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<blockquote data-quote="skullsmurfer" data-source="post: 2453579" data-attributes="member: 17151"><p><strong>Troubles at Passage, Chapter 28</strong></p><p></p><p>Note: Thanks to Ragboy's Advice, our hero will now feel the cruel squeeze of the Wheels of Fate and then some. Please don't cry, near as I can tell he should survive to reproduce. I hope you enjoy this as much as I....Oh, and I would like to thank all my readers. Bye.</p><p></p><p></p><p> Pook settled uncomfortably into the wheel chair. Apart from the fact that she didn't need the layers of make up that Theodyl wore to play the role of an old widow, everything else is a hassle. Paragon is in the freight car, Theodyl can't renew his illusory disguise he's too sick. Javelin is taking his place, his frame matches the old disguise with just a few adjustments. The fact that most people can't tell a war-forged from another is a blessing.</p><p></p><p> “Where can we find a healer?” The old lady asked her attendants. “I don't suppose there is a House Jorasco Hospice about?”</p><p></p><p> “Pardon me, Madame,” A young man approached the party. “but I can't help but overhear that you have need of a healer.” Javelin took a step forward, the young man's hand moved towards a fine looking saber at his side. </p><p></p><p> “Javelin, please.” The old woman interceded. “Don't mind him, he's very loyal. My attendant is sick with a fever, he's very dear to me.” The old woman made like she was going to cry. Her attendants started to make a fuss.</p><p></p><p> “Where do you think you're goin'?” A man bearing House Vadalis colors grabbed the young man by the arm. “Morel is cranky, you don' wanna push him.”</p><p></p><p> “Hands off, Olriff!” The young man snapped, “Our friend from last night has taken ill. I was just trying to help.” Ivor pulled Theodyl protectively towards her. He is sleeping on a bench. He passed out just as they were leaving the station. The other changelings moved behind the two strangers.</p><p></p><p> “Easy now, my name is Kreen.” The young man made introductions, “this is Olriff. Theodyl helped us out last night, we just want to return the favor.”</p><p></p><p> “Ye can trust them,” the dwarven spirit's gruff voice interjected, “the elf-blood needs help soon. This be no normal fever, or my pappy's a gnome.”</p><p></p><p> Kreen went a bit pale. Olriff's eyes went wild. Pook had no choice, the dwarf rarely speaks around strangers. It is Theodyl's friend and that is good enough for the changeling. The old woman allowed the young man to lead them to a less crowded location. Olriff helped to carry Theodyl. He can feel waves of heat emanating from the half-elf.</p><p></p><p> “I can guess you don't want to draw attention.” Kreen spoke to the old woman, and then looked around afraid the ghost would speak again. “There is a healer named Doonah not far from here, very discrete. She's a friend, so if you have trouble following I need to know now.”</p><p></p><p> “Our troubles are behind us.” Ivor blurted out, “Please, I can't wake him up, let's hurry!”</p><p></p><p> “Alright then,” Kreen sighed, “we are going to need a coach.”</p><p></p><p> The ride was less than comfortable. Javelin rode on the outside, hanging from a set of straps. Olriff sat with the driver. Everyone else squeezed into the cab. They traveled to a set of warehouses along the waterfront. The smell told them that they were being used as stables. A small House Vadalis sigil graced their gates. Kreen paid the driver and took the time to help the old woman out of the cab. Her attendants made sure she settled comfortably into her wheel chair. Javelin was glued to her side. </p><p></p><p> Doonah turned out to be a old female half-orc with a club foot and an oddly twisted back. She was tending to a wounded Pegasus when Kreen called out to her. She limped over cursing under her breath. The young man tried to assist her, but she whacked his shins with her walking staff. Kreen cursed like a sailor, she whacked him again.</p><p></p><p> “What's wrong with him?” Doonah demanded as she made straight for the unconscious half-elf. “Get him to my chambers.”</p><p></p><p> Olriff dragged Theodyl into a large room with a massive operating table. Jars of herbs and reagents lined the walls. Doonah had Olriff lay the half-elf on a smaller padded table and commanded one of the changelings to strip him. As they hurried to help, she passed her hands over the hot, burning skin and sniffed at the humors rising from the body. </p><p></p><p> “I smell magic,” She said, mostly to herself, “Something else, too...Does this one bear a Mark?” Her hands brushed over his chest searching for the source of his distress. “Mmmm, I feel something odd here, it is very hot.....This is Vadalis business, yes?” Kreen shifted uncomfortably. Olriff coughed.</p><p></p><p> “Mistress Doonah, please do what you can. He's done us a great service, Morel will take care of you.” Olriff spoke up.</p><p></p><p> The orcish woman made a face. She dug out a wand from a drawer and picked out a small pouch from one of the shelves lining the wall. Doonah eyed Kreen suspiciously before turning again to her patient. She started to drone a song in her native tongue while shaking the pouch over the half-elf. As the glittering powder from the pouch hit Theodyl's skin a snaky pattern of reds and a blacks was revealed over his heaving chest. It's a Dragon Mark. Doonah cursed. She resumed her spell, shaking the pouch over the rest of her patient's body. His belt buckle started to glow, then a ring hidden in his left pocket. A silvery bracelet on his ankle lit up like a star, Doonah nearly jumped away.</p><p> </p><p> “Take the rest of his clothing,” She snapped at the others, “Be careful of the magic, I don't know what it does.” Doonah sucked her teeth as the Dragon Mark faded away from his chest. She used the wand to identify the item. “The bracelet is strong magic, a veiling, I think. It is potent enough to completely hide a Dragon Mark. I don't like how it feels.” </p><p></p><p> “Is he going to be alright?” the old woman demanded, her voice sounding very young. “What's wrong with him?”</p><p></p><p> “He used the Mark, maybe.” Doonah answered while glaring at Olriff, “It happens with young Heirs learning to use their gifts.” She lay a wet rag on Theodyl's brow and opened his mouth to sniff at his breath. “The Mark grows hot and they get sick if they use it too much. This isn't a Vadalis Heir, though. I don't know that Mark and I don't want the trouble of knowing.”</p><p></p><p> “What does that mean?” Javelin asked.</p><p></p><p> “It means that you people lied to me.” Doonah growled. “I know that veils don't always work with Dragon Marks. I remember that the House has a ring that will hide a Least Mark, but it makes an Heir with a stronger Mark sick. They can't use a Mark while wearing such a thing, it is very bad. Your Lodit had that problem, yes?”</p><p></p><p> “Lodit is dead,” Kreen told the woman, “there was an accident in Sharn, a building collapse.” Olriff shook his head, Kreen glared at him.</p><p></p><p> “Tell me everything, I don't need this kind of trouble,” the woman threatened. “I am lucky they let me work as it is! Morel be damned!”</p><p></p><p> Olriff left to go get Morel. Kreen told the old woman everything that has happened in the last three days. Talk of Blackmail made the woman hiss. The letter and the bag of jewels sounded like something out of a romance novel. The pain behind his eyes, though, was real enough. Doonah went to pat him on the shoulder but he moved away. He talked about the accident, and of the investigation immediately after. Doonah wasn't surprised that Morel was able to catch the spy. She was sorry about his methods, however. When Kreen started talking about ghosts, things started falling into place for the healer. She examined his saber and hugged him tight. Lodit did love him, she knows. </p><p></p><p> Once the story was over she asked several questions about Theodyl. His parentage came up more than once. Theodyl has a true elven father, Doonah made a point of confirming that. The fact that he could talk to ghosts seemed very important as well. Theodyl never made a fuss over the dwarven spirit. The changelings got the feeling that Theodyl was in even more trouble, than they had thought. The woman's mood did not improve either.</p><p></p><p> “Tell us what's going on, please!” Ivor begged. “Is he going to be alright, the Lightning Rail leaves in three hours.”</p><p></p><p> “Your man needs rest.” Doonah finally answered. “He might get better without the bracelet, but I won't touch it. It is strange magic.” </p><p></p><p> Patter tried to remove the item from Theodyl's ankle. He got his fingers singed for his trouble. Siff fiddled around with the bracelet until he found a keyhole behind the clasp. Ivor spent an hour picking at it. Pook couldn't figure it out either. Finally, Doonah offered to cast a spell for them. Kreen haggled over the price, but the woman would not budge. Pook offered to pay the difference. She shifted to her own natural form out of frustration. Luckily, Theodyl had plenty of gold in his purse. Doonah produced an aged scroll and made a good show out of her preparations.</p><p></p><p> “Keep away, this might be dangerous.” She said just before she began to read. </p><p></p><p> The words turned strangely as the magic took shape. The bracelet started to glow again. It's light flashed with the rhythm of Doonah's voice. Theodyl stirred, moaning as if in a dream. A loud snapping sound marked the culmination of the spell. Siff moved quickly to tuck the bracelet into a small lead lined box they found in Theodyl's pockets. The healer swooned. Kreen helped her to a seat. A strangely beautiful pattern took shape over Theodyl's heart. The lines are black, like a birthmark or a tattoo. It's outer edges are an angry red, like a welt. The changelings examined their friend all of them ended up staring at the Dragon Mark.</p><p></p><p> “It is a Lesser Mark,” Doonah sighed unhappily, “It is small, but the Mark has finer lines and a more complex pattern. The Least Marks are much simpler and the lines are thick.” </p><p></p><p> “What kind is it?” Pook asked. “He never told us about this and we've known him for a while.” The changeling sounded bitter. “He likes to keep secrets, but this is too much even for me!”</p><p></p><p> “I don't blame him. The Houses aren't very nice about Strange Marks. I would keep him covered until I am out of town, if I were you.” Doonah replied without answering the question. “I mean it, don't let anyone else see the Mark.”</p><p></p><p> “Nobody's gonna touch him!” The dwarven spirit growled literally out of thin air. Kreen jumped and drew his saber. A cool breeze swept through the room.</p><p></p><p> “Another Ghost?” Olriff stammered as he entered the room. Morel is right behind him. “I'm starting not to like this business.” </p><p></p><p> “Neither am I. Doonah, can you help him?” Morel asked. “Their train leaves soon and I want them away from here before the Heirs come to claim the body. I have a strange tale for them, we don't need another complication.”</p><p></p><p> “I can wake him, but he has to rest.” the woman frowned at the ranger, “If you help me up, I'll be getting to it.”</p><p></p><p> Doonah was true to her word. The bard woke up thirsty, and demanded something to drink. Ivor helped him out while nagging him about how much trouble he is. Pook emptied Theodyl's purse ensuring their anonymity. Morel didn't ask any questions, but he watched them all very intently. The ranger openly sniffed at the air around them. Creepy.</p><p></p><p> “You tell him, no showing off.” Doonah admonished, pointedly ignoring her groggy patient. “Bad Marks make a man sick even if they don't over use them. Above all keep it hidden!” Doonah took a firm hold of Theodyl's chin forcefully meeting his eyes. “Don't come back here.” She said. And she didn't let go until he understood.</p><p></p><p> Ivor dressed Theodyl as an old lady and filled him in on the latest details. He was too tired to make a show, but it was obvious he didn't like the news. His eyes darted nervously about the room. Ivor could tell that the normally unflappable bard was very afraid. Patter and Siff went outside to call a Coach. Javelin watched the Vadalis men with his three fingered hands within reach of his batons. </p><p></p><p> Doonah handed Pook, now Posie a satchel of herbs and dictated instructions on Theodyl's treatment for the next several days. His cover as a feeble old lady is taking a whole new dimension. He is as weak as a babe and his eyes are heavy for lack of restful sleep. They gave their thanks to Kreen and Olriff. Morel rudely ignored them. Theodyl was asleep before they climbed into the coach for the trip back. Though relieved, the changelings have a lot of questions. The bard will not be able to avoid them.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="skullsmurfer, post: 2453579, member: 17151"] [b]Troubles at Passage, Chapter 28[/b] Note: Thanks to Ragboy's Advice, our hero will now feel the cruel squeeze of the Wheels of Fate and then some. Please don't cry, near as I can tell he should survive to reproduce. I hope you enjoy this as much as I....Oh, and I would like to thank all my readers. Bye. Pook settled uncomfortably into the wheel chair. Apart from the fact that she didn't need the layers of make up that Theodyl wore to play the role of an old widow, everything else is a hassle. Paragon is in the freight car, Theodyl can't renew his illusory disguise he's too sick. Javelin is taking his place, his frame matches the old disguise with just a few adjustments. The fact that most people can't tell a war-forged from another is a blessing. “Where can we find a healer?” The old lady asked her attendants. “I don't suppose there is a House Jorasco Hospice about?” “Pardon me, Madame,” A young man approached the party. “but I can't help but overhear that you have need of a healer.” Javelin took a step forward, the young man's hand moved towards a fine looking saber at his side. “Javelin, please.” The old woman interceded. “Don't mind him, he's very loyal. My attendant is sick with a fever, he's very dear to me.” The old woman made like she was going to cry. Her attendants started to make a fuss. “Where do you think you're goin'?” A man bearing House Vadalis colors grabbed the young man by the arm. “Morel is cranky, you don' wanna push him.” “Hands off, Olriff!” The young man snapped, “Our friend from last night has taken ill. I was just trying to help.” Ivor pulled Theodyl protectively towards her. He is sleeping on a bench. He passed out just as they were leaving the station. The other changelings moved behind the two strangers. “Easy now, my name is Kreen.” The young man made introductions, “this is Olriff. Theodyl helped us out last night, we just want to return the favor.” “Ye can trust them,” the dwarven spirit's gruff voice interjected, “the elf-blood needs help soon. This be no normal fever, or my pappy's a gnome.” Kreen went a bit pale. Olriff's eyes went wild. Pook had no choice, the dwarf rarely speaks around strangers. It is Theodyl's friend and that is good enough for the changeling. The old woman allowed the young man to lead them to a less crowded location. Olriff helped to carry Theodyl. He can feel waves of heat emanating from the half-elf. “I can guess you don't want to draw attention.” Kreen spoke to the old woman, and then looked around afraid the ghost would speak again. “There is a healer named Doonah not far from here, very discrete. She's a friend, so if you have trouble following I need to know now.” “Our troubles are behind us.” Ivor blurted out, “Please, I can't wake him up, let's hurry!” “Alright then,” Kreen sighed, “we are going to need a coach.” The ride was less than comfortable. Javelin rode on the outside, hanging from a set of straps. Olriff sat with the driver. Everyone else squeezed into the cab. They traveled to a set of warehouses along the waterfront. The smell told them that they were being used as stables. A small House Vadalis sigil graced their gates. Kreen paid the driver and took the time to help the old woman out of the cab. Her attendants made sure she settled comfortably into her wheel chair. Javelin was glued to her side. Doonah turned out to be a old female half-orc with a club foot and an oddly twisted back. She was tending to a wounded Pegasus when Kreen called out to her. She limped over cursing under her breath. The young man tried to assist her, but she whacked his shins with her walking staff. Kreen cursed like a sailor, she whacked him again. “What's wrong with him?” Doonah demanded as she made straight for the unconscious half-elf. “Get him to my chambers.” Olriff dragged Theodyl into a large room with a massive operating table. Jars of herbs and reagents lined the walls. Doonah had Olriff lay the half-elf on a smaller padded table and commanded one of the changelings to strip him. As they hurried to help, she passed her hands over the hot, burning skin and sniffed at the humors rising from the body. “I smell magic,” She said, mostly to herself, “Something else, too...Does this one bear a Mark?” Her hands brushed over his chest searching for the source of his distress. “Mmmm, I feel something odd here, it is very hot.....This is Vadalis business, yes?” Kreen shifted uncomfortably. Olriff coughed. “Mistress Doonah, please do what you can. He's done us a great service, Morel will take care of you.” Olriff spoke up. The orcish woman made a face. She dug out a wand from a drawer and picked out a small pouch from one of the shelves lining the wall. Doonah eyed Kreen suspiciously before turning again to her patient. She started to drone a song in her native tongue while shaking the pouch over the half-elf. As the glittering powder from the pouch hit Theodyl's skin a snaky pattern of reds and a blacks was revealed over his heaving chest. It's a Dragon Mark. Doonah cursed. She resumed her spell, shaking the pouch over the rest of her patient's body. His belt buckle started to glow, then a ring hidden in his left pocket. A silvery bracelet on his ankle lit up like a star, Doonah nearly jumped away. “Take the rest of his clothing,” She snapped at the others, “Be careful of the magic, I don't know what it does.” Doonah sucked her teeth as the Dragon Mark faded away from his chest. She used the wand to identify the item. “The bracelet is strong magic, a veiling, I think. It is potent enough to completely hide a Dragon Mark. I don't like how it feels.” “Is he going to be alright?” the old woman demanded, her voice sounding very young. “What's wrong with him?” “He used the Mark, maybe.” Doonah answered while glaring at Olriff, “It happens with young Heirs learning to use their gifts.” She lay a wet rag on Theodyl's brow and opened his mouth to sniff at his breath. “The Mark grows hot and they get sick if they use it too much. This isn't a Vadalis Heir, though. I don't know that Mark and I don't want the trouble of knowing.” “What does that mean?” Javelin asked. “It means that you people lied to me.” Doonah growled. “I know that veils don't always work with Dragon Marks. I remember that the House has a ring that will hide a Least Mark, but it makes an Heir with a stronger Mark sick. They can't use a Mark while wearing such a thing, it is very bad. Your Lodit had that problem, yes?” “Lodit is dead,” Kreen told the woman, “there was an accident in Sharn, a building collapse.” Olriff shook his head, Kreen glared at him. “Tell me everything, I don't need this kind of trouble,” the woman threatened. “I am lucky they let me work as it is! Morel be damned!” Olriff left to go get Morel. Kreen told the old woman everything that has happened in the last three days. Talk of Blackmail made the woman hiss. The letter and the bag of jewels sounded like something out of a romance novel. The pain behind his eyes, though, was real enough. Doonah went to pat him on the shoulder but he moved away. He talked about the accident, and of the investigation immediately after. Doonah wasn't surprised that Morel was able to catch the spy. She was sorry about his methods, however. When Kreen started talking about ghosts, things started falling into place for the healer. She examined his saber and hugged him tight. Lodit did love him, she knows. Once the story was over she asked several questions about Theodyl. His parentage came up more than once. Theodyl has a true elven father, Doonah made a point of confirming that. The fact that he could talk to ghosts seemed very important as well. Theodyl never made a fuss over the dwarven spirit. The changelings got the feeling that Theodyl was in even more trouble, than they had thought. The woman's mood did not improve either. “Tell us what's going on, please!” Ivor begged. “Is he going to be alright, the Lightning Rail leaves in three hours.” “Your man needs rest.” Doonah finally answered. “He might get better without the bracelet, but I won't touch it. It is strange magic.” Patter tried to remove the item from Theodyl's ankle. He got his fingers singed for his trouble. Siff fiddled around with the bracelet until he found a keyhole behind the clasp. Ivor spent an hour picking at it. Pook couldn't figure it out either. Finally, Doonah offered to cast a spell for them. Kreen haggled over the price, but the woman would not budge. Pook offered to pay the difference. She shifted to her own natural form out of frustration. Luckily, Theodyl had plenty of gold in his purse. Doonah produced an aged scroll and made a good show out of her preparations. “Keep away, this might be dangerous.” She said just before she began to read. The words turned strangely as the magic took shape. The bracelet started to glow again. It's light flashed with the rhythm of Doonah's voice. Theodyl stirred, moaning as if in a dream. A loud snapping sound marked the culmination of the spell. Siff moved quickly to tuck the bracelet into a small lead lined box they found in Theodyl's pockets. The healer swooned. Kreen helped her to a seat. A strangely beautiful pattern took shape over Theodyl's heart. The lines are black, like a birthmark or a tattoo. It's outer edges are an angry red, like a welt. The changelings examined their friend all of them ended up staring at the Dragon Mark. “It is a Lesser Mark,” Doonah sighed unhappily, “It is small, but the Mark has finer lines and a more complex pattern. The Least Marks are much simpler and the lines are thick.” “What kind is it?” Pook asked. “He never told us about this and we've known him for a while.” The changeling sounded bitter. “He likes to keep secrets, but this is too much even for me!” “I don't blame him. The Houses aren't very nice about Strange Marks. I would keep him covered until I am out of town, if I were you.” Doonah replied without answering the question. “I mean it, don't let anyone else see the Mark.” “Nobody's gonna touch him!” The dwarven spirit growled literally out of thin air. Kreen jumped and drew his saber. A cool breeze swept through the room. “Another Ghost?” Olriff stammered as he entered the room. Morel is right behind him. “I'm starting not to like this business.” “Neither am I. Doonah, can you help him?” Morel asked. “Their train leaves soon and I want them away from here before the Heirs come to claim the body. I have a strange tale for them, we don't need another complication.” “I can wake him, but he has to rest.” the woman frowned at the ranger, “If you help me up, I'll be getting to it.” Doonah was true to her word. The bard woke up thirsty, and demanded something to drink. Ivor helped him out while nagging him about how much trouble he is. Pook emptied Theodyl's purse ensuring their anonymity. Morel didn't ask any questions, but he watched them all very intently. The ranger openly sniffed at the air around them. Creepy. “You tell him, no showing off.” Doonah admonished, pointedly ignoring her groggy patient. “Bad Marks make a man sick even if they don't over use them. Above all keep it hidden!” Doonah took a firm hold of Theodyl's chin forcefully meeting his eyes. “Don't come back here.” She said. And she didn't let go until he understood. Ivor dressed Theodyl as an old lady and filled him in on the latest details. He was too tired to make a show, but it was obvious he didn't like the news. His eyes darted nervously about the room. Ivor could tell that the normally unflappable bard was very afraid. Patter and Siff went outside to call a Coach. Javelin watched the Vadalis men with his three fingered hands within reach of his batons. Doonah handed Pook, now Posie a satchel of herbs and dictated instructions on Theodyl's treatment for the next several days. His cover as a feeble old lady is taking a whole new dimension. He is as weak as a babe and his eyes are heavy for lack of restful sleep. They gave their thanks to Kreen and Olriff. Morel rudely ignored them. Theodyl was asleep before they climbed into the coach for the trip back. Though relieved, the changelings have a lot of questions. The bard will not be able to avoid them. [/QUOTE]
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