1: Nothing Important Happened Today, part one
The Present
The sun had begun its slow decent towards the horizon, marking the inevitable end of another day. In addition, the slow onset of evening served as a signal to those of Beregost’s population with a taste for fine spirits: the Everful Chalice Tavern was once again ready for them.
Azek’Mourn entered the tavern slowly and deliberately, as were so many of his movements. Despite the fact that his true features were masked by the magic ring his father had given him, he always felt nervous entering places like this. After all, there weren’t too many places where a drow/sun elf hybrid was given a warm welcome. Something about the ashy grey skin and the pale blonde hair, he supposed. But, that was why he had the ring. With it, he could appear like anything he wanted to. More often than not, he chose the guise of a sun elf male – but the option to look like literally anything was certainly a handy one to have, especially in his given line of work.
After having given the room a quick scan and not seeing any sign of the man he was supposed to meet, Azek decided he might as well enjoy himself while he waits. Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered himself a mug of ale, and then began scanning the room again. After maybe fifteen minutes, a familiar face walked through the door – one of the last ones Azek had expected to see at this particular junction, in fact.
Entering the tavern, Aranna Sharloe took a quick look around. At first glance, she saw no sign of her contact. However, she did spot an old friend at the bar – rather, she spotted the favorite disguise of an old friend. Excited to see her childhood friend again, she started towards the bar.
“Azek!” The disguised dark elf, which had averted his gave from the room just long enough to take a swig of his ale, was caught off-guard and swept into a bear hug. After fighting to keep his ale in his mouth and not spit it all over the bar, he turned towards his “attacker.” What he saw was a tall thin human female, probably in her mid-twenties, with her brownish-red hair tied back in a ponytail. In her green eyes he saw both warmth and friendship.
“Aranna? What are you doing here?” Azek was a little bit confused. He knew why he was here – he’d had a dream telling him to meet someone here. What about her? Could she have had the same dream?
“I’m meeting someone here. A guy in grey robes.” A quick look at the dark elf’s face, trying to read his expression. “You are too, aren’t you?” Azek nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll wait together, then.”
The two old friends ordered more ale, scanning the room once more. A few moments later, it was Aranna who broke the tension. “Hey, Azek? My father’s missing one of his favorite wands – You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”
Azek tried, but was unable to completely hide his smirk. Aranna’s father was known as the “Greyhand,” and was a wizard of some repute. When they were children, Azek wanted nothing more than to be a wizard, and would sneak into her father’s laboratory any chance he got. Some habits died hard, Azek guessed.
The tension broken, at least for the moment, the two friends began laughing and swapping stories of their adventures since they had last seen each other.
Afternoon turned fully over to evening, then evening to night. Still the dark elf and the human waited, searching for any sign of their contact. Soon after nightfall, the doors to tavern swung open again, and the two friends were greeted by even more familiar faces!
Standing in the tavern doorway was the arguably most motley trio ever to grace the town of Beregost. Most striking was the albino – a deep Immaskari standing at almost seven feet tall, he was covered in a thick grey cloak that was identical to the ones worn by War Wizards of Cormyr. At the albino’s side was a muscular giant of a man, wearing light armor and holding a mace in his hands. On a chain around his neck, he bore the symbol of the Purple Dragon Knights. Their final companion seemed normal enough at first glance, but upon closer inspection was actually the most frightening of all. Upon initial inspection, he seemed to be a grey-skinned human. If there was enough light or reflective surfaces nearby, however, you would notice that he neither cast a shadow nor a reflection. If you could tear your attention away from that fact for a time, you would see that his eyes were red. All of these things together should tell even a casual onlooker that he was indeed not human, but rather a tiefling. Adding to his imposing visage were his bald head and numerous tattoos, which would generally mark one as a Red Wizard of Thay. This man, however, wore the blue robes of Mystra.
The albino gestured towards the bar, having recognized Azek and Aranna, and the trio headed in that direction. The albino placed a hand on the dark elf’s shoulder. “Azek, is that you?”
Turning to get a better look at the face to which the hand belonged, Azek’s eyes widened in surprise. “Anciano? Is that you?” When the albino nodded, the dark elf grabbed him and began shaking it. “It’s been, what, three years?”
“Something like that.” Anciano gestured to his tiefling companion. “I trust you all remember Mourgram?”
Azek and Aranna both nodded, and greeted him as well. Aranna gestured towards the giant man at Anciano’s side. “I don’t believe we’ve met, however.”
Anciano put his arm around the man’s shoulder, which caused him to grimace. “This is Aeron, but I like to call him ‘Tiny.’ He’s kind of my bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard? I can see we’ve got some catching up to do…”
Out of the corner of his eye, Anciano saw the barkeep gesturing him over. Shrugging his shoulders, he did as the man asked and approached.
The bartender leaned in closer and whispered, “I take it you’re all here to meet the man in grey robes?” Anciano nodded lightly, sure he didn’t like where this was going. “Well, he asked me to give you a room for the night. It’s my best room. He also said to tell you to be down here at first light. That’s all he said.” The bartender handed the albino a room key, then went back to his work.
Returning to his friends, Anciano repeated what the bartender had told him. They all agreed that something was definitely suspicious, but since they’d come this far, they may as well see how it plays out. They spent the next several hours talking and catching up on everything they had done, then went to their rooms to rest and prepare for their morning meeting.
The companions met back at the tavern the next morning. To their surprise when they arrived, the barkeep was on his way out the door. “Place is all yours,” he said. “He’ll be here shortly.”
The empty tavern was eerily quiet, not at all like the loud and boisterous atmosphere it had held the night before. Warily, Mourgram, Azek, and Anciano all took seats, while “Tiny” took up a position near the doorway and Aranna went into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. She returned moments later with plates of meat and eggs for each of her friends. They ate their breakfast in silence, anxious for their contact to arrive and the meeting to start.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the air near the hearth crackled with magical energies. To Mourgram’s eyes (which had been enhanced to discern magical auras), the room was being effected by a spell of teleportation. Their contact had arrived.
The man was tall and of moderate build, his body cloaked in thick grey robes, with a grey hood covering his head. “I bid you greetings,” he said. Slowly, he pulled his hood back, revealing his face. What they saw was a young man, his fiery red-orange hair pulled back into a ponytail and his lengthy goatee tied into several braids. “My name is Charro.”
Mourgram leaned over towards Anciano and whispered into his ear. “He’s covered by a powerful illusion. That’s not how he really looks.”
The albino stepped forward, looking the newcomer in the eyes. “So, tell us what we’re here for. We all had the dream, and I assume you’re responsible for that. Did that really happen?”
Charro nodded an affirmative. “It did indeed.”
“And what about Alusair and Caladnei? Are they okay?”
“They are both grievously wounded, and are receiving the best care possible. They are not why I am here, however.”
Azek could hold his tongue no longer. “Then why are you here? Is it about the boy getting tortured?”
Charro seemed surprised by this question. “You saw that?” The companions all nodded. “I hadn’t expected that. At least you’re slightly better prepared now than I’d originally hoped.”
Mourgram again leaned in close to Anciano to whisper, “I bet he’s the next heir or something.”
Charro laughed. “Well, perhaps. We’re not entirely sure. I was hoping you could retrieve him and we could find out.”
Anciano chuckled. “What about Azoun? Isn’t anyone trying to find him?”
“Some of the most powerful people in Cormyr are doing so around the clock, and have been for the last several days – ever since the attack. Thus far, however, they have been unable to find any trace of him. The current consensus is that he is either dead, or no longer on this plane of existence. Either way, I feel it is necessary that we assume the worst and begin to plan what to do next. Thus why I ask you to find the boy.”
Mourgram frowned. “We’re going to need time to think it over. Do you have some way for us to contact you when we decide?”
“Of course.” He handed the tiefling a silver ring. “This is a ring of seeking. It will allow you to contact me when you are ready.” After handing over the ring, he began running through a series of arcane gestures and phrases – a spellcasting. The air around him began to once again crackle with magical energy, and as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.
The companions exited the tavern, then paused to consider their options.
“I don’t trust him,” said Mourgram. The others all nodded in agreement. “And I don’t like how quickly he dismissed the chances of finding Azoun. I think he’s just trying to make a power play while the infant is missing, and doesn’t want anyone to find him. That’s why I think we should do just that.”
“I can head back to the guildhouse in Baldur’s Gate and see if they’re heard anything useful there,” Azek offered.
Anciano nodded. “Tiny and I will go back to my college in Cormyr and see if they’ve been calling on any of my students for anything. Mourgram, you can head back to the temple of Mystra in Waterdeep and see what they know.”
Aranna stepped closer to Azek. “I can go with you,” she said. “Besides, I haven’t seen your family in a while.”
Their courses decided, Mourgram cast a spell to send Azek and Aranna to their destination, and then did the same for himself. Soon thereafter, Anciano and Tiny magically departed as well.
Although small compared to other guilds, the Black Hands were still more than large enough to be a highly profitable operation. Almost immediately upon Azek and Aranna’s arrival, members were attempting to administer reports to the young dark elf. He brushed them off, telling them he was only there for some information and then he was leaving again.
A tall, lanky human male with a constant five o’clock shadow and long jet-black hair, Zane was one of Chazmyr’s most trusted lieutenants. It didn’t take long for Azek and Aranna to gain an audience with him. “Azek! Good to see you again!” What can I do for you?”
“I need some information, Zane. I know there are some regular groups in and out of Cormyr, and I need to know what they’ve been reporting lately. There’s been some craziness going down up there lately, and I may be getting drug into the middle of it.”
“Most of the normal Cormyr people haven’t been getting around too much lately. That same craziness you’re talking about has totally screwed their normal patterns, so I don’t have anything to give you, man. Sorry.”
After leaving Zane’s office, Aranna looked at her dark elf friend. “Well, that was a bust. Hope the others are having better luck…”
The city of Suzail had indeed seen better days. The destruction which the drow invaders had wrought was extensive. Many wondered if the city, in fact the whole nation, would ever truly recover from the events of that day. The air crackled with magical energy, and the duo of Anciano and Tiny appeared in the center of the town square. They had stopped off at the albino’s college in New Tilverton, but practically all of his students had been called to Suzail to assist with one operation or another. So they had come here, hoping to find some answers. Anciano gave the area a quick scan, then set out towards the highest-ranking guardsman he could find.
“Excuse me, Captain?”
The captain, a muscular man of middle age, turned towards the albino. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Captain, what can you tell me about the current operations here? What is a priority and what isn’t?”
“Well, sir – the Regent and Caladnei are in the lower levels of the palace (they’re the least damaged), getting the finest care we can offer. We knights are working on picking up the debris and keeping the populace under control. And any magic-users who aren’t on the medical staff are trying to find King Azoun.”
“So we haven’t given up on finding him?”
“Of course not, sir!”
“Thank you, captain.” Anciano began walking back towards the center of town. The air in front of him crackled with magical energy once again, and Mourgram appeared before him.
“Well, the ring’s at the temple of Mystra now, so that should keep ‘Charro’ off our backs.”
“Cool. So now what?”
“I don’t know. It’s too bad we didn’t have any way to see past his illusion and find out who he… really… is…” A pause. “Damn it! I’ll be right back!”
“Huh?” But Mourgram was already gone, leaving Anciano and Tiny alone in the square again.
Returning to the temple of Mystra once again, Mourgram made a beeline directly for his chambers. He scooped up the ring Charro had given them, and began inspecting it closely. Turning it over in his hands, he made sure he covered every square inch of it. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a tiny symbol carved on the inside of the ring: the mark of the wizard who made it. More than likely, Charro himself crafted this ring and marked it with his true name. Satisfied with his findings, the tiefling headed to his library to find out which wizard the mark belonged to.
At the Black Hand guildhouse, Azek and Aranna were rapidly becoming bored. Chazmyr was out on “business,” so they couldn’t bother him. They’d had dinner with Azek’s mother, Aya, but then she had to leave for a meeting. The two friends were just about to wander out into the city and see what kind of trouble they could get into when their thoughts were interrupted – by a voice that seemed to be coming from inside their heads.
“Guys!”
“Anciano? How are you doing that?”
“Never mind right now. Can you get to a portal and get to Suzail?”
“Sure, we can do that.”
“Okay. Make it as soon as possible. More information when you get here.”
Several hours later, the five companions were once again reunited. Anciano had invited them all to stay at his college while they compared their findings, and the other agreed. None of them felt very comfortable about discussing their findings in public, and the privacy was welcome.
Mourgram held out the ring Charro had given them, making sure to point of the wizard’s mark on its inside. “You guys see this? This is the mark of the wizard who made the ring. I’m fairly sure ‘Charro’ didn’t think about that being there, and that means that it’s probably proof of who he really is. So I hit my arcane library and did some research on who that mark belongs to.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s the mark of Vanderghast – former Royal Mage to King Azoun IV.” Another pause. “I think Charro is really Vanderghast.”