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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant" data-source="post: 7121504" data-attributes="member: 6884000"><p><strong>Chapter 5 ("The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." -Helen Keller)</strong></p><p></p><p>My steps fall somberly on the trail as the weight of the oath we have taken sinks in. </p><p></p><p>Without warning, darkness. In the emptiness of this void, I see a girl. Stepping closer, I now see that it is Phreet. A vision then. I opened myself to it, but it would not be enlightening. Visions aren’t. Just “I told you so’s” from Her Merciless Majesty.</p><p></p><p>Little Phreet seems happy, playing in a small stand of sunflowers. She is not the ragged, emaciated urchin I know. Instead, she seems full of life and dressed in a beautiful blue dress with a violet satin ribbon in her hair. As I approach, she smiles up at me, but something is wrong. It is then that I notice her skin shifts and bubbles as if some unseen creature is trapped within and is trying to escape her flesh. Phreet gives no indication of pain. She keeps smiling and tending to her flowers as if nothing is amiss. My hand reaches out to her, reflexively calling upon the power of Sehanine, but I find nothing. As my fingers approach her ulcerating skin, a green worm erupts from the back of her neck. I recoil as Phreet begins to stand and face me. Green worms pour from her eyes and mouth as she screams, stretching her arms out towards me in a horrific embrace.</p><p></p><p>Then just as suddenly as it began, I am back on the outskirts of Diamond Lake with my companions and realize that I am screaming.</p><p></p><p>Gasping, a few breaths of air could not dispel the image of my fellow housemate being consumed by a ravaging tide of worms, but what else can one do? The last time I felt my sense of self shrink like that I was drowning in Emersanine, my lake next to my, what was my home. There is something otherworldly about visions that flit on the edge of reverie, something I imagine must be like sleep for humans, though they delve closer to death in body and mind when they rest. As if to wash myself of that brush with the unreal, I handed the bones of Alastor to Rey who, in her usual way, unflinchingly obliged me. The reverie and vision did not return, and the remainder of the walk to Alastor Land’s childhood home was peaceful.</p><p></p><p>Arriving at the home, it was obvious that there had been visitors recently. The grave sites of the entire family had been unearthed, and the remains removed. A curious find: what is this human desire to be buried in earth when they do not come from it, but I had to consult with Egan to understand. He did not appear exceptionally disgusted by the disturbed tombs, but he did confirm that humans in Diamond Lake would find such behavior reprehensible, or <em>behish</em>, Elven slang for filthiness of the soul. I have felt this filth before, so I am not one to judge. It seems Egan shares this reflection; as though once in his life he could have judged, but now he has seen more, so he accepts more.</p><p></p><p>We all survey the dirt and stone before moving to the rest of the farmstead. My eyes are keen, and it takes little time to find tracks from a group of humanoids, booted and with a wheelbarrow; the grave robbers. One was much larger than the others, judging from its boot size and depth. They appear to have come from the direction of Diamond Lake. They dug up their quarry and left with the remains or whatever else they were looting. Egan knows a bit about the family and says there was likely no treasure on these poor farmers. However, again, he has seen desperation in Diamond Lake, and this desecration does not faze him.</p><p></p><p>The farmhouse itself sags like the saddles of the Cairn Hills. The windows are opaque with grime and grass sprouts from the plaster window boxes. A short walk around the yard demonstrated the tracks of the thieves entering and then leaving quickly, as if running from the house itself. There were areas of dried blood and a severed human arm in the door-well.</p><p></p><p>That lone appendage was our only clue, and a cursory glance revealed a brand, like a tattoo on the shoulder. Again, Egan recognized this mark, something of an anachronism in the present day Diamond Lake. He said that it belonged to a group of miners from a few years back whose mine failed. The miners were bought out by Balabar Smenk, who re-employed them under his new terms. Smenk didn’t brand people, but often employed them for tasks outside the mines, sometimes unsavory tasks. So, we had something. A group of five, maybe only four now, likely humans, came to the farmstead, looted the remains, went to the farmhouse and then ran with their loot, losing to something in the farmhouse. </p><p></p><p>Since I am quiet, and curiosity overwhelmed me, I quietly investigated inside. A dead owlbear lay in the front room, and the sounds of another, possibly living, was audible in the back of the home. Beckoning to Rey, we made our way to the back of the house and found a young owlbear cub, hiding and lamenting the death of its family. Clearly the grave robbers fought back as we saw two more dead owlbears, likely parents in the back area. Rey was quick to befriend the beast, feeding it some dry rations. Her affinity for animals is nothing new to me, but Egan seemed surprised.</p><p></p><p>After a short discussion of the possible places to find the crew of bone-miners, Egan was convinced that they would frequent a tavern called the Feral Dog. It was time to reverie for the remainder of the afternoon while my companions cleaned and cleared the graves so that they could be used again when needed. We kept Alastor’s bones with us when we left in case the bone thieves returned.</p><p></p><p>As we walked back to town, we devised a plan. Egan was intent on having someone observe the Feral Dog, from outside, since he felt that the Smenk miners would likely have an advantage if we confronted them in the tavern itself. He wanted to see when they came and went to try to intercept them on another night. It made sense to a degree, but I prefer being direct. Also, I have never been inside the Feral Dog and wondered what other activities grave robbers might enjoy.</p><p></p><p>We all arrived at my small shack around dusk. The spring air hinted at the cold from the Hills, and the smoke from the Smelting House and surrounding homes still lingered over Diamond Lake like the haze of darkness that would surely follow. I left Egan to rest with Phreet, and Rey slipped off into a wooded copse just before town, her owlbear sniffing and growling at the large cicadas.</p><p></p><p>Once again I was alone with the night. Since encountering my two new traveling companions, I am remembering my old self and the old loneliness has reared its head once more. I have been alone for too long. </p><p></p><p>Covering my head, I watched the Feral Dog from behind a rain barrel across the main square. Around midnight, a group of two humans and large half-orc made their way toward the tavern. I made my way closer and noticed the same brand as the disembodied arm from earlier, but this time it was on the half-orc’s forehead. An improvement.</p><p></p><p>At this point, my heart was warming to the idea of entering: I could hardly find any useful information from outside. Quiet as a mouse, I slipped into the tavern behind the trio of grave robbers. There were no door guards or weapon checks like the Emporium. Their entrance apparently was expected, and, in fact, there was a seat for them reserved near the dog fights. </p><p></p><p>I settled at a table not far away and ordered a glass of wine. A loud and showy group of adventurers – there was really no other word for them - was seated at another table, and among them was a tall female elf. I managed to overhear one of the three grave robbers, a human with a fresh scar down his face, shout to the half Orc that they needed to find a better paying job than the last one. Mm, not enough. Sitting there, I learned the names of the three hoodlums: Todrick, Rastophan and Kullen. Kullen was the large half-orc. He had the whitest skin I have ever seen on a half-orc. It made the brand on the forehead a stand out in sharp contrast.</p><p></p><p>As I fingered the hilt of my hunting knife, I realized that my coin purse was completely empty, not a copper to be had. I had meant to ask Rey for a few coins from the purse we found in the Cairn, but the day’s excitement left me absentminded. As if Sehanine felt my need, the tall elf woman began a game of throwing knives with some locals, betting a silver on each throw. I saw an opportunity.</p><p></p><p>As the first round of the game concluded, I walked over the throwing line. Only a single miner had managed to make it to the second round. The elf woman was, what was it, “cleaning their clocks”. I asked if I may play, and the woman said she would waive my entry bet if I could hit a smaller ring near the side of the board. It seemed simple enough, but I have been blind to Sehanine’s schemes before: I thought it was her will that I earned my silver and my drink.</p><p></p><p>My hunting knife was never really meant for throwing, but I have always been a decent shot with other knives. Tonight I took aim and pulled back to throw but slipped on some, I guess it was vomit? on the floor. The blade flew almost backwards and planted in the table, vibrating, in front of the grave robbers. Ah yes, the Silver Lady’s keen wit! How delightful!</p><p></p><p>Kullen’s seat made the little <strong>erp</strong> sound of someone upset rising to his feet. He took my knife from the table in front of him with the intention to keep it. I raised Angivre knocked and ready, fired an arrow into the small ring on the wall so he could see a possible future for one of his eyes. I asked for the knife back. No.</p><p></p><p>I tossed the hilt on the table. “You will need this, then.” He actually wore it, and on his huge frame it looked, well, I had to say something.</p><p>“It looks quite cute on you. You should wear all the time. With a little red bow.”</p><p></p><p>He was mad but Angivre swung around to him. Now was the time to press him with a question: “What did you do with the bones?”</p><p></p><p>I could not see if it had struck true. The question certainly angered him. The tavern was frozen, anticipating at least two deaths about to happen.</p><p></p><p>Finding no harbor in the other elven woman – or in anyone else – I donned Angivre and used tables, people and chairs to fade into the crowd just as Kullen heaved a spear into a man who stood where I was a second ago. The wrong fight erupted, thank My Goddess, as I slipped out the front door and around the back.</p><p></p><p>One thing left to do: it was my knife, and I would get it back.</p><p></p><p>A back window was easy enough to pry open, and from the storeroom I slipped back into the chaos of the bar hall. A few movements took me to my knife and a few more back outside.</p><p></p><p>Feeling whole again with my few worldly possessions, I vaulted a pile of empty wine casks in the back and rolled onto the roof to observe the fallout of my visit to the Feral Dog. The garrison arrived in short order and broke up the fight. Kullen was thrown in the Constable’s lock-up, though his “cronies” eventually “bailed him out.” They made their way off to the Emporium for more entertainment. At least four dead miners were dragged out. Wanting to remain hidden, I abandoned the roof just as the garrison was investigating the grounds, made my way back to the shack, and rejoined Phreet and Egan.</p><p></p><p>Waiting for the sun to rise while indoors is tedious, but I passed the hours thinking about what lay ahead. Although I had seen Kullen and his crew, I still didn’t have an idea as to where the Land family remains were. The violence in Kullen’s crowd seemed to spring from my questions about the bones.</p><p></p><p>As the sky lightened, Egan woke groggily. He seemed like he had not slept well for many nights. I suppose a scholar traveling from the Free City with no money chasing for the last time his possibly-dead sister that he inadvertently sent to her death might do that. As we set about a small campfire, Rey and the owlbear appeared from the wooded distance. They soon joined us for a small meal.</p><p></p><p>I relayed all that I had learned from the night before, but everyone agreed: we were still missing an important piece of information. Egan and Rey decided that they would try to intercept the Kullen crew as they left the Emporium this very morning. We split the treasure at our camp, and Egan said he would try to bribe the grave robbers with our ruby that we found in the Cairn. My share of the coins was more than I had on my person in years.</p><p></p><p>We devised another plan. Egan and Rey would intercept the Kullen trio, and I would watch from a vantage point, in range for a bow shot if need be. The campfire guttered, and I bid good day to Phreet, leaving a few coins with her for safekeeping. I don’t know where she puts the money I give her or that we steal together, but I do not think she is spending it. She won’t tell me, and I understand: she has her own plans.</p><p></p><p>The walk into town was quick, though smoky. The wood fires of the town were fighting the lingering mountain chill, making a smog of sorts near the lakeside town. I huddled on the roof of the Emporium and spotted Kullen and the others leaving the Emporium as we arrived. Egan and Rey met with them – Egan in a friendly fashion, Rey and her owlbear taking turns growling – in the square, a few other drunken stragglers sifting off into the smoke and fog. Egan waved and gesticulated and seemed to be winning them over. He nodded a few times and pointed to the owlbear which caused the two smaller cronies to shudder. Finally, he handed them the ruby and waved as he walked away, the ‘all clear’ signal. He got what we needed. I thought about the ruby for a full minute before I decided to check back on it later. Maybe it would fall out of their purses while they slept off their beer.</p><p></p><p>We met up back near the outskirts of town. Egan gave a wry smile. He explained that the bones were delivered to an old man who was living in the abandoned observatory up on the bluff overlooking the town. Egan couldn’t think of any good, healthy reasons to have grave robbers steal bones for mundane uses so he suspected foul play in a sinister game.</p><p></p><p>A quick walk up the hill took us above the smoky fog of town as the sun began its bright debut. The air was clearer up here, and the mossy, rocky bluff around the observatory glistened with dew. The place had no signs of life, no foot tracks or outward sentries. I suggested that we try the front door and without ado led the group up the narrow stairs to the front door. It was locked, After a minute or two with an arrow in the keyhole – I wonder if there are clever little tools for this sort of thing? – I gave up. It would have to be Rey’s job to get us up onto the roof.</p><p></p><p>The highest spire of the observatory was 40 feet off the ground, and the walls were stone with slick moss between crumbling mortar. It seemed an unlikely climb, but Rey made short work of it. First we ascended to the top of the lower outbuilding, then, with grappling hooks and ropes, we managed our way up the side of the tower itself. Rey scaled the stone with only one small error on her first try to top the tower.</p><p></p><p>The observation slit was open to the sun. When Rey and I reached the top, we could see inside. What was once a telescope room now held a modified operating theater. A strange old man was operating on a dead, blue-skinned humanoid. I was overcome with curiosity, but at the same time I knew we had a simple task. I shouted down to the man letting him know that we needed our bones back. He obviously was not expecting an elf in his tower. He started to cast a spell at us, but an arrow put a stop to that.</p><p></p><p>A short battle ensued with Egan, Rey and I subduing the old man wizard and then dismantling his skeleton guard and some lizard-like zombies that exploded from enormous jars. The skeleton guard was from a Land farmstead grave. Rey may have crushed some of the bones in carrying out her very direct plan to get from the roof to the ground.</p><p></p><p>After securing the operating room, we ventured down a level to find the old man’s sleeping quarters. As we had suspected, we found a letter from Balabar Smenk, the mine owner, hiring this man named Filge. Apparently there were stranger things afoot in the mine and the hills than the Whispering Cairn. The message mentioned indestructible undead and some unusual magical worms. Perhaps we will get to the back of the Whispering Cairn next summer? </p><p></p><p>We found a sample of a dead worm. It gave me a shudder, it was the worm I saw in my vision just yesterday.</p><p></p><p>After a thorough search, our new captive, Filge began to stir. We decided that it was time for some more questions and hopefully answers.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Alexander Bryant, post: 7121504, member: 6884000"] [b]Chapter 5 ("The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." -Helen Keller)[/b] My steps fall somberly on the trail as the weight of the oath we have taken sinks in. Without warning, darkness. In the emptiness of this void, I see a girl. Stepping closer, I now see that it is Phreet. A vision then. I opened myself to it, but it would not be enlightening. Visions aren’t. Just “I told you so’s” from Her Merciless Majesty. Little Phreet seems happy, playing in a small stand of sunflowers. She is not the ragged, emaciated urchin I know. Instead, she seems full of life and dressed in a beautiful blue dress with a violet satin ribbon in her hair. As I approach, she smiles up at me, but something is wrong. It is then that I notice her skin shifts and bubbles as if some unseen creature is trapped within and is trying to escape her flesh. Phreet gives no indication of pain. She keeps smiling and tending to her flowers as if nothing is amiss. My hand reaches out to her, reflexively calling upon the power of Sehanine, but I find nothing. As my fingers approach her ulcerating skin, a green worm erupts from the back of her neck. I recoil as Phreet begins to stand and face me. Green worms pour from her eyes and mouth as she screams, stretching her arms out towards me in a horrific embrace. Then just as suddenly as it began, I am back on the outskirts of Diamond Lake with my companions and realize that I am screaming. Gasping, a few breaths of air could not dispel the image of my fellow housemate being consumed by a ravaging tide of worms, but what else can one do? The last time I felt my sense of self shrink like that I was drowning in Emersanine, my lake next to my, what was my home. There is something otherworldly about visions that flit on the edge of reverie, something I imagine must be like sleep for humans, though they delve closer to death in body and mind when they rest. As if to wash myself of that brush with the unreal, I handed the bones of Alastor to Rey who, in her usual way, unflinchingly obliged me. The reverie and vision did not return, and the remainder of the walk to Alastor Land’s childhood home was peaceful. Arriving at the home, it was obvious that there had been visitors recently. The grave sites of the entire family had been unearthed, and the remains removed. A curious find: what is this human desire to be buried in earth when they do not come from it, but I had to consult with Egan to understand. He did not appear exceptionally disgusted by the disturbed tombs, but he did confirm that humans in Diamond Lake would find such behavior reprehensible, or [I]behish[/I], Elven slang for filthiness of the soul. I have felt this filth before, so I am not one to judge. It seems Egan shares this reflection; as though once in his life he could have judged, but now he has seen more, so he accepts more. We all survey the dirt and stone before moving to the rest of the farmstead. My eyes are keen, and it takes little time to find tracks from a group of humanoids, booted and with a wheelbarrow; the grave robbers. One was much larger than the others, judging from its boot size and depth. They appear to have come from the direction of Diamond Lake. They dug up their quarry and left with the remains or whatever else they were looting. Egan knows a bit about the family and says there was likely no treasure on these poor farmers. However, again, he has seen desperation in Diamond Lake, and this desecration does not faze him. The farmhouse itself sags like the saddles of the Cairn Hills. The windows are opaque with grime and grass sprouts from the plaster window boxes. A short walk around the yard demonstrated the tracks of the thieves entering and then leaving quickly, as if running from the house itself. There were areas of dried blood and a severed human arm in the door-well. That lone appendage was our only clue, and a cursory glance revealed a brand, like a tattoo on the shoulder. Again, Egan recognized this mark, something of an anachronism in the present day Diamond Lake. He said that it belonged to a group of miners from a few years back whose mine failed. The miners were bought out by Balabar Smenk, who re-employed them under his new terms. Smenk didn’t brand people, but often employed them for tasks outside the mines, sometimes unsavory tasks. So, we had something. A group of five, maybe only four now, likely humans, came to the farmstead, looted the remains, went to the farmhouse and then ran with their loot, losing to something in the farmhouse. Since I am quiet, and curiosity overwhelmed me, I quietly investigated inside. A dead owlbear lay in the front room, and the sounds of another, possibly living, was audible in the back of the home. Beckoning to Rey, we made our way to the back of the house and found a young owlbear cub, hiding and lamenting the death of its family. Clearly the grave robbers fought back as we saw two more dead owlbears, likely parents in the back area. Rey was quick to befriend the beast, feeding it some dry rations. Her affinity for animals is nothing new to me, but Egan seemed surprised. After a short discussion of the possible places to find the crew of bone-miners, Egan was convinced that they would frequent a tavern called the Feral Dog. It was time to reverie for the remainder of the afternoon while my companions cleaned and cleared the graves so that they could be used again when needed. We kept Alastor’s bones with us when we left in case the bone thieves returned. As we walked back to town, we devised a plan. Egan was intent on having someone observe the Feral Dog, from outside, since he felt that the Smenk miners would likely have an advantage if we confronted them in the tavern itself. He wanted to see when they came and went to try to intercept them on another night. It made sense to a degree, but I prefer being direct. Also, I have never been inside the Feral Dog and wondered what other activities grave robbers might enjoy. We all arrived at my small shack around dusk. The spring air hinted at the cold from the Hills, and the smoke from the Smelting House and surrounding homes still lingered over Diamond Lake like the haze of darkness that would surely follow. I left Egan to rest with Phreet, and Rey slipped off into a wooded copse just before town, her owlbear sniffing and growling at the large cicadas. Once again I was alone with the night. Since encountering my two new traveling companions, I am remembering my old self and the old loneliness has reared its head once more. I have been alone for too long. Covering my head, I watched the Feral Dog from behind a rain barrel across the main square. Around midnight, a group of two humans and large half-orc made their way toward the tavern. I made my way closer and noticed the same brand as the disembodied arm from earlier, but this time it was on the half-orc’s forehead. An improvement. At this point, my heart was warming to the idea of entering: I could hardly find any useful information from outside. Quiet as a mouse, I slipped into the tavern behind the trio of grave robbers. There were no door guards or weapon checks like the Emporium. Their entrance apparently was expected, and, in fact, there was a seat for them reserved near the dog fights. I settled at a table not far away and ordered a glass of wine. A loud and showy group of adventurers – there was really no other word for them - was seated at another table, and among them was a tall female elf. I managed to overhear one of the three grave robbers, a human with a fresh scar down his face, shout to the half Orc that they needed to find a better paying job than the last one. Mm, not enough. Sitting there, I learned the names of the three hoodlums: Todrick, Rastophan and Kullen. Kullen was the large half-orc. He had the whitest skin I have ever seen on a half-orc. It made the brand on the forehead a stand out in sharp contrast. As I fingered the hilt of my hunting knife, I realized that my coin purse was completely empty, not a copper to be had. I had meant to ask Rey for a few coins from the purse we found in the Cairn, but the day’s excitement left me absentminded. As if Sehanine felt my need, the tall elf woman began a game of throwing knives with some locals, betting a silver on each throw. I saw an opportunity. As the first round of the game concluded, I walked over the throwing line. Only a single miner had managed to make it to the second round. The elf woman was, what was it, “cleaning their clocks”. I asked if I may play, and the woman said she would waive my entry bet if I could hit a smaller ring near the side of the board. It seemed simple enough, but I have been blind to Sehanine’s schemes before: I thought it was her will that I earned my silver and my drink. My hunting knife was never really meant for throwing, but I have always been a decent shot with other knives. Tonight I took aim and pulled back to throw but slipped on some, I guess it was vomit? on the floor. The blade flew almost backwards and planted in the table, vibrating, in front of the grave robbers. Ah yes, the Silver Lady’s keen wit! How delightful! Kullen’s seat made the little [B]erp[/B] sound of someone upset rising to his feet. He took my knife from the table in front of him with the intention to keep it. I raised Angivre knocked and ready, fired an arrow into the small ring on the wall so he could see a possible future for one of his eyes. I asked for the knife back. No. I tossed the hilt on the table. “You will need this, then.” He actually wore it, and on his huge frame it looked, well, I had to say something. “It looks quite cute on you. You should wear all the time. With a little red bow.” He was mad but Angivre swung around to him. Now was the time to press him with a question: “What did you do with the bones?” I could not see if it had struck true. The question certainly angered him. The tavern was frozen, anticipating at least two deaths about to happen. Finding no harbor in the other elven woman – or in anyone else – I donned Angivre and used tables, people and chairs to fade into the crowd just as Kullen heaved a spear into a man who stood where I was a second ago. The wrong fight erupted, thank My Goddess, as I slipped out the front door and around the back. One thing left to do: it was my knife, and I would get it back. A back window was easy enough to pry open, and from the storeroom I slipped back into the chaos of the bar hall. A few movements took me to my knife and a few more back outside. Feeling whole again with my few worldly possessions, I vaulted a pile of empty wine casks in the back and rolled onto the roof to observe the fallout of my visit to the Feral Dog. The garrison arrived in short order and broke up the fight. Kullen was thrown in the Constable’s lock-up, though his “cronies” eventually “bailed him out.” They made their way off to the Emporium for more entertainment. At least four dead miners were dragged out. Wanting to remain hidden, I abandoned the roof just as the garrison was investigating the grounds, made my way back to the shack, and rejoined Phreet and Egan. Waiting for the sun to rise while indoors is tedious, but I passed the hours thinking about what lay ahead. Although I had seen Kullen and his crew, I still didn’t have an idea as to where the Land family remains were. The violence in Kullen’s crowd seemed to spring from my questions about the bones. As the sky lightened, Egan woke groggily. He seemed like he had not slept well for many nights. I suppose a scholar traveling from the Free City with no money chasing for the last time his possibly-dead sister that he inadvertently sent to her death might do that. As we set about a small campfire, Rey and the owlbear appeared from the wooded distance. They soon joined us for a small meal. I relayed all that I had learned from the night before, but everyone agreed: we were still missing an important piece of information. Egan and Rey decided that they would try to intercept the Kullen crew as they left the Emporium this very morning. We split the treasure at our camp, and Egan said he would try to bribe the grave robbers with our ruby that we found in the Cairn. My share of the coins was more than I had on my person in years. We devised another plan. Egan and Rey would intercept the Kullen trio, and I would watch from a vantage point, in range for a bow shot if need be. The campfire guttered, and I bid good day to Phreet, leaving a few coins with her for safekeeping. I don’t know where she puts the money I give her or that we steal together, but I do not think she is spending it. She won’t tell me, and I understand: she has her own plans. The walk into town was quick, though smoky. The wood fires of the town were fighting the lingering mountain chill, making a smog of sorts near the lakeside town. I huddled on the roof of the Emporium and spotted Kullen and the others leaving the Emporium as we arrived. Egan and Rey met with them – Egan in a friendly fashion, Rey and her owlbear taking turns growling – in the square, a few other drunken stragglers sifting off into the smoke and fog. Egan waved and gesticulated and seemed to be winning them over. He nodded a few times and pointed to the owlbear which caused the two smaller cronies to shudder. Finally, he handed them the ruby and waved as he walked away, the ‘all clear’ signal. He got what we needed. I thought about the ruby for a full minute before I decided to check back on it later. Maybe it would fall out of their purses while they slept off their beer. We met up back near the outskirts of town. Egan gave a wry smile. He explained that the bones were delivered to an old man who was living in the abandoned observatory up on the bluff overlooking the town. Egan couldn’t think of any good, healthy reasons to have grave robbers steal bones for mundane uses so he suspected foul play in a sinister game. A quick walk up the hill took us above the smoky fog of town as the sun began its bright debut. The air was clearer up here, and the mossy, rocky bluff around the observatory glistened with dew. The place had no signs of life, no foot tracks or outward sentries. I suggested that we try the front door and without ado led the group up the narrow stairs to the front door. It was locked, After a minute or two with an arrow in the keyhole – I wonder if there are clever little tools for this sort of thing? – I gave up. It would have to be Rey’s job to get us up onto the roof. The highest spire of the observatory was 40 feet off the ground, and the walls were stone with slick moss between crumbling mortar. It seemed an unlikely climb, but Rey made short work of it. First we ascended to the top of the lower outbuilding, then, with grappling hooks and ropes, we managed our way up the side of the tower itself. Rey scaled the stone with only one small error on her first try to top the tower. The observation slit was open to the sun. When Rey and I reached the top, we could see inside. What was once a telescope room now held a modified operating theater. A strange old man was operating on a dead, blue-skinned humanoid. I was overcome with curiosity, but at the same time I knew we had a simple task. I shouted down to the man letting him know that we needed our bones back. He obviously was not expecting an elf in his tower. He started to cast a spell at us, but an arrow put a stop to that. A short battle ensued with Egan, Rey and I subduing the old man wizard and then dismantling his skeleton guard and some lizard-like zombies that exploded from enormous jars. The skeleton guard was from a Land farmstead grave. Rey may have crushed some of the bones in carrying out her very direct plan to get from the roof to the ground. After securing the operating room, we ventured down a level to find the old man’s sleeping quarters. As we had suspected, we found a letter from Balabar Smenk, the mine owner, hiring this man named Filge. Apparently there were stranger things afoot in the mine and the hills than the Whispering Cairn. The message mentioned indestructible undead and some unusual magical worms. Perhaps we will get to the back of the Whispering Cairn next summer? We found a sample of a dead worm. It gave me a shudder, it was the worm I saw in my vision just yesterday. After a thorough search, our new captive, Filge began to stir. We decided that it was time for some more questions and hopefully answers. [/QUOTE]
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