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The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 958570" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>[PLAIN][Realms #226] Death! Death! Death![/PLAIN]</strong></p><p></p><p>But rest seemed intent on eluding the Janissary.</p><p></p><p>As she and Draelond mounted the hill to Rherram's home, they spotted the orange glow of torches burning behind the building. They took the path on the south side that took them through Rherram's low beds of fragrant herbs and found that Ruze, Ixin, and Vade had been busy while they were gone. Well... maybe not Vade since he seemed to be doing little beside sitting under one of the large trees and eating an apple.</p><p></p><p>Ruze was dressed in a white gown that Ledare recognized as similar to the one that Soriah had worn during special ceremonies. Ruzes was trimmed in silver thread and bore twin crescents in the same material centered on his chest. Ixin was had removed her leather armor and looked a good deal healthier than when they left. She had obviously bathed and whatever Rherram had done for her wounds had worked wonders.</p><p></p><p>They stood beside a raised platform of logs taken from the stack of wood Rherram kept behind his laboratory. It formed a sort of rustic bier. Finian was laid out atop the pile, dressed in his adventuring gear. He too had been carefully bathed and arranged so that he looked to be sleeping rather than dead. Ruze was leaning over and talking to the little halfling, a bemused smile on the cleric's face.</p><p></p><p>"Wow! You don't miss any meals do you?" Ledare and Draelond could hear the newcomer say as he gestured to Ruze's belly. "Do you cook or does your wife cook for you? Oh! Here she is now!"</p><p></p><p>Vade looked over at Ledare and she gave him a scathing look. The halfling turned back to Ruze and said in a loud whisper, "She is cute, but I don't really like her hair cut." Ruze stifled back a chuckle in spite of the somber surroundings.</p><p></p><p>"What's all this?" Draelond asked, gesturing to the bier and torches. As they stepped out into the firelight, they could see that several more torches - unlit - were piled up nearby.</p><p></p><p>"I would like to conduct a funeral service for Finian and a memorial for Kirnoth," Ruze explained, folding his hands reverently as he spoke. "I have prepared a burial speech and would ask each of you to remember and approach Finian and Kirnoth in your own way when the time comes."</p><p></p><p>"Ruze," Ledare sighed, "We learned things in town and I don't you really think we have time for-"</p><p></p><p>"This is important, Kitten," the Battleguard asserted. "Finian deserves to be ushered properly into Myrkul's dark hall. Vade, kindly go fetch Rhem so that we may begin."</p><p></p><p>The halfling nodded and bound to his feet in a single, convulsive leap.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>"We are gathered here tonight to remember those who have fallen whilst fighting against the taint of chaos that e'en now as we speak spreads throughout the Realm" Ruze began his eulogy, gesturing to the ranger's body. "Finian Talteppe, Archer of the Green, has fallen while gallantly fighting the minions of evil. He lay down his life so we could be here today. There lies his body, dead. But he is not dead; for he lives on in each of us. And we are not dead."</p><p></p><p>He looked pointedly at each of his companions as he spoke that last, making sure that the implication of hope was apparent to each of them. "We can be thankful for the grace of Shaharizod shines on us all even on those who are not of the Faith. Be glad that we stand here today and do not be sorrowful," he went on. "Finian chose his path and chose it well. He died in honor and would want us to carry forth the fight against chaos. Only one now stands of the original companions: Ledare Eelsof'faw. In her lifetime she has seen those around her fall."</p><p></p><p>He approached Ledare and lay a comforting hand on the shoulder guard of her Janissary plate before moving on with his prepared words.</p><p></p><p>"Let us also not forgot my sister, Soriah Ilea Chaste, who was the first to fall in the fight against chaos. Her spirit now rests with my Queen," he said, raising his hands to the dark sky where Great Celune shown full and round. Lower in the sky, just above the horizon hung the tiny sliver of the Handmaiden. Ruze bent and picked up a folded cloak that Ledare, Draelond and Rherram recognized as belonging to Kirnoth. He held it sadly in his hands for a moment before continuing.</p><p></p><p>"Then Kirnoth Val Satha, who has been stolen from our breast into the heart of darkness," he intoned. "Kirnoth has befallen a fate worse than death! For Chaos has stolen our friend and companion and now seeks to use him against us as if he were a mere pawn!" Ruze lay the cloak at the foot of Finian's rough-hewn bier. "For Kirnoth we now also mourn the loss. I ask my Queen to guard after his soul and when it is time to guide it to your bosom. May we find Kirnoth and put his soul to rest."</p><p></p><p>"And now Finian has been stolen from us as well," he added as he turned and faced the gathered companions. "May Shaharizod provide the hunting ground for his soul." He bowed his head a moment and silence save for the sounds of nature and crackling of the burning torches pressed in around them.</p><p></p><p>"But let us now not forget the living, for we are the next generation to fight chaos: Draelond Khemir; Ixin Chaririejir; myself, Ruze Bloodbow Faith; and now Vade Briarhopper, for Shaharizod brought us the little one to lighten our spirit, and most likely some of our load," Ruze said with a wink to Vade as the cleric clutched his silver holy symbol protectively. "I also consider Rhem Ongensleer as part of the Companions for he does not range forth with us, but remains here steadfast against Chaos ready to aid when and where he can. Let us not forget Ledare, who has lead those before her and not these here today, for she is a good leader, a kind leader, a just leader, and a compassionate leader. I can say that those who follow the path of Shaharizod are trained to walk alone, as I can now, yet I chose to follow Ledare as she will guide us through the darkness into the light."</p><p></p><p>Saying this he folded his hands and stepped away from the bier, stepping in amidst the others' ranks. "Now let's all take a moment to remember all those who have fallen.," he said with a pious smile. "Let us approach them each in their own way. Let us speak to our Gods and Goddesses. Then let us go back to living, let us go back to that which is before us. Let us take a moment now."</p><p></p><p>No one stepped forward and Ruze looked awkwardly at the group.</p><p></p><p>Draelond avoided his gaze. Ledare merely stared sadly at the body. Ixin shook her head and explained, "I only met him yesterday. I hardly knew him." Vade, however, squared his small shoulders and walked up to the side of the wooden platform. From that position, he could barely see half-elf's body stretched out atop it, but he craned his neck and stood on his tip-toes in order to do so.</p><p></p><p>"You seem like you will be missed," he told the corpse, then started to walk away. Stopping at the foot of the bier he turned and added, "I have to say I admire your bold fashion statements. It takes one tough man to get away with hair and shoes like that." He started to say more, but his voice cracked and a sob overtook him. He blew his nose messily into a handkerchief as he walked back to rejoin the others. The handkerchief was embroidered with Rherram's initials.</p><p></p><p>The healer paid no attention to it, but somberly approached the ranger's body with Jiselleen and the baby at his side. They stood there with bowed heads for a moment and then stepped back. Ruze looked over at Ledare and Draelond one last time before gathering up the unlit torches and handing them - one each - to the assemblage.</p><p></p><p>"Very well," he said as he lit his torch off of the nearest flame. "Then I would like to have us each touch our torches to the pyre, sending Finian's spirit on its final journey."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Later, as they watched the fire consume the Archer's body, Ruze gritted his teeth.</p><p></p><p>"You know, I suddenly grow tired from all of this," he said to no one in particular. "Finian is dead, Kirnoth lost, Ledare is dispirited, and I now grow tired that all our efforts seem unable to stem the tide of chaos. I say tonight, I shall pray to my Queen for divine power to make a difference." No one said anything as they watched the remains of their companion burn. They all turned to regard him when next he spoke, "We go back to the caves tomorrow. We find this portal and find the evil that has destroyed Kirnoth and we eradicate this cave. I will purify it so that evil cannot grow back there, then at least one small area has been rid of the foul taint of chaos."</p><p></p><p>"We shouldn't dilly-dally here," Draelond grumbled. "Our prisoner can lead us to the portal and ostensibly, Kirnoth as well, but it may be a time-sensitive issue."</p><p></p><p>"Seek Rhem's cures, for I pray for my Queen's Swords tonight not her Spirit to cure," the Battleguard said with a menacing scowl.</p><p></p><p>"We should prepare and be off to deal with this in the morning," the big warrior agreed, grinding his right fist into the palm of his left hand.</p><p></p><p>"I can help!" Vade piped up. "I am great at finding things! Did you lose this?" He held up a twisted red finger that Ruze recognized as his dried Devil's Tongue bean. He snatched it away from the halfling and clutched it in his hand since his robe didn't have any pockets.</p><p></p><p>"What are you good at?" Ledare asked, glowering at the little man.</p><p></p><p>"Hmm... Let me see..." the halfling said and began counting off on his fingers. When he got to his missing picky, he frowned sadly before looking up at Ledare with a grin. "My brothers used to say my brains were made of jelly because I was good at getting out of jams." He laughed loudly (as did some of the others). Ledare, however, stared at him stone-faced. "I am good at making friends," the halfling suggested and clutched at the healer's leg. "Right Rherram?"</p><p></p><p>"How do you purpose to be of assistance to our group?" the Janissary rephrased the question. "By making friends with our enemies?"</p><p></p><p>"Well... whenever anyone loses stuff, I seem to be good at finding it," he offered and Ledare snorted derisively. "Just lucky I guess. My Mama used to say, 'Boy you could talk the ears off of an elephant!'. So I must be a good talker... I love my Mama." Vade got a wistful look on his face and sighed expansively.</p><p></p><p>Ledare looked at Draelond as if to ask: this is who you want joining our quest? Draelond shrugged in response and the Janissary shook her head in resigned confusion. "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands. "Before we go to bed tonight, I want to tell you all what I know. From the beginning, leaving nothing out."</p><p></p><p>And she did.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Starday, the 10th of Wealsun, 1269 AE</p><p></p><p>They were awakened by a loud pounding at the front door before the day had even brightened to dawn and in the gray light, Ledare groggily croaked out, "Just a minute, Abernathy!" She wasn't in Grey House and the pounding was coming from the front door of Rherram's. Vade hoped nimbly over the forms of the companions who were stretched out uncomfortably on the floor in the healer's living room. He slid back the bar and threw open the door before Ledare had even propped herself up on one arm.</p><p></p><p>The halfling looked up at the young runner who stood panting outside in the pre-dawn gloom. The runner looked down at him in turn. "Who are you?" they both asked at once.</p><p></p><p>Rherram appeared at the back of the room dressed in his nightshirt and holding an oil lamp in one hand. Seeing him the boy at the door said to him, "Healer! I've been sent to find the Janissary."</p><p></p><p>Rubbing sleep from her eyes with one fist, Ledare yawned expansively and got to her feet. "That's me," she grumbled. "What is it?"</p><p></p><p>"The Lord Mayor sent me," the boy said. "There's been some trouble with your prisoner."</p><p></p><p>"Dammit!" Ledare cursed, fully awake now. Around her the others had begun to stir as well. The Janissary reached for her breastplate and the boy held up a cautioning hand.</p><p></p><p>"The Lord Mayor suggested that you might want to come as a civilian," the runner added and Ledare nodded her understanding.</p><p></p><p>"Give me a few moments to get dressed," she told the boy, gesturing that he should wait outside.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The sun was above the horizon when they reached the jail and a large, nervous crowd had already gathered outside it. A few scrawny armsmen wielding longspears kept the mob at bay, but some of the guards had stains on their uniforms from being pelted with rotten fruit. Ledare could only imagine what would have happened had she walked up wearing her Janissary plate and the tabbard of Elcaden. The guards ushered her and the others (except Vade, who had elected to stay behind and help Rherram with breakfast) into the low, fortified building. Many of the gathered townspeople shied away from Ruze once they recognized him as a Battleguard of Shaharizod. They made the sign of the Evil Eye and spit at his feet as he passed. Several amongst the crowd hissed, 'Dragon bitch!' at Ixin as she walked by.</p><p></p><p>The scene inside the jail was much worse.</p><p></p><p>There were three dead armsmen in the front room. They weren't just dead, though. They looked like they had been forcefully stabbed with a thousand needles... from the inside. Blood was everywhere and judging by the unnatural positions of the bodies, they hadn't died quickly.</p><p></p><p>"Good gods!" Ixin hissed, covering her mouth with one gloved hand and narrowly stifling back a retch.</p><p></p><p>"Aye! That's what I said too!" a voice called from the back of the room. He was a heavy man with finely plaited white hair held in place with a simple circlet of gold. He wore a sculpted breastplate that bore the symbol of Ibrahil the True. A longsword depended from his waist. He scratched at his jowls with one hand and offered his other to Ledare. "You must be the Janissary," he said as they clasped wrists. "I'm Baron Wicaop, Lord Mayor of Strenchburg Junction."</p><p></p><p>"I am Janissary Ledare Eelsof'faw," she said. "Your runner said there was trouble with my prisoner. Did he escape?"</p><p></p><p>The Mayor considered this for a moment, then said simply, "No." He turned and passed through a narrow doorway that was normally blocked by a heavy iron door. They followed into a cramped area surrounded on two sides by stout iron bars. There was a tiny drain the center of the stone floor and it emitted a steady drip-drip-drip as blood fell away into darkness below.</p><p></p><p>The place was a massacre. Constable Boralle lay nearby, clutching his chest with one hand, his face the color of ashes. There was a pile of corruption near his body that may have been another guard, but he appeared to have somehow rotted away to near liquid putrescence. The stench was horrible. The dismembered body of another guard was hanging from its own intestines on the weapon rack. His head was conspicuously missing. A message had been scrawled in blood on the wall above the body. It read: "Do not interfere, Janissary!"</p><p></p><p>"Your man's over here," the Mayor said, gesturing toward one of the cells. "At least I think so."</p><p></p><p>Where Ledare and Draelond had left the werebat the night before was a sickening pile of green slime. Several prisoners in nearby cells were completely shriveled as if the very life force had been leeched out of them. The desiccated husks of their bodies lay on the floor of their cells curled into pitiful positions.</p><p></p><p>"What could do this?" Ledare asked no one in particular.</p><p></p><p>"Apparently one man," a woman answered. She was a matronly type dressed in robes of green and gold. Her feet were bare despite the filth around her and she wore the wheat-stalk symbol of Merikka on a chain around her neck. "I spoke briefly with the only survivor of this massacre. He was raving when I arrived but became coherent long enough to impart his tale before lapsing completely."</p><p></p><p>"This is Annette Higheagle, an Archal of the Sun Lord," Baron Wicaop announced. "I asked her here when my men discovered this..." The Mayor's words trailed off as he gestured to the room that had once been a place of law and now served only death. "She's the most powerful priest we have in the Barony."</p><p></p><p>Annette bowed her head once, accepting the praise and then approached the Companions. "I had the survivor - a prisoner named Grith Deethblak who was incarcerated on a charge of public drunkeness and assault - taken back to the temple by some of my acolytes," she said sadly. "But I fear it will matter little; his mind is shattered. And I'm not surprised considering what he claims to have seen."</p><p></p><p>She then recounted the tale that Deethblak had told, sparing no detail, and offering what explanation she could in the process. It had started with screaming in the outer room, Deethblak had said. One of the guards (named Thompar, Baron Wicaop told them) opened the door and found the three outer guards writhing around on the ground, bristling with thorns. Standing in their midst was a tall human dressed in black leather, wearing a black cape with skin that looked like it had never seen the sun. He moved quickly - more quickly than any human had the right and touched Thompar on the shoulder. The guard started crying and went down immediately. The man in black moved into the room and spit something at one of the other guards (Merin, gods rest his soul). Deethblak claimed it looked like the man's tongue, but it was about two feet long, and it pinned the guard to the weapons rack in an instant. Constable Boralle got up and went for his sword, but the man in black cast a spell and the constable fell to the ground clutching his chest. He never got up.</p><p></p><p>Then the man in black walked over to the werebat and cast another spell that made the prisoners in the cells beside the werebat begin to weaken visibly. Then the man lit up a long bone pipe and stood smoking it while he and the werebat muttered to each other. What was said, Deethblak couldn't hear, but it seemed to make the man in black very angry. He cast another spell and the werebat started to convulse. In less than 30 seconds, he'd turned into that puddle of green slime.</p><p></p><p>And then the man in black started doing things to the guards. Thompar, who was still weeping uncontrollably, he turned into that putrid husk. But Merin, he kept alive for a while, as the prisoners withered in their cells and Deethblak watched.</p><p></p><p>"In the end, the man in black used magic to convince Grith Deethblak that his body was rotting away in much the same way. It was too much for his mind to handle," Arcal Annette concluded. "The man in black made him remember something that he kept repeating over and over: 'The Black Bishop will rise again! We will free the High King!'."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 958570, member: 2323"] [b][PLAIN][Realms #226] Death! Death! Death![/PLAIN][/b] But rest seemed intent on eluding the Janissary. As she and Draelond mounted the hill to Rherram's home, they spotted the orange glow of torches burning behind the building. They took the path on the south side that took them through Rherram's low beds of fragrant herbs and found that Ruze, Ixin, and Vade had been busy while they were gone. Well... maybe not Vade since he seemed to be doing little beside sitting under one of the large trees and eating an apple. Ruze was dressed in a white gown that Ledare recognized as similar to the one that Soriah had worn during special ceremonies. Ruzes was trimmed in silver thread and bore twin crescents in the same material centered on his chest. Ixin was had removed her leather armor and looked a good deal healthier than when they left. She had obviously bathed and whatever Rherram had done for her wounds had worked wonders. They stood beside a raised platform of logs taken from the stack of wood Rherram kept behind his laboratory. It formed a sort of rustic bier. Finian was laid out atop the pile, dressed in his adventuring gear. He too had been carefully bathed and arranged so that he looked to be sleeping rather than dead. Ruze was leaning over and talking to the little halfling, a bemused smile on the cleric's face. "Wow! You don't miss any meals do you?" Ledare and Draelond could hear the newcomer say as he gestured to Ruze's belly. "Do you cook or does your wife cook for you? Oh! Here she is now!" Vade looked over at Ledare and she gave him a scathing look. The halfling turned back to Ruze and said in a loud whisper, "She is cute, but I don't really like her hair cut." Ruze stifled back a chuckle in spite of the somber surroundings. "What's all this?" Draelond asked, gesturing to the bier and torches. As they stepped out into the firelight, they could see that several more torches - unlit - were piled up nearby. "I would like to conduct a funeral service for Finian and a memorial for Kirnoth," Ruze explained, folding his hands reverently as he spoke. "I have prepared a burial speech and would ask each of you to remember and approach Finian and Kirnoth in your own way when the time comes." "Ruze," Ledare sighed, "We learned things in town and I don't you really think we have time for-" "This is important, Kitten," the Battleguard asserted. "Finian deserves to be ushered properly into Myrkul's dark hall. Vade, kindly go fetch Rhem so that we may begin." The halfling nodded and bound to his feet in a single, convulsive leap. "We are gathered here tonight to remember those who have fallen whilst fighting against the taint of chaos that e'en now as we speak spreads throughout the Realm" Ruze began his eulogy, gesturing to the ranger's body. "Finian Talteppe, Archer of the Green, has fallen while gallantly fighting the minions of evil. He lay down his life so we could be here today. There lies his body, dead. But he is not dead; for he lives on in each of us. And we are not dead." He looked pointedly at each of his companions as he spoke that last, making sure that the implication of hope was apparent to each of them. "We can be thankful for the grace of Shaharizod shines on us all even on those who are not of the Faith. Be glad that we stand here today and do not be sorrowful," he went on. "Finian chose his path and chose it well. He died in honor and would want us to carry forth the fight against chaos. Only one now stands of the original companions: Ledare Eelsof'faw. In her lifetime she has seen those around her fall." He approached Ledare and lay a comforting hand on the shoulder guard of her Janissary plate before moving on with his prepared words. "Let us also not forgot my sister, Soriah Ilea Chaste, who was the first to fall in the fight against chaos. Her spirit now rests with my Queen," he said, raising his hands to the dark sky where Great Celune shown full and round. Lower in the sky, just above the horizon hung the tiny sliver of the Handmaiden. Ruze bent and picked up a folded cloak that Ledare, Draelond and Rherram recognized as belonging to Kirnoth. He held it sadly in his hands for a moment before continuing. "Then Kirnoth Val Satha, who has been stolen from our breast into the heart of darkness," he intoned. "Kirnoth has befallen a fate worse than death! For Chaos has stolen our friend and companion and now seeks to use him against us as if he were a mere pawn!" Ruze lay the cloak at the foot of Finian's rough-hewn bier. "For Kirnoth we now also mourn the loss. I ask my Queen to guard after his soul and when it is time to guide it to your bosom. May we find Kirnoth and put his soul to rest." "And now Finian has been stolen from us as well," he added as he turned and faced the gathered companions. "May Shaharizod provide the hunting ground for his soul." He bowed his head a moment and silence save for the sounds of nature and crackling of the burning torches pressed in around them. "But let us now not forget the living, for we are the next generation to fight chaos: Draelond Khemir; Ixin Chaririejir; myself, Ruze Bloodbow Faith; and now Vade Briarhopper, for Shaharizod brought us the little one to lighten our spirit, and most likely some of our load," Ruze said with a wink to Vade as the cleric clutched his silver holy symbol protectively. "I also consider Rhem Ongensleer as part of the Companions for he does not range forth with us, but remains here steadfast against Chaos ready to aid when and where he can. Let us not forget Ledare, who has lead those before her and not these here today, for she is a good leader, a kind leader, a just leader, and a compassionate leader. I can say that those who follow the path of Shaharizod are trained to walk alone, as I can now, yet I chose to follow Ledare as she will guide us through the darkness into the light." Saying this he folded his hands and stepped away from the bier, stepping in amidst the others' ranks. "Now let's all take a moment to remember all those who have fallen.," he said with a pious smile. "Let us approach them each in their own way. Let us speak to our Gods and Goddesses. Then let us go back to living, let us go back to that which is before us. Let us take a moment now." No one stepped forward and Ruze looked awkwardly at the group. Draelond avoided his gaze. Ledare merely stared sadly at the body. Ixin shook her head and explained, "I only met him yesterday. I hardly knew him." Vade, however, squared his small shoulders and walked up to the side of the wooden platform. From that position, he could barely see half-elf's body stretched out atop it, but he craned his neck and stood on his tip-toes in order to do so. "You seem like you will be missed," he told the corpse, then started to walk away. Stopping at the foot of the bier he turned and added, "I have to say I admire your bold fashion statements. It takes one tough man to get away with hair and shoes like that." He started to say more, but his voice cracked and a sob overtook him. He blew his nose messily into a handkerchief as he walked back to rejoin the others. The handkerchief was embroidered with Rherram's initials. The healer paid no attention to it, but somberly approached the ranger's body with Jiselleen and the baby at his side. They stood there with bowed heads for a moment and then stepped back. Ruze looked over at Ledare and Draelond one last time before gathering up the unlit torches and handing them - one each - to the assemblage. "Very well," he said as he lit his torch off of the nearest flame. "Then I would like to have us each touch our torches to the pyre, sending Finian's spirit on its final journey." Later, as they watched the fire consume the Archer's body, Ruze gritted his teeth. "You know, I suddenly grow tired from all of this," he said to no one in particular. "Finian is dead, Kirnoth lost, Ledare is dispirited, and I now grow tired that all our efforts seem unable to stem the tide of chaos. I say tonight, I shall pray to my Queen for divine power to make a difference." No one said anything as they watched the remains of their companion burn. They all turned to regard him when next he spoke, "We go back to the caves tomorrow. We find this portal and find the evil that has destroyed Kirnoth and we eradicate this cave. I will purify it so that evil cannot grow back there, then at least one small area has been rid of the foul taint of chaos." "We shouldn't dilly-dally here," Draelond grumbled. "Our prisoner can lead us to the portal and ostensibly, Kirnoth as well, but it may be a time-sensitive issue." "Seek Rhem's cures, for I pray for my Queen's Swords tonight not her Spirit to cure," the Battleguard said with a menacing scowl. "We should prepare and be off to deal with this in the morning," the big warrior agreed, grinding his right fist into the palm of his left hand. "I can help!" Vade piped up. "I am great at finding things! Did you lose this?" He held up a twisted red finger that Ruze recognized as his dried Devil's Tongue bean. He snatched it away from the halfling and clutched it in his hand since his robe didn't have any pockets. "What are you good at?" Ledare asked, glowering at the little man. "Hmm... Let me see..." the halfling said and began counting off on his fingers. When he got to his missing picky, he frowned sadly before looking up at Ledare with a grin. "My brothers used to say my brains were made of jelly because I was good at getting out of jams." He laughed loudly (as did some of the others). Ledare, however, stared at him stone-faced. "I am good at making friends," the halfling suggested and clutched at the healer's leg. "Right Rherram?" "How do you purpose to be of assistance to our group?" the Janissary rephrased the question. "By making friends with our enemies?" "Well... whenever anyone loses stuff, I seem to be good at finding it," he offered and Ledare snorted derisively. "Just lucky I guess. My Mama used to say, 'Boy you could talk the ears off of an elephant!'. So I must be a good talker... I love my Mama." Vade got a wistful look on his face and sighed expansively. Ledare looked at Draelond as if to ask: this is who you want joining our quest? Draelond shrugged in response and the Janissary shook her head in resigned confusion. "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands. "Before we go to bed tonight, I want to tell you all what I know. From the beginning, leaving nothing out." And she did. Starday, the 10th of Wealsun, 1269 AE They were awakened by a loud pounding at the front door before the day had even brightened to dawn and in the gray light, Ledare groggily croaked out, "Just a minute, Abernathy!" She wasn't in Grey House and the pounding was coming from the front door of Rherram's. Vade hoped nimbly over the forms of the companions who were stretched out uncomfortably on the floor in the healer's living room. He slid back the bar and threw open the door before Ledare had even propped herself up on one arm. The halfling looked up at the young runner who stood panting outside in the pre-dawn gloom. The runner looked down at him in turn. "Who are you?" they both asked at once. Rherram appeared at the back of the room dressed in his nightshirt and holding an oil lamp in one hand. Seeing him the boy at the door said to him, "Healer! I've been sent to find the Janissary." Rubbing sleep from her eyes with one fist, Ledare yawned expansively and got to her feet. "That's me," she grumbled. "What is it?" "The Lord Mayor sent me," the boy said. "There's been some trouble with your prisoner." "Dammit!" Ledare cursed, fully awake now. Around her the others had begun to stir as well. The Janissary reached for her breastplate and the boy held up a cautioning hand. "The Lord Mayor suggested that you might want to come as a civilian," the runner added and Ledare nodded her understanding. "Give me a few moments to get dressed," she told the boy, gesturing that he should wait outside. The sun was above the horizon when they reached the jail and a large, nervous crowd had already gathered outside it. A few scrawny armsmen wielding longspears kept the mob at bay, but some of the guards had stains on their uniforms from being pelted with rotten fruit. Ledare could only imagine what would have happened had she walked up wearing her Janissary plate and the tabbard of Elcaden. The guards ushered her and the others (except Vade, who had elected to stay behind and help Rherram with breakfast) into the low, fortified building. Many of the gathered townspeople shied away from Ruze once they recognized him as a Battleguard of Shaharizod. They made the sign of the Evil Eye and spit at his feet as he passed. Several amongst the crowd hissed, 'Dragon bitch!' at Ixin as she walked by. The scene inside the jail was much worse. There were three dead armsmen in the front room. They weren't just dead, though. They looked like they had been forcefully stabbed with a thousand needles... from the inside. Blood was everywhere and judging by the unnatural positions of the bodies, they hadn't died quickly. "Good gods!" Ixin hissed, covering her mouth with one gloved hand and narrowly stifling back a retch. "Aye! That's what I said too!" a voice called from the back of the room. He was a heavy man with finely plaited white hair held in place with a simple circlet of gold. He wore a sculpted breastplate that bore the symbol of Ibrahil the True. A longsword depended from his waist. He scratched at his jowls with one hand and offered his other to Ledare. "You must be the Janissary," he said as they clasped wrists. "I'm Baron Wicaop, Lord Mayor of Strenchburg Junction." "I am Janissary Ledare Eelsof'faw," she said. "Your runner said there was trouble with my prisoner. Did he escape?" The Mayor considered this for a moment, then said simply, "No." He turned and passed through a narrow doorway that was normally blocked by a heavy iron door. They followed into a cramped area surrounded on two sides by stout iron bars. There was a tiny drain the center of the stone floor and it emitted a steady drip-drip-drip as blood fell away into darkness below. The place was a massacre. Constable Boralle lay nearby, clutching his chest with one hand, his face the color of ashes. There was a pile of corruption near his body that may have been another guard, but he appeared to have somehow rotted away to near liquid putrescence. The stench was horrible. The dismembered body of another guard was hanging from its own intestines on the weapon rack. His head was conspicuously missing. A message had been scrawled in blood on the wall above the body. It read: "Do not interfere, Janissary!" "Your man's over here," the Mayor said, gesturing toward one of the cells. "At least I think so." Where Ledare and Draelond had left the werebat the night before was a sickening pile of green slime. Several prisoners in nearby cells were completely shriveled as if the very life force had been leeched out of them. The desiccated husks of their bodies lay on the floor of their cells curled into pitiful positions. "What could do this?" Ledare asked no one in particular. "Apparently one man," a woman answered. She was a matronly type dressed in robes of green and gold. Her feet were bare despite the filth around her and she wore the wheat-stalk symbol of Merikka on a chain around her neck. "I spoke briefly with the only survivor of this massacre. He was raving when I arrived but became coherent long enough to impart his tale before lapsing completely." "This is Annette Higheagle, an Archal of the Sun Lord," Baron Wicaop announced. "I asked her here when my men discovered this..." The Mayor's words trailed off as he gestured to the room that had once been a place of law and now served only death. "She's the most powerful priest we have in the Barony." Annette bowed her head once, accepting the praise and then approached the Companions. "I had the survivor - a prisoner named Grith Deethblak who was incarcerated on a charge of public drunkeness and assault - taken back to the temple by some of my acolytes," she said sadly. "But I fear it will matter little; his mind is shattered. And I'm not surprised considering what he claims to have seen." She then recounted the tale that Deethblak had told, sparing no detail, and offering what explanation she could in the process. It had started with screaming in the outer room, Deethblak had said. One of the guards (named Thompar, Baron Wicaop told them) opened the door and found the three outer guards writhing around on the ground, bristling with thorns. Standing in their midst was a tall human dressed in black leather, wearing a black cape with skin that looked like it had never seen the sun. He moved quickly - more quickly than any human had the right and touched Thompar on the shoulder. The guard started crying and went down immediately. The man in black moved into the room and spit something at one of the other guards (Merin, gods rest his soul). Deethblak claimed it looked like the man's tongue, but it was about two feet long, and it pinned the guard to the weapons rack in an instant. Constable Boralle got up and went for his sword, but the man in black cast a spell and the constable fell to the ground clutching his chest. He never got up. Then the man in black walked over to the werebat and cast another spell that made the prisoners in the cells beside the werebat begin to weaken visibly. Then the man lit up a long bone pipe and stood smoking it while he and the werebat muttered to each other. What was said, Deethblak couldn't hear, but it seemed to make the man in black very angry. He cast another spell and the werebat started to convulse. In less than 30 seconds, he'd turned into that puddle of green slime. And then the man in black started doing things to the guards. Thompar, who was still weeping uncontrollably, he turned into that putrid husk. But Merin, he kept alive for a while, as the prisoners withered in their cells and Deethblak watched. "In the end, the man in black used magic to convince Grith Deethblak that his body was rotting away in much the same way. It was too much for his mind to handle," Arcal Annette concluded. "The man in black made him remember something that he kept repeating over and over: 'The Black Bishop will rise again! We will free the High King!'." [/QUOTE]
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