Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 1 of 5
22nd of March, 2003
Issue #16
The Shrine of Gormoth
We have been busy since the attack on Kratys Freehold. We followed the remnants of the defeated ratman army, tracking them through the treacherous Mourning Marsh, a desolate swamp filled with uncounted horrors.
We met and allied with a band of lizard men, helping cleanse their lake of an ancient evil, and in return they helped us find the rat man warren. Together, we entered the rats’ lair, and in a climactic battle, defeated their shaman and a great albino warrior. The last survivors of the Disease tribe scattered far and wide, and it will be many years before that tribe bothers Vesh again.
We rescued twenty-one slaves, and put to merciful death others which had been infected with the Slimy Doom. Through a gathering storm, we escorted the refugees out of the swamp and have brought almost all of them safely to Kratys Freehold, slipping through the gates just hours before the full fury of the storm broke over southern Vesh.
It is the first Charday of Madrer, the sixth day of the second month of fall. A great storm rages outside, and though it is the middle of the afternoon, it is almost dark beneath the towering dark clouds which loom overhead. After nine days of tramping around in the depths of a swamp, we are all too happy to be safe, warm, and dry in Kratys Freehold.
At the moment, we’re sitting in a room just off the hold’s common hall with Taryn Kratys and his family: his wife, Myrs; the ranger, Llewyn; and the smith, Brand. The discussion has turned to the division of the magic and treasure we acquired in our last adventure. Taryn has been asking for some financial support, and concludes his argument with, “It would help us if you could spare about two hundred gold pieces. We need to buy food for the slaves, and get it transported from Southport or Lave. As you know, our harvest was destroyed in the battle with the rat men, and now we have even more people to feed. In addition to our own people, and the newly freed slaves, there is now a small garrison of professional men at arms here, sent from Lave. We’re responsible for provisioning them as well.”
Novalia turns to the rest of the group. “Why don’t we give them four hundred? We can afford it, and they’ve certainly done a lot for us.”
Miriel and Paks are nodding, and Chuck says, “Let it be so.”
“Thank you! Your kindness is outshone only by your skill at arms,” Taryn exclaims.
“You’re most welcome,” Miriel says graciously, and Novalia looks very pleased.
“Before we divide the remainder of this,” Paks starts, gesturing to the pile of treasure on the table, “I think we need to decide what to do with the scimitar. I can feel the evil taint on it; I think we should destroy it.”
“I agree,” Miriel says. She looks down on the great silver scimitar which the albino once wielded, and it is as though a palpable evil rests on the table. She shudders.
“I don’t think we should destroy it,” Goldpetal objects. “I think it can still be used to destroy Titanspawn.”
“I don’t think that would be safe,” Paks warns. “A blade this evil could corrupt the wielder to its purpose.”
“In any case,” Telryn interjects, “We should study it more, before anyone wields it.”
Chuck interrupts. “I’m not interested in this,” he says. “I’m going to go practice flying. Call me when we divide up the treasure?”
Miriel puts out a hand. “No, stop. We’ll divide up the rest of the treasure, and decide about the scimitar later. For my share, I want to destroy the Agony Pearl.”
Telryn says, “Absolutely. I agree.” Nobody dissents – a magical pearl which causes pain and agony is something none of us wants a part of.
Goldpetal picks up the wooden ring which Telryn had identified it as a Titan-warning ring. “I’ll keep this,” he tells us. He seems to feel strongly about it, perhaps due to his religion.
Miriel says, “I’ll take the potion of
blur.”
Chuck asks, “Can I have the potion of
vision?” When there is no dissent, he picks it up.
Stone says, “I’m keeping the crown.” The ghoul-king’s crown hasn’t left his head, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the rest of us, as though daring anyone to try to take it from him. The half-orc is intimidating, even to his companions, and no-one objects.
Telryn tentatively requests, “I’d like the glitter ink and the five vials of acid.” His quest has been to find glitter ink, and he is all too happy to claim it as his share.
While we’ve been talking, Myrs and Taryn have been studying the studded leather armor we found. While we were in the swamp, Chuck had been wearing it, but now it is one of the treasures available for division. Now Myrs looks up from the examination and tells us, “This is made from the hides of a myre worm. It is very rare.”
“What’s a myre worm?” asks Paks.
“They are great beasts, perhaps twenty feet long,” Taryn explains. “They live in deeper water, well into the swamp. They have a gigantic maw, and eat nearly anything. A person would be a nice meal for one, and blood in the water may bring even more. You were lucky not to meet them!”
“I’d like to keep the armor,” Chuck says, pulling it off the table.
“I’m the only one that uses the scimitar,” Goldpetal says, taking the masterwork scimitar instead of the enchanted evil blade.
Telryn asks, “Does anybody else want the dictionaries?”
Everybody is shaking their head. Chuck says, “I’ll keep the enchanted manacles.”
Hands of Fire, the great seven-foot tall lizard man warrior whom we met in the swamp, picks up the fine metal mace we found. He swings it around experimentally, and exclaims, in his broken common, “Metal club, good! Wooden club from ancestor tree, not as good.”
Brand overhears him. “I can make you a heavy morning-star,” he offers, “Especially if Dorin is willing to help.” Dorin, who isn’t in the room, is a dwarven smith who was one of the slaves we rescued from the ratmen. Telryn translates Brand’s words for Hands of Fire, who understands some common, but has trouble following someone who speaks rapidly.
“Hands of Fire, for now, you take the mace,” Paks says. “I’ll take the Twilight Warden's longbow; it suits me much better than the short bow I’ve been using.”
“Oh, I wanted that,” Chuck says. “I lost my bow in the warren.”
Paks looks at him sharply. “You’ve already had three shares!”
“Okay,” he says, “I’ll just buy a new bow from the freeholders.”
“What about his amulet?” Miriel asks.
“I’d like it,” Chuck and Goldpetal say simultaneously.
“Let’s keep the amulet for the party,” Miriel says. “I’ll hold onto it, for now.”
“That leaves the Hide ring,” Telryn says. “I’d like that, if I may.”
“Sure,” Chuck says. “I’ll see if I can get the poison off of these flick knives.”
“Use fire,” Taryn advises.
“Okay, we’ll divide up the coins evenly,” Paks says. “But Novalia, Stone, Hands of Fire, and I have gotten less of the magic than you all have, so we four will divide up the gems and jewelry.”
“That seems fair,” Telryn says.
With that, we are done with the treasure. Each member of the party seems happy with their share, although Goldpetal’s purple eyes glint inscrutably.
Later, Paks, Telryn, and Miriel find Brand, the smith, and gather to discuss the evil scimitar.
“Telryn,” Paks says, “How can we unmake this foul thing?”
“I don’t know,” Telryn says. “My training did not progress that far.”
“Brand, would you be able to melt it down?” asks Miriel.
“Were it a normal blade, yes,” the smith says with a shake of his head, “But a magical blade with the taint of evil? I can try, but I doubt I have the skills to deal with such a work. You may need a powerful wizard to unmake it.”
Chuck buys a new bow from the freeholders. The young Vigilant then sets to burning the poison off the flick knives and washing out the vials. Myrs and Telryn work on translating the Slytherin scrolls. The rest of us help out around the freehold, each doing what they can to repay our hosts for their hospitality.
The storm continues to rage outside, but by evening, its fury begins to wane.
As we gather for dinner, Dorin Silvershield, the dwarf we rescued from slavery to the ratmen, finds us all. “I thank you again for freeing me,” he says. “I owe you a great debt. If you be going on to Southport, I would accompany you.”
“We have not yet laid plans,” Miriel tells him.
Dorin takes out a gold piece, and draws a rune on it with his index finger. His finger glows as he does so. “This is the rune of my clan, the Silvershield,” he says, and hands the coin to Paks. She looks at it, and the rune is etched on the coin in a glowing script. As she watches, it fades away. “If ever you come to the Burok-Torn, citadel of the dwarves in the Kelder Mountains,” he continues formally, “You may use this token to gain entrance to the dwarven city. My clan owes you a debt: if you need help, you have but to reach us to receive assistance.”
“You are gracious indeed,” Paks says. “We thank you.”
Dinner is served, and we begin to eat. Myrs keeps a fine table, and the food is excellent. We mingle with the townsfolk and the refugees, and spirits are high. One of the former slaves is a fine singer, and many in the hall join him when he reaches the chorus. Goldpetal contributes a song, with the haunting beauty of an elven ballad, which brings tears to many an eye even if the language is understood by only a few. Stories are traded, and we are again asked to give a rendition of our adventures.
Finally, as the dinner winds down, we all gather around a single table in the back of the room.
“We should discuss what we want to do next,” Paks says. “I think we’ve discharged our obligation to the Freehold, and to these freedmen. Do we want to return to Southport?”
Goldpetal speaks first. “I want to hire people to tear down the standing stones,” he says. The standing stones are a ring of great stones positioned on a hilltop perhaps five or six hours travel from Kratys Freehold. We explored them a few weeks earlier, and discovered an altar, with dried blood on it, and sensed a great evil. We think that the place was used for Titan worship. “I also want to find out more about the Elvish city in the swamp. Eventually, I plan to finish my journey to Rika.”
Miriel nods. “I will be returning to Lave,” she says. “I must report back to my high priestess at the Cathedral there. I do think we should send a message to Southport, with Dorin, to wrap up our employment there.”
“I want to stay here,” Novalia tells us, “And purge the rat men from the swamp! I think we should hire some mercenaries from Lave, and build a force here. With the stalwart hearts of this company, we could stand as a shield between civilized land and the Titanspawn of the Mourning Marshes.”
“I need to return to Mullis Town,” Telryn says, shaking his head at her idea, “To take this glitter ink to my master. Mullis Town is a few days north of Lave, so Miriel, I’d go with you to the capital.”
“I will have revenge,” Chuck vows. We don’t need to ask what for: twice he has apprenticed himself to elder Vigil, Steve and Jim, and both have been killed by ratmen. “I want to continue my training, and to fight against evil.” After a moment’s thought, he adds, “I also need to practice flying.”
Paks says, “Miriel, I’d go to Lave with you. I want to ask your priestess some questions. But I’d like to pass through Southport on our way there.”
Miriel shakes her head. “I don’t feel that I can delay further,” she tells Paks regretfully.
There is a brief lull in the conversation, and then Telryn launches into a story which he hasn’t told us before. “My father, Kellharyn,” he tells us, “Was a Callastian battle mage. He was supporting Virduk’s first foray into Durrover, but I understand that he was more interested in the study of the Arcane than the conquering of foes.
“His company raided a village, and captured a priestess of Madriel. Instead of treating her with the respect that she deserved, the war leaders decided to try to extract information of Durrover’s defenses from her, in a most un-respectful manner. Kellharyn stepped to her aid, and one dark night, he freed the priestess, helped her escape, and deserted his order all in one moment.” The noise of the wind howling outside lends drama to the tale.
“They were on the run for many months, and eventually, they fell in love. They committed themselves to trying to stop, or at least stall, Virduk’s progress into Durrover. To this day, they are a powerful force for good, and continue to travel in, out, and around Durrover doing whatever they can to harry the Callastian forces and help those in need.
“They had two children, my older sister, and myself.” When Telryn’s story moves away from the dramatic rescue, Chuck becomes bored, and wanders away. Telryn continues, uninterrupted. “Recognizing that Durrover could not stand long against the Callastian assault, and that my mother could hardly fight while saddled with two babes, they fostered us to a friend of my mother’s. We grew up under the care of a High Cleric of Hedrada, Victor.
“My sister thrived under their strict rules, and became an accomplished man-at-arms. She went on to become a Paladin of Hedrada. However, I became a follower of Madriel, as my mother had before me. Fortunately, Victor recognized my talent for the arcane, and secured an apprenticeship with Loowys Strangeblood, a mage in Mullis Town. After two years of apprenticeship, my master sent me to the mage Delmeron to secure some glitter ink. As you know, Delmeron said he would teleport me where I could find some glitter ink, but the spell went awry, and he teleported me to your side instead.
“So, I don’t believe that I found Miriel by chance,” Telryn concludes, “And I plan to follow her to Lave, as I believe that is what I am meant to do.”
His final declaration is met by nods of understanding, even from those in favor of returning to Southport: the gods move in mysterious ways, and this is a reason everyone can understand.
In the ensuing silence, from up on the roof, we hear a faint shout. “Don’t do it!” This is followed by a short scream and a crunching thump.
Miriel yells, “Chuck!” and runs outside. Stone follows; the rest of us stay inside and dry.
Miriel finds Chuck crumpled in the interior courtyard. She helps him to his feet, but he is limping heavily. She gives it a quick examination, and says, “You’ve sprained an ankle. Here, come inside, and let me bind it up.” With Stone helping on one side, and Miriel on the other, Chuck hobbles into the hall.
She and Stone are soaking wet, but minutes after she’s finished binding the leg, we hear a commotion again. One of the guards comes in, and tells us, “You’d better stop your friend. He keeps jumping off the roof.”
Miriel goes outside, and finds that this time he’s broken his ankle. Again, Stone helps haul him inside, where Miriel gives him a lecture. “Have you learned your lesson yet?” she asks, as she calls Madriel’s healing to mend the fracture.
Chuck nods wearily. “It’s not the best day for flying,” he says. “The wind is too strong.”