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The Rise of Felskein [Completed]
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<blockquote data-quote="Iron Sky" data-source="post: 4334596" data-attributes="member: 60965"><p>Session 6, Part 3</p><p> </p><p>-Note: Thanks for the comments, glad people are enjoying it! Another update tomorrow-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Long strands of lanterns hung between the high, thick walls of Northmand, already lit as the sun set and casting cheery light down on stalls and makeshift dance-floors of the Harvest Festival.</p><p> </p><p>Kezzek barely saw it even as he passed through the celebrations, Grok'nar following not far behind, smartly wearing a white harvest mask over his face to avoid any unwelcome confrontations. <em>Probably for the best he stay close</em>, Kezzek thought as he glanced back at the hobgoblin. <em>He seems honest in his goal, but he</em> is <em>a hobgoblin</em>. The others had already dispersed on their separate tasks.</p><p> </p><p>The Greywarden Enclave's remote location deep within the outer wall of Northmand made finding it difficult - and all the dancers, jugglers, wrestlers, running children, singers, loose dogs, dancers, and drunks roaming everywhere or gathered around bonfires that seemed to be placed at random made the going slow. When he finally found the Enclave he found it empty. And Grok'nar had disappeared somewhere along the way. He let out a sigh and hefted the massive Tome of Judgments onto its pedestal.</p><p> </p><p><em>I have identified the criminal responsible for the deaths of seven Greywardens,</em> he wrote and dipped the quill in the ink again. <em>He was in the town of Laketide, where he and two companions killed four soldiers and assaulted others, including myself. Local authority was Lt. Laris.</em> </p><p> </p><p>He blotted and started a new entry. <em>There is a new case regarding a hobgoblin bandit leader guilty of terrorism, robbery, and banditry in Northmand area. Known locally as a Neergrog. Will investigate with potentiality of judgment.</em></p><p> </p><p>A quick glance in his own journal and he jotted one more line down. <em>Closing of case: Ming. Re: murder of Kellin family member. Subject died in unrelated activities after receiving local justice.</em></p><p> </p><p>After one more glance over what he had written, he rubbed the clammy, still blackened ring on his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him. He had a faint suspicion about the mark and set out to find a priest to see if they might know what it was - and how to cure it.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harold was ready for a hot herb bath and some clean clothes, but he had an important task to complete. The Captain was not in, so he left his message for the Ambassador in the hands of the Captain's adjutant. He turned to leave, but paused for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>"Adjutant," he said, stopping the man half-way back into the Captain's office. "Make sure that gets into the Ambassador's hands as soon as possible. It explains where I'm going, so if he doesn't get it before I get back, <em>someone</em> will pay."</p><p> </p><p>The Adjutant nodded with a gulp and turned away, but Harold stopped him again. "Oh, one more thing. This may sound like an odd question, but if I were looking for a sage with some information on potentially supernatural beings disguised as humans, where would I look?"</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Grok'nar sat atop the outer wall and glanced out across the dark farmland of Northmand, lit here and there by the candle-sized lights of wind-flickering bonfires. The cool breeze smelled of rain and carried the sound of its motion through a thousand rustling leaves. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was close enough to see, he slid the white wooden mask up off his face.</p><p> </p><p><em>By the Dark Ones, I hope I never have to assault this,</em> he thought, knocking on the solid, still faintly sun-warmed stone of the battlement. <em>Neergrog has never seen this, I'll bet even the High King has no idea, no wonder our armies fell apart against it a hundred years ago. </em>He glanced out over the land again, a surge of something that was a mix of jealousy and disgust washing over him as he took in the richness of the landscape and the strength of the walls. <em>If we had lands half as rich as this, a tenth!</em></p><p> </p><p>He thought of his brothers, their headless corpses dangling by the guard-post as he entered his home lair for the last time. <em>Better that uncle Neergrog die to my steel than me and mine die to these humans'...</em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Harold knocked again on the door to the squat, strange building with it's odd dome-shaped roof. The door flew open as he reached to knock a third time, revealing a human so squat and stout, Harold almost took him for a dwarf. The man wore a strange garment that looked like the ragged remains of three or four robes stitched together to make one even-more-ragged looking one and the last long wisps of brown hair on his head were wild to match.</p><p> </p><p>Harold cleared his throat, but the man sighed, rolled his eyes, and motioned Harold into the cramped entryway in the faint pre-dawn light. "I already know why you're here. Come to see the sage's great library. You know, I once had a young woman knock on my door to bring me flowers? Or was it an old halfling woman? They sometimes look alike you know..."</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Harold stepped inside. Ahead of him, the sage passed through a second door and into a room that seemed to be built beneath a staircase and contained not else but a short rope and a massive candle. "You can use the books, but no funny business! My spell books aren't down there so don't ask. Pay the gold when you leave."</p><p> </p><p>Harold stood in the doorway as the man dangled the rope until one end touched the floor, muttered something, and jerked upwards, pulling up a clump of floorboards to reveal a stairwell descending into darkness. "Gold?" Harold said. "I thought-"</p><p> </p><p>The sage waved his hand. "Restocking fee. And cleanup fee since you types always need to drag everything out and then just leave it lying wherever. By the hour. Just come up and knock when you're ready to leave. No, I won't leave you trapped down there. Dusty books are bad enough, can you imagine what a mess <em>you'd</em> be to clean up? Bleh, no thanks... So are you going in or what?"</p><p> </p><p>Harold clamped his mouth closed and headed down the stairs, the smell of dust and parchment rising to his nostrils as he descended.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Suniel stood on the carriage-bench and stretched as they pulled up beside the Laketide inn again. "Master, master, liar," No Tongue said from behind him, mimicking Suniel's stretch.</p><p> </p><p>Kezzek glanced up at him as he walked by, leading his own mount towards the stable. "You and your goblin having a disagreement?"</p><p> </p><p>"No," Suniel said with a deep sigh and a glance at the little goblin. "He's found a couple new words. That's one of the better ones. Half of his vocabulary now seems to be curses now unfortunately."</p><p> </p><p>The half-orc grunted and walked on. Guntl got down as well and stood beside Suniel as they unhitched the horses. "I caught Stabber trying to steal some apples while you were off buying supplies last night," Guntl said softly.</p><p> </p><p>Suniel sighed again. "Did you make him return them?"</p><p> </p><p>Guntl shook his head and pulled a bridle off, brushing a finger across the horse's nose softly. "He tried to dispose of the evidence by stuffing it into Lunt's shirt when he saw me coming, but I returned what was left and paid for what wasn't."</p><p> </p><p>"Well done," Suniel said and pulled out a few coins. "Take these to take care of things for the next few days and for the apples."</p><p> </p><p>Guntl took the coins and looked up from uncinching a strap. "Heading out again?"</p><p> </p><p>Suniel nodded as his hands worked at a harness buckle. "Apparently Harold and Grok'nar have the makings of a plan. All I overheard is that we'll be avoiding notice as we head into the territory of the Iron Tribes by going through some 'Burrows' that the hobgoblins avoid like the plague."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll bet there's a reason for that," Guntl said as he finished unharnessing the other horse and took the other's lead rope from Suniel.</p><p> </p><p>"Of that, at least, I have no doubt," Suniel said, staring out into the Ragged Hills as Guntl lead the horses away.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Iron Sky, post: 4334596, member: 60965"] Session 6, Part 3 -Note: Thanks for the comments, glad people are enjoying it! Another update tomorrow- Long strands of lanterns hung between the high, thick walls of Northmand, already lit as the sun set and casting cheery light down on stalls and makeshift dance-floors of the Harvest Festival. Kezzek barely saw it even as he passed through the celebrations, Grok'nar following not far behind, smartly wearing a white harvest mask over his face to avoid any unwelcome confrontations. [I]Probably for the best he stay close[/I], Kezzek thought as he glanced back at the hobgoblin. [I]He seems honest in his goal, but he[/I] is [I]a hobgoblin[/I]. The others had already dispersed on their separate tasks. The Greywarden Enclave's remote location deep within the outer wall of Northmand made finding it difficult - and all the dancers, jugglers, wrestlers, running children, singers, loose dogs, dancers, and drunks roaming everywhere or gathered around bonfires that seemed to be placed at random made the going slow. When he finally found the Enclave he found it empty. And Grok'nar had disappeared somewhere along the way. He let out a sigh and hefted the massive Tome of Judgments onto its pedestal. [I]I have identified the criminal responsible for the deaths of seven Greywardens,[/I] he wrote and dipped the quill in the ink again. [I]He was in the town of Laketide, where he and two companions killed four soldiers and assaulted others, including myself. Local authority was Lt. Laris.[/I] He blotted and started a new entry. [I]There is a new case regarding a hobgoblin bandit leader guilty of terrorism, robbery, and banditry in Northmand area. Known locally as a Neergrog. Will investigate with potentiality of judgment.[/I] A quick glance in his own journal and he jotted one more line down. [I]Closing of case: Ming. Re: murder of Kellin family member. Subject died in unrelated activities after receiving local justice.[/I] After one more glance over what he had written, he rubbed the clammy, still blackened ring on his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him. He had a faint suspicion about the mark and set out to find a priest to see if they might know what it was - and how to cure it. *** Harold was ready for a hot herb bath and some clean clothes, but he had an important task to complete. The Captain was not in, so he left his message for the Ambassador in the hands of the Captain's adjutant. He turned to leave, but paused for a moment. "Adjutant," he said, stopping the man half-way back into the Captain's office. "Make sure that gets into the Ambassador's hands as soon as possible. It explains where I'm going, so if he doesn't get it before I get back, [I]someone[/I] will pay." The Adjutant nodded with a gulp and turned away, but Harold stopped him again. "Oh, one more thing. This may sound like an odd question, but if I were looking for a sage with some information on potentially supernatural beings disguised as humans, where would I look?" *** Grok'nar sat atop the outer wall and glanced out across the dark farmland of Northmand, lit here and there by the candle-sized lights of wind-flickering bonfires. The cool breeze smelled of rain and carried the sound of its motion through a thousand rustling leaves. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was close enough to see, he slid the white wooden mask up off his face. [I]By the Dark Ones, I hope I never have to assault this,[/I] he thought, knocking on the solid, still faintly sun-warmed stone of the battlement. [I]Neergrog has never seen this, I'll bet even the High King has no idea, no wonder our armies fell apart against it a hundred years ago. [/I]He glanced out over the land again, a surge of something that was a mix of jealousy and disgust washing over him as he took in the richness of the landscape and the strength of the walls. [I]If we had lands half as rich as this, a tenth![/I] He thought of his brothers, their headless corpses dangling by the guard-post as he entered his home lair for the last time. [I]Better that uncle Neergrog die to my steel than me and mine die to these humans'...[/I] *** Harold knocked again on the door to the squat, strange building with it's odd dome-shaped roof. The door flew open as he reached to knock a third time, revealing a human so squat and stout, Harold almost took him for a dwarf. The man wore a strange garment that looked like the ragged remains of three or four robes stitched together to make one even-more-ragged looking one and the last long wisps of brown hair on his head were wild to match. Harold cleared his throat, but the man sighed, rolled his eyes, and motioned Harold into the cramped entryway in the faint pre-dawn light. "I already know why you're here. Come to see the sage's great library. You know, I once had a young woman knock on my door to bring me flowers? Or was it an old halfling woman? They sometimes look alike you know..." Nodding, Harold stepped inside. Ahead of him, the sage passed through a second door and into a room that seemed to be built beneath a staircase and contained not else but a short rope and a massive candle. "You can use the books, but no funny business! My spell books aren't down there so don't ask. Pay the gold when you leave." Harold stood in the doorway as the man dangled the rope until one end touched the floor, muttered something, and jerked upwards, pulling up a clump of floorboards to reveal a stairwell descending into darkness. "Gold?" Harold said. "I thought-" The sage waved his hand. "Restocking fee. And cleanup fee since you types always need to drag everything out and then just leave it lying wherever. By the hour. Just come up and knock when you're ready to leave. No, I won't leave you trapped down there. Dusty books are bad enough, can you imagine what a mess [I]you'd[/I] be to clean up? Bleh, no thanks... So are you going in or what?" Harold clamped his mouth closed and headed down the stairs, the smell of dust and parchment rising to his nostrils as he descended. *** Suniel stood on the carriage-bench and stretched as they pulled up beside the Laketide inn again. "Master, master, liar," No Tongue said from behind him, mimicking Suniel's stretch. Kezzek glanced up at him as he walked by, leading his own mount towards the stable. "You and your goblin having a disagreement?" "No," Suniel said with a deep sigh and a glance at the little goblin. "He's found a couple new words. That's one of the better ones. Half of his vocabulary now seems to be curses now unfortunately." The half-orc grunted and walked on. Guntl got down as well and stood beside Suniel as they unhitched the horses. "I caught Stabber trying to steal some apples while you were off buying supplies last night," Guntl said softly. Suniel sighed again. "Did you make him return them?" Guntl shook his head and pulled a bridle off, brushing a finger across the horse's nose softly. "He tried to dispose of the evidence by stuffing it into Lunt's shirt when he saw me coming, but I returned what was left and paid for what wasn't." "Well done," Suniel said and pulled out a few coins. "Take these to take care of things for the next few days and for the apples." Guntl took the coins and looked up from uncinching a strap. "Heading out again?" Suniel nodded as his hands worked at a harness buckle. "Apparently Harold and Grok'nar have the makings of a plan. All I overheard is that we'll be avoiding notice as we head into the territory of the Iron Tribes by going through some 'Burrows' that the hobgoblins avoid like the plague." "I'll bet there's a reason for that," Guntl said as he finished unharnessing the other horse and took the other's lead rope from Suniel. "Of that, at least, I have no doubt," Suniel said, staring out into the Ragged Hills as Guntl lead the horses away. [/QUOTE]
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