The Adventures of Olgar Shiverstone (Angelsboi: In memorium)

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chpt 1, finis.

Alton and Belarn began searching the body and the surrounding room. They had the man’s sickle, the disgusting armor, and some coin. In addition, they found a potion and some robes that both Alton and Olgar concurred were magical. Belarn found a secret compartment under a rock in the floor that contained two books. He hauled them out, then handed them to Alton and Olgar.

One was obviously ancient. It had a palpable evil smell and texture to it. It was covered in similar runes to those in the temple, the kind that writhed and swam in front of the eyes. Alton opened it, and pronounced it undecipherable.

The second book was much more recent. It had the look and feel of a diary, though it had a similar evil feel to it. The covers looked to be human skin. Olgar opened it. The text was indecipherable, but Olgar got the same mind-wrenching feeling from it that he had when he defiled the altar. He slammed the book closed.

“Bad stuff. Let’s head back, see if’n th’ reward’ll pay out. Bet th’ ha’seeds dinna know they had an’ evil temple t’ some old god ‘n their midst.” The others swiftly agreed.

The party returned to the surface, bypassing the remaining doors, and swiftly headed back to town, after making arrangements with the kobold tribe to leave the humans alone. Yuusdrail did the bargaining, in exchange for a bit of gold, and the kobolds readily agreed.

Leaving the kobolds outside of town, the four heroes returned to the town square. They marched into the mayor’s office, and presented the evidence.

“You had an evil temple under that farm.” Alton said, “We killed a priest of Moloch who was using the place. There’s no sign of the farmer, but his family was murdered and reanimated as skeletons. We’ve got some evil artifacts from the place that need to be checked out. How about our reward?”

“You didn’t accomplish your task,” the mayor replied, “find the farmer, and you’ll get your reward.”

“How about this, you’re honor,” Wodyn said, waving the flayed human skin armor in front of her, “think putting a stop to this is worth your gold?”

The woman shrieked in horror at the sight of the skin, and began calling for guards. Wodyn yelled “Be Silent!” drawing himself up to his full six-and-a-half foot height. He stuffed the skin back into his pack, and the woman shut up.

“Fine,” she said, “we’ll pay your reward for services rendered. We do have another opportunity for you, if you wish.”

“And that would be?” Alton asked

“The hamlet just to our south is about to bring in their cranberry harvest. We’re expecting a major storm to hit in the next three days, and would like you to ensure that the harvest is protected.”

The four just looked at her incredulously. “Are ye daft, woman?” Olgar asked, “ye want us t’ stop a storm? If’n I ha’ a hunnert o’ me kinsman, an’ three month an’ a quarry, I might could do summat, but in three days …”

“Sorry, no thanks,” Alton said smoothly. “We’ve got some artifacts to check out. We’ll let you know if we find your farmer.” And with that, the four turned and left.

Once outside, they conferred. “We still have this treasure to split up,” Wodyn said.

“Aye, split the coin,” Olgar agreed, “but we’ll at least stick t’gether to get the magic identified an’ then split it up. I thinks we could find a temple t’ Kraig. I gots some atonin’ t’ do, and fer the right favor, we mights find out a bit about th’ books. Church o’ Moloch be up t’ no good, I’m sure, an’ I’d be glad t’ help meself t’ a bit o’ their booty.” He smiled crustily. An’ Kraig be praised if’n there ain’ a big fight in it!

TO BE CONTINUED …

 

[Angelsboi]

Heh. The DM here. Yes, it was quite an adventure and now that "olgar" here has posted on the website ... hes now indebted to do this bi weekly (but for the next couple of weeks it will be weekly *snickers*).

If anyone has any questions, i will be more than glad to answer them.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: Strange doings in Aerolite City

The party set out the next morning for Aerolite City, the nearest town of any size that boasted a Temple of Kraig, two days by foot from Aurora Falls. Alton had a private spirit quest to undertake that would cost him several days of meditating and fasting; he would rejoin the rest of the group in a week at the city. Olgar, Wodyn, Belarn, and Yuusdrail would make the trek.


A group of six companions trudged down foggy, cobblestone streets. Olgar, disoriented, didn’t recognize either the human or elf who were traveling with them, but they both seemed somewhat familiar. Nor could he readily identify the streets on which he walked, but there was a certain familiarity with them, too.

Wodyn stopped, suddenly, motioning for silence.

“I heard something,” he said, “that way.” The tall barbarian pointed down a dark alleyway, too dark for human eyes to make out any details.

“Olgar, what do you see?” he asked.

Olgar stepped forward and into the alleyway, squinting to make out forms in the darkness with his dwarven sight. There was nothing – but then, he caught a twinkle out of the corner of his eye, and he turned just in time to see a blade begin to flash toward him.

His feet felt like they were set in blocks of stone. He tried to twist away – too slowly. He felt a blade slash lightly across his throat, felt hot blood soaking down behind his armor, and then all went dark.

 

[diaglo]

Great works. Keep it up.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Ch 2, cont.

Olgar awoke in a sweat. What an ‘orrible nightmare! he thought, it was so real. A vision from Kraig? It the middle of the night, and the party was camped in a small grove just off the main road, still a day’s march out of Aerolite City.

“Wodyn, wake up!” Olgar called. “I jus’ had a vision!” He kicked the halfling and kobold awake, and related the vision excitedly as the others stared at him groggily.

“That no nightmare. That dream,” the kobold said dismissively, and rolled over and went back to sleep.

Alton would’a understood it, bloody kobold wench. Olgar shrugged, and went back to sleep himself, haunted by dreams of an ambush in a cobblestone alleyway.


The group arrived on the outskirts of Aerolite City two mornings later without incident. Aerolite City was a city in name only; it had the appearance of a large but prosperous town of about 2,000 souls. The buildings were stone, packed closely together, and the streets were cobbled.

Streets’re oddly familiar, Olgar thought, and then dismissed the thought. He had a temple to find.

A rapidly growing tent city was being erected just outside the city gate. As the adventurers passed by, they overheard a great deal of talk about an upcoming bardic competition, scheduled to be held that very evening. Many of the locals seemed quite agitated about it – something about a murder or murders in town.

Olgar approached one of the locals who was jabbering away excitedly about the recent murders, and asked for directions to the temple of Kraig.

“South end of town,” the local woman replied. “Are ye sure you want to go there. Don’t think the two little one’s’ll survive!” This last was said as she waved at the halfling and kobold.

“Aye, yes!” Olgar replied with a broad grin, and the group set off for the south end of town.

As they walked, the halfling asked curiously, “So, did you hear them talking about the murder in town?”

“Local problem,” Olgar growled, “none o’ our business. We gots our own work t’ do, get’n me head fixed ‘n all, ‘n th’ items we looted off’n that priest o’ Moloch figg’red out. No need t’ go stickin’ our noses inta som’n else’s business.”

The group halted outside a large building that appeared to be a tavern. A sign out from read “The Prancing Alehouse” and depicted a bar stool zipping through the air. The human and halfling looked at each other, then back at the building. Olgar was already making his way up the steps. The halfling followed a few feet behind him.

Olgar ducked as he pushed the front doors open, allowing the chair that came tumbling through the opening to pass safely over his head. The flying furniture knocked the halfling flat, sending him sprawling back down the steps.

Inside the building, a full-fledged bar brawl appeared to be in session. Insults, catcalls, mugs, and bits of tables and chairs flew back and forth across the room. A number of dwarves in armor seemed to be hitting each other with various bits of the furniture. A tall human was breaking a chair over the head of a female dwarf who was carrying two pitchers of ale. In one corner, a group of feral-looking elves dressed in loincloths were cutting at each other with small daggers. In another was the only quiet soul in the place, a colorfully-dressed dwarf with a lute at one side, who was scribbling on a piece of parchment between smacking the occasional bystander with his instrument. Even the dwarven bartender was throwing empty bottles at his patrons. It was a scene of total chaos.

“Ah, home!” Olgar sighed, and with a grin he pushed his way into the throng, dropping one dwarf who stepped into his path with a stiff arm to the forehead. “Ale fer me ‘n me companions!” he shouted to the bartender over the din, “an’ kin ye point me t’ th’ high priest?”

“Yer talking t’him,” the bartender replied, “An’ what’s so important ye must interrupt me at vespers?”

“Aye, yer worship,” Olgar replied, “I know it be the pratyt hour ‘n all, and we should be celebrat’n Kraig wi’ a bit o’ destruction an’ comradely warriorship, but we ha’ urgent business. We run afoul o’ an evil temple, an’ it did this t’ me,” pointing at his recently acquired brow ridges, “a devoted chaplain o’ Kraig.”

“I see,” the high priest/bartender replied, “I’ll give ye a moment t’ explain it. Are they with ye?” he asked, pointing at the others, who were trying to avoid being brained by flying bits of furniture.

“Aye,” Olgar replied, “’r t’least we’re travell’n in t’ same direction fer now.”

“Very well, follow me.”

The priest led them back down a long hallway lined with doors on either side. Far from the din of the common room, he opened the door to a large office and ushered them inside. The room was plain – spartan, even – but held one object of great interest. A greatsword, burning brightly with crimson flames, hung point down behind the desk.

Olgar made the sign of the fist, holy symbol of Kraig, and nodded toward the sword, symbol of “Kraig’s Blessing.” He then took a seat with the others, as the old dwarf sat behind the desk, pulling out a set of glasses, demeanor completely changed from the wild man who had been throwing bottles across the bar a few moments earlier.

“All, right, tell me yer story,” he said.

Olgar motioned to Wodyn, who related their story at great length, passing the items they had discovered in the hidden temple across the desk one at a time.

“We was hopin’ ye might be able t’ tell us what they are, ye worship, and help me atone fer th’ curse ‘r some such as well,” Olgar said, as Wodyn finished relating the story.

The old man considered for a long while, examining each of the objects in turn.

“I can tell you some, but not much,” the dwarf finally continued. “There is a name scribed here on the wand ‘Neiltar Nomasday,’ but what the wand does I cannot tell you, nor the other items. This book with the strange writing deals with an ancient purification ritual, though I can tell you little else. Find a library or temple of knowledge for that. There are temples to Moloch, Veriday, Obi, and Jewel in town that might tell you more. This other book appears to be a diary. It is written in a language that is familiar, but I cannot quite place it. Give me a day or two, and I might be able to translate it for you. As for yer atonement, I am but a humble priest, and granting that is far beyond my abilities. You will have to travel to Aphis, Averna, or Oerid for that.”

Bloody useless, Olgar thought. The group collected up the majority of the items, leaving the diary with the priest.

“Ken we stay a few days?” Olgar asked, as they prepared to return to the common room.

“Of course, fer one of the faith. But yer friends will of course have to provide a suitable donation,” the old dwarf said reverently. The others reluctantly handed over a few coins each. “See me again in two days, an’ with luck I’ll have the book translated for ye.”

The party departed. Olgar decided it was time to pay his respects to Kraig, and joined the brawl in the common room. Soon he was happily throwing chairs and turning over tables with the rest of the dwarven acolytes. Wodyn leaned against one wall, taking in the scene, while Belarn dodged kicks and punches and went to hide in the corner. Soon he was in conversation with the dwarven minstrel. Between blows to the head, Olgar noticed Yuusdrail slinking back out through the front door, cloak pulled down over her head and tail.

Could pass fer an ugly peck under tha’ cloak, Olgar thought, good riddance an’ hope ye never return.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chpt 2, cont.

While Olgar was busy brawling, he observed an elf approaching the doorway. The elf was dressed as a woodsman, with a cloak pulled up about his head , though not far enough to completely hide his white hair and piercing blue eyes. The hilt of a scimitar protruded from his beltline.

If he’s got two o’ them things, Olgar thought to himself, I’m givin’ up adventurin’. He figured he’d give the elf a little test, and threw the nearest chair at his head. The elf wasn’t quite quick enough, and was knocked sprawling back down the stairs.

“Serves ye right, ye pansy!” Olgar shouted after him.

The elf returned a few moments later, shaking off the effects of Olgar’s welcome, and found a seat with Belarn at one of the only remaining intact tables in the room.

Yuusdrail returned a few minutes later, dragging a human in brightly colored robes behind her. Bloody peacock, Olgar thought. Wonder what the slimy git is up to. He threw a mug at the kobold, but missed. Yuusdrail took the man to the halfling’s table aas well, and tooks a seat.

A series of bells rang, signaling the end of morning vespers. The commotion in the common room died away, with most of the patrons calmly going to their seat to enjoy their evening meals. Olgar went to join his companions at their table and find out who the two newcomers were.

“Aye, nothin’ like a good brawl t’ get th’ spirit a burnin’ in ye,” Olgar said happily, and plopped down on the one remaining unbroken chair at the table. He teetered drunkenly and leered at the human and strange elf. Both seemed oddly familiar to him. “”Ew ‘re ye, an’ what’re ye doin’ ‘ere?” he asked.

“Name’s Streith,” the elf replied. “I’m not sure why I’m here, or even if I’m in the right place. I had a vision of a great flaming sword, and all those I asked directed me here.”

“Well, ye come t’ th’ right place, pansy,” Olgar replied. “This ‘ere’s th’ temple o’ Kraig, an’ his weapon’s a great flamin’ sword. So yer ‘ere. Now what?” The elf just shrugged, so Olgar turned on the robed human. “An’ what’er ye doin’, peacock?”

“Yuusdrail here hired me to identify some magic items for you,” the man replied, “I’m here under her contract.”

“Aye that’d prove useful, peacock,” Olgar replied, “if’n yer up t’ it. Wha’ makes ye think so?”

The man said nothing in response, but instead stood, and grabbing the remains of a broken chair beside him, smashed Olgar across the helmet.

“Aye, then,” Olgar responded when the ringing in his ears finally stopped, “ye’ll be alright. Name’s Olgar Shiverstone, glad t’ know ye.” He clasped hands with the man warmly.

“Nelum,” the man stated,” now let’s see those items.”

“Jus’ a sec,” Olgar responded, “ ha’ we met? Ye look familiar.” The man was strangely familiar, as familiar as the elf. The man shook his head. Suddenly it struck Olgar. “Ye two ‘re the ones from me vision! “ He explained the dream he had had two nights before. “I don’ know wha’ it means, but ye’re stayin’ wi’ us until I finds out! Wodyn, give ‘em th’ stuff!”

Wodyn passed the lot across the table without a word, glancing about to see if anyone else in the common room had nothiced. Nelum’s eyes went wide, and he mumbled a few arcane words to himself , and then concentrated on the items briefly.

“I can probably make out a few of these things,” he said after a moment, “but it will take me at least eight hours per item, and cost you 150 gold per.”

“Well, get started,” Wodyn responded, “we’ll go do some exploring in the meantime.”

“What should I start with?” the mage asked, as the other rose to depart.

“Wand,” the kobold replied, “Yuusdrail pay.”

“It’ll be ready about six this evening,” Nelum said, as the others departed.

“Where to?” Olgar asked, as the group gathered outside the building.

“Shopping,” Wodyn replied cryptically.

They headed to the center of town, Belarn explaining that he had been speaking to a dwarven bard about the bardic competition and the series of murders in the town. The bardic competition was the center of the town's attention, and was scheduled to start in the town square about five that evening. Many of the townsfolk seemed to think it would not go off, as several of the performers had been murdered. Kelly McGrath and Irene Mulaney were their names.

“Don’ see what tha’ has t’ do wi’ us,” Olgar said, shaking his head. “We ha’ our own problems. Leave I’ t’ th’ watch. An’ pansy there, he don’ look t’ interested neither.” The elf had accompanied them, saying nothing.

Near the town square, the adventurers came across a large gathering of locals. From the whispered murmur, it seemed there had been another murdur. Belarn and the elf, Streith, slipped away to try and get a better look, while Olgar simply stamped his feet impatiently. Waste o’ bloody time; go join th’ watch if’n ye wants t’ play do-gooder detective.

The two returned shortly. “A young girl was killed, “ Belarn related, “heart ripped out. Her name was Lydia Ferrier. A local, I think. Came in from an outlying farm to see the show. Odd – the dwarf said that the other girls had also had body parts removed.”

“Well, watch’s got it in hand,” Olgar said dismissively. “Let’s be off then.”

They strolled onward, the crowd thinning to nothing. Olgar heard a faint tinkling of chimes, and halted, looking around. Wodyn stopped as well.

“I heard something,” the big man said, “and felt something, too. Can’t place it.”

Olgar shrugged, and was about to move onward, when from a few feet ahead of them Belarn suddenly turned, a feral gleam in his eye.

“I’m tired of always being picked on!” he shouted, and threw a dagger that planted itself in Olgar’s side.” Olgar gasped painfully, but the adrenaline began to build, and he whipped his sword from off his shoulder.

“Aye, runt, ye’ll finally get what ye deserve!” he said, advancing.

Wodyn got there first. Stepping forward quickly, he pulled out his axe and bopped Belarn over the head with the butt of it. The halfling collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Then the big man shuddered again.

“Something just tried to push into my mind!” he cried in horror.

Mind leech, Olgar thought, or worse. Reaching for his deepest faith, he channeled as much positive energy as he could muster. “Be Kraig, out wi’ ye!” he shouted, holding aloft his clenched fist.

The translucent figure of a waspish girl manifested itself out of this air. The figure bled incorporeal blood from a gaping wound in its chest, and where its heart should have been beat a large purple crystal.

Wodyn and Streith sprang forward, swinging their weapons. The figure began to dissolve, whispering a few words in a strange tongue before disappearing.

“That was the girl whose body is in the street back there,” Streith said in horror, “I recognized he face. The words are elvish. She said: ‘The clues to our killer are in our names.’ “

“Aye, but what’s that mean?” Olgar said. He had healed his wound, but was still out of breath and quite irritable. If the halfling was possessed by a spirit, he wasn’t responsible for the attack. Olgar resolved to keep the dagger, just in case.

Wodyn was reviving the stunned halfling. “What happened?” Belarn asked, “and why do I have a lump on my head?”

 

[Angelsboi]

As the DM Let me note that most of the party is indeed chaotic but i do actually have plans for these visions!

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chpt 2, cont.

Olgar was busy nursing a grudge, so Wodyn explained the most recent events. “So the girls murdered, in order, were named Kelly, Irene, and Lydia?” Belarn asked for confirmation.

Wodyn smiled. “Sounds like someone twisted IS sending a message. The first word is probably KILL.”

“Aye, an’ the next word’ll be Belarn, if’n we don’ get about our own business!” Olgar insisted. “Would ye bloody let it drop? We’re not makin’ any gold pokin’ ‘r noses in other folks’ problems!”

“You’re just mad because your head’s all swelled up!” Belarn retorted. “I think we should help!”

“Ye would, runt! An’ if’n ye do, I’ll give ye enough lumps t’ match me head!”

The group strolled onward, evil spirits temporarily banished. They came to the town square, where the pavilion was set up for the evening’s performances. A few performers, and a large crowd, arrived early. One young half-elven bard was signing autographs by the stage, surrounded by a large group of giggling teenage girls and one gangly young man who appeared to be flirting with the bard.

Yech, Olgar thought. More poetry spouting pansies. Need a good brawl here, they do.

Some of the crowd was just as interesting. One bystander, a scrawny man with a tufting, scraggly goatee, had carved himself a large area in one corner of the pavilion. Bet the locals’ gave ‘em the room outta respect fer tha; furball ‘n not ‘im, Olgar thought. The man had a druidic air about him – staff, woodsy outfit, all-natural fibers. Or maybe it was the gigantic white tiger that lay beside him.

Wodyn walked up and looked the tiger in the eye. Bloody nature lovers. Olgar remained out of earshot, but he could see Wodyn get into a discussion with the druid that rapidly became heated. The druid and his tiger stormed off in a huff.

Wodyn returned. “Little disagreement about the natural order of things, nothing important,” he said, “nice tiger, though.”

“Bloody nature lover. Let’s go. I ha’ enough culture ‘n festin’ fer today.”

The adventurers finally reached a small cluster of shops, where they split up to follow their own interests. Olgar, after discovering with disgust that the local master smith was a halfling of all things, decided to follow Wodyn. After an entirely too long discussion with some shopkeeper about the merits of votive candles – who’d a’ thought th’ man wi’ the big axe had a thing fer colored ‘n scented candles – Olgar went and waited outside until the rest of the group finished purchasing supplies. Together they began to walk back toward the Temple of Kraig.

They were passing the Temple of Moloch – obvious in its red and black theme, evil looking gargoyles staring down from the cornices – when they came across another row. A man in black and red priest robes was arguing with one of the local constables and his patrol. The guards, it seemed, were going to arrest old Father Jebediah Maeyi of Moloch for the murder of a young girl, one Lydia Ferrier.

Olgar was going to continue on – hang the dark priest – but Wodyn just had to get involved.

“What’s going on here?” Wodyn asked.

The constable filled him in on his suspicions. “Utter nonsense,” the dark priest replied, “They distrust us because we serve Moloch, but we have done nothing wrong!”

Wodyn turned to the constable. “What evidence do you have linking this priest to the crime?”

“Well … none,” the constable admitted. “But everyone knows they did it. They serve Moloch. There’s been trouble before. We’ve just never been able to catch them at it. I’m taking him in, so it doesn’t happen again!”

“Wait a minute,” Wodyn replied, “nothing you’ve said has convinced me. What sort of trouble was there before?”

“Uh …” the constable admitted sheepishly, “there hasn’t been anything since the new priest here arrived. But there were all kinds of odd happenings under the old priest!”

The priest of Moloch spoke up. “I freely admit that there may have been difficulty under Father Nomasday. He was … odd. Luckily, he disappeared some weeks ago. I am in charge now, and I assure you nothing of the sort will happen. We want to be respected members of the community!” He turned to Wodyn. “You look like an honest sort. I would be willing to pay you to clear my church’s name!”

Wodyn and Belarn both looked uneasy at the prospect. “Wodyn, conference,” Olgar called, and the party huddled away from the constable and priest.

“Nomasday’s the name o’ the priest we offed back in Aurora Falls,” Olgar explained. “So if he were th’ evil one, well, more evil tha’ this lot, anyway, i’s likely tha’ this here evil priest is telling the truth. His gold’s as good as any. If’n ye want to uphold some justice, why not clear ‘em?”

Wodyn nodded. He turned back to the constable. “Since you really have no evidence to take this man in, would you be willing to allow us to investigate this matter and see if we can find who is responsible?”

The constable considered, then nodded. “Right. You’re working for Aerolite City in this. Bring me any evidence you might find.” He took his patrol and departed.

Wodyn turned back to the priest of Moloch. “So, what’s it worth to you if we clear you?” he asked.

The priest considered a moment, looking the group over. “How about … 300 gold each, except for the dwarf. I think I can cure his little … problem.” This with a wicked grin.

“Sold, yer worship!” Olgar piped up. “Ye hired ye’self some detectives! Jus’ make sure ye can lift me little curse!”

The party departed and the priest went back into his temple. Just around the corner, Wodyn and Streith broke into a dead run down an alleyway, rapidly leaving Olgar, Belarn, and Yuusdrail behind.

“What was that all about?” Belarn asked. Olgar shrugged. He and the halfling continued back to the Temple of Kraig. They didn’t notice that Yuusdrail remained behind in the alley.

Nelum was still working on his identification spell when Olgar and Belarn returned to the temple, so the two went down and cooled their throats for a while in the common room. Two hours passed, and Streith and Wodyn finally returned. Wodyn has Yuusdrail tucked under one arm.

“Where’ve ye been?” Olgar demanded. “An’ why’d ye go runnin’ off like that?”

“Yuusdrail got arrested,” Wodyn replied. “There was another murder, and they found her standing over the body.”

”An’ ye bailed ‘er out? “ Olgar shouted, “Are ye daft man? She’s a bloody Kobold! She probably DID kill ‘er!”

“Yussdrail no kill. Man already dead,” the kobold offered. Olgar looked incredulous. Aye, coulda been rid o’ that runt lizard-dog, an’ the fool bails ‘er out!

“The victim was a man this time,” Streith explained, “in fact, the boy we saw mooning at that half-eleven bard earlier today. Name was Lander Heartson. The guard found the body in an alley, with Yuusdrail standing over it. It was the same alley that a little while before, Wodyn and I saw that same bard talking to a peasant. They bolted when they saw us, so we tried to chase them down, but lost them.”

“Now we’ve got KILL,” Belarn said.

“Aye, next two victims’ll probably spell ME,” Olgar replied with a sneer. “So ye think the bard’s behind all this?”

“Makes sense,” Wodyn said. “He was near the sight of the last body. He had access to the other victims through the competition. And we saw him not two hours before with the last victim. He’s connected somehow.”

“So wha’s next?” Olgar aked pointedly.

“We question him. He’ll definitely be at the performance tonight. We just have to slip back stage.”

“An’ how ye propose we do tha’? We’re all not exactly inconspicuous!”

Wodyn grinned slyly, then looked over at the dwarven bard who was sitting in the opposite corner of the room. “I think we can come up with something. We’d better hurry; the competition starts soon.”

Olgar followed his gaze. “Not on yer life, man! I ain’t gonna!”

An exchange of some coins and an hour later, Olgar was trussed up like a perfumed fop, point man for their backstage infiltration. A little of Wodyn’s gold had smoothed over his protests, with the hope that the disguise was good enough that no one would recognize him. His greatsword was camouflaged to look like a lute strung across his back.

The party formed up and was preparing to leave for the town square when there was a commotion in the street outside. They quickly ran to see what was happening.

Out in front of the temple of Kraig, a huge white tiger was mauling a frightened, robed man. It was the same animal they had seen earlier, but the scrawny druid was nowhere in sight. Wodyn drew his axe and ran to assist the man. One swing of the axe, and the tiger was knocked unconscious to the street. Wodyn checked the animal, then helped the man to his feet.

“That you so much,” the man began breathlessly, “You’ve saved me from that awful beast. I’m Edgar Mayfield. The creature is a menace. I insist you destroy it!”

Wodyn shook his head. “You’re safe now, and it won’t hurt anything. We’ll see it gets properly confined.”

“No!” the man insisted, “You must kill it! It’s sick! It serves an evil druid, who worships an evil god of disease and decay. The man infected it with a disease! Kill it before it attacks someone else!”

Wodyn raised an eyebrow, but turned to examine the beast. Streith walked over and examined the creature as well. Another nature lover, Olgar observed. Can’t stay focused on the task at hand.

“There does appear to be some foam about his mouth, and other symptoms,” Wodyn reluctantly agreed. “It could be rabid.” Streith nodded in agreement.

“You’ll kill it then?” the man asked.

“No,” Wodyn replied, “but we’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

The man began to protest, then shut his mouth and scuttled off. The scrawny druid was approaching.

“Brandon!” the druid exclaimed, when he came upon the body of the unconscious tiger. Brandon? Olgar thought. Odd name fer an overgrown kitty. ‘Course, the god o’ th’ paladins is named Ryan. Twouldn’t put it past a nature lover.

“Give him back to me, you’ve hurt him!” the druid demanded of Wodyn. The scrawny man’s lower lip extended in a pout, and he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“The cat is fine,” Wodyn replied calmly, “I just knocked it out. It attacked an innocent man unprovoked. It looks as if it may be rabid. I’m going to see that it gets quarantined.”

“No you won’t!” the druid replied, “he wouldn’t do anything like that! He must have been provoked. The man was probably evil! Now give him to me!”

“No,” Wodyn insisted calmly, “we’re going to take care of the animal. Now stand aside.”

“No, I won’t let you, he was provoked I tell you!” the little man was hopping up and down now. Wodyn just shook his head sadly. “I’ll stop you!”

The druid stepped back, and made some strange motions toward the ground around the party. In a flash, weeds and small plants sprang up from between the cobblestones, wrapping around the adventurers feet and legs. The man grabbed the tiger and began to run away, dragging the cat behind him.

Olgar attempted to throw a spell to delay the man, but the grasping plants interfered with his movements and prevented him. Streith broke free of the plants, readying a hand axe in case the druid threw another spell. Wodyn also broke free, and charged ahead to the man.

The druid stepped back out of Wodyn’s reach, mumbled a charm, and reached down and touched the tiger. The creature roared back to consciousness, turning on Wodyn and roaring at him.

Wodyn shook his head sadly, and struck the creature, again using the flat of his axe. The blow was far too strong, though, for the creature collapsed, dead, blood running from its mouth and ears.

The druid burst into tears, and bent to retrieve the body of the animal. As he did so, the body shifted and shimmered, transforming into the form of a young man. The druid hoisted the body over his shoulder and ran off without another word.

Wodyn walked back with a pained expression.

“Wha’ was tha’ all about? Think that’s our murderer?” Olgar asked.

“Dunno,” Wodyn replied. “Could have been a weretiger – maybe a pair of them – could have been some victim that the druid polymorphed into animal form. Hard to say who was telling the truth. Cat definitely looked rabid, though. ” He shrugged. “Nothing we can do now. Let’s be off, then.”

Aye, just as likely some homoerotic love triangle, Olgar thought, best be getting’ back to business. We’ve a murd’rer t’ catch ‘n some gold t’ earn!

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chpt 2, cont.

Nelum came out of the building at that point. “I’m finished!” he announced, slipping something to Yuusdrail.

“An what’d ye find, peacock?” Olgar growled.

“Well, I was contracted by Yuusdrail, so I really shouldn’t …” Nelum began, but Olgar cut him off.

“They was our items! Th’ kobold don’ own none o’ it!” Olgar’s fist clenched.

“ …wand of cure light wounds.” Nelum finished.

“Yuusdrail keep. Yuusdrail pay, Yuusdrail keep.” The kobold piped up.

“Fine.” Olgar shrugged. Wench can’t use it anyway.

“If dwarf pay, dwarf can use,” Yuusdrail offered.

Olgar had been edging closer. “Here’s your payment,” he said, grabbing the kobold, and tossing her through the front window of the building.

Yuusdrail staggered back out a few moments later, shaking the glass from her scales. “Mean dwarf not get wand now!”

Olgar just laughed. Was worth it for that little bit o’ abuse.

The party moved on, arriving at the pavilion in the town square, which was packed to standing room only. A woman was selling tickets at the gate, and demanded five coins per to enter. Olgar decided to take advantage of his perfumed foppery.

“I’m performin’. No need t’ pay. These here’re me assistants. Roadies ‘n such.”

The woman looked skeptical. “What’s your name?” she asked, consulting a roll of parchment.

“Uh … er …”

“Rowaldo,” Wodyn offered helpfully.

“Five gold, please,” the woman responded. Grumbling, the group paid the fee.

They had little trouble weaving their way through the crowds, and made their way up to the backstage entrance. Wodyn and Streith went to canvass the crowd, in case the half-elven bard was out there or made an appearance on stage. Olgar, Belarn, and Nelum went backstage. Olgar’s little nod toward foppery had apparently paid off – they gto backstage without a problem. The half elf was just strolling out on stage as they entered. The three adventurers took up positions by the stage exit, pretending to be observing the performance, but ready to grab the man once he returned.

The crowd applauded appreciatively as the bard appeared, and he gave what was probably a virtuoso performance, if you enjoyed the sounds of slaughtering cats. Apparently the crowd did, as he gave several encores before returning back stage. Olgar and Belarn quickly backed the man into a corner, aided by the timely arrival of Streith and Wodyn.

“Ye’ve got some answering t’ do,” Olgar growled.

“I don’t do autographs until later …” the man began.

“You were seen at the scene of a crime,” Wodyn interrupted. “A young man, who we saw you talking to earlier today, was found dead at the scene. And I chased you halfway across town. You’re coming with us. You have some explaining to do.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort! I was entertaining in a tavern all day today. I’ll give you the name – ask them!” the bard protested. He seemed sincere.

“You knew the victim. He had taken quite an interest in you. Perhaps you didn’t like the attention?” Wodyn prodded.

“I have many fans, and I love their attention. Check my story. You’ve no reason to hold me. I’m not leaving town.”

Olgar had stepped back and was mumbling a brief prayer. He could detect the emanations of magic from the man’s clothing – a set of earrings, his cloak, and a set of pipes all radiated strongly. He could detect some abjuration and conjuration magicks, but nothing that made him suspicious.

“He’s clean,” Olgar whispered to Wodyn.

Rather than make a scene, they elected to let the man go. Dejected, they strolled through back alleys.

“Wha’ now?” Olgar asked. Wodyn and the others only shrugged. They were out of leads.

Suddenly, a scream sounded from an alleyway ahead, and the group charged forward. Rounding a corner, they could see a dark form with a dagger grappling with a yound woman. Approaching closer, they could see that it was the half-elven bard with whom they had just spoken. Noticing their approach, the man pulled the girl in front of him, dagger to her throat.

“Come no closer, or she dies!” he threatened.

Streith was already winding up, and let fly with a throwing axe. The throw was straight and true, right into the girl’s mid-section. She dropped, leaving the man exposed.

“Oops …” Streith muttered, as Wodyn charged forward. Belarn loosed an arrow, and Olgar a crossbow bolt, but after a bit of posturing, axe versus dagger, Wodyn dropped the bard to the street.

“Get up here and heal this girl, before she dies!” Wodyn shouted at the dwarf.

“I ain’t no walkin’ first aid kit! Ask the kobold. Got no healin’ spells prepared anyway,” Olgar responded indignantly.

Yussdrail waved a wand about. “Yuusdrail can’t use.” Olgar gave her a smug look.

“She’s our only witness,” Wodyn cajoled.

“Fine,” Olgar said, “but ye owe me!” He channeled some energy into the girl, closing her wound and restoring her to consciousness.

As Wodyn comforted her, Olgar looted the half-elf’s body, pulling off his cloak, earrings, a set of pan pipes, and discovering a pouch full of gold coins and a small business card. The card glowed purple, and read: “The Autumn Twilight – Your specialty store for arcane goods.” Olgar handed the card to Nelum.

“I’m Melanie Baker,” the girl explained when she had recovered somewhat. “I went to ask him for an autograph, and he attacked me! He said he wanted my vocal cords!”

“There, there,” Wodyn said. “You’re safe now.” He stood her up, policing up the half-elf’s body.

“Let’s go t’ see the Moloch priest ‘n get our reward,” Olgar suggested. Nelum, however, was already calling for the watch. The guardsmen arrived, took their statements and the body, and escorted the girl back to her home.

The party tried the priest anyway. With some effort, they were able to convince him that the investigation had been dropped, and he paid their fee. He also cast an incantation over Olgar. Olgar felt dirty, but he could feel his brow ridges shrink, and his head return to normal size. The group returned to the temple of Kraig.

“Now what?” Olgar asked.

“I think we should check out this magic shop,” Nelum said. “I don’t think this is over. But we should rest first. I need to study my spells.”

“Aye,” Olgar agreed, “but I don’t need t’ study. I need t’ pray.”

“Yuusdrail just special,” the kobold said to no one in particular.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Chpt 2, finis.

The next morning, after preparing spells and weapons, the group headed over to the shop called “The Autumn Twilight.” It certainly could have been a magic shop. It was a small cottage, with twisted decorations and odd signs and symbols painted on the door and façade of the house. The place appeared deserted.

They headed up to the front door, Belarn and Wodyn leading.

“Wait,” Olgar said, casting his detect magic spell. He concentrated for a moment. “Strange. Nothin’ magical nearby tha’ I can detect, ‘cept wha’ we’re carryin’. This place ain’ wha’ it seems.”

Armed with that knowledge, they entered. The small front room was crowded with book shelves and display stands, covered with all manner of arcane tomes, implements, and knickknacks. There was a small of incense, with something odder, nastier underlying it. A passage at the rear led to a back room.

“Nothing magical,” Olgar repeated.

“Well, scout, go scout,” Wodyn motioned to the halfling. Belarn snuck over to the passage to the back of the house, then stepped through it.

The rest heard a cackling laugh. “You are too late to stop me!” cried a voice.

Belarn screamed. Wodyn charged forward, followed closely by Streith. Olgar said a brief prayer to Kraig, pulling a shield of divine faith about himself, then worked himself into a fury and followed Streith.

Wodyn stood in the doorway, battling a man in peasant garb who held a nasty looking sickle in one hand and a pulsating, purple-and-blue crystal staff in the other. The man’s hair was unkempt, his eyes rolled wildly, and he cackled maniacally as he swung the sickle.

Wodyn was holding his own, though he had not yet landed a telling blow. “It’s Farmer Ted!” he shouted -- the missing farmer from Aurora Falls. Nelum launched a bolt of magic that wounded the man but otherwise had little effect.

Belarn was sitting in a corner, a slash wound on one arm. He was drooling, and had a vacant expression in his eyes. A Streith moved around Wodyn to attack, Belarn pushed open the back window of the small room and leapt out.

The wild man slashed at Streith, who couldn’t maneuver around Wodyn’s wild swings. He took but a glancing blow, but his eyes went slack, all traces of intelligence leaving them. He continued to swing his scimitar, though, if imperfectly.

Olgar also squeezed by Wodyn, and attempted to land a blow with his sword, only to have it deflected. Farmer Ted returned the blow, and while Olgar was staggered, he retained his bearings.

The wild man began to cast some sort of spell, and all three fighting men took a swing at him. Wodyn’s axe connected with telling force, just as the man winked out of existence. He was gone, leaving nothing behind by whiff of ozone, and the stinking corpse of a woman in the far corner of the room.

“Did we get ‘im?” Olgar asked, but Wodyn only shrugged noncommittally. The tall man went to examine the body in the corner. Streith sat down, and began to drool. Olgar joined Wodyn and Nelum at the corpse.

The body was oddly misshapen. The woman’s skin was an unusual shade of pink, and there were strange puckerings around her mouth – like the nubs of small growths. Cause of death was easy to determine – her brain had been removed, violently. There were three large amethyst crystals in her robes, but nothing else.

“Look familiar to anyone?” Wodyn asked. Olgar shook his head, but Nelum raised an eyebrow.

“Those nubs look like the beginnings of tentacles,” the wizard said, “which is impossible. She looks like a human turning into something that exists only in faerie tales – a mind flayer.”

“Another mystery, then, with where Farmer Ted disappeared to,” Wodyn said. He turned back to Streith. Yuusdrail towed Belarn in – she had found him lurking outside the back window. “What about these two?”

“Looks like their intelligence has been stolen from them,” Nelum said after a few minutes examination. “That takes powerful magic, and ever more powerful magic to reverse.”

“Tha’ lets me out,” Olgar replied, “the temple o’Kraig couldn’t even lift me curse. Likely there’s only one place local tha’ could do it – our friends a’ Moloch.”

Wodyn turned in disgust. “You would do business with those evil priests again? Who know what price they would demand!”

Nelum nodded. “A spell that would correct this would be very expensive. Do you have that kind of funds?”

“Nae,” Olgar shook his head, “but we ha’ these crystals. They aren’t magic, but thy’re pretty good gemstones. Maybe they’ll take ‘em in trade. Better that, that t’ take these two droolin’ idjits with us a week’s travel t’ the next big city. Devil ye know’s better’n the devil ye don’, after all.”

Lacking better options, the party took the three crystals, their idiots in tow, and headed once again to the church of Moloch. The high priest was at first suspicious, but he turned positively giddy when offered the crystals. He took Belarn and Streith inside, and returned after a bit, both of them apparently restored to normal.

An hour later, the party was back in the temple of Kraig, in the high preist’s office, rendering their report.

“Are ye daft, man?” the high priest shouted at Olgar. “Who knows what kind of magic ye’ gave to the church of Moloch, if he was that happy to see it!”

“Well, yer worship, ye weren’t exactly too helpful, an’ though we think we solved the murders, we don’ know if’n that psycho escaped ‘r not, so we figgur’d we’d better have capable fighters on hand, instead o’ a couple o’ idjits.”

The priest shook his head, disgusted, then changed the subject. “I’ve translated yer diary. It was in a dwarven dialect of Undercommon – that’s why it looked familiar. The dialect was last used by Clan Duergar.”

Duergar! Olgar thought. As good a reason as any t’ have revenge on their stinkin’ hides. Have t’ see where this leads! “What’d the diary say, yer worship?”

The old preist began to read:

“Weddingbirth 1st
The dark times. They come. He tells me so. They are coming back. My wife and kids are growing suspicious of me. She says that something has come over me. I’m not like I used to be. She doesn’t know. I don’t remember a time before I discovered the temple. I cant tell anyone or they will come and take him from me. I cant let that happen. He would be mad. She still snoops around. Something must be done.

Weddingbirth 13th
I made dinner for my wife and kids tonight because he told me to. They liked it. They started throwing up my food. That was very rude. I guess the poison in the food didn’t agree with their stomachs. Oh well. Ill just let someone else clean up the mess. I have to place my family in the cemetery. I’ll blame it on a sickness going around. No one will ever know. I had to get rid of them. They knew too much.

Weddingbirth 23rd
I have breached the temple. The smell of decay and time that history has forgotten smells and feels wonderful against my body. I don’t know how it got to be under my house though. It’s not my job to ask questions. I found the old study to Zalli Your Op The Lid and I found the old book. More later.

Weddingbirth 31st
After reading the book, it all makes perfect sense. I know what I must do. I need to go off to the town of Aerolite. She can help me. The one the Master speaks of. She will have my next set of instructions.”

The heroes looked at each other. It seemed that this part of the mystery had clues they had yet to solve.


TO BE CONTINUED ….