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Story Hour
Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sagiro" data-source="post: 4544342" data-attributes="member: 726"><p><em><strong>Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 287</strong></em></p><p><strong><em>What Happened to Lord Dafron</em></strong></p><p></p><p>In their rooms back at the Golden Goblet (which they now enjoy gratis) there is much to say about Lord Dafron, most of it heated invective. Flicker is all for hunting him down and killing him, and this is not an unpopular sentiment. Ernie notes that the assassins were <em>trying</em> to keep them alive, probably to humiliate them later, so perhaps they should respond in kind.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t care if he’s humiliated or not,” says Morningstar. “As long as he stops interfering with us.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko looks thoughtful. “I wonder if the blue skin we gave him ended up permanent?”</p><p></p><p>Aravis gives him a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t all that experienced an alchemist way back then,” he admits.</p><p></p><p>“Let’s just kill him,” Flicker repeats. He’s still shaken by his close shave, and the image of a dagger through his heart.</p><p></p><p>“He’s a Lord,” Dranko reminds him. “If we kill <em>him</em>, their government will want to kill <em>us</em>."</p><p></p><p>“What if the other Lords hate Dafron as much as we do?” asks Kibi. “He was extremely unpleasant.”</p><p></p><p>“It won’t matter,” sighs Dranko. “If you kill one Lord, the other Lords get nervous, thinking you might do the same to them someday.”</p><p></p><p>“What if he doesn’t ‘get killed,’ Aravis muses. “What if he just ‘disappears?’ I could send him to another plane.”</p><p></p><p>The discussion takes a while to wind down, as they weigh all sorts of options, ranging from a stern talking to, to a <em>mark of justice</em>, to a painful execution. They reach no firm conclusion, though whatever they decide, the first order of business is to learn more about him and his current whereabouts. Since the day is still relatively young, they decide to send Dranko and Aravis on a scouting mission to Mirj. Posing as a pair of well-to-do servants, and loaded down with defensive spells and protective magic items, the two of them <em>teleport</em> to the city of Mirj, 150 miles northwest of Djaw. The others remain telepathically linked.</p><p></p><p>Using his natural talents of fast-talking and information-gathering, Dranko soon gains an audience with a customs official who helps keep track of the city’s imports and exports. The official, an unctuous man named Stenin, looks up from his desk.</p><p></p><p>“How may I help you?”</p><p></p><p>Dranko clears his throat. “I have been tasked by my master to find out about a gentleman he wants to do business with. There are some questions about his, um, reputation, if you know what I mean.”</p><p></p><p>“Of course, of course,” says Stenin, sensing an easy profit. “A merchant?”</p><p></p><p>“It’s a Lord,” says Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“Oh!” says Stenin, sitting up straight. “A member of the House of Law! I can help you, though sensitive information will be expensive, you know.”</p><p></p><p>“I expect as much,” says Dranko with a smile. “His name is Lord Dafron.”</p><p></p><p>Stenin scratches his chin.</p><p></p><p>“In the House of Law, you say?” he asks.</p><p></p><p>“Is he not known to you?” asks Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“Understand, I have only been in this position for the last six months, and the name is not familiar. Excuse me for a moment...”</p><p></p><p>Stenin waves over an older gentleman, busy at another desk on the opposite wall.</p><p></p><p>“Stenin, what is it now?”</p><p></p><p>“Bynum, these people wish to do business with a Lord Dafron.”</p><p></p><p>Bynum strokes his moustache, a drooping gray patch of hair that hides his mouth.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, you do, do you?” he says, quirking a smile at Dranko and Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“You are clearly amused, and I don’t understand why,” says Dranko, all innocence. “What am I missing?”</p><p></p><p>“Tell me,” says Bynum, “How did your master learn of Lord Dafron, and come to want to do business with him?”</p><p></p><p>“I am not privy to that,” says Dranko. “But if there are questionable aspects...?”</p><p></p><p>Bynum forces a straight face. “Lord Dafron... is no longer a member of the House of Law.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh dear!” exclaims Dranko. “How is that so?”</p><p></p><p>“I believe he was voted out by the other members of the House,” says Bynum.</p><p></p><p>“Has he lost all of his money?” asks Dranko, aghast.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know what has happened to him. I suspect he is no longer allowed in the Upper City. There were rumors... interesting rumors... “ Bynum trails off with a sly grin, shared with Stenin.</p><p></p><p>Dranko understands. “Would forty miracs continue this conversation?”</p><p></p><p>Dranko, Aravis and Bynum slip into a storeroom, used to temporarily house merchandise confiscated from smugglers. </p><p></p><p>“You understand, all of this is off the official government record,” says Bynum.</p><p></p><p>“Of course!” says Dranko, who would never think otherwise.</p><p></p><p>“Though there’s not much more to tell. I never saw the man, but the rumor I heard most often was that he... engaged in inappropriate activities with...um... livestock. And contracted a terrible condition. Reputation is everything in the House of Law, and the other Lords grew dissatisfied with the taint on their own reputation by association with the man. And since he also apparently suffered some hideous physical affliction as a result, his business prospects began to dry up as the stories spread... one even that he had offended the Gods, and his affliction was a curse, which is why his skin turned colors. That was about a year ago, and I don’t know what became of him after that. But you should tell your employer that he should find a new business partner... perhaps even Lord Traber, who has taken Lord Dafron’s seat in the House.</p><p></p><p>“So his mansion and belongings...” prompts Dranko. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t know what happened to his personal effects,” says Bynum. “But his mansion in the Upper City was most likely auctioned to someone else, the proceeds going to the House of Law.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko makes a show of tearing up his forged agreements. “My payment for this meeting was very well spent. You have doubtless saved our master tens of thousands of Miracs. Here...”</p><p></p><p>Dranko hands Bynum another 10 Miracs.</p><p></p><p>And with that, Dranko and Aravis depart the customs house. Ernie pipes up over the mindlink.</p><p></p><p>“Well, that explains his anger. We really ruined his life!”</p><p></p><p></p><p>* *</p><p></p><p>Dranko spends the rest of the day combing the Lower City of Mirj for more information about Lord Dafron. It’s a cold trail since the topic is a year old, but he gathers a handful of rumors, none of them proven:</p><p></p><p>- A card-shark opines that Dafron is still hiding in the Lower City, but no one has seen him since his expulsion. At night he sneaks out of doors, wearing a hood to hide his still-blue face. If he were recognized, he’d get torn apart by a mob after all of the public executions he authorized as a Lord.</p><p>- A cook’s assistant in a seedy tavern claims that Lord Dafron has long-since fled the city, and he’s planning revenge, probably in Djaw.</p><p>- A servant for an alchemists’ guild says Dafron has expensive diviners on personal retainer. No one knows why, but it proves he has kept at least some of his personal wealth.</p><p>- A butler claims that Dafron made him a very generous offer to be his personal servant, but he turned it down, not wanting to offend the Gods.</p><p>- A local sell-sword heard that Dafron hired One Strong Shield, a well-known and expensive bodyguard from Djaw.</p><p></p><p>As evening falls, Aravis and Dranko <em>teleport</em> back to the Golden Goblet. The party discusses their new pile of intelligence.</p><p></p><p>“He must have retained at least <em>some</em> wealth,” figures Aravis, “since he was able to hire highly-competent assassins.”</p><p></p><p>Kibi strokes his beard. “I had been thinking the best revenge might be to get him thrown out of the House of Law,” he says. “But I guess we’ve already done that.”</p><p></p><p>“I almost feel badly,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“He was a horrible, horrible man!” exclaims Dranko. “Don’t you remember how horrible he was?”</p><p></p><p>“And don’t you remember how he tried to have us killed?” adds Flicker. </p><p></p><p>“He’s living only for revenge,” says Dranko. “He’s hiring diviners to find us, and a bodyguard in case we find him first.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s what’s so sad,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“If we deprive him of his ability to harm us,” says Aravis, “that being his money, I don’t see any reason to kill him, too.”</p><p></p><p>“I do,” says Morningstar flatly. “All he’s ever done is harm other people. Even if it’s not us, he’ll eventually find someone else to prey on. It’s what he’s done his whole life.”</p><p></p><p>“If we kill him now, he goes to Hell,” says Dranko. “If we let him live, he could atone and go to heaven someday.”</p><p></p><p>“Just what I’m trying to say,” says Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“And in the meantime, how many people will he harm who can’t defend themselves like we can?” asks Morningstar angrily. “How many chances does he get? How many more lives do we let him ruin?”</p><p></p><p>Round and round they go, reaching no consensus. Aravis tries to <em>scry</em> him, but gets nothing; Dafron is almost certainly in the confines of a <em>private sanctum</em>. Done for the day, the Company relaxes for the remainder of the evening, but for security’s sake they don’t actually sleep in the Golden Goblet. Instead they <em>teleport</em> out into the wilderness between Djaw and Mirj, open up the Lucent Tower, hide it with <em>mirage arcana</em>, and surround the whole thing with a <em>private sanctum</em> of their own. So protected, most of the Company goes to sleep. Morningstar first goes into a trance and visits her temple back in Tal Hae – easy to do now that Posada’s Boundary is dissolved. She warns them that Drosh, Kivian God of Death, was scared enough of <em>something</em> to flee Abernia. It seems like something they should know.</p><p></p><p>Then, almost on a whim, she tries to find Lord Dafron’s dreams. Against the odds she discovers them, recognizing his unpleasant mental signature. He is dreaming, and the dream is disturbing: over and over again, someone is plunging a dagger into Dranko’s chest. After many stabs, with Dranko’s body lying in a bloody stew, Dafron leans over him with a fancy teacup in hand. “Would you like more cocoa?” he asks. Morningstar senses he’s happy.</p><p></p><p>Thinking that she should tell someone about this, and figuring she should keep her dream-visitation skills sharp, she finds Ernie’s dreams as well – pleasant, chaste dreams of Yoba. She tries to intrude, to tell Ernie that Dafron still dreams of revenge, but makes a muddle out of things. Finding Dafron was more of a strain than she realized, and she only manages to change Ernie’s dream into a nightmare in which he’s <em>stabbing Yoba.</em>. He wakes with a shriek, and this rouses everyone else from sleep.</p><p></p><p>Morningstar tells the others about Dafron’s dream, and what happened with Ernie. “He dreams of murdering Dranko, and he’s extremely happy about it.”</p><p></p><p>“He’s stabbing Dranko?” says Aravis. “Why wouldn’t he be happy?”</p><p></p><p>Dranko, sleepy, misses the context. “Wait a minute!”</p><p></p><p>Ernie is still horrified by his modified dream. “Someone check me! Am I evil?”</p><p></p><p>Aravis glances at him and gestures idly. “No, you’re not.”</p><p></p><p>“Hey!” Ernie accuses. “All you did was wave your hand.”</p><p></p><p>“Ernie, you’re not evil,” Morningstar assures him.</p><p></p><p>“Check yourself, if you’re worried,” says Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“Does that work?” asks Ernie, both alarmed and groggy.</p><p></p><p>They all go back to sleep.</p><p></p><p></p><p>* *</p><p></p><p>Aravis awakes with a clear memory of an extremely vivid dream – another communiqué from the Crosser’s Maze.</p><p></p><p><strong>>> The handout I gave to Aravis:</strong></p><p><em>You are back in the tavern again, sitting across from yourself. You have the distinct feeling that, in the Maze, much subjective time has passed since the last time you were here. Also your double’s face seems to shimmer and shift slightly, as if someone – you? – is struggling to see what he really looks like. You get the distinct impression that it’s not you. It’s someone you’ve never met, but you did meet them, once, in a strange place that’s much like where you are now. It’s very confusing. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“...found something for you,” says your double. “It’s disturbing. I won’t go back there again – too dangerous. And I don’t know what it means. Here, I’ll share it with you.”</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Your shifting double reaches forward and grasps your hand, and you are wrenched into another vision – a vision within a vision. In the inner vision, there is a place of black madness, and something is trapped there. There is an exit from that place, but it is closing rapidly, a hole that is sealing itself, and the being trapped there won’t escape in time. In its anger it reaches a hand through the hole, and the hole closes, and the hand is severed, and so detached it flies through a great void, falling, falling through the ages...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>You snap back to the tavern, sweating, shaking. Your double has been speaking again, and you only catch the last few words. There is a wistful expression on his face. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>“...miss the ocean.”</em></p><p></p><p>Aravis has a hard time explaining it to the others. He figures that the part of him that remained in the Maze is talking to someone, and that someone is providing him information.</p><p></p><p>Dranko guesses that the dream is about whatever horrible enemy the Black Circle was trying to contact in Het Branoi.</p><p></p><p>“And that hand,” says Ernie. “Maybe the hand is the source of the black goo. It landed, and got all... spattery.”</p><p></p><p>Aravis disagrees, thinking that the hand is a metaphor – but for what, he doesn’t know.</p><p></p><p></p><p>* *</p><p></p><p>Ernie casts <em>find the path</em> to ‘Lord Dafron’s sleeping chamber.’ Unsurprisingly, the direction indicated is directly toward Mirj, and they <em>teleport</em> themselves back to the nasty little city, disguised as a merchant lord and his retinue via a <em>veil</em> from Kibi.</p><p></p><p>The <em>find the path</em> is pointing up toward the Upper City. The party makes its way through the narrow, dirty streets of the Lower City, enduring the smell of sewage and filthy beggars lurking in the doorways of dilapidated buildings. Ernie’s spell takes them into a particularly squalid neighborhood of houses crushed up against the thick stone wall that separates the Upper and Lower Cities. It indicates the doorway of a grimy hovel.</p><p></p><p>Morningstar casts <em>detect thoughts</em> and gets nothing inside, so in they go, not being particularly quiet or stealthy. Ernie’s spell leads them into a tiny kitchen, and the foot of a free-standing stove. He moves some dirt aside with his foot and reveals a rope handle, which when pulled lifts a trap-door in the floor. There’s a ladder leading down into the darkness.</p><p></p><p>Morningstar detects a thought, some fifteen feet below them. A man is thinking: “Oooh, noise! Better go!” The thought cuts out, and the party hears hastily-retreating footsteps followed by the sound of a slamming door.</p><p></p><p>“I suggest we hurry,” says Aravis.</p><p></p><p>The party slides down the ladder as fast as they can, hoping to catch the person and stop them from raising an alarm. It’s dark at the bottom, so Aravis pulls out a magical torch. They’re in a small room not more than ten feet on a side, with three doors leading out of it. <em>Find the path</em> and conspicuously fresh footprints both indicate the same door, so through they go. Morningstar picks up no sign of the mind she detected, which is not surprising given that her spell wouldn’t go around corners. They go down a short hallway and reach a second door, which the spell indicates is trapped, but with a small catch beneath the knob. And this door opens into a very strange room.</p><p></p><p>It’s nice. Someone has taken an old smuggler’s storeroom and lined the floor with expensive stone tiles. There’s a freestanding claw-footed bathtub, and exquisite artwork and tapestries on the walls. Thick carpets cover up most of the dirt floor. </p><p></p><p>Another door out, and a short hallway beyond, adorned with fine paintings and more tapestries. Someone has taken great pains to convert an old smuggler’s hideout into an opulent dwelling, with limited success. </p><p></p><p>Another door, locked. <em>Find the path</em> indicates that a key is needed to open it. Flicker moves forward to ply his trade, but Aravis preempts him with a casual <em>knock</em> spell.</p><p></p><p>“You know,” says Flicker, “I’ve worked for years honing my craft, to the point where I can pick almost any lock you can imagine. And he does it with a little spell.”</p><p></p><p>“To be fair, he also trained for years,” says Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“Well, no, not really” admits Aravis. “Not for the ‘knock’ spell specifically.”</p><p></p><p>“Think of it this way, Flick,” says Ernie. “You can do it all day long. Aravis runs out of spells.”</p><p></p><p>A thin, reedy voice comes from the far side of the door.</p><p></p><p>“Hm. Come in?”</p><p></p><p>Flicker pushes the door open. Beyond is a posh living room, over twenty feet on a side. It has a fireplace, rich carpets, a writing desk with a beautiful antique chair, and a table with the leavings of a recently-eaten meal. The walls are hung with tapestries depicting bucolic outdoor scenes, and more tapestries hang on the ceiling, these combining to show a blue sky with puffy white clouds and a cheerful sun. In a way, it’s heartbreaking.</p><p></p><p>On the far side of the room, a man in a fine silk robe sits hunched in a padded chair. His skin is a mottled shade of blueish purple, and conspicuously lumpy. </p><p></p><p>Kibi drops the <em>veil</em>, and Lord Dafron’s eyes grow a bit wider. </p><p></p><p>“Ah, yes,” says the former luminary of the House of Law, his voice resigned. “Well, come in. Let’s get this over with.”</p><p></p><p>“Didn’t your diviners tell you we were coming?” asks Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“No,” says Dafron sadly.</p><p></p><p>“You don’t pay them enough,” says Dranko.</p><p></p><p>“But I guessed you would find me, sooner or later.”</p><p></p><p>“You also don’t pay your assassins enough,” adds Ernie.</p><p></p><p>“Apparently not.”</p><p></p><p>Aravis sees that there is a door right next to Dafron’s chair, a door to which Dafron cannot help but glance every few seconds. There is no bodyguard in sight; the room is empty save for the pitiful blue man. Aravis strides quickly into the room and casts <em>arcane lock</em> on the door.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t worry about what’s in there,” he assures Lord Dafron. “It won’t bother us.”</p><p></p><p>“I guess it won’t,” says Dafron, his shoulders slumping further.</p><p></p><p>Dranko looks around the room through his magical eye patch, expecting to see someone invisible, but there’s no one. But Morningstar recasts <em>detect thoughts</em>, just to be sure.</p><p></p><p>As she does so, Dafron straightens up and declares: “I guess you have me <em>dead to rights</em>!”</p><p></p><p>And on that signal, the waiting assassins drop down from their hidden niches above the tapestries on the ceiling, and attack.</p><p></p><p>...to be continued...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sagiro, post: 4544342, member: 726"] [I][b]Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 287[/b][/I] [b][I]What Happened to Lord Dafron[/I][/b] In their rooms back at the Golden Goblet (which they now enjoy gratis) there is much to say about Lord Dafron, most of it heated invective. Flicker is all for hunting him down and killing him, and this is not an unpopular sentiment. Ernie notes that the assassins were [i]trying[/i] to keep them alive, probably to humiliate them later, so perhaps they should respond in kind. “I don’t care if he’s humiliated or not,” says Morningstar. “As long as he stops interfering with us.” Dranko looks thoughtful. “I wonder if the blue skin we gave him ended up permanent?” Aravis gives him a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t all that experienced an alchemist way back then,” he admits. “Let’s just kill him,” Flicker repeats. He’s still shaken by his close shave, and the image of a dagger through his heart. “He’s a Lord,” Dranko reminds him. “If we kill [i]him[/i], their government will want to kill [i]us[/i]." “What if the other Lords hate Dafron as much as we do?” asks Kibi. “He was extremely unpleasant.” “It won’t matter,” sighs Dranko. “If you kill one Lord, the other Lords get nervous, thinking you might do the same to them someday.” “What if he doesn’t ‘get killed,’ Aravis muses. “What if he just ‘disappears?’ I could send him to another plane.” The discussion takes a while to wind down, as they weigh all sorts of options, ranging from a stern talking to, to a [i]mark of justice[/i], to a painful execution. They reach no firm conclusion, though whatever they decide, the first order of business is to learn more about him and his current whereabouts. Since the day is still relatively young, they decide to send Dranko and Aravis on a scouting mission to Mirj. Posing as a pair of well-to-do servants, and loaded down with defensive spells and protective magic items, the two of them [i]teleport[/i] to the city of Mirj, 150 miles northwest of Djaw. The others remain telepathically linked. Using his natural talents of fast-talking and information-gathering, Dranko soon gains an audience with a customs official who helps keep track of the city’s imports and exports. The official, an unctuous man named Stenin, looks up from his desk. “How may I help you?” Dranko clears his throat. “I have been tasked by my master to find out about a gentleman he wants to do business with. There are some questions about his, um, reputation, if you know what I mean.” “Of course, of course,” says Stenin, sensing an easy profit. “A merchant?” “It’s a Lord,” says Dranko. “Oh!” says Stenin, sitting up straight. “A member of the House of Law! I can help you, though sensitive information will be expensive, you know.” “I expect as much,” says Dranko with a smile. “His name is Lord Dafron.” Stenin scratches his chin. “In the House of Law, you say?” he asks. “Is he not known to you?” asks Dranko. “Understand, I have only been in this position for the last six months, and the name is not familiar. Excuse me for a moment...” Stenin waves over an older gentleman, busy at another desk on the opposite wall. “Stenin, what is it now?” “Bynum, these people wish to do business with a Lord Dafron.” Bynum strokes his moustache, a drooping gray patch of hair that hides his mouth. “Oh, you do, do you?” he says, quirking a smile at Dranko and Aravis. “You are clearly amused, and I don’t understand why,” says Dranko, all innocence. “What am I missing?” “Tell me,” says Bynum, “How did your master learn of Lord Dafron, and come to want to do business with him?” “I am not privy to that,” says Dranko. “But if there are questionable aspects...?” Bynum forces a straight face. “Lord Dafron... is no longer a member of the House of Law.” “Oh dear!” exclaims Dranko. “How is that so?” “I believe he was voted out by the other members of the House,” says Bynum. “Has he lost all of his money?” asks Dranko, aghast. “I don’t know what has happened to him. I suspect he is no longer allowed in the Upper City. There were rumors... interesting rumors... “ Bynum trails off with a sly grin, shared with Stenin. Dranko understands. “Would forty miracs continue this conversation?” Dranko, Aravis and Bynum slip into a storeroom, used to temporarily house merchandise confiscated from smugglers. “You understand, all of this is off the official government record,” says Bynum. “Of course!” says Dranko, who would never think otherwise. “Though there’s not much more to tell. I never saw the man, but the rumor I heard most often was that he... engaged in inappropriate activities with...um... livestock. And contracted a terrible condition. Reputation is everything in the House of Law, and the other Lords grew dissatisfied with the taint on their own reputation by association with the man. And since he also apparently suffered some hideous physical affliction as a result, his business prospects began to dry up as the stories spread... one even that he had offended the Gods, and his affliction was a curse, which is why his skin turned colors. That was about a year ago, and I don’t know what became of him after that. But you should tell your employer that he should find a new business partner... perhaps even Lord Traber, who has taken Lord Dafron’s seat in the House. “So his mansion and belongings...” prompts Dranko. “I don’t know what happened to his personal effects,” says Bynum. “But his mansion in the Upper City was most likely auctioned to someone else, the proceeds going to the House of Law.” Dranko makes a show of tearing up his forged agreements. “My payment for this meeting was very well spent. You have doubtless saved our master tens of thousands of Miracs. Here...” Dranko hands Bynum another 10 Miracs. And with that, Dranko and Aravis depart the customs house. Ernie pipes up over the mindlink. “Well, that explains his anger. We really ruined his life!” * * Dranko spends the rest of the day combing the Lower City of Mirj for more information about Lord Dafron. It’s a cold trail since the topic is a year old, but he gathers a handful of rumors, none of them proven: - A card-shark opines that Dafron is still hiding in the Lower City, but no one has seen him since his expulsion. At night he sneaks out of doors, wearing a hood to hide his still-blue face. If he were recognized, he’d get torn apart by a mob after all of the public executions he authorized as a Lord. - A cook’s assistant in a seedy tavern claims that Lord Dafron has long-since fled the city, and he’s planning revenge, probably in Djaw. - A servant for an alchemists’ guild says Dafron has expensive diviners on personal retainer. No one knows why, but it proves he has kept at least some of his personal wealth. - A butler claims that Dafron made him a very generous offer to be his personal servant, but he turned it down, not wanting to offend the Gods. - A local sell-sword heard that Dafron hired One Strong Shield, a well-known and expensive bodyguard from Djaw. As evening falls, Aravis and Dranko [i]teleport[/i] back to the Golden Goblet. The party discusses their new pile of intelligence. “He must have retained at least [i]some[/i] wealth,” figures Aravis, “since he was able to hire highly-competent assassins.” Kibi strokes his beard. “I had been thinking the best revenge might be to get him thrown out of the House of Law,” he says. “But I guess we’ve already done that.” “I almost feel badly,” says Ernie. “He was a horrible, horrible man!” exclaims Dranko. “Don’t you remember how horrible he was?” “And don’t you remember how he tried to have us killed?” adds Flicker. “He’s living only for revenge,” says Dranko. “He’s hiring diviners to find us, and a bodyguard in case we find him first.” “That’s what’s so sad,” says Ernie. “If we deprive him of his ability to harm us,” says Aravis, “that being his money, I don’t see any reason to kill him, too.” “I do,” says Morningstar flatly. “All he’s ever done is harm other people. Even if it’s not us, he’ll eventually find someone else to prey on. It’s what he’s done his whole life.” “If we kill him now, he goes to Hell,” says Dranko. “If we let him live, he could atone and go to heaven someday.” “Just what I’m trying to say,” says Ernie. “And in the meantime, how many people will he harm who can’t defend themselves like we can?” asks Morningstar angrily. “How many chances does he get? How many more lives do we let him ruin?” Round and round they go, reaching no consensus. Aravis tries to [i]scry[/i] him, but gets nothing; Dafron is almost certainly in the confines of a [i]private sanctum[/i]. Done for the day, the Company relaxes for the remainder of the evening, but for security’s sake they don’t actually sleep in the Golden Goblet. Instead they [i]teleport[/i] out into the wilderness between Djaw and Mirj, open up the Lucent Tower, hide it with [i]mirage arcana[/i], and surround the whole thing with a [i]private sanctum[/i] of their own. So protected, most of the Company goes to sleep. Morningstar first goes into a trance and visits her temple back in Tal Hae – easy to do now that Posada’s Boundary is dissolved. She warns them that Drosh, Kivian God of Death, was scared enough of [i]something[/i] to flee Abernia. It seems like something they should know. Then, almost on a whim, she tries to find Lord Dafron’s dreams. Against the odds she discovers them, recognizing his unpleasant mental signature. He is dreaming, and the dream is disturbing: over and over again, someone is plunging a dagger into Dranko’s chest. After many stabs, with Dranko’s body lying in a bloody stew, Dafron leans over him with a fancy teacup in hand. “Would you like more cocoa?” he asks. Morningstar senses he’s happy. Thinking that she should tell someone about this, and figuring she should keep her dream-visitation skills sharp, she finds Ernie’s dreams as well – pleasant, chaste dreams of Yoba. She tries to intrude, to tell Ernie that Dafron still dreams of revenge, but makes a muddle out of things. Finding Dafron was more of a strain than she realized, and she only manages to change Ernie’s dream into a nightmare in which he’s [i]stabbing Yoba.[/i]. He wakes with a shriek, and this rouses everyone else from sleep. Morningstar tells the others about Dafron’s dream, and what happened with Ernie. “He dreams of murdering Dranko, and he’s extremely happy about it.” “He’s stabbing Dranko?” says Aravis. “Why wouldn’t he be happy?” Dranko, sleepy, misses the context. “Wait a minute!” Ernie is still horrified by his modified dream. “Someone check me! Am I evil?” Aravis glances at him and gestures idly. “No, you’re not.” “Hey!” Ernie accuses. “All you did was wave your hand.” “Ernie, you’re not evil,” Morningstar assures him. “Check yourself, if you’re worried,” says Dranko. “Does that work?” asks Ernie, both alarmed and groggy. They all go back to sleep. * * Aravis awakes with a clear memory of an extremely vivid dream – another communiqué from the Crosser’s Maze. [b]>> The handout I gave to Aravis:[/b] [i]You are back in the tavern again, sitting across from yourself. You have the distinct feeling that, in the Maze, much subjective time has passed since the last time you were here. Also your double’s face seems to shimmer and shift slightly, as if someone – you? – is struggling to see what he really looks like. You get the distinct impression that it’s not you. It’s someone you’ve never met, but you did meet them, once, in a strange place that’s much like where you are now. It’s very confusing. “...found something for you,” says your double. “It’s disturbing. I won’t go back there again – too dangerous. And I don’t know what it means. Here, I’ll share it with you.” Your shifting double reaches forward and grasps your hand, and you are wrenched into another vision – a vision within a vision. In the inner vision, there is a place of black madness, and something is trapped there. There is an exit from that place, but it is closing rapidly, a hole that is sealing itself, and the being trapped there won’t escape in time. In its anger it reaches a hand through the hole, and the hole closes, and the hand is severed, and so detached it flies through a great void, falling, falling through the ages... You snap back to the tavern, sweating, shaking. Your double has been speaking again, and you only catch the last few words. There is a wistful expression on his face. “...miss the ocean.”[/i] Aravis has a hard time explaining it to the others. He figures that the part of him that remained in the Maze is talking to someone, and that someone is providing him information. Dranko guesses that the dream is about whatever horrible enemy the Black Circle was trying to contact in Het Branoi. “And that hand,” says Ernie. “Maybe the hand is the source of the black goo. It landed, and got all... spattery.” Aravis disagrees, thinking that the hand is a metaphor – but for what, he doesn’t know. * * Ernie casts [i]find the path[/i] to ‘Lord Dafron’s sleeping chamber.’ Unsurprisingly, the direction indicated is directly toward Mirj, and they [i]teleport[/i] themselves back to the nasty little city, disguised as a merchant lord and his retinue via a [i]veil[/i] from Kibi. The [i]find the path[/i] is pointing up toward the Upper City. The party makes its way through the narrow, dirty streets of the Lower City, enduring the smell of sewage and filthy beggars lurking in the doorways of dilapidated buildings. Ernie’s spell takes them into a particularly squalid neighborhood of houses crushed up against the thick stone wall that separates the Upper and Lower Cities. It indicates the doorway of a grimy hovel. Morningstar casts [i]detect thoughts[/i] and gets nothing inside, so in they go, not being particularly quiet or stealthy. Ernie’s spell leads them into a tiny kitchen, and the foot of a free-standing stove. He moves some dirt aside with his foot and reveals a rope handle, which when pulled lifts a trap-door in the floor. There’s a ladder leading down into the darkness. Morningstar detects a thought, some fifteen feet below them. A man is thinking: “Oooh, noise! Better go!” The thought cuts out, and the party hears hastily-retreating footsteps followed by the sound of a slamming door. “I suggest we hurry,” says Aravis. The party slides down the ladder as fast as they can, hoping to catch the person and stop them from raising an alarm. It’s dark at the bottom, so Aravis pulls out a magical torch. They’re in a small room not more than ten feet on a side, with three doors leading out of it. [i]Find the path[/i] and conspicuously fresh footprints both indicate the same door, so through they go. Morningstar picks up no sign of the mind she detected, which is not surprising given that her spell wouldn’t go around corners. They go down a short hallway and reach a second door, which the spell indicates is trapped, but with a small catch beneath the knob. And this door opens into a very strange room. It’s nice. Someone has taken an old smuggler’s storeroom and lined the floor with expensive stone tiles. There’s a freestanding claw-footed bathtub, and exquisite artwork and tapestries on the walls. Thick carpets cover up most of the dirt floor. Another door out, and a short hallway beyond, adorned with fine paintings and more tapestries. Someone has taken great pains to convert an old smuggler’s hideout into an opulent dwelling, with limited success. Another door, locked. [i]Find the path[/i] indicates that a key is needed to open it. Flicker moves forward to ply his trade, but Aravis preempts him with a casual [i]knock[/i] spell. “You know,” says Flicker, “I’ve worked for years honing my craft, to the point where I can pick almost any lock you can imagine. And he does it with a little spell.” “To be fair, he also trained for years,” says Grey Wolf. “Well, no, not really” admits Aravis. “Not for the ‘knock’ spell specifically.” “Think of it this way, Flick,” says Ernie. “You can do it all day long. Aravis runs out of spells.” A thin, reedy voice comes from the far side of the door. “Hm. Come in?” Flicker pushes the door open. Beyond is a posh living room, over twenty feet on a side. It has a fireplace, rich carpets, a writing desk with a beautiful antique chair, and a table with the leavings of a recently-eaten meal. The walls are hung with tapestries depicting bucolic outdoor scenes, and more tapestries hang on the ceiling, these combining to show a blue sky with puffy white clouds and a cheerful sun. In a way, it’s heartbreaking. On the far side of the room, a man in a fine silk robe sits hunched in a padded chair. His skin is a mottled shade of blueish purple, and conspicuously lumpy. Kibi drops the [i]veil[/i], and Lord Dafron’s eyes grow a bit wider. “Ah, yes,” says the former luminary of the House of Law, his voice resigned. “Well, come in. Let’s get this over with.” “Didn’t your diviners tell you we were coming?” asks Aravis. “No,” says Dafron sadly. “You don’t pay them enough,” says Dranko. “But I guessed you would find me, sooner or later.” “You also don’t pay your assassins enough,” adds Ernie. “Apparently not.” Aravis sees that there is a door right next to Dafron’s chair, a door to which Dafron cannot help but glance every few seconds. There is no bodyguard in sight; the room is empty save for the pitiful blue man. Aravis strides quickly into the room and casts [i]arcane lock[/i] on the door. “Don’t worry about what’s in there,” he assures Lord Dafron. “It won’t bother us.” “I guess it won’t,” says Dafron, his shoulders slumping further. Dranko looks around the room through his magical eye patch, expecting to see someone invisible, but there’s no one. But Morningstar recasts [i]detect thoughts[/i], just to be sure. As she does so, Dafron straightens up and declares: “I guess you have me [i]dead to rights[/i]!” And on that signal, the waiting assassins drop down from their hidden niches above the tapestries on the ceiling, and attack. ...to be continued... [/QUOTE]
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Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
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