Session #24 – “Dreams of Fire, Dreams of Ice” (part 2 of 2)
Bleys turned to the others. “Generally speaking, it is not a good idea to break into a wizard’s tower…”
“I know that!” Markos was loud again. “Who do you think you’re talking to? But we have to do what we have to do! This bloody assh-le monk won’t let us in!”
“I shall contemplate the situation as I take some moments to prepare a different spell in place of one I prepared this morning,” Bleys said, and he walked off to one side, and squatted in the snow, with his spellbook across his knees.
“Are you done yet?” Markos asked the watch-mage when he thought fifteen minutes had passed. Bleys just shook his head. A few minutes later the former sailor asked again and Bleys looked up with an uncharacteristic expression of anger. “Stop your incessant pacing and badgering! It is annoying!” Markos snarled, but walked away to argue some more with his cousin, while Timotheus had finally managed to get Victoria to at least go through some spear forms with him while they waited.
“You know,” Markos said as soon as he saw Bleys close his book and put it away. “I was looking up at that black light whatever it is up under the ice, and I got to thinking… Tellum said that the plague of insomnia was a temporary solution to the problem… What if Jakos accidentally summoned something that drew its power from people’s dreams somehow? Depriving the thing of sleeping people might keep it weak enough to be trapped up there…”
“So, do you have theory for dealing with it?” Bleys asked.
“By no means I have at my disposal,” Markos replied. “But if I could get at Jakos’ notes…”
“Your arcane curiosity is no reason to break into this home,” Laarus said, walking over.
“I was not talking to you,
cousin,” Markos sneered.
“What I don’t understand about this theory is why he didn’t warn the town?” Victoria said, joining them.
“Perhaps he did not have time,” Bleys replied.
“And maybe he wanted to solve it before anyone knew he was responsible,” Victoria added, thinking on it more.
“If we were to accept Markos’ theory, and it does seem sound based on what we know…” Bleys began.
“I also have a theory about the refractory nature of the black light beneath the ice…” Markos interrupted.
“The refractory what?” Victoria asked. “You’ve lost me…”
“That one can wait,” Bleys replied. He took a deep breath and continued. “As I was saying, if we were to take Markos’ theory as accurate, or at least close, and keeping in mind that the monk said that Jakos has been working on this for four days, I think we can surmise, and it is my contention that, without further help he will make no headway. And since, Tellum will not let us in, we must break in and use force if necessary…”
“But what if interfering with Jakos makes things worse rather than better?” Laarus asked.
“I would sooner apologize for making a bad decision than be damned for making no decision at all,” Bleys replied.
“Tellum!” Laarus walked towards the window. “Is there anyway you will let us speak to your master.”
“I asked him that already…” Markos said.
“If he leaves sequestration,” Tellum replied.
“And there is no way to reach him in order to get him out of it?” Laarus asked.
“No.”
“Enough!” Bleys barked, taking on a practiced authoritarian tone. “Tellum, I, Bleys the Aubergine, as acting watch-mage of Sluetelot am now asking you as an official representative of legitimate law to open the door and allow me and my companions passage.”
“I have told you. I cannot,” The monk’s voice grew sorrowful. “I have no desire to hurt anyone…”
Bleys turned around and drew his companions away. “We are going in. Fight to subdue. They are only following orders. We shall only resort to lethal means if there is no other way, or if they resort to them themselves.”
“Maybe we can get around him,” Tim said, pointed to the large shuttered window on the second floor of the tower, over the door. Bleys and Victoria boosted the large man, straining under his weight, and Timotheus wavered back and forth, tearing the shutters off by brute strength.
“I do not find this action fully justifiable,” Laarus said. “But I can do nothing to stop you…”
There was a curtain behind the shutters. Timotheus leaned forward awkwardly, drawing protests of pain from Bleys and Victoria below and grabbed the curtain, yanking it free. A blast of frost came exploding through the window, knocking him back to the ground, cursing as he felt the biting burn of cold on his skin, shivering.
“That’s it!” Timotheus stood and ran to the door, putting his shoulder into it. It shuddered and gave a little bit, so he slammed it again and yet again. Bleys the Aubergine stepped over and examined the door as Tim got his wind back. It was askew and a crack showed along the frame. He gave it hard kick and they heard the pins of the hinges snap. Now only the bar was hold in the door up, and there was a good four-inch gap along the left side.
Timotheus stuck his hand into the gap to heft the bar and felt someone grab his fingers in a tight two-handed lock.
1 He grit his teeth against the pain that flared up his arm as he tried to break free, but Bleys came to his rescue, kicking the door again as he drew his sabre and knocking the bar on the other side free, even as the monk was forced to drop his hold of Tim, or else be struck by the heavy door as it tipped open. Bleys pushed through the door and slapped his blade at the figure he sensed in the dim entryway, but looking up he could see the Sojourner of Ptah blocking the blade, scissoring it between two fingers, stilling it reverberations. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Bleys’ world went topsy-turvy as he felt Tellum sweep his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground.
Tellum was a man in his middle-thirties, but with pre-maturely gray hair that was shaved all the way around, but for a long braided mess on top tied with brown ribbons. He had a wiry, but athletic physique. He had leather sandals tied to his feet, and loose-fitting clothing of gray and brown silk. He had bright hazel eyes.
The watch-mage looked up in time to see the monk tumble through an inner doorway as a door shut behind him. But Timotheus did not hesitate, he rushed in leaping over Bleys and kicking open the inner door to see a wider room lit by smoky lamps beyond. There were two egresses on the far wall covered by thick tapestries of burgundy trimmed with gray, and the one on the left wavered slightly. Tim stepped into the room, but paused. There were double doors directly across, between the two curtained passageways, and flanked by two statues. One was of a bearded elder man, but with the broad body of a warrior, dressed in plate mail and wielding a flaming great sword. The other was of a bald man in royal clothing and holding a mace-like scepter. Markos was soon right behind Tim, as Victoria helped Bleys to his feet, and drew her morningstar. She followed Markos into the room and Bleys followed her, and moved in front of the others. “Remember. We are looking for answers, not a fight,” he warned.
“I saw that curtain move!” Timotheus pointed to the left. He moved over and pushed it aside. He spotted a set of stone steps going up to the left behind them. He hurried up the steps, looking around and ignoring the door across from where the tiny curtain hallway let into this area. Bleys walked in and took a few steps up. Victoria moved in right behind him, followed by Markos who pointed to the door and stepped to one side. The militant stepped over and kicked open the door to reveal some kind of small sitting room. Tellum was in there, but before she could react he stepped over and put a few punches and forearm blows into her face, driving her back. Her cheek bruised.
2
Markos leapt into the gap that Victoria left, punching out with his dagger in his hand to give his blow some weight, and got a punch right on the chin harder than he had ever felt in his life.
“To
Set with it!” Timotheus swore. He charged down the steps shoving both Victoria and Markos out of the way, and somehow managing to duck to avoid a punch from Tellum. “Laarus! Where are you? We need you!” he called.
The young priest listened to the battle from out in front of the tower, still refusing to enter.
“
Precipio!” Bleys cast
anticipate as he came back down the steps to support Timotheus, the world around the monk slowing down to his heightened senses, just barely perceptible.
“Drop!” Victoria
commanded the monk, but he scoffed as he raised a finger as if to indicate he were teaching an important point. “That only works on the weak-minded,” he said to her.
”
Ebdus Ostos!” They looked up to see a man dressed in black, with long black hair and pale skin. He tossed a chunk of ice at the bottom of the stairs, and suddenly there was a slick of ice across the bottom and in front of the door.
3
But Markos had retreated to draw his
gnomish repeating crossbow and Timotheus was too quick on his feet, barreling over the monk, and knocking him to the ground.
4 He ran clear of the monk, avoiding getting grabbed, and spun around. Telleum sprang to his feet and leaped forward pummeling Timotheus in the face and chest with heavy blows.
Victoria staggered in the doorway, falling to her knees on the ice, getting up and falling again, as Bleys crawled clear on the other side. “This is no time for genuflecting, Bleys,” Markos looked down at the prone watch-mage and winked. Bleys scrambled to his feet and hustled back out of the curtain and across the central room to the other curtain, hoping there would be a staircase up on that side as well, and he might come around the spellcaster above. While his instinct for architecture proved right about stairs, unfortunately the set he found went down, not up. He ran back to the others.
“Sorry about this!” Timotheus said to the monk and whipped the flat of his sabre across the man’s head painfully. He drew blood. Victoria got to her feet and swung at the monk, as he had been backed up to the doorway. She lost her balance and fell again.
“Stay down militant and you will be allow to simply leave,” the man at the top of the steps said, but before Victoria could even look up to address him, she grunted as Tellum was pushed over her, tumbling back onto his side and onto the slick of ice in the hall. Timotheus now stood in the doorway.
5
“We are here to help!” Bleys said. He dropped his sabre and grabbed at the fallen monk, who turned on to his back and reach up, locking his fingers around the watch-mage’s keeping him at bay with a twist of that sent shivers down his wrist. Tellum arched his back and flipped into the air, letting go of Bleys and leaping free of the scrum, and barely managing to avoid another dagger-hilt punch from Markos. Victoria rolled off the slick of ice and swung her morningstar from her back at Tellum, but the monk easily avoided it. He slammed a fist into Markos’ face and then turned to grab at the withdrawing watch-mage, but Bleys could still
anticipate the monk’s actions, and easily dodged the monk’s grasp’ from his point of view it seemed slow-moving. The distraction allowed Tim to slam a meaty fist in Tellum’s lower back as he slipped and fell on the ice as he came back out into the hall. Victoria sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the burn of a
ray of frost from the warlock on the stairs.
“Oh forget this! I am useless here!” Markos swore, and he hurried past Bleys back out into the central room.
Timotheus growled as he barely sidestepped as he stood to avoid another
ray of frost from above. The ice on the ground vanished.
Bleys the Aubergine stepped back into the melee, now with his military pick in hand, and trying to use the blunt end to strike Tellum on the head. The monk turned around. “I am sorry Master Watch-Mage,” he said, as he caught the pick between his open palms and then sent two kicks towards the purple-robed wizard’s legs. Once again, Bleys was able to leap ahead of time and avoid the potentially crippling blows. He was learning a new appreciation of this spell.
6
At the top of the stairs, the warlock began the long drawn out chant of a summoning spell. Bleys broke off from Tellum, ducking instinctually (again, with the aid of his spell) to avoid an errant blow from the monk, and bullrushed the summoner, knocking him away from the top of the stairs. Unfortunately, the warlock was an expert at keeping his concentration, and was still able to complete his spell. There was snap and a pop, accompanied by the smell of sulfur. A red and black wolf, with glowing red eyes appeared at the top of the steps and snapped at Bleys. Tellum ducked and rolled past Victoria and Timotheus, avoiding their blows, seeking to flank Bleys, but it was as if the wizard had eyes in the back of his head when it came to the monk. Timotheus gave chase and slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of the monk’s neck. Tellum nearly crumpled.
“Just stay down!” Timotheus commanded as Victoria hurried up the steps as well. She swung her morningstar awkwardly, and Tellum reached out with an open hand between its deadly tines and sent it flying back out of her hands and down the steps.
7
Bleys whipped his pick back and forth, keeping Tellum at bay while slamming the summoned fiendish wolf in the side of the head. Timotheus took a kick to the gut, and he gasped, but despite being staggered, he managed to slam the monk again. The warlock ran off to his right, out of view on the second floor, as Markos returned from his brief exploration of the lower level, to reassess the fight.
8 He hustled up the stairs to help pen in the monk, even if he felt his combat skills were not up to actually making much of a difference. Victoria and Timotheus knocked the monk between them with heavy blows, and dark bruises were now visible on face and around his eyes.
Bleys cried out as the wolf grabbed him around the calf and dragged him to the floor. This allowed Tellum to make a leaping flip past Victoria and over the watch-mage and land at the top landing and withdraw.
“fncking dog!” Markos stabbed at the wolf and missed, but Timotheus was more successful, drawing its steaming coppery blood with his sabre. The wolf snapped at Bleys, but the watch-mage shoved the handle of his pick in its mouth as he pulled himself to his feet.
“Hey Victoria! Got any of that healing mojo left?” Timotheus asked the militant. “I am seeing stars and lights…” He shook his head, as he swung at the wolf again. It withdrew a bit, allowing Bleys to hurry past it after the monk.
“Not now Tim!” Victoria answered. She brought her morningstar down on the wolf’s skull and there was a resounding crack. Less than half a moment later, it was gone in puff of acrid smoke.
The watch-mage came around the corner to see a similar central room to the one below. At the far end, Tellum was raising a potion vial to his mouth. Bleys did not hesitate. He charged and slammed them blunt end of the pick under the monk’s chin, and Tellum collapsed. The potion resting gently on his chest, with only a couple of drops spilling. Bleys scooped it up and put the cork back in it.
“Here,” Bleys said to Tim as he, Markos and Victoria came around the corner at the top of the stairs. “The monk was about to drink this…” He gave the brawny warrior the potion. It was mustard-colored and viscous. The vial was frosted glass.
“Ugh! Smells nasty!” Timotheus made a face after uncorking and taking a whiff. Bleys took it back and took a whiff, and then passed it to Markos who did the same. No one could tell what it was.
“Drink it anyway,” Markos told the warrior, but Tim looked to Bleys. “Save it for later…” the watch-mage said. Tim nodded. Meanwhile, Victoria hustled back down the stairs and retrieved Bleys’ sabre for him.
The chamber up here had two statues flanking double doors further into the tower, though here one was a young woman dressed in garlands with birds nesting in her hair, and two wolves at her heels, and the other was of crone dressed in skulls and a jacket of sewn human hides.
9 There was a curtain off to the right similar to those downstairs, and a door to a room that they assumed led to where Timotheus had torn the shutters from the window.
Bleys opened the door. Within was a pentagram drawn on the floor with white and red candles set at the points where it touched a circle. At the far end, the black-garbed warlock, a rapier in his other hand, was scattering gray chunks of salts across it as the whole thing frosted over and mist began to rise from the circle.
“You left me no choice,” the man said. Bleys slammed the door shut, and looked at the others. “Get ready!” But there was no time to get ready, as the summoned creature burst through the door.
It was a squat creature about four feet tall, but crouched and packed with muscle. It was covered in dirty white fur and had small black hands that ended in sharp black talons that matched those on its feet. It snorted through the long flayed nostrils of is bald hide-covered gray face. It opened its mouth, revealing an underbite of sharp rows of teeth. It shivered with uncontrollable energy, leaping at Bleys, driving him back.
“Laarus! They’re summoning demons on us!! Get your ass in here!” Markos screamed. Below, the priest heard the cries, but the meaning of the words was lost in the echoes and the creature’s snarls and barks. He took a deep breath and kept his emotions in check. Markos fired his crossbow at the monster, but in his fear he only managed to shoot a bolt into the floor.
Timotheus hung back by the staircase and guzzled down the potion, grimacing against its vinegary taste. He felt the painful warmth of his wounds closing, his burns disappearing, his bruises fading, and his energy returning.
10 He rushed in gaining the slashing beast’s attention, but batting away its blows and slapping his sword against its thick skull. It moved with unbelievable speed, despite its lopping movement. It snarled, and barked, drooled. Bleys was able to move away to cast
anticipate again, this time with the creature as his target.
“
Frigidus armes!” The warlock chanted and pointed at Timotheus. He felt a chill down his spine for a moment, but then nothing. “Come on, Bleys! Let’s give it the double team!” Timotheus moved to pen the creature between them. But the creature moved too quickly. Bleys chopped down with his saber, clipped the ground. It shook in his hand and he had to grab it by the hilt with the other to steady it and keep from dropping it.
11
“Anhur! I know not what demon madness this is, but help me smite it in your name!” Victoria implored her god, and a silver and black shining spear appeared in the air on the opposite side of the creature from her. The thing dodged to one side and snarled, still trying to get at Tim. He drove at it with his blade drawing blood. He shivered. He noticed his armor was getting colder.
”Victoria! Move the spiritual spear to the warlock!” Markos said, shooting at the feral slashing creature from a corner of the room. He had been waiting for an opening, but despite doing so, he still missed. But the militant did not obey the wizard, nor did the creature let itself be hit by either the magical spear or her actual spear, which she now thrust at it. It slapped the shaft away and croaked with renewed madness, driving its fangs into the warrior’s calf.
“Ow!” Timotheus chopped wildly about its head, until it was bloody mess, but it was oblivious to pain. The warlock moved into the melee, drawing his rapier, and revealing a light-footed stance. His other hand in the air, fingers fanned. Bleys, tuned in to the creature’s chaotic movements, nearly didn’t get his sabre in place to block the man’s rapier thrust. Another bolt from Markos landed in the floor between them. The spellcasting swordsman twirled around stabbing at Bleys again, but the watch-mage was moving in time with the rhythms of the fight. He turned and once again parried. Victoria took the opportunity to thrust her spear in the warlock’s direction, but he whipped his rapier across to knock the weapon off alignment. The spiritual weapon continued to stab at the hairy white creature, but it kept avoiding it again and again, locked in combat with Timotheus and getting the worst of it. Flick. The rapier blocked Bleys’ follow-up cut.
“Anhur! Let me not fail my fellows!” Victoria bellowed, and the divine fury of her god filled her. She fell back half a step and thrust again, and this time the shaft of the spear scraped across the rapier and stabbed into the warlock’s side. He grunted, his studded leather jerkin beneath his black clothing was sliced open and oozing blood. He wavered, and then raised his thin blade again, flicking at her wrists and drawing blood. The militant just grunted and thrust again and again. “Down, summoner!” She commanded as her spear caught him in the thigh, and he stumbled sideways, dazed – somehow still managing to avoid yet another bolt from Markos.
Timotheus was driven from the cluster of fighting by the beast’s ferocity. He felt burning wounds on his legs, and swung defensively, getting some lucky shots in the thing’s face, flicking his wrist with all his strength whenever he felt the sabre bite. A blur of speed and strength, he blocked its teeth and fangs from pure instinct, and then saw the opening, driving the sabre into its mouths and yanking back hard as he pushed down. Its lower jaw fell off. Timotheus grit his teeth, for the cold he was suffering was like nothing else he had ever felt, surpassing winter on
Westen-Scherp Muur.
“Duh-Die already!” He chattered. The monster looked like it should be dead, or at least dying, but it shook its bloody fur like big wet dog and leapt at him again, ignoring Bleys behind it. It grabbed at the bottom part of his plate mail as if it wanted to tear the flesh from underneath. The warlock twirled back towards Bleys, trying to get away from the raging priest, and the watch-mage had to quickly turn to avoid being stabbed. “Stay away from Bleys!” Victoria ordered, stepping forward and thrusting her spear. The warlock fell to the ground bleeding. She turned to the monster. It and Tim were exchanging blows in flurry of blood and fur and flesh. “Die! Die! Down! Die!” Timotheus chopped at it again and again, and suddenly it stopped and fell, transforming into a puddle of icy water as it did.
Timotheus began to strip off his freezing armor as quickly as he could.
End of Session #24
--------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) The monk used the
Locking Block special martial arts feat to accomplish this.
(2) The monk was fighting to subdue.
(3)
Slick is another form of the spell
grease.
(4) Timotheus performed an Overrun.
(5) Timotheus performed a Bullrush.
(6) Bleys learned this spell from
Cwell the Hawk during his training for spells of the Second House (see session #22).
(7) Victoria fumbled and suffered the following effect:
Hard Parry, Make opposed Strength check with opponent or weapon knocked away. Roll d8 for direction. Roll for 1d4 for distance in 5 foot increments.
(8) During this time Markos explored the lower level, finding the same steps as Bleys did and making a quick survey of a large kitchen behind the double doors and took the time to cast
detect magic and take a quick sweep of the area.
(9) These statues were of the northern gods
Mielikki and
Tuonetar.
(10) This was a potion of
cure moderate wounds.
(11) Bleys suffered a fumble result:
Lose Grip on Weapon. Make Dexterity check (DC 15) or drop weapon. – He made his dexterity check.