Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
Thank you for the update. I sometimes forget that it is a D&D game that happened, and that it is not an original work of writing. You do put a good story to it.
GW
GW
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Shemmy's Planescape Storyhour #2 (Updated x3 10-17-07)
- Thread starter Shemeska
- Start date
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
Clueless. Don't take it the wrong way. I like the characters you players put together. it's hard to tell sometimes how much of the writing is actually what was said/happened, and what the writer put in to put words to a roll, or a suggestion that "My character does x."
Cheers to the players here too, they make for good protagonists in the story.
GW
Feel the love.
Cheers to the players here too, they make for good protagonists in the story.
GW
Feel the love.
Clueless
Webmonkey
Naw, no reason to think I'm upset - I just find it funny sometimes. That and I want my own fanclub.
As for how much of the characterization is writer's lisence vs. at the table... You'd be honestly surprised I think. There's a sizable number of quotes that get recorded for later use in the write-up at our table. I type at a speed politely called "frightening" and take the notes for the group generally. We have a few others that will take notes when they're in the mood for it too so this game is very well documented. All the combats are recorded round by round for each action at this point, banter gets scribbled down including insults and high points of character development if i can keep up with typing it while I say it.
And for anything that occurs over AIM as much as possible is word for word. For example, the intro for Clueless was word for word to the AIM transcript in terms of dialogue, as was the Clueless and Nisha go to the Grey Waste to save an elf sidetrip. I'm sure there were others, but to be honest since i wasn't in attendance for those I wouldn't be able to tell the difference either.
Shemmy does a wonderful job of making sure that all of this flows into a seamless whole where you can't tell the difference.
As for how much of the characterization is writer's lisence vs. at the table... You'd be honestly surprised I think. There's a sizable number of quotes that get recorded for later use in the write-up at our table. I type at a speed politely called "frightening" and take the notes for the group generally. We have a few others that will take notes when they're in the mood for it too so this game is very well documented. All the combats are recorded round by round for each action at this point, banter gets scribbled down including insults and high points of character development if i can keep up with typing it while I say it.
And for anything that occurs over AIM as much as possible is word for word. For example, the intro for Clueless was word for word to the AIM transcript in terms of dialogue, as was the Clueless and Nisha go to the Grey Waste to save an elf sidetrip. I'm sure there were others, but to be honest since i wasn't in attendance for those I wouldn't be able to tell the difference either.
Shemmy does a wonderful job of making sure that all of this flows into a seamless whole where you can't tell the difference.
Shemeska
Adventurer
Clueless said:Naw, no reason to think I'm upset - I just find it funny sometimes. That and I want my own fanclub.
That's what I'm here for
*wearing a Clueless fanclub president button*And yeah, for Storyhour #2 the notes taken at the table are much more extensive than for storyhour #1, and so there's much less literary license taken by me in putting words into PCs' mouths. I'm going off of Clueless' notes for Storyhour #2 combined with my own original notes and anything I scribbled down on them at the games themselves.
Shemeska
Adventurer
shilsen said:Curiouser and curiouser
Welcome
Would have been posted a day earlier, but I kinda went off last night on this. The update I posted is something like 20 pages long, but I figure it's needed since this storyhour hasn't been updated in a while due to life being too busy.
Expect an update to #1 on friday or so.
Corrected!
PhoenixDarkDirk
First Post
I like where this is going.
On another subject: spiders are arachnids, not insects.
On another subject: spiders are arachnids, not insects.
Shemeska
Adventurer
They glanced at the raven, wondering just who was staring back at them through it, and just how powerful of a spellcaster they were. A necromancer in all likelihood, given what they had found earlier to the west with the slaughtered band of goblinoids who had simply appeared to have gotten up and walked away. Indeed they had just gotten up and walked away, but not alive, and not under their own volition.
“No, it would not be wise for us to be enemies.” Phaedra said cautiously, scanning the area for any suggestion of where the mage might be.
Velkyn walked up next to her and took down the hood of his robe, revealing his face and letting his silvery hair hang loose. Certain people, elves in general, and oftentimes people from the prime too, they just had an instinctual wariness and fear to drow. Of course, even though Velk wasn’t a full-blooded drow, he looked close enough to pass for one, and perhaps it might be relevant depending on whom they were dealing with.
“Suffice to say, we came here to the Barrow looking for something specific.” Velkyn said. “Otherwise, we’re not picky and there’s no reason to feel territorial about the mounds. This all depends on what you’re here of course, but I don’t see any need to be confrontational.”
Velkyn and Phaedra both waited for the raven’s reply from its master, but sadly deliberation was for naught as Marcus turned around and called out, “Alright! Who are you?”
There was a pause as Phaedra growled mildly and Victor gave a nonverbal wince at his brother’s forthrightness at perhaps the worst possible time. Sometimes being of noble blood, and being used to the social benefits and responsibilities of such, didn’t carry over well into all situations, such as the present.
“Very well.” The raven said. “We can speak a bit more openly then I suppose.”
With that statement there was a shimmer of magic, vaguely in the outline of a door, and a pair of blue-tinged forms appeared on opposite sides of the group. Tall, standing several feet higher than a normal human, hefting picks and shovels, muscle-bound and dressed in bloody tatters of armor and clothing, neither of them was breathing, or appeared to have drawn a breath in at least a few days, and their eyes were clouded over in death. Two ogres, both of them stood upright and shambled unquestioningly only by virtue of necromantic magic, they had apparently been recruited by happenstance at the massacre several miles away.
“Well, we know that the dead did just get up and walk off.” Velkyn whispered.
“Cheap labor.” Inva said over her sending stone from wherever she stood, unseen by all indications.
A moment later and there was another flicker of magic as a bald, robed figure appeared standing a few feet away: a projected image.
“And just who might you be?” The illusion of the man asked in the same dialect of heavily accented draconic.
The man, obviously a wizard, was dressed in a fine red robe, and his head was shaved entirely bald, covered in an elaborate series of ritualistic tattoos. He inclined his tattooed head towards his guests as a trio of other, younger, wizards dressed in red stepped out from thin air a few feet behind him. The younger wizards were all bald like him, but their heads were tattooed with distinctly less elaborate patterns. Apprentices?
For a moment it seemed as if other guards, servants, or random members of his retinue might soon have joined him, but he made an idle gesture to the side as if telling or instructing them to hold back. Or, perhaps it was simply a gesture to suggest that if push came to shove, he had more resources than seemed apparent. In fact it might have all been a pretentious show of force, or implied force.
“We’re not from around here suffice to say.” Phaedra said. The wizard’s apprentices were staring at her features, trying in vain to figure out what the hell she was.
“I could gather that.” The wizard said. “A drow? Or half drow? An elf, a few humans, and… I’m afraid I’m uncertain as to what you might be.”
The wizard was looking at Phaedra.
“My first guess might be a Selunite werewolf.” He said. “But my apologies if I’m wrong.”
“Close enough I suppose.” Phaedra replied. No need to correct the man.
“And you are?” Marcus asked again, stepping forward.
“Ah.” He replied with a bow and gesture of his hand towards his fellows. “My name is Myras Odesseron, Red Wizard of Thay, Circle Leader within the School of Necromancy.”
“As if the robes and tattoos didn’t give that away already…” Velkyn muttered under his breath.
Phaedra looked over at him as he whispered to himself. Like Velk, she too was aware of just what a Red Wizard was, their collective reputation, and what they were capable of. She wasn’t happy, though to be certain, her opinion was probably colored by that of her ‘uncle’ Tristol. The pair of them quickly swallowed their feelings though and just returned a polite smile.
Inva had a more ambivalent opinion of the Thayan, but she was keenly aware of the focus of his magic and just how powerful his necromantic spells were liable to be. But she was still hidden, and as such didn’t make her thoughts on the matter known.
Odesseron smiled with pride and received six blank stares in return. None of them seemed to have any clue where Thay was, what a Red Wizard was, or what that implied about Myras. The only one of them who understood any of that and was openly showing her reaction was Inva, and the tiefling only rolled her eyes from where she stood unseen a dozen feet or so from the Thayan’s apprentices. Velkyn and Phaedra did their best to keep their expressions as blank as the others.
He waited a few more moments in the hope of seeing some sort of recognition and subsequent awe. He received none of that though, much the dissatisfaction of his ego.
“Myself and my apprentices have been here for several days.” Odesseron stated. “We watched you approach and camp the other night. I take it that you came here for reasons similar to myself?”
“What did you come here looking for?” Victor asked a bit too forward in tone.
“We’re here at the request of our employers.” Velkyn said.
“What did I come here looking for?” Odesseron replied with a shrug. “The same thing that every fool in the past thousand years has I suppose: the wealth of the inhabitants of the tombs buried within the barrows.”
“We’re only interested in a single item actually.” Phaedra said.
“Then perhaps we don’t need to be at odds then.” The Red Wizard said with a conciliatory nod. “What might you be looking for?”
They all glanced at one another for a moment before replying.
“Something called the Codex of Long Shadows and Last Breaths.” Velkyn said.
Odesseron wrinkled his brow at the mention of the item. The name was obviously not something that he had heard before.
“I’m not familiar with something by that name.” He said. “What does it look like?”
Phaedra chuckled. “Good question.”
“We don’t entirely know.” Victor said. “According to our employers though it might be a book or similar object, possibly a mimir, buried in the tomb of one of the more important persons buried here.”
Odesseron nodded. He didn’t seem to know what a mimir was.
“And just who might you be working for?” He asked.
“They’re not from around here.” Velkyn said.
“So you mentioned regarding yourselves.” Odesseron replied. “But that doesn’t tell me much. Cormyr? Vassa? Waterdeep? For all I know you’re from Zakhara.”
“They’d prefer that we be discrete about mentioning them.” Phaedra said. “Besides, they’re not from Toril.”
That got a response from the wizard, a bit of a surprised stare, though one that he quickly covered back up with a cautious smile.
“Regardless, if you’re only looking for one thing, then I think that you and your employers won’t mind that I’m here for my own gain in most anything of interest otherwise that I find.” Odesseron said. “You’re welcome to the one thing that you’re looking for, and I’m even open to helping you find it.”
“Do tell.” Marcus said.
“I suppose that you know about the history of the Great Barrow and who actually happens to have been buried here.” He asked. “After all, you’re after something specific.”
“We are.” Marcus replied.
“Nergal and his followers.” Odesseron said. “But I’m not familiar with the item you’re hunting down. I am however interested in any magical grave goods buried with him and his priests, to say nothing of material wealth buried alongside them.”
The Thayan seemed more than a bit knowledgeable about the site, certainly more than most of the locals appeared to be aware of. As a necromancer, he might have gained his information direct from the restless spirits of the tomb, but perhaps from more mundane research elsewhere. It was hard to tell and irrelevant nonetheless.
“I suppose we should discuss a split of anything we jointly find then.” Marcus said. “Why don’t we divide up the mound complex and go about our own way in digging, but agree to share information along the way?”
Odesseron mused for a moment. “I’m not averse to such at all, but I’m quite happy where I am, and you’re camped out on the other side of the central barrow. How about you take that half of the complex with your camp, the old Impilturan lord’s manor and its mound, and the mounds west of a line down the center of the central mound? I’m more interested in this side.”
He didn’t elaborate any further.
“And if we find anything?” Victor asked.
“How about we split up everything we find?” Marcus said, pole vaulting over any idea of deliberation amongst his fellows, and handling discussions unilaterally by himself.
“Excuse me?” Velkyn said.
Marcus continued nonetheless.
“Though if you find the Codex,” He said, “We of course get to keep it since that’s the only item that we’re looking for. We’ll compensate you for that with an increased share of course. A 70/30 split in your favor I think?”
“Marcus?” Phaedra stammered. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I can accept that without hesitation.” Odesseron said quickly.
Victor mentally winced and looked away from his brother.
…?! Phaedra telepathically tapped the elf’s mind, more an emotion than any words.
He didn’t reply, but just gave an embarrassed, guilty shrug. He’d catch heat over his brother’s actions sooner or later. The man just hadn’t gotten used to the idea that he was no longer in his own land, not at court, and not commanding men loyal to him by birthright.
“Who said anything about an agreement here?” Phaedra said, quickly walking towards Marcus.
“The hell if he’s speaking for me.”
The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and both Odesseron and his apprentices glanced around to look for its source.
“If you’re giving orders without asking me about them first we’ve got a problem.” Inva said as she stepped out of thin air a few feet behind the Thayan’s apprentices.
“I don’t believe I ever said anything, or any of us for that matter, about any one of us giving any kind of orders.” The tiefling continued with a seriously unhappy tone of voice.
“I’m getting us a guarantee of walking out of here with the Codex.” Marcus said bluntly.
Velkyn winced. Now was –NOT- the time to have an intra party dispute directly in front of a potential enemy.
“Guarantee nothing!” Inva spat. “I never gave you authority to speak on my behalf without involving me! If you’re going to pull that, I don’t see any reason to be here in the first place because obviously you’re not going to take my opinion into account.”
Odesseron blinked in surprise at the tiefling’s sudden appearance, even though he wasn’t physically present out there a few feet from her, but was rather just projecting an illusion. He hadn’t had a clue that she had been there, and Inva’s arrival was both out of anger at Marcus presuming to speak for her, and her intention to show the Thayan that yes, she was there, and to wipe that smug attitude off of his face. If he’d presumed to have an upper hand, should they ever come to conflict, that was just a little tap to show him that he didn’t necessarily have it.
The necromancer coughed, clearing his throat, as his eyes followed the tiefling. She’d been unexpected to show up like that, though he’d seen her the other day nosing around the rubble of the old manor house on one of the westernmost barrows. He’d been displeased to see anyone else poking around the mounds, but hopefully they’d be dead or gone without him having to lift so much as a finger, a presumption that wasn’t entirely without base, given the past history of the site.
But still, if he managed to gain additional information about the various mounds and who was entombed within from them, without having to risk his own neck, or those of his apprentices, that was fine, better than fine. Hells, if they were only interested in one specific trinket, leaving the rest of the grave goods to him, well he could hardly contest that.
In the meanwhile he just watched as they fell apart in front of him.
“Well you weren’t exactly being very talkative were you?” Marcus said, tossing his hands up in the air.
“Yeah, fine, see how well you do if I up and quit.” Inva shot back.
“We hadn’t even discussed this and you went off shouting out numbers and making agreements.” Phaedra added with a snarl.
She glared at him as she continued her rant telepathically, venting to Velkyn.
Velk, if Inva goes, I’m gone. I’m getting tired of Marcus quite frankly, and we just got shafted out of a major portion of anything we happen to find just because of his mouth.
“Woah woah woah!” Velkyn shouted. “Hold it!”
This was going all to hell, and if Inva and Phaedra pulled out now, he was likely to follow.
“In any event, regardless, I do believe that we had a deal.” The wizard said with a clap of his hands. “And it is getting late, so do be wary this evening. The spirits atop some of the mounds are more aware of things than others, and as I noticed two days ago when I searched the location, especially the mound with the ruined keep.”
Inva was still sneering at Marcus periodically and the blade on the tip of her tail was pointed directly at him regardless of where she stood, turning to follow him like a compass needle.
Once again, Victor sighed and avoided looking at the other members of the party, he’d have to have a talk with them, especially since they were down a considerable amount of money because of his brother now. A moment later though he shrugged it off and turned back to the Red Wizard and the mention of the spirits on the mounds.
“We’ve noticed already, but for the most part they just seem to be going through a replay of their own deaths.” Victor said.
“Thank you for the warning.” Phaedra added, slowly calming down, though it was debatable if the wizard’s warning was indeed genuine or just a display of perceived knowledge.
“Well then, I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.” Myras said with a nod, clearly having felt that he’d left the bargaining table with more than he should have been able to get.
The Thayan had a pleasant, but arguably smug smile upon his face as he gestured his undead servants to continue their work. And indeed, with their agreements in place, there was little else to say, but before both sides went back to their partitioned sides and whatever they wished to do, there was one last thing that needed to be done.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow I suppose.” Inva said, brusquely walking past Marcus and tugging at Phaedra’s sleeve to follow her. She wanted to have something to listen to her grumble in frustration.
“Good luck with you in your work as well.” Odesseron said as he shrugged off any final bit of unease at the tiefling’s sudden appearance. “I suggest that we meet after first light tomorrow to exchange any findings or observations we might make over the course of the evening.”
Victor glanced up at the top of the main barrow, the same place that two of Odesseron’s apprentices were warily looking at as their master mentioned ‘observations over the course of the evening’. Clearly they had seen things similar to their own experiences the previous night, but they seemed to have been there for a day or two longer, and perhaps they had already seen things of a more dire portent. To tell the truth, the apprentice wizards seemed genuinely ill at ease, if not blatantly frightened.
Odesseron though, he only seemed ambitious, cocky, and perhaps reckless.
Glancing back periodically at the wizard and his undead labor crew, the group made their way across the mound complex to their camp and the half of the necropolis which they had claimed as their own to investigate.
“So what do you make of him?” Phaedra asked.
“Talented but pompous.” Velkyn replied.
“You’re from Toril.” Victor said, glancing at Inva. “You know anything about this guy?”
The tiefling shook her head. “Should I?”
“If he’s of any note I figured that you might have heard something of him.” Victor said hopefully.
“He’s Thayan.” Inva replied said with a shrug. “But beyond that, I can’t say much.”
“What’s special about him being Thayan?” Marcus asked.
“And for that matter, what does Thayan actually refer to?” Francesca added, speaking up for the first time that day, perhaps hoping to deflect any ill will towards Marcus.
“It’s a magocracy, Thay.” Inva explained as they walked. “The nation is a ways to the southwest of here, quite a ways actually. The ruling elite call themselves the Red Wizards.”
“Hence the robes?” Victor mused.
“And the tattoos on their heads; it’s their thing.” Inva said while flicking her tail idly. “He’s a circle leader, what with a trio of apprentices and all, so he’s strong in his own right.”
“Compared to us?” Victor asked.
“I used to be that good.” Inva said with a frown and more than a bit of resentment signaling that the topic wasn’t open for conversation really.
“So I take it he’s better than any of us?” Marcus asked.
“I wouldn’t suggest trying to take him out.” Inva replied impatiently. “But for the moment, let’s get something out of this, and maybe we won’t have to do anything with him. Maybe the dead will do it for us I suppose.”
The remainder of the late afternoon stretched into the evening, and the sky was covered by scarlet and blue to the west as the sun retreated towards the horizon. The time since their encounter with the Red Wizard had been largely uneventful but still somewhat productive. They finished their mapping of the mounds that they’d been partitioned, but none of them had any significant features that they could find. All of them bore evidence of abortive attempts at past excavations, though it was difficult to tell when they had been done, either a month earlier or perhaps a century, and none of the pits and trenches seemed to correspond to any special feature, either obvious or subtle.
The only in-depth action they took were a series of thin tripwires that Inva left across the path taken by the spectral procession from the previous night. If the spirits were incorporeal, or perhaps illusory in some manner, they wouldn’t disturb them, though if they happened to physically manifest, the wires would indicate as such. It took little effort to put up, and the information would be a useful warning if the restless dead happened to be more active beyond simply reliving their own final days.
But little revealed itself as night fell, and it would take either magical divination or lengthy, or just lucky, physical effort to determine which of the barrow mounds had any relevance to their search. But, in the meantime, they settled down for another evening of spectral activity with the cold northern wind snapping at their heels and gaining ground as night fell.
Before the first watch was to begin, the campfire was dressed and lit, ready to be fed for the evening from a pile of scrap wood quickly scavenged from the interior of the ruined manor house nearby. Dinner was a mixture of dry rations purchased in Sigil and some fresher food conjured by Victor after a bit of an awkward evening prayer. Outside of Victor and Garibaldi, most of the others either didn’t have a specific patron deity, or in Phaedra’s case weren’t exactly faithful people in general, blood being blood, and of course Inva was nowhere to be seen.
And of course, everyone was largely ignoring Marcus out of respect for some semblance of party unity. Eventually he’d apologize and come to realize his errors and presumptions fully. Hopefully.
But in any event, the first watch was cold, still, and silent. Nothing happened, and eventually the first watch turned in as midnight approached. Second watch however, in the depths of the night, was very much different.
It began as a slow glimmer to the south cloistered along the ground. The light, an eerie blue phosphorescence, slowly coalesced into distinct forms, a long trail of them, two abreast, all making their way towards the barrow complex. Mourners and priests, men, women, and children, they were marching the walk of the condemned, the steps of those without hope and without a future.
Gradually the figures ringed the central mound while a covered form, larger than any man alive, was carried up to the mound by its funeral procession and guards. The funerary bier itself shimmered with ghostly light, but the form it carried did not, and in fact the presence of a corpse was only inferred from context, and from the vaguely humanoid outline of darkness that sat nestled in its open, spectral tomb wrappings. Over a thousand years later, they were still laying Nergal to rest, still lamenting their loss, still clinging to an existence that had stopped holding any meaning for them when the god of death, air, and darkness had breathed his last breath.
When the procession of mourners finally began to fade, the night’s tone grew darker still, and the spirits more recently ripped from the world of the living. Thieves and tomb robbers of a dozen ages, they appeared at random atop the barrows, dropping spectral picks and shovels or rising from slumber, silently screaming and running from things only visible to themselves. None of them ran far before they were pulled down into the earth, though one or two emerged above seconds later, gasping for breath as if drowning or suffocating. They each clambered and grasped in vain for a hold above the ground, before once more being dragged down from below into the cold, frozen earth of the tombs they had sought to plunder.
Then there was the shallow hill and the ruined manor house with its own panoply of tortured dead. They were faint, but they were there as lights flickering in the broken, hollow windows of the keep, and spectral forms of men and women running in terror from its main entrance. But there, unlike with the other mounds and their collection of spectral thieves, the spirits of Lord Barlow’s family and staff were not pulled down into the earth, swallowed up by the dead. No, they looked –up-, screaming and holding up their arms as if to protect themselves from something swooping down on them from above. But to no avail. None of them survived, as one by one, something unseen from the heavens snatched them up and carried them off like dead leaves in a chill autumn wind.
One by one they were gone, taken away, devoured by the hungry, starry winter sky, or something terrible that called it home. In its wake there was only the whisper of the grass, whispering a haunting song of lamentation, the words of the dead on the northern wind, calling out in Untheric to long dead Nergal.
The funeral dirge of the dead god progressed on the wind for another two hours, finally ending at three hours past midnight, but before then there was one final spectral occurrence. Unlike the others, it was only a single figure, a man dressed in chain and holding a sword, perhaps a relatively recent death claimed by the vengeful dead of the barrow.
The man walked up the side of one of the smaller mounds, one ring distant from the group’s camp, another ring distant from the central mount. He was in a daze, a trance almost as he ascended to the hilltop, dropping his sword and holding out his arms. Before he withered and died he seemed to almost be embracing another person in an act of passion. But, in the end, like all of the spirits of the Great Barrow, he was swallowed and consumed.
After his death, the whispering wind continued, eventually drifting below the range of hearing and eventually settling down to the natural background of the cold winter’s night as the third watch began.
Inva and Phaedra yawned and sat across from one another, warming themselves in the light of the campfire, feeding it a few splinters of old timber whenever it began to cough and sputter against the flurries of snow drifting in on the wind. Though the skies had threatened snow for a day or two, it had largely held itself against any major fall, but the temperatures had been gradually drifting downwards.
Inva seemed bored as she sat by the fire, casually poking at the embers with the spade on the end of her tail, dancing it in between the flames to tap the wood. The tiefling jostled one log, causing a shower of sparks to leap up into the air, flickering and flaring before showing down in a tiny red rain. Eventually she looked up and cooled the blade, taking it from the fire and watching the red-hot tip gradually fade to orange and then to its normal polished black.
Through the fire and over the blade, Phaedra was looking at her.
“Hmm?” Inva asked.
“What?” Phaedra said, looking up at the tiefling with a tiny start. Consciously or not, she’d been staring at Inva, or her tight, red leather outfit, or the contrast that it and her hair made against the background of darkness that swathed them both. But regardless, she’d been staring.
“You were staring at me.” Inva replied with some vague amusement. “Need something?”
“Umm, yeah actually.” Phaedra said as Inva picked up a cloth and went about polishing the tip of her tailspike.
“I just wanted to ask you a couple of things actually.” She continued. “Without naming specifics, did you find our… employer to be rather generous last time with his bonus?”
The half ‘loth’s ears twitched slightly, but the look on her face one more of actual musing rather than just curiosity.
Inva shrugged slightly. “He was fair and perhaps a little gracious, yes. But given what we went through, I’d have asked for a bit more. I wouldn’t complain about the jink however since it ended up getting me what I wanted by purchase, so all in all it worked out.
She continued polishing the blade on one side before flipping it over and working on the opposite.
Phaedra frowned slightly. “I suppose that I’m the only one who has a decidedly nagging feeling that something isn’t as it seems then.”
“And I don’t mean myself.” She added as a bit of an afterthought.
Inva looked up from her spade-polishing, perhaps a bit disturbed at Phaedra’s wariness about their employer.
“Why? Did it seem too little? Or too much?” She asked.
“Too much.” Phaedra replied. “Not that I’m complaining about the jink mind you. I’ll take a berk for all he’s worth, but… just handing it out that generously? Sure he calls himself a benefactor, but he didn’t strike me as the upstanding, righteous, and generous type.”
Inva shrugged.
“It doesn’t make sense to try and buy loyalty, not seeing as how he knew who I was before I stepped in there. Presumably he knew something about all of us, so now I just want to know where the catch it.”
Inva shrugged again. “I have a funny feeling it was something that we asked for before we agreed to do anything. You wouldn’t throw yourself into unknown danger to be kidnapped and dropped into a maze for anything less than a good amount of jink. And from what I gathered, it wasn’t just him… I’ve worked for people who give me information and money before, and it usually comes from a much higher source. Now if they’re going through all the trouble of assembling teams of people to do things for them, then they must have something much larger in mind, and quite a bit of jink to spare in the process.”
Inva set her tail to one side and continued.
“I don’t suspect that it’s loyalty that they’re trying to buy, but rather it’s our services. If they pay us enough, it’s unlikely that we’ll say no. And when the tasks get more and more difficult, the prospect of additional money might just outweigh the danger. It’s appealing to one’s motives.”
Phaedra nodded.
“Mine happens to be money till I find out otherwise.” Inva said with a smirk.
“Perhaps that’s all and I’m just thinking on it too much.” Phaedra replied, tilting her head back and looking up at the stars. “I’m not particularly fond of not knowing who’s pulling the strings at the top.”
Inva smiled at tapped her lightly on the side with the tip of her tail.
“Well, then this isn’t the right line of work for you.” She said. “Ask too many questions and you’ll get answers, but you’ll also get a knife in the back as well. Jink is jink, but until things start seeming more strange and out of the ordinary to be asking for, I don’t see a reason to turn it down. Now if they up and asked me to write a Factol into the dead book, then I’d have some issues, perhaps, but so far they haven’t asked for much.”
“I suppose that you’re right. You’ve at least been in this position before I gather.” Phaedra said as she started to fiddle with one of her many earrings, tapping a claw on the tiny metal hoop.
“Quite a few times as I’m sure you’ve learned.” Inva said with a nod. “I deal with all sorts of people, and the best way to get along with them is just not to ask questions like ‘What do you need it for?’ or ‘Who are you going to sell it to?’. I’ve had several people I’ve worked with get the knife because of it, so I’ve learned not to open my yap. You do your job, they get what they want, and everyone is happy. They can’t blame you for following the contract, and it works out to your advantage sometimes too. If you learn something about them while you’re out, or if you end up finding information that may be useful to them, it might just bring in some extra jink, or perhaps you find yourself a new employer at a much better price.”
“Quite a few to be certain, working for who you were working for.” Phaedra said. “But for now, yes, the jink is good to be certain. I picked up a couple of things that will certainly help out with casting that I’d have had a hard time being able to easily get otherwise.”
Inva gave a nod.
“Perhaps,” Inva said with a nod. “But the only thing that’ll help me out here is the grace of the deity I serve and a few months to practice.”
For a moment there was a flash of anger in her eyes and her tail twitched unconsciously side to side, but the tiefling gave no further explanation.
“I’ve worked for all sorts of people.” She said, calming down. “The yugoloths paid better than most, despite being overly sensitive.”
Phaedra noticed the look that had flared in Inva’s eyes momentarily.
“I wasn’t trying to press.” She said. “Frankly whatever you did and whoever or whatever was involved, I’m better off not knowing. That was more my way of trying to let you know that you’re not the only one who can nose around in secrets.”
Inva shrugged.
“They paid me to get something…” She said. “Myself and a few others went and got it for them, much like what we’re doing right now. I can’t say that I signed on for a long term contract or anything, but it worked out to mutual benefit in the end.”
Inva smiled and licked her teeth, curling her tail back around to strap her newly polished blade back to the end of it.
“I’m certain that you’ve got connections, given who your father is.” She said to Phaedra. “I make no secret of my dealings unless they ask me to, and she didn’t. So it’d be relatively easy to see what I was up to in my past with them.”
Phaedra paused, shutting her mouth for a moment before replying.
“I’m afraid that I’ll get worse than a knife in the back if I stick my nose too far into that sort of business.” She said. “But since you’re aware of that, I just ask that you not tell the others specifically who my parents are. Or, if you do, please don’t tell them why they aren’t on good terms?”
“Well, if you don’t get better with your disguises and keeping your past in check, then they won’t need me to tell them.” Inva said.
“Velk knows,” Phaedra added. “And presumably the others will eventually figure out the rest of it given my –wonderful- track record with trying to keep anything hidden apparently.”
“I don’t share the information I find out about those I work with.” Inva said. “At least not to those who aren’t responsible for you to begin with. So, as long as you’re around me, your secret is safe. Knowing what I do about you, it gives you good reason not to try to ever stab me in the back. After all, who knows what information might find its way into the public then.
“So don’t you worry your head.” Inva continued, smirking. “I’ll keep your secrets, so long as you don’t go betraying any trust that I put in you.”
Phaedra nodded, her eyes lighting up with an idea all of a sudden.
“Actually, come to think of it, after we get paid for this, how about I give you a bit of jink or a decent round of drinks in exchange for a few tips on how to keep that from so… easily found out should I ever find myself needing that kind of façade again?”
“If you’re planning on doing that,” Inva said, smiling at the prospect of a drink. “I know a few good bars down in the Hive… nice places, for me at least. Strong alcohol and an atmosphere that oozes opportunity for… future engagements.”
“Your choice.” Phaedra said. “I don’t have much of a preference in the way of drinks or bars other than that they be great places to listen in on, and that applies to most any of them. And I won’t go betraying any trust you put in me. It makes more sense that way for –you- not to stab me in the back if I keep my mouth shut.”
“Though of course, somehow I think that you’re better at the back-stabbity part.” Phaedra added, glancing at the tip of Inva’s tail-spike.
“I used to be better…” Inva replied with a smile, and a flash of that earlier anger. “And I can only get better from here. Besides, there are much worse ways of dealing with a traitor than stabbing them in the back. That’s what you do with strangers who cross you. People you know don’t get it as easy.”
Changing the subject, the tiefling grinned and glanced over towards Victor’s tent and the open flap through which they could both see the elven cleric sleeping.
“Speaking of bars in the Hive, I’ve got a good place that I need to show him too.” She said with a chuckle. “Looks like the man hasn’t had a good time in years.”
“I’m not sure that he’d know how to enjoy himself honestly if you tried.” Phaedra said as she looked over at Victor.
“I’m sure he’d learn quite easily.” Inva said. “He seems relaxed enough and willing to go with the flow. His brother on the other hand, well… I think he’d go for the first opportunity that tossed itself at his feet, given his recent actions.”
“Oh I know.” Phaedra said with a sigh. “I swear, he didn’t even have the sense to try and make sure that the necromancer was telling the truth.”
“I trust some people.” Inva replied. “But not when that lich-bait probably knows more about this place than we do. He’s clearly got the upper hand here.”
“Lich-bait who has invisible lurking familiars doesn’t strike me as the kind of fellow that I want to start taking orders from.” Phaedra said. “Of course, I don’t want to take orders from Marcus either. Victor may need to relax, but Marcus… he’s… off.”
“Taking orders from Marcus?” Inva mused. “At least not until he gets his act together. I think he’s a bit preoccupied with his fiefdom or some such. He needs to remember that he’s not at court, and we’re not his loyal subjects. As for the necromancer, he knows something. He has to want something specific, otherwise he wouldn’t be here with help. I see him as being him on more than just a field trip, and we need to keep a very close eye on him.”
“Agreed.” Phaedra said, still giggling over calling the Thayan ‘lich-bait’. “I’m not sure how we can keep much of an eye on him though. Well, that is, I’m not sure how –I- could help keep an eye on him.”
“I’ve got a few spells to at least keep an eye on his campsite.” Inva replied. “And I might be able to keep our own gains from his sight, but I’m not as adept as I used to be. My magic should hopefully confuse him enough so that anything I put in the way will slow him down a bit. I’ve got a funny feeling that we’ll be running into him before we’re done with this. I just have this sense that he wants, or will want, what we’re after, and he likely knows what it does even if he played dumb when we mentioned it.”
Inva rolled her eyes and stoked the fire once more.
“But,” She said. “Back with what we were talking about before, if you want a way to find out about our employers, learning about what they’re after is probably the best way to do it.”
“We’ll see if I get an opportunity before it’s over and I have the time to delve into it on my own.” Phaedra replied with a nod.
“Hey now.” Inva said. “Our employer didn’t say that we needed to keep it secret. So if it comes down to it, we could always see what he knows. I figure we should pester him about it, well, after we get it into the hands that want it.”
Phaedra grinned at Inva, very obviously liking the suggestion, and even more, the way that the tiefer thought.
Now up to that point during their watch, the night had been relatively placid compared to the earlier watch during which the mounds had fairly well seemed alive with the restless dead of several generations past. But as Phaedra and Inva bantered in the firelight, the stars had shown down, twinkling from above down on a scene of calm, if cold, windblown grass and little else. The dead had stayed that way, and the spirits of the Great Barrow had not made their presence known.
Perhaps change was inevitable.
“What was that?” Phaedra said suddenly, interrupting the lull in conversation.
There had been a sound, harsh and sudden, off to the east.
“I didn’t hear anything.” Inva said, looking in the direction that the half ‘loth’s ears had swiveled.
The tiefling’s eyes shifted into the deeper range of darkvision, illuminating the contents of the shadows in shades of black and white, harsh, the mounds starkly contrasting against the sky. The grass shifted with the wind but there was nothing on the hillsides or atop the crowns of the mounds to give away the source of any noise.
“I don’t see anything either.” Inva said. “What did it sound like?”
“Footsteps?” Phaedra mused. “Like someone stepping on dry grass, or maybe ripping up some of the grass.”
“If anything it might just be an animal, except there aren’t any near this place.” Inva suggested. “Or I’d say it might be our friendly neighborhood necromancer going for a midnight excavation on our side of the barrow.”
Phaedra looked at the tiefling.
“But he’s not that stupid.” Inva replied. “So I don’t have a clue what it is.”
“I don’t know…” Phaedra begin, stopping short when there was a sharp, pronounced ripping noise in the direction of the central barrow.
“I heard that too.” Inva said as she looked for the source of the sound.
The side of the barrow, several yards up from the base, there was movement in the dry grass and several missing patches like it had been ripped up and tossed aside.
Another instance of the sound and another patch of grass vanished… tugged –down-.
They glanced at one another and slowly, cautiously, trodding softly upon the cold ground, made their way towards the central barrow. They were quiet as they approached the mound, saying not a word, though Inva had a hand at her sword, and Phaedra’s fur was rising unconsciously. There was a presence in the air, something heavy and massive, a sense of heat at the fringes of the mind clashing with the winter air. It was there like a wolf at the edge of a campfire, stepping softly in the darkness and freshly fallen snow. Be it hungry or curious, Phaedra was only aware that it was there, and nothing more as it sniffed at the margins of her telepathic mind.
Wordlessly, stepping a bit apart from one another should something happen, the two of them stepped up the side of the barrow and within easy sight of the cause of the sound and the disturbed grass. The grass had been marked into a rough pattern, looking nothing so much as if something had taken them by the roots and ripped them down into the earth.
There was a scent of ash in the air. The disturbed grass was burnt, singed, where it had been torn down.
The patterns of grass were forming letters.
There, splayed upon the hillside, torn into the earth, touched by some unseen flame, two words were spelled out in Abyssal:
‘Release Me.’
“No, it would not be wise for us to be enemies.” Phaedra said cautiously, scanning the area for any suggestion of where the mage might be.
Velkyn walked up next to her and took down the hood of his robe, revealing his face and letting his silvery hair hang loose. Certain people, elves in general, and oftentimes people from the prime too, they just had an instinctual wariness and fear to drow. Of course, even though Velk wasn’t a full-blooded drow, he looked close enough to pass for one, and perhaps it might be relevant depending on whom they were dealing with.
“Suffice to say, we came here to the Barrow looking for something specific.” Velkyn said. “Otherwise, we’re not picky and there’s no reason to feel territorial about the mounds. This all depends on what you’re here of course, but I don’t see any need to be confrontational.”
Velkyn and Phaedra both waited for the raven’s reply from its master, but sadly deliberation was for naught as Marcus turned around and called out, “Alright! Who are you?”
There was a pause as Phaedra growled mildly and Victor gave a nonverbal wince at his brother’s forthrightness at perhaps the worst possible time. Sometimes being of noble blood, and being used to the social benefits and responsibilities of such, didn’t carry over well into all situations, such as the present.
“Very well.” The raven said. “We can speak a bit more openly then I suppose.”
With that statement there was a shimmer of magic, vaguely in the outline of a door, and a pair of blue-tinged forms appeared on opposite sides of the group. Tall, standing several feet higher than a normal human, hefting picks and shovels, muscle-bound and dressed in bloody tatters of armor and clothing, neither of them was breathing, or appeared to have drawn a breath in at least a few days, and their eyes were clouded over in death. Two ogres, both of them stood upright and shambled unquestioningly only by virtue of necromantic magic, they had apparently been recruited by happenstance at the massacre several miles away.
“Well, we know that the dead did just get up and walk off.” Velkyn whispered.
“Cheap labor.” Inva said over her sending stone from wherever she stood, unseen by all indications.
A moment later and there was another flicker of magic as a bald, robed figure appeared standing a few feet away: a projected image.
“And just who might you be?” The illusion of the man asked in the same dialect of heavily accented draconic.
The man, obviously a wizard, was dressed in a fine red robe, and his head was shaved entirely bald, covered in an elaborate series of ritualistic tattoos. He inclined his tattooed head towards his guests as a trio of other, younger, wizards dressed in red stepped out from thin air a few feet behind him. The younger wizards were all bald like him, but their heads were tattooed with distinctly less elaborate patterns. Apprentices?
For a moment it seemed as if other guards, servants, or random members of his retinue might soon have joined him, but he made an idle gesture to the side as if telling or instructing them to hold back. Or, perhaps it was simply a gesture to suggest that if push came to shove, he had more resources than seemed apparent. In fact it might have all been a pretentious show of force, or implied force.
“We’re not from around here suffice to say.” Phaedra said. The wizard’s apprentices were staring at her features, trying in vain to figure out what the hell she was.
“I could gather that.” The wizard said. “A drow? Or half drow? An elf, a few humans, and… I’m afraid I’m uncertain as to what you might be.”
The wizard was looking at Phaedra.
“My first guess might be a Selunite werewolf.” He said. “But my apologies if I’m wrong.”
“Close enough I suppose.” Phaedra replied. No need to correct the man.
“And you are?” Marcus asked again, stepping forward.
“Ah.” He replied with a bow and gesture of his hand towards his fellows. “My name is Myras Odesseron, Red Wizard of Thay, Circle Leader within the School of Necromancy.”
“As if the robes and tattoos didn’t give that away already…” Velkyn muttered under his breath.
Phaedra looked over at him as he whispered to himself. Like Velk, she too was aware of just what a Red Wizard was, their collective reputation, and what they were capable of. She wasn’t happy, though to be certain, her opinion was probably colored by that of her ‘uncle’ Tristol. The pair of them quickly swallowed their feelings though and just returned a polite smile.
Inva had a more ambivalent opinion of the Thayan, but she was keenly aware of the focus of his magic and just how powerful his necromantic spells were liable to be. But she was still hidden, and as such didn’t make her thoughts on the matter known.
Odesseron smiled with pride and received six blank stares in return. None of them seemed to have any clue where Thay was, what a Red Wizard was, or what that implied about Myras. The only one of them who understood any of that and was openly showing her reaction was Inva, and the tiefling only rolled her eyes from where she stood unseen a dozen feet or so from the Thayan’s apprentices. Velkyn and Phaedra did their best to keep their expressions as blank as the others.
He waited a few more moments in the hope of seeing some sort of recognition and subsequent awe. He received none of that though, much the dissatisfaction of his ego.
“Myself and my apprentices have been here for several days.” Odesseron stated. “We watched you approach and camp the other night. I take it that you came here for reasons similar to myself?”
“What did you come here looking for?” Victor asked a bit too forward in tone.
“We’re here at the request of our employers.” Velkyn said.
“What did I come here looking for?” Odesseron replied with a shrug. “The same thing that every fool in the past thousand years has I suppose: the wealth of the inhabitants of the tombs buried within the barrows.”
“We’re only interested in a single item actually.” Phaedra said.
“Then perhaps we don’t need to be at odds then.” The Red Wizard said with a conciliatory nod. “What might you be looking for?”
They all glanced at one another for a moment before replying.
“Something called the Codex of Long Shadows and Last Breaths.” Velkyn said.
Odesseron wrinkled his brow at the mention of the item. The name was obviously not something that he had heard before.
“I’m not familiar with something by that name.” He said. “What does it look like?”
Phaedra chuckled. “Good question.”
“We don’t entirely know.” Victor said. “According to our employers though it might be a book or similar object, possibly a mimir, buried in the tomb of one of the more important persons buried here.”
Odesseron nodded. He didn’t seem to know what a mimir was.
“And just who might you be working for?” He asked.
“They’re not from around here.” Velkyn said.
“So you mentioned regarding yourselves.” Odesseron replied. “But that doesn’t tell me much. Cormyr? Vassa? Waterdeep? For all I know you’re from Zakhara.”
“They’d prefer that we be discrete about mentioning them.” Phaedra said. “Besides, they’re not from Toril.”
That got a response from the wizard, a bit of a surprised stare, though one that he quickly covered back up with a cautious smile.
“Regardless, if you’re only looking for one thing, then I think that you and your employers won’t mind that I’m here for my own gain in most anything of interest otherwise that I find.” Odesseron said. “You’re welcome to the one thing that you’re looking for, and I’m even open to helping you find it.”
“Do tell.” Marcus said.
“I suppose that you know about the history of the Great Barrow and who actually happens to have been buried here.” He asked. “After all, you’re after something specific.”
“We are.” Marcus replied.
“Nergal and his followers.” Odesseron said. “But I’m not familiar with the item you’re hunting down. I am however interested in any magical grave goods buried with him and his priests, to say nothing of material wealth buried alongside them.”
The Thayan seemed more than a bit knowledgeable about the site, certainly more than most of the locals appeared to be aware of. As a necromancer, he might have gained his information direct from the restless spirits of the tomb, but perhaps from more mundane research elsewhere. It was hard to tell and irrelevant nonetheless.
“I suppose we should discuss a split of anything we jointly find then.” Marcus said. “Why don’t we divide up the mound complex and go about our own way in digging, but agree to share information along the way?”
Odesseron mused for a moment. “I’m not averse to such at all, but I’m quite happy where I am, and you’re camped out on the other side of the central barrow. How about you take that half of the complex with your camp, the old Impilturan lord’s manor and its mound, and the mounds west of a line down the center of the central mound? I’m more interested in this side.”
He didn’t elaborate any further.
“And if we find anything?” Victor asked.
“How about we split up everything we find?” Marcus said, pole vaulting over any idea of deliberation amongst his fellows, and handling discussions unilaterally by himself.
“Excuse me?” Velkyn said.
Marcus continued nonetheless.
“Though if you find the Codex,” He said, “We of course get to keep it since that’s the only item that we’re looking for. We’ll compensate you for that with an increased share of course. A 70/30 split in your favor I think?”
“Marcus?” Phaedra stammered. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I can accept that without hesitation.” Odesseron said quickly.
Victor mentally winced and looked away from his brother.
…?! Phaedra telepathically tapped the elf’s mind, more an emotion than any words.
He didn’t reply, but just gave an embarrassed, guilty shrug. He’d catch heat over his brother’s actions sooner or later. The man just hadn’t gotten used to the idea that he was no longer in his own land, not at court, and not commanding men loyal to him by birthright.
“Who said anything about an agreement here?” Phaedra said, quickly walking towards Marcus.
“The hell if he’s speaking for me.”
The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and both Odesseron and his apprentices glanced around to look for its source.
“If you’re giving orders without asking me about them first we’ve got a problem.” Inva said as she stepped out of thin air a few feet behind the Thayan’s apprentices.
“I don’t believe I ever said anything, or any of us for that matter, about any one of us giving any kind of orders.” The tiefling continued with a seriously unhappy tone of voice.
“I’m getting us a guarantee of walking out of here with the Codex.” Marcus said bluntly.
Velkyn winced. Now was –NOT- the time to have an intra party dispute directly in front of a potential enemy.
“Guarantee nothing!” Inva spat. “I never gave you authority to speak on my behalf without involving me! If you’re going to pull that, I don’t see any reason to be here in the first place because obviously you’re not going to take my opinion into account.”
Odesseron blinked in surprise at the tiefling’s sudden appearance, even though he wasn’t physically present out there a few feet from her, but was rather just projecting an illusion. He hadn’t had a clue that she had been there, and Inva’s arrival was both out of anger at Marcus presuming to speak for her, and her intention to show the Thayan that yes, she was there, and to wipe that smug attitude off of his face. If he’d presumed to have an upper hand, should they ever come to conflict, that was just a little tap to show him that he didn’t necessarily have it.
The necromancer coughed, clearing his throat, as his eyes followed the tiefling. She’d been unexpected to show up like that, though he’d seen her the other day nosing around the rubble of the old manor house on one of the westernmost barrows. He’d been displeased to see anyone else poking around the mounds, but hopefully they’d be dead or gone without him having to lift so much as a finger, a presumption that wasn’t entirely without base, given the past history of the site.
But still, if he managed to gain additional information about the various mounds and who was entombed within from them, without having to risk his own neck, or those of his apprentices, that was fine, better than fine. Hells, if they were only interested in one specific trinket, leaving the rest of the grave goods to him, well he could hardly contest that.
In the meanwhile he just watched as they fell apart in front of him.
“Well you weren’t exactly being very talkative were you?” Marcus said, tossing his hands up in the air.
“Yeah, fine, see how well you do if I up and quit.” Inva shot back.
“We hadn’t even discussed this and you went off shouting out numbers and making agreements.” Phaedra added with a snarl.
She glared at him as she continued her rant telepathically, venting to Velkyn.
Velk, if Inva goes, I’m gone. I’m getting tired of Marcus quite frankly, and we just got shafted out of a major portion of anything we happen to find just because of his mouth.
“Woah woah woah!” Velkyn shouted. “Hold it!”
This was going all to hell, and if Inva and Phaedra pulled out now, he was likely to follow.
“In any event, regardless, I do believe that we had a deal.” The wizard said with a clap of his hands. “And it is getting late, so do be wary this evening. The spirits atop some of the mounds are more aware of things than others, and as I noticed two days ago when I searched the location, especially the mound with the ruined keep.”
Inva was still sneering at Marcus periodically and the blade on the tip of her tail was pointed directly at him regardless of where she stood, turning to follow him like a compass needle.
Once again, Victor sighed and avoided looking at the other members of the party, he’d have to have a talk with them, especially since they were down a considerable amount of money because of his brother now. A moment later though he shrugged it off and turned back to the Red Wizard and the mention of the spirits on the mounds.
“We’ve noticed already, but for the most part they just seem to be going through a replay of their own deaths.” Victor said.
“Thank you for the warning.” Phaedra added, slowly calming down, though it was debatable if the wizard’s warning was indeed genuine or just a display of perceived knowledge.
“Well then, I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.” Myras said with a nod, clearly having felt that he’d left the bargaining table with more than he should have been able to get.
The Thayan had a pleasant, but arguably smug smile upon his face as he gestured his undead servants to continue their work. And indeed, with their agreements in place, there was little else to say, but before both sides went back to their partitioned sides and whatever they wished to do, there was one last thing that needed to be done.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow I suppose.” Inva said, brusquely walking past Marcus and tugging at Phaedra’s sleeve to follow her. She wanted to have something to listen to her grumble in frustration.
“Good luck with you in your work as well.” Odesseron said as he shrugged off any final bit of unease at the tiefling’s sudden appearance. “I suggest that we meet after first light tomorrow to exchange any findings or observations we might make over the course of the evening.”
Victor glanced up at the top of the main barrow, the same place that two of Odesseron’s apprentices were warily looking at as their master mentioned ‘observations over the course of the evening’. Clearly they had seen things similar to their own experiences the previous night, but they seemed to have been there for a day or two longer, and perhaps they had already seen things of a more dire portent. To tell the truth, the apprentice wizards seemed genuinely ill at ease, if not blatantly frightened.
Odesseron though, he only seemed ambitious, cocky, and perhaps reckless.
***
Glancing back periodically at the wizard and his undead labor crew, the group made their way across the mound complex to their camp and the half of the necropolis which they had claimed as their own to investigate.
“So what do you make of him?” Phaedra asked.
“Talented but pompous.” Velkyn replied.
“You’re from Toril.” Victor said, glancing at Inva. “You know anything about this guy?”
The tiefling shook her head. “Should I?”
“If he’s of any note I figured that you might have heard something of him.” Victor said hopefully.
“He’s Thayan.” Inva replied said with a shrug. “But beyond that, I can’t say much.”
“What’s special about him being Thayan?” Marcus asked.
“And for that matter, what does Thayan actually refer to?” Francesca added, speaking up for the first time that day, perhaps hoping to deflect any ill will towards Marcus.
“It’s a magocracy, Thay.” Inva explained as they walked. “The nation is a ways to the southwest of here, quite a ways actually. The ruling elite call themselves the Red Wizards.”
“Hence the robes?” Victor mused.
“And the tattoos on their heads; it’s their thing.” Inva said while flicking her tail idly. “He’s a circle leader, what with a trio of apprentices and all, so he’s strong in his own right.”
“Compared to us?” Victor asked.
“I used to be that good.” Inva said with a frown and more than a bit of resentment signaling that the topic wasn’t open for conversation really.
“So I take it he’s better than any of us?” Marcus asked.
“I wouldn’t suggest trying to take him out.” Inva replied impatiently. “But for the moment, let’s get something out of this, and maybe we won’t have to do anything with him. Maybe the dead will do it for us I suppose.”
***
The remainder of the late afternoon stretched into the evening, and the sky was covered by scarlet and blue to the west as the sun retreated towards the horizon. The time since their encounter with the Red Wizard had been largely uneventful but still somewhat productive. They finished their mapping of the mounds that they’d been partitioned, but none of them had any significant features that they could find. All of them bore evidence of abortive attempts at past excavations, though it was difficult to tell when they had been done, either a month earlier or perhaps a century, and none of the pits and trenches seemed to correspond to any special feature, either obvious or subtle.
The only in-depth action they took were a series of thin tripwires that Inva left across the path taken by the spectral procession from the previous night. If the spirits were incorporeal, or perhaps illusory in some manner, they wouldn’t disturb them, though if they happened to physically manifest, the wires would indicate as such. It took little effort to put up, and the information would be a useful warning if the restless dead happened to be more active beyond simply reliving their own final days.
But little revealed itself as night fell, and it would take either magical divination or lengthy, or just lucky, physical effort to determine which of the barrow mounds had any relevance to their search. But, in the meantime, they settled down for another evening of spectral activity with the cold northern wind snapping at their heels and gaining ground as night fell.
Before the first watch was to begin, the campfire was dressed and lit, ready to be fed for the evening from a pile of scrap wood quickly scavenged from the interior of the ruined manor house nearby. Dinner was a mixture of dry rations purchased in Sigil and some fresher food conjured by Victor after a bit of an awkward evening prayer. Outside of Victor and Garibaldi, most of the others either didn’t have a specific patron deity, or in Phaedra’s case weren’t exactly faithful people in general, blood being blood, and of course Inva was nowhere to be seen.
And of course, everyone was largely ignoring Marcus out of respect for some semblance of party unity. Eventually he’d apologize and come to realize his errors and presumptions fully. Hopefully.
But in any event, the first watch was cold, still, and silent. Nothing happened, and eventually the first watch turned in as midnight approached. Second watch however, in the depths of the night, was very much different.
It began as a slow glimmer to the south cloistered along the ground. The light, an eerie blue phosphorescence, slowly coalesced into distinct forms, a long trail of them, two abreast, all making their way towards the barrow complex. Mourners and priests, men, women, and children, they were marching the walk of the condemned, the steps of those without hope and without a future.
Gradually the figures ringed the central mound while a covered form, larger than any man alive, was carried up to the mound by its funeral procession and guards. The funerary bier itself shimmered with ghostly light, but the form it carried did not, and in fact the presence of a corpse was only inferred from context, and from the vaguely humanoid outline of darkness that sat nestled in its open, spectral tomb wrappings. Over a thousand years later, they were still laying Nergal to rest, still lamenting their loss, still clinging to an existence that had stopped holding any meaning for them when the god of death, air, and darkness had breathed his last breath.
When the procession of mourners finally began to fade, the night’s tone grew darker still, and the spirits more recently ripped from the world of the living. Thieves and tomb robbers of a dozen ages, they appeared at random atop the barrows, dropping spectral picks and shovels or rising from slumber, silently screaming and running from things only visible to themselves. None of them ran far before they were pulled down into the earth, though one or two emerged above seconds later, gasping for breath as if drowning or suffocating. They each clambered and grasped in vain for a hold above the ground, before once more being dragged down from below into the cold, frozen earth of the tombs they had sought to plunder.
Then there was the shallow hill and the ruined manor house with its own panoply of tortured dead. They were faint, but they were there as lights flickering in the broken, hollow windows of the keep, and spectral forms of men and women running in terror from its main entrance. But there, unlike with the other mounds and their collection of spectral thieves, the spirits of Lord Barlow’s family and staff were not pulled down into the earth, swallowed up by the dead. No, they looked –up-, screaming and holding up their arms as if to protect themselves from something swooping down on them from above. But to no avail. None of them survived, as one by one, something unseen from the heavens snatched them up and carried them off like dead leaves in a chill autumn wind.
One by one they were gone, taken away, devoured by the hungry, starry winter sky, or something terrible that called it home. In its wake there was only the whisper of the grass, whispering a haunting song of lamentation, the words of the dead on the northern wind, calling out in Untheric to long dead Nergal.
The funeral dirge of the dead god progressed on the wind for another two hours, finally ending at three hours past midnight, but before then there was one final spectral occurrence. Unlike the others, it was only a single figure, a man dressed in chain and holding a sword, perhaps a relatively recent death claimed by the vengeful dead of the barrow.
The man walked up the side of one of the smaller mounds, one ring distant from the group’s camp, another ring distant from the central mount. He was in a daze, a trance almost as he ascended to the hilltop, dropping his sword and holding out his arms. Before he withered and died he seemed to almost be embracing another person in an act of passion. But, in the end, like all of the spirits of the Great Barrow, he was swallowed and consumed.
After his death, the whispering wind continued, eventually drifting below the range of hearing and eventually settling down to the natural background of the cold winter’s night as the third watch began.
Inva and Phaedra yawned and sat across from one another, warming themselves in the light of the campfire, feeding it a few splinters of old timber whenever it began to cough and sputter against the flurries of snow drifting in on the wind. Though the skies had threatened snow for a day or two, it had largely held itself against any major fall, but the temperatures had been gradually drifting downwards.
Inva seemed bored as she sat by the fire, casually poking at the embers with the spade on the end of her tail, dancing it in between the flames to tap the wood. The tiefling jostled one log, causing a shower of sparks to leap up into the air, flickering and flaring before showing down in a tiny red rain. Eventually she looked up and cooled the blade, taking it from the fire and watching the red-hot tip gradually fade to orange and then to its normal polished black.
Through the fire and over the blade, Phaedra was looking at her.
“Hmm?” Inva asked.
“What?” Phaedra said, looking up at the tiefling with a tiny start. Consciously or not, she’d been staring at Inva, or her tight, red leather outfit, or the contrast that it and her hair made against the background of darkness that swathed them both. But regardless, she’d been staring.
“You were staring at me.” Inva replied with some vague amusement. “Need something?”
“Umm, yeah actually.” Phaedra said as Inva picked up a cloth and went about polishing the tip of her tailspike.
“I just wanted to ask you a couple of things actually.” She continued. “Without naming specifics, did you find our… employer to be rather generous last time with his bonus?”
The half ‘loth’s ears twitched slightly, but the look on her face one more of actual musing rather than just curiosity.
Inva shrugged slightly. “He was fair and perhaps a little gracious, yes. But given what we went through, I’d have asked for a bit more. I wouldn’t complain about the jink however since it ended up getting me what I wanted by purchase, so all in all it worked out.
She continued polishing the blade on one side before flipping it over and working on the opposite.
Phaedra frowned slightly. “I suppose that I’m the only one who has a decidedly nagging feeling that something isn’t as it seems then.”
“And I don’t mean myself.” She added as a bit of an afterthought.
Inva looked up from her spade-polishing, perhaps a bit disturbed at Phaedra’s wariness about their employer.
“Why? Did it seem too little? Or too much?” She asked.
“Too much.” Phaedra replied. “Not that I’m complaining about the jink mind you. I’ll take a berk for all he’s worth, but… just handing it out that generously? Sure he calls himself a benefactor, but he didn’t strike me as the upstanding, righteous, and generous type.”
Inva shrugged.
“It doesn’t make sense to try and buy loyalty, not seeing as how he knew who I was before I stepped in there. Presumably he knew something about all of us, so now I just want to know where the catch it.”
Inva shrugged again. “I have a funny feeling it was something that we asked for before we agreed to do anything. You wouldn’t throw yourself into unknown danger to be kidnapped and dropped into a maze for anything less than a good amount of jink. And from what I gathered, it wasn’t just him… I’ve worked for people who give me information and money before, and it usually comes from a much higher source. Now if they’re going through all the trouble of assembling teams of people to do things for them, then they must have something much larger in mind, and quite a bit of jink to spare in the process.”
Inva set her tail to one side and continued.
“I don’t suspect that it’s loyalty that they’re trying to buy, but rather it’s our services. If they pay us enough, it’s unlikely that we’ll say no. And when the tasks get more and more difficult, the prospect of additional money might just outweigh the danger. It’s appealing to one’s motives.”
Phaedra nodded.
“Mine happens to be money till I find out otherwise.” Inva said with a smirk.
“Perhaps that’s all and I’m just thinking on it too much.” Phaedra replied, tilting her head back and looking up at the stars. “I’m not particularly fond of not knowing who’s pulling the strings at the top.”
Inva smiled at tapped her lightly on the side with the tip of her tail.
“Well, then this isn’t the right line of work for you.” She said. “Ask too many questions and you’ll get answers, but you’ll also get a knife in the back as well. Jink is jink, but until things start seeming more strange and out of the ordinary to be asking for, I don’t see a reason to turn it down. Now if they up and asked me to write a Factol into the dead book, then I’d have some issues, perhaps, but so far they haven’t asked for much.”
“I suppose that you’re right. You’ve at least been in this position before I gather.” Phaedra said as she started to fiddle with one of her many earrings, tapping a claw on the tiny metal hoop.
“Quite a few times as I’m sure you’ve learned.” Inva said with a nod. “I deal with all sorts of people, and the best way to get along with them is just not to ask questions like ‘What do you need it for?’ or ‘Who are you going to sell it to?’. I’ve had several people I’ve worked with get the knife because of it, so I’ve learned not to open my yap. You do your job, they get what they want, and everyone is happy. They can’t blame you for following the contract, and it works out to your advantage sometimes too. If you learn something about them while you’re out, or if you end up finding information that may be useful to them, it might just bring in some extra jink, or perhaps you find yourself a new employer at a much better price.”
“Quite a few to be certain, working for who you were working for.” Phaedra said. “But for now, yes, the jink is good to be certain. I picked up a couple of things that will certainly help out with casting that I’d have had a hard time being able to easily get otherwise.”
Inva gave a nod.
“Perhaps,” Inva said with a nod. “But the only thing that’ll help me out here is the grace of the deity I serve and a few months to practice.”
For a moment there was a flash of anger in her eyes and her tail twitched unconsciously side to side, but the tiefling gave no further explanation.
“I’ve worked for all sorts of people.” She said, calming down. “The yugoloths paid better than most, despite being overly sensitive.”
Phaedra noticed the look that had flared in Inva’s eyes momentarily.
“I wasn’t trying to press.” She said. “Frankly whatever you did and whoever or whatever was involved, I’m better off not knowing. That was more my way of trying to let you know that you’re not the only one who can nose around in secrets.”
Inva shrugged.
“They paid me to get something…” She said. “Myself and a few others went and got it for them, much like what we’re doing right now. I can’t say that I signed on for a long term contract or anything, but it worked out to mutual benefit in the end.”
Inva smiled and licked her teeth, curling her tail back around to strap her newly polished blade back to the end of it.
“I’m certain that you’ve got connections, given who your father is.” She said to Phaedra. “I make no secret of my dealings unless they ask me to, and she didn’t. So it’d be relatively easy to see what I was up to in my past with them.”
Phaedra paused, shutting her mouth for a moment before replying.
“I’m afraid that I’ll get worse than a knife in the back if I stick my nose too far into that sort of business.” She said. “But since you’re aware of that, I just ask that you not tell the others specifically who my parents are. Or, if you do, please don’t tell them why they aren’t on good terms?”
“Well, if you don’t get better with your disguises and keeping your past in check, then they won’t need me to tell them.” Inva said.
“Velk knows,” Phaedra added. “And presumably the others will eventually figure out the rest of it given my –wonderful- track record with trying to keep anything hidden apparently.”
“I don’t share the information I find out about those I work with.” Inva said. “At least not to those who aren’t responsible for you to begin with. So, as long as you’re around me, your secret is safe. Knowing what I do about you, it gives you good reason not to try to ever stab me in the back. After all, who knows what information might find its way into the public then.
“So don’t you worry your head.” Inva continued, smirking. “I’ll keep your secrets, so long as you don’t go betraying any trust that I put in you.”
Phaedra nodded, her eyes lighting up with an idea all of a sudden.
“Actually, come to think of it, after we get paid for this, how about I give you a bit of jink or a decent round of drinks in exchange for a few tips on how to keep that from so… easily found out should I ever find myself needing that kind of façade again?”
“If you’re planning on doing that,” Inva said, smiling at the prospect of a drink. “I know a few good bars down in the Hive… nice places, for me at least. Strong alcohol and an atmosphere that oozes opportunity for… future engagements.”
“Your choice.” Phaedra said. “I don’t have much of a preference in the way of drinks or bars other than that they be great places to listen in on, and that applies to most any of them. And I won’t go betraying any trust you put in me. It makes more sense that way for –you- not to stab me in the back if I keep my mouth shut.”
“Though of course, somehow I think that you’re better at the back-stabbity part.” Phaedra added, glancing at the tip of Inva’s tail-spike.
“I used to be better…” Inva replied with a smile, and a flash of that earlier anger. “And I can only get better from here. Besides, there are much worse ways of dealing with a traitor than stabbing them in the back. That’s what you do with strangers who cross you. People you know don’t get it as easy.”
Changing the subject, the tiefling grinned and glanced over towards Victor’s tent and the open flap through which they could both see the elven cleric sleeping.
“Speaking of bars in the Hive, I’ve got a good place that I need to show him too.” She said with a chuckle. “Looks like the man hasn’t had a good time in years.”
“I’m not sure that he’d know how to enjoy himself honestly if you tried.” Phaedra said as she looked over at Victor.
“I’m sure he’d learn quite easily.” Inva said. “He seems relaxed enough and willing to go with the flow. His brother on the other hand, well… I think he’d go for the first opportunity that tossed itself at his feet, given his recent actions.”
“Oh I know.” Phaedra said with a sigh. “I swear, he didn’t even have the sense to try and make sure that the necromancer was telling the truth.”
“I trust some people.” Inva replied. “But not when that lich-bait probably knows more about this place than we do. He’s clearly got the upper hand here.”
“Lich-bait who has invisible lurking familiars doesn’t strike me as the kind of fellow that I want to start taking orders from.” Phaedra said. “Of course, I don’t want to take orders from Marcus either. Victor may need to relax, but Marcus… he’s… off.”
“Taking orders from Marcus?” Inva mused. “At least not until he gets his act together. I think he’s a bit preoccupied with his fiefdom or some such. He needs to remember that he’s not at court, and we’re not his loyal subjects. As for the necromancer, he knows something. He has to want something specific, otherwise he wouldn’t be here with help. I see him as being him on more than just a field trip, and we need to keep a very close eye on him.”
“Agreed.” Phaedra said, still giggling over calling the Thayan ‘lich-bait’. “I’m not sure how we can keep much of an eye on him though. Well, that is, I’m not sure how –I- could help keep an eye on him.”
“I’ve got a few spells to at least keep an eye on his campsite.” Inva replied. “And I might be able to keep our own gains from his sight, but I’m not as adept as I used to be. My magic should hopefully confuse him enough so that anything I put in the way will slow him down a bit. I’ve got a funny feeling that we’ll be running into him before we’re done with this. I just have this sense that he wants, or will want, what we’re after, and he likely knows what it does even if he played dumb when we mentioned it.”
Inva rolled her eyes and stoked the fire once more.
“But,” She said. “Back with what we were talking about before, if you want a way to find out about our employers, learning about what they’re after is probably the best way to do it.”
“We’ll see if I get an opportunity before it’s over and I have the time to delve into it on my own.” Phaedra replied with a nod.
“Hey now.” Inva said. “Our employer didn’t say that we needed to keep it secret. So if it comes down to it, we could always see what he knows. I figure we should pester him about it, well, after we get it into the hands that want it.”
Phaedra grinned at Inva, very obviously liking the suggestion, and even more, the way that the tiefer thought.
Now up to that point during their watch, the night had been relatively placid compared to the earlier watch during which the mounds had fairly well seemed alive with the restless dead of several generations past. But as Phaedra and Inva bantered in the firelight, the stars had shown down, twinkling from above down on a scene of calm, if cold, windblown grass and little else. The dead had stayed that way, and the spirits of the Great Barrow had not made their presence known.
Perhaps change was inevitable.
***
“What was that?” Phaedra said suddenly, interrupting the lull in conversation.
There had been a sound, harsh and sudden, off to the east.
“I didn’t hear anything.” Inva said, looking in the direction that the half ‘loth’s ears had swiveled.
The tiefling’s eyes shifted into the deeper range of darkvision, illuminating the contents of the shadows in shades of black and white, harsh, the mounds starkly contrasting against the sky. The grass shifted with the wind but there was nothing on the hillsides or atop the crowns of the mounds to give away the source of any noise.
“I don’t see anything either.” Inva said. “What did it sound like?”
“Footsteps?” Phaedra mused. “Like someone stepping on dry grass, or maybe ripping up some of the grass.”
“If anything it might just be an animal, except there aren’t any near this place.” Inva suggested. “Or I’d say it might be our friendly neighborhood necromancer going for a midnight excavation on our side of the barrow.”
Phaedra looked at the tiefling.
“But he’s not that stupid.” Inva replied. “So I don’t have a clue what it is.”
“I don’t know…” Phaedra begin, stopping short when there was a sharp, pronounced ripping noise in the direction of the central barrow.
“I heard that too.” Inva said as she looked for the source of the sound.
The side of the barrow, several yards up from the base, there was movement in the dry grass and several missing patches like it had been ripped up and tossed aside.
Another instance of the sound and another patch of grass vanished… tugged –down-.
They glanced at one another and slowly, cautiously, trodding softly upon the cold ground, made their way towards the central barrow. They were quiet as they approached the mound, saying not a word, though Inva had a hand at her sword, and Phaedra’s fur was rising unconsciously. There was a presence in the air, something heavy and massive, a sense of heat at the fringes of the mind clashing with the winter air. It was there like a wolf at the edge of a campfire, stepping softly in the darkness and freshly fallen snow. Be it hungry or curious, Phaedra was only aware that it was there, and nothing more as it sniffed at the margins of her telepathic mind.
Wordlessly, stepping a bit apart from one another should something happen, the two of them stepped up the side of the barrow and within easy sight of the cause of the sound and the disturbed grass. The grass had been marked into a rough pattern, looking nothing so much as if something had taken them by the roots and ripped them down into the earth.
There was a scent of ash in the air. The disturbed grass was burnt, singed, where it had been torn down.
The patterns of grass were forming letters.
There, splayed upon the hillside, torn into the earth, touched by some unseen flame, two words were spelled out in Abyssal:
‘Release Me.’
***
