Bound by the Silver Flame - Eberron

[Rugult]

Background

My name is Mesos. I have no last name, or at least none that I remember. In my youth I was orphaned and raised by the embracing light of a Silver Flame church in the outskirts of Thrane. As a boy I knew that it would be my great honor to fight alongside the armies of the Silver Flame during the Last War, and fight I did.

I was twenty at the battle of Cairn Hill; a ferocious battle between my homeland and the nation of Breland and their depraved goblinoid allies. It was here that we downed a flying ship, withstood the onslaught of Brelish and goblin troops, and it was at Cairn Hill where we won the day. Many died at Cairn Hill, and I was one of the lucky ones to escape the battle only wounded; a concussion given to me by the club of a brutish hobgoblin thug.

The strike of the Hobgoblin precluded my involvement in the remainder of the War, and I was assigned back to Flamekeep for more scholarly duties. The inner libraries of the keep held many secrets, and in my youth I was brash in what information I ingested, reading through books some may deem to be heretical. It was in this research I discovered the secrets of the Demons and Vessels bound to the flame.

Four years ago I discovered a simple box hidden within the annals of one unkempt library in the inner section of the city. The box was surrounded by various tomes that detailed many of the specific demons which had been trapped by the Flame. More interestingly, the books detailed an ancient order of soldiers who fought against the darkness and depravities of our world by taking the powers of those bound to the Silver Flame, demons included.

I was unsure if it was stupidity or foolishness that provoked me to attempt this ancient ritual on my own. Though I remember little of the events of my first pact, I know it was with a terrible demon named Amon, who had been trapped by the Flame for longer then I could possibly comprehend. I wished only to see the powers that could be gained from such a bargain, and in my folly the pact I first made was a great failure.

By the demon’s hands I burned the library down in a torrent of fire. When the pact was broken and my own sanity restored I was forced to explain myself to the guard. It was easy enough to convince them of an accident; a book which had been trapped from long ago. While I fooled the guards and no fault was found, I could not tear myself from the prospect of finding more about this demon and others like him.

For years I studied the tomes of Flamekeep, finding more and more about the demons and other entities bound to the Flame; beings who I could bind to myself. Of course I realized that the other priests were becoming suspicious of my studies, thus I left Flamekeep and moved to the port of Stormreach almost three years ago.

The pirate haven has many adventurers and knowledge seekers passing through, and it proved a fine place for one with my ‘talents’ to do business. By this point I had been engaged in pacts with no less then three separate beings, all of which gave me incredible feats of power or skill. From the forces I could bind, I was able to fight with the strength of a demon, endure fires that would kill most men, and even partake is simple deception and espionage. There was never a shortage of business.

In the last few months I have been hired on by a rather eccentric old gnome by the name of Fimblejick Ugmot, a professor of the Korranberg University. He has been cataloguing the most fascinating of items, something which I am more then able to assist with due to my literacy in the tongue of giants. It has also given me time to return to my own ‘personal’ studies…

 

[Rugult]

Day of Zor (5th day)
3rd Week
Barrakas (Summer)
Unbound

Stormreach. The sewers of the city go on for 50 feet below ground, lower down then some cities are tall. Giant walls scattered amongst the homes of regular sized folk. Floating pieces of ground, roped to other floating hunks, and then roped to houses or the ground. A city of wonder and a city of explorers, but today it is a city of ruffians and the uncouth.

Normally I try not to leave the confines of the large warehouse that Prof. Ugmot has procured for his research. The area surrounding the warehouse is possibly one of the worst sections of Stormreach, filled with regular gang fights, stabbings, and other assorted colorful events. Today however the Professor was insistent that we all go out together, so here I am at this shanty of a bar; the Wayward Lobster.

“You see, this is what I love. Coming out to a bar, drinking ale, we’re like adventurers.” The small Prof. Ugmot spoke from his high chair as he took another sip of the ale mug that was about a fourth his size. “It’s very exciting.”

“Right…” The large half-giant Baqir let out in his eccentric Sarlonan accent. The giant stood up and walked away from the table we sat at. The half-giant enjoyed speaking for the most part, but today he seemed more interested in the other patrons of the tavern. His departure from the table left me, the professor, his assistant Ranadalla, and the warforged Crusher.

“Ranadalla, I’m quite pleased that you hired Baqir. He’s very rustic.” The small three foot aged gnome said as he took another sip from his ale mug. His assistant, the diminutively intimidating Ranadalla only gave a deceptively shy smile in return. The others, professor included, had no idea that Ranadalla was the force that kept our meek little warehouse out of the eyes of some of the more unsavory elements of the streets.

“Professor, he…he…he’s a lightning rail.” I stuttered out, a problem I had developed since my first binding with Amon. Ever since I had bound with the demon, anytime I was not bound with a force within the flame I stuttered incessantly. It was a nuisance, but a price worth paying considering the boons I had received in kind.

“It’s really fascinating Mesos. You see, Baqir is from Sarlona, and not knowing too much about their culture, what I can say is…” The professor began one of his famed speeches before being interrupted.

“AND HIS MOTHER’S A WHORE!” The booming voice of Baqir yelled from a nearby table.

“Right…” I said softly, turning my head back to the booming half-giant to make sure he hadn’t got in any trouble. By the time I turned back, the little Ranadalla had rushed off to another table to meet with one of her unsavory underworld contacts. It’s always fun watching her conversations, since she tends to instill more fear in those around her then the rumors of Lurking Two-Maws.

“I do not understand the meaning of Baqir’s loud jokes.” The mechanical voice of our other associate, the warforged Crusher spoke. To my knowledge Crusher was a servant of some minor warforged cult who worshipped something called the Becoming God. He’s the only priest I’ve ever met of the order, and to be quite honest he isn’t very priestly, and is instead more of a beatstick. The professor hired him to sort through our various items and catalogue them; a task Crusher seems to enjoy, as much as warforged can enjoy.

“He… he… he’s getting ready for his next… next… next match.” I let out with a double stutter. Shaking my head briefly I turned again to watch the half-giant retreat down into the fighting pit of the Tavern. A slimy place covered in grease and other detritus from the crowd. Without even really noticing it, Ranadalla returned to the table with her intensely frightening smile.

The female gnome let out a gleeful comment. “He’s fighting an orc by the name of Orgos One Tusk. He belongs to a mercenary company around here.”

“ARRRRGHHHHAAAA!” The half-giant Baqir yelled out as he charged through the center of the pit at the emerging Orc. There was a brief scuffle between the two, with Baqir gaining the upper hand and quickly pinning the Orc to the greasy floor of the ring. There was some struggling between the two, but the hold remained firm.

“This is so… exciting!” Professor Ugmot let out as he took yet another swig from his ale mug.

Baqir seemed to get back on his feet, and moved the Orc with him. Then for several seconds he moved the green skinned creature around as though he were holding it by puppet strings. It was an embarrassing sight to say the least, though the rest of the crowd seemed to be eating it up.

“Ummm… err…. ummm… ummm… Ms. Ranadalla, is this going to cause p..p..problems for us?” I asked the gnome quietly as Baqir continued to dance the orc around in the arena below. The gnome only responded by placing a finger on her tiny chin for a few seconds.

“Well no. If anything it will cause a problem for the Orc.”

I nodded briefly before returning to watch the fight. In the meantime Orog had turned the tide on Baqir and had come up behind the half-giant and proceeded to get him in an arm lock of some kind. The crowd cheered for the underdog Orc as he held Baqir tightly.

“I have problems understanding if this event’s outcome is pre-determined or not.” Crusher said in his rusty voice, unsure if the match he was watching was real or not. I had seen enough of these wrestling matches to understand full well that they were quite real, and that Baqir would be bragging about the bruises and cuts for days.

The hold the two combatants were in broke and they paced the ring for some time before Orog advanced. The orc let loose with a vicious right hook to the face of the giant Baqir, who in turned let out a punch of his own. Baqir’s next attack was unexpected, and where his hand should have swung up, it instead went down into the crotch region of the orc. The gasp from the crowd and the sounds of the orc were enough to let us know the match was over.

“Ohhh… ohhh…” Orog murmured from his downed position.

“You ok buddy?” Baqir asked only to get more groans in reply. “Good.”

The half-giant hoisted the orc above his head and began to parade him around the pit, like some victory trophy. Another embarrassing sight, but it did gain the half-giant a few more thrones as the crowd pitched their money down into the ring.

“Well, that was an interesting night! Now it’s time for me to head back to the warehouse.” Professor Ugmot stated, as the group shared a look between us. We’d accompany the old gnome of course; we never let him walk the streets alone. Ever.