of course, it was on the least of things.

“Myrai, can you give me a light?” Beepu said, staring at various papers squinting.

I was staring absently at the fire, while I flexed and lit up a nearby pebble for him and muttered, “Sure thing.”

“So, Beepu what does it say?” Iesa asked looking up from where he was feeding Mo a piece of bread.

“It is not a book, it is a schematic, so it does not say anything.” Beepu shot him a glare.  “And unfortunately, it will take me time to decode it.  My father’s notations are hard to decipher.”

I turned and looked at him, “Why?  I thought you had been doing that for a while?”

“Well yes.  But these notes are very different.  They are including references I have not seen before.  I may need to visit a family friend in Waterdeep to make headway.  He studied with my father and may be able to help.”

“Waterdeep eh?” Daneath said frowning. “Nothing but rain there.  Besides I need to head south.”

“You too?” Iesa said.  “Same vision?”

“I suppose so.  But Umbra went south based on what the…um Elk showed me.”

“Yeah.  Same vision.” Iesa said.  “I think it was somewhere south of Daggerford.  Secomber perhaps.”
Daneath nodded.  “And there’s where we start.”

“Hey what are you going to do Myrai?” Iesa asked looking towards me.  “What did the Elk show you?”
I thought a moment before replying.  “It showed me…It,” I started searching for the right words.  “It didn’t show me anything clear like that.  So, I’m a little…I don’t know.” Saying finally.

“No path home?” Daneath asked looking at me intently.

I didn’t answer and just stared into the flames, as if the answer was dancing there all this time.  All I could do was slowly shake my head.

“Well, you are welcome to come with me to Waterdeep,” Beepu said cheerily. 

“Or with us,” Iesa said with Daneath nodding, and Mo jumping up and down.

I gave a small smile, “Thanks.  I…I’m going to think on it tonight, if you don’t mind.” And I stood up and stretched.  “Perhaps a small walk will settle me before I turn in.”

“Well, stay in Foggle’s sight.  We don’t want more ankhegs or gnolls.”

“I will,” and I moved away from the trio at the fire to think and walk.  I was very tired, and after helping cleanse the Elk’s statue I still didn’t feel great.  But I was wound up, and needed to do something to clear my head and answer a simple question.

_What did I want?_

A barmy question at first glance.  Thirteen days ago, it would have been easy; ‘Go Home.’ And that would have been that.  Since then a lot had happened.

I gained some semblance of power.

I died.

I was forced back.

I had more jink in my pocket than I ever had before.

I had…friends.

That last one stuck with me.  I originally thought as them as adams; partners of convenience.  But we had fought and bled together.  No, they brought you back to life.  That wasn’t something a partner did; you meant more to them.  Far more.  Sure, they made a horrific bargain, but so had I in the past.  Many in Sigil wouldn’t have bothered.

Sure, Sigil was home, but what was really left there?  A filthy kip, which by now was probably picked over for anything left behind.  Who was left there?  A pack of fiends, spivs, and knights of the post around every corner and a couple of bartenders who valued you for your occasional jink and little else.  Beyond a standing tea time with one being there on occasion, there wasn’t anyone close.  And he…was a dangerous friend.
Even so I missed it.  The familiarity.  The sounds.  The smell of the food…no just food in general.  I hadn’t thought about za in a long time, but I certainly craved it.  But all of this longing and nostalgia really distracted me though from the obvious.

I was enjoying myself.  As much as I wanted to mock the clueless, it was still _new_.  The Hate Night’s party and dance with the nobility.  The elegance of the Elk tribe’s forgotten tombs.  The simplicity of the people’s lives here.  Even the food.  Except the eggs…I may never get use to them.  But it was a Sensates’ dream.  Experiencing everything first hand.  Not the jaded tales overheard in the Bottle and Jug.  Everything.

Including having your throat ripped out I suppose. 

Sigil could certainly live without me for a while.  And I perhaps needed her less for now.  I was growing in power here, getting stronger.

So perhaps I knew what I wanted, just not the direction to get there.  I turned and walked back to my tent at the edge of the fire.  I waved at Beepu and refreshed his light.  Once inside I removed my weapons and my chain and laid down.  Perhaps a night’s rest would give me clarity.  I lay there, looking upwards hoping that the dreams would be gone for just an evening…

…But such was not to be.

The nightmare began again.   But it’s different.  Instead of being the actor, I was watching myself.  Everything felt like I was in a indistinct fog and I felt detached from what I watched. 

And the dream was different.  I was no longer a girl, I was older.   The sequence is the same; Elisna dies and rises again.   But there the resemblance ended.

I saw myself run into a familiar tenement with tears in my eyes.  The faded banners of Kelemvor on the walls.  But the room has a sinister edge to it, as I spot three altars, of darkness along the wall, where no altars stood before.  But only one was clearly visible in reddish light, where I could see the carvings of three triangles upon it.

I then saw myself turn around and see him.  I never knew his name, and he was a guest of the Bleakers for as long as I knew.  I fed him and other like him in the Gatehouse, in the Barmy wing.  And he always remembered me.  He cursed at me, as I saw one eye stare out from the hole in the door.  A wolfish blue eye, bloodshot and quivering as it stared at me, shouting obscenities. 

And now this disheveled man, in a torn grey tunic leered at me; his hair, long dirty and unkempt.  I didn’t recognize that man.  But I did that eye.  I saw myself back up in fear, putting a hand up to shield myself from him.  Then my world fell apart, as the floor buckled from rot, causing me to plummet into darkness below. 
I watched myself, twisting and turning as I bounced through mud and water tumbling deeper under the Hive.  I saw myself pass layers of trash and detritus.  Until I finally stopped, landing on damp stone.
I saw myself lying there a moment, before stirring and struggling to stand.  Turning and twisting in the dark, trying to understand where I had fallen. 

The Weeping Stone Catacombs.  A place buried deep within Hive.  A place said to be prison for cursed spirits for crimes committed long ago.  Here the water flows from above and pour over the bas relief of faces carved in the wall, making them slick with tears.  Cut off from the light and air from above, it lives up to its name as a black tomb in the Hive.

But I was more concerned with finding a way out, as I watched myself looking around. Now, I always could see in the dark.  But here the passages led in all sorts of directions.  But it was all the same; the same echo of dripping water, the same smell of musty earth, the same passages going beyond my sight.  I watched myself turn about in panic, until I saw something just at the edge of my vision.  And then I moved towards the figure, and as it retreated, I followed it.

But this didn’t make sense.  Was that real?  Is this a tale my sleeping self is telling me?  I don’t remember falling.  I don’t remember the Weeping Stone.  I don’t remember this at all.  But it feels right.  It feels as real as the nightmare before. 

_Why don’t I remember this?_

I watched myself with curiosity as I clambered in the darkness, towards something or someone.  Being able to see in the dark was a gift.  I could have flooded the passage way with light, but that seemed wrong.  Almost disrespectful for those slumbered here.

I follow the figure; passing alcoves and openings.  Now I am aware I was not alone here. Each one paws at me frantically.  And each shiver and turn away afraid.   Each shiver and I feel the echo of the Strand resonate in my dream.   I am being led downwards and finally I enter a room deep underground. 

It looked to be a tomb to someone important, forgotten long ago.  An ancient place.  Like the rest of the Weeping Stone Catacombs, it was a time when the dead were still buried in Sigil, long before the coming of the Dustmen.  And it was indeed old.  The water and time had worn away the details of carvings or even color.  Who was interred here was a forgotten detail, just like the catacombs themselves.

Another tunnel exits from here, and in the distance, I see the figure. It was crouching in the darkness, and it carried something in its arms.  I watched myself following it trying to see who it was, and what it held.   I get closer and I finally see what I am following; a mustie.  But it moves with purpose.   And it knows the path well, no hesitation or uncertainty.  I had heard tales from Dustman that even the least of the undead could find awareness given time.  But I thought then it was barkle but watching this one made me think there was some truth to it. 

It started to climb and was out of sight for a moment.  Once I reached the bottom, I could see it climbing.  It was ascending a great pile of dross, trash and broken items.  I watch myself struggle to find solid grips and footing as I pulled myself up out of the pit below.  I could see the mustie above, climbing slowly but with far more certain footing, as if this path was well known to it. 

I watch as I squeeze myself between beams, and cracks in stone, and through mud.  Finally, I saw myself break free and breach the surface, near a large pile of debris.  I think I am somewhere in Ragpicker’s square, deep in the Hive.   I can now see the mustie clearly; it looks desiccated and old; few wisps of hair remain on its once human head, and its eyes are empty sockets.  Yet it sees just fine as it threads its way between towering piles of wreckage. 

Finally, the mustie has come to a stop in a cul-de-sac of trash and refuse and sets its bundle down on a fractured table of stone.  I watch it unwrap it, and I watch it place a silver cylinder upon the surface.
The mustie turns to looks directly at me, and _shivers_ and points at the table.  I see on the table a glyph or rune, with the cylinder in the middle of it.  I am still watching myself stare at it, and as I watch, the glyph glows in a warm yellow light.  Then I heard a noise of steel on stone and I watch my dirty and disheveled self, turn around.

There behind me, staring with that wolfish eye was that same barmy that started this.  He drags the edge of a rusty cleaver against a broken bit of stone.  The sound of its scratching echoes lightly around the mounds of debris.  The man’s smile and eyes were widening in excitement as he continued to move slowly forward.
I reached towards my side looking for a dagger and I panic as I realize that it was missing.  I watch in horror as this slow drama unfolds before my eyes.  I see myself back up slowly, a hand and arm behind myself trying to feel my way.  I move that way, until my back comes in contact with the altar, and in turn my hand brushes the silver object. 

Then I watch several things happen at once.  First, I see the madman and his cleaver charging at me.  The, my hand touched the cylinder and a bright white light flashed from the glyph.  And finally, I see the purple bolt of energy erupt from my right hand and striking the madman in the chest.

I watch as my face changed from one of fear and surprise to strength and confidence.  I threw another bolt and then another, forcing the madman back.  As I throw more magic at him, my gaze is captivated by the glyph on the table.  Something simple and elegant. 

The mustie suddenly moved not towards myself fighting the barmy, but to me watching in the dream.  It reached out and gripped me, and It painfully forced me to look at its empty eyes.  Then it leaned in close to me and it whispered in Celestial:

_Ehōike mai ka ʻikunae. Ehawi iau i kai Welo. Ehewi iau i Kamana._

I then awoke with a start, breathing heavily.  I sat up and for the first time I could remember the dream.  Why I felt fear.  Why I felt that something was just out of reach.  But what happened?  Was that real or just dream stuff. 

I sat there and thought and tried to remember when I could first cast magic.  I remembered it was after the Faction War ended, but now it seemed that the event I dreamed was what happened.  Why could I not remember that before?

I crawled out of my tent, not even bothering to put on my boots, my bare feet on the grass and earth.  Iesa and Daneath were up, and talking quietly by the fire, and Foggle was on a stone nearby keeping an eye out for things.  The dream now clung to memory, not allowing me to forget it.  It was clear; as if it just happened a moment ago.

What did it mean?

Why now?

As I stood there in the cool night air, I looked up at the moon they called Selune.  It was full, and its cold white light shone from it, and I could make out shapes and patterns on its surface.
I looked around a moment, and then I returned to my tent, and grabbed the greensteel stiletto from my discarded boot.  I drew it and tossed the sheath back onto my bedroll.  I then scanned the earth, looking for a flat open area.  I found one easily enough and I then began to draw with the sharpened point of the stiletto, using it as a brush in the canvas of the earth. 

I recreated the glyph; its form still burned into my mind’s eye.  I didn’t think I could forget it if I tried.  I felt compelled to draw it out.  I did the whorls and arcs, and then made corrections until its form matched my memory.  I then outlined it with a single circle on the outside perimeter.  Once completed, I thrust the stiletto in the center of the glyph I carved from the dirt.  I then flexed and put my light onto the pommel, lighting the earth and the carving I had made.

“Hey, what is Myrai doing?” Iesa asked.

“I’m not sure.  She’ll call if she needs something,” Daneath replied.

I sat down outside the circle and crossed my legs.  I placed my hands on my knees, my palms facing upwards.

“E kohana ma ko’o makunanae,” I whispered aloud and then reached within myself to find the Strand.  It hung there wavering, and I took equal measures of darkness and light and mentally wove them together into a braided strand of grey.  I then imagined placing the Strand into the circle and surrounding the Glyph on the ground.  From there I pictured that the threads of light and dark snaked from the binding circle and reached in and wrapped themselves on the Stiletto in the middle.

Centering myself, and closing my eyes I began to chant aloud softly in Celestial:

_Ehōike iau i Kaʻikunae. / Show me Knowledge.

Ehawi iau i Welo. / Give me Vision.

Ehewi iau i Ka’mana. / Grant me Power._​
I could feel a twinge of the fabric around me, and a stirring in the weave of magic.  Keeping my centering, I repeated the chant calling out to something far beyond.

For Knowledge, For Vision, for Power.

I could feel the energy build and flow through me.  It felt like a wind that flashed between hot and cold, twisting around the Glyph and through me.  It grew stronger and stronger, and I felt it pulling on my hair. Still focusing I opened my eyes and saw that the ritual I was calling had manifested as a wind around me.  The blade no longer was anchored to the ground, now spun on its point like a needle shaped top in the air. 
The brothers were now standing staring at the confluence of energy that I had summoned, mouthing something I couldn’t hear.  But they didn’t move as they watch the ritual unfold. 

I could feel it reaching its crescendo.  I tasted the energy in the air.  I felt something close on the horizon in my mind, slowly being pulled closer.  I stood up, still chanting, my hair now swirling around in the wind.  I stepped carefully into the circle, avoiding touching the lines with my bare feet.  I then reached out with my right hand into the center of the glyph, above the now wobbling spinning Stiletto, and chanted the words one last time.

_Ehōike iau i Kaʻikunae. / Show me Knowledge.

Ehawi iau i Welo. / Give me Vision.

Ehewi iau i Ka’mana. / Grant me Power._​
And as the last syllable crossed my lips there was a flash of light and in my hand, I felt a warm metal object.  The wind started to die down and the weave that was once twisting around me returned to normal.  The stiletto dropped and stuck into the earth below it.

I stared at the object I held.  It was a cylinder covered in markings that resembled a form of Celestial writing.  Along the sides at regular intervals were tabs that stuck out.  I switched it between my hands, and pulled on a tab.  A sheet of metal was extruded, as thin as strip of parchment.  On it, was writing in a form of celestial, although the lettering wasn’t familiar.  But as I handled it, I could feel that it wasn’t just a strange document.  It contained power.

“What just…what is that?” Iesa said looking at me standing on the bare earth, my hair a scattered mess.
I curled my arm to regard the cylinder a moment and looked at Iesa.

“A gift.” I said simply.

“A gift?  From who?” Daneath said looking around his arms outstretched.

“My…I don’t know.” I said, not wanting to guess aloud.  But to myself I thought something else.

_Thanks father, wherever you are._


My watch had come, and I realized I had a task in front of me.  The writing was Celestial, but it was archaic.  It would take some time to read it and understand it.  But its appearance solidified something in my mind.  I knew where I needed to go next.

The others had awoken and soon we were almost done packing up.  I could hear the “What?  She did What?” from Beepu, as Iesa told him the story from last night.

“And you did not wake me?!?  Do you not think that might have been considered important?”  Beepu said angrily as we all started the march to Portstown.

“Well, if it was important, shouldn’t have Foggle woke you?” Iesa said pointing at the brass owl.

“He would indeed…oh.  Wait.  Foggle!  We need to talk.”  Beepu said wagging his finger at the owl overhead.

“It was a bit of wind is all anyway.  And a thing right Myr?” Iesa said.

“Yes, a thing," I said giving him an exasperated side glance.  "And it means I know where I am headed next.”

“Where? Candlekeep?” Daneath asked.

“Based on what Beepu told me, I don’t have a way to pay the entrance fee.  No, I need to go to Waterdeep and look in some of the libraries there.”

“What?  Oh excellent.  I will introduce you to some very important scholars there.” Beepu said surprise and then with enthusiasm.

“You sure?” Daneath asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Honestly I think I would prefer going south than crawling through books.  But dusty tomes it appears to be.”

“Well the barges will take us down all the way to Waterdeep.  And from there Daneath and I can make our way to Secomber,” Iesa said.

“We can send a message up to you two when we have found something,” Daneath said.

“That will allow me to research what I need for the device as well,” Beepu said happily.

“I guess that means we have a plan, cutters,” I said smiling.

“Cutters?” Iesa asked.

“A term used for skilled friends that are trusted,”

“I kinda like that.  Cutters.” Daneath said.

“Not as good as ‘Big-D’ though,” Iesa said slapping the big man on the back.

“Oh, not that again,” Daneath admonished. 

“Come on, that’s a legendary name!” Iesa said.

And so. the argument continued for miles, with me smiling at the miracle of finding friends so far from home.

End of Part I​
*Session notes:*
There were two things that happened here, which is really part of last session.  The first, leveling up.  The second was a discussion on how we wanted to spend our downtime.  where we were spending some down time.

That discussion is boring to read though.


----------



## Nthal

*I, Gossamer - 09/04/2019*

_I wasn’t born yesterday.  But I suppose it’s close enough to count._​
I could feel the warmth and glow of the sun this morning, as it streamed through the windows of the inn.  I lazily opened my eyes, enjoying the touch of the sun caressing me.  I yawned and started to stretch my limbs and my back, arcing it.  Today would be a wonderful day; for the first time in weeks the sun was out.  Waterdeep’s omnipresent gloom of rain and fog from the sea was broken.  I sat up in my bed satisfied and looked over across the room.  What I saw, started my tail to thrash.

There in the feather bed, sprawled on her stomach was Myrai, still asleep. Her golden hair was a tangled knot, and the sun’s rays danced across her bare back as she softly breathed.  As I stared at her, she would occasionally give out a quiet contented little snore.  The glory of the mornings’ light was lost upon her, blissfully dreaming something pleasant elsewhere.

I thought a moment.  Perhaps she was exhausted from last nights outing and she just needed a later start, and I took the moment to groom.  It wasn’t incredibly urgent that we get up now I supposed, but I didn’t want to miss the prospect of seeing everything in the light.  But as I washed my face, I realized that this might have been the first decent night’s sleep, she has had in weeks.  I mean, I don’t think I was going to ever get used to her sitting up suddenly, bolt upright with terror in her eyes.

But now, she was resting peacefully.  Oblivious to the wonderful prospect the sun gave us.  But Myrai didn’t seem to mind the rain here in Waterdeep.  She told me that the rain here was cleaner than the yellowish drizzle from the lower wards of Sigil.   There, everyone wore leathers to keep the rain from staining your skin an ugly shade of yellow with a nasty brimstone smell as a bonus.  That is, if you could afford it.   Better to have yellowish leather instead of skin.  Or fur and feathers I supposed.

She explained that it was a prominent feature of the lower wards because of all the portals to Baatezu, the Abyss and other lower planes, spouted brimstone clouds into the air.  And truth be told, even in the Lady’s ward the rain wasn’t clean there either; but they had more magic to clean it up.

But that would be there.  We’re here in Waterdeep, the rains from the sea had the scent of salt, not brimstone.  But with the sun out to play across the sky, the city awoke and started the process of drying itself out after weeks of rain off and on.  A welcome change for certain.

And yet, Myrai was completely unaware of it.  And that made it totally unacceptable.  For some reason, my clear glare of contempt isn’t going to wake her up.  I mean she should feel the glare.  So, I try the next obvious thing; shouting in her mind.

_Myrai!

-No.

Myrai

-No. Get out of my thoughts.

Come on.  Myrai!

-No! I want to sleep some more…_

Clearly, I needed to take more drastic action. So, I flit down from the bookcase where I was perching and landed on Myrai’s back.  If it were nap time I would be napping.  But I wanted to finally see the city and not be cooped up with her and her silver book thing.   The sun is out now, and that could change at any time.  Now was a great time to stretch my wings.  Myrai would not be allowed to sleep when there were things to do.

Myrai opened her eyes slightly.  It took some practice, but I can now tell if Myrai was looking at me, or not.  I noticed a lot of others just get lost in the mazes of mirrors. Most wouldn’t even notice if she wasn’t paying attention to them, was bored with them, or was interested and focused.  Those silver mirrors could tell you a lot once you knew how to read them.  Granted, it was sometimes easier just to ask her.  But for all of the two weeks that I knew her, she spent an inordinate time trying to find a corner of an inn or bar and just hide.

Because, as forceful as a personality that she has, she usually wanted to be left alone.  She was not a great social person.  She does well enough with people she knows, which are few in number here.  But, here in Waterdeep she is almost constantly accosted by strangers.  And most of them fall into two groups of people.

The first were the “Suitors.”  They wanted her for various reasons, to get to know her and spend time.  Many times, this involved plying her with …um…think she calls the stuff “bub.”  She’s cautious about drinks she didn’t ask for.  But even then, the tactics of these people were too similar and just didn’t work.  They were all flash, thinking she would be an easy mark to their charms.  The older males (and two females as I recall) were interested in her as some sort of trophy or collectible.  She was used to it she said, but it was more intense here; Aasimars are rarer here, and most aren’t as …distinctive as she was.  Or so she said.   Never did see another one that looked like her.  In fact, I didn’t recall her identifying another one at all.  By comparison there were more tieflings about.   But, being a distinctive Aasimar led to a very different group of people trying to see her: The “Desperate.”

This group heard only that “an Angel is in town” and came to her seeking blessings.  This was a new experience to her as apparently, as this didn’t happen in Sigil at all.   So, the first time I saw an example of it, it shocked her.   It was simple; a poor woman asking an ‘Angel for a blessing for her child.’  That was simple enough, but then others came.  Many with unlucky stories.  And it never stopped. 

So, every night it she toured the city by going to a different festhall or inn each night.  While she enjoyed the exploration, I realized it was mostly just to make her harder to find.  But someone would, and to her credit she was more patient with them than I would have been.  She never shouted, or turned them away, but she would leave the place at the first opportunity.

But no matter where she was there was one who could always find her; the toy.  The toy always was looking for her.   The toy was fun.  It was fast and quiet when it wanted to be.   But the golden tone tended to reflect light if you knew to look for it.

And I was told to keep an eye out for it.  I enjoyed this, as it became a game.  The toy would swoop in and chirp that weird “bee-poop” noise, and I would swoop down from a rafter and pin it to the table.  It got smarter about it too, so the challenge was there.  Never really hurt it.

But boy its pet howled a lot about it.  Wherever the toy was, the funny short pet would be following, objecting on some principle.  “Scuffing it,” “I might break it,” “I don’t treat your things that way,” “I should have never taught you that spell.”  Repeatedly.

Always with the complaints.  But despite the rhetoric, he was the only person she generally wanted to see.  They both spent time on researching various things, and traded notes.  Or at least, she let the pet go on about his research and gave him some practicum of planar detail that weren't covered in the books.  She had borrowed some books and spent time researching some sort of Arcanum and older dialects of Celestial.
At night, she would pour over the silver scroll thingy.   The pet didn’t understand that object at all.  Not to say he didn’t try, he just didn’t get very far.  I wondered if it was his lack of background in Celestial. She did try to teach him one of the quatrains that apparently covered some type of ritual, and he barely understood it.  Not his fault, Myrai had to learn a smattering of gnomish to understand his spellbook, and it was a serious amount of effort to translate his notations to hers.  I stole a glance at both systems, her’s would be described as “elegant with style.” His actually was very precise and detailed.  But neither really could understand the other without helping each other.

So, in general she appreciated the dialog but he did occasionally grate on her nerves.  In fact, last night was the only time I remember her complaining about him.  It started when he told some type of off-color joke in which the punch line involved a two-hour genealogy lesson about his family.  That appeared to hit her tolerance level last night and so she hit the bed early.

But that was last night, and we live for the now, and now Myrai needs to get up.  Now.   But instead, as I stood on her back, Myrai barely turned her head and gave me a look that roughly said, “Are you sodding kidding?”

I was unconcerned.  I simply reached out with my forepaw and I slowly extended my middle claw, and only it.  And very gently placed the tip of my claw on Myrai’s lower lip.

Myrai was fully awake now, as the claw tip was just sharp enough to get attention without drawing blood.  She attempted to swat and throw me off the bed, but I just flew back to the shelf just out of reach.  Propping herself up, Myrai regarded me with bemusement.   She stretched and rose from her bed and made her way to the window.

We were on the 2nd floor of the “Dancing Cyclops Inn,” somewhere in the Trades ward.  I overheard during an evening that it was founded by a bunch of adventurers some time ago.  Myrai stated it was comparatively cheap and had a room to let.   But I suspected it was a bit more than just that.

One reason was the staff.  Considering that her choices and offers for tours of taps, she tried to keep her evenings here…or at least try to end them here.   Only when the Desperate started showing up, did she change venues and the kitchen staff seemed well disposed enough to help her sneak out and the Innkeep never really confirming that she was there, ever was there or if she was coming back.

But there was something else lurking in her heart as well.  Because if she could she would park herself here in comparison to any other place.  It didn’t matter where, on a stool or a chair or on a bench.  And it didn’t matter what was going on.  Bards, drinking contests, contests, drunken song or all at the same time.  And sometimes she just hung out in a corner and read her scroll thingy.  After asking and getting evasive answers, I came to the conclusion it was a combination of being lonely and that this inn reminded her of something she’s lost.  The pet that came to visit was a friend, but more in a sort of professional way.  She was looking for something else, but she never would say what.  I'm not sure she even knows.

But as she looked outside this morning, and saw the weather taking a gorgeous turn for the better she smirked.

“Typical, the day we are going to leave is finally the day that there is good weather,”  and she moved to start putting on her small clothes and leathers

_What?  Leave?  Did I miss something from dinner last night?_

“Yes, you did,” and she turned her head with that smile and looked at me.  “Now if you wouldn’t exhaust yourself playing with Foggle, you would remember that.   Beepu got a note from the brothers finally, so we’re off to Secomber after a quick stop in Daggerford.  I hope they are alright, and if they learned something useful.”

Ah…the brothers.  She had been talking about one of them constantly here.  Big “D” she called him.  Some of the patrons of the bars had heard about him, with most saying that he was a great pit fighter.   Oddly enough, there was a group of halflings that laughed at and said he was a washup with ‘tender apples’, whatever that meant.  But that was only one group, and no one believed the one halfling that claimed to have beat him twice.

She had mentioned the other brother a couple of times but never by name publicly, referring to him either as a “Knight” or rarely his name “Iesa.”  She smiled when she mentioned his name and saying that she was sure that someone named “Mo” would keep an eye out for him.  I did catch that she had recovered him from near death several times, so she was worried about him.  Said that he reminded her someone else years ago.
She sounded like she cared about both of them.  It made me wonder why she chose to come here, instead of Secomber.

_Sounds like you are worried about them._

“I am.” She said after a moment.  “I have pulled them both back from the brink more than once,” and now she was starting to put on weapon belts and check that everything hung where she wanted them.

_But if you were so worried, why did you come here instead of following them._

“Well, two reasons.  The first to understand…this,” she held up the silver cylinder that was resting on the table.  “I was given a vision to…to summon it, I guess.  I learned enough that I could copy some of Beepu’s spells into it, using a mild acid to etch them on the blank sheets of metal.  But there is a lot more in it I *can’t* read.  So, I was hoping to find a primer on old celestial or some other guide,” and she slipped the silvery cylinder into a leather scroll case on her belt.

_But that didn’t work._

“No, it didn’t.  Celestial is a very old tongue, perhaps the oldest known, and it hasn’t really changed much.  And this style of lettering is..strange.  Blurry or overwritten in many places.  I never considered myself…educated.  But I thought I could understand this at least.”

_So, what was the other reason._

She smiled and looked at me, and reached out to stroke my fur, and the feathers on my wings. “To create you, Gossamer.”

_You didn’t really create me; I was there when you called._

“I guess you are right there.  A celestial spirit that needed a form, and when I called, you answered.”

_But why a flying cat?_

“Tressym, not ‘flying cat.’  I remember a pet keeper in the trade district in Sigil having one very briefly.  And I’ve wanted one ever since.“

She then scratched my ears, and said, “Come on, Beepu will be waiting at his friend’s house, and we have a bit of travelling to do.   And besides, you’ll have fun keeping an eye on Mo.”

_Can we at least look around the town a bit in the sun?  It’s been ten days!_

She smiled at me and scratched the fur around my cheeks.  She knows just the right spot…ah yes.
There!

“I think we can do that for a bit.  Be a novelty not getting wet,” she grabbed her pack and looked around the small room for anything else she might have left behind.

_It will be interesting travelling here.  This is all very new to me._

Myrai cocked her head at me and smiled again nodding:

“You and me both.”

*Session notes:*
Downtime:  1 week of thought, 5 min of discussion. 

But on a completely different note; this thread as of this point is one year old.  Thanks again to all of you still reading.  It means a lot to me that you do.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Hey Nthal. Just wanted you to know I'm really enjoying the story. I'm only at the early stages still (reading it in dribs and drabs at work), but at least that means I've still got plenty to read ... 

Keep up the good work.


----------



## Nthal

Thanks! It means a lot.







HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Hey Nthal. Just wanted you to know I'm really enjoying the story. I'm only at the early stages still (reading it in dribs and drabs at work), but at least that means I've still got plenty to read ...
> 
> Keep up the good work.


----------



## Nthal

*Carriage Ho! - 09/11/2019*

_Sigil is called the ‘City of Doors’ by some, ‘the Cage’ by others.  To most, the only difference is a key.
To wiser cutters, the real difference is who is holding it._​
The carriage slowly made its way southwards, wedged between lumbering carts and wagons of the caravan.  The pace was slow and steady on the hot summer day.  Most were carrying merchant’s goods from Waterdeep, Neverwinter and other towns north on the sword coast.  Most of the drovers hide under tarps, to shade themselves from the oppressive heat of the day.  The few guards on horses had doffed their heavy helms, and now wore wide brimmed hats of leather, to keep their faces in the shade.

Inside the carriage it wasn’t much different; the shade of the enclosure was enough to shield its occupants from the sun’s wrath.  But the heat still lingered in the stifling air inside.  For the two very different occupants, they had decidedly different approaches to handling the heat.

The first was a gnome, dressed in a linen shirt, a leather vest now unfasted hung on his shoulders and simple breeches.  Across from his seat, was a backpack, and a disorganized pile of papers and scrolls, each pinned down by a small collection of stones, that were gathered from a prior stop.  He lay back on his seat eyes closed taking deep breaths dozing, as a golden mechanical owl, perched on the door sill to the carriage, beating its wings to cool its master. 

Sitting diagonally from him, sat a woman.  Her legs were stretched and propped on the seat across from her.  Her feet were bare, and the lacings on the lower legs of her leather breeches were undone, exposing her calves as they laid upon a pile of chain armor, a rapier, some daggers, boots and a bodice.  Her blouse hung loosely around her exposing as much skin as decorum would permit, as her midsection was no longer constrained by the leather garment.  Her golden hair hung loosely around her shoulders and moved in the breeze created by the mechanical owl.  She wore a pair of pendants around her neck, hanging just below her clavicles.  But behind her neck was a wet towel.  Every so often she would wave her hand and mutter something, and a cool mist would appear from the cloth.  But truth be told, the heat was far her mind as her brow furrowed with concentration.

In her hands was what looked to be a silver scroll case and extruded from it lengthwise was a sheet of metal.  On the sheet were symbols and glyphs of an ancient alphabet; some said the first one.  Created millennia ago in the upper planes.  The woman’s eyes were as polished as a silver mirror, and the light and the scrolls reflections were clearly seen in her eyes.

This was the scene for many miles and many days.  At the beginning there was small talk, but as each took the time to review their own texts, they fell into a familiar pattern of silence.  They enjoyed each other’s company quietly, each focused on their own objects of study.

“Alright you win Myr,” the gnome said softly.  “I can feel the cold coming from your towel.  You are clearly more comfortable.

Myrai, turned her head slightly to look at the sprawled-out gnome, Beepu.  She returned her focus to her reading before replying, “Well, Foggle certainly keeps the breeze moving in here.”

“Sure, but let me prove my point.  Did you want to trade the wind for that towel?”

“Nope,” Myrai said, not even glancing up.

“I should have kept that spell handy from school.  Now I understand how it could be useful.”

“Mmm hmm,” Myrai muttered in response.

“You are not listening to me, are you?”

“Mmm hmm,” again came the response.

Beepu opened his eyes and glared at the woman.   He then turned to his owl and gave it a steady gaze.  In a moment, the owl took to the air, and flew towards Myrai with talons extended.  It flew past her neck as it grabbed the cold wet towel from it.

“Wha…hey!  Give that back,” as Myrai reached for her comfort too slowly.  The owl swiftly turned and dropped it on Beepu’s lap and settled again on the sill and started to beat its wings.

“It is rude not to pay attention during a dialog!”  Beepu said in a huff, as he wiped the sweat from his brown with the now captured cool towel.

“Sorry,” Myrai said a bit guiltily.  “It’s not like you don’t do the same when you are focused on your schematics,” and she put her feet down on the floor of the carriage and reached across the seat to reach into her pack.

“I concede that is true.”  He then placed the stolen cloth behind his head, and he was quiet a moment before he spoke again. “Did you get anywhere with it?” and he waved his hand at the object she held.

Myrai had pulled another strip of cloth from her pack and was wetting it from a waterskin that hung from the pack’s side.  “No.  I can’t even read its proper name.  I can see the word ‘Apocrypha’ but the second word is a jumble.  Almost like someone wrote on the same spot over and over again.”

“Did you not say, that the words are etched or imprinted on the metal?”

“Yes, which is confusing as well.  Only one section is really clear, and that one contains spell formulae.  Everything else is gibberish with a couple of clear words.” And she retracted the metal sheet back into the cylinder.  “How about your schematic?”

The gnome sighed as he placed the towel behind his neck and settled into his seat, “Well, I am certain now that there is a part needed, and I am also certain that the part can be found in the Misty Forest.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I finally found a reference in an old journal this morning that I had overlooked.  My father apparently visited the forest in the past.  But it was not until I found a name in the Journal that he left behind that I made a connection.  The name…Melandrach.”

Myrai blinked a moment and leaned slightly forward.  “And…”

The gnome nodded, “Yes, yes it was quite clever.”

“No…what is the importance of that name,”

“Oh!  Sorry.  Melandrach is an uncommon elvish name.  The only one I know that goes by Melandrach, is King Melandrach.  And he is the king of the Misty Forest near Secomber.”

“Where your father visited.  Simple enough.”

“Not really.  The borders to the forest are closed to non-elves.”

Myrai frowned a moment, “So…did your father grow a few feet?”

“No!  I already knew had a guide by the name of Ravalan, but now I am certain where Ravalan took my father.  I wrote a letter to the brothers to see if they could track him down.”

“That might help.  I remembered you saying that they were running in circles looking for Umbra.”
Beepu nodded.  “Yes, well that might have been because Umbra and my father were disguised or hidden.  But Ravalan is a local, so finding him will be easier.”

“Sure it’s a him?”

“It is a male sylvan name, so yes.”

Myrai nodded and draped the damp towel behind her neck, leaned back again and propped up her feet.  With a quick motion she resumed the spell, and cooling vapors again drifted from the cloth.  After a moment she smirked to herself and whispered a second incantation, looking squarely at the stolen cloth around Beepu’s neck.   Satisfied she turned to look out the window at the passing countryside.  She concentrated a moment and the scene before her shifted to a spot somewhere above the carriage.

She could smell the wind; feel the heat of the sun, and the cool wind rushing through feathery wings and the sound past her ears.  Her heart was racing as eyes looked from shrub to shrub, searching.  Suddenly Myrai, felt wings tuck in close.  The wind rushed past even faster, as she approached the ground.  Just ahead, a mouse seemed to slowly bolt to a nearby hole in the earth.  But before it reached it, Myrai watched fascinated as outstretched claws…

Myrai severed her connection to Gossamer and the grisly results of his hunt.  She enjoyed tapping into his perceptions; the Sensate in her appreciated the primal perspective of her familiar.  The sensation of flight was intoxicating as well, as her senses were replaced with her familiars’.  But while she appreciated the sensation of the hunt and the kill, the consumption of the prey was something she didn’t need to experience again.

_Did you want a bite?

-Uh…no thanks.  I’m fine.

You sure?  I could find something else.  An egg perhaps.

-Not funny.  It’s not like you have to eat to start with.

True, but it seems to be a waste of a hunt.  Sure, you don’t really want something?

-No, I’m sure.  I’ll leave you to your meal.

Always willing to share._

Myrai focus returned to see Beepu shift uncomfortably, pulled the cloth from around his neck and stare at it.
“How did this get so war…Myrai!” and Beepu glared at his companion.

“I blame the weather,” Myrai replied blandly.

----

It was late afternoon when the caravan pulled into the town of Secomber.  When the carriage finally stopped, Myrai and Beepu emerged from it, and stepped onto the dusty streets of the small trade town.  As Myrai turned her head looking around, Beepu sent his owl skyward to fly over the street.  Myrai by comparison sent her Tresym to a nearby roof, to follow her.

But what Myrai was looking for, she didn’t see.

“Think they are at the inn?” Myrai asked still searching for the brothers or Mo.

“Most likely.  No reason to come here to meet us,” Beepu said, straightening out his pack on his shoulders.
Myrai nodded and started her way down the busy road.  As she walked, she kept her hand on the Apocrypha and chanted below her breath.  While she couldn’t read most of it, there were a couple of interesting incantations she wanted to try out.

As they continued down the road, they came to the central crossroads of the town.  Here the merchant stalls were open for business, and several inns with attached bars were visible.  The town was busy, with trading of all sorts of goods; steel from Mulmaster, fine cloth and leather goods from Waterdeep, vegetables and fruits from the local farms.  But as much as the merchants tried to gain the attention of the duo, they were focused on the people, looking for a pair of familiar faces.

“This is going to be a problem,” Beepu said with tone of frustration.

“What?  That you didn’t think to arrange to meet somewhere?”

“I did not know the town so I could not say where to meet us, and Iesa simply said they would meet us at an inn here.”

Myrai sighed, “In other words, he didn’t either.”

“Precisely.  So, what would be the best way to find him?”

“Find the bar with largest number of female elves?”

Beepu chortled, “Well, that would be Iesa’s normal inclination.  Still means we are searching every bar.”

“We don’t need to find the bar.  We just need to find Mo.”

“Mo?  He does not like Foggle, and probably would hide from him.  I told you that when you asked me to have him scout.  Pointless.”

“That’s not why I told you to do that.”

“What?  Why did you—”

“To distract Mo, while Gossamer found him.”

Beepu’s mouth opened for a moment, and then he closed it nodding, “Yes.  They have not met.  A good distraction.”

_Myr, you said it was a brown furred animal with a tail in the rough shape of a human child?”

-That would be it most likely?  Where?

By the fruit stand on your left.  I think it is trying to liberate an apple._

Myrai turned to look and saw a farmer’s stand filled with fresh fruits from his orchard, with a canvas awning to keep the sun and heat at bay.  It took a moment, but Myrai finally spotted him.  Hanging from rear legs and stretching down to reach a vulnerable apple was Mo. 

Myrai smiled, and moved towards the farmer, who was oblivious to the sneaking thief.

“Ah yes mad…mad…” the farmer stammered as he looked into Myrai’s eyes.

“Trouble you for an apple for a couple of coppers?” and Myrai reached towards the same apple targeted by the stealthy primate.  But while Mo was at first focused on the Farmer, he turned to look at Myrai with wide open eyes.

“Of…of…”

“Thanks,” and Myrai tossed him a trio of coins, far more than a singles apple’s worth.  But she turned her attention to the monkey.

“So…Mo.  Where’s your dad, hmm?”

The farmer now noticed the monkey hanging from awning and was reaching for a broom nearby, when Myrai waved her hand at the human.

Mo’s face contorted and blinked a moment and he made some screeching sounds.

_Screech, chitter / Hey.  I know you.  I understood you.  How?_

Myrai grinned a moment and offered him the apple.  “Now that’s a special thing I learned.  Where is…well how do you call him?  Iesa? Dad? Chief?”

_Chitter, chitter, squak, screech, / Oh you mean Big Mo.  He near._  And Mo snatched the apple glancing nervously at the farmer.

“Big Mo…Little Mo.  Of course.  Can you show me?” and she turned to nod at the farmer and then called out over her shoulder, “Beepu, found him.”

“About time.  Now how do we get Mo to show us where he is?”

“I asked him, he’s showing us the way,” and Myrai walked following the monkey’s bounding path over the stalls.

“What do you mean ‘you asked him?’”

“Just that.  Apparently, he calls Iesa ‘Big Mo’ and he’s leading us,” and Myrai pointed at the monkey who now bounded into an Inn.

“That would useful.  Can you talk to Foggle that way?”

Myrai nodded, “I think so, but he doesn’t say anything back.”

“I wonder why?”

_-Goss, come down and follow me.

Sure thing._

“Probably because you told him to be quiet and you never changed that request.”

Beepu straightened up and thought about it.  “You might be right.  Never thought anyone else could talk to him.  I don’t even know a spell that can do—”

“Later Beepu,” Myrai interrupted and she strode into the bar.

It was a working folks bar favored by the locals, with few of the caravan drovers or merchants present.  They locals looked up from the drinks and their games of dice to regard the newcomer, eying her critically, and the tones became hushed.

Myrai ignored them, she focused on looking for the monkey, and she spotted him at a table between two familiar figures seated with drinks in hand.  The taller and leaner one had the apple in his hand and was wagging a finger at his little companion as Myrai and Beepu made their way to the table.
“Mo…not from the farmers,” Iesa was chiding.

“Well Big Mo, it’s a good thing that apple is paid for then,” Myrai said with a smile.

Iesa’s head shot up as he saw the pair approaching, “Well…how did you find us?  I told Mo to hide from Foggle, so I could find and surprise you!”

“Well, ask much as I could let him surprise anyone,” Daneath said standing and offering a hand and to Myrai.
She ignored it, and instead embraced the warrior, “Well hard to surprise anyone in that armor.” She then released him and moved to hug Iesa, as the big man now shook Beepu’s hand.

Iesa backed up a step, “Wait wait, I don’t really hu…what do you mean ‘Big Mo?’”

Myrai stopped a moment and shrugged, “It’s what he calls you.  It’s cute.”

“Really?  And cute?  Really?” Iesa said looking at Mo with shock.

Daneath turned to look at his brother, “Yeah…’Big Mo’ that’s even better than ‘Big D’”

Iesa stared at Daneath with a look of horror, “No. No. No.  You are not calling me that in public.”
Beepu took a seat at the table, and I could hear the mechanical whirring above me as the owl settled down on a rafter above us.  The locals murmured at the sight of Foggle, and their stares towards us had barely disguised looks of suspicion.

“So, wait a second,” Iesa started.  He knows how to hide from Foggle, how did you find him?”

Gossamer was slinking on the ground with wings folded close to his body, and as Iesa spoke he jumped upon the table and sat down upon it, his green eyes staring at Iesa with a hint of challenge in his eyes.  Daneath moved to shoo away Goss but stopped as Gossamer unfurled his wings and stretched them upwards.  Isea’s jaw dropped as he stared at the winged cat in front of him.  But I was less interested in their reactions as opposed to Mo’s

Mo stared for a moment and stepped towards Gossamer cautiously on the table with a paw outreached.

“Goss is a friend Mo.”

_Chitter, ork, chitter / sneaky one with wings?  New.  Friend?  Ok.  Hungry now._

The paw touched Gossamer on the head for a moment, and he retreated back to Iesa and started to munch on his apple.

“Damn it.  Now I have to get a pet to fit in the club?” Daneath exclaimed and sat down with mock exasperation.

Myrai sat down as well, “Maybe.  But you already have a little brother, so I guess that counts.”

“Yeah you hav…wait a moment!  Myrai!” Iesa said wounded and took his seat.

“I missed you both terribly,” Myrai said warmly.  “You missed out on some of the best gnomish jokes, “and she gave a low hand signal of her hand waving back and forth that Beepu didn’t see while mouthing the world ‘No.’ 

“True, that was sophisticated humor you missed,” Beepu said oblivious to Myrai’s non-verbal signals.  “Any luck?”

“Well…no.  We just came into this bar to ask the locals without attracting attention…” Iesa started.

“…But that’s pretty much done with,” Daneath finished, looking around at the tavern’s patrons who simply gave the group dirty looks.

“Well that is going to make it hard to find this Ravalan person then,” Beepu said sourly
.
“Ravalan?  Now that is a person, I can help you with,” Said a voice at the table next us.  And so we turned to look at…

*Session notes:*

The DM was surprise that suddenly he had to speak for Mo.  I admit to getting the ritual spell mostly as a joke on the DM.  But you never know what you can learn from animals.


----------



## Nthal

*The Importance of Vetting - 09/19/2019*

_Knight of the Post. 

Shiv. 

Thief.  
So many words for the same type of profession.  Says nothing about the person behind it.  Some hold to codes obscure to any but themselves.  Some just want the finer things at the lowest price.  And some just look at jink as a way to keep score.

But some folks aren’t suited for the lifestyle.  The problem is most only figure that out as they bleed to death in an alley somewhere. _​
I turned to look at the man.  He was dark haired, and brown eyed, and of medium build and he had face while young, was still weathered and tanned.  He sat at a table next to us with a grin on his face, and an ale in his hand.  Two others that were sitting with him, had left the table, and so he moved his stool closer to us.
“If you are looking for Ravalan, his place is easy enough to get to,” he started looking back and forth between the brothers.  “That is if you know where you are goin.”

“And you know him well enough to guide us there?” Iesa asked.

“Me?  Nah.  I’ve talked to him once or so,” the man continued after gulping a down more of his ale.  “But I don’t need to be friends to know where his cabin is.  Stumbled on that by chance.”
Iesa nodded a second and looked at Daneath, who simply shrugged.  He then asked “Well, then how much is it for your time?

“A couple of crowns would be fine, but you can pay me once I get you there.”

“How far is it?” Daneath asked, leaning towards the man.

“Oh, probably not more than a brisk hike good sirs.  Its not like the weather is going to be a problem,” the man replied.

Iesa looked at us for a moment and quickly said, “I think you have a deal.  What’s your name?” and Iesa offered his hand.

The man smiled, put his mug on the table, and clasped his hand around Iesa’s.  “You can call me Roggins.  You ready to head out?”

“Well if it is really not that far, we should go now.  Once we talk to him, we can come back for supplies we might need,” Beepu said eager to get moving.  “What about you Myr?”

For the first time, Roggins seemed to notice me.  He turned to look, and that same old look of surprise was there when he made eye contact.  But it faded quickly behind a smile.  But there was more to it than that; a hunger or a desire was lurking there.  He was canny enough not act on it, but not couth enough to cover it up.  I may have been used to the looks that some men cast my direction, but it didn’t mean I enjoyed the attention.  And this one seemed more unseemly than most.

Unfortunately, that was to be expected and was common enough in Waterdeep.  But something else was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  So, after a moment I said, “Well you have your hearts set on it.  And no sense lugging stuff for a journey if we don’t know how much we need.”

Roggins smile got just a bit wider and he replied, “Well, easy hike for you, and easy money for me.  Let’s get a movin,” and he stood, downed the remains of his ale and moved to the doors leading to the street.  With the four of us, and our growing menagerie in tow.

Roggins led us westward, away from the hills around the town, and headed towards a flat part of the light forest to the west.  The forest was scattered around hills, and Roggins led us through the valleys between them.  Isea and Daneath were in front, following our new guide, followed by Beepu and then myself taking up the rear.  Foggle of course was flying just over head, Mo was perched on Iesa’s shoulder, while Gossamer ran and flew just behind me in the trees.

The summer sun was going to set late today, and the hike took us away from the farms and any nearby ranches.  But as the hike began to wear on, I began to realize something.

We had been following our guide for a while, and I noticed that at least once, that his choice of path had a tendency to move us north and south a number of times, but that we really didn’t make much progress west. But I wasn’t versed in travelling in the forest, so I wasn’t concerned at first.  But after a while it kept nagging at me.

_Gos.  Fly up above us and watch.  See if we are making any real progress westwards.  Something seems off.

--Sure thing_

I then started to watch our guide now.  He certainly knew the area; he didn’t look concerned about where he was, which I expected.  But as I watched him, he clearly was looking for something.  But he was also watching us, and he threw a lot of unsavory looks in my direction.  I began to feel uneasy.

After some time, we started to make our way to a clearing when our guide spoke up. “Well, there we are!  Just on the other side of this clearing, and on the other side of that hill, and that’ll be the place.”

_Gos, we’re heading towards a clearing don’t go too far.

--Really?  You haven’t been that far from it.  In fact, if I didn’t know better, you are being led in circles._

I quietly unslung my shield from my back and strapped it onto my arm.  That feeling that I had now was a grim certainty.  We were being bobbed and peeled.  I mentally cursed at myself for being a cony.  I was considering what to do next when Roggins moved ahead to a tree and then stopped, turning to face us.

“Well all, it has been a pleasure.  I do enjoy easy work.” He said with a wide grin.

“So where is Ravalan’s place?” Iesa asked sounding puzzled.

“Not sure I could tell you that.  But I can tell you that the quicker you drop your weapons and gear, the faster this will be.”

The brothers were glancing at each other, and just in front of me, I could see Beepu stiffen as Foggle must have started to tell him something.

_--Myr, there are about five other figures among the trees._

I looked around, and I could see two easily with bows drawn and arrows notched ready to release.

_Right, stay in the upper branches, and stay hidden._

“So, wait.  You’re trying to rob us?” Iesa said incredulously.

“I think that might sum it up yeah.  I was surprised that you took me up on my offer to honest.  But as I said; easy work.”

“I think you might find this line of work…dangerous,” Daneath said grimly, his hand already on the hilt of his sword readying to draw it.

“Well we got you outnumbered and arrows ready to fly.  I’m not worried.” He retorted.

“Well,” I said.  “A bunch of spivs looking to be put in the dead book.”

Roggins blinked a second and tilted his head, “Um, you’ll have to humor me, what does that mean, exactly.”

“A bunch of thieves, who are about to die,” I said calmly, and I then threw out a bolt of energy past Roggins, to a bowman behind him.  It struck true and the scream of pain was almost like music to my ears, ending this farce.

The others moved quickly, with Beepu sending a gout of flame towards another target next, followed by Daneath charging towards a closer bowman, swinging and drawing blood.  Iesa sprinted towards another one and dropped him with a quick thrust of the rapier and a slash across the throat with his dagger.  Mo just bolted for a nearby bush for cover, while Foggle flew higher above the trees.

Roggins wasn’t expecting a fight, based on his expression.  He quickly drew a short sword and moved towards Daneath.  His swings betrayed a serious lack of skill, as he slashed wildly, hitting Daneath’s shield ineffectively.  Daneath’s foe had dropped their bow, for a sword as well and had much the same impact on the large man.  Meanwhile the others launched their arrows at me, but nothing was even close to finding a target.  They too were untrained, and not even skilled hunters let alone bandits.

Iesa circled and took on another bowman and had great luck in finding an opening and dropping him.  Beepu and I each took down our respective targets with more blasts of magic, knocking them down, as arrows flew around us wildly.  I felt the rush and joy of the fight once again, and I was almost disappointed on how quickly they fell.  But mostly I was angry.  Angry at myself for falling into an obvious trap.  Angry at the gelbas of these spiv’s trying to rob me.

Seeing his companions fall was all that Roggins needed to see; he was outplayed and far outmatched.  He dropped his sword, as did his one standing associate.

“I’m…I’m…sorry…um…perhaps we could--”

“Shut up,” I said marching over to where Roggins and his pal stood with their hands raised above their shoulders.  I glared at both of them with a look that I was sure could melt cold iron.

How many others had they done this to?  This wasn’t a place of wealth; it was full of hard-working folk that were likely just trying to live and leave enough alone.  This whole bob and peel *offended* me for some reason.

“Strip and drop your gear.  Iesa, see if anyone else survived.” I said. My tone didn’t brook any dissent, and Iesa without hesitation started to examine the fallen.  Beepu caught up with us and was also angry.

“You mean this has been a waste of time?” the gnome accused.

Roggins was dropping his sword belt and dagger to the ground, while his companion dropped his bow, quiver and another short blade.  “Um, yes…sorry…we didn’t want to hurt—”

“Then you shouldn’t have pointed your weapons at us.  And keep going.”

“What?  I don’t underst—” Roggins started confused.

I plucked a bit of the strand within me and focused it on my voice as I shouted.

“I.  Said.  STRIP!” and my voice echoed in the forest, far above the level of shouting.

Roggins, who must have stood a head taller than I, was now terrified.  I watched he and his friend unbuckle his belt and armor.  Iesa came up dragging a body and went back for the others.  By now the pair were down to their small clothes and they looked at me with dread.

“Same with the others,” I said nodding at the body.  “You can leave their clothes alone.”

I watched them both gulp and start to peel off the gear.  As they did so, I saw that Beepu had started some kind of ritual casting.  But eventually we had four corpses lined up on the ground with a pile of swords, bows, and boiled leather armor.  The two stood meekly by, clearly nervous and unsure on what would happen next.

“Iesa watch them, while I take care of their friends.”

“What are you going to do Myr?” Daneath asked.

“Last rites.” I said and I flexed and pulled on the Strand with in me.  This time I used the strand not to throw energy around, but to put that energy to work.  I could feel resistance, as I focused on the earth in front of me.  As the others watched I pushed up dirt and gravel up and away from a point that expanded.  Soon enough soil was pushed up from the ground to make a pit that was about five feet deep.

I turned to look at the would-be thieves.  “Lay your friends to rest.  It’s the least you could do for them.”  The pair nodded and together lowered the bodies awkwardly, but gently into the pit.  I then knelt at the edge and prayed aloud:

“My lord, these men’s time has come to an end.  Lay these souls to rest in the eternal embrace of death.  Judge them against all the things they have done, not just the sins at the end of their time.  Let judgement come quickly, and may their souls atone for their crimes.  Blessed be the fallen.”

I could see the tears in the eyes of Roggins, and I knew then that he was new to his life of crime.  He wasn’t hardened yet by the deeds.  He thought he could rob and not hurt anyone, not thinking that others around him could be hurt.  He could save himself if he chose.

“Iesa, Daneath bind their hands and feet together.” I said simply as I stood once again.  The brothers pulled rope from their packs and the pair started to bind their hands

“Myr what are you—” Beepu started.

“A lesson.” I said coldly.  And after the brothers had firmly tied the pair, I again flexed and moved the soil around to create another pit.  At this point Roggins and friend started to panic.

“Wai…wai…wait!  Don’t do this!” Roggins stammered while his friend’s eyes bulged.

“Put them in, standing.” I said and then Iesa and Daneath complied, looking at me with some trepidation.  Once the pair were in the pit, I then reversed the magic.  The earth moved and started to fill the pit.  Soon only their head and shoulders were left exposed to the air.

I knelt down to the pair and looked at them both and then I quietly spoke.

“Consider this a lesson on how close to death you were.   Consider how close you are now.  And consider that if the gods decide to let you survive how you might make amends.  It’s too late for your friends.  As for your souls…that’s up to you.”

“You…you…you can’t just leave us here!” Roggins begged.

“Really?  Why not?”  I said evenly, leveling my gaze at him.  “What exactly were you going to do with us if we surrendered our gear?  Let us walk back to town?  I saw how you looked at me in the Inn,” and I watched him swallow hard.

“What were you going to do?  Hurt us?  Blind us?  Maim us? Kill us?  And what about me?  Would you have had your way with me first?” and I watched his face lose color.

“Did you think I was just going to…entertain you?”

“I swear…we wouldn’t hav…”

“You see, I know being a spiv isn’t easy.  But your friends have already paid the price.  So, I would think very hard about this second chance you are getting.  Because if I hear of you causing more problems for others, I will personally flay you.”

I stood again, staring down at the pair in the earth with disdain.  I then turned to the others.

“Gather the gear, and let’s go back to town,”  I said.

“Well carrying it won’t be a problem at least,” Beepu said as he lifted some of the gear up and then placed it on something hovering in midair.  As I looked, I realized that barely visible was a disc of force that was holding the items up.

We all loaded the disc up and started to head back to town, when I heard Roggins call out.

“Please…don’t leave us here…please!”

I didn’t even turn around to look, as their voices faded in the distance.

It was a while before anyone spoke again.  The sun had just kissed the horizon to the west when we finally came to the outskirts of Secomber, the orange light illuminating the few clouds, and the houses as we walked.

“That was…cold Myr,” Beepu said breaking our quiet.

“Did you think they had a warmer fate for us?” I asked.

“I do not know.  We could have done something else however.  Bring them to the local captain of the town perhaps?”

Iesa didn’t even look up from the ground he was staring at as he walked, “Out here, it would likely be a hanging.”

“We had already beaten them up enough, we could have let them go or—”

“Beepu,” I said quietly “I didn’t want them to get off easy, so they rob or steal from someone else.”
“It just seems harsh.”

“This wasn’t exactly a mugging in Waterdeep, where they just take your jink and run,”

“Still…I did not expect that response from you,”

I grimaced, “Its been a while since I let anyone take anything from me.  I wasn’t going let him start taking...anything.”

“So, what do we do with this pile of stuff?”  Daneath asked gesturing at the pile of gear on the floating disc.

“I have an idea about that” Iesa said with a smile.

-------------------------

“And they are all dead?” the guard captain asked sounding impressed.

“Well, we buried them all,”  Iesa said with a smile.  “But we figured that the gear might be useable by the local militia or something.

I smiled wistfully as Iesa’s deflection.  It certainly wasn’t a lie after all.

“Well we are always short on equipment, so this will help.”

“Not a problem,” and Iesa started to turn and head deeper into town.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing out there anyway?”

Daneath interjected, “We were looking for someone by the name of ‘Ravalan’”

“The firbolg?  He doesn’t live that close to town.”

“That is unfortunate.  We hoped to find him soon,”  Beepu commented with a frown.

“Well, can’t help you find him, but I can tell you who might,” and the captain pointed down the road to the south.  There in the fading light I could see multiple campfires.

“The goliaths have come into town to trade…and drink.” He nodded toward the fires.  “I seem to remember that Ravalan had visited them before.”

“So how should one introduce oneself to a…gathering of goliaths?” I asked.

“Well that’s simple.  Start with a toast.”

*Session notes:*

We really should have asked for references.  The DM was kind of dumbfounded.  I saw the problem far away, and let the newer players walk right into it.  It does make for interesting times.


----------



## Nthal

*Drinking with Giants - 09/27/2019*

_If there is one thing about Sigil is that everyone drinks.  Ale is safer than the water in the Ditch, or anywhere else.  In fact, water from Oceanus costs twenty times the cost of a good ale, and a hundred times the cheapest bub.

So, a good chunk of the populace is already drinking or drunk, or figuring out how to get started drinking and get drunk.  From Celestial to Fiend, from rich to poor.  Drinking was the great equalizer in Sigil.

It also means that the Barkeeps were the true kings and king makers of the city.  For without all the drinking, how would anyone stand each other an make the deals they do?_​ 
“So how much was it?” Daneath grunted as he loaded the barrel on the cart.

“Enough.  The bar didn’t exactly want to sell it either,” Iesa commented.

“What changed his mind?” Beepu asked.

“I told him that we were going to give it to some goliaths.  Once I said that, he was quick to sell,” Iesa replied.

“Are their drinking habits that bad?” I asked, wondering if we made the right decision of a gift.

“Drinking no, not really.  But it does…inspire them to contests of strength.  The damage starts from there.”

“What kind of contests are we talking about?  Brawling?”

“Could be anything Myr,” Daneath answered after finishing securing the barrel on the cart.  “I’ve only heard stories, but whatever strikes their fancy.”

“This is foolish,” Beepu said with disgust.  “Alcohol just dulls the mind!  How are we going to get answers about the firbolg?”

“Beepu,” I said resigned, “It’s called being social.  They like to drink, so bringing some as a gift will help us make friends.”

“Could not a bottle do as well?  The coin I gave Iesa was considerable!”

“Wait…what?”  Daneath said his head snapping to look at his brother.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Iesa, “You told me that you couldn’t get jink from the others.”

“Well…more like, enough coin.  I do have some left over!” Iesa spreading his hands.  Mo abandoned his shoulder to hide in the cart as the three of us surrounded Daneath.

“Some.” I said dryly.  “Exactly how much is left over?”

“About eighteen silver?” Iesa said almost guiltily.  Almost.

“Each?” Beepu demanded.

“Er no.  Total.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.  I then turned around and simply said. “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you interest in—“ Daneath started.

“No.  I am interested in cracking open that barrel, so I cure my sudden pounding headache,” I said rubbing my temples.  “And the sooner that cart makes it to the camp…”

“Point taken,” Daneath said as he gave a pair of coins, to the drover in the cart.  The man nodded and flicked the reins, encouraging the donkey to move and haul its load. 

“This better be worth it Iesa.” Beepu muttered, as Foggle took to the air.

I followed along shaking my head.

_So…what did you want me to do?_

I paused a moment before replying to Gossamer,

_--Well, either stick close to me or stay out of sight.

Noted; I’ll stay out of sight.  As long as I don’t become an object in their contests, I’ll be satisfied.

--You and me both._

The camp wasn’t far down the road, and while we could see the fires flickering the darkness, it was the sounds that stood out.

Drums.  Lots of drums.  Small ones, large ones.  Slow thumping, deep sounds reverberating in my bones as we walked closer.  The tones of smaller ones, that caused my heart to stir its own pace to match.  It was that primal feeling I felt once before in Flint Rock.  But these beats were in the hear and now, not the distant past. It was the passion of life expressed in the purest way.

Then, as we neared the thundering sounds of drumming, I could hear voices.  Laughter, cheers, shouts of joy; the sound of comradery.  Daneath and Iesa were in the lead, with the cart.  Beepu had seated himself in the back of the cart, glowering.  I followed, walking behind them all.  Unsure on what to expect.

The cart stopped and I saw large figures approach Daneath who started to shout to them, over the drumming.  The pair towered over Daneath, and I could see the patterns light and dark on their skin in the firelight.  I couldn’t hear what Daneath said to them, but the sudden grins and clapping him on the back told me that we were clearly welcome.  One of the pair moved to the side of the cart, and easily lifted out the barrel that Daneath struggled with earlier.

I never considered myself small, and the fact that most men stood a head or so taller than I was just a norm.  But the goliaths made me feel small.  Some of them were three and half heads taller than I was, and for the first time I wondered if this how Beepu felt around us. 

The cart started to move, returning to tow, and Beepu and I headed towards the brothers.  The Goliaths were massive walls of muscle and were smiling, talking with the pair easily.  As I approached, I could see at least two dozen of them, drumming, laughing and drinking from the now tapped barrel.  Mugs of the ale that Iesa purchased were already making rounds.  Beepu and I stepped up to join our companions, already in conversation with a giant of goliath who looked to be their leader. 

“Hah!  You certainly know how to make an entrance, Big D!” said an older goliath, the marks on his face giving him a mask that I would have called fearsome, if the smile wasn’t so warm and genuine.
Daneath hid his distaste for his fighting name well and smiled.  “Well, as they say, ‘know your audience.’”
The giant arched an eyebrow and regarded the warrior with interest. “So, to what we owe the honor then?”
Iesa spoke up, “Well, we were hoping to find someone…a firbolg named Ravalan.”

The goliath frowned a moment, “You don’t say.  We haven’t seen him in a time.  And normally he comes to greet us.” He spoken and stroked his chin for a moment.  “But he is a bit of a hermit.  Comes and goes as he pleases.”

Beepu spoke up, “Well then.  Any chance you might know how to find him.”

The goliath was startled for a moment, until he found the gnome below him.  The gnome was perhaps only knee high at best to the giant’s leg.  “Ho ho!  There you are.  Don’t want to step on you.  Now we have a tracker that knows where he lives.”

“That is good to hear.  Then perhaps we can pay you for your…”

“Pay?  Non-sense!” he snorted.  “You have to earn that!  Join us in our games, and if you do well then the gods will have said ‘you are worthy’” stabbing a finger at Beepu.

“Games?  Games?!?” Beepu exclaimed.  “While I do not mind testing my skills, I cannot say that I have hope in matching your…physicality.”

The goliath smiled, “But you have the spirit!  Drink with us!  We will look to Big D here for your might.”

“Yes! Big D will…wait.  What?” Daneath said.

“Join my brethren here tonight.  Show that you can keep up.  Show us your worth!  Go!”

A pair of goliaths stepped forward, and for the first time I saw one of the women.  She was lean, her muscles well defined, and dressed in a halter and knee-high breeches.  She was taller than Daneath by a head and half and looked just as strong as the man.  The pattens of stripes flowed down her chest and arms like a dark river snaking through the plains.  She smiled at the warrior and took his hand and dragged him into a throng of goliaths.

Iesa stood there with Mo on his shoulder, and almost reached out to stop him, when he pulled back his hand and instead called out to Daneath, “Good luck and good hunting!”

“Hah!  He looks more to be prey right now!” and the goliath gulped down some ale.  “I guess the rest of you will have to share cups with me for the time being.”

“That’s fine with me, as long the ale flows.” I said with a smile and took at deep drink from my mug.   The ale was malty with earthen tones and had a nice bite at the end.  I would have to remember to tell Iesa that least he made a decent purchase.

The goliath turned towards me.  When his eyes locked with mine, he dropped his mug to the ground.

“By Stronmaus’ beard!  I have never—”

“Fell behind drinking in front of a woman?” I smiled and finished off my mug and held it out to the Goliath expectantly.

He blinked a moment, his mouth agape.  Then he broke out the widest grin and laughed.  “HAH!   I have indeed shamed myself.  I should remedy this now, and offer you another…miss?...” and he extended his hand with another mug and expectant look on his face.

“Myrai.  And who am I drinking with tonight?”

“Torin Strongbones.  And forgive my manners, here!” and he grabbed another mug full of ale and thrust it into Beepu’s hands.

Beepu looked at the mug dubiously, “I really must refrain!  I wish to keep my mind sharp.”

I turned to Beepu and leaned down, “Don’t be rude.  We did ask for some help after all.”

Beepu frowned, “I suppose a drink will not hurt.”  And he gamely quaffed down some the ale.

“That’s the spirit!” Torin said with a laugh and he turned back to me.  “Its not often I see something new, and I will say you are that indeed.  But sit here by the fire and let it warm your bones from without, while the ale does from within.”

I sat down on a log by the nearby fire and started on my second mug.  I closed my eyes, so I could savor the sounds around me and feel the ale coursing through me and relaxing me.  I smiled, thinking to myself that there were worse evenings.

Torin sat down beside with grinning with another full mug, and Iesa sat next to him.  Beepu sat down as well, but he remained quiet and guarded as we talked.

“So, what challenges is Big D going to face tonight?” I asked and took another deep drink.

“Oh, the standard games; log tossing, barrel rolling, and ‘the Chase.’” Torin replied all smiles.

“’The Chase?’  Do tell.” I said, and Iesa leaned forward with interest.

“Certainly, after we refresh our mugs!” and he waved his hand and four more mugs of ale appeared.  I had just finished mine, as did Iesa.  But Beepu had to drink quickly to keep up.

“Well, the first thing is a draw is made on who is doing the chasing.”

“What like straws?”

“No…just a coin toss.  It’s either the women are chasing, or the men are.” Torin smiled.

“And if the ‘chaser’ catches their…mark?  What happens then?” I asked, suspecting the answer.

“Well…that’s up to the one that caught their mark now isn’t it?” And Torin finished his mug and called for more.  Iesa had barely finished his, and almost choked after Torin had spoken.  I had just downed my third and was feeling quite warm and relaxed.

Iesa spoke, “So…anything?”

“Well…within reason I suppose.  But out of the four of you, Big D is more likely to walk away with his bones intact.” Torin laughed.

Iesa was beginning to look bleary eyed at Torin, “I can run…fasstd.”

“I’m sure…but the catching part can be—”

<<WHUMP>>

And over the fire a man in a loincloth jumped.  A solid example of fine goliath form.  But just to his right, a large athletic female dove for the male’s knees, tripping and felling the giantkin to the ground.

“—quite an impact.”

“I’ll pass.  I prefer this drinking game,” I said holding out my mug looking for another.  “

“Yesssszz.  Another!  Thisszz schtuff is vunderfullff,”  Beepu said slurring his works badly.

Torin looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and called for more mugs.  Iesa took another gulp and was soon passed out on the log.  Beepu consumed another full mug, and then found a quiet spot of dirt next to the log to ‘lay his spinning head’ against.

As for Big D; I didn’t see what happened, but I did hear him shout in the darkness around us, trying to evade his pursuers.

Three more drinks later and Torin was looking at me bleary eyed and his brow was knotted in confusion.  “Hows is it you can put away drinksss in that teeny frame?” He asked, looking at me with some respect as he realized that the ale had caught up to him.

“Wells…when you workz ins a bar and yous pickz up ssome skillz,” I said feeling quite buzzed, but determined to be the last one conscious.

“Well…done…then,” and the great bulk of a Goliath, fell backwards unconscious from the log and started to snore.

I turned my head upwards, trying to ignore the spinning for a bit longer and smiled.  There have been worse evenings to be sure, and tomorrow might get us somewhere.  But for now, a warm fire, and a dreamless sleep is all I wanted or needed.

So, I slumped down to the ground and placed my back against the log, and stared at the dying embers of the fire.  Slowly I relaxed and let the numbness and warmth of the liquor finally carry me off to a dark dreamless sleep.

*Session notes:*

So…I made every saving throw against getting drunk.  Everyone else failed pretty quickly.  The irony was, I only had a 10 Con.  Everyone else’s’ was higher.


----------



## Nthal

*The Little Cabin in the Woods – 10/3/2019*

_Surprise can be a wonderful thing.  The new and the unexpected is what sustains a Sensate.  That unique experience is to be savored and treasured.

But it can also be found in the most ordinary places.  Things you thought you knew, or things that you expect to be ‘normal.’

It is simply that; a surprise.  But what you do with it, is something else._​
The first thing I remembered hearing was the sound of someone in severe pain.  As my mind began to focus, my senses were flooded with other information.  The smells of cooking, the weight and warmth of something sitting on my chest, and especially the sounds of someone’s pain, manifesting in a shrill and desperate tone.

“Ohhhh….my head.  What have I done?” I heard the gnome gasp somewhere nearby.

I opened an eye and down at my chest.  There I found Gossamer, sitting quietly, taking space and giving off a tremendous amount of heat.  His head turned back and forth watching the camp around him as he sat with his legs curled underneath him.  He was clearly watching over me, and he duly noticed my questioning eye, and he met my gaze.

_The wizard appears to be in an indelicate state this morning.

--He was drunk, so that’s a hangover.

And I assume that are in a similar condition?

--Actually…no.  I only have a small problem.

And that is?

--You are preventing me from getting up and finding food._

Gossamer looked at me with what I think was an amused expression, and he slowly stood, stretched and walked over me to the log my head laid on.  I propped my self up on my elbows and looked around.  I apparently slept on that log, with my head on a cloak or other piece of cloth.  And somehow, I had laid there, balanced throughout the evening.  It might have had to do with Gossamer essentially pinning me down and preventing me from turning over and landing on the ground.

Looking around, I first saw Beepu.  He sat on the ground, with his head between his hands, while he rocked his body back and forth.  He was loudly moaning something in gnomish.  I swung my legs over to the ground, stood and stretched my arms high while I looked for my other companions. 

The next one I found was Iesa, who was quietly snoring, with his back to another log and his arms spread apart and draped on it, while he sat on the ground, his legs stretched out.  Mo was with him as well, but he was fast asleep, his arms wrapped around Iesa’s neck as he clung to the man.
Near him on the ground in a large heap was Torin.  He lay flat on his back with a silly grin on his face, and without the slightest care of the world, let alone the local goings on.

Of Daneath there was no sign, and I guessed he would turn up eventually.  So, I started to follow my nose to where the cooking was.  Not far from the fire I was at, was another fire pit, that was rectangular in shape, and with rocks lining the rim.  Across the rocks, were rods, grates and spits.  Some meat was already sizzling on hot iron plates set across the rods, and there were pans full of…

I gulped.  I recognized the substance in the pans, as I watched a goliath quickly mixed the contents together.  He then cracked another white oval on the edge and spilled the yellow and clear contents and mixed it together with the rest.  Before I could turn away, the male spotted me.

“Still green after your bout with Torin?”

“Wha…oh no.  I survived that fine.  It’s just I—”

“—Wanted to try my eggs; Well, give me a moment to season them properly.”

I didn’t want to say anything; it seemed rude, so I smiled gamely and watched.  Unlike the ones in the Inn in Triboar, he was adding far more ingredients.  Spices were added, then some fresh cooked meat that was already  diced was mixed into it.  Finally, I saw that he reached towards some coals, and pulled out something round wrapped in burlap.  As I watched, he peeled off the cloth with hands that seemed impervious to the heat.  Inside was a root, that he quickly cut into pieces and threw them in the pan. 
The smell was spicy, with the hints of cured meat and smoky wood.  Before long, he handed me a plate with a fork, full of the eggs with the fixing.  All with the broadest smile on his face.

I took a deep breath.  I was a Sensate; I was *supposed* to try new things.  And if nothing else, I knew cooking with the right materials could turn the average to magnificent.  I just hoped it would change the vile to tolerable.  So, I took the plate, and quickly before I could change my mind, I speared some of the fluffy material, closed my eyes and shoved the fork in my mouth, fully expecting to be poisoned.

The texture was the same, but the flavors exploded in my mouth.  I could taste the sharp seeds from the cured meat, salt, and peppery spices.  All of them melded together into something that was far more wonderful than that plate in Triboar.  I found myself wolfing down my plate quickly, eager to savor more of the flavor.

“Hah!  Seems you like it!” the goliath exclaimed.

“That’s better than the last time,” I head behind me as I watched Daneath approached, still fitting a vambrace on his arm.

“What happened last time?”

“She turned green, ran through a kitchen, and emptied her stomach on a nearby tree.”

“Well, glad to know I can cook better than THAT,” the Goliath laughed.

I could feel my cheeks flush red, as I tried to finish my mouthful to get a word in.

“Well, that was the first time she ever even had eggs!”

“And what does this make?”

“Her second time,”

The goliath roared with laughter “Only the second time!  I am glad to broaden your horizons then!”

I finally cleared my mouth, “Eggs aren’t…a common meal where I’m from.  But these are indeed, better than the first.” And I elbowed the warrior in the ribs, giving him a stare that I hoped could curdle his blood.

“Well, Beepu was right after all.”

“Huh?  How?”

“You’ve changed.”

I pursed my lips together, considering that and retorted “Well, did you find your codpiece, or did you dent it again?”

“Not a problem this time.  I could at least remember the evening.”

“I hope it doesn’t take your edge off,”

“I should hope not!  We can’t besmirch Big D the lover!” Chimed the now conscious Iesa, strolling over to us, while feeding Mo on his shoulder.

“Really?  Let’s not get carried away.  How’s Beepu?”

“Miserable.” Iesa replied, pointing to the hunched over gnome by the log and fire.

“He’ll feel better with some water, and a guide on our way.” Daneath said.

“Yeah I talked with him already, once we are set, he’ll lead us in sight of the cabin, but no closer.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Respect for Ravalan’s privacy.  I guess we get to be the rude ones.” Iesa said with a shrug.

“Well,” I started and thought a moment.  “Get that ale barrel we had last night, and pry off the lid with the tap.

“Oh?  Have a solution in mind?”

I nodded with a grin, and with that Iesa was off looking for the barrel.  I had just finished the eggs when he rolled it up and stood it on end and removed the top lid.

I looked inside critically and took a whiff.  The smell of Ale was strong and had to go.  I flexed on the light strands and started to pour energy into the barrel, and soon the ale stains and the smell were gone.  Iesa looked at the barrel questioningly, and then looked at me expectantly.  A small group of goliaths had also stopped, wondering what I was doing.

I then grasped the medallion of my faith and said a quick prayer pulling on lighter strands, and in a moment, the barrel began to swell with water.  The nearby goliaths saw the surge, of water and scattered.  I thought I had scared them, but I realized that they were running for buckets, pots, mugs; anything to hold more water.
I held on to the incantation, and let them grab their fill as gallons of water flooded the interior of the barrel. 

So did Iesa and Daneath each filling a mug and swallowing down the water.  I then twisted the strands and closed off the magic and halting the flow of water.  The goliaths smiled and thanked me for the clean water, while Daneath grabbed the moaning gnome and brought him to now half full barrel.

“Ow.  Stop moving.  Stop BREATHING.  It is too loud.”

“I better hold your pack Beepu,” Iesa said, slipping off the important things from Beepu, without him really noticing.

“Yes.  Yes.  It is too heavy.  Now what I need is a lot of water.  This drinking thing has gone—”

<<SPLOOSH!!>>

The gnome quickly sputtered to the surface and coughed.

“What the?  I meant to drink you imbeciles!”

------

That was early in the morning, but by midday we had made significant progress westward.  Our guide, Kolth, new the lands well, and unlike Roggins was an honest guide.  He was also remarkably patient, as Beepu was frequently winded in trying to keep up with the long legs of our guide.

He wasn’t much of a conversationalist either, and with the pace he kept, I really didn’t have much energy to ask questions.  But eventually we reached some hills and started to ascend.  And before long, he brought us to a halt, and pointed ahead.  There on a hillside was a lone cabin; its lower footings in stone, and the upper sections in wood.

“There,” Kolth said simply.  He then nodded and started to make he way down the hills.

“Thanks again!” Iesa called, and Kolth simply waved his hand behind him, not even turning.

We climbed up the hill to the cabin, and once we made it to the front door, it was clear something was amiss.  The front porch was littered in leaves and debris, some of it blocking the front door.  We didn’t need to say anything to each other, but this didn’t bode well for a simple introduction.

Daneath, Beepu and I were looking around for any other clues, while Iesa opened the door.  It creaked open on rusty hinges and Iesa peered inside.

“That’s a…problem,” Iesa said after a moment.

“What is?  What’s inside?” Daneath asked and he moved towards his brother to peer over his shoulder.

“Well, that’s just it.  The inside is…missing.”

“What?” Beepu said, and he pushed his way and was looking around the Iesa’s knees.  “Well now.  I was not expecting…that.”

“Oh, out of the way,” and I pushed Daneath aside and looked within.

The walls were full of shelves full of bric-a-brac and layers of dust.  Jugs, skins, and other items hung from hooks or ropes from the ceiling.  And that was as normal as it got.  I blinked a couple of times as I realized, that in this single room cabin, there wasn’t a piece of furniture.  No bed, no tables, no chairs.

But more importantly, there was no floor.  Instead, there was a yawning pit that extended wall to wall of the cabin.  I looked down, and I could see a pool of water, but it must have been fifty feet below where the cabin floor should have been.  As I stared, I could see that there was a passage way leading away from the pool.
“Alright, that’s new,” I said.  I waved Gossamer inside, and he found a beam to perch on and he looked down.  Foggle soon joined him, while Mo stayed on Iesa’s shoulder.

Beepu spoke up.  “That would explain the state of the exterior, if Ravalan fell down there.”

“Meaning he didn’t come back up again,” Daneath said.

“Ok, well I don’t see a corpse either so he might have wandered deeper within,” Iesa said peering at the water below.

“How does someone miss the fact that your ground that your home is built on is gone?” Daneath asked aloud.

I bend down and looked at the earthen walls of the pit, and the rock layer below it.  I could see chisel or pick marks in the rock; flat cuts and sharp breaks in the stone.

“Someone dug under here.  And the rocks have been moved away,” I said.

“Someone mined here to get to Ravalan I would say.  Not at minor endeavor either,” Beepu said nodding.  “But why?”

“I guess we’re are going to need to go down and ask,” Iesa said and he started to uncoil some rope attached to his pack.

“No need I can get us down safely,” Beepu said waving his hand.

“What about back up?” Daneath asked.

“Not needed.  There must be an exit elsewhere.  There were tools used here, so it was a humanoid species that did this.” Beepu replied.

“Wait, why does that mean there’s an exit?” Iesa asked confused.

“Because someone had to know that Ravalan was here at all, to plan to dig under him.  You cannot do that randomly from below without reason.”

“He’s got a point,” I said.  “Let’s do this.”

Beepu nodded and closed his eyes for a moment.  He then pulled a feather from his pouch and started to wave it around as he chanted.  In a moment he opened his eyes and looked at us.

“Alright…jump down.”

“Just like that?” Daneath asked dubiously.

“Yes.  Why do you doubt me?”

“It’s new.  I don’t like new things,” Daneath replied.

“You will endure!  Now move,” and Beepu pushed the big man with all of his strength.

Daneath didn’t budge, and instead looked down with concern.  All the while Beepu continued to push.  Daneath then took a breath and stepped off the ledge, causing Beepu to fall on wooden planking outside the cabin.

As I watched, he slowly drifted down towards the opening in the wall below, and he would also sail over the water.  Iesa watched his brother and then he also stepped off into the air and drifted slowly down.  Beepu turned to look up at me, smiled and just jumped off the edge.

I shrugged and stepped off the wood and into the pit.  I stumbled on the edge a moment though and nearly tripped, but the magic took hold and I felt myself slowly sinking in the air.  But unlike the others I was heading straight down towards the middle of the water.

“Great,” I said as I realized my mistake.  I was resigned to becoming wet but then I heard Iesa say those magic words…

“What the?”

I looked down, and below me I saw the water shimmer, and I could see…something began to form.   I could see through it, like a clear pond with just enough ripples so you tell there was water there.  but it was growing upwards.  I could see some bits of wood as well, rise and hang in the air as a cubed shape of protoplasm took form below me.

_That doesn’t look good.

--You think?!?_

“Guys, I’m going to need some help here!” I said, my legs were now running, desperate to change my direction to a wall; anywhere but the middle of the cavern where the cube was.

Iesa glared at Beepu, “Told you we needed to use rope,”

“It is not my fault she is clumsy and cannot jump,” Beepu said archly.

“So not the time!” I yelled and I started to cast and throw energy at the object.  A purple blast streaked out and struck the translucent foe.

Daneath stepped forward and swung with his sword, carving a slice of goop off.  But the cube reacted, extending part of its form to strike the big man’s shield.  Daenath then moved into the room, trying to draw the thing into following him, as he moved around the edge of the pool.  Meanwhile, Beepu threw another bolt of fire at it, striking and burning a divot in the surface.  Iesa in the meantime threw the rope at me and missed.  He cursed and quickly pulled it back and prepared to throw it again.

I didn’t want to be the one enveloped by the thing, and I threw more energy at it hoping to hurt it.  I tried to find purchase on anything so I could move away from a gelatinous doom, but I was nowhere near a wall or anything beyond the closing pool.  Daneath swung again slicing more parts off and was again repelled by the monstrosity’s strike.  But he again retreated, and the mindless foe pursued slowly.

This time with a much better toss, Iesa got the rope to my hand, and he pulled me towards him.  I clung onto it fearing for my life.  I let out my breath my feet hit the ground.  I then turned and threw another bolt of energy at it.  Meanwhile, Beepu and Daneath both continued to swing with swords and bolts of flame.  Daneath connected with it and its form lost cohesion, melting as foul liquids spread into the pool, leaving behind an acrid smell in the air. 

“I hope that Ravalan didn’t fall into that thing,” Iesa said as he watched the form melt away.
“I do not think he did.” Beepu said, turning to face the passageway that led deeper, and holding his arm for Foggle to land on.

“Why?” Daneath asked turning to follow the gnomes gaze.

I turned as well to look down the passageway.  There were palisades set into the rock, covered with rock and dirt.  More importantly was that their orientation was angled in a way that would prevent the cube from drifting down the passage, without tearing itself to pieces. 

“Someone set that there after the cube was placed here,” I said.

Beepu nodded “Precisely.  And that cube was not here when they dug underneath the cabin.  So, someone is very clever.  But not wise enough to leave guards behind.

“I suppose we will need to teach them the error of their ways then,” I said with a smile.

_As long as you don’t trip again…

--Oh shut up!

*Session notes*_

The aftermath of the goliath part was legendary, considering my rolls on not getting drunk.   Not falling into a gelatinous cube...that was pretty bad.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Damn! I've caught up!

I'm still thoroughly enjoying this, Nthal. But now I've got to wait for more ...


----------



## Nthal

@HalfOrc HalfBiscuit   Done!

*Caving for Firbolgs - 10/10/2019*

_Sigil doesn’t really have caves.  It has tunnels and passages underneath the city.  A city built up from piles of trash.  But not natural caverns.

In fact, the only “cave” you can find is in the Great Gymnasium where one was built to look at like a natural underground spring.  But it isn’t a cave either.

But it is amazing what jink can buy._​ 
I flex a moment, and once again light up Daneath’s shield, and the warrior takes the lead, with Iesa, Beepu, and our small menagerie, start our way into the cave.  Foggle, drifted ahead, Mo stuck close to Iesa, while Gossamer stayed by my side.

While the room with pool under Ravalan’s cabin was chiseled, the cave we were in seemed natural.  The barriers that were set in the passage ahead didn’t prevent us from moving pass them; they clearly were meant to keep the cube in.  That cube then was something like a vicious guard dog.  A wet, weirdly shaped one, but a guardian nonetheless.  And whoever placed it there, had faith that it would take care of others ‘dropping in.’  Complexly misguided thinking, but we were dealing with something a bit smarter than kobolds.  The only question was, how much.

Daneath shined the shield, deeper into the depths and we saw that the tunnel was slowly turning to the right.  As it was turning, it was also ascending, and as the passage straightened out, we saw another barrier; another palisade with spikes facing us.  Unlike the prior one, this one was clearly meant to keep people out, not just large cubes. 

Beepu held up his hand and motioned us close. 

“Foggle says there is a camp ahead,” he whispered.  “Based on the description, it seems to be a pack of goblins.”

“Goblins?”  Iesa questioned.  “This seems too smart of them?”

“What to dig a tunnel?” Daneath said looking at his brother.

“No, to dig a tunnel to get to Ravalan.  I didn’t think they were that smart.”

“They are not. I surmise there is something leading them that is.” Beepu replied.

“So, how many?” I asked.

“Six?  No, eight,” Beepu said as he mentally confirmed with Foggle.

“Let’s get past that barrier and hammer them down fast,” I suggested.  “Don’t let anyone bolt for help either.”

Iesa nodded, “Are there fires ahead?”

“Yes.  About four of them,” Beepu said after a moment.

“Alright, lights out then,” and I dispelled the light.  Beepu held Iesa hand, and I guided Daneath’s shoulders towards the barrier, where dim light flickered ahead.

We quietly made our way forward and came to the barrier.  It wasn’t very tall, as even Beepu was half a head taller, but it was enough to prevent us from simply stepping over it.  Once we reached the barrier, we looked over it to see what lay beyond.  Ahead was a simple cave with another passage leading off in the distance.  Within the cave were makeshift lean-tos, made of dirty cloth and simple wood sticks.  Something to call a ‘roof’ in this cave, and not a real shelter.  But we saw their occupants easily enough.

Green skinned, and short as Beepu with mean squinted eyes, and dirty unkempt hair.   They lay on straw mats lazily, and without focus.  Mining tools were scattered around the room, along with the occasional blade.  And while they looked unkempt, their blades looked cared for and sharp.  I could see four of them, close to a smoky fire, disinterested on anything going on, and oblivious to the mechanical owl circling above them.

First Iesa and Daneath heaved, and quietly moved the barrier, so that we could pass through easily.  Iesa had kept his bow in one hand with an arrow clutched in his teeth, ready to draw and fire in an instant.  But it was unneeded as the barrier moved easily and quietly, allowing the big man through, and I closely behind. 
Now that we were on the safer side of the fence, we could see that the cavern curved farther to the right in a crescent shape.  More flickering from fires came from that side of the chamber as well, and I could see more lean-tos as well, but not the occupants.

Iesa separated from the rest of us and placed himself against the cave wall on the right, and started to move forward, notching the arrow he once held with his teeth.  I moved to the left ready to pull on the strand, while Beepu followed Iesa from a distance.  Daneath too moved quietly towards the closest fire.   More so than I would have expected a Tinman to do.

_Hey boss…

--What?

I just noticed there are little openings in the rock all over this room.

--Like passages?

Yes, carved ones.

--Sodding—_

Daneath opened with a charge towards quartet of goblins near the fire.  He didn’t scream or shout, but I could see the faces of the goblins snap up too late, as the warrior swung his sword at one of them, causing blood to spray the others nearby.  Right after that, I heard Iesa let loose his arrow, and it was followed with a solid sound of the metal biting into flesh, and then by a body hitting the floor.

Beepu threw a bolt of fire at another next to Daneath, felling it as fire consumed the small creature.  As I watched, another pair emerged from the lean-tos, and charged the big warrior who stood in the open.  As they grouped up, they swung wildly at the warrior, not making much headway, as they were turned away by Daneath’s shield and armor.  But as they clustered, I smiled at the opportunity.

I pulled a mixture of light and dark strands, and they vibrated and twisted as they tried to pull themselves apart.  As I held them longer, the more they fought and strained against the forced pairing.  Then I did something new.

I mentally snapped them apart as I looked at the goblins.  Suddenly an ear shattering noise erupted from the middle of them, followed by the sound of bones cracking and bodies slumping into a wet heap on the floor.
Daneath stepped back in surprise at the pile of corpses in front of him, and I watched his as head quickly swiveled in my direction.  His face said everything in a mixture of surprise and shock.  All I could is shrug in response, and I moved deeper into the cave.

Iesa was taking aim at a goblin running towards the main passage ahead and knocked it down with another arrow.  He then turned about and started swearing.

“Where did…ah crap!”

“What?” I said.

“Some of them dived into the rock!”

“Beepu watch out behi—” started to say as I turned to look for the gnome.  But he had disappeared, once again turning invisible I assumed.

My eyes were searching the wall side, looking for were they could possibly emerge from, as I heard another twang of Iesa’s bow as he struck a straggler leaving a hole, and running to the passage leading deeper.  I still was looking for more holes when my thoughts were interrupted.

_The gnome has entered one of the passages, and I think he about to engage the--

--What?

Well I see him pouring some water on his ha—

--How can you see that?

Oh, I can see hidden things like that easily.

--That’s—

You should probably focus.

--You and I need to talk later._

And I heard the explosion of ice, and shrieks of pain echoing in the small side tunnels.  A moment later, Beepu emerged with a satisfied smirk on his face, and just a hint of frost on his vest.  We all looked around, and it was clear that we had felled them all quickly.

I smiled as I looked to Daneath, as he moved to secure the passageway that led out ahead, with Iesa close behind. 

“Where did _that_ come from Myrai?” Daneath asked.

“What? You wanted to take them all on?”

“It’s what I do!”

“How about I don’t want to have to pray and fix you up?”

Daneath thought a moment before replying, “Fine, just leave some for me.”

“You know that somehow, you are going to regret that,” Iesa commented.

The passage continued deeper into the rock, but after twenty paces, split and curved towards the right.  Looking down the right the passage, it opened up and there was a large lean-to on the side of the wall.  But on the left side there was a crude door, or more accurately a piece of wood planking that covered a hole on the side of the passage, just before the passage curved to the right.

We stood at the intersection for a moment considering our options.  But we barely stood there for a moment, when the ‘door’ was smashed apart into splinters, and a great hulking figure emerged.  It had a hide of dirty brown fur, and a face with large teeth and yellow eyes, filled with hate.  In its hands was a great two-handed Morningstar that it swung, and connected with Iesa in the chest, knocking him backwards.
Its bulky form belied its speed and agility as it quickly moved and swung at Iesa again, this time laying him out on the ground unconscious.  It turned just in time to knock Daneath’s sword blow away as it howled at the large man.  I realized now that we faced a very angry bugbear, as I could see the wide flat nose and the flared ears.  I had seen several in Sigil, and I recalled someone once telling me that they were lazy and sneaky.  But mostly lazy.

Mostly.

Beepu quickly muttered and cast an incantation, and his bolt of fire narrowly missed the hulking form.  I in the mean time rushed over towards the sprawled form of Iesa and knelt.  Quickly I pulled on the of the light strands and imagined wrapped them around his wounded chest.  His breathing quickly became less ragged and his eyes fluttered open.

Meanwhile, the bugbear and Daneath were locked together in combat.  The bugbear’s Morningstar keeping Daneath off balance, but unable to land a solid blow due Daneath’s skilled shield work.  Daneath’s normally precise strikes weren’t finding their mark, as the goblinoid was quick on his feet, and not encumbered with a shield.   Beepu again threw a blast of fire on it, this time clipping the humanoid.  The smell of burnt fur was now in the air.

But it scarcely noticed, as it continued to focus its ire on Daneath.  I then pulled a dark strand out and mentally wrapped it around the bugbear and I plucked it.  The soft sound of a bell rang, and the bugbear grunted in pain as some of its life left its body.  But this distraction was nothing compared to Iesa strike, as he bounded from his seat on the floor and struck the bugbear from behind with his dagger, its blade sinking deep to the hilt.  The bugbear staggered a moment, and then collapsed in a lifeless heap on the ground.
“I’m going to see if there is more coming from that passage,” Daneath said, and stepped into the narrow passage that the wood once covered.  Quickly the man returned, with a face that clearly said that he had found something unpleasant.

“What did you find?” Iesa asked.

“Privy.”  Daneath answered quickly, letting out his held breath and gasping for air.  “Nothing else in there.”  I then noticed that Daneath was holding his shield close to him, and was actively trying to avoid moving his arm.

“Your shield arm…are you—” I started.

“He pulled my arm down and I think I pulled something. It’ll pass.
Beepu interrupted, “Well that is good news!  Come!”  and Beepu moved to the leanto nearby.

“Huh?  What is—” Iesa asked.

“Foggle found him, I think.” 

I realized that I had a hard time tracking the little trio as it was.  Foggle must have started scouting ahead while we danced with the bugbear.  Looking around, I saw Mo leap back on Iesa’s shoulder, while Gossamer was trailing behind on the ground slinking for cover in the dark of the cave I guessed.

Beepu reached the lean-to first and looked inside, and quickly motioned me over.  I ran over and looked over Beepu’s head to see what he had found.

The figure must have been two heads taller than I, if it should upgright.  Its skin had a bluish tinge, and it had a shock of grey hair on the top of its head.  A large bulbous nose stuck out from the large face, that had signs of bruise, and an eye that was beginning to swell shut.  He was gagged, and his arms were bound behind him, as were his legs as he laid unconscious on a mat of straw.

I knelt beside the firbolg and ran my fingers over the bruises on the man’s face.  “He’s been beaten pretty badly.  He probably needs rest, but this isn’t the place for it.”

“Can you heal him?” Iesa asked.

I nodded, “Yes, but that will be it for me until I get some rest.”

“I don’t think staying here is a good idea.” Daneath said, looking around.  “We don’t know if there are more in this cave.”

“Well I do not think we should waste time.  Let us do what we need to and leave.  Foggle has found the exit.”

“Where is it and is it guarded?” Daneath asked quickly.

“Farther down this passage, and there does not seem to be any guards.”

I lay a hand gently on the firbolg’s head and whispered, pulling the last white strand of energy that I had left.  The figure in front of me moaned and his eyes opened slowly, slowly focusing on me.  His eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend where he was, and who Beepu and I were.  I reached forward and pulled the cloth from his mouth.  Once removed he breathed heavily and spoke.

“Thanks…but who are—”

“They,” and I gestured with my head to the others, “Need your help, so we came to visit you in your cabin.”
He smiled bitterly, “Yes, they made quite mess of my floor.  But who are…wait…” and he looked at Beepu closely as I started to undo his bonds. 

“You’re Pachook’s son, aren’t you?”

Beepu’s eyes widened.  “Yes!  Yes, I am.  I need your assistance.  Or rather we do.”  The Gnome spoke excitedly.

“Hey, I know you want to chat Beepu, but we really should get out of here and then talk,” said Iesa still clutching at his chest.

I freed his legs from the bindings, and he started to rub his ankles, relieving the pain he must have felt.  “Your friend is right.  The others will return from hunting soon.  We should leave.”

“If you can walk, let’s move,” Iesa said.  Ravalan nodded and stood and we quickly made our way down the passage.  We first came to another barricade, but on this one, the spikes faced away from us and towards the outside.  Just beyond, was the exit to the cave, and the dim light of the setting sun was visible.  We quickly made our way past the barrier and emerged from the rock.  We were facing north, and Ravalan spoke.

“The closest place that is safe is an elven watch post.  They may not take kindly to strangers, but they aren’t friends of the goblins.”

“Well, we can talk and walk a bit, since it’s the elves we need your help with.

“Oh?  How so?” Ravalan asked.

Then we heard in the distance, the howling of a wolf.  Then another.  Then another. 

“We may need to talk and run.  Or just run.” Ravalan said, starting to move westward.

“Why?” I asked and as the sounds of the howling got louder, my heart started to sink. “That’s not just a couple of wolves, is it?”

Ravalan shook his head.

“No.  Wolfriders.”

*Session notes:*
This part of the sessions is perhaps my worst set of notes.  But that Bugbear was far more problematic than the goblins to be sure.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Well, who knew I had "Summon Nthal" on my spell list?


----------



## Nthal

@HalfOrc HalfBiscuit  - Well sometimes it takes a while for the message conduit to reach its destination.  Whether you blame planar time dilation, or just a heavy dose of cold medicine is up to you.  

*The running - 10/17/2019*

_The multiverse is full of races and cultures.  But even Tieflings would admit that the one that has the biggest impact, is the one you see the least of.

The Elves are ever present, even when they aren’t.  The elven perspective is the longest view practical.  Elven motifs of leaves and flowers are easily seen in art.  Their words and phrases are part of the turns of phrase or lyrics of song.

But as much as we see their impact, we really know nothing about them.

And I suspect, that is just the way they like it._​My lungs burned from the exertion of the run.  We ran in the dusk towards the west, towards promised safety.  There was no pretense of stealth, just an attempt at speed and distance from our foes.  Foes that would be swifter, and hungry for a good fight. 

I had heard tales from planewalkers to Acheron; a place of constant battles, where the orc and goblin powers waged eternal war.  Even there both kinds had allies, but the best known were goblins and their wolfriders.  And ‘wolf’ was really a euphemism for a for more savage beast; worgs.  Creatures that were arguably more cunning than their riders, and far more dangerous.

And so, I ran with all I had.  I remembered how it felt being in the jaws of a hyena; somehow worg had to be worse.  I didn’t want to die in the jaws of another beast.

We were being led by Ravalan who was still in pain as the lumbering giant kin lead us westward.  Daneath followed close behind was carrying Beepu at this point so we could cover more ground.  Iesa and I ran close behind.  Mo had retreated into Iesa pack, while both Gossamer and Foggle flew ahead of is looking for trouble.

So, when the attack finally came, we weren’t quite prepared.  The worgs were faster than us, and they had managed to flank us, charging straight into us from our left.  One of the worgs crashed straight into Daneath, its jaws locked on one of the warrior’s greaves, throwing him to the ground, while its goblin rider swung wildly at the armored man. 

Beepu was flung earthward as well with a dull thump.  But he was quick on his feet and cast a quick bolt of fire at the goblin rider, knocking him clear from his saddle.  But his smile at that victory was short lived, as another worg came snarling for the gnome.  The beasts lunge was clumsy as was his rider, but Beepu was scrambling for safety. 

Iesa was more fortunate, as he turned and shot an approaching worg in the chest.  It snarled in pain and turned away from him, while its rider leapt from the saddle to swing a sword at Iesa, cutting him across the right arm.

I turned to look at the last worg rider, when I realized that its sights were set for Ravalan, and not me.  I watched in horror as the worg leapt forward and clenched its jaws on Ravalans right arm and flung him to the ground on his back.  Beepu’s worg dove into the fray and clamped down its jaws on Ravalan’s left arm, and together the pair started to drag the Firbolg off.   I quickly plucked at some dark strands and tried to tighten the ghostly hands of death around the worg and its rider, hoping to stop them.  But my grip was tenuous at best and did little damage that I could feel.

Daneath smashed the pommel of his sword into the worg fastened to his leg, forcing it to release its grip, and gave chase to the worgs that gripped Ravalan, barely keeping up.  Iesa next shot knocked the goblin rider attacking Daneath to the ground, and then he too moved to follow the worgs dragging off Ravalan.
Beepu threw another fiery blast at the nearby worg, scorching its fur and skin on its flank.  The malevolent beast howled, and it dove for Beepu.  Its jaws found purchase on Beepu’s left arm with a sickening crunch, and Beepu screamed in pain, falling prone.

I didn’t think anymore, as I watched the other worg nearby lunge at Beepu falling form.  I just ran straight at the scrum and plucked on the strand.  The sound of a bell tolled through the air and dark mist swirled around the two worgs.  As I reached the fallen gnome, I was gritting my teeth, ready to feel teeth sink into me again.  So, I was unprepared for what happened next.

I first felt the pain in my back, and as I looked down, I saw the blade of a sword protruding from my abdomen.  I blinked uncomprehendingly; A blade was sticking out from…me?  I could feel the warm blood run down my legs. 

My blood.

Everything seemed slow, as I turned and screamed some curse on the goblin.  Pulling on the light strands I sent a blast of energy straight into the chest of it, knocking its now lifeless corpse to the ground.  I felt the blade slide out of me as it fell, scraping every nerve raw as it withdrew.  I kept turning and closed with the worgs standing over the fallen gnome.  The worgs both lost focus on Beepu and now were fully focused on me.

I heard more bow shots from Iesa and sword play from Daneath in the distance.  But it seemed just that; distant.  I stood over Beepu fallen form, swinging my shield back and forth, batting away the jaws of the two worgs as I denied them their prey.  I felt anger well within me as I pulled again on the darker strands, and once again the peel of the bell sounded, and the mist swirled.

Again, the worgs circled and assaulted me.  My anger was boiling; I couldn’t feel the pain anymore as I swung my shield around me, keeping teeth from finding their mark.   I yelled and pulled again at dark strands, and I watched with satisfaction that the eyes of the two worgs glazed over and fell over dead.  I then knelt down and poured a small bit of energy into Beepu; I couldn’t heal him right now, but I could keep him from the fugue at least.

I looked then at the brothers.  Daneath somehow had kept pace with the worgs and his swings found their mark, with blood spraying the forest floor.  Iesa moved quickly and used his bow to finish off the worgs as Daneath savagely wounded them.  They were still working the last one when I ran up to them and found Ravalan.

He had lost a lot of blood, from the wounds where the worgs had gripped him.  I poured what little power left I had; it was enough to prevent him from visiting the fugue, but not much more than that.  Iesa shot again with his bow, and the final worg fell to the ground, and we were again surrounded in silence of the forest.

“Is he? —” Iesa started moving over to Ravalan.

“He’ll live,” I said between clenched teeth as I leaned against a tree.

“Where’s Beepu?” Daneath asked next turning and looking around.

“He’ll live too…he’s on the ground that away,” I said hoarsely.  Daneath didn’t even give me a second glance and ran to where I had indicated to find the fallen gnome.

Iesa turned to say something to me when he saw the blood still, pouring from my wound.
“Myr! Oh crap,” and he dropped his pack to the ground and looked for some cloth.  “Can’t you fix that?”

I shook my head, “Not…right now.   I need rest.  How bad is it?”

Iesa knelt down and slowly lifted the chain shirt I wore up and grimaced.  “Its not good, a lot of blood.  I don’t think the sword hit anything important.”  Iesa wrapped some cloth around my midsection.

“Well…If we can rest a bit, I can probably find enough energy to get Ravalan and Beepu moving again,” I said still gritting my teeth in pain.

“What about yourself?”

“It’ll have to wait until we are farther from here.”

“Wait for what?” Daneath asked as he strode carrying Beepu’s unconscious form.

“Myr took a sword in the gut it seems.” Iesa said.

“Well…we need a breather anyway I suppose,” Daneath said.  Hopefully when Ravalan comes to we can continue on.  Hope where he was headed is close though.”

I didn’t say anything and leaned my head back against the tree in pain.  I felt short of breath and a little cold.  I knew that I had lost a fair amount of blood and was just on the edge of staying conscious.   I closed my eyes and just focused on the pain; unwilling to let my mind drift.  It was then that I was interrupted.

_Hey, I’m not sure if this is a good time.

--What is it?

There are about six figures approaching you.

--From where?

Well…you are already surrounded, they aren’t goblins though, and they are all armed with bows pointed 
towards you._

I straighten up off the tree and looked around.  I could see the figures approach as clear as day; they weren’t trying to hide, but they were very quiet.  But they might as well been invisible to the brothers eyes.

“So,” I said elevating my voice so I was sure the approaching figures could hear us.  “To what do we owe this fine visit?”

The brothers looked at me in surprise and whirled, straining their eyes in the direction I was looking, and the figures stopped suddenly, each of them looking at their peers silently.

“Oh, come on,” I said still gritting my teeth.  “Either talk or shoot, lets do without the suspense.”

One of the figures lowered his bow and moved forwards us.  I could see the brothers strain to look at the figure in what must have been darkness to them.   But what they strained to see, I saw with clarity of peak.
The elf had long coppery hair and green eyes.  He moved with surety and an elegant grace that only the elves can do.  I turned myself to look at him as he approached and could see that he was assessing us, his eyes flitting from the brothers and I, and barely regarding the fallen Ravalan or Beepu.  As if he was judging us.  Finally, he spoke in a stilted common.

“What…is your…intent, with Ravalan?” he asked.

“Well, after we heal him, he was going to lead us to an elven watch post.”  I said, not making any movements.

“And why would he do this?” he asked intently.

“Probably because it beats being a goblin prisoner,” I said drily.  “How long have you been watching us?”

“Since you left the cave.”

“Don’t suppose you could have helped out a bit?”

“We wanted to have…clarity of your intent.”

“Clarity?  Really?  Two people nearly died, while you looked for ‘clarity.’  Do you have it now?”

The elf stiffened for a second at my rebuke but then calmly replied “We do.  We will let you rest and take you to Whitepetal.  There we will talk more.   But for now, recover your strength, as it is some distance away.  And he withdrew back towards his companion.  With a quick hand signal the others spread around us and watched the darkness for more intrusions.

“Are these the elves that—” Iesa started with a whisper.

“They have to be,” Daneath whispered back.  “But right now, we need to get Ravalan—”

“Its not like the rest of us didn’t spill blood here—” Iesa snapped back.

“I’m bleeding too you know—” came Daneath retort.

“_Elaght!” _I said harshly in a guttural language I rarely used.  But the brother’s heads snapped to look at me.

“We’re all hurt here,” I said still breathing raggedly.  “But we need to patch up and move.”  I stumbled over to the fallen form of Ravalan and reached within to find some remaining energy within me.  I found a pair of light strands again, and I pulled on one of them and let the energy flow into the resting Firbolg’s form as I touched him on the chest.  I once again felt the rush of energy flare around my spine, as I poured it into the Firbolg.  His eyes slowly opened, and he looked at me with surprise as I focused on closing his wounds.  Once finished, I didn’t even rise, but crawled to where Daneath had placed Beepu and started to do the same for him.

“Did I imagine those—” I heard Ravalan whisper.

“No, you didn’t,” said Daneath.  “She’s not from around here.”

I laid my hand on Beepu’s head and stroked his hair as I pulled on the final Strand within me and let the energy flow into him.  Again, the familiar rush along the spine and the energy began to close the wounds on Beepu.

“Owww.  What…what happened?” Beepu grunted, his right hand covering his temple as he propped himself on his left.

“The hounds found a fox,” Iesa said grinning.

“That is not funny!  I think I understand how Myr feels about hyenas though.”

“Well, I didn’t let them play with their food,” I said as I sat down awkwardly and slumped against a tree.  “I’m very…very…”

“Myr!  Stay focused!” and Iesa was next to me slapping my cheeks.  I wasn’t quite sure why.  I just wanted to fall into darkness for a little bit.  Why was he hitting me?  Is he shouting?  At me?

_Myrai!_

Gossamer’s mental poke got my attention.   I shook the fog from my head and blinked.

“I’m here.  Help me up.” And I gasped Iesa’ arm as he pulled me to my feet.

“I again thank you for saving me,” Ravalan started slowly.  “But why did you seek me out?”
Daneath turned to look at the Firbolg, “To find our father who was travelling with Pachuk—”

“Pa-CHOOK,” Beepu interrupted.

“Pachook.  And the last we knew is that they may have come to see Melandrach.” Daneath finished.

Ravalan nodded, “That may be, but I have not seen Pachook in some time.  So, I…oh.  You need to talk to Melandrach…and you wanted to use me to reach him.”

“I think ‘ask for your help’ is a better phrase than ‘use,’” I said still wincing in pain in between breaths.
“I…will speak to Melandrach about this.  But I cannot promise anything more.  It seems such a small thing, compared to saving my life.” The Firbolg said, his eyes knotted together in puzzlement.

“So…why did they dig a tunnel to get to you?” Iesa asked.  “I mean, that’s a bit of work just to get to you.”
Ravalan frowned a moment and the said “I am not sure.  There was a woman who asked some questions, but she left a bit ago and had not returned.  But most of the questions were on landmarks.  Like they were looking for something.”

We said nothing further, when the leader of the elven band approached and spoke with that strange stern tone, “If you are ready to travel, we should do so.”

“What’s the problem?” Iesa asked, picking up on the tone.

“More will be discussed at Whitepetal, but the goblins are on the move.  Lingering here is not safe.”

“Myr?” Daneath turned to look at me with concern.

I nodded, “I don’t want to wait longer here.  Let’s bolt.”

------

The journey wasn’t long, or so I was told.  To me it was an agonizing grind.  Every breath was pain.  Every step was pain.  Even thinking about it was painful.  Being able to see clearly as we approached anti-peak made it easier, and the elves knew their lands well.  But the path chosen was about speed and not about comfort.

I plodded on, occasionally steadied by Iesa, while Ravalan carried Beepu.  This allowed Daneath, who had only managed a couple of scrapes in the earlier battles, to be our defender if the need arose.  I by comparison felt to be a burden.  I didn’t want help…but I needed it.  And so, I swam in these thoughts of inadequacy for many miles until we reached “Whitepetal.”

When we arrived, I didn’t realize it.  It wasn’t until a platform descended from above, did I realize that we had been walking underneath the outpost for some time.  But that was nothing compared to when the platform I rode, met with the branches above.

It was close to Anti-peak now, and below on the forest floor, it was dark enough that the brothers needed some assistance maneuvering on the trail.  But once the platform carried us all above the branches, it was apparent that the lights that lit the catwalks, bridges and structures built around the trunks of the tree, were all hidden from below.  Here among the branches, were planking that led into a maze of trails above the forest floor.  The elven woodwork was functional and blended seamlessly with the trees that supported it.
I had never seen the like.   Elves and their culture were not frequent travelers to the City of Doors.  Whatever the reason, the City rarely showed any outward signs of their art or aesthetic.  The closest I had ever been was the one time I visited Arborea.  There in the Gilded Hall of the Sensates, there was a terrace that looked over the vast forest of that plane.  In the distance was visible the realm of the Seldarine; the elven powers.  You could see trees that towered over already towering trees.  You couldn’t see any detail, but there was the beautiful synthesis of crystal, trees and light.  But we were warned not to try to go there, because the Elven powers did not take well to outsiders coming to gawk like a clueless prime.

But now I was up close to the foundation of that realm; the patience and skill to blend craft with graft.  The work was impressive.  No, it was beautiful, in its simplicity and grace.  It didn’t need the adornment of leaf motifs carved into the wood; the natural whorls were all that was needed.  To add more would diminish it.
In this new world I was gently escorted to a room, suspended between three branches of a tree.  The room had several lounges that circled around a low central table.  A young elven girl entered the room, carrying with her some fruits, cups and several bottles of fine colored glass on the table.  She bowed and quickly exited.  As I sat down on the lounge, I winced in pain, I realized that a pair of guards stood outside the room, and that somewhere along paths, Ravalan was separated from us.

Daneath noticed the guards as well as he leaned against the wall, rather than sit; “So, we are prisoners?”

“Of course not!” Beepu said archly.

“Beepu’s right.  If we were, they would have disarmed us,” Iesa commented, and flopped upon a lounge.

“What’s in the bottles Beepu?” I asked.

The gnome frowned and moved the tray to him and unstopped the tops of the bottles and 
inhaled deeply
.
“Water, wine, and some type of liquor.  Probably a brandy,” he said.

“Bring me the brandy,” I said and held out my hand, to which Beepu swiftly delivered the bottle to.
I removed the stopper and set it down, and took a pull straight from the bottle.  The fiery liquid was wonderful, burning and warming my throat, with the taste of honey and florals on the tongue.  But after swallowing the it, I then pulled up my chain, and as I lay back, poured some of the brandy on my open wound.

I winced in pain, and with great difficultly gave the bottle back to Beepu, while I writhed in pain.

“Myr, I thought you could—”

“I need rest, and I don’t want rot to set in that I can’t fix.  I can hold out for a while.”  I said in between heavy breathes.  Then I focused on using my magic to clear my self up and look presentable.  Had cleaned up the mess on the lounge and most of the blood off of my armor, when a pair of elves entered the room.

A male and female entered the room and looked us over with an indifferent look.  Then the female spoke.

“You are welcome here in Whitepetal.  We understand why you are here.” She intoned softly and assuredly.  She at each of us, lingering a moment or two before moving to the next.  She then spoke again

“You require an…audience with our liege,” and she left it hang on the hair as she looked us each over again.

“We require your assistance…in exchange.”

*Session notes:*

This is not the best set of notes I have from the game.  Annoyingly enough the names of elves are missing, as I had a habit of using nicknames.

We did take a bit of damage, and the was the first time that Myrai took any major damage by standing in the middle of melee.  But as it seems worgs can’t roll at all to hit.
But goblins seem to roll 20’s.  go figure.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Nthal said:


> @HalfOrc HalfBiscuit  - Well sometimes it takes a while for the message conduit to reach its destination.  Whether you blame planar time dilation, or just a heavy dose of cold medicine is up to you.




I just assumed it was a long rest power, with variant rules as to what constitutes a long rest


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> I just assumed it was a long rest power, with variant rules as to what constitutes a long rest




I could use the long rest.  But I am editing and trying to proofread while drugged.   I'll survive it somehow.


----------



## Nthal

*Fifteen Birds… 10/24/2019*

_Families can create such strong bonds, that their impression can be felt just by watching them interact.  The subtle motions, touches, smiles, phrases all are the mark of kinship.

So, watching the elves, you realize they are all kin to each other, that they all recognize one another as family.  One bound together through not decades, but centuries.

It’s so strong, that makes us without families that ache with a longing unmatched by our own loneliness.  And  more than just a tad envious._​“I am Alanathia Goldenmoor,” the elven woman introduced herself.  She was short for an elf, perhaps shorter than I by half a head.  Her hair were braided cornrows of copper, and her eyes a brilliant blue.  She was dressed in a finely crafted leather tunic, stained maroon with leaf patterns through out.  A long sword was at her hip, and her legs were bare until they reached soft boots rising to mid-calf.  She was striking, and I was certain that Iesa would make a move to try to know her more, later this evening if he could help it.

“This is my kin, Galenas,” and she nodded her head to a male elf, who in many ways was a mirror image of herself.  The same style of hair, the same eyes.  Even the tunic, the lack of leggings and tall soft boots.  But where she was lithe and almost delicate, he had the lean hard muscles of a skirmisher; someone who would hit fast and hard.

She walked forward and looked at each of our band, one by one.   “You are the brothers, Iesa and Daneath, the gnome Beepu, son of beloved Pachook, and the _ha-celas_ Myrai.”

The last part caught my ear.  It was a phrase I had heard from some half-elves in Sigil.  The word was elven and meant roughly ‘kin of angels,’ the elven word for Aasimar.  I had been here for now sixty days, and it was the first time that I could remember being recognized for what I am, and not a strange looking human.  She then continued, interrupting my thoughts.

“You seem to be severely wounded; do you require aid…Myrai?”

I stumbled a bit in my reply, “I will be able to manage for now…but I could use some help later this evening.”
Alanathia nodded, and then sat down on open lounge while Galenas stood by the door and continued. 

“Ravalan has told us what had happened, and your timely aid.  We are grateful for what you have done for our friend.  He has also told us that you seek to speak to Melandrach himself—"

“Yes! Yes!” Beepu interrupted.  “My father was a friend of Melandrach, and we would simply—”

Alanathia raise her hand and looked at Beepu and he fell silent.  “We understand who you _claim_ to be.  And so, we recognize your claim while we inquire on its truth.  But to see our liege will take more; being a son of a friend is not enough.”

“What? You don’t believe us?” Iesa said angrily.

“Many humans have lied before, as they took things that did not belong to them from this forest,” Galenas intoned.  “It is because you aided Ravalan, that you are here.  But that does not alone prove the worthiness of the son, compared to the father.”

“So, we should be thanking you…for our lives then,” Daneath spoke flintily, his eyes narrowed.
Alanathia smiled, “No.  You had not despoiled the forest; you would have been given thanks for killing the goblins and sent on your way.  We do not cull life without need.  But to have the honor to talk to our liege, you must demonstrate your quality.”

“And you have something specific in mind,” I said from my lounge, listening to the dance of words.  It was clear they saw something in us; opportunity perhaps.  But it was more than that.  The way their gazes watched each of us; measuring our reactions and listening with great care.  It was a test of sorts.

“Perceptive.  The goblins you have encountered are a recent incursion.  They are led by a hobgoblin warlord who’s title we have heard only in whispers.  What concerns us is that they are searching for old ruins harking back to ancient Ilefarn.”

“What are they looking for?” Daneath asked.

“It is not clear.  The one scout we questioned said that this self-titled ‘Prophesized One’ is looking for a holy site.  They have taken control of several locations on the forest edge.  But most concerning to us, is that an ancient temple ruin has been seized by them.  We had long ago ceded care of this ruin to the Highborn.  But the Highborn have all but disappeared.”

“What’s a ‘Highborn’?  Is that a…group of elves?” Iesa asked.

“No; the Highborn, like the elves, came from the Feywild long ago.  To most, they look like stags with an elven torso, their heads crested with horns.”  They are friends to us, but they prefer the deep wilds, and even the trappings of elven towns they find discomforting.”

“So, what do you want us to do about these hobgoblins?” I asked. 

“We do not know what the danger they represent is.  We want you to find out and address if possible and inform if not.” the elf replied.

“More delays!  How are we going to catch up to my father with delays such as this!”

“Easy Beepu—” Daneath started.

“Do not ‘Easy Beepu’ me Daneath.  I did not just get chewed up by worgs, just to go goblin hunting!” Beepu spat.

“Beepu really you—” Iesa started.

“Do not start on this as well!  You alone cost us time with that Roggins character!”

“Somehow, I bet your father aided these elves before, “ I remarked quietly, as I looked at Beepu with an open expression.

He met my eyes with a dark gaze, and then after a moment it softened.  “No.  You are right.  My father would have helped without arguing as much.  Forgive me for my outburst.”

“I am certain that your…exhaustion from your efforts this evening is the cause.  Perhaps some rest is in order.  We can discuss the details at first light,” Alanathia commented with a small smile.  “Places for you to rest have been prepared.”  She then clapped her hands once, and Galenas motioned us outside.  Along the walkway strung above the forest floor, several elves had gathered.  A male elf motioned to the brothers and guided them towards larger group of structures to what I thought was the eastern side of the outpost.  A slightly younger one with smiles, took Beepu to a smaller cluster to the west.  Finally, a young female elf motioned me to follow her northwards.

She led me along the walkways, and I noticed that the farther we travelled that the higher the elevation rose.  Eventually, we came to a smaller hut like structure, that was nestled at the top of a large oak.  Unlike the others lower down, the walkway around this one was open to the sky; and the moon and stars above were visible. 

The elf stood at the side of the structure, and her left hand motioned me to enter.  Inside, the room was already lit with candles and the scent of spice was in the air; mints, pine and clove I could quickly pick out.  Gossamer, who had been silently lurking behind, ran forward, and then flitted to and landed on a shelf within and watched us lazily.

“Alanthia has instructed us, to be of assistance if you require anything.”

“Thank you, and I do need some help.  But what is your name?”

The elf blinked in surprise, “I…you may address me as Morlea.  What did you require?”

“I need some help removing my armor.  I don’t want to reinjure myself in the process.”

“You…you are injured?  I should fetch the healer—” and she started to leave.

“No please,” and I gently grasped her hand.  “I can…heal myself.  But I need to see how badly I am hurt first.”
She looked at me uncertainly, and then she relaxed and looked me over nervously.  “How did you…”
I smiled as I unbuckled my rapier belt and hung it on a chair back that sat next to a table.   “There are three buckles underneath the right arm that holds the chain shirt to me.  Once undone, you can help me lift the shirt over my head.”

She nodded, and I raised my right arm upwards, as I held my left arm close to the wound on my torso and I felt her hands work the buckles deftly.  After releasing them, I bend forward, and she helped peel off the chain shirt, which we laid on the nearby table.

As she did, I watched her trace the rent in the shirt where the chain links had been split apart by the sword thrust, and I watched her turn to look at my thin padded gambeson underneath.  It was only now that she could see how much blood had been spilled.  The gambeson was once, a dark blue color.  Now the blood soaked into the cloth, darkened it to nearly black in a wide swath around the rips in the quilting.

She moved forward and undid the front lacings of the gambeson, and she gently held it as I peeled the cloth away from my skin.  The blood had mostly dried, and but it had bonded my skin and cloth together and I grimaced as it peeled away, leaving only my muslin halter covering me.  I held the wound on my left side and turned my back to Gossamer.

I closed my eyes and pulled on a single strand that connected me to Gossamer, and in a moment, I was looking from Gossamer’s eyes at the injury from his perch on the shelf.
From that view, it appeared that I was very fortunate.  A bit closer to the spine, and I knew that there would be some major vitals that could have been struck.  But it still looked terrible based on the amount of blood that stained my skin below my halter, and probably soaked my leathers and small clothes.

I switched my senses back, and was looking at the elven woman, who was looking me over with concern.  I could tell that her lack of recoil from the blood, that violence wasn’t a stranger here.  But I did notice her hands were shivering a bit and her breathing was a bit quicker.  Her eyes looked me over uncertainly, as I stood there in my leather breeches, and the thin muslin top, both covered in dried blood.

“Is something the matter, Morlea?”

“I…I am sorry.  But I have never seen a _ha-celas.  _I did…I did not know what to expect,”

“Beyond the hair and eyes?”

“_Ha-celas_ are said to be each unique.  Some are said to have…”

“Feathers,” I chuckled, “Some have been known to have them.  Usually on the forearm, or on the shoulder blades.  Sorry, I don’t have any.  Well not real ones.”

“Real ones?”

“Well, now that I have seen how bad the goblin stuck me and I have had enough rest…” and I grasped my medallion with my right hand and reached within for a bright strand of light.  Pulling on it and pulling warmth from it as I touched my abdomen with my left, I pushed the warmth into myself.  I could feel the energy spread through me, and I felt the layers of tissue mend, and then finally the wound close.  All the while I could feel some of the light and warmth spread along my spine.

Morlea eyes were like saucers as she watched the display.  I stretched my arms upwards and twisted at the waist.   The pain had receded, and the stiffness was now temporary.

“Thank you for your help again; I didn’t want to tear it open before I looked at it and closed the wound.”

“Of…of course.  Is there anything else you require?”

“Some brandy would be nice, as I have a lot to clean up before I retire.”

“Certainly; you should find a robe in the chest there,” and she left, closing the light wooden door behind her.
By the time she returned with a decanter, I had removed my other weapons, armor and small clothes and laid them on the table.  I sat in the chair, wrapped in the fine silken robe and was busy alternating between cleaning the stains of dirt, blood and grim from my things, and the slower work of mending.  The gambeson was quick to fix and clean, as was the leather.  But the chain rings in my armor took more time.

The chain shirt had a simple pattern to it, but I had to place each link in place by hand as I mended it with some light and dark strands to rebind the metal.  Otherwise I risked fixing the rings but leaving gaps behind.  I was focused on the work, when Morlea returned with the brandy.  She entered and placed the tray onto a smaller table near the lounge.  She then turned to look at the results of my cleaning and repair efforts.

“You have some skill with the Weave. The blood and damage are nearly gone.”

“Some.  Enough to almost ignore what a bath feels like.” And I turned and with a quick motion, pulled the strand into reality in the shape of a feminine ghostly hand.  It pulled the glass stopper and seeing the multiple glasses, poured some of the liquor into a pair.  I then picked up the pair and offered her one of them, again, surprising her.

“Please, a small drink with me under the stars.  It’s a poor thank you for the bloody mess I asked you to help me with.”  Morlea took the glass, and I stepped outside into the cool breeze. 

The moon Selune was overhead almost full, and stars twinkled in the clear sky above.  Morlea followed and we both took sips of the strong drink.  Here the wind moved through the branches and leaves in the tree, bringing fresh smells of wood and greenery, while the taste of tannin, vanilla and cherries danced on my tongue as I swallowed the brandy from my glass.

Morlea sipped and looked at me indecisively; on the cusp of a statement or question.  Finally, after taking some more liquid courage she finally asked her question.

“I am sorry to be so brazen…but what makes _ha-celas_ different?”

“Different?  From…what?  Humans?”

She nodded and looked at me, into my eyes.  Or perhaps at herself in my eyes.  I thought a moment.
“We are far from common, so no two of us are alike.  We…supposedly live longer.  We can see in the dark like elves.  We can manifest some sorts of magic involving light and other things.  And most…pay attention to what we say and do.  And…many have a connection to…the one that started their line.” And I took a sip from my glass.

“But, the…_celas_…the angels are creatures of belief; they are a part of the ordering of the multiverse.  But we…we have free will.  We can choose our actions and our destiny.  To do good or ill, to do great things or terrible.  In that way we are just like humans.  But everyone notices when we do something or even just say something.  We attract all sorts of attention, wanted or not.

“So, let me ask you…what makes elves different from half-elves?” and I watched as Morlea looked at me quizzically.  “Where I come from, half-elves are very common but true elves are rare.”

Morlea considered for a moment, “It is interesting to think of it that way.  That if half-elves are what you know, then elves are the ones that are different.  There are few half-elves in this forest as contact between human and elf is normally…discouraged.  But I would say that we are more patient.  Less concerned about the flow of time passing us by.  We prefer a lifelong friend, compared to twelve human lifetimes worth of friends in a row.  And we trance, as half-elves still sleep and visit the realms of dreams.”

I smile wistfully at that, “Well I admit that I would give a lot never to sleep again…or at least dream.”

Morlea looked at me perplexed, “You do not wish to dream?”

I stared into my glass a moment before replying, “I don’t remember most of my dreams.  I only remember the nightmares.  And I have far too many of them.”

It was quiet for a several moments as we sipped our drinks; feeling the wind and the soft sounds of the forest.  Finally, I had drained the last of my glass, and turned to Morlea.

“Thank you again.  I unfortunately do need to sleep and rest.  Perhaps we can talk again in the morning before my friends and I leave.”

Morlea nodded, “May you…rest well this eve.  Peace.”  And she returned the empty glass to my hand, smiled and turned to walk down the walkway, deeper into Whitepetal.

I was intrigued by the elves.  Before today, I am not sure I really had more than a handful of words with one before.  But the even calm, almost serene nature of Morlea was interesting to me.  I knew that she was young, yet she could have easily been a hundred years my senior.  I chuckled at the thought of living so long; as a Sensate, could I ever get bored?  The time to truly experience everything in depth and not rush to the next thing.  I hoped that we would have more time with them after solving the problems that the goblins were causing.

I walked back into the hut structure that I was staying and looked around.  I realized that the elves had no reason for true beds but must have reclined down on the lounges instead to ‘trance.’  I curled up on one and pulled my cloak over me and waited for the alcohol to wash me away into slumber.  Hopefully a slumber without dreams.

I didn’t remember any dreams.

But instead I woke into a nightmare.

I awoke coughing, and my eyes watering.  My room was filled with the smell of pitch and smoke, and I could hear screams of fear outside.  I rolled off the lounge and onto my knees and crawled to the door where my shield lay, as I fastened my cloak around me.

_Goss!  What’s going on.

--I was about to wake you.  The screams started, then the smoke.

I’m going to leave here, fly up and tell me what you can see._

Putting my back against the wood, I pulled my rapier belt around me and wrapped it around the robe I was wearing.  I pulled my shield onto my arms, and with a quick deep breath, I threw open the door, and stepped outside, feeling ill-dressed for the occasion.

The outside was a stark contrast to what I last remembered.  Many of the tree tops were aflame, as were the ropes along the walkways.  I expected to see panicking elves running around, trying to douse the fires.  What I saw instead was worse.

Just a stone throw from me I saw a pair of elves with blades drawn and trading blows with large armored humanoids.    They swung with precision that only came with practice, as I watched one of them cut down an elf, and his partner smash his shield into a second one.  The elf swung his blade, cutting deeply into the side of one, only to be laid low by a sword thrust, by his remaining partner.

I pulled at the light strand and threw a bolt of purple energy at the standing one knocking it down, and I ran over to the fallen elves.  The first one I reached was beyond any hope of me saving, but the other was still breathing in shallow ragged breaths.  I pulled a bit of the strand into him, so he would survive.  I then looked at the one I had killed.  His features were more bestial, and his body was bigger and stronger than a human.  It had the narrow eyes and heavy brow, similar to the goblins we had fought before.  I was certain, it was a hobgoblin.

_It’s a hobgoblin attack!  Can you see our friends?

--No, the smoke is worse up here.  I can see more movement in the center of Whitepetal, and more movement beyond to the south, but not particulars._

I stood and made my way to the center of the outpost, and I saw more fighting.  Elves fought against more of the hobgoblins on the bridges and walkways.  I could hear the twangs of bows in the distance, and even saw a hobgoblin fall to the earth, tripping over some rope banisters with a lengthy scream.

Pulling on the dark strands, I threw dark miasmas around another pair of marauders, but not before they killed the elves they had been facing.  Before I could do anything, I saw a bolt of fire streak out from a building, bringing another one down in a pile of screams and flame.

Its partner charged towards where the bolt came from, but I threw another purple bolt, striking it in the back as it ran towards the open doorway, where Beepu stood.  I moved again towards the fallen elves, only to find that their lives had already left their bodies.

In the distance I could heard Daneath’s shouts, and the sound of a shield striking a blow and the scream of a hobgoblin, descending and cutting off into sudden silence.  The smoke and haze from the flames made it hard to see where he and others were fighting.  I covered my mouth and nose, as tears streamed down from my eyes from the stinging smoke.

Beepu circled on his platform and threw more bolts of fire at targets away from him.  Daneath was still lost to me in the smoke and haze.  Finally, I saw Iesa trading blows with a female hobgoblin with his rapier in one hand, and his dagger in the other.  The female had the lithe figure of an elf woman over one shoulder.  But this didn’t hinder the hobgoblin in the slightest as I watched the hobgoblin deflected some of Iesa’s strikes and dodged the others barehanded.

Then I watched her spin and level a kick to Iesa’s head, almost knocking him over.  The female then turned and dove off the ledge into the dark smoke that now covered the forest floor.  All still with an unconscious figure draped over her shoulder.

I watched Iesa look around himself frantically.  Finally, he found a rope that he fastened onto a spar of wood, and he too slid below.

_Goss!  Follow Iesa!

--Gotcha…he’s the one with little brown—

GOSS!

--Going!_

I made my way towards Beepu and finally shouted at him, “Did you see any others?”
The gnome shook his head, “No!  Most of the elves are south of here, the few warriors died as the others retreated.  However, I have not seen any more hobgoblins around either.”

“Iesa just jumped down chasing a hobgoblin,” I said.

“What?  Alone?  The fool will get himself killed,” Beepu said with a look of incredulity.

“Over here!  Help!” I heard Daneath call out and turning to follow his voice I found him.  He was trying to clear a doorway to a central structure in the middle of a trunk of a tree.  A makeshift barrier was seemly placed there, to keep the occupants trapped inside, with fire spreading fast.  I ran over and concentrated for a moment, imagining a light strand being spread out over the flames.

A quick shower of water appeared and extinguished the fires.  Daneath then wrested open the door as Beepu moved debris and several elves emerged from the from where they were barricaded into.  Each with the harrowed look of escaping a fiery death.

As we looked around, the sounds of fighting had died, but not the roaring of flames or screaming.  We made our way through the smoke and haze and started to save who we could.

It was grisly business.  For everyone I could find clinging to life, there were two others who had passed into the fugue.  I wandered the night in the trees, putting out large blazes, and saving what fallen I could.  Daneath and Beepu did in different ways; from freeing trapped elves, to Beepu using Foggle to reunite families.  But I was searching for not just anyone.  I was searching for one person.

It was late when I finally found Morlea.  Most of the fires had been put out, and most of my strength already spent.  I found her in a small hut that jutted out from one side of a trunk of a tree.  Inside it was full of choking smoke, which was slowly clearing.  I breathed a sigh of relief, as she appeared to be curled up unconscious on the floor.  But then I saw that her chest lay still, and I reached out with my hand to find the warmth had already left her now cool skin.

I sat down on the floor next to her and pulled her lifeless body on my lap and I cradled her in my arms.  I looked at her soot stained face and my tears poured from my cheeks, which streaked down her face washing away ash.  I stroked her hair and closed her eyes one final time.  Her face was at peace, as if dreaming.  Dreaming of the next life or what ever lay beyond the fugue for the elven kind.  A dream she never would have had before this night.

I sobbed there quietly in the darkness.  Life could be harsh, and death was a final respite.  A relief from the toils of pain and suffering.  But for those who died before the fullness of time; by violence or accident we could take solace that they knew peace.  We the faithful should help the living carry on and learn from those that passed beyond.

Words I believed in.  But in this moment the words felt hollow.  I had barely known this woman.  I shared a moment and a drink with her in peace and friendship.  I wanted to learn more from her and share with her things I knew and had learned. But the opportunity was gone, and now she would carry on that peace alone into the fugue.

And I would carry her memory of that moment alone.

Why?

We were only here, because we sought two fathers.  Not even my own father, who the multiverse had not so subtly told me to leave well enough alone.  And yet, I wondered if this was all for the mazes.  It seemed unfair…no _wrong_ that looking for two men should have such a high body count of innocents.  It was like the multiverse had a vindictive streak against the four of us.

The dead are supposed to teach us about living.  What was the lesson here?

I had no answers to my questions as I sat there alone on the floor with my grief in the night.  All I could do was cry, hoping my tears would wash away the pain.  But as I sat there, I slowly felt something else.  An ember, now sparking and sputtering to life within me.

A flame of hate.

*Session notes:  *I did not like the last encounter.  Not because it wasn’t well run, or fun or challenging.  But because of the stakes of innocents were added in.  It made the game feel bit grittier.  But there was an emotional component to it that was unpleasant, because it wasn’t meant to be.

So, I admired it.  I didn’t like feeling it.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Very good update. Now I'm looking forward to you giving the hobgoblins a good kicking


----------



## Nthal

*The Quarry - 10/29/2019*

_Goblin, Hobgoblin, Bugbear.  All describe cruel creatures who believe in their own sets of rules and expected all others to follow them.  Order matters; their rules matter.

Pike that.  There are some fundamental laws, not rules that I follow set down by my power.  You don’t live past your time, you honor the dead, and help those to cross over when they need.

Nowhere does that include, sacking, pillaging, murdering.  But that’s what happens anyway._​
My tears had dried some time ago, and Morlea’s ashen face was streaked with their trails.  I awkwardly stood, cradling her lifeless body in my arms.  I walked back out in the mornings darkness and looked around on the walkways.  It wasn’t hard to find what I was looking for; elves carrying their dead kin.

They were solemnly moving them towards the western edge of Whitepetal.  As I moved and followed them, they quietly and gracefully, laid their dead, around a tree near one of the platforms.  As I approached, a pair of elves saw me, and hurried over to take Morlea from me.  Their faces each wore sorrowful looks as they relieved me of my burden, with a phrase which I took as thanks; ‘Diola lle Ha-Celas.’

I nodded silently and stared too long at the pile of corpses there.  Twenty?  Thirty?  Too many.  Some drenched in blood, others burned, and others like Morlea, seemly untouched, but cold and dead all the same.  I turned away and started to head back to where I was resting before this waking nightmare started.

I needed my things.  I needed my _Apocrypha.  _I needed to prepare.  As I threaded my way across the walkways, I heard the sounds of boots behind me, rushing to get next to me.

“Myr?  Are you alright?” Daneath said.

I stopped and turned to look at the warrior.  He was dressed only in hose, and a light tunic, with his shield and sword in hand.  He looked tired, and covered in blood, that was clearly not his own.

“No.” I said simply.  And before Daneath could speak again I asked him, “Have you seen Iesa or Beepu?”

“Beepu is with Galenas right now and send me to find you.  I don’t know where Iesa is.”

“Get your things, find your brother, and meet me where you left Beepu.” I said in a level tone.

Daneath looked at me a moment and was about to say something but checked himself and nodded.  He turned and I could barely hear him say, “Yeah.  Right.  Sure.”

I continued toward the room in the trees where I was going to be staying.  Along the way I concentrated on the strand that I used with Gossamer.  It was there but very faint.

Once I reached the room, I focused on that strand and then suddenly pulled on it.  In a moment, Gossamer appeared, looking around confused.

_What the?  Oh!  Hi.

--Did you find him?

I did, but it took a while.  He took a beating and was barely conscious.  He had just awoken and was about to walk back when…Well, I’m sure he will just follow Mo._

I entered the hut, with Gossamer in tow, and I slammed the door shut.  Dropping my rapier and belt back on the chair and dropping my shield on the floor, I stripped off the robe, and pulled off my boots.  I quickly focused on myself with a white strand and stripped away the blood and soot.  Once done, I started to dress and armor myself.

_So…what now?

--Talk to Galenas.  Get the others. Then find the bastards that did this.

And then what?

--Send them in for judgement.

Oh.  I…see._

Gossamer was quiet after that.  He sat on the nearby shelf and looked at me with his yellow eyes, unblinking at me.  Finally, I fastened the last strap, and grabbed my shield, and sword belt and threw open the door.  I headed back towards the center of Whitepetal, looking for the others.

It wasn’t hard to find, as I could hear the gnome practically shouting, when I entered the hut where we first met Alanthia and Galenas.  Inside a fully armored Daneath was wrapping a linen cloth around Iesa’s head, who had his things in a bundle in front of him.  Meanwhile, Beepu was standing on a chair and was gesticulating widely at a expressionless Galenas.

“So, we must move at once!” Beepu shouted.

“We have lost many of our warriors last night, and our numbers have been lessened by raids on our patrols.  I cannot afford to, as much as I wish I could.” Galenas said with an angered edge on his voice.

“You have a responsibility to—”

“My responsibility is the safety of Whitepetal!  If we leave with any significant force, it could be overrun by other goblins.”

“A good offense wins battles!”

“And we are not positioned to be a good offense.  We are barely a middling defense.”

“Wait,” Iesa piped up and stood, moving towards Galenas, “You mean you would leave your own in the hands of—”

“Not by choice!” Galenas retorted.  “But I cannot risk saving her and leave Whitepetal undefended.

“Wait…who are we…Alanathia?” I interjected.

Iesa nodded.  “That female hobgoblin ran off with Alanathia over her shoulder.  I tried to stop her, but…she packs a mean punch.”

Galenas sighed before speaking, “I…thank you for trying.  In fact, all of you for helping.  Things would be worse if you had not been here.”

I thought a moment and then realized something.  “You don’t have the numbers to defend Whitepetal at all do you?”

Galenas looked at me and sighed, “Barely.  We need more warriors here.  We can hold here if I recall all patrols.  But that means we can’t track where the hobgoblins are.”

“And you can’t retreat from here because?” I pressed.

He sighed again, “This place guards the primary path to our…what you would call a capitol.  There isn’t another defensible location closer.  Leaving here, leaves us exposed.”

“Send for more men…er elves,”

“We already have!  I had a small group leave and take Ravalan with them last night with that message.  Ravalan was going to convince Melandrach on the need for more here.  But it will take days for that meeting and for reinforcements to arrive.  And until they do, we cannot do anything.”

“Where did they take Alanathia?” I continued pressing.

“This female hobgoblin that Iesa fought is known to us, and we believe she has made herself home in a quarry, north of here.”

“Quarry?  Did elves mine?” Daneath asked surprised.

“No. It too dates back to Illefarn, and it was run by dwarves at the time.  It has been abandoned for the most part by civilized beings.”

“Can you give us directions?” I asked.

“Wait a second Myrai…we haven’t decided any—” Daneath started.

“Did you want to see your father?” I asked bluntly.

“Well…yes,” Daneath replied slowly.

“Iesa?  You?”

Daneath’s brother nodded in agreement, “Yeah.”

I looked at Beepu, “Do I need to ask?”

“Of course not.  But—”

“Then, why are you arguing?  Get your things together.” I said and turned to Galenas.  “Where is the quarry?”

“I will have a map drawn up for you.  And…you have my thanks.”

I nodded and turned on my heel and headed back outside.  I heard Daneath follow me.

“Myr…stop a moment.”

I stopped, turned to look at him and waited.

“Look, shouldn’t we talk about this?”

I cocked my head and I know I knitted my eyebrows together.

“Talk about what?”

“I mean taking on what, an army of hobgoblins isn’t what I planned to—”

“Planned?  What of any of this was planned?  Saving Ravalan?  Or perhaps the musties in Flint Rock?  The Waterbaroness and her party?  My…death?  Was *THAT *planned?”

“Myr…that’s not what—”

“And it doesn’t matter now.  Blood has been spilled.  And even more is going to be spilled.”

“But is—”

“And it sure in Baator isn’t going to be mine.  So, get your gelbas together, and find me down below when you are ready.”

Daneath stared at me a moment, stunned.  Finally, he looked down at the walkway we both stood on and nodded.

“Right.  I guess I’ll get the others.  Wait, where are you going?” he asked realizing I was heading somewhere.

“Down, to pay final respects.”

--

The grove wasn’t far from the outpost.  It was a wild tangle of old growth oak and pine.  Around the forest floor, it was choked in brush and ground cover.  Yet, the elves carefully had groomed or perhaps encouraged it to create the myriad of paths that existed within the growth.  The paths wandered without pattern, vines and shoots creating smaller canopies beneath the great tree in the center.  I wasn’t familiar with what kind of tree it was, its upper branches created a broad canopy above the grove, but it was covered in flowers that hung from tendrils from the canopy above.  White flowers, that gave the nearby outpost its name: ‘Whitepetal.’

But today the efforts weren’t spent within, but without.  They had quickly interred their dead, and upon each placed a new seedling.  As I searched for where they would place Morlea, I noticed something.  There was little ritual about the bodies.  They were gentle and graceful, on how they handled the corpses certainly.  But no prayers, no offerings to their souls. 

I remembered that would be something done in private; with kin and friends.  I doubted that in this community of elves that I would be considered a friend, for a single night of small talk.  Yet, I was determined to pay my respects in the way my Lord would want me to.

They had not yet interred her when I found where she was to be planted with a sapling.  A druid was near, and I watched her use the same spell that I used on Roggins; if a little more on point on what it was meant for.  She had finished burying a fallen elf when she noticed my presence.  She then spoke to me,  haltingly in the common tongue.

“Child, why have you come…here?”

“I am but a servant of the Lord of the Dead,” and I gestured to my holy symbol I wore.  “And this elf…Morlea aided me.  I wish to…pay my respects and pray her soul to the proper afterlife.”

The druid considered and nodded but stood and watched me with an expression on her face that I could not read.

I knelt on the ground, and pulled a strip of cloth from my pouch, along with two greenies.  I looked at Morlea, who lay in the earth, wearing only a muslin underdress and an expression of peace on her face.  Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her arms crossed in front of her.

I took a greenie, and kissed it, placing the coin on her right eye, and I repeated it with the second coin her left.  Then I bound the cloth, so the coins would stay in place.  As I did so, I chanted a prayer to Kelemvor, to help her soul find its way beyond:

_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning

Death is without deceit and has meaning,

May your soul find its way to Arvandor,

And gaze from the Overlook, in the Cresent Grove, 

May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey,

Because Death is never an end, but a waypost,

Not a destination, but a Journey, 

The memory of your deeds will live forever in us,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May Death grant you peace._

When I had finished, I watched the earth churn, and I saw Morlea for the last time, sinking beneath the loam to sleep forever.  The druid stepped forward, and planted a sapling in the loose earth, before regarding me again.

“You spoke of ‘Overlook’ and the ‘Cresent Grove.’  Who taught you of these places?” She asked with a guarded curiosity.

“They are places sacred to the Seldarine, and I know them because I saw them from a distance in the Gilded Hall in Aborea.”

“You…saw?”

I nodded. “We were told not to cross into Arvandor; it is a place for elven spirits, not mortals.  But you still could see the wonder in the distance,” I said remembering a time five years ago.  “I’m going to pray a bit and wait for my friends.  Thank you.”

The druid nodded and moved on to others waiting their turn for burial, leaving me to my thoughts.  My bowed and eyes closed I cast my thoughts to wherever my Lord could hear me.

_--Long ago, I thought avoiding untimely deaths meant healing and helping those to survive.  Am I meant to avoid more, by slaying those who make war on these elves?  

--Is this my purpose?  

--Is this why my heart burns?

--Is this the right path?

--I don’t ask for much my Lord, but a sign would be…helpful.

You know Myr, I’m not sure this revenge thing is you.

--What th—

I don’t think you are the bloodthirsty type.

--Goss; first what do you know of me? And second…shut up._

I was still kneeling in the dirt, centered and prepared, when the trio finally found me.  I could hear them move towards me slowly, and perhaps a bit awkwardly, as if none of them could decide who should interrupt my thoughts.  Finally:

“Myrai, we should go,” Beepu said in a matter of fact tone.

“We have a map?” I asked, as I got to my feet.

“That we do,” Iesa said waving a bit of parchment in front of him.

“Lead on,”

Surprisingly, the quarry was much closer than I thought it would be.  It wasn’t even peak when we reached it.  It was basically a mine shaft that was surrounded by hills on three sides, and the remains of an ancient road leading east.  We approached quietly, Beepu sent his owl skyward to look around.

“The quarries entrance is on the northside going into the rock.  There are remains of carts and rails leading down.  There are some tents on the floor of the valley in front of the quarry entrance.   And…there are guards on the hillside above the quarry, armed with crossbows.  Six hobgoblins are there, some on the ridge above the entrance, the rest on the floor of the valley.”

“But nothing else?  No prisoners?” Iesa asked.

“No.  They probably are in the quarry itself.” Beepu said as Foggle landed on his arm.

This made me wonder a lot of things.  Six of them outside, and probably more within.  How did they manage to get so close to Whitepetal?  And how many other places like this are they camped at?  How many were there total?  Was it so many that the elves never thought they could attack?  Or were they over-confident in their defenses that they could repel them, no matter the numbers? 

“Still is a lot of them,” Daneath commented.  “We can’t afford them to run and warn the others.”

“Well, how many guards are on the ridge?” Iesa asked.

“Two?  No three!” Beepu said after a moment.  “What are you thinking?”

“Well, if we can eliminate them, it would let the rest of you get closer.  I could then from above keep them pinned down with a bow.”

“How do you propose getting to them?  There is not so much as a tree or shrub on the ridge.”

“Make me invisible.” Iesa said with a smile.

The gnome thought a moment.  “Yes.  If you stay quiet.  But can you take on three of them?”

“I want to find out.”
We snuck up to some scraggly hedges that were on the floor of the south eastern side.  All we needed to do is rush into the valley and take on the ones on the ground.  Foggle was in the air already circling above, while Gossamer stayed close to me, keeping eyes out behind us while we focused ahead.

“Anything?” Daneath asked aloud.

“Well, he is alive as the spell is still working.  I can see the three—Ooo!”

“What?” I asked.

“I just watched one slump over quietly, and Iesa reappear,” Beepu his brows furrowed.  “Quite a large amount of blood on the rock.  I wonder if his…nope.  Another one is dead too.  Not a sound.”

“This sounds promising,” Daneath said looking at me.

“Amazing, a plan that works,” I said.  “Can he do three?”

“Ouch!  Yes.  Yes he can.  He’s pulling out his bow, so I think he is about ready.”

“Great!  My turn!”  Daneath pulled out a javelin from a sheath on his back.  He’s always carried them around, but I seldom seen him use them.  And without even pausing, he bolted noisily into the valley.

He was not quiet in the least, but he wasn’t trying to be.  As Beepu and I trailed him, we saw the three hobgoblins turn to face us.  I couldn’t see their eyes or teeth yet, so I could only imagine the snarls and the jeers on their faces.  But as we planned, Daneath launched his javelin into the air, and it struck the closest one.  It lodged deep in the hobgoblin’s chest, with a large gout of blood spraying everywhere.  Beepu then threw a bolt of fire at another one, and I heard it scream in pain as the fire burned through the studded leather smock it wore.  From behind, Iesa’s bow launched an arrow into the backside of the third one, causing it to turn around, looking for the guards that once had his back.

I smiled, as my heart raced.  I ran in and I watched the three gather up and start to charge Daneath, hoping to bowl him over with their bulk.  But as they approached, I focused a moment on a light and dark strand, pulling them taut, and then snapping them apart.

The three hobgoblins stumbled in their tracks, as bones cracked and snapped.  All three fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing.  I felt euphoria at killing three of these beasts, my heart quickened its pace as I looked for more of them to kill.  As it was, I was disappointed that no others emerged from their tents to assault us, and Daneath voiced his disapproval.

“Hey! I didn’t get a chance to swing at them!” Daneath complained

“You lodged a spear in it,” I said holding my hand open and spread apart in confusion.

“Javelin!”

“Whatever!”

“Not the point; I wanted to hit them.”

“Same here.  And it saves me from healing you.” I said.

“It is not nice that this all worked out so well.”  Beepu said cheerily.

“Let’s get below.  I’m sure there is more,” Daneath said with a wolfish grin.

We descended into the mine entrance and was greeted by the smell and light of torches.  I was for one relieved; torches meant that the brothers could see, and that I didn’t need to create a light, giving us away in the darkness.  The main pathway had a track for mining carts, that entered a large gallery with tunnels boring deeper into the rock.  While most of the tunnels were dark, there were torches in sconces to our right, flanking a large wooden door.  Continuing along the wall more torches descended deeper into the mine.

Iesa took the lead, and moved to the large door, and we followed quietly.  Beepu sent Foggle to fly  down and within the darkened passages, while Gossamer stayed in the shadows a little behind us.  Iesa moved silently to the door and pressed his ear against it.  With a free hand he lifted a single finger, and then a second.  He then prepared his rapier and motioned Daneath to the door.

Daneath grasped the rope handle that passed for a door pull and threw open the door wide and charged inside.  He didn’t get farther than two feet, when from the darkness a large morningstar smashed into his chest causing Daneath to wheeze.  Blocking his way was a bugbear licking his lips in anticipation of an easy kill.  Before Daneath could retreat, another one emerged from deeper within and swung a crushing blow, on Daneath’s shield.

Iesa was about to leap into the doorway, when something caught his eye, and he turned looking behind us in time to say;

“Beepu!  Look out!”

From behind a large fast lizard on all fours was charging at the gnome.  The warning was enough for Beepu to sidestep causing the creature to run past him

_Guard Drake!

--LATE!_

Iesa stepped forward and stabbed at it with his rapier, causing blood to spurt everwhere.  Looking at my options I decided to throw a bolt of energy at the lizard, hoping to bring it down.  Beepu, turned his attention to the bugbears beating on Daneath.  From his pouch he pulled out a feather and waved it about saying;

“Your family tree does not even fork!”

From inside the room I could hear something horrible.  It first was a deep gravelly sounding guffaw, and then it was just grim deep laughter as one of the bugbears collapsed on the ground, clutching his sides.  His companion looked astounded at his partner, allowing Daneath an opening, plunging his sword into the bugbear’s belly.

“I’m not sure that was funny,” Iesa commented as he thrust at the drake again, narrowly missing

“Of course, it is!  That is a top joke anywhere!” Beepu replied with confidence and throwing a bolt of fire into the side of the drake.

“Only if you are at a gnomish dinner party,” I commented throwing another purple bolt at the drake, causing it to collapse dead on the mine floor.

“What does that mean?” Beepu asked with a note of anger on his voice, as he waggled the feather in my direction.

“It means, you aren’t funny,” Daneath said, as he traded blows with his bugbear, each drawing blood.  But shortly after he did so, Iesa lunged and stabbed the bugbear in the chest, causing it to stumble backwards in pain, and finally falling backwards onto the ground.

“I am so funny!”

“NOT FUNNY!” shouted the other bugbear as it stood and struck at the nearest foe with a hammer.  It hit Daneath hard on the shield arm, almost knocking him down.  First, I hit it with purple energy, and then Beepu threw it some fire, causing the Bugbear to stagger backwards, trying to raise its arms in front of its face in defense.

This allowed Daneath to swing again, cutting into the side of the bugbear deeply, blood running freely down its side.  It turned to prevent Daneath from striking again, only to be flanked by Iesa slashing across its midsection, spilling blood everywhere.  Then a bolt of flame hit the humanoid square in the face, causing it to fall flat on its back, dead.

“Yes. I. AM!” Beepu said.

We turned to look behind us and listened to see if anything else would emerge from the darkness.  As my heart beat slowed, and the blood stopped rushing through my ears I thought I heard something.  As I focused and looked at Iesa I could tell he heard it too.  I concentrated on the sound, closing my eyes, and straining to hear.

It was crying.  Somewhere deeper in the mine, a woman’s voice was sobbing.  We looked at each other and pulled in tightly into a huddle so we could talk.

“Crying?  That must be a prisoner,” Iesa said.

“Well, I’m about to start.  I need a breather before we take on more.”

“We should not delay!” Beepu retorted archly.

“I want to finish this,” I said licking my lips in anticipation.  “But I want to win.  We wait for Daneath.”

Iesa considered and nodded.  Daneath and he, pulled the bugbear corpses deeper into the room they had emerged from, while I dragged the lizard behind me into the room.  Beepu sent the owl to perch on a beam to watch for patrols.

_So, do I come in with you?

--No, find a spot to hide and watch.  And warn a bit faster.

That wasn’t my fault.

--And keep an ear out on that crying.

Can do.  Sorry._

The room that the bugbears ‘lived’ in was not fit for civilized folk.  I’m not sure that even hobgoblins put up with the filth.  But the stench of spoiled food, and rotten carcasses permeated the air.  Iesa poked around their sleeping things and their bodies and managed to find some small number of coins.  But otherwise there was nothing of value to us here.   

As we rested and waited, I reflected.   I was excited fighting; seeing these monsters fall put a smile on my face.  To exact a toll in blood for what they did to Whitepetal.  They were little more than beasts as far as I could see.  That anyone else that wasn’t a gnome laughing at Beepu’s jokes was just a sign of a defect in the bonebox.  It was a mercy for them that we were in a rush and needed to kill them quickly.  Somehow it should linger; let them think about the errors of their ways.  Still these weren’t the leader; that female hobgoblin was.  I bet she was smarter.  And I bet we would kill her all the same.

I didn’t know how long I let my mind wander when Gossamer intruded:

_That crying?  It stopped._


----------



## Nthal

*The Crying Game. - 11/3/2019*

_In times of crisis, we turn to our comforts for relief.  Friends.  Family.  Faith.  Drink even.  

But sometimes, that isn’t enough.  You have to have the strength and will to look at yourself, to gaze within to find the answers to the toughest questions, to reflect and realize what changes you should make, to submit and allow yourself to make the greatest sacrifices.

But knowing it isn’t enough.  You still need the guts to *do* it.  And I think that is where most of us fail. _​


“Iesa!” I leaned over towards the man, “The crying stopped.”

He cocked his head to listen, and then frowned.  “Yeah, we better move.  I can’t imagine that’s a good sign.”

“I’m as ready as I can be,” Daneath said readying his shield and sword.

“Let’s do the same thing as before,” Iesa said.

“What?  Listen at the door and smash it on the way in?”

“No!  Turn me invisible.  Let you guys draw the attention.”

I shrug and replied, “Why not?”

“What if I need to hide!” Beepu said with a note of concern.

“Turn into a rock.  You’re good at that!” Iesa pointed out.

Beepu was about to object, when he realized the truth.  “True, it has worked quite a bit.”

“Fine,” I said.  “Make him disappear, and Daneath and I will appear to be in front.  You watch our rears as a stone.”

Iesa smiled, looking forward to hiding without trying, and in a moment and a quick word from Beepu, he vanished.

“You know,” Daneath commented.  “We don’t have to make him reappear.”

“I’m right here bro.”

“Can you do that Beepu?  I won’t tell him.”

“Damn it, I know you can hear me!” Iesa sputtered.

“True,” I commented.  “But all he’s going to do when he finds out is sing the “Frog and Firkin” in your ear.   Forever.”

“Might be worth it…” Daneath said mischievously.

“Can you focus for a moment!” the bodiless Iesa spat.

“Well I do not know what Iesa would say, but we should finish our work here.” Beepu deadpanned.  “Let us go.”

“Why you…oh funny.  Ha. Ha.”  Iesa muttered.

I moved to the door and cast a thought out;

_Anything going on out there?

--I haven’t seen anything other than that modron.

Its not really a modron.

--Fine.  Not a modron.  Still nothing._

“Let’s go, its clear.” And I moved to the door, following Daneath.  The warrior opened the door and after looking around, headed towards his right, following the line of torches that continued into the depths.  I could hear for a brief moment, Iesa scrambling ahead, but soon he was moving silently ahead.  Beepu trailed behind me, and both of our familiars stayed close.

As we moved down the shaft, I reached into my pouch and pulled out a bit of wire, and coiled it around my index finger.  I twisted it round and round and plucked at a white strand and then whispered under my breath, as I pointed down where I thought Iesa went.

_“Iesa?  Can you hear me?  If so, whisper back.”

“What the?  Yes…this a new trick?”_

I smiled to myself.  _“Something I learned yes.  I’ll keep reaching out to you as we go.  No one but me can hear you whisper back.”

“That’s a help.  Will do.  The shaft winds a bit, but I see it opening up into another large area.”_

I nodded, “Iesa says that it opens up into a large cavern ahead, so be ready.”

“What?  How did—” Daneath whispered at me.

“Ah!  I see what you did there.” Beepu pointed at the wire I was working with my fingers. “A good spell.  We will talk later.”

_“Iesa?” I whispered.

“Not good.  I found a bunch of cages with prisoners.  And I found Alanathia.  Might need help.”_

“Sodding Baator,” I said.  “Looks like we are expected.”

“I’ll follow your lead then Myr,” Daneath said.

“I am going to watch our rears then.  Listen for loud yelling.” Said Beepu.

_Gos, stay low and out of sight, keep an eye out.

--For…what exactly?

Stuff that can’t be seen.

--Like the guy with the monkey?

Yes...no…yes, like him, but not him.  Other things.  Don’t get caught in a fight and let me focus.

--Ok…can do._

I nodded, and I took the lead and moved forward.  I kept my back pressed against the wall as I came closer to where the tunnel spilled into the room and peeked inside. The shaft opened up into a large carved gallery.  Here the marks of chisels and picks were left like scars on the rock walls.  Piles of rubble and tailing were scattered across the ground.  Each near a rail, as if the next mine cart would arrive, ready to move them up to the surface.  Near the rails, were simple wooden cages.  Within each I could see figures lying down motionless, unable or unwilling to move.  No sounds came from the occupants within, and I worried that there were none living.  Between the cages, here and there on the floor were shallow puddles of still water, from a rain long ago that seeped below the earth.  But these puddles scattered the flickering light of torches coming from a far corner of the room. 

There in that corner, stood the female hobgoblin.  Her face was scarred, ritually on both cheeks, and her iron eyes stared towards me coolly, betraying neither anger nor fear.  She was dressed in a light leather top and leggings, barely enough to keep brambles at bay.  She wore no shoes, but ribbons of leather carefully wrapped to cover and protect her insoles, and in one hand, she held a simple dagger.

And that dagger was ever so close the neck of Alanathia.  The elf’s leathers were dirty, and her arms were pulled behind her back, likely tied.  She was on her bare knees on the rock floor, which showed signs of bleeding from cuts.   Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her right eye socket was swollen shut from a blow.  Her expression was stoic as she too looked down the tunnel towards us.

“So, the elves sent…you.  How fortunate,” The hobgoblin’s voice rang out in precise clipped tones.  All business, intelligent, and confident.  This worried me; she easily handled Iesa _carrying_ the elf on her back easily.  She knew that we were here and outnumbered her.  Was this bravado, or was it calculated?  I decided to play for time and let Iesa move closer.

“Fortunate?  That is an interesting way to describe this…arrangement.  What do you want?”

_“Iesa, I hope you are ready,” _I whispered into the weave, hoping he was nearing the hobgoblin.

_“Just about.  Prepped my blade with a surprise.  Keep talking to her a bit longer,” _came the reply.

The hobgoblin’s sneering voice replied, “For our Prophesized One, there is nothing he wants or needs from the elves.  They will be swept away, as we reclaim what is ours.  But you?  You and your companions are known to us.”

“I guess we should feel honored.  What do you want then from…us?”

“_Iesa?” _I muttered in the weave again.

_“Almost…”_

“Right now, this is about what you want.  You want this elf…leader,” the contempt was clear as she talked.  “So, what I want is simple.  One of you, for her.”

“What, a trade?” I said, playing up the incredulity.  This didn’t make sense.  Bargaining from weakness, as if she was in control?  She either was a gambler or…she really was in control.”

“_Iesa?” _I whispered urgently.

“_Ready, charge in when I strike.”_

“Of course.  I am done with this one, but you value her.  I value one of you.  Choose, NOW!” and she raised her voice to a near shout, as if she was trying to order me like a soldier under her command.

“Alright, alright then!  You win.  I choose...” and I closed my eyes and hoped

“You.”

I heard the blade whistling in the air, and then the sound of it sinking deep into flesh and muscle.  I could then see Iesa standing behind the hobgoblin, his dagger firmly lodged in her back with a wolfish smile that spoke volumes.  The hobgoblin’s legs buckled, and she sank down, with an expression on her face that made my blood run cold.  An arrogant smile followed by a mocking laugh.

“Myr watch out!” and suddenly Daneath shoved me into the room, while a shower of stone chips exploded behind me.  I turned my head to look, and saw a large axe sunk deep into the stone, and now watched it wrenched free by its wielder, a large hulking bugbear.  It great size was as surprising as its silence, even as it smiled to make another swing.  From behind Daneath and the bugbear I could hear fire bolts striking rock, the sounds of hissing and snarling, and gnomish cursing.

I felt slow as I stumbled a bit forward to catch my balance.  And as I looked at the bugbear, I watched as from a near by wall, a figure appeared and ran towards the warrior.

To my shock it was Alanathia who barreled straight for the large man and with her bare hands and feet struck Daneath over and over.  She was a whirlwind of limbs, each finding gaps in Daneath defense and armor.  Finally, on her last punch I could hear the sound of bones snapping, as she broke several ribs. 

It didn’t make sense.  Why was she attacking us?  And then as I watched, Analthia’s face and clothing melted away, running off like sheets of water revealing the true opponent. 

The hobgoblin woman.

The hunters were now the hunted.

Everything was slow as I ran into the room, with a guess and a fear.  As I turned to look where Iesa stood, I could see him with horror on this face, as he withdrew his green, glowing dagger from the fallen figure, now on her knees.  Her face and clothing were melting away too, and the hobgoblin’s form was replaced by the pain stricken elven leader, Alanathia.  She then fell forward flat on the ground in a motionless heap.

“Go help D!” I shouted as I ran, but Iesa was already moving as we passed each other.  I didn’t have much time; I had two things I could do, but I guessed I needed to save some power for the fight.  I could only use the barest amount to save her.  Putting too much into her, could mean death for everyone else.  I remembered my mentor saying that triage in a battle was different than at the peace of a healer’s hut.  That the decisions made had different weight.  I heard it and processed it.  But only now did I understand it.

I slid down on my knees next to Alanathia, and could see that she still breathed, if but barely.  Iesa’s blade had sunk true and deep into her back.  That alone should have been enough to kill most people, but I could see the greenish color of a tacky substance around the entrance to the wound; a type of poison. 

I was taken aback; I didn’t know that Iesa even *had* poison, and I had no idea kind type it was.  But as I knelt and laid a hand upon her, I reached into that small part of myself where I had some personal power that had nothing to do with the strands I usually pulled on.  I felt the rush of energy down my back, the flexing of ephemeral wings, and I purged away the poison from her body and blood.

I heard more fighting from the tunnel; sword striking metal, and the sound of solid strikes against wet meat.  Farther still, the blasts of magic and more swearing.  But it was distant from my thoughts as I focused.  The elf was barely breathing, and the blood still poured from her wound.  I then pulled on a single light strand, hoping that this would be enough.  I felt the energy pour from me, and into Alanathia’s wounds, and I watched as the bleeding slowed and stopped.  Her breathing was shallow, but soft and regular.  I was certain that she would live.

_--Please don’t take her yet my lord.  Not for this.  Not for our mistake.  My mistake!_

I then turned my head to look at the melee just in time to see Daneath’s armored body, fall to the ground motionless, felled by the axe of the bugbear.  The creature ripped it out of Daneath, and turned to face Iesa, who was fully engaged with the hobgoblin.  His rapier had landed at least one good hit, based on the blood flowing from her side.  But he was no longer making successful strikes and was focused instead on dodging and knocking away the hands and feet of the woman assailing him.  As I watched, I saw him start to back around the gallery trying to position himself so only one attacker would be able to attack him.   This might have worked with Daneath next to him, but now it was only a matter of time before one of them flanked him.

I had little left in me.  But I was not going to the fugue again.  Not after what we just did.  I was going to atone with my actions now, and not beg for forgiveness later.  I pulled on a pair of light strands within me and used them like a bowstring to launch power from myself.

I moved, closer to Daneath, and away from the injured Alanathia.  I didn’t want her to be caught up defenseless if something were to go…more awry.  I launched the energy into Daneath as I moved, who lay some distance from me.  The energy would lose a lot of its effectiveness, but it would still close wounds, and hopefully wake him.  But what I didn’t want, is to be obviously helping the warrior.  Then I concentrated and a miasa of darkness surrounded both of Iesa’s attackers, and a toll of a bell rang in the mine.

Now I could hear the bugbear as it roared in pain and I watched it turn its head to focus on me.  How it knew, it didn’t matter.  I got what I wanted; its attention.

It snarled, and charged at me, grasping the axe with both hands ready to cut me down where I stood.  I could feel the rock vibrate as twenty stones of muscle came bearing down on me.  It raised its axe high overhead and it whistled as it cut through the air, down at me.  I raised my shield up above my head trying to protect myself.  The axe then came crashing down, and shattered my shield into pieces, and causing me to stagger backwards.  My arm felt first sharp pain, and then a strong throbbing ache as I pulled it tight alongside me.

The bugbear snarled and raised its axe again, and I readied myself for the blow, when I saw the outline of orange light surround the bugbear.  I then smelled burnt hair, as a bolt of fire streaked from the tunnel, and into its back.  It whirled and howled and ran straight at Beepu, angry at the distraction.  Beepu then swiftly darted around the corner, with the bugbear in close pursuit.

Iesa was holding his own, but the hobgoblin kept swinging, and could land a single blow, for every three she threw.  But that was more than Iesa who’s blows weren’t nearly as effective as his opponent.  Had it continued for longer, Iesa likely would have made a mistake, and pay the price.

So, it was then, that Daneath charged in; he was loud, and he crashed into the hobgoblin, who was surprised to see her fallen opponent now fully committed to killing her.  She turned her head and started to position herself to handle this new assault.  And that was all it took.

She took her eyes from the tired looking Iesa, who quickly spun and thrust into her backside, sinking deep into her vitals.  I watched her stiffen and cough up a large amount of blood, before collapsing onto the ground.

Iesa wasted no time and stabbed at the fallen hobgoblin; to make sure that she would not rise and torment him again.  Daneath, meantime turned and charged at the bugbear, who was standing in confusion at the tunnel, looking for Beepu.  What he found instead was a sword, that nearly cleaved the humanoid into two across the midsection.  It fell lifeless, onto the ground.

As we all panted in exhaustion, from a boulder near a wall, emerged Beepu.  He too was bloodied, with what looked to be animal bites on his arm and matching tears in his shirt.  He nodded in some satisfaction and finally spoke.

“The rear…is secure,” He said heavily between breaths.  “How was the negotiation?  I only heard—”

“That damned…hobgoblin…witch,” Iesa spat.  “That is the second time she—”

“Wait,” I interrupted angrily.  “Second time?  What are you talking about?”

“She changed her appearance to look like…her,” Iesa gestured to the resting form of Alanathia. 

Daneath moved over to Iesa and balled up his fist in his mail glove.  He then swung and punched the rock next to Iesa’s head.  “Why didn’t you tell us that!  You killed her!  What the hell are we—”

“He didn’t kill her,” I said angrily.  “He just got damn close.  I’m lucky that Kelemvor didn’t take her.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m lucky?’  This isn’t your fault Myrai,” Beepu said confused.

“I knew something was wrong,” I said guiltily.  “I didn’t…trust myself to say anything.  I was fortunate to save her _and_ Daneath.”

“Well we all made errors.  That seems to be normal.  Let us learn from it and move on.  I would like to leave this place.”

I nodded, “True enough.  I’m going to heal Alanathia, but I will be spent.  We should get out and rest somewhere safer.”

“Ok, lets take a look at those cages, after I search our friend here,” Iesa said.

I nodded and moved back towards the fallen elf.  I sat down next to the woman, and gently rolled her over onto her side, with her head in my lap.  I then focused the very last of what I had, focusing on closing the dagger wound in her back.  I watched the wound close and heard her breathing grow stronger.  Once I was certain it was fully closed, I turned her gently, so she laid on her back.  I peeled off my cloak and covered her with it and waited.

I was a fool.  I was bobbed and peeled like a common cony.  I knew it was a trap.  I knew it wasn’t a bluff or a gamble.  I didn’t need to know the details, but I should have warned them.  I was willing to gamble with my own life if I needed.  But I gambled with this elf’s life, and nearly lost. 

I was a fool. I should have asked Iesa more about last night.  That tidbit would have made a difference.  This woman, Daneath, none of them would have come that close to the fugue. 

I was a fool.  What saved us?  Not planning.  Not skill.  It was luck.  None of us should have survived if it wasn’t for that.  None of us should be…alive.

Well, I certainly shouldn’t be.  Nor this woman.  Nor Iesa or Daneath.  Outside of myself, everyone was alive…because I was.  Maybe it wasn’t luck.  Maybe I just needed to trust more…

In my friends.

In my instincts.

In my faith.

Perhaps there was a purpose to it, that I didn’t see.  Couldn’t see.  Couldn’t know.  Is that why I was forced back from the fugue?  I have a purpose?

I reached down and touched where the _Apocrypha_ was hanging in a case on my side.  I needed to know more.  I felt it was the key to the riddle.  It wasn’t luck that I found it.  It was design.  That what is happening around me isn’t an accident.  It had a reason.

I would just prefer for a small light in the darkness.  To lead, to guide, or if nothing else, keep me company.



*Session notes:*

It’s true; Iesa failed to mention what had happened with the Iron Shadow the first time.  We were a little miffed by that omission.  Beepu did a lot of dancing in the back with more guard drakes, and once again was an effective rock. 

Also, yes it was a Dagger of Venom.  And as an opening nova it was quite impressive.

Too bad about the wrong target.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Nasty trick that ...

I must remember to borrow it.


----------



## Nthal

It was a nasty trick...and the dm probably lifted it from The Dark Knight.

But Iesa lost the chance to being as smart as Batman. The rest of us had no chance.


----------



## Nthal

*The Highborn - 11/10/2019*

_The history of the elves may have started in Aborea, but their journey passed through the Feywild.  From there some left for one of the many primes, while others stayed behind becoming Eladrin.  Some of those returned to Aborea, becoming noble Ealdrin.

It an interesting story, and the take away is how the planes will change mortals.  However, its is not the only tale like this.  But some of those tales are darker and more sinister than that._​


“Ugh…what?  What happened?” Alanathia said weakly, causing her to cough.  While my magic helped heal her, it only fixed Iesa’s near deadly jab.  Her right eye was still black and swollen shut, but her left wasn’t much better.

“You took a nasty blow in the back, but it looks like the hobgoblin gave you a work over beforehand.  How are you feeling?” I asked with a concerned voice.

“I remember questions…questions about Whitepetal…I remember being hit…I don’t remember much after that,” she said sounding tired and resigned.

“Did they say what they wanted?” I asked, somewhat relieved that she didn’t remember who stabbed her in the back.

She furrowed her brow for a moment.  “She…she didn’t ask questions about our forces, but I suppose she already figured out we are weakly defended.  She did ask how long it would take for…for…reinforcements to arrive.  And she asked about our recent guests.”

“Ravalan?”

“He was one, but also your companions, by name.”

“By names?  She knew our names?  What did she ask?”

The elf closed her eyes and she focused a moment before replying.  “What skills you had, magic you possessed…but she didn’t ask about you…only the others.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.  I always thought of myself as someone that would stand out in a crowd.  While I was glad, I wasn’t a target, I didn’t really feel much better knowing this.

“How did Whitepetal fare?” she then asked.

“A lot burned, and a lot of dead.  Galenas can give you a better idea when we get you back.”  I replied.   She then nodded and I felt her relax a bit, and she closed her eye, deep in thought. 

“Myr?”  Iesa said as he approached.  “Is…she alright?”

“She’ll make it,” and I raised a hand to lift a finger just in front of my lips briefly, and then I ran my fingers through my hair.

Iesa caught my meaning and nodded and spoke again, “There were only two elves alive in the cages; we’ve given them what aid we can, and they can move whenever we’re ready.”

“Alanathia?  Can you walk?” I asked, giving her a nudge.

“Yes.  Take me back.”
It was early in the evening, and we were gathered in a large hall that was stretched and supported by two great trees in Whitepetal.  It was here that the leaders and elders gathered and where the people would congregate as a community.  Now, the merriment was gone, replaced by the melancholy of the survivors trying to put their world back into place.

We had not been there long, although the return to Whitepetal was slower than we would have liked.  While Alanathia was only impaired in one eye, the two others were weakened from their imprisonment.  It was well after peak, and near the setting of the sun, when we finally reached our destination.

And now, we listened as Galenas told Alanathia the scope of the fighting and damage.  Half of the elves that lived there were injured, a quarter of the outpost was dead.  I hadn’t realized it before, but the area that Whitepetal covered was much larger than the parts I had seen, and the pitched fighting between the elves and the hobgoblins was costly.  But surprisingly, very few hobgoblins escaped alive, beyond the ones we chased.  But the cost to the elves was far higher.  And we learned that the hobgoblins had more forces, close by.  And at last count, more than enough to overrun Whitepetal.

“But we do not believe the hobgoblins know this yet,” finished Galenas.  “If for no reason that, other than the band that went to the quarry, no one else managed to escape.”

“An expensive thrust into our defenses,” Alanathia muttered.  “And more than sufficient to keep us pinned here.  And we are too few to take action against them.”

“Where are the hobgoblins attacking from?” Daneath asked.

“Before the attack last night, most of them were at an old temple on the what is now the edge of the Misty Forest.” Galenas started.  “There are scattered ruins of towers and other constructions left behind from Ilefarn, that make good scouting posts.   Many of them are also held by this so called ‘Prophesized One’s’ forces.”

“And now?” Daneath asked.

“We do not know.  They had been picking off our patrols slowly over the last several weeks.  Now we know why.  And now we do not have enough to safely scout and find them.  Not without reinforcements.”

“So, reinforcements are coming soon then?” Iesa hopefully asked.

“We cannot expect much help in the next several…weeks.” Galenas responded quietly.

“What?  I thought that the wood elves had enough to keep Secomber from encroaching.” Iesa asked.

“Iesa, you do not understand,” Beepu said quietly.  “Since Ilefarn fell, the forces that once guarded this place, are…gone.”

“Gone?  I don’t understand.”

Alanathia spoke next, “Many families of elves have…retreated away from here.  We are the remnants of those who chose not to leave, in the name of keeping our old homes safe.”

“So, the fearsome reputation is what?  A front?” A shocked Iesa continued.

“It had been enough to keep wandering hunters and loggers at bay,” Galenas said.  “A well-placed warning arrow is enough to accomplish that.  But this is not Secomber…or even Silverymoon.  We do not have powerful magic to keep the goblins at bay.  Nor do we have walls or fortification to act as a bulwark.  We could pick off stragglers, and we could peel their forces slowly apart given enough time.

“But we would lose much,” Alanathia continued.  “No outpost, no community would be spared.  Our families would be homeless within our home.  The cost…would be more than we could pay.”

“Then…we take the fight to them,” I said from my place at a window, looking out at the ravaged outpost.

Galenas turned to look at me, “Do you not understand?  We do not—”

I turned and stared directly into the eyes of the elf.  “I didn’t say you.  I said…we.”

“You would do this?” Alanathia said in puzzlement.  “Why?”

“Because Iesa, Daneath, and Beepu need to talk to Melandrach.  Because for some reason, the goblins are interested in them.  And because of what they did here.”  I said.

“I am very curious on why they are interested in us as well,” Beepu spoke up.  “I cannot believe this is coincidence, but I do not see how this random band of hobgolbins causing trouble, would even know of us.”

“Hey, wait…everyone knows ‘Big-D’” Iesa said with a smile.

“Not again,” Daneath looked up at the ceiling helplessly.

“Somehow I think it is more than a match up with the ‘Apple-King’ that has their interest,” I said dryly.

“Fine, lets get going and strike at them before they are organized,” Daneath replied.  “We just need directions to the temple and we’re good.”

“I don’t like the idea of going in the front like that.  I’d prefer finding a different way if possible,” Iesa said with a frown.

“The only ones with living memory of the temple are the Highborn.  And we haven’t seen one of their number in some time.” Alanathia said.

“And anyway,” I said, “Charging in, isn’t a good idea until we are prepared.  We should rest, and scout around the temple, and see what we find.  Then we decide how we kill them.”

“Kill th..Is that necessary?  Could we not find a way to negotiate and end this, with less risk and less blood?”  a concerned Beepu asked.

I looked at Alanathia, and her swollen face.  I nodded in her direction while I spoke, “Their idea of talking seems to involve their fists or blades.  I think we are done…*talking.*” I said angrily, and I headed across the hall to leave.

“You did not answer my question; _ha-celas._  Why?” Alanathia asked again.

I stopped a moment and stood quietly.  I then turned to look at her, “Because…it’s the right thing…no, the only thing we can do.”  I then turned and left the hall and embraced the cool air of the early evening, as I walked back to the room I was given. 

_There’s more to it isn’t there Myr?

--No…yes…I don’t know.

They hurt you.

--What?  A bruised arm, and…

That’s not what I meant.

--…Yes…they should pay.  All of them.

Myr, I’m not su—

--Drop it.  

Don’t you—_

I swiftly moved my hand in a swift cutting motion, and Gossamer vanished in a sparkled haze.  My mood was running a red one, when I finally got to my room, and slammed the light door shut.  I unbuckled my rapier from my hip, threw it on the small table and collapsed on the lounge like chair.  Once planted, I grabbed the bottle of liquor that Morlea had once brought, removed the glass stopper, and brought the bottle up and took several swallows.  I felt the burn of the drink sting me as it slid past my lips and throat

It’s nuances of herbal and floral notes were lost on me.  I just wanted to experience the familiar euphoria.  I didn’t want to think or feel right now.  As I sat there, I peeled off with difficulty, the chain shirt I wore, and let it hit the floor.  I laid back, looking upwards at the ceiling.  I could feel my head begin to swim a bit as I felt the warm liquor run through me.  Soon, my eyes drooped, as my mind drifted away in the darkness.

---

I awoke with a start, as someone was knocking at the door.  The sky was a dim orange, telling me it was still early morning.  I stood up and stretched, and stumbled over to open it, to face Iesa.

“Hey, we’re going to be heading out in a while, are you—”

“Give me a little, and I’ll meet you at the hall.”

“Alright…oh, by the way, Beepu said you might be able to figure out what this is,” and Iesa handed me a small leather bag, tied shut with a thong.  I took it from him and opened it to find an amber colored gem.  But as I gazed into the bag, I noticed that inside the pouch it gave off a faint glow.

“Why did Beepu say…I should figure this out?”

Iesa shrugged, “I found it on the hobgoblin, noticed the glow, and gave it to Beepu.  He said it had an enchantment on it, but not one he was personally familiar with and maybe you were.”

“Thanks.  I’ll poke at it as we travel.”

“See you at the hall,” and Iesa turned and started to walk of, when he half turned and spoke again.  “I hope you are…better,” and without waiting for me to reply, he continued on towards the hall.

I watched as Iesa strode off, while turning over the bag in my hand.  Frowning, I closed the door and waved my hand.

_--u think…that.  Oh.  I see.  Fine.

It’s not.  I’m…sorry.  I…don’t know what got into me.

--You do.  That’s the problem._
By late morning, we were on our way.  We had some food, and basic supplies.  I was given a small shield to replace the one I had lost, and we started on our way.  We had rough directions to the temple, and it would take most of the day to reach it.  Fortunately, the elves knew their home, and gave us guidance on hidden paths that would lead us quickly through the forest.  While patrols might be a concern, we wouldn’t be lost, and adrift in the underbrush, wondering which way led out.

We had said little more than pleasantries in the morning, and we kept to ourselves as we marched.  It wasn’t that there weren’t things to say, but more that we wanted to hear what was coming.  The elves gave us warning that the patrols the hobgoblins ran, were quiet to a fault, and their wolves would smell you long before you see them.

So, we now smelled of pine and oak thanks to some creative working with the strand.  We moved as stealthily as we could, and fortune seemed to smile upon us.  We encountered no hobgoblins as we trudged through the brush.  But nor did we find any other elven patrol, confirming Galenas’ fears that more had been lost.

By late afternoon we reached our destination; a plateau that overlooked the temple grounds.  We crept slowly to the edge of the bluff, to see with our own eyes the temple grounds.

A large waterfall graced a sheer cliff face of rock.  The waterfall was on one side of a fane, carved into the rock.  The entrance was carved with runes and symbols around it, with a stone bridge that the river passed under.  The ruins of columns and arches lined a causeway of flagstone, that led to the entrance to the fane.  The columns were covered in vines and the floor of the causeway was litter with leaves, needles and dirt from perhaps centuries of disuse and overgrowth.  On both sides of the causeway, several pools of water stood, even now, fed with channels from the river, keeping the water fresh and clean.

But along the causeway was new construction; large tents of leather stretched over poles.  Pens with fencing of fresh cut logs, along the pools. In the pens, were worgs; some sleeping, others pacing back and forth.  Outside the tents were perhaps two score hobgoblins, but the size of the tents told us there were far more elsewhere.  Fires were scattered around the camp, and ramparts of logs shielded the main path into the temple, providing cover for defenders. 

Following the path away from the temple, it descended down to the floor of the forest.  But along the edge, the trees had been cut away, and more ramparts and palisades had been constructed, allowing defenders a clear view of the path ascending.  Looking at the area remaining, it could easily hold a much larger host.

“That is exactly…not the way in we are looking for,” Iesa said dryly.  “Even with Beepu’s magic…it would be a matter of time before I would be caught.”

“Give me a moment,” and Beepu waved his hand at Foggle and the brass owl vanished.  “I am sending him up and around the camp so he cannot be seen.”

“And for the rest of us, there isn’t much hope of sneaking past.  Even at night,”  Daneath frowned.

“No, their eyes are too sharp,” Beepu commented frowning.  “And watching the guards, they are disciplined and organized.  And so are their worgs.”  His eyes looked unfocused and far away, and I knew he was looking through Foggle’s eyes.  “Based on what I am seeing, half of the camp is not here.  And guessing at the bones in the worg pens, probably on patrol.  But Foggle does see some just inside the entrance to the temple.  So, no telling how many might be below.  This makes a frontal attack inadvisable.”

I couldn’t agree more with their assessment and had nothing to add.  So, l looked farther along the path.  We were on a ridge overlooking the temple, with the waterfall on our left and the entrance a bit farther.  But beyond the escarpment, was another tower in the distance.  It stood halfway up a hillside that would lead up above the waterfall, to where the river above flowed.

“Well, it looks like they are waiting for more to arrive,” Iesa said.

Daneath nodded, “Yep.  If we had some archers or siege weapons, we could attack them here.  But they have built cover just for that.”

“So, we return and say what, ‘nothing we can do?’ or ‘You should run,”

“No…not yet,” and I pointed at the farther tower.  “I am guessing that is guarding or overlooking something.”

“So?” Iesa looked at me puzzled.  “What good is going there?”

“So, we can do what the Hobgoblins did to the elves,” I said looking at him.  “We don’t attack where they are strong.  Pick them off on the edges where we can.  Perhaps capture one and get some information.  Also, it is off the main path.  So, what is it guarding?”

Beepu started to nod, “Yes.  Another path?  An entrance perhaps?”

“It has got to be better than attacking directly,” Daneath concurred.  “Iesa?”

“It is worth a try.  And if not, then we can go back…” Iesa started.

“How about, ‘not in a box’,” I looked at everyone, and everyone nodded in agreement.
We found our way down to the forest floor.  We believed that we were unobserved and found the same path that led to the temple.  Where the other direction went was lost to dirt and tree growth.  We couldn’t see the tower…not directly.  But both Gossamer and Foggle could from the air, and they helped us stay on track.

As we got closer, we found the was tower on a hillside, while the ground in front was a gully.  Scattered in the gully were boulders and clusters of earth.  We approached and it seemed that this area was what must have been the remains of a forest fire.  There were only a few trees that still stood, and many channels of water that had cut paths between the earthen clusters.  The tower itself, was once several stories tall, but now only a slender section of wall reached that height, and nothing remained of the second level.

But leading to that tower, was the remains of a path and several tiers cut into the earth.  And on those tiers, we could see several goblins and some worgs.  Several tents were scattered on the tiers as well, but it was nothing like the temple.  These seemed hurriedly constructed and didn’t have the organization of the other ones.   There were no other defenses to provide cover beyond the remains of the tower itself.

We looked at each other and nodded; we knew we could do this.

“So, here’s my idea,” Isea grinned as he spoke. “Daneath and I get closer and start shooting arrows at them. Once we do, they’ll try to charge us, and you two pick them off.”

“That’s a lot of goblins…are you sure?” I asked.

“I have a new spell I want to try,” Beepu said rubbing his chin. “It will be invaluable.”

“Fine…will it kill them?” I said bluntly.

“What?  No…no…no.  Not directly.  But it will help.” he grinned.

“Take your word for it,” let’s go.

We split and watched Iesa and Daneath move forward towards the tower, keeping low and trying to stay out of sight.  Beepu and I drifted a bit to the right, keeping the brothers within our vision.  Foggle stayed low, along with Gossamer, not wanting to give the goblins something to look at.

After some skulking around the earthen berms, I saw the brothers stop.  They thrust their swords into the earth, the hilts in easy reach.  Daneath set his shield down as well.  Then both pulled their bows off of their back.  Each of them nocked an arrow and drew.

I looked at Beepu and watched him begin to make motions with his hands.  In the stillness, and without the hectic flow of battle, I could feel Beepu pulling at the weave.  The incantation seemed simple, but he was focused in pulling more power into the spell.  I heard the twang of arrows, and my eyes were drawn towards the tower, as I watched two goblins fall; one knocked straight off his worg, and a second falling backwards into a campfire.  Then I felt the Weave near me tense and release.

Beepu threw open his hand in a flourish towards the tower, and I saw an explosion of mist, boil out and cover the goblins in a thick fog.  I squinted trying to see anything within.  The brothers were also taken aback and turned to look where we stood.  All I could do is shrug my shoulders as I turned to look at the gnome in puzzlement.

“Wait,” he said.  And he started another incantation.  As he did so I could hear the goblins and worgs, shouting and barking in frustration.  I then hear the sounds of bodies hitting the ground hard, accompanied by screams of pain.

I turned around to look back at the mist, and out of it bounded a worg with a goblin mounted on its back.  Quickly two arrows were fired, striking the worg in the chest, and pitching the goblin forward towards the ground, as I threw a bolt of energy at it.  As the goblin stood up straight and bared his teeth, the bolt struck him in the head, knocking him back to the ground where he lay still.

Beepu finished his second spell throwing a pinch of sand into the air, and he commented.  “That will make things easier with them sleeping through the fight.”

It now was clear what he had done; the fog made it dangerous to rush at us directly.  Then his sleep spell would keep a number of them out of the fight.  And considering how thick the fog was, it was unclear how many of the goblins could even see that anyone fell asleep.

“Myrai, help me get up this berm, so I can have a better view,” he asked, and I extended a hand and tossed him up.  “Ah…this is excellent!” he exclaimed, as we heard more goblins and worgs screaming, falling and even the sickening crunch of bone as bodies hit earth and rock.

I only needed to hear those sounds, to put a smile on my face.  More stragglers bounded from the mist.  They were me with arrows, bolts of fire and energy flew, picking them off as they stumbled into view.  I was reveling in picking them off one by one.  My smile growing wider as each one fell into a lifeless heap.

Then I could only see its barest outline, but a larger back furred worg emerged from the fog.  Unlike the other goblins and worgs before, it wasn’t rushing out, it moved out slowly and patiently.  Its head turned slowly, searching out ahead of it, when its eyes locked onto Beepu.  I heard it howl and start two steps towards him, when a blue haze erupted, and the wolf disappeared.

I didn’t have anytime to look for it, as I heard the sounds of legs running above me, and then a snarl and a scream of pain from Beepu.  I backed up and looked up to see that same black wolf’s jaws rip into Beepu’s arm.  Once locked, it shook its massive head and tossed the gnome aside.  I stood there stupidly in shock as I watched this worg, grin in satisfaction as blood dripped from its muzzle.  But now as I looked, the muzzle, the face was all wrong.  The face wasn’t one of a worg, but it looked more like a goblin’s but smashed onto the body of the worg.  It’s head and jaw were broader, and even more teeth filled its maw.

“So…wizard, ready to be the rabbit you were born to be?” the worg spoke, in a rough, cold voice.  It started moving towards the gnome, unconcerned that it’s prey could flee.  Its head was lowered, and its eyes were firmly looking at Beepu’s fallen form.

I threw a bolt of energy at it, only to see it ricochet off it’s hide.  Iesa was still picking off goblins with his bow, while Daneath dropped his bow, and grabbed his sword and shield to run in our direction.  Beepu, in the meantime scrambled to his feet and ran and jumped to another berm, trying to close the distance to Daneath.  He also twisted around, and a blast of fire left his hands, only to see it go wild.  He turned and ran and jumped across a gap between the berms, trying to get more room between himself and the creature.

It simply snarled and bounded after him, clearing the jump and lunging at Beepu.  Its jaws closed on Beepu’s leg and blood sprayed in several directions.  Beepu screamed and cursed again.  Fortunately, he broke free and ran straight towards the warrior.

I was about to throw another bolt of energy at Beepu’s assailant, when I noticed that the fog bank was dissipating. 

_Beepu lost his focus…watch my back!

--Then you better turn around now!_

I whirled in time to see two worgs bounding towards me.  I cursed something filthy under my breath and pulled on the dark strands.  Seeing the skeletal hands grasp for their throats, I ran.  I could feel the hands tear at their souls, but they weren’t daunted by my exertion.

They snapped at me, and one managed to draw some blood from my right arm, as I fended off the other one with my shield.   I started to back up slowly, heading towards Iesa.  As my legs churned, carrying me to safety I hoped, I heard the sound of Beepu’s voice shout.

“I need some help!”

“Jump, I’ll catch you.” Came Daneath’s reply.

As I fended off the worgs snarling and nipping, I turned to look at Beepu.  He was running as fast as his legs could carry him.  He finally reached the end, and I saw him jump.  He dove straight forward towards the warrior, his legs still running in the air while his arms and torso stretched out, as if to reach an impossible goal.

Daneath was waiting below, and I watched as Beepu fell straight through his hands, and his body struck the ground as Beepu landed face first into the mud.

Even as I was batting off the two worgs on me, I could barely stifle a chuckle at the comedy that lead to Beepu’s dire predicament.  Once I saw Beepu moving again, I wasted no time and turning around, pulling on the dartness, and summoning the miasma to swallow both of them.  Both ran through it, and I kept running towards iesa, so we could cover each other.

_Myr…what do I?-- 

--Just run!_

I ran as fast as I could, passing Daneath, as I saw Beepu pick himself up, with Gossamer close behind me.  I turned again and flexed, pulling at the darkness, and again the bell tolled, and the miasma spilled forth.  This time the souls of the worgs let go, and left this plane for the fugue, and their corpses fell, running themselves into the ground.

“Dyde ech corden duol dim yner ffunto!”  Beepu yelled, screaming at Daneath.

“The sun was in my eyes…what does that even mean?” Daneath yelled in return.

“It’s an insult, I’ll tell you later,” I said as I ran by running to my favorite Knight of the Post.  Iesa had dropped his bow, and had finished off another worg, when he turned and looked past me shouting “Beepu, watch out!”

_Ouch.  That’s going to leave a mark!

--Not helping!_

Turning I saw the worg thing land its jaws around Beepu’s arm and hold fast.  It then bolted, dragging Beepu across the ground and towards the tower.  I could hear Beepu cursing and I saw flames as Beepu tried to hit his tormentor, but the bolts flew wide.  Iesa ran ahead of me, as did Daneath after the worg carrying Beepu.  It was fast and soon it was on the top of the hillock, when it spun and tossed the gnome down the path.

“You will not free him.  He will die in the ‘Prophesized Ones’ name!’ filthy _ganlockts!_”  And it ran into the bottom of the ruined tower. 

I looked around and didn’t see any goblins or worgs moving.  Iesa was running to some of the tents on the lower ledges and was stabbing frequently, waiting for his brother to catch up to him.

_--Goss find a way into that tower, find out who this prisoner is.

Sure thing._

The Tressym spread its wings and used its legs to run and skip across the ground fast.  It wasn’t as fast as that worg, but it easily outpaced the brothers as it flew low around the tower, looking for a way in.

I had just caught up with Iesa and Daneath, who were waiting for me.  Beepu was unconscious, and I quickly pulled on a white strand, and poured energy into him.  His eyes snapped open in surprise and then he grimaced in pain. 

“Where is that, that, thing?” I sputtered.

“In the tower,” Daneath said, already moving again.

“Who are we not freeing?” Iesa asked.

“Probably the last of an elf—”

_--Um Myrai…I don’t know what this is.  But it has four legs and horns.

A Bariaur?  Here?  No…wait.  What kind of horns?

--I have no idea..long ones like tree branches._

“It’s a Highborn!” I shouted.  “Kill that worg before—”

“On it!” both men replied and then dashed towards the tower.  I started to chase after them, and I saw out of the corner of my eye, Beepu stand up shakily and start to follow.

_How is it?

--Restrained and wounded.  

Get close and touch him.

--It’s huge!

Just DO it!_

I was still running, and I saw the brothers enter the tower and could barely hear them as I ran closer.

“Where is it?” Iesa said first.

“How could it hide?” Daneath replied.

_Tell me when you touch it?  And where is the worg?

--What worg?  All I see is a Barghest about to drop down on your friends._

My eyes widen, and I screamed: “Above you!”

Beepu was just behind me and we were not four paces from the door, when we saw the large form of the barghest drop and land on top of Daneath.  Iesa stabbed at it with his rapier and backed up back outside. 

It chased him, growling and snarling with that horrid face, taunting as it lunged.  Meanwhile Daneath stumbled out, bleeding profusely where the shoulder and neck met.  I ran to him, and quickly poured more of the white strand into him.  I was weakening; there wasn’t much more I could do.

“I will devour your souls!” it growled as it lunged towards Iesa.  Daneath, charged from the tower, and plunged his sword in the back side of it.  The barghest bellowed in pain and turned to snap at him.  As it turned, Beepu threw a bolt of fire, but the barghest simply ducked, and the blast flew overhead.

_--Ok I’m touching it.  Now what?

Keep it company.

--Ok…how?

Try sitting on its lap and purr.

--Really?  I don’t even know him.

GOS!_

The battle outside was going poorly.  The barghest hide was thick and it seemed that Iesa’s blows were ineffective, while Daneath couldn’t hit it at all.  Beepu, covered in blood, was missing with his bolts as well, and at least one only just singed it.  I was about to join into the fray, but I had one thing to do first.  I concentrated on a white strand and drew energy from it into me.  I then pushed it down the thread that connected me to Gossamer.  I could feel the energy touch and caress something through Gossamer, and felt it bind itself with it.

_--He’s wakin—

Start purring!_

Looking at everyone, I saw that Iesa had taken a nasty bite and was stumbling.  I ran over behind him and as I pulled on a white strand, barely grazing him.  But it was enough to help close his wounds, and I felt the energy on the white and dark strands dim within me.  I had nothing left and would be lucky to prevent anyone from dying now.

I moved myself to the door of the tower and blocked the entrance and turned around.  The beast had just lunged and bit down on Daneath’s sword arm, just as he attempted to thrust his weapon into it.  Daneath grunted and withdrew, placing his shield up in front of him, just in time to block the teeth and claws of the Barghest.  Iesa tried to thrust, tried to slash and could not land a blow.

Finally, I could concentrate.  I pulled on the only piece of the strand I could.  The most basic and primal.  The dark miasma once again surrounded the Barghest.  As the bell sounded and the darkness formed, I heard it howl in agony, as its soul was flayed apart by dark energies.  It turned to look at me and charged. 

I placed my shield in front of me and lowered my body closer to the ground.  The impact jammed my shield into my shoulder, and my feet dug into the loose earth, and then catching on the threshold of the door.  The beast’s muzzle, bit and tried to slip up over my shield, but I held my ground.

I could no longer see my friends, but I heard the whistling of metal in the air, and the sound of blades sinking deeply into the foul thing.  I could smell burnt hair as a blast of fire hit it.  I concentrated again and pulled more miasma, and again sounding the bell.

Suddenly, it stopped pushing on my shield.  Looking over it, I saw that it changed targets and it was dashing straight at Beepu, closing its jaws on the gnome.  Once again it started to thrash, twisting its head as it shook Beepu, like a rabbit caught on the hunt.  As it did so I heard Beepu say something and I felt the Weave snap.

Three bolts of light arced from Beepu, and each struck the barghest.  It dropped Beepu, staggering a bit on all fours.

“No…too…soon…only…four m-m-m-ore...”

And as it spoke, Daneath charged into the beast, knocking it over.  He then brought his long sword down twice, each spraying blood and the second one with the sound of bone cracking as either the spine or a thick rib was cleaved.  The barghest quivered a moment, and then its form went slack, blood pooling beneath it.

We stood there panting, exhausted.  Beepu, lay there unconscious, and Iesa was also severely wounded.  Daneath, while bloodied seemed to shrug off the injuries.  I had some scratches, but otherwise was alright.

I moved to Beepu and put a bit of energy into him, keeping him on this side of the fugue.  Then, I stood up straight and moved softly to the doorway leading into the tower.  Iesa was about to follow, when Daneath laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Let her do it,” Daneath said softly.

“But I can talk to—” Iesa started.

“She might be more his…peer.” He said simply.

I crossed the threshold of the tower.  The room was a shambles, and the roof let slivers of light in.  Holes were present in the walls, everywhere.  It was barely intact, unable to keep the elements or wild animals at bay.  Inside was no furniture, only a straw pallet in a corner.  On the wall was an iron ring, and on it was attached a chain with a padlock, that led to the neck of a being that I could only describe as majestic.

I was familiar with Bariaur, a four-legged race found in Sigil.  They were touchy, proud of themselves, and their horns.  But they had horns and faces that resembled that of goats, and they stood no taller than most humans or gith.

This creature was something else; it was massive, he easily could have been twice my height.  Its body reminded me of the Elk spirit I saw before.  It had a male torso, that was elven in proportion.  Its skin was deeply tanned and muscled.  On his head was a mane of chestnut brown hair, and from beneath the locks, were massive antlers, again like the Elk spirit.

It was laying down; the chain was short enough that it could not stand easily.  There were signs of blood from cuts from blades all over its body.  But now the wounds were closed.  As I entered, it took no notice of me, as its attention was focused on something else.  As it lay there, it had a look of amusement as at looked at Gossamer, who had perched himself on the Highborns’ flank.  There with wings outspread and purring up a storm, Gossamer kneaded that flank, with outstretched claws as if it was the purest sign of love.

The Highborn finally took notice of me, and he turned his head to look.  His eyes appeared to be full of starlight.  He also had that hint of a smile on his lips, as he spoke.

“Such a marvelous creature,” his deep voice intoned with a touch of merriment on it.  “I have only heard of Tressym, this is the first one I have met.  I don’t suppose I could keep him as a…companion.”

I smiled as a knelt in from the Highborne, “I don’t think that is possible.  He is really a celestial spirit and is a part of me.”

The Highborne nodded.  “I knew it was not fey and seeing you I can see you that are not human.”

“The elves would call me a _ha-celas_ and I am…far from home.  Let me see about finding a key to that lock. I pulled out the copper wire from my pouch and whispered;

“Iesa, look for a key somewhere.”

“GAH!  Don’t surprise me like that.  Right.  Find key…and come in?”

“Yes, and if you don’t find one, come in.”

I turned to look at the Highborn again, “My friend, Iesa is looking for the key now.  By the way my name is Myrai and that,” I pointed at the still kneading Tressym, “Is Gossamer.  What may we call you?”

“In this tongue, the best translation would be Pathhorn.  And I thank you for dealing with these goblins.  It was fortunate that you arrived.”

“That may be more accurate than you know,” I responded.  “However, we should talk elsewhere, before more goblins arrive.  My friends are badly wounded, and we have many questions for you.”

“For…me?  Concerning?”

“The temple that the goblins have taken.”

The Highborn nodded slowly.  “I know of somewhere safe nearby.  And yes, we must talk.”

*Session notes:*

This was a near TPK, as the other three were on the edge of dying, and I would have soon followed.  Lousy dice roll all through the night.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Great update, Nthal.


----------



## Nthal

*The Pool of Refuge*.* - 11/19/2019*

_Pure water is more valuable than ale in Sigil, and much harder to find.  So, there is a mystique about how water is a cure for almost all ills.   How the taste of nothing is a sign of quality.  How it washes away our tears and filth so easily.

So, the greatest store of water is in the bathing pools of the Great Gymnasium.  And there, if you are lucky, can get all the ills cured for a princely sum in the private baths.

But in Sigil, every so often, everyone can wash away their troubles for free.  You just have to put up with a lot of filth until that day comes._​


Iesa came in the tower, with a key in hand.  “It wasn’t on that…thing, but I found it in the tent.  So, if you give me a moment…” and Iesa quickly sprung open the lock.

The highborn now freed, stood up, and slowly made his way outside.  The sun had just touched the horizon and the warm orange glow was spreading across the sky, and the few clouds as well.  Daneath was bent over Beepu, who was laid down on the earth, with Daneath’s cloak acting as a pillow.  Beepu’s clothes were stained in his own blood, and his shirt was torn in many places.  His face was pale, and his breathing shallow.

The highborn noticed the injured gnome and frowned.  “There were more goblins here before,” he began, “and they will return.  I know of a safe place near.”

“We should be careful so they can’t track us,” Iesa said concerned, already looking around for a surprise attack.

Pathhorn nodded, “Indeed.   But I will conceal us.  No worg or goblin will follow us,” And I saw the highborn close its eyes and whisper something into the air.  He then bent over and carefully lifted and cradled the gnome in his arms.  Turning to look at the three of us he spoke again

“Follow swiftly,” and the highborn started to lope into the brush.  We barely had a moment to look at each other, before we found ourselves running to catch Pathhorn.  Iesa and I were close behind, and Daneath was clattering behind in his armor.  In truth, Pathhorn was clearly not running at full speed and was not trying to lose us in the brush.  But the pace was a bit more than brisk.

The sun had just set, and the light in the sky was fading into deeper and deeper shades of violet when Pathhorn finally slowed down.  We were walking into a thick copse of trees.  The undergrowth was thick, with the bracken as tall as I.  We threaded our way carefully, following the highborn, when suddenly, we found ourselves in a glade.

There were few trees within it, but oaks that lined the edges, provided a broad canopy over, concealing most of the sky above.  The bracken that choked the woods before, was replaced by a carpet of moss.  The clearing was shielded on one side by a rock face, that opened into a shallow grotto.  Below the grotto, was a stick stand of cattails, that surrounded a pool.  In the sky, the moon Selune hung, and its light filtered through a break in the canopy above, scattering across the water.

I slowly walked into this place that we were led in awe.  I had that same feeling when I was in the presence of the Elk spirit.  A feeling that this was sacred and primal.  As I stood there, drinking in the sight, Pathhorn carried Beepu to the grotto.  The stone floor had what looked like matts of soft leaves and moss.  The highborn lay the gnome gently upon one, and moved to the rear of the grotto, where a small shelf of stone held a number of bowls.  Pathhorn, grabbed one and moved towards some shrubs near the entrance.  As he did so, I knelt next to the gnome.

His injuries were bad, with many tears in his flesh from the barghest.  I focused a moment and pulled some energy from the light strands and started to clean away the blood and repair his clothes.  Iesa and Daneath approached me as I worked.

“Will he live?” Daneath asked.

I nodded, “I can’t do more for him right now, but I will later.”  I heard the Hightborn approach, and I turned to look at Pathhorn.  “Thank you for guiding us here.”

“Assisting each other against a common foe is expected; I am thankful that Silvanus saw to it that we found each other,” he said with the barest smile.  He then gestured around him, “You are welcome to stay here and rest.  But do not leave the clearing; you might not be able to return.”

We nodded, and then Daneath asked, “So…the elves said they had lost contact with the highborn.  We didn’t think we would find one.”

Pathhorn frowned “We are few in number, and the hobgoblins harassment unceasing.  Most of us have returned to the Feywild to ride out the storm.”

“Most?” Iesa said puzzled.  “So, there *are* others…where are they?”

Pathhorn stared and regarded the lean man for a moment before speaking again.  “I am not certain, but I suspect more mischief from the hobgoblins.  And I intend to find out.”

“Can we help in any way?” Iesa pressed.

Again, Pathhorn was quiet a moment as he regarded each of us before shaking his head.  “No, the distance I must travel is far and you would not be able to keep up the pace.  I must continue alone.”  He then looked at me, “You had questions about the Temple of the Fallen as I recall.”

“Yes...yes we did.  We saw that the hobgoblins have taken it, and…” I paused trying to gather my thoughts together in a way that made sense.

The highborn arched an eyebrow and waited.

“…well find out what they wanted, and perhaps see if there is another way in.”

Pathhorn nodded, “The leader of this band tried to question me.  He was interested in something inside the temple.  In short, he was seeking knowledge of the Grand Font deep within.”

“What is that?” Iesa asked.

“The temple is old.  It was built as the final rest for the elves and fey that fought in the Fourth Crown War.  It was the end of this war that saw the great verdant forest burned away, leaving what you call today ‘The High Moors.’  But the valiant of the Fey and the Elves were laid to rest at the Temple.  Many thousands of years past, and the Elven kingdoms of old fell away, and new ones arose.  But here in the Misty Forest, only the wood elves, and some moon elves remained.  Many left Faerun in the retreat, and most forgot the temple.”

“But what does that have to do with the ‘Great Font’?” I asked.

“I have never seen it, but it was a pool that cleansed the spirits of the stain of that war.  And while it stripped away the filth from the souls, that same filth and corruption remain below.  As to why the hobgoblins seek it, I do not know.”

“Wait, the elves said that you were the keepers.”  Daneath stated trying to understand what had happened.

“No; we honor our fallen and keep others out.  We do nothing more.  And recently we have done less, as we return to the Feywild.” Pathhorn said.

“Well, I don’t suppose you know a way into Temple that doesn’t involve fighting through the encampment above?” I asked hoping.

“There is.  There are two,” and we all leaned forward with interest.

“The first, lies in a crevice of rock, near the top of the falls.  There the elven priests lived and had a passage that led to the middle levels of the temple.  It was secured with a secret password, known to the priests.  The second was built later, because of events.”

“Events?” Daneath asked.  “What changed?”

“Once the Font became…corrupted, it was feared that the Ilythiiri, what you call Drow now, would seek to use this corruption for ill.  The Temple became fortified.  Deep below, a portal was created as an escape route in case the upper halls fell, so the guardians could warn others.  I have never seen that portal either.”

Pathhorn, looked up at the sky and that the moon that peeked between the leaves and branches, before continuing.  “But, the ages past and Ilefarn’s fragmentation and fall, the purpose of the temple became lost.  Some, such as the highborn, remember as does Melendrach and some of the sages of his court.  But for most others, the truth is hidden.”

“Do you know the password to access the halls?” Daneath asked.

The highborn was silent before giving a deep sigh. “Yes.  But, I am torn; I should discharge my duty and stop them.  But I have a duty to our people to help them.  It should not be your task.”

“If we cannot help your people, let us help here.” I said.  “We already are helping the elves…so doing this is a small matter.  And as someone recently said ‘Assisting each other against a common foe is expected’”

Pathhorn nodded with a smile.  “So, I did.  The password is simple; ‘_Gathen thyr kollas’_ spoken at the runic circle in the crevice will allow you to pass through the rock.  Beyond that…I do not know the path below.  You will be on your own.”

“Our thanks, Pathhorn.” Daneath said.

Pathhorn stretched, “I have gathered some food for the evening, that  will prepare for us all.  After that I must ready myself for the long journey ahead before I rest.”

“Of course,” I said.  “We and our small menagerie will try to keep things quiet.  One small question; is this place sacred or...”

“This?  It is a simple refuge for highborn travelling.  It is concealed, but it is not a place of worship.  For us, all the wild is.  And you mentioned a menagerie.  Did you have other tressym?”

“No…a monkey,” I gesturing to Iesa’s pack, where I could see a nervous Mo’s eyes staring at the highborn, “and a mechanical…owl?” I looked around suddenly.  “Where is Foggle?”

“I haven’t seen him since that goblin worg thing,” Iesa said.  “I don’t remember him following us.”

“Ah…that…thing.” Pathhorn said with a frown.  “Unnatural, and I did not know it was with you.  I am afraid it might be a bit lost.  Excuse me, as I gather some things.” And Pathhorn moved to the edge of the grotto.

I looked down at the sleeping gnome, “Well, I guess I have enough energy to heal Beepu; he’ll know what to do.”

I laid my hand on Beepu and pulled on a white strand within me.  I then channeled it into Beepu’s form, and I could feel the wounds close throughout him.  His breathing quickened and his eyes opened, and he lurched forward with a start.

“What?  Ouch…I hurt.  Sore.  Where are we?”  Beepu spoke with confusion on his face.

“What do you last remember?” Iesa asked.

“I remember a lot of drool, bad breath, and the world spinning.   It was that worg was it not?”

“Not exactly.  It appears we fended off a barghest, not a worg.” I said looking Beepu over.

“What’s a barghest?” Daneath asked.

“A fiend.” I said.  “It will devour souls, but it usually is sent to the Prime to feed on goblin souls.  Sometimes they’ll snack on others.”

“Feed on s…wait, shouldn’t it be a foe of goblins then?”

I shrugged, “It’s a demiplane.  Why it was doing what it was is a mystery.”

“I see…I hurt.  I need some rest,” and I watched him snap his fingers, and suddenly Foggle appeared in a puff of blue sparks.  He then laid down.  Then he frowned, “But I am hungry. I should eat something first.”

“Indeed,” and Pathhorn held out a bowl, with what looked to be raspberries, but each was the size of a large acorn.  “These fruits are enchanted not to ever spoil and to fill your need of food for a day.  Eat one tonight and save the rest for when your need is dire.”

“Yes!  That is excellent advice.  You see, you should all pay attention to the wise words of…” Beepu’s brows knitted a moment as he looked back and forth at Pathhorn and then at the rest of us.  Finally, he straightened up and said.

“And who are you exactly?”

--------------------------------

The fruit was filling, and we each started to focus at different tasks at hand.  The brothers oiled and sharpened their blades and maintained their armor.   Beepu after eating, fell asleep and started to softly snore, all the while Foggle quietly spun its head looking for threats.

Pathhorn, kept to himself.  I saw that had already gathered packs and satchels.  Now, he was gathering tools of war; a polished bow with carved images of leaves and trees.  Quivers full of arrows with broad, serrated, metal heads.  Blades of different length, each curved, and now being honed to a sharp edge.

I left the cover of the grotto, and made my way in the cool air, towards the pool in the center of the glade.  Gossamer fluttered along side of me, casually swooping and gliding about.  I watched him, skim the surface of the pool, but with grace and precision, so his wings, tail and paws never once touched.  For some reason watching him play made me smile.

_-- So, you DO know that asking me to purr at someone I don’t know is generally considered a breach of etiquette.

Huh?  How so?

-- It’s just not right.  I should know the being and should at least know if I like them first.

What?  Is there some type of manual about this?

--Of course not.  It’s common sense!

So…the fact that you were kneading him with your paws was a complete accident, or were you conveying some strange insult?”

--Oh…that…well…I guess that I needed to keep up the illusion…that…

That?

--Alright.  I did like him.  So, what are we doing here by the pool anyway?

Indulging myself._

Before long, my weapons, armor and other clothes were in a neat pile on the moss, and I was beneath the waters.  While I knew it was months since I had a real bath, it had been even longer since I had actually swum.

That last time was a hot day in Sigil.  It was nothing special or remarkable as a day, except the smell.  That day, the stench from the Ditch was overwhelming.  The odor could be smelt as far as the Lady’s Ward.  The reason was simple; the Ditch was a river of slime, rot and garbage.  Many people threw their junk into it.  Many spivs threw bodies into it.  All to be forgotten beneath the dark green and brown waters.  And that day it was especially ripe for reasons I would rather not have explored.

But the Ditch would change once or twice a year for a day.  On those days a portal would open, and the pure clean waters of the Oceanus would flood the Ditch.  And in moments, the entirety of the Ditch was cleansed.  It would sparkle with the filth and detritus now swept away.  On days like this, everything in Sigil stopped.  The markets, the forges, the shops all closed.  It was all a grand holiday that rich and poor alike enjoyed.  All the kids from the Gatehouse, including myself would rush and play in the waters.  As time went on, I finally learned how to swim.  And I fearlessly tread those waters.  Waters that made your soul feel cleansed itself, as worry and toil would wash away.  And you would be sharing this experience with thousands as each took their turn in the waters.

But now, I found myself shedding weapons, armor and clothes to do something I had never done before; swim alone.  I stepped carefully on the rocks and soon I was submerged in the waters of the pool.  To my eyes, everything flickered between dim moonlight, and brightly lit.  The water felt cool to my skin, and only the smallest ripples scattered across the surface as I entered.   But the most striking thing was how quiet it was.  I could barely hear the lapping of water on the rocks, as I disturbed its stillness and only the faintest rustle in the branches and leaves overhead.  I exhaled and let my head sink beneath the surface, and I entered a different world.

Where it was quiet before it was now almost silent, beyond a bubble or two escaping my lips, and the beat of my heart within me.  I relaxed and listened to nothing as I hung in the waters, drinking in the peace and silence.  Enough to quell my worried thoughts, and to still the anger I felt against the hobgoblins for what they had done.  Slowly my body began to rise, and I stretched out my limbs as I broke the surface.  I floated there quietly, listening, and hearing the only the sounds of my breathing.  My eyes were only half open to see Selune above.  I wanted to feel this way forever.

But I knew it was an illusion.  A momentary respite from the goings on.  I floated there in the darkness wondering when I might find respite again.  But I wasn’t even sure where this all was leading.  Why I was needed here?  Why was this important?  Why me of all people?

I closed my eyes again, listening to my breathing, and my heart underneath the water.  I chased away the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty.  The answers would come soon enough.

I hoped.

---------------------------------------------

I was awake at the first light, still having the habit of last watch.  Seemed unneeded here, but it did give me time to look at that gemstone.  After a number of hours, I realized that that it held, captured within a magical matrix, a quantity of light.  And this light could create light like I did, or it could project them onto particular points.  I was certain that if it was commanded to, the light could be shined into a creature’s eyes, and perhaps blind them for a time.  An interesting object that could be useful at the right time.  I smiled at myself for figuring this puzzle out, and I couldn’t wait to tell Beepu.

I looked over at the others; Iesa and Daneath might be brothers, but their sleeping habits were very different.  Daneath preferred to lay flat on his back, while Iesa curled up on his side.  Beepu was always flat on his stomach.  I think I toss and turn a lot, but I tend to wake up that way.  But none of them were awake yet.

My eyes turned to Gossamer, who decided to sleep on top of Pathhorn, just where the fur ended, and the elven torso started.  I shook my head.

_Traitor_.

_--Huh…wha?  It’s not what you think!

Really?

--You were up looking at the gem, and I was…cold!  Yes!  And so, Pathhorn gives off a lot of heat, so I figured tha—

Gos?

--Uh, yes?

I’m teasing, but we need to wake the rest.

--Ok…ok…on it._

Before long we were up and getting ready to move.  That included Pathhorn, who was now covered in harnesses and straps.  Pouches hung from some, and blades and quivers from others.

“You look like you are going far, Pathhorn,” I said.

The highborn nodded, “Yes.  It is many days travel from here.” And he turned to look at me, “And I forsee you will travel far soon as well.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the ‘Prophesized One,’ is far from here.”

“What? He’s not at the temple?”

“No.  From the conversations I heard, he is somewhere in the High Moors.  But I beyond that, I cannot say.  But I am also certain you will cross paths with him.”

“We could help you and you us,” I said, but his face was still focused on his tasks at hand.

“I thank you but no _ha-celas_.  And I wish you well on your journey...home.”

I nodded, and Pathhorn gathered himself, and bolted out of the grotto, and into the bracken that surrounded the glade.   He seemed unaffected by the brush, and in a moment, he was gone.

Sighing I turned to the others, who were finishing up packing their gear.

“Time already…ugh.” Beepu groaned.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Yes.  I felt fine.  Then you woke me up.  Now I feel sore and grumpy.”

“Back to normal then, that’s good.”

“Hah hah,” the gnome spat.

“Well, the good news is we aren’t far from the entrance,” Iesa said smiling.  “Hopefully, we can kill the leader and go.  And that will be the end of that.”

“It’s never that simple,” Daneath said staring at Iesa.  The only thing that *is* certain is getting back to Whitepetal.”

“What do you mean?” Beepu asked, as he absentmindedly polished Foggle.

“This,” Daneath held up an object that looked like a crystal globe, bound in silver.

“And…?” Iesa said.

“Galenas gave it to me, and he said with the right words, it will lead us back to Whitepetal.” Daneath said with a grin.

“Why you?” Beepu said archly.

“Oh…well…”

“Well what?”

“It was after you told that joke…”

I leaned over to Iesa and whispered, “What joke?”

He leaned over and said into my ear, “It was when you were below, but the joke involved comparing gnomish generations with elven ones.  I didn’t get it.”

“Did the elves?”

“Yes…they did,” and Iesa winced.

“That was an excellent example of sophisticated gnomish humor,” Beepu said defensively.

Daneath spread his hands, “It must have been, because they didn’t want to burden you with such a trivial task.”

“Right.  No wait, why did they give it to you?  You cannot pronounce elvish correctly!  I keep trying to teach you, and you just snore.”

“Because Myrai was busy…can we go?” Daneath said looking at Iesa and I helplessly.

“Let’s go,” I said trying to hide my smirk.  “Iesa, care to lead?”

“The river and the upper falls should be fairly close,” Iesa said as he started to move to the edge of the glade.  “We’ll probably hear it before we see it.”

“Works for me,” and Daneath jogged to catch up with Iesa, while Beepu and I followed behind.  Gossamer flew a distance behind me keeping an eye out for unwelcome guests.

“I do not think he is taking me seriously.  I am trying to educate him.” Beepu muttered.

“He’s more of a learn as you go, than learn by lecture type,” I said trying to mollify Beepu.

“You are probably right about him.  What is your excuse?” Beepu looked at me with a squinted look.

“Look, it was a major effort to learn the other language I know.  I’m not ready for that kind of commitment,” I said honestly.  “Ask me when we aren’t trying to end a war with folks that speak goblin.

Beepu considered that a moment.  “Goblin would be useful,” and he sent Foggle up above to help find our way to the river and the top of the falls.

Iesa was right on both counts; it was close, and we heard it first.  As we approached the site, I could see the tops of ruined buildings, covered in vines and lichen.  But before we actually entered the site, Beepu stopped us short.

“Goblins!” He exclaimed in a sharp whisper.  Then his eyes started to defocus.  Suddenly he had a look of confusion as he cocked his head to one side.  “Wait…I thought they were resting, but these seem to be…dead.”

Daneath gripped his weapon tightly and took the lead from Iesa.  “Well I applaud them, but it doesn’t make me feel safer.”

We crept out of the forest, and its thick undergrowth and found ourselves in what might have been a small village.  Five stone structures, in varying states of ruin surrounded a well.  The river passed nearby, and a stone bridge crossed it, still intact.  What might have been a road or pathway leading through the village, was choked by undergrowth, but clear of trees.  As we moved onto one of the pathways, we saw what Beepu spoke about earlier.  Four figures lay in the center of trampled bracken, and as we approached, I became nervous.

There were flies circling around the hobgoblin corpses, but the lack of the scent of rot told me that these corpses were fresh.  Blood had been not spilled, but sprayed around the foliage, and was even now slowly dripping from leaves.  As we got closer, we saw that they were all marked with multiple stab wounds, like a rapier used over and over in quick succession.  A couple of them had larger tears around their shoulders, and one had a snapped collarbone sticking out of his jerkin.

I knelt next to one of the bodies and looked closer at the wounds.  A greenish stain was visible on the edges of the leather around the punctures.  Their faces were twisted in a rictus snarl, which they still kept even as they died.

I looked up to the others and spoke quietly, “This is very recent, and I am guessing poison was used.”

Iesa also knelt down and looked at the ground.  “Odd, lots of boot tracks, but I don’t see any leaving here.  No animal tracks either.  It’s like they slaughtered themselves.

“That can’t be right,” Daneath said agitated.  “They have longswords and axes.  Those leave slashes, not…signs of being poked to death.” 

I stood again and looked around, feeling on edge.  Something was wrong here.  It felt unnatural how they died.

“Well, If we need to retreat back here, we should make sure that everything is cleared of threats,” Beepu said in a matter of fact tone.  He waved his hand and Foggle started to circle above the ruins.

We headed to the center of the former village.  Here, the well still stood, but the mortar that held it together had already crumbled away, and with it, part of the circle of stone had collapsed.  As we looked around a moment, I saw Daneath out of the corner of my eye, move towards one of the stone buildings.  The door had fallen away long ago, and I watched him peak inside.

Suddenly he moved and used his shield to block something as we heard rapid strikes make staccatos sound against it, like the sound of a bone spear on wood.  He started backing up and we heard him say in terror:

“What in the hells is that!?”

*Session Notes:*

We failed persuasion check I was told, to assist the highborn.  Iesa was playing ranger, without being one.  All things considered, it worked out well enough.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Liking the interplay between the characters. 

And waiting to see what the hells it is indeed


----------



## Nthal

The interplay of a campaign is what makes it fun; its why we play (or least why I play.)  Trying to capture the essence, while cleaning it up to make a story is a challenge, and I am glad you like the results.


----------



## Nthal

*Death in the Darkness - 11/26/2019*

_I could always see in the dark.  I can see even better now, but it doesn’t change the fact in slightest.  But there is a game that Sensates play, called “A Game of You.”  Part of the game is using your experience to understand something around you, and with all your senses, but your sight.  Sometimes this is done with blindfolds, but usually a spell to banish the light is used so to be ‘less distracting.’

The first time I played in that way, was one of the most frightening experiences I faced.  I always could see, and now I couldn’t.  Humans don’t have this problem; they are afraid of the dark at times, but they know there isn’t always light, so they overcome it.

I suppose to take away something you take for granted is always scary.  _​


Daneath shuffled backwards, keeping his shield in front of him as it was hammered repeatedly from the front.  His sword arm was cocked and ready to swing at the first opening.  A loud hiss came from the doorway from his attacker, but the staccato sound continued, as Daneath’s shield absorbed more blows.  Daneath kept backing up, trying to evade the constant blows and force his opponent into the open.  As he did so, from the darkness of the ruined building his foe emerged.

All I could see at first were shadows, striking at the warrior.  But has he retreated, I realized that they were tendrils, colored a deep purple with blotches of red.  At the end of each were sharp spines, and the ends were surrounded by more bone protrusions.  As Daneath continued to retreat, the monster left the building and came fully into view.

The creature was a large bulbous shape, easily wider than my arms stretched out wide.  Its flesh was twisted and folded upon itself into layers, with colors of pinks and blotchy purples across its flesh.  Around the outside, veins covered the exterior, pulsing and twisting.  The shape just…floated there, with a mass of tendrils hanging below it, all still trying to impale the warrior.  But in the middle of the mass, was a huge beak, like you would see on a bird of prey.  It snapped and gave out loud hisses as it now tried to reach over the shield in an attempt to bite Daneath.

I didn’t even think about it; I just simply threw a bolt of energy at it and watch ichor spray from its floating body.  Next to me I heard Iesa swear something, and the sound of him running.  I turned, and saw that he was charging a second creature, that had emerged from another building.  I then heard Beepu mutter for a second, and he launched a bolt of fire at the new foe.  The sound of the flesh boiling was matched by an angry hissing sound from the monstrosity.

“What is this thing?”  Daneath yelled, not even turning to see our troubles had doubled.  He finally found an opening and his sword cut deeply, into the floating body of his attacker.

“I believe,” Beepu started, throwing a bolt that careened wildly and striking the stone building behind the creature, “that is an aberration that normally lives in the underdark.  I thought they were solitary though.”

“Anything else that ack—” Iesa started, when several of the tendrils stabbed him in the torso, piercing his leathers.  His body suddenly became rigid and then limp.  I watched with a sinking feeling as the creature lifted Iesa’s body off the ground, bringing him closer to that snapping beak.

“I think they have a paralytic poison that—”

“Late!” I shout.  “Daneath, Iesa needs—”

“What?  Oh crap!” he said glancing quickly to see his brother’s limp form being lifted into the air.  He then turned to look at his own foe.  Flexing, he brought his sword to his shield, making a loud clanging sound, and then made a quick slash, while shouting at the top of his lungs.  The blade cut deeper than the last time, and the creature writhed in pain.  It made a loud hiss and fled deeper into the ruins.

Daneath made a swipe at his retreating foe, but quickly turned and ran to attack the other one holding Iesa.  As Beepu threw more fire at Iesa’s captor, I focused on a dark strand, forming it into a loop.  I quickly focused, and mentally tightened the loop around the thing   Finally I threw another bolt of energy at it.  As my bolt hit it, that loop tightened, pulling more life away.  It too made that same hissing sound and opened its beak wide to bite off Iesa’s head.  At that moment, Iesa suddenly regained control, and stabbed upwards into his foe with his rapier.  The blade sank into the flesh, and the thing responded, by extending sharp barbs from the tentacles already holding Iesa.  Each of them stabbed at the restrained man, as he desperately tried to fend them off with his blade.

Finally, Daneath arrived and struck a hard blow, and I could hear the crunching sound of his sword on the beak as it again tried to bite and swallow a part of Iesa.  Iesa struggled to escape, but his thrashings were growing weaker, as more poison seeped into his body, from the sharp barbs piercing his arms and chest.  He hung limply there underneath the floating aberration, his fingers barely maintaining a grip on the rapier.

Beepu again leveled a bolt of fire at the thing, and the stench of charred flesh grew worse.  I was frantically pulling at the strand again; holding one thread around the creature, while loosing another bolt of energy to strike it again.   The mesh tightened, squeezing more life from it, when Daneath with a loud cry, thrust his blade deep into the open beak.  Blood and ichor sprayed everywhere, and the creature suddenly fell from the air in a wet heap.  It landed on Iesa, who then slowly struggled to untangle himself from the tentacles that once clung to him.

But it was too early to celebrate, as I heard Beepu shout.  The other one had returned and attempted to grab the gnome for a quick snack.  I quickly untangled the loop from the dead creature, and mentally threw it on the other one.  Then I focused and threw another energy bolt at it, at the same time as Beepu blasted it with a bolt of fire.   It writhed in pain, and was about to tear into the gnome, when Daneath cut across its flank, spraying blood onto his shield as he passed it.  I heard a sound to my right, and turning, I saw an exhausted Iesa stumbling forward trying to clear his head.  As he moved, his stumbling turned into a run and with a shout, he lunged, plunging his rapier deep into its bulbous body.  The hissing noise it made stopped, and the thing hit the ground with a wet thud.

It was quiet, with only the sound my heart pounding in my ears as I turned around looking for more.  The silence was then broken by Beepu who said, “Foggle does not see any more of those creatures.  We may be safe.”

I moved over to Iesa, who now was dry heaving, still trying to shake off the poison’s effect.  While he was kneeling, I placed a hand on his shoulder, and pulled on a white strand, filling his body with energy.  I could sense that he was covered in many small puncture wounds and I closed most of them.  After a moment, he stood.

“Thanks…I feel…better.”

“You look a little green, you going to be fine?” I asked looking at him critically.  Color was returning to his face, and he seemed surer in his step.  But I wanted to be sure.

“I’m fine.  Thanks ‘D,’” he then said as the big warrior approached.

“No problem.  It did a number on my shield though,” as he looked over the barrier, now covered with many small dents.”

“Better it than you,” I remarked.

“True, but what were they?  I have never heard of anything like these before.” Daneath said puzzled.

“As I was trying to say, they are native to the Underdark.” Beepu said smartly.  “Usually they are also solitary hunters, but small packs are not unheard of.”

“So, what _were_ they?” Daneath pressed.

“They…ah…well…I might have skipped that part in the lesson,” Beepu admitted.

“You skipped their _name?_”  Iesa said with a look of shock in his eyes.

“Its not that important,” I pointed out.  “Let’s find that entrance.”

“I sent Foggle to look for it from the air.  He should be back soon,” Beepu commented.

_--He might have a problem with that.

Oh?  Why is that?

--Its below a canopy of tree and brush.  Too high and you’ll miss it.

You know, just saying ‘follow me I know the way’ is usually enough.  Otherwise you just sound…I don’t know…pretentious?

--I *am* a Tressym.  _

“Gossamer found it already.  We can rest there and go below.”

“What?  How?” Beepu said confused.

“You’ll see.”



It was just across the stone bridge and to our left, was a rent in the ground descended next to the river.  The top of the steps was buried beneath pine needles and leaves.  Beneath that was carefully laid flagstone that descended into earth.  As we approached, and started downwards, earthen walls, and flagstone steps gave way to carved rock.  It wasn’t far before the descent ended in a rounded area.  Overhead, there wasn’t a roof, but there was layers of vines and tree limbs farther above.  But we weren’t the first ones to have been here.

The leaves and needles from above had been partially swept away from the center of the floor to the edges, revealing a circle of runes and symbols.  But on the walls of this concealed was spattered words using a dark pitch like substance.

Daneath looked at the lettering on the walls.  “Well, it isn’t any swear words that I know.”

“It is probably more like a public note for other goblins,” Beepu commented.  “These are war marks.  Not a language but for communicating basic information.”

“So, what is it saying?” Iesa asked impatiently.

“Probably ‘circle on ground,’ Daneath commented.

I was listening to the exchange and then I closed my eyes and focused.  There were several quatrains in the _Apocrypha_ that I had translated, and one seemed useful about now.  I had only read it once, but as I concentrated, the incantation came easily to memory.  I realized as I was casting, that there was a connection between the _Apocrypha _and the strands.  I wasn’t surprised, but the idea that the _Apocrypha _wasn’t just a strange book or reference was just another puzzle to sort out.  But I put it out of my mind and finished.  I opened my eyes and looked at the walls.  I saw the marks, and I just knew the meaning.  There wasn’t any other trick, just a slight shimmer as I looked at the words.

“Circle-elven, magic seek later.” I said as I stepped to the wall.

“What?  I thought you did not know goblin?” Beepu said looking at me.

“I don’t.  But I do have some magic that can,” I replied.  I turned to the glyphs on the ground.

“That’s elvish, but in the older style of _Hamarfae_,” Beepu said.  “So I cannot read it.”

I looked at the circle and walked around it, following the script around.

“Stand within, face the north, chant the words, pass through,” I said.  “The number of words doesn’t match what I understand.  Probably is more poetic in elvish.”

“Well, that certainly means that we are in the right spot then,” Iesa commented.  “We ready to do this?”

Daneath didn’t respond, and stepped into the circle, faced the northern wall and spoke:

“_Gathen thyr kollas”_

Daneath looked around puzzled, as did Iesa seeing and feeling nothing.  But for Beepu and myself, we could feel the Weave flex and twist.  We could feel the contortion and the energy flowing into and through the wall.

“That’s disappointing,” Iesa said with a frown.

“It worked fine,” and I held my breath and walked through the wall.

I walked into in a wide hallway carved out of the granite.  An elven motif was carved at waist level both behind me and in front of me as the hall proceeded left and right.  To the left I could see that a passage led to stairs upwards, while to the right, the passage turned and I could see a door in the wall, made of bronze or brass, at the turn.  But I strained to listen and could hear nothing.

_--Well this is different._ 

I glanced down at Gossamer who strode in behind me with the rest following shortly after.  I stepped forward to make room for the humans, who I knew would be blinded in the darkness.  I could see them blink and squint for a moment.  I quickly pulled on a white strand and lit up Daneath’s shield with a dim red light.  Daneath blinked several times and looked at me and mouthed the word ‘thanks.’

Iesa’s eyes were still shut and he put a finger to his lips as he cocked his head.  He then pointed in the direction of the stairs and started raising fingers.  Opening his eyes again, he started creeping towards the door, with the rest of us following behind.  I would have said quietly, except that Daneath’s armor was anything but quiet as he moved.  I could see the grimace on his face as he moved, as he was painfully aware of the noise he made.

Once there, he crept forward, and pressed his ear to the door and listened.  He then backed away and pointed at the door raising two fingers.

_Goss, watch the rear._

I saw that Beepu sent Foggle upward, to drift near the ceiling.  Iesa drew his rapier, and Daneath readied his longsword.  Iesa grasped the handle of the door, ready to open it on Daneath’s signal.  After taking a deep breath, Daneath nodded, and Iesa pulled open the door, and moved so that his brother could charge in.

Daneath led with his shield shining it into the room, and quickly moved inside.  Just as he did so, I could hear the sound of something move through the air, and I heard the sound of metal on metal, along with a loud “Oof!” as Daneath was struck from the side of the doorway.

It became a tangled mess very quickly.  Daneath pivoted and pushed back at his foe, allowing Iesa to slip in behind him.  He then entered deeper into the room and I heard the whistling of his rapier, and the sound of it striking someone.  At that point, I too rushed into the room to see that a lone bugbear was fending off the pair.  Standing just out side of range I threw a bolt at the humanoid, striking it square in the chest, putting a smile on my face.

--_You have a runner!_

I turned to look and saw a goblin, running wildly out of the room, screaming at the top of his lungs.  As it ran down the hall, I saw that Beepu tried to hit it with a firebolt, but missed, striking the ceiling overhead.  The goblin was clearly running in fear and it paid no attention to what was going on behind him, and quickly rounded the corner and ascended the stairs.

“Sodding…we’re going to have friends soon,” I said my smile fading fast.

“What?   Beepu,--” Daneath started as he brought down his sword with a crash onto the bugbear’s shoulder,”-- missed?”

“Not good,” Iesa said as he stepped forward, and thrust deeply into the bugbear’s belly, causing it to fall to the ground in a heap.

“How did you let it get out of the room with three of you standing there?” Beepu said angrily.

“I didn’t see him at all,” I said defensively.  “Now what?”

Suddenly, we felt the ground buckle and the walls around us shake.  Dust and rock started to fall from the ceiling, as we struggled to keep our balance.  As the ground convulsed and pitched us around, I could feel strains in the Weave; either it was being used to cause this quake, or the quake was tearing at it.

Looking at Beepu I said, “Did you feel that?”

“Yes,” he nodded.  “This is not natural.  My guess is this has something to do with the Font, which is probably below.”

“Then we better move fast,” Iesa said, exiting the room, and the rest of us close behind.  To our right stairs descended deeper into the temple.  But ahead of us, towards the ascending stair, we heard the shouting of very angry voices.

“We can’t hold off a large force,” Daneath said grimly.  “Not here.  We’ll be overwhelmed or trapped.  Neither good.”

“Leave that to me, move down below!” Beepu said.  He began to chant and I could see a thick fog start to form near the stairs leading to the upper temple, and spreading towards us.

“Let’s go,” said Daneath, and he started to descend with his brother close behind.  I started to follow, when I realized that Beepu wasn’t moving.

“What are you—” I started.

“Go!  I have some other spells to delay them,” he said as he pulled a piece of bacon from his spell pouch.

“Ok…stay to the right side of the wall as you come down,” I said, and I started to descend not waiting for a reply.

Heading downwards a bit, I turned looking back up the stairs, and pulled on a white strand.  I focused my attention on right side I started to churn the earth and stone with my energy, causing it to rupture.  The stairs on one side was a broken mess.  I continued to back down the stairs, breaking more steps as I went.  I did this several more times, when I heard shouting and the sound of clattering metal on stone.

“Please Kelemvor, keep him safe,” I said quietly, and I ran down the stairs, with Gossamer close behind.

_--What about—

He can take care of himself.

--You sure?_

I didn’t reply as I descended.  Soon I heard the sounds of combat below, and I realized that the pair had their own difficulties.  The stairs started to curve as they descended, and soon I saw that there was light ahead.  I was not more than ten paces from it, when once again the ground buckled and heaved, throwing me against the wall.  Rubble and rock fell from the ceiling, with one narrowly missing my head.  I stopped, trying to find anything to brace myself and stay upright, when I heard a voice over the cacophony of stone and rubble.  A deep resonating laughter followed by a guttural shout of goblin.  As the ground ceased its motion, I once again ran down the stairs.

The chamber I found myself was large, with a newly formed crevice in the center, surrounded by broken jagged flagstone.  From below, an unhealthy green glow emanated, casting the roof of the chamber in a sickly green aura.  Iesa and Daneath were close to each other, and a sizeable pile of goblin bodies already marked the path they chose as they were working their way to the end of the room.

There at the far end stood a pair of hobgoblins.  The first was festooned with fetishes, and a dark feathered baldric, holding a shield in one arm, while his mace hung on his belt.  The second one was larger and far more imposing.  He was dressed in a style of plate armor, decorated with skulls and spikes.  He held a large axe with both hands, and was starting to head to the brothers, as they were finishing with a pair of goblins.  They had just laid them low, when the large figure rushed at them, ready to cleave anyone in his path.

Just as he was about to crash into the pair, I saw the first hobgoblin make a gesture and I felt the weave reverberate.  I wasn’t sure what had happened at first but it became very clear as I watched the hobgoblin warrior swing his axe at Iesa, striking him hard.  But it was Daneath who didn’t flinch, or move, or even pivot as he stood stone still as the melee continued around him.

I ran toward the brothers, and as I approached, I pulled the dark strands and threw a loop around the hobgoblin priest, followed by a bolt of energy, striking him in the ribs.  I then gritted my teeth and readied my shield and ran to stand next to Iesa.

Iesa was bleeding badly.  And I watched the hobgoblin warrior turn his head to watch my approach, but he ignored me, assuming I wasn’t much of a threat.  This gave Iesa an opening, and he lunged at the warrior, finding a opening between the plates of armor, and causing the hobgoblin to roar in pain.  He quickly swung his axe and missed the lithe Iesa.  While this exchange of blows occurred, I considered my target.  I knew that his mind was strong; strong enough to thwart my miasma.  So, I chose a different option.   I uttered a quick prayer and pulled on the light.

From above a bright white light shone on the hobgoblin.  I could see the radiant flames sear him as he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blast.  He then screamed a curse at me.  I could feel his will on mine, I felt the urge to surrender, and drop to my knees.  But, gritting my teeth I shook off the compulsion, and in a moment it faded.

Iesa continued to dance with the larger warrior, with Iesa unable to pierce his heavy armor, and the hobgoblin unable to find much more than empty air, as Iesa dodged the axe swings.  If it wasn’t for me being a minor distraction, I am not sure if Iesa would have any hope hitting the warrior.  I in the meantime summoned another bolt of radiance from the heavens onto the priest, and again he cursed at me in pain, as he threw a bolt of white energy at me, only to have it strike my shield harmlessly.

Iesa was not as lucky, as the axe found its target and slashed deeply into his side, and almost knocking him over.  Iesa was about to strike, when a bolt of fire streaked across the room, hitting the priest.  I barely had time to register the scream, when I saw Daneath suddenly move, and strike the large warrior with his sword, as the blade came down on the shoulder of the warrior.  Blood spurted from the wound, and the warrior yelled again in pain.  Daneath then shoved with his shield pushing the warrior backwards away from myself, creating an opening for Iesa, who moved towards his backside and thrust, piercing the armor and causing more blood to spurt from the hobgoblin.

Beepu, ran into the room on the other side of the crevice, and threw another bolt of fire at the priest, and once again he found his mark.  I then took two steps forward and let loose another energy bolt.  It too found its mark, and I tightened the loop around it, and squeezed the last bit of life from him, as he slumped to the ground.

The warrior started to move defensively and chose to stand his ground at the edge of the crevice, keeping his exposed rear away from Iesa.  But it appeared to be a mistake, as this also pinned him as Iesa and Daneath flanked him.  The brothers set a cadence of one making a strike, followed by the other.  The warrior was fast, but not fast enough to block the blows, and soon his armor was soiled in blood.  Finally, Daneath thrust his sword forward, piercing the hobgoblin beneath his arm pit.  The hobgoblin didn’t scream or yell, he just fell backwards, into the glowing green depths below in the crevice.

The ground once again started to buckle, and the quake felt more intense than the prior ones.  More rock and debris fell from the ceiling.  Beepu and Iesa simply moved out of the way, while Daneath and I hid beneath our shields.  And unlike the prior ones, this one didn’t pause or stop.

“Well what now?” Iesa shouted.

“We have a lot of ones above, trying to make their way down,” Beepu replied.  “Some grease and a lot of fog has kept them busy, but it will not be enough.”

The tremors eased a bit, and I looked around, and saw at the far end of the room, another set of stairs descending.  “There!”  I pointed.  “Keep going down and find the other exit.”

“We’re going to get buried in here!” Daneath shouted back to me.

“How many were coming down from above?” I yelled at Beepu.

“Too many.  More than a dozen, and we know there is even more above.” He replied.  “We should go down.”

“Let’s go then!” Iesa said, and he ran to the stairs, with the rest of us in tow with me in the rear.

These stairs were narrower than the ones above, so every so often I would use a white strand to buckle the stairs.  Finally, I ran down the stairs as I best I could.  It curved, and then I could see glowing green light coming from below.  I swallowed and ran into the next room.

The room was a large vaulted chamber.  On our right were the remains of wooden shelves, now rotten with the moisture that I could taste in the room.  On the opposite wall I could see a dais with an altar upon it.  The center of the room was dominated by a large pool of water, and it was this pool that gave off the green glow.  In the pool was the remains of rubble from the crevice above.  Dust and dirt fell from ceiling still as the tremors coursed through the ground.

Beepu of course made his way towards the bookshelves, eager to seek knowledge that he could carry or copy, with Foggle following right behind.  Iesa and Daneath stayed together and started to look at the pool and its surroundings.  I made my way towards the dais and the altar on the other side.

“Where is he?” Daneath commented as he looked around the pool.

“I don’t know, think he is in there?” Iesa pointed at the pool with his rapier.

“Probably, can’t tell how deep it is, but I’m guessing fairly.” Daneath said.

“Why do you say that?” I glanced backwards as I made my way to the other side of the room with Gossamer.

“Mostly because of the rubble.  We almost fell in, when the quake created that crevice.  Not much is above the surface now.” He replied.

As I made my way across, I realized that the floor was wet, likely from the pool overflowing its bounds with the fallen rubble.  But the floor itself didn’t glow.  That seemed to be tied to the pool itself...or perhaps something within.  Finally, I reached the dais and its altar.

I didn’t know much about elves and their religious beliefs.  But I did know a little of one power; Naralis Analor.  Naralis was a minor power who in many ways was almost a mirror of Kelemvor’s.  The main difference was that Naralis was more focused on healing, and less about death.  I supposed it was because death was an uncommon visitor to the elves to start with.  It just wasn’t important in their daily lives.  Avoiding it and injury made more sense.

So there above the altar was a kite shield carved in relief in the rock.  It was massive with the bottom tip touching the top of the dais, and the upper edge being twice my height.  On the surface of the shield, in bas relief was a bird, a dove most likely based on the power.  But along the edges of the shield I could see elven runes carved into the side.  As I stepped onto the dias, I realized that the altar was meant as a funeral bier; a place to receive a final blessing before being interred.  I turned around and looked at the walls of the room and was puzzled.

There were no tombs, or signs of graves.  So where was the final rest of the dead?  I stepped off the dias and moved towards the pool.  As I approached the edge, I saw on the low wall that surrounded it.  On the edge closest to the altar I could see there were grooves in the stone.  I realized then that the final resting place was the pool itself.  A place for the dead to be shrieved of the stains of the war they fought in before they rested.

Beepu was searching the shelves, and I could hear disappointment in his voice

“No…no…ruined…molded filth.  Why cannot beings store their books properly!”

“Hey, come over here and read these runes Beepu.  If I had to guess, it might relate to the way out.”

“Cannot you do that yourself?  You have the power!” he retorted, still looking for anything of value.

I was about to respond, when I heard from the pool the sound of churning waters.  Iesa and Daneath backed up a moment from the edge and held their weapons at the ready.  Suddenly from the waters erupted a familiar figure in plated armor, with a skull and spike motif.  But now, from beneath the gaps of the armor, the flesh of the hobgoblin was now a glowing sickly green.  And as it emerged from the pool, the glow in the pool faded to darkness.

The hobgoblins’ axe came down crashing on Daneath shield, pulling Daneath down with the weight of the blow.  Then with inhuman speed, it pulled back the axe and swiftly repeated the blow, striking at Daneath’s exposed back.  I could hear the crack of bone, and blood sprayed everyone, as Daneath collapsed onto the floor.

“We don’t have time!” I yelled, and I ran towards the fallen Daneath, while Beepu tore himself away from the shelves and ran towards the dias.

“Not good!” Iesa said between his teeth as he lunged trying to find a weakness in the hobgoblins armor.  He spun narrowly avoiding a pair of axe swings.  He then backed up, deflected a blow and tried to pull the glowing figure away from Daneath.  I dove and slid on my knees to the warrior and started to pray.  Just as I started, I realized that the hobgoblin had moved towards me, and had raised its axe, in a grim mockery of a headsman ready to execute a criminal.  I was wide eyed in fear, not ready for what came next.

But it never moved, I watched it struggle and quiver as I felt its will resonate against the strand.  It howled aloud its frustration, denied its prey.  This gave Iesa an opening, which he didn’t squander.  He stabbed his rapier, piercing the steel and sinking deep into the body of the dead hobgoblin.  It reacted immediately to the blow and swung wildly as Iesa again tried to retreat away from it.

This gave me the time I needed, as I pulled on a large strand and poured it into Daneath.  I heard him inhale sharply, and then he quickly struggled to his feet.

“Thanks, be a moment,” and the warrior charged into the hobgoblin, his sword coming down on a pauldron, staggering the foe.

“I got it!” Beepu yelled excitedly.  “It’s an incantation.  I should be able to open it in a moment!”

“That—ARGH!” Iesa spat in pain, as the axe swept into his side, cutting slashing Iesa’s flesh.  He staggered, and deflected a second blow, before sinking down to his knees in pain.  I could see his eyes starting to lose focus, as I scrambled over to him, pulling on yet another strand and pouring more energy into him.

“Stay…with..me!” I grunted, feeling tired from the exertion.

“Trying,” Iesa whispered, and he stood once again, and staggered towards the hobgoblin, slashing wildly, looking for an opening.

The hobgoblin swung at Daneath, his axe failing to connect.  But Daneath made him pay, as he reposted, slamming his blade into the exposed side of the thing.  Then Daneath followed through with a quick thrust, striking it in the belly, and causing it to stagger backwards.  Iesa then thrust again with his rapier, striking true.  The hobgoblin retaliated quickly, smashing the butt of the axe, into Iesa’s chest, and knocking him down again.  He then whirled, and the axe collided with Daneath’s and I could hear him wheeze as the air left his lungs.  He staggered, trying to put up a defense from the hobgoblins blows.

I moved alongside Iesa and poured some more energy into him.  He responded and started to weakly climb to his feet again.  I was tired, while unhurt, I was running out of strands I could use.

“I got it open!”  Beepu yelled triumphantly.  I looked and saw that the shield had lifted up, exposing a passage beyond.  “And will you stop playing around!” and with that a bolt of fire left his hand and struck the hobgoblin.

If he noticed it wasn’t apparent, as he continued his assault on Daneath.  He swung once, and missed, and again Daneath riposted, chopping his sword into the left arm of the hobgoblin. But the second one connected and almost brought the warrior down.

I could see him shake his head, trying to clear it.  He then with a shout threw himself at his foe, striking two solid blows.  The hobgoblin retaliated with another overhand chop and again brining Daneath down to his knees.  I felt resigned to my fate and moved to keep away from the deadly axe blows and reaching Daneath and with my final bit of energy, closed enough of his wounds to get him moving.

The hobgoblin suddenly turned his attention away from Iesa and moved towards me.  I could feel its will, straining against the strand.  But I was exhausted, and I felt a sudden snap, and watched with horror as the axe came crashing down on my shield arm, almost knocking me over.

“No!” I heard Iesa and Beepu shout in unison, and as I watched the hobgoblin erupt in a firey blast, and at the same time, Iesa stab his rapier straight into the open face plate of the hobgoblin.  I watched it stop cold in its tracks.  Then with a sudden clang, sank to its knees, and then slumping over on its side.  As I watched, the greenish light faded away, leaving behind a empty lifeless husk.

It was quiet for a moment, when the quakes started again; this time more intently.  The ceiling was falling apart dropping dust and stone all around us.  As we struggled to regain our balance, I looked at the stairwell that descended into the room.  My heart sank, as I watched a half dozen hobgoblins enter the room.

Daneath was the first to react.  He simply bent over, and hefted the fallen hobgoblin, and ran.  He ran past Beepu into the opening behind the altar.

“You have to be kidding me you Soloth.  Run!” I shouted, and we all ran, familiars and all into the passage way.  As I ran inside, Beepu poured some water into his hand, and threw ice at the hobgoblins running after us.  I heard the ice explode into shards, lacerating them.  But they were undeterred, but they moved more cautiously toward the entrance, as we retreated within.

Daneath’s shield still lit the way, and so we all stumbled into a small circular chamber.  On one side was yet another stone door covered in elven runes.  I looked us all over, and it looked grim.  Iesa and Daneath were both severely wounded, despite my best efforts.

“I don’t have anything left Beepu,” I said.  “I can’t heal, and I can’t summon anything big.”  The room trembled, as the earth still complained and thrashed.

Beepu nodded, “I can do one more incantation, and I am done as well.  But I need to open this door.”  He then looked at me with a level gaze.

“It is up to you.”

I was in shock.  I knew I looked like a fool with my mouth hanging open.  “I…I…can’t possibly—”

“Yes you can.  You will.  I will make it so.  Just get into that passage and start casting.  Go!” And Beepu pushed me towards the passage.

I staggered forward, unclear on what he was thinking.  I was afraid; unsure if I was ready to die again.  But I couldn’t fail my friends.  I wouldn’t.  As I stepped into the passage, I could hear Beepu chant something…something familiar.

Suddenly, the passage was lit as brilliantly as daylight.  I quickly looked around me and I knew what he had done, when I saw I cast no shadow.

I was in darkness.  I smiled, and moved back through the passage, ignoring the quaking.  I could see them ahead of me.  A dozen hobgoblins, perhaps more.  All clambering down the passageway, with only myself as the last defender.

I focused and threw the loop I had kept alive at the at one of them as they approached two by two.  I saw them, the foul creatures that attacked Whitepetal.  I was no longer afraid.  I felt the hate well within me.  This band of thugs weren’t going to hurt anyone else ever again.  I was going to personally send them to Judgement, here and now.

I watched them push forward, nearing the edge of Beepu’s spell.  I smiled and said as I stepped forward.

“So…are you afraid of the dark?”

I moved fast, and I could see their ugly faces contort in confusion.  For beings who normally could see in darkness, this was a new experience.  I then summoned skeletal hands to grip them by the throat and squeeze.  I was going to drain the life out of every last one of them.

They twisted and turned, trying to escape me.  They swung blades trying to find me, even though I was no where near them.  They could only hear the members of their band scream in pain as I methodically, two by two slaughtered them.  I tore at their life as wild as the barghest might tear at anyone’s soul.  They fell over bodies, confused on which way was best to run, unable to see desperate to escape.

I said nothing beyond the simple prayers to Kelemvor needed to kill them.  After the first eight, I lost count on how many I slew.  The first ones died as warriors, while the last ones died as cowards in the dark, their shrieks of terror cut off as each one died.  Finally, I took the life of the last one, ripping his lifeforce away with a prayer.  The quake intensified, and I ran back to the chamber.  As I approached it, Beepu dropped the darkness, and I entered the room with the rest ready to leave.  The far door was now open, and light was visible at the far end of the tunnel.

The quakes suddenly increased again and with even greater intensity.  Cracks formed in the walls snaking their way from floor to ceiling.  We looked at each other briefly and said nothing.  We didn’t have to.  We simply ran down the open passage, as dust and stone fell.  So much fell, that even the light outside was obscured.  My lungs were choking on the dust, as I desperately ran seeking refuge.  Finally, we emerged from a wall of granite.  As we spread away from the exit, dust spew forth from the passage, and I could hear rocks tumble as the tunnel collapsed behind us.

I had collapsed flat on my stomach and lay there breathing the clean forest air.  I could feel the rush of my panic fade away as I lay there, trying to catch my breath.

“I…knew…you…could do it,” Beepu said as he lay on his back on the earth, eyes closed.

“How…how…many?” Daneath asked as he sat on the ground, with the hobgoblin corpse nearby.

“A…a..lot,” I said as the enormity of what I had just done was starting to sink in.  I felt cold.  Uncertain.  Hollow.

“We…we should rest here,” Daneath said.  “Once we get our bearings, we can get back to Whitepetal.”

I nodded silently and pushed myself up and crawled to a nearby tree.  I then sat with my back to the trunk, leaned back my head and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

_--Myr?  How…do you feel?

I feel like…an angel.  

--You mean one your friend can count on?

No…not one you pray to for succor... 

…One you pray for succor *from*._

*Session notes:*

There was a lot of blood, and quite a bit of separation between Beepu and the rest of the party.  That story isn’t as fun or interesting though.

So, I was a murder hobo machine in the end.  Afterwards, even though there was a lot of anger towards the hobgoblins, there is a big difference in saying you want to slaughter them all, and then doing it.

So…murder hobo with a conscience, I guess.


----------



## Nthal

*The Crossing of Madness - 12/2/2019*

_The multiverse is a wonderous place.  You really could say that anything and everything is possible at the proper place and moment.  Wonderous things.  Glorious things.  Unexpected things.

And some of those things are best left alone, unexplored and forgotten if it can be helped.  But if you can’t, you better be prepared to deal with it.  Otherwise, the results might be…fatal._​


We were moving through the forest, climbing upwards to the plateau above.  We wanted to see the outcome of our efforts and know if we made a difference.  After some hiking through the brush, my calves were burning.  I really wanted to ride the disc that was floating behind Beepu.  But the disk was basically ‘full’ of the spiky hobgoblin armor that Daneath had claimed as his prize.  But he needed to fix the straps on it before he could use it.  So Beepu had conjured up a floating disc, which now had the armor and our packs to make the climb easier. Finally, we reached our goal, and could look down upon the temple.

From our vantage point, the entrance to the temple was covered in fallen rock from the quake.  The camp itself appeared deserted.  The once bright fires were now dark, and the teeming worg pens now stood empty.    Most of the tents still stood as they did before, but a few, a bare handful were torn down.  But there was no sign of movement at all.  As we watched, Beepu sent in Foggle to get a better look from above.  So, we waited and watched the glittering golden fleck in the distance, circle and swoop.  It wasn’t long before it returned, alighting on Beepu’s arm.

“As we suspected, the camp is empty,” Beepu said after silently conferring with Foggle.  “The rubble at the temple, appears to be the entire passage, and not just the entrance itself.  Otherwise it is as it appears; abandoned.”

“Should we search it?” Iesa asked with a smile on his face.

“I am not sure it would be worth the time.  The weapons left behind do not appear to be quality ones, and I doubt there is anything beyond coppers to be found.”

“He’s probably right,” Daneath agreeded. “If they had anything valuable, they were carrying it.  The armor the leader wore probably is the most valuable thing they had.  Even his axe wasn’t worth keeping.”

“Well at least it was a quick burial,”  Iesa said moping.  “I would have left…it to rot.”

“Myr likes nothing better than a proper funeral, right?” Daneath said, nudging me in the ribs.

“Hmm?...Yeah,” I said softly.

“You alright?” Beepu asked with concern on his voice.

“I’m…tired.   We should find a safe place to rest,” I said, trying to sound like myself.  I clearly wasn’t convincing.

“Right…sure.  But yeah, a nap would be good.” Iesa said, standing and looking around.  “I doubt I can find the glade again, but I bet we can find a safe place tonight.”

“True,” Beepu stroked his chin as he voiced his thoughts.  “My theory is that the remaining hobgoblins will report back to the ‘Prophesized One’ about the set back.  Without more forces, they cannot hold this site.  And if the reason for this site was the Font below, it may be even less useful.”

“What they had here, was enough to take on Whitepetal,” Daneath replied.  “So if they are all buried, that makes things easier.  All we need to do now is get back, and see what our next steps are.”

“Well, it would be tomorrow at best,” Iesa said.  “So, lets find a spot to rest.”

Everyone was nodding in agreement, and we started to search for one.  Once again, Iesa’s skills in the outdoors was shining through, as he found a bear cave.   Well calling it a cave might be generous;  it was a hollow in the earth, framed with roots.  If a bear or other animal had used it, the occupants were long gone.  We lit a small fire, and ate some of the rations we had.  It was a quiet meal, with each of us preoccupied with different tasks.  Daneath had enlisted Iesa’s help to rework the straps on the armor of the hobgoblin leader.  Beepu in the meantime was looking over some notes let by his father and making his own in the margins.  We had some time before we needed to start our watches.

It’s not like we really needed a watch, with the two familiars present.  Neither slept and brought something different to the watch; Foggle was very good at spotting things, but Gossamer was smarter and a better observer.  But we all preferred that someone else took turns with them.  Generally, I took the last watch, as I enjoyed watching the dawning sun.  But tonight, was different.

“Beepu?” I said looking at the gnome.  “Mind if I take the first watch…I’m not quite ready to fall asleep yet.”

“Switch you mean?  Not a problem,” he said yawning.  “I am ready to turn it in now.”  He then looked at me curiously.  “Are you certain nothing is wrong?”

I touched the symbol that hung from my neck; the skeletal hand and arm, lifting a balance aloft.  I was stroking the familiar relief as I answered, “I guess…it’s a matter of faith.”

Beepu nodded, “I will leave it to you to sort out then.” And he moved to his bedroll and started to settle down for some rest.

I moved towards the entrance of the mud cave and sat down at the entrance, looking out into the forest.  I sat there on the earth, still caressing my holy symbol, and stared at nothing in particular.  I was still turning over the memories and the emotions I felt in the tunnel.  Seeing that moment where I broke the hobgoblins’ fearsome front asunder.  Where I had become fear incarnate. 

No…_death incarnate._

It gave me the chills, remembering what I had done.  I didn’t feel sorrow for the hobgoblins; they started a war.  I didn’t feel regret for what I had done.  I had already killed a number of beings, defending myself, or just accomplishing a goal.  The ones I had slain, would be judged by my lord and sent onwards to whatever fate the multiverse had for them.  And if I was in the wrong, Kelemvor would tell me now or later.  And I would pay the penance, whatever the cost.  That was what I believed.  But it wasn’t any of those things that bothered me.

What did, was how I felt during that battle.  A manic ecstasy as I tore away their lives.  Each life that I snuffed out with a prayer and a gesture and the pleasure I felt.  How simple and effortless it was.  How bold I felt.  How right it felt.  How *good* it felt.  It was that simple truth I couldn’t reconcile.

I enjoyed killing them.  I enjoyed the screams of pain.  I enjoyed the look of fear they had in the darkness.  I only stopped because I ran out of hobgoblins.  I wasn’t sure if I could have stopped myself if I wanted to.  But that was it; I didn’t want to stop.

_That _frightened me.

I shouldn’t have felt that way.  Death was a part of life, and I wanted to help those who needed passing, or ease the suffering of those left behind.  To honor the dead and guide the souls to the Fugue.  Not revel in the pain and suffering I caused as I sent them to judgement.  Why did I feel exhilaration?  Shouldn’t I feel sorrow at the waste of life?  And even if someone was going to face their end, shouldn’t it be with the same mercy as those who beg for release?

This was well beyond the hatred I had felt.  What I felt, wasn’t right.  I was revolted at my naked lust for pain and spilled blood.  Was this how the Celestials felt in discharging their duty?  Glory and disgust?  Was this contradiction the cause of ones to fall from grace?  Because of a lack of strength?  Because of a flaw?  Did Zariel feel this way on the plains of Avernus?

This can’t be right.  How could I revel in the death in another, when I am sitting here questioning it, knowing its wrong.  Was I really that callous in the moment?  I wanted to fix this somehow.  Needed to.  But I didn’t know what I could do or even a person that I could talk to about this.

My hand was still around the symbol I wore when I gripped it tighter as I closed my eyes and prayed.

_Please Lord Kelemvor.  Give me a sign or hope that I’m not going barmy.  Help me face my problems and give me hope that I am doing the right thing.  Purge this…this…this wrongness from me…please.  _

I was too tired to shed tears.  I just looked up at the stars, hoping for a sign.  For guidance somewhere in the firmament. 



I awoke to Iesa gently shaking my shoulder.  I nodded and pulled myself out of my bedroll and started to strap on my armor and gear.  Looking outside the cave, I could barely see the trees, as a thick fog was in the air, covering the forest in a misty grey blanket. 

“Is that going to be a problem?” I asked as I tightened the buckles on my bracers and looking at the fog.

“With the elven trinket I would hope not,” Iesa said.  “But I guess you or Beepu could better answer that.”

I made a face, “I doubt it; Beepu is better at things.  I’m better at dealing with…”

“People?”

I grimaced, “Only if their health is of concern.  Or a lack of it.”

Iesa looked at me for a moment before replying, “Well, I appreciate any effort to keep me breathing.  So, anything you do there is fine by me.”

“Should I *enjoy* it?”

“Helping your friends, sure?  Why not?  Let’s get going and talk when we can get some drinks in us.”

I nod not willing to reveal more, “A good drink would be…welcome about now.”

“Come on, you stupid thing work!” I heard Daneath say outside.

“You are not saying the words correctly,” Beepu admonished.  “The stress is at the end of the word, not the beginning.  If I do not pronounce the words correctly, you do not get this handy disc carrying your precious ugly armor.”

“_Entu-LA Eska!” _ Daneath intoned, while knitting his brow.  The orb bound in silver wire, lit up with a green light.  As we watched, the orb lifted away from Daneath’s hand and started to float towards the northwest.  “And its practical!  Its better than I have now!”

“So why do you not wear it?” Beepu asked with that lecturing tone.

“Because the elves might get upset,” Daneath replied exasperated.  “I do have some sense.”

“Well, you can all talk about that, while I’m going to follow the…bauble thing,” Iesa remarked, and he started following the orb, with the rest of us close behind.  It wasn’t following a straight path, but was rather tracking some hidden pathway, that made it for an easy march.

But as easy as the march was, the fog didn’t burn off even with a light breeze.  Instead it seemed to get darker as we travelled.  The sun was completely hidden, and it became impossible to tell what direction we were heading.  Considering we could barely see four paces ahead of us, it was a good thing we were following something.  I didn’t want to become lost, as we didn’t have a large amount of supplies to start with.

_--Myr, behind us! I smell worgs!_

My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned around facing the wind and shouted, “Worgs!”  I readied my shield and waited.  The others didn’t hesitate and also turned, with swords ready while Beepu started to prepare a cast.

We couldn’t see far, but when they bounded out of the fog it was enough for me.  I started a quick cast, and a miasma surrounded a worg and its rider.  As the worg charged at me, I could see the goblin’s face go from bloodthirsty, to empty as it fell from its saddle.  The worg was a bit tougher, but as it went by me, Daneath and Iesa both skewered it from opposing sides, while a blast of fire from Beepu was enough to send it tumbling into a heap on the ground.  Then Daneath moved in front of me, to shield us all from additional attacks.

This was fortunate, as from the fog, another pair of worgs with riders appeared.  Both the worgs charged at Daneath, but neither pair of jaws were able to pierce the man’s armor.  And as for their riders, it was even worse, as they swung wildly, finding nothing but air.  Once again, the brothers sliced into the hide of a worg, and I was able to injure the rider.  Beepu quickly poured some water into his hand, and threw out a shard of ice that exploded, killing the first worg, while injuring the other, and killing its rider.  The worg snarled and tried to run off, but both of the men were able to land blows, felling it before it could disappear into the fog again.

We readied ourselves for more, but it became quickly apparent that none were coming.  Beepu launched up Foggle into the air, as we all stood silent and listened.

_Gos?  Do you sense any others?

--I was lucky that I smelled them before, but I can’t hear or smell anything now.  And, I can’t see much either way._

Daneath pulled down the bauble from the air, causing it to go dark.  Just after this Beepu cursed,

“Of course.  There is a goblin encampment in our path.” He said distantly, as he received some communication from Foggle.

“Well, that’s great.  Now what?”  Daneath said angrily.

“Let’s avoid them, cut to one side and go around,” Iesa said.  “We can pick up the path on the other side.”

“How far is the camp Beepu?” I asked.

“Oh, not too far thataway,” and he gestured absently toward the direction we were originally heading.  “Up above it is easier to see,” and he snorted.

“Right,” and I thought quickly, “Send Foggle ahead, and I’ll send Gossamer to flank us to see if they start heading our direction.”

“Of course, of course, <snort> that will do.” Beepu said distantly, as he waved his hand.  Gossamer took flight above, towards the direction that Beepu indicated, and we all turned to skirt the camp on the right side.  I was somewhat nervous though.  Foggle was a much better scout than Gossamer; it was quiet and faster.  Gossamer was brighter though, but I had this horrible vision of him being pierced by quarrels from a goblin.

_Be careful.

--You think *I *want to get hurt?_

We started on our way, now moving slowly and cautiously, trying not to attract attention.  Daneath of course had difficulty in doing this, being in the heavy armor he wore.  As we travelled, it was getting darker.  While we had an inkling that it should be getting close to peak, the darkness grew, as did a chill in the air.  But more problematic was that Beepu was humming to himself like he didn’t care about being found.

“Beepu!  Pipe down,” Iesa said also frustrated at the gnomes lack of discretion.

“Hmm, hmm, what?  Why?  Nothing is <snort> going to hurt me.”

“This is serious,” I said.  “It’s hard enough to fight in this fog, so let’s avoid it.”

_--Myr, this doesn’t make sense.   Summon me back after you count to twenty.

What?  Sure fine._

And I started to count in my head…silently unlike Beepu, who seemed to my mind getting louder and louder.

“Come on, let’s <chuckle>  go!” Beepu said, and he was starting to…skip ahead of Iesa, who was trying to make as little noise as he could.

“Beepu!” he hissed.  “What in the hells has gotten into you?”

“Baator,” I said absently, reaching the count of twelve.  Beepu could be a little strange at times, but this was not normal.  I decided I would bring it up after I summoned Gossamer back.  When I reached twenty, he was now starting to hum louder.  I then pulled on the strand that connected us and Gossamer appeared in a quick shower of sparkles and I looked at the tressym expectantly.

_--Myr, something is wrong.  There isn’t a goblin camp anywhere!_

I was now really confused. And I turned to look at the skipping gnome.  “Are you sure there’s a goblin camp near.  Gos cou—”

“Of course there <snicker> is.  Foggle is never <snort> wrong!”

“What does he see now?” I asked.

“What?  Foggle-a-gog?  Flowers and sun <snicker> and rainy showers and fun!”

“What are you talking about?” Daneath said exasperated.  “Showers and fun?  This isn’t a game.”

“This game is tame!” Beepu replied, “Perhaps something less lame!” and Beepu suddenly bolted ahead.  The disc with the goblin armor and our gear following behind him.

“What the?---Get back here!” Iesa yelled, and he started after the gnome, with Daneath and I in tow.  In a moment, both ran off deeper into the fog, as we gave chase.  Not long afterwards, we hear the clatter of metal hitting the ground.  After a number of paces we found Iesa, standing looking deeper into the fog, with his fists balled up and at his hips, breathing heavily.  The armor and gear now in a cluttered heap on the ground.

“Where is—” Daneath started.

“I don’t know.   He outran me.” Iesa said winded.

“What?  Beepu?” I said questionly.  “Outran you?   How?”

Iesa threw up his hands.  “I haven’t the foggi—oh that’s terrible.  I have no idea.”

“What do we do?  Chase him down?” Daneath asked a bit confused.

“How?” I exclaimed.  “He seems to be able to outrun us.  All he’d have to do is turn and run in a new direction and we couldn’t find him,”  I could hear Beepu starting to sing nonsense in the fog, his voice echoing around all of us.  We all stood looking around in different directions trying to pin point where he might be.  But it was hopeless; his voice seemed everywhere, echoing about.

“He’s gone mad,” Iesa said.

“Madder,” I retorted between gritted teeth.  “We can’t help him if he’s run off.  Let’s get ourselves out of the fog.”

“Right,” and Daneath pulled out the orb bound in silver.  “_Entula Eska!” _ 

The orb lit up, moved about two paces and dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Remember the stress is on the last sy—” Iesa started.

“I know that!” Daneath said angrily.  “If I don’t it say correctly, *nothing* happens.  That wasn’t nothing.”

“Close enough.” I said.  “Try again.”

He moved to the orb and picked it up.  “_Entu-LA Eska!”_ and the orb moved two paces in a different direction and dropped to the ground again.

“This isn’t happening,” Daneath said.  “And I don’t like it,” he picked up the orb, and put in a pouch.  Then he began to strip off his armor.

“What are you—” Iesa started.

“Help me change armor.” Daneath answered.  “If there is something wrong, I want to wear the best I have.”

“Alright…” Iesa said and he started to help his brother with the straps.

As Daneath was changing, I heard a noise in the fog at first soft, but quickly growing.

“…eepuuu...Beepuuuu…Beeepuuu…” Foggle repeated over and over, as it appeared from out of the fog.  It then started to circle us repeatedly.”

“Foggle?” I said cautiously.  “Can you find Beepu?”

“…Beepuuu…Beepuuuu…Beeepuuu…” it kept repeating, but as I watched I could see it was shaking its head.

“Great,” I said aloud.  There was something seriously wrong here.

_Goss keep an eye out.

--Yeah…sure…like I can see._

Ignoring Gossamer, I started to pull on a pair of strands, one light and one dark.  I closed my eyes and started to focus on an incantation that Beepu had taught me.  Specifically, one to detect magic.  The words were based on the gnomish language, so it was a bit muddled, but I got enough of the intonation out that I could feel it take effect.  Once I felt that the magic had taken hold, I opened my eyes.

The sudden pain was unexpected, like I had decided to stare at the sun at peak.  The forest was swirling colors and pulsing with energy like chaos incarnate.  I gave out a choking sound as I squinted trying to find my bearings and see again.  As I stared, I realized that I was wrong, the forest was fine as I could see the trees and brush.  But the Weave was a different story.  I had heard tales of what Limbo looks like from other planewalkers, and those descriptions paled in comparison to what I saw, with the cacophony of colors swirling around me.

“Myr what the..what happened?” I heard Iesa say.

“I’m…alright,” I choked.  “Help D.  I am looking for…” I gasped, “magic energy.”

“And?” Daneath said amid working on buckles.

“I can’t see anything..but magic.  We’re surrounded by it.”  I said, turning in place staring at the colors and swirling.  As I turned, something caught my attention; a nearby pine tree.  As I looked, it was shimmering and shifting between two different trees.  One normal one and another one, flourishing. with more needles and a larger trunk.  But both were sharing the same space.  I then realized part of what was happening.

“Oh no,” I said looking around with dread expecting…something more. 

“What?  What’s going on,” Iesa demanded.

“We’re…at a planar border I think.”

“Say again?” Daneath said stopping to look at me.

Fearfully, I replied “I think we are on a manifest zone of the…Feywild.”

*Session notes:*

So, this is a hard lesson.  If you can’t attend the gaming session for any reason, bad things might happen.

Did happen.  We did keep it quiet for about a week though, leaving only cryptic statements in text messages.

So, we were all mean, not just the DM.


----------



## Nthal

*Ghosts of the Forgotten - 12/8/2019*

_To planewalkers, there are many pieces of the chant needed to survive a trip to any plane.  Some are simple: avoid the lower planes and the Blood War.  Some obvious: don’t try to deal with slaad, and don’t try to cheat a modron.  Violating those is likely to get you put in the dead-book.

But the Feywild had a special place in the list of warnings and advice.  Its wasn’t about you avoided or did, or even about where you were going to go.  It all was about one thing.

When were you getting back, was a question of paramount importance._​

“Feywild?” Iesa was looking around him, wondering what might leap out of the depths of the fog.  “So what?  Are the fey going to kidnap us or something?”

“We aren’t fully there, so no,” I started trying to get my bearings in the swirling colored mists.  “Not yet at least.”   

“Great,” Daneath said through gritted teeth as he started pulling on the macabre spiked armor.  “And will you focus and help me finish?”

“Sorry,” Iesa said.  “It’s…just I have heard lots of stories. I’m sure Myr will just say, ‘It isn’t true,’ in some charming way.”

“I’m no greybeard about the Feywild,”  I answered.   “But I’m sure its _half_ true.  Just not clear on which half.  If I had to make a guess, if it had an unfortunate ending, it’s likely true.”

“That bad?” Daneath asked without looking up.

“Well, its chaotic, and the fey are concerned with…fey…stuff.  And _only_ fey stuff.  We’re either an annoyance or entertainment to faeries and eladrin.  But there are other beings in the feywild, and not all of them are as friendly as faeries.”

“Like what?” Iesa asked as he pulled a strap tight on Daneath’s armor.

“Hags, some giantkin, spirits and dire creatures to name a few.  A bored noble eladrin could be bad as well.”

“Any good news then?” Daneath wondered aloud.

“I can still hear Beepu over there somewhere,” and I pointed towards a section of unblemished fog.  In that direction Beepu’s chortling had broken down into mad laughter.

“Good.  I’m about ready to kill him.  How do I look?” Daneath asked turning around in the captured armor.

“Honestly?  Like a githyanki with questionable taste.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Beyond it screaming ‘Maglubiyet loves me?’  Nothing,” I said innocently.

“Come on,” Iesa interrupted our banter.  “That laughter is grating and I want to find our way out of here.”

We started towards the distant sound of the wayward gnome.  I felt on edge;  I knew only the barest things about the Feywild, and most of that summed up as ‘Don’t visit, it will make a mess of your day.”  As we travelled, I kept up the spell so I could see the magical fields easily. The plants and even occasional stone flickered between two different images over and over.  Fortunately, it seemed that we weren’t deep into the Feywild, as everything after flickering stayed with the prime version of things.  I guessed that we were on the shoals of the manifest zone.  So hopefully we could find our way out.

Following the cackling sounds that Beepu was making, the fog became lighter, allowing us to see farther.  Now we saw that the trees had given way to a clearing.  The clearing had pillars of rocks scattered on the edges.  On the far side of the clearing was a berm, and on the side facing us we could see a hole descending into the earth.  And there dancing by the hole was our gnome.

He was skipping and cavorting about, and he alterated between manic laughter and loud humming broken apart by giggles.  As we moved forward cautiously, the ground and stone alternated between two very different pictures of the world around me.  The first was as described, but the second I saw not stones, but marvelous pillars, reaching to the sky in a perfect circle.  And instead of a berm, I saw a stone building with a stairway leading to a passageway beneath the earth.  On the building’s awning above the stairs, I could see a golden symbol.  Three circles overlapping and bound by a triangle.  Thinking a moment, I realized that this was the symbol of Angharradh, a goddess of the Seldarine that was a personification of three other goddesses of the same patheon; Aerdrie Faeinya, Hanali Celanil, and Sahanine Moonbow.

We continued our approach towards Beepu, who was perhaps twenty paces away from us.  But as we neared him, I noticed movement behind the stones that encircled the clearing.  From around two opposing stones, stood a pair large broad humanoids.  Their skin was twisted and stretched across their massive frame, each standing almost twice my own height.  Each carried a length of stone in their hands.  They moved slowly, towards us, unrushed.  As they emerged, I noticed that they didn’t shimmer and shift like the stones, trees or the berm.  They were clearly in our plane and they were looking at us with snarls on their misshapen faces.

“Stop Beepu!  We’ll handle these two,” Daneath yelled and dashed out to meet his foe head on.  He collided with the creature and slashed at its exposed belly twice, each spraying blood and a single gutteral scream as it tried to smash the warrior with its stone club.  However, it was clearly off balance, as its other hand clutched its midsection, trying to keep its guts on the inside.

Iesa also reacted, and ran to the second one, and thrusted with this rapier high into the chest.  The monster gave out, not a yell, but a sharp wheeze, as blood and other fluid spurt from its wound.  The single strike staggered it enough, that its clumsy swing had no chance in connecting with the nimble rogue.

Satisfied that my parters weren’t going to be crushed, I decided to see if we could reign in Beepu and get him under control.  I started pulling a light and dark strand, and fastened them mentally into a loop.  I then focused and was about to encircle it around the gnome, when I felt strong resistance.  Not resistance that a foe would normally put up to avert say my miasma; this was stronger and made it difficult to focus.  But I redoubled my efforts and pushed past it and mentally threw the loop around Beepu.  But instead of his life force or body, I looped it around his head.

I could feel it connect and I could feel a conscious will push back at it.  Looking at Beepu as I did this, I realized that he had a shimmer around him, and that there was something else near him. No…inside him.  It was this being that I was fighting with.  Suddenly I felt the Weave snap, and the loop of magic break asunder.  To my surprise I saw shredded paper burst around the gnome in a shower of color, with a low buzzing noise as accompaniment.  I barely had time to react, when I heard music and singing.  The music sounded like they were coming from a drunken band of minstrels, with a horn, a flute, a lyre and a drum.  The singing was a deep drunken braying; enthusiastic, not in a proper pitch, and certainly uncoordinated.

_Sala was a frog that was workin,_

“What the?” Iesa and Daneath said at the same time, glancing around for the source of the noise, all the while inflicting deeper wounds on their ineffective foes, who just kept swinging madly at the pair.

_Slapped by the wenches for lurkin,_

I was stunned.  I knew this song.  I heard it in Sigil many times.

_And sent o wild and whirlin,_

The song was more than annoying to me; it grated on me like cat claws across a slate roof.

_Till he spun right round in da firkin, Hey!_

I stood there and my hands reached up to cover my ears.

“I HATE this song!” I shouted.  But then it became worse as Beepu joined in on the chorus.

_Frog In the firkin!
Frog in the firkin!
Frog in the firkin, Hey!_

I was in severe pain.  My head pounded, and I moved a hand to my nose.  I touched my nostril and looked at my hand in shock, because it was covered in my own blood.  Lifting my head to look at Beepu, I could see the shimmering shadow had the remaining resonance of a quick magic spell.  The spell was actually hurting me with him just singing.

This was *not* happening.  I was not going to die being shouted to death.  And certainly not by *that* song.

“Shut..up!” And I tried to throw a dark strand around Beepu, or whatever was controlling him.  I really didn’t care which, as long as the pain stopped.  I tried to get the skeletal hands to grip around him and I struggled to cast it at him, as if the mere act was a crime.  And once again more colored papers exploded with louder buzzing sounds.

_If ya beer be a bit burpin,_

I heard a groan, and wet flesh hit the ground, and then I saw Daneath rush over to Iesa’s side and knock away the stone club from smashing into his roguish brother.  With his foe distracted, Iesa thrust deep into the chest, and it too fell dead to the ground.

_And your belly starts a churnin,_

“Why are we listening to music and singing?” Iesa shouted over the din at me.  “This isn’t exactly going to help stop him.”

_Check your mug, for that green lug,_

Again, I felt my head split into two as Beepu cackled away, taunting us with, “Time to race, time to chase!” and he suddenly, floated down into the hole in the earth disappearing into the darkness.

_The frog in the firkin,
The frog in the f…_

The song and music subsided with Beepu’s departure, although my head still pounded in pain.  I pinched my nose shut, trying to stem the flow of blood.  Daneath approached me first, his face aghast.

“Myr?  What the..?”

“Dat…song.  It was killin me,” I replied still holding my nose shut.

“That’s a lot of blood…here,” and Iesa handed me a bundle of cloth, which I promptly put under my nose to soak up the blood.

“So how did we get a song and music in the middle of the forest?”  Daneath looked at me in confusion.

“I tried to well…charm Beepu.  And then it went all wrong…sorry I couldn’t stop him.” I said trying to clear my head.

“And that off-key song was the result?” Daneath looked at me with disbelief.

“It’s a song from a bar in Sigil, called Moebius.  It’s a song only sung there, and last I heard it had over a hundred verses.” I said, looking at the cloth, satisfied that the flow of blood had stopped.

“Why?” Iesa asked.

“Well, to encourage drinking, or dulling the pain from the song—”

“--No, why here now?” Iesa corrected.

“Oh…well I suspect that there is more than just the Feywild here; something else is going on.  And I bet it’s” and I pointed to the berm and the entrance into the earth, “down there.”

“Well let’s going get him and get out of here,” Daneath muttered angrily, and we all walked to the berm.  The first thing we noticed as we approached it, is that it was a ruined tunnel with stairs leading down, and the second was that there was a very dim yellow light down below.

“I guess we’re expected,” Iesa said grimly.  “At least we might be able to see.”

_Gos…stick close.

--Right.  I just want out of here; this is too weird._

As we started to decend, I barely heard the flutter of wings, and Foggle flew down ahead of us.  We paused, listening, expecting to hear an explosion of metal parts raining onto the stone.  But instead all we heard was a solitary “Beepuuu,” from the owl.  We continued on and after a long decent, found ourselves in a square chamber.  From the middle of each wall in the chamber were passages to rooms beyond, each with light spilling forth.  The room we entered, had four pillars, upon each had a warm orange yellow light flickering.  In the center of the room, was a statue.  The statue appeared to be of three elven women, who’s clothes, and legs merged into a single pillar.  The statue or pillar base, was set in the middle of three rings, bound by a triangle on the outside.  Each of the women looked down a different passage, except the stairs we descended from.  Foggle was quietly circling around the statue, making no noise beyond the occasional flapping of its wings.

“Elves…isn’t this—” Iesa started.

“Angharradh,” I finished for him as I looked around.  The room was covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs.  “And it has been a long time anyone has been here.”

“The Triune goddess,” and Iesa sighed as he looked about.  “And no sign of Beepu.  I don’t see even his footprints.”

“He was flying, or did you miss that?” chided Daneath.

“Well…no, but he didn’t stop to land here either,” Iesa was now on the defensive.

“So, head into another room?” Daneath started.  “I say we go-- 

“—Left.”

        “—Straight.”

             “—Right.”

Daneath, I and Iesa said at the same time, pointing in a different direction.  We each looked at each of the others with a dirty look.

“Right…um, so we shou—”

“—Go wherever you go Daneath.” I said, not really wanting to argue.

“—Uh…sure.” Iesa agreed quietly, and Daneath nodded with satisfaction.  He then led us down the left corridor.  It wasn’t terribly long before we entered a simple room.  Four more pillars, each with lights on top, just like the entrance room.  But here instead of a statue, was a ring, with letters gilt with golden metal, just below a layer of dust.  I moved to the edge of the ring, knelt and looked closely at it.  Concentrating I could see amid the soup of magic was a strong conjuration effect

“Can you read it?” Iesa asked.

Shaking my head, “Not yet.  It’s elvish using that older writing style.  Give me a moment.” And I started to cast the ritual so I could read the letters.  As I did so, I heard behind me some jostling, and liquid sloshing in a jar or flask.  I kept at it, and I saw that Daneath was handing to Iesa a pair of crudely worked clay flasks.  I kept up my quiet chant but gave a quizzical look to Daneath.

“Hobgoblin elixirs.  They are supposed to help out with your health.  Found them on the warlord.” Daneath answered without me having to ask.

“I guess we’re lucky he didn’t try to use them then,” Iesa smirked as he took a pair from his brother.

“I was not complaining.  Here Myr,” and he handed me a pair of flasks, which I put in my pouch, still concentrating.  Finally, with the spell cast I looked at the runes, and read them aloud:

“Praise to the Winged Mother, bringer of rain and storms…I think it’s a prayer” I said, turning to look at the brothers.

“Well that’s…interesting.  But I don’t see how that—” Daneath started before I cut him off.

“—No, there’s more.  The circle has magic imbued into it…Conjuration magic.”

“So, its like that other circle at the temple then?”

I nodded, “And I bet the other rooms have a circle and a different prayer.” I chuckled to myself and mutter almost under my breath, “This is taking the Rule of Three a bit literally.”

*“*So, what?  We each enter a circle say a prayer and…hope?”  Iesa looked up at the ceiling helplessly in resignation.

“You could call it…having faith?” I said a bit whimsically.

“Easy for you to say; you’ve seen what comes next.” Iesa wryly commented.

“Ah…I..suppose,” I said feeling a bit uncomfortable at the roundabout mention of my death.  We really never talk about that day much; too many painful choices made on that day.  Or not made but rather forced.  I brushed it aside and continued.  “But I think you only have to believe the magic is going to work.  I doubt an elven goddess wants a short lived, round-eared, filthy worshiper anyway.”

“Hey!  Whose filthy?” Iesa said with mock indignation.

“You are,” Daneath said, as he cuffed Iesa.  “So how do we do this?”

“Well, I’ll give you the prayer here. I take Iesa to another circle, give him the words he needs on his circle, and I will go the third and recite the words there.  But I’ll use a message spell, to each of you so we do it at the same time.”

“Think we need to go through that much effort?” Iesa asked with a doubtful tone.

“I’m willing to bet on it yes,” I said.  “Three goddesses as one, three circles with a prayer I bet.  And all need to be said at once.”

“Shouldn’t we do it in elvish?” Daneath pointed out.

“Well…yes.  But I don’t speak it, I just can read it.  Can you?” I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Daneath.  He scrunched his face and nodded.

“Well, I guess that will have to do then.  I’ll wait here.”

“Come on Iesa,” and I started back down the hallway towards the Triune statue.  I noticed that Foggle, who had quietly followed us into the room, remained flying around Daneath.  I smiled; Daneath always wanted to have his own pet, so it would do for a while I supposed.

“You sure this is going to work?” Iesa asked as he walked along side of me.  “I mean we don’t even know there are other cir…I’ll be damned.” He said as we walked into the room opposite.  And there was an almost identical setup; four pillars, one circle, and more writing.  Once I again I knelt down and read aloud.”

“Praise to the Heart of Gold, our winsome rose…can you remember that?” I asked.

Iesa nodded, “Sure thing.  I’ll wait for your..signal..spell…message?”

I nodded and started my way back.  “This will work I’m sure.”

“But what will it do?” Iesa called back to me as I entered the first chamber.

“Get us to a maniacal gnome who so needs a beating,” I mutter well lower than Iesa could hear.  I strode down the passage opposite the stairs and came to another set of pillars and a circle.  Once again I knelt and looked at the prayer written and nodded.

_--Myr, are you sure you know what you are doing?

Of course not!

--Is this a good idea?

Probably not.

--Then why are we—

Look, I’m not sure saving Beepu from himself is much in paying off a debt, but I feel we should at least try.

--So where did he go, if he was by himself?

A great question!  Let’s find him and ask!_

I quickly pull out a copper wire and wrap it around my index finger.  Twisting, I think of Iesa as I pull on some strands.

_“Iesa, count to ten slowly, and do the prayer.”  _Not waiting for a response, I pull on the strands again and this time focused on Daneath.

_“Daneath, count to five slowly, and do the prayer._

I then stood in the circle, and read the writing on the edge aloud:

“Praise to the Daughter of the Night Skies, our lunar lady.”  As soon as I said the last word, I could feel the Weave flex and fold upon itself and I felt the release of power.  There was a flash of light and I was blinded for a brief moment.  I blinked, waiting for the spots in my eyes to clear up, and as they did, I saw a new passage straight ahead of me.

Smiling, I felt a bit of pride.  I saw a puzzle without seeing all the pieces!  I guessed at what I bet was an obvious answer without even having to try random experiments.  I didn’t have to poke and guess.  I then turned around ready to trot back to see the brothers, when my smile dropped from my lips.  My eyes widened and I realized the game might have higher stakes than before.

Before me I could see the archway back to the room with the statues, but the passageway was replaced with solid stone.  My breathing quickened as I turned the copper wire on my finger.

_“Iesa?”

“Daneath?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Can you hear me?”_

My shoulders sagged, and I turned back to look down the now open passageway.  In the distance I could see more light.  I felt a lump in my throat as I swallowed.  I gripped my shield tighter and I started to walk down the passage, to see what else fate had brought to the party.

_--Told you this wasn’t a good idea.

Shut up!_



*Session notes:*

Confetti and strange music happened, and this really convinced me never to miss a session.  Which I did for over a year…but that miss is a different story.

Otherwise I was confused as hell on what we were really dealing with.  But we were really convinced that Beepu’s player would return and have to roll up a new character.


----------



## Nthal

*Unfunny Moments -- 12/18/2019*

_I never think of myself as ‘funny.’  I might say something clever that gets a chuckle, but that isn’t the same thing as having that gift to say the perfect phrase, that causes everyone to roll with laughter.  I relish it when I can laugh like that and forget the annoyances of the day.  And I envy the folks that can fill a hall with laughter with little more than the perfect phrase.

But I hear too, that some with that gift are truly cursed.  That many struggle with the contradiction of while they can lift the spirts of others easily, their own still wallow alone in despair and pain.

But worse than that, is the truth that laughter from one, is pain for another.  That some take joy on inflicting this upon others.  It doesn’t matter why; the end effect is the same; misery and bitterness.

So, does it come as a real surprise, when the multiverse finds a way to make that pain, literal and fatal?_​


I slowly walked forward, hearing the heels of my boots echo in the corridor.  Gossamer flitted around behind me still eager to leave this place.  The only noises I heard were coming from me; otherwise it was silence.  I was looking around nervously as I walked closer to the light that flickered ahead.  Where once I felt pride in solving a puzzle, I now felt fear and not a small amount of anger at myself.  I was certain that Danneath and Iesa were each trapped in a similar circumstance; and it was all my fault.

I was pondering this, when I entered the room with the light.  The light came from a lit brazier, in front of an elven figure, who I guessed was Sehanine Moonbow.  At first, I was puzzled about the fire.  But as I approached the flame, it became apparent that it was a magic.  It gave off no heat; just light.  But it still cast flickering shadows.  I would have preferred no light.  No light meant no shadows but real light spoiled that view of the world for me.  The shadows gave the statue a sinister appearance, as they played across its face.

But after regarding the statue and the brazier for a moment, I realized that there was no other visible exit from the room.   The brazier was in the center of the room, and the statue was next to it.  As I slowly turned around, examining the walls around me, I realized that there _was_ an exit.  However, it was blocked with stone, with only the archway visible, just like the circle room I had just left.  But unlike that room I saw no writing anywhere.  It would seem to be another puzzle, but this was more confusing, as there wasn’t a clear place to start to unblock the path. 

I moved towards the statue to get a better look at it.  The last puzzle involved the prayers to the goddesses, so perhaps this one had to do with their image.  Standing next to it, I marveled at its beauty.  The skilled artisan that carved it from a block of stone centuries before me was a master.  The smooth lines of the goddess’ form showed no defects, no fractures.  It was the perfect representation of elven beauty.  I smiled to myself, knowing that Iesa’s prayer room probably led him to a statue as well; but his was the goddess of love.  So once again he would be faced with an elven beauty that he only could approach and never claim.

I reached out to touch the surface of the statue, and I felt the smooth cold stone as I ran my fingers across the surface.  There were no inclusions or blemishes that I could feel.  As I looked up, I met the goddess’ eyes.  They were open and blank, looking across the room.  In front of this piece of art, which must have been more than twice my height, I felt small and unworthy.

*“*Well…what did you want from me, Sehanine Moonbow?” I quipped quietly.  And as the last word of the power’s name left my lips, I felt it; a shudder in the Weave.  I backed away slowly and started to look around me for…. something…anything, when I felt a wave of heat wash over me.   I turned, and saw that in front of the brazier had appeared a figure.  It was shorter than I, but its skin looked like heated stone; glowing an orange red.  It turned around and quickly spotted me. Its face looked like melted wax, but the burning eyes, and sinister smile of sharpened rock.  It looked at me with what I could only guess was violence.  As it turned, flexed its hands and stepped towards me.

I stared at it for a moment insulted.  A fire mephit?  Here?  And who would send me a mephit?  Any planeswalker knew that each type of mephit had a particular meaning intended for the receiver.  And this one was particularly insulting; Slight regard and gloating at someone who lost an intellectual battle.  Who would dare send a mephit, especially that one?

My anger rose in me suddenly, its rage matched the heat the creature gave out.  I quickly pulled on a dark strand and cast it at the elemental.  I saw the skeletal hand grasp at the creature around the neck and claw at its life.  But what happened next was unexpected.  In my fury, I could feel that the strand I used was much stronger than I was used to, and I could feel its life force simply be snuffed out like a candle.  It started to slump and fall, and as its knees touched the stone floor, it exploded into sharp shards of jagged rock.  I staggered as some of the stone hit me, and coughed as I breathed in some hot dust.  I looked at where it once stood, and all that remained were small fragments of stone, clustered in a pile.

I waved my hand in front of me, trying to clear away the dust and smoke, when I realized that something else had replaced it.  Coiled around the remains of the mephit I could see a scaled form.  I watched as it moved and slid around the floor, until a serpentine head rose to the height of my waist.  Its unblinking eyes regarded me coldly, while a slender string of a tongue tasted the air rapidly with quick flicking motions.

It suddenly lunged; its fangs sinking deep into my right arm.  It was so fast that I couldn’t block it with my shield or twist out of the way. I screamed in shock and afterwards I felt pain.  My arm felt like it was on fire, as the snake pumped its venom into me.  The poison acted swiftly, even as I stumbled backwards into a corner.  I felt lightheaded as I tried to focus my mind.  As the serpent started to slither closer, I pulled one of the rough clay flasks, and tore out the cork with my teeth.  Spitting it out, I quaffed it down, the bitter taste burning my mouth and throat as I swallowed.  Even so, my stomach stopped heaving, and I felt steadier.

It was fortunate, because the snake lunged again.  Now a bit better prepared, this time its head collided with my shield as I batted the snake away.  Once again pulling on dark strands, I heard the bell ringing deeply, and the snake hissed in pain as I shredded its life.  It retaliated, once again swiftly striking in an attempt to clamp its jaws down on me.  But this time it missed, striking left, when it should have right.  And then flexing, the final bell rang for it as the miasma robbed its remaining life, and it collapsed on the floor in a jumbled pile.

I leaned against the wall to catch my breath and looked around, expecting something else who wanted to burn me, bite me or whatever else it had planned.  But as I did, I saw that the passaged that once was blocked, now suddenly was clear.  Exhaling quickly, I continued towards it, unsure what the next challenge would be.

_--Myr?  What is going on here?

I really don’t know.  Right now, finding the others is the first thing to do.

--And then beat up the gnome?

The thought had crossed my mind…_

I emerged into another square room, again lit by four pillars, and a double door in front of me.  The door was made of old worn oak, and it had the same symbol as before, three circles bound by a triangle, embossed upon its surface.  But as I moved towards it to look closer, I…smelled something.

It was a rancid mixture of tar and rotting fish.  I turned around; not sure what foul thing now wanted a turn with me.  From a corridor on my right I saw a figure move quickly towards me.

“Myrai?  Finally!”  Daneath said as he emerged from the passage.  He too sounded on edge and looking at him in his armor I could see slashes of a dark substance on his vambraces, and some blood covering his sword arm.  But it was the smell that I noticed the most, as the foul fish and tar smell came directly from him.  Foggle, floated silently in the air following close behind.

“Where is…whoa!” I started as I brought a hand to my nose, “What did you run into?”

“Don’t rightfully know,” Daneath said with a grimace on his face.  “And yeah, I know.  Its smells real bad.” I could only nod vigorously in reply, trying not to wretch.

“I am guessing that Iesa is that way,” And Daneath pointed down the hallway, opposite of where he emerged.  “And so, we wait?”

As he said that I finished a spell that would for now change the fishy smell, to one slightly more floral.  My eyes stopped tearing up and I was a little more confident in taking a breath without the urge to vomit.  Once finished, I started to cast the other spell that would let me see the magical confluence around us.  It was simple enough that I could do the ritual while I spoke with Daneath at the same time.

“Well, you were blocked in,” I said recalling what just happened to myself.  “Until you killed your smelly thing, and then the way was open?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then we have to wait…unless you have digging tools?”

“Do I look like a dwarf?”

“Of cou…wait is that a trick question?”

“NO!”

I shrugged, “Then we wait and get ready to deal with Beepu.”

“And how do we do that?”

I sighed.  “I…I don’t know.  When I saw him last, it looked like…something else was _with_ him.”  Daneath was wiping off his armor of blood with a cloth but kept glancing up intently at me.  “I’ve heard of magic that can possess people, but…”

“But you can’t…fix that?”

I hung my head down tiredly, “I don’t know how.  But we might be able to drive it off.”

“By?”

I swallowed, took a breath and looked at Daneath.  “We kill him.”

Daneath looked at me hard, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times.  His face contorted, as he wrestled with the thoughts racing through his head.   Finally he sighed, looked at me again and said;

“What!?!?”

“Look, best guess I have is that a spirit can only possess someone that is alive.  So if we kill Beepu it will run!”

“So, we don’t save him?”

“Let me rephrase; *Almost* kill him.”

“That will work?”

“I…don’t know.  But it’s the only bad idea I have.”

“Why wouldn’t it possess one of us instead?”

“Perhaps it could.  But from what little I do know, possessing someone of a strong mind is…difficult.”

“Wait, then why did it go after Beepu?  It liked a challenge?”

I shook my head, “I’m thinking that there is a reason that it targeted Beepu, and not someone else.  Perhaps for some reason Beepu couldn’t resist it.”  I said.  I was out of ideas, and all I was doing was grasping at straws.  Fortunately, I finished casting the spell.  Hopefully it might be able to lead us out of the blinds.

Daneath never really noticed what I was doing.  But he was about to respond to what I said, when his head jerked up and he readied his sword.  He moved, clattering in the mail he wore to the door and listened. 

I looked at the warrior and waited until he turned to look at me.  When he did, I mouthed the word “What” on my lips and shrugged. 

In response Daneath waved his hand in a rhythmic pattern in…time. 

Singing.

I nodded and check my gear and my wound.  The bleeding seemed to have stopped a while ago, and I as ready as could be.  Just then we heard from the third passage the sounds of running.  Turning, we saw Iesa bound out of the darkness, with Mo close behind, eyes open in terror.  He skidded to a stop when he saw us and was about to speak.

“Hey g—”

“Ssshhhh!” Daneath and I both hissed and I pointed to the door.

Iesa nodded and moved close to me and whispered in my ear.

“We have a plan?”

“Yeah…almost kill him.”

“Almost?  How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stop huffing in my ear!  And with…panache.” I said looking at the panting Knight of the Post.   “It’s the only chance we have.”

He gave a sharp short sigh and nodded, shrugging as if to say “oh well,”  We both turned to Daneath and we pointed at the door, and we both nodded.  Daneath nodded in return.  He then grabbed the door pull and heaved open the door, revealing the next chamber.

It too was lit from flames in sconces, but the room felt cold as the flames did not warm the room at all.  Lining the walls were cases and cases of books on stone shelves.  In the center of the room once stood a long table, now broken and sundered on its side.  On the left side of the room, on the floor I saw a bound metal chest.  But in front of it was a diminutive skeleton, almost childlike.   I didn’t have much time to stare as my attention was drawn to the right side, by the sound of tearing paper and humming.  Turning to look we saw Beepu, flying in the air cheerfully tearing paper from a book and throwing it nonchalantly in the air over his shoulder. 

“Beeeepppuuuu,”  Foggle hooted mournfully, still hovering around Daneath.

“hmmm hm hm hm hmmmhmmm, Hey!” and Beepu turned to look at us with glowing white eyes.  “So, you made through passages three, and now it’s your time to face me?”  He giggled.

Iesa stepped in front of us and spoke, “Now Beepu…this isn’t funny.  Let’s stop this nonsense now.”

“Pretense, nonsense, no sense, now!   And I expect you to laugh like a cow,” and I watched as Beepu waved his hand.  I saw a small flash of light, and a sinister smile creep across the gnomes face as he floated and giggled.

From behind I watched Iesa struggle for a moment, as if trying to stiffle a cough…or a laugh.  Then I heard him struggle a moment and retort back.  “Not…funny…Beepu.”  His shoulders dropped a second, and then he lunged straight at the gnome with a yell.  His blade pierced the air and looked to pierce the heart of the gnome when suddenly an explosion of color paper appeared clouding all of our vision.  Then drifting lazily to the left I saw the bouncing gnome, scattering more papers as he went, giggling madly.

I ran to my left to block Beepu from moving and started to flex a dark strand.  Once again, I struggled…I felt a fleeting feeling that I should…do something else.  Something else _for_ Beepu.  I focused my mind and pushed through the compulsion, and threw the strand at my former friend, trying to claw at his life.   But I too was rewarded by an explosion of paper and derisive laughter from the gnome.

Daneath ran towards the floating gnome, with grim determination.  But he never made it across the room before he stopped, and slowly turned, like he was having his own mental hurdles to overcome.  But after a moment, it stopped, and he simply charged.

Straight into Iesa, swinging his sword trying to hit his brother.  But it was like he wasn’t really trying to hit him, as he swung.  But it was enough to keep Iesa off-balance, lest the heavy blade did find its way past Iesa’s defenses.

“What are you doing D?” Iesa barked at Daneath, parrying with his rapier, as Daneath tried to swing again.

“We…need…to worship…the Beepu,” Daneath said with frustration at the words coming from his mouth.

Beepu laughed at us like a childhood bully would laugh at their victim.  Cold, mean and spiteful.  He was enjoying our frustration; our ineptitude.  And I *was* frustrated.  Almost past my endurance.  I was beginning to think that we had no choice but to run, and leave Beepu behind, when again I spied that chest near me with the skeleton. 

Iesa and Daneath’s battle faded to the background for a moment as I looked at them.  The first thing that stood out was the scorch like marks, just under a thin layer of dust on the chest.  I moved right next to the chest and blew, scattering it away and revealing marks below.  The text was again elven, but my spell from before was still working and I could read what remained.  A phrase that basically meant “unpredictable weave.”

I looked then at the skeleton, and saw I was mistaken; it wasn’t a child.  The frame was hunched, and broader than a child.  As I looked at the skull, and saw that, of the teeth that remained they were larger, like an adult’s and the fangs more robust.  The skull’s forehead was not like a human’s either, being more sloped, and wider in proportion.  I realized it probably was a goblin’s skull.  Then I heard another clash of metal on metal and I turned to look at the melee.

“Come…on…throw…yourself at Beepu’s…mercy,” Daneath stammered, still weakly trying to swing at Iesa.  He wasn’t swinging hard, but an errant blow was still dangerous.  Iesa kept moving away, not willing to commit himself against his brother as he deftly fended off the blows.  As he was doing so, Iesa turned to look at me and shouted.

“I hope you have an idea here,” he yelled at me.

Then before I could respond, I heard that derisive laughter again and heard “Oh hiding, and ever lurkin?  Maybe you need more ‘Frog and the Firkin!’”

I was puzzled for the briefest of moments, and then my head exploded in pain.  I tried to cover my head, instinctually trying to protect it as the pain continued.  As I knelt there on the ground, I watched as I saw a splash of blood hit the floor, and I could feel more dribble out of my nose.  All the while I was mentally trying to think through the problem here. 

What was the connection?

Panting heavily, I focused on the chest looking for disruptions in the Weave.  I was rewarded with what appeared to be a shimmering vortex of wild color and power.  Its matrix started at the chest, and strands of it spread to the skeleton and to Beepu as well.  The same shimmering that I had seen before was incredibly strong here, warping everything it was touching.  The room was changing from clean and new, to ruined and forgotten.  The chest from shiny and clean, to dusty and corroded.  The skeleton from a corpse, to a goblin dressed in garb that struck me as a cross between a priestly robe with the patterns of a street performer.

Where once I was squinting, trying to absorb the cacophony, my eyes widened drinking it in.  I turned to look at Beepu, and I saw it clearly now.  The shimmering shifted between a gnome, and the same goblin in the strange garb.

No.  Not a _goblin_.

A _Nilbog!_

I knew what we needed to do.

“Iesa,” I shouted.  “Knock some sense in Daneath now!”

“What do you think I am doing?” he shouted back, and parrying another weak blow.

“Not trying hard enough!  Just. Hit. HIM!”  I shouted back, and I pulled out my symbol of Kelemvor.  “I need time! And I need both of you to keep the Nilb…Beepu busy.”

I heard another parry and then a whistling of the rapier in the air and finally a groan from Deneath.

“Ugh…what the?  You hit me!”

“You _noticed_.” Iesa quipped.  “Great, now help me with Beepu.  Myr needs time.”

I fumbled in my pouch, looking desperately for it.  I didn’t have a lot, but I needed it now.  Finally, my hands touched the cool glass of the vial I sought.  I pulled it out and smiled.  It was a small crystalline vial with a glass stopper, sealed with wax. 

Holy water.

I twisted the stopper and poured the contents onto my fingers.  It was barely enough to wet them with a couple of drops, but it would be enough.  I moved to the goblin body and touched my wet fingers across what once would have been its brow.  I then started to say the words of the sacrament:

_“No one should be alone, in life or death.  Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning.”_

Daneath now under control again turned and started to charge the Nilbog, and again found himself struggling.  This time he sunk to his knees, breathing heavily as if kneeling was the most challenging thing he could do.  Through gritted teeth he spat, “What…is… she…doing?”

“_Death is without deceit and has meaning.  May your soul find its way to Acheron to the Great Warren.  Join your brethren with Khurgorbaeyag.”_

“It sounds like…last rites?”  Iesa said as he hurled a dagger at the Nilbog, only to see it hit the ground in a shower of paper and laughter in Beepu’s voice.  I quickly glanced at the flying gnome and saw him again pull at the weave and mock Iesa.  “Roll, troll, how droll!   Drop and laugh you silly calf!” _ 

“May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey.  Because Death is never an end, but a waypost. Not a destination, but a Journey.  The memory of your deeds will live forever in your kin.”_

Iesa twisted and shook his head, and took steps toward the flying gnome.  He looked Beepu in the eye and with a small chuckle said forcefully; “*Still* not funny.” And thrust straight at the gnome only to be blinded by more colored paper.

“Why wont you LAUGH?!?” the Nilbog retorted, now sounding more angry than mocking.

“_So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith_.  _May Death grant you peace.”_

I finished the blessing and looked at the Weave once more.  The connection between the corpse and the chest was gone, leaving only the curse connected to Beepu’s tormentor.  I now stood and smiled a moment.  I focused on the dark and light strands and readied my next move.

I braced a moment and wrestled against that compulsion not to hit him and pushed past it, once again.  Feeling the compulsion give I shouted at the Nilbog:

“Hey! Catch!” and I threw a bolt of energy at the gnome and the spirit.  I could see the bolt streak and hit another explosion of paper.

“Hah!  You little nit, you can’t hit!”

I spun, and then released the _second_ bolt and sent it streaking at the gnome.  This time the bolt hit Beepu in the middle of his chest, and the we heard the sound of air leaving his lungs in a wheeze.  Blood spurted out of his mouth.  His face contorted in anger and shock, and it looked at me in surprise.

“That’s not what’s writ, you little twit!” I retorted.  “Guys, you need to hit him _twice_.”

Iesa looked at Beepu now and smiled.  He pulled out his dagger that he found in Flint rock, with his left hand, and moved.  Slashing with it first the paper exploded again, but the rapier pierced through the falling scraps and connected with the gnome’s body.  Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering the drifting paper with blood.

“Beeeepppuuuu,” Foggle hooted mournfully at the turn of events, still near the entrance, where Mo peaked around the corner, and Gossamer sat looking on unconcerned.

Daneath blinked and then pulled himself up off the ground and shouted with a grin on his face.  He charged once again, this time undeterred by the Nilbog’s effect and was a whirl of blades.  His sword cut through the paper shreds.  His first swing was met with yet another explosion, but his follow through landed solidly in Beepu’s side, causing more blood to spray and hit the shelves and books.  But his anger burned hotter still and two more times he swung at the Nilbog, and more paper fluttered in the air, and Beepu gave out a large wheeze as the air left his lungs with the last strike.  Yet the Nilbog floated there with a look at contempt at us all.

“This is no fun…time to run!” and our gnome, streaked past the entrance we came in, our trio of animals scattering to get clear.  It flew down the corridor that Iesa had originally came from.

Daneath started to move and once again was struggling; the compulsion not to hurt the gnome was overwhelming him.  But Iesa and I ran after the gnome, as fast as we could.

“I don’t think…I can…catch him.” Iesa said, as he ran by me.  But I saw the gnome turn a corner at a speed that put Iesa to shame.  And I was no where near the runner.  I watched Iesa turn the corner sprinting as fast as he could. 

This wasn’t going to work unless we could actually _hit_ the Nilbolg.  And if Iesa couldn’t get close, then there was no chance I could.  But I didn’t need to catch him.

I rounded the corner and immediately pulled on the strands again.  Twisting the strands, I threw a pair of bolts of energy down the corridor, I watched as they streaked past Iesa.  Time seemed to slow, and I felt my heart beat as I watched the bolts flew towards their target.

The first got close, and more paper streamers exploded in the corridor, blocking my sight of the gnome.  Then I watched the second fly through the cloud of colors.  My heart skipped a beat as I heard nothing for a moment.  My heart sank…my last attempt to save Beepu from the Nilbog.  Then I heard it; the sound of a body hitting the ground.

I ran forward, starting to look at the Weave once again.  I could see the connection that probably led back to the chest’s curse.  But as I watched, I saw the end of it moving ahead of me.  The tail of the stream of energy flew over me and just as I arrived at Beepu’s body; I saw the Nilbog’s spirit hover there.

It looked confused, and it tried to reach toward the fallen gnome’s body. But it strained to connect with it, seeming to be repelled.  It then turned and looked at me.  Its eyes had the haunted look I knew well; the look of a nightmare ending.  It said nothing, but it smiled as I watched its form dissipate into formless mist, and then into nothing.

I didn’t even stop to think.  I threw a light strand of energy at Beepu; shrieking:

“E kohana ma ko’o makunanae!”

I passed Iesa who had stopped near the fallen gnome.  I ran to his form and slid down onto my knees.  I rolled him over gently, until he was facing upwards and my heart almost broke.  He was badly beaten, and blood oozed from wounds that we created as we savaged him to free him from the Nilbog spirit.  He was drenched blood, and it started to settle and pool beneath him.

Too much blood.

I knelt there and leaned over Beepu’s clean-shaven face, streaked with his own blood.  I turned my head looking down the corridor.  I pulled my hair away with a hand, and lowered my cheek down low, hovering just above his nose and mouth.  I closed my eyes and waited, listening.

I heard Iesa step closer, and then I heard the sound of wings fluttering.  I heard mail clattering in the distance, getting closer and then finally halting.  But no one said anything; waiting for my next words to break the silence.

I heard nothing.  The tears started to well in my already shut eyes.  I had no words.  No thoughts.  Just overwhelming pain and sorrow that touched my soul.

Time passed, and I swallowed and was about to speak when I felt it.  The hairs on my cheek were brushed ever so slightly.  I waited and I realized in the silence, that I felt the faint touch of breath on my cheek; its warmth casting away the chill of the cool underground air.  I opened my eyes and heard the drops of my tears splash on Beepu’s face.  But as I looked, I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, as he quietly lay there barely breathing.

I turned my head to look at the first face I could see, that off Iesa.  I said nothing as the tears fell.  But my smile told the story best as I watched Iesa once stricken face relax and break into a grin even as his eyes watered.  And then finally, he started to laugh, and he turned to look at his brother.  Daneath’s face too softened and he clasped his brother and joined him in deep laughter smiling, wiping the tears from his eyes.

I finally couldn’t control myself and let the joy in and laughed too as my tears fell.  For it was that laughter was the only magic needed to set things right.


----------



## Nthal

*The Gambit - 12/22/2019*

_The first rule in dealing with fiends is: don’t.

The second rule is if you can’t do the first rule, then you better be in a position of strength.  This is tricky; fiends are immortal, and very patient.  They have seen more, know more, and have been manipulating mortals since before there were tieflings.  So, knowing what that position is can a problem.

That leads to the third rule; if you aren’t sure about how strong your position is, whatever you do, don’t make yourself weaker.  It just won’t end well.

But really…stick to the first rule.  It just saves time._​


We had retreated back to the room with the books.  Daneath carried the injured gnome gently, and we laid him down in a pile of our cloaks.  I took the time to clean and repair some of the damage to his clothing.  Now, he slept, and we occupied our time examining the chest, and talking about what had just happened.

“So, you think that this chest was the cause of this?” Iesa said with his hands between himself and the chest, afraid to even lay a hand on it.  “I mean, is it safe at all?”

“It’s safe; there isn’t any sign of dweomer,” I said confidently.  “In fact, everything that I see looks…normal.”

“So, what exactly happened?” Daneath asked as he leaned against one of the walls.

“My guess is this; somehow a nilbog,” and I pointed at the goblin skeleton, “Found this place and managed to get to the chest here.  He then sprung a trap that magically slew him.  But the curse that was laid down was one that used Wild magic.  So, while it killed the goblin’s body, it couldn’t affect the nilbog spirit.  But the wild magic and nilbog managed to create a vortex that kept the spirt bound here, and kept cycling this place back and forth into the Feywild.”

“Uh huh.  I’ll take your word for it,” Iesa said, rubbing his temples.  “But I thought nilbogs were a curse on goblins.  How did it get ahold of Beepu?”

“Once the vortex was created, anything was possible.  In this case, the nilbog spirit was still stuck in this place, bound to the chest.  But somehow the vortex was twisted just enough, so that it could possess…gnomes.”

“Because gnomes are secretly misshapen goblins?” Daneath said looking at the ceiling with a wry smile.

I shrugged, “To the Weave it wouldn’t normally work, but with a wild vortex it became possible.  And because the vortex was bound to the chest, the corpse and the spirit, it was locked here; trapped.  So, once I laid the body to rest, and we forced the spirit out of Beepu, the vortex collapsed.  The nilbog couldn’t possess him again, and it never could possess us, so…it left.”

“Where is it now?” Iesa asked, looking around as if the spirit would jump out of a wall nearby.

I lifted up my hands, “Somewhere else.  Acheron perhaps, or it might wander the prime until it finds another goblin.  I’ll just take ‘not here.’”

Then, Foggle’s head started to spin in place, and started hooting; “Beepuuu, Beepuuu, Beepuu!”

“Oooohhh.  Ow, ow, ow.  What…what happened?” Beepu said slowly,his face wincing in pain, as he propped himself on an elbow.

“What?  Don’t you remember?” Daneath asked, looking at Beepu like he had grown another head.

“I remember…flashes.  Terrible jokes…but one thing stands out.  A song…about a frog in—”

“Don’t” I said levelly “Sing.  That.  Song.”

“It was kind of playful and jaunty—”

“—Forget you heard it.” I said icily.

“Alright…fine…not clear on what that is about.  So…where are we?  I do not remember this…place.”

“Part of a temple to Angharradh.  This place seems to be a sort of library.”

Beepu sat up and looked around excitedly.  His face registered surprise and then shock as he looked at the piles of colored paper, torn pages and discarded books scattered around the room.

“What a mess!  How did this happen?”

“Well…” Iesa said as he started to work on the chest, trying to pry it open.  “That would be…your fault.”

“What?  That does not sound like me at all!  And what happened to me?  I hurt quite a bit.  I seem to have bruises and cuts and…a lot of blood on my skin.”

“Well…” Iesa started and then he looked at Daneath for help.

“You were floating and making a mess and…um well…Myr?” Daneath looked at me helplessly.

“We beat the sod out of you.” I said bluntly.

“You…you…beat me?”

“Repeatedly.” I said simply.

“But…that seems…harsh?  Why?” Beepu questioned, very confused.

“You were possessed.  And while you were out of control, you had Daneath attempt to kill Iesa, then you kept trying to have Iesa collapse in laughter with your bad jokes, and to top it off, you tried to kill me with…that…song.  You’re lucky it was only a beating.”

“Alright fine.  What possessed me?”

“A nilbog,” I said sighing.  It was going to be a long day

“Wait!  That is not possib—”

“Wild.  Magic.” I said.

“Ohhh…I guess it is then.”

“Got it!” Iesa exclaimed, as he defeated the mechanism that held the lid shut.  He then quickly opened it and looked inside, his eyes eager to see what had caused all of this trouble.

“Well…these are worth something,” Iesa said as he held up a golden bowl in one hand and a silvery cup in another.  Neither were tarnished with age, as both glittered in the cold magical flames that lit the room.  They had runic shapes on them, and I realized they weren’t words, just stylized iconicgraphy.  I moved over to the chest and saw more items; what appeared to be an inlaid box of silver, and several more cups and bowls.  Each were stylized as a piece of art onto themselves.

“They look to be religious relics,” I said.  “That would make sense for this place, and the protection on the box.”

“So?  What do we do with them?” Daneath asked.  “Carry them around and sell them?”

“Actually…no.  We give them…back,” Iesa said.

“Curry favor, and perhaps a reward on something more useful?” I reflected.  “That’s smart.”

“I thought you did not like robbing the dead Myrai,” Beepu said archly, now finally standing and starting to move about.

“I don’t like disturbing the graves of the fallen no,” I said turning to look at Beepu.  “But this isn’t a tomb.  And those clearly don’t belong to the goblin, which is the only corpse at rest here.”

“Fair game then,” Daneath nodding in agreement.  “What about the books?”

“Yes…yes…yes!” Beepu limped over to a shelf and started to look over the remains.

“They are in good shape for the age they must be.  Religious and historical titles.   And no Beepu,” I said to the gnome, who’s head snapped up to look at me.  “I didn’t find anything on arcana.”

“Wait?  You looked at all of them?” he sounded disappointed and almost offended, that he missed the opportunity to examine all the texts himself first.

“You’ve been out cold for a while,” I pointed out.  “You feeling better?  Think you can get a disc up to carry the chest and stuff.”

“Certainly.  A decent meal and something better than a stone cold floor would do wonders for my spine.  But we could just carry the chest.”

“It’s not for the chest; its for the armor that Daneath left in the forest above.” I said looking at Daneath with a smirk.

Daneath had a puzzled look for only a moment, to have it swiftly replaced with wide eyed shock.  “Crap!  I can’t go the elves in _this!”_ looking at the hobgoblin warlords’ armor he wore.  “We have to find it before…how do we get out of here?”  and he immediately turned around and started to walk down the corridor that I had originally came from.

Iesa watched for a moment and got up, “I’d better catch him before he gets lost.” Turning he jogged after his brother, but not before Mo dashed up and settled on his shoulder, riding the way out.

It was quiet for a moment.  Then Beepu with a deep sigh spoke.  “Well despite the mess you caused, I should thank you.”  He pulled out from his satchel a worn tome and began flipping pages looking for a spell.  As he did so, he continued;

“Does that make us even?”

“What?  A life for a life?” I said.  I really hadn’t considered the debt that I felt I had owed before.  It always felt like an unbearable weight on my shoulders, and one that I would never be able to repay.

But hadn’t I already?  I stopped Daneath and Iesa several times from passing into the fugue fighting skeletons, gnolls, and various goblins.  This was really the second time I had helped save the little wizard, as he was shaken like a rag doll in the jaws of the barghest. 

It wasn’t quite the same though.  They never crossed into the fugue.  I just prevented it.  They had to put themselves into debt to a criminal organization to save me.  And then, by coming back I made them accountable for it.  It didn’t even matter I hadn’t intended to.  They were willing to risk a lot; they were willing to murder someone in cold blood to bring me back.  Had I made the same risk?

“I…don’t know really.  Is it the same thing?  You all put a lot on the line for me.”

“That is true.  But does it matter on the details?  You have bled with us and stopped us from leaving.  I would say its close enough.  I still would like to know how you do things at all though.”

“Well…perhaps at Whitepetal,” I said straightening up and stretching my arms over my head.  “You can drink your tea, and I will have something stronger.”

“Sounds just fine,” Beepu smiled, sounding more like his normal self.


Beepu and I exited into the bright sunlight of the forest, with our familiars on a invisible disc holding our packs and the chest, and I carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth.  The fog and darkness were gone.  As I looked around, I realized how little of the ruin was even visible.  This was a place from long ago, the rocks that could have been pillars had fallen over in the distant past.  Any walls or buildings were beneath layers of dirt and leaves going back centuries.  The light of the sun felt good; warm and inviting, as it cast light over the dense foliage nearby.  In it, I heard rustling and I could see the dark hair of Iesa, moving plants around.  Turning to look the other direction I caught the sight of Daneath, also beating the brush.

“Can’t find it?” I raised my voice so both could hear.

“No…I thought I had it out in the open,” Daneath yelled back.

Beepu and I just looked at each other and then glanced at our familiars, who sat behind us on Beepu’s disc, both suddenly looked at each of us as if they knew…

_--Fine.  I’ll look for the armor.

And I didn’t even have to ask!

--At least the weather is worth it._

And with that Gossamer took to the sky, with Foggle a moment afterwards.  Both started to circle the area in larger and larger circles, with Gossamer flying lower, and Foggle at a greater height.  Beepu was focusing on the owl, giving more direct guidance on where to look.

Meanwhile, I started to look for a tree that was off to the side of what I thought was the boundary of the ruin.  Finding a suitable one, I focused on strands, and watched the dirt churn as I mentally excavated a hole.  It was done quickly, and I leaned down and carefully laid the bundle at the bottom.  I made a quick prayer, and then moved the dirt back, interring the goblins bones, for their final rest.  I nodded and smiled, and then returned back to the ruin just in time to hear the hooting of Foggle.

_--Looks like the Modron found it first.

Were you even trying?

--Yes!...er kind of…sort of…not at all, I was enjoying the sun._

I shook my head and rejoined the others.  Iesa was helping Daneath swap out his armor for his older set of mail.  It wasn’t long before Daneath once again lifted the silver bound orb and said

“_Entu-LA Eska!” _ 



We were not even half a day away from Whitepetal as it turned out and the orb made finding the hidden paths trivial.  As we approached, the orb started to glow with an emerald green light that grew stronger as we approached.  Soon we were met by two elves patrolling the pathways.  Recognizing us, they escorted us to one of the lifts, and in no time, we found ourselves in the great hall spanning between the trees. 

We strode inside, and we saw Galenas and Alanathia in discussion with a pair of elves.  As we approached, they turned to greet us, dismissing their comrades.  Their faces were somber, but a small smile was on each of their faces.

“We are truly overjoyed to see you,” Galenas started.  “We felt the tremors from here.  Not long afterwards, one of our scouts found the remains of the encampment.  You indeed have our thanks.”

“It is unfortunate about the temple,” Alanathia said with a note of sadness.  “But perhaps it is for the best to let go of that part of our past.”

“You are probably right about that,” Daneath started.  “We found Pathhorn—”

“—I’m sorry who?” Galenas interrupted.

“A highborn,” I said.  “The goblins had captured and were trying to interrogate him.  But, we managed to set him free and discovered that the goblins were after…magic in the waters and trying to harness it.  After we killed the warlord below, the magic fell apart, and it all collapsed.  By the time we’d reached the surface, it was as you said; the encampment was deserted.”

“And where is Pathhorn now?” Galenas pressed.

“Gone far to the south to rescue some of his kin,” Iesa said.

“I see.  Still, it is good that you stopped the hobgoblins from using what they found,” Alanathia spoke barely nodding as the conversation continued. 

“What was all that magic within?” Beepu asked.  “It was not something I was familiar with.”

“No.  It was the remains of High magic from the Crown Wars.  Magic far beyond the power of non-elves.  But, while the hobgoblins could not use it properly, they certainly could have tapped into its power for other ends.  But, why did it take so long for you to return?” Galenas asked.

“So long?” Iesa replied confused.  “What are you talking about?”

I rolled my eyes upward and closed them sighing.  Still closed I asked, “How long has it been since the temple collapsed?”

“Its been almost a tenday,” Alathania replied.  “We thought you had perished.”

“What?!” Iesa and Daneath exclaimed together.   “We were only gone a day,” Daneath continued.  “How could—”

“--The Feywild,” I said cutting him short.  “Time flows differently there.  We got lucky.”

“What do you mean?” Iesa looked at me with a bit of fright in his eyes.

“Its why traveling to the Feywild is dangerous.  Time doesn’t work the same way there.  So we could have returned with no time passing, or perhaps longer.”

“How long?” Iesa pressed.

“Well…a century?” I said and watched Iesa’s and Daneath’s eyes bulge in their sockets in shock.  “So…ten days is ok.  Could be worse,” I said nonchalantly, trying not to make it a big deal, and hiding my relief at the same time.

“For shorter lived beings that could be a problem,” Galenas commented.  He didn’t even try to hide the amused smile on his lips.  “But why the detour?”

“Well, that’s a bit harder to explain,” I said thinking about the events.  “Let’s leave it at ‘we accidently left the prime, found a ruined temple to Angharradh, and left behind a lot of books in a library, and found some relics, that we have right here!’ and I pointed to the chest on the disc, floating silently behind us.

Galenas moved to the chest, and slowly opened it.  His eyes grew wide as he reached in, and pulled out one of the golden bowls, turning it in his hands.

“These were…lost long ago.  You again surprise us, and you have our thanks.  You must tell us where this temple is, as we were not aware of any such ruin anywhere nearby.”

“Indeed,” Alanathia now spoke, taking control of the conversation.  “Well, perhaps we should tell you what has happened since you left, please sit.” And she gestured to some lounges that were arranged in a circle in the middle of the hall.  We moved to them, and we sat down.

Or rather, Beepu sat, I reclined, and Daneath and Iesa flopped wearily into their seats, still shocked at the time lost.

Alanathia began, “Shortly after the tremors, we sent out some scouts with instructions to find you, and to see what the hobgoblins were doing.  While we didn’t find you, we did follow the few worgs and goblins—”

“—Did you kill them?” Iesa interrupted.

“No,” Alanathia said, giving a look with a hint of disapproval.  “They followed the group for a while.”

“That makes more sense,” Daneath looked at Iesa pointedly.  “We know that the ‘Prophesized One’ is still out there somewhere.

“Correct,” Alanathia continued.  “Since we had in the days received some relief from elsewhere in the forest, we sent a number of scouts to learn the whereabouts of their leader.  We have uncovered several things.  The first, is that there are several more encampments deep in the High Moors.  It is likely that the leader is there.  More disturbing is that they had been doing raids on roads around Secomber and smaller communities around it.”

“Raids?  To what end?” Beepu asked critically.

“Slaves.” Alanathia replied.  “For what we do not know.  The Moors have wealth concealed there, from battles in the past, and lost settlements.  Perhaps they need miners or diggers.  But it matters little.  The raids have increased ever since the collapse of the temple.  We fear that we have perhaps provoked a conflict.”

“By forcing them to start their plans early,” Daneath said.  “Or they needed to change tactics.”

“We agree.  We have been able to mobilize some of our forces in preparation.  But we cannot do that and investigate.  The border between the High Moor and the Misty Forest is easily fifty leagues in length.  If we can repel them at the edge that would be best.  But we cannot roam the moors to seek them; we are too few.”

“And we do not know what other forces they have,” Galenas continued.  “We have an advantage of knowing our forest well; and knowing that we are truly under attack.  We can prepare.  But our forays into the Moors are very limited.  But we have had some help.”

“Oh?” Beepu sat up expectantly.

“Ravalan returned to Whitepetal.  He received information of a human village at the edge that will be targeted soon.  He has left for that village to learn more and to, perhaps, encourage the villagers to leave.”

“How did he get this information ?” Daneath asked, his brow knit as he was thinking through it.

“He was told by a…party we have had dealings with.  And that party wishes to speak to you all.”

“About what?” Iesa said confused.  Beepu and I exchanged glances at this strange turn of events.

“They would not tell us.  In fact, while we thought you were deceased, this party had great…optimism that you were simply delayed.  And so, they have been waiting here for you to return.”  Galenas and Alanathia both stood.  “We will fetch them so you may speak privately here.  Then we will speak afterwards.”  The pair of elves, then departed the hall, leaving us in confusion.

“Someone asking for us?” Iesa started, “That doesn’t make any sense.  I mean who would look for us at all?”

“And here?”  Beepu added.  “The fact we are all not elves, in a forest that enforces an edict against non-elves from entering at all.  We are fortunate to be here, and yet someone is waiting here for us to return?”

“This is the second time,” I said recalling some prior events.  “The hobgoblins were asking questions about us…by name.  They knew we were here.” I said, putting some thoughts together.  “They only asked about us after the attack, but how did they know?  We didn’t exactly leave any hobgoblin alive we fought.  So who did they learn about us from?”

“You’re right.  This doesn’t make sense.” Daneath said with a frown.  We then heard footsteps enter the hall, and we all turned to look at our mystery party.

The fact it was an elf didn’t surprise me; with the exception of Ravalan, only elves could easily enter the Misty Forest.  But that is where it ended.  This elf at once looked at easy in his surroundings, and at the same time the way he strode into the room looking around with disdain spoke volumes.  He did not want to be here; he did not think much of his surrounding, and as he came towards us; how little he thought of us.

His lips were curled into a sneer of contempt, as his dark emerald eyes looked us over in our seats.  His black hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail behind his head.  He wore light chain, backed with dark leathers, and a cloak streamed behind him as he walked.  He wore a longsword at his side, which the stylized hilt gave an impression of wealth well spent on quality, and not gaudy decorations upon it.  Nor did he have rings or other jewelry.  Even his cloak pin was a simple affair; high quality and functional.

I wondered if this was a sun elf.  I had heard a little of the various grouping of elves here.  Most I had saw in passing I understood to be called Moon elves; they did not shun the races around them and in fact spent much time around others.  The copper elves, by contrast were the bulk of the elves in the Misty forest.  While they did not appreciate the races around them in their homes, they would venture beyond their forest realms and mingle with others.  And the less said about the drow the better.

But I was told the sun elves were different.  They stood above their brethren viewing themselves as their betters.  And they supposedly thought even less of non-elves; a momentary annoyance to their grand culture.  Although everyone I spoke to said they were noble, I never heard anything positive about them; not even a name that one could say was worthy of adoration.

From where we sat, Beepu and I was facing the elf as he made his way across the hall.  At the sounds of his approach, both Daneath and Iesa rose from their seats and stood.  Daneath had a look of suspicion as he did so, and he crossed his arms watching.  Iesa arose, but wandered over to a pitcher and poured himself a glass of something, as he eyed and sized up the newcomer. 

“And so, here…you…are,” the elf spoke slowly and softly.  His voice gave no signs of contempt or arrogance.  But it did hold the tone of someone very confident and sure.  “The Kershak, sends…his regards for his wayward…grandchildren.”

For a moment the brother looked at each other, with questioning looks.  Then, Iesa spoke.  “Well…that’s interesting.  I didn’t know we had a…living grandfather.”

The elf gave a thin smile, “Insofar as you have…taken power from Umbra…power that belongs to the Kershak alone…it is the best way to describe your…relationship.”

“That makes you what?” Daneath rejoined.  “Our cousin?”

“Nothing so grand.  You may call me…Paradros.  And I have come here to bring you…an offer.”

“An offer?” Iesa asked skeptically.

Paradros smiled and looked down a moment as if considering his words, before looking Iesa in the eye.  “Your…suspicion is warranted.  Normally, those that betray the trust of the Kershak, do not get offers.  Certainly, Umbra wasn’t given one.  And those that assist, don’t warrant much in the way of…mercy.”  Paradros had closed the distance to Iesa, smiling until he stood an arm’s length away from the lean man.  He then turned to Daneath as he continued.

“But…even the Kershak has…a difficult time penalizing you for blundering beyond your…father’s mistake.  For he broke the trust and not you.  And so, an offer to…make things right seemed appropriate.”

Daneath looked at the elf, as if to size him up.  “What offer?” he said simply, his eyes narrowing. 

The elf smiled, “A very simple exchange.  You leave me the items that rightfully belong to the Kershak.  The sword,” pointing at the blade at Daneath’s waist, “and the dagger,” gesturing at Iesa, who had unconsciously gripped the pommel during the conversation.  “For your…efforts in recovering them the Kershak will provide you with 16,000 crowns.”

Iesa blinked and I swore that his eyes were going to pop out of his bonebox.  Daneath, also did a double take between looking at the elf and the sword and dagger. 

Beepu and I looked at each other at this development.  Beepu was frowning, but I couldn’t tell if it was in disapproval, or if he was thinking about what was said.  But the brothers wore their expressions plainly.  Iesa was pretty clear in his first thought; the temptation was there.  Daneath by comparison was confused, as he appeared to struggle with various thoughts on the matter.  But then Paradros continued.

“Of course, there is one condition to the Kershak’s…largess.  It is a small requirement, but a very important one, that the Kershak demands.”

Paradros smiled as he looked at all of us.  But as he spoke my heart skipped a beat as I processed the words said.

“You must remain inside the Misty Forest, until the end of your days.  All *four* of you.”


----------



## Nthal

*The Sins of the Fathers - 12/29/2019*

_Sigil is often called the Birdcage, mostly because of junk and ruin stacked upon itself in the Hive; the city’s largest ward and garbage pit combined.  But, Sigil was also a cage, requiring a key to leave.

So, doesn’t that mean that every plane is a cage too, and the only reasons that people don’t realize it, is because they can’t see the bars?_​


I stared at Paradros, his words still echoing in my mind.  I sat there mouth agape, unable to speak.  Fortunately, I didn’t have to.

“What?!?” Beepu’s voice elevated a full octave, and he jumped up and was standing on his seat, fists clenched, and face the deepest red I had ever seen.  “I cannot stay here, when I need to find my father!”

“Well that is indeed the problem,” Paradros calm response contrasted with Beepu’s rage.  “Your father did help remove the weapons from the Kershak’s holdings.  So, he is as culpable of the crimes, as Umbra was,” and Paradros looked each of us over quickly.  “As are you all.”

‘Till the end of our days…’ 

“You can’t be serious?” Daneath said, approaching until he was within arm’s length of the elf.  “We recover weapons you _claim_ are stolen.  Now I can understand a…reward for recovery.  But to keep us here as well?  That is a bit much.”

“The weapons are but one crime of Umbra’s,” the elf calmly spoke, meeting Daneath’s level gaze.  “You and your…brother are the other.  Now in the past, the Kershak handled this problem in a very straightforward manner; said problems were eliminated.”  Paradros turned, and strode to where Iesa stood, the rogues face grim and eyes narrowed staring at the sun elf.  “So, to keep your lives is a considerable gift…along with the wealth to live comfortably…here.”

‘Till the end of *my* days…’

“And the elves here are fine with this?” Iesa said slowly, as if still trying to comprehend what was transpiring.  “They barely want us here to start with.”

“The Kershak has had a long arrangement with the elves here,” Paradros explained patiently.  “We both work within the borders in the Misty Forest, and we do not interfere with each other’s affairs.  And we do not harm each other or each other’s servants, hirelings or guests.  Occasionally we trade favors. They will accede to the Kershak’s request.  And so long as you stay here, you will not be subject to the Kershak’s…judgement.”

I sat there, silently as the others debated.  I couldn’t find the words to interrupt.  I was having flashbacks of my childhood; the feeling of being trapped.

“That still does not help me at all,” Beepu shouted.  “I have important research that I must discuss—”

“—Well…” once again the elf spoke in that paternal voice. “As I said, the Kershak does not offer mercy to assistants of criminals.  Perhaps if Ravalan was aware of that—"

“Ravalan?” Iesa’s head snapped to attention.  “What does he—”

“—He too helped your father,” he said to Iesa, and then turned to Beepu still standing on his seat, “And yours now that I think about it.  So, I did tell him about a threat of a nearby village though.”  And as he spoke are wry smile crossed the lips of the elf.

“A village,” I said softly from my seat.  “A human village.  Outside the forest.” I looked at the elf squarely in the eyes.

He turned and looked at me for the first time, his gaze meeting mine.  Normally people who look at my eyes for the first time give a reaction at seeing themselves in my eyes.  But not him.  His smile just got a bit wider.

“Why…yes in fact.  I knew you were paying attention after all, Myrai.  Quite the observant one.”  His smile was wider, like a predator that had found prey.  “And so…who knows what dangers lurk outside the safety of the forest.”

I barely heard what he had said.  I already knew that he had laid a trap for the poor Firbolg.  I didn’t need him to point out the obvious fact I already had.  But I did hear one thing that made me suspicious.

My name.

We had not been introduced.  We had never met.  But he _knew_ us.  But while I somewhat expected he knew about the other three, as all their fathers were known to the Kershak.   That he was familiar with me, my name, my eyes, gave me chills.  What else did he know?

“I see that I have given you all…a lot to talk about,” he turned and again met everyone’s gaze as he started to move towards the entrance of the hall.  “Since all of you have to agree, I will take my leave and let you…come to your senses.” And with confidence, he strode away from the four of us, finally calling over his shoulder as he left.  “I will come collect the Kershak’s things in the morrow then.”

I sat there, confused on how we ended up at this turn of events.  But it wasn’t long before the fighting started.

“We should take the deal,” Iesa said simply.  “That’s a lot of—”

“—I can’t do that,” Daneath said angrily, turning towards his brother.  “I remember my maste---father.  I will not abandon him, not when he _told_ me to seek him out some day.”

“That’s nice,” Iesa spat back.  “Your ‘master’ set you up.  He trained you, right?  Clothed you?  Fed you?   Must have been nice to have an iron spoon in your mouth.”

“It was thankless work,” Daneath retorted.  “You trained, and if you did poorly, you were whipped.  It wasn’t a grand party.  But I respected what he was doing, and I respect him enough to find him.”

“Nice.  Beats you like a dog, and like a dumb puppy you come back for more.  Still, at least he filled your bowl.”

“What is your issue here?” Daneath demanded.

“My ‘issue’ is that while you got your puppy food, I was on the streets, being beaten by bullies, by adults, by anyone who wanted what little I had.  That I had to steal food to keep my mother and I alive.  Where was our ‘loving’ father’s contribution to our table?  Where was he when my…” and he stopped and turned away from Daneath.  “Why would I want to find him?  He didn’t need me, and I don’t…need…him.”

It was quiet for a moment after the exchange.   I knew Iesa’s story; -so close to my own, yet so different.  I knew Daneath’s desire as well, for a father that was a distant idea in the past.  I wanted to say something to both of them, but of course;

“Look you two,” Beepu started with a fiery look in his eye.  “I say you go find him, and Daneath you hold him, while Iesa punches.  Then you bond and drink or do whatever.  I do not care.  All I know is that your father, Umbra, was the last being to be travelling with my father.   And I need you to get over your father issues and get back on the road to find mine.”

“You just want to finish your…contraption,” Iesa said.  “You’re just using us to get to your father.”

“YES!  You get it!” Beepu yelled triumphantly to the shock of the brothers.  “I do not care anything about Umbra, except he is following my father.  And if they split paths…I know who I am following.  But for now, the paths are the same.  And I will still help you until that day comes.”

“Wow…so supportive Beepu.  Thanks?”  Daneath said questioningly.  “Look Iesa, find him and ask him, punch him if you—”

“Unless he has 16,000 crowns in his coin purse, I don’t want to spend the time looking.  That is enough to never have to…steal again.  A nice little cottage in the trees here—

“—Alone.   You keep chasing those elves, and they don’t bite.  Here, they don’t even _want_ humans around, and you are just going to fade away—”

“—Sounds great!  Don’t need the attachments.  Don’t care.”

“You realize,” Beepu started, rubbing his eyes, “Assuming that you share your fortune with us all equally, that I will likely outlive it, and still will need more funds for my research.  So, your comforts do not really apply to me.”

“Ah…well…I’m sure we can come up with…something, Beepu.”

“Plus, you still owe me a debt for getting you out of jail,” Beepu pointed his finger at Iesa.

“You still holding that over me?  I think I can pay that now.”

“Myr?” Daneath turned to me as I sat there listening.  “You don’t want to stay here right?”

I sighed, stood up, and walked a couple of steps with my arms crossed towards a window overlooking the forest.  I looked outside as I considered how to answer that question.  The sun was high overhead still, just passing peak.  A cool breeze ran through the tops of the trees as I gazed over the sea of verdant green.  Finally, I spoke, slowly and with certainty.

“I don’t have the need to find Umbra.  I was trying to help Beepu to find Pachook.  And while I also can’t live on the money that is being offered—”

“What do you mean—“Iesa started.

“—I’m going to outlive you Iesa.  I will barely be in middle age when you pass.”

“Damn…good looks AND long life.”

“Shut up and listen.  There are two problems I have with this deal.  The first, is that I will not be caged again; no matter how pretty the bars.  I don’t expect any of you to understand that really.  But I do expect you to understand this;  Paradros and the Kershak are not telling us everything.”

Iesa was about to interject and stopped himself.  He thought a moment and said, “Alright…go on.  What’s the problem?”

“Paradros, just sent Ravalan into a trap.  I don’t know what he said to him, but I am pretty sure it was different than what he told us.  He practically admitted the plan to us.  Then there’s the weapons.  The Kershak, wants them so badly, he’ll pay a ridiculous amount of jinx for them.  He could have killed either of you in Secomber in the last month to obtain them.  Why didn’t he?”

“Why do you think Myr?” Daneath asked now becoming curious.

“I don’t know.  But I do know, that the Kershak does know the real value of the bargain.  And I think that reason is to take blades away from you and make you vulnerable.  We don’t know how they fit in to their plans, but you don’t pay a barmy amount of jinx, unless it is the easiest and safest way to do it.”

“You mean…they are afraid of a sword and a dagger?   Really?” Iesa responded, sounding uncertain and unsure.

“For that much jinx, he could commission a new set.  So, there must be something else about them we don’t know.”

“Myrai is right,” Beepu spoke up his eyes darting back in forth as he started to think about how to make the weapons they held.  “In fact, based on what we know of the pair of blades, it should perhaps take several thousand crowns, and some time to make a pair.  That amount offered, 16,000 could craft a far greater set unless—”

“—Unless their true value is higher,” I said.  “They have far more information about the weapons.  They know far more about us.  And they clearly don’t think much about disloyal subjects and their friends.”

“You think it’s a setup,” Iesa stated.

I nodded.  “To make us vulnerable in some way.  Then it won’t matter how much money we have.  We’ll be in the dead book.”

Everyone was quiet, with only the barest sound of the night breeze starting outside.  We all looked at each other for a moment and then Daneath started to nod.  Next, I could see Beepu looking at the warrior, and he too nodded his approval.  We then looked at Iesa and waited.

Iesa didn’t meet our eyes, and I could see him biting his lip thinking.  Finally, he sighed and spoke;

“You’re right.  So, what do we do?”

“We need protection; and it sounds like, that only King Melandrach can provide that.  So, we solve this hobgoblin problem for him.”

“That makes sense to me,” Beepu said.  “So, we head to the High Moor and start—”

“—Not yet, Beepu.” I interrupted.  “I also don’t like that someone else is going to die, just because they helped us.”

“Ravalan,” Daneath said.  “Yeah, we need to warn him.”

“You realize that also could be a trap Myr,” Iesa pointed out.  “Paradros just laid it out for us.”

I nodded, “It’s true.  So, I guess we can’t be surprised then when someone tries to kill us.” 

“I guess not,” Iesa said with a wry grin.  “So now what?”

“We leave, today.” I said.  “We go find the village, we tell others that we are considering the offer.  We know how to get back on our own.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Iesa said.  “What do we need then?”

“Beepu and I can grab some supplies,” Daneath and motioned to the gnome “Come on.”

“Why me?” Beepu asked confused.

“Because you know where the best food is.”

Beepu was about to retort, and then thought better of it.  He simply took the lead, saying as they left, “You just need a more sensitive nose, because if you…” fading away as they left, leaving Iesa and I alone in the hall.

After a moment Iesa looked at me, “What did you mean by being caged?” he finally asked, looking at me with a look of concern.

“We share something in common,” I said quietly.  “We both were…abandoned.  We both were poor.  But, where you had…a mother, I was trapped in an orphanage.”

“Like the one I gave money to in Yartar?  You were lucky.”

I shrug, “Not really.  I was…deposited at…the Gatehouse in Sigil.”

“The Gatehouse?  The way you said that was a bit…grim?”

“Well…the Gatehouse has several…occupants.  The first are the barmy,” I looked at Iesa and realized that he didn’t grasp the word and tried again. “Insane.  Dangerously insane people.  And then you have just somewhat insane people.  They wouldn’t hurt anyone, but they needed help.  But they also take in ones that can’t take care of themselves.  The infirm, the elderly and the young.  So, I was a guest there for nearly seventeen years.  I suppose it was better than the workhouses pretending to be orphanages.  They would just work kids…to death.  The Bleakers that ran the place didn’t do that, but they did expect you to pay back what you owed.”

“What you _owed?_” 

I nodded, “Yeah, so from a babe I owed…what seemed to be a lot.  They had this little book that they tracked your progress in.  And the number would grow as you stayed and ate, and it would shrink just a little from chores.  But it always grew it seemed.  And if you tried to scamper off without paying…somehow, they’d find you, beat you for stealing, add that to your bill, and you’d go back to work.  I was maybe ten years old before I could even start to pay the debt.”

Iesa looked shocked.  “I paid good money to the church in Yartar to take care of—”

“—and they probably did just that.  And there were other…orphanages that operated that way in the other wards.  But not in the Hive.  Not the Gatehouse.”  I looked down and closed my eyes trying not to think of the forlorn faces of the children who had no hope.  How the children would steal what they could from the younger ones to pay their debt.  How I was bullied.  How Elisna…

 “So…how did you pay it down?”

“At first a lot of very dirty work…scrubbing the rust off of manacles, filthy laundry from the occupants’ cells, cleaning out chamber pots from privies.   I never did the risky stuff like go to the Prison and clean the pipes or scour beneath Ragpicker’s Square.  A lot of kids didn’t come back from those kinds of things.  But once I was a bit older…and braver I…escorted drunks home.”

“You were a—”

“—No! No, no,no,no.  I wasn’t a jinkskirt!  I just put on a cap, tucked my hair up into it and was a light boy.  See, Sigil gets dark, and a lot of the lamps on the streets don’t work in the Hive.  So, light boy gangs form up around a kid who has a rod that…provides light.  The drunks leaving a bar, would pay the boys to lead them home.  But I didn’t need a rod that made light.  I just created a light all by myself on whatever I could find.  Sometimes, I would cast it on a stick and trade it for coins to other light boys.  They’d come back every time it went out.  But I made better jink just doing it myself and not sharing.   Most light boys need a small gang, so they can keep their light rod.  I could create light anytime wanted, so I could give it up if someone wanted to take it.  So, scrub during the day, sleep a bit, and then go to the _Bottle and Jug_ and help someone home.  Every night, for years.   And then I was what, sixteen, seventeen?  And I paid it off.  And I was free of one cage…only to find I was still in one.

“Now you lost me.”

“Sigil has some nicknames.  ‘City of Doors’, is the most common.  The other is ‘the Cage.’  Sigil isn’t like Waterdeep; there isn’t a front entrance, or any regular entrance at all.  The only way in or out are portals, and they need a key.  And that was all I dreamed of; a key to somewhere nice, or at least close to a nice place.  All I needed was more jink.  But…then the war happened, and things got messy, and then I found myself on the ground on a farm outside of Triboar.  So, Iesa.  I don’t want to live in another cage; not unless I have a way out.”

“Your father must have been desperate then to put you there.”

I chuckle with little humor or warmth, “I guess.  But it never made sense to me.  Especially since I know was that he was…was…”

Iesa looked at me concerned and stepped next to me.  He placed his hands on the sides of my shoulders.  “Was…what?”

“A celestial.  An angel.” I said choking on a lump in my throat.  I looked Iesa in the eyes.  “Aasimars are very rare but they appear in family lines.  But it starts with the offspring of a celestial and a mortal; a foundling.  I’m a foundling; the start of a new aasimar line.  It’s why I look the way I look; aasimar foundlings are…strongly marked.”

“Your hair and eyes.”

I nodded.  “The descendants in the line, tend to look just like pretty humans.  But celestials aren’t like fiends with their tiefling children.  They don’t occur randomly, and the start of a line is never abandoned.  The idea that an angel is somehow, couldn’t find a better spot for their own daughter was strange.”

“I guess we both want to punch our fathers.”

“I used to.  Now?  I just have faith that he is looking out for me, and that he did things for a reason.  Why did he make it…impossible to find?  When I arrived in the Gatehouse the folks that met my father were bound to secrecy on who he was.  many celestials contact and guide their descendants.  Mine never has.”

_As silent as the grave_ I thought to myself.

“But he left me in a cage.  And I will not be trapped that way again.  Its why I hated that deal you made with the Crimson Star; I was basically trapped in Yartar.  And, I like this deal even less.”

Iesa didn’t say anything but was ever so slightly nodding.  Finally, he said, “Well, I can’t say that I have any faith in my father; what his plan is, or what he thinks of me.  I put trust…have faith in my comrades.

“Well that’s a good thing,” Beepu said walking into the hall.  “Because I had faith my nose would find something to eat.”

Ieas pulled away from me, and I could feel my face flush like I was caught stealing a piece of bread from the kitchen.

“Did we interrupt something?”

Where once my cheeks were warmed, I now could feel them cool as I stammered, “Wha…no..no…we were only—”

“—Discussing matters of—” Iesa cut in.

“—Faith!” I finished.

Beepu and Daneath looked at each other for a moment, and then at us, and back again before both said:

“Right.”

“So,” Daneath continued while gathering his pack and Beepu doing the same,  “Beepu found some food but even better, I spoke to a hunter, and he gave me directions to the path that Ravalan took out of Whitepetal.”

“That will be a help,” Iesa said smiling, picking up his own from the floor.  “His footprints should stand out from an elf’s.”

“You think you can track him?” I said a little surprised, as I grabbed our gear.

“Oh sure.  I have faith…now.” And smiling, he and Daneath started heading outside to Whitepetal’s center, with Beepu and I trailing.

“I didn’t think it was that inspiring,” I said to Beepu as we walked outside.

“People hear what they want to hear, and then hear what was never said.  I guess it might depend how close you were on the topic.”

I looked at Beepu a little shocked, “Not that close.”

“Hmm, I guess it might also apply to talking to oneself.  Oh…perhaps you should deal with her.”  Beepu pointed and trotted towards the brothers down the bridgeway, heading north.

Confused, I turned and walking towards me with a somber expression was Alanathia.

“You are leaving,” she said simply, but her eyes looked at me with questions unsaid.

“Y-y-yes, we…need to speak to Ravalan, and then…most likely be heading into the High Moor.”

She looked at me with surprise, “I was told to make long term accommodations for you.”

“Ah, well, we haven’t…decided yet.  We thought we should…take care of the pressing issues we discussed beforehand,” I said trying to sound normal, while also trying to be very guarded and precise on what I was saying, in case we were overheard.

Alanathia didn’t miss the intent it appeared.  She glanced around her before pulling me into an embrace; “We wish you all good fortune in your hunt, may Sahanine Moonbow guide you.”  But as she pulled me close she whispered quickly.

“Trust is earned, theirs is in peril, and Ravalan’s safety is in danger,” before backing away, smiling.  “Safe journey, _Surin’Ha-Celas.”_

I smiled and bowed my head politely.  I turned and walked with a brisk pace to catch the others.

“How did that go?” Iesa said as I caught up with them.

I smiled and spoke softly, “We were right, and we’d better hurry.”

*Session Notes:*

The argument was one of the more fun roleplaying aspects, on why we were there doing what we wanted to do.  There were little reveals here and there, but this is the first time that we had a disagreement on what to do, and watching I and D go at it was fun.  I of course, playing the outsider, had a slightly different view, and I didn't need an insight check to know I did not trust the Kershak.  

Also, I am not sure I can do justice on how much of a smartass Paradros sounded.  I suppose in some parallel future, where this is a an animated series and has full voice over, then I could do it justice.


----------



## Nthal

*The Brothers in Arms…but not those Brothers - January 8th, 2020*

_I pride myself in my independence, but I don’t turn away help when I can find it.  Usually trust, or the lack of it is the barrier.

But sometimes, the help you find really does come from strange places._​


Iesa led us overland through elven paths hidden in the forest.  But it was becoming easier for him to follow a path once he knew what to look for.  It didn’t hurt that following a Firbolg was easier than following elves.

“Are you sure that’s Ravalan’s?”  Daneath asked as he squinted at the dirt.  I stood next to Daneath, also looking where our Knight was pointing, and was trying to understand how a divot indicated it was a Firbolg.  It wasn’t working.

“I don’t understand the problem; the width is almost twice as wide as the toes of an elven boot—” Iesa was trying to explain.

“—The ball of the foot?” I said, still staring at the dirt.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Iesa waved dismissively at me.  “But in the soft dirt—”

“—How do you know a foot even made that?” Daneath asked still not convinced.

“Because the way it’s turned up, with the heel mark a hand and half behind it,” Iesa said, pointing at another area of disturbed earth.  “And again, its larger than an elven foot.”

“And what are you using for comparison?” Beepu asked, while chewing on some dried fruit.

“I’m using Myrai’s feet for comparison, so as I—”

“—What?” I said, my head snapping up to look at Iesa, “What about my feet?  Have you been following me or something?”

“Yes…when we take breaks and stops, I try to find your prints, because they’re harder to find than Daneath’s with the sabatons he wears.” Iesa spread his hands wide in an apologetic gesture.

“At least that makes some sense,” Daneath said quietly, looking down at the mail plates covering his boots.

“True,” Beepu started smugly.  “And I am sure it will take a lot more effort to find my tracks as I am far lighter afoot, and my feet are much smaller.”

“Actually, you’re as easy as Daneath.” Iesa said smiling.  “Your boot marks have a distinctive heel and for some reason you stomp and sink deeply in the ground as you walk. But it’s easier to follow the crumbs you drop.”

“Crumbs?  I do not drop crumbs!” Beepu said confused.

“Of course not,” I said as I pulled out a kerchief and wipe Beepu’s shocked face of the remains of his snack.  Then I promptly flicked a strand at it, instantly cleaning it.

Beepu’s face turned red.  “I am not that easy to track!”

“Oh…no, you aren’t,” Iesa said trying to mollify the gnome.  “Myrai is just the hardest is all.  She tends to step very lightly, similar to the elves, but her foot is just tad narrower than the males’ boots.”

“So, you use my feet to compare everything else to?  Not…your feet?” I said a little perturbed at the idea that Iesa has been using my feet as his basis of comparison.

“Well I can’t follow myself,” He explained brushing off the observation.  “Anyway, Ravalan has been here, and we seem to be catching up.  If we push, we can probably catch him, maybe tonight.”

“We’ll let’s get going,”: Daneath said, and with a flourish, gestured to Iesa to lead the way.  Iesa gave a mocking bow, and then moved ahead down the path we all hoped he could see, with Daneath trailing shaking his head.

“I am not easy to track, and I do not eat that much,” Beepu muttered defensively.

“No, it’s just a little bit very frequently, and you like those sweet crackers.” I said.

“Well…the elves do make great crackers,” Beepu acknowledged.

“Trust me, I’d rather that, than the idea that Iesa has been following me around everywhere,” I said wondering where Iesa’s boundaries truly lay.


We had left the forest itself now and were descending into the scrub in the hills.  Here there were thorny shrubs, waist height scattered around, and very few trees.  The path we were following appeared to enter into a system of gullies.  The sun was nearing the horizon and the air beginning to cool.  As we started to enter the gully, Iesa stopped, raising his hand up and turning with his finger across his lips.

I stood there and listened.  It wasn’t hard, but I could hear a pair of voices.  Both were high pitched, nasal and very scratchy.  As I listened, I could barely make out the words; it took a moment until I heard one that I knew:  _Booyagh._

Goblins.

Iesa held out a hand upwards, holding us back.  Then he moved forward to investigate, while we waited.  After a moment, I pull on the strands and send a message to him.

_Iesa, goblins?

--Yeah, good ear.  I see a pair of them just…sitting.  But no weapons or anything.

Sitting?  Like ready to ambush?

--No, that’s just it.  They are in the middle of the trail.  Not hiding at all._

“A pair of goblins, sitting in the open, without weapons?” I whispered aloud to Daneath and Beepu.

“Bait I bet.”  Beepu said with a frown.

“We’re a bad catch then,” Daneath replied his brow knitted as he thought.

I frowned and cast my thoughts back to Iesa:

_The others think its bait.

--I would too.  But I don’t see anyone else in the rocks or brush.  I think we can question them and learn more.”

From a goblin?  Well I suppose.  Let me prep something but take a good look around.  I’ll contact you soon._

I reach into my pouch and finger some soot and salt I had stored there, closed my eyes and started to focus on the strands again.  I started whispering the ritual so I could understand their speech.  Beepu caught sight of my efforts and I heard him talk to Daneath.

“I think we are going to have a meeting,” Beepu started.

“What?  We are going to what…parley with goblins.” Daneath said surprised.

“Appears so.  And who taught you that word?”

“What, ‘Parley?’  Probably you.”

“Well alright then…but why are you surprised?”

Daneath shrugged.  “I’m not sure there is a point.  But I suppose I look imposing enough,” he said pointing out the armor he now wore.  Basically, it was a compromise between the hobgoblin mail and his regular set, taking the parts that worked best for him.  The net effect was better overall protection at the cost of aesthetics.  And Daneath’s motivation were simply that; protection.

I opened my eyes, and cast my thoughts back at Iesa;

_Ready, find anything?

--No…they are alone.  I’m going a little ahead to block them.  But I don’t think they are going to run.

Oh?

--I don’t think they are from around here.  Sneak on up._

“Follow me, we are going to catch them on the trail,” I said, moving towards the direction Iesa went.

“You really *want *to talk to them?” Beepu said looking at me carefully.  “I thought you would have wanted to nail their heads to the wall Myr.”

It was true.  A day or two ago…or ten or twelve as it turned out, I would have done exactly that.  But Iesa’s curiosity had raised my own.  “I’ll settle for the Prophesied One’s for now.”

“Let’s make them squeak,” Daneath said, and we headed to the voices.

We made our way cautiously, in case Iesa had erred on the pair being bait.  Somehow, we made little noise and we made our way down.  Then the path turned, and we finally saw the goblins.

When I saw them, I could see exactly what Iesa meant.  The pair were seated on rocks, arguing with each other.  Glancing over them, they were typical goblins, yellow skinned, with dark eyes and greasy black shoulder length hair, faces smeared with dirt, their hands ending in thick, rough and cracked pointed nails.   But they weren’t dressed like the other goblins that we had seen.  First, they were dressed in cloth and linens, and not rough boiled leather.  Both of their clothes were streaked in dirt and sweat and had not been cleaned in some time.  The second both wore shoes, with the toe section was cut out so their long toenails could extend over the soles.  The worg riders and other goblins, barely had leather wrappings by comparison.  Finally, in their hands, they each held a brimless hat, either of which would have given themselves an extra head in height, if they were wearing them.  As I looked at them and the way they dressed, and thought how it made them look like dirty, ugly, wayward twin children.

But they sat there, angrily arguing with each other, oblivious to our approach.  We didn’t even have to sneak, they were so absorbed that I was within a sword’s length of them, when Iesa emerged from the brush.

Neither turned their heads at Iesa’s grand reveal, which took him aback.  Frowning a moment, he waited and then looked at me, to which the only thing I did in response was shrug.  Finally, Iesa cleared his throat to get their attention.

The goblin on my left turned his head to look at him and I could tell by his frantic head turning between his friend and Iesa, that we weren’t expected.  His partner did the complete reverse, looking up at me and then looking at _his_ partner.  Both then tried to shake his partner and pointed in to each other’s visible concern, while continue to stare.  Finally, each turned their head, to look at either Iesa or I and realized that we blocked their way.  Then sighing, both just stood up and raised their hands.

This was certainly was not what I expected, and I found it a little challenging to maintain the façade of a dangerous adventurer.  They weren’t exactly the bloody screaming threat of the goblins that had attacked us before.  But that then begged the questions that Iesa asked next:

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

The one on the left straightened up and said “Drik” and pointed to his partner and said “Drok.” The one on the right, did the exact thing at the same time, in reverse, pointing to himself as “Drok” and his partner “Drik.”  Then the one named Drik continued.  “Told to go to cave and find stuff to dig up, but—”

“—Attacked by big one!  Very mean—” Interrupted Drok.

“—I talking here!  Dropped tools n things and ran—” Drik continued.

“—Here.  Now wait for lashing.” Drok lamented.

As I listened, I knew something was familiar in how they spoke.  But Iesa continued.

“Lashing?  Who is going to give you a lashing?”

Drok rolled his eyes, “Lasher Reetog.  He lash—”

“—Ruin shirts.” Drik said unhappily.

“Might ruin hat!” Drok nodded in agreement.  “But better than lose head.”

“Would rather go home.” Drik said sadly and Drok continued to nod.

“Home?” Daneath now addressed the pair, “In the High Moor?”

“That new home, since Lasher found us,” Drok said looking at the warrior.  “We from Skullport.  Hired to deliver message to Secomber bar—”

“—Lasher found us.  We became part of host,” finished Drik.

“Skullport?  _The _Skullport under Waterdeep?” Iesa asked excitedly.

“That’s it;” I said as I realized what I had been missing.  “The accent is from Waterdeep.  All the others sounded different.”

Daneath looked at the pair a moment and then asked his own question.  “Do you know where the Prophesied One is?”

The two goblins looked at each other their eyes widening.  They then started to look around them, as if looking for a way to escape before responding.

“We…know…how to find camp—” started Drok;

“—Rather go home.” Drik finished.

“Well, if the lasher, or any lasher found you, you wouldn’t be able to go home right?” Iesa asked, I could see ideas running through his head.

“Yes,” both goblins answered warily.

“Then, we help you, you help us!” Iesa exclaimed smiling.  “We get your tools back, and you help us find the Prophesied One.  Once we find them, you will be able to return to Skullport easily, and no ‘lasher’ will bother you.”

The goblins looked at Iesa with squinted eyes, as their small minds thought about the deal.

“What?” Beepu exclaimed, his eyes open in shock.  “We aren’t seriously going to make them guides?”

“Why not?” Daneath asked.  “If they know the way, that will save you time.”

Beepu’s face contorted as he faced that logic head on, clearly having misgivings at the idea.  “Ah…well…speed isn’t everything—”

“—Not the way you have gone on about it,” Iesa pointed out.

“Not sure you want—” Drik started.

“—To meet the one.  Not sure you—” Drok continued.

“—Strong enough,” Drik completed.

I came over and knelt by the pair.  The looked at me in both doubt and fear.  “See, we do have some experience in these matters.  Look at his armor.” I said, and I pointed to Daneath’s pauldrons.

The goblins both cocked their heads and looked.  Then the both looked at each other and spoke excitedly.  “These ones lasher look for—" Drok started.

“--  Ones the lasher told all to kill.”

I turned to Daneath with a smile and wink, “I don’t think you can kill Big D that easily.”

“Myr, don’t start---”

The goblins eyes lit up with excitement then.  “Big D?  We know of D.  Deal deal deal!” They both said and without pausing.

“This is not a good idea,” Beepu his arms crossed in front of him.  I noticed that he was standing on his toes to make sure he had a little more height than the pair.  If they noticed, they didn’t make a sign as they excitedly look at each of us expectedly.

“It’ll work out Beepu,” I said reassuringly.  “Besides they can help the brothers on second watch and help them see in the dark.”



“Another dark cave,” Iesa said glumly.  “I knew there was a downside to this.”

“Drik and Drok will be a help,” I said patting the man on the shoulder.

“Well…sure, but that doesn’t help _me_ see in the dark,” he said as he looked at the wide cave mouth.  It was wedged at the end of the gully and seemed to be completely natural.  The peak day sun did nothing to light up the entrance or mollify Iesa.  Having played a ‘Game of You’ with other Sesates while blinded, I understood the trepidation.

“Well, you aren’t going to be blind after all,” and once again I placed a warm glow of light from the strand on Daneath’s shield.  I then heard whispers in goblin behind me;

_“Magic?”

“Magic/sorcerer.  Wings strange.”

“Strange.  Not human?

“Not human.  Other?

“Other.”_

The prior magic I had used to understand other languages I kept the strands coiling over and over.  It was odd to hear the words, and then their meaning.  Booyahg meant magic, but Booyahg three times meant sorcerer.  But I decided not to engage them in conversation about this; I wanted this ability to be a secret until we knew if we could really trust them.

I know I _wanted_ to.  I knew the stories of goblin hosts, all under the banner of Maglubiyet.  The power had subjugated many others before him, and supposedly rule the rest with an iron fist.  That legions roamed many of the worlds, and after the soldiers died…they became petitioners to fight on forever in the plane of Acheron; warring forever.  But I didn’t realize that it might not be voluntary.  Was their fate tied so much to a power’s whim?  Could their belief in another break the chains that held them?  I really wanted to help them out if possible; to have the choice.  I just didn’t want to die in the process.

We enter the cave.  The passages twisted to our right, separated by stalagmites and stalactites long since merged into curtain like walls.  Daneath’s light shown ahead, as the warrior turned his shield to and thro.

“So Drik, what scared you and Drok that you left your gear?”

“Not scare me, scared Drok,” said Drik.

“Not true!  Scared Drik!” countered Drok.

“Wonderful, stupid _blortch,_” muttered Beepu not quietly at all, causing the pair of goblins to glare at the gnome.

“Rude,” spat Drik.

Drok ignored the racial slur and continued to speak to Daneath, “It large and had many weapons.”

Daneath looked at the pair and frowned, “Many weapons? Like more than two?”

“Um yes?” Drok replied uncertainly.  He then spoke to his brother in goblin.

“_Is many more than two?”

“Many more.”

“How many?”

“three?”_

“Three,” Drik said with a bit more confidence.

“How high can you two count?” I asked.

“Two.” “Three.” The goblins replied.

“Fantastic,” Iesa said resigned.

Soon the passages rejoined into a chamber perhaps seven paces square with a tunnel that continued deeper to our left.  Following the tunnel, it too opened into a larger gallery, separated by more curtains of stalagmites, creating separate pathways through the large chamber.  As we followed one of the paths, we entered a clear area near the center of the roughly rectangular chamber.  The walls were slick with water, streaking the rock formations grey, with mixtures of white, brown and russet banded the walls and columns.  But in the middle of the smooth center, we saw a pair of packs and scattered curved metal swords, crossbows, and tools.  But the packs seemed to be torn apart, and the metal works were embedded into the rock, as if cast in place into plaster.

The Goblins wasted no time and bounded forth.  They grabbed the pommels of the swords, and with all their might started to free the weapons from the rock with loud snapping and cracking noises.  As they worked, Iesa knelt to look at the tools sunken into the stone.

“I don’t understand how they became part of the rock,” Iesa said, turn his head around looking for answers.  “What did this?” he said pointing at the pile.

Drik scrunched his nose and said, “Thing with shiny armor and weapons.”

“Many weapons,” Drok corrected who was picking through the ruined packs and placing choice items into their pockets.  I noticed that neither were interested in the mining tools left on the ground.

“Neither of you are miners?” I asked the pair.

“No,” said Drik.

“Make hats,” Drok said with a smile, pointing to the rust colored, brimless hat on his head.

“So…why did your boss, er lasher send you here with digging tools.”

Drik shrugged, “Said we now miners. Lasher not listen to us,”

“Lasher not bright,” agreed Drok.

It was at this point I noticed a motion out of the corner of my eye.  As I turned my eyes burned as a flare of a bright scintillating light exploded in front of me.  Colors swam in front of my eyes, and my vision was spoiled.  I could barely see, and shadows played across the floor and roof of the chamber.  Turning my head and shielding my eyes with my hands, I could see that Beepu was doing much the same I as was.  But the rest were covering their eyes with their hands, staggering blindly.

“What the?” Iesa shouted in pain, and as he did so, I could hear the swishing of many somethings through the air.  Turning to look, while shielded my eyes with my hand, I could see flails.  The weapons were being swung haphazardly in front of a dark mass highlighted by the dazzling light.  It moved with plodding slowness towards the warrior, each of the flails swinging closer and closer.

“D!  Get your shield up!” I yelled, prompting the warrior responded by doing just that, trying to put the metal barrier in front of him, just in time to deflect a ball from crushing his head.  And then another, and then another.  Daneath’s shield was pounded downward with each blow that he couldn’t see, until finally two more flails reached over the barrier Daneath held in front of him, smashing and pushing him down almost to his knees.  Behind him, Iesa stood, trying to clear his head from the sensory overload.

“That’s _five_ weapons,” Daneath roared after suffering the blows.

“Yes! Two! Three!” the goblins said gleefully, and even though they could barely see, swung at the amorphous shape, silhouetted by the light, and then backed away before a flail could find either of them.

“This is not acceptable!” Beepu focused and sent a bolt of flame toward the shape.  His confident face faltered, as the bolt came streaking back and striking himself in the chest.  The smell of singed hair and cloth now hung in the air as Beepu coughed in surprise, unable to speak.

I gritted my teeth and quickly plucked the strand and threw a pair of bolts.  I appeared to have better aim or luck, as both struck the dark form, the thing quivered with it making a strange rasping sound.

The light started to dim, leaving Daneath’s shield as the only beacon of light in the room, and I could finally see what our foe was.  A giant snail, its tan hide, shimmering with a rainbow sheen.  On its head were five flail shaped tentacles, each whirling the air, waiting for the moment to bring them down on their foe.  On the snail’s back was a large shimmering shell of pearlescent whites and blue tones, the light within fading.  It moved its ponderous bulk slowly and I watched as they swung and battered Daneath again, with three landing solid blows on the warrior.

Iesa now had cleared his eyes of the dazzling display.  Watching Daneath swing and miss, he took the opening it created and lunged striking the creature, and causing a pair of the tentacles to slump, and hang limply on the side of the snail.  He then backed away, feinting and avoiding any serious blow from hitting him.

Drik and Drok, simply moved away, dragging the remains of their packs behind them.  From them, I saw them drop to the ground, their curved swords, and empty out their packs, grabbing and awkwardly trying to cock the machinery, while stumbling around looking for quarrels to load them with.

Beepu on the other hand was angry, his face purple as he tried again, throwing more fire onto the snail.  This time the bolt struck the creature in its midsection, with a wet sounding ‘thud,”  but I wasn’t sure it had any effect as the moistened skin showed no signs of scorching or burns.  Overhead the snail, Foggle was in the thick of the fight, making hooting sounds, and flying between the flails.

“Drat!”  Beepu shouted “The stupid _blorch _are in the way.”

“I don’t think,” as I pulled again on the strands and threw another pair of bolts at the flailing snail. “that’s the problem!  I don’t think fire hurts the thing.”

_--Hey boss…you might need to cover your eyes

Wha—? _

Another blinding light erupted from our left flank.  I barely had time to cover my eyes with my shield arm from the flash, and I heard the brothers both grunt in pain.

“Sodding Baator, another one,” I yelled.

“Hadn’t noticed,” Iesa retorted, again trying blink through tears and struggling to stay balanced in the swirling light.

“What?” Daneath, blinded and staggering himself, “How many more weapons?

“Two”,”Three,” Drik and Drok each shouted, each firing a bolt at the first assailant, and both finding their mark, and sinking deep into the flesh of the snail.

“Learn to count damn it!  So, five…ten.  Ten now is what you are saying?”

“No!” I threw more bolts at the first one, and one struck home, while the other careened back at me, which my shield blocked.  “Eight…no seven!”

Daneath shook his head, as the light from the second snail dimmed.  He twisted and charged at it, hoping to keep it from joining its peer, and creating a whirling wall of flails.  But as he moved, the first snail, appeared to swing and stretch its tentacle wide, slamming into Daneath’s exposed right side.  I could hear the crack of bone over the dull metal crunching sound, and Daneath tripped and fell, sprawling on to the ground, where he now laid motionless.

“Myr!  I’m going to need help here!” Iesa shouted as he started to position himself to strike, waiting for the right chance.

I swallowed, looked at each of the snails and Daneath and moved.  I ran towards the first snail, while snapping a white strand and tossing its energy at Daneath, while focusing and pulling on the dark strand to grip it in around the first as I ran towards it.  The skeletal hand gripped it tearing away parts of its life.  But I didn’t stop; I hefted my shield up and and braced myself for the onslaught.

Two flails slammed down onto the wood and brass that bound my shield together.  But the blows seemed ill-coordinated, like the snail was off balance somehow.  Peeking around my shield to see, I saw the flash of Iesa’s rapier as he thrust into the body of the snail.  Ichor spurt forth drenching my and shield and I in a foul and tacky liquid.  I saw Iesa pull his blade away, and watched as the snail started to quiver, and it rapidly pulled itself into its shell.  Then started a low sound, a hum just on the edge of hearing.  But it soon grew in pitch and volume, until its wail filled and echoed throughout the caverns.

From my right, I saw Beepu whisper an enchantment, and three bolts of light erupted from his fingers.  They streaked and struck the creature with flashes of light and sparks.  Then over the wailing I heard the snapping of quarrels.  But neither found their mark as they bounced off of the scintillating shell of the remaining snail.  Turning Iesa and I closed with the creature.  But before either of us could strike, we heard a yell and Daneath charged into the web of flails.

As he approached, the five quickly rained down blows onto Daneath.  This time he was prepared, and his sword swung parrying the blows, and striking with a riposte, cutting deeply into the soft body of the snail.  I could see him focus and I watched him slash two more times.  More ichor spurt from the wounds and two of the flails drooped and hung limply from the head of the snail.  I then heard the goblins swear, as two more quarrels skittered across the floor, missing their target.

Iesa moved and slashed with the tip of his blade, leaving a deep wound in the flesh of the snail, dripping green ichor down to the floor, and then quickly moved away from any retaliation.  I again focused and wrested away more life from it, as the skeletal hand clutched the snail.  But it was Beepu who once again with more bolts of life, striking the creature.  It, like the first, pulled itself into its shell and now we had another death wail in the cavern.  While not deafening, the noise reverberated throughout the stone, echoing painfully around us.

I looked around; and beyond the dust that was being kicked up from the noise, nothing moved.  No other snails threatened us.  Looking around. I saw that there was a passage that was leading deeper into the cavern.  With the snails wailing on, we moved forward.  Moving cautiously, we started down it, looking for more assailants.

The wailing continued, and we had barely stepped three paces, when I smelled something.  It was a moist earth smell that made my nose tingle.  Soon my whole head was buzzing, and I felt light headed.  TI shook my head trying to clear it, when I felt…something else; a presence.  And then I heard in my head a thought that wasn’t my own or Gossamer’s. 

_You have slain our gardeners!  Why should we not turn your meat bodies into loam for our brethren?_

*Session notes:*

So, enter the goblins, and needless to say they were a large thorn in the dm’s own side.  I think he really expected something more violent to happen to the pair.  Needless to say, he was very wrong.


----------



## Nthal

*In the Mouth of Darkness - 1/18/2020*

_As a Sensate I enjoy new experiences; new people, new customs, new secrets, new places, new…anything.

So, should I be surprised, that for others, that I am the experience?  And what does it say when people, who have barely met me are afraid of what they find?

And does that mean I should also be afraid?_​


I shook my head, attempting to clear it.  I wasn’t sure if I heard what I did, or if my mind was playing tricks on me.  The confirmation that it wasn’t my imagination only put me more on edge:

--_Myr_?_ ‘Meat bodies into loam?’  What does that even mean?

Wait, So you heard it too?

--Not really…more like in my head…like you…but not you.

**Hold it…who is that in my head?

##Your head?  This does not make any sense.  Why are you in my thoughts.

Beepu?  Iesa?  How are you in my mind?

$$Master; this is all very strange.  Why are there other voices?

==What the?  I’m not listening to this right?  You’re talking to me in my head?

%Not make sense.

%%No sense.

%You stop copy me!

%%No copy me!_

I looked at the others around me, and I realized we were all silently looking at each other in confusion; the goblins, Iesa, Danneath, Beepu, Gossamer and even Foggle.  We were talking like how Gossamer and I talked to each other.   Our thoughts were colliding with each other faster and faster.  And I was still trying to figure out how we were doing this at all.

_$$Master I--

--'Master?’  Really?  Such formality?

##Foggle is being respectful…wait who is this?

--Clearly I’m Iesa.

**What, I’m Iesa!  Who is that?

==I am listeni—

%-Stop too mu—

%%-Noise.  Can’t thi—

Gossamer stop that!  Don’t confuse—

**Gossamer?  I’m hearing Gossamer now!?

##We are hearing everyone, including the familiars.

&& Let me go back to sleep dad.

##Who is that!?

==It’s got to be Mo.

**I can talk to Mo!?

More like think to him.

%What is—

%%--a Mo?

Alright alright…one at a ti-- 

## --We should take turns.  I suggest raising our—

**We need to organi—

==Alright quiet-- 

%Shut—

%%-up!_

*Are you meat beings done babbling?*

The last voice boomed in our heads, like a loud echo in the cave if we were speaking instead of thinking.  Looking around again, I saw that the passage that we were following, opened into another cave, but at that entrance I saw a pair of figures, perhaps my height at the entrance, each holding spears, pointed in our direction.  Beyond them was even larger figure, standing with arms crossed, and it looked like it was watching us intently.

I waved my arms to get all the others attention, and put my finger to my lips, and then pointed toward the darkness.  As each of them turned, they too saw the figures and reacted.  Iesa prepared his rapier, the goblins loaded crossbows, while Daneath put himself between us and them.  The light from his shield illuminating them for all the group.

The spearmen weren’t goblin, or any other humanoid that I was familiar with.  Their skin was a mixture of earthtones and dark greens.  Their bodies were slim, and had no definition for shoulders or hips, despite being humanoid shape.  In fact, it wasn’t even clear where their head started as there wasn’t a defined neck either.  Their eyes appeared as simple slits at the top of their form, just below a leathery broad hat, which seemed to be lined with thin strips of papers radiating from the ‘head’ to the edge of the hat.  The only thing that made immediate sense was that they had no visible mouth at all.  To me that explained why they were shouting in our heads, but I wasn’t clear on what magic would allow for this to extend to us.

The pair at the end of the passage were perhaps my own height, but the one beyond them, was far taller and broader.  Somehow, I felt it was this one that was communicating with us, as it actively twisted to-and-fro as we…conversed.  It also didn’t seem to have an obvious weapon in hand.  Whatever it was, it projected both calm and confidence as we continued. 

Daneath at this point actually spoke aloud and barked “Quiet!” in that commanding tone he would use in battle.  The rest of our minds took a moment to quiet down.  Daneath took a moment and stepped slightly forward.

_==Alright, we apologize.  This is new to some of us.

--Most of these idi-- 

Gos!  Keep that to yourself_

Daneath simply turned and glared at me and Gossamer who flitted nearby.  I only could mouth the word ‘sorry’ in response.  Shaking his head, he turned back to face the leader of the strange beings.

_==Again, apologies.  Now that we are…are…conversing, you spoke of gardeners?_

*The ones that you have slain.  The ones with the shells.*

_==Ah…I see. We were…were—

Ignorant.

==Yes…thanks Myr, ignorant that they belonged to any—_

*They did not belong to us.  They were encouraged to clean the place of vermin.*

_==Right.  Well, we only came here to help Drik and Drok—

%Me!

%%Me!

==Quiet!  Get their things._

*Of no concern of ours.  You have done damage.  You must correct.*

_==Of course, well.  Sure.

**Wait!  _

Iesa stepped forward, putting his hand on Daneath and stepping in front of him.  I watched him scrunch his face a moment as he was trying to put his thoughts together.

_**Our friends Drik—

##Oh! They are friends no—

%We—

%%--Friends?_

“Shhhhh” I said aloud, glaring at Beepu and the goblins, who both covered their mouth in surprise.  Beepu however had a look of annoyance and fuming as he glared at the pair.  I then waved at Iesa to continue.

_**Anyway, they have others that sent them here to mine._

*Others?*

_**Yeah…goblins and hobgoblins many of them._

*Then you must eliminate them.  Do this and we will take no more interest you.  Then you must leave.*

_**Sure!  We can do that!_

I think everyone looked at Iesa with an expression of horror, shock, surprise, or a combination.  He in response looked at us with a wounded expression and thought back.

_**What?_

Daneath grabbed his brother and started hauling him back towards the entrance of the cave, grumbling as the rest of us followed.

_**I don’t see the big dea—_

“Stop that!” Daneath hissed.  “That whole thing gave me a headache.  Speak!  Don’t Think.  Or…think to yourself and don’t speak…argh.   Just stop volunteering us for things like this!  This is worse than that Ettin!”

Closing my eyes for a moment I took a deep breath, and then asked “Drik, Drok, how many goblins were with your lasher?”

_%Girl one talk to us

%%What should we—

%Should answer—_

“Aloud!” I said sharply.  That got their attention as they both looked at me with guilty expressions.

“Er…more than three,” said Drik

“More than two,” said Drok at the same time.

“Right…more than five,” I said.  “So where do we do this?”

“Outside the cave,” Daneath said rubbing his chin.  “We can duck inside for cover if needed, and the entrance way will be narrow enough to prevent us from getting overrun.”

_**That work—_

“Works for me…sorry.  That thinking stuff…I want to talk to Mo now.  He called me dad!”

“Can we worry about the lasher’s crew first?” Daneath asked his brother, his patience already fraying.  Iesa looked at him sheepishly, and we continued our way to the cave entrance.

The light was slightly dimmer, from the front of the cave, but as we approached it, we all heard noises coming from the outside.  Putting a finger to his lips Iesa started to quietly creep up to the mouth to take a look outside.

_==You know, you could just have told us here to be quiet.

**Wait…they can’t hear us?

They might hear us, but they can’t hear your thoughts Iesa.

%I know that.

%%Same.

&&Quiet dad, making noise in head.  Can’t sleep.

$$Master can we make the others silent.  Is confusing.

--It!  It is confusing.  Use your pronouns.

##Don’t you lecture Foggle, you feathery hairball!

ALRIGHT ENOUGH!  KEEP YOUR THOUGHTS TO YOURSELF!_

Gossamer was enough thoughts in my head to keep track of, let alone any other issues I had bouncing in my head.  Fortunately, we were interrupted.

“So, our gatherers found helpers,” rough sneering voice rang out into the cave.  “That’s fine; more labor is always needed.”

I moved up behind Iesa and looked around him.  There in the gully leading to the cave were a mixed group of goblins and hobgoblins.  A large burly one in boiled leather and a shield, and an axe on a shoulder was the one calling out to us.  His grin, full of chipped teeth and a scar from lip to eye had all the warmth of the depths of Cania.  The others were milling about, not really committed into a proper battle line, but all were armed with axes, swords or maces.

By my leg I felt shivering, and I looked down to see Drik…or it could have been Drok, using it for cover as he looked around at the pack outside.  He clearly wasn’t eager to rejoin the warband.

“Is that the lasher?” I asked

To my surprise he shook his head, “No.  Little lasher.  Lasher bigger.  Little lasher mean.”

“So, a pack of friends, this is going to be fun,” Daneath said as he peered around me and pulled back.  He pulled the straps on his shield tight and readied his sword.  “So what?  Charge and bait them in?”

“I can put up a fog,” Beepu pointed out.

“No,” Daneath disagreed.  “I need to be able to retreat back here.”

“They don’t have worgs,” Iesa noted.  “This may be simple.  Myr can you do anything.”

“Well, I can make their ears bleed.”  I said starting to pull the strands together.  “Just don’t go in the middle of them.”

“Ok, we run out hit some, and drag them back after Myr hurts them.  Beepu, as they chase us hit them with that ice spell.”

“Yes.  Yes, that is a good idea.” Beepu said, pulling out his skin, and pouring a bit of water into his hand.  “I am ready.”

“Let’s go!” Daneath said, and Iesa and he bounded out of the cave shouting.  The pack was not expecting this, and they scrambled, puling themselves into a tight group, ready to repel the sudden charge.

Pulling a piece of mica into my hand, I then mentally twisted the strands together, and started to pull on them.  I focused in the middle of that pack and then pulled hard until the strands snapped apart.

The thunderous explosion of noise echoed in the gully as the strand’s resonance created a high-pitched ringing sound.  I felt a rush and smiled as I watched the goblins all put their hands to their ears, many of them coughing up blood.  Then I watched ten of them fall over onto the ground, lifeless.  My heart quickened with excitement as I watched this, and was surprised that only a pair of hobgoblins were still standing.

Daneath charged into one of the pair and quickly brought him down with two quick slashes, disemboweling his opponent.  The other one, who was more to the rear of the pack, started running back the direction they came.  But Iesa chased after them, rapidly closing.  Both scampered around a corner and were out of sight before we could say anything.

“Well…I guess I will save this spell for later,” Beepu said almost disappointed.  “Not much point casting it at corpses.”

“I guess not,” I said, as looked at the pile of bodies in the gully.  Drik and Drok then came around me and looked at the corpses and then turned to look at me with wide eyed awe.

“Girl, Booyahg.” Drik said with awe.

“Killer Booyahg,” nodded Drok looking at me with awe and fear.

I was still marveling at the sudden collapse of the hobgoblins.  I had thought I would have injured them, not outright killed the majority of them.  I was grinning at the swath of death that I had laid down on their heads and was just beginning to question why I was so happy with this, when we heard noises from the other side of the gully.

Looking down the path, I saw Iesa sprinting back towards the cave.  Then Daneath turned and started his own run to the cave.  Rounding the bend were another pack of about a dozen hobgoblins; but this band was wearing heavier armor of iron bands, not leather.

“Get in the back of the cave!” I shouted.  Beepu, the goblins and our familiars all snapped to attention and started retreating. 

“I am watching you!”

“You just want hat.”

“You want* both* hats.”

“That is NOT what…” I heard Beepu’s voice trail off into the depths.  I started pulling on the dark strands and waited.  First Daneath ran by me in a huff.  I could hear him pant, “In the back, in the back,” as he clamored in his heavy mail. 

Iesa was only barely in front of the pack, who were sprinting as well.  Iesa had a slight lead and was gaining, but he also was busy dodging a hand axe being tossed at him as he ran.  His eyes were wide in terror and he passed me at the entrance.  As he did so, I started to cast and pulled on a single dark strand.   I pulled it at it faster and faster, and focused winding it around a greenie I held in my hand.  I backed up some steps and I watched Iesa run out of sight towards the back of the cave.  Once I saw that, I pulled the strand taught around the coin and released the weave.

To me, everything became brighter, and the shadows melted away.  But I knew that for anyone else near that coin, there was now an area of impenetrable darkness, even for the hobgoblins.  I ran into the cave and dropped the coin next to stalagmite, all the while keeping the strand intact, allowing the darkness to hold.

_##Myrai?  Does this still work?  I cannot see you, the light to the cave just…

I know.  I made it dark.  They can’t see.  But I can tell you when they get close the edge.

==So, they can’t see the light on the shield?

No.  Just don’t enter the darkness with the shield, or you will lose it._

I pressed myself against the wall and focused.  While I couldn’t be seen, I still could be found.  My heart was pounding even as I saw the first four enter the cave.  I could see their frustrated ugly faces as they realized they could not see.  But they were smart.  They stood abreast, moving slowly, letting a shoulder or a shield touch and drag along a wall.  And I could see them turn their heads, listening.  For me, or any other opponent that would try to take them unawares.

They moved slowly, and then another four entered the cave mouth.  They started to do the same thing.  I tried to keep my breathing still, as I watched them.  It was clear they had dealt in cases where they couldn’t see.  They stayed with other, they used the walls, and they moved slowly.  I turned to look, and the first set was three paces away from leaving, just as a third set of four entered the cave.  I pressed myself against a wall on the left out of reach of any of them, as they threaded through using the right walls as a guide.

_The are about to leave the dark, on your left-hand side.  Get ready.

##Daneath is ready.  Ouch that pepper is hot.  Just exhale when you see something appear D.

==Fine.  Don’t call me D.

%%D!

%Big D!

==Shut up!_

I watched as one of the hobgoblins, stepped forward, leading with this sword.  I could see light reflect off the tip as it left the darkness, and then I watched as Daneath puffed up his chest and blew.  From his mouth a gout of frost emerged, and I watched three of the hobgoblins winced in pain, and a pair fell on the ground motionless.  The other two charged out, only for one to find himself at the end of Iesa’s rapier, and the other was pierced by a pair of quarrels.  Both fell over in quick succession.

The others paused a moment, trying to determine what had happened.  They barked some words that I wasn’t familiar with, and the spell I had for translations didn’t translate either.  It must have been some type of battle language or code.  But as the next group got closer, I focused on the last one.  They were near where I left the coin, and so I focused and with a dark strand, formed a pair of skeletal hands to grip and tear at the hobgoblins.  The pair screamed, twisting to try to see what was draining away their life.  But they quickly collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

The second four ran into the bodies of the first and charged forward, only to walk again into the frosty breath of Daneath.  But this time, the blast was weaker than the first and they broke through swinging at Daneath.  But neither attack was effective, being easily deflected by Daneath’s shield.

This left them open to Beepu, who finally used the drops of water in his hand and threw a shard of razor-sharp ice at one, which exploded, killing him and one of his peers.  The other died to Iesa’s blade and another pair of quarrels from the goblins. 

The remaining two stopped.  They stood there listening.  All they had heard were twangs of crossbows, whistling of blades, and the groans and gasps of their comrades as their armored bodies slumped to the ground.  I could see their faces change from brave to fearful, as their eyes darted back and forth vainly trying to see their foes.  Or their fate.

To which I quickly answered for them, as I flexed the dark strands again, and watched as they helplessly fought the skeletal hands, gripping at them.  I stepped forward, to reclaim my greenie on the ground; the center of the black place they found themselves.

“Death comes to everyone; and today it is your turn,” I said.  Their faces in fear reminded me of elves in Whitepetal; fear of the unknown coming to claim their soul.  But I was more than happy to take theirs in recompence for what they had done.  I was feeling euphoria as I felt their life falter and then leave their bodies.  I felt powerful.  I felt righteous.  Then the moment passed.  I waived off the strand holding th darkness there, and once again the shadows cast by Daneath’s shield played over the bodies of the slain.  The others, having their vision restored, now could see the full accounting of the damage done to the hobgoblins.  I watched the others look at each other with disbelief and then with smiles as they realized that we had actually one against over twenty hobgoblins.

But it was Drik and Drok that I most interested in.  They looked at the hobgoblin bodies fearfully at first.  As if they expected to be punished by another pack they hadn’t seen or expected if the bodies would jump up and punish them from the grave.  But none these things happened.  And they looked at all of us and nodded with approval.

“Drik, Drok, Are there any others?” I asked, snapping them out of their shock.

“Nnnno.  That is all them.  All two / three” Drok answered, with Drik chiming in on the count.

“And the Lasher?”

“Lasher dead there,” Drik pointed to one of the better armored figures on the ground.  “We good.”

Once again, I felt the presence from deeper within the caves in my head.

*They are dead.  Now go, and do not return.*

We stayed quiet a moment, and then Iesa spoke up, “Well, I’m going to search the corpses.  We still have a chance to catch Ravalan before nightfall.
The bodies had little useable salvage or money.  We dragged them outside and I made short work with burying them in the dirt.  I noticed as I sunk the corpses into the earth and covered that the goblins were watching me.  I wasn’t sure if it was in fear or in awe.  But I noticed that they took pains to keep their distance from me.  As a looked closer they were wringing their hands nervously and avoided eye contact with me. 

I wondered why that was.  It wasn’t that I was a _Booyahg_, because by that definition so was Beepu.  And they certainly didn’t show fear of him at all.  In fact, they were intent on harassing him as often as they could.  But they were acting more like they were afraid.  Afraid of me?

We gathered everyone up and started back on the trail.  It wasn’t long before Iesa announced he found Ravalan’s tracks, and we were on our way.  But as we walked, I thought about the goblins and their fear.  I guess I could understand their fear on one level; I just did personally kill fourteen or sixteen goblins on my own.  But, it wasn’t like the others didn’t kill.

As we continued, I then remembered again the euphoria; the almost unbridled pleasure I felt when the magic exploded, and I slew so many of them.  The wicked grin I wore for anyone to see.  I realized that the others were used to this now, but for Drik and Drok it was new.  I had always thought of myself as a street savvy woman that could hold her own when the knives were out.  I guess I left a much stronger impression on the pair.

So which image was right?  Mine or theirs?


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

After a bit of a hiatus, I'm up to date with the story again. Still loving it.


----------



## Nthal

*The Internal Conflict - 1/28/2020*

_A friend once told me, that torment for an immortal is for it to resist its nature.  The pain is strong and never ebbs.  An immortal cannot change its nature on its own, so the torment is forever.
For a mortal, torment can be caused by the same thing.  Except that with great effort, a mortal can change. 

But the torment felt is sharper as one comes to grip with the conflict and resolves it by changing, or weathering through it.  Some don’t survive, but most do.

But standing on the precipice, undecided on what path take just drags out the pain.  Most of us are just too stubborn to realize that._​
At first, I wondered if Iesa really knew what he was doing.  He was a city urchin at heart, and so his sudden woodsman skills made me a skeptic.  But as I watched Iesa and followed his eyes on what he was looking for, my doubts were easing.  Certainly, it helped that Ravalan’s feet were bigger than my own.  For that matter they were bigger than Daneath, and I was certain Ravalan weighed more.  So, every time he knelt to the ground and said an ‘aha,’ it became easier to see that he really was on the right track.  So, after a while I let myself drift to the back of the group.

I didn’t feel like talking; in fact there was enough of that going on.  It seemed that it was impossible for Beepu and the goblins not to snipe at each other.  It went on for miles with no end in sight.  So it suited me just fine that I didn’t have to talk.  I certainly didn’t want to.

What I did want was clarity.  The events from earlier had unsettled me.  Granted I worshiped a power of death and judgement.  I remembered getting funny looks about that in Sigil.  ‘Isn’t death a strange thing to worship?’ they would say.  Then I would explain that I didn’t worship death or for death.  Instead the reason I worshipped was about those things left behind.  Honoring the memories of the deceased.  Assuaging the bitter emotions of those left behind.  Especially guilt; always a bit of guilt of things said or not said.  But the actual act of death wasn’t what I revered.  I didn’t sacrifice an animal or a person like other powers demanded.  It wasn’t that kind of worship.

So, it was only very recently had I actually killed anyone.  It was a gnoll outside of Triboar.  Sure, I had hurt people in self defense many times; Sigil could be a rough place, and the Hive the most dangerous place above ground.  But there, I had never actually killed anyone.  Here on the prime, I had killed dozens of creatures and beings.  And I always did feel a bit of remorse, but only well afterwards.   It stood in contrast on how different I felt during a fight.

I reveled in the violence.  I thirsted for blood.  I was enthralled by it.  I craved more.

And it disgusted me.  It was wrong.  Every instinct told me I shouldn’t want this; every teaching said this was a sin.  Death wasn’t a casual topic; Kelemvor’s faithful believed in staving off the end to let  the cycle complete itself naturally.   Accidents and disease were to be avoided or treated.  Violence should be avoided because it could lead to a premature end.  So what I felt was the complete opposite of what I believed, and what I wanted to uphold.  How was I better than a murderous barmy in the Gatehouse?  Could I stay in control?  Was I even in control to start with?

What it reminded me of, didn’t give me any comfort either.  It reminded me of the poor in the Hive that were consumed searching for a temporary escape; be it bub or drugs.  I had seen many in that never-ending spiral in the Hive.  They might get to the Gatehouse and get a bed and a meal as a respite to their situation.  But they would leave to chase their hedonistic escape of choice.   A chase that never ended.

The Society of Sensation said that chasing only pleasure wasn’t being a true Sensate and it was to be avoided.   The Society already had a bad reputation of being hedonists as it was.  First year namers would seek out pleasures first because…well they were fun and felt good.  The namers would find or throw parties to experiment and try anything they could.   But that’s just it; pleasures are easy to seek out and find. To understand the multiverse you had to experience everything and experience was more than just pleasure.  That’s why Erin Montgomery started to test new Sensates.    To weed out those who couldn’t control themselves.  Many members were sent to the Gilded Hall in Aborea when they lost that control.  Some returned, most didn’t.  Many others were told they couldn’t join…people like Markel.

Markel was desperate to become someone and the Society of Sensation was his chosen path.  He would throw the parties; and many flocked to them; myself included.  He was everything I felt I wasn’t; sure of himself, attractive, and popular.  I was in love with him, and I was an eager experimenter under his sway.  So, when I took the test in the Gilded Hall under the dubious eyes of the factotum, I was fortunate. You could have called it the most excellent example of brinksmanship.  I was complemented that I could get so close to the edge and pull back.  But the reality was that I almost failed.  I don’t know how I managed to pull away; as it took everything I had to do.  But at the time I was excited and proud to be able to join, with Markel.  But Markel never even got so far to be tested; he was judged unfit beforehand.   He didn’t take that very well, and that led to…a lot of pain.  For him and for me.

And now, I wondered if the test were different what would have been the outcome?  What if the test wasn’t self-restraint against pleasure, but was about violence?  Granted the Sensates were worried about the former.  For the later you just needed to look at…at…

No.  I would not become *her.  *I was nothing like her.  She may have been everything to the Doomguard.  But she was a plague to Sigil.  To the multiverse.

To me.

“I _will_ build a taller hat!  A better hat!” Beepu shouted interrupting my thoughts.

“Not a hatter,” Drik said smugly.

“No hatter,” Drok agreed.

I had no idea how long I had been wallowing in my own insecurities.  But I felt the air had become much cooler, and sun was now low in the sky.  The trail we were following was descending out of the hills, and we were approaching the edge of a bluff, overlooking a narrow valley.  The floor was a sea of grass. Patures, and tilled fields, while on the far side was another series of hills.  A meandering river wound its way across the valley floor.  As we all approached the edge, Iesa pointed out our likely destination.

“Well, look there.  A village.  And hopefully, Ravalan as well,” Iesa said pointing downwards.  The village was not large, a scattering of perhaps six buildings.  Two of them were large, perhaps a hall or an inn, with smaller dwellings nearby.  They were nestled next to the river, where a simple wooden bridge extended over it.  A wagon trail led across the bridge to the west, leading out of the valley, while the eastern leg seemed to be seldom used.  Lazy plumes of smoke drifted upwards coming from the chimneys below.

“No sign of trouble,” Daneath said.  “But that probably won’t last.  We should get down there.”

“And perhaps sit down for a bit.  My legs are killing me,” Beepu grumbled.  “Your pace is challenging to keep up with.”

“Gnome is whiny,” Drik commented to his peer.

“He should try whining to a lasher.  Then he stop,” Drok said looking at Beepu unsympathetically.

“Look, I am tired, and my legs and feet hurt too,” I said, speaking before Beepu unleased whatever biting vitrol that he was about to say.  “Let’s get down there, talk to Ravalan and get some rest.”

Beepu turned to me and looked like he was going to tear into me.  But he stopped himself and nodded.  “Yes.  Rest would be good.”

We continued on down the bluff, following a trail that Ravalan had used.  It wasn’t long before we were walking across the wooden bridge into the village.  Up close it wasn’t much to speak of.  The wood was grey from the elements.  But it was all in good repair, with shake roofs, and windows of simple glass.  Simple and functional.  Yet looking at the doorways as we passed, there were signs of pride here and there.  Carvings on the door sills, and the doors themselves.  On the southern side stood a small chapel, with a blooming rose over a sheaf of grain, carved in oak above the door.

As we moved to the center of town, we could see that there was a large throng of people, and we could hear agitated and excited voices.  The throng were gathered in a circle arguing, and I could see in the middle of it, standing head and shoulders above the villagers, was Ravalan.

“Look, if it is true you _must, _leave.  Their numbers are too gre—” Ravalan was saying before being cut off.
“—This is our home.  We will not let them take them!”

“It’s not the homes they want, they want you!” Ravalan was trying to explain calmly, but he was forced to shout just to be heard.

“Ravalan!  What is going on here?” Daneath yelled and strode into the group.  The villagers, surprised by the armored warrior, parted so he could approach the firbolg.

“You?   What are you doing here?” Ravalan asked surprised.

“We might ask you the same thing,” I said stepping forward.  “Why did you come here?”

“I was told that there was a need for my aid.” Ravalan said taken aback.  “But I didn’t expect more hobgoblins.  The village has seen worg riders on the outskirts.  The hobgoblins have already captured some hunters and families on the outlying farms.”

A man shouted out in response, “They didn’t just take prisoners! They smashed and burned those families homes!  But we will not run and surrender our fields.”  The man was balding with the sides of his head covered with short brown hair and his face had a thick bushy beard.  He stood there, painfully thin and gaunt.   But his posture and shoulders showed him to be as resolute as a mountain.  Around his neck, carved in wood hung the same symbol that was above the chapel.

“Micah,” Ravalan turned to face the man, “Those were scouts.  A larger group is bound to come soon.  This evening most likely.”

“Lasher Crusher?” Drik said looking at Drok.

Drok nodded. “Lasher Crusher said to be near.  He big lasher.  Will pound people who not listen.”

“Lasher Crusher?” Ravalan said puzzled.  “Who are these two?”

“Recent rescues,” Iesa said smiling as Drik stood there looking around and as Drok started to pick his nose.  “We found them on the way as we searched for you.”

“Searched for me?  I don’t understand, and it isn’t important.” Ravalan responded clearly distracted by the debate at hand.

“I don’t know what a ‘Lasher’ is, but we will not leave these fields!” Micah said emphatically.  “The Earthmother has promised a good harvest, and we will not forsake her bounty!”

“I have to agree with Ravalan,” Daneath said to Micah.  “We already have faced two dozen of the hobgoblins on the way here.  But they didn’t have worgs.  You aren’t safe here.”

“We will be protected!” Micah said defiantly.

“Micah,” I said gently stepping forward to look the man in the eyes.  As he gasped, I continued.  “The Earthmother has indeed blessed you, and you should feel proud.  But you must lead your flock elsewhere.”

“By the gods…who are—”

“A priest.  A different faith.  A different calling.” I said slowly.  “But your pow-- , um sorry goddess would want you all to live and plant more fields.”

“But we must defend our homes!”

“I don’t know if there will be anything left to call home,” I said calmly but firmly.

“She is right,” Ravalan interjected.  “As you said, the other dwellings were destroyed.  They won’t leave anything standing, even if you do manage to fight them off.”

“I...I feel we should stay and help defend our…our homes,” Micah said, tears forming in his eyes as he almost choked on the words.

“Listen, I believe that the Earthmother once said; ‘Like a seed on the wind, you can travel where you need and plant the next field.’” I said remembering a passage I had heard was attributed to the power, and Micah looked at me with a pained expression.  But finally, he nodded.

“Yes, I…I understand.  You are right.  But what will you do?” Micah asked looking at me and the rest of my companions.

“These hobgoblins are going to be sent for judgement,” I said calmly with quiet determination.  “Lord Kelemvor takes a dim view of beings who wantonly kill those who have not yet lived to the fullness of time.  And I’m not keen on slavery.  So, I can’t say I can save your homes or the fields.  I will say they won’t be following you.”

Micah nodded, “Very well.  While I cannot condone revenge, I…I can aid justice.   I have some potions that can heal wounds.  I will leave them with you so you can dispatch this menace.”

“We thank you,” Iesa said I as I nodded.  “Any assistance is welcome.”

“Let’s get everyone moving.  You have light and you can make some distance before they arrive,” Daneath said.

“Alright everyone!” Micah raised his voice to the gather villagers.  “The Earthmother has given us a sign and some wisdom.  We must leave and take root elsewhere.  Gather what you must so we can travel tonight!”  And with that the villagers started to scatter to the various buildings.  Some were gathering horses and wagons.  There were many tears in their eyes, but I see the relief in their faces, knowing they did not need face the threat death or slavery.  Micah then led Iesa towards the chapel, to retrieve the promised potions.

“Ravalan,” I said turning to the firbolg.  “Can we speak to you a moment, privately?”

The firbolg nodded, and we stepped away from the village center, allowing the villagers to continue unimpeded.

“Thank you Myrai for convincing them.  I have been trying all day.” Ravalan said with relief in his voice.
“After what has happened in Whitepetal, I’m glad we can provide some relief.  But we have a more pressing question.  What did Paradros tell you that made you come here?”

Ravalan cocked his head in surprise.  He thought a moment and slowly responded “Paradros?  Well, he said that he had heard of some sort of sickness in the village, so I came to assist.  But as it happened, no one has been ill in some time.  I found it odd but…why do you ask?”

I sighed and looked at Ravalan sadly, “Because Paradros told us that he sent you here, intending that you…not survive the hobgoblins’ attack.”

The firbolgs face became grim, “Are you sure?  Why would he do such a thing.”

“Because you helped my father, Pachook and Umbra as well,” Beepu said a bit tersely.  “Paradros is either in league or is employed by the Kershak, and they apparently do not like people assisting their—”

“—Enemies.” Daneath said simply.

“All I did was guide them through the forest, and he thought to put me in danger because of that?”  Ravalan said in disbelief.  “That elf was certainly distasteful; I thought it was because of he being a typical sun elf.
Why this effort?”

“Because, it wasn’t all about you.” I said.  “He used you as bait, to lure us out of the Misty Forest.” And I gestured to my companions.  “But that doesn’t mean you are safe.”

“I see,” he said sadly.  “this is indeed dire, and I appreciate the warning.  I am willing to stand by you if you need.”

“I thank you, but it might be better if you assist Micah, and get them safely to Secomber.” I answered.

“She’s right,” Daneath agreed.  “Those people need your help.  We can deal with the hobgoblins and this ‘Prophesized One’ is going to keep us busy for a while.  Once we take care of that, we can think about dealing with the Kershak.”

“It seems I am in debt to you again.  I am not sure I can do much more for you beyond the message I sent to Melandrach.  But I will help these people.”

“Just do that,” I said.  “They are going to need all the help they can to restart.”

“I know.  Farewell Myrai.  I hope you all can end this madness.” The firbolg said.  He then strode over to the gathering group of farmers and families gathering by the bridge.

It was sad to see these proud people, forced to abandon their homes.  Being transformed from farmers to refugees in a instant, at the cruel whim of the hobgoblins.  The simmering hate I had for these marauders was beginning to awaken once again.   They were no better than the Doomguard setting a fire in the Hive, just to watch it burn.

As we stood there, Iesa ran back to us from the chapel, holding some glass flasks.  He started passing them out to the group and casually asked.

“So…Crusher Lasher?” he looked at the goblins as he handed me a potion.  “Let me guess, big and likes to crush things?”

Drik nodded with Drok.  Drik was attempting to extract something from his ear, while Drok quietly escavated the contents of his left nostril with a finger.  “He big, stupid lasher,” Drik said.  “Break things,” Drok continued. “Houses, goblins, humans, many things.  Many goblins fear him.”

“And he has a pack of worgs as well it sounds,” Daneath said as he turned around looking at the village buildings.

“Well, the buildings are sturdy, but we can’t really use them defensively.”

“Why is that?” Beepu said surprised.  “The doors look stout enough to keep worgs out.”

“Its not the worgs,” Daneath said shaking his head.  “It’s the torches.  They are likely to set them on fire, flush us out.  Plus while mounted they will have a lot of speed and nothing to slow them down.”

I thought a moment and then turned to the goblins and asked, “So, how well can those worgs move while mounted?  Can they easily climb, swim or jump?”

Drik and Drok frowned, their brows furrowing.  After looking at each other briefly they answered, “Run fine, but not jump.  Bad balance.  Clumsy.” Drik said, while Drok echoed “Very clumsy,”

“Climb?  Getting on top of the buildings just as bad as staying inside Myr,” Daneath started.  “And I’m not swimming to get away from Worgs.”

“Why even stay here?” Iesa asked looking around with disbelief.  “I mean we said it might not survive, so why defend it.”

“It makes sense to stay here, only if we can put some defenses up.  But beyond flamable cover I don’t see a lot of options,” Daneath said.

“Unless you have something in mind.  Do you have something in mind?”  Beepu asked, looking at me critically.

I smiled, “I do.  See what you can do to make the buildings safe for us, and not for them.  Beepu, let’s get Gos and Foggle in the air and watching for friends.

“And what exactly are you going to do Myr?” Beepu asked.

“Start digging,” I said smiling, to the confusion of the others.

*Session Notes:*

I didn't really ever intend Myrai to be the face of the party.  That actually was supposed to be someone else that dropped out before the game started.  So, talking anyone into anything was never part of the plan.  I had cast her as a charismatic introvert.  it just worked out that when I did, it somehow worked out.

By comparison, Iesa tried many times, but had neither the stats or the skills.  But he did try a lot, which made for an interesting story.

But while Myrai wasn't a genius, she was smart (Int 12,) and had common sense (Wis 14).  So she tended to come up with creative solutions to problems; as we will see.


----------



## Nthal

*The One Night Stand - 2/3/2020*

_During a lecture about the Blood War between the Baatezu and the Tanar’ri a question was asked: Why do the Baatezu let the Tanar’ri invade Avernus all the time?

There were a number of answers given, but one did always ring true; whoever can choose the site of the engagement, controls the nature of the battle.  If you can move fast, strike hard where you have an advantage.  If you have range weapons, find a spot where you can’t be easily attacked.  And if you must wait for them to come to you, choose a site where you can force the attackers to make hard choices.

Or better yet, force the attackers to make bad choices.
_​The sun had just touched the horizon to the west.  The sunset was once again painting the sky with warm yellows and oranges.  Pity that I couldn’t watch, as I had plan in my mind, and I had no idea how long I had to do it.  The others followed me with confusion and curiosity on their faces.

I made my way to the river and followed it down stream, which happened to be northwards.  I followed it, until I was past the one of the long buildings of the village.  Once there, I stopped and began to concentrate on the earth near the river.  Not the bank of it, but about three paces in.  I then flexed and pulled out towards me a pile of dirt, two and half paces on each side, and equally as deep.  The pile of loose earth rolled and moved towards me like a small landslide.  I then did the same just on the other side and pushed the earth the other direction.  This left me a five paces wide and almost three paces wide hole, just near the edge of the of river.

I then repeated the process and doubled its width.  And twice more doubled it again.  And methodically I cut a trench, moving away from the river.

“She’s building a moat?” Iesa said looking at my work, as more and more earth erupted from the ground. 

“A trap,” I said, not even turning.  “I am going to circle the village with this trench.”

“And then you will flood it at an opportune time,” Beepu said with a smile.  “That is a great idea.  But will we not be trapped inside?”

“Maybe,” I said.  “But the worgs will have only one easy way in or out; the bridge.  They won’t be able to run far, and it limits where they would approach from.  That is assuming that Drik and Drok are right.” 

“We right!” Drik said nodding.

“We not like Crusher Lasher,” Drok quickly added.

“Really no like,” Drik nodded.

“We go make presents,” Drik said with a wicked smile at his brother.

“Present for lasher,” Drik returned the smile and both then scampered off towards the buildings.

“What do they have in mind?” Iesa asked his brother watching their gleeful depature.

“No idea, but I bet we can dampen the roofs with well water,” Daneath said.  “Come with us Beepu.”

“What? Why?” The gnome asked surprised.

“Are you going to help Myr dig?”

“I would like to…but that incantation is not one I can u—”

“Well come on then.  I doubt that staring is going to help her much.”

“Umm hm” I said, walking slowly.   Every count to twelve, I excavated another section of earth.  I was in a simple rhythm, move the earth, move the earth, step, repeat.  No thoughts; Just pull the strand.  Make a corner, keep moving, pass buildings, keep moving, keep casting, no thoughts…

So, I don’t really know how long it took.  The sun had set, but the purple rays on the thin clouds still lit the sky.  But I finally encircled the village with a three or four pace wide trench.  On each side, piles of soft loose earth made for a treacherous foothold, with the piles of dirt form a berm of loose earth on both the inside of the trench, and the outside, with each being about my height.  On each end there was just a plug of dirt about two paces wide that prevented the river from flooding the trench.

And while it was just a cantrip, the most basic of magic, I was exhausted.  The mind-numbing focus needed was more than I was used to.  So, when I stumbled back into the center of town, the others looked at me with concern.

“Myr, you alright?” Iesa started, pulling himself up from the well where he was resting.  The others where dripping wet, with a number of buckets laying haphazardly around the trio.

“I’m mentally drained…that your sweat or did you jump in the well for fun?”

“Hah.  Hah.  Hah,” Beepu said from his position on top of the side of the well.  “While you were ‘digging’ we wet the roofs of several of the buildings.  Should make fire less of a problem.”

“That sounds good.  Where are the dirty pair?”

“Who?  Iesa and Drik?”  said Daneath laying on the ground with a smile on his face.

“Hey!” Iesa gave his brother a dirty look.  “I’m as clean as can be hoped…considering.”

“Not enough to attract an elf I’m sure,” Daneath said lay there still smiling.

“How can you not like elven women?” Iesa said defensively.

“It’s not like I don’t.  I just know that I’m not their type.” Daneath said looking at Iesa with a even more bemused expression.

“Well…half elves come from somewhere!”

“And you’re the next filthy human to make them swoon?” he still smiled, looking upwards.

“Well…why not?  I’m good looking!”

“Might help if you spoke elvish.”

“If all of you would listen to me and my offers to train y—” Beepu started.

“No!” Daneath and Iesa said at the same time.

“Maybe later,” I said.   “So where are the other two?”

“They were working with some wood and nails pulled from the walls,” Iesa said.  “Then they started burying 
them around the village.”

“Anywhere I should avoid walking?” I said looking around wondering if I could tell if I was about to step into a trap.

“Yeah.  Stay away from the entrances from the other buildings but that one,” Iesa pointed at a large long building.  “We’re going to rest there.”

“Great,” I said.  “I’m going to get some sleep.  Wake me when someone breaks something.  And Iesa?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to need more than a bath if you want to get an elven woman to notice you.”

“Hey!  That’s not nice!” Iesa said with a hurt sound in his voice.  “It’s not like *you* have any problem attracting attention.”

“Always the wrong kind,” I said dryly.  “But I’ll give you a hint; if you like the way a woman smells, it works the other way too.  I’ll make you smell nice later.” And I walked over to the large building they said was safe from whatever Drik and Drok were doing.  Walking in the door, I found the pair kneeling on the ground with a sack.  In it were an assortment of cups, and other metal objects.  I stared at them a moment, and they turned to look at me and shrugged.

“I don’t care.  Don’t touch my stuff.  Or me,” I said moving inside.  The building was a large bunkhouse for ranchers and farm hands, and I spied an empty cot on one wall that looked clean enough.  Once I reached it, I quickly collapsed on the straw stuffed mattress, still in my armor and clothes.  My head was nestled against a pillow of down and cloth and I felt my eyes drooping.

_Gos.  Stay on the roof.  Wake me whe—

--I know.  Get some rest.  The evening is likely to be a long one.”_

I smiled and let the exhaustion wash over me.  I just hoped for a dreamless sleep. 

No nightmares.

No Elisna.

No Markel.

No Pentar…

I don’t know if I dreamed and forgot, or if sleep was as formless as I hoped it could be.  More often, I awoke with just emotions on the edge of my mind; emotions like sorrow, anger, and guilt.

This time it was fear.

My eyes snapped open and I shivered.  But I realized with a shock it my fear wasn’t from a dream, but from the sounds of wood shearing away and ripping apart into splinters.  I rolled from the cot onto the floor and looked upwards at the sea of stars above.  I then saw a brass colored streak pass overhead, a Foggle was following whatever orders Beepu had given.  I then reached out to my own.

_GOS!?!

--It was a rock! I’m not sure…another one!_

The building shuddered as another rock tore through the roof and sundering the southern wall.  Splinters of wood, panels and beams flew around in the air, covering everything nearby with debris from the collapsing roof.  I scrambled to my feet and looked around.  I could now smell damp smoke and wet wood as I saw some fire sputtering on timbers that had fallen inside.  Beepu was extracting himself from timbers and was shaking his head, attempting to clear his senses.  We looked at each other for a moment, and we staggered towards the exit. 

Outside there was the sound of howls of worgs in the village and the smell of more smoke.  One of the outlying buildings was completely engulfed in flames, while two others had small fires on the roofline.  Looking around, I saw Daneath silhouetted in the flames, taking a swing and knocking a hobgoblin clean off his mount, and then watched him follow through with a cut on the worgs flank.  The worg turned to bite the warrior, and missed cleanly, allowing Daneath an opening and he thrusted deep into the worg’s neck, causing blood to spurt and splash across his shield.  The worg started to limp off slowly and Daneath started to give chase when he saw Beepu and I.

“Thank the gods you’re alright!  A couple more worg riders are in the village, and more are stuck in the trench.” He shouted as he ran past.

“Iesa? Rocks?”  I shouted at him in return.

“Don’t know.  Giant.” And he stabbed at the worg felling it.  Elsewhere I heard a hobgoblin scream and the fast-paced beat of a worg running.

“A giant?” I said in disbelief, and I started to run towards the river.  Behind me I heard Beepu start an incantation.

_Gos?  A Giant?!?

--Makes sense, can’t see it from up here---Sodding!-- _

Another boulder sailed through the air and slammed into the doors of the chapel, sundering them apart.  The boulder continued rolling inside, wrecking pews as it went.  From the air, black feathers drifted down slowly.  I looked in the air for Gossamer and couldn’t locate him.  But my eyes settled on something else I didn’t expect.

Beepu was rising in the air swiftly.  From his hands bolts of fire flew striking a worg, who I could hear yelp in pain.  On his face was a smile of satisfaction as he took a commanding view of the village.  He threw more fire from above, and I could hear from behind a building the harried voice of Iesa, “Take that!  Thanks Beepu!”

_--Myr, there are a number of the hobgoblins and worgs stuck in the trench, trying to climb out.

Well, time to end that problem._

I ran toward the river where one of the plugs of earth I had left behind.  As I ran, I heard another worg yelp in pain.  Glancing to my left, I saw one held fast in an iron trap, his hobgoblin rider fallen to the ground.  From concealment Drik and Drok dashed out from under a building with short swords.  One of them screamed in common, “CLUMSY!” and the pair set themselves on the hobgoblin, stabbing the fallen figure over and over.  A noise from my left caused me to turn and reflexively I throw a pair of bolts, striking another wounded worg, causing it to collapse mid-stride.  I was about to move again when I heard the voice of one of the goblins shouts, “Crusher Lasher!”

Now running, I turned my head to look north and I saw another boulder flying through the air.  This one seemed unstable, a wild throw.  It smashed into the deck of the bridge.  A shower of splinters and water flew into the air, and just like that, the entire structure was leveled Only the footings on each side of the river remained.  Looking farther north, I finally saw him; the ‘Crusher Lasher’

He stood on a hillock, framed in the moonlight.  I guess I expected a large human or something.  What I saw was more gangly in the limbs, and his posture was slightly crooked.  It’s body was pear shaped with a large pot belly.  What appeared to be the shadow of a loincloth fluttered around him as he moved.  I saw him bend down, and pick up another rock, and watched him heave it high into the air.  The rock didn’t seem to be aimed at anything in the village which puzzled me.  Then the sound of Beepu’s laughter made it clear; the giant was trying to hit the small gnome.  And while his skills in hitting large buildings was adequate, hitting Beepu was another matter.

“Of course, ‘Crusher Lasher’ was a giant.  Should have asked questions about that piece of chant” I muttered to myself.  I finally reached the river and got in sight of the trench and the thin plug of dirt that I had left behind.

_--You better hurry.  A group of them are gathered together to give themselves boosts.  _

I didn’t reply, I just focused the strands on the middle section of earth and dirt.  I could feel the weight of the water pushing and pressing against the plug.  I pulled with the strands the earth away bit by bit.  Then suddenly I felt the earth explode, sundering some the strands apart as the water burst forth, scattering the loose earth.  I kept focus and pulled more earth away from the center, and let the water push its way forward in a sudden torrent.

The sound of the rushing water was music to my ears, and I watched the river eat away at the remaining earth blocking the way.  I smiled wickedly as I thought of the wall of water rushing down the length of the trench.  The smoke was filling the village with a haze, making objects on the ground indistinct.  I turned around and ran back into the center of the village, trying to keep the smoke out of my eyes when I heard it.
The sound was rage.  Frustration.  Hatred.  A roar that echoed throughout the valley, loud and strong.  I ran along the side of the building where I was sleeping earlier.  On the roof were a number of scattered small sputtering fires on the wet wood, creating more smoke.  Keeping close to the wall, I peeked around the corner to look north.  There above the haze, framed in the moonlight I could see the giant striding down from the hillock, and towards the village.  I could see even at this distance that it carried a large worked club.  A gift for the ‘Crusher Lasher’ for use as a tool or weapon I supposed.

“D, you can take him, right?” I heard Iesa shout from the cover of another building.

“Taking a beating with that club doesn’t sound like me,” Daneath looking from his place by the well, wiping his blade on the side of a fallen worg. 

“We could ask the ‘Apple King’ about that,”  Iesa responded.

“Not even funny.  Hey Beepu, you might need to go up a bit.”

“It would mess with the range!” Beepu replied from above us.  “He cannot hit me with his poor aim.”

“He can if he jumps with that club,” I yelled back.

“What?  Oh.  Perhaps I should make certain,” and Beepu began to rise higher in the air.

“Great, Beepu’s safe.  That helps,” Iesa said sardonically.  “What about us?  I’m pretty sure if he hits one of us, that’s it.  And running might be a problem with the bridge out.”

“I’m not running, we just need to keep it from getting close,” I yelled back.

_--Good news.  Seems that worgs and hobgoblins don’t swim well together.  Only a couple of the hobgoblins are left, and trying to climb out.

Keep an eye out for more._

“Drik, Drok, we have some hobgoblins crawling out of the water,” I said loudly, unsure where the pair might be.

I heard a pair of wicked chuckles.  “They clumsy,” Drik said.  “Toss them back,” Drok replied, and I heard them scamper off to look for the stragglers.

“Well, might get some shots in before it gets close,” And Daneath threw off his shield, sheathed his blade and pulled out his long bow.

“What about me?” Iesa complained.

“Get ready and stab it,” Daneath retorted.

“Get ready?  By myself?”

I then pulled a mirror out and spun it in my fingers, “Protect him,” I whispered, and I pulled on a light strand and wove it around Iesa.  I then quickly pulled on a pair of light and dark ones and whispered under my breath.

“Iesa; Kelemvor will protect you until you strike.  Strike then run fast!”

“Hah,” Beepu shouted. “Finally, you are close enough, you lumbering behemoth of a whelp!  Come and face me you low Ordning born!  Even *I* stand above you!” and as he taunted, he threw a bolt of fire at the giant, and I watched it go wild and strike the ground instead.

“You might want,” Daneath said as he pulled on the bow string and released, “To hit it first.” The arrow flew from the bow with the narrow head whistling in the dark, accompanied by a shout of defiance from the big warrior.

Daneath was never a great shot with a bow.  Iesa was much better at archery.  But I knew that he didn’t have the strength to use Daneath’s longbow.  Daneath did keep up his skills though on the occasional hunt.  But with a target as large as a giant, I wondered if you really could miss.  I also knew it was the wrong question; it was whether you could pierce the thick skin and hurt it at all.

I watched with dismay as I saw the arrow streak and just scrape the giant’s side.  I started to ready my own magic, pulling at the dark strands when I heard Daneath’s second arrow fly from his hand.  This one was shot low, but the arrow rose as it flew, until I heard it sink into the muddy loincloth that the giant wore.  It bellowed and bent over in pain.  It then looked at Daneath with a snarling face of hatred.  But to my surprise, the giant stopped and lifted its great club awkwardly and used its other hand to cover its loin cloth defensively.

I let loose my magic and a small hand now clutched around the giant throat, almost concealed by the scraggly, unkempt beard.  It crouched in place now, trying to find a way forward.  It looked at Daneath warily.
A blast of fire from above found home this time, and the giant roared at the new wound.  There was the sound of crackling, roasted flesh, and the sight of skin smoking and cracking apart.  The giant looked around at its feet, and I watched it bend and pickup a mass of wood.  It was the remains of a wooden wagon, that he twisted and hurled at the gnome.

The wagon tumbled end over end as it flew towards Beepu.  But I watched as the gnome rose higher into the air.  The wagon flew well below the wizard and then landed in a crushed heap on the ground, as Beepu laughed at the miss.  From elsewhere I could hear a shriek of a hobgoblin, and the sound of body hitting water followed by “CLUMSY!”

I refocused my mind and pulled on more dark strands and formed a miasma as the sound of the bell pealed in the air.  Daneath fired more arrows from his bow, and still managed to hit the giant’s loincloth again.  The giant howled as this again, and it staggered around, trying to cover himself.

I pulled on more strands, and again as I did so, another bolt of fire streaked from Beepu’s place in the sky.  I released my power and the bell tolled once again.  The giant was frustrated; unwilling to retreat and unwilling to proceed towards the menace with the longbow.  All the while being pelted with fire and torn apart by shadow.

The giant was groaning and was looking around on the ground for an object; anything it could throw at a target it could see.  It was then I saw Iesa run and leap across the river, and without stopping, slashed with his dagger, across the back of the calves with a nasty draw cut.  The giant bellowed at the new wound, and gamely swung at the rogue.  But it was too late, as Iesa was already out of reach before he could retaliate.
Daneath fired another pair of arrows, but both lodged deeply into the wood of the club.  I switched back to the chilling ghostly hand again and could feel the energy shred more of the giant’s life away.  But then from above a blast of fire rained down from above, striking giant in the face.  I watched it stagger around for a moment, and then it sank to its knees with a groan.  I could see its face clearly now, with a confused look of pain as it fell over on its side, crashing in the earth, tossing up clouds of dirt and causing the buildings to tremble.  I then could feel the last of its life drain away and dissipate as it gave off a final shuddering death rattle.  A sound that thrilled me as the last vestiges of life vanished.

There were now only the sounds of fire consuming wood, rushing water, and our own breaths on the night air.  The stillness took over as we looked around for another worg in the darkness, or a hobgoblin charging seeking our heads.

The euphoria was wearing off, and I could feel a knot in my stomach form.  I looked around; the chapel’s doors were smashed along with the interior by a rock.  One outlying building was in flames, and another was smashed apart by another rock.  The bunkhouse I had been sleeping in, was torn apart, with scattered flames on the shakes of what was left of the roof.  Only a pair of smaller buildings still stood intact from the ravages of the night.  

I made my way to the well, and took a bucket that lay on the ground, and passed its handle through the hook at the top of a rope and clasp.  I dropped the bucket down the shaft and then pulled up some water.  I placed the bucket on the edge and splashed some of the cold water onto my face.  I wanted to wipe away the smoke and grime that I could feel there.  I wanted to wash away the conflicting emotions I felt.  To conceal the tears of the turmoil within me.

As I did this, the rest gathered.  Daneath and Iesa staggered forward, both injured from worgs and scrapes with blades.  Drik and Drok appeared then from the southern side of the village; their shirts drenched in blood that was not their own.  Finally, fluttering down from above came Foggle, Gossamer and finally Beepu, who was wearing a grin that said that he was completely and utterly self-absorbed with his accomplishments.

“We did it,” Daneath said slowly.  “We survived.”

“Yes.  Of course, we did,” Beepu said in a matter of fact tone.  “My superior position allowed us to claim victory.  I await your thanks.”

Iesa looked at the gnome for a moment before speaking, “Yes…thank you Myr for that trench,” as he turned towards me.

“That’s right,” Daneath chimed in, trying to hide his smile.  “That flood of water really took out those riders. Great job!”

The two goblins nodded, “_Gala Booyahg _made lashers clumsy swimmers,” Drik said approvingly, while Drok just nodded vigorously.

“What?!?  What about me?” Beepu’s face grew red, missing the snarky smiles on the other’s faces.

“Oh, yes.  Where were you?  I couldn’t see you on the ground anywhere.  Where were you hiding?” Daneath said mildly still trying to hide a grin that was getting wider by the moment.

“You were really good there,” Iesa said. “Did you turn invisible or did you just become a rock again?”

“HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE—” he started, when Iesa snorted and Daneath just turned red holding is breath, trying not to laugh.  Then, he gave out a sudden burst of laughter, no longer able to control himself.  Beepu straightened up, surprised for a moment, and then he too smiled and laughed.  “You…you had me there you two!   All of you!”

I couldn’t hold back and laughed as well.  Even the two goblins started to snicker and eventually were rolling on the ground laughing pointing at Beepu.  As I giggled madly, my cheeks ached, and I could feel my eyes water.  It was the tears and laughter washed away the pain, that only laughter with friends could.

*Session notes:*

So, in game terms, every minute allowed me to cut about 25’ ft long and 10’ ft wide (in 5x5x5 foot cubes) every minute.  That’s 1500’ ft trench in an hour, and I had more than that in terms of time.   And you thought Minor Illusion was bad.

And many worgs and hobgoblins drowned.  A horrible death of course, but not as bad as Drik and Drok ‘clumsy’ attacks were. 

But the DM and Daneath’s player coming us for the rational on why a giant would be afraid of a tiny battlemaster with a longbow was brilliant.  Makes complete sense.


----------



## Nthal

*The Burden of Guilt - 2/15/2020*

_It is a sad thing to grow up with millions of people around you every day, and yet find yourself utterly alone.  _​
I awoke to the warmth of the sun on my face.  I lazily opened my eyes to look at the open sky overhead, blue and clear.  I took a deep breath and sighed heavily, unwilling to move.  Not with Gossamer providing welcome warmth by my feet, as he rested there calmly.  But more than anything I just wanted to rest.  Not to run off to march away to some crisis.  Not to chase down hobgoblin raiders.  Indeed, not to fight at all.  I wanted rest and respite; it had been weeks since I left Waterdeep to Secomber, and from there it seemed to be never-ending fighting.  I lay there in the cot, taking advantage of what I knew would be an all too brief moment of solace.

After we had slaughtered the worgs, hobgoblins and the giant we had A lot of work to do last night.  The five men worked on stamping out the fires, while I searched the village for bodies, and buried them where I found them.  Some of the bodies required me to fish them out of the new canal that now circled the village.  But it didn’t matter to me as I sunk each worg, each hobgoblin and even the giant beneath the earth.  It was strange how in combat it was so easy to hate, but when setting matters to rest it was so soothing.  Not because it was a hard earn victory, or that they deserved to be sent to judgement.  But because how *right* it felt to treat the fallen correctly; even our foes.

But afterwards, we had all agreed to get a longer rest and not start with daybreak as we usually did.  Well, I suppose it was more Beepu and myself arguing for that.  Although as someone attuned and able to work the Weave that was normal, it was more than that for me.

It had been months since I arrived here, and home was still as far away as ever.  While I liked the journey of my travels as it tickled the Sensate within me, the idea I couldn’t go home was like a pebble in my boot, unwilling to let me forget it.  Iesa, Daneath and Beepu all had a home of sorts, between Waterdeep and Silverymoon.  They could go there if they needed to.  Or wanted to. 

But those places weren’t Sigil.  As much as I could gripe about the Hive, the Gatehouse, or any other unsavory aspect it was still home.  It was everything I couldn’t do; go the Sensorium to relive the travels and experiences of others and share my own.  To get a bite of za, sooty with mushrooms from a vendor on the street.  My monthly tea with a…well _friend_ is an interesting way to look at him.  He was a fiend after all.  But it didn’t matter now.  It was all out of reach.  Perhaps forever.

Heaving another sigh, I realized that turning over the same stone in my mind, I might as well do it walking elsewhere, to keep the monotony away.

_Time to move, Goss

--I do believe you are wrong.

Possibly, but we’re going to need to leave at some point.

--That doesn’t concern me.  Keeping warm does.

My legs are moving, like it or not.

--You are a cruel woman._

I pushed my legs free from under the impossibly heavy familiar and sat up and put my gear on.  I noticed that the building was empty; even Beepu must have risen a while ago.  I packed my things and walked outside to see what the chant was.

I found Daneath by the well outside, cleaning his mess kit.  He nodded as he saw my approach.

“You know…sleep in, didn’t mean all morning,” he quipped as packed away the tin bowls. 

“Probably.  But the travelling has been wearing on me,” I replied.  “Where are the others?”

“Beepu is in the chapel; apparently the goblins snore so he moved there and demanded to be left alone so he could study his diagrams and books.”

“Well…he’s the one that snores.  The goblins just do it to wake him up.”

“Yeah…I know.  No point on arguing it though.”

I nodded, “We have a plan?”

“Once Iesa gets back from some hunting and tracking we’re going to discuss.”

“Tracking?”

Daneath nodded, “We aren’t sure where to go from here.  He’s hoping to get an idea based on tracks.  That and some fresh food.”

“I take it worg meat isn’t that good?”

Daneath shuddered, “It’s tough, stringy and has a nasty flavor.  Rather not.”

“So, what about Drik and Drok?”

“Well…they looted all the cups, bowls, and other metal stuff.  But they can’t carry it all.  Now they are trying to figure out what to take with them.”

“Well, I guess they know their goods,” Iesa said, sauntering up with some game birds in hand.  “Beepu around?”

“I can get him,” I said, and I turned to look at Gossamer who had just sat down to groom.

_--What?  Oh..fine…sure…not like I had important things to do.

Grooming?

--Important Grooming._

Gossamer stood, stretched and flew off towards the small chapel.  While Iesa continued; “Well hunting is a bit thin.  But worse yet is I can’t get a handle on where the goblins may have come from.”
Daneath scrunched his face, “That’s a problem.”

Iesa sat on a bench near the well and started to dress the birds. His brows knitted in concentration.  Then he finally said “Well…maybe not.  We could ask our two friends if they know the way.”

Daneath and I looked at each other, and I shrugged my shoulders.

“Why not.  What’ the worst that can happen?” Daneath exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air.

“You get punched in the codpiece?” I ventured.

“Better that than having your throat ripped out?” Daneath said looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

I winced.  “Point taken,”

“Well then,” Daneath said, putting his kit back into his pack.  “Let’s go ask them.”

We found the pair together in one of the smaller, and still intact buildings.  They were sitting on the floor, carefully picking through various objects made of metal.  As we approached, they started looking at us guardedly.  They slowly and deliberately started scooping together the metal objects on the floor, as if they were ready to cut and run with their loot.  But they didn’t, instead both sat there and waited for one of us to speak.

“Hey guys…wondered if you could help us with something,” Iesa started.

“No!” said Drik

“Yes?” questioned Drok.  They then looked at each other and sighed before both said.  “Maybe.  What?”

“This…what did you call them…Lasher.  The Prophesized One…do you know where he is?” Iesa asked as non-chalantly as possible.

The pair stopped their gathering and looked at Iesa with a look that might be best described as dismay.  They glanced at each other slowly and then back at Iesa before Drik responded.

“We not sure.  We never seen him.”

“But you know where he might be?” Iesa pressed.

Drik gulped, and Drok slowly replied, “He might be at camp.  He might be at big fort.  We not know.”

“Tell us about the camp,” Daneath jumped into the conversation.

“Camp close.  Had some workers for lasher.  Was mine, but mine empty now.” Drik said haltingly.

“And the fort?” Daneath asked.

“Farther.  Past swamp and near lake--” Drok said before being motioned to silence by Drik.

“And you know the way?” Daneath kept pushing.

“—We not want to go there.” Drik not wanting to look either man in the eye.

“Afraid.  I am not surprised,” Beepu said with a mocking tone.  It seemed to be lost on the goblins though.

“Want to go back to Skullport,” Drok said, ignoring the gnome.

“Well we need your help finding—” Iesa started before being cut off.

“—No.  Want to leave.” Drik said vehemently.

“Drik, Drok,” I said kneeling down in front of the pair.  “Are there more hobgoblins and worgs out there?”
Drik’s head snapped up and looked at me, while Drok looked away with a resigned look on his face.  “Yes.  Many.”

“If you help us, we can keep them away from you.  But if you head off now, you might be found by another lasher.”

Drik frowned and sighed.  Drok’s face contorted with disgust.  They looked at each other.  Finally, Drok shrugged and Drik spoke again.

“We will try to find way.”

I smiled and bowed my head in respect.  “Thank you both.”  The pair were surprised at the gesture, looking at each other in confusion.  “Where do we need to go?” I asked.

“Camp or Fort,” Drik asked looking around at all of us.

Daneath thought a moment, “You said it was close.  I would rather continue our original plan; picking them apart one by one.  So, the camp would be my vote.”

Iesa nodded, “I agree.  And I don’t like the sound of the hobgoblins having ‘workers.’  Sounds like slaves.”
Beepu scrunched his face up and said, “The tactics have worked for us so far.  No reason to alter that.  And the thought of slaves under the boots of the hobgoblins irritates me.

“I guess the camp then,” I said.

“To find camp, must find valley of bugs,” Drik said nodding as both goblins started to scoop up the metal things scattered before them into a pair of packs.

“Bugs?” I said a little confused and more than a little apprehensively.

“Big bugs,” Drok nodded and confirmed.

“We can handle bugs I believe,” Beepu yawned.

Drik and Drok looked at each other and gave the gnome a wicked smile.  “Sure.  You handle bugs.”

Iesa looked at the goblins, and then at Daneath.  “What am I missing?”

“I think we will only find out on the way,” Daneath replied.



We travelled late into the evening, leaving the ruins of the town far behind us.  I wished I could have done more for the people that had to run.  Granted I was the one that told them to run and flee their homes, but inside I knew what I told Drik and Drok, would have applied to the villagers; another group of hobgoblins would come.  The battle would be repeated, but without us to face them.  So, it was the right decision to convince them to flee while they could.

And thinking honestly; I would have run too.  I guess power did give me courage, and circumstances had forced me to stand in the thick of combat.  I could trade, or at least withstand blows with monsters and beings that acted like them.  But I also supposed that in the end it was I afraid of the wrong things.

Death didn’t scare me.  Was I jaded for having crossed beyond once and being forced back?  Perhaps, but the thought of dying didn’t bother me.    And for all the noblest intentions, five years ago I learned more about pain that I ever wanted to know.  Enough to almost break me.  Even my death hurt less.

I wasn’t afraid of those things.  I was afraid of losing control.  Not being able to do the things I wanted to do, not finding a way home, not being free.  I didn’t want shackles, real or imagined.  If I had a desperate wish, it was to be able to travel where and how I wanted.  To explore and be free.  Free from the guilt I felt; that I owed a debt that I couldn’t repay, if only in my own heart.  Free from the anger that fueled me to kill these hobgoblins. 

But once we camped, I took my leave from the others, skipping out on dinner and turned in early.  I stripped off my armor and lay on my bedroll, and for once sleep took me peacefully.

I woke a cool hand gently shaking my shoulder.  I breathed deeply, trying to chase the memory of the dream that was leaving me.  Only the fringes of emotions were left; satisfaction, peace and…something else now far away.  I opened my eyes and saw to my surprise it was Iesa waking me up, with Mo perched on his shoulder.  Usually it was Daneath that roused me, as we would trade favors armoring up.  He helped me don it at for last watch, and I he in the morning.  We had done this for a while as ‘a best practice’ to make sure the armor was hanging correctly.  His was more complex, but Daneath’s experience with armor helped me wear my own so I wouldn’t tire as easily, placing weight on my hips and not my shoulders where possible.

I sat up and stretched, and asked “Any issues?”

“No,” Iesa said softly.  “No worgs or anything tonight.”  He fed Mo a piece of dried fruit as he waited for me to get up.

“Good…where’s D?”

“He actually turned in a bit ago.  Said something about fatigue, since he didn’t sleep in like the rest of us did yesterday.”  He wasn’t looking at me directly, but instead down at the ground, as if distracted by something.

I nodded, “So, are you going to help me put my armor on?” I said as I stood up and fastened on the gambeson around me.

“Uh…sure,” he said leaning over to pick up the chain shirt I normally, wore and held it up by the shoulders.  I slipped my arms and kept them at chest level as he buckled the straps that crossed the left side.  I felt his hands gingerly touch my ribcage as he pulled the leather through the buckles.  As I waited, I realized that his hands were shivering.  No quivering as he struggled to pull the buckles closed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Huh?!  N-n-nothing!  Why?”

“Because you barely pulling on the straps,” and I reached down to pull on them myself when my hand touched his.  The instant it did he recoiled and stepped back.

I turned to look at Iesa and he looked…guilty.  I was sure to have a puzzled look on his face.

“I’m not a porcelain cup Iesa.  And it’s just armor.”

“I’m sorry…Its…its just the last time I touched you like that I…I was carrying your body back to Yartar.”

“I...I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.   Your blood was everywhere.  I remembered how warm you were when I first picked you up…and how cold you were when I finally put you on that altar.”

Iesa was quiet a moment looking at the embers of the campfire nearby.  And I waited sensing that there was more to this story.

“It was my fault I suppose.  If I told everyone about the map, we would have taken a different route.   And…and it wouldn’t have happened.  And its odd,” he said turning to look at me with sadness in his eyes. 

“You were the first person I saw killed that…meant something to me.  I wasn’t there when my mother died.  I found her well afterwards.  When the hyena leapt at you and you fell, it was...different.  Like I lost a…lost a sister I guess.”

“Are you sure?  Usually you don’t spy on your sister swimming in a spring.”

Iesa’s eyes looked like they were about to pop from their sockets, “What…how?”

“Gossamer smelled you and told me.”

“Smelled me?!?”

“Foggle would have spotted you.  But Gossamer’s sense of smell is very keen.”

“Well…I…um…that is—”

“—If I cared I would had said something.  I noticed that in Waterdeep that the bathes they were segregated.  They aren’t in the Great Gymnasium in Sigil.  So, the modesty here is…surprising.”

“Oh well…I…just wanted to make sure you were ok and…yeah I lingered a bit long.  You are a beautiful woman after all.  And—”

“And?”

“Do I really smell?”

I laughed, “Maybe to Goss.”

“Yeah you said though that if I wanted—”

“—'wanted to attract an elven woman?’” I said gently.  “I remember.  And the next time we are anywhere near a town, an elven tree or a goliath camp I’ll help you out.  Did you have a smell in mind?”

“Well…I always like the smell of that spice…cinnamon,”

I grimly chuckled, “If that’s what you want.”

He looked at me puzzled, “Something wrong,”

I looked down a second, smiled and looked at him again.  “Well, I know most like the smell, but it…it has a different meaning for me.  For anyone that grew up in the Hive.”

He looked at me uncertainly, “What do you mean?”

I gave him a wry lopsided grin, “A long time ago, the Blood War…um the war between what you call devils and demons broke into full swing in the poorest part of Sigil.  The tanar’ri…the demons, brought a thing…a weapon in the Hive.  But they couldn’t control it, and when they got chased out by the Lady, they left it behind.”

“What was it?”

“Kadyx. It haunts the Hive and kills people, but…”

“But what?”

“It has a strange sense of humor...often the kills are arranged in a strange way.  Once some warrior in full plate mail proclaimed, he would go slay it.  When they found him later, it was just his skeleton, standing in its armor.”

“That’s gruesome…and weird.  But I don’t get it.”

“Well, when it is near…there is a strong smell of cinnamon in the air.  People tend to run at that point in fear of their lives.”  I finished tightening the final buckle on my armor, and started to move to the fire to start my watch.  After a couple of steps, I turned around to face him again.

“So perhaps…it suits you.” I smiled.  After a long pause I spoke again “Thank you for the help.  Goodnight Iesa.”

“Myrai…I…I’m sorry,”

I nodded, “It’s…it’s alright.  We have more than enough guilt to share.”

He nodded in response, and muttered “Good night” and he made his way to his own tent. 

I moved to the center of camp where I saw Gossamer on a nearby branch

_That’s surprising.

--What?  That you aren’t the only one that tortures themselves with guilt?  You’re surprised?

Not about that…that I never asked.

--I’m not surprised.  You would rather tell a pithy story about Sigil, rather than discuss what you are really feeling.

That’s not fair!

--Fairness isn’t part of the bargain.  You aren’t even *playing* fair.  That bit about swimming for example.  Did you tell him about that time when you rescued him from near death, how your hands lingered on his body, ‘checking for wounds’

Wait a—

--You are just a bottle of pent up unresolved emotions.  Like your obsession with this ‘Prophesized One’

--His minions are slaughter--

About Iesa—

Hey now he’s like a --

--About Daneath—

I admire what he—

--About Beepu

There is a lot I can—

--Markell--

No.

--Elisna—

NO!

--Your fath—

STOP!_

I was screaming in my head as I covered my ears in a vain attempt to silence my own familiar.  I didn’t want to listen to this.  I fell to my knees, breathing heavily, shutting my eyes tightly closed.

_Please…stop…not now.

--I’m sorry, I’ll go back to watching for things around us.  But you DO need to deal with these things._

I knelt there by the fire, tears coming unbidden once again, and streaming down my cheeks.  It was then I realized the truth.

I didn’t want freedom.  I wanted to run.  Run and leave guilt and shame behind in a distant past, a distant place.  To leave it behind and never face them.  To run and hide from everyone.  From myself.

I didn’t want to run anymore.

But I didn’t have the strength to deal with it.

Not alone.

Still on my knees, I leaned forward and prayed:

_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Life is a part of death, not an ending but a beginning

Life is without deceit and has meaning,

May my prayer find its way to the Fugue,

And your gaze from the Crystal Spire of smoke find me,  

May you guide your servant on the next step of her journey,

Because Life’s challenge is finding the next waypost,

It is not a destination, but a Journey, 

Help me find the strength to heal the wounds within,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May you grant me peace in Life._



*Session notes:*

This was a brief moment, and there was a bit of discussion on where to go and what to do .   

However, convincing Drik and Drok to stay was an effort.  Partially because I think the DM actually hated his creations; or at least doing the voices.  We certainly didn’t NEED them.

Or did we?


----------



## Nthal

*Bugs?  What Bugs? - 02/29/2020*

_In a vain attempt to experience everything, sometimes we experience the absurd.  Its barmy but true.  

How we cope with it, is the interesting question._​

(Apologies;  Real Life interfered with my writing.  So, getting back on track.)


For the rest of the morning I was either glaring or Gossamer or watching the sky impatiently for dawn to come.  While we were able to scare Drik and Drok into coming with us because of the risk of more hobgoblins, there wasn’t any sight of them, or sound of their worgs.  All I heard was wind rustling the thick thigh high grasses that surrounded us and the muffled sounds of Beepu’s and the goblin’s snoring.  Well, mostly Beepu’s.

In fact, I was spending my time doing anything I could to avoid Gossamer’s observation of me.  I even tried to read the _Apocrypha_ to no success; the strange Celestial writings were as unclear as anything to me.  It was comical; because Beepu would probably run a green one if he knew that I could read in the darkness.  He had things to read, and no way to do it on watch.  I could but had nothing I could read, even though I wanted to.

As the morning’s darkness slowly turned to light, I thought about my tangled feelings I had for the others around me.  The guilt and debts heavy weight still clung to me.  But I had never considered my effect on the others around me.  That Iesa felt guilty; that Beepu felt indebted, and as for Daneath…I had no idea.

Because it came down to that, I never asked.  We never talked about my death; it was a forbidden topic.  I always thought it was because the others didn’t want to cause me discomfort.  But the truth was the episode bothered them as well.  How does one even ‘discuss’ it?  But at least I could discuss my death if I chose.  My other emotional knots?  That was another story.

Who would want to listen and help me sort out my feeling and my past?  Would Beepu care at all about my ‘sister?’    What did I expect others to say to me about Markell?  And all of them are looking for their fathers with eagerness.  Mine was special only in the sense that he didn’t want to be found at all…and that he was an immortal.  Only Iesa seemed to share the same perspective on finding his.  But that was based on abandoning his mother and he to the slums.  Mine at least tried to find a better place.  And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, let alone how I felt about it.

I realized that the answer was simple, and yet had no solution.  That a person who truly wanted to know and listen would be a person that really cared about me.  My dead mother might have.  I thought Markell was that person, and that turned out to be horribly wrong.  The only other one that might qualify that I knew, was in Sigil.  But being an immortal, the definition of ‘care’ was very different that my own.

The sun peaked above the horizon, illuminating the camp.  I slowly stood up, stretching out my stiff limbs.  Finding someone to dump my internal ball of emotional issues was going to require a different locale.  I turned and looked at our set of lean-tos and bedrolls and began the thankless job of waking everyone.

Fortunately, small talk and packing up the camp is all we did.  Iesa said nothing more about last night, and I didn’t mention it either.  The goblins and Beepu needled each other with a little less intensity, for which I was thankful for.   The reason for this, less so.

The goblins were in front with Iesa and I close behind, and Beepu and Daneath following.  Because the goblins were leading with a slower pace, so Beepu was having a much easier time with the journey.  But I noticed that we were slowly making less and less progress.  Watching the goblins, I saw that they were becoming animated with each other and halted with more and more frequency.   Iesa however didn’t seem to notice the subtle change.

“So, we still on the right path?”

Drik nodded, while Drok almost shook his head, and then agreed.  They started to mutter to each other in goblin.  I didn’t understand the language, but I could tell there was some type of disagreement.  Biting my lip, I decided to say nothing, and instead started to work the magic so I could understand them the next time they started to disagree.  It took a little while to cast, but it was read when we crested a hill so we could get a better set of bearings.

“So, boys, I see hills, a valley a ways off in some haze, grassland…which way?”  Iesa asked.  I was pretty sure he was being straight up with the question, as none of us had been here before, and unlike the march to Flint Rock, there was no map hiding in Iesa’s pack.

The goblins stood there a moment, and Drik motioned to Drok.  Drok sighed and came over to his brother.  Drik then scrambled on top of Drik until he was precariously balanced on Drok’s head.   He then looked around and confidently said, “The hills.”

_<”That not we said earlier.”> _ Drok muttered in goblin.

_<”It been a while.  Directions hazy.”> _Drik replied.

_<”Head hazy for directions.  Let me see.”>

<”No.  My turn to lead.  Not hazy.”>

<”Valley of Bugs not in hills.  In Valley gnomepoop.”>

<”You gnomepoop.  You bitchy gnome gnomepoop.”> _and he gestured towards Beepu.  Beepu, who clearly couldn’t understand them, was busy reading a parchment, while the pair bickered.

“So,” I tried to sound casual, “You been to the hobgoblin camps often.”

“Maybe” said Drik. “No.” said Drok.

“Then, how do you know where to go?” I asked blandly.  Inside I was afraid that they were guessing and stringing us along in fear. 

“Remember landmarks mostly,” Drik said.  “Not seen what I want to see.”

“I want to see.  I remember.” Drok said sullenly from under Drik.

“Drik, can you le—”

“No.  My day to see.  We agree I stand on him!”  Drik said passionately.   I rolled my eyes and closed them, trying not to lose my temper.  I then came up with an idea.

“Drik, come on down off of Drok,” I said smiling trying to sound reasonable.  Drik didn’t seem to notice the tension in my words, and shrugged and jumped down from Drok.  I then knelt down in front of Drok.  I gently spun him around while he looked in confusion and then lifted him up by his forearms, the over my head and sat him on my shoulders.

As soon as I did so Drik’s face turned red, “Not fair.  Drok short.”

_<”Short as bitchy gnome from up here.”>

<”Cheater!  Deal Breaker.  Lasher snot!”>

<”Wait.  Gnome bigger.  You smaller.”>

<”Take that back, halfling licker.”>

<”Why?  You not brave enough to ride ugly magic woman.”>_

“Ok you two,” trying to hold back my laughter at their argument, and the revelation that I was a scary ugly _Booyagh _to them.  “I’ll give you a look later Drik, if you think you are…brave enough.”  Drik’s mouth opened a second and then it closed with him nodding vigorously.  Seeing his agreement, I cocked my head to glance up at Drok.  “What do you see?”

Drok looked around and then spoke, “Hazy head, not see hazy valley.  If Valley has bugs, right place.  Wrong valley, keep looking.”

“Haze around valley?  Saw haze.  Not sure it valley.”  Drik said defensively.

“We’ll get closer, and I’ll let you look and then we’ll know.” I said.  I lifted Drok from my shoulders and set him down on the ground.  Looking at the others I said, “Shall we?”  Everyone nodded, and we started moving again.  Not long though Beepu tugged at my elbow.

“So, what was that about poop?” he asked puzzledly.

“Affectionate insults,” I said guardedly.  “I thought you didn’t speak goblin.”

“I do not.  But I do know what _Blergmak_ means.  That and I thought I heard the word for gnome; _Keygacht_.”

“Well…let’s just say that just like any pair of siblings, they like insulting each other.”

“I do not have siblings, so I do not see what the point is.”

“You don’t?” I looked at him a little surprised.  “Siblings, or people that consider themselves ones, tend to insult and argue,” I said a bit wistfully. 

“I know that.  I do not understand why that is a necessary part.”

I shrugged, “I guess…I really don’t know.  It just was...is.”

“Whatever.  They are probably just laughing at me,” and Beepu then trudged along in silence.

“So…were they?” Daneath asked as Beepu stomped ahead.

“No.  But he wouldn’t be laughing either.”
It was slow going, towards the patch of haze in the distance.  The terrain wasn’t difficult, but it was much farther than I had thought from the hilltop.  Every so often I would lift one of the goblins up on my shoulders.  While I did it for practical reasons, it was clear that the Goblins enjoyed their moment of height.   The others were just amused that I had become the center of the goblin’s world.

As it turned out that the haze was a light fog and it, was indeed surrounding the entrance to the valley.  As we approached, the goblins started to become more wary.  This wasn’t lost on anyone else either.  Iesa pulled out his bow, and Daneath readied his sword and shield.  We spread ourselves out a bit, keeping each other in sight as we tread through the fog.  As we entered the valley, everything started to change.  The breeze died down and was still.  The air was thick and damp now.  And then as we slowly made our way, I became afraid.

The sudden onslaught on our noses was overwhelming.  The charnel smell of rot and decay was everywhere.  My eyes stung and began to water and tear.  As I wiped them, I kicked something on the ground.  Looking down, I saw the source of the odors that now surrounded us.

It was a corpse, lying face down on the earth.  The armor was in shambles, with large holes in the plate.  The corpse itself was bloated; swelling up to fill the armor completely, and bulge grotesquely at the joints and neck.  The skins’ color was between a deathly white and light rotten green.  Flies and other insects swarmed around the bodies in thick clouds.  As I stared, I could hear noises in the distance; noises of large metal plates grinding together.

Looking beyond into the mist, I saw that there were more corpses.  Some in worse shape and some in better.  But I didn’t see anything living beyond us.  The field of corpses was descending downwards into a gully.  And as we descended, the fog grew lighter, allowing us to see farther and farther.

It appeared that two hosts of men battled here in recent weeks.  One group seemed to favor black tunics and yellow trim, the other was a more motley assortment of brown and red tunics.  Spears were broken and thrust into the ground.  In the distance, towards the middle of the battle and the valley, we could see a lone standard still planted in the ground, its colors hung limp in the still air.  

I covered my mouth and nose, trying to ward off the stench.  Then I heard the sounds of metal scraping nearby, giving me shivers up and down my back.  I turned and faced a horror from tales told by veterans from wars past. 

“Big Bugs,” Drik said quietly and pointed at the monstrosity.  It was vaguely beetle shaped, with a grey carapace and spikes projecting outwards from it.  The thing was massive, easily three paces wide and five long.  It lumbered slowly and ponderously on the floor of the valley, unaware or uncaring of our prescence.

I then watched it move towards a pile of bodies.  I saw it extend two grey metallic arms.  Both were covered in dried blood and gore, and I watched it lift a corpse up into the air.  The arms continued backwards over its body and then suddenly, it slammed the corpse’s chest onto a spike on its back.  The arms then withdrew, and the corpse twisted and hung there, like a macabre scarecrow to frighten the living.

“That’s…that’s not a bug,” I gulp as I looked that the thing in horror.  I knew was a blasphemy, and while one part of me recoiled, the other part of me wanted to destroy it.  I then heard another noise deeper within, and I saw another one.  And then another.  Three of the things were creeping among thousands of corpses that lay on the ground.  None of them in a rush, and none of them had noticed our presence.

“I’m not sure I care what those are.  We should leave,” Daneath said grimly, his eyes squinting looking over the battlefield. 

“Daneath is right.  I do not think we want to mess with these things,” Beepu agreed readily.

“Lashers know that many would be afraid,” Drik spoke softly.  “This battle old, yet the bugs never finish.”

“The lashers…you mean the hobgoblins control these things?” Iesa said looking at the goblins in surprise.

“No.  Booyahg not in charge.  They found secret.”

“What secret?” I asked, barely able to keep my eyes off of the one nearby, as I watched it impale another corpse on a spike on its back.

“They usually ignore living,” Drok said also whispering.  “Lashers leave them alone to keep back entrance safe.”

“Back entrance?” Daneath asked, tearing his eyes away.  “To their camp?”

Drik nodded, “Camp in little canyon with gate.  This valley leads to cave that opens above camp.  Only Booyagh and braver ones use cave.”

“How can we turn this down,” Iesa said sardonically.  “Short cut with corpse backed bugs.  This can’t possibly get any better.”

“I do not like it.  Trusting the word of the goblins is a bad idea,”

I turned my head to look at Beepu, and just next to him the pair had turned their heads to glare at the gnome.  I could only shake my head.  But then I asked the pair, “Is there anything else we should know?”

They both quickly nodded and Drik said, “Yes.  Do not touch the dead.”

“Well then, this isn’t going to look any better,” Daneath started.  “Unless someone says otherwise, we head in and find that cave.   Can you get us there?”  Both goblins nodded, and Beepu only shrugged his shoulders.

We then started to thread our way through the battlefield.  We moved cautiously; not running but not exactly sneaking either.  The monstrosities ignored us, occasionally picking up a corpse and adding it to the pile on its back.  The whole place gave me the shivers.  As we continued through the valley, I began to notice that there were other bodies as well that didn’t match the ones at the entrance.  The area felt off.  It was like there were many different battles that were fought, and then overlaid on top of each other.  I wondered if there was some other force at play here.

_Gos, any of the…things moving towards us?

--No.  They are just meandering._

I frowned and slowed down so I could talk to Beepu.  “Hey, doesn’t this seem strange?”  I whispered

“What?  Us following the ad—” he started in lecturing tone.

“—Drop that.  No, I mean the valley.  I don’t get why so many bodies, and so many different groups as a part of it.”

“Oh.  Well, I agree it is strange, but the High Moors are a strange place.  It wasn’t always like this.”

“How so?”

“Well, this place is a product of the Crown wars, the Fifth one as I recall.    Over ten thousand years ago it was a forest, probably like the Misty Woods.  In that war, the kingdom of Miyeritar was destroyed by the Vyshaantar’s Empires superior magics.  Supposedly, that event led to the Miyertar becoming drow.”

“Supposedly?”

“I am not an expert on elven history, and my memory may not be accurate.  However, the magic storms laid waste to the land, and in some cases warped it.  So, this valley being cursed may not be a surprise.”

“I’m not sure I like that much better.”

“Honestly I agree.  In fact, I…” and Beepu stopped a moment, his eyes brows furrowing in a mixture of concentration and confusion.  Then his eyes bulged in horror and he shouted at Iesa.

“Stop Mo!”

“What?” Iesa said, and he like the rest of us started to look around wildly.  Beepu thrust his finger in the direction behind us.  Perhaps ten paces away was that lone banner, hanging limply in the still air, its colors faded and worn from the elements.  Leaning on it was a corpse, its desiccated hands still wrapped around the pole, while another hand clutched at a spear that had passed through the warrior, propping the corpse as it bend slightly backwards, the shaft of the spear somehow holding up the weight of the body.  Just another deader I thought, until…

“Oh sodding, Baator no!” I said aloud.  Mo was on the shoulder of the body and was pulling something shiny around the neck.  Iesa turned and looked where I was, and I heard him mutter something quietly before calling out.

“Mo!  Leave it.  Come here!”

Mo looked up at Iesa and made a sound like ‘ook.’  He started to come back to us, when suddenly it ran up the corpse again, and tugged at the neck.  Something broke free, and it now was held in Mo’s paws, much to his glee.

I could feel a sudden chill on the field, and as I looked around, I saw one of the things, drop a corpse from its claw like hands as it turned towards us.  It then started to move forward, with a hideous sound as it clanked and clinked as the grey metal plates scraped past each other.  The thing undulated as it moved.  And it started to move fast.

“We need to bolt!” I said, backing away.  We were probably in the middle of the valley, and we could barely see in the haze, the rock wall the bordered the far side.  Fortunately, there was no massive ‘bug’ in between us and that rock.  But there wasn’t an obvious clear path either.

“Iesa we need to move!” Daneath said and the warrior began to run, heading toward the rock, following Drik and Drok who despite their small stature, were swift enough to make Daneath work to keep up with them.  

“Once I get Mo!  MO COME HERE!!” Iesa shouted, and Mo started towards him, slowly.  Then he turned and saw the lumbering monster starting to bear down towards him.  Was he a target?  I didn’t know, but nor did Mo, who froze in fear.

“MO!” Iesa bellowed, trying to get his pal’s attention.  The bug thing was building speed.  I grabbed Iesa by the arm and pulled him, trying to get him to move.

“We need to run.  NOW!” I shouted.  At that point there was a golden flash that blazed in front of the huge metal bug.  And with that, Mo took to the air, as Foggle grasped the monkey in its talons.

Iesa blinked a moment, and started to stumble forward, and soon he was in a full sprint to the rock wall as well, easily leaving me behind, and passing Daneath.   I looked behind me to see that another one had also turned and was giving chase as well.  And then my heart sank.

While Daneath, Drik and Drok and I were about the same speed, and Iesa of course much faster, Beepu was still not swift and was falling paces behind us quickly, and the monster was gaining speed even faster.  As they closed, I could feel the malevolence in them.  I realized that while they were covered in metal, they were powered by the dark energy that sustained the undead. 

I wanted to stand my ground and destroy them.  That would have been the brave thing to do.  And I knew it was a fast way to become a deader myself and impaled on a spike on its back.  But with Beepu falling behind I didn’t know what I could do to help him move faster or slow down the bug.

Fortunately, Beepu had his own ideas, and quickly I saw behind him that a large fog bank appeared just behind him, enveloping the undead things.  I could hear them slow a little bit in terms of the clanking and grinding sounds they made.  Beepu ran as fast as he was able, not even looking to see if the fog delayed his pursuers.  Ahead of him, Foggle carried Mo who was shivering in the talons of the mechanical owl.

I just ran.  My heart pounded and my lungs burned.  Ahead of me, I saw the goblins and Daneath heading toward the left and then I saw it, a narrow cave entrance.  I turned and ran towards it, and then glanced behind me to see if we were going to make it.

Beepu, was still many paces behind, with only the wall of fog visible behind him.  Suddenly, one of the monstrosities burst out of the fog, and was making a beeline for Beepu.  Moments later the second one emerged, it too barreling down on us.

I was getting tired; my legs ached, and I was stumbling more.  Glancing behind me I gulped, as I looked at our pursuers.  Despite their bulk, they were gaining on Beepu and myself rapidly.  I pushed myself harder; I wasn’t going to end up on a spike on an undead thing in the middle of prime.  I was not going to die again.

The entrance was in reach, inside I saw the rest stand just inside the entrance to the cave.  Daneath and Iesa had both unslung their bows letting arrows fly.  I watched them streak by me, and I heard the metal tips ricochet off the metal plates.  A moment later I had crossed the threshold of the cave, and I turned around, ready to let loose a spell to save the gnome from death.

Beepu ran, with the creatures close behind him.  His face was red from the exertion, and his legs a quick blur as he ran for all of his worth.  The metal creature was closing fast on the gnome.

He wasn’t going to make it.

I wracked my head for an idea, as the brothers kept up their barrage of arrows, even though they seemed to have no effect.  Drik and Drok had pulled out their crossbows and also fired quarrels, trying to slow down the monsters in any way they could.   I felt helpless; none of my blasts, my miasma, or anything could quickly cast could slow them down.  I had no way to create an obstacle—or did I?

I reached out with a twisting of light and dark strands just behind Beepu.  I focused on the earth itself, but instead of pushing out the dirt to make a hole, I simply churned it making it challenging to cross, lifting buried stones and loosening the earth, right in front of the metal thing.  It ran over the dirt and it immediately slowed down.  Its long form unable to quickly traverse the impacted area, its speed was cut in half.

It was just enough; Beepu surged forward and entered the cave.  He paused a moment, to look behind him, and together we realized that it was now speeding up and was going to ram the cave at full speed. 

We stumbled over each other to run deeper into the cave; Drik and Drok led the way, while I grabbed the arms of Iesa and Daneath and pulled them deeper into the darkness, having no time to create a source of light for the humans.  We barely got two paces, when with a thundering sound, it crashed into the rock around the cave.  Stone and dust fell from the ceiling, and we all stumbled forward, struggling to keep our balance.  I failed to and I landed flat on my stomach, and was quickly covered by dust, and rock.  I lifted my head and looked back at the entrance and saw the ‘bug’ back up and again slam itself against the stone.

I crawled deeper in, finally siting and turning to face the entrance with the others.  After a dozen times, the bug went still.  Then it slowly backed up and turned away, returning to the grisly battlefield.  I sat there, still trying to catch my breath when I heard Mo utter a small moping sound.  I turned to look at Iesa, and I watched Mo slink up Iesa’s shoulder and back into is pack.  Iesa sighed and looked at his hand.  There, a brass chain dangled from his fingers, ending in a cheap locket.  The clasp that held it shut was open, and inside I could see a small dried red flower. 

“All…of…that…for…a…flower?” Beepu said between breaths.

“Tells me…one thing,” Daneath said breathing a bit easier.

“What’s that?” Iesa asked giving Daneath a suspicious look.

“Mo thinks you smell too.”

Iesa’s jaw dropped, dumbfounded.  And with that Drik and Drok collapsed on the floor in fits of hysteria.  Daneath just stood there with a grin on his face.  Beepu looked at the goblins and then Iesa.  After a moment, he too spat and started to laugh as well.

Iesa looked at me helplessly, like I was the last bastion of reason, or defender of his honor.

“Myr?” he said in a pleading voice.

I leaned back against the wall, with an exasperated expression.  Closing my eyes for a moment, I smiled.  I then waved my hand and suddenly the smell of cinnamon and roses wafted on the air from Iesa.  He looked at me puzzled at first and then his nose caught the fresh smells that now clung onto him.

“Oh. come ON!”

*Session Notes:*

So…we never really understood the setup of the battle here.  Based on the map, Loudwater and Secomber are the two closest towns, but Secomber didn’t have a large standing force.  Many things didn’t make sense, but that only after I was reading my notes.  Still, Mo almost getting us killed was humorous.

Almost.


----------



## Nthal

*Six Bridges, Four Pillars, Three mistakes, and One ladder. - 03/08/2020*

_The first time I met someone from the ‘God Void’ he was about to put a bunch of hardheads in the deadbook because he thought he was in the Abyss.  Turns out for folks from Krynn, anything off plane was considered the Abyss, and considering how dangerous some places can be, it wasn’t exactly unwarranted. 

But, he did learn from that mistake, made good and made an excellent bouncer for a bar.  The lesson to take away here, is that adjusting to reality is how your survive._​
As the laughter died down, I started to look around at the tunnel.  It was apparent that it was worked with tools, but parts of it appeared to be a natural tear in the rock.  The floor that I sat on was only partially smoothed out, having rough uneven footing.  As my eyes followed up the walls, they too were not clean and smooth.  But there was no timber holding up the ceiling like in the quarry I had been in. 

“This was built.  Why?” I asked, looking at the goblins.

Drik shrugged.  “Was always this way.  _Booyagh, _Wanted another path.  Most never used it.” 

Drok nodded.  “We forced here once.  Worgs hated tunnel.  _Booyagh_ angry.

“Anything else?” Iesa asked.

“Simple, No branches.  Nothing here but rock,” Drik said shrugging again.

“That makes it easier,” Iesa said with a look on his face that made it clear that he had an idea.

“Well what is it?”  Daneath asked looking at his brother.

“I want to investigate.  Can you make me invisible Beepu?”

“I can, but it will not last forever,” the gnome said looking at Iesa critically.  “Foggle is adequate for this.”

Iesa shook his head.  “No, your descriptions of what Foggle sees isn’t as good as my own eyes.”

“I cannot argue with that I suppose.  What are you thinking?” Beepu asked critically.

“I think that taking them before it gets dark, while we can see,” Iesa started.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Daneath nodded with approval.  “At least the part about scouting.  We haven’t seen or heard any worgs since the village.  And how many are left here.”

“There will be slaves,”  Drik said sadly. 

“Few here last time.  Might be more now.” Drok added.

“Well, we get can some rest then if they do not patrol the tunnel,” Beepu observed.

“Well, let’s have Gossamer and Foggle watch the tunnel entrances, while we wait for Iesa to return.” I suggested.  “I’m going to get some rest now unless you need me.”

“I should be fine.” Iesa said.

“Well, this will take a moment,” and Beepu started to cast his spell.

I didn’t watch.  I just turned myself and leaned against the wall and tried to relax.  It was a little absurd; trying to relax and rest so close to a bunch of hobgoblins.  But after running for my life moments ago, and the long hike, I have learned that If needed I can nap anywhere.  A quick dreamless slumber.

My head jerked up and my eyes fluttered open at the light touch of a hand on my shoulder.  I was looking at Beepu and I simply nodded and rubbed my eyes.   Standing and yawning, I stretched my arms overhead and looked around.  Everything seemed lighter, and looking towards the entrance to the cave, I could see no sunlight streaming in.  Smirking I knew it meant it was near nightfall.  The reversal of light and darkness for me was still amusing.  Daneath and Iesa were talking quietly, while the goblin pair were busy checking their swords, and swapping around the limited number of quarrels for their crossbows.  Beepu was pacing, his brows furrowed, and his eyes closed as he whispered to himself.

I walked over to the brothers to see what they had planned.

“Morning, princess,” Iesa smiled at me.

“If I’m a princess, I demand an upgrade of my accommodations.  Otherwise, I’ll send for the headsman,” and I motioned my head towards Daneath.

"Hmm…clearly I’m mistaken,” Iesa said with a mock apology.

“It’s obvious you idiot; princesses don’t snore and drool like that,” Daneath dead panned.

“Hey wait a---” I started

“—Anyway,” Iesa said cutting me off, “What you missed was the plan.  Basically, there pillars of rock with bridges in between all over the canyon.   The gate has a couple of guards, as does a pair of pillars above the slave pen, where there are sentries.”

“Where are the—” I started again.

“—getting there.  You are pushy after a nap.  Anyway I saw most of them enter a cave directly across the canyon, from where we will be entering.  One thing is that according to Drik—”

“It was Drok,” Daneath said.

“You sure?” Iesa said confused.

“Yes.  Now get on with it.” Daneath replied impatiently.

“Right, according to Drok, they have a big horned thing.  Like a bugbear, but not one.”

“I said that!” one of the goblins.

“I know, Drok.”

“No.  That Drok.  I Drik,” said the annoyed goblin.

“Daneath, you really should learn to tell them apart,” I said.

“No point!  Both are goblins,” Beepu muttered, still focusing inwards.

“True.  We taller,” Drik chimed in.

“Now wait a—” Beepu’s eyes snapped open and his face was red in anger and he was about to launch into a tirade when I held up my hands and interrupted.

“--Alright, alright!  We don’t need to make it easier for the hobgoblins.  Sounds like a minotaur.”

Daneath and Iesa straightened up in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t.  But I knew one who was hipped in Sigil.  Was a sailor and his ship fell through a portal into the Ditch.  After everyone convinced him that he wasn’t in the Abyss he was hired as a bouncer foor a bar called _The Mazes._   Cool cutter, as long as he kept his temper.  Basically kinda looked like a bugbear in size with a bull’s head.  Right…Drik and Drok?” I quickly said.

Both the goblins nodded.

“So what do we do about him?” I asked.

“Beepu says he can collapse the cave and trap them all inside,” Iesa said.

“Really?” I said looking at Beepu in surprise.  “You can do that?”

“Of course I can.  I am sure of this.” Beepu said. 

“Ok, how do we run this?”

Daneath smiled a moment.  “Iesa is going to sneak in and take care of the guards on the pillar over the prisoners.  Beepu will turn both he and you invisible. Then he will collapse the cave, and I will charge like a madman to the gates, while you pick them off.”

I thought a moment. “So that way we keep the prisoners safe.”

“Exactly,” Daneath said proudly.

“There were two posts though by the prisoners.  What if the other group sees or hears the group being taken on?”

“I’m sure I can handle that,” Iesa said smugly.

“What if I made sure they never heard you?” I offered.

“Go on,” Iesa said with curiosity.

“I can make one spot absolutely silent.  That one group can’t yell for help.  I just need a little time to cast it, before I get turned invisible.”

“You have that as a ritual?  That is indeed useful. You will need to show me the formula later,” Beepu said with an almost greedy tone.

“Sure, when we get back to somewhere civilized.  You sure you can collapse the cave?” I pressed.

“Yes, yes, yes.  I am very certain.” Beepu waved his hand nonchalantly at the question, unconcerned.

“Fine, and Drik and Drok?”

The two goblins smiled wickedly, “We show hobgoblins they clumsy,” Drik said.

“Very clumsy,” Drok agreed.
We made our way through the tunnel towards the far side.  It wasn’t long before we reached the end of it, and beyond I saw the night sky and the far wall of the canyon

Canyon was really overstating it; big crevice in the rock was more like it.  Ahead a rope bridge with wooden planks let to a central pillar, and another one led beyond to another cliffside.   On the cliff to the left a ledge lead to another bridge crossing to a lower pillar of rock, and that rock too had a bridge to a second pillar of rock.  Both had four hobgoblins, looking down at a set of wooden cages.  Following the far wall to the right, it passed by a cave, and another bridge leading back towards the rock on our side but stopping at another pillar.  Yet another bridge led to another smaller cave, while a ladder led down to the floor of the canyon.  Finally, at the far edge, was a palisade of wood, with a gate.  There two hobgoblins stood guard, looking away.

I nodded to myself thinking that this could work, then I frowned.  I turned to Drik and whispered: “Where are the _Booyaghs?_”

“Other cave,” he whispered back, pointing at the wall on the right side.

“Did you see him Iesa?” I turned to the rogue with concern.

He shook his head, “No.  didn’t have the time and I didn’t want to risk being found.”

“How many are there?” I turned back to Drik and Drok.

“One,” said Drik.

“Maybe,” said Drok.

“Great,” I muttered aloud.  “Beepu, lets get our friends airborne to keep an on things, once the fighting starts.”

“A good idea.  I do not want to be surprised by reinforcements.” He nodded.

_Gos, after things start, take to the air and keep an eye out for the Booyagh.

--Sure I ca…a what?

A magic caster.  Any kind.

--Uh…sure.  How do I know it won’t target me?

Hopefully because you aren’t attacking it, and we’ll be more problematic.

--I guess I can count on you to be a bigger pest.

Thanks a lot.

--Any time._

I shake my head and look at the rest.  “Ok, I’m starting.  When I signal, I will be halfway through, so you should make your way there then.  I can’t move it, or easily recast it though.”

“Got it,” Iesa said.  “Kiss for good luck?”

I looked at him quizzically at the sudden boldness, “I…better to ask your brother for one,” I said trying to focus on the moment.

“I’m more of a hugger,” Daneath deadpanned.

“Hah, hah,” Iesa said in a wounded tone.  But I wasn’t sure if it was really in jest.

I started to whisper quietly looking at the far platform on the left.  I started to move my hands, pulling threads from the strand and weaving a pattern, anchoring it to the top of the pillar where four of the hobgoblins guarded the prisoners.  Slowly I pulled on threads from light and dark strands.  Slow enough that I would leave myself enough energy to pull sudden bursts if needed.

The others watched me in silence, waiting.  Eventually I looked at Iesa and nodded.  He quickly turned, and started across the wooden boards quietly, lightly stepping on the slats in an effort to make no noise.

I could feel the energy begin to bind, and the threads tying themselves into knots as they started to grip and catch each other.  I watched as Iesa made his way quietly across the second bridge, reaching the cliffside path.  Once he was there, I started to pull the threads tightly.  They began to bind and knot and in my mind a sphere took shape.

It seemed to go on forever, but finally I could feel the magic beginning to take hold in the weave.  Looking across the canyon, I saw that Iesa was ready, and with a final whisper I pulled on all the threads at one, breaking them from the weave itself, creating a field that, as long as I focused on it, would stay sustained.

The instant I stopped whispering, Beepu’s hands went into motion, and quickly I watched our bodies fade from view, like shadows did for me when darkness finally reached across the landscape. 

“Done.  Let us go,” I heard Beepu’s voice say, and we both tried to make our way across the rope bridge.  The posts and the wood of the bridge didn’t seem new, with the boards showing their age with grey weathering.  But the ropes themselves seemed newer, with little signs of fraying.  The boards barely creaked as we made our way across to the pillar.  Being the central one in the cluster, it would give us a great view of the entire canyon, and it would allow us to react as needed.

Daneath stayed behind in the cave, not wanting the sounds of his armor to attract attention until it was time.  Drik and Drok however, crossed with us, their small bodies making little sounds as they crossed to the pillar.  Once there, they started to scuttle down the rock sides to the ground below.  I looked across towards where I saw Iesa making his way toward the first set of guards.

But his time was running out, as the guards noticed the change in the noises around them.  They started to look around confused.  I could see their mouths open and one looked like he was trying to bellow his loudest shout.  The four stood there in confusion, when Iesa struck.

He was quick, Laying down two quickly to the ground.  The two others didn’t even notice, oblivious to the threat that stalked them in the silence that surrounded them.  By the time they did notice, they too were brought down by Iesa’s blades.  I smiled to myself.

_So far so good.

--Don’t get cocky

Oh please, as if…what the?_

There is a belief in Sigil that things happen in sets, the most common is the “Rule of Threes.”  Three things happen in the multiverse in close proximity to something important.  And so, the Rule of Three struck today. 

Three mistakes.

I watched in confusion as Iesa stopped on his platform and pulled out his bow and notched an arrow.  I was about to send him a magical message, when I realized that Iesa would be unable to hear it.  I wanted to tap Beepu to point it out, but I wasn’t sure where Beepu was on the pillar we shared.  I then heard the not the twang of the bow, but just the whistling of the arrow sail past the second group of guards, striking the canyon wall beyond. 

The first mistake.

The hobgoblins looked around in confusion at the noise, and quickly turned and saw Iesa.  They then shouted and charged at him, quickly closing the gap.  I watched Iesa react in surprise, switching his bow for his rapier.

“What in the hells is he doing?!” Daneath huffed as he ran past my hidden form, running across the bridge to the far wall.  It was the same thought I had, and all I could do is whisper aloud; “I guess it’s your turn Beepu.”

“Quite right,” I heard his voice say, and then light footsteps move away.  I then could feel a surge and watched him reappear on the far side of the bridge gesturing towards the cave.   I could hear the noise of earth and stone churn, and I watched as dust plumes billowed from its mouth.  Insides I heard yells, shouts and a couple of screams.  I couldn’t see Beepu well, but I imagined him smiling, which almost put a smile on my face until I realized something. 

The plan was for Beepu to cause a cave-in, blocking the cave.  But other than the clouds of dust, there was no such blockage.  Daneath had crossed the bridge and passed by Beepu running back towards me.  From out of the cave came exactly what I predicted, a very dusty and very angry minotaur.  He emerged and bellowed a hideous roar and charged straight into Daneath.  Daneath, nearly was knocked over by the blow, and started to defend himself.  But this wasn’t the plan!  He was supposed to help Iesa, while the cave was blocked.  But the cave was anything but, and more hobgoblins emerged from the rubble strewn floor.

“What happened?!?” I yelled at Beepu.  “Why isn’t it blocked?”

“I could not alignt the spell to erupt from the ceiling and cause additional rock to fall.  I was certain that was going to work!” he replied.  He started to roll up his sleeves ready to do more work.

The second mistake.

Iesa was pinned down, with four very angry hobgoblins attacking him.  Daneath was holding his own against the minotaur, who’s bulk prevented the other hobgoblins from getting closer.   But I saw one, running along the cliff face path, and towards the other bridge.

I didn’t know what to do.  With only a moment to decide I threw dark strands towards the same cave that Beepu had just damaged.  And with a quick pull I snapped it, and from within I could hear the shattering of bone and screams from within.  I could even see the minotaur spit blood, and the hobgoblin behind him fall to his knees and then face down, no longer moving.  I smiled and felt the rush of excitement as I felt their lives fade away.

My eye then was drawn to who I thought was the lone coward.  I expected him to run across the bridge, descend the ladder, and head towards the gate.  Instead he ran across the second bridge shouting something in goblin.  He didn’t slow at all and charged into the other cave.

“We’d better help Daneath,” I yelled, now fully visible.   I ran across the bridge, pulling on dark strands and summoning a miasma onto the minotaur and a hobgoblin behind him.  Beepu ran close behind me and leveled a bolt of fire at one of Iesa’s opponents, knocking him down.  Iesa was hard pressed, and I watched with horror as I saw a hobgoblin make a savage cut across Iesa’ midsection, and blood spray everywhere.  Two more remained on him, and he looked to be in bad shape.

_--You have a problem!

What do you--_

“--How DARE you!” I heard, and I turned to see a hobgoblin in leathers standing at the entrance of the other cave.  He made a quick slashing movement with his hand and I watched a bright pea sized red light leave his hand and streaked straight towards, Daneath, Beepu and I.  My eyes widened in horror as the pea, blossomed into a flower of fire and heat in front of me.

The third mistake.

My mistake.

The flames engulfed us.  I have had burns before. Several times I had felt the pain of hot metal searing my skin until it smoked and charred.  But only a part of me.  Now my entire body screamed in pain as the fireball seared my flesh.  The smell of burnt hair, leather and skin filled the air as the flames faded away.  I felt nauseous and it took everything I had, not to sink to my knees.    I was shaking my head, trying to clear it and focus, when I felt another sharp pain in my thigh. 

I screamed and looking down I saw the cause.  A quarrel was now lodged in my leg, and blood was streaming down my leather breeches.  I turned to find the source, and I watched as Iesa was retreating along the cliff face, to join his brother.  In the meantime, the hobgoblins had drawn crossbows and now were firing them at us, and I was the lucky recipient of the first volley.

“This is bad,” Beepu shouted, throwing another bolt of fire towards the pair with the crossbows.  The blast sailed between them and struck the rock wall some distance behind them.

“Start with hitting them,’ I grimaced in pain and I threw a pair of bolts towards them, striking each, but weakly.  They didn’t fall, and I was unsure if they were even seriously hurt.  I saw that Iesa had placed himself on the bridge and was able to stab the minotaur who still was trying to cleave through Daneath’s shield with a greataxe.  I noticed that he too was singed, and its course hide was smoking from the fiery blast.  Daneath was still swinging, but his blows against his foe seemed ineffective.  But worse I saw more hobgoblins running from the gate and start to climb up the ladder.  It was only a matter of time before we would be overrun. 

And then to make this worse, I watched the _Booyagh_ take to the air and fly.  He simply laughed at us, and our plight.  He started to make preparations to cast another spell at us.

I looked above at the stars and prayed.  This wasn’t going well at all.  It sounded like a good plan.  A great plan.  A plan that was falling apart all because of errors.  Daneath would be soon overrun, all four of us were badly hurt, and I had no idea what spell the _Booyagh_ was about to unleash upon us.

_Please Kelemvor.  Not now.  Not yet.  We need—_

“CLUMSY!” was the word I heard, from the top of a goblin’s lungs.  Looking across at the other pillar, I saw Drik and Drok push the ladder that led up to it, backwards.  There were four hobgoblins on it who screamed, as the ladder fell backwards back onto the canyon floor.

I smiled; and there it was; The Fourth Rule.  The exception.  Three mistakes, and one perfectly timed event.

“Well, who knew.  That is a help.” Beepu said and he started another spell and from behind the minotaur a familiar fog bank appeared, covering the hobgoblins and minotaur, but keeping Daneath and Iesa’s vision clear.  Iesa had moved onto the bridge, and now was firing arrows at the hobgoblins firing crossbows at us, bringing one down.

I quickly pulled on some strands and the rock in front of Daneath twisted and churned, into an uneven surface.  Daneath moved swung at the Minotaur, and backed up onto the bridge.  The minotaur was moving slowly, trying to find its footing, swinging at Daneath wildly, its axe throwing it offbalance.

That was all Daneath needed, and he quickly riposted, thrusting his sword deep into the gut of the Minotaur.  It bellowed in pain, dropping its axe and clutched its midsection, and finally stumbling and falling off the path to the canyon floor below.

“Let me confuse them a bit,” Beepu said, and I watched right behind the churned earth, now stood a pile of rubble and stone.  I was confused how Beepu did it at first, when I realized it wasn’t real; it had to be an illusion.  But with the fog blocking the sight of the hobgoblins on the cliff path…how would they know?

Iesa’s bow twanged again, and the last of the crossbow men fell on the other pillar.  Meanwhile the _Booyagh_ in the air tried to hit our dirty pair, Drik and Drok with a bolt of fire but it somehow missed.  They fired their crossbows at the flying hobgoblin, only scratching him. But then they ran across the bridge, and into the fog.  The hobgoblin shouted in anger, unable to target the pair.  He then flew over us and towards the pillars that overlooked the prisoners.

“Beepu, can you get him?” I yelled pointing at the flying figure.

“I can, why can you not bring him down?”  Beepu replied flustered.

“So, I can kill the others on the path!  Drop the fog.” 

“Drop the…Oh I see.  Fine!” and he waved his hand and the fog started to disappear from sight.  Soon I could see the hobgoblins that remained from the cave and several more that had climbed the ladder before Drik and Drok dropped it.  They stood dumfounded at the “new” rock wall that was in front of them and were unsure on how to proceed.  I quickly pulled and snapped the strand and another ear shattering explosion rocked the path, and all but one hobgoblin fell over.  The exhilaration returned and grew as I watched Drik and Drok race across shouting “CLUMSY” and quickly bringing down the remaining hobgoblin on the path.

“Take that!” Beepu threw a bolt of fire and it hit the _Booyagh _square in the chest.

“Your feeble magic means nothing to me!” the hobgoblin retorted, and he returned a blast in kind, narrowly missing Beepu, who quickly scrambled behind a post holding up a bridge.

“How about this then?” and I turned to see Iesa had drawn the dagger that the Kershak had wanted so badly.  Its blade now dripped with some foul concoction, and I watched Iesa hurl it straight at the surprised hobgoblin.  The blade spun in the air, and struck the flying _Booyagh_ in the right breast, causing him to spit blood. 

The _Booyagh_ sneered and pulled the dagger out with a look of contempt at Iesa.  Then suddenly his face contorted in pain, causing him to drop the dagger, which skittered across the rocks.  And then he fell from the air, his spell no longer sustaining him.  He landed face first onto the pillar with a sickening crunch of bone on rock.

We heard commotions by the gate, but our focus was now on the figure who lay on the rock.  Somehow, he managed to stagger to his feet, and looked at us in fury.

“The Prophesized One will win!” and with a quick gesture with his hands, the hobgoblin disappeared from sight.

“What the?  Where is he?” Daneath shouted.

“He’s invisible!  Beepu...do something!”  Iesa yelled.

“I have to see him to do something you dolt,” Beepu retorted angrily.

“Wait, can’t you cast something at an area?” I looked at Beepu with an idea in my mind.

“Of course.   Where do you propose?”

I held up my hand.

_Gos?  Can you see him?

--Who? The Hobgoblin running on the path?   Of course.  Why can’t y—

No!  is he heading to a bridge?

--Yes, he’s about to cross the one nearest the gate, and looks to be heading to his cave.

Fly over him and tell me when he gets there._

I grabbed the gnome by the shoulders and pulled him to the far side of the pillar. “Beepu, cast whatever you have at that bridge, when Gossamer is right above it.  Don’t argue.”

“Alright.  Fine,” he said with a confused tone, and he readied a spell and glanced between the bridge and me.

_--He’s there!_

“Now!”

Beepu simply threw some sand in the air.  Suddenly the figure of the hobgoblin appeared and fell down unconscious on the bridge.  Then his momentum carried him, and he rolled off the edge on to the canyon floor below. 

However, Gossamer also quickly fell from the air plopping on the bridge as well.  Seeing this, I reached down and pulled the crossbow quarrel from my leg with a yelp.  I then ran across the bridges to reach my familiar.

But Drik and Drok were faster and reached the fallen tressym before I could limp there.  They gently picked him up, and with great care, trotted over and gingerly handed his body to me.

I pressed my hand to his chest and could feel the warmth and the beat of his heart.  Any emotion or passion I felt about the death of the hobgoblins was gone now, replaced by the feeling of immense relief knowing that my familiar still lived.  I stood there, cuddling the sleeping cat in my arms, still bleeding from the puncture wound left by the crossbow as the others approached me.

“How did you—” Daneath started, very confused.

“Ah.  It’s a tressym ability.  They can see invisible things.”  Beepu said matter of factly.

“Really?  Anything hidden?” Iesa asked surprised.

“No.  Invisible.  Not hidden.  So, if you hid in a bush, he might not see you.” Beepu responded.

“Probably would smell him,” Drik said wisely.

“Very likely,” Drok agreed.

“What the…oh come on!” Iesa said exasperated.

I just stood there, smiling, eyes closed, silently holding Gossamer tight, not wanting to wake him from Beepu’s enforced slumber.  The tears in my eyes filled with the same warmth that I had in my heart.  And at that moment, nothing else mattered in the world. 

Not the pain in my leg.

Not the Prophesied One.

Not even Sigil.   



*Session notes:*

So the mistakes were real;  Iesa thought the silence was bigger and followed him.  I did really choose the bad target, but Beepu’s is more interesting.

What you read here, is basically me in character the equivalent of ‘did you ask the DM about that?’   

He didn’t so when he did try to collapse the cave, it led to I think an hour derailment, as we discussed the rules here and the basic concept that in 5e, spells only do what they are described to do.  Erupting Earth wasn’t going to cause a cave in.  The DM listen to the plan, and even noted my characters question “are you sure you can do that” and was surprised that the player didn’t ask.

For my part I assumed that the player had already talked to the DM based on the answer, so I was partially surprised at the events that occurred.

And it did lead to a memorable battle as you can see.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Good fight. Nice to see Drik and Drok coming to the rescue!


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Good fight. Nice to see Drik and Drok coming to the rescue!



They were favorites of the players. Less so the DM as he hated doing the voice for them.

Might be why they were a favorite though.


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

i am loving the story so far, it is super well written and is full of surprises and twists. it is really great.


----------



## Nthal

Kieth Shadow Cloak said:


> i am loving the story so far, it is super well written and is full of surprises and twists. it is really great.




Thanks a lot!  I appreciate it!


----------



## Nthal

*A reprieve and scales in the balance. - 3/20/2020

NOW with Bonus Art!*


_Its nice when you can enjoy a hard-earned victory.  I just would appreciate a warm bed and a whisky as a reward.  But sometimes, good company will do just fine._​


I gently shook Gossamer and he turned to look at me blearily eyed and yawned.  He said nothing, and only briefly looked at Beepu with disapproval.  He simply took back into the air as if nothing had happened.  Smirking I knew I was going to hear his opinion on things later.  My smirk turned into a grimace as I shifted, as I once again felt the pain from the quarrel wound.  Turning to look at all of us, we all were in not great shape; everyone sported their own blood on their clothes, and even more of the hobgoblins’.

“We’d better make sure that’s all of them,” Daneath started.  “I swore that there were more by the gate.”

“There…were,”  Beepu said distantly with a vacant look on his own eyes, as he looked through Foggles’  “The gate is open now, and I believe some of the guards have run off.”

“We should chase them down now!” Iesa said alarmed.  “We can’t let them get reinforcements.

“Did your night vision get better?  You can’t track them in the dark,” Daneath pointed out.

“Drik, Drok,” I turned to the goblins for their guidance.   “You said that the main camp was past this point.  How far?”

“Days.  Not know any other camp near,” Drik said nodding, and Drok agreed.

“Sounds like we have time,” I said.  “But Daneath is right, we should check the caves, and free the slaves.”

“Then what?” Iesa asked.

“That will depend on the slaves,” Daneath said grimly.  “If they are in good health, they might be able to get back to Secomber on their own.  Otherwise we might have to detour.”

“Not tonight,” Beepu said adamantly. “I will need rest as will Myrai to recover our power.  But I believe the gate is intact.  We will be likely be able to close it behind them and be secure until morning.”

“I doubt there are much in the way of stragglers here,” Daneath said looking at the caves around us.  “So, I’m going to look at the gate and close it if I can.  Beepu and the goblins can look at the caves for supplies.”

“Why me?” Beepu demanded.  “And why with them?”

Daneath rolled his eyes.  “Because you might be able to search a _Booyagh’s _cave for interesting things, the goblin probably know how to find stuff stashed by them, you are too short to deal with the gate, and Iesa and Myr are better able to free the prisoners.”

Beepu was about to protest, when he suddenly turned to look at the cave where the hobgoblin threw a fireball from.  He then said “Quite right.  Come on you two.”

The goblins looked at each other and shrugged.  Then all three headed off to the _Booyagh’s _cave.

Daneath watched them head along the bridge and let out a deep sigh.  “Somehow I thought that might be harder.”

“The goblins are reasonable,” Iesa said looking at Daneath puzzled.

“I was talking about Beepu mostly,” Daneath replied.  “Besides letting the goblins free the prisoners might lead to a misunderstanding.  Better to let you two talk to them.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said as I looked around.  “But how do we get down from here?  Didn’t the goblins push the ladder down?”

“Guess we lower Iesa down on a rope,” Daneath replied as he reached around for a coil that was attached to the outside of his pack.

“Wait…me?  Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you to lower me down without dropping me.”

“What about Myr?”

“I don’t trust her to lower me down either.”  I stifled a chuckle as Isea gave Daneath an exasperated look.

“That isn’t what I…never mind.”  Iesa said defeated.  “I’ll get it.”

With a little effort Daneath lowered his brother down, and with even greater effort Iesa replaced the ladder.  Daneath then descended, and I hopped down the ladder’s rung gingerly, my leg still in pain from the crossbow wound.  Daneath then headed to the front gate, while Iesa and I headed to the cages at the end of the canyon.

I was still limping, and Iesa turned and noticed my wincing.

“Myr, that looks pretty bad,” his eyes looking at the blood stains on my leathers.  “Shouldn’t you just heal yourself?”

“I can, but I was holding off until we see if someone needs it more.”

“More than you right now?”

I looked at Iesa, “I’ll be fine.” I saw the concern in his eyes, as they lingered over my leg.  “It’s a wound; you’ve had worse, as have I.”

“I know.  It’s just…you are just willing to take on…on wounds like that and still worry about everyone else.  I…like that about you, but I don’t understand it.”

“What helping others, or putting their pain before my own?”

We stopped walking, and he paused before answering, “Both I suppose.  I just—”

“Iesa, you have helped us all and—”

“—I’m not sure killing things is the same as ‘helping.’”

“And that orphanage in Yartar?  And how many others in Waterdeep?”

He looked at me with surprise, “You knew about that?”

I nodded, “You mentioned doing something similar in Yartar once.  But I saw you entering one in  Waterdeep before you left for Secomber.  The kids certainly knew what you did.”

“It’s not quite the same,”

“No.  It’s not.” I limped over to Iesa and took his hands.

“Some of us have pain from the past, and we all…find our own way to cope.  I guess you did what you did because of what happened to your mother…and you.”  He glanced up to look at me, questioningly.

“So, you know mine.  What’s your pain?”

I looked down at my leg, seeing the coagulated blood on my breeches where the quarrel had stuck into my thigh.  I could feel the slightest trickle of blood from the wound, within as my walking had torn open the barely closed wound.  Biting my lip, I opened the door a crack.

“I’ve…suffered a lot of pain.   Pain you don’t want to imagine.  Pain reserved for petitioners that have committed crimes against their own soul.  And I suffered it to save someone I…I…loved.”  I looked at Iesa in the eyes, with tears forming in mine.  “I failed.  I didn’t save him.  I couldn’t.  And that was before I had any power at all.  So now that I have it…I don’t want to fail again…fail anyone else again.”

“And we matter that much…to you?”

I looked down and closed my eyes and simply nodded.

“And that person…you loved…”

I looked at Iesa again and mustered my strength to speak.  “The…fiends inflicted a lot of pain.   But no pain hurt more than the pain of—”

“—Losing him?” Iesa finished presumptuously.

“No.  No pain hurt more than…learning that he never loved me.  That he…let happen what happened.  That…he betrayed me.”

Iesa closed his mouth and swallowed, pausing a moment before speaking again.  “I…uh…that would…hurt.   I’m…sorry.  And…are you—”

“Fine,” I lied.  “It was…”

“It’s alright…I understand.” He released my hands and moved toward the cages.

“Iesa…its…. you’re a good friend, and compatriot—”

“Myr…I’m more of an elf person, not an angel one.” He smiled and turned.  

I bowed my head and smiled in kind.  I should have known.

We continued and reached the end of the canyon.  There, there were four pens of wood set into a circle.  As we approached the first two, I saw that they stood empty, with straw scattered about.  There was a scent of rotten meat and stronger scent of a damp animal in the air.

But, I knew that smell.  Worgs.

I looked at Iesa and he returned the glance.  We continued forward, passing the pair.  Ahead the remaining two stood.  As we approached, I could see figures moving, just visible between the bars of the pen.   Unlike the worg pens, these had both locked gates, and wooden rooves.  

I motioned to the left one, and I let Iesa take the lead.  As we got closer, I could hear whispers:

“Who’s coming?”

“I can’t see.”

“Where are the hobs?”

“I think I will need a light to pop these open Myr,” Iesa said quietly.

I nodded, and I flexed a moment, setting the light on my palm, illuminating the area with a warm yellow light.  I hear sharp intakes of breath.

“They aren’t hobs?”

“Who are they?”

“Who is that with the—”

“—Did you see—”

“—I thought I—”

“—Wings?—”

Iesa stepped forward, “Hey, we’ll get these open in a moment,” pulling out his picks.

A man stepped forward to the gate; He was of good size, lean with unkempt light brown hair, blinking unsteadily into the light.

“Who…where are the hobs?”

Iesa started to work on the lock, “Well, we think we killed most of them, we have others checking the rest of the canyon.”

“Thank the gods,” he said with visible relief.  “We need to open the other cage.”

“One at a time…Myr can you move the light a bit over my left shoulder?”

“Sure,” and I stepped forward.  Placing my hand where Iesa needed it, I turned my head and smiled at the prisoner, his eyes now opened wide.  “Hi there.   What’s your name?”

“I…Kellid.  Kellid is my name.” he stammered.

“Hi Kellid.  We’re going to get you out of there.  How many of you are here?”

“Uh…five families, about a score and a half.  Our wives and kids are in the other one.  Who are you?”

“We’re…uh adventurers I guess, and we were tracking down hobgoblins.”

“Almost done here,” Iesa said.  “These locks are in poor condition.”

“You know a Micah?” I asked, seeing if they were from the village that we ‘saved.’

“Yes…yes…he’s alright?”

“He and the villagers were on their way to Secomber.” I said, keeping my voice steady and calm.

“Got it!”  Iesa said pulling the lock loose from the chains and pulling the gate open.  Inside I could see clearly about a dozen men, all dirty and tired looking.  But they seemed to be unhurt physically.

“Kellid come with me,” and Iesa and I walked to the other pen, and Iesa started to work on the lock.  Inside I could hear the voices of women talking.

“By Chauntea, Kellid is that you?” a woman said relieved.

“Yes…we seem to have some saviors,” these two.

“Well there are several others,” I said realizing this might be a good time to warn them.  “This is Iesa, and I’m Myrai.  Daneath is checking the front gate, and Beepu is checking the caves with a pair of gobli—”

“What?!  Goblins?” Kellid said in alarm.

“Yes…they were held prisoner by the hobgoblins as well, and they killed a number here.” I said still smiling.

“Oh…well…I guess they can’t be that bad.”


It was dark by the time we had regrouped.  The dead hobgoblins were interred into the earth.  Families were reunited with husbands, wives, children, and friends.  Of course, all had seen the blast of fire, the sounds of my shatter, and even could laugh at the strange shouts of ‘clumsy’ that preceded their rescue.

The goblins were unused to being treated like heroes.  Their awkward smiles a strange contrast to the normally wicked ones we saw when attacking their former lashers.  Beepu was of course seen as a powerful wizard, but Foggle kept the seven or eight children in awe.   Iesa and Daneath armed the men with weapons found on the bodies and elsewhere in the canyon.  Iesa had also found some gold which he shared equally with us as well as the villagers.

As for myself, the villagers seemed to hold me in awe as well.  But not in the same way they looked at Beepu and his magical prowess.  This was more fervor; the same I had seen in Waterdeep.  Like I was their prayers personified, and their powers’ will incarnate.  I was almost afraid that someone would just bow down and start worshipping me.  I had done nothing to deserve such adulation.  Yet I heard in their whispers the word ‘angel’ several times.

As the night settled in, Iesa had found a decent amount of passable food, and I used a bit of my power to create some water for all to drink.  We setup several fires by the gate, and finally, we all gathered by the gate with Kallid and made our plans.

“So, there haven’t been worgs here for about a week?” Daneath asked Kellid.  “You’re certain?”

Kellid nodded while chewing on some bread.  “Yes, something about a crusher lasher needing them.”

“You speak goblin?”  Beepu asked surprised.

“You sorta have to pick it up.  They don’t allow you to speak in common as prisoners.” Kellid explained.

“That might mean we won’t see any riders for a while,” Iesa observed.  “Myrai drowned quite a number of them in the village.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I said bitterly.  It was the truth, but I wasn’t especially proud of it.

“So, if that is the case, then the hobgoblins that ran will have to tell the ‘Prophesized One’ on foot,” Daneath continued the thought.  “Drik, Drok how far from here is his fort?”

Drik and Drok muttered to each other before both turned and said “Three day walk.” In unison.

“That seemed definitive.  Sound like it might be accurate for once,” Beepu muttered.

“When here before, lashers always say three days,” Drik spat.

“You not argue.  Why they lie?” Drok said shrugging.

“That will mean that Kallid and the villagers would have at least four days lead, assuming there are more worg riders in reserve.” Daneath said rubbing his chin.

“With the armaments here, we should be able to protect ourselves.  You have our thanks.” Kallid said with gratitude.

“It also means, we can all rest here till morning,” Iesa said with relief.

“We have more than enough to set watches at the gate,” Kallid said. “You have earned a night’s rest.”

“Well, Foggle can watch from the sky as well, we all should rest.”

“I think that more than one set of eyes is wiser Beepu,” Daneath smiled gently at the gnome.

“Why does no one believe me when I say that Foggle can watch for us all?  Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not that Beepu; it’s everyone trust themselves more,” I said.  “That and one shot with a crossbow could…well now, cause Foggle to explode again.”

“I concede that.” Beepu said grimly.

“That, and we’ll need Gossamer to watch the other entrance, just in case,” I said.  “I’ll set my camp up there so in case anything happens I can alert you,” I stood and gathered up some wood so I could make a fire for warmth.

“I will be in the old ‘Booyagh’ cave.  There are some things there I wish to examine more closely.  You know where to find me.  I’ll send Foggle to watch from the air.” And Beepu made his way to the ladder leading up the pillar and bridges to the caves.

“Thanks Kallid, but we’ll help with the watches regardless,” Daneath said.

“We will?” Iesa said surprised.  “Ok…fine.  You first.  I’m getting some rest now,” he said with a note of irritation.  He then lay back and looked at the fire, with eyes drooping.

“I’ll do that.  Come on Kallid, let’s get the men setup into watches.  Night.”

“Night.” I replied.  I found some rope, to tie the bundle of wood together and made my way towards the ladder, leading to the bridges above.  Gossamer, who was lying in a loafball near the fire, stood stretched his limbs and wings, and then flittered after me.

I was moving slowly; still injured and not yet having a moment to heal myself from the flames and the crossbow wound from earlier.  But with everyone scattering around and setting up watches, I didn’t want to impose and ask for help.

“Wait up Myr!” I heard behind me, and to my surprise Daneath was trotting up towards me.

“I thought you were organizing the villagers?” I said confused.

“I did! It’s not like telling Iesa to take a bath after all,”

I smiled at Iesa’s expense, “Well, at least we can lead him to water,”

“Yep.  Anyway, if anything does come down that tunnel, its probably going to be scary enough that you might need a hand.  That and your odds of climbing that ladder with that much wood is pretty slim.”

I looked down at my leg and was forced to admit he was right.  It was going to be a problem, until I could get a little rest and use some magic to heal up.

“You’re probably right Daneath,” I said, lowering the firewood to the ground.  “Thanks,” I said with a twinge of guilt in my voice.  I then grasped the ladders rungs in my hands and started to climb.

“Don’t sound that way,” Daneath said as I made my way up.  “Otherwise the guilt on being laid out in the dirt would be unbearable,”

“So, you should carry more of my stuff?”

“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.”

We made our way up the ladder and across the bridges, with Gossamer fliting around us.  We crossed the final bridge and found a small flat area just inside the rock wall, leaving us with plenty of room to setup the fire and our bedrolls.  Daneath arranged the wood, and I quickly light it with a white strand and in no time, we have a small blaze of warmth in the cave.  Once done, I turned to face Gossamer;

_Go ahead and find a spot down the tunnel so you can watch the entrance.

--Oh fun, just how I want to spend my evening. It’s bad enough I was knocked out of the air by that pretentious gnome.  Can I at least bring something to sit on?

I have one spare shirt.  ONE.  No holes please.

--I’ll be careful._

The tressym using its paws and mouth, opened my pack, and pulled out my muslin shirt I used for sleeping.  It then using all four legs pulled the cloth underneath itself.  Then he beat his wings and took off, with my shirt down the tunnel.

Daneath watched Gossamer fly off and turned to me with a cockeyed expression.

“Finally,we’re alone.” He said with a smirk and a not at all serious tone.

I arched an eyebrow, “What, your codpiece slip?  You can fix that all on your own.”

Daneath laughed, “Well considering you have been helping with the rest of the armor every morning since we met,”

“We’ve helped each other,” I corrected.  I leaned back against the stone wall and started to unravel the bandage around my leg.  Slowly the blood-soaked layers pulled away, exposing the wound created by the quarrel that struck me earlier.  I focused with strands and started to clean up the blood stains off my leathers and skin.  Once I finished, I started pulling on the straps and buckles on my armor.

“You know, most folk would kill to be as clean as you after a week’s march,” Daneath grinned as he poked at the fire.

I shrugged, “I might be in the middle of the moors and could be surrounded by hobgoblins at any time; I don’t need to smell like them.”

The man nodded and stared into the fire distractedly.  “I thought it had to do with habits from a big city.”

“Well, yes Sigil is big.  Bigger than Waterdeep easily.  But its more we…do things differently.  There’s no harbor, the one ‘river’ is called ‘The Ditch’ for a reason.  And most of the time you wouldn’t set foot in it.  There are bathhouses, and even the good ones can cost jink.  But still if you could afford it, you tried to stay clean.  Or at least avoid getting dirty.”  I had finally removed the chain shirt that I wore, and started to clean the gambeson beneath it.

Daneath gave me a questioning glance and I explained.

“The Lower Wards have portals to lots of nasty places…many spit out smoke with the scent of brimstone, and then it rains and your skin turns yellow.   Most wear leathers to keep clean, as water will always soak through cloth.”

“But there are a couple of public bathhouses, and of course if you are lucky the Great Gymnasium.   I notice that isn’t a thing in Waterdeep.”

“Not really,” Daneath answered not looking up.  “Many houses have cisterns from the rainwater so anyone can pipe into a bath without needing a public well.”  Daneath then looked at me.  “So, the public paths are they—"

“—Segregated?  No,” I smiled shaking my head.  “That kind of modesty isn’t really there.  But its still rude to stare.”

“And that never bothered you?”

I stopped a moment and thought, “No.  Unless you were melting some jinx, you are moving from pool to pool and not a lot of time to…admire I guess.”

Daneath shook his head again, “I rather have the privacy,” and he continue to look at the fire.

I stared at him a moment before asking, “So what’s on your mind?  Somehow it isn’t me taking a bath.”


He chuckled for a moment, “I just was hoping we get somewhere.  I know that Iesa has a different take on it, but I want to see my mast…father again.  I have so many questions.  But…”

“But?”

“…will he answer them.  He never told me much beyond how to wield a weapon and swing it.  That’s all I saw him as; a task master.   I don’t know…what to expect.”

I nodded quietly looking at the fire, letting the warmth seep into my bones.   After a long pause, Daneath spoke again.

“Thank you,”

“For?”

“Keeping me alive. Helping me do this to find my father.  Considering you well…um…got killed.  And it was worse when we went to Mordai,” he said shaking his head.  “I should have gone to see a priest of Helm instead.  But I…panicked.”

“It worked out.” I said trying to mollify him.

“Well I suppose.  Should have worked out a little nicer.  I guess I should have said sorry as well,”

“Thanks, and its fine now,”

Finally, I felt that I had enough energy, and pulled on the light strands.  I felt the pain subside as a delicious warmth spread through my leg as the wound closed up, and the scab dropped off onto the ground leaving behind unblemished skin.  Then I focused on the leathers, fixing the tear in them as well.

I felt much better, and I looked at Daneath. Again, his gaze was locked on the fire.  Daneath was a cunning warrior, not a basher in a can.  But I liked him because of the lack of pretension.  He wasn’t wound up into schemes like Iesa would be.  He wanted simple answers, and I honestly hoped he got them.

“Well, Goss is going to wake me if needed.  I’m going to sleep,” and with an impish grin I leaned over and planted a simple kiss on his cheek, shocking him out of his reverie.

“Huh, what was--?”

“Because you needed it,” and I pulled myself into my bedroll.  “And because I wanted to give you a simple thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“Thanks for being there for me,” I said sleepily, and I closed my eyes.  The last thing I heard was Daneath saying

“Well…at least try to have pleasant dreams…”


Amazingly enough, the night was not interrupted by nightmares, gnolls, or even hobgoblins.  I awoke to the dim light of the sun illuminating the canyon.  It would take a while for the light to hit the shear stone walls.  It was the one time of day my vision wasn’t ignoring darkness; everything was dim near us.

Daneath was dozing in a bedroll near me his armor piled nearby, and to my surprise one of the villagers was keeping watch near me.  He turned his head and nodded at me.

“You all needed a good rest,” to which I could only nod in agreement.

I rose and moved over to wake the slumbering Daneath, whose eyes snapped open quickly and he started to look around as if we were in danger.  Once he realized that I didn’t have any urgency, he relaxed and got up.  We didn’t say anything as we pulled our armor on and checked each other’s straps as we normally did every morning.   It just felt different, if for the only reason that I felt that everything was normal as two adventures could feel about each other; mutual respect, and no one was indebted to the other.

I heard a noise from the cave, and Gossamer swooped in with my shirt trailing behind him, caught in his claws.

_--Oh yes…lots of fun that was.  I am so glad that---

You put holes in my shirt!

--Ah well…maybe.  Don’t you have a spell for that?

You did it on purpose!

--Well…yes.  I wanted to rest in comfort while doing NOTHING._

I grabbed my shirt from the tressym and stuffed it back in my pack with a glare.  And then the four of us made our way down to the gate, where all the villagers were gathered, along with our compatriots.

“—yes, well mastery of magic is something that takes a lot of hard work and study.  In fact, you cannot neglect the study part.  Otherwise it is not possible to cast a simple spell,” Beepu was saying to a number of the adults.  Iesa was busy with a small pan over the fire, and the two goblins exchanged glances at each other that basically indicated that their opinion of the lecture was low, and that the manure content a little high.  Then as one of the spotted me, he spoke up.

“Then why Myrai not study?”  Drik asked.

“She has real familiar, not toy,” Drok stated assertively.

I saw the entire audience turn their heads to look at me, expecting me to leap into the discussion.  However…

“What do you two know about the arcane arts!” Beepu glowered at the too, his face flushing a deep red.

“We know those things,” they said in unison, and with a wicked smile walked over towards Iesa who was serving out cooked meat.

“Look, he can do more than I can because of his study,” I said trying to defuse Beepu.

“Correct.  She is not a wizard; in fact, she is a sorcerer—” Beepu started.

“--Doesn’t that make her a sorceress?” a villager asked.

“What?  I suppose you are right, but that does not matter.  Either one can tap the weave in a very limited way, and no two are the same,” Beepu replied a little flustered.

“So, you can heal too!” said a woman in the throng.

“Well, I cannot do that as I have not learned the arcane formulae that—”

“—Can’t you learn it from her?” Said another man.

“Ah…well…I have attempted to—”

“I thought you said a wizard could do more, but you can’t heal?”

“It is not a focus area of—” Beepu defensively started to say when from behind us a voice rang out.

“ALRIGHT PEOPLE!” Daneath shouted from behind me.  “Everyone should pack up what they can; food, weapons and water.  We’re going to be leaving soon, and you should bring everything that you need with you.  It’s a five or six day walk to Secomber.”

And like that the crowd dispersed, with Daneath following and talking to Kallid.  Drik and Drok were making their way back to where they camped, snickering as they went.  Iesa just shifted his glance between Beepu and the goblins silently with a half smirk on his face.

“I got to find Mo…think he’s playing hide and seek with the children,” he said, putting the pan on the rock near the fire.

“Does he really?” I asked as Iesa made his way deeper in the canyon.

“Yep.  He takes something of theirs and he hides.  They then seek for him,” He said shrugging.

“Do they find him?” I asked.

“Haven’t yet.  That’s why I need to.  Excuse me.”

Beepu stood there glowering with a black one towards the goblins.

“I really detest them,” Beepu growled.

“Because they were right?” I asked, looking at the gnome dubiously.

“Yes…what?  Wait.  NO!  They mock what they do not understand!”

“Could be worse.  The Elk tribe understood just fine, and I heard they would bury a wizard up to their neck in the dirt, pour honey on their heads, and let the ants kill them.”

“They also mock what they…what really?  Where did you hear that?” Beepu asked surprised.

“A bar I’m pretty sure.  But I don’t want to go back to Yartar to ask locals to confirm.  So did the _Booyagh_ have anything useful?” I asked changing the subject.

“Oh!  Yes!  Along with a scroll or two, there was…this!” and he pulled from the leather case at his hip, that normally carried one of his many schematics, a long thin piece of black lacquered wood.  On it I could barely see a carved pattern wrapping all the way around the wood.

“It’s a wand, right?” I asked. I had never seen one before, but I had heard of them.

Beepu nodded quickly, “Yes!  It can cast a spell that will throw out spider webs to restrain foes.  I think this will be very useful!”

“What about the scrolls?” I asked.

“Powerful magic.  I need to hang on to them until I can transcribe them.  But I think you can use one of them in a pinch.” And pulling from the same leather case he produced a piece of vellum and handed it to me.

I unrolled it, and after a moment I realized that this was a scroll to create a field of darkness.  I nodded and folded it to put into my pouch at my waist.

“Yep, that I can use.  And I know you know that spell already.  Thanks.” I said appreciatively.

“Yes…well having extra in your pouch is always a good thing,”  Beepu replied.  “Now if I could only eradicate those two—”

“Beepu, best way is to finish off the Prophesized One,” I said spreading my hands.  “Don’t have a better option for you three.”

“You could talk to them sweetly I bet.”

“You realize they think I’m ugly.  I’m more likely to scare them,” I said

“I do not see the problem with that.” Beepu said with a very passive expression.


We all gathered by the front gate and said our goodbyes just as the sun crested above the canyon walls.  The women and children were tearful, giving each and everyone a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  Well almost everyone.

Drik and Drok, didn’t really want the kiss or the hugs to start with.  They simply offered out a hand to shake on it.  Beepu was flustered at first, but he soon gave in, and was passed around like a prize pig.

We shook the men’s hands, except for me as I kissed each on the cheek.  This gathered more excitement than I intended, as several tried to sneak in seconds.  I think I caught them all.  Then we said our final farewells.

“We wish you luck in taking the fight to the hobs!  Give them hell,” Kallid said and the rest of the villagers approving.

“And travel safe, all of you,” Daneath said in response.  I then raised my left hand to shoulder height, and grasped the symbol of Kelemvor with my right, I bowed my head and closed my eyes and I said the following litany:

_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Life is a part of death not an ending but a beginning

Life and Death is without deceit and has meaning,

May you all find your way to your homes,

And gaze upon the fruits of your labors, 

May your kin and friends guide each other on the next step of your journey,

Because in Life there is always another waypost,

Not a destination, but a step in a Journey, 

The memory of your bravery will live forever in you,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May He bless you with life to start anew._

Opening them, I saw the tears in their eyes, and the strength in their hearts.  They would not forget, and they would become more than they were before.  We all waved our final goodbyes, the villagers heading to the north west toward Secomber, while we followed the goblins south.

It was quiet for a long while; the goblins had certainty for once, and I didn’t need to lift either one onto my shoulders.  But, I didn’t have a clue what they were following.  The dry grass had no trails; there wasn’t so much as a rock or a tree for guidance on where to go.  There were hills behind us, but even they faded into the background, and none appeared in front of us.

It was near peak, and I was about to ask how we knew where we were going, when I finally noticed it.  A wind blowing from the south, and on that wind was a hint of fetid moisture.  As we continued it got stronger and air had smell of rotten woods, and decaying leaves or plants.  Eventually we reached a point in the grasslands, where they descended into a basin.  A basin filled with water, mud and an abundance of rotting vegetation: A vast marsh.

We looked at each other and sighed.  There was nothing really to say, and we started our descent into the mire.  As we started down, Daneath pointed at an object at the edge.  Squinting at it, it appeared to be a brown and grey structure on the very edge.  Since it was the only landmark we could see, we headed towards it.  As we got closer, it appeared to be a large shack on stilts on the edge.

“A cabin?  Here?” Daneath asked as we approached the dilapidated building.

“Why not, someone thought it was better there than deeper in,” Iesa pointed out.

“Well they must have hauled the wood here on a wagon.  It has been leagues since we saw a tree.” Beepu noticed looking around mournfully.

“This always been here?” I asked the goblins.

“Yes.  Means we near marsh trail,” Drik said.

“Don’t swim here.  Dangerous,” added Drok.

Beepu and I looked at each other and sent our respective familiars high into the air, and we slowly approached the shack.  The ground was fairly firm, with only a slight give, but we were surrounded by water, and waist high reeds.  The shack, and part of it extended over the water.  Its legs were sunk into the water, making the overhang slightly submerged.

_--Wow that’s big.

What?

--So is that one.

Goss—

--Two more!  I’m not landing.  Nope nope no—

GOSS!

--Oh…sorry.  Lizard log things.  They are in the water just…floating there like a—

I get it.  Thanks.  Don’t land._



“Beepu, is Foggle seeing—” I started.

He nodded, “Yes.  I am not sure if they are alligators or crocodiles or something else.” Beepu replied moving away from the water

“The large logs…alright, how can you tell the difference?” I asked.

“I actually do not know,”  Beepu said after a brief pause.

“Does it matter?” Iesa hissed.  “Are they near?”

“They’re all around us,” Beepu answered.  “We should be safe on the land.”

“Alright then…what about that though?” Daneath asked, pulling his sword out and holding it in front of him.

You could hear the dripping of water back into the swamp, as a figure emerged next the shack.  The water poured in rivulets down a scaly green and brown hide.  As it moved out of the water, I realized it wasn’t a ‘Lizard log’ but something else.  It stood on two legs and in one of its arms, it held a spear.  Its head had an elongated snout and eyes with pupils in the form of slits, and around its neck a necklace of teeth and bone on a leather thong.  And it only was maybe fifteen paces away from us.

We froze, looking at it, its head swiveled back and forth looking at all of us.  Finally, it bent slightly forward, and spread its arms wide, exposing its barrel chest.  It opened its mouth wide, baring its teeth and giving a loud hissing sound, before speaking a single sibilant word.

“SSSSsssoftssskinssss!”



*Session notes:*

Sorry this one took so much time; some rewrites and COVID-Geddon was a thing.  Yeah.

So, playing Myrai I did what any one does, and ahem…appropriated someone else’s art, did a crappy job modifying it and used it on a character sheet.

This bugged me for a lot of reasons, and my wife found out about it,.  So she gave me (allowed me) to commission an artist to do a proper job.

I had the pleasure to work with a great artist on Deviant Art, who goes by the name Clayscence, and she recently republished my commission, so I’d thought I would share it with you.

Cleansing of the undead by clayscence on DeviantArt






Note:  All copyrights on the piece belong to her, not me.  I do have a commercial license for the piece.

About the artist:

clayscence - Professional, Digital Artist | DeviantArt

Home | portfolio

Vanette Kosman (@clayscence) | Twitter


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Another highly entertaining episode ... and great picture!!


----------



## Nthal

*The Other Swamp thing - 03/29/2020*

_The Society of Sensation is about using your senses to understand the multi-verse.  Of course, it is also about memory, so you can take that understanding to another level.

But sometimes it feels like once you have learned the secret or the lesson, the multi-verse decides to beat you over the head with it, again and again.

Which makes you wonder; did you miss something or was it just spite.  Or worse yet – both._​


My eyes were fixed on the lizardfolk.  My heart was pounding, while my eyes darted to the murky muddy waters around us.  Daneath stood there, his sword stretched in front of him.  Isea had an arrow notched to his bow, but he was turning looking around.  Beepu was looking at the lizardfolk, but his eyes were far and away from the scene on the ground.  Drik and Drok had scattered to the bushed, each holding a crossbow and both pointing straight at the scaled figure, still dripping from its sudden emergence from the marsh.

“Sssssssssss,” came from between bared teeth of the hulking lizardfolk.  Its arms twitched, remaining outstretched.  But the spear it carried was still pointing to the air, and not at us.  It stood where it emerged, standing in shallow water just below its knees.  Its head looked at each of us, unblinking.

We stood there in the mire just…staring at each other.  As if the lizardfolk was as uncertain about us as we were about it.  The tension in the air was finally broken by Daneath’s practicality.

“Beepu,” he whispered.  “Do you see any others?”

The gnome’s brow was knitted together in concentration.  “I see alligators, but I do not see any more lizardfolk.”

“Iesa, I don’t understand,” I said.  “Why is everyone on edge?”

“There should be more of them.  They only hunt human in packs.” He said quickly.

“We not hunt sssoftsskins,” the lizardfolk hissed loudly.  “Tale to ssscare sssoftsskin children.”

_Gos, is Foggle right?  Is he the only one?

--Best that I can see.  The waters around are shallow and while there are lizard logs around, the water isn’t deep.

Alligators.

--Whatever_

“Then if you aren’t here to hunt us, why are you here?” I yelled back.

“To…asssk…for help,” it responded hesitantly, still unmoving.

“Help?” Daneath yelled back.  “Then what’s with the bared teeth and spread arms?”

The lizardfolk cocked its head to it side.  “Ssself heard that sssoftsskins trussst othersss with sssmilesss and hugsss.  Am missstaken?”

There was a cold silence between us.  I looked at Iesa and then at Beepu next to me, and their faces must have held the same amazement as my own.

“heheheheheheh,” Drik and Drok started to roll on the marshy ground in uncontained laughter.  Soon it spread to us, and I could do nothing more than giggle at the poor earnest lizardfolk’s expense.  It stood there, but it had lowered its arms to a relaxed posture, as its head looked at us in what I was pretty sure was puzzlement.  Finally, Daneath, sheathed his sword and we approached the Lizardfolk.

“We do trust people with smiles and hugs,” Daneath said wiping tears from his eyes.  “But its not expected from…your kind.”

“So…sssself did joke?” it asked, still puzzled.

“No,” I said thinking quickly.  “But it was a funny situation.  And that’s good enough.”

The lizardman thought a moment, and then lowered its spear and strode out of the water and onto the marshy earth before speaking again.

“Sssself need help with fearsssome thing.  It ssslew many of ssself’s tribe,” the lizardfolk said slowly.  His voice was unemotional and even.  That his tribe folk’s members were slaughtered was a fact, and not something to be remorseful or concerned about.

“Well, we might be able to help there.  Would you be able to help us in return?” Daneath asked, eyeing the lizardfolk.

It thought a moment and then nodded, “Help how?”

“There is a hobgoblin encampment on the other side of this marsh.  We need help defeating its warlord.”

The lizardfolk nodded,  “Sssself knows place.  Old fort of sssstone on island.”

“An island?” Iesa said surprised.  “How are we going—”

“—One problem at a time,” I said.  “There were goblins that were heading to that encampment.   They might have warned the chief we are coming.”

“No.  Thing ate them two moons ago,” it said simply.

“Ate?” Drik and Drok spoke looking at each other in discomfort.

“One less problem it would appear,” Beepu nodded approvingly, while the goblins narrowed their eyes at the gnome suspiciously.

“True…” I began to have doubts on the bargain we were making.

“So, what do we call you?” Daneath asked our new companion.

“Folk not given namesss like Sssoftssskins.  We take namesss from what we do.  You can call ssself, Darassstrix.”

“Darastrix?” Beepu’s ears perked up.  “I am not familiar with your language, but is that not the word for ‘dragon’?”

Darastrix nodded “Not…what word?  Literal.  Tale of name for Folk only.”

“So, where is this thing?” Daneath said with impatience on his voice.

“Deeper in—” and Darastrix stopped talking, his head suddenly jerking to the side, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, and his eyes growing wider.

“No…it here,” and he clutched his spear in both of his clawed hands, whirling and facing to the west.

_Goss? What do you see?

--I’m not.  Crap its big!_

We were standing on a path of earth, bordered on one side by the swampwater, where Darastrix emerged from, and our other side was a pond.  Ahead of us, we could now hear crashing in the brush and weeds, moving closer, and louder fast.  Then it suddenly burst forth from the foliage running straight at all of us.

It was huge, easily towering over Daneath, but it ran hunched.  It was Its hide was a mottled gray green, with lank and limp dark hair on its head.  The skin of its face and head was lean, highlighting its skull, and deep-set sockets, while a thin pointed nose jutted from its wart covered face.  Its whole body looked emaciated, and covered in boils and scars, but it revealed a powerful lean physique with knotted muscles.  It wore no clothes, save a leather loincloth.  But what concerned me most was its clawed hands…all four of them.

But as fast as it was, Daneath was faster still, interposing himself between the monster and the rest of us.  Raising his shield, he stepped forward a couple of steps and then braced for the impact, which the monster obliged.  The sound of wet meat and bone colliding with the metal barrier, and the grunt of Daneath trying to stay upright.  The four arms clawed at the warrior’s shield., while it bellowed a raspy grating roar.

Daneath slashed and thrust into the midsection of his hulking foe.  The creatures blood sprayed the warrior, but as I watched, the wounds started to close before my eyes.   Darastrix turned quickly, swinging the haft of his spear, successfully cutting the monster with its broad metal tip.  But the wound on its thigh didn’t even bleed, and the wound disappeared as quickly as Daneath’s.

“Crap, it’s a troll!” Iesa shouted, mirroring my own thoughts.  He retreated to a safe distance and shot with his bow, lodging an arrow deep into its breast.  He then moved even farther back to give himself maneuvering room and drew another arrow.

I followed him as fast as I could and turned and pulling on dark strands, I start to shred at its life force, a skeletal hand gripping it around the neck.  The troll was busy pulling Iesa’s arrow out, with a spurt of blood.  But the wound didn’t close this time, as my magic held back its healing abilities.

Beepu also ran, but he decided to run around the pond in the opposite direction.  He turned, and threw a bolt of fire, striking a glancing blow off the troll, with the resulting smell of burnt hair and flesh.  The goblins followed Beepu as well, firing their crossbows wildly, and not even striking the troll at all.  But they were faster than Beepu and quickly moved past him.

The troll, with two arms pounded Daneath.  The first blow almost knocking him down to his knees, but his second right hand struck nothing but air.  Daneath took advantage of the opening, shouting a triumphant battle cry, striking deep into the exposed flank of the troll.  He quickly twisted his blade and ripped it back out.  More blood and ichor sprayed the warrior, and the troll bellowed in pain.  It looked at the warrior with grudging respect and started to run.

But not away; instead it set its sights at the next closest foe that had struck it with fire; the slow moving Beepu.  Daneath quickly tried to swing and stop his foe from moving but was staggered by the troll’s strike and his blade whistled in the air, cleanly missing.

The troll quickly covered the distance to Beepu and with two left hand fists, struck the gnome.  I could hear the air leave his lungs and heard the crack of bone as a fist punched Beepu in the chest.  The other hand from the upper arm, came down on Beepu’s shoulder, knocking the gnome to the ground, his face contorting in pain.  He tried to throw more fire at the troll, but his blast flew high into the air, missing.

Drik and Drok, who were not far from the injured gnome, dropped their crossbows and ran towards the troll each trying to cut a different leg.  But the swords didn’t even blemish the hide, and seemed to cause no harm.  They however, ran past and ran back behind Daneath, turning around and readying their blades for another run.

Iesa then took a shot at the troll with careful aim.  The arrow would have found its mark, but the troll casually knocked the arrow away with a large hand, unconcerned.  I once again pulled at a strand, but I couldn’t thread it around the troll, despite my best efforts.  I watched in dismay as the deep puncture wound that Iesa had created with his shot, was now closing.   The troll had a vicious, angry smile on its face as it lifted all four of its hands up, ready to crush the gnome in the mud.

“SSSSSSsssssssssssssss” was the sound that Darastrix made as it charged into the troll.  The lizard folk was only slightly taller than Daneath, but it swung its spear with a savagery, unlike its calm demeanor before during our parley.  Its face was a frozen mask, as it thrust at the troll, trying to land a blow.  Finally he spun and with the butt of its spear, managed to smash it into the left eye socket of the troll, causing it to bellow in pain.

In anger it focused its attention on Darastrix.  Both lower arms struck at him, keeping the lizardfolk off balance.  Then the upper limbs grabbed the lizardfolk, its claws sinking deep into Darastrix’s scaly hide.  Blood flowed from multiple wounds, as the troll held its prey in place.  With a growl, the troll opened its maw and bent over to bite the helpless Darastrix, lifting him high into the air.  The troll savagely shook his head to and fro, and then hurled the limp figure straight at Daneath.  It roared in triumph, flexing its four arms in anticipation of crushing the almost forgotten gnome.  It turned to the spot where Beepu lay and then paused.

There in the ground was a gnome shaped divot, but the gnome was no where to be found.  The troll was looking around, confused and angry when Daneath collided with it, his shield smashing into the troll’s knee, while he swung overhead, slicing into the troll’s thigh.  Drik and Drok then ran through, each cutting deeply into each calf of the troll, and the pair splitting off into different directions after their strike.

Before the troll could react, another arrow struck it below the clavicle, penetrating so deep, that the arrowhead protruded from the back of the troll.  For the first time, the troll started to look uncertain, its head pivoting around looking for escape.

I flexed again and gripped the troll’s life once again, stripping it away painfully.  The wounds that were trying to close, now suddenly reopened and bled profusely.

But it wasn’t done yet.  And it raised its arms and started clawing at Daneath with all four of them.  Daneath was able to deflect a pair of the blows, and responded with a thrust, a slice, and a pommel smash to its knee, causing it to howl in pain once again.  It now looked desperate to run away from foes that clearly knew how to hurt it.  It barely took a step to run back the way it came, when a bolt of fire slammed into its back.  The blast was so hard, that a hole opened in front of Daneath, covering him with the grayish pink entrails of the troll.  It then collapsed into a heap in front of the warrior with a whimpering sound, unmoving.

A bloodied Beepu, walked up from the reeds where he was hiding, and he started blasting the troll over and over with fire; his face contorted in anger.

“I was _not_ put here for your pounding amusement,” he screamed at it, as he cast two more firebolts at the fallen figure, the reeking smell of burnt troll now was omnipresent around the pond.

I however was running, to Darastrix’s fallen form.  I slid onto my knees next to him and touched nervously the scaled skin of the lizardfolk.  Darastrix’s skin was thick and cold; I couldn’t tell If he breathed at all.  I swallowed my fear for a moment and brushed my hair away and placed my ear to his chest, hoping for a sign.  I closed my eyes and listened.

The skin against my ear was smooth and cool, as I moved my head around listening.  But as I lay there, I heard nothing.  I moved my hand toward Darastrix’s maw.  I placed it in front of his nostrils and open jaw, trying to feel…something.  Anything.

It was too late.  I closed my eyes, cursing myself; angry that I couldn’t have done anything.  I was about to move and check on the others when I felt…no heard something.

THUMP.

I waited a moment and moved my hand closer to his nostrils.  I realized that I could feel the faintest movement of air.  It wasn’t warm or cold, and it could have been mistaken from the breeze on open air.  But it was instead the faintest hint of exhalation.

THUMP.

Another beat.  Far slower than a human, elf or gnome.   I wasted no more time and pulled on a large white strand.  I whispered to Kelemvor under my breath, and  poured power into the fallen lizardfolk.

THUMP.

The beat was no quicker, and I was wondering if I was just imagining it.   I strained to listen, uncertain.

“Not food.  Not dead,” he said suddenly, giving me, a start and I fell backwards.  I started scooting backwards away from the now conscious Darastrix, who calmly sat up, and turned its head to regard me.

“Did not think Ssssoftssskins ate dead,” he said looking at me with what I thought was curiosity.

“Wha…no.  I was seeing…er listening to see if you were alive…. if I could heal you!” I stammered confused by the implications of what he said.

“You…healed ssself.  Not eat?”

“Eat?  No!” I said horrified, my heart beating faster.  In my mind I had a sudden flash of memory.  A memory of a large wart covered boar like face laughing and biting down onto smooth skin.  Sharpened teeth cutting muscle and touching bone, while a loud scream echoed in the background.

My scream.

I recoiled from Darastrix, my heart pounding.  He looked at me with a detached look, analyzing the puzzling behavior of the softskin female in front of him.

“What the?  What did you do to her?” Iesa ran up, hand on his rapier, preparing to draw it.  Darastrix, didn’t move and looked at the rogue and gave a shrug.

“Do nothing.  Ssshe healed.  Ssshe…find something fearsssome,” He said looking back at me.

“Myr what did---”

“Nothing…he…did…nothing,” I said raising my hand at Iesa.  “It wasn’t him…it was…was a memory.”

Darastrix shrugged and got to his feet.  He turned to see the fallen smoking form of the troll in the mud and nodded approvingly before speaking.  “Creature is now food.  But not good food.  Chewy.  Hard to digesssst.  Wassste.”

Daneath and the others came up to us now.  Daneath looked at me with concern, as did Beepu.  The goblins looked at me and then each other, shrugging.

“Myr what has—” Beepu started in a lecturing tone.

“Nothing,” I said between clenched teeth.  “I…now is not the time to talk about it.”

“I apologize.” Beepu said wincing, holding his chest.  “I think the troll broke a rib or four of mine.  Can we rest somewhere?”

Darastrix nodded.  “Hunting camp near.  Hidden from prey.  Ssssafe.”

“Good enough for me,” Daneath said sheathing his sword, and offering me a hand to pull me back up on my feet.  “Let’s go.”



It wasn’t far, and it was good timing, as the sun was sinking low in the west by the time we got there.  By then I was exhausted, both from the walk and the number of strands I had pulled.  I had expended all the light strands I could to heal Beepu and Daneath, both of which took had taken a severe pounding from the troll.  I was beyond drained and needed to rest.

Darastrix, led us off the mud, and into the water for a bit.  Coming to a bank of reeds, he circled it until he came to an unremarkable section of cattails.  He then lifted them away from the bank, revealing a concealed path of earth, leading within.  With a quick head gesture, he motioned us inside.

Where he led us was essentially an island, surrounded by a tall wall of thick foliage.  There was a raised rock, below which was room for a fire.  Around the edges, were lean-tos of grass and reeds, enough for perhaps twelve people in all.  Darastrix, quickly moved to a scaled hide of a crocodile, and moved it aside to uncover several cords of dry wood.  He carefully pulled some wood out and placed it beneath the stone and pulled out some flint and quickly lit a fire.

We all took off our packs, and I was only somewhat paying attention to the discussion around me.

“I did not think lizardfolk knew how to make fire, much less actually use it,” Beepu remarked, watching the lizardfolk work.

“Folk civilized.  Just not your civilized,” Darastrix responded.  “Some things in fen not safe to eat unless cooked.”

“Oh.  That makes sense.  That include softskins?” Beepu asked, arching his eyebrow as we watched.

“Ssssoftssskins dangerous to hunt and not worth it,” Darastrix responded, as he built up the fire.

“Dangerous?” Iesa asked a bit puzzled.

“Firssst group easssy to hunt.  Weak.” Darastrix replied in an even tone.  “But other nearby group ressspond by killing folk.  Folk wassste energy fighting othersss.   That and sssoftssskin not good food.   Like…what word?   Candy; bad for you.”

“I am not a sweet!” Beepu exclaimed offended.

“Like not isss,” Darastrix responded.   “Other game better for Folk.   Going to get fisssh.  Sssstay,” and the large lizardfolk, left the reeds leaving us to ourselves.

“Well he’s kind of nice, in that detached factual way.  Kind of like Beepu with less words,” Iesa said, sitting down in front of the stone being heated by the fire.

“Very funny.  Lizardfolk are very different depending on the swamp.  There is a tribe near Daggerford that trade for example.   But on the far south of the moors closer the Serpent Hills they are far more violent to ‘softskins’” Beepu held his fingers up as he said the word.  “Probably because of the naga and yuan-ti there,”

“Can we trust him?” Daneath asked.

“Probably,” Beepu said.  “They have a low value in deceit.  Waste of time I bet he would say.”

“So how did he break Myrai?” Iesa said looking at me.

I swallowed.  “He…didn’t.  I just remembered something…best left forgotten,” I sighed and looked at them.  All of them looked at me with different expressions; The goblins confused, Iesa concerned, Daneath disapproving, and Beepu unconcerned.   “Look I’m…just tired.  I need to rest.  Wake me for last watch.”

“Sure Myr,” Daneath, “We can talk about plans in the morning.”

I made my way to a lean-to and lay out my bedroll and stripped off the chain shirt I wore.  It wasn’t long before sleep took me to the realms of nightmares.



I don’t remember what day it was.  The third or fourth?  Did it matter?  The stifling warmth of the room never changed, the fires from the braziers with that overtone of brimstone in the air, never dimmed.  Time was meaningless in this place of pain.  I slept when I could, in between moments; some long. Some short.  But never enough.

I was awoken by the chains that held me in the air; where once I lay in a hammock of links, the chains moved along my skin and carried me in the room to a iron frame that was set out in the middle.  The chains lay me on the framework, and then writhed and wrapped around my limbs holding me face up on the frame.

I didn’t resist.  What would be the point?  There was no escape from this place.  From the deal I signed in my own blood.  A bad deal, a broken deal. But a valid one from any Baatezu’s perspective.  As I lay there, I turned my head slightly, to the see the familiar corpse on the ground; presevered with magic not to spoil and rot.  There for me to see, to remind me why I was here.  Why I endured.  And how I couldn’t save him from himself, Markell’s lifeless corpse.

I was always tired now.  Pain was one thing, but the healing was exhausting.  Part of the deal after all; no permanent scars or damage to the body.  Tear me up, put me back together, and start the cycle again.  Each time was different.  Each time bringing me to a new low.

Somewhere out of my vision, I could hear the click of a spoon on a porcelain teacup, followed by the sound of stirring and humming.  My jailor favored tea, something acrid based on the smell, and I didn’t know how he took it.   I could hear the clinking of chain links and then the delicate sipping sound from the cup, as my jailor waited to greet the next client.

I presently heard boots…no hooves on the stone, striding to the chamber with a slow deliberate gait.  My head was positioned away from the doorway that let into my personal oubliette, so I couldn’t see who was approaching.

“Tanr belscan oo?  Bi ghootoo tagan yatdan khuleek byani!” an unfamiliar gravelly voice said, full of malice, bile and self-amusement.  I didn’t know the words, but I knew the language: Abyssal.  A tanar’ri most likely.

My jailor replied, “Tanr belsca.  Khogjildini oo.” And I felt the chains tighten around my outstretched limbs as I lay there.  I waited in terror, the hooves approached, and finally I could see my soon to be tormentor.  My heart skipped a beat as I first smelled and then saw it.  It was a fetid rotten smell mixed with a powerful musk.  The figure was massive; more than twice my height, if I were only standing.  Its body was a bloated humanoid shape, covered with a patchy dingy brown pelt, with a hairless underbelly and chest a dark pink in color.  The head was of a giant boar, with large tusks and sharp canine teeth as it grinned at me cruelly.  Just over its shoulders were a pair of small feathered wings, in desperate need of preening.

I lay there, my breathing labored and quickening.   As the tanar’ri regarded me with a wicked smile, it salivated looking at me, helpless to escape.  As I watched, a swirl of light emanated from the fiend, a sickly blend of reds, oranges, purples and blues.  I was afraid before, but now terror truly set in. I struggled against the chains that held me, desperate to run from the contract I signed.  It smiled and in my head I could hear it say.

“So, what seasoning goes well with leg of aasimar?”

My eyes felt like they were going to pop from my sockets, and I screamed again, like I had the time before this, and the time before that…

I sat up, and I had the sensation of a hand across my face, stifling me.  I was about to panic when I saw the stars far away, and could smell the fire burning nearby, brimstone free.  I relaxed, letting my arms go limp.  Glancing to my left I saw it was Darastrix looking at me, his face expressionless.  I blinked and raised my hand and nodded, and he uncovered his hand from my face.

“Dreamsss not agree with you,” the lizardfolk said simply.

I shook my head.  “No.  They haven’t…” and I struggled to remember a time where I had happy dreams.  I quickly gave up and continued, “…in a long time.  Sorry.”

“Risk low.  Concerned.  Dream have to do with self?” Darastrix asked with that same emotionless tone.

“Well…does your kind eat things…still alive?” I asked, looking at Darastrix.

The lizardfolk blinked and shook its head.  “Food is dead, not alive.  Only…corruption of Sess’inek does this.”

“Sess’inek…a Tanar’ri…a demon lord.” I said quietly.

Darastrix nodded.  “One hasss knowledge, if one knowsss itsss name. That one corruptsss the onessss of Ssssemuanya.  Not civilized.”

I guffawed.  “I guess not.  I dreamt a demon did just that though.”

The lizardfolk cocked his head to regard me.   “That not pleasssurable.  Explainsss noissse.”

I nodded, “It wasn’t,” I said not wanting to explain that it wasn’t a dream, but a memory.  I didn’t know if Darastrix could have a nightmare, but I saw no reason to explain it.

“Let me get my armor on, and I’ll, start my watch.”

Darastrix nodded and moved away.  I sat there a second, and then I pulled my chain shirt over my head and started to buckle it back on.

_--That was…vivid.

You were peeking?

--You were pretty much screaming in my head.  

Sorry about that.

--Did that…really?

Yes.  I don’t really want to…

--I don’t want to know either._

And I as I sat there in the early morning listening to the reeds move in the breeze, the only thing that I could think about was this:

It was far from the worst thing I couldn’t forget.



*Session Notes:*

As if the DM didn’t have enough NPCs to manage.  However, I never did understand why exactly Beepu moved in the opposite direction of everyone else.  It begged for trouble, which he received.  The goblins were a divine intervention of sorts from my perspective, but on the other hand, they didn’t exactly stop to defend the gnome either.

And yes, more trauma from the past...there is a lot of that.

But let’s not let a mistake ruin a good story.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Another enjoyable instalment.

Now, I'm not usually one to point out typos on messageboards and the like (honestly, I do enough of that in my day job, and the gods know my typing is very far from flawless), but ...

" Its whole body looked emancipated ..."

After that I didn't expect to find that it was even wearing a loincloth!!


----------



## Richards

I'm liking Darastrix!  I'm glad he' still among the living - he brings a unique perspective to the group.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Another enjoyable instalment.
> 
> Now, I'm not usually one to point out typos on messageboards and the like (honestly, I do enough of that in my day job, and the gods know my typing is very far from flawless), but ...
> 
> " Its whole body looked emancipated ..."
> 
> After that I didn't expect to find that it was even wearing a loincloth!!




<SMACK>  I shouldn't be freeing him from his loincloth.  Its not that kind of story, terror or otherwise.

I consider myself a passable writer, but its editing that always snarls me.  I listened to that passage at least twice and didn't pick that up.

Thanks for sticking with me on...horrible constructions.


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> I'm liking Darastrix!  I'm glad he' still among the living - he brings a unique perspective to the group.
> 
> Johnathan




Wow, thanks!

Darastrix wasn't much for dialog (except that comment about smiles and hugs...THAT was pretty much a quote).  However, in a completely different campaign that ran a year or so, my son and I played a set of "egg brothers,"  Lizardfolk from the same clutch.  We basically spent a year developing cultural norms, languages and phrases in lizardspeak.   I loved the characters, but after a year or so in that mindset...writing as Myrai was a palette cleanser.

So dramatizing Darastrix is about a years worth of learning to be a lizardfolk.  I have about 18k words in journal style from that campaign, and my son another 5k.  Its interesting...but not so much that I could build a story hour for general consumption.


----------



## Nthal

*By Land and by Lake - 04/06/2020*

_Plans are great when you can make them.  But they are only good to a certain point.  Its what you do next that is important._​


The lizardfolk blind was effective in concealing our presence from any hobgoblins and other denizens of the swamp.   So, my watch with Darastrix was uneventful.  From one perspective it was less than that, it was quiet.  Darastrix was focused on the here and now.  While I felt comfortable in our hiding spot, it was clear that he was not taking our safety for granted.   But the way he went about it was very different than Daneath or Iesa.

Daneath on watch was ever the stalwart guardian.  Watchful and observant, he would stand guard in place, using his eyes to keep watch.  Iesa was the same in that regard, but rather than ‘stand’ he would find a perch; a rock or a tree to give himself elevation, no matter how slight, to get a better view.

But as I watched Darastrix, he didn’t act like a guard.  Watching him was watching a predator.  He would smell the air and would move constantly depending on the direction of the breeze.   He didn’t stay in the blind, but would patrol outside, swimming just below the surface of the water.  He wasn’t waiting for something; he was looking to ambush…no hunt anyone who might dare come close.  He would come in and out of the island blind regularly, frequently giving me a start.  His size didn’t hinder him at all in his ability to move quietly.

And in the water, It was even harder to follow him even with Gossamer’s eyes.  He barely left a ripple in the waters as he circled around the island.  And below the murky waters, his scent was completely concealed.  Or at least that was what I was told.

_You sure?

--Listen, even a dry lizard has a smell, and he does too.

And you can’t even smell a wet lizard?

--All I can smell is swamp…look can I come down?  I don’t want to be mistaken as a snack by a lizardfolk or a lizard log.

Alligator…

--Whatever.  Either!  Or both!  I want neither!_

Soon enough it was light, and I rose the rest from their sleep, and we started to make our plans.  It was then that Darastrix gave us an important piece of information.

“So, the ‘Prophesized One’s’ camp a fortress?!?”  Iesa said bewildered.  “And you two didn’t tell us?” he whirled accusingly at Drik and Drok.

“We never been there!” Drik exclaimed throwing his hands up.

“We listened how to get there.  They used word for ‘war camp.’” said Drok defensively.

“That word only means where leader is.  Not what it is.” Drik explained shrugging.

“Well I’m glad that Darastrix at least knows about it,” Daneath said looking at the lizardfolk, who was chewing on something while listening to our discussion.  He then continued telling us what he knew.

“Fortresssss was ruin,” the Lizardfolk started.  “Very old.  Makers long gone.  But wallssss sssstrong.  Two buildingssss.  One with door over trench.  The other, on island with door over lake.”

“Two…Oh I get it.  A moat house, and the fortress proper, which is on the lake.  Both with drawbridges,” Beepu said after thinking about it.  “That is going to be a problem.”

“Very,” said Darastrix.  “Very large ones with goblinkin,” and Darastrix looked up thoughtfully.  “Ogre?  Yessss, ogressss in firsssst building ssself has ssseen.  Only goblinsss in sssecond one.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” Iesa rolled his eyes and kicked at a stone in the muck.  “Even if we get in and fight in the moat house, we’ll be cut off from the fortress.”

“Maybe,” I said thinking.  Turning to Darastrix I asked a question, “The fortress is on an island.  Are there any other entrances to it on the water?”  The others turned to look at Darastrix expectantly.

The lizardfolk nodded.  “Door opensss to …word…deck?  Dock!  Boatsss there.”

“If we could get one of the boats, Iesa or I might be able to force open the door,” Daneath said thinking and looked at me with a grin.

“That probably won’t work,” Iesa complained.  “Those type of doors aren’t just locked; they’re barred securely from the inside.”

“Not problem,” Drik piped up.

“We open it,” Drok agreed.

“How?” Daneath asked.

“We goblins.  We walk in.” Drik said.

“No one notice goblins,” Drok nodded.

“They are right,” Beepu said surprising me.  But as he continued a frown appeared on his face.  “It would be easy for them to do.  But for the rest of us I would think they would notice a boat being taken.”

“Not at night,” I said.  “They can’t see that far.  And if there is a fog, even less so.”

“How do you know there would be a fog Myr?” Beepu asked.

“Because you can make one.” I replied with a smile.

Beepu’s eyes widened.  “Of course, how obvious.  Hard to see a missing boat in one.”

“Ok, we get in.  Then what?” Iesa asked, trying to follow along.

“We turn the defenses around.  We make sure that the inner drawbridge is shut and stays that way.” I said, nodding back at Daneath.  “We keep the ogres in the moathouse.”

“Keeping their forces separated.” Daneath smiled.  “And the longer we can sneak around, the more we can eliminate without drawing alarm.”

“Darastrix, do you think you can liberate a boat and bring it to shore quietly?” I asked.

The lizardfolk didn’t even pause for thought.  “Yessss.”

“So, we get there in two day—” Isea started.

“One day.” Darastrix corrected.

“What?  I thought it was longer than a day?” Daneath said surprised.

“Isss two days…the way they go.  Sssself knowsss better path.” Darastrix said still chewing.

“Well!  What are we waiting for!” Iesa said smiling, now excited.




Darastrix was truly knowledgeable about the fen.  He led us through hidden paths within the reeds and cattails.  The paths were solid and allowed us to make quick headway deep into the swamp.  We were all excited to making progress and nearing the end of this journey.  But as we travelled, my mood shifted a bit.

This was it, the final reckoning.  The Prophesized One could pay for the blood spilled.  For the lives stolen and enslaved from countless human villages.  The savagery done to the elves in the High Forest.  For what they had done to Alanathia in the quarry.  To poor Morlea in the tree canopy in Whitepetal.  To end this.  For all the times I felt guilt about reveling in the taking of a life, I felt none now.  I had a burning, desire…no I *needed* to take the blood of this goblinoid horde.  To send each and every one of the savages’ corpses into the ground and their souls for judgement.

Perhaps this ‘Prophesied One; believed he was following Maglubiyet’s will.  But the wanton slaughter, the unnecessary lives he took meant he had to answer to my power first.  I wanted to personally send him on his way to the grave.  To have him justify how so many lives could be wasted in this strange crusade of theirs.

These thoughts kept me occupied as we moved swiftly through the mire.  The sun steadily moved across the sky as we traversed the swamp.  It was late afternoon when Darastrix slowed, his stance shifting from moving swiftly among the reeds, to one more cautious.  Once again, the predator was on full view, as he no longer used his arms to move the foliage around, but his spear instead.   Poking as if he expected to find a hobgoblin sentry.

It was late in the afternoon, when suddenly he stopped and looked over his shoulder back at us.  He motioned his head forward, and Iesa stepped next to him, and peered through the cattails.  I knelt down next to Beepu, who watched Iesa with a critical eye.  Daneath stood behind and waited.  Finally, Iesa, turned around, while Darastrix kept observing.

“Well…it is as Darastrix described.  Moathouse with a bridge to a keep.  But that not the interesting part,” Iesa said.

“What is then?” Daneath asked impatiently.

“It looks like there was a larger force camped here, outside of the walls.  Worg pens, campfires and the like.  But it looks…abandoned.”

“How many are we talking about,” I asked, trying to understand the implications.

“Well, considering the forces we’ve seen, its larger than the camp was at the temple, perhaps double.”  Iesa said, thinking through the numbers.

“We buried a lot of them in the tunnels…” Daneath said thinking it through. “We haven’t seen any worgs since the village.  This could be bad.”

“Bad?”  I said surprised.  “How is this bad?”

“If this is the last of the Prophesized One’s forces, it will be a last stand,” Daneath said grimly.  “They will have nothing left to lose; that makes it more dangerous.”

“Ssssoftssskin correct on both,” Darastrix hissed at us quietly. “Mossst have left ssssome time ago.  Like wounded prey, will desssperate.  Dangeroussss.”

“Does it change anything?” I asked concerned.

“No,” Iesa said. “The plan we talked about will work, if we cut off the moathouse from the keep.  We just need to be sure.”

“I will use my magic to hide Foggle,” Beepu said.  “We cannot risk being wrong.”  He then muttered quietly, and caused is brass owl to disappear, and it took to the air with an almost silent beat of its wings.

“Ussseful Sssscout,” Darastrix observed.

“Lashers will be very watchful,” Drik remarked.  “But camp abandoned, means all will be in fort.”

“Fort will have guards on walls.  Patrols are question,” Drok echoed.

“What?  Inside or outside?”  Iesa asked.

“If few in number, they will not patrol.  Too few to guard fort,” Drik said.

“Worgs best for patrols; can smell better than lashers see,” Drok said.  “If no worgs, lashers will stay in walls.  No patrol.”

“What about the boats?” Daneath asked Iesa.

“On the south side I saw the dock, with maybe two boats,” He moved back to where Darastrix was watching and looked again, before turning back to us.  “A single one is large enough for all of us.”

“Well, as long as Beepu’s fog works, we should be good to get the boat and get to the dock.”

“Will they be watching it?” I asked the goblins.

“Lashers not like boats.  When lasher talk, concerned about humans coming, not elves.” Drik said.

“Lashers know humans not like fight at night.  And elves not leave forest.” Drok explained.

“Well, the moathouse is a burned-out ruin,” Beepu spoke up, getting our attention, his eyes looking beyond us.  “No buildings inside, but at least two ogres and perhaps a dozen hobgoblins there.   One is on each wall.  The keep is in better shape, two buildings…and a guard on each wall except the ones facing the moat house.  But it seems very light overall.”

“Sounds like it.” Daneath said.  “I guess the only problem will be the noise we make breaking in.”

“No,” I said smiling.  “I can prepare a silence ritual and have it cover the dock and door.  They won’t hear us.”

“Good idea,” Iesa said with his own wolfish grin.  “I kill the guards and make sure the drawbridge is up.”

“Well it is down now, so you will have to make some noise to pull it up,” Beepu said still focusing his thoughts through Foggle.  “Unless they pull it up in the evening.”

“I guess we’ll find out at nightfall” Daneath said, sitting down on a rock.  “Let’s rest and wait.”



I dozed lightly, there on the damp earth as we waited for the sun to set and darkness to rise.  The moon that they called Selune had already risen, its half face spreading a pale light on the reeds where we hid.  Darastrix had just whispered something to Iesa, when he slipped away into the waters, making his way to the keep.   Iesa in turn whispered to Beepu, who stood next to the reeds.  But instead of following, he was busy watching through Foggle’s eyes.   After a while he smiled and nodded to himself and stepped through the reeds, waving us to follow him.

We emerged from the thick stand of plants, and finally I had a good look of the keep.  From where I stood it reflected the slivery white grey of the moonlight.  The tops of its walls had crenellations, with parts that had broken away giving it the look of broken worn out teeth.   The walls jutted from a rocky island, surrounded by black waters of the lake.

But it was far from lifeless, torches were lit at regular intervals.  But as I watched I couldn’t see any movement at all on the walls.  I leaned over to Beepu and asked.

“So, is the drawbridge up or down?”

“It’s down.  Right now I was having Foggle check for gaurds.  Seems that each wall has a single guard, and they do not move along the walls.”

“Then why so many torches?” I wondered.

“Lasher trick,” Drik whispered at me.

“When few guards, many torches lit to make it seem many,” Drik explained quietly.

I nodded.  I had hoped that we really had thinned out their numbers, for as eager as I was to slaughter the hobgoblins and end this, I did want to walk away.

_Ready for this?

--What me?  I’d rather take a nap.

I’m sure.  But someone has to watch my back.

--I suppose that is true.  I hope you find what you are looking for.

So do I._

“Darastrix is at the dock,” Beepu simply, and the began to cast.  I watched mist boil and billow up from the waters of the lake.  It spread swiftly from the dock to the shore, covering the waters in a dense bank of cloudy fog.

“We have some time before it melts away,” Beepu and once again, he looked away through Foggle’s eyes.  “But the hobgoblins do not seem to have reacted.”

“What do you mean?” Daneath asked, looking at the gnome with curiosity.

“They have done nothing.  They have not even moved from the walls or raised an alarm.”

“Then hopefully Lady Tymora might be with us,” Iesa said with a smile.

“That would be a nice change,” Daneath said nodding and a small smile.

I nodded in agreement.  As the other waited for Darastrix with a boat, each were doing their own preparations.  Iesa was checking his blades, assuming there would be close quarters fighting, and Daneath was doing much the same.   Drix and Drox both were checking the edges of their own swords, and the remaining bolts they had for their crossbows.  Beepu, checked his pouch for the key items he needed for his spells.   As for me, I knelt on the shore of the lake and closed my eyes and prayed.

_My lord Kelemvor.  I humbly ask for victory today.  

I do it for the ones already fallen. 

I do it to forestall others from falling to the blades of this cruel tyrant.  

I do it to cull the ones that cut short the lives not lived to their fullest.  

I do it because Death is a part of Life, but wanton death was not part of your intent.

I do it because I am willing and able.

I do it because I must.

Please bless my actions.

Please guide my hand.

Please let me balance the scales you hold.

I pray to thee.  

May their Death’s grant peace._



“So, will the Lord of the Dead bless us tonight?” Iesa asked me, noticing my prayers.

“I have faith he does.  Otherwise…” I trailed of for a moment and then I stood and took a deep sigh and shook my head.  “I can’t imagine him not.  Too much blood has been…needlessly spilled,” and I looked Iesa in the eye.  “What has been done has to end.”

From the edge of the fog over the lake water I saw the swimming form of Darastrix.  Trailing behind him was a rope, towing an empty boat.  He seemed unhindered by its bulk.  As he approached the shore, he quickly stood in the shallows, and directed the boat to shore easily and quietly., beaching it  He then strode out of the water and approached the others, who had gathered in front of me.

“Myr…I don’t suppose you could…bless us,” Daneath asked awkwardly.

I was taken aback, but I quickly acceded.  “Alright,” and I gripped the symbol around my neck and chanted a litany.

_“No one should be alone, in life or death,

Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning

Death is without deceit and has meaning,

Please grant us your blessing in battle,

And gaze upon our righteous cause.

May your judgement on the souls that fall here be just.

Because Death is never an end, but a waypost,

Not a destination, but a Journey, 

The memory of our deeds will live forever in you.

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May Death grant peace._

As I said the words, I looked over my companions; my friends old; The Knight, The Tinman, the Fingerpainter, each of whom bowed their head respectively.  The goblins looked at me approvingly, perhaps not understanding all of the meaning behind our actions but understanding enough.  Of course, Darastrix stood there looking at me with that same expression of puzzled scrutiny that he always seemed to look at us with.    Finally, he shrugged saying only, “If wordsss turn foe into food then effort worthwhile. Hard to determine if it helped.”

“I guess that’s the definition of faith then,” I said.

“We leave now. Will open door crack.” Drik said.

“Good luck _Booyagh,_” Drok said to me and the brothers darted off into the darkness towards the moat house.

“I cannot believe I trust them,” Beepu said watching them depart.

“Why do you then?” I asked.

“Because we talked on a watch.  They do not like me.  But talking with them, they like their lashers far less.  So, it is something we can agree on.”

“Well,” I said patting the gnome on the shoulder.  “It’s a start.”

“Perhaps.  I still need to make a bigger hat.” He replied with a smirk.

“Let’s go while the fog holds,” Daneath said.  And we then all moved into the lake water to board the boat.  The brothers helped Beepu and me in before clamoring in themselves, while Gossamer just flitted onto a bench on the boat on his own.  Darastrix then pushed the beached vessel back into the waters, and once again towed it behind him into the fog.

I took a breath as we entered the mist, now trusting our guide to lead us to the dock.  I sat there and began focusing and slowly weaving strands together.  Delicately forming a matrix that I could anchor once I saw the dock. 

Casting a spell in some respects was easier; normally it would pull on a hidden source withing yourself that would fill over time. For Beepu it seemed he could cast far more magic than I ever could.  I always felt winded after only a couple incantations.   But, unlike him I could just rest a while and regain some of my power back, where he would need a night’s sleep to fully recover.

But casting a ritual spell required tapping into the Weave itself and finding free energy within it.  It was slower and easy to disrupt, but it allowed you to conserve your own energy.  Fortunately, Darastrix pulling the boat across the open water of the lake was smooth making it easy to focus.  Just as I had put the final touches on the delicate strands I pulled together, I opened my eyes and watched the gloom for our destination.

Beepu’s fog was very thick, so when the dock finally did appear, it was sudden.  The wooden posts suddenly emerged into view, and I could feel the boat slow as Darastrix used his skills in the water to slow our approach.  I looked at Beepu to catch his attention and then looked up quickly.

He caught my meaning and whispered, “Still nothing from the guards.  Iesa can you see the door?”

Iesa had the sharpest vision out of all of us and after a moment he nodded and pointed, mouthing the word “there.”  I followed where he indicated and I could just make out the dark shape of a doorway, not but four paces away from the docks edge.  I then looked at the nearest piling supporting it and flexed, binding the complex web of magic and anchoring it.  All I had to do now was keep it fixed there.

The silence was sudden; the sound of water lapping at the edges of piles and the boat were gone, as were the sounds of our breathing.  But it didn’t still the thumping of my heart. If anything, it was even more apparent.  But the others reacted quickly; Daneath and Iesa quickly lashed the boat to the dock, and climbed out, now unconcerned with the noise that either could make.

Daneath pulled me up out of the boat last, having lifted Beepu out already.  Gossamer took to the air and flew level with my shoulder.  Darastrix had pulled himself out of the water and was clearly on edge.   His sight was already impaired with the fog, and the lack of sound clearly bothered him; two senses lost to a predator.  But like Gossamer, I watched him sniff the air critically, both trying to catch the scent of anything.  All I could smell was water, a hint of smoke from the torches above, and a faint hint what I thought was hay or straw.  If he smelled anything else that gave him concern, he didn’t make any signs.

Iesa had made his way to the door and tried to pull it open.  He looked at us with a worried expression and shrugged helplessly.  I was concerned, as the door should have been open for us already.  But it was possible that they were delayed.  I hoped that was all it was.  All we could do was wait.

I tapped Beepu on the shoulder and pointed upwards.  It was strange not seeing Foggle anywhere, but his vision was critical to us now under the fog.  Beepu simply gave me a single thumbs up.  I nodded in response and turned to watch the door nervously.

We couldn’t see the top of the wall through the fog, and we hoped they couldn’t see us either.  The fact that they could be shooting arrows at us and we would never know until someone was visibly spurting blood was a chilling thought.

Finally, Iesa he made a broad motion with his arms.  The door had opened, and I then saw Drik and Drok clearly and wordlessly laughing, as they tried to shout at us and each other.  It put a smile on my face, despite the bloody task ahead of us.

Daneath drew his sword, and we all moved and pressed ourselves against the wall, as he opened the oak door into the keep, just a crack.  And then he swiftly moved inside.

My heart was pounding.  Unable to see my mind was racing ahead thinking what was going on.  But it was only a moment when Daneath waved for us all to enter.  We then all moved quickly, eager to get some solid cover before being seen.

Once through the door, we found ourselves underneath the remains of an awning that had seen better days.  To the right of the door was a shack, and in front of us was an open courtyard, with a large building to our right, and what looked like chapel straight across from us.  Looking around it was clear that there were no hobgoblins wandering around, but Iesa motioned us all towards the shack.  As we moved away from the door, the sounds reappeared; our quiet steps on the stone and the sounds of insects buzzing and chirping nearby.  We all entered the shake, and Iesa closed the door behind us. The creak of the door was barely audible, but from my perspective it was deafening after the silence.

_Gos, stay out here and keep an eye out

--Of course._

As we entered, I heard noise of tiny hooves on straw, and I looked at Iesa confused.

“Goats,” he whispered.  “They’ll cover our noises a bit, but don’t startle them.”

I nodded unwilling to say anything.

“What kept you two?” Daneath asked Drik and Drok.

“Ogres wanted food,” Drik said sourly.

“A lot of food,” Drok nodded.

“Glad you made it across you two.  Time to make lasher pay,” Beepu said with a small grin, to which the golbins returned their own wicked grins.

“Beepu, still the same on the walls?” Daneath continued.

“Yes.  They have not moved.” Beepu said.

“Go Iesa.  Best of luck,” Daneath said clapping his brother on the shoulder.

Iesa nodded and exited the shack through the same creaky door.

“Where’s he going?” I asked.

“There is a set of stairs farther along the wall,” Daneath explained.  He’s going to ascend them and start taking down the guards and make his way to the drawbridge and then close it.  They he’s hopefully going to jam the works so it can’t be opened.”

“He has killed one guard already,” Beepu said distantly.  He’s already turned the corner and moving northwards on the wall towards the bridge.

“Hey Myr, couldn’t you do that same silence again on the drawbridge?” Daneath suddenly asked.

“Well, if I had time yes.  But it won’t help if there are guards in the moat house.  I can’t make it that big.”

“He has killed a second one.  Not a sound,” Beepu said again barely listening to us.

“It may not matter then,” Daneath said shrugging.

“Eager to take care of problem,” Darastrix said.  “Do not want to hide.”

“Problem?  Your people had issues with them too?” I asked, realizing I never inquired why Darastrix was willing to trade help for troll.

“They problem.  Eat too much.  Wassste much.   Harrasssed folk.  Good to remove,” the lizard folk replied, looking more at ease now that he could hear again.

“Daneath.  Three hobgoblins just entered the courtyard,” Beepu said with concern on his voice.

“Where from?”

“There are two intact structures in this area.  A chapel north of us, next to the drawbridge, and a manor house to the east.  They just left the manor house and are heading…towards the bridge.”

“Where’s Iesa?” Daneath asked with a note of panic on his voice.

“He just killed a third guard, and he’s approaching the winch to the bridge.”

“Oh crap,” Daneath said and pulling his cloak around him he moved out of the shack.

“What the?” I said aloud.   I moved to towards the northern wall of the shack, where a shutter was closed.

“Not understand,” Drik said confused.

I opened the shutter and spied at the courtyard.  There I saw three very large hobgoblins walking with purpose.  I then saw Daneath in his cloak, trying to intercept them.

“He is out of his mind!” Beepu exclaimed.  “He does not even know goblin.”

“Talking to lasher, not good.” Drok said.

“What’s he saying Beepu, I can’t hear him well enough from here,” I said watching Daneath waving his arms.  The three hobgoblins had stopped in their tracks as they looked at the warrior.

“Um…he keeps saying ‘_kakta ordtan barrak.’”_ Beepu said confused.

“That make no sense in goblin,” Drik said wrinkling his nose.

“What does that even mean?” I asked with a feeling of dread coming across me, as our luck started to fade in front of my eyes.

“No sense.  ‘Privy empty sausage.’” Drok said looking at Drik confused.

“He’s asking for an outhouse?” I said shocked.  “He can’t be—”

“The drawbridge is closing,” Beepu said.  “It must be counterweighted.  Foggle can hear shouting now.”

I could hear that as well, and I turned to look at Daneath again. It was clear our cony was up, and the hobgoblins charged at the warrior, their blades hitting his shield.  At the sounds of the metal on metal, Darastrix and the goblins bolted out of the shack to join in the fray.

“Four more just left the chapel,” Beepu said.  “I think we should stay here and use our…” his voice trailed off his face contorting in confusion.  “They have a sorcerer it appears, and he is starting a spell.”

“Well we better start doing our own—”

“Oh no!” Beepu said, the color in his face draining away.

“Beepu wha--?”

I never completed what I was going to say, but everything slowed down as I heard the approaching roaring of flames.  My world then erupted, with blinding light and searing heat as fire covered my flesh in an inferno of pain.  I saw the gnome standing in front me cover his face and cower reflexively as the fireball consumed us both.

*Session notes:*

Ouch.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Ouch indeed!

Did you have to leave it there?


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Ouch indeed!
> 
> Did you have to leave it there?




Yes.  Yes I did.


----------



## Nthal

*The One - 4/11/2020*

_There aren’t many goblins in Sigil.  In fact, I believe there are more kobolds in the city than all of the goblinkin combined.  Probably has to do with the difficulty of attacking the Cage with gate keys to start with.  Not that the Sinkers or the Hardheads would have minded a good fight just for the change of pace.

But the stories of the goblins and the orcs never ending warfare in Acheron was well known.  Maglubiyet against Gruumush, their petitioners waging enternal war.  Even the Drow would take a break from warfare even it was only to scheme about other plots.

So, I don’t think many Sigilites really understood how much a problem that a living horde of goblins caused primes.  Or understand anything about them beyond the battles in Acheron.

Myself included._​


Wood and fiery splinters flew everywhere as the wave of heat washed over me as the shack was blown apart by the spell.  The smell of burning embers, hair and flesh stung inside my nostrils as I gasped for breath.  And as sudden as the blast came, it was over; the cool night air rushed in, and the light faded back to the dim moonlight the covered the courtyard once again.

I threw off the timbers that had fallen on my back in anger and I shook my head to clear it.  The shack was now obliterated, and I looked around for options.    Still seething, I started looking around the keep for who cast that spell.

In the middle of the courtyard, Daneath was fighting three hobgoblins alone, bringing down one just as I glanced his way.  Drik and Drok had separated and were firing their crossbows at Daneath’s assailants, creating havoc around the warrior.  One tried to run to attack one of the goblins, only to be cut down from behind by Daneath.

I then saw that Beepu was still alive and had already ran towards the manor house, swearing openly and his hair still smoking.   He stopped a short distance from Daneath and decided to keep the odds in our favor.  He drew out the wand he acquired in the canyon several days ago and with a snap of his wrist, flung thick ropy webs around the entrance to the manor house, holding it fast.  The thick oak doors now shook and creaked as the occupants inside attempted to push them open to no avail.

Meanwhile, Darastrix made a loud hiss and charged into another trio of hobgoblins, grabbing all of their attention to him and his spear work.  He quickly gutted one, with a spray of blood and it quickly collapsed lifeless to the ground.  This gave an unnoticed Iesa a perfect opening to cut down a another one from the rear, leaving one left.

“How nice of you all to come to us and _DIE!” _I heard coming from above.  Looking up I saw a hobgoblin dressed in leather armor and holding in his hands a violet crystal, hovering in the night air.  His grin was full of yellowing sharp teeth, and dark eyes of hatred and malice.  As he hovered there in the air grinning, I could feel his will on the weave, as he started to cast another large spell. 

“If not by fire, then perhaps by FROST!” He screamed at us, and the crystal in his hands flared to life with a piercing light.  I then heard the sound of rock or stone, falling fast in the air.  Just above the hobgoblin I saw them; large blue boulders made of ice, falling from the air.  The ice slammed into both groups of combatants, striking everything on the ground, friend or foe alike.  I could feel the waves of cold as each boulder of ice landed. 

Iesa simply spun away, avoiding the ice entirely.  He thrust his rapier into the remaining hobgoblin as somehow the hobgoblin managed to avoid being hit by the ice.  Daneath however, simply raised his shield overhead, helping to deflect some of the damage caused by the storm.  But he found himself harried as the he swung at the hobgoblins next to him, also unimpacted by the storm. 

But he wasn’t alone, as Drik and Drok fired at the hobgoblins with their crossbows.  They were fortunate, as was Beepu and I, as none of us had to contend with the storm of ice.  But I heard the snap of bone and a groan. Turning I saw that Darastrix wasn’t so lucky, and had fell unmoving to the ground, from the icy onslaught, bleeding profusely from a gash in his skull.

I moved, ignoring what pain I felt, passing by Iesa as he ran towards Daneath, to assist with the remaining hobgoblins.  I ran and knelt down, extending a hand on Darastrix and whispering a quick prayer and pulled on a light strand pouring its energy into his fallen form.  I could see the subtle increase in his breathing, and I knew then he was still with us.

“This is intolerable!” Beepu yelled from behind me.  I heard the whooshing of a bolt of fire streaking through the air and turned to see Beepu had tried to strike down the _booyagh.  _

The bolt was wide, and the hobgoblin was unimpressed.  “Little wizard, you are no match for a trained warrior in the arts of sorcery!”  He then countered with a bolt of his own, striking the gnome directly in the chest, and almost knocking him down.  But it was enough.

The webs blocking the doors to the manor now started to weaken, and fray apart under the pressure from the door.  Beepu shook his head and then dejectedly looked at the doors before sighing deeply and saying.

“Of all the times to lose focus.”

From the doors, burst forth four more hobgoblins.  One of them was far larger, wearing steel armor and bearing a shield.  “Time to die humans!” He bellowed at the humans in front of him and charged headlong towards Daneath and Iesa.

“Oh no you don’t,” I said under my breath.  I took off running to the other side of the courtyard, straight at the pack of hobgoblins, leaving Darastrix where he lay.   As I ran, I pulled from my pouch two items, a single coin, a greenie and a sealed piece of parchment that Beepu had given me.  With a stroke of my thumb, I broke the seal and read the two words of power there.

“_Anlaga Nix!_”

I felt the sudden surge from the weave, and I focused on it on the greenie as the scroll turned to ash.

I couldn’t see what I did, but as I approached them the expressions on all the hobgoblins’ faces was clear, utter confusion.  They all stopped in mid charge, blinking and twisting around with blank looks on their faces.  They no longer could see anything even as I ran next to them, not even themselves.

“What?!? You can’t hide from me!” the armored hobgoblin growled in frustration.

They swung blindly, unable to see through the darkness that now surrounded the hobgoblins.  I then moved, and suddenly pulled the darkness away, revealing one of the hobgoblins.  I saw his confusion, and then panic, as both Iesa and Daneath charged at him, and swiftly cut him down with thrusts to his exposed midsection with sword and rapier.

“I thought you knew how to fight in the dark,” I retorted.  Smiling, I moved again, uncovering another hobgoblin and Daneath quickly stepped in and smashed the pommel of his sword into the nose of the surprised hobgoblin, breaking it and spraying blood everywhere.  As the hobgoblin staggered in pain, Iesa thrust his dagger from his left hand, into his back.  The hobgoblin, gurgled, spat up a little blood and fell.

Suddenly, from the doorway of the chapel, another four hobgoblins appeared, ready for battle.  But Beepu was ready again with his new toy and flung more spider webs around the entrance.

“Stay you mongrels!” Beepu shouted at the pack, and they howled in incoherent fury, as they found themselves trapped unable to move.

“You STOLE that from my apprentice!” the _booyagh _yelled and he threw another firebolt at Beepu, this time only grazing him across the arm.

“You lose it you…well…lose it!” Beepu said angrily.

“You need to work on your banter,” Iesa said as I moved again, allowing him to cut down another hobgoblin.”

“It is not important, that web IS you dolt!” Beepu responded with a glare of annoyance.

“Time for you to die you, pathetic excuse for a molerat!” the _booyagh _yelled once again, preparing another large spell.

“Time to put you in the dead book!” I shouted and I threw two bolts of purple energy at the hobgoblin drifting above.  He turned just in time to see them strike, one in the stomach, and the other in the throat.

The hobgoblin screamed as he dropped like a rock, onto the roofline of the chapel, breaking tiles on the shale roof, and rolling down the far side, presumably to the landing that surrounded it.  I then dropped the greenie on the ground, leaving the darkness centered where it lay, and I ran to a set of stairs that would take me to the top of the curtain wall.

_Goss, any idea about the other ones in the moat house?

--Not a clue; I’ll flit over there and take a peek._

As I ran up the stairs, I could hear more crossbows, followed by the sounds of quarrels slamming into a body with yelps of pain.  I moved along the wall, looking for where the hobgoblin had fallen.  Not seeing him, I ran around the roofline of the chapel quickly, not wanting him to escape from me.  I then turned a corner and caught the flash of fire in my eyes just in time to raise my shield to block a bolt from hitting me.

“You foolish female; you think that you can defeat me!” he snarled, defiantly.

“Oh, you have a lot of gelbas to say that to me after I knocked you from the air,” I said looking at him evenly.

“I will enjoy killing you.  Any last words?”

“Just one.  Lizard.” I said calmly.

He looked at me puzzled, and then screamed as a spear was thrust through his back and out his chest with a gush of blood.  The hobgoblin was lifted off his feet by Darastrix by his spear and then with both hands, the lizardfolk slammed the spear shaft down, smashing the hobgoblin on the stone.  The hobgoblin twitched momentarily and then made a choking sound as blood poured from his mouth.

“Am not a lizzzzard,” Darastrix corrected calmly.

“I know…I just wasn’t sure if ‘Lizardfolk’ was one word or two.  I panicked, sorry,” I said shrugging, and turning around to see how the others were doing.

“Not sssssure.  Cannot Ssspell,” Darastrix said as he ran with me back around the wall.

_--Myr, the ogres are mad, but it seems that they have a lack of rope and tools to get across.

Keep an eye on them thanks._

The two of us followed the roofline again and rounded the corner, where we could see the open courtyard.  I stopped just above the entrance to the chapel, while Darastrix ran past me to get to the stairs by the wall.  There I saw that the large armored hobgoblin had fought his way out of the darkness I had left behind and was swinging at Daneath with his sword.  Crossbow bolts bounced off his heavy armor, while Iesa kept trying to flank him without success. Beepu was running around the courtyhard, trying to keep a single hobgoblin off him, while the other three were still mired in webbing below me.

“So…you’re the ‘Prophesized One,’” Iesa said with a wolfish grin.  “We’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”

The hobgoblin laughed as he turned to face Iesa.  “FOOLS!   You understand NOTHING!”  Barring his teeth, he suddenly twisted and slammed his shield into Daneath, knocking him down to the ground.  The hobgoblin then spun around with a wide sweep and sank his blade deep into Iesa’s side.   Iesa grunted and stumbled as the blood poured forth, gushing down his leg.  The hobgoblin then withdrew his sword and lifted it overhead, bringing it down on the shocked Iesa, who crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood.

Daneath scrambled to his feet in a panic and swung again at the warlord, who deftly deflected his blow.  Meantime, the other hobgoblin swung at Beepu, slashing him on the arm.  Beepu ran and reached into his pouch and pulled out a vial, pouring the contents on his hand, and flung ice towards the hobgoblins still trapped in the webbing.  The ice exploded, spraying the threads with fresh blood.  The three hobgoblins hung in the strands motionless.  But Beepu kept running trying to shake his pursuer.

Darastrix had reached the warrior, and thrust with his spear, but was easily sidestepped by the agile warlord.  Daneath again swung, and his blade went wide as the warrior started to tire, much to the hobgoblins’ delight.  The warlord swung and dropped Daneath to his knees, panting for air.

“Now.  You will die!” he snarled.

“I think not!”  And I cast a pair of shimmering bolts straight at the hobgoblin.  One was deflected by a pauldron, but the other hit him square in the chest.   He looked at me with anger saying, “It will be your turn to face death soon enough,”

“I’ve been dead before.  My lord sent me back for deaders walking like you!” I yelled back, keeping his eyes on me.   I was fairly certain he wasn’t watching what I was doing before I hit him with the bolts.  So, when Iesa leapt from the ground and thrust his sword deep into his back, it came as a shock.  Blood spurted from the wounds and from the warlord’s mouth, but he wasn’t finished.  He turned and slammed Iesa’s face with his shield, knocking the Knight of the Post back to the ground, gasping for air.  Darastrix tried again to impale the hobgoblin, but his spear was knocked away by the warlords’ sword.

Two quarrels sank deep into Beepu’s pursuer, as Drik and Drok determined if they couldn’t hit the warlord, they could hit something else.  As the hobgoblin fell, there was a cheer from behind the barrels and crates of “CLUMSY!”  Beepu, took advantage of the sudden freedom, and threw a bolt of fire straight at the warlord hitting him square in the ribs.

I used the last of my strands to send energy to Daneath, closing the wounds I could see on him, as I changed tactics and summoned a miasma around the warlord.  The sound of funeral bell rung as I tried to strip the last of his life away.  He roared in anger and started to step towards me.

But in doing so, he had dropped his guard, and Daneath swung high at the warlord’s neck.  The blood splattered the warrior from the new gash left behind, his head almost liberated from his body.   The hobgoblin stumbled for a couple of steps, before falling to the ground flat on this stomach.  He lay there breathing raggedly, as I strode towards him.

 “As I said, a deader walking.  May the Lord of the Damned find someplace nice for your soul, _Kanlachdt,” _and I spat on the ground in front of his face.

We stood there around the body, catching our breath watching as the pool of blood slowly stopped spreading on the stone.  Beepu limped over, as did Drik and Drok as we looked at the fallen figure, not quite believing the fight was done.

“Myr…what was that word you used?  I didn’t recognize it.” Iesa asked me in between pants.

“It’s a swear word from Baator…from hell.  It literally means ‘worm grown.’”

“Do you actually speak the language or just the colorful parts?” Beepu asked.

“I actually speak it…hard on the throat though,” I replied.

Drik and Drok, came over to the body and rolled it over and looked at the face.  They then started talking excitedly in goblin to each other.

“Hey, what’s going on you two?” Iesa asked rubbing his side.

“This not Prophezied One,” Drik said.

“This lasher named ‘Kenoc the Scarred,’” and Drok pointed at the face, which was indeed covered in a large number of scars.

“You have to be joking,” Daneath said exasperated.  “What? Is he hiding somewhere?”

“We’d better start looking,” Iesa said standing up straight.  “We can’t let him escape.”

“Well, the moat house seems to have lost its troops,” Beepu said, his eyes far away.  “It looks like they gave up and ran.”

_Goss?  Are they really all gone in the moathouse?

--As far as I can tell yes._

“Beepu, tell Foggle to fly down to Darastrix and warn him if they return,” Daneath started.  “Darastrix, can you watch from the walls if they start coming up by the water?”

“Will do sssoo after I bar door,” and Darastrix ran off to the entrance we had used to enter the keep, to confirm it being closed and locked.

“Let’s get inside and see what we can find,” Daneath continued.  “We better stick together.  You too Drik, Drok,”

The goblins nodded, recovering some quarrels on the ground and reloading.

_Goss, pulling you back.  Need you with me.

--What ok I…URK!_

The black tressym appeared in a puff of black fur, looking almost surprised, before dropping to the ground, following us into the manor house.

The door was already open as we entered what probably was a hall for feasting.  Now, on the dais where some lords throne once stood was a grisly display.  A large block of granite was placed in the center, with dried blood staining the front where blood once ran free.  Beside it was a rack of weapons from top to bottom, a headman’s axe, then a crossed sword and hand axe, a flail and on the ground a barbed whip.  All stained in blood.  But it was the spears set around the block that gave me the chills.  Three spears, each with three heads, most humans, but some elves as well.  Each ones’ mouth open, as if to utter a silent scream.  But it was the eyes I wanted to forget; each of them had their eyelids sliced off as they watched the makeshift temple forever.

 I swallowed, feeling the lump in my throat.  My anger had not abated, and this desecration of the dead was beyond offensive.  My heart pounded as I seethed.

“There seems to be a floor up, and set of stairs going down?” Iesa after looking around said.  “Which way first?”

“Up,” Daneath said.  “Clear the place top to bottom.”

_Goss, can you hide in here and watch the stairs and the entrance.  Make sure no one leaves?

--Sure thing…you alr—

No…I need to kill this foul prophet.

--Myr…you should--

DROP IT._

“Goss is watching down here, let’s go up then.”

Daneath and Iesa started up the stairs, with the goblins next and the Beepu and I close behind.  We had just all entered the landing and were looking around; a hallway and a large room to a side, when we heard a gravelly shriek.  Whirling, we saw two dirty hobgoblin women ready to fight: one with a cleaver the other with a cast iron pan.  But once they saw Daneath and Iesa with their weapons drawn, they looked at each other nervously.

“Drik, Drok?  Can you tell them to surrender and answer questions?” Iesa asked.

“Yes.  _Gefan uppt ogta talri san!_” Drik shouted.  The hobgoblin women were surprised, and glared at the two goblins with crossbows, who they had not noticed before.  They bared their teeth and tightened their grip on their makeshift weapons.

_“Gefan uppt ogta talri san!”_ I shouted, pulling on a strand to increase the volume of my voice.  They turned and looked at me with wide eyes before dropping the kitchen implements on the ground, cowering in fear.

Iesa started looking around in the room, as I knelt in front of them, looking at them in the eye.  “Drik, ask them where is—”

“_Hvan er Spak Unic?”_ Dirk barked without even letting me finish.  I looked at the pair and while they looked at Drik and Drok with contempt, they were afraid to meet my eyes.  Finally, one spoke:

_“Unic er han nedin!”_ she said, her gaze constantly shifting from glancing at me, and the floor.

“Somewhere below,” Drok said.  “Strange not up here.”

“Why is that?” Daneath asked. 

“Lasher rule from above.  Like towers a lot.” Drik said.

“Use stools to stand on to yell at goblins,” Drok continued.

“Well, there is a pantry here we can lock them in until we figure out what to do with them,” Iesa pointed out.

Daneath pointed with his sword, to the small pantry, and the women slinked in like beaten dogs.  He closed the door, while Iesa fiddled with the lock with his picks.  “Remind me to look for the keys later.”

“Noted,” Daneath said.  “Drik, Drok.  Watch them here; shoot to kill if they leave.”

“Must we?” Drik whined which was followed by Drok elbowing him hard and nodding.

We quickly looked over the floor first and found only bedrooms turned into barracks.  One room was clearly the warlords, based on the collection of weapons and the trunks inside.  Another seemed to be the _booyagh’s._  But we found no one else. 

We quickly returned to the first floor and looked around; a simple kitchen and smaller rooms used as a barracks, but again, no one left to oppose us now.

“This is almost strange.  Did we really kill everyone?” Iesa said in a hushed tone.

“Just not the one who needs to die,” I said grimly.  I was getting impatient.  I wanted this to end.  I wanted this hobgoblin to pay, and here he was hiding somewhere f;rom us.  What kind of coward was this ‘Prophesized One?’

“Something feels off, but I guess down we go,” Daneath said, and the four of us descended the stairs, with I noticed Gossamer following along.  The stairs curved, and eventually we found ourselves in a large storage room.  The room, however had been converted, in a similar manner as the main hall.  More spears with heads hanging from their hair were staked in the room.  Lit braziers and torches made the room uncomfortably warm and a bit smokey.   The only sound in the room was the fluttering of the fires in the lit braziers.   On the far end of the room was a table with various books and strips of cloth laying upon it. 

What was strange was beyond that was a set thick velvet of three curtain, hung from makeshift ropes on the ceiling, in a triangular shape.  Inside it seemed to be concealing something on a square pillar, perhaps made of stone or wood.

“Where is he?” Beepu said breaking the silence.

_--Can you smell it?

Huh?  Smell what?

--Something…spoiled.  Something…familiar.

Can you find it?

--Of course!  Let me poke around._

I raised my hand up catching everyone’s attention.  “Goss, smells something.”

“What is it?” Daneath asked impatiently.

I gestured with my hand towards the tressym, who now casually was moving to the center of the room where the table was, sniffing the air.  Occasionally he would open his mouth slightly and almost pant looking around, taking in the air and tasting it.  Finally, he jumped on the table and sniffed around.  He avoided the books and instead took an interest in the cloth strips.

_--This is peculiar.  I wonder…

What?  Wonder what?_

Gossamer ignored me and flew down to the velvet curtains and pushed with his face inside.  We all looked at each other and started towards the center, when Gossamer emerged and sat down on the floor, and looked at me.

_--Myr…you have a problem.

What are you talking about?

--Just look inside the curtains._

I looked at Gossamer confused, and slowly moved towards the velvet.  As I approached, I finally caught whiff of a scent.  Something familiar that I couldn’t put my finger on.  I stood next to the curtain and reached my hand out to grab it, and I gave Gossamer a final questioning look. 

The tressym just blinked at me and motioned his head as if to tell me to get on with it.  I then pulled open the curtain to look within.

There was indeed a stone pillar of sorts, and on top of it was a large basket.  Within I could see within it a bed of wool and linens.  But I gasped at what I saw inside.

There in the basket breathing softly was a child.  It couldn’t have been more of than a year old based on size alone.  I quietly stepped forward, with my jaw wide open and looked at it.  The child had the greenish skin, the bluish nose, and the heavy sloped forehead of a hobgoblin infant.  Around him I could smell the aroma of unchanged linens, and spoiled milk.

Here lay the Prophesized One, fast asleep.  Its face was peaceful and unconcerned with the world.  Having no idea that an army marched in its name.  No idea that its name invoked fear in the elves of the High Forest, and the men of the High Moor and Secomber alike.  Ignorant that the hobgoblins were butchering others in its name.

The one I had sworn to kill just moments ago.

I stood there in a torrent of confused emotion, mouth agape.  I didn’t know what to feel.  The others crowded beside me and we all looked at each other in bafflement.  But fortunately, someone was able to put it to words.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Iesa said as we all crowded and stared at our new problem.

*Session notes*

Well…that happened.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Nice twist.


----------



## Nthal

*The Sound of Need - 4/20/2020*

_There are many mysteries in the multiverse.  Why is the Blood War necessary?  Why are elves the most attractive and yet the least approachable beings at the same time?  Why does gnomish humor have to involve genealogy?  And I am sure there is a good answer to all of them.

But no matter how many mysteries there are, there is one constant fact:

Men will *never* understand how women work.  Not physically and not emotionally. _​


“Well that confirms it,” Daneath said frowning.  It was late evening, and we had finished searching all the corpses, and had already lit a bonfire to burn them in a makeshift pyre, where I had performed last rites.  Once there, Drik and Drok started to interrogate the two hobgoblin women, locked in the pantry.

“I cannot believe this,” Beepu grumbled.  “A child.  No, an infant is the one we have been hunting for.”

“Well, I doubt the females are lying.  What’s that book say about it Myr?” Iesa asked me.

I had already performed the ritual so I could understand the writings left behind, most likely by the _booyagh_.  Reading through it was painful.  The first problem was it was all written with a religious zeal about Maglubiyet that made a large chunk just worthless.  I didn’t need more adulation of the power.  I wanted to know more about this child.  But when it did refer to the child, it was like it was the physical manifestation of the powers themselves.   Lastly, the writer was completely over the top. 

“I’m working on it,” I said.  “This isn’t the most useful…wait.  This is interesting…’The One cannot be targeted by foul…incantations, for he is hidden by the grace of Maglubiyet’ ?”   I read aloud.  I looked at Beepu.  “What in Baator does that even mean?”

Beepu frowned and started a ritual.  After a while he opened his eyes, now glowing with a silvery light, and he turned to look at the child.  I watched his face contort with confusion before he spoke.

“He…he…he is not there,” Beepu stammered.

“What do you mean?” Daneath asked confused.

“I tried to see if he had any magic laid upon him, and it appears he is missing to my eyes right now.”

“Missing?” Iesa looked at Beepu critically. “He’s right there.”

“Yes…he is.  But not to magic.  I…do not think I could target him with a spell,” Beepu started to cast a shorter spell and then stopped. “No.  He is just…missing from the Weave.”

“That might explain why the elves couldn’t find him,” Daneath said thinking.  “Not being able to follow his movements would blind them to attacks.”

I kept flipping the pages skimming, until I reached a passage that caught my eye.

“He’s…not from this tribe either.  ‘The most sacred one was brought to us.  In his time of need we shall feed and clothe him as our own.’” I chuckled a moment, before looking at the others.  “He’s adopted.”

Drik turned towards me with a surprised look, and then started to talk to the females still locked away.

_“The one, not warborn?”_ Drik asked.

_“No.  Not of clan.  Brought to us by blade ear,”_ I could hear the muffled voice say in goblin.  But at the mention at the phrase ‘blade ear’ our pair looked at each other confused.

“What was that?” I asked the goblin duo.

Drok turned to look at me, “Not make sense.  Was brought here by…an elf.”

“Huh?” Iesa exclaimed, sitting up in the chair where he was precariously reclining in a moment ago.  “An elf brought him here?  That makes no sense.”

“Do they know anything about the elf?” I asked.  Shrugging Drik turned again to the door.

_“What do you know of blade ear?”

“Only saw once.  Warlord wanted to kill him.  Booyagh said he must be talked to.  Brought child.  Talked with Booyagh.  Left.  Not seen again.”_ Came the reply from the door.

_“What did you see?”_ Drik continued.

_“Yellow coin haired.  Had snake picture on neck.  Looked down at all but booyagh.” _The woman replied.

_“Funny name,”_ the other women spoke.   _“Something...’Ros.’”_

I thought a second before my eyes widened in shock.  I got up from the table where I sat and stood next to the pantry door, using the goblin words I had just picked up.”

“_Fann ket…Paradros?”

“Ta!”_ came the reply from the second voice.

“No.” Iesa said shaking his head.  “Paradros?  That sun elf that was working for the—”

“—Kershak.”  Daneath finished.

“_Ta!  Kershak, mil Paradros.”_ Came the answer.  We all looked at each other confused in silence.

“Why?”  Iesa asked.  “Why would he…”

“To punish one elf; Melandrach.” Daneath said quietly.

“That must be it.  Melandrach helped my father and helped Umbra as well.  Paradros did say that the Kershak ‘did not grant mercy to the assistants of criminals.’” Beepu said quietly, recalling the elf’s conversation with us.

“And he…decided to wipe out not just the king,” I said incredulously.  “But all his kin…his subjects?  That…that is just…wrong.”

“What better way to harm a king, but to destroy their subjects?” Daneath said somberly.  “But still it is a high price.”

We sat there silently again looking at each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking.  The silence was broken by Darastrix, entering the room from below.  His head swiveled to look at each of us, not understanding.

“SSsself missss ssssomething?” he asked patiently.  And then the room was suddenly filled with the sounds of tears as the Prophesized One began to cry.

The five males looked at the basket blankly and then turned to me with a helpless expression.

I gave them a dirty look and made my way to the table frowning.  As an orphan in an orphanage, you had to help with the young ones and for those in the early teens, the common chores included changing of swaddling.   So, the first thing I did, was check the cloth for signs of wetness or other gifts in the cloth.  But it was clear that he was dry, which left the most likely problem was that he…was…

“Sodding…,” I said and turned to Drik and Drok.  “Are one of the two women wet nurses?”

“Wet…nurse?” Drok answered confused amid the wailing of the hungry infant.

I blinked and stammered back. “Ask how they fed him!”

“What? What is the issue?” Daneath asked looking at the child and I confused.

I wasn’t paying attention to what the goblin women said as the infant’s wail increased in volume, but Drok finally piped up, “Goat milk from bladder.”

“Where?!?” I yelled over the din.  Drok quickly asked, and Drik responded.  “By shack in...” and his voice trailed off, and a look of concern came across his face.

“Oh sodding,” I exclaimed looking upwards.

“Wait…did any survive the fireball?”  Iesa asked Beepu.

“No.  They were all killed when the shack blew apart as I recall.” Beepu said.  “I remember stepping over the corpses as I was trying to web the doors.”

“I don’t understand, can’t you just…feed him Myr?” Daneath asked.

“With what?” I shouted, as the baby’s cries started to get even louder.

“Well…you’re a woman.  Can’t you…just…um.” Daneath stuttered and lamely pointed at my chest.

I think my eyes just about bugged out of their sockets and my mouth dropped open as I realized that Daneath had no idea how a woman’s body actually worked.  But as I turned, I realized that all the men had a look that I was about to save the day.

“No.  I.  Can’t!” I yelled.  “A woman has to have a child for these,” and I clutched my chest with my hands framing my bosom, “to start providing milk.”

“Mussst be Ssssoftssskin thing,” Darastrix observed.

“It’s a five day walk to…anywhere.  What are we going to do?” Iesa asked dumbfoundedly.

“Not just that,”  Daneath said with a grim look on his face.  “How often would he need something?”

“Six or eight times a day,” I said, shouting over the crying.  “He’s too young for real food.  And if he doesn’t get it…”

“We can tighten our belts.  Can’t he—” Iesa started.

“No!  Without…something, he has three days at best.”

“That noizzze will attract many huntersss.” Darastrix said, maddenly calm with the escalating fury of the One in the room.

“What do we do?” Beepu said flustered.

“Well if we don’t think of something, I’m going to have to—” I started.

“—What?  You can’t just kill him!” Iesa said in horror.

“What?  Let him starve painfully instead?  *That’s* better?” I said.  “I’m all for ideas though,” spreading my hands wide, waiting for a suggestion.

“Sssself could---” Darastrix offered.

“NO!” everyone yelled before he could finish.

I was wracking my memory, for options.  But the Gatehouse did have wet nurses; they were compensated for their valuable work in food and even some jink.  They honestly seemed to enjoy it as I recalled.  We too used goat milk at times, but that too wasn’t an option now.  The cries of the Prophesized One were grating on my nerves.  I wanted it to stop.  I didn’t want to kill another baby.

During the Faction War, I helped several people end their lives; to die with some dignity when no other options presented themselves.  Because of wounds, because of rot, because of pain. But…when presented with a babe that was so ill from disease, and so weakened that it just spat back all the wet nurse fed it…

What choice was there?

I teared up as I stood there; trying to find a better option.  I didn’t want to do this.  But if it had to be done, I was duty bound to do so by my power.  I could not forsake that charge.  I would not.  There had to be—

“Hey, what about these?  Could he…I don’t know…gum them?” Iesa said.  In his hands were a couple of huge raspberries.  I looked at them for a second, trying to remember what they were.

“Pathhorn’s fruit!”  Beepu said recognizing them. “They would sustain him most likely.  But Myr said he is too young for solid—”

My head snapped to attention and I looked at the others.  “Quick.  Find me a drinking horn and some cloth!” I ordered to their confusion.

Drik and Drok scrambled towards the sleeping rooms, while Iesa and Daneath glanced at each other, before they started to scour the room’s cabinets and drawers.  It wasn’t long before Iesa shouted. “Found one!” just as Drik and Drok came running in with scraps of linen.

“Daneath.  I need you to cut the bottom of the horn, so there is a hole no bigger than a pinky finger in width.”

“Umm…who’s pinky?”

“Wha…mine!” I said holding out a finger for Daneath to squint at.   “Drik, Drok, give me.” I said and took the linens from their hands.  They were simple muslin, but there was more than enough.   I quickly tore one into a square about two hand spans wide.  Then I used a bit of a white strand to clean the filth and soil from it.  I really was afraid to ask where exactly they found it.

Daneath came over to me and presented the horn.  I grabbed it and looked through the large end through it the small hole that he had cut in the base.   I then stuffed about half of the cloth into the horn, and while holding it in my left hand I stretched and covered the bottom hole with my finger.

“Iesa the fruit,” I said.   He handed me one of the large berries and I put it with my right hand on top of the cloth within the horn.  Then I pulled the remaining section of cloth over it, covering it completely.  I moved over the bawling infant with the horn, and then started to push down on the muslin, crushing and squeezing the berry, so the juices spurt free, and soaked the cloth.  I then lowered the horn down to the child, put the bottom of the horn in his mouth, and quickly removed my finger.

The Prophesied One, opened his eyes to look at me.  And after a couple of moments of silence, I could hear the sucking sounds as he pulled the juices from the cloth in the horn, with the suction of his mouth.  He started to make a raspy cooing sound and with both hands clutched the sides of the horn, taking it from my grasp.

“There you go…there you go…” I said calmly.  I bent over and awkwardly picked up the child and cradled him.  I then sat down and rocked slowly, as the terror of the High Moors finally got what he wanted.  The sucking continued, as I breathed a sigh of relief.

The others looked at me, also visibly relieved.

“Well…that may have taken care of that—”

“Yes,” I said.  “But you are going to help change him.”

“Um…I don’t know if—” Iesa started.

“If you can stick your shiv where the sun doesn’t shine on your opponents, a little poop shouldn’t scare you.”  I said keeping eye contact with the tiny hobgoblin.  “Besides I will need to sleep.”

“—Sure.  Fine,” Iesa said.  “But what I was going to say; what *are *we going to do with him now?  We aren’t going to keep him, right?”

I looked up from the feeding and shook my head, “I don’t want him.  I’m not…qualified to be a mother.”

“You have things under control Myr; he likes you!” Iesa teased.

“Pike it!” I said angrily.

“Assuming we do not want to raise him, it might be a bigger problem than feeding him,” Beepu said, his browns furrowed in thought.  “Iesa.  How many more berries from Pathhorn do we have?”

“Six more; we never used them as I could always hunt game,” he replied.

“Then, if the magic still works on him, we only have two real places we could take him to with a five-day march; Secomber or Whitepetal.”

“How about Daggerford?” Daneath asked thinking about the nearby towns.

Iesa shook his head, “That’s probably eight days from here; a bit too far.”

“So…give him to humans or the elves,” Daneath said.  “Why would either want him?”

“I doubt that anyone in Secomber would want one,” Iesa began.   “They did just terrorize and enslave a bunch of homesteads.  So, the townsfolk aren’t going to want to do any favors; especially if they find out who he is.”

“We could stop, get a goat and go somewhere else like Waterdeep or maybe Neverwinter or even Baldur’s Gate,” Daneath suggested.

“We could do that.  Farther the better.  Baldur’s might be the best chance; they do have quite the…mix at the docks.” Iesa said nodding.

“I disagree,” I said still rocking the child.

“Where then Myr?” Beepu looked at me with curiosity.

“We take him to Whitepetal,” I said glancing at all of them.

“I do not see the elves taking in one of their enemies; they do not want humans in their forest, let alone hobgoblins.  Why them?”

“Because,” I said rocking.  “They need proof that the Prophesized One is defeated.  And they need to see him, and the strange effects on magic that he has.”

“You do have a point there,” Beepu said rubbing his chin.  “They were the target of the Kershak’s plot.  They might have a better idea on what to do with him.  Certainly, better than an angry villager in Secomber.”

“It’s going to be a long five days,” I muttered.

“I said I’ll help,” Iesa said defensively.  He then elbowed Daneath, earning him a puzzled look, “And Daneath can help as well.”

“Wha—Oh yes…sure,” Daneath looked at Iesa uncertainly.

“Let’s be honest,” I said, still rocking the child as it sucked more of the berry juice from the horn.  “During the day, I am likely the only one that will be able to carry him and keep him quiet—”

“I am certain I can carry a—” Daneath started.

“—With a sword and shield at the ready?” I interrupted.

“You…may have a point,” Daneath conceded.

“Or a bow ready?” I said as I turned and looked at Iesa.  He grimaced and looked at his feet and said nothing.  Turning I looked at Drik and Drok who both waved their hands at the idea.

“What about me?  I can do it I am certain!” Beepu said in a huff.

I looked at him and arched an eyebrow.  “I said carry him, not summon a disc and hope he doesn’t slide off.”

“That is…not quite fair.  I would let you ride it and coddle the child.” Beepu answered smartly.

I thought a moment.  “Sure.  You can do that.”

“See how easy that…what?  You will?” Beepu looked at me in surprise.

“You offered.  You aren’t going back on it are you?” I asked pointedly.

“Well…um…no…I just did not expect to…fine!  I can do it.”

“Ssself ssstill could—” Darastrix started again.

“NO!” we all shouted again.

The Prophesized One, in his wisdom, decided to give off a contented burp, and his eyes were drooping, ready to sleep off the meal.  I slowly lowered the drowsy infant back into the basket.  He didn’t complain and he was soon lightly snoring.  I stood, stretched, and looked at the others.

“I guess we can leave at first light,” I said. I then turned to Darastrix.

“Can you lead us to where we met?”  I asked as I pulled out some cheese and hard bread from my pack to chew on.

“Easssily.  Fassster than other goblinsss can.”

“We watch walls,” Drik said confidently.

“Watch for others,” Drok confirmed nodding.

“Wake me for last watch,” I said, and I started heading off towards one of the converted quarters on this level.

“What…well…what do we do if--?” Iesa said pointing at the basket

At the question, Beepu jumped on a chair and slapped the rogue. “Look, even I can change a nappy. I will show you how, you ignorant human.  It is a simple process of…”

Beepu’s voice faded along with Iesa’s groans, as I moved down the hall and walked into one of the larger chambers, that likely housed the _booyagh._

For all their faults hobgoblins did have one redeemable quality; they were fastidious.  The room that the _booyagh _had been using was clean, however, it was covered in strange charms and trinket on every flat surface, and many nailed to the walls.  The room had the scent of incense and herbs, but I had to admit it was only strange and not foul.

I sat down on a chair in the room and tore at the bread with my teeth and chewed.  I was dreading the next week.  At the gatehouse, kids had to take care of their own.  And while some of the girls enjoyed helping with babies, it wasn’t something I enjoyed.   Elisina enjoyed it quite a bit, so I would often trade chores with her when she was alive.  But I found myself saddled with childcare more and more after her death, until some of the younger girls were old enough to manage them.  Feeding a baby, and changing them wasn’t especially hard though.

But I never saw myself as a mother.  I wasn’t even sure what that even meant really.  The matrons and caretakers in an orphanage weren’t ‘parents.’  We were often left to our own devices; we weren’t raised.  And in the Hive, it’s not like I ever saw caring parents.  Just ones trying to keep their own kin alive another day.  Most of the kids I saw eyes were as dead as their own parents.

I bit into the hard cheese and wondered what the powers exactly had in mind.  That I was going to have to take care of my former enemy.  All while he was small enough not to know the circumstances that surrounded him.  That I was going to play his mother for the time being.   Sure, I would have some help, but I knew the reality of it as well; I was the most logical choice until we got to Whitepetal.  But I also knew that this would be the last decent night’s sleep I was going to get for a while.  Turning my head towards the door, I saw that Gossamer had followed me, and had sat on his haunches to groom.

_--You could just let the others take care of the child.  You didn’t have to adopt him._

I looked at the tressym and sighed.

_I don’t know about that.  Considering that earlier I wanted to bash his head in.

--You had no idea tha—

No, and that’s the point.  I was so focused on wanting to kill him…all of them.

--Its not like you didn’t have cause.

I didn’t!  All I had was—

--Hate.  Based on what happened that made sense.

But It wasn’t hate.  It was *desire*.  I really wanted to kill him; I wanted to make him pay.  Now…I just want him to live.

--You’re never that simple._

I hung my head sadly.

_I just don’t understand why everything I feel is backwards.  Wanting to kill.  How am I better than the hobgolbins killing in the child’s name.  I believe in better.  I should *be* better.

--Get some rest.  You’ve had enough shocks for a day._

I had finished the cheese, and I pulled a flask from my pouch.  I uncorked it and swallowed the contents, tasting the warm bitter flavors as they slid down my throat.  The flask was half full, and I quickly drained the contents and dropped it on the floor.  I stripped off my things, and flopped on the mattress and waited for the euphoria of the whiskey to take me away.

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently followed by the sound of Daneath’s chiding voice.

“You know that isn’t a healthy way to get some rest?”

I groaned and refused to open my eyes.  “It’s the only way that works anymore.”

“I’ve known others that never find the end of that bottle.  I don’t recommend it.” He said, the concern clear in his voice.

I pulled myself up, my head pounding.  “Well, it served its purpose.  But I might have over done it.”

“Well, come back to the hall when you are ready.  Beepu and Iesa sorted out stuff from the bodies.  Your share is on the table.  I’m getting some shuteye.   Oh one thing, keep the torches lit.”

“Huh? why?” I asked as I swung my legs down and sat up on the bed.

“Seems that the One doesn’t like to sleep in the dark,”

I looked at Daneath puzzled, “He should be able to see though,”

“Beepu thinks he likes the colors.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said smiling.  Moved towards Gossamer who lay there curled on the mattress, feigning sleep.

_Well Goss, go poke around outside and see what’s up.

--Sure.  Beats smelling your drunken sweat.

Hah cute…wait…you can smell that?

--Unfortunately, I can._



I collected my things and entered the upper hall only to see a comical sight.  There in a chair, lay Beepu fast asleep.  On his chest lay the Prophesized One, slumbering quietly.  Nearby on the wall a single torch in a wall sconce, its flame low.

I chuckled and flexed and placed a light on the torch.  I gave it the same warmth color of a flame and sat down at the table.  I shook my head smiling and propped my feet on the table.  I thought a moment on what to do.  I decided to perhaps clear my head with an impossible task.

I reached into the pouch where I kept the _Apocrypha_.  I placed it on the table, and casually pulled on a metal tab, and pulled out one of the many unreadable sheets.

Or that’s what I expected.

The sheet was the same silvery metal, but the strange celestial runes now glowed with an orange light in places, while others remained as dark as before.  I leaned forward, with my mouth opening wider as I looked at the letters I saw at the top of the page.

“Rituals of Binding”

I blinked.  Why were the letters glowing?  I leaned forward and squinted at the letters.  Then thinking a moment, I flexed and shut off the light I had cast on the torch.  And then before my eyes, I saw the glow fade and the illegible writing appear once again.  A simple flex on the torch and the letters resumed glowing with an orange light.

I brought the _Apocrypha_ closer to my eyes and looked at the letters more carefully.  I then realized what had been eluding me.  The script was always strange in that every letter was perfectly spaced apart in a grid forty-two letters wide.  But now I saw why; it wasn’t a single letter, but instead there were multiple letters in a single space, layered on top of each other.  And somehow, my light made a single letter in each stack illuminate, spelling words.

The title was clear, but while the next block was readable, it wasn’t really understandable.  I read it over and over, and realized I was indeed reading a magical language of some type, using the Celestial alphabet, but spelling out words of arcanum, after a quick understandable phrase.   I couldn’t help myself but to read it aloud.

“Knowledge in the first,” I said to myself.  “Mitate an texi ciro animun metanan?”

As the last syllable passed my lips, I realized my mistake.  It wasn’t just words…it was an incantation.

I could feel my world spin around my head and my gut felt it was turned inside out.  The whirling of lights, colors, and even smells assaulted my senses.  I felt the fabric of the weave reverberate and finally rip asunder, swallowing my mind first into darkness and then into a glittering expanse.

I hung there motionless, scarcely breathing as my eyes looked about.  It was like looking upwards at the stars that surrounded Selune here in Toril.  Or perhaps looking upwards in Sigil at Antipeak, to the lanterns and lights far away overhead.   I looked down at myself and saw nothing but my own bare skin.  Across the surface, flickered letters and swirling lines forming abstract patterns, like an intricate tattoo.  But there was something else as well.  From my body I saw two strands of white and three of black coming from the distant darkness, and then weave together into a braid that protruded from me just above my navel.  I realized I had seen this once before; when I was dead, and my soul was waiting on the fugue.  But now the strands and the braid were thicker, and I could feel the energy pulse with more power.

I twisted about, looking around me.  But nowhere did I see a surface to stand or sit.  There was nothing but the strands that I could see.  But as I calmed, I realized that I felt something else there in the darkness; a presence watching me.  I then heard in my head in the language of Celestials.

“Finally, you have arrived.  Took your sweet time did you not?”

*Session Notes:*

I have two children, and feeding infants is indeed a chore.  And what is described is pretty much what medieval Europeans did in the absence of wet nurses.  And there was a serious question about killing the child, which the table was uncomfortable.  But the berries did work, so it ended there.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit




----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


>




Speechless?   Alrighty then.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

OK. I'll add that I'm waiting impatiently to find out who you've just met.

Oh ... and nearly every group I've played with would have had no compunction in killing the kid. But that probably just tells you something about the people I usually play with!


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> OK. I'll add that I'm waiting impatiently to find out who you've just met.
> 
> Oh ... and nearly every group I've played with would have had no compunction in killing the kid. But that probably just tells you something about the people I usually play with!




It might; did you take a poll?

Oh...and 'who' may be the wrong question.  Just sayin.


----------



## Nthal

*The Unwoven Strands of Fate - 4/29/2020*

_The past is full of many things: successes, regrets and most important of all mistakes.  Now successes are pleasant enough, and regrets aren’t at all fun to dwell on.  But for a Sensate, mistakes are the greatest thing. You learn so much more about the reality of things, if you make mistakes.

But sometimes, you aren’t sure what category in the past something falls into.  But in case of doubt; it’s a mistake.  The problem is figuring out what you are learning from it.  _​
I floated in an open sea of distant lights, unable to move anywhere.  But in truth, there was nowhere to go in this place.  Nothing resembled a floor or a surface anywhere that I could see.  And I wasn’t falling; it was like I was in the pond in Pathhorn’s glade floating.  But nor was I moving, or was I able to as I ‘sat’ there, with the echo of the voice I heard, reverberating inside my head

I turned in vain to find the elusive source.  Considering the circumstances; I should have been scared or at least concerned.  But the truth was I think I would have been more alarmed if there was only silence.  But in the end, I couldn’t locate the source, so I did the only rational thing that came to mind.

“Where in sodding Baator am I and who are you?” I yelled.  I knew I could have spoken in my head, but somehow it was more satisfying to vent my frustration aloud.

“You are in a magical construct for the purpose of allowing element Myrai’s  limited perceptions to have…context,” the voice intoned in a very matter of fact tone.  It didn’t judge, it didn’t seem to care, it just was.

“Context? Construct?  Limited?  That’s about a clear of an answer that I would expect out of a modron!”

“A modron’s capacity for understanding would be more limited than yours if it was under the rank of hexton,” it continued.  “However, the lack of context would be greater, as this place has even less meaning for them.  It is for your perception only.”

“That makes me feel so much better.  So how about who you are?”

“I am the construct you are meant to perceive.”

By the powers, this was worse than talking to Beepu after he has had a bowl of fruit dipped in honey.  He had that once as a dessert in Waterdeep, and I swore he was weaving together two sentences at the same time and made almost no sense with either.  I remembered that he passed out with exhaustion later that evening to my relief.

“You know, that really doesn’t answer my question.”

“It did answer query; element Myrai is still adjusting to the context.  Until then, meaning will be without a common frame of reference.”

I rolled my eyes; no this was worse.  This was like talking to a guvner in the City Courts of Sigil.  I had visited there once, and it took all day to stand in multiple lines, just to give a message.  I got a thrashing back at the Gatehouse for coming back after dark because it took so long.  But the only reason it took so long, was I had to fill out forms to drop off the message.  In triplicate.

“So, you what, summoned me here like an imp on a string for what?  Annoying conversation?”

“Incorrect.”

“On…what?  The conversation being annoying?”

“No. Element Myrai was not summoned.  Element Myrai was compelled by the binding.”

“Compelled?  What are you--?”

“Simplified, when element Myrai  finally used the correct catalyst to decode the binding, this triggered a mandatory compulsion to create—”

“—Wait—”

“—a nexus between that existence and this construct that is the—”

“—hold it—”

“—mental manifestation of the agreed binding.”

“What?  Alright stop. Let’s start with this ‘binding’ thing you keep mentioning.  What are you talking--?”

“Appropriate.  Binding is the source of the construct.”

“Alright…that’s a start.  What is—?”

“Simplifying context. Answer: The Binding is the connection of element Myrai to source of manipulatable energy commonly referred to as ‘the Weave’”

I nodded silently thinking.  “I almost understood—”

“Progress.”

“That was sarcasm!” I retorted angrily.  Pausing I collected myself and continued.  “Alright, you mentioned the Weave, which as a sorcerer—"

“Incorrect.”

I would have glared at the voice if I could have.  “Fine.  As a sorceress—”

“Incorrect.”

That took me aback.  “Wait…what did you—?”

“Sorcery: defined as bloodline with prime material beings known as ‘Dragons’ which have natural connection to Weave enabling manipulation.  Element Myrai has no such bloodline connection.”

“I’m…I’m not a sorcer—” I was confused.  My mind was trying to grasp with what I was being told.  “And I know I am not a Wizard—”

“Correct.”

“But this…this binding allows me to use mag--.”

“Correct.”

“By the powers, stop interrupting!  Alright…so how did I get binded…boun--?”

“Simple explanation with two differing answers depending on context.  First context is informational; there are multiple methods for creation of a binding.  Method used in this specific case was integration of Weave to planar material within element Myrai.”

I blinked.  “I thought you said I didn’t have any draconic—”

“Correct.   Origin of connection to weave due to immortal connection to planar matrix transferred from immortal.”

“Great…another gift from absent—” I said almost to myself.

“Father not technically required.  Many methods of infusion of planar matrix are possible.  Digression not relevant.”

“So…fine. I was bound, and now I am here for what, witty banter?”

“Construct is used to manipulate loci that element Myrai refers to as ‘Strands’ an imprecise labeling of planar flux.”

“But I could cast magic before—”

“Manipulation of loci not synonymous with flux interaction with weave.  The later element Myrai is already familiar with, the former provides other expressions unique to element Myrai.  Interaction with loci has been accidental due to lack of knowledge.  This was anticipated and was why compulsion was placed on first binding; To force manifestation of the construct to transfer knowledge.

“A compulsion…wouldn’t a readable text be a bit quick—”

“Discussion preferred method for transfer of contextual knowledge.  Reading without context may cause confusion.  Removal of ambiguity required construct.

“Oh, like this is really better,” I said, more agitated than before.  The voice, its tone, its lack of passion was grating on my state of mind.

Oblivious, the construct continued, “Second context answer relevant.  Binding created because of request made by element Myrai.”

I twisted my head in confusion hanging there.  I shook it as I spoke.   “What?  No…I…would…I…should remember doing tha--”

“Binding request was made and completed ten years ago.  Nature of binding is a slow maturation before manipulation of Weave possible.  Time for full maturation was between four and five years.  Binding type rarely used due to maturation time and frequent lack of enough volume of planar matrix to create needed loci.”

“Back up!  Ten years ago?  I was a chil—”

“Not relevant.”

“Listen you adle-coved—”

“Inaccurate.”

“—mibix spouting—”

“Also Inaccurate.”

“—proxy for mephit flam!”

“Fascinating.  Insult recorded.  Element Myrai made proposal:

‘Please, I’ll do anything…I want to be stronger.’​
It wasn’t the voice of the construct.  It was the frightened voice of a young girl I heard, sobbing.  No…it was *my* voice!  I hung there in shock as I remembered that day; the day when Elisna was killed.  Back in the shrine of Kelemvor I had stumbled into by accident.

“Binding was created at that time, as element Myrai demonstrated commitment and resolve.  This was in addition to other duties already allocated.”

“What…are you talking about?” I said.  The blood in my body ran cold.

“Element Myrai’s singular purpose not achieved.  Additional maturation required.  Additional infusion of loci required.”

From the sea of lights, I spotted a motion in the distance, how far I wasn’t sure.  I then saw a Strand, black as pitch undulating towards me.  I watched confused for a moment, when it suddenly struck at me.   I flinched, instinctually trying to twist away and defend myself.  There was a sharp flash of pain when it connected to my body, and then quickly braided itself with the strands already connected.  Then I felt it.

I felt raw power flow into myself.  The closest way I could describe it was the euphoria I felt when I healed myself.  Or killed someone else.  It was the feeling of glorious exaltation as I felt the energy wash through me.  The pain I originally felt was forgotten.  And then just as suddenly; both the pain and the glory were gone, leaving me dazed, panting for air.

“Assimilation of loci complete.  Configuration of loci allocated to protection, based on metal state of element Myrai.”

I shook my head to clear the fog, “For a knowledge transfer, this isn’t helping.”

“Element Myrai can be more precise when element matures for another loci.  Recommendation is to assimilate knowledge labelled _Apocrypha--"_

“That’s what I was *doing, *before you pulled me here!”

“—for more detailed understanding and evaluation of current duties once additional catalysts are discovered.”

“Wait!  That!  The duties: the ones ‘already allocated’?  What duties?”

I heard nothing, as the voice didn’t respond.  I looked around again in puzzlement.

“Hey!  Construct…thing!  What duties?” I asked again, with a little more urgency in my voice.

Again, I hung in the emptiness in silence.

“Of all the…fine.  I’m not doing it whatever it--”

“—Not authorized,”

I paused a moment trying to understand the implications before I spoke again.  “Authorized?  You asked someone…who?”

“Not authori—”

“What duties did they dump on me?”

“Not authori—”

“Why did they bind me?”

“Not authori—”

“—You sorry excuse for a monodrone!  I demand an answer…to…something,” I said breathing heavily.  I felt frustrated, afraid, and on the verge of panic.  I wanted desperately to be in control of this conversation.  I was about to dig into the drawer of insults when the voice intoned again.

“Wait.”

My jaw snapped shut and I looked around, like I would see something suddenly.  It wasn’t an eternity before it spoke again, but it certainly felt like it.

“Message authorized,” the voice again echoed.  I swallowed and listened, all my attention focused, not wanting to miss what would be said next.

“Element Myrai cannot be informed on the purpose of duties, as it would compromise nature of purpose.  Duties are defined currently as ‘passive with active engagement’ with proto-petitioners as far as element Myrai’s judgement is concerned--”

_‘Passive with active engagement?’ ‘Proto-petitioners?’ what in sodding Baator does that mean?_

“—including executions as required.”

I think I stopped breathing at this point.

_Executions?_

“Otherwise best guidance provided is similar in nature as former member of ‘Society of Sensation,’ with different parameters of focus.”

_What do executions have to do with experiencing the multiverse?_

“One final communication…”

“Great another modron headache.” I muttered.

“Quotation; ‘I am proud.’”

“Wait…wha—” I started.

“End of construct,”  and the stars started to spin and blend into a soft white light, and I felt the sensation of falling.  Then, suddenly I felt pain as my back slammed into the floor, knocking the wind out of me.  The white light in my eyes had faded to orange.  I glanced around and I was back in the hall, the orange light coming from the torch in the wall sconce, where I had cast it prior.

I picked myself off the floor and looked around.  Beepu and the Prophesized One still slept, despite me colliding with the floor.

_Goss?  You there?

—Hm?  Yes.  Enjoying the night air, and nothing exciting going on.

Never mind that.  Did you hear the conversation?

—What conversation?

The one with the construct?

—Have you been drinking again?

What…NO!   By Kelemvor am I THAT bad?

—Lately…

Not the point.  You didn’t hear my thoughts about a construct?

—No…I felt surprise at you reading something, followed by a surprise at your back pain.

Thanks…I think._

I moved to the table and looked at the _Apocrypha _with some trepidation.  There, was a list of rituals:


Knowledge of the First
Vision of the Baatorians
Infliction of pain
Chrysalis of defense
Secrets of Celestia
Shroud of Vermin
…
The list continued as I pulled more tabs. But as I kept reading, I saw that some of the rituals were unreadable still, just as the text was before.

I kept pulling tabs, and I found a different heading that I could read:

‘Binding and agreed duties’

But the text there was unreadable as well.  I then remembered something the construct said about ‘additional catalysts discovered.’  I knew that in the parlance of arcana that a catalyst was an effect that influenced other effects.  My light was one; there must be others.

“Finally reading that...what did you call it, _Apocrypha_?” I heard the gnome say.  Turning I saw that he was still leaning back on his chair with the child asleep on his chest.

“I finally can read it,” I said softly.   “My ability to create light was the key.”

Beepu thought a moment.  “I have heard of elves using techniques like that to protect important texts.  But it is far from common.  Here help me,” and he gestured at the sleeping child.  I leaned over and gently picked him up and moved him to the basket, without waking him.  Meanwhile Beepu squinted at the silvery metal pages of my text.

He had seen it before, and like me was completely clueless on how to read it.  But I could see that as he pulled tabs and looked at the texts that he could see the letters I could see.

“I do not know this script, but I can see the layering of words here.”

“It’s an older form of script used by the upper planes, the language is celestial,” I said.

“I do not know anything of that language, nor anyone that speaks it.  Other than you of course,” Beepu said still looking over the metal.  “But what does it say?”

“I just discovered it moments ago, so I am still going through it.  Some very specialized rituals, and something else.   Have you heard of something called ‘Binding Magic?’”

Beepu arched an eyebrow and looked at me silently.  “Well that would explain things.”

“Explain what?”

“Well you always were a strange sorcerer; but I ignored it; after all power is power.  But Binding magic…that would explain things.  Although the term is a bit archaic.  Usually only texts going back to around 600 DR even mention it.”

“Archaic?  What is it called now?”  I asked, concerned with the somber, almost disapproving tone Beepu was talking in now.

“The method used is now called Pact Magic.   The term has been used since the Toril Thirteen cast a rite, allowing Asmodeus to claim and mark all the tieflings here as his own sometime in the late 1390’s.  All of the Toril Thirteen were bound to Asmodeus via pact magic as that was the source of the rite.”

I stood there confused.  “Claiming all tieflings?  That’s a bunch of barkle.  I knew Tanar’lings; they certainly had nothing to do with Asmodeus.”

Beepu shrugged, “Well, trickery is certainly part of his plan.  But that said, the mages at the time where dealing with the aftermath of the spellplague, which only settled down in the 1480’s.  But the understanding of magic changed quite a bit.  So, in addition to wizardry and sorcery we now had pact magic users as well.  My understanding was that a being with enough power could enable a person to use magic.  The most common source of that were fiends that had made bargains with people, hence the term Pact Magic.  Although most common folk did not call them that.”

“Right,” I nodded.  I had no idea what he was talking about as far as Toril’s past was concerned.  I knew that Toril was called ‘Godswalk’ because of an event here.  But the other historical events significance eluded me.  “So, what did the common folk call them?” I said nervously, afraid I already knew the answer.

“Oh, simple.  They call them Warlocks.”

I turned away from Beepu, to hide the fear in my face as I whispered to myself.

“What have I done?”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Well .... that was .... interesting.


----------



## Nthal

*And Many Happy Returns - 5/7/2020*

_One thing that death teaches you, is how precious every life is.  No matter how small._​


Finally, the light of the sun broke above the horizon, and we prepared to leave.  Of course, I had to be told this, as I was somewhat distracted.  I had spent my watch hours reading, desperate for answers to questions I had.   And while I found answers, they of course weren’t the ones I wanted answers to.

What I learned were the basics; why the dead avoided me, why my vision in darkness was different than before.  I learned that I could at times, change these manifestations if I wanted to create some other effect.  But it took great effort and could not be changed often.  I also learned something else; there were others that had left their mark in the _Apocrypha_.  Subtle marking and sigils were present here and there; notes from some forgotten souls that weretied to the text.  Finally, all the manifestations, new or existing would require the ritual to enter the construct, where I had my recent revelations.

So, while the ‘how’ was understood, the ‘why’ was unclear as before.  I had a tome that was as mechanical as Beepu’s in that sense, but the idea that I had a ‘purpose’…no a *duty* that I was expected to do was missing.  A deal made in desperation, and a cruel debt to hold over someone who wasn’t aware of the consequences.  A debt I had no idea how to pay. 

This sat uneasily with me; it took me years as a child to pay off the debt to the Gatehouse for caring for me, and now I found I was once again shackled.  But now I didn’t know how to free myself, and only the vaguest idea of what was expected of me, which apparently involved ‘executions.’

I supposed that if it *was* in the name of my lord Kelemvor in the duties that he expected of his faithful, it would have been ok.  I understood the tenets and had accepted the terms of the faith willingly. 

But the binding was an unknown.  Would it conflict with my beliefs or my faith?   What would be a cause for me to deal such a grim fate by my hand?  How would my adams react?  It was less a matter of could I do it, but how would I know it was the right thing to do at all.

All questions I couldn’t answer, so when Daneath shook me from my thoughts I was relieved. 

“Myr?  You feeling alright?” he asked.

“I…don’t know really.” I said pulling my eyes away from the metal sheets, while I pushed them back into place.

“Didn’t think so…if I didn’t know better, you have been hanging around Beepu too long.”

“Huh?” I said puzzled.

“You look like him, staring at all his diagrams, paying no attention to anything else,” Daneath pointed out.

I regarded the _Apocrypha _for a moment, frowning.  “I finally find a way to read this,” gesturing at the silvery cylinder that lay in front of me.   “And of course, I find a hint that I am supposed to do…something. Or maybe *be* something.   And yet it doesn’t say why or how.   And I don’t seem to have a choice.”

Daneath was still for a moment and then spoke, “And you haven’t a clue what?”

“No…I have a clue.  It just seems to involve…a lot of death.” I said quietly.

“Well, you are a priestess of Kelemvor right?”

“Kelemvor is about judgement, and about how we handle and deal with the outcomes of death.  Not the act of causing it.  Death does just fine without help.   And now I am told…I am supposed...to…help?  I don’t understand it.”

Daneath pursed his lips together in thought and then shrugged.  “I guess I understand the sudden interest in reading.  Do you think you will find the answers there?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.   Right now, I…just want to get out of here.”

“Well, good news we have got enough provisions from the stuff here, we can easily make our way back without hunting,” Iesa said walking up from downstairs.  “And we found a bit of coin for our efforts.  Here’s yours Myr,” and he tossed me a small sack of coin.  “Also, Beepu looked at the _booyagh_’s things.  This one only had the purple stone, and he said you should look at it.”  And Iesa tossed me a smooth stone. 

I looked at it for a moment, and then placed it in my belt pouch.  Then I stood and picked up the sack to place it my pack.  Looking around a moment I asked Iesa “Where are the others?”

“The dirty pair crossed over to the moat house to look for stuff.  Beepu is on the battlements guiding Foggle in scouting.  Darastrix was getting the boat ready for us.”

“And Mo?” I asked wondering about Iesa’s best friend.

Iesa frowned, “I’m kinda worried; ever since we entered the swamp he’s been hiding in my pack.   Doesn’t want to come out much.  I’m hoping that getting out of here and back in the grassland will cheer him up.”

“I bet he won’t be happy until he gets to a town, where he can climb, poke around, and…bring you gifts.” I said with a wry smile.

Iesa returned my grin, “You’re probably are right.  I think he would trade some loot just for a tree to climb.”

Drik and Drok came up then from downstairs lugging a sack, jingling with metal, followed by Beepu with Foggle on his shoulders, and Darastrix.  

“Well, Foggle sees no signs of hobgoblins or ogres lurking around,” Beepu said as he started packing his own gear.  “Not for miles.  Best guess is they headed south.”

“Sssouth not sssafe for them,” Darastrix spoke.  “More Folk in the meressss to the sssouth.”

“More of your tribe?” Iesa turned and asked.

“Will ssseek them out.  After ssself guide you out.” Darastrix said simply with the barest of shrugs.

“We can probably make it out without your help, if you want to find them,” I said.

“Resssponsible for ssseeing you sssafe.  Think sssoftssskins call it ‘mannerssss.’” He replied.

“So, what do we do with our two captives?” Daneath asked.   “I’m not walking them back to the Misty Forest.”

“Let them go,” I said.  “They didn’t fight, they answered our questions.  Enough blood has been spilled.”

“What’s to stop them from regrouping and following us with that pack of hobgoblins and ogres?”  Iesa asked.

“Be honest, would *you* follow us?” Danneath asked.  “And besides, Darastrix probably is going to take us back the same way we came which is not a path they know.”

“So how do we do this then?” Iesa said looking at all of us.

“Iesa, can you give me the key to the pantry?”  I asked, and Iesa nodded and handed it to me.  “Drik and Drok stay here, everyone else head to the boat; we’ll be down in a moment.”

The rest left the room, while the goblins and I went to the pantry door.  I then flexed and placed a dull orange light on the doorknob.  The instant I did so I heard movement from within and some quick muttering.

“Drik, tell them that your _booyagh_ has put magic on the door.  When the light goes out, its safe for them to leave.”

Drik nodded and started speaking in goblin to the women with in, while I set the key in the lock, and unlocked the door.  From within I heard angry sounds.  I looked at the pair, while Drok relayed what they said.

“They not believe you; think you want to kill them still.”

I shook my head and sighed, “Tell them that if I wanted them dead, I would have done it already.”  Drik nodded with a wicked smiled and relayed the message.  The voices of the women settled down, and Drik nodded.  We then grabbed our things and made our way to the dock where the boat waited to take us away from the fortress.



----



The next two days were a blur for me.  One thing we discovered was the Prophesized One was a demanding child.  As I expected I was playing nursemaid and general caretaker.  So, while he took Pathhorn’s berries easily enough, I found that he wanted to suck on the horn frequently.  I was filling it constantly from my waterskin, and I used some strands to make it taste like the berries.  The rest of the time he slept on the diskc with me curled next to him, with some linens we scavenged from the fort.  When he wasn’t sleeping, he was of course soiling his nappies, which I dutifully cleaned and dried with some strands of the weave.

But it was not only during the day I had to do this, but the night as well.  Constantly ‘feeding’ him, and otherwise occupying the little hobgoblin.  And it was constant.  I was mostly focused on trying to keep him quiet, so I was cradling him, bouncing him or otherwise keeping him busy.  All in the fevered hope of not attracting any of the swamp’s denizens.  So, I didn’t have a lot of time to myself to read, or even think.  And while I didn’t mind not walking, I quickly found that I really missed it.

But what I really missed was sleep.  I found myself slipping into constant naps, when I wasn’t focused on poop, feeding, or keeping the child quiet.  It became clear to me, that despite his size, he was still a very young infant, as his schedule centered only on the consumption of food, or its elimination.  Occasionally I could hold him, and he would look around with some interest before drifting off to sleep.  Sometimes I could put him back in his basket and he would stay asleep.  The only good thing that came from this, was that I was excused from watches as my focus was lacking in every way.

The monotony of the cycle of sleep and poop was broken on the third morning, when we arrived at the ruined shack on the edge of the swamp where we first met Darastrix.  We had just finished our morning meal, and I had just laid the Prophesized One down from his berry meal when we said our goodbyes.

“Many thankssss sssoftssskins,” Darastrix said nodding with approval.  “May your huntsss met your needssss.”

Beepu nodded, “Well I hope that your hunt for your tribe also find success.” And he clasped the large lizardfolk’s hand with his own and firmly shook it.  The Lizardfolk gamely returned the unfamiliar gesture and said nothing.

Iesa clasped him on the back and spoke as well, “So long Darastrix, perhaps we will see each other again soon.”  

“Only if sssoftssskin is lossst,” Darastrix said baring his teeth. 

“You’re getting humor down.  That’s good,” and Iesa went over to finishing packing his things.

“But wassss not trying to tell joke,” Darastrix said raising his hand as Iesa left in a halfhearted attempt to stop him.  But he didn’t get far, before Daneath embraced the Lizardfolk.

“Well, softskins do hug those they like and trust; you have earned my respect.” Daneath said to Darastrix.  The Lizardfolk who had so awkwardly attempted to hug us on our first meeting found himself unsure on what to do.  But he slowly returned the embrace and lightly clasped the warrior on the shoulders. Nodding and saying, “Sssso that issss how it worksss.”

Drik and Drok, simply walked over and extended their hands palms up, which Darastrix matched.  The two goblins then slapped the lizardfolk’s outstretched hand, much to Darastrix’s surprise.  But Darastrix then quickly caught on and reversed the gesture, slapping both the goblins’ hands with little hesitation, and only small winces from Drik and Drok.

Finally, I stepped up to the large Lizardfolk and chuckled.  He looked at me, and offered a hug, I stepped up towards him and after taking a deep breath, planted a kiss on the cheek of the surprised Darastrix.  I wasn’t sure if I would regret it, but as it turned out it was harmless.  The scales on his cheek were cool, smooth and dry to my lips, and not wet and moist as I was almost afraid it was.

“Why not hugsss?” he asked.

I gave an impish shrug and smiled, “It’s a female way of saying thanks.”

Darastrix nodded slowly, his mind working to comprehend something, before his eyes widened in realization.

“Female?   Oh…explainsss much.  Ssshefolk also different,” he intoned solemnly.  He then without another word, turned away, and stepped back into the waters of the swamp.  With a swift lunge, his body dived into the waters barely causing ripples on the surface.  His form quickly was hidden by the murky waters, leaving only the lapping sounds of the water at the edge.

“So…wait,” Iesa said as he thought about the exchange between us.  “Did he not realize you were a girl?”

“It probably was not relevant to him.  I am not sure how females behave in his tribe, but I am sure Myrai’s behavior is vastly different.” Beepu said.




Again, my thoughts were only on sleep as the next two days passed.  The Prophesied One was a surly taskmaster on his needs; food, a clean nappy, warmth, and something to suck on.   I think I managed to walk on my own perhaps three times, before something called me back to the disc.  The nights were getting cooler as we moved closer and closer to the Misty Forest, and I found myself having to snuggle closely with the child to keep him warm, as the linens he had with him, did little to retain warmth.

But it was this strange imperative to keep quiet that was difficult.  No one wanted to risk a tirade in the swamp, and it continued as we travelled the grass plains as well.  Hushed tones during the day, and since I was the one with the child, only the barest pleasantries.  In between my naps I wanted to talk intelligently, and not keep the infant entertained.

In two days though we had arrived back at the ruined village.  It had changed a little since we left, as it appeared to have been picked clean by the villagers we had rescued.  But of the former prisoners, there was no sign.  But it was here that we again said goodbye.

“Time to go to Skullport,” Drik said gesturing at the road that would eventually lead to Daggerford.

“Home,” Drok said simply nodding.

“You could still come with us,” Iesa said hopefully.  “I don’t know how I would find all the clumsy targets without you.”

“That, and finding his…um…’Oneness,’” Daneath gestured to the basket that quietly lay on the disc nearby.

“We thank all from freeing us,” Drik said somberly.

“Did not want to fight for horde,” Drok nodded.

“Safe travels,” Daneath said and took a turn shaking each goblin’s hand.

“Yeah,” said Iesa, following his brother.  “I’ve always wanted to see Skullport.  If we ever get back to Waterdeep, I’ll have to get a message to you.”

Beepu stood there with arms across his chest and his eyes narrowed.  Finally, he sighed and looked at each of them before speaking.

“My mistrust was misplaced.  You were…decent companions.  I do wish for you to have a safe journey north.”

The pair looked at each other and nodded, before addressing the gnome.

“Beepu may not be taller,” Drik started and Beepu’s face looked to explode in rage when Drik said.

“But owl is better than hat.”  And with that the tension in the air subsided, and the gnome chuckled.

Finally, I came over and knelt down by the pair.  I glanced at each of them and asked.  “So, assuming you aren’t afraid of the ugly magic woman,” which caused them both to look at me in shock, which then faded into maybe an expression of guilt.  I touched the symbol of Kelemvor on my neck and said a quick prayer.

“Please protect our friends as they travel home.  May you live your lives to their fullest.”

I then touched each on the forehead, believing that they would find their path home.

“Myrai is nice _Booyahg,” _Drik said with a grin.

“Maybe not ugly,” Drok said nodding.  At which point the three of us laughed, followed quickly by the others.  They then turned, with their packs full of trinkets and things, and their crossbows at the ready, and they started to march on their long journey home.

We then turned and headed to the south, to climb back up out of the valley. 

“I am really going to miss them,” Iesa said somberly.

“What you needed two little brothers?” Daneath asked.

“I thought Mo was his little brother,” Beepu said with a smirk.

“Hah hah…no.  They were…just…interesting.” Iesa said wistfully.

“Well,” I said as I climbed back on the disc to hang on the basket as we ascended.  “Something tells me that you are going to forget all about them soon enough.”

“Yeah the elves will probably do exactly that.   But…”

“But what?” I asked as I sat down.

“I at least understood Drik and Drok.  And that was something.”
The next day, Daneath had released the bauble, and we were dutifully following it to Whitepetal.  The hills gave way to forest, the air growing cooler, and the smells more fragrant than the dusty plains below.  I lay there on Beepu’s disc watching the sun light through the trees, mentally adrift.

The day was trying, as his ‘Oneness’ had been more temperamental than before.  Pathhorn’s berries while satisfying for a day, only worked if you consumed them.  For most of the day I spent time trying to convince him to take the horn, but he just wanted something else.  In my tired state it took me a while to come up with the idea to use the strand to change the flavor from a berry to milk like taste.  It was so difficult I was tempted to ask Beepu to cast a spell on both of us to put us asleep.   But in the end I somehow managed to feed him and settle him down.

So, there I was in a mental fog staring upwards, when I realized we were on the outskirts of Whitepetal.  I saw the bridges overhead, threading their way throughout the branches far above.  I sat up, and looking ahead, I saw the familiar lift descending that would take us up to the branches above.  Once Beepu’s disc came to a stop, I slid off and packed away the blankets that I laid out and picked up the basket with the “Prophesized One” fast asleep.

The elves at the lift saw us, and the look on their faces was warm.  Smiles and knowing nods was visible clearly, compared to the tired and weary ones that we had left, and the suspicious and guarded ones on our first meeting.  But as we stepped onto the wooden planks of the lift, their faces looked at me with confusion as I brought the basket with me.  And as the lift moved upwards into the leaves above, the quiet cooing of his Oneness only created more curious and puzzled stares.


“That…that…*child* is the ‘Prophesized One’?” Galenas exclaimed incredulously gesturing at the babe in my arms.  Alanathia, came closer and looked closely at the child I cradled in my arms.  He had awoken a little while ago, so I gave him a horn of some water to keep him quiet, while we told our story.  But of course, the reveal of a hobgoblin child, changed the conversations direction.

“Well…yes,” Beepu said simply spreading his hands wide.

“How can you be certain?” Galenas accused.

“Firstly, we have a journal that describes his arrival, and how their _boo_…er sorcerer was basically elevating the child as their future leader.  But it is the second fact that is interesting; he cannot be targeted by spells from the Weave.”

Alanathia’s head swiveled to regard the gnome. “What do you mean?”

“I literally cannot target him with a spell that could hurt him, and I suspect not with one that allow for divination.”  Beepu stated.  “And I did try several different ones.  From the perspective of the Weave, he does not exist.  We believe this is why he has been so difficult to find.”

Alanathia sat next to me and looked at the hobgoblin child frowning.  She placed a hand on his forehead and closed her eyes her lips whispering under her breath.  Then she looked at her brother frowning.

“It is so,” she said quietly.  “I cannot affect him, for good or ill.”  She sighed and withdrew her hand and looked at me steadily.  “But why did you bring him here?”

“When we first found him, we didn’t know what to do,” I said returning her gaze.  As I spoke, I realized I could hear the exhaustion and sadness in my own voice.  I knew that the fate of this child would be determined elsewhere, and likely beyond my own control.  But I continued, nevertheless.  “But it wasn’t until we examined the journal and interrogated a pair of prisoners, we discovered that he was brought to—”

“—That was already mentioned, who cares where it came fr—” Galenas said impaitently.

“—Because it was an _elf_ that brought him to the hobgoblin leaders.” I cut back in.  The pair of the elves were shocked at this revelation.

“An elf?” Alanathia said softly in disbelief.  “I do not understand.  Why would an elf be involved in this?”

“We didn’t understand either at first,” I said realizing the elves were staring at me intensely.  “But we also discovered who it was that did it.   Paradros.”

Alanathia and Galenas looked at each other.  Across their faces came a look of disgust.  Alanathia then looked downwards with a frown, trying to calm her anger.  Galenas however did not even attempt it.

“How dare that _n’Quess_ betray his kin.   How many _Quessir_ are dead because of this?!” he growled in anger.  Alanathia then looked at us all.

“I doubt he did this on his own, but at the behest of the Kershak.” She said with sorrow on her voice.  “I personally never liked nor trusted Paradros.  But he and his ilk were given passage by Melandrach so we trusted in his judgement.  It seems that that Melandrach’s trust has been breached.”  She then stood and crossed the room towards the open window in the hall.

“I suppose then we should also apologize,” she spoke again, gazing at the forest in the setting light.

“What for?” Daneath asked.

“When we requested your aid, it was indeed a test of your worthiness.  However, shortly after your departure, we were given a message to send you to Melandrach at once…but you had already left the forest.  I cannot say what would have changed if we had delivered that message, but I cannot say I am…displeased with the outcome as things are now.”

“You mean we coul—” Beepu started, before Iesa clapped down a hand over the gnome’s mouth. 

“—It’s not a problem,” he said while Beepu glared at him.

“No, we are happy we could end the hobgoblin’s assault,” Daneath said, quickly jumping in.  “When should we leave?”

“An escort will be provided to guide you to him,” Alanthia said.  “You can set out tomorrow.”

“Excuse me,” I said.  “What do we do with…” as I nodded towards the sleeping hobgoblin.

“Yes…I would have left him for his own worgs were he anything but a infant.”  Alanathia said frowning.  “But with Paradros being involved, there are questions that must be answered.  We will take this burden from you; there are some sages and priests that will need to be consulted.”

I looked at the sleeping figure in my arms with concern.  I didn’t want to be attached, but I found myself feeling responsible.  I turned to look at the elven woman, and as if she read my thoughts.

“Do not worry, we will treat him well.  And we will find a place where he can be taken care of.” She said smiling. 

I nodded.  “Alright…he at least needs some proper milk; berries aren’t quite what he needs.”  And with a wave or Alanathia’s hand, a pair of elves, one male and one female came into the room.  She whispered to them in elven and they nodded.  They came over to me, and the female gently took the now sleeping form of the Prophesized One from my arms, while the male collected the basket and blankets.  And then like that, he was gone, taken somewhere deeper into the village of Whitepetal.

I sighed.  It was strange; days ago, I was faced with the possibility of having to kill him rather than let him starve.  Now here I was worried about what the elves would do to him when I wasn’t there to protect him.  It had been so long since I took care of a child, and even then, never more than for a feeding.  Having now done so for the better part of five days I hadn’t realized that despite the exhaustion that, caring for such a little one would be…fulfilling.  In my heart I realized I was going to miss my former foe, even if he never knew it.


----------



## Nthal

*The King of the Forest -5/17/2020*

_The elves have a command of delivery I am envious of.  The simplest elvish phrases communicating on levels beyond the literal words.  It takes a bit of history and a bit of thinking to get to the point of an elf’s diatribe.  But it is so worth the effort.

But this presence extends beyond their own language.  So much so that I am certain I could listen enraptured to an elf speaking in the corrupted tongue of Abyssal.  

Words are power, but a skilled elf speaking them is powerful._​


I slept.  The exhaustion of childcare was more than enough to send me into a dreamless sleep.   I didn’t even need a flask of anything to induce it.  But I certainly did regret it, in a different way.

The morning light had touched my eyes, which slowly fluttered open.  I felt, aches and pains in my limbs as the fog of sleep departed.  I dimly remembered being shown to the same guest hut in Whitepetal that I had stayed in before, and I remembered flopping down on the divan…which explained everything.

I was curled up awkwardly on my side on the divan, still dressed in my armor, and still wearing most of the daggers and things.  And most of the things I wore, poked and prodded me in uncomfortable ways.  But mostly due to the armor, I surmised that I had slept in the same position all night.  So, I couldn’t exactly call it the best night’s sleep I had ever had, but it was a small step up from either a bedroll on the ground, or on Beepu’s disc.

A very small one.

I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position and looked about.  On a table with two chairs, there was a small bowl of some kind of fruit, along with a pitcher and some mugs.  I stood, my body strenuously objecting and staggered to one of the chairs and sat down.  I then poured myself what appeared to be water into a mug and drank.  It wasn’t pure water; there was something herbal with a hint of fruit.  But it was refreshing, compared to the foraging we had been doing.  I took a whole piece of fruit from the basket and bit into it.  The sweet and tart tastes was again a welcome change from the reality of marching around the High Moors.  As I munched on the flesh of the fruit, I heard a quiet wheeze.

There on the other chair, slept Gossamer.  Ever since we left Secomber, he was always my personal guardian, watching over me.  As a familiar, he technically didn’t need food or sleep.  But given the opportunity he would eat and doze.  But I hadn’t really seen him slumber since we left Waterdeep together.

Smiling, I reached over and gently ruffled the tressym’s fur.  He pulled in his limbs tighter and turned himself, so his belly was exposed to my hand’s caresses, and made a small contented grunt like noise.  I saw no reason to wake him now; all he would do would lecture me…about something.

Frowning, I knew it was too early to look for the others.  And so, I turned to the dreaded task of reading again.  I flexed and put a dim orange light on the pitcher and pulled out my new source of dread; the _Apocrypha _and started to read.

The rituals of binding were interesting, but I paid little attention to them.  I didn’t want to go to…that construct place again.  The magical rituals that I had etched into it were also uninteresting.  So, I focused on anything else that I could read. 

The first section I found was an almost, mechanical description of the flow of the strand’s energy.  It talked in terms of ‘quanta’ and other obscure terms that made little sense.  It mentioned that the binding ‘attachment’ process was a painful (confirmed) process, that grew over time, and that the growth could be accelerated by catalyst.  Parsing through it became clear that the catalyst could be many things, but one of the most common ones, was heavy use of the strands themselves.

This made sense; in Sigil when I first could cast a bolt of energy, it took me a while to figure out how to repeat it.  One of the problems during my self-education, was I tried to cast and blast junk which, didn’t work.  It wasn’t until a cranium rat was trying to steal a hunk of bread did it become clear why; I had to target something alive.  And only much later did I realize it applied to musties as well.  It was at this point, that I went down to the Civic Festhall to learn more about magic, from both open lectures, and as a Sensate from the Sensorium.  But even that learning had a limit and it explained why I was stuck for a long time; I didn’t get into fights.  In fact, I avoided them; in Sigil it was easy to bite off more than you could handle in a scrap.  You never knew if the next berk you met was a skilled blood or not.  So, I just kept my power to myself.

But once I was hipped here, things changed.  Just the walk from Triboar to Yartar and forced me to defend myself from the the witherlings and gnolls.  Not only did I have a target; I _felt_ that rush after the fight.  Killing a cranium rat didn’t trigger it but fighting other things did.

I sat back a moment and wondered, perhaps that was why I felt the way why I did after a fight was over.  Was the euphoria of killing something a perverse way to encourage me to use the strand?  That this catalyst was a strange form of addiction.  And the more I used it, the stronger it got, which encourage me to seek out more things to…

I grimaced at the implication.  There were other options now.  I could pull water out of nothing, I could heal, I could do any number of things.  Of course, none scratched that itch within me.  Which only made me wonder if those other things were less effective.  Continuing on with my reading, it started make less and less sense until I found something interesting.



_The loci used are not symbolic, they are literal vortices connecting to energy planes themselves.   However, the nature of these planes has energy flowing in one direction: from positive to negative.  Normally on the prime material, this confluence of energy works through an elemental medium in a single direction.  This creates many effects, but noticeably the functioning life matrixes within crystal spheres also share this flow of energy.

But when a binding agent with the loci interacts with life matrixes in this way, it alters the normal flow.  The presence of a direct planar vortex attracts the energy flow and has two effects; first the flow to the negative is increased.  This requires additional energy from the positive to maintain equilibrium.  The net resolution is that the vortices energy flow rate increases.  The more matrix interaction, the greater the flow.  It also causes the matrix to cease functioning just as it would normally._

Ok…that made horrid sense.

_This is an intentional design as it allows for the binding agent to function as intended._

What the sodding?!  I’m not some modron on the March.  I’m not a construct!  I care about…death, er NOT causing death.

_The agent has limited reserves in the earliest part of the maturation process.  A reserve of quanta can be stored by creating an object to act as a reservoir to assist in overcoming agent limitations.  It requires a measure of properly calibrated steel and a corundum infused with planar matrix.  Once aligned with loci it can hold additional quata for utilization…_



Where before I was offended and shocked, now I was invested and enraptured.  What I was reading was how to create something…a tool.  Here the precision used was helpful.  The steel and the ‘alignment’ needed was straightforward.   So, all I needed was a corundum…whatever that was.

_--So…now you can read it, you can’t put it down, can you?_

I jumped in my seat and turned to glare at Gossamer who was casually grooming himself.

_What the…did you have to scare me like that?

--No.  Its not my fault that you were preoccupied.  I suppose if you had someone to warn you…Oh wait; that’s me!  So now you are warned._

I squinted at Gossamer at the barb thrown.

_Cute.  Funny.  You should get a job with Beepu telling jokes about third cousins.

--No need to be so rude. _



Later that morning the sun rose, and I dressed and rejoined the others for the journey, deeper into the forest to meet the elusive monarch. 

We were travelling on foot on the forest floor.  Here it seemed that the forest lived up to its name, as there were banks of fog and haze all around.  The sunlight from above gave everything an ethereal glow that made it feel less like a march, but more of a waking dream.  The haze did nothing to hide the beauty of the trees and foliage.  As we moved deeper within, flowers on bushes, trees and vines became more and more common; their colored petals glistening with dew and sparkling with the occasion stray beam of sunlight.  The smells shifted from earth, loam and wet leaves, to floral scents, pine and moss as we ascended higher into the hills.  Finally, our path came to a ridge line looking into a valley, and as I followed the path and crested the hill, I found myself looking down into it, and my breath was taken away.

The valley seemed to be a pocket of sunshine in the Misty Forest.  Below I saw a scattering of ponds and on one side a lake of glittering silver.  On the banks of the waters below there was a breath of vibrant colors, separated by well maintained paths.  The trees here were large, and you could see the web of bridges crossing between the limbs.  But within the branches weren’t the small clustered structures like in Whitepetal, but instead there were structures as large as manor houses nested within, while at the base of the trees there were elegant structures of stone, creating halls and patios.  In the center of it all was an oak that dwarfed all the other trees in grandeur.  Its branches spread far and wide, holding perhaps five manors within.  While at its base were elegant white marble buildings, clustered around more pools of water.  The stone and wood blended together cleanly, as if the stone grew around the trees, or even grew with them.  There was no sign of nature overwhelming the stone, like there were in the ruins we had seen in the forest before.

I walked slackjawed in wonder, my eyes tearing with joy at the natural splendor.  And I was not alone, as all my companions were silently drinking the visual feast around us.  We were in such awe that we dared not speak to each other, lest we break the spell we were looking at.

As we approach, the sounds of music and laughter could be heard in the distance, as we could hear the elves celebrating joyfully.  The music was fast and light in tone; glad and merry.  As we walked the pathways, I realized that it wasn’t neat gardens with plants trimmed and manicured.  But it was all wild and haphazard, yet no flower or blade of grass strayed onto the path, and there was no sign that a blade or shovel kept them back.

We walked ever closer to that giant oak and approached what looked to be a large hall or pavilion, with wide broad set of white stairs leading up the to the interior.  On pillars and posts, there were lanterns containing light, sparkling and shining that was clearly wasn’t fire, but magic.  The marble floors were covered in intricate woven rugs, that deadened the noise of our footsteps in these marble halls.  The first area we entered was an open room, with a dais with six chairs, the center two more grand than the others; each carved or perhaps shaped from a rich dark red wood, with motifs of dancing stags, noble wolves, and majestic raptors.  But for all the nobility and grandeur the room stood empty, the chairs unoccupied.

We were quickly ushered to another chamber to the side of the hall. This one had a more intimate feeling, with statuary and topiary side by side encircling the round room.  In the center was a pond of water, while to one side was a half circle of chairs, one side open to the pond. On the table sat glasses and flasks of colored liquors and along with a small bowl of ripe red berries.  And there, seated on one pf the chairs, talking to an attendant on his left was the King of the Misty Forest; Melandrach.

His hair was long reaching easily to his waist, and it was the color of honey.  Turning to face us, he wore a warm smile and regarded us with eyes of a violet hue.  He wore no armor, and only had a dagger sheathed at his side.  But his nobility was all in his posture and surety of his motions and how hey conveyed himself; he needed no crown to assert his power.

He stood and nodded towards us and spoke with a soft somber voice.

“So, these are the souls that have faced the dark forces at our borders.  I welcome you to the heart of the forest, _Or’Mathora._” He strode to meet us by the pool and continued.

“Beepu, son of Pachook.  You have your fathers’ determination and his thirst,” he said addressing the gnome. “You do your family credit as you continue his legacy.  You are welcome here.”   Beepu was silent and nodded politely.  The elf then continued.

“The brothers Daneath and Iesa, sons of Umbra.  Your deeds show your character and worth, and I am pleased to welcome you both here.”  At the mention of their father’s name, Iesa was about to speak, when Daneath jabbed him gently in the ribs, saying “Your majesty,”

Melandrach smiled and replied, “I am king because I must be; I need no honorifics to remind me of such.  You are my guests, and have no need of such formalities,” to which the pair nodded respectfully.

Finally, he turned to me, “And the _ha-celas_ Myrai, who has traveled from beyond this world, to make a mark in this one.  Though I know not your lineage, I see its blood.  You too are welcome here.”

I nodded and quickly replied in my native tongue, “_Mahn iya oe ka lonomaiki I na lya._”

Melandrach tilted his head and smiled, only responding a with a single Celestial word in reply; “_Iyanoe.”_  It’s a word that doesn’t have a direct translation into common, because it is dependent on how it is used, but here it would be a polite acknowledgement.

“Please…sit.  Make yourself at ease as we have much to discuss,” he said gesturing to the chairs behind him.  We each took a seat, and as I did so I realized how weary I was from the long walk from Whitepetal.  As we did so, Foggle who had been drifting above landed on the back of Beepu’s chair, while Gossamer sat and gazed into the pool, ignoring us all.  Finally, I heard the sounds from the pack that Iesa set on the ground, and for the first time in days, I saw Mo creep out.  He quickly scampered to the table and quickly grabbed a small pawful of berries and retreated to Iesa’s shoulder to consume his prize.

This amused Melandrach; his smile widening and growing warmer.  “How unlike Umbra,” he said mischievously.

“You…know him?” Daneath stammered.

“I admit to knowing him only in passing,” Melandrach explained.  He waved his hand and attendants brought us what appeared to be wine in tall slender glasses.  “But his demeanor and purpose were singular in focus.  He did not seem one to be distracted by creatures.  But this again was only an impression.”

“My lor…er…Melandrach,” Beepu started and caught himself before continuing.   “I have come to seek knowledge that—”

“--Yes…you have come seeking that and more,” Melandrach said looking at Beepu with a smile.  “You seek answers.  As do your human friends.  But first I must thank you for what you have done for the forest, for its people and thereby for me.  I have been told of the hobgoblin child and his abilities, and more importantly how he came to be the figurehead of a horde on the borders.   I wish to offer you fitting rewards for your efforts.  But first I must give to you,” he said looking at Beepu, “Something that Pachook left behind.”

The elf motioned with his hand, and a pair of elves came forward from the edges of the room, bearing a chest.  They set it down in front of the gnome, who looked at it with eager curiosity.  They then opened it, and Beepu jumped down from his chair to look at the contents.  Inside was a satchel, similar to the one we had found at Flint Rock, if in better shape than the one left in those empty halls.  From where I sat, I could see more bundles of scrolls and parchments stuffed inside.  But I also saw another small box within that Beepu picked up first.  Opening it, inside was a cluster of metal and crystal, shaped into a rough sphere shape.  Beepu turned this contraption in his hand as Melandrach continued.

“He left it here for you, and had I known you were in the forest I would have sent for you sooner.  I am glad to finally see it delivered to you.”

“Delivered?” Beepu said looking at Melandrach puzzled.  “You could have sent word or had someone bring it to me!”

“Alas, I could not.  That was not the agreement your father made, and he was very specific; you had to come here to get it.” He replied spreading his hands as he explained.  “It was partially because of this, that I had attracted the anger of the Kershak.  That was perhaps a mistake, but perhaps not as great as the bargain that the Kershak and I had struck long ago.”

“Why did he demand that I wonder?” Beepu said still looking at the object in his hands.

“Presumably because he wanted the Kershak to follow Umbra and himself,” Melandrach said softly.

“So, why was Pachook following our father then?” Iesa asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“He was not; Umbra was following Pachook,” Melandrach replied.  “But perhaps I should start at the beginning.” To which the three men nodded.

“Long ago the Kershak and I made a bargain; the reasons are not important, but it allowed the Kershak to travel unhindered within the forest.   It had been that way for over seven decades, when Pachook came to us to ask of me three favors.”

“What favors?” Beepu asked, his attention now ripped away from the metallic pieces and he looked at the monarch once again.

“Pachook came with the poor creature Umbra and asked for the following: the first was to give you the contents of the chest when you and Umbra’s sons came looking for it.”  This caused Daneath and Iesa to look at each other puzzled.  But Melandrach continued before they could ask a question.  “The second was passage to Silverymoon, which was an easy thing to accomplish.  The third ask was to conceal the pairs’ passage from the Kershak’s knowledge.  Since they came in secret, it appeared to be a simple matter to ensure that others did not disclose their visit.”

Melandrach took a brief sip from his glass before continuing.  “Yet, Paradros did come and ask of my people where they had both gone.  The denials of my kin did not fool him.  And so, I could not conceal that they had came through here, but I did not say where they had departed to and nothing was asked about things left behind.   For this my people paid a great price.”  Melandrach took a sip from his glass, while we sat there frozen, our drinks forgotten as we listened to the tale he told.

“But Paradros’ offense will not be forgotten nor forgiven.  He will be put to the sword, should he or indeed any of the Kershak set foot within my realm again.”

“Melandrach, why did you call Umbra a ‘poor creature?’ I asked quietly.  The brothers’ heads swiveled to look at me, and then back to the monarch.

“Understand that we knew of Umbra because he was a Kershak, but we did not trust him.  We trusted Pachook however, and it was because of him and his service to us that we honored his request.   But while I had met Umbra once before, the man that stood by Pachook was a vastly different one.”

“What do you mean?” Daneath asked as he leaned forward in his seat in anticipation. 

“Umbra had seemed to have lost all the vitality he once had, but none of the drive.  I remember him standing here in my hall, gazing at me with an intensity only matched by the light of the sun, but with a chill felt only in the deepest winter.”

“The man that stood before me, was very unlike the rest of us.  He was simply put, a man who had stepped away from his former life, and in fact out of his former grave.”

We all listened in a stunned silence as the King said somberly:

“Your father, I am certain was quite dead.”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Yeah well, that's interesting ...

Liked the explanation of magic as well.


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Yeah well, that's interesting ...
> 
> Liked the explanation of magic as well.




High cost of living you know.

I try to avoid _ Cast Spell [FOO]_  That's not what Myrai is thinking; she may not enough know what the spell's name is according to sages.  But magic like anything else is a system of rules.  It just one I think is interesting to explain.   

Up to a point.


----------



## Nthal

*The Limits of the Dead - 5/25/2020*

_No one likes being told ‘You cannot do this.’  It took the Harmonium five hundred years to learn that, and only after the Lady of Pain kicked them out of Sigil.  

But like it or not, we have limits.  Some overcome them, some are consumed by them.  And others, find alternative ways.

The last one is the most interesting, if not the most dangerous.   _​


I sat there awkwardly as I watched the different reactions of my friends.  Beepu’s mouth opened and closed several times in confusion, unable to render his thoughts into words.  Daneath looked stricken; the look of pain and confusion on his face as the fate of his father was revealed.  Iesa on the other hand, looked somewhere between anger and disappointment; like someone else had beaten him to the punch.

“Dead,” Daneath said simply in disbelief.

“So, he was a zombie following Pachook?” Iesa said and turned to look at Beepu accusingly.

“Wait,” Daneath caught Iesa’s tone and also turned to look at the gnome.  “What did Pachook do to him?”

Beepu sat up in surprise.  “What?!? I do not believe my father would reanimate yours and…haul him around like luggage!”

Melandrach raised his hand, silencing the three.  After waiting a moment, he continued:

“Umbra was not a simple undead creature; he spoke, if but little.  He was no servant to Pachook, his will was his own.  But despite his attempts to conceal it, it was clear he was no longer among the living.”

I thought a moment and realized there was an explanation.  While I wouldn’t have called myself an expert on the undead, Kelemvor was always very specific about destroying them when found…usually.  I remembered my mentor mentioning that some undead, like the ghosts in Flint Rock could be laid to rest by addressing their unfulfilled needs that trapped them.  But it was another case he warned me about; where the will of an individual would not allow themselves to pass beyond, instead letting bitterness and hate hold them to a task not yet done.

“He was a revenant, wasn’t he?” I asked the king, looking at him squarely in the eyes.

Melandrach nodded.  “I believe that is indeed was the case, but he did not speak on what drove him, or why.”

“How long ago was it since they both passed through here?” I continued.

“It has been almost two years since I saw them both,” Melandrach said simply.

Over a year ago.  I took a sip of the wine I held, but barely tasted it thinking, as Beepu spoke up again.  “See?  I told you Pachook had nothing to do with it,” he said smiling.  Then he frowned and looked at me.  “I think right?”

I slowly shook my head and explained.  “No.  A revenant is a…undead thing that seeks out…its murderers.”  Iesa took a sharp intake of breath and looked at Daneath, who sat there frowning listening to me.  “They usually just head straight for them…but sometimes they will…ask for help. Especially against ones they…cannot defeat alone,” I said quietly.

“So…he needed Pachook’s help.  He was killed by the Kershak’s people, and Pachook was building something.  Perhaps a way to seek revenge?” Iesa said.

“Maybe,” I said and took another sip.  “But he was running out of time.”

Daneath head turned to look at me, “What do you mean?”

“A revenant is created by a strong will of revenge,” I said trying to be delicate about the subject.  “But it can’t hold off the call to the Fugue forever.  It either kills its murder or murderers…or it fades away in bitter anger.”

Deneath nodded and asked the question, “How long does it have?”

“A year.  No more.” I said looking at him sadly.  “If he hasn’t killed his murderer yet, he’s…already gone.”

“He must have succeeded!” Iesa declared.  “That means the Kershak is probably is dead already—”

“—No.” I interrupted. “The Kershak may not have done it; it could have been that halfling, Paradros or someone else.  But he’s gone by now,” I said looking down, not wanting to look at either brother.

“So, then the only one who can clear this up, may be my father,” Beepu said quietly.

“I am afraid so,” Melandrach said.  “I sincerely hope that he left you a message or clue in the things he left for you.  I truly hope that nothing has befallen Pachook.”

“It may take me some time…reading my father’s notes was never easy,” Beepu said concerned.

“Of course, I understand,” Melandrach said.  “Now, that your father’s wishes have been delivered to you, it is time to deliver mine.”  We all turned our heads to look at the elf who sat there regarding us with a smile.  “You have all done a great service for my people and my kingdom.  You are, welcome to stay here my realm until you are ready to leave.”

“Um…thank you,” Daneath said looking at Iesa and Beepu.  “I don’t know how long we can—”

“—long enough for the armor I have commissioned to be ready I hope,” Melandrach said with a smile.

“Armor?”  Daneath asked.

“Yes.   A fine suit of mithral, to do battle against your foes.  I do think you should be as prepared as one can be.”

“Wow…that’s…I’m honored,” Daneath stammered.

“And as for you Iesa, it seems that your archery could be improved with a bow worthy of your stature,” the elf continued.  “One carved from the the yew trees found deep in the forest here.”

Iesa’s eyes grew wide for a moment and then his head started to nod vigorously.    “Yes…sure…please…thank you,”

Melandrach turned to Beepu smiling, “I foresee that your father’s writings will keep you busy, but as one who is skilled with the Weave, our libraries and lessons on spells are open to you, as is any knowledge that can assist you on your quest to find Pachook.”

Beepu nodded once saying, “That would be more than acceptable.  A good-sized room for research as well if possible.”

Melendrach gave a small laugh, “Of course; all your chambers should be more than adequate.”  He then turned to me and looked at me with curiosity.

"_Ha-celas_ I admit to being somewhat at a loss on what I can provide for you.  So, I put it to you…what would you ask of us?”

I sat there and thought a moment.  Things ran through my mind, but one stood out:

I wanted to go home.

I didn’t know if he could provide that, but as I thought about it, I was torn.  It seemed that I wasn’t done; I still felt that nagging guilt within me that I still owed Beepu, Iesa and Daneath.  But as I thought about it I realized, that selfishly I wanted something else.

Here I was in the middle of a kingdom of elves and I wanted to experience it.  The closest I had ever been to any since my visit to the Gilded Hall in Arborea.  But there, we stayed away from the elven lands, though the spires and the pennant were visible from the highest part of the Hall; only the elves were welcome in Arvandor.   But Sigil had few elves, and I knew little of their culture, their history, and only scattered bits of language.

“I…would like to learn more about the elves if I could.  So, to study and learn about your ways…would be an honor,” I said with humility.

He laughed again, “It will be weeks until the armor is ready, and so your request is easy to grant to all of you.  Tutors in our language can be found here and can help you expand your knowledge of the _Tel’Quessir._   Surely there is something else?”

My mind raced to come up with something.  _Anything_.  Put on the spot I was uncertain on what would be appropriate, when suddenly I thought about the tool the_ Apocrypha_ described.

“There is one thing.  Some worked materials of iron or steel to help me…create something.  But,” and I shook my head as I said the words.  “It depends on if I can find something that was…described to me.”

“I am certain that we can help you in this matter,” Melandrach said with a smile.  “Finally, with your coming to the heart of the realm, we also have planned two events.  First a service to remember those that have fallen, and a celebration of your victory within a tenday from now.   But now, your chambers are being prepared and you shall be escorted to them soon.  Please indulge yourself in our gardens and paths here while they are prepared.  I must however take my leave and address other matters.”

Melandrach stood and, we all clambered to our feet and politely nodded.  As he started to walk away with an attendant, I called out to him.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I do have a…small request,” I said timidly.

Melandrach turned and looked at me bemused and waited.

“I know you offered…tutors in your language.   Would it be possible to have a guide as well?”

“A guide?  I do not understand,” Melandrach said puzzled.

“Well,” I started awkwardly. “Someone that can help me…understand the social rules and culture.   Beyond the language.  Someone that can show me the _Tel’Quessir_ as they are, not as a dusty book might say they are.” I finished feeling almost guilty for being so bold and asking.

But Melandrach nodded approvingly, “Yes…I see.  You wish to drink at the depths of the well, with someone to assist you.   I…I think I have an idea.  Please wait by the pools here, and I will see what can be done Myrai."

I bowed my head respectfully, and Melandrach returned the gesture and again made his way out of the room, leaving us to ourselves.

“What was that about?” Iesa asked.

“It is what I asked.  A guide so I can learn more about the elves themselves,” I said shrugging.

“Elven armor,” Daneath said with awe.  “But I would have thought they would have a lot of that here,”

“They probably do Daneath.  But not in your size.” Beepu observed, looking the man up and down.

Daneath conceded, “Well…that’s probably true.”

“Especially with a reinforced codpiece,” Iesa said with a grin.

“Yeah with a…hey wait!” Daneath looked at Iesa with annoyance.  “At least you might be able to hit with a bow now.”

“I doubt they could make me a worse shot than you,” Iesa said with a smile.  “An elven bow…wow.”

“Well…the knowledge they have would have been lost to you two,” Beepu commented.  “I just will need to plan my time so I can absorb it all.  But what was it you were looking for Myrai?”

“Oh…it was something called a corundum.” I said throwing my arms up.

“What?  The one I gave you is not of use?” Beepu said surprised.

“Huh?  Wait…what’s a—” I started.

“It is the proper term for certain gemstones,” Beepu started.  “Notably rubies and sapphires.  I think that hobgoblin _booyagh_ had one which I told Iesa to—"

“You didn’t say it was a gem!” Iesa said in surprise.  “I thought it was some cheap crystal.”

“It was a sapphire specifically, but unlike most it wasn’t blue, but more of a violet; most likely because of the magical energy it was exposed to.”  Beepu said exasperated.   “And because of that exposure, they tend to be interesting.”

Frowning, Iesa asked “So why didn’t you keep it?”

“Because it wasn’t interesting to me.  But…” Beepu shrugged “Myrai might have a use for it.  Otherwise, it isn’t the best cut of corundum.”

Iesa shook his head, “Well I guess it doesn’t matter.  We’re going to be here a week or two—”

“Not quite,” Daneath said patting Iesa on the back.  “More like months.”

“Months?” Iesa said surprised.

“Armor isn’t quick to make if we are waiting for it.” Daneath pointed out.

“And I will say, the brief glance I had at the notes and writings and based on the time it took in Waterdeep...months is likely going to be right.  Something tells me there was a reason to go to Silverymoon, and it was not to go home.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“My mother is still there, and she has not seen my father at all.  Not at least since we left Waterdeep.  So, if he did go there, he either did not stop to say hello, or he was rushing elsewhere.  Either way, his notes will have the answers I am certain.”

“You always wanted to be around elves, right Iesa?” I said with a smirk.

Iesa gave me a wolfish smile.  “I suppose you are right there.  Do you suppose…?”

I shrugged, “Honestly, I would say smile and listen.  I don’t know anything about elven culture, but I do know that people like to talk about things that interest them.”

Iesa nodded to himself thoughtfully and said nothing.

At that moment, a pair of elves arrived and tilted their heads in a slight bow towards us.

“Son of Pachook, we have prepared a chamber for you that your father frequently used.  It is near our lyceum so you will not be far from any knowledge that we can share with you. If you would follow me,” One said smiling and waited expectantly.

Beepu nodded in approval.  “I will see you later tonight…maybe?”

“I doubt we will see you until the events,” Daneath said with a grin.  “Something about books and diagrams make you forget the time,”

“Ah…well.  Right.  Come Foggle,” and Beepu picked up the small chest and walked, quickly following the elf.

The second attendant smiled, “Sons of Umbra, your chambers are ready near the practice halls.  If you would follow me,” and the humans looked at each other and clasped each other on the backs and strode following the attendant.

“See you later Myr,” Iesa said.  “I can’t wait to see how the elves do things…” and their voices trailed off in as they followed their guide.

I sighed a moment and looked around the rotunda where I was, and I spied a short set of steps that led to a pathway into the gardens.  I picked up my pack, discarded by my seat and followed it.

The garden was not a manicured affair but was wild.  Flowers and vines from trees gave the air a heavy sweet scent.  In the center was a fountain, where water cascaded from a stacked set of shallow bowls, set off-center from each other, so the water flowed around a central pillar as it dropped from bowl to bowl before emptying into the pool at the bottom.  The sun was overhead and lit the flowers and the leaves around me into a kaleidoscope of color.  It had all the familiar aesthetics of the Civic Festhall’s galleries, but without the need for structure.  It was a wild tangle of plants and shrubs, and vines curled around columns that surrounded the pool.

I sat on the stone edge of the pool and sighed at the wonder.  Smiling, I let my hand trail across the surface of the water, causing ripples to scatter. Of all the places I had been so far here on Toril, this was the most peaceful and serene place I had ever been.  Waterdeep was a grand city, if smaller than Sigil, but it was that, a noisy city.  The small towns of Yartar, Daggerford, Secomber, and even Triboar had a rustic charm with their own rhythms of doing things, but they weren’t quiet, just less noisy.  And even the solitude you could find with the great deep ruins in the forest or the tombs at Flint Rock, while quiet, didn’t give me the ease I felt in this place right now.

I closed my eyes and thought that it would be nice to experience things at a slower pace; a peaceful one.  To take my time and learn, and forget about, bargains and violence and the twisted emotions I had wrapped up in all of that.

I was so enraptured that I didn’t realize that I was being quietly observed.

*Session Notes:*

This is the planned beginning of a second long downtime, that would last over three months of game time.  As such there were a number of rolled events that had a story attached to them which is what is going to follow.

Most of the games I have played since, didn't really have down time; just a moving from place to place.  Which is great for some campaigns, but I did appreciate the options gf doing some of the things on the side.


----------



## Nthal

_*The Sonalta - 5/29/2020*

Many races have cultural norms.  A briaur is very particular about their horns, and the standing they have in their community; bigger being better.  Githzerai are focused on the now and the reality of now, which is fine unless you mention Githyanki, which usually means now is a bloody mess.  Asking a Baatorian about the Blood-war will get you an answer, and the same question to a Tanar’ri a different one.  Ask both at the same time, usually creates a miniature Bood War on the spot.

Everyone has a touch point, and each one a sore point.  And learning about both is the key to understand, and avoiding a potentially deadly mistake._​


I sat at the edge of the water looking at the calm ripples running over the surface.  I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular.  I was enjoying the quiet moment, that didn’t involve a watch or a slow march to somewhere.   The last time I felt this way…well I guess never.  Quiet moments certainly; but most were tinged with watching for monsters or the din of a city or town.  But not quiet, and calm and peaceful at the same time.

I was staring at the pool, when I heard footsteps of someone trying to approach me quietly.  I didn’t turn, but I was concerned.

_Goss...who is trying to sneak towards me?

--It’s an elf who seems…

Seems what?

--Well…like a tressym who is curious but unsure._

“I’m not going to bite,” I said with a small smile.  My fingers continued to play with the surface of the water.  At the sound of my words, the steps stopped short. 

“I…I…am sorry to have disturbed you Myrae,” A soft elven accented voice said not quite getting my name right.  “I was told to meet…you here.”

I lifted my gaze away from the pool, and I saw an elven woman looking at me curiously.  I was fairly certain she was a moon elf.  Unlike most of the elves I had seen, her platinum hair was styled in a short-layered bob, held in place with a headband.  Her eyes now wide at the sight of mine were, a vivid blue grey, which stood out in contrast with her pale skin.  She wore an elegant dress, that shimmered as she moved, embroidered with silvery threads, and delicate knotwork.   It seemed almost out of place, with the leathers and fine cloth wear that Melandrach and his attendants wore.   They blended with the wood surroundings.  Her dress was finer and seemed to reflect the night sky and less the earthly wonders around me.

“I suppose you are here to show me to my chambers?” I said returning my gaze to the waters.

“No…that I am not,” she said slowly.  I looked up again, feeling confused.

She stood there and looked at me with a questioning gaze, and then she moved to sit down on a bench across from me that faced the pool.  Her gaze never wavered, looking at as if she was trying to make up their mind about something.  Finally, after a long pause she then spoke.

“I am sorry this…this is more awkward than I thought it would be,” see said apologetically.  “This…is not the way this normally works.”

I was now very confused, “What works?” I asked.

She swallowed and looked down as if to find her courage in her lap before speaking again.   “I was asked to be your…_Sonalta_,” she said slowly.  “But these are usually arranged by the houses after many years and so I find myself having to rush to decide.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I am not familiar with that word,” I said still confused.  I turn and faced her and waited.  I watched her eyes run over me, lingering as she stared at my face.  After a moment she spoke.

“A _sonalta_ is very similar to what I think are called, ‘ladies in waiting’ in the common tongue,” she said simply, still watching me.

I shrugged, “I’ve heard the term, but I don’t know—”

“—They are a companion of sorts.  They accompany those of a certain…standing in social affairs.  They assist with whatever their _sonal_ requires,” she replied, somewhat unhelpfully.

I thought a moment, “Wait,” I said wondering if I my request to the king was misunderstood.  “A servant was—”

“A _sonalta_ is *not* a servant,” the elf said crossly.  “It is an honored position that…I should not have to explain this to you.” And she stood and turned to head back up the path.

“No wait!” I said, reaching for a hand to stop her from leaving.  I caught it, and she stopped and turned to look at me with a flash of anger in her eyes and pulled her hand out of mine.

“How dare…you should not…you must—” she started.

I held up my hands and pleaded, “Look, I’m sorry.  Please stay a moment and…hear me out.”  She looked at me and slowly nodded.

I bowed my head and exhaled, and then I looked her in the eyes, “I had asked Melandrach for a…a guide to elven culture.  I wasn’t looking for a servant, and I didn’t mean to imply you were one.”  She looked at me dubiously.

“I am going to be here, for some time and was going to learn the language, but I wanted help learning about…_Tel’Quesser.”_

“_Tel’QuessIr,” _she corrected.  “That’s a…a wise thing to say.  A people are more than their language.”

I nodded, “And the best way to understand it is to experience it firsthand.   But you said you felt awkward, and you had to decide.  Why?”

“Because, it is a…formal arrangement made by the households.  Normally after a pair has been introduced and have had time to…know each other.”

“How much time?” I asked guessing it was something like a year.

“About a decade,”

Of course, it was.

“I see why you feel put on the spot,” I said realizing I was treading straight into the depths of elven propriety.   “I am sorry…I didn’t mean to make—”

“You did not make it, but the request from Melandrach for me to do this was…odd.”

“How so?” I asked becoming curious.

“Rarely is it arranged between two that have never met.  And, I have never heard it being done with someone, not _Tel’Quessir_.”

“I see, well.  Look I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do or aren’t comfortable doing,” I said apologetically.  “So, if you want to…not do it, I won’t be angry, and I won’t complain to Melandrach.”

The woman nodded and looked down and sighed.  “Your concern is thoughtful, but I will not be punished or anything…but your concern does make me curious.  Let us talk a moment.”

We returned to where we started and sat down, to start again.

“I guess, I should or rather we should introduce ourselves,” the elf started.  “I am Arnara, Thir…er sorry First Daughter of House Ustina.”

“You almost said ‘third,’” I responded.  “I am assuming that you have lost kin in the recent fighting.”

She nodded stiffly, “Yes.  And I suppose that is why I am here now,”

“I don’t understand,”

“I was to be _Sonalta_ to the First Daughter of House Xillocent,” she said quietly. “I had been preparing for it for almost nine years, but now it is no longer possible; she was killed in a hobgoblin raid in Whitepetal.”

“I am sorry,” I said bowing my head.  “I was there recently, and I tried to help as many as I could.   What was her name?”

“Morlea,” she said quietly her eyes closing and her head bowed in memory.

As she spoke the name, the visions of her ran through my head.  Her sharing a drink with me, finding her body in the trees, and her dead face sinking beneath the loam.

“I…I…knew her,” I said quietly.  Arnara’s head snapped up to look at me.

“She…helped me with my armor when I was wounded and we shared a drink under the light of the stars the night she died,” I said quietly.  “At sunrise, I went to see her one last time and prayed for her swift passage to Arvandor.”

Arnara nodded, “She was a _Sonalta_ to Alanathia and it was almost at an end.  What do you mean you prayed?”

“I’m a…priest of the Judge of the Dead, Kelemvor,” and I gestured at the symbol around my neck.   “It’s my responsibility to help others avoid ends before the fullness of time and to put to rest those that have fallen before us.  I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.” I bowed my head, not wanting to look Arnara in the face.

I had not thought of Morlea in sometime, and the memory of her wrenched at my heart.  It was now easy to see how interconnected the elves were to each other.  How one life intermingles with others, how a single loss affects so many.  And I knew that was only the beginning of an experience that lasted for centuries.

I heard a motion, and I felt Arnara sit next to me.  She laid her arms hesitantly around my shoulders.  I could feel her nervousness as I sat there.    

“You are a kind person to have done those things.  And it seems that there is a purpose in our meeting.  I would be willing to…be a _Sonalta_ for you, if only for a short time.”  

“Thank you,” I said.  “I guess I should ask for your patience though.  I’m not at all familiar with elven culture.  So please just…let me know if I am being offensive or saying the wrong thing.”

She nodded, “I will do so.  I am sure that anything you know about us will be a reasonable starting point.”

“I doubt that. I don’t know anything about elves really.”

“Surely in Waterdeep they—”

“—I’m not from Waterdeep.” I interrupted.  “I spent a little time in the city, so I might sound like I’m from there, but my home is…much farther away,” I said sadly.

“Where then?   Baldur’s Gate?”

“Uh…no, farther?”

“Cormyr?”

“No…I don’t even know where that is.”

“Then what place in Faerun?”

“I’m not from Faerun at all.  I’m from…the City of Sigil.” I said wistfully thinking of home.

“Sigil?” She said puzzled, before her eyes opened wider.  “I have read stories of that place.  You have travelled the planes then?”

I nodded, “A couple; the Outlands passing through a gatetown, and the Gilded Hall in Arborea is all.  It’s more than most people in Sigil, but it isn’t really a lot at all.”

“Arborea…that’s the common word for Arvandor.  You have been there?” she said incredulously.

“Arborea is the name of the plane,” I corrected gently.  “There it is an infinite expanse, containing many realms.  Arvandor is one of them.  In fact, you could see it from the Hall itself.  Pennants and spires of crystal, marble and gold in the dist—”

“You’ve _seen_ Arvandor?” Arnara’s tone was of disbelief.

“In a distance.  We were warned not to wander into it; many of the petitioners and spirits wouldn’t take kindly to an intrusion by non-elves.  Even half-elves were warned against it.”  I responded to her and watched.  Unlike Alanathia, she displayed more emotion and seemed easier to read.  I wondered if this was because she might be younger.  But now she wore a face of incredulity.

“You make a sacred place sound so…common.  Reachable.”

I nodded, “It’s just a different perspective; we have on one hand a certainty on how the Multi-verse works.  And yet, every place has its own story.  Take the story of how the…what’s the elvish word…_dharrow_ came to be.”  I saw a frown come across Arnara’s face when I said the word. “Here it’s part of history called the ‘Crown Wars.’  Another world doesn’t have a specific name for it, and yet it happened.  Another place, it hasn’t happened at all…or yet.” At this her face looked at me in surprise.   “So, the story I know is true, but the details differ from world to world.  But to you, you know the history here in a way I could not; see truths in the details I have never heard.  A different facet of the same jewel.”

Arnara was silent for a moment, absorbing what I had said.  Finally, she looked at me and asked, “Will you tell me the stories you have heard, share what you have seen with me?”

“Sure.” I said smiling.  “Although you will probably need to help me with my elvish.”

“Other people have said that it is a difficult one to learn, as befitting the oldest language.”

“I suppose then I should challenge you on that,” I said smirking. “It isn’t the oldest, although it probably is here.”

“What would be older?”

“There are four I know of that are older; Abyssal is the youngest, followed by Infernal which itself is a corrupted form of Celestial.   And that is at least as old as the one the Primordials speak.”

“How can that be?”

“Because there were angels before there were elves,” I replied.  At this point an attendant arrived and she said, “Myrai, your chamber has been prepared near the gardens.  I can take you there now if you are ready.”

Before I could reply, Arnara spoke, “With thanks, Caliana.  Can you please inform my father that I will need my things delivered as well?”

The elf looked surprised for a moment.  “Of course, I can.  Are you planning to…?” she let the sentence drift off.

“I have been asked to act as her _Sonalta_ by Melandrach, which I have just agreed to,” Arnara said with a smile.

“Of course.  Please follow me,” Caliana replied a little surprised.

“Shall we Myr…rai?” Arnara asked.

“Now that you pronounced it right…I’m sure I’m not saying Arnara right,” I said with a smirk.

“Our ‘r’s have a slight trill,” she responded.

_Come on Goss…you can lay around later.

--Oh, I wouldn’t miss this; the social mistakes that you will make will be worth the wait.

Thanks.  You can shut up now._

Gossamer stood and shook his head and wings and took off to fly above us, humming in my head.  Arnara had not noticed the tressym until now and she watched him following us with a smile.

“A tressym?  I know you can find them in Silverymoon…where did you find him?”

“The right application of magic,” I said.  “He’s a very real familiar…and a very real pain.”

_--You know I can hear that right?

I hope so.

--That’s it.  I’m attacking your feet this evening.

Spoilsport._

“I didn’t realize that you were a wizard as well as a priest,” she said looking at my worn armor and rapier.”

“Well…that’s a longer story.  Why is Caliana getting your things by the way?”

“Oh…well traditionally _Sonaltas_ live with their charges.  You…you don’t mind, do you?”

“Wha…oh no, I don’t mind…I just never considered it.”

“I guess I have a lot to teach you,” Arnara said smiling.

“Same here I suppose,” I responded.  “This will be a new experience I guess.”

*Session notes:*

So what is this all about?   Well, there was some wealth to spend, and one of the selections I made was a Carousing with the nobles, which I rolled very well on.   This is the first contact that I made with it.


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

This is all very interesting, cant wait to hear hat happens next.


----------



## Nthal

Kieth Shadow Cloak said:


> This is all very interesting, cant wait to hear hat happens next.




Same here!

Oh wait....I should post something shouldn't I...


----------



## Nthal

*Creation and isolation - 6/1/2020*

_Somewhere I remember attending a lecture in the Civic Festhall called ‘Art and pain.’  The talk was a wordy screed about how true art takes not just effort, but pain and anguish in some form in the artists soul.  The pain crystalized the art with that emotional state which could then be felt by the observers.  Without it people couldn’t feel the true intent.

Later I heard that magic can be seen the same way, and that some practitioners used their own blood to enhance and empower spells.   Some said it wasn’t the blood, but the pain was what made it so.

At the time I dismissed both as I mentioned, as screed.  Later I learned there really was a truth to it.  But nothing teaches better than personal experience._​


The hammer on the anvil was light and quick, the tones from the strike almost musical.  I realized that every smith did things a little differently, in the quest of their own creation.  In Sigil, I had met and delivered messages for a family of dwarven smiths from the Godvoid.  Their hammering was a solid, firm tone that would make the earth shift.  The human smiths in Waterdeep were lighter and tended to tap the anvil in between strikes to the metal being worked.  The half-orc smith that worked on my shield was more random, making only as few strikes as needed.

I walked into the elven smithy and saw Talans and his apprentice Kalis shaping a spaulder out of a silvery white metal.  Talans was reviewing his student’s progress when he saw me at the doorway and smiled.

“_Adon Myrai,” _he said, moving towards me.

“_Adon, Talans iquar’kerym,”_ I said smiling focusing on the trill on the two ‘r’s.

Still smiling, he switched to common, “You are getting better, although you do not need such formality in talking with me.”

“I need the practice, and I thought it was still proper as we have not been yet named an elf friend.  And it is your home, I should know the right words.”

Talans nodded his approval, “Your attention to our culture, shows much in your character befitting you _ha-celas._  Your actions show even more.”

“Thank you again.  I received your message that one of the items is ready.”

“Yes, Kalis had finished it yesterday, and I checked the temper.  The steel is true and is ready for the setting if that is your wish.”

“Yes!  Yes it is.  I appreciate you sparing the time for it, as I realized Daneath’s armor is going to take a while.”

“It was a simple request, and easily handled by Kalis on his own.  The commission for Daneath has a number of complexities, and we still need some more mithril before he starts on the larger parts.  And so, while we wait for it, we will be able to start on your armor as well.”

“Really?  That soon?”

Talans laughed, “You didn’t ask for it to be made of mithril after all, so the amber steel is handy.  And smelting the raw mithril into usable steel will take time once it has arrived.  All we can work on are the spaulders until then.”

“I thank you again, how long will it take?”

“With two of us, one working the front and the other the back section we will have it done within two weeks.  By then, we can focus and finish Daneath’s piece.  But come,” and he motioned me to a wooden bench, which was upholstered in leather.  This one was clearly used for polish and detail work, far from the anvil and the coals of the forge.

There on it lay a rod of darkened steel.  Most of the length was smooth and polished, with a simple rondel.  The other end had a flared top, that resembled four wings, stretched upwards.  The shape of the wings at the top of the steel, looked as they would hold something between them.

“Do you have the _Kiir_?”  Talans asked.

I nodded, and pulled out of my pouch, the purple sapphire that Beepu had given me.  Where once it was a mishappen rock, it was now smoothed and polished, with what the jeweler had called an asterism in the form of a six-pointed star within.  I handed the jewel to Talans, and he removed from the wall, a small hammer and tongs and set them down on the leather, as he pulled on some thin, leather gloves.  He then took the steel rod and took it to a box of white sand and submerged the winged top within, turning it.  He watched and waited and spoke.

“The steel requested, is an interesting one.  The metallurgy is of a type I have not seen in a long time.”

“I don’t know much…well anything about it, other than what I had researched.  What do you know about it?”

“The steel is of a type that was used for holding enchantments, but there are many mixtures that do that,” he said turning the rod in the sand.  “But this particular one is not used much in weapons as it doesn’t hold a sharp edge.  But it is not brittle, and it would return to its forged form if were bent.  The high heat required, and the rapid quenching is one that is difficult to master, it is all too easy to cause the metal to shatter.”

“I don’t plan on swinging it at anyone,” I pointed out.

“Of course, you would not; not enough weight and the shaft is far too narrow.  But it is clear what your intent is in general, if not in the specific.”  He pulled the rod out of the sand and moved it to the leather covered bench.  He wrapped a cloth around the end and then clamped it down with a vice, keeping it from moving.  He then with the small hammer and tongs began to seat the jewel at the top.  He delicately tapped it and bent the wings inward, so they acted as a setting for the stone holding it fast.

“There, it must cool a bit before you can take it with you.”

“My thanks to you,” I thought a moment and then asked. “How much do I owe you for the rod exactly?  Yyou gave me a price for the armor after all.”

“Nothing; you have done something for me, that would be difficult to repay.”

“I did?”

“I did not know until my son came home, but it seems that you and your companions found him locked in a cage in a quarry.  Keeping my kin safe was one thing, my family is quite another.”

“I…I…see…thank y—”

“And besides, Melandrach is paying for these works, so I will lose nothing in the materials.”

“Then…you are welcome; I’m glad I could help your family.”

Talans nodded and returned his tools to their places above the bench and walked over to Kalis working.

“Very good, Kalis.  This indeed will be a worthy masterpiece.”

“Masterpiece?” I asked.

“Yes; if the others agree this piece will be the one that grants him the title of master smith, and it will be the end of his apprenticeship.  “I am doing all the other work that needs be done.”  He then turned to Kalis again.  “When you are ready, we can create a pattern with her.”  Kalis nodded, and then Talans moved over to another bench, where he started to cut some soft leather.

“Measure?”

“Yes…well we call it that, but what we do here is akin to a tailor making a pattern,” he replied as he continued cutting.  “For a breastplate it is simple, we cut the rough shape out of the leather, and fit it to you, and then use it against a blank of amber steel and bend it to the right shape.”

“That makes sense; no waste and reduces bulk,” I said nodding.

“Very good, you are observant _ha-celas,_” he said. “You too could learn the secrets of working steel if you wished.”

“I suppose; I would never get anything done though; there are so many interesting things to distract me.” I said smirking.  I watched him continue to make a shape that vaguely looked like a sleeveless shirt.  But as he was doing so, I thought a second and realized something.

“Uh…wait.  Do I need to…to…undress for this?”

Talans didn’t even look up, “The best fit has nothing between the leather and skin; the leather itself will be used for lining the steel afterwards.”

“And you do this for the…women as well?”

“If you feel uncomfortable, you can indeed wear a muslin top if you like.”

“Well, the bathing pools here aren’t different than Sigil’s; I think it bothered my human friends more,” I said smirking at the memory of Iesa and Daneath’s blushing as they one day visited them.  And just like Sigil, there wasn’t a sign of clothing to be seen around the pool at all.  I’m not sure which shocked them more; naked elves or the naked woman they had been travelling with for months.

“It’s just a bit more…well doesn’t matter. I paid for this piece; I certainly am going to get the best fit I can,” I said as I started to unlace my leather bodice and pulled it and my tunic off.

“Measure away.”



It was late afternoon when I finally left.  The funny thing it was the second time in a tenday.  The first one was for an actual dress in a home of an elf here, and it was just like the tailor in Yartar. There were a lot of needles and poking and prodding involved, and I had Arnara’s help.

This one was almost the same, but it was just going to be one made of metal, and the concerns were different.  The form the leather took, looked like an inside-out shirt, with a cutout for my bosom, which required a different section of leather.   Extra lengths of the edges to cover sharp metal from cutting into me.  But the pair were as professional as any tailor, and my partial state of undress did not even register a concern with them.  They as smiths probably had seen it all in their fittings.

I finally returned to my ‘chambers,’ but to call them that was an understatement.  It was more like a small house on the grounds of one of the many gardens with a large pool behind it. The interior seemed to be almost grown into place, with no sign of cut wood anywhere except for the doors.  There was a central spot for a fire, and a stone chimney to guide the smoke out, with over half of it an open porch area, and the other half were interior rooms for food preparation, storage and rest.

Rest turned out to be a problem though for me, which led to an interesting discovery.  I had for the first several nights slept on the largest divan in the house, which wasn’t nearly large enough. After three days, my back complained.  I then built a ‘nest’ by gathering and scattering sheets, blankets, and pillows in front of the firepit.  All to lay down straight and flat on my back.  And it worked.

But I woke to the sound of Arnara laughing at the sight of me, “What have you done with all the…did you grab all the sheets?”

“Every one I could find that you weren’t using,” I said as I lay there, eyes shut, my back no longer complaining at the contortions needed to sleep on a divan.  “And my back is happy,”

“Oh my, you are quite the sight I must say,”

“Well if the elves believed in a proper bed, I wouldn’t need to do this!” I said, propping myself up and looking at the smiling _sonalta_.

“Oh, we do have beds its…just…” and she trailed off, her face turning into a frown, as she struggled with a thought.

“Oh, that would be great, if you can get a real bed in here.” I said, smiling at the thought.  But as I looked Arnara kept opening and closing her mouth, not quite saying something.

“What?  Did I ask for something…strange?”  I asked, suddenly wary.

“Well…no…um, yes.   You see, we do _have_ beds, but we only use them occasionally.”

“Well then what’s the issue?” my social skills not quite picking up on the problem.

“Well, when a pair decide to…well…enjoin themselves in…um…” Arnara said her cheeks turning a bright red.

“I don’t…OH!” I winced, finally picking up context.  “Of course, that makes complete…never mind.  I’ll camp on the floor…sorry to have asked.”

Two days later, an ornate bed arrived in one of the larger side rooms.   It was a lovely one, with either carved or grown images of flowers and animals on the wooden headboard and footboard, and four solid oaken posts at the corners, with the imagery of vines and mistletoe wrapping around each one in relief.  When I saw Arnara next I simply said, “Thank you,” in elvish and she nodded politely in response.

We never discussed the bed again.  In fact, the room itself to me became an awkward joke as it was only referred to as ‘*that* room.’ If it needed to be referred to.  But as it turned out, I used that nest of cushions and sheets often for a quick nap, and the simple fact that Arnara was there most of the time to talk to.  Every time I snuck into the room in the back to use the bed, Arnara had a bemused look on her face that was the elvish equivalent to “I know what you have been doing.”  When an occasional guest, or my elvish tutor arrived for my daily elvish lessons, I noticed that Arnara always made sure that the door to that room was closed.  But she did the same thing with my nesting materials as well, which basically explained a lot about relations between elven couples.

I entered the house, with my new prize, wrapped up in an oilcloth.  Arnara wasn’t there, as I had remembered she had an errand to do that afternoon.  However, Gossamer was there, fast asleep on a divan with a ray of sun shining down on his black fur, which color turned into a reddish haze as he appeared to ‘rust’ in the bright light.

I made my way to ‘*that* room’ and closed the door behind me.  Beyond the bed, which was situated in its center, there was a writing desk.   With a stand for holding open a book near the back edge of it.  I lay the rod on the top surface and pulled out the _Apocrypha_ and pulled out the sheet I wanted while flexing and using my light on an unlit candle. It bloomed into a warm orange light, which illuminated my silvery _Apocrypha._

The layered letters on the sheet lit up, and I sat down at the desk.   I quickly ran my finger over the formulae listed and then I placed both of my hands on the rod and started to focus my will on it.  I slowly weaved a lattice of light and dark strands around it, one at a time.  All the while chanting the same phrase over and over; pulling at the weave to bind the strand into knots on the hardened steel:

_“Piko ma lana leya I ke punaeyalwalo ho’anpona I ke mea kunokuno haie I ko’noua makeamakea”_

I knew that it would take several days to complete, but I didn’t realize that it would be a taxing process.

Or a dangerous one.

I remembered that first day chanting.  I felt like I was pouring my heart and soul into it, as I felt what my _Apocrypha _called quanta flooding it, imbuing it with energy and power.  I remembered pushing more and more into it when I suddenly became dizzy and I had the sensation of falling.  The next thing I knew I saw Arnara staring at me, speaking or maybe shouting at me; I couldn’t tell as no sound left her mouth as I stared at her uncomprehending, shaking in a cold sweat.  She with some effort dragged me off the floor and lay my limp form on the bed.  As soon as I felt my body hit the quilted feather bedding, darkness enveloped me and I saw nothing more.

It was late when I came to, I felt a little sick and somehow very hungry. I started to move, when I realized that lying next to me was Arnara watching.  I must have moved enough to disturb her reverie, as she moved her head to look at me, her hand touching my forehead.

“Myrai, what were you doing?  I was worried.”

“Well…” I said slowly, “I was enchanting a…a rod.” I gestured to the desk, where the steel rod lay.  “I’m alright, I just need some food,” I said and swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up woozily.

“Have you never done this before?” Arnara asked, as she clambered off the bed.

“Well, I’ve made a scroll or two, but this is a new thing.  But I’m following a formula so it’s not unkno—” I started.

“—It was unknown to *you.*  Enchanting can be dangerous.” Arnara said as she stood.  Moving to the desk, she ignored the rod.  She instead picked up the _Apocrypha.  _While my light had gone out a while ago, the main room had enough light from the magical sconces to allow the illegible letters to be seen.  She looked at it critically and turned to me.

“What is this…a spellbook?” she asked confused.

“Not exactly…its…a part of me really.  It does have spells in it I can cast, and many others I can use ritually.   It is my…binding I guess.” I said trying to think how to explain it.

“Binding?” she echoed looking at it with concern.  “You should not blindly just do what it says, it could have unexpected results,” she said looking at me critically.  “You might consider getting rid of it or giving it to someone who can research it.”

“Well…I can’t really.”

“I do not understand.”

“Here, give me,” I said, and I took the silvery cylinder from her, replacing the metal sheets back within.  I then moved towards the small window in the back and opened it to the cool night air.  Taking a moment, I put the _Apocrypha_ in my right hand and tossed it up in the air and catching it. I did this a couple of times, getting a feel for the weight of it.  Then suddenly upon catching it, I cocked my arm back and then threw it outside into the dark night and then closed the window.

Arnara looked at me in shock, “You can’t just—”

“Follow me,” I said somewhat resigned.  I led her back into the main room, where a low table sat in front of the fire pit.  Normally my nest of bad things would be there, but I had not laid down my bedding for the night yet.  I then turned to Arnara and gestured.

There on the table sat upright the _Apocrypha, _unmoving and unblemished, glittering in the light from the sconces.  Arnara’s mouth opened in surprise as she pointed at it.

“How did?” she stammered.

“I don’t know,” I said shaking my head unsurprised.  “Learned that trick in Waterdeep when I got frustrated and couldn’t read it.  I also know if I melted it in a forge I could, just recreate it with a little focus and time.  And I don’t even know how I know that.”  I sat down on a nearby divan across from the table and looked at Arnara.

“It’s a part of me you could say, part of the magic I am bound to,” I said looking at her and then at the cylinder again.  “I can no more get rid of it, than I can break the binding and…the debt I am subject to.”

“Debt?  Binding?  How do you know this?” Arnara asked, stepping closer to look, but avoiding touching it.

“It told me.”

“What?”

“It had a compulsion on the writing that brought me to a place where I could...talk with it.” I said.  I was feeling better physically, but I was more worried about Arnara who seemed to become more agitated as I talked.

“You should talk to ones of our learned one here, perhaps they can cure—”

“—Its not a disease!  I talked with Beepu about it, and he believes that its true; that this binding, this pact; it can’t be undone, doesn’t matter if I don’t know why.”

“Why are you not more concerned about it?”

I bowed my head, “Because it might…just might…be the only thing from my father I have.”

“Your father…the one that is…”

“_Celas_.  And for whatever reason, he can’t tell me about it.  He wants me to do something…I just can’t understand what.”

Arnara looked at me, and then the cylinder on the table, and then looked at me with pity.  “I…I understand.  Not this, but I understand when your family wants something out of you but will not say what.  It just seems to be…unfair.”

“It probably is, and it’s still here,” I said glumly.  I then changed the subject.  “Do we still have that cheese that the temple sent over as a gift?”

“What?  Oh yes, there is a small wedge left in the pantry.”

“Ok, I’m going to eat and wash it down with some wine and call it a night.”

“Very well, shall I get your pillows and things?”

“No…don’t trouble yourself, I will just collapse in ‘*that* room’ and get some sleep,” I said as I got up to hunt down the cheese.

“I am going to keep checking on you until morning comes,” Arnara said and she moved to where a small rack of bottles lay on their side.  She was about to open it when she frowned and looked at me.

“I know you tend to have a bottle every evening, but perhaps you should let your body recover from your exertion without it.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Arnara keep the frown on her face and nodded.  I then entered the pantry and found the hard cheese with the salt crystals and buttery herb taste.  I quickly peeled the rind away and bit into the wedge tasting the tang and the salt.  I then walked back to Arnara who had prepared me a glass of a red wine of a vintage I liked from Melandrach’s cabinets.

I took the glass and half drained it, with Arnara looking at me concerned.

“Thanks,” I said.  Her concern didn’t lessen, and I sighed.  “I’ll be fine, trust me please.”

“Very well” she said, and I quickly finished the wedge and drained the rest of the glass, setting it down on the table next to the _Apocrypha._  I then moved towards ‘*that *room,’ when I realized that Arnara was following me.

Puzzled, she took me by the hand and sat me down on the side of the bed.  She then knelt and then unlaced and pulled off my boots.  I stared at her, uncomprehendingly at this; she had never done this in any of the prior nights.  She was more inclined to read a book she had with her and would wave at me when I headed to whichever surface I was going to sleep on.  But now, she set my boots aside and unlaced my bodice and lay it on the dressing bench at the end of the bed.  She then lifted, or rather encouraged me to lift my legs on the bed, and she quickly unlaced the sides and pulled off my leggings as I lay there, feeling the wine course through my body.  She then covered me and stroked my hair.

“I worry about you _ha-celas_.  I don’t understand what I should do,”

“We learn about the multiverse through experience; the easy answers aren’t the important ones,” I muttered; the wine soaking quickly into my mind and diffusing my thoughts.  The care and concern were new as well; tender and genuine.   I started to drift off when I heard a familiar lecturer in my head.

_--You know you should at least be honest.

I don’t want to burden her with my issues.

--I meant with yourself about those issues.

Leave me alone…I don’t want to…talk about it.

--You never do…that’s the problem._

And I could feel the echo of Gossamers last words in my head as the darkness washed over me and carried me out to another dreamless slumber.



*Session notes:*

The smith is the second contact from carousing.  The elvish words are most gleaned and modified from Elven Dictionary


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

Nice, this session seems like a character dive, more so than the others.


----------



## Nthal

Kieth Shadow Cloak said:


> Nice, this session seems like a character dive, more so than the others.




thanks! I like my vanity project and I am glad you like it too.

It is for couple reasons;  one this is filling in the gaps of a downtime...which is a hour of rolling dice and discussion; its boring.  Thiis is about what happened.

Another is that there are some important ties for later, so context is kinda of nice.

The third is so I have a variety of topics to write about. 

So we will be getting back to the action soon...


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

Can't wait


----------



## Nthal

*A Morning’s Catharsis - 6/6/2020*

_We always remember things about the ones we lose. But sometimes it is a duty to remember things about others we don’t even know._​

Arnara and I entered the temple grounds, quiet and somber.  Today was the day of remembrance, for those that sacrificed themselves against the hobgoblin horde.  It wasn’t really a single service or a session.  Instead, each person came to the Temple of the Seldarine to pay their respects to the ones that meant the most to them.

I considered not going at all, as I was afraid, I would intrude on something private for the elves, but Arnara encouraged me to go.  I could at least remember Morlea.  For Arnara it was more personal, not only did she lose her, but she had lost other kin; Palas, Casia and Zyana.

When she first introduced herself, she almost called herself “Third daughter” of her house.  I learned that it wasn’t literal; she wasn’t the third daughter by her father; such a thing would be remarkable, and it would also be considered a bad omen as many children implied a need for them.  What it did mean of the next generation of girls in the house, she was now the eldest living.  The other two were cousins of some sort.  There was also a First Son and a Second son as well, but the prior First Son, Palas had also died fighting in the southern part of the forest. 

I assumed at first that they were close, but I was surprised to learn that despite the honorifics, they were quite separated in age.  The other Daughters were 304 and 231 years old, while Palas, was 278 and the current First Son was 210.  This meant that which made Arnara at 118 a was a youngster.  She did not grow up with the others; they were active adults centuries ago.  It also meant that while as close as family was, she wasn’t close to any of them due to timing.  The one she was close to was Morlea, but only because as Third daughter she was expected to be a _Sonalta_ for another house for a decade or two and then find her own path.

But becoming First Daughter changed this.

“It is duty,” Arnara said sadly as she sat there one evening sipping on her mead.

“That you _must _either become head of the house or at least marry?   And it isn’t even your choice?”  I said as I lounged drinking my wine.   “Why does…what’s his name, Wyan get to choose?”

“It’s not that he chooses, its because of his age; he would be the next head of Ustina assuming the elders think he is right for the role.  He could perhaps marry into another house, but that is unlikely.”

“But *he* gets to choose?  And not you?”

Arnara looked at me with some frustration.  “No, again it is because of his age only.  Because of the others were older, he…and I for that matter, it was of no consequence.  He wasn’t going to have to do anything, as Casia is…was going to be a wise head.  But losing her and Zyana and Palas changed that.  With only two of us out of six pairings…someone must be ready to lead.  And so, all eyes are on him.  And I.”

“But why does that mean you have to marry for the sake of the house?”

“He does too…but if something were to happen to him, I would be the only Ustina left of my generation.  It isn’t likely that a sibling or a cousin would be born at this point.   And if one were to do so, both of us would be far older and ready to assume our stations as needed.  So, someone must marry in the house to continue the family and ideally both of us should.”

“So, you wouldn’t become part of another house?”

“No.  I have heard that this happens a lot in human nobility, where only the son matters.  For elven houses, anyone can marry into another house and take their name for their own.  But now…I could not do so.  Someone would have to marry into mine.”

“I guess I thought that well heeled nobles had choices.” I said shaking my head.  “I guess I was naïve.”

“Well...I did have choices.” Arnara said.  “I chose to study arcana and history, because they interested me and because they supported being a _sonalta_ well.  I didn’t really have a plan beyond that.  But, as it appears, they also support being the next leader of the house.”

“But I thought you said Wyan would be next?”

“I said the elders would judge* if* he would be.  But…” Arnara looked away and sipped her mead again.  “He doesn’t have the skills; he was working closely with the druids and rangers here, and that is where his heart lay.  I do not think they would choose him as he is too far down the path.  But he will be pressured to marry and father children, keeping him away from the wilds he loves.  I think it is likely he will choose not to marry at all.”

“Which leaves you.”

“Only.  Because I am not yet set into a path, I can be guided.  And so, I am resigned to lead…someday it seems.”

I shook my head, “Why is this so important?  It seems to be a lot of concern about something…intangible.”

Arnara looked at me crossly, “We are the only two noble moon elf houses left here in the Misty Forest.   Many of our kin left in the retreat, but our house chose not to because we thought it was important to stay.  And the only way we can stay…is to be a functioning house.”   She looked at the fire in the open pit, its embers slowly dying down.

“We were fortunate to have had five.   Everyone got what they wanted.  Now with only two, either Wyan and I have our choices made for us, like it or not.”



So here we were in the Temple, quiet in our own thoughts.  Arnara gave me a an overview on the few things I needed to know to show the proper respects.   But it wasn’t all I needed though.

The temple wasn’t a temple that I was used to; it wasn’t even a single building.  It was an open area, with covered shrines in a small grove of trees.   There were buildings around for the priests to study and teach, but it wasn’t like the large cathedrals in Waterdeep, or the bigger ones in Sigil.  This was a place for quiet, and personal retrospection.

Because we were honoring our sacrifices, Arnara lead me to the shrine that was at the center of temple; the one dedicated to Corelleon Larethian.  It was a stone stele carved with a relief of a quarter moon.  The stele was almost completely shrouded in vine and moss, with only the moon showing.   There surrounding the stone stele were objects of memories, Poems on scrolls, or in folded leaves.  Arrows were common, as were carved bone and wood trinkets.  And some left small sweet cakes, in remembrance of better times.   Arnara told me of this, but she also said that some things left behind could only be carried in the heart, something that no simple object could convey.

It was with her, as she knelt down and bowed her head quietly.   I waited, wondering what she was thinking, when she leaned forward, almost touching her nose to the stone path leading to the stele.  I was wondering what she was doing when I listened and could barely hear the sounds of tear drops falling down and splashing onto the stone, as she left behind her feelings.  She then straightened herself up and moved out of the way, so I could pay my own respects.

For me, this remembrance was of Morlea specifically, and I chose to leave something of that memory.  I knelt down and pulled from my pouch a small vial.  Inside the vial was a dark amber liquid; the same liquor that Morlea and I shared together the night she died.  I pulled the stopper from the vial and poured the vial’s contents at the foot of the stele.

“To that second drink we never had,” I whispered.   I then stood up and looked around.  Arnara had started to walk back to our dwelling, when she noticed I wasn’t following her.  I was instead making my way to a priestess that was tending to another shrine.  Arnara had just caught up with me, when I reached the priestess and asked a question.

“I am sorry to trouble you,” I said in elvish.

The woman was surprised but nodded politely, “And what can I do for you…_Ha-celas?”_

“I am a priestess of Kelemvor,” I said continuing in elvish and watching carefully for signs of offense.  “I have read that he and one of the Seldarine have…an understanding.  I think it was Naralis Analor if I remember correctly.”

She nodded slowly with respect, “Yes.  He aids Sehanie Moonbow in the shepherding of the dead, from Kelemvor’s realm.”  I heard behind me Arnara as she caught up with us.

“I would like to, say the …appropriate prayer.  I saw many fall in Whitepetal, but I knew only one by name.  I feel obligated to honor them—”

“I understand.  There are no formal rites for the dead as each one is personal.  However, saying a prayer to your own god at Naralis’ shrine would be…acceptable if you feel you must.”

“Its an obligation.  Where is his shrine?”

“There, under the willows at the edge. Others have left their thoughts there as well.”

“My thanks,” and we bowed our heads to each other, and then I turned and made my way to the shrine she pointed out, with Arnara in tow.

“I didn’t realize you had more to do,” Arnara said.

“Duty is powerful thing,” I replied.

The shrine was another stele of stone, but smaller, and instead of grey granite, this was one was of a dark polished stone, with veins of white running through it.  Here too were offerings, but unlike the ones at Corellon’s shrine, these were all keepsake boxes, tied shut with strings.

“Messages,” Arnara said guessing at my thoughts.  I nodded and knelt on both of my knees and sat on the back of my heels.   Bowing my head, I grasped my symbol of the skeletal hand with the balance, and prayed aloud in elvish:



_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning

Death is without deceit and has meaning,

May all your souls find passage to Arvandor,

And gaze from the Overlook, into the Crescent Grove, 

May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey,

Because Death is never an end, but a way post,

Not a destination, but a Journey, 

The memory of your deeds will live forever within you,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May Death give way to Rebirth._



I breathed in deeply and tried to remember the many faces that I had seen at Whitepetal.  I thought of Alanathia, and Galenas.  I thought of Arnara’s cousins.  It didn’t matter if they were living or dead, both needed blessings, if for different reasons.  For good fortune, for peace and comfort, for rest now that their labors were complete.

I don’t remember how long it was that I knelt there, but finally I stood again and  turned around.  Arnara was still standing  there, looking at me, her brow furrowed in thought, and she followed me as we made our way back to the house by the pond.  By the time we had returned, it was only midmorning.

I was about to head back into ‘*that* room’ to finish my work, when Arnara spoke.

“That was…unexpected. I did not know you knew the Seldarine well, as we had never talked about them.”

“I don’t really,” I said.  “I can’t say a know a lot of powers.  But I do know most of the ones related to death.  Many of them are involved with Kelemvor in some way.”

“But he is a new god is he not?”

I nodded, “Yes, but his position has been held by others before him.  The original one is now said to be Kelemvor’s scribe.  So, Death is eternal, but the one who guides the souls in the Fugue changes.”

“For all souls? For all races?”

“Kelemvor is the judge of the dead, not death itself.  So, while all `go to the Fugue, its perhaps the only the first step of a journey.  The dwarves are guided from the Fugue, by their respective servants of the Morndinsamman, the elves by the Seldarine, the _dharrow_ by…well anyway very few stays.”

“Why would any stay?”

“They were not devout or were false I am told; they get judged and punished or rarely rewarded.  The worst are the Faithless and the False, they become part of the wall that surrounds the city and…fade away.”

“And you…where do you believe you would go?”

After a moment I said, “I would go the Fugue and remain as a loyal servant I suppose.”

“I just have never heard of any elf going to that place; we go to Arvandor and are reborn.”

“I believe they just pass through, it’s not like I saw any elves when I there.”

Arnara was taken aback, her mouth dropped open in surprise.  Finally she asked, almost whispering.  “What…did…you say?”

I closed my eyes and I grimaced; this wasn’t a door I had meant to open and talk about.  But now it was open a crack, I felt my heart pound as I talked.  “I was killed by a hyena outside of Yartar and I was…brought back.”

Arnara was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, “And you…*saw* the afterlife.”

“Briefly,” I sighed as I sat on the bed, shaking a bit.  “According to my friends it wasn’t even a day.   There, I had no idea.  I knew I was dead, and I…” I let my words fade away, uncertain if I wanted to explain.  No, that wasn’t right.  I *was* certain.   But I was very afraid to.

“What?”

I steeled myself, hoping that telling someone might help me find some peace.

“I didn’t want to return,” I said looking at the elf revealing myself.  I had told the others that if I hadn’t come back that they wouldn’t have been in debt to Mordai, but I never told them my true shame; I never wanted to.

“At the time, everyone else I had cared deeply about was already dead.  I had no reason to come back,” I hung my head and teared up a bit.  “So many others deserved to live.  Far more deserving than me.   I’m no one.  Why not Daneath’s and Iesa’s father?   Why not your cousins or Morlea?  Why not--”

I couldn’t say Elisna’s name as I couldn’t hold back anymore.   The anger and the guilt burst forth up from within me, on full display to a woman who had lost her kin and her freedom.  The tears welled up within me and I slumped on the mattress, unable to contain myself.   Here I was alive again, and I was complaining about living, to a person who lost loved ones.  It felt selfish, and yet what I felt was more constricting than the binding.  Unable to escape the guilt, that tied me to my friends.  To everyone I met and saved; Pathorn, Alanathia, and Revelvan.  Was it ever enough?  And yet the ones closest to me were the ones I couldn’t save; Elisna, Markell, and Morlea.  Who would I fail next?

My tears poured from my eyes like rivers, my stomach ached and heaved as I gasped for air.  I felt a fraud; a person unworthy of the gift bestowed on me.

No *forced *upon me.  By my father.  One of several cruel ironies and unwanted gifts with even less wanted obligations.  An undefined purpose: a secret arrangement made I was to honor and uphold like…Arnara’s duty to her family, where all pretense of choice was revealed to be a sham.

I lay there gasping for breath, and I felt Arnara lay behind me and pressed herself against my back as she embraced me.  I continued to cry as she spoke gently to me.

“We don’t always make the choice; all we can do is live with what comes, and what doesn’t.   You should not feel guilty about something you did not do or could not do.  That you do, makes you…a worthy person.   To not squander what has been given, you must be aware of it.”

My tears slowed as I rolled on my side to look at her in those grey eyes.  “I cannot blame you for my cousins; their fate was never in your hands.  And I do believe, you must be worthy to be returned to the living.  These are not casual mistakes or games of chance, no matter how it looks.  Just because we do not understand why, doesn’t make it less worthy of a miracle.”

I sniffled, as I lay there looking up.  “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t burden anyone with my problems.”

“It is not a burden; it can be painful.  And though it may not look it, we elves feel as deeply about matters as you.  We just have better—”

“—manners?”

“Timing,” she chided.

I chuckled softly.  “Thank you…you are a good—”

“_Sonalta?”

“_No.   A good friend.  A good _Sonalta_ would help me get dressed after I finish my project,” I said with a grin and a sniffle.

_“_I see,” she said archly but with a smirk at the same time.  “Well, I will leave you to it, while I fetch your dress.  And she climbed off the bed, and gently waved as she left, with a kind wry smile on her lips.

“I should do something for her,” I said to myself as I sat up, and looked at the desk.  The rod lay there, waiting for its final binding.   I got up, and stood at the desk, and centered myself.   It was time to finish my first creation.

I picked up the metal rod, its surface smooth and cool to my touch.  I focused inwards, pulling on the strands to weave its final lattice.  I pulled from myself two strands; one light and dark and began to wrap them round it, starting at the base, and working their way to the purple sapphire at the top.  I pulled them taut and stretched them, drawing the pair until they covered the rod in power.  Finally, I pulled them around the corundum itself, crisscrossing and knotting it at the top.

I could feel the quanta begin to follow the Strands, maintaining a balance between the opposing poles of light an dark, as the rod began to soak the ambient energy.  It wasn’t long before the rod was saturated with the quanta.   I took a deep breath as I started the final step.

Talans mentioned that the difficulty in working this steel was the quenching needed to temper it.  As I found out, magic was no different; it just had a different method.  And unlike a suit of armor, or a sword you didn’t need to break it away from the fires of the forge to call it done.  But you did with magic; I needed to first infuse it with power, and then sever it from the source.

From me.

I began to open the rod to the power of the strands.  It first flowed easily, until I felt it hit some limit.   Then I gritted my teeth and focused.   I started to push more and more into it.  I could feel the strands first strain and then give; increasing their volume as the Strands now penetrated the surface of the rod, and now began to truly infuse it with power.   I kept pushing and straining, pushing all the quanta I had into it.  As I pushed, I could feel the energy waiver and resist; wanting to flow back into me.

This was the moment; I  started to knot them at the top, stemming the tide of energy from returning to me.  I could feel the strands waver and shake in oscillation, desperate to release their power.  As the oscillations became more frantic, I then focused the last energy I had and welded the ends of the strands together.

I felt a violent wrenching as the polar opposite ends of the strands touched; the energy started to travel from one end to the other, moving fast.  I then pushed one last time and focused my mind on one task: breaking the connection to me.

I pulled the strands taught; swollen and full of power, and now resistant to my attempts to order and bend them to my will.   I gritted my teeth and yanked, and suddenly the strand burst, nearly knocking me onto the ground.

I could see the corundum sparkle and glow with a light of its own.  It now had its own power; power that once I held, it now contained in a single never-ending strand.   I could feel what almost were like filaments caressing the object.  They connected me to it, without becoming a part of me once again.

I held the rod level at my chest; and could feel the power circulating through it on its own accord.   Moving into the main room, I could feel it…searching.  I then spied Gossamer, sleeping in the sun.

I turned it towards Gossamer, and I felt its power focus its attention at him.  Smiling I knew if I channeled magic at him, it would have an easier time binding my personal strands to the task.  I straightened the rod and pulled it close smiling, and kissed the jewel at the top.

_--If you use that thing on me, I will scratch you so hard, you’ll wish you were in Baator.

Sorry; you were handy. 

--Expedient is more likely.

Sorry!_

Ignoring Gossamers’ lecture, I was pleased with myself, despite the mornings’ emotional toll.  Now my emotions were at a peak as I admired it...my will, my creation.  And I suppose they were correct, that a little bit of pain did need to be involved.



*Session Notes:*

Originally this was just GIVEN to Myrai as a reward directly from Melandrach, and was laid out in her chambers.  But as the story evolved, it made more sense that he provided the means, and that Myrai put the pieces together.  It was something that was researched in Waterdeep originally as well (and gold paid for) but we never ran across as CR5 undead that was the original component.

But the hobgoblin warlord, and devastator were close enough .

As a note, the next section will be the last of the downtime stories, but will quickly get back to us doing, whatever we were doing.


----------



## Richards

I'm actually rather enjoying the downtime stories.  That's one of my favorite things about this particular story hour of yours: the slower pace, where you can spend a fair bit of time on building detail.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

*Friends and Consequences - 6/9/2020*

_I once took pride in being as independent as possible; you could only trust yourself and others may not have your back.   But those are both lies; you can’t always trust yourself all the time because of bias, experiences and beliefs, and you can trust others because many if not prevented from doing so, will help.   

But the real dark is that its all connected.  Realizing you might be a part of the problem usually takes an external perspective and depending on the right people to tell you that.  And those same people are probably the ones that can help you.  Both are all about making choices about trust.

But sometimes, the choices they make affect you too, whether they intended them to, or not._​


“…and so, I call these four _Athkaraye_, for what they have done for the _Tel’quessir._   We honor you.   _Uluvathae!_”  Melandrach spoke to the crowd gathered in the main hall of the great tree.  It was late in the evening, with the full moon overhead.  Light from magics glittered across water and crystal, giving the room the experience of being a part of the night sky.  Which explained name of the place we now stood; ‘The Hall of Stars.’  

 Here the four noble houses and the well born of the elves smiled and spoke prettily about our exploits.   Or at least most of it.  The fate of the Prophesied One was a dark to all but Melandrach’s trusted aides.  But it didn’t matter.  The elves had paid respects to the dead in the morning, and now we were the focus of their attention.

Of the four of us, Beepu was the least happy to be here.  He made it no secret that he had work to do.  He wore a simple tunic with a belt with brass fittings, breeches and his traveling boots.  But while he was unhappy at the distraction, he did find respite in the food and drink being served.  While the wood elves were not as keen on the use of magic, they did not shun it.  So, he did have a gathering of wizards, to share bits of knowledge about their craft with each other.

Iesa and Daneath had matching attire, both clothed in burgundy tunics and dark breeches with black trim.  Each wore a dagger with a bright golden sheath.  Their hair was finally trimmed, and Daneath had found time to shave.  Their dark hair was oiled and slicked back, and they were both happy to talk about their battles outside the Misty Forest.  They were surrounded by the younger rangers and warriors of the elves and making assertions and challenges to be carried out in the following days.

As for myself, Arnara had helped me prepare for the evening.  She had introduced me to a tailor that was able to craft a dress with a high collar with a keyhole neckline in the front.  It was dyed a deep blue, with small golden chains framing my chest, which cascading down from my shoulders to my wrists.  My hair was tied into braids, with black ribbon woven between the tresses, finally tying off in knots on the ends.  The dress was belted with a silken rope, with golden tassels.  It was draped from my hips with the ends plunging down in front of me, swaying back and forth as I walked on soft black leather boots, no higher than my ankle.  Of course, Arnara walked beside me.  She was dressed in a white dress, with a dark silk belt around her waist.  Her hair was in a single long braid, that was pulled around and draped down her front.  As we walked, she whispered to me about who I was meeting, and interesting tidbits about them as we moved our way through the hall.  Floating behind us, were our glasses of wine ever at our beck and call, through a ritual I was maintaining.  And of course, I was attracting my own set of elves.

“I don’t see why you think I am going to gather all the attention,” I said to Arnara as we left for the hall.  “Sure, I’m a _ha-celas,_ but why is that important?”

“That’s simple,” Arnara said smiling.  “We haven’t seen one here in perhaps a hundred years.  And none here can claim to have seen other planes or seen a city like Sigil.  Many elves live a long time, so anything new piques their interest.”

And she was right; they were drawn to me because I was a change.  Magic?  Archery?  Tactics?  They were all interesting I suppose, but the elves wanted to hear about new things; they craved it more than anything, because for them there was so little that was new.  And now I was the bright sun of the evening, beckoning them to hear tales from far beyond.  I told stories about Sigil; explained what the factions were, the Lady of Pain. How a Deva would be seen in the same street as a Cornugon, and exchange frosty words not blows.   Even the monster Cadyx had a moment, as part of a grisly tale of fear involving a dead _dharrow_ in a rope web.  

After a while, Melandrach pulled the four of us together for a private moment.  Arnara excused herself and disappeared into the crowd, while Melandrach spoke.

“I do hope you understand the honor given; the first time in two centuries that any have been called a friend of _Tel’Quessir._”

“It means we are welcome here always,” I said having a little more context from Arnara.  “That shelter will be gladly given as honored guests.”

“Quite right.  And it cannot be taken from you.  It is why it is so rarely given.    I am quite glad to have given it to you for it was timely that I did so.  The Kershak, have made their displeasure known.  To put it briefly, they have demanded you never leave here again.  A demand I will not grant.”

“We are in your debt I suppose,” Daneath said.

“No, you are not.  Their threats do not concern me.  But I do offer you words of caution; once you leave here, it may become difficult to return.  I fear you will be harried and pursued.”

“So, what should we do?  Hide here?” Iesa asked.

“Nothing of the sort; but come to me when you are ready.  I will ensure you have a head start.  After all it will be eight weeks until your armor is done correct Daneath?  Until you decide to leave, I will ensure your safety.”

“Perhaps only six; the armorer is very skilled.”

“Well, I did not want to give you concern, but I wanted to tell you when so you can make appropriate decisions when needed.  I do have others to see this evening, and I bid you farewell…for now.”  Melandrach nodded to us, and he moved towards a collection of elves waiting nearby, leaving the four of us together for the first time in weeks.

We stood there awkwardly digesting what the monarch said, looking each other over.  Finally, Iesa broke the silence.

“That pout, does nothing for you in that dress, Myr.”

I felt my cheeks blush, “Well, this time wearing a dress was slightly more fun than the last time.  And you both look well,” I said to the brothers.  “And much more put together since the last time I saw you.”

Iesa chuckled while Daneath turned beet red stammering, “I didn’t um expect to see so um…much of you,”

Beepu sighed, “Oh let me guess, you went to the bathing pools here, ill prepared.”

“They were prepared,” I smirked.  “They just saw more than they were anticipating.  You look good Beepu.  A little rounder though.”

“They keep bringing me fruit!  And while the mind runs, I apparently do not run enough.” The gnome said sourly.  “But it does not matter, I must go.” And Beepu turned, with drink in hand and walked away towards where the Lyceum lay.

“What’s the matter?” I asked watching him depart.

“He’s not making headway,” Iesa replied.  “I went with Mo to see him, and I swore he hadn’t bathed in days.  He looked terrible and his temper was worse.  He actually had Foggle chase Mo out, and almost hit me with a blast of fire.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Daneath said surprised.

“What were you going to do?  Beat him up?” Iesa asked.

“Well…no.  but that is a bit extreme.”

“Anyway, as he chased me away it was clear that he was frustrated.  Papers and scrolls everywhere.  In the morning I stopped by that library place.  Seems even the elves were avoiding him, and his temper has been getting worse.”

“I can imagine,” I said understanding the frustration.  “How about you two?”

“Daneath has been sparring with the elves, keeping up his skills.” Iesa said smiling.

“Make any money yet?” 

“Some,” he said with a grin, “They at least play fair and we return the favor.  But there was one that just handed Daneath—”

“—His codpiece?” I asked smiling.

“No!  They played fair remember!  He used a rapier, Daneath never touched him.”

I looked at Daneath and he was nodding at the memory, “It was true.  He was literally dancing around me.  Every time my blade would get close, he would slap it away.  And he was fast!   Not just in how he moved the blade, but just how he moved with his feet.  And as he moved, I swore that I could cut the air with the blade, and each one would give off a different note.  It was like he wasn’t fighting but was instead conducting music.  I have to say it was a lot of fun chasing him around the field.”

“Who was he?” I asked.

“Elanthyr I believe.  The other elves held him in high respect.  And he only sparred once with me…but that once was enough.  I was exhausted afterwards trying to keep up.”

“What about you Iesa?”

“Hunting actually,” Iesa said with a dreamy smile.  “They have a patience here on taking shots that I appreciate.  Moving to get the right look, and only letting an arrow fly when you are certain of hitting it in the neck.  I was out in the forest for a week, only to track down a single stag.  But when I finally let it loose; it was magical.”

“Couldn’t wipe the smile off his face for days,” Daneath said nudging his brother, who kept smiling.   “Hey Myr, we’re going to some of the other gatherings nearby.  Apparently, it is a bit livelier with the music, drink and dancing as well.  Want to join us?”

“Maybe.  I was still being introduced to some of the families here.  They like listening to my stories.” I said politely, and extended my hand for my glass, which I grasped, sipped and released.  It then returned to float behind me.

“Well I can tell you like the wine at least,” Daneath said.  “We’ll see you later.”  And I watched the pair bound off smiling to a distant spot of lights in the darkness. 

As I looked, I realized there were many of these spots, where shadowy figures danced, the notes of instruments, and the light voices of song could be heard.  The entire community near the great tree was in celebration, not just the court of the king.   I decided to ask Arnara about it, and I sent out to find her.

The court had its music as well, as harps and lyres played softly in corners around the halls of wood beneath the tree.  The tones reverberated through the natural columns and beams that stretched throughout the main hall.   It was such that the strings echoed vibrantly even though the player was nowhere near.

Listening to the music and feeling it throughout my being, put me in no rush to find Arnara.  But as I sought her out, I found that she was a topic of discussion as I wandered.

“…Arnara has been staying with her I understand,” said a voice out of sight, around a pillar of wood.

“How lucky.  The _ha-celas_ is interesting to listen to,” said another.

“I heard that she demanded something…something scandalous though,” said the first.

“What?” said several elves at once.

“A bed!” the first said in a hushed tone.”

“Reeeallly?” said another elf in surprise.

“They barely know each other!” a third said.

I stood there, out of sight of this conversation in shock.  I knew that the topic of a bed was somewhat sensitive.  But I didn’t know that it would be seen as scandalous.   As I thought more, I realized that Arnara not only knew that, but was willing to ask anyway, no matter how it might look.  I straightened myself up and walked around the pillar.

There huddled closely were five elves talking.  And of course, one saw me, and her eyes opened wide, sensing they had been caught in something unseemly.  But before she could warn the others.  I spoke in Elvish.

“She knows me well enough that my back aches trying to get a good night ‘sleep’ on a divan.  Excuse me,” I said using the common word for sleep as I wasn’t sure what the right word was in Elvish.  The five all nodded their heads respectfully and with some embarrassment, and quickly left in a hurry. 

I worried how much of a scandal I was causing, when I saw Melandrach again, taking his leave of another elf.  This one I knew from description only, but after hearing what I did, I felt compelled to talk with him.

“Kylan Ustina?” I asked wearing a smile as I approached the elven elder. The raven-haired man turned to look at me with surprise. His eyes were the same shade of blue that Arnara had.  His face still had the vitality of youth, with only the slightest creases around the eyes to indicate that he was older.  He nodded politely at my inquiry.

“I would like to thank you for your daughter’s assistance these last few weeks.  She has been a wonderful help understanding the _Tel-Quesir_.  She does me great honor.”

“Does she?” he said simply, but I could just detect the tone of disapproval under his breath.  I gulped and continued.

“Yes.  She…appears to perform as a _Sonalta_ should,” I paused trying to put what I was thinking into words, hoping my elvish was sufficient for this.  “And I realize not being _Tel’Quessir_ has required some adjustment.   And some…difficulties in understanding.”

“Difficulties.  In what way?  In attempting to…bed?” he said dryly, leaving no room for polite maneuvering.

“That…that was only so I could sleep and nothing more.  If I had known how it would appear—”

“—I understand your problem in that regard,” he said with a scant smile.  “The others have had them provided as well,” so I have no doubt of your intent with it.

I exhale relieved for a moment. “However,” he said catching me short, “Her infatuation with you is…distracting.  Arnara has much to focus on in the coming years.   But I trust when you depart, everything will return to as it should be.  Now If you excuse me.” And Kylan turned, and moved towards another gathering of elves, leaving me alone in my awkwardness.

"That could have gone—“ I whispered aloud.

“—Better?” Arnara finished as she approached me from behind.

I turned to look at her guiltily.  “I didn’t realize I was a—”

“—You aren’t.  My father is just concerned.   You have done nothing wrong.  My lack of discretion has embarrassed him.  Not yours.  It will pass.” She said.

“I think I am done for the evening,” I said the feeling of emotional exhaustion creeping up on me.

Arnara nodded.  “Let us return, so you can get some…. oh, the word is _ka’sana_ in elvish.”

“_Ka’sana_…yes.  That.  Thanks, Arnara.” I said and she took my arm and patted my hand.

“There is nothing to concern yourself.  And do not trouble yourself about my father.  I will handle it when the time is appropriate.”

I nodded, and we walked down into the gardens, to find one of the many paths to return me to the house by the pond.

I sighed and looked up as we walked, seeing the stars and the moon Selune through the branches of the trees, marveling at the night sky.  I felt the touch of a soft breeze upon my cheek as we walked together, wondering what else might be in store for me this evening. 




I screamed and sat upright with a start.   My heart was pounding as my hand clasped at my chest, as if to keep it from escaping.   In my head were images of blood and horror fading fast.

A blade swiftly cutting air.

A red skinned head with dark black hair twisting, covered in blood.

As the hair twisted, a different face came into view, cold and beautiful with a look of cruelty on the sneering face.

A candy of red cinnamon, bouncing off the cobbles on the ground, which shattered the street, which then collapsed into darkness.

Me falling into the pitch, screaming.

And now I found myself screaming on the floor, surrounded by sheets, pillows, and cushions, trying to put my thoughts back together, and the memories back into a long-forgotten box.

“Myrai?  What on--?” Arnara said, sitting upright in her divan, throwing her book on to a low table nearby.    She knelt next to me, placing a hand on my forehead, as if looking for fever.

“I’m…I’m fine.  Just a nightmare.”

Arnara nodded, and stood moving towards the pantry and returning with a goblet, saying “Drink this,”

I grasped the cup and gulped, tasting fruit, spice and herbs.  Its taste wasn’t familiar to me, and I turned to look at her.

“It will sooth you, and still your heart,” she said.  I nodded and kept drinking, finishing it off.  I put the goblet down on the table, and then flopped down again on the nest of sheets and pillow in the room, taking deep breaths.

“This…this is why you drink so much?”  Arnara softly asked.

I nodded, saying nothing.

“It…hurts?”

I nodded again.

“Why?”

I sighed and between clenched teeth and muttered, “Because the pain won’t *stop*.”  I took another sip and continued.  “Sometimes I remember the details, most times I don’t.   But it always seems to be about my sister.”

“You have a sister?” Arnara started.  “You’ve never said any—”

“—She was killed in front of me, after she bought me candy for my name day, nine years ago.  Anyway, we weren’t really sisters, we just liked…believing we were.”

“That’s horrible!  Who would do such a thing and why?”

“A spiv was running, and she…was…in the way.  And…and…” I closed my eyes, looking for the courage to say that name.  That name I cursed for years in my head.  The name of all that pain wrapped around me just as her own dark tresses wrapped around her lithe elusive figure.

“And…Pentar,” I finally spat out her name “cut her down all the same, just to kill the spiv.” I said sadly.  I didn’t cry; there were no tears left for this nightmare.  Just a tired resignation of a past I couldn’t change and never escape.

“Your dreams haunt you. Do they always?”

I furrowed my brow for a moment, “I don’t know. I try not to think about them.  I guess it’s a good thing you never have to experience them.” I said.  As I laid there, I could feel the herbs in the drink work their way into me, calming my heart, and letting me feel at peace.

“I…suppose.   I admit I…like watching you sleep.  But I would rather you have pleasant dreams and not these nightmares,” Arnara said, as she again sat on her divan and then leaned over, her hand touching my shoulder.

“I…can…agree…with—”

My mind faded to darkness as the herbs took hold and ferried me away.  I just barely remember thinking that maybe I should move into ‘*that *room’ when everything faded.

*Session notes:*

On one hand, elves are so common in D&D, but on the other, we only the highest level of detail.   Snippets of culture, and belief.  So, learning about elves isn’t the same as learning elvish, and yet when you try to research this stuff you find a lot of oddball holes, some of which I poke at for fun here.

But the same is true with Lizardfolk (which is why I like Jhasspok in Raiders of the Overreach), trying to play a character that isn’t in the words of Marc W. Miller, ‘a human in a funny suit’ takes work, and sometimes the details matter.  It makes for interesting characters and hopefully interactions, which is the stuff I like.  Writing about it is a bonus.


----------



## Nthal

An Elven dark and bitter urgency - 6/15/2020

_The best darks are someone else’s secret shame._​


“That is the most…gorgeous piece of work I have ever seen,” I said, my eyes wide.  I leaned in closer to look at the polished silvery cuirass and could see my own mirrored eyes reflected in them.

“Stop that, you’ll fog it all up!” Daneath said.  The big warrior had speed but not the grace of his brother, but you wouldn’t know it watching him wear this set of plate.  It was a suit made for him and him alone with nothing ill fitting.  Just as remarkably was as he moved, there was little sound; the plates slid over each other smoothly and noiselessly, and the buckle didn’t clatter against the metal.   It was a far better set than the mish mash of hobgoblin and human armor he had before, which made him sound like a small smithy when he moved.

“So that’s why you asked us here, in arms and armor…to watch you strut?”  Iesa asked.  His former set of leather had finally worn out and now had been replaced with a new one, dark black  and with close sets of copper rivets, that had been treated to have the look of corroded copper, without compromising the strength.   It would clearly blend well in the foliage and the darkness easily.

“Ye---er no!  No, I wanted to spar and get a feel of it, with people I normally work with.” He said glaring at Iesa.

“Sure, you did; then why is Myrai here?  She never spars.” Iesa pointed out.

“Because she IS in the thick of it with me, healing your sorry ass,” Daneath retorted.  “Besides, I heard from Talans she also had something made.

“I did too!” Iesa said, pointing to his studded chest.

“Well…hers was in steel, and I wanted to see it.”

“Well, I’m wearing it,” I said spinning on the toes of my boots.  Talans called it 'amber steel’ for good reason; it wasn’t the silvery shine of mithral that Daneath wore, nor was it the dull metal of the chain I had prior.  It was closer to a bright brass in color, but with far greater durability.  The piece was a curiass, with a small set of faulds, to cover my hips.  It was exactly what I wanted, something that didn’t require as much time to repair as the chain shirt I had before and had stronger protection.  And because of the few parts, it also was quiet when I needed to be so.

“It is…form fitting,” Iesa said admiringly.

“You’re just jealous that my chest is bigger than yours!” I said.

“Now wait—“ Iesa started to say, but was drowned out by Daneath’s laughter as he caught Iesa comparing his pectorals to my bosom.  Iesa clamped his mouth shut and then started to laugh as well.

“Alright, that is funny…not what I meant, but funny.” Iesa said wiping a tear.  “And it does look better than Daneath’s cast offs.”

“I should hope so…I had to remove a lot of links to make it work, and it never did sit quite right.” I said.  “But are you serious; you wanted to…spar?” I asked.

“Why not.  I mean come on, when is the last time we sparred?  Secomber?”

“No, we—”

“Daggerford!”

“Um..no, we—”

“Waterdeep then?”

“No Daneath, we—"

“Yartar! Of course, after we rescued—”

“No Daneath, we have n—”

“Wait…did we in Triboar?”

“Um, D,” Iesa interrupted.  “I keep telling you, she doesn’t spar.”

Daneath frowned and thought.  He opened his mouth and raised his finger twice, before saying “I know!  We …oh wait that was Iesa.”

I waited patiently for him to come to the truth.

“You’re right.  We never did…why is that?”

“Truth?  You never asked, and I always had something else on my mind, so I never did.” I said shrugging.

“Oh…does that mean you don’t—”

“Look I’m up now early in the morning, might as well.”

“Ok…but I don’t think its fair.” Iesa said.

“What you are afraid of Myrai might actually beat you?”

“That’s optimi—“ I started when Iesa said.”

“She has an audience cheering her on!” and he pointed at Arnara seated on a bench overlooking the field. She unlike most days wore a set of soft breeches, tunic and soft leather vest, typical wear for the elves near the training grounds.   But at the sound of her name, she quickly sat up, pulling her nose out of her book and snapped it closed.

“I’ll cheer quietly then, as not to trouble you.” She said trying to sound helpful.

“See, she’ll be polite and will pat me on the back saying that you boys ganged up on me,” I smirked.

“Right sh—wait.  That’s not right!”  Iesa said in protest.

“And besides you do have your own audience,” Daneath pointed at Mo, who was sleeping on a branch of a nearby tree.  “See, his faith in you is so high, he doesn’t need to look.”

“Hah hah, funny.” Iesa frowned sourly.

“Look, we’ll take turns, at each other.” Daneath said.  You and Iesa first” Daneath said to me.

Iesa drew his rapier and looked at me with that grin, “No magic Myr!”

I drew my own, “Fine, no sand in the face, low blows, or pointing at…who is that?” I said pointing with my blade at Iesa.

“Huh?” Iesa said and turned to which I smiled and lunged, only to have iesa spin and parry off my strike.

“Oh…so that’s how you are going to play?”

“I learned from the best,” I smiled hopefully, while thinking that I had made a horrible mistake.

Nine bouts later it was clear that as far as sword work was concerned, Daneath was generally the best, with Iesa a close second, and I was a distant third.  I did win a bout each against Iesa and Daneath, and it all came down to if I managed to land a blow first, I could keep just ahead.  Iesa had problems working around my shield, but when he did it was usually enough.  Against Daneath it was just hard to find an opening period.  Daneath would just knock my shield out of the way with his broad blade, but I was a little lighter on my feet. But not enough.

When the two brothers pitted themselves against each other, it generally favored Daneath.  For Iesa, the armor and shield on the big warrior, made it very difficult to land a blow on Daneath.  Conversely, Iesa’s agility just made it hard to connect any blow with Daneath slower sword.  But his blade wasn’t as easy to parry or block with the lighter rapiers we used.

“Well, you aren’t bad Myr,” Iesa grinned, as he drank from water from a skin he brought.  “You might need some practice is all.”

I shook my head, “It’s not what I focus on; I can’t exactly do what I normally do.  I might actually kill you.”  And took the skin from him and swallowed some water, before passing it to Daneath.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be a spar then.  Oh well,” Iesa shrugged.

“She’s actually pretty good with a rapier,” Daneath said after finishing off the skin.  “And most rapier wielders can’t use a shield worth a damn against an arming sword, or worse a heavy mace."

“Thanks,” I said.  “So, the armor passes the test?”

“It does; I can’t imagine wearing anything else.” Daneath grinned.

“You might need to take it off to get some sleep.” Iesa pointed out.

“Nope nope…I’ll just have you hunt up some rabbits, line it with fur and sleep in it.”

“I’m not cleaning that, magic or no.” I said wrinkling my nose.

“Probably best; I’ll be heading to Talans to tell him how it worked out, and to get some spare straps.  Talk to you later!” Daneath called as he headed towards the smithy.

As I stood there, I felt a touch on my shoulder.  Turning I found Arnara looking at me and she asked a question.  “Can you show me how to use that?”

“What a rapier?” I said surprised.  “Sure…wait a second.  Hey Iesa, can I borrow your blade for the morning?”

“Hmm, sure.  I’m going hunting and I don’t bring it for that,” he unbuckled his belt, and handed the blade to me.  He then glanced at the elf and looked at me quizzically.  “You going to teach her?”

“I’m going to show her, I’m no sword master.”

“Play it safe Myr.  Have fun.”  And Iesa headed off to his dwelling.

I drew my blade and handed it to Arnara.  She grasped it and moved the blade around in a broad cutting motion.   I smiled and said, “It’s not a arming blade or a longsword.   You usually thrust with it, and only some like mine have a cutting edge near the end.”

“I know…I watched.  I am trying to feel its balance.  It has far less in the blade as well.”

I nodded, “Elves don’t practice with the rapier?”  I asked.

“Some do; it isn’t as much tradition as the longsword.  It’s funny my house had a sacred blade, a _moonsword_ that was a rapier unlike most of them.  But I haven’t used one before.”

“Had?”

“Yes…few _moonblades _were ever made, and a good number have been lost; unable to find a worthy heir or lost in battle to foes never knowing their value.  So, it was with ours.  But even still, I think everyone in the house uses a longsword.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have known you never have used one based on your stance.  It’s probably better than mine.”

“Can you teach me?”

“I can show you some basic moves.  If you like it, you might find someone here to teach you with better skills.”

“That sounds fair,”

“I’ll trust you’ll remember that later.

“Why do say that?”

“Because you’re going to be sore.  Now, swing low…”



The sun was setting, and I lay on a divan on the porch.  I was playing with another creation, one that was easier than the rod.  I discovered at the celebration that I liked the ritual to create a true servant to hold my things allowing me to keep my hands free.  So in the weeks after I created a slim wand that could replicate the effect.   It was a small toy, but it was a useful exercise on creating useful items, so I didn’t have to spend time or personal energy to make things easier.  But it was all Gossamer’s fault.

I had some wine at hand, and I was using the servant to slowly move and keep Gossamer in a ray of light as he slept.  I found I had far less lectures from him, the more his fur soaked up the warmth of the sun.  I just was tired of getting up and moving him, or casting and creating a hand every time he asked, while I was in the middle of something.  A wand made this so much easier, especially because I didn’t need to think about it at all.

As I sipped my wine, I heard the door open as Arnara had returned from her errands, and as it had been traditional for the last ten weeks, I greeted her in Elvish, while she responded in Celestial which she was trying to learn from me.

“Welcome.  Did the springs sooth your pain from the spar?”

“Yes.  You were an infernal female for beating me so.”

I frowned, “Not infernal, cruel.  Long E on the second syllable.  Beating might be the wrong word, but technically accurate,” I said in common.

“Argh.  Its been weeks, you think I would get that right.” Arnara said flustered.

“It’s an old and very particular tonal language.  How matters as much as the what.  Its why I sound so stilted in Elvish, I keep trying to apply tone in areas that don’t need it.”  I turned my head to look at her.  “Why don’t we let it rest today in honor of your bruises.”

“You are sooo kind,” Arnara said dryly.  “But I…I have a favor to ask of you.”  She said and sat down on a divan across from me.

“Sure, what is it?” I said sipping my wine.

“I…I…want to sleep with you.”

My wine flew from my mouth as I almost choked on it.  I sputtered ungracefully, “Wait what?”

“Did I say?…Oh No no no.” her face changed from innocent, to horrified to embarrassed swiftly. “Not like that!   Let…let me explain better.”  She took a deep breath.

“You know that Elves do a reverie to relax right?” Arnara said. “What you call ‘Trancing’”

I nodded, “I think you said that as adults you remember your past and reflect on them, like an exercise.  Because elves can’t sleep and dream like everyone else.”

“Yes…but not quite right.   You see…elves can dream.   We can sleep.”

I sat up straight.  “I thought that was impos—”

“No.  We cannot be compelled to, but we can if we want.  It is…it is socially frowned upon to put it simply.  But the clergy of Sahanie Moonbow do sleep and take guidance from her that way.”

“I had never heard of this,” I said. 

“It is…not discussed with those not of _Tel’Quessir_.  And truth be told only several elves in a generation try it, mostly to satisfy a curiosity.  But they never talk about it.  It is a…private matter.”

“And you want to sleep...by me?”

“Not exactly…I want you to watch me.  In the same way I watch you.”

“This isn’t about repaying something is it?”

“No,” she said.  “It is because you said once, to understand the multi-verse you have to experience it.  I don’t understand the dreams you have, how they make you feel.  But I want to.”

I nodded slowly, as I realized she was serious about it, “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not.  I’m doing it for me.  I just want you to be there when I wake up. And I want you to never tell anyone what happens.”

“Of course.  I will be here, and I won’t tell anyone.  I am going to need a lot of tea.”

Arnara smiled and bowed her head.  “I have some for myself to…assist, and for some for you to stay awake.”

“I’ll get a kettle going.”



We had both changed into robes, and with a cup of tea in each of our hands, we entered ‘*that *room’ together.  Arnara sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and took a breath and swallowed the tea, which had the scent of chamomile, lavender and valerian wafting from the steam.  She then pulled her legs on to the bed and lay flat on her back staring straight up.

I quickly swallowed my tea, which was a dark bitter and black with a tinge of spice and sat next to her on the bedside and held her hand.   She was breathing quickly, and nervously, and I tried to calm her.

“Why is my heart pounding like this?”

“You’re doing something very new…I suppose a little fear is appropriate.”

“I’m not afraid!” she said glaring at me.  I sighed and smiled and said nothing.  “Alright I’m a little afraid.   I know what I am not supposed to do, but I don’t know what I am supposed to.”

“Sometimes we have a hard time sleeping too…Some villagers count sheep.”

“Sheep?  Why sheep?”

“Because…I have no idea,” I shook my head.  “Try counting something else…arrows maybe?”

“Arrows?  That sounds vaguely…”

“Flower petals?”

“Alight…I like that…so what?  Slowly.”

“Yes, that works.  One rose petal, two lavender,” and I motioned with my hand for her to continue.

“Ok…just promise you won’t leave me,” She said her eyes relaxing.

“I won’t leave.”

“Alright, one rose petal…two lavender petals…three orchid petals…four…”

It took a while, around forty mistletoe petals before her eyes closed and the elf fell asleep.  It was strange. I had watched her trance of course, but there her eyes always were focused on something, just not you normally.  Wide open, slowly blinking, their movements slow and precise for reasons of comfort.

Here it was different, her limbs were now slack, her breathing deep, and her eyes closed and focusing inwards.  Her face was now smooth and flat as the muscles relaxed completely…perhaps for the first time in her life.  Where once she was flat on her back, she now curled onto a pillow and clutched it, as I sat on the chair by the desk and watched and read.

What I was reading, was the book she always carried.  It turned out to be a spellbook, but unlike the one that Beepu carried, this one was illuminated with gold leaf and fine colored inks.  While the letters and many words were in elvish, I wasn’t trying to read them or understand them.  I was simply drinking in the artistry of the pages.  This wasn’t a workbook, or an everyday book.  This was an heirloom of a wizard, who loved their art, and wished to convey it in all is magnificence and glory.  At the same time was almost religious in nature, as the symbols of the Seldarine were scattered through the pages.   And it applied to all the spells, even those with violent means or ends.  I was halfway through it, and moving to the 3rd circle, when I jumped.

At the door to my dwelling, there was a furious pounding.

_Goss?  That isn’t you right?

--Not me…oh. He’s here._

“Sodding gnome,” I cursed, unfolding my legs from beneath me and leaving ‘*that* room’ and shutting the door.  I checked my robe and carried my teacup and then strode to the door.

“Myrai!  Myrai!  Wake up…where is that woman?!?  Either one!  Myrai!”

I flung the door open and looked at the gnome.

“Beepu.”

“Good you are awake.”

“I am now.  What do you want?” I said looking the disheveled gnome.  His hair was unkempt, and his face, normally shaven clean had a thick growth of fuzz on the cheeks.

“We have to talk and get packed.” And Beepu walked straight inside.

“Why don’t you come in?” I said sarcastically.

“Thanks, now get packed, we have to leave at once!” Beepu entered my pantry and started to pull cheeses and the like into a sack.

“Wait a…what do you think you’re doing?” I said stunned at Beepu’s sudden obsession with my food.

“We are leaving!  We have no time to waste.” He said, and he started to empty the silverware drawer into the same bag.  “We will sort this out on the road.”

“Stop Beepu—”

“—Good…what else.  Oh, you should bring that armor there on the stand, it might fit you.  Wait, why are you not getting dressed?”

“—Stop Bee—”

“—We will get the brothers, and then I have a plan.  We will borrow some bucks to get us to Secomber and then catch a wagon to Yatar and then—”

*“BEEPU!”  *I shouted, reaching and pulling on a white strand, focusing it on my voice to give a clear command.  Beepu yelped and dropped the sack, and looked at me in awe.

I sighed, “Sit down and talk.  Explain what has happened.” And I pointed to a divan by the fire pit.

“Well it is a little chil—”

I snapped my fingers and with my mind snapped a white strand to the wood like a whip, suddenly lighting it.

“Yes.  That is better.”  He said holding his hands together like a schoolboy who had been scolded.

I sat across from him, and looked him in the eye.  “The last time I tried to visit you, you had Foggle, land on my head, pull on my hair and try to pull me into a pond.”

“Yes.  That was a bit much I agree.  It is why I did not complain when you dropped him off as a bag of parts at my front door.”

“Right so, what has happened?”

Beepu took a deep breath.  “I finally decoded it.  The device my father was making was a new one to travel to the planes…originally.  He changed it though.”

“Changed?  How?”

“I understand the what, and I know the why had to do with Umbra.  But I now know what parts that are missing and how to put it together.  What for is murky.  And that is why we must go now.”

“Why now? What is so urgent?”

“Well the first piece will need some work to find, and I hope that my father’s workshop will have a clue in Silverymoon.  But that is not the problem, the other part needed…is a wedding ring.”

“A wedding ring?  Any wedding ring?”

Beepu shook his head, “No.  Either my father’s, or my mother’s.”

“Ok, I get it…so why the rush?”

Beepu sighed sadly.  “I was a fool.  I translated the notes openly, not thinking about encoding them.  But this evening I found…a homunculus in my room reading my notes.”

“Wait like an imp or something?” I said starting to see the problem.

“No, it is more of a construct of magic.  But it is similar yes.  And it may have read about the rings.  My…my mother may be in danger.”

“Sodding Baator,” I stood thinking.  “You’re right.   At first light—”

“We must leave now!”

“Beepu!  At first light we can ask Melandrach to get us there.  You need to rest, as do I so we are prepared.  Neither of us are any good otherwise.”

Beepu was about to retort and then thought again, “No.  You are right.  Rushing too fast is not a good idea.”

“Right,” I said  “So, go, wake the brothers, and tell them to get their gear ready and meet at the Hall of Stars at first light.  Then go rest, prepare and do the same.”

“Right right…sure.  I will see you there.” Beepu then rose and walked out the door and closed it behind him, and I heard him run down the path.

“Nice to see you too Myrai, take care, good night,” I said rubbing my temples.  I sighed and looked around, realizing that it might be awhile before I could return.
Arnara’s breathing quickened and suddenly her eyes opened.  The room was beginning to light up with the kiss of the orange morning light.  Her eyebrows knitted together as she struggled to recall the fading memories of what ever dreams lingered.  She turned to look at me sitting on the bed holding her hand.

“Morning sleepy head,” I said smiling bitterly.

“That was intense.  And you do this every night?”  She questioned her eyes still having a faraway look to them as a wistful smile crossed her lips.

“No, I try to avoid it.  You seemed to have had a good dream to start with.”

“I…I…I guess so.” She sighed and then looked at me.  Then she frowned as she looked me up and down.

“Myr, why are you armored?  What has happened?”

“I’m sorry but I…I”




“So, you remembered to shave Daneath,” Beepu said with a mocking tone.

“Well, yes.  I’m more impressed you remembered how.  I was wondering if you were growing a beard to use it as a bookmark.”

“Well, it was more efficient not to.” Beepu retorted.

“Must be why Iesa never bathes; more efficient that way.” Daneath smiled looking at the sleepy Iesa.

“Hmm..what?  Hey now that is slander and calumny!” Iesa said angrily.

“You do not even know what that even means!” Beepu pointed out.  “Or even how to spell it.”

“But am I wrong?” Iesa waggled a finger at the gnome.”

“I suppose not…ah Myrai, about time.”

Their voices and banter carried through the hall, so it was hard not to hear them as I approached.  I walked toward them briskly and didn’t even get a chance to speak.

“An attendant is looking for Melandrach,” Iesa said.  “So, I guess we cool our heels here.”

I nodded, “Fine.”

Iesa looked at me concerned.  “Something wrong?”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” I deflected.

“Well, Beepu told us everything.  I don’t like this to say the least,” Daneath said.

“Well we couldn’t stay here forever…even if we did take that offer,” Iesa agreed.

“Not at all.  The research options are limited.  Silverymoon has many more options…once family is taken care of.”

I nodded quietly, saying nothing.

It was then, that a lightly robed Melandrach appeared with his attendant.  The look of concern on his face was apparent as he came and knelt by Beepu.

“I understand your mother may be at risk.  My condolences. As I had promised, I will help you.  I understand you wish to get to Silverymoon, swiftly.”

“Yes, quite correct.” Beepu said.

Melandrach nodded, “I have arranged for Kylan Ustina to meet you north of here.  There can be found a teleportation circle, tied to one in the High Forest, and with a days march you should be able to reach Silverymoon, on the southern back of the River Rauvin.  If you are fortunately, you may be able to find a either a barge or some horses to get there even faster.

“Why not there directly?” Daneath asked.

“The Mythal that protects it, has wards to prevent such transport.  This is as close as I know how.” Melandrach said.  “Are you ready? Have you said all your goodbyes?”

The others nodded quickly, while I nodded far more slowly, thinking.

“Ginakan here will take to the circle.  I wish you luck and I do hope you may return to see us in happier times.”

We all nodded and said thank you, as the four of us and our familiars and pets followed our guide north, away from the great tree, and its wonderous halls.

The forest was only just awakening to the morning light, the mist was rising still, shielding it from our prying eyes.  The walk was easy enough; more than long enough to turn my morning’s conversation over in my mind.



“I have to go!”  I said, stuffing some spare travel clothes into my pack.  “The thought of that…that lovelorn, unhende, sinker threatening Beepu’s family sickens me.”

“Is that the only reason?” Arnara said calmly.

“What?  Isn’t that enough?”  I said a little on edge.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

“What else could there—”

“My father didn’t scare you off,” she said with that maddingly calm smile.

“No, he—”

“—No unfinished business of your own?”

“I…I…” I stammered.

“—Concerned on how you feel about me?”

I looked at her helplessly.  I gulped.  “If he can threaten Beepu’s family, he can threaten anyone.  I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“Is that all?”

I mouthed the word “No,” but I couldn’t speak aloud.  Arnara smiled and took my hands.

“You are still at the start of a long journey.  It isn’t done.  But I would not cage you and have you leave those tasks undone.  I want you to find what you must out there.   And like many journeys, you will revisit many places.  And when you do, I will be here waiting.  Not as your _Sonalta_, but as your friend.”

I stood there with tears, unable to speak, as she leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek.

“Travel well, Myrai _Aerasume’.  _I pray you find what you must.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means ‘Silver moon of the Evening’ for it is in that light I have my fondest memories, _ha-celas_.  Of it lighting your hair, and the reflection of Selune in your eyes…”



“Hey Myr!” Iesa poked and prodded at me, bringing me back to the present.

“Hmm…sorry…what?” I stammered.

“Is that new?” he pointed to the elven rapier I now wore.

“Yes…it was a parting gift from Arnara.  I left her my old one, so she could practice.” I said smiling looking down at the blade.

“Anything special about it?”

“Just…just the memories,” I said still smiling.

“By midday we had reached it; a hidden circle of stone lost in a deep copse of trees.  The stone was ancient, with elven runes etched almost indistinctly around the edges, while six great ones, filled with silver were equally spaced on the outside edge.  There already was Kylan Ustina, his hair set into braids, and dressed in fine travelling leathers.  He nodded at our approach, and we made our way to the circle.  After the others had passed him, I stopped and spoke quietly in elvish.

“Your daughter is a wise _Etrielle_.  Wise beyond her years.  I am fortunate in my short life to have met her.  Guide her well on her journey.”

I swallowed, and moved towards the circle, when I heard.

“I will Myrai _Aerasume’,_” to which I turned in surprise.  “Travel well.”

I nodded, and stepped within the boundaries of the runes, and watched as Kylan summon power from the weave.  While subtle there was no hiding the power he called, as he bridged the gap between the stone here and elsewhere.  In my eyes the dim morning light grew to a blinding white, and then it faded away.

We stood on a circle of stone, in a darkened forest, where the morning light had not yet reached.  As we looked around trying the clear our sight, I saw the crouched figures of elven bowmen, aiming arrows our exposed group in the circle.

I quietly raised my hands to my companion’s surprise and said in elven smiling:

“Good morning!  Can you point us in the direction of Silverymoon?”

*Session notes:*

And off we go, 3 months later, and one session in real time.


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

Well that was interesting.


----------



## Nthal

*Homecoming Deeds - 6/20/2020*

_There is a nasty saying that ‘Fiends love to undo the deeds of charity.”  It might be true.  But there was a sect in Sigil that believe, the more you gave, the more you got in return.

So, its nice when the latter happens.  But then you keep looking over your shoulder for that fiend.

And powers willing; poke him in the eye._​


It was, once again, a long walk. The forest on our flanks was grander, the air cooler, and there was the sound of the River Raurin next to us.  We stayed near the banks as we marched, hoping to find a barge to take us to the city.   But no barges plied the waterway today.  And after a while the march feels like any other.  But it had been almost three months since we had had shared the road together.  And it was different.

Iesa and Daneath were in the lead; Daneath’s new armor allowed him to stay near the front with Iesa and do so quietly.  The pair were animated, eager to get out and travel the world again.  The rest had done them good, and they were in good humor, despite the circumstances.  In fact, I noticed, they were as happy as Mo was, who ranged freely ahead, climbing trees and looking about.  He too wanted to see new thing again.

Beepu, however was on edge; short with us all, and constantly muttering to himself.  Foggle reflected his mood, circling around constantly.  When he landed, his head would spin in circles, never stopping, watching all around.  Then Beepu would glare at his familiar, and it would be off again.  There was no mystery to this, but his mother was clearly on his mind and his concern clear.

As for myself, I was somewhere between melancholy and dread.  Until I was here on the other side of the portal, I didn’t realize how attached I had become to the Misty Forest and its people.  And Arnara.  But sadness grew distant, as the spires of Silverymoon came slowly into view.  The debt I that had, felt almost physical; a weight on my shoulders measured in yards of chain.  How this wasn’t my journey, but theirs.  Following the trail of Umbra and Pachook, and their efforts against the Kershak.  I helped them because it made sense at the time, a potential path home.  But now?

Umbra was certainly dead at this point, and as for Pachook it was unclear.  Certainly, Beepu’s mother was of a more immediate concern.  But nothing was leading me home.  Paying off this debt, didn’t change the second debt that I was guessing that involved my father.  The Kershak was a threat to me only because I was helping the others.  I knew that if I could run far enough away, that problem would probably disappear.

But I could no more do that, than I could force the sun to rise in the west.  The chains of the debt laid upon me was too strong…and I cared.   I cared to see them through their journey, because they saved me to continue my own.

“You alright Myr?” Iesa asked, as I realized he now walked beside me.

“I’m not looking forward to this,” I said looking at Beepu who was muttering to himself, and not paying attention to any of us.  “It feels like something bad has already happened, and we are still in the blinds.”

“You didn’t want to leave, did you?”

I looked at Iesa, “No…in the end I didn’t.  I have my own mysteries to solve, but no reason to chase it right now.  And I guess after years of being in the Hive, a little peace and bliss seemed overdue.”

Iesa nodded, “After my mother died, and I was on my own in Waterdeep it was hard. Even Mo couldn’t chase away the darker days of rain and hunger,” he said scratching the monkey sitting on his shoulder.  “So yeah, the forest was something I didn’t want to leave either, especially after meeting Hylias.”

I looked at as Iesa in puzzlement, “Hylias?  She was one of the rangers as I recall.  You two were…?”

He shook his head, “No…she was a hunting partner only.  But, she was masterful one at that; she knew everything about the forest.  She knew how to prepare and hunt her quarry.  She taught me a lot.  And I have to thank you Myr.”

“For what?”

“All I had to do was let her talk about hunting and we connected.  I would have loved for it to have gone further, but…she wasn’t interested.  But she did enjoy hunting with me, or so she said.  I suppose that memory is enough,” Iesa said with a sad smile.

“It was the same with Arnara and I,” I said.

“Really?  I heard a rumor though—” Iesa started.

“I found out about that rumor during the celebration.  We were close, but not as close as the rumor implied,”

“Are you sure about that?”

I said nothing, as I really wasn’t sure of the answer.  However, I didn’t need to.

“Well, I suppose we have other worries right now, with…wow,” Iesa stopped talking suddenly, as we came around a hillock and saw our destination.

The Hall of Stars at the tree in the Misty Forest was a sublime piece of nature combined with skilled stone craft.  But that was a city of the wood elves, tied to nature and an outright rejection of the ancient elves magic and rule before the Crown Wars.  That was not this city; this one embraced both magic and civilization.  The buildings were low, and constructed of fine stonework, and shale rooves.  The city was bisected by the River Rauvin, which we could see piers with barges moored on the northern bank.  That bank had the majority of the city, with the southern, being much smaller and newer.  But spanning and connecting the two was a shimmering silver white bridge, the Moon Bridge.   A work of great magic of the elves.  The late afternoon suns’ light caused the river to glitter and reflected off the white stone walls daring time to tarnish them.

Before long we had reached the ‘New Gate’ and without hassle, found ourselves inside the city.  We crossed the Moonbridge and I admit to being a little slow to do so.  I could feel the magical power coursing through what felt to be solid stone.  But it looked more like a ribbon of shimmering silver, and not stonework at all.   I was walking slowly just looking at it when Iesa prodded me to move on.  I smiled and chuckled to myself, here I was the jaded Sigilite, and here I was cagestruck in a Prime city.

After crossing the Moonbridge, Beepu’s pace picked up considerably.  Normally our paces were a bit slower so he could keep up with our longer legs.  But now, his pace was relentless, and it seemed to quicken as we passed through the narrow streets west of the open of the market.  We turned a corner, and Beepu dashed towards a building with us, struggling to keep up.

The street was lined with townhouses, all with a shop on the first floor, and what appeared to be residences above them.  It was on a street that clearly was one of successful craftsmen or merchants; well to do, but not a noble or merchant prince.  Beepu had run straight into one, which a green door of a height comfortable for a human, but the handles were set low, for a gnome or halfling.  He threw it open and called out for someone in his native tongue.  The windows in front were of a frosted glass, not letting us see inside, but over the door was a simple sign with a gear and a doll painted on it.  I was the last to step inside, but before I did so;

_Goss, fly around outside here, see what you can.

--Sure thing; am I looking for something in particular?

Yes. Anyone interested in us._

I stepped inside what I guessed was the darkened shop; there were no lamps or torches lit inside.  On the counters all around were clockworks and dolls.  Even more toys and automatons crowded the shelves and even some hung from the rafters.  A passage led beyond and a stairwell let to the upper floors.  As I looked around, I realized there was a bit of dust on the tables and other flat surfaces.  As I looked around, Daneath came from the passage shaking his head.

“Kitchen and pantry back there, and a door to a common garden area,” he said quietly.  “But the door is locked, and the bread and cheese in the pantry are moldy.”  From above, I could hear Beepu calling out for someone.

“That’s bad,” Iesa said, running a finger on the counter.  “Dusty as well…no one has been doing business here.”

Foggle had set itself down on a perch and twisted its head back and forth and uttered a solitary ‘Beeeepuuuu’ before going silent.  I then started towards the stairs to head upwards.

“I’m going to poke around some more down here,” Daneath said.  Iesa and I nodded and made our way to the second floor.  As we reached the landing, Beepu dashed from a room, and headed up another flight of stairs.

“Not good, but at least he hasn’t found anything bad yet,” Iesa said.  I nodded quietly in response.   The floor was a hall which led to four bedrooms.  Nearby there was a window that overlooked the front door, which had a table and a lantern on it.  I moved over to look closer and noticed that it had little dust on it.   I pulled open the panel door and saw the remains of spent of a lot of candlewax at the bottom.  As I looked, Iesa poked his head in the rooms.

“Interesting, one of the rooms has a human sized bed,” he said.

I looked at Iesa and thought and then remembered.  “Could Kingsley have been staying here?”

“Very likely, but not recently.” Iesa said looking around concerned.  “No one has been here in at least a month.  Maybe more.  But nothing seems horribly out of place either.”

I nodded and decided to follow Beepu upstairs.  As I reached the topmost floor, it was clear that our concerns were justified.

The top floor was a workshop; there were racks of gears, and chests of small drawers and benches to on projects.  Tools would have hung from hooks and harnesses jutting from the sides of the wall.  But the room was torn asunder.  Tools and papers scattered everywhere on the floor along with gears, sheets of metal, some flat, some bent, and shards of glass everywhere.  The drawers were pulled from their chest and scattered across the floor along with their contents. Benches were overturned along with a pair of tables.  Nothing was where it should have been.

In the middle of this cacophany was Beepu, kneeling on his knees, his mouth agape, arms slack at his sides.   His breathing was short as he looked at the disarray.   Iesa and I looked at each other unsure on what to say to Beepu.  Then from behind us we heard the armored steps of Daneath climb the stairs.

“What happened here?”  he whispered as he surveyed the damage.

“Someone was looking for something,” Iesa responded giving Daneath a dirty look.

“I get that,”  Daneath punched Iesa in the shoulder.  “But why here?  The other floors are untouched.”

I thought a moment. “They weren’t looking for a wedding ring,” I said.

“Why do you say that?” Daneath asked me.

“Because they have his mother; they have one of the rings now.  They were looking for something else.”  I said.  “And they haven’t found it yet.”

“How do you know that?”  Iesa asked confused.

“Beepu told me there were parts needed.  A wedding ring was only one of them.”

“Well they didn’t find one thing,”  Daneath said.




Moments later Daneath, Iesa and I were standing over a mound of earth in the shared courtyard of the buildings on the block.   The grass had already covered it up completely, but the arrangement of the stone ring around it gave the firm impression it was a grave.

“Who’s is it?” Iesa whispered.

“It’s small, barely the size of a gnome,” I said.  “How did you find it?”

“The stone ring.   When my mast…Umbra was training us, one of the students died in an accident.  He had them buried on the site, just like this.”

“Could it be…” Iesa asked Daneath not finishing the next word.

“It’s small, but that may not mean much,” Daneath choked on his words.  “Myr can you…do you have…”

I looked at Daneath in shock, “I could exhume whoever it is and put them back…if that’s what you want.  I don’t really have anything else,”

“I need to know.   Please.” Daneath whispered.

I gulped and nodded.  I then knelt by the grave and whispered aloud, while clasping the symbol around my neck.

“I pray for forgiveness on disturbing the rest of the dead.  I shall return them swiftly back to your care after we find the answers we seek.”   I then reached out and slowly pulled on strands, scraping them across and beneath the earth.  Quickly, the earth churned, and I slowly moved more and more dirt and silt away from the rocks.  Suddenly, an oblong shaped box came into view; far too small to hold a body.  It was no more than a foot deep, and the box itself wasn’t very large either; a hand and half in length, and a hand high and deep.

Hesitantly I reached for the box and pulled it out of the earthen hole.  I scraped away the dirt and doing so, exposing the wood underneath.  I shook it gently and could feel the shifting of something loose inside.  I then cleaned off more of the outside of the box with my fingers and I found, burned into the side of the box the image of a double looped snake, eating its tail.   The sign of the Kershak.

Grimacing, I turned to the two brothers and sadly said.

“I think this is the final resting spot of Umbra, and these are his ashes,” and I gave the box to Iesa for him to look at.

The brothers looked down at the small box in Iesa’s hands in silence.  But both of their eyes were watering with emotion.

“I’ll leave you together for as long as you need, and I’ll reinter him when you are ready,” and I walked back into kitchen and then reentered the shop, leaving them to their grief.  I sighed and looked around the shop seeing if there was anything amiss here.

_--Hey Myr, there is someone looking at the shop across the way

Are they being sneaky?

--No…not really.  I think they are a shopkeeper…yes!  It seems to be their shop and he is closing up.  But he keeps looking at this one._

I considered a moment getting the others and decided that everyone else had enough on their minds.  So, I opened the front door from the shop, put on a smile and walked across the thoroughfare.

Across the way an old man was lifting and putting baskets into a cart, each holding bolts of cloth.  His hands were meticulously clean, with callouses on the edges of fingers.     His slight frame was a knot of corded muscles as he lifted each basket.

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“You don’t look like a merchant…or a Tilteepockey,” he observed.  “A little tall, a little young, and a little nosey.”

“I am certainly some of those, but I do count Beepu as a friend.” I counter hands open and smiling.

The man nodded, “I thought it was him.  He still has that monstrosity with him?”

“Foggle?  He’s not so bad once you get use to the oil drippings.”

The man nodded, “That’s good enough.  I won’t say no to your help then.”

I moved over and lifted one of the baskets and placed it on the cart.

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen his mother, or Pachook?” I asked as I moved to grab another one.

“Pachook? I haven’t seen him in a long time, over a year, I think.  And Helsa?  The shop has been closed for what, five or six weeks.  Haven’t seen her or her manservant.”

“Manservant?  Kingsley?” I asked as I lifted another basket.

“You know him?”

“Beepu recommend he come here after he ran into…trouble,” I said evasively.

“Not my business I suppose.”

“It wasn’t Kingsley’s either, but he did us a good turn, and we returned the favor.”

“So, you sent him to Helsa?”

“He saved our lives, and we helped him start a new one,” I said thinking back to the dock in Yartar.

The old man nodded, “He’s a good man.  But I haven’t seen him either, but someone keeps coming home.”  And placed a basked on the cart and leaned on it looking at me.

I lifted the last basket onto the cart, “How do you know that?” I asked looking at him quizzically.

“I’m not a learned man, but I finally got around to learning my letters and I try to read in the evenings.  My bedroom looks across the way and there has been a light on the second floor from near dusk to dawn.”

I leaned against the baskets looking at him, “So Kingsley has been home?”

“I doubt it; normally he’d help me in the morning and the evening like you are now.  I’d like to think he would stop by if it were him.  But I never seen who it is that lights it,” he moved toward the end of the cart, and starts to push it inside.  “Thank you, I hope you can find them…For Beepu’s sake.”

I nodded and started back.  But then something occurred to me.

“Hey, one last question.”



“How you doing?” I asked Daneath and Iesa as I entered the workshop.

“We…said our goodbyes,” Iesa said quietly.

“Do you need me to—”

“We buried him again ourselves.  If you think you need—”

I shook my head, “There is no one right way.  People have buried kin without priests, without ceremony for as long as people have been.  You’ve done everything you need.”  I said with a tear in my eye and a smile.  “There is nothing more I…need to do.  This was his final stop though.  The weaver across the way saw Umbra with Pachook here over a year ago.  And now, he’ll never leave.”

I looked down at the floor and turned my head to look at Beepu.

He had not moved from his spot.  His eyes looked glazed at his father’s work area.  Tools, gears, cogs, rods, shattered constructs.

Shattered dreams.

Shattered hopes.

Shattered souls.

I closed my eyes and breathed a moment, clearing my head.

“We have to get ready,” I said.

Deneath’s head snapped up.  “What?  Why?”

“The lantern on the second floor has been getting lit every night for weeks.”

The brothers look at each other and then back at me frowning.

“I want to meet the lightboy.”



*Session notes:*

For reference, this is literally the first thing that happened after a bunch of dice rolls “what did you do in the Forest.”  What happened wasn’t really described.

But the dread was real enough.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Excellent!

And count me as another one who really enjoyed all the downtime stuff. I really like that you're fleshing out the story, rather than just recounting encounter after encounter.

That said, I'm also looking forward to getting back to the action ...


----------



## Nthal

*The Lightboy - 6/28/2020*

_Serendipity is where chance leads to something in a happy or beneficial way.  Not sure who coined it, but it would have been nice if he coined the opposite.

Because it seems to be far more prevalent._​


The sky was a deep red, as the sun had set, and shadows crept into the city.  While the lampposts in this district lit up with some magic of the elves, it did little to banish the darkness.  It would be some time before Selune rose to cast her light across the streets and even then, it would be only be a quarter of her grace.

So, the shop lay in darkness, quiet as a tomb.  Then from the entrance, the soft sound of the door handle turning slowly to avoid making a sound.  Once the latch had cleared, it opened quietly, and a cloaked figure entered the shop quickly closing it again, and slowly releasing the latch.  They then, moved quietly to the stairs, looking around casually, unconcerned with being seen or heard now in the empty shop.

The cloaked figure climbed the stairs to the second level and turned on the landing, heading towards a lantern that sat on a nearby table, near a window.  The figure started to move when they stopped dead in their tracks.  The figure’s head twisted around sensing something was out of place.  Or perhaps they heard a creak in the floorboards, or a breath of air that was unexpected.  They paused with uncertainty when a voice called to them.

“Let me light that for you,” a woman’s voice called out.

The lantern blazed with a brilliant white light.  The light from it was pointed, not at the window, but towards the stairs and the hooded figure, who jumped in surprise.  Startled, they started to backpedal towards the stairs, when from the darkness of a side room a shadow flung themselves at the retreating figure, with a gleaming dagger in hand.  The attacker swung his blade and the cloaked figure deftly evaded the blow.  Too late the figure realized it was a feint, as their attacker reversed the strike, smashing the pommel into the cloaked figure’s head, causing them to stumble down the stairs.

As they stumbled, the figure attempted to stand and run back towards the front entrance.  They never saw the second shadow that smashed a metal shield into their body.  The figure was slammed into the wall, and then crumpled into a wheezing lump on the floor.  Looking for an escape they then heard a pair of swords drawn as the shadow downstairs blocked the exit, while, the one from upstairs pointed a freshly drawn sword at the skulker’s throat.  The figure then coughed, chuckled, and then raised their hands in surrender.

“Wise move berk,” I said, as I slowly came down the stairs, looking at the cloaked figure lying there with contempt.  Beside me, carrying the brightly lit later, was Beepu, his eyes as hard as flint as he regarded the invader to his family’s dwelling.  The figure sat up awkwardly and moved their hands towards their hood that covered their head.

“Easy there; If I so much hear an arcane word from you, I will kill you where you sit,” Iesa said evenly.  “Or my brother will beat your head in with that shield.  Take your pick.”

“Well, this does alter my plans slightly,” a familiar voice mocked us.  “But I suppose this does spare me in having you chase me down.”  The figure pulled down his hood, revealing long blonde hair and the tapered ears of an all too familiar sun elf.

The instant I saw his face, I seethed with anger, drawing my greensteel blade.  I jumped down the stairs, knocking the elf flat on his back.  I knelt on top of him, with my knee on his chest and my blade at his throat.

I hissed between clenched teeth, “Paradros.   You unhende spiv.  I should cut your throat now and bleed you dry for what you did.”

Beepu slowly walked down the stairs, surprisingly calm and said simply.  “Where is she?”

“See Myrai, I think you should cool your taste for my blood a bit so we can talk like reasonable people.”

“A reasonable person would just kill you, as you are just a dead elf walking,” I retorted.

“Myrai?” and I felt Beepu’s hand on my shoulder.  “I will ask you again, where is my mother, Paradros?”

“Not far; just a little ways outside the city walls.  Someplace we can talk undisturbed,” Paradros said coolly.  “Assuming that your friend doesn’t nick me with her blade.”

“I’ll do more than that,” I snarled.

“So, you just what?  Lead us out of town and we walk away with his mother?” Iesa said.  “You have been trying to get us killed for months, so pardon me if I don’t trust you.”

“My dear Iesa,” Paradros said smoothly, “We are well beyond trust here.  After all, if you don’t come with me tonight…who knows what might happen?  The same could be said if I don’t come back at all.” He turned to look at me in the eye. “That would be a terrible thing if you lost control Myrai.  Horrible things could happen.”

I leaned in close to him, “You’re right.  And horrible things happened to those who trusted you.  You have a lot of your kin’s blood on your hands.  So, your word means very sodding little.” I pushed my blade higher against his throat, forcing his head backwards.

“You should put a leash on her ‘Big ‘D’’ before she does something you all regret.” Paradros said smiling, sure of his position.

“Myr, please,” Daneath said.  I didn’t move and continued to stare into Paradros’ eyes. “So why not meet in town?”

“Because Silverymoon’s ward prevent a lot of spells from functioning,” Beepu said evenly.

Paradros shrugged.  “I didn’t choose the place.  I had intended to have you follow me there after all, and not be assaulted so brazenly by the four of you.  I don’t even know what will be discussed, as I am a simple messenger,” he said mockingly.

“So, you delivered your message,” I hissed.  “Well done, errand boy.  Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and tell us where to go, so we don’t have to drag you with us.”

“You don’t scare me.  None of you do. So, shall we get this over with?” Paradros said, with an exaggerated sigh.

“You don’t know how…fortunate you are,” I said through clenched teeth, as I pulled my blade away from his throat and got off him.

“What?  That I have powerful friends?”

“No,” I said.  “That I do.”






Daneath and Iesa disarmed Paradros, casting his sword and dagger in the corner of the shop, and then secured his hands behind his back.  Finally, they put his cloak back on over his bonds.  Now only a close inspection would be able to determine he was our prisoner.

We set out and headed to the market.  While it was dark, there was still some stragglers leaving town out of the Hunter’s Gate, heading to farms or homes in the nearby Moonwood.  We were able to move our prisoner along and outside the walls without getting the attention of the city guard.  Paradros didn’t seem to care in the slightest, carrying on with a smile and humming to himself, while Daneath and Iesa shepherded along him, three abreast.

Beepu and I were following just behind them.  “They will return my mother,” he said quietly, his eyes still glaring at the sun elf.

“I hope so,” I said.  “I know this is a trap, but I hope we can find our way out.”

Beepu nodded. “I would…sacrifice a lot for my family,” he said almost whispering.

“Let’s hope that we don’t need to,” I said.

“Do you really think it will be that easy?”

“No.  I just don’t know how hard it will be.”

Paradros guided us northward along the road, and eventually pointed out a side path.  It was barely visible with the overgrowth of the wood, and it led up into the hills, and even deeper into the Moonwood.  The track was in poor condition but eventually it opened into a small clearing.

In the clearing stood an old manor house; covered in vines.  The windows on the floors were missing, and the shuttered hung loosely on their sides.   The rear part and the side wings were all in ruin, worn away by the weather and time.  Broken branches lay on the roof, which had holes rent by other larger branches.  But what used to be the very front hall was mostly intact, with a set of double doors that hung loosely on their hinges.  But beyond was the barest hint of firelight flickering with.

“Nice place for a meeting,” Iesa said dryly.  “Just the right amount of ruin and darkness.”

“I suppose we like a bit of the theatrical,” Paradros said smugly.  “And I am sure what you are looking for is inside.  So, if you don’t mind untying me.”

“Why would we do that?” I said, stopping Daneath short.  “As far as I am concerned you are a prisoner.”

“Now Myrai, I think it is only proper that you trust me—”

I whipped my greensteel dagger out and then I held it to his surprised throat.  “I don’t think you understand your position here,” I breathed into his face.  “This blade was forged in the fires of Dis, sharper than any you can forge here.  And I cannot think of anything more appropriate than using it to slit your throat.”

Paradros swallowed slowly and he stared at me coldly.  “I think that my master values me, and would be…troubled my by absence,” he said evenly.

“So, he’s here to notice it then,” I replied.  The other three turned to look at us as we talked.

“Along with Beepu’s precious mother and…friends,” the elf replied with cold smirk.

“Friends of yours or ours I wonder?” I said still holding the blade evenly.

Paradros looked confused before speaking, “Of yours?  You won’t find them here.”

“Then, I guess you stay a prisoner,” I said with a mocking sorrowful tone.  “If you are valuable…then you are perfectly safe.  Otherwise, your master has sent you to your death…like all of his tools.”  But as I said this, I turned over something else in my head.

He never mentioned Kingsley.   Not as a victim or a warning, and certainly not as another prisoner.   So, if the Kershak didn’t know about him, where was he now?  I hoped that he was in a safer place than we.

Paradros grimaced and nodded.   “I guess I shall have to be patient.”

I withdrew my blade and returned it to its sheath and pushed Paradros’s shoulder to face him towards the house.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Iesa nodding, drew his rapier and made a couple of clicking noises with his tongue.  Mo crawled out of his pack, and then quickly scampered for a nearby tree.  Beepu looked at Foggle who hovered nearby.  Daneath pulled the strap of his shield and drew his longsword.  I pulled out the new rod I had created, gripping it tightly.

_Goss…I don’t know what is going to happen.

--Well I’ll warn you if I see something that should be seen._

Daneath went inside the doors first, followed by our prisoner with Iesa tapping him with the flat of his blade, and Beepu and I in the rear.

“Stop that, you might actually cut me,” Paradros complained

“I thought you would prefer this to Myrai's blade.  She actually does want to kill you.”

Paradros grunted in return.  We found ourselves in a grand hall.  This hall thought was lined with rotten and decaying bookshelves.   A small set of stairs led to a dais with doorways leading to the shattered remains of the manor house.  The roof had collapsed in spots, scattering debris on the floor.  Any books that were here had been taken long ago, leaving bookcases with empty or broken shelves scattered around the room, with some broken apart on the floor.

Bur our eyes were drawn to a lit pair of braziers on the dais, and there stood three figures.  The one on the left I recognized; the halfling we met outside of Portstown, north of Yartar.  He looked at us disapprovingly as if we were children who ignored a warning.  He had already a scimitar drawn, which he turned over in his hands in anticipation.  The figure on the right was a heavily armored dwarf, who cradled a battleaxe.  Unlike the halfling, he stood his ground without nervous tics.  But he gave the impression that he was a coiled snake ready to strike out.

Between them stood another man.  If Daneath were to stand toe to toe with him, I would have guessed he was a head and half taller.  He stood there armored with a breast plate, greaves and vambraces.   A sword hunt at his side, as he stood there with his arms crossed.  He had no hair, and his eyes seemed to be a black mirror of his soul.   In front of him was a large sack, bulging with something inside, but unmoving.

“So…my belligerent, wayward…progeny?” he spat contemptuously, “finally do me the honor of a visit.  It took you long enough to leave Melandrach’s ‘protection.’  As if he could grant you any.”

Daneath and Iesa stepped forward, while I swung my rod in front of Paradros from moving forward.   Beepu also stepped into the center of the room, and as we talked, the brothers flanked him at a distance.

“Well, my manners are a bit rusty,” Beepu spat.  “But I do not believe my parents taught me how to address and keep appointments with criminals.”

“Beepu…you do so resemble your father…and your mother,” the man drawled.  “And I am no criminal. I am one of your betters, so I expect better manners from you.”

“You flatter well enough,” Iesa retorted.  “But you talk like another bully in the slums.”

“One that kidnaps an old woman out of spite,” Daneath said contemptuously.  “Clearly the mark of a brave man.”

The large man smiled, “I didn’t drag Beepu’s mother into this; for that you can blame your father Beepu.  If he hadn’t of…stolen what didn’t belong to him, perhaps we could have all met under different circumstances.”

“My father was not a thief,” Beepu growled.

“In the end he took something from me.  It doesn’t matter if Umbra gave it to him or not.   And so, I want what Pachook took from Umbra.  And I want Pachook’s rand Helsa's rings.”

I squinted at the man’s demands and thought.

_They don’t have the rings?_

“I demand you return my mother!” Beepu said angrily.

“Certainly,” and the man bent forward to grasp the sack.  “Tell you what, I’m certainly willing to return her in exchange.” He said as he hefted the sack, like it contained nothing.

“Exchange for what?” Daneath said between his clenched teeth, as he twisted the pommel of his longsword in his hand.

The man looked at us all with a sneer.  “Your lives,” and then he threw the sack across the floor off the room.  As he did so, the neck of the sack unfolded, and some of the contents scattered across the floor as the sack flew towards Beepu.

As I looked, my stomach started to churn as one of the objects that spilled from the bag was clearly the burned remains of an arm, the length matching a child…or a gnome.  The arm was a charred to the bone, with only the barest amount of tissue holding the upper arm, forearm, and hand together.  But it skidded on the floor, and settled by Beepu’s feet, with other parts strewn close by in front of the gnome.

Beepu started to shake and his hands clenched in rage.   He thrust his hand into a pouch and drew a vial of water and spilled it on his hand in a practiced motion, and then flung a shard of ice at the armored figure.  The ice spun in the air and then shattered on what appeared to be a globe, only made visible by the ice shards that scattered across its briefly visible surface.

“Pathetic.  Did you really think that I, the Kershak would be affected by your minor magics?  It is time to bring this to a close; for all of you.”  The man raised his hand and a mote of fire appeared and within a blink of an eye, he hurled the mote of fire straight at us.  It exploded into a wreath of flames, that surrounded Iesa, Daneath and Beepu, while Paradros and I dove.  The flames licked at us as we both scrambled to find a shelter from the flame.

As the spots faded from my eyes, I stumbled to my feet slowly coughing.  I looked around at the shelves that were scattered around the room.  All of them now were alight in orange flame.   In the center of the room, Daneath was on a knee, with his shield in front of him using it as a barricade from the blast of fire.  Beepu was crouched behind him, coughing.  Glancing across the room, I saw that Iesa had dove behind a bookcase.  But as it turned out he wasn’t alone, as he had already traded blows with an armored warrior.    The dwarf and the halfling on the dais started to run towards Daneath, with blades drawn.

I then turned to look at Paradros next to me who now stood, using a pillar to steady himself with his hands…

“Soddin—” I said starting to pull on a strand.  But Paradros turned his head to face me with a knowing smile that dissolved into mist before my eyes

“—ing prod!” I whirled and saw Paradros’ cloak snapping behind him as he bolted towards the front entrance

“No!” I screamed, and I lashed out with a dark strand, the rod letting me focus.  From the purple sapphire, two bolts of deep purple shot across the room, striking Paradros.  The elf grunted, and stumbled and ran outside, never turning to look behind him.  I was about to chase him, when I heard the sound of a blade being drawn and turned around just in time to deflect a sword blow with my shield.  Another armored figure had been lurking in the stack of shelves and they tried to take advantage of my distraction.

Beepu and Daneath split apart from each other.  Daneath ran and collided with the dwarf as he tried to block the axe from finding anything vital.  He swung, knocking the axe blade away, and attempted to thrust and bury the sword in the dwarf’s chest.  But the dwarf was remarkably fast, spinning with the momentum of his blade, and using that to knock Daneath’s sword away.

Beepu however, moved at a slight angle along the floor, pulling out of his pouch a small glass rod, and a bit of fur.  He then planted himself and said some arcane syllables.  From the rod emanated a bluish white light that streaked across the room, hitting first the dwarf, and striking the halfling who was closing with the melee.  The sound of the strike was deafening and the overwhelming scent of burnt hair marked the bolts passage.

The Kershak shook his head sadly, as the smoke from the lightning strike disappated.  He had a resigned look on his face as he spoke again.

“If that is the best you can muster, I see no reason to stay,” the Kershak gestured with a mailed gauntlet and then turned around.  He the strode into a shimmering cloud in the air, into which he disappeared.

“No!  Get back here!” Daneath shouted, as he swung his sword at the dwarf in front of him.  The dwarf deflected Daneath’s blows with large sweeping swings of his axe, each one threatening to pull Daneath off balance and exposing him to attack.  Daneath hammered at the dwarf, trying to use his height advantage to wear down the dwarf. The dwarf, however, was used to fighting larger opponents.  He kept swinging low and wide, forcing Daneath to constantly move and never setting his feet for a hard strike.

Meanwhile, Iesa was busy with his own opponents as a second armored figure came around a bookcase, flanking the rogue.  Iesa spun with his blade, deflecting a thrust from the second man’s longsword.  But he was at a disadvantage, as the first man landed a solid blow to Iesa’s side, causing blood to splatter the wood near him.

I too was busy, as I now had to deal with a second attacker.  However, I simply pulled on a single dark strand, and looped it around both of my attackers.  Skeletal hands grasped at both of their throats, tearing away at their life energy.  One clasped his neck and sunk to his knees, while the other one swung and landed a blow on my shield, as he gurgled in pain.

_That elf has run into the trees somewhere.

--Keep an eye outside, let me know if any reinforcements arri—OOF!_

The man had swung again finding his way past my shield, and his blade slammed into my armor.  I wheezed and coughed up some blood.  Each breath was now painful, as I suspected a rib or two had been bruised or possibly cracked.  Grimacing I swatted his blade away with my shield and focused on ripping his soul away with a miasma of darkness, as the sound of a bell rang in the fiery field of battle.  The second man clutched at his chest and looked at me in horror as he sunk to his knees in a clatter of metal, before he fell flat on his face.

Turning I saw that Beepu was throwing bolts of flame at the halfling that now had engaged Daneath with a pair of daggers.  The flames didn’t even slow the halfling down, however.  He quickly moved behind the warrior, sinking a pair of quick strikes into his side.  Blood poured down from behind the faulds of his armor, dripping on the flagstone floor.

Iesa finally ran his rapier through one of his attackers, straight into his chest.  But the smile on Iesa’s face was short lived, as his second foe, landed a vicious blow on the rogue, his blade landing across Iesa’s midsection.  With a groan, Iesa stumbled to his knees, and slumped backwards against a burning bookcase.  I watched as his rapier fell from his hand, clattering on the stone.

“No!  Pike that!” I shouted and threw both light and dark strands wide around the Kershak’s lackeys, and pull them taut, before mentally yanking them so tight that the strands snapped.  The sounds of bookcases and stone railings exploded as the sound of thunder shook the hall.   This knocked down Iesa’s former foe, and he fell into a crumpled heap onto the floor.  But my heart sank as I realized neither the dwarf or the halfling seemed concerned, or even wounded by the magic.

Daneath was hard pressed on two sides, trying to prevent the halfling from finding a vulnerable spot.  So, when the dwarf struck him with the axe, he used the momentum and staggered backwards, causing the halfling to miss with a dagger thrust.  Daneath seized the moment, and reposted, thrusting his blade deep into the stomach of the halfling.  The halfling shook his head clearing the pain, only to be struck by a trio of bluish bolts from Beepu’s hands.  He tried to twist away, but it was in vain as the missiles struck him unerringly.   The halfling grimaced and spun trying to slash Daneath with his blades again, but this time he was unable to find an opening in the mithral plate armor.

I gritted my teeth and threw a miasma at both the halfling and the dwarf.  As I approached them, they both grunted and glared at me in pain.  I gulped, hoping that they would keep their eyes on me, and miss what I was doing, as I whispered a single word, and used a light strand to envelope Iesa, and channel healing energy into the fallen man.

The halfling took a step towards me, and once again he was struck by a trio of missiles from Beepu, who ran towards the fallen Iesa.   But as he did so, the dwarf shifted positions, and brough down his axe hard in the back of the gnome, causing Beepu to fall and skid on his stomach to a nearby shelf.  The dwarf returned his focus on Daneath, while the halfling looked at me with an evil grin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Iesa crawling towards Beepu, pulling a vial from his pocket.  Looking at our opponents, it seemed that neither was severely hurt; little bleeding, and neither were even slowed from their exertions.  We needed to balance the scales in the fight.  I then remembered something.  I slung my rod to my side and thrust my hand into a pouch and pulled out a gemstone.  One that we had found on the outskirts of Portstown on the way to Flint Rock.  I then held it up and spoke:

“Hey dwarf, looking for this?”

He turned to look at me with greedy eyes.  As he did so, I triggered the magic contained within the stone, and a brilliant white light emitted from the stone and struck the dwarf in the eyes.

“You blasted wench!” the dwarf shouted.  He turned around in confusion, blinking his eyes trying to regain his sight.  He swung wildly trying to keep Daneath from getting close to him.  The halfling glanced at the dwarf for a moment, and grimaced and ran at me with blades ready.  He swung with both them, and while my shield deflected his offhand blade, the main one sank deeply into my thigh, causing me to yelp in pain.

I stared into the eyes of the halfling and I watched his smile fade as I pulled dark strands and then screamed.  As I did, dark energy exploded all around me consuming and raking at everything nearby.  Black tendrils flayed at the halfling, sapping at his strength and then they reached and struck the dwarf as well.  The necrotic energy wave tore at their souls, weakening them.  When the darkness receded, I moved toward Beepu, who was now sitting up shaking his head.

Iesa took advantage of the dwarf’s blindness and thrust his blade into a gap beneath the pauldrons.  The dwarf’s head jerked up at the sudden breech as his lungs were suddenly flooded with his own blood.  He fell to his knees and heaved.  Then he fell forward flat on his stomach and blood disgorged from his mouth on the stone.

I reached Beepu, and heard steps behind me, and I turned to see that the halfing had pursued me and was about to strike when a blade erupted from the halfling’s chest.  His face twisted with surprise as Daneath twisted and flung the halfling from his sword.  The body crumpled on the floor, and a pool of blood quickly appeared beneath the body.

I stood there panting, my chest burning and the wound in leg throbbing.  I was helping Beepu to his feet, when the sudden sound of timbers creaking and snapping grabbed our attention.  Looking up, the flames had reached the rafters of the room, and the ceiling was starting to collapse, as the support beams burned away.

“Get Beepu out of here, now!” I yelled.  Iesa grabbed the gnome, while Daneath raised his shield overhead to protect them from falling debris.

“What are you doing?” Daneath huffed over the roar of the flames.

“Saving the dead.  Go!” I slapped him on the shoulder, and raised my own shield overhead.  I turned around to the center of the room, and found what I was looking for; the sack that the Kershak threw at us.  I stumbled over the flaming beams, and collapsed roof sections and grabbed it.  Using a white strand, I summoned the form of a ghostly white hand.  I used it to grab the scattered body parts of Beepu’s mother, that had fallen out of the sack.

_--Hey, you might need to hurry---

I know the place is falling apart!

--Not that; there’s a cart coming.

Oh sodding Baator, what now?!?_

Grabbing the final body part I could find, the charred arm, I placed it gently into the sack.  I covered my mouth and nose with a section of my cloak, and trotted outside, and away from the conflagration that consumed the hall.

They were all coughing from the smoke and flame, but Beepu looked at me with tears in his eyes before speaking.

“Did…did you get her?”

“I have her, Beepu,” I said nodding my head to the sack I cradled gently in my arms. “We can lay her to rest when we get to town, however you like.  But we have a visitor coming.”

“Who the?” Iesa said, as he turned around with Daneath looking down the road.   And indeed, a cart drawn by a pair of horses approached us.   Framing the front where the drover sat, were a pair of lanterns gleaming brightly.  The drover was covered in a leather cloak, but the hood was down revealing the face of a dark-haired half-elf.  In a few moments, the cart stopped a small distance from us.

“Come on!  Get in, we have little time,” the half-elf shouted at us.

“No offense, but we don’t even know who you are, let alone what you are doing here.”

The half-elf shook his head, “You’ll have to trust me, but I was sent by a friend.  We must go!  Now!”

I looked at the others, and we silently made our decision after looking at each other’s tired expressions.  Nodding, we clambered into the back of the cart, with Foggle and Gossamer flying close behind.

The half-elf quickly turned it around as we huddled in the back watching the flames retreat into the distance. As we sat there, I looked at my companions as they stared at the hall each with different emotions clear on their faces.

Pain.

Regret.

Disappointment.

And as for myself, not one single emotion could describe what I felt.

Sorrow.

Disgust.

Rage.

The last one was the strongest; before now, the Kershak was just another person’s problem.  Even after the vague threats it seemed abstract and distant.

No longer.

It was now real and tangible.  A person that only cared about their wishes and agenda.  Nothing else mattered; not others lives, not their beliefs, not even people who should be innocent bystanders.  I sat there in pain, shivering in the dark, hoping that this wagon would lead us solace or succor, even for just an evening.

*Session Notes:*

For some reason it was a library in the middle of the woods; it didn't make a lot of sense at the time, so a ruined manor worked better.  It was a mess of spells not working right most of the time.

And I very much almost killed (or tried to ) kill Paradros while we stood outside.  I let the good tendencies play out however.

One small thing we had to ignore as players;  when we tied up Paradros, the roll from Isea was a 5.  So we all had to believe he did it properly, when we knew full well it didn't.  Not that it would have stopped a misty step.  Next time I'll blindfold them.


----------



## Nthal

*A Three Ring Quest - 7/5/2020*

_Belief is what defines us, not truth.  As proof, consider this piece of experience:  deception isn’t about someone telling you a lie; its about you believing what is said is true.  Even the most outlandish statement, if it is a falsehood, will always be one.  But all it takes to make it true, is for someone to believe in it.  If you don’t believe that, then ask yourself, what’s going on when you tell yourself a lie?

The answer is simple: you believe because you want to, even if it is patently false.  

That makes belief the most important thing in the multiverse._​
“Ok, so we’re in the cart now…who are you?” Iesa demanded as the cart started down the path at what seemed to be too fast of a pace.  So fast, that Mo hiding in the trees barely had a chance to bound into the cart and clutch onto Iesa, panting heavily.  The horses were at a gallop, lathering, pulling the cart behind as it bounced over rock and ruts, while Gossamer and Foggle flew swiftly behind.   It was a painful ride, my leg was still bleeding, and breathing was problematic with a broken rib.  But I couldn’t focus enough to have the strand heal me, even with a simple word.  Every bump and divot caused me to take involuntary sharp short breaths to stave off the pain.

“A friend of Pachook’s,” he said. 

“Right.  Sure.  Why the rush?” Iesa asked confused.

“Because a company of mercenaries were on their way to kill you,” He responded, barely turning his head as he drove the horses onwards.  “Our mutual ‘friend’ doesn’t like to lose, and we only found out about the company this evening.  We arranged to have them delayed.”

Iesa looked around. “We’re cutting across the Moonwood, and not heading to the gate,” he noted.

“Correct,” the elf acknowledged.  “The company is coming from the Hunter’s Gate; no sense in running into them on the road.   So, we are heading for the Moongate on the west side.  I have a friend there who will let us in.  You can call me Nelian by the way.”

Iesa nodded silently, and Daneath said nothing.  Beepu sat there in the corner of the cart, dead eyed, looking at his feet.

“Beepu,” I started.  “I…have her.  This might sound strange, but did you want to…hold her?”

Beepu looked up slowly his mouth open slightly, as if words were lost to him.

“It’s alright…its family, and you care.   I just wouldn’t look,” I gently offered the sack to him.  After a moment, he took it from me gingerly, and cradled her in his arms.  His eyes looked at the brown burlap with a pained look, as his face quivered in emotion.

“I…always knew I would bury my parents.  But…this…this…was not…should not have…” he said in a whisper barely over the clatter of the wheels on random stones embedded in the trail.

I placed a hand on Beepu’s arm as he cradled the sack.  “It never is.  But I can help prepare her once we stop somewhere.   Send her off properly.” I said tearing up.

“That’s Helsa I take it?” Nelian said, glancing at our exchange.  “Our condolences and our apologies.  We were surprised she was taken at all, but we underestimated the Kershak's desperation.  When we did hear…it was too late.   Quiet now; we are approaching the gate.” And the horses began to slow to a reasonable trot.

Looking up at the elf, I watched him tug and pull out a metal cloak pin, which he then held up for the guards to see.  I could hear guardsmen say “Make way!  He can pass!” and the cart didn’t even stop.  As I watched, he fastened the onto his cloak, a pin in the shape of a harp.  The cart continued and turned left and followed the main thoroughfare.  After some time, the buildings disappeared, indicating we had entered the market grounds.  After a while longer and some turns, the cart stopped in an open square, with a small grove of trees.

“We’re here.  Come inside quickly,” Nelian said, pulling out a lantern and opening the shutter.  Having no other clear ideas on where to go, I think we were just happy to be led anywhere.  Climbing out, I saw we were in front what appeared to have been a three-story building.  But the door and windows were stained with soot and ash, as the building seemed to be a victim of a great fire.  From the ruin, another man appeared, and ran to the cart, climbing into the seat and drove the cart away from the ruin.

“Watch your head; the upper floors aren’t stable, but in the catacombs below, we will be safe.” Nelian said, waving at us to follow him.

“What was this place?” Daneath asked looking around him.

“It was the old music conservatory before it was moved to the south bank.  Afterwards a lighting strike set the place aflame and it has been abandoned.” Nelian answered, as he led us through the broken interior, now covered with a scattering of leaves from trees outside.  After a while, he came to an old burned bookcase.  He pulled it aside, as it pivoted on a well-oiled hinge, revealing an oaken door, only somewhat charred.   He knocked twice quickly, and then again once with a solid thump.  And after a moment the door opened, revealing a human man in a hooded cloak, and behind him were a set of stairs leading down.   He nodded at Nelian, and waved us all in.

We descended, and came to a large chamber, with tables, benches and stools.  On the table were some cheese, breads and fruits, along with a jug and some mugs.

“Here, please eat and rest.  I will find our leader who can explain what’s going on,” Nelian said as he made for a hallway nearby.

“Wait a moment,” I said snippily. “We just came out of a fight and we are supposed to trust you just like that?”

“Myr…they’re Harpers,” Daneath said quietly. “We can trust them.”

“Who?” I said confused.  “What’s a sodding Harper?”  I realized I was missing something important and felt out of my depth.

“They are a semi-secret organization that…help.  Against bad men and support good folk.” Iesa continued.

“Meddlers some would call them,” Beepu said barely looking up.

“Well, I say.  Perhaps you would prefer an old friend?” a familiar voice called to us from the hallway.  Looking in that direction I saw a man, with salt and pepper hair, and a grey moustache and mutton chops.  He was in a simple tunic with a sword at his side.  He also was a bit rounder from the last time I laid eyes on him.

“Kingsley!” I said excitedly.  I limped over and embraced and kissed the man on the cheek.  “I am so happy you are alive!  You’ve put on weight it seems?”  I chided impishly.

“Hurm, yes.  Helsa is…was an excellent cook as it turned out,” and with that he moved over to Beepu, still holding the remains of his mother in the dirty sack.  “Nelian told me.  I am sorry.  She was a wonderful, wonderful woman.  She helped me as you said she would…and I never had a chance to fully repay her.”

Beepu nodded and I hobbled back over to Beepu’s side while fishing a strip of cloth out of my pouch.

“Well, I don’t recommend opening the sack but if you can put her on the table, I can prepare a last rite,” I said as I used a strand to clean the cloth back to a nearly pure white.   “Can each of you give me a greenie…a copper piece?”  Both Beepu and Kingsley nodded, and each searched their coin purses, and both handed me a coin.

I kissed each coin, and I reached my hands into the sack, searching for the head of his mother.  Once my fingers found her skull, I turned it by feel to have it face the ceiling, and then placed in each eye socket a coin.  And then blindly, I tied the cloth around her eyes tightly.  I then withdrew my hands and quickly used a white strand to clean them. 

Then guessing where her chest was, I pulled Beepu and Kingsley hands and set them upon her chest and placed my hand upon theirs. I then prayed aloud:

_No one should be alone, in life or death,

Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning

Death is without deceit and has meaning,

May your soul find its way to the Golden Hills,

And travel to each of the seven, and rest beneath the great oak, 

May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey,

Because Death is never an end, but a waypost,

A Destination and a Journey one and the same, 

The memory of your deeds will live forever in us,

So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith

May Death grant you peace._



I sighed and looked at Beepu.  “If I remember, gnomes preferred cremation. Is that still your—”

Beepu nodded curtly, saying nothing, his eyes full of tears.

“Ahem, sorry to interrupt,” Nelian said, re-entering the room with two men in monks’ robes, and a third man close behind.  “They can inter her ashes into the local graveyard here.”

“Please,” Beepu’s voice choked.  “I will say my words in private.”  The two robed men nodded, and gingerly lifted the sack and with care, withdrew from the room.  I touched both Beepu and Kingsley on the shoulders, gently caressing each of them.

Nelian spoke again and gestured to the last newcomer, “Let me introduce our leader of this band here, Fortin Jenerret.  He gestured to a mid-aged man, thin as a rail, but with twinkling eyes that saw everything, and through you.  His smile was warm and disarming, while his hair was receding and thinning at the top of his head.

“Beepu, Iesa, Daneath, and…Myrai correct?” he said with a slight smile.  “I am sorry to intrude on your grief, but I suspect you have a lot of questions.”

“An understatement,” Iesa said blandly.

“Well, I suppose we should sit and discuss.  I think we each have a part of a story, and we may be able to help each other,” Fortin said as he started pouring what appeared to be mead from the pitcher into mugs on the table.  “That includes you Kingsley,” to the former guardsmen’s surprise.  “I suspect it will take all of us to untangle this skein.”

“Excuse me,” I said a little sheepishly. “I am probably the least informed here, but what is the Kershak to you?”

“A fair question and a good place to start,” Fortin said as he handed me a mug.  “In one respect the Kershak is a mystery.  Some who have interacted with them say they are heroes, and others villains.  I would say the former are simply beneficiaries of luck; the Kershak helped, because it helped *the *Kershak.  But I think you seen more of the other side of the coin.  But what we do know is that the Kershak and his direct agents are not to be trifled with, as he has managed to tap into a wellspring of power.  We thought he was perhaps another wayward Bhaalspawn, but alas he seems to be something else entirely.”

“A Bhaalspawn?  What is that?” I asked, still confused.

“That’s a long topic Myr,” Daneath said pointedly as he took a mug from the man.  “And that didn’t answer anything,”

“I am afraid not; what he isn’t is understood,” Fortin continued.  “But he does have access to some kind of magical might.  Resistant to the Weave, able to call upon it, and long life at least.” 

The man took a sip from his mug and continued.  “He seems driven by nothing more than personal gain.  He likes to manipulate things, so that he has control.  He wants power in the manner of the Zhentarim of old.  And he doesn’t let anything stand in his way.

“But more interesting, is that he can extend his power to his associates, his so called ‘children.’  Assistants to spread his influence and cover…more ground.   You met some of them tonight, yes?”

“Killed two of them…I think,” Iesa said, looking at Daneath doubtfully.

“Seemed dead to me, a dwarf and a halfling we met before,” Daneath responded.

“That would have been Tanar and Poran, both were key men to the Kershak, with a long history, along with Umbra of course.

“What about Paradros?” I asked.

“No…or least not yet,” Fortin replied shaking his head.  “I think his still trying to prove himself to the Kershak.  But with Tanar and Poran dead, he might normally be inclined to induct him.  Fortunately, he cannot.”

“Why is that?”  Beepu asked starting to snap out of his emotional pit of despair.

“Because his power is stretched.   While we are not sure on its nature, we do know the more tools he creates, his power becomes diluted.   And until Umbra, none contested his edicts.”

“What edicts? Iesa asked.

“No children, and no creation of magical devices.  Which means, that the sword and dagger, and yourselves are now a collection of that power.  It weakens him in essence.  That is because killing his associates has split their power between your weapons and yourselves.  Because of this, he no longer has a majority under his control.

“So what?  We can just kill him, right?” Daneath asked with a hopeful tone.

“I am afraid not; like some of the undead, he cannot be slain.  It was tried once and he just…reappeared.”

“How do you know that?” Daneath asked.

“Oh, Umbra told me…after he killed him.  It didn’t last.  But the same cannot be said for his children.  They *can* be killed.”

“Umbra tried to kill him…and failed?” I questioned.

“No, he succeeded, the Kershak just failed to stay dead.  That was about…what…eighteen years ago?  And when he failed, Umbra started a gambit to end the Kershak.”

“Why?  Why did he turn against him?” I asked confused.

“Umbra didn’t tell me.  All he said was that he saw something he regretted.  But he did tell me his plan.  The short version is that he attempted to dilute the Kershak’s power.  He first tried making weapons; the sword and dagger you now wear if my guess is correct,” at which Daneath and Iesa exchanged glances.  “But they weren’t enough, so he…sorry to be crude, had you both.”

“Wait,” Iesa said with an angry look.  “You mean the only reason I am here is because he wanted me to kill the Kershak?”

“You may be a means to an end, yes,” Fortin said with a frown. “But I think there was more to it.  I think that the Kershak may have killed his love or his wife.  I never got a clean answer to which, but after her death he found solace and planted the seeds of his revenge as it were.”  This earned Fortin a dirty look from Iesa but he continued.  “But once he had you both, he made sure you were concealed.  With the two of you and the two weapons now in existence, the Kershak discovered he could not empower more ‘children.’  Umbra, still alive and on the loose was the obvious suspect.” 

“Leaving my mother to rot,” Iesa snarled.

“At least you knew yours,” Daneath pointed out.  “And I only knew him as a master later in life as he trained me.  Not as a father.”

“Is that so?” Fortin asked.  “That might be one piece of the puzzle.  You see, he was running for nearly two decades.   During this time, we had met and talked.  He told us he had a plan, but it would take time.  He was a bitter man when I first met him.  When I saw him again a little over a year ago, he was beyond that.  He was fury and hate, in a dead man’s body.  I suspect that he tried to find both of you and train you, but he lost you Iesa.  He was clearly upset at that.  He simply, hid you too well.”

“Cold comfort,” Iesa said frowning.

“Yes, I suppose so.  But let us keep going.  When I last saw him, he was as I said, a nearly dead man; a revenant that was out of time.  But with assistance, he had finally found you.  And then he set the last piece of his plan in motion to have you and your brother and Beepu meet.”

“What?”  Daneath said.  “How?”

“All I know is that you were nearly of age, and that in a year that he had a trusted friend ensure you all three would be led to a place to find the weapons.  Now it is clear that, the weapons were only one part of that puzzle; he hid them, and he wanted you to find them, and more.”

“But how do I fit into this?” Beepu asked.

“I know that Umbra had made friends with Pachook, and there was a deal struck between them.  The reason was simple; the Kershak had asked your father to build a device for planar travel.  But with the power of the Kershak, it would have been much more.  Too late did your father discover that his family was at risk, to keep the device a secret.”

“My…my family?” Beepu stuttered.

“Yes, he wanted to keep the device a secret, so he planned to kill Pachook…and Helsa…and you as well, just in case.  I know this, because Umbra told me.  He had found out about the death sentence from Poran, who was going to do it.  Umbra revealed this to your father, and naturally he was desperate to keep you and Helsa safe.  And per Pachook, he kept it a secret…his only secret he kept from her.”

“Why would the Kershak worry about Beepur or Helsa?” I asked.  “They didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“But he didn’t know that.  What he did know, is that Helsa is…er was a very good engineer herself.  And so, he suspected that Pachook would have engaged his family to help construct the device.”

I looked at Beepu, “Was that true?”

“My…my mother was a very good engineer…its why they loved each other,” the gnome said sadly.  “I don’t know if she did help him or not.  I know that I did…” he said looking down at his feet.  “While at Candlekeep, he asked me to look into some questions on arcana, and I replied with the answers.  So, In hindsight, I probably was helping…but that wasn’t clear at the time.  It’s only now that it makes sense.”

“Indeed,” said Fortin.  “So over two years ago, it seemed that Umbra and Pachook went somewhere, and only came back to Silverymoon a year ago.  Somewhere along the way, Umbra was killed, but somehow he crawled back to the living undeterred; wanting to kill the Kershak and protect you.”

“But Umbra, failed and died.  That’s not a help at all.” Iesa complained.

“Not exactly.  Umbra died here in Silverymoon.  But his spirit did not pass on.  Pachook, with the help of a necromancer that aids us on occasion, bound his soul into his heart, and Pachook put that heart into a…part…or something.   I was not present when it happened.  With his soul bound this way, the Kershak still cannot create other ‘children.’  It was at this time, he set the final part of his plan in motion.” 

We sat on the edges of our seats as he filled in missing pieces.  “First, he had an assistant.  He knew where Daneath was, and he was the one that found Iesa after a long search.  He then was told to get you both to somewhere at a particular point in time.  Pachook, left a note to be delivered to Helsa to have delivered to you Beepu, to meet in that same place.  But he never told us where.”

“Triboar,” Daneath said.  “I was told by a man, with waving grey hair to look for someone to the path to Flint Rock.  And that he would have a map—"

“And I had a note from my mother, delivered to me at Candlekeep. That to find him and his works, I needed to find a man with a map to Flint Rock,” Beepu said looking at each of us.

“I don’t believe it.  Mo just found the map; it’s a coincidence.  It has to be.”  Iesa said in disbelief.

“Wait a moment…take Mo out of your pack,” I asked.  I touched the _Apocrypha _and started to work on a pair of white strands.  Slowly I pulled and made a lattice that I stretched between myself, and the monkey.

“Hey Mo,” I said leaning forward to look at Iesa’s constant companion.

Mo looked at me in surprise.  “We not talk in some time,”

“You’ve been busy,” I said smiling.  “I have to ask you a question.  Do you remember giving your dad a big piece of rolled up paper.”

Mo thought a moment, “Do I get a snack?”

“Of course,” I said reaching for some cheese on the table and offering it to the monkey.

Mo grabbed it and bit into it quickly and swallowed.  He then looked at me and said.  “That one was funny.  Funny person gave it to me.  Told me to give to dad.  Spoke to me like you.”

“Really…do you remember anything about the man?”

“Hair was like fat mans face hair.  But it moved like wind in hair.  But no wind.   Tall and thin.  Long time don’t remember much.”

“That’s fine.  Have some more when you are done,” I smiled.

“I can’t believe you are actually trying to talk to Mo and—” Iesa complained.

“An air dancer,” I said leaning back in my chair thinking.

“A…what?” Daneath asked.

“Sorry…what’s the word…genasi!  He was an air genasi,” I replied.  “Its why his hair moves…an ever-blowing wind, even if there is no breeze.”

“That’s right,” Fortin said.  “Umbra’s friend was one.  So, he got you the map, and you all started moving.”

“That seemed to be a bit of luck,” Iesa muttered.

“Or skill…his friend seemed to know his trade.  Now, let me ask a question; did you find all the pieces?  Pachook said he had scattered them all, but he didn’t say what they were.”

Beepu sighed, “The starting pieces I have; but I am missing three parts.  The wedding rings of my parents and the heart of Umbra, or at least that is what he called it.  But the rings are gone.”

“Well…after what happened, I’m sure the Kershak has them now---”

“—He doesn’t,” I said.  “Remember that’s what he wanted from us.”

Beepu frowned, “That is right…he did.  But they were not in the workshop.”

“Why would wedding rings be in the workshop?” Daneath asked. 

“My parents did not wear them often, so they would not catch on tools or things they were building.  And so, they kept them there in the workshop, in plain sight.”

“How?” I asked.  “I thought they weren’t there.”

“They were not.  I searched while waited for that wretched scum Paradros arrived.” Beepu replied thinking, clearly trying to think of something he overlooked.

“Um…Beepu,” Kingsley spoke up for the first time.  “Before the Kershak came to the shop, she…she pushed me out the back door.  But before she did so, she gave me a box of…what I thought was junk parts.   She said keep it safe.”

Beepu sat up, “Where?  Where is it?”

“I’ll get it,” Kingsley said, and he got up and retreated down the hallway.  It wasn’t long before he came back with a small wooden box, about a hand width square.  He handed it to Beepu, who quickly opened the lid.  Inside were gears and cogs of all shapes, sizes and designs.  Beepu quickly started taking parts out one at a time, when he stopped, gave a slight smile, and reached inside.  He then withdrew two gears, with a smooth interior and a beveled set of teeth on the outside.

“My mother made these…they are supposed to look like spur gears.  And these are unique as  you can only fit these two together based on the spacing.  Easy to hide in a box of parts.  It was what they were; tinkerers and arcane engineers.” Beepu said with a sad smile and tears in his eyes.

“I’m glad you have them, and the Kershak doesn’t” I said.

“That means only our father’s heart is missing…so what would have it been?” Iesa asked.

“Another spur gear.  But it would have been bigger…two hands and a half in diameter.” Beepu replied.

“Ah…wait, who’s hand?” Iesa asked.

“Mine of course!” Beepu glared at Iesa.

“It’s a reasonable question!” Iesa said defensively.

“Wait,” Fortin said.  “What would it have been made of?”

“A copper alloy, on the outside, but an adamantite core.  Why?” Beepu asked.

Fortin’s eyes grew wide, “The genasi has it!  It makes sense now, Pachook, must have given it to Umbra’s assistant.”

“Back up!” I said.  “I’m confused…how did Kingsley get involved here?”

Fortin responded, “We agreed to watch your mother in case the Kershak came looking for her.   When Kingsley arrived unannounced, we were suspicious, and we…”

“Interrogated me, hurm,” Kingsley said indignantly.

“We had cause for concern…but once he mentioned the four of you, we realized that the plan was moving ahead as Umbra intended,” Fortin said defensively.  “We didn’t know exactly what parts or pieces were needed, all we knew is that you would eventually end up here, and we were told to…to…of course!   That’s why!”

“What?” I asked still feeling lost.

“Well…let me back up.  Once Kingsley told us what he knew, we decided to use him as a man on the job; we paid him to stay and watch out for any sign of trouble.”

“I got paid by your mother and the Harpers here.  But she figured it out.” Kingsley said sheepishly.

“You spent more than she paid, and she noticed.” Beepu guessed.

Kingsley nodded.  “Yes, and I told her about the Harpers…but she seemed to already know about them.   So, when the Kershak came, she was already  prepared and pushed me out with the box.  And she told me it was to…keep her son safe.” He said as he looked at Beepu sadly.

Fortin sighed, “I guess she knew more than Pachook knew she did.  He tried to keep her out of it, and she in turn tried to shield Beepu,” the man shook his head.  “A remarkable woman.   A brave one.  This is beyond unfortunate.”

“Well, at least my father is still out there,” Beepu said.  “If we follow the trail, we’ll find him.”

Fortin looked uncomfortable suddenly and let out his breath in a deep sigh.  “I’m sorry but—”

“—Wait!  But?  What do you mean but?”

“A year ago, or so, he came here, worked with Umbra and the genasi for a while.   Umbra died of course, the genasi left to give you messages at the proper time.  But Pachook…he…was caught by the Kershak’s forces outside of the city.  He…didn’t survive.   In fact, he…he…”

“What?” Beepu asked, his face grey.

“He created some magic to just explode himself and everyone else in fifty paces of him.   There wasn’t anything left to even bury.  But we were told that if that happened, not to…not to…tell your mother.  I wish I hadn’t of made that promise.”

“Wh…wh…why?” Beepu asked, the pain on his face evident.

“Because Beepu,” I said sadly.  “You can even ask the dead questions if you have a skull.   He was trying to protect you and your mother.  I’m…sorry.”

“Fine, where is he now?” Daneath asked pointedly.

“Pachook? We had a small shrined commissi—”

“No!  The genasi…and what was his name anyway?”

“Eridan…Eridan bin Ahoone.  However, we don’t know where he is…we thought you would know.” Fortin replied holding his hands up apologetically.

“Why?” I asked.  “Why would we know?”

“He…he used a teleportation circle to go…somewhere.” Fortin replied.

“I’ve seen several of those; they have a rune sequence.  What were the runes?” I asked, as I recalled the circles in the Misty Forest and the High Forest. 

“He didn’t tell us!  He had a scroll and he used it.  He never told us where he was going.  But he did say, you would be able to follow him,” Fortin explained.

“That makes no sense…we never even met him,” Daneath said glumly.  “Would you have them in your plans Beepu?”

“Hmm?” Beepu was distracted now, “No…it’s a five-rune sequence…. Each would be distinctive like a mage’s own sigil.  I have never seen anything like that in the plans.” He said dejectedly.

We stared at each other for a moment.

“It can’t be that hard,” Daneath muttered.  “He got us all going to Flint Rock, he would have made sure we had a way.”

I sat there thinking when it hit me.

“Flint Rock!   That’s it!” I said jumping up, and then wincing at my unfixed wounds.  “Ow!”

“Flint Rock?  We have to go back?” Daneath asked in horror.

“No!  The map to Flint Rock!” I said excitedly.

Iesa’s eyes opened.  “That’s right, there were other things—”   and he started to dig in his pack, looking for the long-forgotten paper.  “—On that map!  We didn’t pay attention because they seemed random.”

Iesa spread the map on the table, and he and I started to parse the map looking for something out of place.  As I looked at the map, I saw Flint Rock, and I saw where the canyon we passed through, the rivers and even Yartar.  Everywhere there were little sigils in clusters of fives, each with a phrase in the thieves cant.  But they were scattered randomly it appeared.  But one caught my eye, near were Triboar would have been, and something looked different about it.

“Iesa…what does that phrase say?” and I pointed to the spot on the map.

Iesa squinted, “’Here is the start and here is the end?’” he said slowly.

“Those are it,” I said as I looked at the sigils closely. “I think the other ones are artistic license.  These…these are real ones. I’m sure of it.”

“Great!  So, we find Eridan and then…what?” Iesa said confused.

Fortin unexpectedly replied.  “That…that Pachook told us.  You have to turn on the device…and both you,” he pointed at Daneath and then Iesa, “with your weapons in hand must hold it.  At that point, the machine will draw out the Kershak’s essence to you and…end him I suppose.”

“That sound’s gruesome,” Daneath commented.

“I do not care.  We should end this.”  Beepu muttered, halfheartedly.

“Can we rest here Fortin?” I asked.  “And let Beepu have a final moment with his parents?”

“Of course.  I will summon a mage that can cast the teleportation spell as well.  But you will need to leave soon.”

“What?  Why?” I asked.

“The Kershak will have discovered you had survived.   He also does know about the Harpers of course.  I would normally say this place is safe, but we should not assume that.   You need to leave, with that map today!”

“But the rune sequence?” I protested.

“We have a technique that will cause the mage to forget the sequence; you will not be followed I assure you.”

I nodded.  I sat there and then remembered my injuries.  “I need to heal my---”

“Well If you only would drink what you are served!  That mead has been mixed with a healing potion.”

“We clearly talk too much,” I said and gulped down some of the liquid.  I could feel the pain in my leg and ribs disappear.  I finally could breathe easily.  I noticed that Daneath and Iesa had done the same, as did Beepu with very little enthusiasm.

“Can we get some supplies?” Iesa asked.

“Yes…Kingsley can you lead them to the stores?  And they show Beepu where the…the shrine is”

“Of course,…gentlefolk?” and Iesa, Daneath, and Beepu, although much slower than the other two, followed Kingsley down the hall.

_Gos…go with Beepu and watch him.

--Ew…that means being near Foggle.

Your own fault for stalking him.

--Fine!  You owe me.

Add it to my tab._

I watched the tressym follow Beepu and Foggle as they left, leaving me alone with Fortin.

Fortin looked at me oddly but said nothing.  Finally, I couldn’t take the silence.

"The hair and eyes are--"

"No…I know you are an aasimar.  It’s just remarkable how that everything fits.”

“I don’t see how.” I said looking at the elderly man.

“Well, when we heard about you from Kingsley we thought you might have been a Kershak agent.” He said still staring at me.

“I’m not that for certain,” I said a bit testily.

“No.  But after a while I remembered something that Eridan said before he left via the teleportation circle.”

I looked up at the man questioningly.

“He said that…his prayers had been answered.”

I must have look very confused for a moment.  “Prayers?” I said slowly.

“Yes…he said he prayed to a deity for help.  Clearly you are that help.” Fortin said nodding.

“I doubt that…I don’t think the powers care quite so…intimately.  Besides, I’m…I’m no one.”

“I would have agreed with you, except for one thing.  Eridan told me who he prayed for succor.”

My head snapped up and I looked at the man.  As I did so I realized that he wasn’t looking at me…but instead what I wore.

“It was on behalf of Umbra.  He was praying to Kelemvor.”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Nice update. Very interesting to see how all the plot elements come together.


----------



## Nthal

*A Sea of Change - 7/18/2020
and sorry on being late...but real life you know.*

_Faith is the crux of the multiverse.  Yet some accuse those with faith that it is a crutch.  And maybe that is true.

But everyone needs someone to lean on.  So why NOT a power?  They at least have the potential for altering things.

If only that happened.  But it is a better chance than literally nothing._​


My jaw was hanging open, as I sat there staring at Fortin.  I blinked a few times as I stumbled to try to find the words to express myself.  I must have looked like a cagestruck prime to the man, when I finally started to sputter:

“No...No…no, no, nonono,” I stood up and started pacing, while staring at Fortin.  “That’s ridiculous.  I wasn’t summoned here!  I wasn’t sent on some power’s errand.  No, *MY *power’s errand.  I mean wouldn’t a power *tell* you something like ‘help these berks, they asked nicely?’   I mean there are planes filled with celestials!   Why send a mortal and not give them a bit of chant to explain why you, and why them?”

Fortin shrugged, “Eridan was a devout man.  I cannot say why he did so.”

“Devout…devout to Kelemvor?  A doomguide?” I asked still confused on how any prayer would have resulted in my appearance on the prime.

“Yes.  He wore the scales, just as you do,” Fortin said.  “And I for one don’t believe in random chance.  But I do not return providences’ favors either.  But in the end does it matter?  You are here and you are intending to follow Eridan yes?”

I frowned a moment, and curtly nodded.

“Then I will check on the others,” and Fortin stood and started to the hall that lead deeper within catacombs.   “Once my friend arrives, she will be able to send you on your way.  You can rest here in the meantime,” and Fortin disappeared down the hall.

I stood there, leaning on the table with my hands and watched him depart, while I shook my head.  “He’s barmy.  That idea’s barmy.  There is no—”

_--What’s barmy is that you are talking to no one.  I got that right, yes?

Goss, what are you—

--Barmy…means crazy.  I mean you are talking to yourself after all.

Huh?  Right, yes, that is how you use the word.  I am…I am not…you are always listening right?

--You don’t see Beepu talking to Foggle.

Right, and no one can hear ‘this’!

--And yet you talked aloud to…no one.

Not a help.

--Of course, not...but how do you know?

What? That you aren’t a help?

--Good one.  No, that you weren’t sent?

Now you’re the barmy one.  Do I *look* like I’m a member of the celestial host?

--Well…you could be dressing down.

Goss…

--But seriously. Everything you have told me about this group the Kershak, and for that matter things in Sigil is about manipulation.  Could you have been maneuvered here?

I dove into a random portal in the ‘Smoldering Corpse’ bar avoiding a fight before I became fiend food.  How is that manipulation?

--Well…how did you get there?

Huh?  I was delivering a message to Barkis, from someone from the Civic Festhall.

--That’s in the Clerks Ward right?

Yeah.  So?

--And Barkis is a barkeep in the Lower Ward.

I don’t see the problem--

--Did Barkis have friends from the Society?

Well…no.  I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning him.

--And the Society isn’t in the business of running messages around, right?

Well…no.  Autochon set up a guild for that…

--So why were you there?_

I sat down and slumped in a chair confused, thinking about what happened one hundred and forty-four days ago.  I had been keeping track in a small book where I wrote down notes from the end of the day to remember, and within it, I counted the days.

I counted every day since it was since I saw my room in the Civic Festhall.  I counted the tea times I missed with Nastanal.  The number of days where I remembered friends that had left their mortal coil behind.

But beyond cursing my luck in diving where I did, I never thought much about _why_ I was there.  Making some quick jink in dropping of a message.  I thought nothing of it at the time.  But now as I sat there, I wondered, was there more to it?  I mean…Barkis was surprised to have a note dropped off…but did that mean anything?

No…no…this was barmy.  I wasn’t supposed to be there.  It was chance…an accident.   Happens to planeswalkers all the time…we have a word for it ‘ hipped.’

Yet, the possibility nagged at me. All the clues that my father had a hidden agenda, pushing me in a direction.  That there was something planned, that I wasn’t privy to. A debt that I had incurred unknowingly.  Could it be possible, that this was…intended?

“Sodding—” I hit the table in front of me with my hand.  I hated this, no matter what you called it.   Owing people. Being indebted.  Sworn and beholden.  Obligated.  All my life I had debts, starting with the Gatehouse.  I ended up paying the debts that Markel built, until it almost broke my body and mind.  A debt to my father it seemed, just by asking for power in a moment of despair.  Dying, and owing the people I considered my friends.  Granted while it at one time bothered me the most, was now the least because our friendship.

But where did it end?  I paid the gatehouse.  I paid the fiends for Markel.  I felt to be close to paying off my death.  But my father?  I had no answers.  I didn’t even know if my father had anything to do with my faith at all.  In the end I just wanted one thing.

I cradled my head in my hands, propping it up with my elbows as I closed my eyes and just breathed, trying to calm myself.  I was getting worked up for nothing I was sure…almost sure of it.  I stayed that was for a moment, when I shifted.  I left my head bowed, but my hands no longer supported it, but instead clasped themselves together as I prayed aloud.

“I’ll do what I have to.  I will do what my power requires of me.  I…I just want to know that I am doing it *for *you.  That I am doing it *for* a reason, and not because it is luck or coincidence.  I just want…I want certainty.   Certainty that it makes sense.  Certainty that it is worthwhile.  Certainty that…I’m not going barmy,” I chuckled.  “I may not understand it, and I might question it to make sure I get it right.  But I’ll do what…whatever it takes.   Just…tell me…Please.”



I’m not sure how long I sat there in contemplation.  But I was deep in prayer, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I turned, and looked up at Nelian who said, “The wizard is here.  Did you need more time?”

I shook my head and pushed my chair back and stood up.  Nelian motioned me to follow, and together we walked down the hall.

“Nelian…have you seen Beepu?” I asked thinking how the poor gnome looked this evening.

“I have,” he said cautiously.  “I don’t know the man, but he does not seem himself.”

“Did he spend time with—”

“Yes, he did.  But afterwards, he was looking at some piece of paper.”

“One of his many plans I assume,” I said hoping a bit for my friend.

“I don’t think he was really reading it though,” Nelian said doubtfully.

“Why?”

“It was upside down.  I…think.”

I frowned.  Beepu was going to be in a bad spot for a bit.  He would need time to process everything.  Mourning periods existed in many cultures for a reason; to handle that transition.  I just hoped he would let me in and help.

Nelian turned and gestured towards an open doorway.  It opened into an octagonal room, with teleportation circle set into the floor.  On one side of the room, I saw Beepu sitting on a bench with a glum look on his face.  Near him, Daneath and Iesa stood, in quiet conversation.  They then nodded at me as I approached.

“You two ready?” I asked putting on a small smile.

“I’ve seen enough of what the Kershak thinks of his foes,” Daneath said.  “I’m ready to end this for…for Umbra.”

Iesa nodded in agreement.  “Yeah.  Umbra may have been a manipulative, selfish, jerk.  But after tonight,” Iesa shook his head.  “I think I can understand what drove him there; right or wrong.”

I nodded and walked over to Beepu and sat next to him.  “Hey,” I said.  “Did you say what you needed?”

The gnome shook his head, “I…I tried.  There is…too much to say.”

I nodded and placed my hand on his.  “You have plenty of time to talk with her, and Pachook as well,” I said reassuringly.  “But they’ll listen when you need them, no matter where you go.”  I paused letting my words sink in before I spoke again.  “Beepu, are you ready?  I know it isn’t fair, but we do need you now.”

Beepu nodded and looked up.  Foggle, drifted down and alighted onto his arm.  Beepu traced his fingers around Foggle’s head, covered with patterns resembling feathers.  “The plans for Foggle…it was something we all worked on together,” the gnome said.  “I was field testing it, to see if its design was worth selling to other mages.  It’s all I have left of them really.”

“No,” I disagreed.  “You have your memories…which are far more precious.  Foggle is a good example; it triggers those memories.  But you don’t need Foggle to remember.  Not that I’d trade you away Foggle,” I smiled impishly as Foggle’s head swerved to regard me.

“I…suppose.  And I suppose I should finish my father’s work,” he said with hard look on his face.

“And we’re all going to help,” I said.

From the hallway Nelian, Fortin, Kingsley, and a fourth person, a woman, I did not know entered the room.

“Well my friends, we are here to see you off,” Fortin started.  “Let me introduce you to Valnia,” the woman nodded her head towards us, and I returned the gesture. “She will be handling your teleportation.”

“Yes, and I understand that you have a location based on some sigils,” She spoke in a no-nonsense tone.  “May I see it?”

“Uh…sure,” and Iesa took out the map, and laid it flat on the table.  He then pointed to Triboar, and the symbols around it.

The woman nodded, “That should be simple enough.  Whenever you all are ready then, I shall cast the spell.”

The four of us stood and lined up, each of us shaking the hands of Nalien, Fortin, and Kingsley.  We shook hands with each other, although I hugged Kingsley instead on my turn.

“You need to get back to working, or you’re going to need a bigger sword belt,” I joked as I poked Kingsley.

“Hurm, well…Truth be told, I am a lousy cook, so I won’t have an excuse to indulge,” he said with a note of sadness.  “But I will look after your place until you return, Beepu,” he said turning towards the gnome.

“Thank you, Kingsley.  I appreciate that, and what you have done for my family.  I will not forget that,” the gnome said quietly while nodding.

“You all take care of this Kershak then,” Kingsley said. “I shall pray for your victory.”

“Thanks, we’ll take all the help we can get,” Daneath replied.

I winced inwardly at Kingsley declaration.  He meant it honestly, not realizing that there appeared to be machination of the powers already on this little sojourn I found myself on.  But I didn’t want to discuss it or even think about it any further.

“If you are ready?  And here,” Valnia handed the map back to Iesa.  He took it and quickly folded it and returned it to his pack.  We then stepped into the circle, with Gossamer flitting behind me.  I looked around at the floor, and took out my journal, and copied the five sigils there, in case we found another way to teleport home.  Once I copied them, I put the journal back into my pouch and nodded to the wizard that I was ready.  Iesa and Daneath looked at each other, and each made a fist and they lightly touched them together.  They then stepped inside the circle, and I could hear Mo make a small chirping sound from his hiding spot in Iesa’s pack.  They then turned and nodded at the wizard.  Finally, Beepu, stepped into the circle, with Foggle on his arm.  He closed his eyes a second and said nothing.  But after a moment, he too nodded his head, ready to get on with the next step.

Valnia nodded and closed her eyes.  She then said a quick torrent of arcane syllables.  As I watched, the world twisted before my eyes, and I felt dizzy as the weave contorted around us.  After a moment, everything seemed to unwind and calm themselves.   Where once there was grey slate colored stone of the conservatory, I now saw muted browns and tans.  I turned to look around and realized we were in a cave somewhere, with stalagmites and stalactites scattered around, with water dripping from the ceiling.   On the ground was a circle, with the five sigils we had seen before.  But there was no one to be seen, just a passage through to a gallery near where we appeared.

“Hey, Myr?  Light?” I heard Daneath say.

I flexed and felt the warms along my back, as I placed the familiar spell on Daneath’s shield.  The men both blinked trying to quickly adjust and they looked around swiftly, taking in the scene I just saw.  Beepu looked around silently with a frown and said nothing.

As I stood there, I realized there was something different about the place we found ourselves.  It was very warm, and so humid that you felt you could drink the water from the air.  I was already sweating, and I had only just arrived moments ago.  But there was something else in the air that I could taste...it reminded me of somewhere else.

“Wow, it is warm here,” Iesa whispered while wiping his forehead.

“I wonder why.  Is a fire nearby?” Daneath asked.

“Well, if there is,” I said wiping my own brow.  “I can’t see one ahead of us, and that passage is the only way out.”

“Forward we go,” Daneath said facing his shield ahead, and lighting the way for himself and his brother.  We walked cautiously, into another gallery, much larger than the one we first appeared in.  Here the was a pool of water, and fungi of all sorts around it and along the walls.  The air here was fetid damp, and that tang in the air hung there.  Several narrow passages led off from here, while the one we followed continued forward.   We looked at each other, sighed and Daneath led us down the passage, ignoring the sides branches, in favor of the main one.

As we moved through it, I had a strange feeling.  It was a pulling or rather a light tugging on my awareness.  I focused on it for a moment, and realized it was the strands oscillating like a string on a lute.  I gulped, because I suddenly remembered when I last felt this way…under Flint Rock.  I tightened my grip on my rod.

“We aren’t alone,” I said quietly, turning my head looking for what stalked us.

Daneath and Iesa quickly shifted and stood back to back as Daneath turned the shield around to shine the light around the gallery.   Beepu stood there focused, and set Foggle aloft, trying to use the owls’ vision to get a better look.

_--Myr, your left in the rear…its running!_

I turned left, just in time to brace myself from the collision.  The smell of fungus and rot was overpowering, as something tried to pull down my shield.  I twisted and wrested my barrier free and plucked a white strand.  A beam of light slammed and illuminated the figure that assailed me.

It was human…once.  Rags of cloth hung from its desiccated form.  Its skin, pulled too taut, was rent on the limbs and chest.  From these tears, spilled out slime and mold.  The eye sockets of the skull were filled with the forms of mushroom and fungi, and from shriveled lips it hissed from between broken and missing teeth.   The light caused it to shirk back a moment, before it lunged at me again.   From the corner of my eye, I saw four more had scrambled at were attacking the others; one on Beepu and Daneath, while two attacked Iesa as frenzied mob.

Daneath quickly swung and his blade cut the abdomen of one, all the way to the spine, spilling fungi and a musty dust like substance everywhere.  Beepu, quickly threw a blast of fire straight into the face of once, as Foggle pulled on the scraps of hair of the thing.

But Iesa was harder pressed.  He quickly spun and thrust his rapier through the wasted humanoid until the cross guard hit rib.  And he tried to withdraw his blade quickly so he could defend himself.  But the second one, jumped and clawed at him; dust flying all around.  Soon Iesa was wheezing as he swung his blade desperately.

Daneath with two quick slashes and brought his blade hard on his foes shoulder, causing the walking corpse to fall to pieces.  He turned and tried to force the attention of Iesa’s attackers on himself.   Meanwhile Beepu, threw another blast of fire into his opponent, knocking it down flat on the stone floor. But even as we watched, it slowly was starting to pull itself back into a crouch.  As for me, I focused my energy on my own attacker, and caused more light to strike it down.  The corpse fell again unmoving on the floor and I turned to help Iesa.

Despite Daneath’s best attempts, the pair ignored the big warrior and focused their attacks on Iesa.  One of them reached and embraced the rogue, while the second clawed at the man.  Iesa wrenched an arm free, with a dagger in hand, and brought the blade deep into the back of the corpse clutching at him, causing it to crumple onto the ground.

This allowed Daneath to swing and cut the legs out from under Iesa’s other assailant.   It swiped at Daneath but was unable to connect with its bony fingers.  This left it open to Daneath’s riposte, causing it to fall on the ground lifeless once again.

Beepu however, was struggling.  His foe rose again, and Beepu’s fire shot wide, striking the back of the cavern.  Beepu attempted to back up and was narrowly missed by a wild strike.  I then focused and enveloped it in a miasma of darkness, as I rent its animating force from its body.  It fell, unmoving on the floor, its limbs separating from the torso in a haphazard heap.

I moved to look at Iesa, who was coughing up blood. I didn’t even get to say a word, when from the side corridors, another pack of corpses ran straight us, heedless of any danger or threat.

Daneath charged with his shield and blocked one from getting closer, while swinging his blade at two more, giving each a minor wound on dead moldering flesh.  Daneath’s action caused the throng to focus on him, but before they could strike, I pulled a pair of light and dark strands taut, stretching them until they snapped.  The shattering sound, broke bones and stalagmites alike, causing several to crumple to the ground, with bone fragments piercing through dead flesh.  This was followed by an icy shard from Beepu’s hands, striking one of the standing corpses, and exploding into slivers around him, and causing the rest to fall to the ground.

I was panting, and was beginning to feel relieved, when I turned to look at Iesa.  His face was ashen grey in color, and he had fallen on his knees gasping for breath.   As I watched, his rapier and dagger dropped from his hands, as he bent over and coughed up more blood.  As I knelt beside him, his breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was shivering.

“Iesa!” I exclaimed in alarm.  “Talk to me you spiv!  What’s wrong?”

“H…h..h..hard…to,” and he started to cough again, until he was out of breath, “breathe.”

I looked around, “They didn’t come from the passage we were headed.”

“I noticed that,” Daneath said.  “I’m guessing that’s a path out.”

“Beepu lead Daneath, I’m going to help--” as I threw Iesa’s arm over my shoulder, and I strained to lift him up. “—Iesa here.  Come on, help out you lazy spiv.”

“I’m…not…a…spiv…trying,” Iesa gasped for air as he stood unsteadily.

“Only a spiv says that,” I grunted through gritted teeth.  “Now get your blades and move!” to which he bent over,  grabbed and sheathed his weapons, and together we stumbled behind Daneath and Beepu.

The passage led to an intersection, with a passage leading down to the left, and one leading upwards to the right.  Daneath immediately turned to the passage leading upwards.  I struggled to keep Iesa upright as he continued to cough.   Finally, we reached a rough circular chamber at the end of rising hall.

What surprised me, was a ladder, made of a strange knotted wood in the middle of the room.  Looking up, the ladder was anchored to the side of a hole in the ceiling.  But above that was a wooden door.

Daneath slung his shield onto his back, and sheathed his sword, and climbed up the ladder and started to push on the door.   I stood there, holding up Iesa watching as he strained.

“Can…can you?” and Iesa started coughing again, with some blood dripping form the corner of his lips.

“I can, Iesa.  But I want to get you into fresh air first,” I said soothingly.  “You seem to have inhaled something from those…musti—er zombies, corpse things.  I want you to have some fresh air, so you don’t relapse.   Just hang in there.”

“It…wont…MOVE,” Daneath nearly shouted. As he strained and pushed against the door.

“Did you unbolt it?” Beepu said, sounding slightly annoyed.

“It isn’t bolted,” Daneath said, stepping down.  “Something is on top of it.  And I can feel the rung on the ladder start to give.  They’ll crack before the door moves.  I don’t suppose you could finger baste them Beepu?”

“Fingerpaint,” I corrected.

“What are you...oh that cant thing,” Beepu said, sounding dejected.  “I do not have anything that can do that I am afraid.”

Iesa coughed, “Why don’t…” he hacked again, “you boost,” and again he broke down coughing again.

“That’s an idea,” Daneath said brightening up.  “But not you, you can barely stand.  Myr,” and Daneath dropped down to one knee.  “Get on my shoulders.”

“Huh?” I said confused.  “I don’t get—”

“It’s easy, you sit my shoulders and lock your arms overhead.  I then lift with my legs and we push it open together.”

I shrugged. “It makes sense I suppose,“ I said as I gently lowered Iesa to the ground, and Beepu came over to steady him.

_Goss, watch the passage, we’re all a bit busy.

--Oh, wanted to watch the antics here though.

Pike it!

--Spoilsport._

I lifted a leg over Daneath’s shoulder, and then rest my weight onto his back as I swung my other leg over and sat fully on his shoulders.  Once settled he stood in a crouching position.  I reached up and placed my hands on the door.

“Okay, keep your arms stiff!” Daneath grunted and then started to straighten up.

I gasped and locked my arms.  My shoulders quickly burned as I tried to keep my back straight.  I winced in pain until finally the door started to move, and several things slid off, allowing the door to open, and light to spill in from above.  I could then feel even warmer air and that same tang on the air, but stronger.

“Beepu…can you climb up and drag whatever is out of the way so the door will open fully.”

Beepu nodded and leaned the still coughing Iesa on the floor.  He scaled the ladder with some difficulty.  I heard a scraping sound, and the door fell open.  I grasped the ladder and placed my feet on the rungs as Daneath lowered himself and let me off his shoulders.

“I’ll get Iesa up, you help pull him up there, right?”

I nodded and scrambled up the ladder.  I didn’t pay much attention to anything as turn around and lowered my arms to grasp Iesa as Daneath lifted him up from below.  Fortunately, Iesa was able to summon some strength and pulled himself up and collapse on the floor, breathing heavily.

I sat down and looked around.   We were in a cave, with the entrance partially blocked by tall grass.  The interior was not much to talk about, with rough walls and a dirty covered floor.  The trapdoor would be seated in an indent in the floor, and next to it were a pile of rocks.

“Rocks?” I said.  “Someone bothered to put a door here, and then cover it with a pile of rocks?”

“Doesn’t make any sense to me either,” Daneath said.  “Explains why I couldn’t push through it.”  Daneath then looked around.   “Where’s Beepu?”

Gossamer had just flown up as Daneath said that.  Turning round it was apparent the gnome wasn’t in the cave.

“He must be outside,” I shrugged as I spoke.  “I’ll peek outside and look for him.  Rest a sec and get Iesa out in the open air.”

“Be right behind you,” I head him say, and I stepped outside into the bright light.  After squinting a bit, I realized that the air was balmy and intense.  The air was even more humid than before as well.  The grasses obscured the cave from the surroundings, and I pushed my way through them.  When they did, what I saw took my breath away.

Beyond the grasses, and at the bottom of this small hill was white sand.  Some were piled into some small dunes clustered around scattered trees that were tall and thin, with a fan of thick green ribbed leaves.  On one such dune I saw Beepu had sat himself down and was looking away from the cave.  Beyond the Beepu and dunes was a great blue sea, with gentle waves lapping on the shoreline.  The sound of the surf pounding the coast was soft and rhythmic, pierced only by the cry of gulls in the sky. It was then I realized that the tang in the air was salt from the sea, just like in Waterdeep.  But here the faint breeze had a fresher scent, and it was far warmer.

“Sodding Baator,” I whispered to myself.  “Where are we?”

*Session Notes:*

You could say ‘and now for something completely different.  And you wouldn’t be wrong.  And Iesa’s illness was a real problem as we soon shall see.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

A holiday by the seaside, what could be bad about that ....


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> A holiday by the seaside, what could be bad about that ....




Yeah...about that.   Soon...


----------



## Nthal

*The Depths of Despair – 7/24/2020*

_We are always losing stuff, whether they are things like your coin purse, or intangibles like your pride when your rival shows you up in a competition.  But the worst is people, as we seem to be horrible handling losing someone close to you.  I suppose this is what Kelemvor was trying to change in how people saw death.  That death wasn’t to be feared and there was comfort in it.  

But in the face of tragedy, it takes great strength to hold oneself together.  And some aren’t up to the task._​
I was staring at the sea as the shallow waves washed over the beach, when I heard the brothers step up behind me.

“Well, I guess this explains the heat.”

I turned around confused, “What do you mean?”

“The farther south you head, the warmer it gets.  And we must be *very* far south.”

I had not heard of this, but as I thought of it, I realized that everyone called the area that I had been travelling ‘the North.’ So of course, there had to be a ‘South’ somewhere.  But I didn’t know that the heat would increase the farther one traveled in that direction.

“Well, we’re outside and the air is fresh,” I said.  “Let me see if I can help Iesa.”   I reached within and pulled on some of the strands within me, and felt the strong flush across my back, as I tried to purge what it was that made Iesa ill.  And then I followed it through, pulling on more strands to close his wounds.  I then looked at him critically, and I became concerned.

His pallor didn’t improve, even with his wounds now closed.  He stood there wheezing and looking at me puzzled.

“You don’t feel better do you?” I asked.

“A little…where I was cut, but…still…hard to breathe,” he gasped. 

I frowned.  “That’s not good,” I said trying to think.

“Well, do you have any other magic that can help him?” Daneath asked.

“Well…no,” I admitted.   “Healing injuries is easy, and I know I can help with other maladies, but…I just tried that, and he says it didn’t work.”  I lifted up my hand as I shrugged.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe there is a settlement nearby,” Daneath said.  “Hey Beepu,” the warrior called to the gnome sitting on the dune.  “Have any ideas where we might be, and if there is ta own near?”

Beepu turned to look at us and shook his head.  “Somewhere far south.  I do not even know if this is the Sea of Swords or not.”

“This is confusing,” Daneath said.  “Why is the circle in the cave?”

“We didn’t search all of it,” I pointed out.  “Perhaps he’s hiding within somewhere.”

“Or…” Iesa coughed for a moment.  “Something happened inside.”

“That means we have to go back inside then,” I stated the obvious.  “Otherwise we are in the middle of know—”

_--Wait…do you hear that?_

I raised my hand up and turned my head.  At first, I heard only the breeze across my ears but then I heard something else, singing.  Very poor, offkey slurred, singing.

I mouthed to the others ‘Do you hear that?’ to which Daneath and Iesa nodded (while stifling a cough.)  Beepu stood wearily and sent Foggle upwards into the sky.  We waited, and then Beepu motioned towards a dune to our left.  Coming closer he then whispered to us.

“A human in a small campsite.   And he has been drinking.”

“Well, someone that can give us the local chant.  Shall we?” I said, and we started to circle the dune following the edge closer to the hill.

As we stepped around, I could hear the voice clearer; whoever it was, wasn’t singing very loud at all, like he was singing to an audience of one; himself.  He was also horribly drunk, as the words were slurred to be almost unintelligible.  Stepping around cautiously, we rounded the dune, and then we had our first look at the singer.

The man who sat there on a small barrel, in front of an unlit fire was middle-aged and deeply tanned.  He wore a tunic with no sleeves and a vest and breeches cutoff at the calves.  His feet were bare and covered in sand.  He wore on his head a broad leather hat, with a deep crimson band, festooned with feathers and beads.  His face was lined, and he had a thick beard.  The song was simple and rhythmic and as he sung, he lifted a dark brown bottle up to his lips.  And as he did so he looked straight at us for the first time.

He coughed and spat up whatever he was drinking and dropped the bottle onto the sand.  He fell off the barrel he was sitting on and started to scramble backwards.

“No!  No! No!  Ye ghosts from the cave will leave me be!” and he turned over and started to clumsily run.

“Beepu? Can you?” I asked, and Beepu reached down and threw up some of the fine white sand, and immediately the man fell over in a deep slumber, based on the loud snore he gave off.

“What the?  Ghosts?” Daneath asked looking at us.  “He’s going to be hard to convince not to run when we wake him up.”

“Or shank us,” Iesa managed to say, pointing to the short-curved sword and dagger the man was wearing from a belt at his waist.

“D, sit Iesa down there by the fire circle and help me.” I said walking over to the slumbering figure.

“Sure,” and after letting is brother sit on the sand, he came over to me, “What did you need?”

I grabbed the man by his legs, “Drag him back and prop him sitting up,” I then grunted and Daneath I and lifted and start to move the man, “against that barrel.  Just don’t wake him.”  We in short order, moved him into position. 

“Damn its hot,” and I quickly pulled out from under my armor, the gambeson I wore.  My armor was lined well enough that I didn’t need it to prevent chafing, but it was too warm.  This left my arms, shoulders and neckline bare to the sun.  Taking off my pack I quickly stuffed it inside and pulled out a strip of white cloth.  Quickly I used my dagger to cut a thin strip, and then fastened it around my eyes.  The cloth was thin enough so I could see through it, and I then ran the back of it under my hair. 

I moved over and grabbed the discarded bottled, and saw it was still half full.  I quickly took a swig from it, tasting the strong spiced liquor on my tongue.   It was easily as strong as the whiskeys served in Waterdeep but was far far less smooth.  I then sat on the man’s lap, and quickly took his hat and placed it on my head.  I wrapped my right arm around his shoulders.

“Myr, what are you?...”  Daneath said confused watching me, and Beepu shared the same look.  Iesa however smiled and chuckled realizing what I was doing.

“Just start laughing like we’re old friends,” I said.

“We *are *friends---”

“Like HE,” I gestured at the sleeping man, “is one too,”

I curled up my legs as I sat in his lap, and with my left arm placed the bottle to his lips.  I then with  my right hand slapped his face and started to shout.

“Hey Hey HEY!...don’t youz…pass out on me,” I said slurring my words as if I was well into my cups, as Daneath sat down and started laughing.  Beepu stood there confused, and then half-heartedly started to laugh and sat down.

The man shook his head and tasted the liquor on his lips and took a drink, and then he looked at me in surprise and confusion.

“What the?  I don’t—”

“Youz,” I said looking at him with my covered eyes, “werez telling uss sssome great sstoriesth.” I still tried to sound drunk and cozied up next to him.

“Wazz I?”  The man said confused.  “I don’t rememberrr…waait.  Didn’t youz come out of that there ghost cave?”

“Ghost cave?” I said with a voice of disdain, “Thatzz thilly!” as I laid on more of the mock drunken tone.  “Why do call it thatz?” and I watched him to see how he answered.

“Talez of ghostz and treazzures inside,” the drunken man said.   

“Thatz sounds like just talez to me,” I said with dismissively.  “Whatz…your…name?” I said I as I traced my finger down his cheek

“Mine?  Hibertz.” He said proudly.

“Hibertz, you are…*quite* the ssailor,” I drawled, looking into his eyes. Daneath and Beepu sat there with an almost shocked look on their face as I performed this little drama, while Iesa’s face was red as he both tried to stifle his laughter and attempted to breathe.  “You didn’t tell me though….do youz have your own sship or something?”

“Hah, naw…I just crew with the Sea Devilz,” he said nodding and took the bottle from me and took another swig, before handing it back.  I tilted my head back and took a very small swallow, before I turned to look at him with a silly grin.

“Sssea Devilz!” and I handed back the bottle.  “Thatz right…you told me that.  Forgot already,” I said as I glanced over at my friends.  Daneath and Beepu shrugged, and I kept fishing.   “So, you pulled into port here and here you are drinking your sspoilz.”

“Aye, Blackwater Reef is the best port here in…” he hiccupped before looking at me again, “Nelanther isles.”  As he said the name, I involuntarily tensed and felt a chill go up my spine.  Glancing over at the others I saw they had similar reactions.  Iesa had stopped laughing and looked at Daneath with concern.  Daneath covered his mouth trying to cover his emotions, while Beepu’s jaw dropped open.

Nelanther Isles.  Waterdeep was a port, there was always tales of piracy on the lips of the sailors.  But the tales of the pirates of Nelanther were particularly horrifying.  These were not romantic swashbucklers.  They were the worst of the worst.  Cruel and vicious Reavers, who spent their time taking what they wanted.   Most ships would fight to the last man, rather than be taken prisoner by Nelanther pirates, because what they wanted most were slaves.  Weak, strong, it didn’t matter.   But the tales of their cruelty and barbarism filled the taverns of Waterdeep with tales of nightmares.  And rumor had it that they were fond of picking on the smaller races to do the lowest and dirtiest work onboard their vessels.

But this paled to the tales of what they did to the women; prized booty to sell elsewhere as slaves; if they were lucky.

 “Say…my captain would like yooou,” the man said.  “Not many purty girls out here.  Least not bound for market.”

I swallowed, trying to hide my newfound fear.  “Well, I might have to stop and see your ship.” And I pinched his cheek playfully.  “You must be quite the mate to introduce me.”

“Naw, I ain’t his first nor his second.  But you tell them that old Sea Bass Hibertz sent ya,” and he lifted the bottle to his lips to drain the last drops from the bottle.

“Now let me up, before I piss my britches,” I said stumbling to my feet, as I had the sudden urge to get as far from this man as I could.  I felt the hand of the pirate slap my right butt cheek as I stood.  Holding back an urge to murder the man as he reclined there, I walked towards my friends and said to Beepu in Elvish.

“Put him out.”  And with an almost careless gesture and another bit of sand thrown, the pirate was again fast asleep.

I clutched my arms across my chest, breathing deeply and a little too fast.

“Nelanther?” Daneath said.  “What have we got ourselves into?”

“Nothing…good,” Iesa said with a wheeze.  “You and I might be…alright.  But Beepu and Myr?   There’s nowhere safe.”

I looked at the brothers shivering a bit.  “So, the tales…they are true then.”

“No…” Iesa said slowly.  “If anything, its worse.”

“I…see.” I said looking back at the sleeping pirate.  “So now what?”

“Two paths; we keep looking in the cave for clues, or we go to town,” Daneath said.  “I’d normally say the cave, but--” he nudged Iesa.  “He’s not looking so good.”

“Beepu what do…you?” I turned and found that Beepu had wandered farther towards the surf and had sat down upon the sand.  He didn’t respond to my words.   I walked up to him, with Iesa and Daneath close behind me.

“Beepu?”  I knelt down and put a hand on him.

“I am…sorry.  I am just…not feeling myself,” Beepu said, as he stared at the ocean.

“Beepu snap out of it!” Daneath said as he stomped over to the gnome shouting.  “We don’t have time for this.”

“I need…some time.  I will watch our friend,” and he pointed at the sleeping pirate.

Iesa coughed, “This is a bad…idea.”

As Iesa continued hacking out the contents of his lungs,  I felt something.  A twinge, or rather like a sour note being plucked.  I turned to look at him.  He was clutching his chest as he expelled green phelm from his lungs.  I moved over to him and closed my eyes, and felt.  Not with my hands but with the strands.  After a moment, it was clear they were reacting to something; as if Iesa was a marionette, to an unseen puppeteer.

“We need to go to the cave, fast.”  I said.

“It’s a bad—” Iesa started.

“—something in that cave is killing you,” I cut him off.  “And unless we can find what it is, you’re dead.”

“What do you mean?” Daneath said with alarm.

“Something in that cave is…well…trying to turn Iesa into one of those corpses.”

“He’s not a corpse though!”

“No.  Not yet,” I said.  “And wee may not have a lot of time either.”

“What about--” Iesa   started to cough spasmodically, “—Beepu?”

I looked at the gnome and closed my eyes.  Beepu was an emotional wreck.  I wasn’t sure if he could keep himself together for another fight.  Grimacing I answered the brothers.

“We…follow his suggestion and let him watch our sleeping friend.” I started to shake my head.  “I think that he might be able to handle that.”

“She’s right,” Daneath agreed bitterly.  “He needs time.  And you,” he said pointing at Iesa, “Are out of it.”

Iesa nodded, stifling a cough.  He straightened up and started heading back to the cave, with Daneath close behind.  I followed them and then stopped by Beepu.  I stood there a moment, looking at the gnome who stared dead-eyed at the sea.

“Beepu, we’ll be back.  Just…take care of yourself.  Please.” I said pleadingly, frustrated I couldn’t help him more.  

“I will…just help Iesa,” he said barely acknowledging me.  His mechanical owl, Foggle circled in the air quietly, making a solitary soft “beepuuu” sound as it waited for its master to command it once again.

I nodded, “Keep an eye on him Foggle,” and jogged past them and the sleeping Hibertz, still asleep to Beepu’s magic.   I caught up to the brothers, and together we re-entered the cave.  I quickly flexed, and placed a light on Daneath’s shield.

“So, what are we looking for?” Daneath asked, as he descended down the ladder and back into the musty depths.

“I am not sure,” I said honestly. “This is definitely a case where I will know it when I feel it,” I stood back ready to help Iesa down but Iesa slapped my hand aside.

“I can get down just,” and he stifled a cough, “—fine.  I’m not helpless.”

“No,” I agreed.  ‘I just don’t want you to become so.” 

“Fair enough,” he grimaced and climbed down the ladder, with me close behind.

_--Seriously we don’t know what to look for?

Not really.  Something unhealthy would a starting point.  Stay close to me Goss.

--Not a problem._

Daneath and Iesa drew their blades, and I readied my rod in my hand, as we retraced our steps back down.  Gossamer stuck close to me fluttering nearby on silent wings.  Before long we returned to the intersection.

“So, look in the side passages in the big room there, or,” and Daneath pointed with his sword to the passage descending before us, “down there?”

“Down,” Iesa and I said at the same time.

Daneath looked at us critically.  “You sure?  We could discuss it.”

“No!”

Daneath shrugged, “Being sure is all…not that I don’t disagree…” he trailed off, and led the way down the passage.

As we descended, I realized that while it was cooler, the sweat clung to my body and the heat hung on me as the fetid air seemed to get thicker.   Continuing on, I noticed that the walls were slick with moisture, and patches of green fungus were scattered around the top of the cavern.

The passage started to twist to the right, still descending.  As it did so, the patches became solid streaks, and thicker as caps of mushrooms sprouted from the walls.  But every step I took, I felt wrongness, almost if I were ill and not Iesa.  The air turned from overbearing moisture to one of decay and rot, and it was getting much stronger as we descended.

“You know, somehow I think this might be the right…what the?” Daneath said as he stopped in the passageway.

“What is it?” Iesa asked and promptly coughed.

“The way is blocked,” the warrior said, and he turned and shined the light from his shield down the passage.   I stepped next to him to look.  I was expecting a cave-in, with a wreckage of rubble.  Instead I saw, a sickly green mass of tendrils and shoots.  If I outstretched my arms, it would be double that width.  At the top of the massive bulk was a crown of flowers, in a riot of colors, oranges, purples and dirty yellows.  But as I stood next to Daneath, what was overpowering my senses was the stench the pervaded everything and I felt ready to empty my stomach on the floor.

As I tried to hold myself together, Iesa backed into me, and I turned my head and gulped.  Behind us, four corpses were slowly stumbling their way towards us.  Their dead eyes were full of fungus, that spilled over the remains of the flesh on their face.  Their lips pulled back to reveal broken and split teeth. 

“We can do this,” Iesa wheezed between a cough, “its only some corpses.”

“N-n-no.  It’s not,” Daneath disagreed.  I turned again to look down the passage and saw Daneath’s concern.

The plant’s tendrils were now quivering, and the flowers opened their blooms, releasing a perfume of death that filled the passage.  It silently stretched out a number of long thick fibrous vines, that snapped toward the flabbergasted Daneath.  And then the massive bulk started to shamble, and heave its ponderous form towards us, unhurried as it stalked new prey; us.  The three of us looked at the plant and the corpses nervously, unsure which would strike first.  But It was Daneath that summed up our thoughts on what we faced.

“This.  This is bad.”

*Session notes:*  So why this contrivance?  Its all for one reason; the player for Beepu was out for the next session.  For the campaign this was a small thing; but there were some consequences that I didn’t exactly feel was entirely fair as a result of this.


----------



## raysosher

The intro is lit. To be honest, you have made a very good vibe at the first and successfully able to keep your audience till the end. It has climax and a great story line. Nicely written. Impressive.


----------



## Richards

Interesting: kind of a yellow musk creeper/shambling mound hybrid, with a fungal twist.  I like it!  I'm looking forward to the upcoming fight, where the team's one man short (given that it's Beepu, I guess technically one short man short) and one man seriously not at full capacity.  It looks like Daneath and Myrai are going to have to do the heavy lifting in the upcoming battle.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> Interesting: kind of a yellow musk creeper/shambling mound hybrid, with a fungal twist.  I like it!  I'm looking forward to the upcoming fight, where the team's one man short (given that it's Beepu, I guess technically one short man short) and one man seriously not at full capacity.  It looks like Daneath and Myrai are going to have to do the heavy lifting in the upcoming battle.




This is one of those monsters that don't have a great description, so the fungus on the walls (as described TO me) and a single picture are all I have to work with.  But while the yellow musk creeper (a favorite of mine from the original Fiend Folio) does come to mind, but that ISN'T the monster.  

It is actually is far worse.  Stay tuned!


----------



## Kieth Shadow Cloak

I think i know what the monster is, having based a campaign or two on monsters like this, but since i don't know for certain i am not gonna say anything.


----------



## Nthal

*Garden of the Dead - 8/2/2020*

_I remember a debate in the Civic Festhall where different religions gave their perspective on life and death.  One concept which I remember nodding to was the idea that our deaths help others grow.  Our corpses become dirt, enrich plants, plants feed animals, animals eat other ones, animals die…and so forth

Somehow I must have missed the section on plants eating animals._​


The four corpses slowly walked towards us unhurriedly, while from the other side, the mass of vegetation creeped on the cavern floor closing the distance.   And the three of us stuck in between with no clear path away from either opponent.

“Iesa, stay to my right,” I said as I raised my shield up and faced the corpses, gripping my rod tight, ready to face the onslaught.

Iesa nodded and raised up his rapier, waiting for them to move into striking range.  I glanced behind me, as Daneath readied his shield as he too waited for the first move of this mobile mass of vines and shoots.

“Lets strike first,” Iesa said to me.  “D’s got our back,” and with that he lunged at the corpse, second from the right.   His blade slid quickly and smoothly into the moldering body, and with a twist he pulled the blade out and left a large gash, spilling a liquid mass of slime and ooze.  I then pulled on a dark strand and created two skeletal hands to pull on the false life of the bodies, on the right most pair.  The one that Iesa struck, fell quickly, and the body broke apart, its limbs separating from the torso, as if string were cut from a puppet.  The other one on the far right, swung at Iesa, but its clumsy attack was easy enough for Iesa to dodge.

The two on the left started for me and I could feel that strange oscillation, and struggle.  I could feel them strain against it and to attack me, but they could not force themselves to break the strange compulsion of the strand.   They stood there, unable to move past me.   They inner one swung clumsily at Iesa also missing the agile Knight, while his partners clutched its hands trying to find a way past my strand’s strange effect on them.

From behind me I heard what sounded like a whip cracking and the sound of something striking metal.  Glancing behind me, I saw a vine retreating from smacking Daneath’s shield, while another struck the warrior’s legs.  He again fended the blow off, by slicing at the fibrous vine with his sword on a riposte.  But the plant quickly took advantage of Daneath’s defenses being out of place, and a third vine whipped across Daneath’s sword arm.  As the vine slid over his skin, I saw that it was covered in thorns, and they sliced deeply into his flesh.

“Crap, crap, that stings,” he barked.  But I was distracted as the corpse on the far right, changed targets and swung at me, unaffected by the strand’s protection.  But I swung my shield over in time to soak the blow, and then returned it into position, in case the left two suddenly found the gelbas and will, to attack me.  Iesa again thrust into the gut of the right most foe, but the blow was far weaker than the first, as the combat already wore on Iesa’s limited strength as he was already wheezing heavily.

I focused a single strand on the remaining corpse on the right, ignoring the pair on my shield.  I knew if I struck them with a strand, then they would be free to engage me, and I wanted to keep that from being the case as long as possible.   Meanwhile I heard the sound of metal on thick vines, as Daneath chopped a errand shoot that hit his shield.  Two more however snuck by his guard, one striking his thigh, and ripping skin and spraying blood, while the third one snapped at him, pushing Daneath off balance.

I smiled and thought:  _This wasn’t so bad._ _We could do this._  Then the plant opened a set of flowers and a horrific smell of rot and worse came over all of us.

Iesa and Daneath both choked violently, under the wave of nausea that washed over us.  But it was too much for me, and I dropped to my hands and knees, heaving as I vomited out the contents of my stomach uncontrollably.

“Myr?  Get up!” and I felt Iesa left hand on me, trying to pull me upright.  But the three corpses shifted and attacked him, and Iesa had to abandon me to defend himself.  Unfortunately, the attempt left him open, as one of the corpses struck him with the remains of a balled-up fist in his ribs, causing him to cough up blood and gasp for air.

I was on my knees, helplessly retching.  My bowels now empty, strained to find something more to empty on the floor.  The scent of the flowers, and my own bile was more than I could take, as I knelt there, trying to gasp for air.  I glanced in Daneath’s direction to see how his gardening was going.

He had managed to thrust his sword deep into the thicket of fiberous roots and shoots, and his sword was covered the plant’s strange fluids.  But after he landed a blow, he was struck again by vines.  He severed two in self defense while the third raked his sword arm.  Looking at it, I could see it was already swelling up in response to the plant’s secretions on the thorns.

_Alright; its bad. We can still do this._

I then collapsed in a fit of dry heaves, trying to expel something.  I desperately wanted a moment to drink something, just so something would come back up, rather than the continual pain of empty retching that I was feeling.   Finally, the wave of nausea eased, allowing me to breathe.  Iesa had downed another corpse and was fending off the pair with difficulty.

_--Myr!  The plant!_

I turned at Gossamers’ call. I was now unsure where he was in the throng of combatants.  But pushing that aside I looked at the plant confused, then I saw it.  What looked like a huge pod that would have held seeds had emerged from the center of the bulk.  I then watched as it split open, and another corpse tumbled out of it, dripping wet in some sort of fluid.  Once the corpse’s feet hit the ground it ran, past Daneath’s guard and straight into Iesa’s, almost bowling him over as it pummeled him from the back.

“D watch it—crap!” he exclaimed as he realized there was a fresh corpse on the scene.  But the plant wasn’t finished.  It slid along the wall and I watched shoots and roots reach out, and grab one of the corpses that Iesa had just recreated, and with horror I saw it stuff the remains, into what looked like another pod.

_We’ve walked into the Lady’s Shadow! _

Iesa was now surrounded and weakening further as he tried to stay balanced.  As he fought the three bodies, each had a turn of landing blows, keeping him off balance and exposing him to more pummeling from the animated bodies.

“Myr!  Help!” Iesa shouted as he swung wildly trying to use the threat of his blade to keep the corpses from attacking.  But they continued their clumsy onslaught.  Meanwhile Daneath was still trying to sink his blade deeper into the foliage, looking for the main trunk of the thing.  Another pod had emerged and expelled a fresh slimy corpse which threw itself into the fray with Iesa making it a four to one challenge.

I stumbled to my feet, wiping some bile from my mouth with my forearm.  I was exhausted from my bowel’s defection to the enemy, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet.  I stood and stumbled towards Iesa.  The corpses shirked away from me as I stumbled forward until I draped my arms over Iesa and clung onto him desperately as he supported me.

“I’m sorry about this,” I panted as I leaned my head on his shoulder looking behind him.

“Sorry about wha--?” He started before I suddenly cut him off.

I screamed.

The piercing shriek echoed within the cave, causing the walls to reverberate with the sound.  As I emptied my lungs so was the darkness normally pent up within me was suddenly freed.   Without any constraints, the inky strands of darkness tore at everything around me, destroying life and unlife alike.   Three of the corpses fell from the onslaught, and the fourth was nearly done.

“Myr what the hell?” I heard Daneath shout.

But I was now focused on Iesa, our roles reversed, his rapier slack in his hand, and his labored breathing now slowed to the barest whisper.  Now I was the one clutching him in the vain attempt to keep his unconscious form upright.  I let him slide down to the floor of the cavern as gently as I could.

The last corpse leapt at me, the strands no longer shielding me; it pounded me with closed fists against my shield.  I gritted my teeth, unable to respond, as I focused on my rod; pulling energy from it and saturating myself with quanta I could use again.

Daneath in the meantime, cleaved vines and roots, trying to prevent the plant from approaching the corpses.  The plant seemed to *know, *and it reacted. It moved with surprising haste to a wall and started to stretch roots and shoots into the cracks and crevasses in the rock wall.  In a moment, it was now on the roof of the chamber.  And while Daneath could swing and strike at it, he could not prevent its movement above him.  It crawled along the roof of the cavern until it was directly above me and Iesa, when it swiftly dropped tendrils onto one of the newly fallen bodies.  It then quickly sailed upwards and was absorbed into another pod.

“You have to be kidding me!” Daneath yelled and looked at me desperately.

“Keep hacking at it!” I said, and I quickly pulled on a strand, calling forth another skeletal hand, that dragged down the final pair fighting corpses.  Then whispering, “Live,” I threw a coil of white stranded energy around Iesa.  He then sharply inhaled and his eyes snapped open, just in time to see the newly dead corpse slam into the ground next to him.  He swiftly crawled to the edge of the room, leaving his rapier behind.  But he then took out his bow, and then took aim at our foe on the ceiling.

Daneath was swinging as well; while the room was tall, the plants bulk allowed Daneath to still hit it effectively.  He shouted and swung with overhead chops, cleaving leaves, flowers, and vines from the plant.  He quickly found a rhythm as he tore away at the foliage.  As he did so, I saw that the pod that taken up a corpse was now shrinking as it absorbed the contents. Elsewhere on the plant I saw new shoots and vines form, as fast as Daneath could cut them away.

“Keep it up!  It’s eating the corpses!” I shouted and I used the same incantation to tear at the monstrous plant with a skeletal hand.  I kept focusing and kept the incantation going.  And together it was enough; as Daneath trimmed the overgrown topiary, and Iesa peppered it with arrows we finally were doing more damage to it than it could pull corpses up from the floor to recover with.

Finally, with a loud whoop, Daneath made a single thrust, and the entire plant spasmed; its leaves quivered, and its flowers all popped open, losing petals in a burst, and vines quivered spasmodically.  Finally, with a crash, the plant slammed into the floor, its bulk collapsing on itself.

We stood in the room, warily turning around waiting for the next attack, which never came.  After a few tense moments we relaxed.  With the flowers now dead, the air was starting to clear, and feel less humid.  I leaned against a wall and relaxed a moment, as my breathing slowed to normal.  As I rested, I noticed that Iesa had stopped wheezing, and was instead making normal breaths.  After a moment, he walked over to me and looked me straight in the eye.

“Remind me not to give you hug in a fight again,” he said in a huff.

“I said I was sorry,” I responded a little exasperated.

“I know.  I guess if I died there, Kelemvor might have to judge me right?” he asked.

“Well; if you died, I’d probably be next, and we’d be skipping to the crystal spire together.”

“Yeah?” said Daneath.  “I’m sure that ‘she let me become plant food,’ would look good on your permanent accomplishments to your deity.”

“I guess it eliminates the grave digger as a middleman,” I said sardonically.

“Well, thanks…I think,” Iesa said a bit more sympathetically, coughing again into his hand.  “Although not sure what hurt more, that black stuff or that scream.  But are you ok?”

I nodded yes, “I’m stretched to the rakers, but I’ll be alright after a breather.”

_--Hey Myr?

Yes Gos?

--There’s a hole here, and stuff below.

Stuff?

--Like a campsite._

“What the?” I said aloud and looked for the tressym.  At the back of the cave, in the area that was blocked off by the deadly plant, there was a hole that descended into another cavern.  I walked over, and the brothers followed me in surprise, until they too saw the hole.  We all three stood looking down, and Daneath shined his shield into the depths.

Below we saw it was another cave with a second exit, leading deeper into the caves.  But on one side there was a circle of stone, a bedroll, and the remains of cooking gear.   Without saying a word, Iesa whipped out a rope and started to knot it for easy climbing. Daneath took out a piton and quickly nailed into place and soon we were looking around the campsite.

It was stocked for a long stay, small crates of rations, a fishing pole, and a set of clothes.  A pile of driftwood was stacked on one end, along with a hatchet.  A pair of knives lay out in the open, both with the slight dusting of rust on the blades.

“A camp in a cave.  Not even close to the entrance,” Daneath remarked.  “This person didn’t want to be found.”

Iesa looked around the campsite a bit, “It hasn’t been used for a bit,” and he stifled a cough.  “But they planned to stay a while; a lot of wood and torches.”

“Not exactly an inspiring tale of treasures,” Daneath commented as he nudged the remaining crates with his boot.

I knelt down by the bedroll.  Looking carefully towards an end I found what I was looking for.  There in the fibers was a grey hair.  I picked it up and held it between my fingers.  As I watched the hair moved like it was being blown by an intangible breeze.

“It’s Eridan’s,” I said holding the solitary hair up for the pair to see.  “He was hiding here.  And with hair like this and I bet a grey complexion, we might have a ghost.”

“So where did he go?” Iesa questioned. “This camp has been abandoned for a while now; long enough for steel to start rusting.”

“You don’t think that thing…ate him?” Daneath asked uncomfortably.

“I hope not,” I said.  “But there is more to the cave than this.  He could have moved somewhere else for all we know.”

“Well, he isn’t here, so perhaps he is…down there” and Iesa gestured towards the passage.  It was narrow and bent towards the left.

I shrugged and said.  “We have nowhere else to go.”

_Goss—

--Watch your back. Watch your back.  I know what to do.

At least one of us does._

Daneath nodded and lead the way with his shield in front.  The passage was narrow, so I found myself leading Iesa through the cave, with his hand on my shoulder.  With Daneath’s bulk in front of me I couldn’t see much.  But this cave was tighter than the others we had stumbled through before.  Even the passages above felt more open than where I found myself.

On edge I continued behind Daneath, painfully aware of the close walls, the sound of my own breath, and the occasional cough behind me.  It was then when I could detect a fair odor in the air, salt.

“There is an opening somewhere,” I said.

I heard Daneath take a sniff of the air. “Yeah, I smell it too.  It’s not strong, but there is another entrance to this cave somewhere.”

“A sea cave maybe,” Iesa quickly said before coughing.  “There are some in the north near Waterdeep.”

” The passage opens up ahead, but I can’t see how large the room ahead is,” Daneath commented, as he readied his blade, readying himself for threats unknown.

We stepped into a cavern, in the shape of a bean, with us at one end.  The scent of sea air was stronger now, but it wasn’t close yet.  As I exited the narrow passageway, I saw that the cave was devoid of stalagmites or stalactites.   But the room wasn’t empty either.

Crates and boxes lined the walls.  Some where in decent condition, while others were broken shells, their contents long gone.  All of them the size that a could be easily moved by two people.  Several jutted out from the wall at irregular intervals, while some along the walls were stacked two and three crates high.   I then noticed that there was a table halfway between the two passages, and just offset from the wall on my left.  On it an oil lamp, a pitcher and some cups scattered across the top, while four stools were scattered on the floor around it.

Frowning, I wondered if this was a smugglers cave.  Or was this the so-called treasure, that Hilberts had mentioned in a drunken haze.  I then turned to ask a Iesa question, when he put his finger to his lips, and then pointed at the table with his rapier.

I turned to look at the table again, confused.  I stared at it, trying to understand what spooked Iesa.  Then I groaned inwardly, when I saw from the lamp the wisps of smoke escape the glass bell.

Iesa then moved quietly, I could see his face straining to contain another cough.  He crouched down by a crate and I watched him cock his head listening.   I stepped to my right raising my shield in front of me, pulling together some strands in preparation.

Daneath stepped forward towards the table; his stance indicated that he too saw the smoke and expected trouble.  He was not surprised, when several figures swiftly rose from behind the crates and quarrels flew at Daneath and I.  There were perhaps eight or ten of themn.  Daneath’s shield rang with the sound of a pair of bolts bouncing off the metal as did a trio off of my own, while others just sailed into the cavern wall behind us.

But once they appeared, I snapped the strands I was working.  The sounds of crates, the lamp glass and bone cracking and screams of pain carried throughout the cave.  I felt that disturbing wave of excitement and euphoria as the sounds washed over me.  One of the figures had manage to duck behind the crate partially avoiding my spell.  He drew a dark metal blade and rushed at me.

But he never saw Iesa.  In fact I don’t think any of them did, as Iesa quickly stabbed the running figure in the side causing a spray of dark blood to burst forth as it stumbled and rolled into a lifeless heap in front of me.  I looked down at the figure and gasped at what I saw.

It fallen foe was a male I surmised on the face, but the features were clearly elven.  High cheekbones, small squared chin, and pointed ears marked him as an elf.  But the red eyes, the obsidian skin and white hair gave away his heritage.

“Dharrow?” I said the elvish word for the Drow to myself in confusion.  I was blankly staring at the fallen elf.  Meanwhile Daneath, chopped his blade into two more, felling each, while Iesa killed another one, already badly wounded by the cacophony of my incantation.

And just like that the fight was over.  Daneath looked around and sighed.

"You made quite the mess Myr,” he said mockingly.  “I’m not sure whose body part belongs who now.”

Iesa now bent down looking at one of the corpses, “Drow.   Here?  On the Nelanther isles?”

“One or maybe two might be outcasts or something like that one we saw in Yartar,” Daneath started as he looked over the room. “But nine?  Nine males?  I would guess there is a passage to the Underdark here.”

“Either of you hurt?” I asked as knelt to look at the face of the dead drow.  It was handsome as I would have expected any elf.  I remembered something Arnara said about them.

We were lounging on the divans at the house, on a moonless night.  The stars overhead shone above us in the firmament, and I remembered saying how beautiful they were.  Arnara nodded and then said something to me.

“The moonless nights are sometimes seen as bad luck to the elves, for it is nights like this that Drow creep up and take slaves down below.   Not here fortunately, but other places they have been known to carry out raids.”

“What are they…like?” I asked curiously.

“A beautiful and twisted dark mirror of _Tel’Quessir_,” she said with a note of disdain on her lips. “Banished from the sun, and marked as creatures of darkness., their beauty marred for all eternity by their cruelty.  The women, the matriarchs’ rule, and everyone else is a slave, a tool, or a sacrifice.  Including the men.  Especially the men.”

“We’re fine Myr, but these Drow are odd,” Daneath said.

“What do you mean?” I said unable to tear my eyes away as I looked at the dead drow with a morbid curiosity as I slowly felt the euphoria of the fight wearing off.

“They are dressed…much like Hiberts,” Daneath pointed out.  “I always heard that drow had special weapons and armor.  These are wearing homespun tunics and rough leather, and the swords aren’t great quality.”

“Anything in the crates?” I asked, looking at iesa who was rummaging already in the stacks.

“Not really,” he said poking inside several with his rapier. “Some hard tack and some water.  Anything valuable isn’t here.”

“Well, let’s keep going,” Daneath said his voice on edge.  “We were lucky.  They saw us coming, they have better vision than Iesa and I in the dark.”

“Did you want me to lead?” I asked.   Daneath looked conflicted for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, the light would still give us away, and I’m ready for a melee.  I mean, I know you can take care of yourself,” he stammered a bit awkwardly.

I smiled, “Look I’d rather heal you than myself.  But I’m staying close anyway.”

Daneath nodded, and hefted his shield in front of him again, and we started down the passage.  It was wider than the prior one, and it kept turning towards the right.  Very soon, we found ourselves in a large grotto.  The passage had deposited us on a broad ledge, overlooking a broad flat floor.  The cave walls and ceiling were worn smooth.  The smell of the sea was stronger here, and now we could finally hear the sea itself crashing upon rock, echoing in the passage.  But more exciting, was dim ray of sunlight coming from a passage on the floor.  From where we stood there was a ramp of natural stone that descended to the floor of the grotto.

We tread carefully down the smooth stone and discovered there was more to the grotto as there was a passage leading below the ledge and descending into the rock.  But we also found pressed against the base of the ledge, bedrolls, fire rings and benches and stools.  The were all clustered around the passage that descended deeper.  Once on the floor of the cavern, and in full view of the camp I started counting beds.

“There must be more around somewhere,” Daneath said.  “I count fifteen bedrolls.”

“Sixteen,” I corrected.  “And there are probably more down in that passage.”

“Why do you think that?” Daneath asked looking at me puzzled.

“They are clustered close to that opening,” and I leveled my rod towards the lower passage.  If they were worried about something coming up, they would be arranged differently.  So, for them it’s safe.”

“I’ll take a look and see if we are alone then,” Iesa said and before we could stop him, he crept into the camp.  As I watched him place his back to the ledge’s base, I fished out some copper wire from my pouch and focused on using a stand to talk with him.

_Isea!  Be careful.  You can’t see down there.

==I’ll be fine Myr.   I don’t have the light with me, and they’ll never hear me._

Iesa then started to move cautiously towards the passage.  He looked around at the various elements of the camp, nudging them with a boot occasionally.  Finally, he reached the passage, and then he leaned his head to look down it as we watched.  Then he crossed in front of it, heading to the other half of the camp.

<<THWIP!>>

The sound of the crossbow was barely audible.  Iesa gripped his side, and started to rush to the otherside, when he stumbled and fell.  From where I stood, I could see him twitching and spasming on the floor.

“Son of a—” Daneath readied his blade and looked ready to charge into the cave.

“Hold it,” I whispered and put a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s been poisoned; and they probably have more ready for you.”

Daneath looked at me in surprise, “What you propose leaving him?”

“No,” I chided.  “They just can’t shoot what they can’t see.  Stay here.”  I took about four steps forward, pulling a piece of coal out and whispering some words.  To my eyes nothing changed, but I knew that I summoned a shroud of inky blackness around me.  I then strode confidently towards the fallen rogue.

Iesa was still twitching on the ground when I approached.  I knew that the shroud covered the entire entrance as well as Iesa.  I knelt next to him, and found the crossbow bolt and pulled it free, while pressing down on the wound with Iesa’s shirt.  Turning to look down the passage, I saw that it opened into another chamber.  But in front of it was a barricade, and I could see four more figures crouched behind them, men with white hair.  They were armed with more crossbows cocked and ready.  I watched them look each other in confusion.

Feeling bold I called out to them in elvish, “I can see all four of you, and I know you can’t see me.  Do you normally shoot first and introduce yourselves afterwards?”

I could see the figures react in surprise, and some hurried whispers, before one of them called out.

“Most aren’t foolish enough into enter here, female,” the last word spoken with a tone of contempt.  But he also didn’t use the word for female elf I noticed.

“So, you keep up appearances of ghosts to scare the locals?” I asked.

“Superstitious sailors tales have little to do with it.  Reefers know to stay away from the caves.  Any cave.  We heard you slaughtering our brothers, we have rights to kill you all.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said trying to sound important.  “You shot first and paid the price.  Shoot again, and the price will be double.  I will slaughter you in the darkness you so covet, and you will never see your doom coming.”  I was nervous, hoping my voice didn’t waver.  “But I’ll tell you what; I’ll ignore you shooting my friend, if you answer a question.  Then we will depart and forget what happened here.”

“What question?” the drow spat.

“Have you seen a ghost of a man, grey hair waving in the breeze?”

“We know of him; you might ask in town at the casino,” came the answer.  “Now leave.  You aren’t wanted here.”

I started to shake Iesa, trying to rouse him from his stupor.  Surprisingly, he responded and shook his head in confusion. I could hear the distressed sounds of Mo in his pack, disturbed by the darkness, and fall.

“Wha…I can’t see.”

“Shhhh,” I hushed him. I then whispered.  “I’m covering us, so they can’t shoot us.  Let us get out of here.”  Then I called out the Drow.

“We’re leaving.  I suggest not following us.” I ordered, and I then led Iesa away from the entrance.  When were ten paces away, I dropped it and we quickly rejoined Daneath.

“I heard, more below I take it,” Daneath said.

I nodded affirmatively, “Yes.  I’m guessing outcasts; they didn’t care for me being a woman.”

“Makes sense,” he nodded and then knitted his brow, “And what was that about a casino?”

“Eridan might be found there, or at least knowledge of him.” I answered.  “In the meantime, let’s get out of here.”

----

We retraced our steps and exited through the upper cave.  The sun was getting lower in the sky, but the heat seemed even greater.  We trudged down the path back to the dune and surf.  It seemed that we had little choice but to enter the pirate enclave.   I wasn’t looking forward to doing this, and I was unsure on how we might approach it.  But I didn’t get much time to consider it, when from above I heard a sound.

“Beeepooo, beeepooo, beeepooo” Foggle said as it swooped down and circled us.

“What is wrong with him, “Daneath asked.  Looking at the mechanical bird.

Iesa looked around casually, and then did so with more urgency.  “Hey, Hiberts and Beepu.”  He turned to look at me with concern.

“They’re gone!”

*Session notes:*

The encounter was hard being “short a short man” did make it a strain, with no one really at full capacity.

Also, the particular game was very very magic poor.  Including potions.  So, other source of firepower or recovery was lacking.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Yeah that reads as being pretty touch and go. Glad you all survived though


----------



## Richards

Nthal said:


> I screamed.
> 
> The piercing shriek echoed within the cave, causing the walls to reverberate with the sound.  As I emptied my lungs so was the darkness normally pent up within me suddenly freed.   Without any constraints, the inky strands of darkness tore at everything around me, destroying life and unlife alike.   Three of the corpses fell from the onslaught, and the fourth was nearly done.
> 
> “Myr what the hell?” I heard Daneath shout.




Can I ask what this was?  I know you traditionally "translate" the spells Myrai casts as manipulations of black and white strands without actually mentioning the name of the spell involved (which I enjoy - it gives the Story Hour a different feel), but this seems almost like it's beyond simple spellcasting.  Is it some hitherto-unused warlock ability?  (I'm unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the warlock class.)  Or just a more powerful spell than those Myrai usually casts due to the potential for friendly fire or something?  I have to confess my burning curiosity.

If it's a secret you'd rather reveal in your own time over the course of the story, that's fine too - I just thought I'd ask.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> Can I ask what this was?  I know you traditionally "translate" the spells Myrai casts as manipulations of black and white strands without actually mentioning the name of the spell involved (which I enjoy - it gives the Story Hour a different feel), but this seems almost like it's beyond simple spellcasting.  Is it some hitherto-unused warlock ability?  (I'm unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the warlock class.)  Or just a more powerful spell than those Myrai usually casts due to the potential for friendly fire or something?  I have to confess my burning curiosity.
> 
> If it's a secret you'd rather reveal in your own time over the course of the story, that's fine too - I just thought I'd ask.
> 
> Johnathan




First, thank you; I am glad you enjoy the style.  For others reading, yes I do intentionally avoid the spell names.  I like describing the mechanics instead, as it feels more like a story vs a campaign journal.  But there is a second reason for this; while Myrai has learned arcane theory through lectures at the Civic Festhall, and to a lesser extent through Beepu (though the dialog there would probably drive Myrai to start taking shots),  she still is trying to learn what she can do, blindly.   The Apocrypha discusses invocations, but not the spells, so a spell's proper name is fuzzy.  

It also isn't limited to spells; I don't discuss that (spoiler) Daneath is a Battle Master, or that Iesa is an Assassin.  As for Beepu; there is exactly one clue on what kind of Wizard he is, but it is obscure;  I'll let others guess that one.  I also haven't really explained their levels or even their character sheets.  In fact, I can only show Myrai's sheet (and I might at some point) as I do not have the others to refer to.  As for Myrai, she is multiclassed, but I'll let others guess the subclass.

All of the above is to make it a story that is interesting to read.  So again, thank you.

But to the question at hand;  the spell used was *Arms of Hadar*:  a Point Blank, area of effect spell with Verbal and somatic components that damages _*all *_creatures in a ten foot radius with dark inky tendrils  Hence the 'I'm sorry' to Iesa; he was only slightly sturdier than a corpse at that moment.  it is a tricky spell to use without hurting your friends.  From a practical perspective, it was used because the saving throw was a STR one, and not a CON one like Shatter.  That was important because the DM had the nastiest luck on saves, so avoiding half damage saves was my goal.  even though the dice were smaller (d6 vs d8s).  The gamble paid off.  She HAS cast it before in Flint Rock, but Shatter is more of her go to AoE spell by comparison.


----------



## Nthal

*Their Town - 8/15/2020*

_Fear is a driver.  It drives you to do things you wouldn’t or couldn’t normally.  It guides you on things to avoid, fate, pain, death.   

Fear can be a strong ally though, if you know how to leverage it.   _


(Sorry this is late...I blame covid)​
We looked around confused, as Foggle sailed around us in a storm of wings.  The fire circle was cold.  Around it, were discarded bottles from Hiberts’ drinking.  Nothing looked out of place except the missing pirate and our gnome.

“Myr, D!  Over here!”  Iesa called out from the low dune where Beepu had once been sitting.   I trotted over the sand to where he stood, and saw he had in his hand the end of a broken bottle.  He held it up for inspection, and I saw on the jagged glass fresh blood.

 “There’s a bit more blood there,” he gestured to a stain of red on the white sand, turning it a dark pink.  “But there’s more.  The sand here is a mess.  I think that there was a couple of people that grabbed Beepu.”

“Hiberts’ crewmates?” I guessed.

“Guess the magic didn’t hold,” Iesa commented.

“No,” I disagreed.  “More likely his friends came up and woke him.  And then took Beepu with the bottle.

“Wouldn’t have Foggle noticed a pirate sneaking up on him?” Daneath asked incredulously.  “I mean, Beepu always said we should trust Foggle to watch.”

“And we never did,” Iesa said.   “Was Beepu that out of it?”

“Maybe we should ask Foggle,” I said watching the owl circle us.

“What?” Daneath said. “He only talks to Beep—Wait!  You can talk to Mo!”

“That’s right, we can ask him,” Iesa smiled.

I shook my head, “Despite the appearance, Foggle and Gossamer aren’t really animals.  They’re spirits bound into an animal like form, and so you can’t use the magic that way.”  I said as I walked back to the fire circle.

“But it doesn’t mean he can’t communicate.  Foggle! Come here!”

I sat down on the sand, as the brass owl, landed on the flat area next to me, its head swiveling back and forth, before looking straight at me.

“Foggle, Beepu was taken by Hiberts’ friends?”

The owl looked at me and blinked, before tilting his body in a motion mimicking a ‘yes.’

Iesa and Daneath looked at each other. “Well, I guess that will work.  Is it that smart?”

“No.  It gets more from Beepu guiding it,” I said looking at the pair.  “But it still remembers…as long as the question is relatively simple.”

I turned to look at Foggle and thought.  “Did they walk over to Beepu and hit him?”

Foggle blinked and shook its head negatively.

“What?” Daneath exclaimed.  “He hit himself?”

Foggle was already twisting his head as I chided Daneath.  “No, that’s not it.” I said thinking.  Squinting at Foggle I was formulating my next question, when Foggle moved over to a bottle.  He pushed it so the neck of the bottle was in the sand and he pushed it deeper.  As we watched, he then tilted the bottle upright again, before grasping the neck with its talons.  He then flew upwards into the air as we watched confused.   He hovered above us and then suddenly let the bottle go. 

It fell straight down, not more than a foot away from Iesa with a heavy thud.

“They dropped a bottle on his head?”  Daneath said in disbelief.

“One full of sand would have been enough,” Iesa said looking up with new respect.  “So, one was a wizard?”

“No,” I frowned.  “Probably just a well-trained bird.”

Foggle landed and tilted its body affirming the story.

“So, Foggle didn’t warn him?” Daneath asked confused.

Foggle twisted its head again.

I was confused too.  Why would Foggle not warn Beepu of an incoming bottle?  I sat there pondering for a moment, when it suddenly dawned on me.

“They distracted you, didn’t they?” I asked sympathetically.

The owl tilted its body again slowly, as if it were ashamed.

“So Foggle isn’t infallible,” Daneath smirked.

“No,” I responded with a deep sigh. “They must have had some experience with familiars.  Killing it would have alarmed Beepu.  So, they did something to get Foggle’s attention. 

“Smart pirates.  Great,” Iesa said disgustedly.

“No.  Experienced in their trade at being sneaks and dirty fighting,” Daneath responded.  “Which means we don’t have a choice.  We have to go to town.”

“We don’t exactly look like the natives,” Iesa pointed out gesturing at his northern clothes.  “I mean Myr kinda stripped down, and she still will look out of place.

“We can’t conceal Daneath’s armor, but we can dirty it up a bit.” I pointed out. “We’ll play the part of mercenaries, and hope it gets us by”

“Then what?” Daneath asked.

“Foggle will know when we are close,” I said.   We’ll just have to poke around the town and any ships if needed.

“Not what I meant.  What about you?” Daneath asked pointedly.  “Last I heard women are good for only one thing.  Knowing you I don’t think you want to play that part.”

I swallowed and breathed deeply.  “No. But a skilled swordswoman and her two trusted guards might do.”

“You think that would work?” Daneath responded in surprise.

I stood up and adjusted my rapier on my hip.  “Sure it will.  Half the secret is just acting like you belong.  It worked in Yartar dancing with nobles.  It’ll work here.  Won’t it boys?” I said with a smirk.

“It totally will…ma’am.” Iesa said with a smile and gave me a mock bow.

“Keep mocking me, and I’ll wear your gelbas as a trophy!” I said sneering yet smiling.  “Let’s go to town.”


We stayed inland, keeping the beach to our right as we walked, looking for Blackwater Reef.  On the way, we found a stand of those trees with the ribbed leaves, and we stopped to take a breather.  Iesa took a moment, to apply some quick dye to my hair, which turned it a dull copper, instead of brilliant gold.

“Yep, I knew it,” Iesa said shaking the dye from his hands.

“Knew what?” I said guardedly.

“You are a natural redhead.  Could tell by how much of a troublemaker you are.”

I punched him in the arm, “Hah hah,” I said.

“And a fiery temper; you’ll be believable as a woman in charge,” Iesa smiled, while Daneath just shook his head.

“So, should I start cussing you out and flesh out this role?” I asked archly.

“Honestly, no.  I’d listen to everything around you first.  Listen to what and how things are said.  Unless you want to be marked as an outsider right at the start.” Iesa pointed out.  As he spoke, I saw that he lured out Mo from his hiding spot in his pack. 

Mo looked around sleepily, and his eyes grew wide once he saw the trees, and immediately scampered up one.  Iesa watched and smiled.

“About time. He hasn’t been himself since we left the Misty Forest.”

I nodded.  “Caves don’t agree with him.”

“Caves don’t agree with me!”

“Can’t say the last one was any fun,” Daneath jumped in. 

“Agree with that,” I said wholeheartedly.  “Also, your cough seems to have cleared up Iesa.”

“That it has.  You think that weird plant was the cause?” Iesa asked.

I nodded looking at him.  “Very sure.  The world is better without it.”

At that moment, Gossamer landed and sat on his haunches, looking up at me.  Everyone crowded around as if they were going to hear him give a pronouncement of some wisdom.  It was strange; I never had to use Gossamer as a scout because Foggle’s vision was better.  But now, as none of us could talk to Foggle, it was now up to the tressym to relay his findings.  I was nervous sending him out on his own, as he wasn’t as fast or as an agile as the owl.  Meanwhile Foggle, sat on a rock nearby, watching silently.

_--The port is up a head, although port is a stretch. Nothing like Waterdeep, or even a river port like Daggerford, although covers about the same area.   Shanty town is more like it.

Stick to what you saw.

--It is not big at all; maybe three ships could dock here.  A lot of scattered shacks.  But there are a fair number of real buildings, and warehouses, most of are near the wharf.  It also looks like it was designed by a drunk.  No real streets, more like a tangle of alleyways.

Any sign of our gnome?

--Couldn’t get close; seems there are a number of trained birds.  I didn’t want to tussle with any of them.  So, all I could get is a general layout._

I nodded, “Its bigger than Portstown it sounds, but with the birds there, he couldn’t find our gnome.”

“I guess we’ll walk in behind your swaying hips then Myr,” Iesa said smiling. 

I bit my lip, “Look I’m doing what I have to, please don’t push it.”

Daneath looked at me intently before speaking.  “You’re afraid?”

I nodded, “Very.  The tales about this place are grim.  And our plan requires me to be up front and in people’s faces.   That’s not me.  Not really.

Daneath nodded.  “Look you’ve watched our back for months.  Least we can do is watch yours.”

“Besides Myr,” Iesa said looking at me with concern.  “People do listen and respond to what you say.  No one said you had to be ‘large and in charge.’ Just order us when you need to.  We’ll handle the rest.”

I exhaled and replaced the white strip across my eyes, hoping it would conceal the silvery mirrors, “Let’s do this.  And oh, Iesa?  Can you dye Foggle’s metal, so he doesn’t shine so much?”

“I can use the weapon black on him, just like I did on D’s armor.  That is if he will let me,” and Iesa looked at the owl critically.

“Foggle, just let it happen, and I’ll clean you later,” I said looking at the owl.

Foggle’s head swivel looking at Iesa and I.  Finally, it pitched forward and made a solitary mournful ‘Beeppppuuuu’ sound, and Iesa began to anoint it with the dark sticky substance. 



It was late in the day when I strode into the shanty town, chin up, trying to feel brave and certain of myself, with the brothers in tow.  The wide black hat shading me and my arms, shoulders, and upper chest open to the air.  I carried my rod under my arm like a baton with my right hand holding it tightly. The strip of cloth across my eyes did help on the glare of the sun, although it made my vision a little hazy.  I hoped it wouldn’t impair me finding our wayward gnome.

Staying close to the rooftops were Gossamer and Foggle.   Gossamer really does look like a normal cat when his wings are folded and pulled in close, so the sight of him scampering and jumping from roof to roof was unlikely to attract attention.  Foggle at least was following some guidance and flitted and stayed low.  

Mo on the other hand was turned loose; he bounded ahead on the flimsy structures that passed for dwellings, bounding ahead of us.  I cursed myself for not talking to him earlier using my magic, but it was too late to consider it now.  But he was a grown monkey and could take care of himself.

As we tread through what acted as the main thoroughfare, I had this vague sense of history repeating itself.  The feeling of pretending to be brave, finding confidence where there was none, all to save some…one.

It then struck me; I felt the same way six years ago, as a daughter of a celestiall descended into an infamous bar the catered to fiends interested in suffering.  A bar that held my lover Markel, in a prison of his own creation.  A prison I was trying to free him from before he was killed.

The revelation set me on edge, so I focused on what I could control.  I made my face a mask, as I would when I ran dice games in Sigil.  No smiles, no frowns, just an upturned nose of superiority.   Or so I hoped.

Behind me, Iesa and Daneath talked more, sneering and laughing at the sights, trying to convey themselves as loyal brutes.  I didn’t turn to look, but what I heard gave me confidence.  They were behind me both literally and figuratively.

It seemed to work, the poor commoners would look at me in surprise, and they just as quickly scampered out of my way…our way.   As we navigated the twisted alleys through the shanties, merchant carts started to appear.   Each offering the necessities from cheapest to most pricey, fish, fruits and bread. 

Finally, we hit a point where the sand and dirt now became cobblestone, and shanties gave way to buildings built on true foundations.  Windows had glass, and the construction was almost respectable.  Signs on the doors, had no letters but were colorfully painted; beds, barrels, fishing gear and the like.  The clothes improved from rags, to threadbare, to leathers.  Sleeves were in short supply, and pants rarely dropped past the knee. 

To my surprise I did see some women, all older and with faces that told a story of hard labor and harsher conditions.  They kept to themselves in small groups of three or four as they carried out their business.  The one thing I didn’t see were jinxskirts.  Considering what I saw had about ten men to every older woman, I was surprised that the oldest profession wasn’t trying to clean up on the lopsided ratio.  

_--Myr!  I found him!

What?  Where?

--Near the wharf by a large stone building

Don’t lose him!  We’re on our way.

--Ah yes.  Trust me, he isn’t going anywhere.  _

I frowned; Gossamer was playing coy, just like a cat.  I turned and looked at the brothers.  They stopped their conversation and looked at me as I tilted my head towards where the pier would be.  They nodded, and turning we quickened our pace.

It wasn’t crowded and we walked briskly now.  What little crowd there was parted for us, not wanting to make trouble.   Clearly the folks here in the shanty town just were trying to survive and weren’t pirates themselves.  Or at least active ones anymore.  That there were merchants and trades told me that pirates were interested in wealth and commodities they could sell for a high price; anything else wasn’t worth the effort.

As we approached the pier, now we saw actually pirate crew members.   They stood out clearly, as all of them seemed festooned with weapons and ink on their skin.   They hung close to each other in clumps of men numbering four to seven.   They laughed and cajoled and cursed among themselves.  But any ‘commoner’ gave them wide berth and the look on their eyes was one of fear.  But they also gave each other the same distance, as if close contact might explode into an orgy of violence.

The pirates however did notice us.  Whispers and nods in our direction from various groups as we passed.  I didn’t want to spark a fight here and decided to play it safe and not risk engaging with a gang.  So I made towards a side of the roadway, with Iesa and Daneath in tow.

I was walking under an awning, when from an alley, a man in a sleeveless crimson tunic stepped in front of me.  He swept off a hat, revealing short dark hair that looked like a ragged mop.   His face had a jagged gash that led from his nose and down across his lips, and he gave me a crooked smile as he looked me over. 

He gave me a short bow, and swiftly returned the hat to his head and spoke, “Now here’s a sight we don see much of.  A young girl, runnin free and unfettered in da port.  Ye must be very…very lost.” 

“I know my way,” I said coldly and stepped closer towards him, and swept with my eyes around to see if he had friends.  I saw two different groups of men watching, staring with hands on their blades, but this one seemed alone as none seemed eager to rush to his aid, but were instead were content to watch. His eyes were locked on to me and seemed ignorant of the two men behind me.

“Reeealy?” he sneered.  I was close enough to him that I could smell the liquor on this breath.  “I wanna see those eyes behind that cloth.  Then I want to see your---OOF!”

I swung my rod swiftly up between his legs, impacting his gelbas hard, and causing him to bend over.  At the sound, Iesa and Daneath each grabbed an arm and slammed him against the wall.  I casually regarded my nails, for a moment, as I heard each man land a punch in the drunk pirate’s belly.  I then handed my rod to Iesa and drew my greensteel blade and leaned in close holding it at his throat.

The man gulped for air nervously, as I forced his head upwards as I gently pushed the blade’s edge against his neck.

“What you want right now…is to make a donation I think,” I said smiling.  “What do you need least?  An ear?  A nose?”  I drew the blade’s edge down his chest and dragged it slowly towards his beltline.  “Or perhaps something else, small and unimportant?”

I could see sweat start to drip from his temples and his mouth quiver in fear, as he only could stammer, “Pl—pl---pl—pl—ee—”

“I didn’t say you could speak!” I nodded and Daneath quickly slammed a mailed fist into the man’s ribs with a resounding crack.   “I think you know what I want,” I reached down and grasped the waistline of this breeches, which were supported by a rope.  With my dagger I swiftly cut the rope, and let his breeches fall to the ground around his ankles.

I then draped the rope around my neck and twirled an end with my left hand as I sheathed my blade and reclaimed my rod from Iesa.

“You’re cute,” I drawled, and I glanced down to his belt line.  “But a bit underwhelming.  Maybe if you…grow up a bit, you can earn a proper scar from me.  But bother me again, and you’ll wear your manhood as a symbol to your dedication to me around your neck.   Take care,” and I leaned in and kissed the now crying man on the cheek.  Nodding with my head, Iesa and Daneath released the pirate.   He immediately bent over and grabbed his fallen pants and started to trip and run down the thoroughfare where we had come from originally.

For a moment, the crowd was hushed.  Then suddenly, the various pirate clusters burst out in loud and raucous laughter and cheers.  They were nodding in approval, several of them holding up mugs in toast and quickly drinking.

“Let’s go,” I whispered and turned.  I quickly fastened the rope around me, so it sat loosely on my hips.  From behind me I heard, “Damn Myr.  I thought you were going to gut him.”

It was then I realized that my heart was pounding.  Not in fear, but in excitement.  I would have happily spilled that man’s innards on the street.   No; It was more than that.  I _wanted_ to! 

_What in Baator is wrong with me?_

“Tempting,” as I turned to look at the brothers.  “But a real fight in the streets seemed a bad Idea.  Right, Dan, and Ice?” I said and winked.

“Wha…oh.  Whatever you want _Lady Myr,_” as Iesa caught what I meant, followed by a quick smile by Daneath.

“Ouch stop that!” I heard Beepu’s voice in the distance.  I was about to point it out when I heard his repeat himself:

“Ouch stop that!”

“That’s him!” Iesa said excitedly.

“What’s with the echo?” Daneath questioned.

“I don’t know, let’s find him first,” I said, and we continued down the now widening roadway.

“That’s not funny!” the gnome yelled again, which was followed by an equally loud, “That’s not funny!” and now I heard laughter.

We started moving faster, partially in excitement in finding our lost companion, and partially in fear and concern.  Something was wrong.

We were passing larger buildings now, warehouses full of goods.  Stolen?  Traded?  Who knew?  But the sizes indicated that a large amount of traffic made its way through the port.   Soon the docks were in sight, and I could hear the gnomes voice from around the last warehouse in the row.

_--You’re almost there.

Dammit, Goss this isn’t funny, what’s going on?

--You’ll need to see it to believe it._

“Stop imitating m---Ouch!”

“Stop imitating m—Ouch!” followed by the load laughter of a crowd.  Finally, we rounded the warehouse and finally saw the crowd and the source of its amusement.

There on the edge of the water, was a stone building.  It was two stories in height and was of the size it might have been a small storehouse at one time in the past.  But unlike the other buildings, it was clad in grey marble, and sported elegant, yet mismatched columns around its edifice.  Looking it over, I sought the sign that would identify it, and quickly realized it was in bas relief over the door.   It was a carving of a nude woman clutching her bosom suggestively while her marble lips were painted a garish red in contrast to the grey base.

A brothel.

Then I heard Beepu again, “Stop it you bird brained idiot.  No wonder your people can’t fl---AUGH!”

And then I saw him; Beepu was stripped down to his smallclothes and was lying in a cage hanging ten feet above the ground.  The cage was suspended by a hoist attached to the brothel.  His face was caked in dirt and dried blood.  His prison was so small, that he couldn’t even stand, and was curled up on his side, in an attempt to find a measure of comfort.  His teeth were clenched, and he covered his ribs with his hands, as blood dripped down out of the cage.

“Stop it you bird brained idiot.” Spoke a figure below the cage, as the crowd roared.  It was tall and lanky and it had the head of a crow or a raven, complete with black feathers.  In its black skinned hand was an iron spear, the tip already coated in blood.  It tilted its head and watched the gnome again, expecting another outburst.  The crowd was a mixture of common folks and some drunken pirates, all pointing and laughing at the helpless gnome.

“That wasn’t what I expected.  How are we going to get him out of there?” Daneath asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

*Session Notes:*

So, this is what happens when you miss a session.  And the price of freedom was high for an absence.  It does make a decent story to be retold.


----------



## Richards

Kenku!

Johnathan


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Looking forward to the resolution of this dilemma. (And loving "bad" Myr.)


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Looking forward to the resolution of this dilemma. (And loving "bad" Myr.)




Glad you enjoy the dilemma.  And there is more to the story of "Bad Myr" as you willl soon see

...once I finish editing out the inconsistencies...ugh how a year has flown....


----------



## Nthal

*Echoes of shame - 08/21/2020*

_Everyone learns things along the way.  That’s just how life works, you experience something, and you internalize it for use later.

But sometimes you find you have retained something ugly or have a memory of something you would rather forget, and you wonder;

“What good is *that*?”_​


We stood there staring.  I was trying to hold in my anger, and not let the fury I felt show on my face.  Beepu’s treatment made the hobgoblins we faced looked civilized.  The hobgoblins at least didn’t torture their slaves; everything was done with a brutal purpose.

But this?  This was cold and cruel entertainment to a crowd.  I hoped that the commoners only laughed because it made their daily plight bearable, and not because they truly wanted the gnome to suffer.  But whatever the commoner’s thought, it was clear that the pirate thought that poking a gnome with a spear was entertainment.

“Start laughing,” I muttered to the brothers, as I forced a smile on my face.  “Keep blending in.” 

“This is hard to watch,” Iesa whispered in my ear and then started to laugh.  Daneath simply guffawed and otherwise said nothing.

I reached into my pouch and pulled out a length of copper wire.  I then quickly wound it round my finger into a crude braided ring.  Then, with a forced smile I pulled on two small strands of light and dark and whispered under my breath.

“Beepu!  We’re here in the crowd!” I whispered.  I watched the gnome’s head slowly turn, looking at the crowd.  Then the weave returned to me his reply, that no one else could hear.

“Thank the gods.  Foggle just told me you were close.   Get me out of here!”

I smiled and pulled on more strands to continue the conversation.  “Hang on, who put you up there?”

“The owner of the brothel.  They have my things as well!”

“You mean your spellbook?”

“Yes, I mean that!   Also, a small smooth orange stone, that should be in my pouch of components.”

*“*Well, sit tight then, we’ll get you out somehow.”

*“*Very funny.”

*“*Don’t go anywhere?”

*“*Really?”

*“*Hang in there?”

*“*Myrai! Just get my things and free me!”

*“*He’s mostly alright,” I whispered aloud to the brothers.  “His mood is about where I would expect.”

*“*Great.  Now how do we get him out?”  Iesa muttered between his teeth as he laughed, keeping up appearances.

“The key, and Beepu’s effects are inside,” I gestured towards the grey marble building.

“A whorehouse?” Daneath said dubiously.

I shrugged, “Beepu said the owner has his things, and likely the key to the cage.”

“Probably in a safe place inside,” Iesa said.  “Any guesses where to start?”

“Not really, but if the owner has a room, I’d start there.” I said.

“That follows,” Daneath agreed. “But how do we get inside?”

I turned to look at him and blinked in surprise, before replying, “Well…I think my men are overdue some quality time with a woman.”

Daneath began to blush furiously, “You can’t be serious!  I mean…they’re…um…”

I pulled in Daneath close to me, “Look, this is for Beepu here,” I hissed.  “I’ve known jinkskirts, and some like their profession, but most are forced into it for one reason or another.  We can’t help them right now, so be considerate, gentle and tip well to keep their mouths barred, and don’t get them into trouble.  What you *do*…well…I leave that in your…hands.   Same goes for you Iesa,” I said turning to him.  He was already raising his hands defensively. 

“Look, I’m sure I can work something out,” Iesa said.  “But I will try to engage the owner in conversation and work out where things are first.”

“Sure,” I said thinking. “One of us will need to keep the owner busy so you can do that.”

“What are you going to do inside?” Daneath asked, his cheeks still flushing.

“Well…I’ll improvise,” I said.  “If I need to hire a girl, I’ll do that, or I’ll keep the owner distracted, whomever he is.”

“What do you mean ‘hire a girl?’” Daneath asked bewildered.

I squinted at him in surprise, “D’ trust me things between women do happen, and we are *NOT* discussing the details of it right now.  Just…just…worry about what you are going to do, so you can help Beepu.” I said.  I was not expecting to have to educate Daneath on this type of topic.

“I’m not good at that on the fly stuff,” he said nervously.

“Then let Iesa and I do the talking.” I said flustered.  “Come on, let’s see about buying you a girl, or at least an overpriced drink.  Maybe both in your case.”

I quickly twisted the copper wire around my finger and sent Beepu a whisper, “We’re headed inside, have Foggle keep an eye out, but don’t let him be seen.”

“Thank you Myrai, and please hurry.  My back is killing me.”

_Gos, heading in. Stay out of sight and tell me if something comes up.   Oh, and make sure Foggle doesn’t do anything stupid.

--What like make that ridiculous sound and hopping around like mad?

As long as no one notices I don’t care.  But try to get close enough we can still talk though._



I swallowed and strode towards the house of ill-repute with the brothers in tow.  I reached the carved wooden door, that had pictures of women in various forms of undress ‘frolicking.’  I pulled it open and walked inside.

The first impression that hit me was the rich, sweet scent of sandlewood mixed with the sharper edge of clove that hung in the air.  The second one was that the inside was paneled in dark colored woods, with scattered oil lamps in the interior.  There were no windows to the outside from here, and the suns’ harsh rays did not penetrate the room.  While warm, there was a breeze as overhead fans spun continuously, using a system of belts that wound their way through a pair of holes in the ceiling to an adjacent room.  In front of me was a long bar, where glass bottles containing liquor were arrayed in front of a mirror.  And to my right was a wooden staircase with elaborate banister work, leading to the upper floors.

Around the bar were several pirates, but these men looked to be more senior, or at least wealthier.  Three of them sat quietly, with a drink in hand, while one also smoked some type of herb from a pipe.  Iesa and Daneath closed the door behind me, and I noticed that flanking the staircase were two guards in leather jerkins and armed with long curved swords.  One of them noticed me and stepped forward, looking at Daneath.  He reached his hand out to grab my left arm.

“Ah, a newcomer!  How much for h—URK,” he exclaimed as Daneath’s fist lodged under the breastbone of the offending guard, knocking the wind from his chest.

“Do you normally treat your clientele this way?” I asked coolly.  “Dan, if he touches me again, please retrieve his hand for an art project I have in mind.”

The other guard blinked in surprise and drew his blade, while his peer stumbled backwards, grasping at his own.   The three pirates turned their heads to look at the commotion with a look of surprise.

“Dorin!  Potro!  These are clearly are guests of…intriguing caliber!”  I turned and saw a woman approach.  She was heavy set and wore a silk dress that clung tightly to her curvaceous body, while a tight leather bodice strained to support her overflowing bosom.   Her face was powdered white, with tinges of red on the cheeks, and deep plum colors painted on her lips.  Her eyes were a deep green, while surrounded in dark smokey rings, making them stand out, even in the dark light.  Her hair was clearly a wig, but one that gave her an extra foot in height, and had hair in tight curls, while stuffed birds poked their heads from beneath the tresses.

Iesa moved to intercept her, “Ah madam, may I— “and found himself playfully slapped away by a folding fan across his lips.

“Now, now, I am sure your employer can speak for herself, as she boldly walks into my den,” she smiled as she looked me over with interest.  “I had heard that a man was seen running for is life with his britches lacking support.  All caused by a woman of skill and her two friends.”

“Small port, word travels fast,” I said smiling, while feeling on edge.  The pirate before I didn’t need to talk with, more talk at.  Here I needed to perform and be that person in charge.  My stomach tensed into knots as I tried to maintain that smile and said,  “And some men need to be brought to heel like a common dog.  That’s why I invest in men of quality.” And I reached to caressed Daneath and Iesa on their cheeks, if not just affection, but reassurance that they were here with me.

The woman arched her eyebrows and continued to smile, “Indeed, and what brings a *woman* to my humble establishment?”

I looked around; the place had a touch of haphazard elegance.  Planned and creative using whatever was at hand.  I’ve been to bars where men would mount any old object on the wall as a trophy.  This place had a woman’s touch. “This is all yours?  You have done well.  But my business is ensuring my boys are taken care of.  I think some drinks are in order first, and then I am sure they will want to sample…other fare.”

The woman regarded me with uncertainty but smiled and nodded, “But of course, although I am…refreshed to see a strong woman who knows what she wants.  But of course, it does beg a question or…more.”

Am I overdoing this?   Maybe I’m trying too hard.

No.  Relax.  You can do this.  We need to free Beepu, and find his things.

“My wants are…” and I struggled thinking what exactly I needed to say if pressed, “…complicated.”  What did I want that would pass muster?  I mean supporting ‘my boys’ was plausible I supposed, but I had her ear now and I needed to keep it.  I needed time, and my stomach was still a bundle of knots. 

“But let’s see to my boy’s satisfactions first,” I smiled.  “Something dark and fiery from your shelf for my men and I, and I’m sure Dan and Ice here would like to see what your establishment has to offer.”  A drink would be nice.  Not too much, I needed to think straight.  No I needed to relax, I wanted the bottle, not the glass.

No.  Stop.  Focus.  Beepu.

“A woman that likes her liquor; I’d almost would have said you were a wine drinker,” the woman studied me, searching for something.

“I prefer wine when I am eating.  Liquor is about the now.” I casually remarked.  The madam nodded and waved at the man who tended the bar and motioned me to follow her.

“Come sit, while my man pours a whiskey that is well liked by the captains here,” she then reached across the bar and pulled on a rope, wrapped in red silk.  “As for what we offer, we offer a fine sampling from across the realms, northerners from the Sword Coast, fiery ones from the Moonshae, dark and sultry from Calimsham and Amn.  Anything in particular?” she probed.  The barman slid three glasses full of something dark and with the scent of honey and spice, which we took into hand.

I sat down on the high seat at the bar, trying to relax or at least looking like it.  “I’m sure my men, will be satisfied with whomever graces their presence,” I said and caught a flash of surprise on her face.  “But I am sure one will suit their fancy.   And if I am not mistaken, you have the only game in town.”

The woman smiled, “No one can offer anything finer.  If you want to waste coin on drink and chance, I’m sure those…drow…in their damn cave can entertain.  But a sure thing, warm and soft?   This is the only place in town.” She drawled.  As she spoke, I saw four women making their way down the stairs.  They wore little to cover themselves; a skirt and bodice for modesty, with their arms, and most of their leg bare.  All were human, with their long hair pulled back, baring their shoulders and neck. A blonde with eyes of blue, pale as if the sun never kissed her skin, another with a coif of honey gold, with hazel eyes and skin like bronze, the third had skin was the deepest brown I had ever seen, with dark eyes to match, and finally a one with fiery blonde hair and emerald eyes and skin that looked to be painted in freckles all across their skin.   As they approached, I could smell the oils they wore that hinted at dark delights.

But their eyes told a different story; one of fear and shattered hopes.  A look of a woman resigned to a cruel fate.  Her will and desires no longer her own; a plaything and nothing more.

I knew this was the truth here; and I sincerely hated myself for playing a role that would do nothing to free them from their bondage.  But there was little I could do.   It was easy to say I was freeing a friend and that was what mattered.  Not just because Beepu was in a cage, but because the whole reason for being here was to defeat the Kershak.  The stark choice was uncomfortable for me, and yet I had to hide it.  I needed something else to focus on to hide my distaste for the fate of these women.



“Ice and Dan, let me know what suits you; and madam…” I asked pressing for a name.

“Philandre,” she smiled.

“Philandre, what’s the ask for a night’s fun?”

“They say if you have to ask you can’t afford it,” she smirked at me.

“That is true, but it does make it hard to settle accounts doesn’t it?” I pointed out.

“Ten crowns will probably set your men’s mind at ease.”

I reached in between my cleavage and pulled out a small silk sack where I kept coins handy, and pulled out three merts, and lay them down one at a time on the bar.  I watched her eyes grow wide as I said, “For the girls and the drinks.”

As I did so, I twisted the copper on my finger and whispered to Iesa using a strand:

“Get upstairs; I’ll watch for guards going up, and I’ll ask you in a bit how you are doing,”

“No problem.  Find out about the key,” he responded.  I smiled and said aloud.

“Enjoy yourselves boys; I’ll talk to you in a bit!”  I said aloud and waved them on with my hands.  Iesa moved toward the blonde, while Daneath chose the dark-skinned woman.  Each man took their chosen woman in arm, while the other two sighed and looked at me with a look of confusion…or was it dread.   I shook my head and waved my hand, and they slowly turned to regard the pirates already at the bar.

“Nothing for you dearie?” Philandre asked, looking at me.

“I’m a little more complicated as I said.  But I do have to ask something.  What drew me here, was complaints of the little runt in the cage.  He doesn’t seem to fit your…stock.”

Philandre laughed, “Oh, I’m just holding him until tomorrow.  Some of the Sea Devils brought him here.  Said he washed in with the tide.  Now a smallfolk with a long life will do wonders in the bilges of a ship I’ve heard.  So tomorrow to the block he goes!   Anyway, I hope my man at the bar can keep your glass full, while I check on the girls upstairs,” and she smiled and started to move down toward one of the pirates nearby down the length of the bar, on her way to the stairs.

I needed to hold her attention for a while longer.  But I guessed that buying a girl wouldn’t hold it for long enough.   As I sat there, thoughts ran through my head, when it struck me why this whole exchange was so similar.  

A friend in need. 

A friend in pain. 

I realized I had another dice roll to make, on thoughts and experiences I had kept buried in the past.   Experiences that made me ashamed.   Experiences that made me afraid.  

Pike it; to save a friend, any shame about myself, no matter how disgusting was worth it.

I quickly twisted the copper and cast out a strand toward the gnome, “Beepu, I need you to cause a ruckuss outside and it needs to be noisy.”

“What?  Well I have some dirt here I can toss at that Kenku.”

While the room had no large windows, there were small openings around the room right were the walls met the ceiling and from the direction where Beepu was hanging, came some noise:

“Take that you filthy carrion lover!...YOUCH!!” he screamed, and I flinched a moment, and looked towards the noises direction.

“That’s annoying.” I said aloud, and I saw that Philandre had turned her head to look in the same direction.

“Seems he hasn’t learned to accept reality; he’s just tomorrows stock.  I should tell Claptrap to not poke him as hard; can’t damage the goods.”

I thought a moment and took a breath.

“So, how much for some time with the runt?” I said forcing a smirk on my face.

Philandre looked at me incredulously.  “You can’t be serious.  You want *him *for a tumble?!?”

I quietly chuckled, trying not to force it, letting forgotten memories and experiences surface.  Remembering how my tormentors acted.  I smiled and shook my head.  “No!  No!  Not for that.  But I do want him.  You see its been a while since I had an opportunity to…make someone scream properly.” I said looking Philandre dead in the eye, with a deadly serious tone.

I now had Philandre’s full attention, “I can have Claptrap hit him for you if that’s what you want,” she said with a curious tone in her voice.  She wasn’t prepared for this conversation to turn this way with me.

I shook my head, “If I wanted that, I would buy him and let Dan and Ice work him over.   But I don’t want to own him; too much trouble for mercenaries on the move.   And I don’t want to watch. I want to personally, make him…suffer.  To show him what real pain is like.”  I pulled out my greensteel blade and turned it over in my hands, as Philandre watched.

“Its been a while since I had some free time to flense someone properly,” I said wistfully as images of pain replayed itself in my mind.   “To slice the skin away in strips.  To hear the…scream of the man as his flesh is pulled away from muscle.  To watch him shiver as the warmth of his body fades away in the air.”  I leaned forward toward the madam, and pulled down the cloth from my eyes, and I watched her gasp in surprise.   “To see them look into my eyes hoping for mercy, only to see themselves suffering.”  I smiled wickedly and pull back up the cloth and watched her.  I prayed the mask I wore was good enough.  That my self-loathing didn’t peek through a crack.

The madam looked at me and nodded a bit shakily, “We…we have some who enjoy arts involving blood.  But that does damage his value.”

I smiled again, took the knife and gritted my teeth as I pulled the sharp blade across my arm, opening a small river of blood.  I had cut myself before; by accident several times…and in desperation once, seeking solace before I got a grip on myself.   But greensteel weapons are some of the sharpest known to mortals or fiends, so the superficial wound hurt less than you would think.  But I needed to show her that I was serious.  The cut burned like fire as I watched the blood well up in the wound.  But I quickly whispered under my breath and pulled on a bright white strand and circled around the cut and closed the wound in front of her eyes.

“He might lose the ability to speak for a bit, but I doubt that’s a problem.  Besides, to watch their hopes fade as they realize you won’t let them die is so worth it.” I smiled.   I hate this.  It is all an act; all a story.  A story from the past to fool a cony.   I’m not really going to do it.  I just have to remember it and how it felt…

“Well…for a..a…a hundred crowns…I have a place in the cellar; we can’t disturb my clients here after all.  I would just need to get the key from upstair—”

“Of course,…We’ll wait for my men to finish up before I have my turn,” I smiled and thumbed the copper wire as I faked taking a sip from my drink.

“Daneath, you get unentangled yet?”

“Ah…no…still negotiating,”

Negotiating?  What is he talking about?  I looked to the stairs, and the two guards were still there staring at the room in general. I twisted the copper again around my finger.

“Iesa?  The key is upstairs somewhere.”

“Great.  No other guards up here.  I’ll finish talking to Sanatha here and find the madam’s room,” came the reply.

“Did you have tools, and a way to keep the room warm?” I asked Philandre.   “Its amazing how quickly a man turns cold, when he loses his skin,” I said as gave her a level look.

“Of course,” Philandre said.  She looked at me as if summoning the courage, as if somehow the woman that sat there now alarmed her.  “So, where did you learn your…skills?”

I took a genuine sip of the liquor, needing it to steel myself.  I still felt ill; my stomach was churning with the stress of the memories and the story I was trying to sell.  I needed them to help Beepu.  I wanted to drown myself in more of the drink here and deny and forget ugly truths.   But I needed to hold it together for Beepu.

"In a place far from here, taught by fiends that had countless lifetimes to hone their skills,” I said trying to keep a smile on my face.  “There are no finer practitioners on the arts of pain.  Pain you can scarcely believe.”

I twisted the copper wire again.

“Iesa?”

“Found her room.  In it now searching, already avoided one poisoned needle.”

I twisted it again,

“Daneath?”

“I’m…ah…negotiating…. still!”

Still negotiating?  What was the man doing?

“Dorin!,” Philandre called to the guard.  “Check on the girls for me, and then I will need you to get Claptrap down in the cellars to…arrange the furniture.”

I thumbed the copper wire again and cast a strand out, “Iesa, we have a guard coming up!”

“I need time!  I’ve almost opened this chest.”

I gulped and twisted the copper more.

“Daneath!  Iesa needs time, and a guard is coming!”

“Crap. On it.”

“Are you alright dearie?” Philandre asked me, noticing my distraction.

I quickly smiled, “Just savoring the thoughts of what I want to do to that gno—”

Suddenly there was a clattering and there tumbling down the stairs was Daneath, entangled with Dorin, until both landed on the floor in a heap.

“What in the hells are you doing, you idiot?” the guard barked as he untangled himself from the warrior.  Daneath grabbed the guard to use him to stand, and as I watched him intentionally leverage his greater weight to cause Dorin to fall down on the floor again.

I kept my mouth shut as I brushed the copper wire again.

“Iesa!  We may be out of time.”

“Got the stuff, heading down.”

“Excuse me Philandre,” I grimaced as I looked towards the pair of men trying to stand.  “But I need to have a word with my…help,” I said between clenched teeth, as I was also trying to stifle a laugh.   I got off the stool and strode over to the pair.  Once there, Daneath and Dorin stopped and stared at me expectantly. 

I turned my head glaring at both, before settling my gaze on Daneath. I reached down and grabbed him by the right ear and pulled him to his feet.  I didn’t really pinch him hard, but he certainly sold it with the grimace on this face followed by him muttering.

“Ow, ow,ow!”

“You are embarrassing me!” I growled.  “Outside!  Now!” and I pulled on his ear, and marched Daneath towards the door, while twisting the copper wire again and again.

“Sorry Daneath!  Just play along,”

“Not a problem…you can tug harder if you…OW!”

Twisting again I threw out a strand towards Iesa;

“We are leaving!  You have it all?”

“Yep, Book, Stone, pouch and a key.  I’ll see you outside.”

I pushed open the door to the outside.  The sun had not yet set, although the buildings cast long shadows across the quay.  I dragged the warrior by his ear, to a building directly across from the brothel, and flung Daneath against the wall.

“Dan, what do you think you are doing!” I said, trying to sound angry, and also badly suppressing a smirk, all while twisting the copper wire around my finger.

“Daneath, watch the door for Iesa, say yes ma’am a lot, and don’t make me giggle”

“Sorry your ladyship!  I didn’t mean to be so clumsy,” he said aloud in a whiny squeaky voice, while I heard in my head:

“Oh please?  You need a good laugh.   Your glares could curdle milk.” Came back the reply which infuriated me.  This was _serious!_

“You sound like a…a…fishwife you overgrown child!  Pull yourself together!” I spat at him.   As I looked Daneath in the eye, he nodded his head in the direction behind me.  Turning, I saw Iesa trotting up and wagging his finger at the warrior.

“You stupid behemoth!  You cost me time with Sanatha!” and to my surprise, he punched the warrior in the face.  I was shocked for a moment, but then realized that he pulled it and had really barely touched him.   Daneath however rolled his head back with the blow making it look like an impressive strike.  Iesa then turned and pressed into my hand a metal key.

I looked at him and smiled.  “We’re going to need to run once Beepu is free,” I whispered.

“And how are we doing that with that crowd?” Daneath muttered.

I twisted the copper and pulled more threads, but this time I talked to Beepu.

“Can you still make a fog?”

“Yes, I can.  Does not require much, but I am still in the cage.”

“Tell Foggle to come to me and get the key and—”

“Ah hah!  Alright.  Meet me behind the brothel by the edge of the pier.”

“Guys, follow me.” I said.  The brothers looked at each other, nodded and fell in behind me as I cut through the crowd, walking near the cage that held our gnome.   As we walked, I saw a flash of blackend gold, and I saw Foggle swoop towards me.  I quickly lifted my hand holding the key aloft and Foggle grasped it in his talons and flew to the cage holding Beepu.

The kenku, Claptrap stared at the owl in confusion.  Once Foggle alighted on the top of the cage, I could see Beepu lips move.

“Run,” I said, and we bolted towards the water’s edge.

We ran and just as we reached the end of the pier, mists streamed up through the cracks between the cobblestones, and quickly our vision became obscured.  The crowd that surrounded the cage was now no longer visible, and there were shouts of concern and panic as everyone now was functionally blind.

I stood there and listened and could hear the sound of something made of iron, hitting the stone cobbles with a clang.   Then I heard running footsteps, and I smiled.  The sounds ran towards me, the sound of boots stomping on stone growing louder.

Boots?

“Sodd—,” I muttered, and instinctively I raised up my rod.  From the grey soup in front of me, a I saw the shadow of a spear, thrust towards my head.   My rod just barely knocked the spear point from striking me square in the face, and instead cut across my scalp.  I yelped in pain, and quickly my vision was clouded by blood pouring into my eyes.

I could barely make out the shadow of Claptrap and his spear as he twirled it, ready to strike at me again.   But before he could do so, I saw the large shadow of Daneath collide with the kenku.  It once again spoke with Beepu’s voice and said, “Ouch stop that!” 

But it was too late for him, as Daneath pushed him past the edge of the pier, and I heard a loud splash of water as Claptrap found himself hurled into the dirty waters of the bay.  As he splashed around in the fog, I then suddenly felt a hand grab onto mine. 

Looking down I saw it was Beepu, wearing little more than some rags around his waist.

“Thank you Myrai.   Can we leave?”

“Beepu is that you?  Follow the water’s edge and let’s find somewhere safe to hide,” I heard Iesa say.

Grabbing the gnome’s hand, I started to run as fast as I dared without tripping, heading further into the fog, with the sounds of Iesa and Daneath doing the same.  I just wondered one thing:

_I hope we are going in the right direction._



*Session notes:*

Free as a bird, but not for free as we will soon see.  The encounter was fun, feeling like I was in charge of Ocean’s 11 for a heist.  The problem I had was the only reason this occurred, is that Beepu’s player missed a session, which forced us into a confrontation to save him.   If it wasn’t for that, we probably would have handled the town very, very differently.


----------



## Richards

That was some fast thinking on Myrai's part, in a situation where she had to be very uncomfortable.  Nicely done!

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> That was some fast thinking on Myrai's part, in a situation where she had to be very uncomfortable.  Nicely done!




Thanks.

I will say as a _player _this was not comfortable either.  Writing a story or background for your own character that has unsavory or unfortunate elements is par for the course.   (Question:  how many characters do you know are orphans?  A common trope, which can be brilliant or terrible.  I digress.)

This was a situation where the overtones of slavery, and what was done to women/smallfolk/children (implied) was not a comfortable topic.   Coming up with a player rationale for being "Bad Myr" was on one hand a challenge, but on the other hand almost not fun.  While I admit to being "attached" to Myrai, the whole scenario was one that I would have been reluctant to include my daughter (now in high school, and an avid player) because of those depictions and overtones.

By comparison, everyone did love the Myrai and driving the communications of the 'Great Gnome Heist.'  Let us say that for as dark story of the brothel's workers was, the "How do I get up stairs, and not sleep with the girls" was hilarious.  There were many failed persuasion checks.

Now at the time, I had been binge watching re-runs of Game of Thrones.  As you can imagine, the episodes  "Dark Wings, Dark Words", "The Climb" and "The Bear and the Maiden Fair"  from season three were on my mind, and during the three sessions, the tragic story of Markel and Myrai emerged, to fill in gaps of her backstory of isolationism and a bit more on her own self-loathing.

What tragic story?  Well...I guess it must be time to tell it.


----------



## Richards

That brings up a logical follow-on question: who are the players in this group?  All adults, I assume?  (You had mentioned not having wanted your daughter to have been included in this session, and I think I recall you saying once you and your son once played lizardfolk brothers in a different campaign.)  Are you playing with friends, family members, or a mixture of both?

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

So the group with Myrai, we met via an ad placed by the DM on a forum, for an in person game. All the players were adults, ranging from 25-35 (I'm the outlier, being in my forties).  My son almost joined, but college schedules didn't make that workable for "Souls."

The OTHER campaign where I did play with my son and coworkers (Honel Evel) ran parallel to that one a different night (Sat vs Sun) and that had Ss'Thak and Ss'Tok  the lizard folk eggbrothers.   That then led to *another *campaign, which ended up adding my daughter to the table. 

That other campaign I am going to write about VERY soon.


----------



## Richards

Cool!  I'll look forward to it.

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

*Cellar Dwellers - 8/29/2020*

_The problem with hiding, is that; you are only hiding.  It isn’t safety, because a mistake will expose you.  It isn’t security, because otherwise why did you need to hide to begin with?  What it is though, is comforting.  That somehow you outwitted or outsmarted someone on where you are.  A lie you tell yourself that you are safe.

Sometimes it even works._​


I blinked as the setting sun hit my eyes, as we emerged from the fog.  The sound of an angry and confused crowd was a fair distance behind us, as we picked up our pace and ran.  Beepu was limping, while Daneath fell to the rear, watching for pursuers.  Iesa in the meantime, ran us between alleys of the shanty town, looking around for something.  We didn’t stop, until Iesa ran us to a cluster of former shacks, now just piles of wood on the earth.  He held up his hand, in a motion to stop us.  He then started looking around in the debris.

Finally, he lifted up a flattened section of a former wall, revealing a rough hole, with a ladder descending into the earth.   Without a word we all scrambled down.   I flexed and gave Daneath’s shield a dim red light as he climbed.  After a moment, and the sound of wood being moved, Mo bounded down the ladder, followed by Iesa, who was panting.

“I covered us a bit more,” he whispered.  “If we keep quiet, we should be safe.”

“How did you know about this place?”  Daneath whispered, as he set his shield down against the wall.   The shield illuminated a simple cellar, with the remains of shelves, bottles, and a couple of barrels missing their tops.  The floor was covered in flat stones, with some open sections of dirt in between the stones here and there.  The walls seemed incomplete; rough earth, bordered, with some  wooden beams, or panels.  Some had hooks, and others supported empty or broken shelves.

“I saw Mo poking around here when we came into the port,” Iesa said.  “He probably smelled something, or something caught his eye.  So, I guessed.   Otherwise, I was going to run back to the cave.”

“Well, it is adequate,” Beepu breathing was slowing.  “My things Iesa.”

“Oh sure,” said Iesa.  Out of a satchel he fished out a pouch and handed it to the gnome.  Beepu opened it, and I saw him pulling out the small parts to the device we were trying to build, and returned them to the poucn.  Meanwhile, Iesa kept digging further into his satchel he then pulled out Beepu’s spellbook and handed it to him.

Beepu kept nodding and held out his hand again.  Iesa knitted his brow briefly, before remembering something, and dug in the satchel again, and pulled out a smooth glittering stone, which with a smile he handed to the gnome.

Beepu took it, and held out his hand expectantly again, while Iesa looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

“Where are they?”

“They?”

“The gems?”

Iesa blinked, “Gems?  Uh…I didn’t see anything next to your book…and I wasn’t looking for them.”

“You fool!  They were in a pouch next to my component kit here!” Beepu said angrily.

“Not when I found them.  Those were in a locked box together, I swear!” Iesa held up his hands defensively.

“How could you miss them!” The gnome said angrily.  “That as all my…my—”

“—I didn’t know!” Iesa raised his voice as he stepped towards the gnome.

“Guys!” I said, stepping in between them., motioning with my hands to lower their voices.  “Beepu…you didn’t tell me anything about that; and we barely had time to get out of there.  Blame me if you like; I’m sorry.”

Beepu’s anger melted to resignation.  “I…I did not.  I am sorry.  And I thank you for saving me.  It is just a lot of crowns lost”

“How much?” Daneath asked as he sat down on a dilapidated stool.

“About three thousand,” Beepu sighed.

Iesa hissed, “Ouch…yeah I’m _really_ sorry.  If I knew…well I guess, I’ll have to steal you some extra.”

“While you are at it some clothes as well.” Beepu said looking at the rags he wore.

I dug into my pack and pulled out the shirt I wore when we first arrived and handed it to the gnome.  “Here, you can have this until we find you something.”

Beepu frowned, “Well…I do not want to hear about me wearing women’s clothing!”

I nodded, as Beepu pulled the tunic over himself.

“Well...it is softer than my own clothes,” Beepu said softly.

“You can keep it I suppose,” I said hiding my smirk.

_--Well…you stirred up the whole port it seems Myr.

Wonderful.  _ I sighed and rubbed my temples.  Gos, go h_ide. Warn us if they poke at where we are.  Run if you need to._

“Well, Foggle mentioned that most of the port is looking—” Beepu started.

“—You think?” Daneath replied with a bit of annoyance.  “Stole their stolen property in a port full of stolen things.”

“—For Myrai,” Beepu finished.  I groaned and slumped down to the floor cradling my head with my knees.  “Seems they are offering a large reward for her…alive.”

Everyone went silent and I could feel their eyes on me.  I sighed and said quietly “One problem at a time. I need to rest,” and stared at the dirt wall across from me.

“Let’s all get some rest then.  We are going to need it,” Iesa guessed.




Later that evening,  Daneath was sitting on the stool, trying to focus and stay awake.  It was very dark, with only slivers of moonlight coming through the rafters above their hiding place.  It was times like this that Daneath envied Myrai’s ability to create light.  Hells, she didn’t even *need* it; she could see better than Beepu without any light at all.

So, Daneath instead focused on what he could hear.  And at some point, he heard the sound of someone digging in a pouch.  Turning his head, he saw in one of the rays of light, that it was Myrai was pulling a small object out of her pouch.  She looked at it carefully and then she started to tremble.  Barring her teeth in disgust, she threw the object downwards, where it shattered on the stone floor like glass.  Grasping her temples with her hands, she started to breathe deeply, as if she was trying to calm herself.  She finally pitched her head backwards and beat the wall with it, slowly trying to work out something.

“Sodding Baator,” she muttered.  She turned her attention to the glass shards, and she started to mutter an incantation.   It took time but as Daneath watched, the object was slowly restored, and she now stuffed it back into her pouch.  She then again rested her head against the wall looking upwards towards the ceiling, with an expression on her face that read like she was in pain.

“You know, if you want more things to break, I’m sure that Beepu has something fragile in his kit,” Daneath said.  Myrai barely smiled and turned her head toward the warrior and regarded him with a tired look.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you; I broke a mirror while cleaning myself.” She stammered, avoiding making eye contact.

Daneath looked at Myrai, her outline was framed in a ray of moonlight, causing her mirrored eyes to gleam in the darkness.  She sat, slumped against a wall on the broken floor, her legs stretched out on the stone.  But Daneath noted that she sounded tired, frustrated and almost angry.  This bothered him for some reason.  Myrai and he rarely spoke alone.   It seemed between the four of them, that it was the other three that did all the talking.  Whether Beepu was going off on some random fact that Beepu felt was vitally important, when it was clear it wasn’t, or his brother whose self-confidence and bravado could easily steer people away from topics he didn’t want to talk about.  But Myrai was different.  Certainly, it was because Myrai was a girl, but when she spoke softly, everyone would turn to listen.  And when she raised it, her voice commanded attention.

But she usually spoke with purpose and not just idle conversation; Iesa and Beepu would monopolize that.  And she rarely sought to be the center of attention.  When she it did, it was with purpose like in the brothel as she played a role.  But when they travelled together, she would tend to quietly drink strong alcohol, and really said very little.  If it weren’t for the fact that they were together at a table, you would almost believe that she was lonely despite sitting there among them.

Daneath frowned and pressed a bit “Isn’t that used to help cast a spell?  I don’t remember you breaking your stuff before you needed it.  Or is this something new?”

Myrai grimaced and replied “I do use it for a particular spell but..it was just I  didn’t like what I saw in the mirror is  all. And I don’t normally look at myself in mirrors.”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of something…I want to forget.”

“I admit that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.  You’re a pretty lady after all.  Easy on the eyes isn’t capturing the words I have heard in the inns.”

“I’m pretty sure there are a lot of other words coming from the inns.  It’s just…when I look into a mirror, I see myself very differently than how people see me.  And I don’t like what I see.”

Daneath was trying to process this, completely confused on how someone like Myrai couldn’t stand to look at herself.  “You’ve lost me with that.”

Myrai nodded, “I’ll try to explain but it isn’t a simple thing. Nor is it a pretty story for that matter.  But honestly, after what just happened, it might have been yesterday”

“Only if you want to Myrai, if you don’t…”

“No…if anything perhaps you can take something away from it.  Something I can’t.  Just…just understand…” her voice trailed off in a sigh,   “I’ve never told anyone this…ever.  So please…don’t bring it up with others.”

“I won’t.  I want to know what’s bothering you.”

Myrai took a deep breath, as if steadying herself and then began.  “Something to think about as I tell this…even hear someone say, they would ‘rather die’ after committing some horrible thing?  Every time I hear that, I keep thinking how if they, really, really knew what the other side had in store for their souls, that they wouldn’t be so casual about saying that.   What I am about to tell you…might explain why.

“I know that sometime after we met, that I mentioned I am a member of a faction…or was I suppose now.  Anyway, that I was a member of the “Society of Sensation” or a Sensate.”

Daneath thought a moment, “I seem to remember you saying that, but it didn’t really mean much at the time.”

“Well, the society kind of disbanded, and that is a long story itself.  But a Sensate’s purpose is to understand the universe, by experiencing everything it has to offer because learning by experience beats reading it in a book.  So, to progress in the Sensates, you try to experience as many different things you can. But experience isn’t limited to good things, you can learn a lot from bad things.   In many respects, you can learn more from failure, from regret and from pain compared to success, happiness and pleasures.  There isn’t a great mystery on why you like things you like.

“But among entrants to the Sensates who want to join the faction, you need to submit either five memories using each sense, or a single memory of all five.  That takes some work, to find a quality memory, but that’s not all.  Sensates had a bad reputation because, they would go off and experience all the fun things to the exclusion of everything else.  Drinking, gaming, drugs, sex, any type of hedonism you can think of.  It became such a problem that Erin Montgomery, the Facto…sorry, leader of the Sensates started to have recruits tested.  Basically, a test of self-control; when you are faced with the pleasures of the universe, can you pull yourself back from the brink?

“So, did you pass that test?” Daneath asked?

“What?  Oh, I did, and you could call it either a close call or a very keen control of self.  I literally had almost lost perspective and yet I still managed to pull back from the edge.  And that time it didn’t seem to matter which case it was.

“Anyway, before that, before I found a memory, there was this, guy at the time that was also trying to join and go upwards into the Sensates; Markel.  I can’t forget him…cute, tousled dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and he was…well put together.  Very easy on the eyes.” Myrai smiled as her eyes looked upwards as she recalled the memory.  She then gave a light chuckle, “And I was absolutely enthralled with him.

Myrai then shook her head,“Who am I kidding, I thought I loved him.  We were involved…a couple.  I finally had found someone to spent time with…someone to share my feelings and heart with.  Plus, he had jink and spent a lot it on parties. and he was exactly the problem that Erin didn’t want.  And I didn’t realize how much it was a problem for me.

“So, while he was smart and he had the drive, he didn’t have that control.   So, when they didn’t even *let* him take the test, he took it very hard.  It sounds so trite; ‘they won’t let me in the club..I’m going to go cry.’  But the reality was that like Iesa and I, he had come from nothing and was raised on the streets.  He wanted a path up out of the Hive and…like too many others, nothing to fall back on.

“So, how did he afford the parties?” Daneath asked beginning to suspect the problem.

“I didn’t know it when I met him, he but borrowed it all.  And he borrowed…a lot.  And as it turned out, he was in debt to the wrong sorts of people and the hourglass was nearly out.  It was so bad; I had heard that he went to Suicide Alley—”

“--What’s that?”

“Oh…it’s a section of Sigil that you can actually get to the edge and look over it.  All you see is grey though, but anyone that jumps off there disappears…forever.  But its camped with fiends goading folks to jump, and spivs taking shorts, trying to kill them before they disappear.  Not an uplifting place.  So, I heard that he went there and stood at the brink of Sigil and stared.  As the fiends and rabble always did, they jeered, they cajoled and egged him on to jump.  But he didn’t…or couldn’t.  But that was much later.

Daneath frowned, he had seen many like this; living on the edge of life itself, unable to improve their fortune.  But many would endure, with faith, with will alone.  But there was always that few who just wanted it to end.  It was a story he had seen before.

“So, what did he do?  He ask you for help?”

“No.  He..he didn’t ask any of us that knew him.  He was present the Festhall, but he was growing more and more distant.   He didn’t tell us what was going on.  I was concerned, but he brushed me off, over and over.  Then it happened; and he was forced to make a choice.  And he went to ‘The Tenth Pit,’” she said with tone of bitterness.

Daneath gave Myrai a puzzled look, and she explained.  “Everyone has a favorite place to do things.  You want to gamble and place a bet on Big “D” in the pit, you go to the Fortune’s Wheel, you want a place to make a dark deal and privacy, you go to the Styx Oarsman.  But if you are fiend, a favorite place they like to go to is a pub called ‘The Tenth Pit.’  And there they cater to the whims and desires of the Baatezu, Tanar’ri and Yugoloths.  And there they relax by, inflicting pain and suffering on others.  And Sensates who…wanted to experience the worlds of pain and suffering, they could experience it…for a price.”

“Didn’t you say he was on his last legs though?  And why he did want pain?”

Myrai, looked down and said grimly “I didn’t know why when I had first heard.  But he went there to make a deal.  And while everyone knew that making deals with any fiend never ends well, he still went.  So, when I found out that he went there, I did the only thing I could do,” and she looked straight at Daneath with a tear in her eye.

“I followed.”

*Session Notes:*

So at the end of things, Beepu did lose a lot.   Actually everything, but the spellbook really.  There were some other items as well, most were minor, but I thought a scroll or two went missing.   It was a high price for essentially being absent.

The next several installments, is actually a 'fill in the backstory'...and like many backstories, there is an important thread for later.  Its a bit different, but hey...so is Sigil.


----------



## Nthal

*Refinancing – 9/3/2020*

_So, I was very different five years ago.  At the time I was having fun and was avoiding paying off the Gatehouse.  

Or I think I was.  I can’t remember a lot of those nights._

*Five years ago, Sigil, Clerks’ Ward.*​
I awoke and yawned.  I didn’t even bother to open my eyes and instead stretched out on the bed and rolled over to my right expecting to find Markel’s warm body to snuggle against.  Instead my hand patted the empty cold mattress.  Confused, I propped myself up on an arm and looked around.

Markel had rented a nice apartment in the clerks’ ward, above an advocates’ shop.   The room was of course a mess, scattered clothes were everywhere, as were empty bottles and plates of left-over food from last nights’ party.  The lingering smell of incense, sweat, and bub drifted in the air.

It wasn’t even a good party, as many of the guest left complaining how boring it was compared to others.  I honestly barely remembered it.  I remembered drinking the last bottle of razorwine that we had, and I was feeling it now with my pounding headache.  Sitting up, and clutching a blanket to my chest, I saw that there was another couple still here from the party, still asleep and embraced in each other’s arms as they snored  in a large overstuffed chair near an opening to the balcony.

I wrapped the blanket around me, and padded my way to the pantry, looking for food, and perhaps a beer or ale to dull the pain.  But I saw that Markel hadn’t restocked it, finding a single wedge of sour cheese, and a crusty loaf of bread.  But nothing to dull the pain I felt.  I grabbed the cheese and bit into it and returned to the bedroom to find my clothes.  As I returned, I saw the couple had started to wake up, and they turned to look at me as I entered.

“Ow my head…. what time is it?” the male half-elf said looking around.

“I think it is getting near peak,” I said.   “But I don’t really know…um…I’m sorry…we did meet last night, right?”

“Yeah we did,” the tiefling girl said.  “I’m Trina and this,” and she pinched the nose to the male’s annoyance, “Is Drenae.  Is Markel around?”

“Um…no” I said a little mystified.  “I guess he went to…get stuff.”

“Well, thanks for the little party…it was…kinda fun.  He’s thrown better ones,” Trina said sounding a little unimpressed.

“Have…have we met before?  I mean before last night?” I asked still hazy on the prior night and wracking my brains on why she seemed familar.

“Myree, you say that every time we meet…although I think this is the first time we crashed here,” the tiefling said with a note of disapproval.

“I need to get going, or the foreman is going to sent me to chase the Lady,” Drenae said, slapping Trina on the bottom and getting her to stand up on her own hooves.  Both then started pulling on their scattered clothes, while I went into the main room, looking for where my own were.

The main room was even more of a disaster; two chairs were broken, glasses, mugs and broken bottles were scattered around along with a couple of small open barrels.  I looked at some of the intact bottles to see if there were any left-over drinks, but I didn’t find anything to scavenge.  I did however, finally found my tunic and donned it, while I continued to search for my pants.  As I was doing so, Drenae and Trina, were stumbling a bit off balance, and giggling a bit, heading to the door out.

“Say thanks to Markel for us,” Trina said waving to me as I was pulling on my leathers.  “And tell him, that he lied; you are an awesome kisser.”

I blushed and smiled awkwardly, wishing I could remember what happened last night, “Ah…yeah…sure.”  They then opened the door and Drenae said “Whoa.”

I looked towards the door, and there on the front door was a piece of paper, hung there with a crude set of nails.

Trina squinted at it a moment and whistled.  “Oh my.  Looks like Markee might be in a bit of trouble here.”

“What?” I said finishing pulling up my pants and walking to the door.

“Seems Markel is a jinkster…and someone wants him to pay up,” Trina said pointing at the note.

I grabbed the paper and tore it down from the door, “What are they…talking...what the?"

The lettering was fine and precise, and written in both common and Infernal, saying the same thing, unsigned.

“Markel,

“You are now 300 days in arears in payment on the loan.  If you value your friends, you better show up today in the Tenth Pit to pay up on your contract.

“The Jinxsmith.”

I looked at the note confused.  Loan? The Tenth Pit? Value your friends?

The pair looked at me and started to move in haste, “We…um…gotta go.”  They suddenly looked nervous and they began to back away.

“What?  What’s wrong?” I said concerned.

“Honey, the Jinksmiths are fiends that give out loans to cony’s and expect huge pay backs.,” Trina said nervously.  “If he owes one of those fiend’s money…they take it out on the marks’ friends.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because if you hurt the mark to much, they may not pay it back.  So, they hurt…we _really _got to go!” and the pair scrambled down the hallway to the stairs that led outside.

My hands holding the paper, shook as I looked at the note.

“Markee…what have you done?”



I walked down Iron Avenue trying to steel myself.  I was afraid, but I wanted to help Markel.  I was willing to do anything at that point to help him.

I turned down towards the alleyway, and I could see it.  The Tenth Pit entrance was next to a Baatezu iron mongers’ shop.  I heard they sold some of the best greensteel blades, and I also heard they did a brisk business with the patrons of the Pit before they partook in their chosen…diversions.   The entrance itself was a blackened archway, with an iron gate and a very bored barbazu outside.  This wasn’t the alley for random touts and sightseers, and anyone who lived in the ward knew what the place was.

The barbazu’s eyes narrowed as I approached.  I was very much out of my element, but I was trying to look nonchalant, or brave, or at least not afraid.  I doubt it cared about my fear, but I certainly did pique its interest.”

‘A lily coming to the Pit?  Do the wonders of the Lady never cease?  Come in and make yourself…at home,” it smiled with a hiss, and bowed floridly sweeping his hand towards the archway.’

I swallowed and glared at it.  I would have thrown a retort out but, I’m not sure I could have said anything coherently.  Then I stepped into the archway and headed downward, beneath Sigil.  The wide staircase spiraled downwards deep underground, and then opened into a large domed room.

I expected darkness, but the bar was decently lit.  Lit by fiery braziers suspended from the ceilings, large ones on the floor.  It was, colorful as well.  Reds, Greens, Blues, Orange and yellows burned brightly casting few shadows, and the braziers rotated color of the flames.   The result as a regular shifting of the tone and feel of bar overall.    It was divided into quarters, with a central hub serving drinks.   Three of the quarters handled Baatezu, and Tanar’ri with a section for Yugoloth separating them, just like the great wheel.  The last quarter seemed to be common ground, with a what looked to be inn keeper’s desks flanking another archway leading down.  Above the quarters were platforms; some attached to the pillars, others suspended from chains, where winged patrons looked down from their eyries above.

And it was packed.  I had never seen so many friends, so close to each other.  With fiends, usually there is a bit of bickering, posturing, dand not a small bit of violence.   Just like the Smoldering Corpse, when I crossed to the prime; all because an argument about the Blood War.  Here, it was…calm, even casual.  If you ignored the slitted eyes, the scales, the bat wings, and hooves you would think you were just at a busy anti-peak at the Golden Briaur.

But even I could feel tension here, it wasn’t really safe for the fiends.

It was even less so for me.

I could tell when I stepped out of the shadows and into the room properly.  I could feel eyes turn to look at me.  Looked at me with disgust, with bloodlust, with hunger.  The bar seemed to quiet down, and the whispers and murmuring started.

That’s when I heard the screams.  Faint, and coming from the fourth quarter, where the staircase descended, just beyond the array of desks.   Swallowing, I made my way towards them, trying to ignore the stares.  Sitting at one was a malebranche.  He was bored, squinting at papers in front of him.  Without looking up, he spoke in the Infernal tongue;

‘Hold your nightmares, I’ll get to you in a moment,”

“Nak’ta kuntz caacht Markel?” I demanded in Infernal.

The malebranche winced a second and slowly looked up from the desk, “Very close intonation.  Not nearly harsh enough.   And your vowels are far…too…sweet.”  The Malebranche regarded me with an expression that was between bored and amused.

“’A lily walks into a fiend’s bar.’  Sounds like either an interesting story, or a bad joke.  And since you are asking about Markel, I’m guessing you’re taking a story angle…Myrai.”

I was taken aback by this, “I was…expected?”

“Oh yes.  Your…friend,” he said with a sneer, “had written a note for you to be delivered soon.  I should thank you for saving me the effort of contracting a mephit to find you.  Dealing with mephits is…tiresome.”

“Soon?  He’s still here then?”

The Malebranche cocked his head and looked at the ceiling and listened, “Yes…for the moment.  And you?   What brings you here, little lily?”

“He has a contract with you doesn’t he.   What is it?”

“Indeed…nothing in the contract proscribes me from talking about it generally.  He wanted something specific…something we as a…policy we normally don’t do.   He was very…very insistent.”

“For a soul?  Seems a bit cheap,” I remembered spitting out in disgust.

The Malebranche smiled “Please. You are…new…here.   The Blood War may be ever in need of resources.   But Shemeshka…she doesn’t permit the establishment to engage in  that type of deal.  Best not to attract the Lady’s ire.   But we do other types of deals and so, he made one with the Pit, not the hierarchies of the War itself.

“What deal?”

“He asked for his debt to the Jinksmiths to be paid off, and for three small things; an absolution, a death, and a letter delivered upon it.”

“He could have done all of that without the Pit’s help.  Why here, why you?”

Shrugging the malebranche leaned back putting on a casual air, “Oh that has a lot to do with the loan he made and terms of non-payment.  It seems that in recent dialog they started threatening…what’s the cant for it…’adams’ of his.”

I stiffened at the implication.  “And you just, pay the jink off just like that?   His life meant that little, that he has to beg to die?”

“No…a contract, cannot be done under duress like that.   The Pact Primeval itself prevents that for souls, but here, Inevitables from the planes of law stand in for it here.   We, who make deals are all subject to a contract signed with the constructs, and we will not break them. Still, a contract with a being’s own death is generally frowned upon by the establishment.   But an exception was made in your adams’ case.”

“Why,” I was angry and almost in tears listening to the contempt in the fiend’s voice for Markel’s life.

“It’s for a simple reason.   Certain…tears taste sweeter.   It’s like a delicacy.   We aren’t stripping his soul apart; We’re helping him ‘pay’ for crimes he believes needs settling.  The Pit is a place for tasting and sampling such rarities.  We’ll make more off of him, than the pittance that we paid.   And he’s perfectly free to seek his absolution…but as we pointed out, it’s not up to us to find it for him.”

“He…doesn’t …know …what …he’s doing.  How can this contract be broken?”

“I disagree.  He knows exactly what he has done and is doing.  He’s not under any duress from us.  But as for the contract, breaking it, is bad for business in general, and my health in particular.  The Inevitables enforce them to the letter, so a breach is…a serious matter.   But we can play, ‘let’s pretend.’  What do you have to offer in exchange for breaking a contract?”

I remember standing there with a knot in my throat and closing my eyes, breathing deeply.  “What if I took his place?”

The Malebranche didn’t react.   It’s slitted eyes regarded me for a long moment.   “A lily ready to take her turn at the end of a scourge? A noble sacrifice?,” it sneered.  “An interesting thought.  And why should I do that?”

“Well, you do get to charge for admission again don’t you?  That would be twice what you get normally.  That should be more enough to cover Markel’s time.”  I said trying not to sound desperate, trying not to beg.

And failing on all counts.

But the malebranche smiled “You have me there I suppose.   So, you serve his agreed time and what did you want in exchange?”

“You don’t kill him.   I’m sure he can find absolution elsewhere.”

The Malebranche continued its smile, “Probably…we never guaranteed anything there.  As for the letter…you could have that after matters were settled,” I nodded eagerly in response.

“I suppose…a loophole…might…be found,” the Malebranche drummed his taloned fingers on the desk and then gave me a wicked smile.  “I think I know…no I know a way to resolve this.  Very well then, let me get something drafted.”  The malebranche reached into the desk, and pulled out some papers, and started to flip through them.

“Most of these are standard as far as limitations are concerned.   I assume you can *read* Infernal better than you speak it.   As a…courtesy, I’ll make sure that they…slow down…so we can conclude negotiations,” and he continued that smug smile and started working on a document in front of him.   He waved his clawed hand, and an imp materialized, gave me a wicked grin, and flew off down the stairs.

I wanted to speed this up and finish this   But, I had never entered a contract before, and I didn’t want to make a mistake that would cost me more than I could pay.   I didn’t trust this malebranche, let alone any other fiend.  I was on edge and it didn’t help that as I glanced around, that other fiends were pointing our way and they were whispering and looking in our direction.   Sometimes paranoia was warranted.

“Here we are…read it and add any…limitations on the section at the end here.   Take your time,” and the Malebranche, leaned back in his seat and watched me.

I regarded the contract…it was longer than I expected.  Far longer than it should have been, based on the time that had passed.  As I read, my discomfort increased.  I felt in my stomach that tightening feeling of dread.    I admit that I wasn’t sure what to make of the limits though.  it seemed that this part of the contract was typical; nothing permanent mark wise.  It mentioned that I would keep all my limbs at the end, which I found chillingly explicit.   It was lengthy as well, with sections that were gender specific.  No children, no intimate relations at all in fact.  All the while I was reading this orderly contract, I got the feeling that I was missing something.   It read that there would be pain, Markel’s pain would end, and they wouldn’t kill him, and I would get the note after the completion of mine.

It smelled wrong, but Baatezu contracts were very specific.  I would walk away, with my soul still my own.  The contracts base language was written for Sensates.  Lots of Sensates came here, and they all walked away.

Then I realized what was wrong. It was not because it was a standard contract, but instead it was because  Markel’s and my name were already dry throughout the contract.  Like the malebranche had already written the contract ahead of my arrival.  Like I was…expected.

I now really didn’t want to sign.



“So why did you?” Daneath asked.  “You seemed to sense a trap.  I can hear you obviously saying it’s a trap, and somehow this is a boring story if you didn’t sign it.”

Myrai looked at Daneath and sighed.  “Well, they say that you do stupid things when you are in love.  Turns out, you do.  I signed it because of that, because I thought I could save him, and I thought I was smart enough to make a deal with a fiend and come out a head…or maybe just break even.”



The Malebranches smile never broke as I signed it, and he counter signed it.   “Well, then shall we?   I am sure that Markel will be…pleased…to see you again.  Follow me then.”

I followed the Baatezu to the stairs.   The flickering lights from the braziers giving me a headache.   But as we descended, I swore I heard the nearby fiends chuckling, and it only grew louder as I descended deeper into The Pit

Below the main bar, the stairs turned into twisting passages.   It looked like your typical dungeon; dark, dank, and doors.   Lots of iron doors.   I had no idea if this was just some perverse aesthetic or there were that many cells and rooms.   After some time, we turned a corner and the malebranche with an exaggerated gesture, motioned me into an open doorway.

Stepping inside, my eyes adjusted to the bright orange and I saw him, Markel.   He was hanging from a set of chains set into the ceiling.   His body was a mess; signs of whips and sources, cuts, and a wealth of sores and wounds all weeping blood.   I rushed forward to him, when I heard moving chains.

The chains quickly wrapped themselves around my arms, wrists, waist and legs, pulling me away from Markel.  I pulled and struggled, but I didn’t have the strength to escaped from their grasp, and I found myself pulled upwards into the air.  Turning my head, my fears became realized.   A figure stepped out of the shadows; it was humanoid in shape.  But the figure was draped in nothing but chains.  Some small and fine, and others heavy; a Kyton.



“Wait what’s a Kyton?” Daneath asked.

“Kytons are the jailers and torturers from the city of Jangling Hiter in Baator." Myrai said.   "A ‘devil’ draped in chains, like a shroud, concealing their bodies.  And they are masters of their craft, since before there were tieflings. They are experts in…pain, simply put.  Let me continue.”



This one just had that presence and command of the room and the chains that hung from the ceiling and lay on the floor were his tools.   And in short order I found myself suspended in the air by those chains, that moved like metal snakes.  All the while the Kyton regarded me with disinterest, instead focusing its eyes on the delicate teacup in its hand, slowly stirring a spoon within.

The malebranche smile again never broke, “Ah how quickly our replacement guest has assumed her position here.   You can release the other one.”  and I saw Markel’s body hit the ground with a wet thump.   His eyes opened briefly and saw me.   He had a puzzled look on his face at first and then a look of pain and sorrow.   I struggled pointlessly, trying to reach him.   But as I looked at him I could clearly him looking at me, tears streaming down his cheek whispering:

“For…give…me,”

His head slumped down on the flagstone, and he lay there with labored breathing.  And I saw forming below him, a pool of blood, oozing and spreading slowly across the floor.  I looked at the malebranche, “Well!?! You said you weren’t going to kill him.”

“Ah yes…our agreement was that wasn’t it?” the malebranche looked at his talons a moment, before glancing my direction.   “And so, we will not.   However, I also said that his contract wasn’t breakable either.   And his stated that his death was required, not that we kill him.   And so, we have a compromise.   He will not kill him…but we cannot be compelled to prevent him from bleeding his life away on the floor.   It seems likely that he will die from that…and so his contract will be fulfilled,” the malebranche said with a toothy grin.

At this point as the horror was unfolding, I realized what I had missed.  I never saw *his* contract.   Mine was dependent on his and I never thought to ask to read Markel’s.   I had been peeled figuratively speaking.   And now, I was looking at the prospect literally.

“I will say Myrai, that it has indeed been a pleasure to making a deal with you.  Ever since your friend mentioned you, I had wondered if this gamble would pay off.  After all, a pittance it was to pay off his debts, and his tears are of course valuable on their own right.   But it was a slim margin.  But you…a foundling; as close to the source as one can get as a mortal…”

I was shaking at this point; the chains were tight around me, but you could still hear the shivering in the links.  I felt contempt for my foolishness, rage at the malebranche who expertly peeled me and anger at Markel for the entire thing.  I tried despite what I had signed, tried to shake my limbs free from my bonds.   But as I pulled against the chains, my feelings changed from anger, and started to settle into fear.  The coney  had gone farther that I thought was possible.

The malebranche strode next to me, and placed a single claw against my cheek, and I felt pain as he drew it down my jawline to my chin.  “So, while, his contact called for as many signed up for within an hour, only six did so.   A poor showing for his agreed time even with the extra fees for the one who drew the last straw, “he removed his claw and I could see my blood dripping from its edge.

“But you…well, granted I was not certain if you would come, and so I took a risk on advertising something I wasn’t quite certain I could deliver.  But many others have been looking forward to it.”  And then proceeded to taste my blood, never breaking his gaze into my eyes.

Gulping, and taking in air like it was the last I would ever taste, I asked, “And how many signed up for mine?”

“It has only just started; only once our signatures were on the page.  But…word has spread.   I will have to check on things and we must wait for its conclusion before…being entertaining the others. So, you can…think on it, on your friend, or…whatever you like.   Nastanal will prepare you in the meantime.  And the malebranche walked out of the room, twirling its tail and humming to itself.

The Kyton, walked around me sipping from its teacup, evaluating me, but otherwise staying silent as I hung there in the air.   As for myself I was in sodding shock, but my attention turned to Markel.  The pool of blood had been growing, but now I had a moment to see how bad his injuries were.   His limbs were intact, but most of his skin was flayed exposing muscles on in back.   Needles, hooks, and what looked like glass were embedded between layers of muscles, or below them.   Most of the blood came from the areas where the glass cut deeply into him.

“Acheron Glass,” the Kyton intoned.  “Sharp enough that most don’t feel it when they cut.   But, when in contact with blood, it prevents clotting and converts blood into a very painful acid.   A favorite of his patron from the prior engagement.   The human will die shortly.”

Markel lay still only occasionally quivering less and less often.   His death was upon him, and I doubted that I would speak to him again.   My mind was an absolute panic, “The prior? so you aren’t partaking in this?”

I could hear from behind me the clinking of the spoon against the teacup.  “No.   I am master of the rooms.   Your…keeper as it were.  I will keep you here.  I will keep you from dying as that is my charge.  I will keep to the contract and call those to heal if needed and nothing more.”

“And for him?”

“A Collector has been called for, to take him to the Dustman.   He made no request otherwise.”

“Let me down a moment…let me hold him!   Let me help him!” I thrashed and screeched.

"I cannot.  You will want to alter the outcome of his contract.  That will not be permitted.”  It intoned and I swore I heard sorrow in the deep baritone voice.

I heard and then felt chains moving across me.   Slowly the Kyton, with great care and a gentleness I would not have expected, began to remove my boots and belt.

“Did he say anything?” I choked on my tears as I hung there helpless, unable to touch his warmth one last time.  Desperate for anything.

The Kyton walked slowly around in front of me.  The chains around it were in constant motion; each chain moved on its own accord in a clinking ballet.  Some removed my outfit, and others drifting around the Kyton, like attendants. They shifted around the Baatezu, as if affected by a light breeze.   It’s head and face were framed in layers upon layers of chains, which only allowed me to see its almost human eyes.

“The human said many things.  Most were pleas.  A name combined with begging.  There was only one thing the Human did not say which is usually common.”  The chains on and around me shifted constantly, and more clothing was removed.   I noticed with some surprise; they were being organized neatly on a bench on the side of the room.  The chains moved me as needed and were in constant motion to remove themselves from being an impediment.  And I could do nothing to resist as I was slowly being stripped.  It seemed to drawn out longer than needed, before I was wearing only my smallclothes, and yet I had barely moved..  And finally, even those were removed.

I hung there and cried.  My sense failure grew as did the pool of blood; he would die, alone, with not even a warm caress, a kiss or any comfort.  Eventually he made a final wheezing sound; a death rattle, and Markel was lost to me, forever.

I hung there, clothed only in my tears.  I don’t know how long it was, my head bowed in defeat.  After a long while, I heard the happy humming of the malebranche as it returned to smugly taunt me.

“You mustn’t cry now; you should save that for later for the patrons.  But I suppose you are…eager to move things along.   The final count has been tallied, and I am indeed impressed.  My promises of who might arrive was one thing, but you striding in, with those noble intentions, cinched the deal for the doubters.   My gamble has paid off far beyond what I expected.   It appears that 133 patrons will have their allotted time of an hour with you.   You should be…proud.” The grin and a chuckle barely registered with me.

“Over a hundred hours?   Five days?”  I was growing cold, and shivering.  I was staring at the Malebranche with, what I assumed was horror or shock.

“Well, a little longer than that.  Sleeping and healing does take some time, so it’s more than a week.  We cannot afford an accident here, or it is my life on the line in Baator.  And I am not willing to let that happen.”  The malebranche knelt next to bloodied corpse of Markel and gently manipulated his head and arms.   “Yes…quite dead.  And, so his contract is nearly fulfilled.”   He strode over to my things and laid a scroll upon them.   “There, now it is done.   You can read it…afterwards.   And so, I will see you at the end.   Nastanal will take good care of you I assume.”

I remember futilely trying to free myself.   I was angry; at the malbranche, at Markel, but mostly at myself.   I thought I could get the better deal.  I thought I could save a man that needed it.  I thought that fate and universe and maybe luck would help me.

I was wrong.

I hung there, naked, sweating, and emotionally exhausted.  Barely comprehending what was going to happen next.   But for some reason, I needed a single question answered.  Something that the Kyton said that was turning over and over in my head.

“Nastanal, you said Mar—he said many things, but you said he didn’t say something.  What was it?”

The Kyton’s chains in front of its face parted, allowing it to take a sip from the teacup.  And it said a single word.   A word that didn’t make any sense yet.

“Stop.”


*Session notes:*

So, we were on a small break when I wrote a draft of this specific story about two years ago as a writing experiment.  Part of the reason I wrote it, was I was fleshing out Myrai’s backstory, when I had reread in one of the original sourcebooks, how Erin Montgomery was trying to change the perception of the Society from just a bunch of hedonists.

Considering Myrai was still in the hive, I realized she was, like way too many girls, someone with low self-esteem.  I could see her going overboard, without a thought of the consequences, and how she would change into a much more grounded person later.


----------



## Richards

Daaaaaaaang.  This is going to be the worst week ever.  And yet this is something apparently some Sensates would willingly sign up for if they hadn't yet experienced it; that's one of the reasons the Sensates, as a whole, never made a whole lot of sense to me (no pun intended).

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> Daaaaaaaang.  This is going to be the worst week ever.  And yet this is something apparently some Sensates would willingly sign up for if they hadn't yet experienced it; that's one of the reasons the Sensates, as a whole, never made a whole lot of sense to me (no pun intended).




You have the gift of both understatement and foreshadowing.  

The location, The Tenth Pit, AND the comment about it being a 'Current favorite of the Sensates' going there for that reason are canon actually, covered in the supplement "In the Cage: A Guide to Sigil." (page 59).  While Erin's desire to weed out undesirables by sending them to the Gilded Hall is covered in the DM's Dark  in the "Factol's Manifesto" (page 141). 

There is a subtle point though, a TRUE Sensate would turn down an experience if death or serious harm were the result; being a Sensate isn't Chaotic stupid.  This is covered in the "Factol's Manifesto" Page 138 on roleplaying Sensates.  But since that is DM's accessory, how would a player know that?  So even if we assume that  an evening's 'diversion' might be common, this contract isn't.  I would posit, most Sensates would say no to this kind of experience.  And Erin Montgomery, while realizing that the reason for the Sensates popularity in the Cage is because fun diversions is the only way to keep the poor and rich alike sane in a packed city.  But going overboard, in any direction is a bad idea, and gives the Sensates a bad name.  

But here, Myrai isn't even a Sensate yet.  And this isn't the typical contract; she's been peeled after all.  As a Sensate she actually would have said no to a normal 'session' mostly because growing up the in the Hive was an experience in pain enough.  She is rational in in sense that this wouldn't open up a secret of the multi-verse (although it might open up secrets about the self.).  If she was raised in the 'Lady's Ward' as part of a rich family, or was a worshipper of Loviatar from the Forgotten Realms/Finnish Mythos, she might have answered differently.  A hiver's life is pain by comparison.


----------



## Nthal

*Nemesis - 9/6/2020*

_About fiends:  They don’t think of us as equals.  To them we are nothing more than a resource; souls to be collected, traded, used as fuel, used to create lesser fiends, and so on.  They don’t share our goals, our values, or even our fears.  

But the one thing we share is a fascination with each other.  We see power to be leverages, and they see us as…playthings.

And to call it unhealthy is an understatement._​


Beepu’s soft snoring continued, while Iesa lay there sprawled across the floor, with Mo nestled by his armpit.  Daneath sat in the darkness, not knowing what to believe.  He had seen Myrai as someone that was sure of herself.  Someone in control.  But the tale she told was about a person he didn’t know.  Myrai’s lack of caution, her gullibility none of it seemed like.  The part about being in love was the only thing that sort of made sense at all and even that didn’t sound like her.

“I’m having a very hard time following this.  You talk about these races…what were they, Baatezu?  They and the others, you make them sound commonplace. And why would anyone make a deal with…things…like that normally?”

Myrai turned her head to look at Daneath, “I’m sorry, but I forget what I consider common you consider extraordinary.   The race of Baatezu are what you would call ‘Devils.’  And the reason why is simple; the Baatezu have power, and the ones seeking to make a bargain, don’t.

“And you can actually talk to Devils?”

Myrai sighed and then said in a rough voice “Perzackt!  Nekim ninoc sek mondanach.”

“Ok…got your point.  So, what does this all have to do with mirrors?” Daneath dreaded asking, feeling like it was almost too much to ask and unsure if he really wanted to know.

“I’m getting there.  It…isn’t pretty.  You…sure you want to hear it?”

Daneath nodded, “Yes, you’ve gone this far.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I found myself ‘entertaining’ Baatezu, Tanar’ri, what you call ‘Demons’, and ‘Yugoloths’ or ‘Daemons.’  It was…a low point.  I suppose some part of me was perhaps eager for a new experience like a Sensate would be.  But that faded, very quickly.  All I wanted to do was help someone, and I didn’t even do that,” Myrai said while staring at the small mirror she had repaired.

“It seemed to be a never-ending parade of filthy, immortal, maggot grown fiends.  I tried to keep count, but with the pain…I lost that and any sense of time very quickly.  And I started to learn about the truth…about the lies in the contract.

“’Learn about the lies?’  Daneath asked, “Didn’t you cover that up front?”

“It was, but not like I had intended.  When they talk about no marks, they only mean that at the very end.  But before that…I was fair game for about anything.” Myrai pointed to her left forearm.  “Look here, unscarred skin…now. But the first night, it was charred flesh after a Red Abashai put into a roaring fire.  It just… crumbled away into ash right before my eyes.  I couldn’t even scream.”  Pointing down to her right leg she said “And I watched and was forced to converse with a Nalfeshnee as it…ate it… ever so slowly all while asking for recommendations on how my thigh should be seasoned.  He even offered me a--”

Myrai stopped herself and stared the floor.  She clutched her arms close to her as she started to recall the horrors.  “It was a waking nightmare, a new fiend bringing, a new pain, a new horror.  I remember being flayed.  My bones broken.  Acheron’s Glass being plunged into my flesh.  Being cut to ribbons with greensteel knives or flechettes.  I remember being disemboweled at least twice.  I lost my eyes several times, in a variety of…inventive ways.  Having my muscles fibers plucked like catgut on a lute.  It went on…and on…and on.” She said, her eyes closed grimacing through the memory.

“That’s…just…horrible!” Daneath blanched as he heard the litany.

Myrai just nodded in agreement and continued…



Some of the fiends were just brutes, they reveled on causing indiscriminate pain.  Others were far more…refined in technique and they had specific desires fulfilled. Some wanted to hear me scream as they worked me over, and others just wanted to watch my reactions.   Each one was different, more intense than the last.  Each one had thousands of years of experience in their…art.  The difference between the Pit and their home, is they were free to do what they wanted, not just strip away the mortal coil till only evil remains.

Sometimes I would lose consciousness, only to have that Kyton rouse me.  After a session, a healer would arrive and…fix me up.   Occasionally, I’d be fed some gruel, roughly bathed and the process would start again.  No two were ever the same.  At the end of a day, I lay in a hammock of those chains…and I could only pray that my dreams would take me…anywhere else.  A prayer that went unheeded.  I wondered if I was being punished for not praying as often, I had before meeting Markel.  That perhaps this was a twisted form of atonement.

All the while Markel’s dead eyes watched me.  They left Markel’s corpse on the floor as a reminder for me and the malebranche had someone cast a spell on it, so it didn’t rot away.  He said it was ‘to help keep my emotions at a ragged edge.’  His corpse stared at me blankly, as if judgment had been rendered and I had been found wanting.  A constant reminder of my failure.

On the seventh day, something different happened.  When I woke up in my bedding of chains, I saw some Imps bringing in some furniture.  Five divans and five tables were brought in first.  Then other objects; a pillory, a small table set to it, and finally something large and rectangular covered in red velvet that was set off to one side.

I lay the hammock, not clear on what was up.  The chains that hung in the room were more than enough to control me, so the pillory seemed unnecessary.  But the divans…I wasn’t sure what that was about.  I noticed one of the imps talking to the Kyton, and soon it scampered away.  Then, the chains moved, letting me down gently while keeping a pair wrapped tightly around my waist.  The Kyton moved towards me and spoke.

“Several patrons have combined their time for something special.  They are to take…care of you.  You will comply.  Stand and wait.” I stood there naked, my arms across myself shivering.  Then I heard a scraping sound metal on stone.  I watched as a pack of imps moved with great difficulty, a brass tub full of steaming hot water, with a small cage attached to one end, holding a mephit made of flames.

More imps appeared, Another brought in food, and another poured what appeared to be razorwine, into glasses.  Then the patrons entered the room.

Not surprisingly, there were five of them.  The first two were succubi, in female forms.  Each with long dark tresses, and voluptuous bodies covered with only a minimal amount of leather.  One of them carried a satchel with which they set on the table.  Then the pair started to circle me, like wolves around their prey.  They were evaluating, judging, looking me up and down.

I was afraid and confused.  I had heard that succubi didn’t work together, that they would compete for souls, and even kill one another, rather than deal with a rivalry.  They then touched me; poking, prodding and running their hands over me as they circled like vultures looking a fresh kill.  But my dread increased when the next pair of fiends entered.

One was a glabrezu, a greater Tanar’ri.  Normally they seduce with power to mortals willing to listen.  Twice my height, and heavily muscled, he strode in into the room on taloned feet, giving me a only a sidelong glance.  He quickly to and flopped down on the one of the divans and watched.  Its two large pincer arms stretched out lazily above him, while the two smaller human arms pulled the wine to his lips.  He just stared at me with those yellow eyes from the divan, saying nothing.

The next one surprised me; an erinyes.  They were said to be fallen celestials, focused on twisted enforcement of punishments within Baator, and seducers of mortals.   She was statuesque with skin like ivory.  She wore armor, unlike the others, with a rope coiled at her waist and of course she had dark red feathery wings, not bat like ones the succubi had.  I heard that they were also rarer than succubi who would typically be their rivals.  And they were all beautiful in that twisted way and now I found myself standing there nervously, as the trio stood around me, and each touching me.  They ran their hands along my shoulders, and down my back.  They gracefully brushed my hair back to see my eyes.   That they were gentle, which scared me the most, even as their wicked smiles showed malice, but they whispered to each other in Abyssal (which apparently the Erinyes could understand).  And then the final of the five arrived.

And then my heart nearly stopped as stared with fear and horror.

She was the most gorgeous fiend I had ever seen but several features about her stood out.  I noticed trailing behind her, was a tail split into four prehensile parts.  Her dark green hair was lustrous and framed her face perfectly, as it cascaded down her back, between her wings that looked as if they were burned away from a great fall from Celestia.  But it was the green halo of light above her head that told me who and what she was.  I wanted to hide, to run, to be anywhere else in the multiverse.  It was a Radiant Sister; one of the thirteen chosen of the Succubus Queen, Malcanthet herself.

Each Sister takes its name from its halo and based on the deep green color of here, I guessed that her name must have been Jade.  I wondered what ill luck had befallen me, had I offended Kelemvor or another power altogether?  Was I cursed? None of the other fiends had the presence or power that Jade had.  And while I was sure the malebranche was very busy selling time to see me, I didn’t think I would attract this kind of attention.

Jade had come into the room with a drink already in hand and evaluated me with those smoldering eyes.  But she never broke her slow strut to one of the divans, and then, gracefully lay upon it, her tails twisting and fanning the air around her.  She leaned over and placed a kiss on the lounging glabrezu and whispered into its ear and playfully nibbled it. He gave a wicked smile and responded in deep toned growls and nodded.  Then erinyes took her place on the other side of Jade, coolly watching the gambit unfold before them.

Without another word, the two succubi, each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me aloft into the air.  And they slowly descended, and lowered me into the tub.  At first, I thought this was an elaborate ritual that involved drowning.   What they did was more unnerving; they landed, each standing in the tub with me, and began to bathe me.



“They gave you…a bath?” Daneath said disbelievingly.

Myrai nodded, “I had not yet been washed yet, it usually was a rag and a bucket of water thrown at me by a pair of imps, not a tub.”

“This sounds a bit different.  What the--?”

Myrai nodded, “--And it only gets worse…please let me try to finish.”



The pair, playfully splashed the water onto me first and then they used soft cloths and soap. They took great delight in gently scrubbing me, cleaning away the blood and filth from the prior day.  The divans were positioned so they could see the spectacle of my bath easily.   Jade, the glabrezu and the erinyes each watched with smiles on their lips, as they watched their prey, me being prepared for something, all the while whispering to each other conspiratorially and sipping wine.

Before this, bathing before was a function of being clean, so that some fiend could make a mess however they liked.  And being dirtied by something was a fairly consistent experience, blood, dirt, and other things.  But this was anything but perfunctory.  They were…gentle, taking their sweet time washing me.  They took time to anoint me with scented oils and rubbed my muscles, and ran their hands over me, in an effort to calm and soothe me as I shivered not in the cold, but in fear.  My body ached from the abuse given from pain and just from being stretched, and it responded to the kind attention they gave me.

Mentally I was guarded; I knew something was up, that this was a seduction.  But my body wanted the soothing relief they granted me.   That mephit below the tub was kicked a couple of times to keep the water warm, and the pair took their time cleaning off the blood and grime from the previous day.  All the while grooming me by stroking and combing my hair and adding some fragranced oil into it.  It felt all wrong in all the right ways.  My shivers dissipated as the warmth penetrated to my bones.  Mentally I was losing focus; it felt too good. It was everything the prior days weren’t.

The imps then flew in with trays, and then the succubi started feeding me fruits; some fresh, others candied and spiced.  The flavors were sweet and tart at the same time and far better than the meager morsels of gruel they normally served me, most of which was barely edible.  I bit and swallowed all that was given to me, eagerly.  Usually it was the case I tasted my meal twice once going down, and after an intense session it coming back up again.  So, my hunger was never sated, and I ate like the starved women I felt to be.  As I was being doted on, the Abyssal conversation continued in whispers, with amused smiles on the lips of the Glabrezu and the Radiant Sister, while erinyes looked at me judgementally.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, none of this was making sense to me, and I noticed it didn’t make sense to my jailor either.  Normally during a fiend’s session, he would sit and watch with ‘professional’…disinterest, stirring his tea.  But now, he was standing on the side of the room his tea and spoon forgotten, and I could barely see furrowed brow on his shrouded face.  Now if Kytons are indeed the masters of torture, then this was one was as confused as a monodrone in limbo.  I could at a glance tell that he was trying to puzzle out the game being played.

As would have I; but the pair were too distracting.  Being tag teamed and pampered by two was effective in keeping my mind away from questioning the circumstances.  I couldn’t concentrate and discern what the game was.  The positive stimulation from their caresses was a stark contrast to the pain I had suffered in the prior days. The care they gave me was a huge alarm in my head, and it was almost enough that I missed the next guest.

He, unlike the others, was a nobody.  A male human wearing only a small loincloth, walked into the room flanked by a pair of imps. And silently he walked to the pillory and I then watched as he bent himself over and was fastened in by the imps.  I could see that his back was covered in thick scars and it told a story.  A story on how he was a regular here for the amusement of the patrons.

It confused me.   Why did they pamper me, while prepare another for a session in pain?  Where was my torture?  Where was the pain I was going to suffer? Why were they doing this?  It bothered me and my mind was no longer being rational.   Was I jealous? But I’m the one getting pampered, so why would I be?  Because I wasn’t the center of attention?

I seriously wondered if they slipped me a poison in the fruit.



Daneath sat there shaking his head.  “I was beginning to wonder if your whole perspective was warped at this point.  I don’t see how you wouldn’t have been a little scrambled.”

Myrai nodded, “I was a bit messed in the head, and that’s what they wanted.  And I knew it.  But after days of nothing but pain I quite frankly didn’t care.  But this is where you see how it starts going barmy.”



The succubi then lifted me out of the tub and the used soft towels to dry me, and the imps slowly pushed that tub out of the room.  Now the attention was on me and the man in the pillory.  One of the succubi retrieved the satchel on the table and opened it.  Inside were polished metal blades.  Some straight, some with serrations, some with hooks.  All sharp and clean.

The succubi picked a straight flechette from the set and handed it to me.  I know I must have looked silly, with a confused look in my eyes as I stared at the instrument.  The other one guided me to the man in the pillory.  He was positioned so he was bent over at the waist, wearing only a loincloth, which was more than I had.  She then traced on his back near the shoulder blade with a long-manicured nail, and then looked at me and spoke:

“Cut here,”

I was dumbfounded.  My jaw dropped open, and I was grasping at straws on what to say.  I never had thought about hurting someone intentionally for fun.  And certainly not like this.  And now a small group of fiends wanted me to hurt this man.  I was shaking my head no, but she just repeated again with a slight admonishment.

But I wasn’t sure I could really refuse.  This man wasn’t some prisoner, he had been here before.  And certainly, I didn’t want more pain.  I knew that I didn’t want to face another round of knives if I could help it. The back of my mind somewhere I was screaming no.  But right now, after being well treated I was willing to do anything to keep it that way.  I was being lured into trusting them.

And it was working.

I remember placing my hand on his back, and then drawing the flechette across his skin, following the ribs to his spine.  My first attempt didn’t even break the skin.  But the other succubus laid her hands upon mine and guided me with pressure.  The flechette pierced the skin, and blood flowed everywhere.  The man’s screams of pain echoed off the stone, and I almost dropped the flechette in my hand.  The whole experience was unnerving, my fear returning along with more shaking.    The three other fiends were talking among themselves.  Pointing and nodding approvingly.

“Well done.  Again,”

Encouraging me.

And so, I was being taught how to cut, slowly and painfully.  The pair kept adding tools.  Showing me how to draw out a scream.  How to make the man howl.  Each success was rewarded, with a soft touch, or soothing words.

Another scream, another complement.

The Kyton was looking at this and took the time to come closer to watch.  And here I was, an aasimar being educated by fiends, and being judged by them on how to inflict pain.  He watched, with curiosity at first, and then respect.  I apparently had a feel for this.

But I was disgusted all the same.  I didn’t want to do this, but the pair kept guiding, supporting, smiling.  It didn’t matter that the man was here on his own volition.  He probably voluntarily signed a contract, like I did.  He probably knew the terms better that I did. 

I kept cutting, poking, prodding, pulling, twisting.  Small areas, and always slowly with precision.  I have plenty of audible feedback when I struck the right balance, followed by a caress, a pat, even a small hug.

Complements were constant.  The only criticism was for me to cut slower, to draw it out.  As I was slowly shredding the man in front of me, the other fiends would each get up with their razorwine.  They would put a hand on me, and my eye would meet theirs.  They would complement and show me little things to improve on.

The Radiant Sister remained quiet with that knowing smile.  She did walk around and would laid a comforting hand on my shoulder or a gentle caress occasionally, but otherwise said nothing to me.

This continued for I don’t know how long, and I kept listening and focusing.  More cuts, more blood, more screams.  I lost track of time when I heard footsteps of Jade move past me as I was working.  And then I heard the movement of cloth.

I had forgotten about the velvet object in the room, and I looked up as I saw Jade, with the most innocent smile, revealed what was concealed beneath the velvet.

It was a mirror.

And within was an image I want to forget.  An imagine that haunts my many nightmares today.

I saw myself in the mirror with that infinite gaze of mirrors in mirrors, standing over the man with a hooked knife in hand, ready to cut again.  I was naked and covered in blood, none of it my own.  It was spattered across my body, my hair and my face.  As I looked myself in the mirror I shook, and the blade fell out of my hand.

I was smiling.  A smile of pure bliss.

Jade then spoke in Celestial no less, “See?  It’s not hard to convince a lily to dirty their halo.   Especially when they are doing what they want to do anyway…”

No…what…no?  My hands shook as I started to think back.  When was the last time they told me to cut?

When did I start to do it on my own?

When did I start to take pride in my work?

When did I start to enjoy my work?

My hands shook violently, and I heard the knife clattering on the floor.  My vision clouded as tears formed.  I was shaking my head and mouthing the words ‘no’ over and over.   I didn't want to do this.  I didn’t enjoy it.    I could have walked away.  This wasn't in the contract.  Why didn't I walk away?  Why didn't I try?  Why was I seeking approval, validation, confirmation?

*What have I done?*

And then I just sank to my knees in front of the mirror and screamed.

I had been screaming for six days, knowing the pain would end.   This was different.  It wasn’t pain that drove the scream from my lips.  I felt like my soul was being torn asunder.  I didn’t know who I was at that moment.  It was during this primal scream my thoughts were wondering if I was tricked, if there was a spell that made me do it.  But truth was in that mirror.

I did it all.  And I was reveling in it.  That I loved the pain I caused.  That I felt empowered and strong because I was in control.  I screamed at my own betrayal.  I screamed in frustration on how I was manipulated here.  I screamed at the ugly person I had become.

Finally, I heaved, and I vomited those tart berries on the stone, now bitter and dark as my soul felt.  My screams had died down to whispers.  And as I collapsed on the floor, I could hear the laughter of fiends echoing in my ears as they broke this simple mortal aasimar.

“Even lilies can be made to see the truth in themselves, they just hide it better.  All it takes is some encouragement and some soap and even a foundling can fall.” Said Jade, this time in Infernal, which echoed in my ears as I surrendered to darkness.



Daneath’s eyes were wide.  She had told them about the conversation in the bar where she had been playing up “cutting the gnome” with the madam. But he had no idea that she actually had done something like this.  And he, like Myrai in the story was horrified at the implication that somewhere deep inside her, was a need to create and cause pain and misery.

Myrai wasn't weeping though.  Her innocence was long gone, sacrificed in the Tenth Pit.  She was slumped against the wall, no longer looking at Daneath, resigned to whatever judgment he had.

“When I came to, the pillory and other furnishings were being taken away by the imps.  Only the mirror remained.  But Jade was still there kneeling by me, looking at me with amusement.”



“All this drama,” Jade sneered, as she pulled my head up by the hair, so I could see my image in the mirror.  “All this sanctimonious self-sacrifice, for a worm.  A worm that betrayed her trust and sold her.”  She tossed the barely remembered letter on the ground in front of me.  “And pride and arrogance led you here, to find yourself.  And there you lay in someone else's blood, someone else’s pain, feeling sorry for yourself.  How rich.  How typical.  How…mortal.’  She let go of my hair, and my head sagged and touched the wet floor with my forehead. 

“Your parents must be very proud of you,” and the five fiends stood and laughed.  And with that, she stood and took the arm of the glabrezu, and the five of them left me to wallow in a new prison.  One where I was the sole judge of its occupant.

I lay there stunned.  My trembling hand reached for the letter and grabbed it.  I pushed myself to a half sitting position, and I read it.





	
		Myree,

By the time you read this, I should be dead.  I didn’t realize that I had been peeled; that he was using me to get to you.   It doesn’t matter now.  I hope you don’t fall into the trap that has been laid for you.  Don’t try to save me.

I owe you an apology; I spent time with you because you threw yourself at me.   You were pretty and you just wanted to have fun.  I hope you found some happiness for a while.   But I didn’t have the courage to tell you I didn’t really love you.   Everyone was just so impressed that I had a girl like you. 

You deserved better.  I guess the malebranche was right; I really did sell you to pay things off.  It doesn’t matter they were going to hurt you anyway, because I couldn’t pay.  I shouldn’t have been the cause.

I don’t deserve any favors, nor do deserve to ask anything from you.  Not even forgiveness.  I hope you walk away from this, because I don’t deserve to.

Believe well.

Markel
		
	


I crumpled the parchment in my hand.  Falling forward back onto the floor, I sobbed uncontrollably.

The love we had together was a sham; I was nothing more than an ornament on his shelf.  The things we did…no I did for him meant nothing. 

My unwanted sacrifice was worthless.



“I was honey peeled three times over.  By Markel.  By the Malebranche.  By Jade.  The rule of threes in action.”

While he didn't quite get the phrasing, Daneath certainly understood a con.  Sure, he had done shady stuff.  But he didn’t play with lives.  The harlot in the brothel he tried not to hurt while saving Beepu was an example.

But this was something else.  He saw why Myrai could laugh at the anyone what wasn’t afraid of punishments for their actions in life.  She had perspective, from the evilest beings straight from Hell itself.

Daneath, got up and sat next to Myrai. she appeared exhausted.  She flinched when Daneath touched her, and she almost recoiled when he put his arm around her shoulders.  She was tense at first, but she slowly relaxed and leaned her head on his shoulder.  He could smell the fragrance in her hair for the first time, and the softness of her now unblemished skin.  Her breathing slowed as she relaxed.

“I can only say sorry.   What happened was horrible.   But…how did you pull through that?”

She sighed, “I found something unexpected in the Pit.”

“Compassion."

*Story Notes:*

The last part is coming soon...and then back to the mess on the island.


----------



## Nthal

*The Nature of Torment - 9/10/2020*

_There is a story floating around Sigil of a man that could not die and he suffers pain because of it.  In that story, he collects to him companions for various reasons and then they all departed Sigil.

It would be an interesting anecdote, if I hadn’t of heard of one of the companions beforehand; a Sensate named ‘Fall-From-Grace.’  She ran a brothel not far from the Civic Festhall.  

When I first heard the story, I didn’t understand why she might have followed him.  I do now._​


I lay on the floor of the chamber.   In my hand was the crumpled note with Markel's betrayal.  His corpse lay nearby, immune to any fury I could muster, staring at me with cold dead eyes.   His soul long departed for whatever punishment he had earned for his sins.  Because if what he did to me wasn’t one, I no longer knew what was.  The mirror remained, impassively reflecting a twisted version of myself.

I was numb to the horror of it all, as I lay there in shock.  My tears had dried, along with the blood. as my sobbing ended some time ago. I was done caring, about anything at that point.  For the first time in six days I wanted to end it all.  To run to Suicide Alley and jump.  Jade had pushed me beyond my limits and showed me how ugly I was in the mirror.  Shown to me that I was just a mere mortal, flawed and worthy of only contempt. 

I lay there, wishing for an end, when I heard the chains move again.  I closed my eyes and braced myself, not yet ready for more.

I felt the chains as slithered around me, the cool steel against my skin.  They again lifted me upwards into the air, and  carried me towards the Kyton and I hung there limply expecting to be told to prepare for another round.  He was seated in a simple chair on one side of the room, the teacup on a table beside him, with the spoon perfectly balanced on the rim, the scent of sulfurous herbs wafting from it.

The Kyton’s red eyes regarded me, and it tilted its head left and right several times.  I was dimly aware of the chains as they weaved themselves into a web fully supporting me, and brought me closer, and then lowered me down until I was level with the fiend. 

My focus was returning.  The Kyton had never touched me before, only the chains in the room.  But now after hesitating a moment, the chains lowered my supine form onto his lap, and he lifted its arms and cradled me.    I remembered shaking my head and then it spoke.

“There is nothing more today.  Rest.”

I looked at the fiend puzzled unable to articulate anything.  I blinked and barely shook my head

“Because it was agreed to let you fully rest before and after,” the Kyton said simply.

“No, why are you…” I said, my voice hoarse and ragged, as I gestured at the mix of arms and chains.

It was silent for a while and then it intoned, “It is…necessary.”

“Necessary?  It wasn’t before, why now?” I croaked.

“Before, pain served no purpose but pain.  Easy to dismiss.  Pain with purpose and intent is meaningful.  Consequences probable.  Intent here to make you question self.  To choose a path or belief when you believe it is against your nature is a higher order of pain.  A torment.”

I twisted in the chains to look in the Kyton's eyes.  “Believe against my nature? But is it right or true?”

Two small chains snaked from its shoulders and formed a pair of sideway curves, imitating the motion of a shrug.  “Mortals suffer on choices to define their nature.  Their nature not absolute.  When nature conflicts with choice, torment occurs.  Many outcomes possible; nature changes or change is repudiated.  Torment then ends.”

Confused, I asked “What about immortals?”

“Torment is acting against nature by choice.  Creatures of belief do not choose nature.  Torment ends only with alteration of choice.  Result, mortal pain is brief, but greater in intensity.  Immortal pain constant, but less intense.  Side effect: Mortals break easier because of torment intensity.  Immortals take much longer to break, if at all.”

“So why are you helping me now?” I didn’t understand and was suspicious.

I couldn’t tell for certain, but I had the impression of furrowed eyebrows.  “Because of choice made.  You were forced to reconcile beliefs and are tormented.  I too chose a path leading to torment.  In this we are similar.”

I was curious at this point, “What torment?”

“Jangling Hiter, in the third layer of Baator.  Few mortals visit.  Wanted context to better inflict pain. To improve. Came to Sigil.  To watch.  Learned much.  Still learning.  Mortals driven by many things.  Pleasures easy.  Most who seek pain or give it, transform it to pleasure.  Few seek pain for pain.

“Like me?” I whispered to myself.

“No,” it said, and I turned to look at him with confusion.  “You looked for pleasure.  Pleasure of altruism.  But you found torment; of belief and perception of one’s nature.”

I frowned at that, wondering how this made us similar.  It wasn’t enough, something else was there.  “And you are tormented?

It shifted uncomfortably now.  “Pain caused by a second choice made.  Choice not to return. Found that Blood War was pain without point.  A distraction of purpose.  Do not wish to participate.  But not returning means cannot do what nature should be doing.  Purpose is to remove impurities from Lemures and others.  Jail and enforce order.  Cannot do functions in Sigil.  Did not realize discontinuity of Blood War’s purpose until arrival in Sigil.

“True torments not common.  Pain of petitioner or mortals common.  True torment of petitioners or mortals rare.”

My head hurt, and I slumped to one side, “Why are you helping me?” I whispered.

The Kyton looked at me intensely as he said this.  “The Radiant Sister was breaking…Myrai.  Permitted by contract.  Not…desired by...” And he averted his gaze from me.

“Why do you even care?” I said disbelieving raising my voice slightly, pushing myself upwards in my hammock, “How many fiends have been tearing at me?  And now?  *Now* you intercede?  Why?”

“I…I…cannot explain,” the Kyton said simply.

I stared it and said, “Then what do I---?”

“--Nothing.  For now.  Address problem later with time.  Avoid crisis now.  Rest and for mortals, contact helps.  Later can reconcile.  Otherwise, Myrai will likely break.”

I slumped back into the chains, “What I saw… was it me or not?”  I asked that more to myself than the Kyton.  But I still was shaken by what I saw or felt or experienced.  All of it.

“That…is up to you,” the fiend intoned.

I imagine to any fiend or any celestial walking in they would have been a strange site.  A naked Aasimar, covered in blood and tears, laying in a cradle of chains, resting peacefully in the embrace of a Kyton looking on, sipping tea.

“Tha…thank you…Nastanal,” I said and closed my eyes, breathing deeply I fell into a slumber, feeling at peace.

The pain didn’t end of course.  My time was not yet done.  But the worst was over.  Nothing compared to what I faced, although it was still horrifying.  The other fiends continued their wretched fantasies of misery on me, using my body as a canvas to paint their pain.  But each night I found myself being consoled by a nervous Kyton.

Three days later, I walked out under my own power.    ‘The Pit’ kept to its side of the bargain, and my skin and bones were unbroken and unbruised as the day I walked down into the bar.  And I have no doubt, no matter what was spent on fixing me, they profited handsomely at my expense.  I stayed below only long enough to see a Collector take the remains of Markel to the Dusties for his final rest.  I still felt bruised and battered, despite being unmarked and intact.  At least physically.

Jade had done…more lasting damage by comparison. 

Finally, I emerged from the playroom’s below and entered the bar.  I strode through with my head high and ascended to the streets above, I ignored the sniggering patrons.  I ignored the nasty grin from malebranche that orchestrated this nightmare.  I ignored the fingers pointed at me from the bouncers and imps.  All of them. 

The only one I acknowledged was Nastanal who guided me out from below to the bar.  And as I started to ascend the stairs out, I gave him the slightest of nods, and he returned the gesture.  Nothing felt better than the light of peak on my face as I left the horrors below.



“And then I was free.”

Myrai’s head was resting on Daneath’s shoulder, as the hints of dawn started to peak through the slats of the floor above replacing the moon’s light to our hiding place. 

“So, there you have it, mirrors, pain and more.”  Said Myrai.

“Well the term boring doesn’t exactly come to mind,” Daneath replied.  “But it is all resolved, right?”

“Sort of I suppose,” Myrai said sadly.  “I took those ten days of memories, and I went to the Civic Festhall.   I committed most of them to sensory stones, and it was…more than enough to become a member of the Society.   One of them became a public stone, which I heard caused a ruckus.  Meant a lot less curiosity seekers went to the Pit, and a little less money for them.  The rest became part of the Sensates’ members only collection.  All of them but that seventh day…that I recorded for myself and left there, and I haven’t looked at it since.  I’ve heard that most Sensates have never been able to sit through all of what I recorded.  Weeks later I travelled to the Gilded Hall in Aborea and took the test and passed it.  Barely perhaps, but it was enough.  And I became a full fledge member of the Society.

“But on other matters, no.” she said softly.  “I thought I had put some of those questions behind me years ago.  But…ever since I got dropped onto this plane and we started dealing with the Kershak…I wanted to outright kill Paradros before we entered the library; and now I want to let his and every other member of the Kershak’s blood run.  The pirates here see me as a commodity, the sailors, that madam, everyone.  And each one that looks at me or get close to me…I want to give them the most painful memory to remember me by.  I didn’t care if they lived, died or anything as so long as we got Beepu free.

Myrai looked Daneath in the eyes “So you probably think I’m not a normal person.  I’m just a fiend in lily’s clothing, right?”

Daneath stroked Myrai‘s hair and looked into her eyes.  “I think you are exactly…what you are.  Someone coping with what happens to them as best they can.  For good or for Ill, better or for worse. I mean, you didn’t actually try to skin Beepu right?  Talking about it isn’t the same.”

Myrai chuckled, “I guess there is truth in that, and maybe that’s enough.  And I guess we should get up and find that Genasi.  And besides, the others are awake listening to us.”

“You tell such horrible stories; how would I sleep?” Iesa said from his spot on the floor, eyes still closed.  “And personally…if you are a fiend, you are the best fiend someone could know.  Certainly, better than the Kershak.”

“I have to agre---” and Beepu yawned in the middle of his words.  “—ee with Iesa.  No matter what you feel, what you do I admire and can defend.  You are not anything more than what you do, and that is enough for me.”

Myrai hung her head down and after a moment nodded and said, “You sound like a Cipher…and I suppose that’s not a bad thing Beepu.  And thanks to you for your faith in me.  I hope to be worthy of it.”  Myrai untangled herself from Daneath, stood and stretched.

“That’s just it; you already are,” Daneath said giving Myrai a squeeze.  “I wouldn’t worry about the rest.  Just…do what you do best.  Be you.”

Myrai looked at Daneath again with tears in her eyes, and a smile on her cheeks.  Pulling out the white cloth she wore before, she tied it around her eyes.  She unfastened Daneaths large cloak and took it.  She then donned it, and wrapped the folds around her body, pulling up the hood, and tucked her hair within.  Looking at the once shattered mirror she nodded satisfactorily, and she tucked it away in her pouch.

“I think we have a casino to hit; we ready?”  And seeing the others nod, she climbed a couple of steps of the ladder, and pushed open the trapdoor, flooding their hiding place with sunlight.   And the Aasimar ascended into the warm morning light, leaving her horrible memories below.



_*Epilogue*_​
_*Five Years ago, Market Ward*_​
Kelthsan was tired.  He had just shooed a pair of urchins from his shop and was leaning against a ladder catching his breath, when a young woman entered.  He straightened up, smiled and walked to the entrance to his shop to greet her.   The woman was of medium height and had that radiance that instantly marked her as an Aasimar.  As he looked her in the eyes, he remembered that he had met this woman before.  She was working as a table host for ‘Sixes and Styxes’ at the Fortune’s Wheel in the gambler’s hall.  He smiled inwardly remembered losing quite a bit of jink at the table that night as well.  Dice never seemed to be in his favor.

But she had made him smile the entire night, as she plied her table guest with drinks, and they placed their bets against each other, and she with tips.  She was worth every jink in it too, based on the little illusions she cast tracking the winners of the pot and based on the headache in the morning the house clearly won.

“Good day, and what can I get for you?”

The woman smiled, “I’m looking for a bag of red spindle bloom tea.”

Kelthsan arched an eyebrow, “An uncommon blend, but I do have some that I can part with for three jink.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “One and a quarter.”

“Now, now, two and a half.” Kelthsan said reasonably.

“Cross trader! One and seven stingers!  You know it isn’t in high demand.”

“Can’t part with it for less than two.  After all, it is a rare commodity.”

“Done.” She said with a smile.

Kelthsan, returned it, and moved the ladder along a rail to a corner of the shop.  He then climbed up and pulled out a drawer, and carried it down the ladder, to a nearby counter.  Using a large spoon, he scooped out leaves and needles from the drawer, causing a small cloud of dust with the scent of an earthy smoky tone, mixed with brimstone, and placed the contents into a small sack. 

“I seem to remember you pounding ales after you finished your job at the tables, not sipping tea,” Kelthsan commented.

The woman shrugged, “It is more of what I like, but this is for…a friend.”

Kelthsan nodded and started to wrap up the dried leaves.  “A good friend then?  This isn’t exactly the cheapest herb.”

The woman replied.  “I guess…but it’s worth it,” she said with a smirk.

“Here you are then.  Remember you can only use the hottest water.  A roiling boil, otherwise it won’t bring out all the essence.”

“I’ll mention that,” and the woman handed over two gold coins.  “Believe well!” and smiling, she turned and exited the shop.

“Likewise,” and Kelthsan watched her leave.

Kelthsan thought to himself, it was an odd choice of tea.  He had a tiefling that brought in a batch or two every so often.  But as it came from the depths of Minauros, the swampy third layer of Baator it was rarely seen.  It also wasn’t exactly popular with most of the natives.

Kelthsan stepped to the window of his shop, to watch her leave.    It was moving towards anti-peak and the light was only starting to fade.  But she didn’t go far; she moved to a nearby light post, leaned against it and waited.

It wasn’t long when another figure approached from the spireside direction.  It was of medium height but with a broad shoulders, covered in a heavy cloak and robe.  While Kelthsan couldn’t hear, he saw the woman call out to the figure and wave a hand.  It then turned and approached her.

He saw the woman approach the figure with her head bowed down slightly, and then she offered the bag to it.  From beneath the robe, a chain ending in a hook snaked out and pierced the upper part of the bag and lifted from her hand.

The figure cocked its head and regarded the bag then nodded.  He reached out with its arm towards the woman, and she responded by suddenly embracing the figure.  She then released it, and with an almost guilty look she then clasped the hand as offered.  The woman then looked at the figure and said something, and if Kelthsan had a guess, it was a thank you.

The figure nodded slowly, and after a long moment together they both release their hands.  They looked into each other’s faces for a moment, and then moved past each other, going their separate ways. 

Kelthsan turned and to look for the broom to sweep the shop.  He shook his head and wondered if what he saw was the opening to a bad joke, or an interesting story of why a Kyton and an Aasimar met in a marketplace.



*Backstory notes:*

Thanks for my indulgence…back to the adventures


----------



## Nthal

*A Mind’s Grip Tossed Asunder - 9/14/2020*

_I might be considered a bit of a control freak.  I am in control.  I *must* be in control.  I feel at my worst when I am not, whether a pack of monsters are charging at us, or because I was strung up for the night with a fiend or hipped across the multiverse.

But those examples are physical manifestations.  Mental ones are even scarier. _​


Crawling up out of the ruined hut it was nice to feel the warm of the sun in my face.  I never really thought of the ‘north’ as cold, but there was a distinct difference on how the rising sun felt here.  I stepped off the ladder and breathed deeply; the smell of the salt air was fresh and clean.  I chuckled; this might be the last respite I would have for a while.  I was a wanted…no hunted woman.  And damned if I would get caught.  Not to the pirates, and certainly not to Philandre.  The idea of being kept as a brothel slave to that woman was sickening.  I would kill them first or force them to kill me. 

But now we had to survive, and find this casino run by drow.  I looked around, as Iesa climbed up and Mo quickly bounded off, looking for a rooftop.

_--Morning!  You DO tell terrible stories.  Enlightening but terrible.

It wasn’t *for* you.  Anyone been nearby?

--No.  Last night they streamed towards the cave we came in by.  But I did notice that some came back with wounds.  Looks like they might picked a fight.  But that was early last night, nothing since.    

That’s good.

--I wouldn’t count on that.  A lot of blame was tossed your direction as they came back to town._

I winced.  “Iesa, we’re going to need something to cover ourselves with.”

“I know.  Stay here,” and Iesa stayed low to the ground and moved into the alleyway and darted out of sight.  I then helped Beepu and the Daneath up out up off the ladder.

“Been talking to Foggle,” the gnome said as I pulled up Daneath.  “Looks like there were three ships in harbor last night, but only one this morning.  I bet they pulled out with the morning tide.” 

“That might help, less pirate looking for us,” Daneath said straightening out.

“I hope so,” I said looking around for Iesa.  “Being the object of the pirates’ affection is more than I can stand.  The less pirates, the better.”

We stayed next to another empty ruin and waited, and soon Iesa reappeared.  In his arms were a pair of sea coats.

“Well…that’ll work.  Very piratey,” Daneath said as he took one and Iesa donned the other one.  

“Yep, Myrai wearing yours should be fine, especially if he hunches like an old woman.”

“I guess,” I said scrunching my face on how my back would feel.  “What did you get Beepu?”

Beepu looked at Iesa expectantly.

“Seriously, there are no small folk here.  I haven’t even seen a child!” Iesa exclaimed as he raised his hand.  “But…you are short enough to hide in Daneath’s cloak, as Myr bends over.

“You must be joking,” Beepu said his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t smell do I?” I said suddenly concerned about my hygiene.

“What?  No!  That is not the problem.  The idea is ludicrous.  How will that even work?”

Iesa knelt over to the gnome and looked him in the eye.  “Look, no one looks an old woman shuffling.  We’ll go slow so not to arouse suspicion.  But what I need to do is get out there and talk to the locals.   So, head inland, and stay next to Daneath.  I’ll find you.”

“Iesa…be careful,” I said.

“I will…go!” he replied, and he crept back into the alleyway.

“I hope he knows what he is doing,” Beepu muttered.

“Same here.  Hate to lose a brother now.” Dan said with a worried expression.  “Look, I’ll follow behind you, that way I don’t accidently lose you.”  I nodded, and crouched over Beepu with the cloak, and we made our way into the shanties.

It was slow going, and as I expected my back was killing me.  Looking around I found a stick and basket.  I gave my rod to Beepu and used the stick to lean on and put the basket on an arm. With my shield on my back I looked like a crouched robed woman.  I just hoped it would do.

And it seemed to so just that.  Iesa appeared to be right; an old woman was uninteresting, and no one tried to speak to me.  But I with copper wire around my finger, could talk to Daneath easily:

“Heading to the left now,”

“I see you. I’m crossing to the otherside.  No one is looking at you.”

“Ok, I’m shuffling forward, any sign of Iesa?”

“Not yet.  Go into the alley to your left, a pair of pirates are near you.”

And so on.

It worked fairly well.  We followed the alleys to the main road, and then turned inland, moving as far away from the quays and the brothel.  The homes were slightly nicer, in the sense there was less sewage our front and they had real foundations.  Finally, we came to a fork in the road, and there wasn’t a clear direction to go.  I moved over to an alley and waited, while Daneath waited across from me.

After what felt to be an eternity, Iesa appeared behind me, scaring me.

“Iesa!” I hissed between my teeth.  “Don’t DO that!”

“Sorry, can you get Daneath over here?” he said.

Looking across the way, I saw the warrior approaching, and I said “No need.  What did you find?”

“Well, a couple of things.  First you are very popular.  Three thousand crowns popular, paid in jewels by the madam herself.”

“How nice…wait a minute.  In jewels?” Beepu said from under the cloak I wore.  “They are paying for your bounty with *MY* bounty!  Those conniving pirates!”  and he spat on the ground.

“Second, the search did reach the cave, and the drow shot them.  They seem to think the drow are protecting us,” he continued.

“Why would they?” Daneath asked confused.  “Didn’t we kill some of them earlier?”

“I’m guessing they didn’t ask, and the drow just let loose.  They made up a story and went back to drinking.  Apparently, the bounty isn’t enough to beat up the drow over.”

“Maybe, or they are plain scared of them,” I wondered aloud.

“Whatever the case, the Casino is uphill to on the left fork of the road.  Enters a lava tunnel of some sort.” Iesa finished.

“Well to the left, I guess.  Follow me and I’ll slowly hobble my way to safety,” I said in a mock-heroic tone.

We departed the alley, with Beepu and I sticking close, Iesa on the other side of the street, and Daneath somewhere behind me.  I slowly tapped and leaned on my stick.  It felt like slow progress as I slowly shuffled forward.  It took a while, and the houses became slightly nicer.  I slowly made my way to the top of hill and crested onto a plateau.  There were the remains of a house that was perched on the slide of a bluff overlooking the bay.

Or half of it was, as it was clear that only half of it remained on the bluff and I guessed the other half was at the bottom.  Frowning I looked around, and I saw that there were no passages into the hillside, just a couple of houses here at the top.

_--Uh Myr.  You have some pirate coming up and they are heading right for…Iesa?_

I slowly turned, and indeed I saw eight men, seven with drawn cutlasses making their way to Iesa.  A fifth man who looked like a painfully tall and thin scarecrow of man followed, calmly strumming a lyre, like nothing was amiss.

“Iesa?” I asked, twisting the copper around quickly on my finger.  “Did you happen to get this all from the man with the lute?”

“That’s a lyre Myr and oh…crap,”

I grimaced.  “Beepu, Try not to rip my shirt alright?” I said whispering below me, dropping the stick and grabbing the rod.

“Why?  No.  What did he do?” Beepu asked groaning.

“He led some pirates right to us,”

“I am ready then…foolish son of a—”

The man with the lyra called out aloud.  “--Thanks for the tip friend.  You led us right to them.”

“I don’t believe I sold them out, much as you sold me a bill of goods.  I even tipped you for the song!”  Iesa spat fingering his rapier hilt.  Daneath had turned and had already drawn his sword.

“I think your lady friend wants to come with me, and not put up a fight.  I think we will be dear friend from here on out.” He said as he casually plucked on his instrument.

I stared at him like he was mad.  I straightened up and got my rod ready.   But it was strange…the man’s words echoed in my head.

“…wants to come with me…”

      “…not put up a fight…”

           “…come with me…”

                “…Not…fight...”

“Beepu…we probably shouldn’t fight them.  I’ll just go with that man and take care of…things,” I said slowly.  My mind was disconnected in a fog.  But it was important I follow that man…

“What?  Myr?” Beepu said in alarm.  He turned around underneath me and jumped to slap me solidly on the cheek.

I stood up suddenly in confusion, “What was that for?” I said as I looked at the gnome in anger.

At the sound of the slap, Iesa was in motion, quickly drawing his rapier, and thrusting it into the man closest to him.  The pirate groaned, dropping his cutlass, and then collapsed on the ground in a pool of blood.  Iesa then spun away from two men slashing at him with their heavier blades, none finding their mark.

I started to run over to the man with the lyre shouting “I’m coming!”  As I approached, of the pirates moved over to me and each gently took an arm.  That was nice…nice that they would take me to the man that was walking down the street, playing that lute…er lyre…whatever.   The men who had my arms were filthy and unwashed, but they were a help.  One of them saying, “That’s right dearie.  Fost wants you to follow him…we’ll keep you safe, so you don’t have to fight.” with a nasty smile missing more than a few teeth.

“Myr?!?  What the hell are you doing?” I heard Daneath behind me say.  The men pulled me gently along, as the nice man…Fost?...yes Fost, trotted down the hill.

“We need to catch up with Fost,” I said feeling this was urgent that I should follow him.  I didn’t turn to look, but from behind I heard the whistling of a blade and a yelp of pain, followed by the sound of Beepu throwing fire at another pirate.   I wanted to help, but I…I…I was tired of fighting.  I shouldn’t fight.  I should follow Fost…but he keeps moving away.

Fost continued to play his lyre calmly and spoke, “You know the plan, she’s a wanted woman.  We should manacle her, so people think we caught her and keep her safe.”

As I was being jostled and following the man, they quickly clamped a set of manacles on my wrists.

“Hey, just let me get to Foss, I’m not going to fight you…this isn’t needed!” I said in alarm…but I *had* to get to Fost.  I shook my head.  I wanted to resist…but I didn’t want to fight.  “We can work it out I’m sure, but I don’t want to fight you!”

From behind me I heard more shouting, of my name.  But it wasn’t important.  Getting to Foss was important.  I heard more steel on steel, and steel slashing flesh.

The four men led me into a muddy alley, with Foss at the far end.  Various wooded boxes and crates were stacked haphazardly along the walls here and there.   Behind me I still heard fighting and I was glad that it wasn’t near me, and I didn’t have to fight.  That’s good.  Almost to Fost now.

Fost smiled at me wickedly and with a sneer, “Philandre said to give you a work over before we dropped you off—”

I was puzzled for a moment as two of the men pushed me against the wall and pinned my manacled arms above my head.  Then a basket hilt smashed into my cheek almost knocking me down, followed by two two pommels to my ribs, cracking at least one, and a third to my gut. knocking the wind from me.  The fog was fading fast.  

*What was I doing?*

I felt ill, as they punched me again.  I felt another rib crack and I was coughing up blood. Another blow to my face and another to my gut, and I lost control of my legs and collapsed gasping for air into the mud of the alleyway.  I tried to pull my hands from the manacles in vain, desperately.  The man, Foss stepped close to me with an evil grin, taking his place with the other four men that surrounded me.

“—And to take our bounty out of your hide.  One at a time boys.”

I was scared.  I never had been threatened like that.  Not any spiv.  Not any fiend.   I lay there in pain as they grabbed at Daneath’s cloak ripping it away trying to get to my clothes and armor.  I grit my teeth together in anger.  I searched inside myself for the largest white strand I could find.  I pulled it tight and mentally tethered it away from me.  I looked at Foss and spat at him.

“Over your dead body,” I hissed and then I pulled the strand until it snapped.

A bolt of lighting streamed from the heavens, striking the point where I once lay in mud.   The detonation of sound obliterated boxes and crates around the point and threw the four of the men lifeless to the ground.   Foss stood there stunned, his hands on his ears, covering the blood that streamed from them.  He staggered a moment in pain and looked at the ground seeing only the empty manacles there.  He then turned around looking for me in desperation.

As for me, I was laying on my side on top of a nearby rooftop in pain.  Not from the explosion I caused, but from the cracked ribs and beating I had received.  Focusing I pulled myself up and stood on the roof looking down triumphantly.  My blood was boiling, and I pulled on a dark strand.  Around Foss’ neck a ghostly skeletal hand formed and started to pull his life away. 

He glared at me and grabbing for his lyre he plucked a couple of strings smiling.  But I could see the expression on his face turn from contempt to fear.  The dark strands siphoned away the magic he used to try to heal himself.   From the distance I could see him shake his head, his hands clasped together in a desperate plea for mercy.

My face was contorted in anger, and without a second though I pulled on the dark strand again.  Foss stiffened and fell into a lifeless heap around the impression in the dirt and mud of where I once lay.  I readied myself to pull on another strand if another emerged from the alley, all the while I cursed at my attackers.

“May Kelemvor damn your souls, for trying to—"

I was about to finish it, when I heard a whistling sound followed by the sound of metal sinking into flesh.  I blinked and looked down, and I was surprised to find that a dagger had lodged itself into my chest.  I gasped at the sudden rush of pain, as blood poured from the open wound.  I grabbed and yanked out the dagger dropping it on the wood where it clattered and skidded off the roof.  But the wound was now gushing blood.

From below me, I heard fighting, steel on steel once again.  I wanted to fight.  I wanted to hurt who threw that dagger at me.   But I was so tired, I wanted to rest.  I remember my body relaxing as I fell from the rooftop.  I was so happy to get down, but the ground was coming up awfully—



I was warm.

The warmth spread through my tired limbs, numbing the pain.

I took a breath.  On my tongue was the taste of wet air, salt and other minerals. The air was warm too…warmer than it was before.  But it was so soothing.

I slowly opened my eyes and my vision started to focus.  My head was tilted backwards, and I felt something under my arms.  The chamber I was in was a natural cavern.  Along the walls were lit oil lanterns, and the light played off the steam that drifted around them.   I lifted my head and found that I was in a bubbling pool of water, perhaps a natural hotspring.

I turned my head and looked around.    Behind me I saw the open mouth of a cavern, and more lamps leading off around a corner, and I thought I saw that this passage was one fork of at least two.   But beyond the pool, and what looked to be a towel folded neatly on the floor near the spring, the chamber was empty.

I looked myself over.  The dagger wound was already closed and only a bit of redness remained and touching my ribs I could feel only the barest level of soreness. 

Wait my ribs?

Looking down at myself in the water, I swore that my eyes were about to pop out of my head when I shouted aloud:

“WHERE IN SODDING BAATOR ARE MY CLOTHES!?”



*Session Notes:*

So, in full disclosure; I have no idea what happened this session, because I wasn’t there.

So, I know that the pirates were trying to catch me, and the other players said, “they did something to your mind and caught you.”  But the details were vague.  And no one else took notes.

Now, I came back to the next session, and yes it opened with Myrai was alone naked in a hot spring.  I admit to having a major problem with this.  In my mind the suggestion of hot tubing in a Pirate’s port is a bad idea in principle.  As you will soon see (foreshadowing) this wasn’t because we were safe either.   It one thing with a spell being cast on Myrai and a saving throw being intentionally failed to keep things going while I wasn’t there.  But making a character vulnerable, just because I missed a session (just like Beepu) I felt wasn’t right.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Well ... I miss a few updates and when I do check back in  !!

Going back a bit I can understand why you were ambivalent (to put it mildly) about what happened to Beepu as a result of missing a session. I'd be royally hacked off if I was Beepu's player. I'll hold off a bit on passing judgment over what's happened to Myrai in the last post - how bad it is depends on knowing your full situation. 

As for the backstory stuff ... I don't quite know what to say. Dark barely begins to cover it. I'm actually a little surprised Myrai is as balanced as she seems to be after that.

Looking forward to more


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> Going back a bit I can understand why you were ambivalent (to put it mildly) about what happened to Beepu as a result of missing a session. I'd be royally hacked off if I was Beepu's player. I'll hold off a bit on passing judgment over what's happened to Myrai in the last post - how bad it is depends on knowing your full situation.
> 
> As for the backstory stuff ... I don't quite know what to say. Dark barely begins to cover it. I'm actually a little surprised Myrai is as balanced as she seems to be after that.




Almost done with the post-hot-tub story part.  So you can judge soon.  I am interested to know if I was off base.  Being attached to a character is one thing, but the suspension of disbelief is a bit much in my opinion (which is that; opinion)

Re: Dark backstory.  It is;  I blame Game of Thrones partially.  And there is a question there:  _*Is *_she balanced?  She asks herself that.  But I think that is the point; how DOES someone climb out, how DOES something like that shape your actions, how DOES someone really recover from trama.  And, there is of course, more going on that meets the eye.  So good news, I think everything for a while is in the present gaming, and less the background.  Because we are going to have a fairly significant shift soon.


----------



## Nthal

*Deals from the Underdark - 09/19/2020*

_There are stories of the Underdark even in Sigil.  But they are looked at by bloods and planeswalker as something akin to “Just another bad trip.”  No Blood would let themselves get trapped on a plane, much less anever-ending series of caves.  They are compared to other destinations with a shrug.  How could it be worse than the howling winds of Pandemonium?  The depths of Stygia?  Mechanus when you’ve missed the window for using the privy?

It wasn’t until I asked Arnara about them, that I understood what it meant for primes.  To them, it was a version of the Abyss that lurked far too close, that could reach up and swallow you at any moment.  A nightmare that adults tell each other so they can keep their kids safe.  To them, the Abyss is just a story of where your kids go if they are really bad._​


“Hey!  Myr’s awake,” I heard Iesa’s voice nearby.  I looked around and Iesa came from around the fork, with only a towel wrapped around him.  Mo, was bounding behind him sporting a similar cloth, and both of them were dripping wet.

“You feeling better?” Iesa said grinning.

“I uh…what happened?” I was very confused on why he was so casual.

“Well, someone knocked you down from a roof.  Luckily, I grabbed you and fed you a potion I had.  But you were still out, and we carried you here!”

“Here?” I said looking at Iesa dubiously.

Iesa nodded, “I realized that that guy with the lute—”

“—Lyre.—”

“—Whatever.  Basically, gave us bad directions, it was easy to get here.  We headed right, and there it was, a bunch of buildings surrounding a well-travelled path underground.   And the drow at the entrance pointed us here to relax and get you back on your feet.”

I slowly blinked not quite believing it.  “And they just…let you in with an unconscious me in your arms?   Just like that?”

“Well, the other pirates didn’t follow us once we passed the pair of drow at the entrance,” Iesa pointed out.  “It was like they didn’t want to stir up trouble.”

I stared at Iesa with what was probably an incredulous expression, “And Daneath and Beepu are just…soaking it up in another spring?”

“Pretty much.  I mean beyond the potion I was at a loss on what to do, and one of the drow mentioned that the springs here are renowned for healing properties.  Cheap too for all four of us.”

“So…let me get this straight,” I said trying to keep my voice even.  “You took the advice of some random drow at the entrance, a number of which we killed what yesterday? And they recommended that we all take a bath so I would feel better?  And you decide it’s a good idea to strip me of my gear and float me alone, naked in a spring?”

“Well, I made sure you were braced so you wouldn’t slip in!”

“And did you come up with that idea before or after you stripped me?” I said starting to let my anger show.

“Hey, you said I had already seen—”

I looked around and found a loose rock, and half emerging from the pool threw it at the man.  He easily ducked, and it flew down the corridor.  “Pike it you barmy leatherhead!  We slipped the knot, and now you put us in a tub, while those unhende drow turn stag on us!  What kind of a tanar’ri martyr are you?”

Iesa blinked a moment opened his mouth and then shut it.  He was quiet for a moment, and then looked at me and smiled.

“I’m really sorry…what does that even mean?”

I seethed and said with clenched teeth.  “It means that the drow have tricked us, and now we are sitting here vulnerable.”

Iesa looked shocked and defensive, “They seemed to be helpful.  I think you are overreacting.”

As he uttered those very words, a dozen drow dressed in leathers, and carrying crossbows and swords at their belts ran down the hall from the main entrance.    By the time he said ‘over-reacting,’ six of them aimed their weapons at us, while the other six went town the other fork.  From the distance I could hear Beepu’s shrill voice piping, “What is this all about!”

Iesa didn’t even turn around.  He closed his eyes and bowed his head in defeat.  Mo raised his hands and the his towel dropped to the floor.

“They’re right behind me, aren’t they?” he said realizing what I had meant.

“You two are coming with us.  The boss wants to see all of you.  Now.” Said one of the drow in a no-nonsense tone.

Iesa raised his hands and turned around with a wan smile, “Hey I think there has been—”

The crossbow men all turned to point their weapons at his protests.

“—A completely reasonable ask made.”

I sat there in the pool fuming.

_Gos, where are you?

--About time!  Umm…I’m hiding near your guys stuff in a room above the pools.

Stay there, keep an eye on my things._

“Fine, once I get dressed,” I said.

“You come as you are,” the drow said to me menacingly.

I stiffened a bit and pulled myself out of the pool.  I shook my head, and scattered water droplets around, sprinkling the guards.  I then crossed my arms.

“No.  I am getting dressed.”

The drow’s captain, stepped forward with the crossbow still pointing at me.  “I don’t think you are in a position to make demands.”

I moved my hands to my hips, I was naked, and running a serious red one, ready to kill Iesa for them.  But I spoke far calmer than I felt as my heart pounded.

“I am *not* going to be marched to your boss naked.  If you want to shoot; do it.  However, I am pretty sure your boss wants us alive, otherwise…you would have shot us already.  But in the spirit of compromise, you can get my clothes and I will follow you peacefully.”

Iesa turned his head to look at me and then the drow captain uncertain how this was going to play out.  The tension in the air was palpable, with neither side wanting to back down.  Finally, the captain, turned to the drow on his left.

“Get princess here her clothes,” the captain snarled, and his subordinate lowered his crossbow and retreated down the main corridor.

Iesa turned towards me, “I think—” he started.

“Bar that and eyes up,” I snapped, and Iesa immediately looked up at the roof of the passage.  “You don’t get to look, because you aren’t pointing a crossbow at me.”  Several of the drow sniggered at my orders, while the captain regarded me coolly.

_--Hey, there’s a drow here grabbing your stuff.

All of it?

--No just the clothes.

Keep watching, thanks._

The subordinate returned and tossed me my pants, boots and underblouse.   As I put them on Iesa cleared his throat.

“No,” the captain said.  “Only her.”

Iesa finally looked down from the ceiling and protested, “But why?

The captain looked at the rogue and said evenly, “Because the other pirates aren’t going to care if you are naked.  Most of them at least.”



We were then marched out of the springs, and for the first time I saw where we were.  It was a huge cavern with a vaulted ceiling that must have been hundreds of feet above us.  The floor of the cavern had various buildings, that would have been home outside.  The streets were straight and wide and not a twisty maze like the shantytown or even the cliffside dwellings.  The streets were lit by smokey oil lamps, as were many of the windows of the buildings.  Far above there was the glint of crystals, which reflected the light from below, creating a glittering firmament.  It gave the feeling that we were in a town, that was trapped or was hiding in a cloak of eternal night.

The streets below weren’t crowded, but there was activity everywhere; drunken men swaying together singing shanty songs off (and some on) key, some collapsed on the ground in their own vomit, while another group were noisily brawling at a bar.  It was a version of the port above, under stone.  

We passed, two large buildings looked like warehouses, without walls.  Large and open, tables to dice at and to deal cards.  The tables were only partially full, which made sense with only a single ship docked in the quay.  But like above, there were no small races, and I saw only a single old woman in the cavern.  Unlike above, there were also guards; pairs of drow men patrolled together, their red eyes watching the pirate’s activities with a detached interest.

And as I expected, my passing with a loaded crossbow pointed at my back created a wake of whispers as we were escorted to not a building, but a passage that pierced the rock, opening into a smaller chamber.  While I had managed to bargain for clothes, Daneath, Iesa and Beepu were being escorted in loose towels and Mo tagged along, staying close to Iesa.

Once inside the smaller grotto, we ascended a circular set of stone steps set on the outer edge of the roughly oval chamber.  The steps themselves were covered in rugs; the stone walls were draped with dark tapestries.  Unlike the other cavern, there was no set light source as the there were no sconces or lanterns mounted on the walls at all.  Instead our escorts stopped, and lit a candelabra set on a table and carried it, so the humans could see their way through the darkened space.

As we started to ascend the stairs, the drow grabbed the arms of Daneath and Iesa, helping them to guide them up the stairs.  I noticed that they didn’t try to help Beepu at all.  But they were surprised when I brushed off their attempts to guide me.

“I can see fine,” I said looking at the captain.  “But is that,” gesturing at the candelabra, “The best you have?”

The captain looked at me with a dirty look.  “It will be sufficient,” he said bluntly.  I thought about casting a light and decided not to push my luck and get shot in the back.

We continued our ascent, and entered another stone passage, lined with several oak doors.  Finally, we stopped in front of a single door, larger than the others.  The captain opened it, and we were prodded inside.

The room was dimly lit, but I could easily see the outlines.  In the dark it might be foreboding and impressive, but for me I saw it for what it was.  Bookcases lined the walls; each a repaired wreck of furniture and no two the same style.  Only a third of them contained actual books, while the rest seemed to be a haphazard collection of cheap art objects, roughly carved statuettes and carvings, small coffers and chests with cheap fittings.  It clearly was for show to folks that otherwise couldn’t see well.

In the center of the room was a large wooden desk, with signs of water damage.  Cracks and fissures split the wood grain, and some of the panels appeared to be buckled.  Two dilapidated but serviceable chairs were set before the desk, while on top was a lit oil lamp, and some scattered parchments.   Seated at the desk was another male drow.  This one while still having the young elven appearance, face seemed more weathered and worn compared to his peers.  His white hair was cropped closely, and his ears sported rings and piercings like many of the other pirates we had seen.  His arms were bare, and they were lined in white colored scars that reminded me of whip marks.  He sat there and watched us being herded into the room.  He looked at the men bemused, but his expression turned a little darker as he looked at me.

He leaned back in the chair he sat in and evaluated us each one by one.  The look on his face was one of contempt.

“These are the ones Nymor,” the captain said to the drow sitting at the desk.

“So…_you_?  *You* are the troublemakers?  I’m surprised.  Or perhaps I shouldn’t be.   The pirates topside aren’t that bright.” He said coldly.

We stood there looking at each other, and I picked up that the other three felt a bit underdressed for the discussion.  Rolling my eyes, I looked at the drow.  “You should come up more often.  It’s easy pickings.” I said and watched him.

He closed his eyes, and seemed to groan inwardly, like he didn’t want to deal with me specifically.  “So…_you_ are the one leading your…crew is it?  Your ship must be very far from port, as I can’t place what ship would claim you as members.”

“I think that is obvious,” I said coolly.  “You clearly are a busy person; so, let’s get to the matter; what do you want?”

“I can see why you are in charge,” he said in a droll tone.  I almost corrected him, but I decided against it.   “But you simply put, you are here to pay off your debt to me.”

“Debt?” Daneath spoke up.  “What are you talking about?”

The drow sat back and rocked his chair on two of its four legs.  “First you slay some of my men, and then we…covered for you.   The bounty on her head is substantial, so not claiming it is a loss, in addition to keeping the more colorful pirates out.  Then there is the cost of reviving my men.  It all adds up.”

“As I recall, your men, shot first and shot poorly.  We forgave them for their mistake and let them live, on the condition that the matter was settled,” I said watching him carefully.

The drow frowned, “I don’t recall saying anything of the sort.”

“Not you…the drow in charge in the caves.  Apparently, he’s making deals you can’t honor.” I said, feeling like I was sparing with the male.

“And you believed him?” he said with a tone of mocking amusement.

“We gave you the benefit of the doubt,” I retorted.  “And you paid to have these men brought back?   Are you sure that’s a wise…investment in failure?”

His eyes narrowed, and I could hear Iesa hiss between his teeth, while Beepu tried to admonish me saying “Myr…”   He then spoke again.  “Loyalty like theirs is worth the price.”

“I guess it would be at that, considering the alternative.  So, you haul us here to drip on your floor just tell us this, or did you actually want something?” I asked assertively.

“Watch your tone female,” he snapped.  “As it turns out we have something that you can do as recompense.  Do it and _then_ matters between us will be clean.”

I frowned for a moment.  I wanted more from him, and I wanted to keep him off-balance.  So, I sat down on a seat in front of the desk and leaned up and propped up my boots on top of it.  “It sounds like we might be able to help you with…something.  Tell us more.”

Nymor’s eyes narrowed at me and continued, “We had an agreement with some dwarves nearby.  They have been…remiss on its terms.”

“And you aren’t sending us to…renegotiate I take it.” I said.

“Indeed.  I expect you to make a creative example of these, Duergar.  All of them.”

I hadn’t heard that term before, and the word wasn’t elvish, so I turned to Beepu with a questioning look.

“Gray dwarves?  Here?” Beepu said in a thoughtful voice.  “So, there *is* a passage to the Underdark beneath this island.  And I bet they are blocking it.”

“Our disagreement is none of your concern.  What is, is that you remove them all from their holes.” Nymor replied testily.

“All of them,” I said aloud.  “You seem to be pretty particular on that point.  How many is all?”

The drow grinned, “Around twenty to thirty dwarves.  I admit to not having a precise count, but that is your problem.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.  “Well, that is an…ambitious ask.  Any particular reason you haven’t taken care of it yourselves?”

“I see no reason to waste my men on them, when I can send you instead.” He said dryly.  The light on his face was dimming, as the oil in the lamp was running low, moving the room closer to darkness.  But for me, that only meant I could see him even clearer, as if the sun itself lit his face.

My brow furrowed as I gazed down at him.  As I saw it there were several possibilities. The first was he was already stretched thin and couldn’t afford a confrontation with these dwarves.  That also would imply that he really was concerned about us, and he wanted to have us perish in the attempt.  A second one was that he was actually afraid of us, either because we would disrupt something that was already precarious on the island, and sending us to deal with the problem was a convenient way to dispose of us.

Either one would work out for them.  Thirty vs four wasn’t great odds.  But I could see us being victorious and them the drow turning stag on us.  They could then solve their problem and collect on my head and maybe even sell Beepu for a profit.

“Well…that is quite a problem there,” I said nodding.  “And I can understand your…reluctance to handling it yourself.  We may be the right people for this kind of work.  But I wonder if you can perhaps answer a simple question for us?”

“This is not a negotiation,” Nymor said flatly.

“No.   It is not,” I replied.  “One of your men mentioned you might have seen a Genasi.  Being he was camped in the back of your cave; I assume he was an inconvenience.  What happened to him?”

Nymor was taken aback for a moment, and quickly his face returned back to the inscrutable mask it was before.  “Is that why you are here then? To track *him* down?”

“Track yes,” I replied.  “It’s not like he has a bounty on him or anything, but we do have an interest in his whereabouts,” I deflected.

Nymor chortled, “Such a coincidence.  He’s with the duergar as we speak.”

“Interesting.  And where does he fit in your request with them?  Is he included?”  I asked, trying to see if he was important to the drow or not.  But as Nymor answered, it became clear it was serendipity and nothing more.

“Kill him if you want.  He isn’t really a concern to me.” Nymor said shrugging.

“Any other…requests then?” I asked.  “This seems straightforward otherwise.”

“Other than we don’t want to see your faces until the job is done.  So, we will be watching.  If you come back too soon, or we find not enough blood has been spilled; we will claim you all as recompense.”

I looked at the others.  I wasn’t real keen on being the focal point for negotiations.  I was told I was effective at it, but I felt ill-prepared for them.  Beepu returned my glance, gripping the towel in front of him and shrugged.  Iesa’s face was scrunched up somewhere between anger and annoyance, but he nodded to me.  Daneath was quiet, but he too gave a single nod.

“Sounds like solving your problems, are now ours.  Fine, we’ll do it,” I said.

“You will leave then and get started now.  Tanas will—”

“—Tanas will take us back to our things, and we rest and prepare.  Then and only then, Tanas will take us there.”  I said bluntly.

Nymor’s eyes narrowed, “I suppose we could just take our recompense now.” He said with a hard edge on his voice.

“If you wanted that, you would have done it already,” I observed.  “So, I think you really want this problem taken care of.  You can wait a little bit.”

Nymor chewed on that for a moment and after a long pause, nodded.  “You are right; I do want this problem taken care of.  You can have your respite then…but you will be under watch.”

I held up my hands, “As you like.  I am glad you are being…reasonable.  I guess we will, prepare ourselves.”

“Two words of warning female,” Nymor said.  I wouldn’t leave the caverns here; seems that the crew of the Crows has taken an interest in your…activities.  And I don’t think I need to say anything about going back on the deal you just made.”

I gave a hard stare.  As I watched, I could see a single bead of sweat descent from his temple as we sat and looked at each other.  I gave him a slight smile and stood.  The captain Tamas, gestured to the door, and we filtered out from the room, the light in his oil lamp started to sputter.  With my back to him, I looked over my shoulder and flexed a moment and felt the familiar warmth up and down my back as the wings appeared.  On the desk, the lamp flared alive with a brilliant yellow light, and I could see him start to reach up to shield his sensitive eyes from the light, as I stepped through the door.

“I think that goes both directions doesn’t it?” I said.  “My god is an active one in this world, and I think he would be…disappointed to see one of his servants arrive before he has called for her.  Or you for that matter.”  And with a simple gesture and pull on a small white strand, I made the door slam behind us.

“Shall we Tamas?  I am certain you have…more interesting things to do,” I said to the captain, as we started downstairs.

Tamas regarded me with a dirty look, “I certainly don’t wish to have another fight with you.”  Daneath and Iesa gave the drow a strange look, while Beepu simply shrugged, being he missed the fight in the cave.

I looked at him in surprise.  I tried, but I couldn’t remember his face, on the corpses on the drow we faced in the cave days ago.

“It may not mean much Tamas, but I didn’t want to kill you,” I said trying to keep my tone even.

“The smile on your face told me a different story,” Tamas retorted.  “But I was foolish.  I remembered you breaking our bones.  I charged at you to make sure you didn’t do that again, and never saw the sword strike me.”

I nodded and held my tongue.  We had left the small grotto, and were crossing the main cavern, and all I could do was stare at Tamas.

For months, I could say that I was the only person that I knew that was brought back from the Fugue.  And here was a person that I helped send there, and then was brought back.   I knew what I had experienced, but I found myself desperately wanting to talk with him.  To ask what he saw, what he felt in the Fugue.  Could he even remember it?  Did coming back change him, as it did me?   Did he fear death anymore, or did he dread returning?

We arrived back at the springs.  Right in front of the passage to them, was a building on stilts, that had a set of stairs that led up into them.   The other drow took positions below the building and they waited for us to ascend.  I turned to look at Tamas, wanting to ask those questions.  But it was clear from the face he wore, that he wanted nothing to do with us, and with me in particular.  I sighed, as followed the rest of my friends upstairs, with four drow in tow.

We arrived at the large room that I presumed that one of the others paid for and closed the door.  There on four beds were our things and looking around at the rafters I saw Gossamer crouched, wings folded tight to his body, and probably well-hidden for anyone’s’ eyes but my own.  Daneath closed the door, and I caught a glimpse of the drow taking positions just outside.

I sat down on the bed with the rest of my things, and found the copper wire, and wrapped it around my finger again, while Beepu said aloud, “Well this is an interesting mess.”  In what appeared to be total agreement, Mo lept onto a bed and flopped making a small groaning sound.

“Well, I guess you can’t blame them for being a little angry with us,” Daneath said cautiously, as he noticed me playing with the copper.

As quickly as I could, I sent each of them the same message; “They are going to be listening obviously.  Don’t mention anything more on why we are here for the Genasi.  I personally think they are going to try to kill us when we finish with the Duergar.”

“Well, I think we should get the rest, and do what they ask,” Iesa said aloud, even as he and the others nodded to my message, that I had sent to them.   And each one in turn gave me a different response:

Beepu: “Typical for a drow, and a very reasonable expectation.”

Daneath: “I agree with your instincts here, but all we can do is play along for now,” and he shrugged.

Iesa: “Do you think so?  I caught that they are afraid of us…although they seem to detest you,” and he looked at me with concern.

I lay down on my bed, as the others finally put on some semblance of clothes and left their wet towels on the floor.   As I lay there, I worried silently on how this was going to work out.  We were in a den of cony catchers, and it scared me how we kept stumbling.  Iesa becoming infected by that plant, losing control of myself and, my friend’s poor judgement here getting us caught, how easy it was for Beepu to get knocked out and put into a cage.  It felt that nothing had gone as expected, and that we were just reacting, and not doing what we were supposed to.

“Hey Myr,” Iesa said.  “Sorry about the spring earlier…I just didn’t—”

I sighed and interrupted, “—Look, I shouldn’t even have to say anything about stripping off my armor and clothes.  You just don’t do that.”

“Yeah…as I said I didn’t—”

“Forget it; its done.  Let’s just rest and get this over with.”

I lay there fuming a bit.  I didn’t know if I was overreacting or not.  I wasn’t safe here; well none of us were really.  But I was dumbfounded on what had happened.  Perhaps the power Tymora or Bes, or the Fates were watching over us.  It was a comforting idea.  But then I realized who I should be thanking.  And I grasped my holy symbol that was on my neck and prayed.

_Kelemvor, I thank you for watching over us and letting us finish this work.  I hope that I…we are doing this to your satisfaction.  That our battle, against another who thinks lives are cheap, and denies himself your embrace is.   Tomorrow we will be outnumbered as we search for the final piece to end this.

   No one should be alone, in life or death,

   Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginning

  Death is without deceit and has meaning,

  I will do anything to see this errand done.

  I will sacrifice all that I am to finish it.

  May you bless us on the next step of the journey,

  Because Death is never an end, but a waypost,

  A Destination and a Journey one and the same, 

  May our deeds live forever in You,

  And let me be your instrument my Lord, as it is my desire in faith

  May the end of the Kershak grant us all peace._





*Session notes:*

This felt like a shotgun wedding, and I just didn’t appreciate the setup.  It also may have been fatigue on the theme, of the island against Myr’s gender.  Or that the rails were showing.

In hindsight, I was a tad snarky in my dialog with Nymor, and so I might have contributed by overreacting, to a lot of negativity.


----------



## Nthal

*Sudden departures – 9/27/2020*

_You can’t plan for everything.  For everything you discussed and went right, there is bound to be something you didn’t think about that went wrong.  Most of the time its small stuff.

Except when it isn’t._​


I woke with a sudden start, my heart pounding.  Images of me falling into the Weeping Catacombs fading away already as my eyes took in the image of the waking world.   Iesa and Daneath were already up strapping on their armor, and Beepu was flipping through pages of his spellbook on the bed across from me.

“You should have woken me,” I said feeling guilty on not doing my normal routine of a final watch.

“I told Iesa to let you rest Myr,” Daneath said.  “You’ve not been resting well since we arrived, and you have been putting up with a lot.”

“I don’t like it though.  Feels like I am not pulling my weight,” I said frowning.

“You can make it up to us after we get out of here,” Iesa said holding open his pack and letting Mo climb inside.  “We have plenty of time.”

I got off the bed and grabbed my breastplate and proceeded to strap it on myself.  As I did so I looked at Beepu, “Where is Foggle by the way?”

“Oh, I set him to perch on top of the building and did not bother to move him once the drow brought us to meet Nymor,” he said not even looking up.  “I assumed that the pirates above would come down here, but he has seen nothing of the sort.”

“I guess the drow are covering for us then,” I said buckling the last strap on my armor.

“Not happily,” Beepu said still not lookup up.  “That one we spoke to…Tamas knocked earlier.  He really wants us to get a move on.”

I buckled my rapier to my hip and adjusted it, and then grabbed my shield and strapped it to my arm.  I checked to make sure my component pouch and my holy symbol were in place and took a deep breath.

“Let’s get this done,” I said and after seeing the others nod, I pulled a white strand and pulled open the door with a snap of my fingers.  There outside, the two drow stood glowering at me, one of them Tamas.

“So, the princess is finally awake,” Tamas said coldly.

I sighed, “Look Tamas, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.  I don’t know, and I doubt I can properly imagine what other women from your society were like,” and I saw Tamas stiffen at the word ‘women.’  “But I…we have a job to do for you.  So, it would be…appreciated that you at least pretend you aren’t going to cut my throat at the first opportunity.”

Tamas glared at me, and just barely shook his head.  “No…you have no idea.  And I see no reason to educate you.”

“Well, then you can lead the way, and educate me on something else,” I said resigned to the frosty response and focused on keeping things civil.  “What can we expect out of Duergar.   

Tamas looked at me critically and didn’t say anything.  “Come on Tamas,” I pleaded.  “You clearly have more experience here than I; you can at least tell me a bit about them.”

Tamas frowned and nodded.  “I will tell you but let us get moving first.”

I looked at the others, and with silent assent we exited the room, and followed the drow downstairs leading us back to the main cavern.  Staying close with us were Foggle flying at Beepu’s shoulder level, while Gossamer trotted, keeping his wings closed and close to his body.  Once we were on our way in the main throughfare Tamas spoke again.

“They are soulgrinding dwarves.  They toil and toil for their own gain, and only bargain when they are in a position of weakness.  Otherwise they just take.  Expect no quarter from them.  Even if they did offer it, you would be worked to death,” he said with his lips curling in disgust.  “In combat they are strong and fierce.  And they like to ambush rather than fight straight up in their tunnels.”

“What they hide in holes and wait?” I asked.

“No.  They can vanish from sight, and when they do reappear, they frequently are larger than most.  It doesn't last long, but while so enlarged they are strong opponents.  You would do well to be wary.”

_Hey Goss?

--I caught that.  I can see most things hidden by spells.  I should be able to see them.

I hope so.  I’m counting on you._

“Well…that’s something.  Thanks, Tamas.”  I said and saw him curtly nod.

We were led through the cavern and took a tunnel that branched off the main cavern.  This one started leading downwards, but just as it did so, we pass through a garrison of some type, with a wooden gate its sides pierced with slits and a team of drow at the ready.   They unbarricaded a large double door and motioned us through.  As we all passed beyond, the door was shut and barricaded behind us.

I took a moment to flex and lit Daneath’s shield with a dim red light.  Tamas shook his head in disapproval.  “Your surfacer eyes are weak.  Even the gnome can barely see in front of him.”

“I can see far enough!” Beepu said indignantly.

“And you can see the chasm ahead of us then?” Tamas challenged.

“Ah…well…ah no.” Beepu admitted.

But looking ahead, I saw something quite different.  “That’s not nice Tamas.  Its an opening to a large cavern with an open set of iron doors,” Tamas whirled around in surprise.

“You should not be able to—”

“—I can see just fine.  I probably can see better than you, as I can actually read in darkness.” I said.  “But tell me this; why are the doors even open?”

Tamas looked side to side a moment and leaned closer to me.  “Because they do not suspect an attack.  You truly only have one shot at this.  If the doors close with you on the outside, breaking them down will be a very difficult task.  Nymor will consider it a failure.  And I need not say what that means for you.”

“No…you don’t,” I said.  We stopped in the cavern, at least fifty paces away.

“Myr you aren’t kidding right?  The doors are open?”  Iesa said questioningly.

I nodded, “An open set of…iron doors, and I see no guards.”

“Well Foggle can look for them,” Beepu volunteered.

“No…in this case, Foggle isn’t the right way to do this,” and I looked at Gossamer.  Gossamer simply trotted off towards the entryway, and I could see him crouch and slowly and stealthily make his way on the ground towards it.

_--Well, I don’t see anything or anyone on the outside.

Alright.  We’ll be there in a moment._

“Goss sees nothing, so I guess its up to us now.”

Tamas nodded curtly.  “Don’t come back to the gate unless you have a pile of dwarf heads.  Otherwise, its your death.”  And with that, Tamas turned around and retreated down the passageway, back to the drow barricade.

“So, this seems too easy,” Daneath whispered.  “Why are the doors open?”

“Because, the drow are betraying them,” Iesa hissed back.  “Otherwise there would be a guard or something.”

I shook my head, “No…its because they don’t need them.”

Beepu’s eyes lit up.  “A trap!”

“Well in that case…let’s go find it,” Iesa said with a grin.

--

We snuck up to the entrance to the Duergar’s lair.  With the entrance being dark, this meant that Daneath’s shield was still needed to light the way for the brothers.  So, while we crept quietly, we were fearful that the light would give us away and warn the denizens within.   

However, luck seemed to be with us.  While up close the stone entrance looked grim and foreboding, it seemed to be all for show. The solid stone around the entrance was dour and grey, but it also lacked windows or arrow slits.  It wasn’t a strong defensive structure; just an imposing one.   Deeper within, past the great iron doors, I could see the light from fires in cages of iron on the ground.  The passage as Gossamer reported, seemed devoid of anyone.    

Iesa moved up toward the entrance, quietly. He placed his ear to the ground and looked down the passage carefully.  He then moved forward a couple of feet and then moved to the side wall.  He then pulled out an arrow and held it about a foot off the ground, its length perpendicular to the passageway.  He then twirled and twisted it, and then with a pair of snips, cut a barely visible wire.  The arrow shaft was now pulled to the wall, while a thread of thin wire now was tangled on the shaft, preventing it from being retracted inside the wall.

We moved up closer, standing by a door and out of view of the passage as Iesa continued his work.  Moving slowly forward, he stopped when the rock turned to dusty gravel.   Pulling out a small blade, he pushed the blade into the slurry, prodding at different spots.  At first the dagger sunk deep into the ground, but on the left side he found a spot the dagger didn’t sink deeply at all.   Poking more carefully, he sketched out a narrow pathway along the left side. 

I gulped and my heart pounded as I watched him, slowly treading on that side, with his back pressed against the wall, looking down.  As he slowly shuffled down the passage, he suddenly stopped and cocked his head.  Squatting down he took the small blade and jammed it at an angle in the earth.   He then scooted down farther, and then stood at an intersection going left and right, motioning us to follow.

I raised up my hand, and stopped everyone from following his instructions, while I twirled the copper wire and used a strand to send him a whisper.

“Iesa, what should we be watching for?”

“The tripwire is disabled.  If you stay left, you will be on a narrow ledge.  The right is just thick dust on a cloth frame, probably covering a pit.  Don’t step on the plate where I left a blade; I’m not sure what will happen, but I bet it will hurt.”

“Come on, stay left, and don’t step on the blade on the ground,”

“I hope that’s all of the traps,” Daneath grimaced.

“We will know soon enough,” said Beepu who took the lead on the treacherous path, with myself and Daneath close behind.  I found myself sweating as I shuffled down the passage, my back leaning against the wall.  I only breathed easier, when we all stood next to Iesa at the lower leg of a T intersection.  Once there, I doused the light on Daneath’s shield, letting the distant torches provide us light.

“Now what?” Daneath whispered.  Beepu quickly moved his hands and then waved them at Foggle, who quickly faded from sight.  I only barely heard his wings beat in the air as he left us to scout ahead.  Before long Beepu said, “We can go to the right.  It turns a corner, but there is a small room with barrels and crates.  We can hide there while Foggle looks around.”

_Goss…just meow if something appears.

--'Meow?’  What *don’t* send you a message in your head?

Goss…the others can *hear* you meow.

--Oh.  You do have a point._

“Listen for Goss, if he sees something, he’ll say something.”

“What, he’ll start purring?”  Daneath said smirking, to which I jabbed him in the ribs.

“Hah hah.  You and Goss are a barrel of laughs.”

We crept along the right-hand passage and found the small room that Beepu told us about.  It wasn’t much, more like an opportunistic space to store unimportant things.  We took positions with Iesa and me looking back the way we came, and Daneath and Beepu looking around the corner, as we waited for Foggle’s return.

It seemed to take forever, but Beepu never seemed concerned.  I took solace knowing if something did happen to Foggle, Beepu would be aware of it instantly.  Finally, Beepu got our attention.

“Well, just ahead of us, there is a large room that looks like a barrack of some sort.  There are four dwarves in there.  Next to it is another larger room with two exits, one leading deeper with another four dwarves, which I didn’t explore yet.  But the other direction circles around to guard room with another six or seven dwarves—”

“—Is it six or is it seven?” Iesa said impatiently.

“I have endeavored to teach Foggle to count.  Unfortunately, numbers past three are still problematic.” Beepu said exasperated.

“Never mind that, keep going,” Daneath said.

“Anyway, past that room, there is a pit with a narrow bridge that leads to the intersection we were just at, and then we arrive here.”

“Over a dozen at least,” I said.   “If they all come at us at once, we’re dead.”

“There is only one other passage going deeper.  If we can prevent them from going in there, we can prevent them from getting more help,” Iesa pointed out.

“We might be able to,” Beepu asserted.  “The ones in the back rooms are asleep, that leaves the pack near us that is a problem.”

“Was there a door or something blocking the way deeper?” I asked.

“There is, but it is open right now.” Beepu answered after thinking a moment.

I thought a moment, and then said, “Sneak there, close the door and jam it shut.  Then start killing the sleeping dwarves.”

“What about the _awake ones_?”  Daneath said.

“Well…Beepu and I can draw them here.  The bridge is a chokepoint, if we can keep them clustered on it, then we have a chance.”

“Oh, are the rooms lit it lit?” Iesa asked.

“Yes, it is.  Torches or braziers in all the rooms.” Beepu confirmed.

“Ok, have Foggle follow me, and he can tell you when the door is locked.  Then…do something big.” Iesa said.

“’Do something big.’” Beepu frowned.  “I am not a charlatan at Shieldmeet!”

“Beepu…” I said soothingly.  “Worry about it later.   Let’s go to that corner and do something…smart.”

Beepu was about to object, when he nodded. “Yes, that is a better idea.”

“Good luck you two,” Daneath clasped me on the shoulder and I responded by pulling the pair of brothers close and quickly hugging them.  “May Kelemvor protect you both.” I whispered.  They then nodded and started to make their way quietly down the hall, while Beepu and I crept to the first intersection and waited.

We stood in the passageway peeking around the corner, with Gossamer at my feet and waited.  Finally, Beepu spoke, “He has blocked it.  Any suggestions?”

I thought a moment, “Well, can you cast something through Foggle?”

Beepu’s eyes lit up, “Yes.  Yes, I can.  Get ready to run back to the corner.”

We both peered around the corner and waited.  Beyond the narrow bridge over a pit, I could barely see their faces, other than the gray complexion and shock of white hair on their heads.  But they all seemed heavily armored.  A couple of them were sitting, while the others stood around looking bored.

Suddenly in the middle of them, there was a flash of gold as Foggle materialized out of nowhere.  I frowned and wondered why would Beepu do that when I saw blue white tendrils of energy erupt from Foggle’s beak, striking many of the Duergar.  I heard shouts of alarms and growls of pain, as Foggle flew to us and turned the corner seeking refuge.

“That’ll get their attention al—oh crap,” As I looked down the hall, I could see them all disappear from sight.

“Not unsurprising, we should move,” Beepu said and he ran back to the crates in the corner, with me close behind.

I reached the crates and took cover and looked down the ‘empty’ hallway.  Still by the intersection, Goss pressed himself against the wall, and peered around the corner.  As I watched, I saw Beepu prepared another incantation.  I could feel the pull on the weave as I realized whatever he had in mind was going to be large.

_--They are in a line crossing the bridge!_

“Now Bee—” I didn’t even finish, when I was almost blinded by a blueish white light, as a bolt of crackling energy streaked down the passage.  I could then see the outlines of multiple dwarves, sheathed in crackling energy were lit up.  The flash was only an instant, but the effect was instantaneous.   I could see four dwarves, collapse falling into the pit, while three others reappeared, their invisibility broken.

I smiled, and quickly pulled on a dark strand, and started to choke the life out of a pair of dwarves.  I could hear them growl and shout, and they clambered over the bridge.  Beepu and Foggle, ran around the corner making haste as I stood my ground behind the crates.   On the ground in front of me, Gossamer was running as fast as he could seeking safety.  It was then, when I saw it.

It was nothing more than bright flash at first, when I realized it was a bead of fiery light streaking towards where I hid behind the crates.  I felt the color drain from my cheeks as I realized what was about to happen.  I reached out in front of me in a silent shout of terror towards Gossamer, still streaking on all fours to my position.  At the same time, I could hear Beepu’s voice, just at the edge of perception:

“Myr!  No!”

Then the bead unfurled like a flower blooming in the sun.  Petals of flame unfolded and then blew apart as a conflagration of fire erupted in front of me.  I watched in horror, as the flames expanded, rushing to cover everything in devastation.  The flames ran along the walls and ceiling, and then leap over the tressym, surrounding it completely in flame.  Loose fur flew from his coat, and then were incinerated completely.

I screamed in the sudden horror of what I saw, and yet felt nothing…the connection between Gossamer and I was severed.  The warmth of his thoughts suddenly was quenched, leaving behind an empty void where his presence had once lurked.  Where once my hand was outstretched wishfully trying to grab him now turned upwards in a vain attempt to shield me from the roaring inferno that was going to consume me.

*Session Notes:*

Kaboom Rico.  Kaboom.


----------



## Nthal

*Prison break - 10/5/2020*

_Would it surprise you that I’ve been in prison?  Well, not as a criminal, but I did some work there.  The Mercykillers would hire young Gatehouse orphans to crawl and clean up places where the guards couldn’t get to.  It wasn’t as mind numbingly boring as scrubbing rust from manacles, but it was a dirty job, and it was the best paying job that a kid under nine could get.

But as you worked and cleaned you had a view of the punishments and labor the prisoners faced.  And honest truth, from what I saw, death was a blessing, compared to what those berks went through._​


I knew the pain I was going to face; I had felt it all before in the ‘Tenth Pit.’  But as the flames started to lick around me, I realized something else was happening.  My skin didn’t boil and flake away with the sudden burst of fire.  What I felt was the opposite.

I felt cold.

As I watched, I could myself suddenly covered in a layer clear cold crystal.  It covered my limbs and then expanded around me.  In an instant, I found myself surrounded in the cold substance.  I couldn’t move at all, my limbs where locked in place, trying to shield myself from the fire.  My mouth and lips were surrounded by the icy substance, my scream stifled, my breathing stilled.   I could no longer look around as my eyes were now locked on an empty scorch mark on the floor of the passageway.  Everything looked like I was gazing through cut crystal, with rainbow like refractions everywhere that I could see with my frozen eyes.

I was afraid.  The cold wasn’t numbing at all.  It was a new pain I had never experienced before.  As sharp as any knife, as pervasive as any flame could be, penetrating me to the core.  So cold that I felt that even my heart would stop beating.

The flames surrounded me, their warmth a distant memory.   In a matter of moments, it was over.  The light of the fire disappeared, yet the cold crystals remained.  Somewhere in front of me I saw several figures running towards my direction.  But despite the cold, and despite the pain, all I felt was anger.  I strained against my prison, wanting to burst free so I could do something against the murderous Duergar.  

As I tried to flex every muscle I had, I first felt and then saw fissures form.  First, they were thin and spidery, and in moments, they spread everywhere like a broken mirror.  Final my arms moved, and then I suddenly stumbled forward as the blocks of cold crystal fell away from my body.

Foggle flew over my head and sprayed the dwarves with more blue-white lightning, before flying back around the corner.  Four dwarves ran towards me, when in red hot anger, I bound a pair white and dark strands, and pulled them taut until they snapped.  

I watched the dwarves fall to the ground as their bones cracked within themselves.  They made soft gurgling sounds as life left their bodies from my onslaught.  Even the crates near me were not spared, as they blew apart spraying flinders and splinters everywhere.

“What was *that?” *I heard Beepu exclaim.

I didn’t know how to answer.  The crystals I was surrounded in, were turning into a liquid rapidly.  I knelt down and picked up a remaining shard of crystal and held it.  Its cold was rapidly dissipating, and it was shrinking as it turned into a liquid, but I brought the shard to my mouth and cautiously tasted it.  But it had no taste at all just like…

“Water?” I said dumbfounded.

“Ice!  Ice you silly girl!” Beepu admonished.  “We do not have time.  We should move and find Iesa and Daneath.”

I nodded and paused only a moment to look at the ash streak on the floor.   I puffed out my chest, exhaled, and followed Beepu deeper within.

The room we came to was indeed a barracks, bunks in tiers of three were arranged in this rectangular room, along with a table and some stools.  But while I saw no dwarves, I could hear them shouting along with the sounds of steel on steel, coming from a passageway to my right.

Beepu and I didn’t say anything, and just ran.  The passage was short, only a couple of paces.   But when I exited it, I blinked in surprise at what I saw.

Daneath had his shield overhead, using it to block a downward stroke of a battleaxe.  The axe was wielded by a ‘dwarf’ that was easily a foot taller than Daneath.  As he blocked the blow, he quickly reposted and used his shield to block another blow from a second dwarf’s axe, this one of equal size to the first.    Iesa was nearby fending off another pair of huge dwarves, neither having any luck in landing a blow on the agile rogue.

Not waiting, I pull on dark strands, and summoned a miasma around Daneath’s foes.  The darkness swirled around them, causing them to bellow in surprise, and one falling to his knees.  As he did and fell forward, he shrunk until he was the size of a typical dwarf.

Beepu in the meantime, flung a bolt of fire, into Daneath’s second foe.  While the blast wasn’t enough to fell him, the distraction was enough to allow Daneath to quickly thrust his sword into the dwarf’s belly.  It groaned, and fell to the floor, also quickly shrinking in size.  With his opponents down, he ran over to help his brother.

Iesa sported a nasty cut from an axe on his arm, and blood flowed freely down it, having none of the armor his brother wore.  But as Daneath moved behind one of the ‘giant’ dwarves it was enough to cause the dwarf to shift and prepare himself for his new foe.

And that was all Iesa needed, to spin and sink his dagger deep in the Duergar’s flank.  The dwarf wheezed and spat up a great gout of blood, before falling to the ground, shrinking back to his normal size.

The last dwarf glared at Iesa and shouted some type of insult involving comparing his elbow to some type of animal.  Or at least that’s what it sounded like, as my knowledge of dwarven slurs was limited.  The dwarf swung, and his axe found its mark, slamming into Iesa’s side, the blade tearing away the leather and spraying blood across the nearby wall.

Iesa grunted and stumbled backwards and the Dwarf moved in closer to deliver a final blow when I intervened, pulling on threads and throwing a pair of bolts of purple energy at the dwarf.   They both struck him, causing him to stumble to his knees, where Daneath brought down his sword, crushing the cuirass and causing the now shrinking dwarf to groan out his last breath.

“Well…that worked we all survived,” Iesa said smiling, clutching his side.

I shook my head and wiped the sudden tears that were forming in my eyes as I pulled on a light strand to staunch Iesa’s bleeding.    Iesa looked at me puzzled when Beepu spoke for me.

“Gossamer did not survive; the dwarves had a sorcerer with them, and he…almost killed Myrai with a large blast of flames,” Beepu said somberly.

“She looks fine,” Daneath said confused.  “Not a mark on her.”

“I am not sure I can explain that,” Beepu looked at me perplexed.  “One moment she was there about to be roasted, and the next she was surrounded in rapidly melting ice.”

“Ice?  You mean like icicles in Waterdeep.” Iesa said looking at me.

“I’d never seen ice…I’ve heard of it,” I said quietly.  “But was just thinking how to…protect…myself.”

I then suddenly remembered a conversation I had with the strange magical construct I found myself in, while at the fortress of the Prophesized One.  Where there was a sudden infusion of something into my person:

_“Assimilation of loci complete.  Configuration of loci allocated to protection, based on metal state of element Myrai.”_

“Protection,” I said understanding what the construct meant.

“Myr?” Daneath asked looking at me concerned.

“Nevermind,” I said.  “We need to find somewhere safe or keep moving at least.”

“Can you bury the bodies like you do normally?” Daneath asked.

I looked around at the room and shook my head, “Its all stone.  I need dirt to hide them like that.   And while I should give rites…we can’t right now.”

“Well then, Iesa can you open the door?” Beepu asked.  “I can send Foggle through and scout ahead.  Probably for the last time too where he can’t be seen.

Iesa nodded and moved to the door.  He quickly took a small pair of pliers and put them into the lock and quickly removed a small bar, which he pocketed.  He then gripped the handle to the door and pulled it open.

Beepu poked his head beyond the door, looking back and forth, and sent Foggle through.  Iesa pushed the door to near closure and we waited and listened to Beepu mutter.

“Let us see.  Opens into a cavern, less worked stone here.  Several shafts leading down…likely mines.  I see another area of worked stone…a forge based on the fire and tools.  Unoccupied.  Several dwarves patrolling in pairs.  There is another passage…looks like…cells for prisoners.   A bigger passage leads…And he’s out of range now.”  Beepu said shaking his head.

“Bigger passage?” Daneath asked.

Beepu nodded, “I could just get the image of a tower.  Probably leads deeper into the Underdark.   And it was large too.  Several floors.”

“How are we going to clear that?” Iesa asked.

“Clear it?” I said looking at him confused.  “Why would we need to?”

“Isn’t that what the drow want?” Iesa said puzzled.

“I bet they do.  I think _we_ want a Genasi.” I pointed out.

“Myr’s right,” Beepu said excitedly.  “We find him, and if he knows where the last part is, we can just…use the device and leave here.”

“And if he doesn’t have it?” Daneath said concerned.

“Then, we decide if we need to clear out the Duergar,” I said.

“So where to?  The cells or the shafts?” Iesa asked.

“Cells, should be easy to get to.”   Beepu said before straightening up.  “Ah…he’s back.  Wait…yes.  Oh...oh…that is not good.”

“What isn’t good?” I asked warily.

“It was not just a tower.  It is a much larger garrison.”

“How large are we talking?” Daneath pressed.

“Large enough that we cannot possibly take them on in a straight fight.” Beepu said in a resigned tone.

“Let’s not do that.  Cells then, quickly.”

We stood there and nodded, and Iesa pulled open the door.  We followed his lead and put our back to the wall and stayed in the shadows as best we could.

The cavern we found ourselves in wasn’t a natural one.  It appeared to be a pit with multiple levels with us on a top tier, and the cavern was vaulted above us.  On one side was an opening with large iron doors still wide open.  Withing the glow of a hot forge emanated a warm orange light, casting shadows off of anvils and benches.  Following the lip of the pit around, another passageway pierced the cavern wall, and from here I could barely make outdoors lining the walls. 

Directly across was a large opening, that continued downwards.  From our vantage point I saw what Beepu was talking about; the upper floors of a tower were visible in the distance, framed in sconces on the top corners of the battlements.  It was a very large structure I could tell, based on how small the torches were in comparison.

“Where are the patrols?” I whispered to Beepu.

“Down in the pit; that is where the shafts are.” He replied quietly.

Nodding to myself, we continued circling the pits edge, trying not to get too close, lest we be seen by a sharp-eyed dwarf.  We passed by the forge and gave it only the most cursory glance to check that it was unoccupied and made our way to the tunnel with the doors.

The passage was four paces wide, and iron doors with iron bars at eye level, stretched the length.  Iesa walked to one on the left side and peeked inside quickly, he pulled himself back and frowned.  He pointed at me and then the door.  I started to shake my head, when he then pointed to his own eyes and the waved his hand in front of himself.

I sighed and took the lead.  Moving to the door, I quickly smelled what was the odor of an outhouse.  Grimacing, I stood on my toes and looked inside, only to find it was unoccupied.  Frowning I moved down to the next one, and found it was also unoccupied beyond the fumes.  I kept moving down the line, finding more odorous empty cells.  It was like this for ten doors, and I reached the end of the hall.  Sighing, I walked across the hallway to look inside and almost squealed in surprise.

There in the cell, lay a human male, dressed in rags asleep on the stone.  He was covered in dirt, dust and probably a bit of his own filth.  He was however either asleep or passed out unconscious.  I thought a moment and realized that the cells on the left must already be mining below, while this side would be roused and sent down into the pits later on.

Frowning, I moved to the next cell, and found another human male, and continued onto the next one which held a dwarf like figure.   The conditions of each of them was wretched, but the sad truth was that we couldn’t really do anything for them right then.  I could only hope that we could later. 

I then looked into the next cell, and saw it was empty and quickly moved on, looking into the next one.  It was another human male, although much older than the rest with grey hair and sagging skin.  I was about to move on when I stopped.   Squinting I looked more carefully and then I started to smile.

As I watched, I saw that his hair moved on its own accord, drifting and waving on a missing breeze.  He wore a simple leather tunic that had clearly seen better days. Around his ankles and wrists were fetters, with chains between them.  But around his neck was something like a thick clay circlet.  I could hear him groan in his sleep quietly as I stared getting more excited.

I then turned to Iesa and nodded, pointing to the door excitedly.  He wasted no time pulling out his tools.  He then bent down and started to work at the lock as quietly as he could, and as quickly as he dared.  It wasn’t long before we heard the creaking of the bolt slide out of the door jamb.  Backing away, Daneath pulled on the ring and he slowly and carefully, pulled the door open, and I quickly stepped inside.

I knelt down next to the Genasi; he was indeed old; his face well lined.  His sagging skin hid that his body was in good shape, if a bit underfed.  I leaned down close and with my left hand I gently roused him, while I covered his mouth with my right.

His eyes flew open as he tensed up, like he expected violence or punishment.   His eyes scanned the darkness, unable to see me.

“Whmm?  Hmm?” and I shushed him and uncovered his mount to let him speak.  “Wha…wha…no…who?” he stammered; his voice raspy as if speaking was an effort.

“What is your name?” I asked softly.

“A…a…woman?” he said surprised.  “I haven’t heard a…nevermind.  I am…called Eri…Eridan.”

“Eridan,” I said.  “Eridan bin Ahoone?”

His eyes darted around frantically, trying seek me out in the darkness, “You…you know me?”

“We’ve been looking for you,” I said, and I flexed, feeling the rush along my back, and creating a small dim light in the palm of my hand, letting it shine on both of our faces.

The light touched his eyes, and he winced momentarily, and then he looked at me.  He stared like he was a man dying of thirst, drinking in my features.   As I watched, I could see tears stream down his face as he looked me up and down, until finally his eyes saw the medallion on my chest; the scales held aloft by a skeletal arm.  At that point he gave a contented sigh.

“Finally, it is time.  Finally, you have come to me,” he said still tearing up.

“Yes,” I said smiling.  “Pachook’s son, Umbra’s sons…they are here.”

“No…not them.  You Myrai…” he said, and my jaw dropped open.  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I was blinking in confusion at Eridan’s words.   “Wait…What?  How did you know my name?”

He smiled as he reached up to touch my face, as I stared at him unsure, what to think or feel.  

“I was told that you would come.  That you would bring the sons to me.  I feared that it might not happen.  But my faith has been rewarded,” he said smiling still touching my hair as I looked him uncomprehendingly.  Finally, I shook my head to clear it.

“I don’t…. wait….do you have the final piece to Pachooks’ device?”

He kept smiling and nodded. “Yes…Pachook’s part is still with me, and with it Umbra’s plan can come to fruition,” he said as he touched the clay ring encircling his neck.

I touched the rough surface thinking a moment, “I thought it was copper clad—”

“—Adamantite?  Yes, it is…but I covered it in clay to disguise it.  If the Duergar were any wiser, they might have taken it,” he said.

I nodded, and then looked at him seriously, “Can you walk?  We should go somewhere…anywhere else.”

“Yes…yes of course, we can talk elsewhere.” Eridan agreed, and I stood and assisted him to his feet.

“Iesa, can you unlock these chains?”  I whispered, and he came over and after a single glance he shook his head.  “They aren’t locked, they’re riveted shut.  I’d need serious tools to undo those.” 

“Pay it no mind, I can carry the lengths, just go slow.  I am not as spry as I once was,” and he stooped over and gathered the chains from around his legs, and we exited the cell.

“Where now?” Daneath asked.

“Back where we came from, and jam the door,” Iesa recommended.

We moved around the pit ledge cautiously, with Beepu in front, and the brothers behind him, while I helped Eridan to move keeping his chains silent.  trying not to attract attention.  But as we made our way past the smithy, suddenly Beepu started backing up.

“Patrol!” he said under his breath, and we turned and ducked into the nearby forge.  The first thing I noticed was the heat; the furnace was beyond hot in the smithy.  Warm red orange light poured from the opening of the forge, giving the smithy an infernal glow.  Four anvils were scattered nearby, and the room contained a scattering of incomplete weapons on the racks, as well as more mundane objects from flat iron plates, to rivets and pull rings.   At one end was an open door that led into a workshop and we quickly moved into it, so we could hide.

Inside it was rectangular in shape, with numerous benches and tools.  Near the door, stood a large well with a bucket on the edge.  Several oil lamps were hung from wires, unlit over the workbenches.  The tools here were for smaller, finer work, compared to the large hammers outside.

Iesa pushed the door shut, and as he did so, Beepu and I focused and lit a pair of lamps giving the area some light.

“Let’s get these off of you,” and Daneath started to rummage through the tools while Eridan pulled himself onto a bench and sat expectantly, smiling.    

As he sat there, Beepu stared at the Genasi.  After a while he nodded to himself and then spoke.  “I remember you now, you were pretending to be a messenger with my offer from Candlekeep for training,”

“Well, that’s not quite true…I *was* a messenger.  Your father had already paid for your entrance with several volumes on artifice he had written, and I simply took the opportunity to deliver its confirmation back to him.  The fact I was doing ‘deliveries’ for the Harpers was part of my wanderings.”

“Well I’m glad you remember him, I don’t,” Daneath said as he picked up a set of tongs, and an iron rod handing it to Iesa.

“I would be surprised if you had; I kept my distance, while you were at the church; the sisters there could keep an eye on you better than I.”

“You were an orphan at a church?” Iesa asked his brother.  “Lucky.  You never mentioned it.”

Daneath started to pull with the tongs on the rivet fastening one of the fetters closed, while Iesa used the rod and a hammer to push.  “Well the Church of Tyr was…harsh, and the Sisters seemed awfully meanspirited.  Made it when I trained under Umbra feel less like toil, and more fun.”

“Didn’t you say our father was a harsh taskmaster?” Iesa questioned.

“He was.  But nothing compared to Sister Cemina, her thrashings are the stuff of nightmares.” Daneath replied, pulling the first pin away.

“Well I don’t remember him either,” Iesa said, shifting the bar to the next set of fetters.

“That’s only because I lost you,” Eridan replied defensively.

“Lost me?  How was that possible?”  Iesa asked looking at Eridan disbelievingly.

“Well, Umbra had set up your mother in a home in Baldur’s Gate, she had coin and enough to live well,” Iesa’s jaw dropped in surprise.

“But the gods were not kind.   When you were newly born, one of the Sea Dukes, essentially robbed your mother because he wanted her property, and she was forced to flee the city.   She had no way to contact Umbra to ask for help.  By the time Umbra did find out what had happened, she was long gone.  She managed to somehow get to Waterdeep, and I am still uncertain how she did.”

Iesa frowned, “I don’t remember that at all.”

“Well it certainly angered Umbra, and he made sure the Duke paid for what he had done.  And he asked me to look for you.  And finding you was my primary reason for wandering.  So many false hopes...but found you I did, albeit too late to be of real help to her, or you.  I’m sorry about that.”

The second fetter sprang loose, and the brothers started on the manacles.  “Well, its’ not your fault,” Iesa said, placing the rod against the bottom of the rivet.

“No, and Umbra, probably rightfully, blamed himself.  But I was so happy when your little pal…hello there,” and Eridan waved at Mo, who had poked his head out of curiosity at the Genasi, “Took the map, and you actually followed it.”

“You could have just told me you know,” Iesa pointed out.

“I considered it, but…oh well,” Eridan shrugged.

“Alright, so how do I fit into this?” I asked, crossing my arms in annoyance.   “I understand the machinations with Iesa, and Daneath and Beepu.  But you…knew I was coming?  How?  *I* didn’t even know I was coming.”

“Well, that’s a strange story in itself.  When Umbra told me about the Kershak, and the essence of his plan, I was concerned.   What he described was offensive to Kelemvor’s teachings.  And so, I prayed for many things; Umbra’s success, the survival of the three, me keeping the parts safe.  But one night, months ago I received a vision.  In that vision I saw an angel, clad in grey and silver, and he…informed me that my prayers had been heard, and that a hand named ‘Myrai’ was sent, and they would bring us all together eventually.”

I stood there blinking and shaking my head in disbelief, as he continued.

“Now, there was nothing I could do directly, but I did tell the Harpers about what I had heard.  I wondered how I could help, but no one I knew heard of a person going by your name, much less a woman.   All I could do was have faith.  And it seems my faith has been rewarded.”

The manacle popped open, and the brothers set to work on the last one, “So, what?  Myr is an agent of the gods?” Iesa asked as I still was considering the implications.

“What would you call it then?” Eridan asked. 

“Luck?” Daneath responded.  “Or good fortune perhaps.  But divine intervention?” and Daneath looked at me awkwardly, clearly unsure what to believe.

“I don’t feel…that divine,” I said feeling awkward with this conversation.  “I mean, getting maneuvered to a bar, that happens to hip me in Triboar…that’s just coincidence.”

“Perhaps it is,” Eridan responded nodding.  “But then, how did I know your name?”

I didn’t know how to answer that, let alone feel.  Was I in control of my destiny or not?  Was I a slave to fate, and unable to make a real choice?  Was it because I was devout in my beliefs, or was that secondary to an…angel’s…?

“Eridan, you said it was an angel that told you, right?” I began.  “Do you remember anything about them?  Anything at all?”

“About the angel?  Well…um…well.  A tall, perfect angelic man, and he had golden hair, and eyes like yours come to think of it—”

“Ten gold says she’s about to lose it,” Iesa said looking at Daneath.

“Sucker bet,” Daneath replied.

I know now how I should have looked at this.  I should have felt honored to be given an important task of my faith.  I should have been inspired that I was sent to someone that needed my help.  That I was the right person to help.

But I didn’t; I felt angry.  I felt manipulated.  But instead of a fiend selling me screed and putting me into chains for coin, I was maneuvered to a bar and pushed out of Sigil by the actions of an angel.   And not just any angel, one that had been an absent and silent father.  One that left me alone to fend for myself in the Gatehouse.  Left penniless, without a legacy, or anything to help me.  And when I did dive through the portal, I was left alone in the dirt, without so much as a word why.  Putting my life at risk, without being told it was part of a plan or even asking me to help.

I kicked a nearby bucket next to the well, frustrated.  I wanted to scream and shout and swear a lot and would have if we weren’t so close to danger.

“I don’t understand…what is wrong with—” Eridan started.

“—I am going to make an educated guess that she was forced, and not asked to do this,” Beepu remarked.

“Sodding straight,” I said from behind clenched teeth.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have helped?” Eridan asked puzzled.

I looked at him, and then Beepu, Iesa and Daneath in turn.  “What?  I…no…I would…I would have helped if asked.  I...do not regret helping, or bleeding, or killing or anything about this.  I just would have wanted to have a choice.”

“Not everyone gets to make choices.  And as harsh as that sounds, someone had faith in you,” Eridan said with a small smile.

I looked at Eridan awkwardly and said, “I’m flattered that you have faith in me Eridan,  but—”

“—No, not me,” Eridan interrupted.  “The angel that sent you.”

“An angel…having faith…in *me*?”

“Why not?  Belief can change many things, can it not?” Eridan pointed out.

I nodded and sighed, clearing my head.  “Well, if that is the case, lets finish this.”

“Yes, I agree.  So Eridan, if you could take off the ring around your neck—”

“—I cannot—” Eridan replied, as Beepu blazed on without noticing.

“—and then we can combine it with the rest of the device in my pouch here…wait, what did you say?”  Beepu finaly registering what Eridan said.

“I cannot take it off…not by myself.   It has a core of adamantite, so some heat and tools are needed.” Eridan explained.

“Why did Pachook make this difficult?” Iesa asked bewildered at this revelation.

“So, it couldn’t be simply taken from me, or pick pocketed or lost,” Eridan said.  “But Pachook said that with a pair of tongs to pull and separate the ring, and a third one heated and pinching the body would make it pliable enough to bend.”

“Well…there’s a forge right there,” Iesa said.  “Let’s warm it up,” and he walked out of the workshop door, to the furnace, followed by Daneath and Eridan.  I stood there with Beepu still processing my emotions with Eridan’s revelations.  I so wanted to talk to Gossamer right now.

It was strange; a familiar from one perspective just a simple spirit.  But binding that spirit into a familiar form makes it a part of you.  In some ways it *is *you.  It knows your thoughts, and your fears, and it knows your secrets.  Most of the time, a familiar is bound into animal form.  They aren’t any smarter than that animal, but they are loyal to a fault.

I didn’t choose that form for Gossamer.  A Tressym is far smarter than most familiars and as such the connection is stronger.  There are advantages to this, better observation and more insight.   I was warned about the downsides from Beepu.

“It is the first time, right?” Beepu asked, to which I quietly nodded.  “I wish I could say it gets easier.  Foggle is fixable but, I cannot say he is not different every time.”

I nodded and said, “Well, I guess I should resummon him, right?”

“Mourning something that does not really die is not a real productive use of time,” Beepu pointed out.

I smiled and nodded, pulled some incense from my spell pouch and was about to take off my pack to find a pot, when suddenly I heard steel on stone.  Turning I saw the brothers and Eridan scramble back into the workshop.  Daneath slammed the door shut and braced it with Iesa’s help.

“What the—” and I stopped when I looked at Eridan.  Lodged in his side was a short iron javelin, a river of blood was already pouring out of the wound.  Then I saw he wasn’t the only one wounded.   Daneath also sported several wounds from javelins.

“Damned dwarves snuck up on us,” Daneath said, just as the sounds of iron pounding on iron echoed in the workshop.  “One moment, we had tongs in our hands, the next—”

“—Invisible dwarves throwing iron at us.  Cheaters,” Iesa said grimacing in pain as he held the door.

“Oh, like you haven’t done the same,” Daneath groaned.

“Where is the ring?” Beepu demanded.  “We can build it and get ourselves out of here."

"It...it...is still on my neck," Eridan grunted.  “We didn’t have enough time.”

*Session Notes:*

Gossamer's death was in one sense a tactical mistake, and in another a role playing opportunity.  Some familiar's get treated as tools, others like simple pets.  Neither Foggle or Gossamer were that, both had personalities and while Goss was the smarter one, it was Foggle doing a lot of heavy lifting.  And while he was 'skinned' like an artificer's pet (and Artificers hadn't been released yet, otherwise I would pegged Beepu to be one) It was more than a simple statue.  And Gossamer had all the cattitude needed; judgmental, bored with everyone, etc.  The sudden loss was more like a friend disappearing than a tool, and I was satisfied with that interpretation.

Mo on the other hand, was lost and forgotten quite a bit.  He wasn't a familiar, and so never did drive the story that way, but many times the "urchin's" pet faded in the background because it wasn't as useful.  Granted story wise he had moments, and there was some free theft from merchants occasionally (which I felt was again RAI one what an urchin's pet mouse could do, but it really didn't make a material effect.)  Mo would be either free in town, and forgotten about, or hiding in a pack, forgotten about.  Although I did end up painting a mini for him, that we never ended up using.


----------



## Nthal

*Exit Strategy – 10/9/2020*

_Any good knight of the post will tell you obvious advice for a low price or a drink of bub. But it is invariably good advice. What costs more is how to apply it the situation at hand.

It’s usually worth it, because you are going to pay for that knowledge at the beginning or the end. And the end costs more._​


The pounding continued on the door along with the shouts of angry dwarves. Iesa and Daneath both pushed back trying to hold it shut, breathing heavily. Both brothers were bleeding profusely, along with Eridan, who was leaning heavily on the workbench. Beepu was oblivious to these details however as he stood there impatiently.

“Well, get back out there and finish the job,” he said indignantly.

“Beepu!” Daneath grunted, “There were six of them that hurled javelins at us! I didn’t even have time to heat the tongs!”

I moved over to Daneath and looked him over as they pushed their backs on the iron door.

“I can’t heal you Daneath until I pull this javelin out,” I said grimacing. “Same goes for Eridan.”

“What about the one in me?!?” Iesa said, as the banging on the door grew more urgent.

“What?” I muttered as I looked Iesa over. And sure enough, lodged in his thigh, the broken shaft of a javelin stuck out.

“Sodding Baator,” I groaned. “I barely have enough to heal you all,” I grasped the rod tightly in my hands and started to pull quanta from it. I could feel within me, strands reform as power flooded into me as the glimmering light with the purple sapphire faded.

“Myrai…” Eridan started. I grasped the javelin lodged in Daneath and pulled it free, while he gritted his teeth in pain. I then quickly pulled on a strong white strand and started to close Daneath’s wound.

“Don’t…don’t bother,” Eridan gasped for air as I turned to Iesa and quickly pulled the javelin from his thigh. He yelped in response, and I pulled on another smaller strand and healed him as I did his brother.

“What, I’m not going to let you die from a wound like that,” I said, starting to pull on a light strand.

“No—“and Eridan reached out with a hand and placed it on mine. “—You need the ring. It would be far easier to remove if…” he trailed off looking me in the eyes.

“What? No there must be another way!” Beepu said grasping what Eridan was saying.

The banging on the door was now replaced with a rhythmic booming, as the dwarves started to use something to ram the door. With each boom, the door shuddered, and the hinges started to shift from their positions in the wall.

“We aren’t going to be able to hold them back if they keep this up,” Iesa said. “We need time!”

Beepu and I looked at each other and nodded.

“Open the door, then slam it shut, and move that bench to block it,” I said.

“Are you out of your mind?” Daneath said in alarm.

“A bit of arcana can do wonders,” Beepu said, as he pulled some fur and glass from his pouch and started to mutter some mystic syllables under his breath. “You ready Myr?”

I nodded, pulling on the dark and light strands again, and winding them together and pulling them taught. I mentally kept the tension high and waited. Daneath then grasped the pull ring and looked at Iesa who had a hand on the bolt fastening the door shut. They tensed up and waited. Finally, just after a boom from the ram and just as the door stopped shaking, Iesa threw open the latch, and Daneath pulled the door open.

Beyond were a tight pack of enlarged dwarves, using a length of what looked like wood, topped with a cap of iron. They were still moving backwards and looked up with surprise. They dropped the ram, and were about to draw weapons to charge, when I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. In the Duergar’s black eyes I saw the reflection of light and then sudden look of fear, as a bolt of blue-white lightening, pierced their bodies and hit the wall behind them. The ram they held splintered apart in their hands. And then as they staggered, I snapped the strands, and I heard bones crack and the ram blew apart into splinters as the dwarves fell over, crushed by our magic.

I smiled as I saw that at least nine fell to our onslaught, but it fell away quickly, as I saw that there were more dwarves coming. And it wasn’t just a handful, but a full score was outside, taking cover from the chaos that Beepu and I caused. But what alarmed me most was that one of the dwarves was starting to create a bead of light in his hands.

“Close it NOW!” I screamed knowing what was coming. Iesa quickly slammed the iron portal shut and threw the bolt back into place, while Daneath and Eridan shoved the workbench in front of the door. From around the sill, the edges erupted in orange flickering waves of heat and Iesa retracted his hands from the gout and shook the pain of singed flesh away.

“How many are left?” Iesa asked, as he then helped to pull the heavy bench in front of the door.

“Too many,” I said. “We are running out of time.”

“Well, hopefully we can hold the door,” and Daneath and Iesa braced themselves behind the workbench, ready to hold it and the door in place.

Beepu set his pouch on the ground and pulled out an object. It wasn’t very large, perhaps the size of an apple. It resembled a clockwork mechanism, with brass and silver plates in places, covering barely a quarter of it. He pulled out the two spur gear rings that his parents once wore as wedding bands and started to affix them to the mechanism.

I looked at it and turned to Eridan. “There has to be a better way.”

Eridan smiled, “Myrai, I have been travelling this world for eighty winters. I have loved, had a family and I have had no regrets. My best friend sacrificed all he was, so he could end the Kershak. I cannot let him down now. I can’t have that regret on my soul.”

“I have helped people to go beyond but…they were all in dire straits, beyond anyone’s power to help. I don’t …no I don’t want to do this. The price is too steep.” I said, knowing I was going to lose this battle.

“Myrai,” he said grasping my hands. “Remember, ‘Death is a part of life,’—”

“—' not an ending but a beginning,’” I finished, drawing my greensteel dagger slowly. I looked at it, doubts weighing heavily on my heart.

I did swear I would do anything to see this through, to finally end this. But this wasn’t what I had intended by my prayer. Sacrificing one’s self is easy; especially if you don’t know what that sacrifice really entails. But to sacrifice someone else? Only fiends…or someone with that mindset did that. But for me…this was a price I didn’t want pay.

Yet looking at Eridan, I saw he had no doubts in his eyes. He wasn’t a child or even a young adult starting out on their journey. He had walked his path; he had all the time to sample all that life had to offer. He was certain that he reached his time; he had faith in what he was doing; what he wanted to do.

I looked at Eridan and smiled, I pulled myself close to him and embraced the genasi, sniffling a bit. He chuckled a moment, and then I pulled back a step and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his.

A final kiss.

The blade slid between the ribs smoothly, and I could feel the warmth of his blood cover my chest. He shuddered a moment, and I pulled him close whispering into his ear, “_May Death grant you peace_ Eridan.” He held me tight, as the blood poured on the floor between us.

“I will…not forget…you…” he said and then he became limp in my arms, and I staggered with his weight, as I lowered his still warm body to the ground, tears spilling forth.

“Now Eridan, we can try to…MY WORD!” Beepu said, looking up for the first time. “Myr what did you DO?”

“What he asked for. What he wanted,” I said a bit shaken. “His time was over, and he…wanted his end to have meaning.” I looked Beepu straight in the eye. “Let’s not disappoint him.”

Beepu looked at me, at the blood, and at the smile on Eridan’s dead face and swallowed. His face was contorted into a scowl when he said “Why not one more to the pyre. The cost the Kershak has incurred is far too high.”

Daneath turned to look at us and as he spoke his face paled, “What are you two yam…oh crap. No. No. No.” Iesa turned as well and growled in frustration, pushing against the workbench, trying to keep the door shut.

“Daneath,” I said, moving toward the table and I slung my shield onto my back. I then started to push against the workbench with all my weight and strength. “You need to…remove his head.” Daneath looked at me wearily and winced. But he moved from the table and drew his sword. I saw him take aim and swing, and Eridan’s head rolled away from the body in one clean stroke. I watched remorsefully, as I strained against the workbench, pushing with my legs trying to hold the door fast. As I did so, the door shuddered again with a dull booming sound.

“They got another ram,” Iesa said. “The door is going to fly from the hinges, and then this table is going to give quickly.” The door shuddered again, dust flying and the sound of stone cracking, as the dwarves kept hammering away.

Beepu reached down and pulled the ring away from the decapitated corpse. He quickly smashed it on the ground, breaking away the clay cladding, and the coppery ring beneath was revealed. As he did so, he spoke to Daneath. “Keep your sword out, and with your other hand grasp the orb.”

He doffed his shield and slung it on his back, “Myr and Iesa aren’t going to be able to hold the door for long.” He pressed his hand to the orb, and from within I heard the whining of gears starting to turn faster and faster

“Well…It is going to be only her in a moment, because I need Iesa and his dagger as well.”

“I can’t leave her—” Iesa protested.

“—It will not be long. The device is charged, I have put some arcane energy into it. Once you touch it, my spell will activate the orb and with it we can open a portal to...somewhere. I need you *now* Iesa!”

“Go,” I said to the Knight of the Post. “I only need to—” <BOOM> “—hold the door for a little while.”

Iesa looked at me and nodded. Keeping his back on the workbench, he pushed with his legs, as he drew the dagger. He held a moment, and looked at me, and I gave him a nod. He stepped forward and dropped down to his knees, reaching out and laid a hand on the orb. Then, Isea and Daneaths faces contorted in pain as the device started to pull_ something_ from them. Wisps of haze and fog poured off their skin and swirled into the device, now at the center of a small arcane storm. Howls emanated from it, like warped Aoskar hounds baying at anti-peak. The orb gave of a brilliant white light, and the whining gears inside increased in speed and pitch. Beepu touched some buttons on the curved surface and frowned.

“No!…it still not fully powered up. It requires more time!” Beepu said angrily.

“We better hold the—” Iesa started.

“—Do NOT let go!” Beepu shrieked. “This can only be done once!”

I continued to push on the workbench, my feet slipping on the stone trying to keep it in place against the door, when the upper hinge burst free from the stone. I could feel the workbench sliding backwards with the repeated banging on the door and watched as the iron latch in the jamb started to bend in place. It would not be long before the door was loose.

“Beepu!” I shouted. “You need to throw everything you have into it now! I can’t hold it!”

Beepu looked at the brothers who were struggling in pain, as their essence or perhaps a part of their souls was being drawn into the orb. Frowning, he reached into his pouch, and pulled out a smooth orange stone. Looking at it for a moment, he lifted his hand and smashed down the stone on top of the orb.

The orb started to hum, its reverberations overtaking the high-pitched whine of the spinning gears. I could feel the Weave shudder a moment and then I felt it tear apart, as I felt lashed by the unwinding of the Weave near me. Then a brilliant white light lit the room, not from the device but from an angle from the ceiling. A new howling sound erupted from the orb…or was it a scream? The light lit the orb up, and the howling, the gears whining all increased in intensity and volume. As I squinted my eyes to watch, I saw a hole tear open right behind the gnome. Light and moving shadows and colors streamed through it as it grew in size.

“What is that?” Iesa shouted, still in pain.

“Our exit portal. I think I have it set to a city on the mainland, we must go no—”

The door’s last hinge broke, and the workbench now slid into the room, my strength a feeble match for the large muscular dwarves behind it. I turned and pulled on a weak dark strand and pulled out the miasma, and I saw the dwarf that was barreling through the ruined doorway in pain, and behind him another growled with equal anger. Spinning I started to run.

I saw Beepu grab the orb and he ran for the fissure in the weave. He dove for it, and in a blink, he was gone. Daneath and Iesa, still grasping their weapons, followed him blindly. Each crossed the threshold, and I could hear Mo shriek in Iesa’s pack as he disappeared into the portal. Close behind, Foggle dove for it, wings folded in close to its body, streaking at it like a golden raptor diving for prey, and he too crossed and disappeared across the portal’s boundaries.

I then threw myself at the portal. Time seemed to slow, and I could feel my heart pound with every step. I leaned forward and reached my hand out straining to breach the threshold. It eerily felt like it did one hundred and forty-six days ago as I dove under the transom in the bar, where a portal appeared unexpectedly. I flung my body forward towards it and stretched to grasp the entrance to the escape that Beepu had created.

I then gasped for air, as a body slammed into me. Glancing at my side, I saw an armored dwarf had collided with me, and I fell onto one knee to stabilize myself. I instinctively turned and threw a punch at the nose of the dwarf, and I was rewarded with the sound of bones cracking. The dwarf backed up a step and shouted in anger, and then launched himself at me again. He forced me off balance as he sought to pin me against the wall of the well that stood in the room.

My strength was no match against the foe, and I gave up ground rapidly. I found my body pinned against the brick and mortar of the well’s wall, and I felt it start to sunder. Although I was crushed against it, the dwarf kept pushing, and suddenly the wall gave way. I heard the roaring sound of the dwarf’s laughter, as I found myself falling into the shaft of the well. Twisting around, I watched from my back as an ugly face of the dwarf gave me an evil grin. But the image quickly receded away as I fell.

So, this was it, the end.

I felt the air stream through my hair as I fell. The pain in my chest was distant and unimportant. I closed my eyes and relaxed; there was nothing to be done now. I smiled as I realized that I had helped cement a victory against the Kershak. That I helped my friends escape with their lives.

I smiled as I descended; I felt free. Any concerns on what I owed whom I left behind as I fell. The only regret I felt was that I would break my promise to see Arnara again. But somehow, I knew she would forgive me.

Below I heard rushing water, but I knew I was falling too far and fast. If the fall didn’t kill me, I would likely drown in the water below. At least I knew what the end was like, and any pain would be brief.

_I’m ready Kelemvor…

NOT YET!_

And then I felt it, my body crossing between places, the cool air being replaced with warm. My eyes widened in shock and surprise and…


----------



## Nthal

*Epilogues – 10/9/2020

Athkalta, Amn*​
The sun was setting, spreading long shadows from the buildings in the city, and reflected off the waters of the harbor on the ships mooring in the Alandor river for the evening. Trotting along the river, was a man in a long dark cloak, followed closely by a brown furred monkey. Quickly the man moved through the thin crowd until he reached an old fest hall near the banks of the river. Above it an old sign with fresh painted letters read ‘Sea Bounty’s Tavern’ in common. Wasting no time, he entered the doors, and without a second glance ascended the stairs to the second floor, and swiftly entered the third door on the left, and just as swiftly slammed the door behind him.

Then, it just as quickly opened again, with the figure saying “Sorry Mo.” The monkey deliberately walked in with exaggerated slowness, glaring at the man holding the door open for him, and swiftly but gently closed it again, once Mo entered the room.

“It took you long enough Iesa,” a large man said seated on a chair with a small hammer by the table, repairing a strap on a breastplate.

“I don’t know Athkatla’s streets very well, so it took me longer to figure out where the temple district was, let alone where a temple of Oghma was Daneath,” Iesa replied.

“I told you where to go, if you would only listen,” a gnome said a the other end of a table, reading through a large book, while a brass owl observed perched on the back of his chair.

“I did Beepu, but you were right about one thing,” Iesa replied mildly.

“Right about one thing? What exactly are you talking about?” Beepu asked confused.

“Foggle has problems counting above three; so instead of six blocks down, it was eleven.” Iesa replied.

“A minor detail that you apparently figured out.” The gnome said dismissively.

"So... It took a while, Dan,” Iesa said returning his attention to the big warrior. He reached into his pocket and threw an apple at the monkey, who quickly grabbed it and made its way to the window overlooking the street and started to munch away.

“But did you find one?” Daneath said laying down his tools.

Iesa nodded, “I did find someone that could perform some type of divinations. It cost a lot though.”

“How much?” Daneath asked.

“Well, the orphans of the city will be well off for the better part of a century,” Iesa said. “Not that’s a bad thing. But I am going to need funds…and so are you Daneath.”

“I noticed you ‘borrowed’ some coin. Leave anything left?”

“We’re good for a year or so.” Iesa replied unbuckling his rapier and laying it on a bed.

“So, what did they say?” Beepu asked urgently. “Is it over?”

“Well for the first question, yes the Kershak is gone.”

“We did it!” Daneath said smiling. He grabbed for a bottle on the table and pulled out the cork and started to pour wine into glasses.

“But the Kershak’s organization; it still exists.” Iesa frowned.

Daneath stopped pouring for a moment, “So we didn’t win?”

“I would interpret that to mean while our original nemesis is gone, the hoodllums he led are still doing what they want.” Beepu said frowning.

“Who’s left to lead them?” Daneath asked puzzled.

“Paradros,” Iesa said. “That was my third question, and a good guess on a yes/no question.

“Well, does that mean we are in danger?” Beepu asked.

Iesa shrugged, “Well, I suppose if we leave well enough alone, they might be smart enough to do the same.”

“Well, it’s a start,” and Daneath continued to pour the wine.

“I have more,” Iesa said.

“Well, with as much coin as you just spent, I would hope you have a bit more,” Daneath said without looking up.

Iesa nodded, “I got *two* divinations; six questions.”

Daneath stopped pouring again. “Well…what did you ask?”

Iesa sat at the table and looked down. “I asked if…if Myrai was still alive.”

Beepu and Daneath said nothing and leaned forward. Then Beepu spoke, “And?”

Iesa nodded, “She is.”

“Crap how are we—” Daneath started when Iesa cut him off.

“—There’s more. My second question was if she was still in or under Nelthander. The answer was ‘no.’”

There was silence as the other two thought about the answer.

“But she didn’t follow us, and you said you thought the door broke open. Where is she?” Daneath asked.

“That was the point of the third question, and I took a gamble. I asked if she was still in Faerûn.”

Beepu and Daneath looked at each other and then looked at Iesa expectantly, both arching their brows.

“She isn’t.”

The trio looked at each other saying nothing for a while. Daneath then moved, and finished pouring the wine into the cups, and passed them to Beepu and Iesa.

“I guess…that’s it then,” Daneath said.

“You think she found a way home?” Iesa asked.

“I don’t know. But I am going to drink in her memory. I don’t think I could ever forget her,” Daneath said holding his cup in a toast.

“To Myrai, may you find your way, wherever it may lead.”

“To Myrai,” Beepu held up his wine as well, “A better partner than we deserved.”

“To Myrai,” Iesa said as he raised his cup. “I hope you find the peace you sought.”

They all then took a deep drink of the wine and turned to look at the setting sun, wondering where their adventures would lead.



*The Misty Forest*​
Melandrach nodded in thanks to the attendant for the tome and with a hand gently dismissed them. Without even waiting for the attendant to depart, the King of the Misty Forest flipped through the yellow paged tome, his eyes searching for something almost forgotten.

“And here you are, monarch of the wood, in your garden, with your nose not in the flowers or a glass of wine, but in a book instead. I swear you were once a Sun elf in a prior time.”

Melandrach smiled at Kylan Ustina’s jest, “Well old friend, I at least insist reading in nothing but the finest light and the warmest breeze, as befits my heritage. And what brings you from your house to mine?” Melandrach said as he grasped the forearm of Kylan who returned the gesture.

"I only just returned, having spent some time in the northern forest. It was a good time to do so after escorting the…outsiders to the teleportation circle,” Kylan said.

“Thank you for doing that on such short notice,” Melandrach said with a tone of gratitude. “I know you were not particularly fond of them.”

“Too little, too late for my house,” Kylan said. “Half a generation lost to the war.”

“Half is better than none.”

“Of course, it is. But that _ha-celas_ made things more difficult. Arnara now must become prepared to lead the house. The last thing she needed was ideas of experiencing the world.”

Melandrach tilted his head, “And weren’t you the same as she? Weren’t we both in our youth centuries ago?”

Kylan smiled. “I suppose. But I know better now; House Ustina must survive. If I understood the risk then, I would not have been so…reckless."

"And so, you seek to prevent her from making the same mistake? Don’t the humans have a saying; ‘You learn more from failure than success?’ And if she cannot make her own mistakes, how will she grow?”

“Easy for you to throw words of wisdom when you have nothing at risk.”

“But I did; when I trusted those four to win the day. It allowed me to commit all of our forces to the south, allowing us to beat the horde. I left our northern flank exposed, a great risk. And I did it because I saw once long ago where not committing was a worse decision.”

“And you _knew_ the outcome?”

“No. I just had…faith in who helped us.”

“Why? Why them? Why any of them?” Kylan asked mystified. “They aren’t kin, and to expect them to lay everything down was fool hardy. I cannot dismiss the results…but…I do not understand it.”

“I did not either; it was a distant memory nagging at me ever since I heard of their arrival in Whitepetal.” Melandrach looked down at the book he held. “And I have since discovered the answer to that.” Melandrach opened the book to the page he was recently looking at and turned the book to Kylan to review.

Kylan took the book and looked at the page. There on one side was a plate with a drawing of a human. With long hair, and fine features it stood out as a paragon among humans. But as he looked at the drawing, he realized that something was out of place. It took a moment of looking before he realized what was wrong.

“The eyes—” he said softly.

“’—Like mirrors reflecting souls around them and coifed with hair like spun gold.’ Is what the text says.”

“So, she—”

“*HE* was here. The man came here around what…1383? It was shortly after I helped some adventures with the ruins of Illefarn. He stood out, strong, confident. As a paladin he commanded without effort the respect and loyalty around him, all to a new god that arose from the Time of Troubles.”

Kylan looked up away from the book and almost asked the obvious question, when Melandrach answered it for him.

“The holy symbol is in the drawing; he was perhaps one of the earliest paladins of Kelemvor, who had only been worshiped for a decade when I met him.”

“But this plate, he…and she could be twins,” Kylan said confused.

“Not twins, but perhaps brother and sister, with more than a century separation. And he had a similar story, an angelic father and a missing mother,” Melandrach said in amusement. “I only remembered the man recently, as I only laid eyes on him once. The coincidence is remarkable; too much so.”

“Coincidence? What do you mean?”

“He was among the vanguard that protected Daggerford from the fiend Baazaka who came up from Dragonspear castle. He implored me to protect Daggerford before departing. And I heeded that advice and the battle there was won. Unfortunately, he died, on the fields in front of the castle and we never met again. All of this was before the Shining Lady, Caelar Argent seized the keep almost five years later. And until the _ha-celas _arrived I had completely forgotten about him.

Melandrach stood overlooking the pools and thought a moment. “Perhaps the memory is why I trusted the word of those in Whitepetal that a mirror-eyed woman had things in hand. Perhaps it was simply what I hoped for or wished for. But after I met her, I realized that she was one with destiny shaping her fate. I felt it was best to help her how we could.”

Kylan closed the book and shook his head before Melandrach took it from him.

“You do not believe so? I understand that Master Elanthyr has accepted your daughter into the bladesingers,” Melandrach remarked. “Congratulations are in order.”

Kylan nodded, “An…unexpected honor, her skills with the longsword were never—”

“But Elanthyr doesn’t use the longsword, his style uses the rapier. And didn’t the _ha-celas_ teach Arnara—”

“Are you saying that she had an influence on her—”

Melandrach raised his hand, “I am saying that she like a leaf on a still pond; her impact causes ripples and how those ripples affect others in the pond? Who knows, but I am not one to ignore what seems to be coincidence. Or providence.”



*Shendilavri, 570th layer of the Abyss*​
Teiazaam alighted on the ledge of the tower, surrounded by a garden of dark twisted trees, which sported flowers resembling blood red orchids, the sun ever setting perpetually, casting long shadows from the trees and tower alike. Orchids whose scent was said to drive mortals to madness, ecstasy or both. Vines and creepers crept up the bone ivory walls of the windowless structure, as it towered in the center of a valley, a far distance from the ocean and the busy sea town of Darkheart, and its perverse delights.

Upon landing, Teiazaam, folded her leather bat like wings and ascended the stairs with a confident strut, until she reached an ornate door. The door was encrusted by a layer of brilliant green gemstones with blood red stains in the cracks and fissures and sporting a brass colored ring on the left-hand edge of the door. Beside it, perched on a large bone of some creature, a Vrock glowered as it watched the succubus approach. As she did so, its eyes narrowed as it regarded the fiend approaching it.

“She does not wish to be disturbed. But I won’t stop you from your…ill advised entrance,” it said with contempt watching the fiend walk to the door.

“And I know better than to disobey, Kvandark,” she replied, and without so much slowing down, pulled on the ring and opened the jewel encrusted door, and stepped inside.

The room was dark, with dim red light from candles lit around the room, each with countless years or decades of wax drippings from the everlit sources forming thick pillars reaching the floor. The room was clad in dark wood, with clear glass bowls of water hovering at different heights, surrounding the room, each with flowers floating within, their petals open, and giving a heavy sweet perfume in the air. Even Teiazaam’s heart beat a step quicker when the scent drifted across her nostrils, reminding her of dark pleasures. Along the walls stood mirrored panels and in between them were assorted racks and shelves. Some with perfumes, others with vials of liquids and contents unknown, another held a rack, and nearby was a stand of blades of all sorts of sizes, some with gleaming sharp edges, others dulled.

In the center was a large circular platform, where a thick cushion lay. On top of it, reclined a large female figure. She lazily turned over on her stomach, and stretched out the burned remains of wings, as her four separate tails twitched like an angry cat. She regarded the little succubus with malice as her deep green eyes narrowed, and the jade halo above her head burned with hatred at the intrusion. The tower walls seemed to close in, as creepers and barbed vines crept across the floor, and descended from iron rafters above, all seeking the warm blood of the succubus.

The succubus swallowed, and dove to the floor, her palms pressed down, and her forehead and horns touching the back of her hands. Her knees were curled up underneath, as her hooves pointed back toward the entrance, and her wings spread out and lay flat on the cold stone floor, as her tail fell flat behind her. She took deep breaths, hoping to avoid destruction long enough to tell her tale.

“I am certain I told that fool of a Vrock that—” Jade started with a flinty tone.

“—and I ignored them, to obey you…mistress.” She said flatly, the only signs of emotion came from her tail, which quivered nervously behind her prostrate form.

“Obey me?” the Radiant Sister said. “Do tell, how are you interpreting this as an explicit order to be left alone?”

The succubus grimaced and didn’t move, lest she lose her nerve, “I obey you when you ask for word of a mirror-eyed trollop, and their whereabouts.”

Jade tilted her head in interest, “Well Teiazaam, that* is* worthy of an interruption,” she said licking her fingers. “And what word do you bring?”

“A foolish thrall named Philandre, saw her on the world of Faerûn, near her establishment. She caused some sort of ruckus and angered our pet there and asked for help in subduing her. Alas, Falinas was a fool and did nothing with this information, and only after plying her with a larva did, she reveal her mistakes to me.”

“A pity. And you came here straight away to tell me like a…good girl?” she said mockingly. “Perhaps you desire to swap places, and she take the punishment of disturbing me, and you receive the reward instead? But that was such a small crumb of what information I wanted, so perhaps I should just punish you both…”

“No! there is more!” the shaking Teiazaam stammered. “I investigated personally to learn more, but…the island she left is tearing itself apart. The pirates, the Underdark dwellers, all of them are at war with each other, and the port was in flames when I left. As for the trollop, she was gone. But I did manage to loosen the tongue of a Duergar to learn about the trollop’s fate.”

“Loosen the tongue of a Duergar? That must have been a trial,” Jade said with a wry grin.

“It wasn’t easy to find the right leverage, but I…suffered to pry what I did from that disgusting Duergar. But what he told me was more interesting; she fell into a portal, but a very different one from her friends left in.”

“Fell?” Jade sat up slowly and stretched, “Into a random portal? I doubt that very much. How long have you known?”

“Moments,” Teiazaam said gulping nervously. “I only just returned! I wasted no time learning what I could from what would have been a cold dark trail.”

“Enterprising, shows initiative, and knows enough to appear like she’s not a threat,” Jade purred. “I think Falinas was woefully unprepared for your ingenuity. She wasted my time on a story about you and a larva, thinking that was important. So, she is being…entwined and consumed in the garden below; and clearly, she needs some lingering correction. You on the other hand…understand not just want I want, but what I need…and despite your cowering demeanor are, very much, a threat.”

Teiazaam sweated and waited shivering on the floor. She then felt Jade's hand caress her back, sending shivers down her spine and wings. The hand moved under her chin and lifted up her head to look at Jade’s smiling face.

“And a threat is exactly what I need.”

“A threat to the…trollop?” Teiazaam asked still nervous and confused.

“No…” Jade said. “She’s just a means to an end. Her father though…that’s another story.”


----------



## Nthal

So, the campaign ended here.  There was a bit of a falling out, and we all went our separate ways, but it was still a good story.  I am right not doing a major revision of the story and will post links to it when I am done with that little project.

But while this is an end here, it is a beginning elsewhere.   So please jump over a thread and see what happens next in:

The Thorns of Winter​


----------



## Richards

Aw, that's a shame.  I was really enjoying this one.  Oh well, off to Eberron, then - and another aasimar from Sigil?  Hmmmm.....

Johnathan


----------



## Nthal

Richards said:


> Aw, that's a shame.  I was really enjoying this one.  Oh well, off to Eberron, then - and another aasimar from Sigil?  Hmmmm.....
> 
> Johnathan



One Aasimar at a time...so no.

Same Aasimar.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

So this time when I catch up ... I find it's the end!

Well, thank you Nthal, I enjoyed that - and while I'm sorry your campaign apparently ended badly, it did make for a satisfactory end to the story.

It does seem like your DM may have forced you on to rails at times (or at least very close to them), but still it was a good read.

You'll see me over in your new thread, I'm sure.


----------



## Nthal

HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:


> So this time when I catch up ... I find it's the end!
> 
> Well, thank you Nthal, I enjoyed that - and while I'm sorry your campaign apparently ended badly, it did make for a satisfactory end to the story.
> 
> It does seem like your DM may have forced you on to rails at times (or at least very close to them), but still it was a good read.
> 
> You'll see me over in your new thread, I'm sure.




Rails at certain points aren't a bad thing.  I don't mind a rail, if the entry point makes sense.  I had other objections that are larger than that which I have beat to death in prior posts, but most of those are small potatoes as well.

But don't think of it as the end either.   The thread above (the story) is 380k words, is large...LOTR style large.  And while I don't claim to be JRR, I am happy people enjoy reading my stuff.

The next thread, The Thorns of Winter  will probably be as long as that as well; the cast as memorable, and its own twists and turns.


----------



## Wilpower784

Don't mind me bumping the thread.

Wow, what an absolutely incredible story, and what a journey it has been reading it through over these past several months (It took several, several hours for me to read it all, but it also did make a great personal bedtime story when I'd read it at night). With every page, I found myself becoming more and more engaged as life continued to breathe into Myrai and her own challenges. Many times throughout the story, you would excuse yourself for pausing from the action in favor of character insights and flashbacks with Myrai, be it full-scale flashbacks or simple rests in which Myrai grieves over her own mental state and questions her posistion in the multiverse. However, these were by far my favorite and most memorable moments of the story. To the point where last night, when I read about Jade's psychological torture of Myrai, I was marveled about how well it was written and how well it was intertwined with past, current, and the later posts. That individual flashback was on par with some of my favorite writing in all of media, which is something that far-exceeded my already high expectations initially going into Myrai's journey. D&D and its combat have always been fun for me, but what truly makes the game as great as it is for me are the characters and how vast the potential for them to be fleshed out and expressed are. Here, is truly a wonderful example of what that's all about and how making those characters and that world transition from being a tabletop RPG to something...much more. Not everyone is capable of writing in such a quality that speaks out to me, but here, I've received a rare case where the writing not only speaks out to me, but exceeds my own expectations of what I desire out of player characters. It's no wonder you are so passionate about Myrai, you've done amazing things with her, and you've done a remarkable job at allowing people like myself a glimpse of how it feels to be a part of that campaign experience. Simply put, bravo on your work. 

I believe it's time for me to dive into "The Thorns of Winter" next, which I shall do so later tonight. However, I cannot jump into that before first giving "Journal of the Souls of Legend" the proper praise it deserves. I shall see you in the next thread; I look forward to being able to read updates as they come out.


----------



## Nthal

Thanks for the praise.   It was/is fun to write the adventures out.  To flesh out a game and provide the unspoken contexts beyond the simplicity of goals/ideal/alignments.  This (much like Shemeska's) isn't a simple retelling of a adventure, but the retelling of a campaign, hiding all the dice rolls and difficulties checks.  Ultimately it is how we dream about our favorite characters and I am just happy to share mine with everyone.   And maybe inspire others to do the same.


----------

