Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Ratbone's doing well with his Golden Ice - the VOP druid in my campaign has had it succeed maybe once in the whole time!
For starters, I took Ability Focus (Golden Ice) as my 3rd level feat. After reading through the section in BoED on Ravages (the rules for which were not very well reviewed by WotC prior to printing, methinks), and scratching our heads we decided to houserule some of the confusing/omitted stuff.
We decided that the DC for it should be based on the normal equation of 10 + HD/2 + ability modifier, and we decided that Con was the most appropriate ability to tie it to. As of 7th level, my DC is now 18.
BTW, nice update. D&D, frankly, is the most fun when you get your ass handed to you but you still manage to find away to come out on top of the pile of corpses, looking like a typical Conan novel cover.
Very successful, indeed! Great tactics, guys. Too bad Rolth got lucky & escaped the silenced super-mongrel.
Was there really discussion over engaging Ramoska? This could have been...interesting.
Indeed there was. Valeris and O'Reginald were eager to rumble, while Kat and RB were more moderate. A couple of times there were calls for initiative, but I used my best DM, "Are you sure?" voice, and calmer heads won out. I think Ramoska would have owned the group, which was why I was in no hurry to allow combat to break out.
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
While the other members of the K.I.A. stayed behind to tend the victims at the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden, Ratbone winged his way across Korvosa in his avian persona. He visited first the Bank of Abadar, quickly summing up for Ishani what had transpired, and then the Citadel to speak with Cressida Kroft. Within an hour, priests of Abadar and members of the Guard swarmed the Hospice as the streets were secured and the sick were ministered to. Ratbone made one more stop on his way back, to a small apartment on Overton Way. There he retrieved Deyanira Mirukova, simply telling her that he had something to show her, and then he carried her in his large talons back across the town. When he finally set her down outside the doors of the Hospice, the first person she saw was Ruan. There reunion was tearful and required no words. The druid left them to their privacy, and slipped quietly back inside.
__________________________________________________ ______
“I still can’t believe this,” Cressida said, shaking her head as she paced around Andaisin’s inner sanctum. “Blood veil man-made, the Queen’s own personal physician in league with these cultists, the Gray Maiden’s somehow involved? If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes, I couldn’t credit it. The fallout from this is going to be a nightmare!”
“What about the Queen?” Ratbone asked. “Are you going to arrest her?”
“On what grounds?” the Field Marshal asked. “There is no hard evidence here, no matter what the priestess said. It won’t stick. I’ll just have to go to her and give my report. Her reaction will be telling.”
Ratbone shook his head. “I don’t understand the laws of this city. Right and wrong get lost in bureaucracy and politics too often for my taste.”
“Unfortunately, we have to play by the rules for now,” Cressida said, “but have faith. The truth will eventually win out, especially if it continues to have champions such as yourselves. However, I’m afraid I have some more bad news for you. The Queen has ordered all of Old Korvosa to be quarantined.”
“What??” the six companions asked in unison.
Cressida nodded. “The Gray Maidens have destroyed every wooden bridge leading into the old city, and they are erecting a permanent barricade on the only stone bridge. Even though we’ve found the source of the plague, I’m afraid things aren’t going to get much better any time soon.”
In the days that followed, Ishani, using the documents the company had provided from Dr. Davaulus and Rolth’s lab, was able to come up with the foundation for a vaccine for blood veil. Apparently, there were some Varisians who had a natural immunity to the plague. Ishani was not certain what their connection was at first, but upon further research, he discovered that they all shared a common ancestor…a woman named Kasanda Miromia-Foxglove. From their distilled blood, he developed the immunization. Word spread quickly of what had transpired in the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden, and the true source of blood veil. The official stance of the Palace was that the Queen had been duped by Dr. Davaulus, and his actions and those of his masked minions did not accurately reflect her desires. Furthermore, it was asserted that any Gray Maidens involved in the hospice had no knowledge of the true goings-on in the chambers below. The majority of Korvosa’s citizens found it difficult to believe that their queen, however vain and unpleasant, could be the source of such an evil. They were, for the most part, simply thankful that the scourge had passed, and were eager to get back to their lives.
As far as the K.I.A. was concerned, their own role in unmasking the conspiracy and bringing the perpetrators to justice could not be kept under wraps. It was estimated by those in the know that the actions of the heroes led to the salvation of no fewer than three-thousand of Korvosa’s citizens, either directly or indirectly. Consequently, they were lauded as the city’s saviors from the meanest slum to Castle Korvosa itself. Tayce Soldado organized the thanks of Korvosa’s settled Varisians in the form of a large feast at her home with the entire community, many of whom insisted on bringing modest gifts. Dozens of other Korvosan families also recognized the companions for saving the lives of family members or neighbors. Craftsmen, local artists and guildmembers offered their favor and services. Field Marshal Kroft personally thanked the company for their extensive aid. Deputizing them as official members of the Korvosan Guard, she opened Citadel Volshyenek’s armory to them. Finally, Queen Ileosa issued a public acknowledgement, delivered conspicuously by Marcus Thalassinus, commander of the Sable Company rather than the Queen herself, acknowledging the K.I.A.’s work, praising their actions and granting each of them a 5,000 gold crown writ in reward for their services. Of particular note, Ratbone pooled all of the resources he received and purchased two magical items…a decanter of never-ending water, and a spoon of sustenance, the latter capable of producing an endless supply of tasteless but nourishing gruel. These he donated to Old Korvosa, to help ease the privation suffered by the quarantined population. His beneficence remained anonymous.
Despite the accolades heaped upon them by the grateful citizenry of Korvosa, there were certain elements of the establishment that made it clear that their accomplishments were not appreciated by everyone. The Korvosan Guard had suffered greatly over the past weeks, and their ranks were significantly thinned. Conspicuous in their growing numbers, however, were the Gray Maidens. Patrols of them could be seen with increasing frequency on the streets, and wherever the members of the K.I.A. encountered them, they were met with barely restrained hostility and encouraged to move along. So when Cressida Kroft summoned them to the Citadel one morning and informed them that it might be in their best interest to disappear for awhile, they were not entirely surprised.
“I’m concerned for your safety,” the Field Marshall said. “I doubt any moves would be made against you openly, but there are many dark alleys and out of the way places in this city. As it so happens, an assignment out of town has just presented itself. Ordinarily, such a mission would be…beneath your capabilities, but in this case, I think it would suit you perfectly. The village of Shoalbury is located several days northwest of Korvosa, along the coast. Their primary industry is the export of pearls, and they are a major provider for the jewelers here. For the past several months, none of their shipments have reached us. It seems they are having bandit problems, and they’ve requested our assistance. I think a trip to the provinces is just what you people need.”
The village of Shoalbury was located some two-hundred feet from the bay shore, nestled in a low valley between barren, craggy hills. Three short piers served as staging areas for the villagers when they dove for pearls, as well as docks for four community fishing boats. Due to the lack of significant vegetation in the region, the buildings in the village were primarily made of rock and mud with thatch roof. None of the buildings had more than one floor, and a loose stone wall surrounded the town itself.
Cressida told the company to ask for a man named Palonius Firth, a member of the town’s collective council, when they arrived in town, but when they entered the gates, the villagers were in an uproar. They asked for the councilman, but were told there was trouble down near the beach and he was occupied. They made their way down to the docks, where they found most of the villagers gathered on the beach, watching two men and several armed militia tend to another man who lay unconscious on the sand.
“What’s going on here?” Michael asked as he and the others pushed their way through the crowd. “Is one of you Palonius Firth?”
“I am,” one of the men growled in annoyance. He was dressed in a fine suit of chainmail decorated with pearls, but he appeared haggard, and looked as if he might have been involved in a brawl recently. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Michael, of the Church of Iomedae,” the priest said. “We represent the Korvosan Guard and were sent by Field Marshal Croft.”
“Oh…!” Firth exclaimed, relief in his voice. “Well met! I’m sorry we weren’t able to give you a proper welcome.”
“Can we be of assistance here?” Michael asked. “What’s happened?”
The man lying on the beach looked as if he’d just been dragged from the water. He was badly beaten, and one of his eyes was missing, seemingly gouged from its socket.
“It’s something I’d rather not discuss out in the open,” Firth said in a low voice.
“I understand,” Michael nodded, “but this man obvious needs help.”
He knelt down beside a dour man with a neatly trimmed goatee.
“Balrak Lough,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m the village priest.”
Michael shook his hand, and then the pair turned to their attention to the wounded man. They worked for several minutes, tending to the most grievous of his injuries. Then two militiamen lifted him and carried him back towards the village.
“If you’ll follow me,” Firth said and led the companions to a large building which served as a meeting hall for the council.
Besides Firth, two other men were present in the meeting room. One was Balrak Lough, while the other was a blonde half-elf with an intense look in his eyes, and a large stack of papers on the table before him. A fourth chair sat empty beside him. Firth introduced him as Trek, and then Michael made his own introductions. Firth indicated for all of them to be seated, and then sank heavily into his own chair.
“I had hoped our fourth member, Mr. Seacrust, would realize the import of this meeting, and grace us with his presence,” he sighed, “but I guess he has more important things to do. No matter. As you have no doubt learned, our village is under siege. A group of bandits has taken an interest in our pearl trade. It’s been over six months since any of our pearl shipments have made it to the Korvosan markets, and nearly as long since we’ve been able to purchase supplies. The bandits seem to know our schedule as well as we do, and it’s been my suspicion for some time that we have a traitor in our midst. This latest event has all but confirmed my fears. Last night, we tried to smuggle a large shipment of pearls south on a fishing boat, rather than use the road. The bandits had no reason to look to the sea, yet still they struck our transport and slaughtered its crew nearly to a man. Only one soldier, Gil Umpbrow, the man you saw on the beach, survived, and only barely. This shipment was our last hope. We are now nearly defenseless. If someone can’t find wherever these bandits are holed up, drive them out, and reclaim our stolen pearls, I fear Shoalbury will have to be abandoned. If you can help us, I’ll see to it that you are rewarded well.”
“May we speak with Mr. Umpbrow?” Kat asked.
Palonius looked to Balrak. The cleric looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded.
“When we are done here, I’ll take you to him,” he said. “But I would like to be present in case he needs my attention.”
“What can you tell us about the bandits?” Herc asked Palonius.
“Counting the shipment that was attacked last night,” the councilmen replied, “the last four shipments of pearls have all been lost to them. Other shipments and travelers on the road have been unmolested. The bandits obviously want nothing but pearls. Almost all of our militia have now perished, since they were working as caravan guards for all the ambushed shipments. Scouts have been sent to all the nearby caves and known smuggler coves, but none of those locations had any sign of activity. Wherever they’re holed up, its somewhere new.”
“There’s one more thing,” Trek spoke up in a soft voice. “While we’ve recovered all the bodies of our slain militiamen, they were all missing their eyes. It would seem that pearls aren’t the only things the bandits are interested in…”
“You mentioned something about a possible traitor,” Ratbone asked Finch. “Whom do you suspect?”
Balrak and Trek looked at each other.
“We’re not…all…convinced of that,” the priest said carefully. “Some of us believe that the bandits are using some sort of powerful divination magic to spy on the village.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Palonius shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “If they were capable of such magic, then why didn’t they just use it to invade the town earlier when our guard was down? If you two won’t say it, then I will! I think Argin Seacrust is behind this! His attitude of late and his absence from this meeting are damning, and the fact that he knew the schedules for all the pearl shipments makes him the key suspect!”
“But Palonius,” Trek interjected, “all four of us knew the schedules. By your reasoning, any of us might be this so-called traitor.”
The three men grew quiet and thoughtful.
“I think we can answer this question quite easily,” Michael said at length. When they looked up at him, he continued. “I have a spell at my disposal that will allow me to discern the truth of the words of any who speak while it is in effect. If you would acquiesce to answering some simple questions under its influence, the truth will be known.”
Slowly, one-by-one, the councilmen nodded their agreement.
“I can’t speak for Seacrust, however,” Palonius said. “I’ll ask him to join us, but I don’t guarantee it. One more thing…I would ask that any suspicion of a traitor in town not go beyond these walls. It would only cause panic among the villagers, and might also alert any sympathizers to the bandits that we’re on to them. Now, if there’s nothing else, Balrak will take you to see Gil while I go and speak with Argin.”
Gil was awake when the group arrived at his home. Most of his wounds had been dealt with by Balrak and Michael, but nothing could be done about his missing eye. He was still shaken up by his ordeal, but he agreed to speak with them about what had befallen his caravan.
“One thing I’m sure of,” he said, “the attack was swift, and it was to the point. Our ship was sailing with minimal light, using the stars and moon for guidance. I was looking out to shore when the ambush came. I saw a group of riders on horseback charging at us across the waves! They were literally galloping over the surface of the water! When they reached the boat, two of the riders leaped onto the deck, and when their hoods fell back, they had terrible, bird-like heads, and they were armed with bows and swords. As we tried to fight them off, something else dropped out of the sky onto the deck…a massive, horned ogre that used magic to quickly break through our defenses. It didn’t take long for them to completely overwhelm us. I did my best to fight back, but as the birdmen cut down my friends and plucked their eyes from their skulls with their claws and beaks, it was pretty plain that all was lost. One of them managed to knock me down and…did this.” He indicated his empty eye socket. “Then Captain Stalgie clubbed the fiend senseless with a gaff. I got to my feet, but then stumbled over a body and fell into the water. I only barely managed to make it to the shore before I collapsed. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t see any sign of the bandits or the boat.”
His story was disconcerting, since it seemed that more was involved than simple bandits. Bird men and ogre magi? It seemed the unique talents of the K.I.A. might actually be put to the test after all. Meeting with Argin Seacrust was becoming more of a priority.
When they arrived back at the council house, however, Seacrust was not there.
“He refused,” Palonius explained. “He said he didn’t have to justify himself to anyone.”
“I see,” Michael said. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to go to him. I trust the rest of you won’t mind still submitting to our questions?”
“Not at all,” the councilman nodded.
“Just one other thing,” Michael said. “Do you mind if I asked where you received those bruises?”
Palonius sighed. “It was a misunderstanding between myself and one of the villagers.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Balrak interjected. “It was Argin. The two of them argued over how to stage the secret pearl shipment. Argin was in favor of an overland caravan disguised as a group of pilgrims, but Palonius insisted on using the fishing boat. One thing led to another and blows were exchanged.”
“I see,” Michael nodded. “All the more reason to hear Mr. Seacrust’s side of all this then. Shall we begin?”
Under the influence of Michael’s spell, the three councilmen were found to be wholly truthful in what they had said. That left nothing else but to go to Seacrust’s bungalow. It lay at the end of the southernmost pier to the east of town. The mild surf washed toward a rocky shore outfitted with three such floating piers. Each of them was just over one-hundred feet in length, and a small cabin sat at the end of each. A ramp that consisted of thick boards tied with stout leather ropes secured each pier to the shore, the pier itself rising and falling with the passing waves.
“Wait here,” Ratbone instructed the three councilmen, who’d accompanied them. “We’ll handle this in case there’s trouble.”
No sooner had they stepped out onto the pier, than a loud voice called from the cabin.
“Turn around now, you curs, afore you regret it! You’ll never get me, you filthy mongrels! I ain’t done nothing ye wouldn’t’a done in my place!”
“Well, I guess that answers the question of guilt or innocence,” Valeris smirked.
Carefully, they started down the pier. When they’d gone no more than halfway, however, Seacrust called out again.
“I warned ye! Now let’s see how ye like swimmin’ with th’fishes!”
Suddenly, the section of pier they were standing on collapsed as a trapdoor opened beneath them. The six companions hurled themselves to opposite sides, with half of them scrambling safely to the far side, while the other three managed to just clear the pit to the near. When they looked down, they could see the water below them red with chum, and thick with the circling fins of sharks. Ratbone quickly transformed into his condor form, and carried his friends safely across the death trap.
When they reached the door of the cabin, it was locked tight. Herc shouldered his shield and slammed into it, smashing it to splinters. No sooner was the door open, than a tall, hairless man dressed in tight-fitting seal skin, seemed to appear out of thin air. He held what seemed like a small pearl in his hand, and he hurled it to the decking of the pier directly behind Herc and Ratbone. When it struck, it exploded in a blinding flash, buffeting the druid and the mercenary to their knees. When the glare vanished, Argin was gone again. Herc and Ratbone climbed slowly to their feet, their bodies covered with bruises and cuts. Michael stepped forward and gripped his holy symbol as he channeled his divine power to heal his companions. To his shock, however, their injuries remained unchanged. Katarina frowned, perplexed as well. Quickly, she reached into a pouch at her waist, chanted a few arcane words, and flung a handful of glittering dust towards the interior of the cabin. Her eyes grew wide as the dust seemed to strike some unseen barrier between her and her wounded companions.
“Herc, Ratbone!” she called. “Can you hear me?”
Both nodded, and Herc moved to step towards her, but was abruptly stopped in his tracks as he ran into the same barrier. He reached out his hands like some sort of street mime, and felt about the circumference of what seemed to be some sort of invisible sphere imprisoning him and Ratbone.
“I’ll tell ye one last time,” Argin’s voice sounded from inside the cabin. “leave now, or I’ll kill’em both!”
“We’ll see about that,” Michael muttered. “Herc, Ratbone! Stand back!”
The pair complied as the priest began chanting. When he was finished, he cast out his hands, using the prayer to unravel the magic holding his friends. To his relief, there was a loud pop as the sphere winked out of existence.
“Damn you all!” Seacrust cried as he suddenly reappeared, a pair of kukris in his hands. He rushed at Herc, and slashed the big warrior viciously. Herc grunted, but didn’t give ground. Instead, he struck back, bashing Seacrust with his shield, and then striking with his own blade once the man’s defenses were open. Ratbone quickly transformed into a large mongrel and darted into the fray, seizing one of Seacrust’s legs in his jaws. Seacrust yelped and raised his blades to strike at the dog, but then he froze in mid-swing as if paralyzed.
“Finish him!” Katarina shouted, her face a rictus of concentration and strain. “I can’t hold him for long!”
A moment later, Seacrust broke free of her spell and moved again to strike, but Herc’s shield caught him squarely under his chin and he collapsed in a heap, still breathing, but unconscious.
A thorough search of Seacrust’s cabin turned up damning evidence inside his footlocker. First and foremost were three leather pouches of large, red pearls. Palonius readily identified them as part of the recent shipment. Sitting next to the pouches was a golden statuette of a humanoid figure with a hawk’s head and feet, and four large feathered wings. It felt strangely cold to the touch.
“Gods,” Balrak hissed. “That’s Pazuzu, the demon lord of the air. What was Argin doing with that?”
Finally, below the pouches and the statue were several folded sheets of parchment. They contained detailed notes on pearl shipment logistics, along with several marks on a regional map that seemed to indicate prospective ambush points. Only two marks were located off the main road leading out of Shoalbury. One Palonius verified as the site of the fishing boat ambush.
“This other, however,” Palonius said, his brow creasing, “this appears to be the Forsaken Arch.”
“The what?” Valeris asked.
“It’s a natural landmark in a secluded cove west of here,” the councilman replied. “It was once considered as a possible site for the village, but it was rejected due to the large number of sea cats that infest the waters there.”
“Is that one of the places your militia investigated while looking for the bandits?” Michael asked.
“No,” Palonius said. “It was considered too remote.”
“Sounds like the perfect place for a hideout,” Herc added.
“Hey,” Valeris interrupted, “what about him?” He jerked his thumb towards the slumped form of Argin Seacrust.
The three councilmen seemed to notice their former comrade for the first time.
“Since you are representatives of the Korvosan Guard,” Palonius said at length, “we will remand him into your custody.”
“Agreed,” Michael said, “but you will have to secure him until we return.”
“Where are you going?” Palonius asked.
“The Forsaken Arch,” the priest replied.
__________________________________________________ ___
The road out of Shoalbury lead west for several miles before it turned inland along a river. It was easily forded at that point, and on the far bank a somewhat overgrown trail continued west. Ratbone knelt down at the head of the trail and discovered several sets of tracks that were still fairly fresh, though it appeared someone had taken pains to hide the evidence of their passing. The trail wound through rugged hill terrain for another mile or so. At that point it passed within a few hundred yards of a large cove, and several hundred feet off shore could be seen the imposing stone arch that gave the area its name. Ratbone took his avian form and flew up to getter a better view of the surrounding terrain. The others paused in a shallow valley formed by two tree-lined hills.
“Did you hear that?” Herc said abruptly, holding up his hand for silence.
The others quieted, turning their heads this way and that. Then, they heard it too…the sound of a child crying, coming from the trees somewhere off to their left.
“Wait here,” Herc said as he started off into the woods.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Valeris grumbled, but by that point, the mercenary had vanished into the undergrowth. A moment later, they heard another sound…a woman’s screams, coming from the trees to the right of the trail.
“Like I said,” Valeris remarked.
Herc pushed through the dense brush, the baby’s cries growing louder. Suddenly, three figures stepped out of the trees in front of him. They were cloaked and hooded, but Herc could see black eyes glinting from within the folds of the hoods, and the protruding tips of what appeared to be sharp beaks. They clutched shortswords in their clawed hands, and before the warrior could react, they were on him, moving in close and stabbing at him repeatedly.
Meanwhile, as the other K.I.A. members debated what they should do, the air was suddenly filled with the sound of whistling arrows as a dozen or more cloaked forms stepped from the trees and opened fire. None of the quartet were spared. Arrows pierced each of them, though none fatally. O’Reginald reacted in blind panic, a spell on his lips and his hands outflung before he realized what he was doing. A cone of rocks flew from his fingers, ripping through vegetation and flesh alike, killing at least half of the assassins. Michael, reacting more cautiously, ducked behind his shield and darted up into the trees, slashing down one of the bowmen before him. Then, without warning, a huge bird dove down from the clouds above, raking one of the bird-men with its claws and tearing its throat out. Ratbone then climbed again, wheeling around for another attack.
Herc, for his part, had no problem dispatching his opponents once he’d regained his composure. Despite his wounds, he dashed back through the trees and exploded into the clearing, coming up directly behind the last bowman, snapping his neck before he could even turn around.
“I’ll say it again,” Valeris said, breathless from the fight, “this looks like the place.”
__________________________________________________ ______
The blue-green water of the sea crashed against the rocks in a flurry of foam and mist in the hauntingly beautiful cove. Thick strands of brush guarded the uplands to the east and west, and here and there, jagged rocks protruded from the waters, but the predominant feature offshore was the ominous arch of dark rock. The granite outcropping of two stone columns, each easily over one-hundred feet in diameter, supported a thick arch of rock some two-hundred feet above the ocean’s surface. Several unusually large dark birds perched on top of the arch, their shrill cries competing with the surf for dominance over the scene. A wide sandbar extended from the beach out to the stone arch, its length strewn with seashells and bits of coral.
The companions started across the sandbar, the water only a few feet deep at low tide. They were still several dozen yards from the arch when the huge seacat emerged from the water, hauling itself up onto the sandbar before them. It opened its jaws in a gurgling yowl, and at the same time, the cries of the birds became louder. Looking up, the company saw the avians diving towards them, large black-feathered eagles with glowing red eyes. Herc slogged forward, dispatching the piscean feline quickly and efficiently. The eagles, however, struck with deadly efficiency, dive-bombing the heroes from a height of a hundred feet or more. Still, when Katarina spread her fingers, spoke a word and sent a dazzling display of rainbow hued light fanning at them, they dropped to the water stunned. It was a simple matter to neutralize them after that. The company continued on towards the Forsaken Arch, secure in the knowledge that they were expected.
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
A sandy beach extended into the dark maw of a cave entrance on the inner side of the northern arch. Each wave that coursed through the arch was answered with splashing echoes from within the cave as the water frothed and roiled. Deeper in, the cavern narrowed down to a short curved tunnel, but a pair of tide pools that reached nearly wall-to-wall made passage through rather difficult. The water in each pool surged and sloshed about, and the rocky depths displayed a riot of colorful anemones and tangled fronds of seaweed. Thanks to Michael’s foresight, he had been able to imbue each of his companions with the ability to literally walk on water, so traversing the deep pools proved little problem. The heroes were even more grateful to the priest when, a moment after they’d passed the pools, they both exploded into frothing geysers.
Beyond the tidal pools, the tunnel abruptly widened into a high-ceilinged room, the roof supported by several large rock columns that had been carved to resemble clouds of fish swimming up through a watery vortex. Each pillar also bore a single, flickering torch in a sconce. A large stack of soggy-looking firewood lay in a heap along the southern wall, and a closed double-door sat in the north. The room smelled wretched…a sickening combination of rotting seaweed, brine and dung. An assortment of crates and boxes had been stacked into a large wall on the eastern side of the room, while on the western side, five large warhorses were stabled. Their ears twitched as the newcomers entered, but otherwise they remained eerily calm.
Katarina crossed the room to the far doors and found them securely locked. Drawing her picks from her belt pouch, she made short work of the lock, and then stood back as Herc pulled the large portals opened. The room beyond was large and open. A long wooden table lay tipped on its side, much like a barricade, in the center of the area, wedged between a pair of vertical rock columns carved to resemble swarms of squid and fish swimming in a vortex. Several ventilation holes lined the walls, and to the east, a stone fireplace loomed. Nearby, a set of large selves held sundry provisions and utensils. The north and south walls were strewn with large, nest-like beds, each cluttered with a large amount of sparkly bits of metal and glittering crystals. A wall to the northwest bore an intricate carving of swarms of fish feeding on a screaming humanoid figure. The air was damp, and carried with it an unsettling odor of mildew and bird. The first thing that struck the companions as they opened the doors, however, was the sound of birdsong, though not the pleasant strains of a nightingale, but rather more like a raven striving to sound like its smaller cousin. The croaking, discordant melody came from the throat of a bird-headed figure crouched on the far side of the overturned table. Nearer at hand, three more birdmen stood ready, short, curved swords in their hands.
Herc and Valeris stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway as the kenkus leaped and somersaulted towards them. As the nearest drew close, the two warriors struck simultaneously, cutting him down in mid flip. The other two, however, quickly managed to flank the duskblade. One slashed viciously at him, ripping into his belly with a precise cut. From back in the stable, O’Reginald quickly hurled a volley of flashing blue missiles towards the kenku, but just before they struck the rogue, they were deflected by some sort of unseen barrier surrounding the bird man. Meanwhile, Ratbone dashed into the room and around the barricade, rushing straight towards the crooner. The kenku shrieked as the mongrel seized him by the leg, and he fell backwards over the table, quickly rolling to his feet on the far side. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the stables, and Kat, O’Reginald and Michael turned, startled, as the wall of crates on the far side came crumbling down. From behind it emerged a raging ogre, a club the size of a tree trunk gripped in its hands. A little squeak escaped the mage’s throat as he scrambled backwards in terror. He nearly bowled over Kat in his desperation. The Varisian gypsy impatiently shoved the young sorcerer aside as she began weaving a spell. The ogre stood above her, club raised high, spittle dripping from its jaws to pool at her feet as she completed her casting. The giant’s eyelids abruptly drooped and the club clattered to the floor behind him as he collapsed, snoring heavily. In the barracks, Herc and Valeris quickly dispatched their two opponents, while Ratbone leaped over the table and landed heavily on the scrabbling bard, quieting his singing as his larynx was crushed. It was a simple matter after that for Valeris to drive his blade through the sleeping ogre’s throat.
“Well done, Archmage!” Valeris snickered as he glared at O’Reginald. The sorcerer’s face was still pale and his hands shook.
“Leave off,” Kat said. “He was just taken by surprise. Come on. We need to keep moving.”
__________________________________________________ _____
There seemed to be no way out of the kenku barracks…an utter dead end, but Kat’s keen eyes and nimble fingers discovered a hidden catch in a far corner. Flicking it, she was rewarded when a secret panel slid aside, revealing another tunnel winding off into the darkness. The passage gave onto a set of rough-carved steps that continued on for some distance before ending in a long, narrow room. The walls were lined with writhing, groaning humanoid bodies that hung from their arms by manacles. Bones littered the floor near the walls and various dilapidated instruments of torture occupied the space between the three stony pillars of carved fish that rose up to support the roof. A large hammock hung between two of those pillars.
Cautiously, the group started across the chamber, Ratbone in the lead. To Michael, it was obvious that the shackled prisoners were beyond dead. He was on the verge of channeling Iomedae’s power into the lot of them and wiping their blight from existence, when a primal roar came from the ceiling above. As one, the companions looked up, and saw a nightmare figure clinging to the roof. It was the size and general appearance of an ogre, but its skin was deep purple, and curved yellow horns sprouted from its head. With another roar, the ogre mage unleashed a blast of frigid, ice-laden air, sending it washing over the company. Shouting and cursing, they recoiled back towards the tunnel…all except Herc and Ratbone. The big mercenary took three running steps and leaped into the air. His blade reached just high enough to rake the giant’s belly. Immediately, the wound began to close. A moment later, Ratbone shifted from dog to bird in the blink of an eye. He quickly took wing and launched himself at the ogre, his talons ripping deep into its flesh. Where his claws touched, golden ice covered the wound in a glittering shell. However, unlike his previous foes, the ogre mage did not simply slow its reflexes…instead, it became completely paralyzed.
“Now!” Kat shouted when she realized the situation.
O’Reginald, to his credit, stepped up, shaking off the bone-chilling cold that still numbed his limbs. He loosed a barrage of mystic bolts, and when they struck the giant, the brute reeled and sank slowly to the floor, unconscious.
“It’s regenerating!” Michael snarled, pointing to the ogre’s rapidly healing wounds.
Valeris and O’Reginald rushed quickly to the creature’s side and began raining acid down upon it, over and over again until its flesh dissolved from its bones, and then its bones disintegrated as well.
__________________________________________________ _____
Beyond the hideous prison chamber, the tunnel began a steady rise before leveling out and running straight. It seemed they had reached the top of the arch itself. Once more, Ratbone took the lead, but though the druid’s muzzle was low to the ground, sniffing out their path, he, and his companions, were taken completely by surprise at what happened next. One moment he was prowling along the passage, and the next he was simply…gone…vanished through the floor. Abruptly, from the still solid-looking stone floor, a chorus of high-pitched giggles sounded. An instant later, a swarm of mist-shrouded, winged pixie-like creatures erupted from the floor. Their laughter quickly turned to vicious hisses as they opened their mouths and breathed clouds of scalding steam into the passage. Once again, the companions were forced to retreat, but to the amazement of his companions, it was O’Reginald who instead stepped to the fore.
“Is that all you’ve got?!” he spat, and then his voice boomed as words of power burst from his throat. A pea-sized ball of fire streaked from his finger-tips, reaching the mephitis in a heartbeat. They barely had time to gasp before the ball exploded, engulfing the entire swarm. When the flames cleared, only ashes remained.
“Wow,” Ratbone’s voice came from behind the others. They turned and saw the druid standing in his natural form behind them, battered and bruised, but smiling. “It was a long fall, but I’m still here, which is more than I can say for those…whatever they were. Well done, ‘Reg. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
The sorcerer looked at his hands, disbelief on his face.
“Neither did I…,” he whispered.
__________________________________________________ ____
The corridor ahead narrowed to a width of little more than three feet. Passage was made even more difficult due to a series of badly rusted metal poles that ran its length. The passage itself was sloped sharply downward. Valeris stepped forward, sword in hand, his adamantine blade gleaming in the torchlight. He swung twice and severed the first pole neatly at top and bottom, as easily as if he were slicing hot bread. Taking the lead, he continued down the hall, hewing the metal supports one-by-one, and praying that they weren’t all that was holding the roof of the tunnel up.
The narrow passage emerged over one-hundred feet up the wall of a huge cavern. Several immense stone columns supported the domed roof overhead. The cave was naturally lit by a few large tunnels on the left and right that curved steeply up towards other openings. The majority of the cave floor was a large, churning tide pool, its depths a riot of color in the form of anemones, urchins and writhing forests of seaweed. The rhythmic surging of waves came from around the far southern corner towards the sea. Partially submerged in the pool was the long dead shell and skeleton of a massive draconic turtle. O’Reginald peered over the edge at the vertiginous drop to the water below. He pulled a slender wand from his robes, and quickly tapped each of his companions with it, imbuing them with the transient ability to fly. One-by-one they stepped out into the gulf and floated gently down to the pool, landing lightly on top of it as if it were solid ground, thanks to Michael’s lingering enchantment. They started across the pool towards the nearest exit, but Ratbone, once more in the lead, stopped abruptly when he saw shadowy movement among the waving kelp fronds in the depths. Suddenly, a trio of sea cats burst from the weeds and rushed to the surface, breaching directly in front of the companions. They roared and howled, and as their cries echoed through the cave, a much, much larger shape emerged from the carcass of the dragon turtle. It to was a sea cat, but gigantic beyond compare. As it heaved its bulk to the surface, it was like a leviathan looming over its smaller children. Herc quickly stepped to Ratbone’s side and swung his shield at the nearest cat, snapping its neck with the metal edge. Ratbone pounced on a second, tearing past its wicked claws with his own ripping fangs and talons. The final of the trio abruptly erupted in a column of fire as O’Reginald hurled arcane words, quickly warming to his new-found power. That left only the mother. The giant beast reared high over the companions, and when it brought its enormous paws and jaws down, Katarina was directly beneath it. The beguiler screamed as she saw her doom approaching, but her voice was cut short as the monster picked her up, shook her like a rag doll, and hurled her across the chamber. She struck a rock outcropping and slid to the water’s surface, limp and unmoving. While the cat’s attention was momentarily diverted, Herc, Valeris and Ratbone rushed in. Their combined assault was withering, and though the sea cat was horribly strong and powerful, it could not hold before the onslaught. It crashed back down into the water like capsized ship, and then sank slowly to the bottom of the pool.
Michael rushed to Katarina’s side, and breathed a silent prayer that she was still breathing. He placed his hands upon her broken body and channeled power into her for several long moments. Finally, she gasped and opened her eyes, drawing air deeply into her lungs. For a moment she glanced wildly around, looking for the ravening sea cat.
“It’s over,” Michael said soothingly.
Gradually, Kat relaxed, and Michael helped her back to her feet. The priest was momentarily taken aback, however, when the Varisian woman threw her arms around his neck in a brief, but grateful embrace. The two separated a moment later and rejoined their friends. Unfortunately, all of the tunnels that led from the sea cave led to the outside. There seemed to be no way to venture any further into the arch, and they were still no closer to discovering who, or what was leading the bandits, or what was behind the pearl thefts. Finally, in exasperation, Katarina pulled a wand from her skirts and spoke a quick word. She turned in one complete circle, and then stopped, focused on one blank wall.
“There,” she said, and then walked to the wall and tapped it once with the wand. Abruptly, a large section of the stone slide aside, revealing a passage that sloped steeply upward.
__________________________________________________ ___
The tunnel was a short one, and ended in another blank wall. Once more, Kat employed her wand, and another secret door slid aside. The polished rock walls of the large room beyond glistened brightly. Four ornate columns arrayed symmetrically around an altar at the center supported a ceiling pierced by several narrow skylights. In each corner of the room, large statues of a humanoid figure stood sentinel over the room. Each statue depicted an imposing, well-proportioned man with the talons of a hawk, the face of a demonic, needle-toothed bird, and four large feathered wings on his back…Pazuzu. An impressive throne to the south had a back adorned with a halo of razor-edged metallic feathers. Unfortunately, the details of the room could not be taken in fully due to the swarms of locusts that blocked the entrance, and the two monstrous scorpions that skittered menacingly around the altar.
“ ‘Reg! Clear a path!” Herc shouted.
The sorcerer obliged, conjuring his signature hail of stones from midair. The rocks fell among the locusts, temporarily scattering the swarm, allowing Herc and Ratbone to dart inside. The pair fell upon the scorpions, and the arachnids first crumpled, and then completely vanished.
“Beware!” Michael called from the passageway. “They were summoned! The summoner
must be nearby!”
As if in answer to his warning, a column of fire suddenly erupted in the center of the room, engulfing Herc and Ratbone, as well as dozens of flying locusts. In the air twenty feet above the altar, a man dressed in chainmail, with a full, avian shaped face mask, appeared. It was his first, and last mistake. Herc, still under the effects of O’Reginald’s fly spell, ignored his badly scorched flesh and launched himself into the air. Behind him, Ratbone also emerged from the flames, having assumed his avian shape. The pair closed on the priest, and behind his mask, his eyes went wide in fear.
“Pazuzu, Pazuzu, Pazuzu!” he screamed, but if his god heard him, his prayer went unanswered. Perhaps the demon lord preferred to give his answer in person when the cleric’s soul departed the Material Plane for the Abyss a moment later.
__________________________________________________ ____
In a hidden grotto beyond the temple, the companions found detailed notes written by Artimus Fisk, the Pazuzan priest they had slain. In them, Fisk outlined his plan to undermine Shoalbury’s economy to the point where its citizens would have to abandon the town. Then he and his kenku cultists would be able to occupy the village and use the oyster beds to fund a growing movement of Pazuzu worshipers. Also hidden in the grotto was the full supply of pearls which had been stolen over the past six months. The heroes returned to Shoalbury and handed over the pearls to the councilmen. The townspeople were beyond grateful, and begged the friends to stay and receive a proper reception. The K.I.A. had to beg off, however, stating that they were needed back in Korvosa. They departed with Seacrust in tow, not realizing how true that would turn out to be…
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
Oh No Jolly has fallen of the edge of the story hour page cliff! Is every thing ok? I find the individual short stories interesting but I am missing the trill of an overarching plot. I'm sure the Crimson Throne has one but I can't as yet put my finger on it. Different bad devil worshippers start popping up from everywhere? I hope we start to find out something about the real villains behind it all an start to see the connections. I'm not fishing for spoilers but am wondering how the players are feeling about were the plot is taking them.
Well, we didn't play this past weekend due to JD's birthday excursion. This last adventure was a "linker" to level us up, so while JD did a nice job of tying it in, it isn't officially part of the overarching plot. The next installment of the SH coming from our last game should get you on the plot track. Red Mantis, anyone?
__________________ You will learn respect
And suffering will be your teacher
The streets of Korvosa were dull and muted as the six members of the K.I.A. entered the city with their prisoner in tow. It was late afternoon, and the markets were closed. Ordinarily, the avenues would still be bustling with the nightlife of a city that never slept, yet they were strangely empty. In direct contrast, armed patrols were present in abundance, but not the familiar faces of the Korvosan Guard, nor even the more intimidating Hellknights of the Order of the Nail. No, the soldiers that stalked menacingly along the main thoroughfares and back alleys were uniformly female. It seemed that the Gray Maidens had enjoyed a recruiting boom over the past few weeks.
Still, as the companions passed the taverns and common houses, small clusters of people gathered in tight knots, whispered rumors on their lips. There seemed to be a common theme to the talk, however, and it involved some event that had just transpired within the past two days. At one point, Katarina waved her companions ahead of her as she paused to approach a group of Varisians. Several minutes later, she hurried to catch up to the others, her eyes wide, her voice breathless.
“Something’s happened,” she said in a low voice. “Something terrible…!”
What she’d heard from the Varisians was that two days prior, Queen Ileosa had announced a public address. Some of the more notable officials in attendance where the queen’s bodyguard Sabina Merrin, her new advisor, a bloat mage from the Acadamae named Togomor, who had taken up the duties of castle seneschal, Cressida Kroft, and the commandant of the Sable Company Marcus Endrin. Ileosa had announced triumphantly that the plague had been defeated, although unfortunately at the cost of Doctor Davaulus’s life. The good doctor’s body had been shipped back to Cheliax for burial in his family’s vault, and the order of the Queen’s Physicians had been disbanded. Yet, she said, Korvosa remained wounded. She went on to report that the Order of the Nail had shown its true colors and fled like cowards into Citadel Vraid. Worse, both the Korvosan Guard and the Sable Company had suffered terrible losses over the past weeks. Neither group was fully capable of continuing as Korvosa’s protectors, she reasoned, and thus, to shore up that fault, the queen named her newly created order of Gray Maidens as the new protectors of Korvosa, appointing Sabina Merrin as the new General of Korvosa. She continued her speech, saying that she had decided to dissolve the Sable Company, and that the remaining marines would be folded into the Korvosan Guard. At that point, she had asked Commandant Endrin to step forth to surrender his badge of office. As Endrin did so, however, he had reached for his badge, but instead of handing it over, he threw it at the queen, striking her in the cheek with it. As all of the onlookers, including the queen, had stood shocked, Endrin had proclaimed, “Your shameful reign ends now! Korvosa will be free again!”
An instant later, his crossbow was in his hands, aimed at the queen. He pulled the trigger, and his aim was true. The bolt struck Ileosa directly in the temple. Yet she did not fall. With incredible speed, she had yanked the bolt from her skull, and with her free hand, seized Endrin by the throat, and lifted him off the ground. A moment later, she buried the bolt between his eyes with a single, powerful blow. As Endrin’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground and Ileosa shook his blood from her hand, she had shouted out, “This shall be the fate of all enemies of Korvosa! Mark well his death! It is only the first!” Then, Togomor had stepped forward and teleported away with the queen. The resulting riot was quickly and brutally quelled by the Gray Maidens.
The companions were shocked to learn of the assassination attempt, and the events that led up to it. If the Gray Maidens were in control of Korvosa’s military, what did that bode for the Guard? They quickened their steps and made all haste to the Citadel.
__________________________________________________ ________
Only one guard stood at the Citadel entrance, which was strange in-and-of itself. His eyes grew wide with relief when he saw the group approaching.
“Thank the gods you’re here!” he said. “The Field Marshall was just about to send a rider to retrieve you from Shoalbury. Go on in. She’s waiting for you in the keep.”
No soldiers trained in the inner courtyard, and the halls within the keep were silent and empty, with refuse and trash scattered here and there, dust gathered in empty barracks, and an overall state of creeping neglect hung like a pall over the place. When the six companions entered the small meeting room where they found Cressida, they were surprised to see how haggard and tired the Field Marshall looked. She glanced up with hollow eyes and merely sighed when she saw her agents.
“You’re back,” she said wearily. “None too soon. Please, be seated.”
Once they had taken seats around the long table, Cressida shuffled several papers in front of her and began to speak again.
“Korvosa is dying. No, strike that. Korvosa is being murdered. Killed by our queen. The evidence you’ve uncovered that links her to the plague is damning enough, but this recent display at her address…she’s more in control now than ever. I dare not move against her…my Guard would be executed to the last man by her Gray Maidens by sundown. She must be stopped, and I know of no one else but yourselves to do this deed.
Whatever foul magic the queen has wrapped herself in is obviously of the highest order. Endrin’s aim was true…his shot should have dropped her. I had feared he was going to take matters into his own hands like this, but I had hoped he would find it within himself to find a better route. If only he would have waited.
You see, just this morning, new information came to me. I have received a missive from my friend Vencarlo Orisini, the first I’ve heard from him since Queen Ileosa cut off Old Korvosa and put it under quarantine. A message that give me hope. Vencarlo speaks of discovering something of vital importance regarding the queen…he mentions something about dark magic and a pact with a devil, but until recent events, I found his claims difficult to believe. Yet now…if Queen Ileosa has entered an infernal pact of some sort, we must read carefully indeed.
Vencarlo asked for you in the missive. You’ve made quite the impression on him, it appears. He remains in Old Korvosa now, but has asked that I send you to him, to his home, to hear what he has discovered. Ironically, you should be safe in Old Korvosa…the queen’s quarantine has cut off the island entirely, and word on the street is that she plans on leaving it to rot. She won’t think to look for you there if you maintain a low profile and avoid confrontations with the Gray Maidens.
Once you find him, you’ll need to escape Korvosa, I fear. This city is no longer safe for you, or for those associated with you. As Field Marshal, I suspect that as long as I comply with the queen, I shall be safe…and I will do what I can to ensure those friends and family you might leave behind are protected. By remaining in this city, I fear that you put them into more peril. Go to Old Korvosa, find Vencarlo and hear what he has to say. He has contacts in Harse…he’ll be able to help you lay low. I shall be in contact with you when I can, at which point our plan, I hope, shall be clear.”
“I’m sorry to hear things have gotten this dire,” Michael said. “Of course we shall do as you ask, but if the Gray Maidens are guarding all routes into the old city, how should we proceed?”
“There are always several skiffs moored along the north shore of the Jeggare,” she replied. “I would suggest, under cover of darkness, you take one of them and cross the river. After that, I’m afraid, you’re on your own.”
__________________________________________________
Ultimately, however, the K.I.A. came up with their own unique strategy. Once again Michael uttered a prayer and imbued each of the companions with the ability to walk upon water. Then Kat wove a veil of invisibility around them all. Thus disguised, they simply walked across the Jeggare, avoiding the longboats of Gray Maidens that patrolled the river, and entered Old Korvosa through Old Dock, Ratbone’s old stomping grounds.
It became immediately apparent, however, as the group set foot ashore, that things in Old Korvosa were not well…not well at all. The streets were filled with filth and garbage, and vermin thronged the alleys, feeding off the detritus as well as the occasional body that lay sprawled amidst the decay. Many buildings were boarded up and dark, and others were completely burned out. At one point a flock of incongruously happy children sang a rhyme as they gathered around something in the middle of the street.
“Headless, headless,” they chanted, “that’s what you’ll be, brand new dolls in the Emp’rer’s ceme’try! Choppy, choppy, chop, the tall knife calls, waitin’ for the day for Korvosa to fall.”
When they saw the company approaching, they scattered into the darkness, leaving behind the object they’d been dancing around…a crude guillotine fashioned from sticks and pegs.
From the center of Old Dock, it seemed as if a massive fire burned, and periodically, the roar of a large crowd echoed from that vicinity. Quietly, Ratbone led his friends through back alleys, heading towards the source of the cacophony. As they drew nearer to the neighborhood’s center, however, they began seeing more and more people…specifically large groups of armed men who roamed in packs, beating any stragglers they came across and dragging them away. Ratbone growled low in his throat when he saw the spectacle, but Michael laid a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Peace,” the priest said. “There will be time for this later. We have to find Vencarlo. Come.”
Reluctantly, the druid turned away.
__________________________________________________ ___
When they finally reached Fort Korvosa, the highest part of Old Korvosa, and the neighborhood where Vencarlo’s academy was located, the change was obvious. Though still mostly deserted, the streets were cleaner and free of vermin, and most of the buildings were intact. Perhaps this was because House Arkona, one of Korvosa’s oldest noble families, was located in the district. When the island had been quarantined, the Arkonas were cut off as well. In any event, Fort Korvosa seemed to be a relatively safe place in the turmoil of the old city…at least until they came within sight of the fencing academy. Where Vencarlo’s school had once stood, the once-proud structure itself was no more, burned to the ground completely. His home, however still stood. Cautiously, weapons drawn, the companions approached.
“Master Orisini?” Herc called as he knocked on the door. There was no answer. He tried the knob and found it unlocked. The interior of the house was warm, but quiet. From the living room at the end of the entry hall, the light of a fire in the hearth could be seen dancing merrily.
“Something’s not right,” Kat said quietly. “Wait.”
She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration.
“There are others here besides us,” she said at length. “I can sense their thoughts…three minds…not too bright…they are cautious…waiting for something…”
She opened her eyes again.
“None of them are Vencarlo,” she said. “We need to be very careful.”
They began searching, room-by-room, finding no one, and no evidence of a struggle. Eventually, they began making their way upstairs to where Vencarlo had an open training room. As Herc and Valeris reached the landing, the others still on the floor below, they found another lit fireplace along with several practice dummies. Just at that moment, the pair caught a flash of movement from the rafters above. Something that looked like a flask arced towards the fireplace. When it struck, it exploded, and flames spilled out of the hearth and onto the surrounding floorboards, setting them instantly alight. An instant later, a figure dropped from the rafters. It was humanoid, clad in red leather armor, but its features were hidden behind a full head mask that resembled a giant insect…a mantis to be exact. In the living room below, two identical figures stepped from the shadows beneath the stairs and began moving with predatory grace towards O’Reginald and Katrina. There was no mistaking what they were…agents of the Red Mantis…death incarnate.
Herc lowered his shield and charged across the practice room. He struck the assassin and would have driven him straight through the wall, but the mantis rolled with the blow and ended up behind the mercenary and face-to-face with Valeris. Silently, the killer raised the pair of saw-toothed blades he carried and drove them towards the duskblade’s face. Valeris caught both of them on his own blade and buckler, and turned one of the swords back on the assassin, driving the mantis’s own steel into his thigh.
Below, Kat turned back down the stairwell, but found her way blocked by Michael. She could just see around the corner, however, as the other two assassins closed on O’Reginald. Though her powers were, by their nature, subtle, she could occasionally summon up a surprise or two. Holding her hand palm out, she loosed a lance of pure sound which caught the nearest mantis full in the chest, hurling him back and away from the mage. The second killer, however, quickly rushed O’Reginald, jagged blades flashing in a wickedly hypnotic display. The sorcerer recoiled, but not fast enough. Like a cobra the mantis struck, the sabers cutting deeply and repeatedly, and O’Reginald fell before them, collapsing to the floor in a widening pool of his own blood. The assassin didn’t stop, but instead somersaulted past Michael, and came up behind the priest before burying one of the blades in his back.
As the flames rapidly spread across the practice floor, Herc whirled back towards the mantis assassin against which he and Valeris continued to struggle. Growling, the big warrior took two quick strides across the room, and swung his blade in a wide arc, completely severing the spine of the hired killer. Still not making a sound, the assassin fell limply to the floor, and the fire quickly engulfed his body.
Kat lost sight of the second mantis as the man ducked behind Michael, but she could see that the first had already recovered from her assault and was closing to flank the priest. She began to cast again, and that time, the mantis slumped to the floor, fast asleep. A moment later, however, the remaining assassin flashed past Kat again, and roughly kicked his partner back awake. He turned back towards Michael, but this time the priest was ready. A sudden sonic explosion blew the two murderers away from each other, leaving them stunned on the floor. The wounded cleric then sank weakly to one knee, clutching his amulet as he channeled divine energy into himself and O’Reginald, narrowly saving the sorcerer from bleeding to death. Suddenly, a roar filled the room as three-hundred pounds of fur and fangs exploded from the stairs behind Kat. Ratbone hurled himself into the assassins. He bore one of them to the floor, and clamped his jaws around the man’s torso. A sickening crunching could be clearly heard, and blood flowed from beneath the killers’s mantis-head mask. He twitched once, and went limp. The druid turned towards the other mantis, only to find that Herc had followed him down the stairs and nearly decapitated the man with the edge of his shield.
At that moment, timbers began cracking from the floor above, and cinders began showering down on the heroes.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Michael shouted as he helped the wounded O’Reginald to his feet and began heading towards the front door.
“Valeris is still up there!” Herc cried. “The rest of you go! I’ll go after him and be right behind you!”
Reluctantly, the others followed the priest and sorcerer back outside. Herc ducked behind his shield and charged back upstairs.
Valeris was trapped. The flames had him completely surrounded on three sides, with a closed door to his back. He quickly opened it and found himself in a small bedroom. There was no way out, not even a window. Only a narrow closet provided any hope of respite. Valeris ducked inside and closed the door behind him. Rapidly, the small space began filling with smoke and grew increasingly warmer. The duskblade looked desperately around him, but could find no salvation. In desperation, he clutched his sword and began hammering at the back wall of the closet. The plaster began to crack, and abruptly gave way, sending Valeris tumbling into the stairwell right on top of Herc.
“Time to go!” Herc coughed and he heaved the duskblade over his shoulder. As they began descending the burning stairs, however, Valeris caught a glimpse of glinting metal, something that had tumbled out of the wall when he’d burst through. He reached down and snatched it, clutching it to his chest as Herc barreled through the collapsing house towards safety outside.
__________________________________________________ __________
The six companions stood in silence as the academy burned. They had been left with even more questions than they’d started with. The fencing master was missing, as was the information that he’d found. Worse, the Red Mantis was involved, and wherever they went, death followed. Finally, Valeris knelt down and placed the metal box, which was what he’d recovered from the wreckage, on the ground. It was tightly locked, but a few quick blows with the pommel of his sword solved that problem. When he opened the lid and saw what was inside, he and the others were stunned into silence. Folded inside the case was a black, hooded cloak, several black masks, a dozen masterfully crafted daggers, each with a stylized ‘B’ engraved in their pommels, a suit of black leather armor, a pair of black leather boots and gloves, the latter with two fingers in the right hand containing fake, wooden fingers, and an exquisite mithral rapier.
“I knew it,” Kat said at length. “Orisini’s Black Jack.”
Before any of the others could comment, a weak, frightened voice spoke from an alley behind them.
“Can it be? Is it really you?”
They turned, hands going to weapons. A young man staggered into the light of the burning flames. His face was haggard, drawn and unshaven. Though his clothes were worn and frayed, it was still obvious that they were of a very expensive cut not typical of Old Korvosa. Though his features were more strained and careworn than the last time they’d seen him, all of the companions, save Michael, recognized Amin Jalento, the young nobleman they’d rescued from a murderous mob the night Eodred died.
“I’d almost given up hope after…after what happened to Master Orisini…”
“What happened?” Kat asked. “Where is Vencarlo?”
“I was taking lessons from him when the quarantine was enacted,” Amin began. “Since I was unable to return to the mainland, the Master was gracious enough to allow me to stay at the academy as his guest. Unfortunately, my stay ended not long after, when the Red Mantis invaded. Master Orisini confronted them and took one of them down, but there were too many. He was forced to flee. I can only assume the assassins burned down the academy as a warning. I’m not certain where Master Orisini has gone, but I have an idea who might know. In the days after the quarantine, I noticed that the Master seemed restless and distracted. He regularly left the house at odd hours in the night, sometimes not returning until the morning. After one such early morning return, I noted that his clothes were bloody. He said he’d had to fight off a thief, but I’m sure there was more to it than that. In the days before the Red Mantis attacked, the Master had a very strange visitor come by on several occasions…a man with paint-stained hands, wild hair, and a jittery habit of looking about. Master Orisini introduced him to me as a friend, but I recognized him. His name was Salvator Scream, a somewhat notorious local artist.”
“I’ve heard of his work,” Kat nodded.
“They always met behind closed doors,” Amin continued, “three times in all, and on their last meeting, I heard the Master’s voice raised in anger. Since the attack, I’ve been meaning to track down Salvator to ask him if he knows what happened to Master Orisini, but I’ve not worked up the nerve to brave Old Dock, where Salvator lives.”
“What’s going on down at Old Dock?” Ratbone asked. “We got a glimpse of pressgangs when we passed through.”
“They work for the Emperor,” Amin nodded.
“The Emperor of what?” Valeris asked.
“The Emperor of Old Korvosa,” Amin said in hushed tones. “At least that’s what he calls himself. He rules Old Dock from his palace on Silk Street, several tenements he’s taken over. He rarely leaves there, and mobs of his fanatics scour the streets seeking more conscripts to his cause. Those who resist are instead captured for…other purposes. Some say one of the ways that he maintains power is that he controls two magical devices which can supply never-ending supplies of both water and food!”
“Thank you for the information, Amin,” Kat said, gently placing a hand on Ratbone’s chest as a deep growl started there. “Now, I suggest you go to ground, and when you can, get off the island. We’ll find Salvatore Scream, and we’ll find Vencarlo, and if this Emperor gets in our way, he’ll wish he’d never taken up the crown.”
__________________________________________________ _
Katarina knew that Salvatore Scream was a notorious artist whose gruesome and often scandalous art was held in relatively high esteem by several of Korvosa’s nobles. The lower classes were familiar with his work as well, since many of them served as grisly backdrops for the Old Dock playhouse known as Exemplary Excrables, a venue known for its violent entertainments. His home on Wave Street was a leaning, decrepit building located on the Narrows, not far from one of the many now-ruined bridges that once connected Old Korvosa to the mainland. There were two entrances, and the companions split up, with Michael, Kat, O’Reginald and Valeris taking the front, while Ratbone and Herc went to the back.
The door Herc and Ratbone opened gave onto what appeared to be studio. Both of the room’s windows were tightly shuttered, yet the air seemed strangely fresh and scented, no doubt from the six large candles that burned within. Each candle had been affixed by a glob of melted wax to the crown of a gleaming, polished skull, and each of those impromptu and grisly candleholders had been placed atop an otherwise clear desk on one wall, arrayed in a gentle arc. A chair sat before the desk, and a careful stack of papers and scrolls sat inside the arc of skulls. Against a side wall stood a nearly empty cabinet, its shelves barren save for a few paintbrushes and a cracked pottery urn. A woman stood in the room, leaning on the desk and peering intently at the skulls. She was elven, with flowing, ebony hair and green eyes. She was dressed in form-fitting chainmail adorned with wickedly curved hooks. A spiked chain hung coiled at her waist. She looked up when the door opened and positively beamed at the druid and mercenary.
“Well met!” she said cheerfully. “I’m Laori Vaus. Are you looking for Salvator too?”
Ratbone’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asked. “Do you know where he is?”
“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “And I might be willing to tell you, if we can come to an arrangement.”
At that moment, Michael and the others entered the room from the far side. The priest’s eyes grew wide, but not at the sight of the elf woman, but rather at the pendant which hung around her neck. It was the symbol of Zon-Kuthon, the god of suffering and torment.
“We don’t make deals with such as you!” he said sharply.
“What are you talking about?” Ratbone asked. “Do you know this woman?”
“No,” the cleric replied, “but I know what she represents.” He explained the meaning of the holy symbol.
“Oh come now!” Laori laughed. “We have no quarrel. I am simply seeking the artist because his work contains many themes important to my faith. I simply thought that since you seem to be looking for him as well, we could pool our resources.”
“I don’t think so,” Ratbone said, his voice cold. “We neither want nor need your company.”
Laori shrugged. “In fact, since it is I who knows who took Salvator, and where he was taken, then it is also I who has the final say on whether or not I need your company.” She sighed. “Perhaps you might be more inclined to be reasonable if I showed you an item I found while searching this house. Something I think you might find very…intriguing.”
The companions glanced at one another. Ratbone’s face was resolute, and doubt showed heavily upon Michael’s. Valeris and O’Reginald rolled their eyes at the piety of their two allies, especially when such inconvenient morals interfered with the entire reason they were in Old Korvosa. Herc’s expression was carefully neutral. It was Katarina who finally broke the silence.
“I don’t presume to speak for my friends,” she said, “but we are on a mission of much urgency, and it is vital that we find Salvator Scream. If you can expedite that, then we would be…appreciative, but know this, we will be watching you closely, and if you step even so much as one foot out of line, we shall end this alliance…decisively.”
Laori’s smile never left her face, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Agreed,” she said, and reached into a pouch that hung at her waist. From it she pulled what appeared to be a small scrap of cloth. She passed it to Michael. The material was blood-stained, though the Korvosan coat-of-arms was clearly visible. It had come from the uniform of a high-ranking government official.
“No,” Michael whispered. “It cannot be.”
He peered more closely at the cloth, and realized there could be no doubt. The material was from the uniform of a very singular source…the seneschal of Castle Korvosa!”
__________________________________________________ _____
As Laori led the companions through the dark, narrow streets of Old Dock, Ratbone walked close beside Michael.
“But I thought the seneschal was killed in the initial riots,” the druid said. “That’s what the queen reported.”
“And you’re taking her word for things now?” the priest laughed. “You know as well as I that the seneschal shares equal power with the monarch. With him out of the way, there would be no one to stand in Ileosa’s way.”
“Do you think this is the information Orisini possessed?” Ratbone asked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Michael replied.
It soon became obvious that Laori was leading them to the very center of Old Dock, to the source of the commotion they’d seen earlier upon their arrival…the group of tenements Amin had said was the ‘castle’ of the Emperor of Old Korvosa. No sooner had Laori stepped from the shadows of an alley, than a mob of armed men quickly approached.
“ ‘Ere now!” their leader shouted. “What’s all this then? New conscripts volunteerin’ themselves? You’ve just made our work easier! Now, you’ll ‘and over your weapons, and then we’ll be off!”
A low growl began in Ratbone’s throat, and the hands of his friends quickly found their weapons. It was Katarina, however, who stepped to the fore.
“We have no intention of surrendering to you rabble,” she said imperiously. “Do you not recognize us? We are the K.I.A., the Heroes of Korvosa!”
She reached into her blouse and drew forth the amulet that had been presented to each of them, identifying them as saviors of the city. The eyes of the mob leader widened.
“ Blimey!” he exclaimed. “Look ‘ere lads! We’re in the presence of true legends! These are the blokes what stopped the Blood Veil! Why didn’t yer say so?”
“We’re here to see the Emperor,” Kat explained. “We wish to speak with him about an alliance against the Queen.”
__________________________________________________ ____
The palace of the Emperor of Old Korvosa was located on Silk Street, and consisted of a collection of tenements and abandoned stores that looked to have barely escaped destruction from a fairly recent fire that had consumed much of the city block around it. As the members of the K.I.A. and their thuggish escort arrived at the ground floor of the first building, the leader called out to the guards above.
“ Oy! Tell ‘is Nibs ‘e’s got company! Real-life heroes! Comin’ up!”
He then nodded towards the front door of the tenement.
The interior of the building seemed largely abandoned, with the exception of several armed guards posted at several landings as the stairs wound up towards the upper floors. From there, a rope bridge connected the first building to the next, and so on until the last bridge ended at a large, open-air building. It was shielded from rain and sun by a brightly colored canvas that extended up over the area like a dome, held in place by a wooden framework. The inside of the canvas had been decorated in scenes of gruesome debauchery, battlefields, executions, torture chambers, and man-eating monsters, all vying for space. The balcony itself contained two major features. The first was a high-backed throne that looked like a poor man’s version of the Crimson Throne itself, a thing of blood-red cushions and silks and spikes. Directly across of the throne stood an intimidating device…a tall guillotine of carved wood and bone, its base depicting grasping demonic feet and the housing that held its glittering blade a leering, demonic face. Seated on the throne was a hideous man, a thin Chelaxian apparently cursed by acne at a young age, a condition seemingly exacerbated by a recent bout of Blood Veil. The ratty and threadbare costume he wore gave him the look of more of a vagrant king than actual royalty. On a small table next to him, sat a beautiful silver decanter, and a single golden spoon. Six armed guards stood around the throne, while leaning against the guillotine was a child-sized figure dressed in an executioner’s hood with one of the eye holes sewn shut.
“Who are you and why are you disturbing me?” the Emperor demanded. Once Kat was close enough, she realized that she recognized the man. He was Pilts Swastel, former proprietor of Exemplary Excrables.
“We are the Korvosan Intelligence Agency,” she called out. “We were responsible for finding the source of Blood Veil, and aiding in its subsequent eradication. We have come seeking a man named Salvator Scream.”
“Salvator is my guest,” Pilts announced imperiously, “and he won’t be going anywhere any time soon. Now, if there’s nothing else…,”
“We demand you release the artist now!” Ratbone cried out, rage filling him at the sight of what had become of his gifts to Old Korvosa. “You will also relinquish the decanter and the spoon to those they were rightfully intended for, you miserable little despot!”
Pilts looked bored. He waved one hand absently at his guards. “Kill them,” he said.
Herc expected nothing less. Before any of the guards could move, he charged across the balcony towards Pilts and slammed into the Emperor with his shield. Pilts cried out and rolled desperately out of his throne.
“Jabbyr!” he screamed. “Help me!”
The diminutive headsman retrieved a large axe as tall as himself from behind the guillotine and ran screaming towards Herc. He swung the weapon high and brought the head down on the mercenary’s foot. Herc grunted in agony. Simultaneously, a thunderous cry sounded as over two-dozen more guards began closing on the balcony from all sides. Still on the rope bridge, O’Reginald began casting, and hurled a ball of flame into the midst of the nearest group, incinerating half-a-dozen of them in one fell swoop. Immediately in the wake of that conflagration, Laori shouted out a prayer, her voice jubilant. A great column of white fire exploded from the sky, utterly obliterating another quartet of guards.
“Too quick! Too quick!” she cried. “I only meant to burn off all their flesh the first time!”
Valeris looked at her with one raised eyebrow.
“I think I’m in love,” he chuckled.
Herc quickly found himself surrounded by guards, with Jabbyr in front of him. He smashed his shield into the little maniac’s face, but the executioner merely licked the blood from his chin and charged in again. At the same time, the guards attacked as well, jabbing their swords at the big mercenary from all sides. In desperation, Herc surged forward, completely bowling over the insane headsman with his shield and leaving him unmoving on the ground. Meanwhile, on the rope bridge, Ratbone was growing increasingly frustrated. Though singly the guards were no match for his ferocity, en masse they hindered him from going after Pilts. He howled, a cry which turned into a piercing shriek as he transformed into a large bird. His claws raked at the guards as he lifted above their heads and sped off after the fleeing Emperor.
“Get us some breathing room!” Kat shouted to O’Reginald as the guards rushed to fill the gap Ratbone had left. The sorcerer cursed and quickly sculpted another fireball to surgically target the mass of oncoming thugs. Ten more were incinerated in the blast.
“At your service, my lady,” O’Reginald mock-bowed.
Laori, Valeris and Michael rushed to the fore, hacking down the stragglers in their path. Kat, meanwhile, found that she had a clear view of Pilts, and she hurled a bolt of sonic fury after him, striking him in the back. The Emperor stumbled, and in that instant, Ratbone was upon him, shifting back into his canine form as he landed. His jaws closed with swift finality on the base of Pilt’s neck with a sickening crack.
After that, it was only a matter of cleaning up the remnants. The last of the guards lost heart at the sight of their Emperor laid low, and they put up little resistance, quickly succumbing before the fury of the six companions and Laori.
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
“Too quick! Too quick!” she cried. “I only meant to burn off all their flesh the first time!”
Valeris looked at her with one raised eyebrow.
“I think I’m in love,” he chuckled.
I knew Laori would be a blast to have around, but this is D&D gold! Let the exalted characters glower as they will... Hail to the cheerful evil.
__________________ This knight posts with safety off
Seeing how easy it was to post Mandi's sheet on the old Savage Tides thread, I decided to go ahead and do the same for Ratbone, circa 9th level.
Quick note...anything in gray is to come at higher levels...I try to plan things out if you hadn't guessed beforehand. Also, the first page is the base half-orc form, followed by the three shapeshifter forms that I can take.
Last edited by Joachim; 15th May 2009 at 05:28 AM..
It didn’t take the group long to search Pilts’ ‘palace’ and find a single locked room off the Emperor’s bedroom. The air in the cell was an unpleasant mix of body odor and paint. A lumpy straw mattress lay on the floor in one corner, partially covered by a few blankets, while in the other stood a large easel upon which rested a nearly completed painting of immense fiends attacking a village. A plain-looking man dressed in paint-stained rags, his skin covered with flea bites and his eyes sunken, stood next to the easel, a brush in his hands. He turned sharply when the door opened, fear etched on his face. When he saw the faces of his rescuers, however, he fell to his knees and broke into desperate sobs.
“Please!” he cried. “Take me with you! Don’t leave me here with him!”
“Relax Mr. Scream,” Kat said as she knelt down beside him. “That’s exactly what we’re here to do. We just want to ask you a few questions first.”
“No!” Salvator wailed. “He’ll kill us all! You have to kill him and take me out of here! I won’t tell you anything until you promise!”
“Relax,” Ratbone said with deadly calm. “The Emperor is no longer a problem.”
The druid tossed a gilt crown on the floor, and then held up the decanter and spoon.
“He…he’s dead?” Salvator asked in disbelief.
“As a doornail,” Valeris smirked. “Now do you wanna talk?”
“I’ve always found that torture is a good motivator,” Laori offered.
“That’s enough!” Kat snapped, and then she turned back to Salvator. “Mr. Scream, we’re looking for Vencarlo Orisini. Do you know where he is?”
“Orisini?” Salvator asked. “Isn’t he at his academy?”
“Not anymore,” Kat replied. “It was burned to the ground, and now his home has been as well…by members of the Red Mantis.”
Salvator’s eyes went wide. “Oh no!” he whispered.
“There’s something else,” Kat said. “We found this when we went looking for you at your home.” She produced the scrap of uniform that Laori had given them. Salvator’s eyes widened again, and then he bowed his head.
“I guess I should start at the beginning,” he said.
“That’s probably best,” Kat nodded.
“My…work has drawn many eyes and admirers,” the artist began, “and not just among the regulars at Exemplary Excrables. It became a favorite of many noble families and other prominent citizens. They found my subject matter shocking, and safely scandalous. Among my wealthier patrons was the seneschal of Castle Korvosa, Neolandus Kalepopolis. After he attended a showing of my Tears of Abendego, he asked to meet me. It turned out that we had many common interests, and we became friends. We began meeting on a weekly basis at various eateries to discuss art, history, religion, politics…you name it. You must understand that a man in Neolandus’ position could not afford to be seen with someone so base as a common artist, and he kept our friendship a secret. So you can imagine that when he showed up at my home early on the morning Eodred died, desperate, bloodied, and poisoned, I was shocked, to say the least. He was delirious, but he managed to tell me that he needed a place to hide. I took care of him, nursed him back to health. Once he’d recovered, he confided in me that Ileosa had murdered her husband, and that she had entered into an alliance with the Red Mantis. They were the ones who’d tried to assassinate Neolandus, and his escape was as much luck as anything. Worse, he said that there was something about Ileosa that wasn’t quite right…that she’d changed recently, grown worse, whatever that meant. He refused to divulge more to me, saying that the less I knew the safer I’d be, and that he needed more time to think things through and do some research before he decided on the proper course of action.”
“We both knew that my home would not be a secure hideout for long. Through my art dealings I had connections with the Arkonas, and when I suggested to Neolandus that he seek them out for asylum, he grudgingly agreed. I escorted him to the Arkona palace late one night, just a few days before the quarantine, and I haven’t seen him since. As it turns out, it seems my efforts to help were a grave error in judgment on my part. Still, can you blame me? I’d always known the Arkonas to be trustworthy, and the fact that they haven’t turned him over to the queen says something right? Still, when I went to Vencarlo, a man I’ve known and trusted for years, and told him what I’d learned, and what I’d done, he was furious! He told me that he suspected the Arkonas were more…criminal-minded…than I’d suspected. I was afraid that I’d traded my friend’s danger for a different one, and now that you tell me Orisini’s missing, I’m afraid he may have done something foolish…like trying to infiltrate the Arkonas' compound. You have to save them! Korvosa’s not a safe place for them! They need to escape the city! Me too…and you as well!”
“It seems you were well-intentioned,” Michael spoke up, “but you were indeed very foolish. It is a poorly kept secret that the Arkonas are involved in every form of criminal activity in Korvosa, from gambling and prostitution, to smuggling and murder-for-hire. They are truly a nest of vipers.”
“One we must walk willingly into it seems,” Kat added.
“What about him?” Valeris nodded towards Salvator. “He comin’ with us?”
“No!” Salvator screamed. “I can’t stay here! You’ve got to get me out of the city!”
“I can do that,” Laori interrupted. “I need to speak with Mr. Scream anyway…in private. I’m done here, and I can make sure he makes it safely out of the city.”
“Scream,” Ratbone said sharply. “I don’t trust this woman. She’s a follower of Zon-Kuthon. She’s a sadist!”
Salvator’s eyes narrowed. “You have seen my work, haven’t you Mr.…Bone? I don’t paint flowers and puppies. I think I’ll take my chances with her.”
Laori smirked and winked at Ratbone.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of each other. I look forward to the next time we meet.”
__________________________________________________ _
Palace Arkona was perched at the highest point atop Endrin Isle in Old Korvosa. The grounds were generally open, decorated here and there with tiny copses of trees, exotic topiary animals (elephants, cobras, and tigers being the most common), beautiful flower gardens, and exquisite fountains. The palace itself was a breathtaking structure built in the Vudran style, with golden pillars, high windows that rose to tapered points, minarets and domes decorated with slender spires. As the companions approached the front gates, a quartet of armed guards met them.
“What is your purpose here?” one of them asked in a polite but firm tone.
“We are here seeking an audience with Lord Glorio Arkona,” Kat said simply. The group had agreed earlier that an open and honest approach might be the best tactic when dealing with opportunists such as the Arkonas. The guard nodded and instructed the group to follow him up to the palace.
The interior of the estate was just as elegant as the outside. The walls were made of ebony and carved with depictions of elephants, tigers, monkeys and peacock, all with shimmering mother-of-pearl eyes. The doors were made of mahogany and were carved with images of the Vudran deity Chamidu, the God of Wild Beasts, a six-armed, four-faced giant riding a tiger with human hands for paws. Exotic plants in clay pots were in abundance, and each room was rich with their scent, mingled with that of sandalwood incense that burned in brass censers which hung from the high ceilings here and there. In the main entry hall, a black marble arch that depicting dozens of elephants standing one atop the other, framed a great ebony door in a far wall. Above the door, a single one-eyed elephant looked out over the hall, its eye a glittering bloodstone the size of an apple. Tall windows granted a commanding view of the palace grounds, and a rich red carpet, ten-feet wide and luxuriously thick, provided a pathway between doors to the west and north, and around a corner to the east. The companions were greeted by a tall, pleasant man who wore an eye patch.
“I am Carnochan, the Arkonas’ majordomo,” he said, bowing slightly. “How may I be of service?”
Once again, Katarina acted as spokesperson for the companions. “We are friends of Vencarlo Orisini and Neolandus Kalepopolis,” she said. “We have reason to believe that they are…guests of the Arkonas. We would very much like to speak with them.”
Carnochan bowed again. “That would be a matter for you to discuss with Lord Arkona,” he said. “If you will follow me, I will see if the master can make time for you today.”
He led them down the richly-appointed hall to a spacious lounge. The comfortable room was warmed by a large fireplace, its marble sides and mantle carved into a parade of capering monkeys and tigers. A large sofa sat to one side, while a few comfortable-looking chairs sat on the other. Carnochan left them there for no more than five minutes before returning on the heels of a handsome, middle-aged man with black hair, graying at the temples. He wore a rich velvet robe of deepest scarlet, trimmed in what appeared to be genuine tiger fur.
“Carnochan!” the man exclaimed. “How could you be so disrespectful of our guests? No wine? No cheese?”
“Forgive me, master,” Carnochan replied, bowing low. “I will rectify the situation immediately.”
He backed hastily out of the room.
“Please forgive the rudeness of my house,” the man said. “I am Lord Glorio Arkona, and I am honored to make the acquaintance of such esteemed persons as yourselves, for the Saviors of Korvosa need no introduction!”
He casually seated himself in one of the chairs, facing his guests.
“While I have done what I can with my limited resources to keep Old Korvosa from falling into complete anarchy,” he continued, “there is so much more that could be done, and my contributions pale in comparison to yours!”
“Do not belittle your endeavors so quickly,” Kat said, smiling politely. “Your reputation among the poor of Korvosa is one of ministering to their needs when no one else will.”
Glorio returned her smile, though his eyes were sharp and piercing.
“Well, despite my best efforts,” he said, “this quarantine has all but nullified everything my family has worked so hard to achieve, though I daresay our queen had little choice in the matter. Still, perhaps if things had not been allowed to escalate out of control so quickly, that drastic proclamation would not have been necessary.”
“You would have handled things differently in the wake of Eodred’s death?” Kat asked, raising one eyebrow slightly.
Glorio inclined his head. “It’s just that in times of crisis, I’ve found that a firm hand is not always the most useful way to persuade the masses to your cause. A velvet glove sometimes brings better results, and at least letting the people think that they are helping to make policy will often lead to them aiding you in your long-term goals rather than opposing you at every turn. Is Korvosa truly better off since Ileosa’s rise to power? I think not. I believe that the people have seen this as well, and it may only be a matter of time before their voices are finally heard.”
“We’re not here to discuss politics,” Ratbone abruptly interrupted, rising from his chair. “We’re here to see Orisini and the seneschal!”
Kat stood quickly and placed a hand on the druid’s shoulder.
“We are grateful that you have offered safe haven to our friends,” she said carefully, “but we are concerned about their wellbeing, and would very much like to see them.”
Glorio steepled his fingers beneath his chin and smiled.
“I like a man who speaks his mind,” he said. “It is possible that I might be able to help you, but I haven’t risen to my current position by showing all of my cards at once.”
“What is it that you want?” Ratbone growled, cutting to the chase.
Glorio nodded, still smiling. “Just so,” he said. “There is a certain little weasel of a man who has styled himself emperor of my little piece of Korvosa. His name is Pilts Swastel, and I want him…removed. Once he’s gone, I’m certain his mob will collapse and then my agents can step in and pacify Old Korvosa.”
“Done,” Ratbone said, once more tossing Swastel’s crown on the floor and displaying the spoon and decanter.
Glorio’s eyes went wide, and for a brief moment his mouth dropped open a fraction of an inch. He quickly recovered his composure, and his face positively beamed.
“My, my,” he said softly, “you are indeed as resourceful as I’d heard. Perhaps when this is all behind us, you might be in need of new employment.”
“Orisini and Kalepopolis,” Ratbone said.
“Yes, yes,” Glorio said as he reclined in his chair once more. “I will, of course, allow you to see them, but that might be…complicated.”
“How so?” Ratbone asked, his eyes narrowing.
“A man in my position can never show weakness,” Glorio stated flatly. “To do so would invite subversion, if not open rebellion. I cannot simply hand my…valuable guests over to you. The loss of face would be catastrophic. If you, however, were to find them on your own, then that would be an entirely different story.”
“Find them?” Kat asked. “Where are they?”
Glorio cleared his throat. “I’ve sent them to the Vivified Labyrinth for…safekeeping.”
Kat’s face drained of color.
“I see you’ve heard of it,” Glorio smiled.
“Kat, what is it?” Michael asked.
“A dungeon,” the fortune teller replied quietly, “a notorious one meant to test both prisoners and agents alike.”
“Just so,” Glorio nodded. “So as I was saying, if you were to retrieve them on your own, thus surviving the perils of the labyrinth, then no one could fault me.”
“What sort of perils are we talking about?” Herc asked suspiciously.
Glorio shrugged. “Oh, you know, traps, monsters, the usual. Oh, and you may run into an operative or two of my household.”
“And what if they try to stop us?” Ratbone asked.
“I fully expect them to,” Glorio laughed. “What good would they be to me if they didn’t? If they succeed, then that would be unfortunate. If they do not, then they were not worthy to serve House Arkona in the first place.”
“How far away is the labyrinth?” Kat asked, her voice still hollow.
“Not far at all,” Glorio said. “In fact, it is just beneath us. Carnochan will show you to the gardens. There you will find a full-sized statue of an elephant. Speak the words, ‘Chamidu is blind,’ and it shall show you the way. Once below, you will find yourself in a deep sea cavern. Find your way to the bottom, and then look to the southern-most wall. There is a cleverly concealed door there which will take you inside the labyrinth. I must warn you, the labyrinth was designed to be quite deadly. In several locations you will find levers that, when pulled, can literally shift the rooms about, but be forewarned, my agents know of these as well and will doubtless use this to their advantage once they discover you are trespassing.”
“Sounds charming,” Valeris snorted.
“One more thing,” Glorio said. “Take this as a sign of my good faith.” He took a beautiful platinum ring set with a huge bloodstone from his tunic. He handed it to Valeris.
“With this, you will find your reflexes expertly honed, allowing you to evade even the deadliest of spells. Take it and use it well. If you survive, it’s yours. Now, I must take my leave of you, and you’ll pardon me for saying that I hope we do not soon met again. I wish you safe journey, and good luck.”
__________________________________________________ __
The gardens hardly seemed to be part of a palace…it seemed more like a clearing at the heart of a vast jungle, teeming with life. The sky above was a deep, cloudless blue, while in the distance, hazy towers of distant structures rose above the verdant canopy. Exotic bird calls filled the air, the scent of dozens of unfamiliar flowers and plants assaulted the nose, and everywhere a riot of color demanded the eye, be it the wing of a tropical bird, the petals of a brightly hued flower, or the glittering multicolored tiles that made up a round fountain to the north, its central plume a stone pillar around which entwined two cobra statues that clutched green gems in their fanged maws. Opposite the fountain to the south stood an immense, life-sized jade statue of an elephant, a howdah perched on its back, its tusks and trunk raised high in greeting to the southeast doors…doors that, from inside the room, looked more like gates set into a wrought iron fence that encircled the garden. Other gates set in the fence doubtless led to other parts of the palace, and after a bit more observation, the somewhat static nature of the jungle and landscape became apparent…the walls of the garden were in fact an incredibly realistic and clever painting of a Vudran junglescape.
As instructed, the companions stood before the statue of the elephant, and Katarina spoke the words, “Chamidu is blind!”
The statue suddenly animated and stepped off its pedestal, which began slowly rotating like an immense cap unscrewing from a container. As it did so, a curved opening appeared, granting access to a flight of spiral stairs descending into the ground. Down and down the group climbed, several hundred feet into the earth, until they reached a vast underground grotto. The iron stairs descended to a semicircular ledge, which in turn wound down along the cavern’s inner wall to a series of rope bridges that descended even lower from ledge to ledge. The upper ledge, before it reached the ropes, was a strangely breathtaking beauty…a garden of all manner of strangely colored fungi, lichens and molds. The fungi had been cultivated, shaped into all manner of symmetrical patterns normally not seen in nature, transforming the ledge into a sort of underground fungal garden. Here and there, flickering torches burned in sconces above the fungi, while from somewhere in the darkness below came the soft splash of water against an unseen shore.
Ratbone took the lead, having assumed a new shape, vaguely similar to his ape form, but larger, and more feral. Two large horns curved from his forehead, and an extra pair of arms protruded from his sides. He had traversed no more than a quarter of the ledge when he stopped short, his nostrils flared. His senses were much more attuned in his bestial incarnations, and thus he perceived a presence moving towards them, something bipedal and large. Before he could turn and warn the others, the creature abruptly materialized in front of him. It stood almost eight feet in height, and was mostly skeletal, like a giant cadaver, yet its bones were encrusted with fungus. In one hand it clutched an enormous scimitar, while in the other it held a spiked shield. No sooner had it appeared, then Ratbone sensed three more similar creatures approaching unseen, but they were coming from directly over the abyss that plunged down the to sea below…they were flying!
Herc rushed to Ratbone’s side as the first giant appeared, and his sword landed heavily against its ribcage, sending bone and lichen flying. Meanwhile, the other three fungal giants appeared, hovering above the open cavern, all similarly armed. Valeris sent arcane power surging through his own blade and hewed at the nearest one. Suddenly, clouds of yellow spores exploded from all four of the creatures, filling the air with a choking haze. Herc, Michael and Katarina all doubled over in coughing fits, their faces red as the spasms wracked their bodies. O’Reginald felt his own lungs beginning to fill, but before he started coughing, he spat out the words to a spell, and a ball of fire exploded around the combatants, completely immolating one of the giants, and burning away the strangling spores. Ratbone launched himself at the creature in front of him, and literally tore the thing limb from limb. He then turned, and in the blink of an eye, transformed into his condor form and flew at one of the flying giants, ripping and tearing at it with beak and talons. It went spiraling down into the darkness below. Herc, recovering quickly from his coughing spell, dealt with the remaining giant, smashing it to splinters beneath his shield.
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
Ah, Arkona fun. I really wonder what the KIA will destroy in the dungeon and what they will leave behind.
Every city should have a place like palace Arkona, except for the...ah, but that's for the KIA to discover.
So far, the Vivified Labyrinth is destroying the K.I.A...both literally (at least for one of the company) and psychologically, as it pits friend against friend.
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
__________________ "Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!"
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