JollyDoc's Shackled City
Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Thanks very much. It always helps me to place the characters in context, especially when you have few casters. Watching what spells people are casting is often a good way to measure what level they are. 
JollyDoc
Explorer
sithramir said:
Thanks Sith! I feel your pain about keeping the SH updated. Fortunately, having taking a week off from the game recently gave me time to catch up. Still, it doesn't seem like what we do in the relatively short time that we game during the week can add up to so much material for the SH. I keep notes during the game each session, then try to boil it all down into something interesting for the SH. I'll do my best to keep up regular posting. Gotta hand it to G for his efforts in his SH, and apologize for all the bitching about his infrequent posts.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
yeah, how's he as a role model for a celestial?Tidus4444 said:and if they didn't do that, you'd kick em in the nuts?
Sounds like we gots a Cartman fan here
JollyDoc
Explorer
ZENITH TRAJECTORY
The flood season eventually ended, and its passing was celebrated with one of the grandest Flood Festivals ever seen. The guests of honor were the members of the company of the Bright Axes. The Lord Mayor himself was present to offer his thanks and congratulations. There was no lack for free drinks for the companions, as every tavern they entered was immediately filled with choruses of “Well met!” and “Good show!”
But again, time has a way of blunting memory and enthusiasm. Life returned to a relative state of normalcy in Cauldron, and the Bright Axes were another local adventuring company, albeit a well respected one, and since a person cannot live off reputation alone, the party went back to their lives as well.
Pez’ status in the church hierarchy was steadily growing, and he was even given an assignment to travel to the Capitol and meet with the church there, informing them of Sarcem’s death and recent events in Cauldron. He became a well-known envoy between the two parishes.
Raphael returned to his duties at the shrine, and in fact saw a great increase in parishioners due to his new reputation. The little shrine to Lathander might actually be on its way to becoming a church in truth.
Rusty and Gardrid found their pockets full of newly plundered gold, and they decided to use this to purchase Keygan’s shop outright. They assured a concerned Tilly and Maple that they weren’t going to be evicted, and also weren’t going to have to share their home with a clan of dwarves. No, the dwarves had other plans. They set about renovating Jzadirune with a vengeance, removing the traps on its cogwheel doors, restoring the workshops and machinery to working order, and making a new network of secret passages and tunnels using the paths already made by the automatons. They also began the long, arduous process of trying to reopen the elevator shaft to the Malachite Fortress, but this proved daunting, and they knew that it would be some time before they saw their kindred’s home again.
Wathros formed a fast friendship with Shensen, and when she decided to return to the Lucky Monkey and began repairs, he agreed to accompany her and lend his assistance. From time to time, the pair would return to Cauldron for supplies and to check in with their friends.
And yet, all was not as peaceful as it seemed in the town. With recent events, such as the kidnapping/slave ring and the near flooding of the entire city, the residents of Cauldron were feeling less than secure in their homes. Also, the local thieves guilds had obviously stepped up their activities as well, with the Last Laugh apparently having some role in the kidnappings, and the Alleybashers playing a major part in the death of Sarcem and the theft of the wands of Controlling Water. The Lord Mayor responded to these concerns by increasing the ranks of the city guard, primarily with mercenaries who were not local. This didn’t exactly ease the minds of the residents, as these newcomers seemed more aggressive than the previous constables. Another addition to the city watch was the newly formed Magical Threats Agency. This group was comprised of arcanists who were specifically trained to respond to ‘unnatural’ threats in the city that the regular guardsmen were not equipped to handle. The Lord Mayor authorized the MTA, but they were led one of the watch captains, Haanu Pershai.
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The worst of the winter passed uneventfully in the mountains, and the scent of early spring was in the air. The streets were becoming busier, with the merchants moving their wares out onto the avenues for passersby to peruse. Tilly, Gardrid and Rusty had come to Magma Avenue to procure more supplies for their renovation work. They had planned on doing business this day with Maavu, one of the more prominent merchants in the city, and one of the more popular among the common folk, since he had a reputation for flaunting the commerce laws of the local politicians.
Gardrid was peering intently at a display of picks and hammers, when he felt a slight tremor beneath his feet. “Did ye feel that?” he said curiously to Rusty. “Felt like a small quake. I’m not fer bein’ so sure this volcano’s entirely asleep.” “Bah!” Rusty waved him off, “Yer imaginin’ things. I didn’t feel nothin’. Ye’re just bored, ye are, and lookin’ fer any excuse to stir up some trouble. City life don’t suit ya.” “Actually,” Tilly chimed in, “I thought I felt something too.” “Then yer twice as daft as him!” Rusty barked, “Ye been spendin’ too much time around him, learnin’ swordplay. Ye be better off payin’ more attention to yer lady than to this crusty old goat.”
At that moment, the wall of the warehouse they were standing in front of exploded outward in a shower of timbers and splinters. The dwarves ducked instinctively, and Tilly threw himself to the side. A burly, insectoid creature with massive mandibles, compound eyes, and wisps of flame visible between its plates of chitin stepped out of the rubble and into the middle of the busy street. In an instant, the avenue was filled with screams and panic.
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Several blocks away, Pez had just exited the shop of Udoo, the Silkmonger. He’d been sent there by Jenya to purchase several bolts that were to be sent as gifts to the Capitol. Though he railed at the ignominy of doing common errand running, he knew that Jenya did not hold to hierarchal divisions of labor. She was just as likely to be seen cleaning out the horse stalls as the stable boys were.
As he stepped into the street, he heard the commotion coming from the direction of Magma Avenue. He couldn’t imagine what it would be, and surely the guard would be along in short order, but he might be able to lend some aid in the meantime, especially if people were hurt. Tucking his bundles beneath his arm, he took to the air, heading for a nearby rooftop to get a better vantage.
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Tilly picked himself up off the ground. The crowd around him was in full panic, however, rather than running, some of them seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, while others were randomly leaping upon other bystanders. The creature that had emerged from the warehouse seemed to be paying them no heed. It had moved to a nearby building and was engaged in ripping a sizeable hole in one of its walls. Rusty had spoken truly. Tilly had been itching to try out some of the new skills he’d been learning from Gardrid. Many a night he had spent in the Tipped Tankard, hoping that the Storm Blades would happen by and start some trouble. Now was his chance. He drew his sword and dagger and began dodging through the crowd. He reached the monster, and while it was still distracted, he began slashing at its chitinous legs.
“Do you realize what that is?” Gardrid shouted at Rusty as they watched the rampaging beast. “It’s an umberhulk!” “The Hell ye say!” Rusty gaped at him. He knew of the creatures. They were wrecking machines, and a constant threat to those who tunneled beneath the earth, but he’d never heard of one coming to the surface like this, especially in the middle of a city, nor had he ever seen one that had flames coming out of its hide.
Gardrid didn’t bother to reply. He knew his business, and this was just what he’d been waiting for. He pulled his axe from its straps on his back and went wading through the panicked masses. He saw Tilly already engaging the beast, and he smiled to himself. The little runt might have potential after all. With a roar, the battlerager lunged ahead, hewing at the umberhulk, his axe sending great spurts of ichor in all directions.
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As it so happened, Wathros was also in town this day. He had come on one of his regular trips for Shensen, and was just completing his transaction when he too heard the commotion. He didn’t particularly care what new mischief the city dwellers had gotten themselves into, but he was curious just the same. He thought a quick peek might provide some entertainment. Willing himself into the form of an eagle, he began soaring above the rooftops towards Magma Avenue.
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The umberhulk whirled around as Tilly and Gardrid continued to harry it. With one massive claw, it bowled Tilly over, sending him several yards away. As Gardrid redoubled his attack, the beast suddenly began furiously digging into the ground and vanished.
Just then a cry sounded from a bit further down the street, “Help me!” Gardrid turned quickly, expecting an ambush from the umberhulk. Instead, he saw a street vendor struggling with a pushcart full of fruit, but making no headway. He appeared to be trying to flee, but was unwilling to leave his livelihood. Unfortunately, he was directly in the path of the surging crowd. “C’mon!” Gardrid growled to Rusty, “That idgit’s gonna get himself kilt.” The dwarves skirted the edge of the panicked civilians and hurried over to the vendor. “Outta the way oldtimer!” Gardrid shouted, shouldering the man aside and grabbing hold of the handles of the cart. Rusty joined him and they began heaving the cart towards a nearby alley.
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From his perch on the roof of another warehouse across the street from Maavu’s, Pez had watched the dwarves and Tilly battle the umberhulk. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see his friends in the middle of all this. Leave it to them to find trouble. He had been preparing to join them when the monster had retreated. Now his eyes darted all around, looking for signs that it might be resurfacing. It was then that he noticed a squad of the city watch approaching. He scowled deeply as he got a closer look at the guardsmen. They were half-orcs…some of the newly recruited mercenaries hired to swell the ranks of the watch. Six of them approached the confused crowd and began ordering them to disperse. However, something was still wrong with the people. They were continuing to fight each other, or just standing in a daze, or running about babbling incoherently. Finally, the guardsmen tired of trying to be diplomatic. The each drew heavy batons from their belts and began beating the people in the crowd. This just added to the chaos as those nearest the guards began trying to retreat through the others who were not giving way. This seemed to fuel the guards’ anger, and they became even more savage with their assault. Pez could feel his own fury rising. Concentrating, he called upon a minor spell to show him the karmic auras surrounding the guards. The tinge of red that he saw only confirmed his suspicions. They were of low morals, and questionable intentions…evil in his eyes.
Pez leaped from the roof and glided down to the street, coming to land just behind the guards. As the nearest one raised his baton to level a blow at an elderly woman, the archon seized his arm in an iron grip, “If any of you harm another of these citizens, you will answer to me and the church of Tyr!” At that moment, he heard another explosion from nearby as the wall of a third warehouse erupted, and the umberhulk emerged once more.
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Wathros surveyed the chaotic scene below dispassionately. He had missed the initial attack of the umberhulk, and so wasn’t sure what all the commotion was about. Then he spotted Pez berating the guard, and he knew this couldn’t be good. When the umberhulk made its second appearance, he couldn’t remain an observer any longer. He began circling down towards the melee, but then he heard a woman scream from an upper window of the building from which the umberhulk had just emerged. He wheeled about and saw her standing at the sill clutching a baby in her arms, “My baby!” she screamed, “Someone save my baby!” Suddenly, a look of confusion crossed the woman’s face as she gaped at the umberhulk rampaging below. She calmly set the baby on the windowsill, where it squirmed and teetered, and then disappeared back into the building. ‘Strange,’ Wathros thought to himself, but the baby looked safe enough now, so he continued on his way.
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As the umberhulk began moving towards the crowd, the guard resumed their attack, screaming at the people to move, and clubbing those who would not, or could not. Pez immediately disarmed the guard whose hand he held, then shoved the man backwards. In an instant, the six of them surrounded the archon, brandishing halberds.
About that time, Gardrid and Rusty came back around the corner, and saw what was going on. Gardrid had no idea why the city watch would be surrounding and menacing Pez, and frankly, he didn’t care. With a horrific shout, he charged down the avenue, and as one of the guards turned to see what the uproar was about, he was met by the flat side of the battlerager’s blade to his face, and fell like a stone.
Tilly witnessed the altercation between Pez and the guards as well, but unlike Gardrid, he knew full well what was happening. When he saw Gardrid attack, he knew also that the time for diplomacy had come to an end. Leaping in behind a second guardsman, the halfling pummeled him twice to the back of the skull with the hilts of his blades, and he too fell unconscious.
Rusty was confused. He thought they’d been fighting an umberhulk, not the city guard, and now the umberhulk was back,and no one was fighting it. What the Hell was going on here? He began stalking forward, and then the umberhulk turned towards him. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen…it had two big bug eyes, but it also seemed to have two human looking eyes and…what was he doing here again? He looked around, not quite sure where he was, or what he was doing here. Perhaps it would be better if he just wandered about for a while. He began singing an old dwarven drinking song to himself.
Wathros was also not sure why no one was attacking the umberhulk. After all, it did seem to be the more obvious threat. Oh well, he supposed he’d have to save these city dwellers from their own stupidity again. Even in his current avian form, he was still capable of calling upon his magic, and so he summoned the lightning, sending it arcing down from the clouds to strike the brute.
Gardrid spun around as another of the guards came at him from his flank. He caught the man in the chin with the haft of his axe, rocking his head back. With a quick twist of his hips, he clipped a second one with a stunning right cross, augmented by the mailed gauntlet on his fist. Both joined their comrades in slumber.
Pez, now free of the circle of guards, rushed towards the umberhulk, driving his holy blade into its fiendish hide. The monster flailed about, trying to get at his assailant, but only managing to flatten Tilly again as the halfling moved in to flank. A second bolt of lightning struck from the sky, and this time the beast fell with a tremendous crash. Its body then rapidly dissolved into smoke.
Pez glanced around as more shouts filled the street, this time coming from a group of gnomes wearing the sigil of the MTA. They were quickly working to calm the crowd, using various Sleep spells and illusions to pacify them. It was then that Pez saw the baby tottering on the edge of the windowsill above him. It had worked one chubby arm free, and succeeded in rolling itself off at that moment. As it plummeted towards the street, Pez leaped to catch it in midair, and then safely returned it to its mother, who stood bewildered at the doorway to the warehouse, looking as if she were not quite sure what had happened.
Rusty, meanwhile, decided that all the hubbub was giving him a headache. He started away from all the action at a brisk trot, with no particular destination in mind.
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Once the sorcerers of the MTA had the crowd under control and dispersed, they turned their attention to Tilly, Gardrid and Pez.
“Would any of you care to explain what’s going on here?” one feisty female gnome demanded, brandishing a wand at the trio, “Who, or what, caused all this damage? Why are six members of the City Watch unconscious? Who are you people?”
Pez quickly stepped forward as spokesman before Gardrid could get them in any more trouble, “I am Pez of Tyr. These are my associates, Gardrid Craghammer and Tillian Wanderfar. We are members of the Bright Axes. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment, “Perhaps I have. Aren’t you the ones who were involved with breaking up the slave ring, and helping out with the recent floods?”
“The same,” Pez nodded, and then he proceeded to explain what had just transpired, complete with details of the guards’ abusive behavior towards the citizens.
“Yes, well,” the gnome said as he finished, “it’s not that I don’t believe you, but we and the guardsmen represent the law around here, and it wouldn’t do for just any vigilante to start taking matters into their own hands. I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to come along with me back to headquarters. You can explain it all to the Captain.”
Pez put a restraining hand on Gardrid’s shoulder as the dwarf started to open his mouth, “Of course we will accompany you,” he said. He turned and looked up towards the rooftops as they were escorted away. Unnoticed by the MTA mages, a lone eagle took flight from the heights, and drifted lazily along the wind above them.
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“Hey, move your ass!” Rusty blinked in surprise. He was standing in the middle of a busy intersection, with several large wagons passing him on all sides. He had no idea what he was doing here, or how he’d arrived. The last thing he remembered was helping Gardrid to move the old man’s fruit cart to safety. He looked up at the street sign and realized he was a dozen or more blocks away from the warehouse district. Cursing roundly, he began trotting up the street and back towards Magma Avenue.
By the time he reached the scene of the battle, more guardsmen had arrived and cordoned off the area. There was no sign of his friends anywhere, nor any sign of the beast they had been battling. Most of the guards were busy clearing debris from the road, or discouraging nosy onlookers. Rusty quickly darted into an alleyway beside the warehouse where the umberhulk had first appeared. He made his way around to the large hole in the side of the building, and ducked inside. The place appeared deserted. Dry goods were scattered all about amid the general wreckage of the wall. There was no evidence of a hole through which the creature might have tunneled up, but as Rusty continued sifting through the refuse, he came across something very interesting. There were several sigils inscribed on the floor in a circle beneath the rubble. They were definitely arcane in origin, and unless the priest missed his guess, they were the same kind used in some conjuring rituals.
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“This is a very interesting tale that you tell,” watch captain Haanu Pershai said as she paced back and forth in the interrogation room, “and there are several eye-witnesses to much of what you have said. Still, that does not excuse your actions against my men.”
Pez leaned forward in his chair, “Your men, and I use that term loosely, considering most of them had more than a little orc blood, were beating innocent people like animals. We tried to reason with them.”
“You interfered with duly appointed constables in performing their duty,” Pershai retorted, “Who are you to say what constitutes justifiable force? Those people were in mortal danger, both from that beast and from themselves. They were either going to be eaten, or were going to trample each other. My men were dealing with it as they saw fit. I know you people think you’re Tyr’s gift to this city, but you’re not above the law, and neither am I. You will be detained here until further notice.”
She turned on her heel, and exited the room, summoning a guard to watch over them in her absence.
“Well, well, well,” the guardsman grinned, “Lookey what we’ve got here. I should’ve known if there was trouble on the streets, you lot would be in the thick of it.”
Gardrid glanced up, ready to unleash a blistering stream of curses at the smart-mouthed turnkey, but then his face widened in a grin as he recognized Krylscar Endercott, the warrior they had freed from Kazmojen’s dungeon.
“I’ll be damned!” the battlerager cried, rising to grip the man’s hand tightly, “Look at the sorry company we’re forced to keep. What in the blazes is goin’ on round here anyway? Since when are the decent men of the constabulary fraternizin’ with the likes of half-breed orcs?
Krylscar shook his head, “Strange times, my friend. Lot of changes around here lately. The powers-that-be are awfully shaken up about recent events. They’ve decided to beef up the watch, which is well and good, but they’ve decided to bring in outsiders…mercenaries. They’re a rough lot, and you’d best steer clear of them. The captain though, she’s a good sort. Don’t fault her. She’s just trying to do her job the best she can. Why, it was her that formed the MTA. I think they’ll do a lot to help keep the peace.”
Pez lowered his voice as he heard footsteps approaching, “We’d appreciate it if you would keep your eyes and ears open for us Krylscar.” The sergeant nodded, “It’s the least I can do. I owe you my life.”
The door opened and Pershai strode in, a grim expression on her face, “You’ve been cleared of all charges. You’re free to go, but I warn you. Don’t interfere with my people again.”
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Raphael was just finishing his sunset service when a town crier burst into the small tabernacle, “Monsters! There’s monsters loose on Magma Avenue!”
“Calm yourself lad,” the paladin said reassuringly as he moved over to the excited boy. “What are you talking about?”
The boy fairly quivered with excitement, “There was a giant bug bustin’ up Maavu’s place on Magma! Folks was runnin’ in all directions! Then them hero fellas, the Big Axes, they came along and started crackin’ heads! I hear tell they even busted up a couple of them orcy guards!” The boy then darted back into the street, shouting his news as he went. Raphael stroked his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he’d better pay a visit to the locksmith’s shop…
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That evening found all the members of the Bright Axes gathered at Keygan’s shop. Rusty had arrived first, and had calmed a near-hysterical Maple, trying to reassure her the Tilly was not dead (as far as he knew). Wathros came next, confirming that fact, telling Maple that of course Tilly wasn’t dead, since he was in jail. Somehow, this didn’t seem to ease her mind. Later though, Tilly himself showed up, with Pez and Gardrid. They all began relating the different aspects of their stories, until they had the full account. Then, they had to tell it all again to Raphael when he came in late.
“So it would appear this was a deliberate attack,” Pez said. “The umberhulk was summoned, and not coincidentally, in the middle of Maavu’s warehouse. Both of the buildings that were damaged belonged to Maavu. In fact, the creature did not seem interested in battle until we attacked it…only in causing property damage. Perhaps we should pay Master Maavu a visit.”
“I’ll go,” Raphael volunteered. He fancied himself something of a diplomat, and he thought he might be a bit more suited for the task than the hot-tempered dwarves, the less-than urbane druid, or the less-than reputable halfling.
“Agreed,” Pez nodded, “You will accompany me. Tilly, why don’t you and Maple make the rounds at a few of the drinking establishments? See what the topic of conversation is this evening.”
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Pez and Raphael arrived at the palatial home of Maavu, in the upscale district of Obsidian Avenue. They were met at the door by a liveried servant. “May I help you?” the man asked, eyeing the armored warriors critically.
Pez introduced himself and Raphael, “We are looking for Master Maavu. We were instrumental in preventing the destruction of several of his establishments this afternoon.”
“Ah,” the butler said dryly, “then you would be the tenth group of ‘heroes’ to make that claim this evening. I’ll tell you as I told the others. My master is unavailable. If there is any merit whatsoever to your claims, I’m certain he will contact you, and you will be appropriately rewarded. Good evening.” The door was unceremoniously shut. The paladin and the archon looked at each other, “So much for our reputation,” Raphael grinned.
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Tilly and Maple prepared to call it a night. They had visited several pubs, including the Tipped Tankard, the Drowning Morkoth, and even the Coy Nixie. At each, the focus of conversation had been on the umberhulk attack. Everyone had their own speculations, anything from the creature burrowing up from the Underdark due to its caverns having been flooded during the winter, to the possibility that Maavu had been keeping the beast as a pet, and would feed customers to it who didn’t pay the prices he offered. The halflings were able to sort through the more outlandish rumors, and came up with one reliable fact…Maavu had fled Cauldron this very evening, his destination unknown.
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As the heroes regrouped once again at Keygan’s, a soft knock sounded at the door. “Now who could that be at this time of night,” Maple muttered, opening the door. On the stoop stood a strikingly beautiful woman, dressed in a very expensive looking gown and cloak. “I am the Lady Celeste,” she said, smiling at Maple, “I’m looking for the members of the Bright Axes.” Maple stood aside, letting Celeste enter, but eyeing her with definite dislike.
Celeste bowed slightly before the assembled company, and then produced a small white card, handing it to Pez. “I would like to arrange a business dinner with you and your comrades for tomorrow, sundown. I think you will find it profitable. Please, dress appropriately.” Without another word, she turned, and disappeared into the night. Pez turned the card over in his hand, reading the stylized calligraphy on the other side, ‘Cusp of Sunrise/Obsidian Avenue Northeast.’
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The Cusp of Sunrise. The place was well known by reputation to the group, if not by actual experience. It was an inn and dinner club for the nobility, with access by invitation from a member only. Its membership was reputed to be quite exclusive. The companions were not quite sure what to make of their strange visitor or of her even stranger invitation, but they unanimously agreed that they would indeed take her up on it. It seemed much too strange a coincidence that this offer would come on the exact same day as their altercation with the umberhulk. Perhaps some answers would be forthcoming.
It was left up to each person’s discretion as to what ‘appropriate dress’ consisted of, and when they gathered outside the club on the following evening, it was obvious that that definition was open to interpretation. Pez was dressed in his formal clerical robes, his wings protruding dramatically from the back. He wore a fine chain shirt beneath them, and carried his trumpet in the crook of his arm. Raphael was likewise adorned in his habit, his holy symbol displayed prominently. He wore no armor, and carried no weapon, being very familiar with the type of people they would be dealing with. Wathros had made a great sacrifice and purchased a fine new set of clothes befitting a minor noble, giving up his battered, and rather fragrant hide armor. He also carried no weapon, and wore a wreath of mistletoe upon his head. Even Tilly had managed to ‘find’ an appropriate set of clothing for the evening, and a finely wrought golden chain to accessorize. Gardrid and Rusty were another matter. The dwarves had indeed purchased new tunics, though they were hardly top of the line. Further ruining the effect was the fact that they were both wearing their full plate armor, Rusty’s bristling with spikes. Gardrid’s war axe was prominently on display. They appeared more ready to enter battle than to engage in a courtly dinner, and Raphael pointed this out to them. “Mind yer own business, fancy pants,” Gardrid replied tersely, “This is the dwarf way!” The paladin merely shook his head, and knocked on the door.
The door was opened by an immense, bald man in light blue robes, “Ah!” he beamed upon seeing the group, “You must be the umberhulk people! I am Renjin. Welcome to the Cusp of Sunrise!” Raphael presented their invitation, and Renjin escorted them into the foyer and then stepped behind a large, mahogany desk. With a large smile fixed on his jovial face, he surveyed each of them in turn. “Master Pez,” he said, clapping his hands together, “what a fine ensemble you’ve chosen for the evening, and I do admire your pendant and that lovely broach. The colors offset your…wings…nicely. And Master Jurgensen,” he said, turning to Raphael, “you look perfectly…holy!” He was just as enthusiastic towards Tilly and Wathros, complimenting them each on their taste in garments and jewelry. “Do come in and make yourselves at home in the library. Lady Celeste will be with you shortly.” He ushered the four inside, and then turned to regard Gardrid and Rusty, his smile slipping a bit. “What about us?” Rusty asked, a frown creasing his brow. “Ah, Master Gardrid, Master Rusty…what a fine display of armament and weaponry. Planning on battling orcs tonight were we?” “What do ya mean?” Gardrid asked, resting his axe head on the floor, “The invite said dress appropriately. This is how dwarves dress fer special occasions.” “Yes, well,” Renjin replied, “perhaps if we were in a dwarven cave that might be true. Here, I think you’ll find, you might be overdoing it a bit.” Gardrid’s face began to develop an ugly red shade and his jowls started to shake. Rusty knew what was coming, and also knew what a disaster it would be. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands to Renjin, “what do ya propose we do? Go back home?” “Not at all,” the doorman laughed, “There is a fine clothier just down the block. I’m sure he can find something to suit even your unique tastes.” “C’mon Gardrid,” Rusty said, moving to turn the battlerager towards the door. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Gardrid growled, folding his hands over the butt of his axe and staring unblinkingly at Renjin. Rusty rolled his eyes, then leaned close to his clansman, speaking in Dwarvish, “Now look, ye dern fool. When yer not amongst yer own kind, it’s best to do what others do. Don’t ye be startin’ no trouble here. Yer gonna ruin it fer everyone.” “I don’t aim to be startin’ nothin,” Gardrid said, “You go an get yer fancy duds. I’ll wait here. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let fat boy here think he’s better’n the King o’ the Malachite Fortress!” Rusty sighed, and hurried from the inn, knowing he had to return quickly before the battlerager leveled the place.
Rusty was indeed able to purchase suitable clothing for himself and Gardrid. When he returned to the Cusp of Sunrise, he found Gardrid still rooted to the spot, glaring at Renjin, who merely smiled back at him. “Will this do?” the priest asked sarcastically, shoving the clothes at the man. “Why yes! Those are fine choices!” Renjin replied, as if the dwarves had come in already wearing them. Rusty unceremoniously ripped off his old tunic and began stripping off his armor right in the middle of the foyer. Renjin’s face paled noticeably. Seeing this, Gardrid grinned evilly and followed suit. Soon the man had two stark naked, hairy dwarves standing before him. They took their time donning their new garments, relishing the doorman’s discomfort. When they were done, they deposited their arms and armor behind the desk. “ I warn ye,” Gardrid hissed at Renjin, “if they ain’t just the way I left’em when I get back, ye’ll be needin’ more than a set o’ new duds by the time I’m through with ye.”
Once inside, the dwarves found their companions hobnobbing with the upper crust. The center of the inn was a room some one hundred feet across…a circular tower whose walls were covered in bookshelves and iron ladders on sliding rails. A score of nobles were present, but only a few were reading. Most were clustered in conversation as they sipped wine from slender flutes. Others played a dice game at a series of circular tables. Tilly was also seated at one of these tables, and Pez was at another, higher stakes one. Gardrid meandered over to Tilly’s table, and chuckled to himself as he saw the slick little rogue taking full advantage of the nobles’ willingness to part with their gold. He had to laugh out loud when he saw just the opposite occurring with Pez. The archon had managed to lose over a thousand galleons in fairly short order, and was forced to withdraw from the game before he lost his fine new clothes as well.
It wasn’t long before Celeste entered the library. Many heads turned to watch her as she made her way across the room and greeted her guests. She led them through a door to the east wing of the inn, and then into a private conference room. In the chamber sat a dwarf, so old and emaciated that he might pass for a skeleton. Even his snow-white beard looked ragged and thin, as if it were about to fall out. Yet he wore fine robes, and beneath them a coat of adamantine chain links. “You’re the heroes of the city right now, and it’s heroes I need,” the old dwarf wheezed. “I’ll pay you well to rescue my son.”
Both Rusty’s and Gardrid’s eyes grew wide, and their mouths fell open in unison, “Me Laird,” both of them said, dropping to one knee and bowing their heads before the older dwarf, for they recognized him, though only just, due to the ravages of his age. He was Davked Splintershield…father of Zenith Splintershield. “Ah, my kinsmen,” Davked said, a faint smile coming to his ruined face, “glad it makes my heart to see you. You know already of my son Zenith. Never was there a more stalwart defender of the dwarven people. He was lord of the Malachite Fortress. He built it to guard the underground approaches to Cauldron. Ten years ago, he gathered the best of his warriors to him, intending to launch a crusade into the Underdark and rid it of its evil. He never returned. I pleaded with him not to go, not to abandon the Fortress. We nearly came to blows in the heat of the moment. I admit, I was a harsh, unyielding father to all three of my sons. Alas, I have paid a terrible price for my intolerance. My wife, Marta, died last year. On her deathbed she cursed me for driving our sons away. I will waste away to nothing unless I make peace with all of them. Two I have already made amends with, but I am physically unable to travel to Zenith. That is why I need you to find him for me.”
“Without question, me Laird” Gardrid said, rising, “but…beggin’ yer pardon…how do ye know he still lives?”
“I have had priests and wizards use powerful divinations,” Davked replied, “They have told me that Zenith is being held prisoner in a kuo-toan shrine in the Underdark north of here. The shrine is called Bhal-Hamatugn.”
“How may we find this place, Laird,” Rusty asked.
Celeste, silent to this point, stood forward, “There is a complication. As you well know, The Stormblades caved in the only entrance to the Malachite Fortress, and thus into the Underdark.” Gardrid growled low in his throat as she continued, “However, there is reputed to be a fissure that leads to the Underdark in the mountains north of the city. Specifically, a hermit named Jared mentioned it to some of Davked’s clansmen. I have a map that will get you to Jared’s place. It lies about two days from here by horse.”
“Don’t ye be worryin’ Laird,” Gardrid said, taking the map, “We’ll be findin’ Zenith. We won’t be back without him.” The two dwarves then turned, leaving the room, fully expecting their companions to follow them, as if there were never any question that all of them would be in full agreement.
The flood season eventually ended, and its passing was celebrated with one of the grandest Flood Festivals ever seen. The guests of honor were the members of the company of the Bright Axes. The Lord Mayor himself was present to offer his thanks and congratulations. There was no lack for free drinks for the companions, as every tavern they entered was immediately filled with choruses of “Well met!” and “Good show!”
But again, time has a way of blunting memory and enthusiasm. Life returned to a relative state of normalcy in Cauldron, and the Bright Axes were another local adventuring company, albeit a well respected one, and since a person cannot live off reputation alone, the party went back to their lives as well.
Pez’ status in the church hierarchy was steadily growing, and he was even given an assignment to travel to the Capitol and meet with the church there, informing them of Sarcem’s death and recent events in Cauldron. He became a well-known envoy between the two parishes.
Raphael returned to his duties at the shrine, and in fact saw a great increase in parishioners due to his new reputation. The little shrine to Lathander might actually be on its way to becoming a church in truth.
Rusty and Gardrid found their pockets full of newly plundered gold, and they decided to use this to purchase Keygan’s shop outright. They assured a concerned Tilly and Maple that they weren’t going to be evicted, and also weren’t going to have to share their home with a clan of dwarves. No, the dwarves had other plans. They set about renovating Jzadirune with a vengeance, removing the traps on its cogwheel doors, restoring the workshops and machinery to working order, and making a new network of secret passages and tunnels using the paths already made by the automatons. They also began the long, arduous process of trying to reopen the elevator shaft to the Malachite Fortress, but this proved daunting, and they knew that it would be some time before they saw their kindred’s home again.
Wathros formed a fast friendship with Shensen, and when she decided to return to the Lucky Monkey and began repairs, he agreed to accompany her and lend his assistance. From time to time, the pair would return to Cauldron for supplies and to check in with their friends.
And yet, all was not as peaceful as it seemed in the town. With recent events, such as the kidnapping/slave ring and the near flooding of the entire city, the residents of Cauldron were feeling less than secure in their homes. Also, the local thieves guilds had obviously stepped up their activities as well, with the Last Laugh apparently having some role in the kidnappings, and the Alleybashers playing a major part in the death of Sarcem and the theft of the wands of Controlling Water. The Lord Mayor responded to these concerns by increasing the ranks of the city guard, primarily with mercenaries who were not local. This didn’t exactly ease the minds of the residents, as these newcomers seemed more aggressive than the previous constables. Another addition to the city watch was the newly formed Magical Threats Agency. This group was comprised of arcanists who were specifically trained to respond to ‘unnatural’ threats in the city that the regular guardsmen were not equipped to handle. The Lord Mayor authorized the MTA, but they were led one of the watch captains, Haanu Pershai.
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The worst of the winter passed uneventfully in the mountains, and the scent of early spring was in the air. The streets were becoming busier, with the merchants moving their wares out onto the avenues for passersby to peruse. Tilly, Gardrid and Rusty had come to Magma Avenue to procure more supplies for their renovation work. They had planned on doing business this day with Maavu, one of the more prominent merchants in the city, and one of the more popular among the common folk, since he had a reputation for flaunting the commerce laws of the local politicians.
Gardrid was peering intently at a display of picks and hammers, when he felt a slight tremor beneath his feet. “Did ye feel that?” he said curiously to Rusty. “Felt like a small quake. I’m not fer bein’ so sure this volcano’s entirely asleep.” “Bah!” Rusty waved him off, “Yer imaginin’ things. I didn’t feel nothin’. Ye’re just bored, ye are, and lookin’ fer any excuse to stir up some trouble. City life don’t suit ya.” “Actually,” Tilly chimed in, “I thought I felt something too.” “Then yer twice as daft as him!” Rusty barked, “Ye been spendin’ too much time around him, learnin’ swordplay. Ye be better off payin’ more attention to yer lady than to this crusty old goat.”
At that moment, the wall of the warehouse they were standing in front of exploded outward in a shower of timbers and splinters. The dwarves ducked instinctively, and Tilly threw himself to the side. A burly, insectoid creature with massive mandibles, compound eyes, and wisps of flame visible between its plates of chitin stepped out of the rubble and into the middle of the busy street. In an instant, the avenue was filled with screams and panic.
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Several blocks away, Pez had just exited the shop of Udoo, the Silkmonger. He’d been sent there by Jenya to purchase several bolts that were to be sent as gifts to the Capitol. Though he railed at the ignominy of doing common errand running, he knew that Jenya did not hold to hierarchal divisions of labor. She was just as likely to be seen cleaning out the horse stalls as the stable boys were.
As he stepped into the street, he heard the commotion coming from the direction of Magma Avenue. He couldn’t imagine what it would be, and surely the guard would be along in short order, but he might be able to lend some aid in the meantime, especially if people were hurt. Tucking his bundles beneath his arm, he took to the air, heading for a nearby rooftop to get a better vantage.
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Tilly picked himself up off the ground. The crowd around him was in full panic, however, rather than running, some of them seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, while others were randomly leaping upon other bystanders. The creature that had emerged from the warehouse seemed to be paying them no heed. It had moved to a nearby building and was engaged in ripping a sizeable hole in one of its walls. Rusty had spoken truly. Tilly had been itching to try out some of the new skills he’d been learning from Gardrid. Many a night he had spent in the Tipped Tankard, hoping that the Storm Blades would happen by and start some trouble. Now was his chance. He drew his sword and dagger and began dodging through the crowd. He reached the monster, and while it was still distracted, he began slashing at its chitinous legs.
“Do you realize what that is?” Gardrid shouted at Rusty as they watched the rampaging beast. “It’s an umberhulk!” “The Hell ye say!” Rusty gaped at him. He knew of the creatures. They were wrecking machines, and a constant threat to those who tunneled beneath the earth, but he’d never heard of one coming to the surface like this, especially in the middle of a city, nor had he ever seen one that had flames coming out of its hide.
Gardrid didn’t bother to reply. He knew his business, and this was just what he’d been waiting for. He pulled his axe from its straps on his back and went wading through the panicked masses. He saw Tilly already engaging the beast, and he smiled to himself. The little runt might have potential after all. With a roar, the battlerager lunged ahead, hewing at the umberhulk, his axe sending great spurts of ichor in all directions.
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As it so happened, Wathros was also in town this day. He had come on one of his regular trips for Shensen, and was just completing his transaction when he too heard the commotion. He didn’t particularly care what new mischief the city dwellers had gotten themselves into, but he was curious just the same. He thought a quick peek might provide some entertainment. Willing himself into the form of an eagle, he began soaring above the rooftops towards Magma Avenue.
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The umberhulk whirled around as Tilly and Gardrid continued to harry it. With one massive claw, it bowled Tilly over, sending him several yards away. As Gardrid redoubled his attack, the beast suddenly began furiously digging into the ground and vanished.
Just then a cry sounded from a bit further down the street, “Help me!” Gardrid turned quickly, expecting an ambush from the umberhulk. Instead, he saw a street vendor struggling with a pushcart full of fruit, but making no headway. He appeared to be trying to flee, but was unwilling to leave his livelihood. Unfortunately, he was directly in the path of the surging crowd. “C’mon!” Gardrid growled to Rusty, “That idgit’s gonna get himself kilt.” The dwarves skirted the edge of the panicked civilians and hurried over to the vendor. “Outta the way oldtimer!” Gardrid shouted, shouldering the man aside and grabbing hold of the handles of the cart. Rusty joined him and they began heaving the cart towards a nearby alley.
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From his perch on the roof of another warehouse across the street from Maavu’s, Pez had watched the dwarves and Tilly battle the umberhulk. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see his friends in the middle of all this. Leave it to them to find trouble. He had been preparing to join them when the monster had retreated. Now his eyes darted all around, looking for signs that it might be resurfacing. It was then that he noticed a squad of the city watch approaching. He scowled deeply as he got a closer look at the guardsmen. They were half-orcs…some of the newly recruited mercenaries hired to swell the ranks of the watch. Six of them approached the confused crowd and began ordering them to disperse. However, something was still wrong with the people. They were continuing to fight each other, or just standing in a daze, or running about babbling incoherently. Finally, the guardsmen tired of trying to be diplomatic. The each drew heavy batons from their belts and began beating the people in the crowd. This just added to the chaos as those nearest the guards began trying to retreat through the others who were not giving way. This seemed to fuel the guards’ anger, and they became even more savage with their assault. Pez could feel his own fury rising. Concentrating, he called upon a minor spell to show him the karmic auras surrounding the guards. The tinge of red that he saw only confirmed his suspicions. They were of low morals, and questionable intentions…evil in his eyes.
Pez leaped from the roof and glided down to the street, coming to land just behind the guards. As the nearest one raised his baton to level a blow at an elderly woman, the archon seized his arm in an iron grip, “If any of you harm another of these citizens, you will answer to me and the church of Tyr!” At that moment, he heard another explosion from nearby as the wall of a third warehouse erupted, and the umberhulk emerged once more.
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Wathros surveyed the chaotic scene below dispassionately. He had missed the initial attack of the umberhulk, and so wasn’t sure what all the commotion was about. Then he spotted Pez berating the guard, and he knew this couldn’t be good. When the umberhulk made its second appearance, he couldn’t remain an observer any longer. He began circling down towards the melee, but then he heard a woman scream from an upper window of the building from which the umberhulk had just emerged. He wheeled about and saw her standing at the sill clutching a baby in her arms, “My baby!” she screamed, “Someone save my baby!” Suddenly, a look of confusion crossed the woman’s face as she gaped at the umberhulk rampaging below. She calmly set the baby on the windowsill, where it squirmed and teetered, and then disappeared back into the building. ‘Strange,’ Wathros thought to himself, but the baby looked safe enough now, so he continued on his way.
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As the umberhulk began moving towards the crowd, the guard resumed their attack, screaming at the people to move, and clubbing those who would not, or could not. Pez immediately disarmed the guard whose hand he held, then shoved the man backwards. In an instant, the six of them surrounded the archon, brandishing halberds.
About that time, Gardrid and Rusty came back around the corner, and saw what was going on. Gardrid had no idea why the city watch would be surrounding and menacing Pez, and frankly, he didn’t care. With a horrific shout, he charged down the avenue, and as one of the guards turned to see what the uproar was about, he was met by the flat side of the battlerager’s blade to his face, and fell like a stone.
Tilly witnessed the altercation between Pez and the guards as well, but unlike Gardrid, he knew full well what was happening. When he saw Gardrid attack, he knew also that the time for diplomacy had come to an end. Leaping in behind a second guardsman, the halfling pummeled him twice to the back of the skull with the hilts of his blades, and he too fell unconscious.
Rusty was confused. He thought they’d been fighting an umberhulk, not the city guard, and now the umberhulk was back,and no one was fighting it. What the Hell was going on here? He began stalking forward, and then the umberhulk turned towards him. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen…it had two big bug eyes, but it also seemed to have two human looking eyes and…what was he doing here again? He looked around, not quite sure where he was, or what he was doing here. Perhaps it would be better if he just wandered about for a while. He began singing an old dwarven drinking song to himself.
Wathros was also not sure why no one was attacking the umberhulk. After all, it did seem to be the more obvious threat. Oh well, he supposed he’d have to save these city dwellers from their own stupidity again. Even in his current avian form, he was still capable of calling upon his magic, and so he summoned the lightning, sending it arcing down from the clouds to strike the brute.
Gardrid spun around as another of the guards came at him from his flank. He caught the man in the chin with the haft of his axe, rocking his head back. With a quick twist of his hips, he clipped a second one with a stunning right cross, augmented by the mailed gauntlet on his fist. Both joined their comrades in slumber.
Pez, now free of the circle of guards, rushed towards the umberhulk, driving his holy blade into its fiendish hide. The monster flailed about, trying to get at his assailant, but only managing to flatten Tilly again as the halfling moved in to flank. A second bolt of lightning struck from the sky, and this time the beast fell with a tremendous crash. Its body then rapidly dissolved into smoke.
Pez glanced around as more shouts filled the street, this time coming from a group of gnomes wearing the sigil of the MTA. They were quickly working to calm the crowd, using various Sleep spells and illusions to pacify them. It was then that Pez saw the baby tottering on the edge of the windowsill above him. It had worked one chubby arm free, and succeeded in rolling itself off at that moment. As it plummeted towards the street, Pez leaped to catch it in midair, and then safely returned it to its mother, who stood bewildered at the doorway to the warehouse, looking as if she were not quite sure what had happened.
Rusty, meanwhile, decided that all the hubbub was giving him a headache. He started away from all the action at a brisk trot, with no particular destination in mind.
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Once the sorcerers of the MTA had the crowd under control and dispersed, they turned their attention to Tilly, Gardrid and Pez.
“Would any of you care to explain what’s going on here?” one feisty female gnome demanded, brandishing a wand at the trio, “Who, or what, caused all this damage? Why are six members of the City Watch unconscious? Who are you people?”
Pez quickly stepped forward as spokesman before Gardrid could get them in any more trouble, “I am Pez of Tyr. These are my associates, Gardrid Craghammer and Tillian Wanderfar. We are members of the Bright Axes. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment, “Perhaps I have. Aren’t you the ones who were involved with breaking up the slave ring, and helping out with the recent floods?”
“The same,” Pez nodded, and then he proceeded to explain what had just transpired, complete with details of the guards’ abusive behavior towards the citizens.
“Yes, well,” the gnome said as he finished, “it’s not that I don’t believe you, but we and the guardsmen represent the law around here, and it wouldn’t do for just any vigilante to start taking matters into their own hands. I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to come along with me back to headquarters. You can explain it all to the Captain.”
Pez put a restraining hand on Gardrid’s shoulder as the dwarf started to open his mouth, “Of course we will accompany you,” he said. He turned and looked up towards the rooftops as they were escorted away. Unnoticed by the MTA mages, a lone eagle took flight from the heights, and drifted lazily along the wind above them.
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“Hey, move your ass!” Rusty blinked in surprise. He was standing in the middle of a busy intersection, with several large wagons passing him on all sides. He had no idea what he was doing here, or how he’d arrived. The last thing he remembered was helping Gardrid to move the old man’s fruit cart to safety. He looked up at the street sign and realized he was a dozen or more blocks away from the warehouse district. Cursing roundly, he began trotting up the street and back towards Magma Avenue.
By the time he reached the scene of the battle, more guardsmen had arrived and cordoned off the area. There was no sign of his friends anywhere, nor any sign of the beast they had been battling. Most of the guards were busy clearing debris from the road, or discouraging nosy onlookers. Rusty quickly darted into an alleyway beside the warehouse where the umberhulk had first appeared. He made his way around to the large hole in the side of the building, and ducked inside. The place appeared deserted. Dry goods were scattered all about amid the general wreckage of the wall. There was no evidence of a hole through which the creature might have tunneled up, but as Rusty continued sifting through the refuse, he came across something very interesting. There were several sigils inscribed on the floor in a circle beneath the rubble. They were definitely arcane in origin, and unless the priest missed his guess, they were the same kind used in some conjuring rituals.
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“This is a very interesting tale that you tell,” watch captain Haanu Pershai said as she paced back and forth in the interrogation room, “and there are several eye-witnesses to much of what you have said. Still, that does not excuse your actions against my men.”
Pez leaned forward in his chair, “Your men, and I use that term loosely, considering most of them had more than a little orc blood, were beating innocent people like animals. We tried to reason with them.”
“You interfered with duly appointed constables in performing their duty,” Pershai retorted, “Who are you to say what constitutes justifiable force? Those people were in mortal danger, both from that beast and from themselves. They were either going to be eaten, or were going to trample each other. My men were dealing with it as they saw fit. I know you people think you’re Tyr’s gift to this city, but you’re not above the law, and neither am I. You will be detained here until further notice.”
She turned on her heel, and exited the room, summoning a guard to watch over them in her absence.
“Well, well, well,” the guardsman grinned, “Lookey what we’ve got here. I should’ve known if there was trouble on the streets, you lot would be in the thick of it.”
Gardrid glanced up, ready to unleash a blistering stream of curses at the smart-mouthed turnkey, but then his face widened in a grin as he recognized Krylscar Endercott, the warrior they had freed from Kazmojen’s dungeon.
“I’ll be damned!” the battlerager cried, rising to grip the man’s hand tightly, “Look at the sorry company we’re forced to keep. What in the blazes is goin’ on round here anyway? Since when are the decent men of the constabulary fraternizin’ with the likes of half-breed orcs?
Krylscar shook his head, “Strange times, my friend. Lot of changes around here lately. The powers-that-be are awfully shaken up about recent events. They’ve decided to beef up the watch, which is well and good, but they’ve decided to bring in outsiders…mercenaries. They’re a rough lot, and you’d best steer clear of them. The captain though, she’s a good sort. Don’t fault her. She’s just trying to do her job the best she can. Why, it was her that formed the MTA. I think they’ll do a lot to help keep the peace.”
Pez lowered his voice as he heard footsteps approaching, “We’d appreciate it if you would keep your eyes and ears open for us Krylscar.” The sergeant nodded, “It’s the least I can do. I owe you my life.”
The door opened and Pershai strode in, a grim expression on her face, “You’ve been cleared of all charges. You’re free to go, but I warn you. Don’t interfere with my people again.”
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Raphael was just finishing his sunset service when a town crier burst into the small tabernacle, “Monsters! There’s monsters loose on Magma Avenue!”
“Calm yourself lad,” the paladin said reassuringly as he moved over to the excited boy. “What are you talking about?”
The boy fairly quivered with excitement, “There was a giant bug bustin’ up Maavu’s place on Magma! Folks was runnin’ in all directions! Then them hero fellas, the Big Axes, they came along and started crackin’ heads! I hear tell they even busted up a couple of them orcy guards!” The boy then darted back into the street, shouting his news as he went. Raphael stroked his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he’d better pay a visit to the locksmith’s shop…
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That evening found all the members of the Bright Axes gathered at Keygan’s shop. Rusty had arrived first, and had calmed a near-hysterical Maple, trying to reassure her the Tilly was not dead (as far as he knew). Wathros came next, confirming that fact, telling Maple that of course Tilly wasn’t dead, since he was in jail. Somehow, this didn’t seem to ease her mind. Later though, Tilly himself showed up, with Pez and Gardrid. They all began relating the different aspects of their stories, until they had the full account. Then, they had to tell it all again to Raphael when he came in late.
“So it would appear this was a deliberate attack,” Pez said. “The umberhulk was summoned, and not coincidentally, in the middle of Maavu’s warehouse. Both of the buildings that were damaged belonged to Maavu. In fact, the creature did not seem interested in battle until we attacked it…only in causing property damage. Perhaps we should pay Master Maavu a visit.”
“I’ll go,” Raphael volunteered. He fancied himself something of a diplomat, and he thought he might be a bit more suited for the task than the hot-tempered dwarves, the less-than urbane druid, or the less-than reputable halfling.
“Agreed,” Pez nodded, “You will accompany me. Tilly, why don’t you and Maple make the rounds at a few of the drinking establishments? See what the topic of conversation is this evening.”
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Pez and Raphael arrived at the palatial home of Maavu, in the upscale district of Obsidian Avenue. They were met at the door by a liveried servant. “May I help you?” the man asked, eyeing the armored warriors critically.
Pez introduced himself and Raphael, “We are looking for Master Maavu. We were instrumental in preventing the destruction of several of his establishments this afternoon.”
“Ah,” the butler said dryly, “then you would be the tenth group of ‘heroes’ to make that claim this evening. I’ll tell you as I told the others. My master is unavailable. If there is any merit whatsoever to your claims, I’m certain he will contact you, and you will be appropriately rewarded. Good evening.” The door was unceremoniously shut. The paladin and the archon looked at each other, “So much for our reputation,” Raphael grinned.
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Tilly and Maple prepared to call it a night. They had visited several pubs, including the Tipped Tankard, the Drowning Morkoth, and even the Coy Nixie. At each, the focus of conversation had been on the umberhulk attack. Everyone had their own speculations, anything from the creature burrowing up from the Underdark due to its caverns having been flooded during the winter, to the possibility that Maavu had been keeping the beast as a pet, and would feed customers to it who didn’t pay the prices he offered. The halflings were able to sort through the more outlandish rumors, and came up with one reliable fact…Maavu had fled Cauldron this very evening, his destination unknown.
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As the heroes regrouped once again at Keygan’s, a soft knock sounded at the door. “Now who could that be at this time of night,” Maple muttered, opening the door. On the stoop stood a strikingly beautiful woman, dressed in a very expensive looking gown and cloak. “I am the Lady Celeste,” she said, smiling at Maple, “I’m looking for the members of the Bright Axes.” Maple stood aside, letting Celeste enter, but eyeing her with definite dislike.
Celeste bowed slightly before the assembled company, and then produced a small white card, handing it to Pez. “I would like to arrange a business dinner with you and your comrades for tomorrow, sundown. I think you will find it profitable. Please, dress appropriately.” Without another word, she turned, and disappeared into the night. Pez turned the card over in his hand, reading the stylized calligraphy on the other side, ‘Cusp of Sunrise/Obsidian Avenue Northeast.’
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The Cusp of Sunrise. The place was well known by reputation to the group, if not by actual experience. It was an inn and dinner club for the nobility, with access by invitation from a member only. Its membership was reputed to be quite exclusive. The companions were not quite sure what to make of their strange visitor or of her even stranger invitation, but they unanimously agreed that they would indeed take her up on it. It seemed much too strange a coincidence that this offer would come on the exact same day as their altercation with the umberhulk. Perhaps some answers would be forthcoming.
It was left up to each person’s discretion as to what ‘appropriate dress’ consisted of, and when they gathered outside the club on the following evening, it was obvious that that definition was open to interpretation. Pez was dressed in his formal clerical robes, his wings protruding dramatically from the back. He wore a fine chain shirt beneath them, and carried his trumpet in the crook of his arm. Raphael was likewise adorned in his habit, his holy symbol displayed prominently. He wore no armor, and carried no weapon, being very familiar with the type of people they would be dealing with. Wathros had made a great sacrifice and purchased a fine new set of clothes befitting a minor noble, giving up his battered, and rather fragrant hide armor. He also carried no weapon, and wore a wreath of mistletoe upon his head. Even Tilly had managed to ‘find’ an appropriate set of clothing for the evening, and a finely wrought golden chain to accessorize. Gardrid and Rusty were another matter. The dwarves had indeed purchased new tunics, though they were hardly top of the line. Further ruining the effect was the fact that they were both wearing their full plate armor, Rusty’s bristling with spikes. Gardrid’s war axe was prominently on display. They appeared more ready to enter battle than to engage in a courtly dinner, and Raphael pointed this out to them. “Mind yer own business, fancy pants,” Gardrid replied tersely, “This is the dwarf way!” The paladin merely shook his head, and knocked on the door.
The door was opened by an immense, bald man in light blue robes, “Ah!” he beamed upon seeing the group, “You must be the umberhulk people! I am Renjin. Welcome to the Cusp of Sunrise!” Raphael presented their invitation, and Renjin escorted them into the foyer and then stepped behind a large, mahogany desk. With a large smile fixed on his jovial face, he surveyed each of them in turn. “Master Pez,” he said, clapping his hands together, “what a fine ensemble you’ve chosen for the evening, and I do admire your pendant and that lovely broach. The colors offset your…wings…nicely. And Master Jurgensen,” he said, turning to Raphael, “you look perfectly…holy!” He was just as enthusiastic towards Tilly and Wathros, complimenting them each on their taste in garments and jewelry. “Do come in and make yourselves at home in the library. Lady Celeste will be with you shortly.” He ushered the four inside, and then turned to regard Gardrid and Rusty, his smile slipping a bit. “What about us?” Rusty asked, a frown creasing his brow. “Ah, Master Gardrid, Master Rusty…what a fine display of armament and weaponry. Planning on battling orcs tonight were we?” “What do ya mean?” Gardrid asked, resting his axe head on the floor, “The invite said dress appropriately. This is how dwarves dress fer special occasions.” “Yes, well,” Renjin replied, “perhaps if we were in a dwarven cave that might be true. Here, I think you’ll find, you might be overdoing it a bit.” Gardrid’s face began to develop an ugly red shade and his jowls started to shake. Rusty knew what was coming, and also knew what a disaster it would be. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands to Renjin, “what do ya propose we do? Go back home?” “Not at all,” the doorman laughed, “There is a fine clothier just down the block. I’m sure he can find something to suit even your unique tastes.” “C’mon Gardrid,” Rusty said, moving to turn the battlerager towards the door. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Gardrid growled, folding his hands over the butt of his axe and staring unblinkingly at Renjin. Rusty rolled his eyes, then leaned close to his clansman, speaking in Dwarvish, “Now look, ye dern fool. When yer not amongst yer own kind, it’s best to do what others do. Don’t ye be startin’ no trouble here. Yer gonna ruin it fer everyone.” “I don’t aim to be startin’ nothin,” Gardrid said, “You go an get yer fancy duds. I’ll wait here. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let fat boy here think he’s better’n the King o’ the Malachite Fortress!” Rusty sighed, and hurried from the inn, knowing he had to return quickly before the battlerager leveled the place.
Rusty was indeed able to purchase suitable clothing for himself and Gardrid. When he returned to the Cusp of Sunrise, he found Gardrid still rooted to the spot, glaring at Renjin, who merely smiled back at him. “Will this do?” the priest asked sarcastically, shoving the clothes at the man. “Why yes! Those are fine choices!” Renjin replied, as if the dwarves had come in already wearing them. Rusty unceremoniously ripped off his old tunic and began stripping off his armor right in the middle of the foyer. Renjin’s face paled noticeably. Seeing this, Gardrid grinned evilly and followed suit. Soon the man had two stark naked, hairy dwarves standing before him. They took their time donning their new garments, relishing the doorman’s discomfort. When they were done, they deposited their arms and armor behind the desk. “ I warn ye,” Gardrid hissed at Renjin, “if they ain’t just the way I left’em when I get back, ye’ll be needin’ more than a set o’ new duds by the time I’m through with ye.”
Once inside, the dwarves found their companions hobnobbing with the upper crust. The center of the inn was a room some one hundred feet across…a circular tower whose walls were covered in bookshelves and iron ladders on sliding rails. A score of nobles were present, but only a few were reading. Most were clustered in conversation as they sipped wine from slender flutes. Others played a dice game at a series of circular tables. Tilly was also seated at one of these tables, and Pez was at another, higher stakes one. Gardrid meandered over to Tilly’s table, and chuckled to himself as he saw the slick little rogue taking full advantage of the nobles’ willingness to part with their gold. He had to laugh out loud when he saw just the opposite occurring with Pez. The archon had managed to lose over a thousand galleons in fairly short order, and was forced to withdraw from the game before he lost his fine new clothes as well.
It wasn’t long before Celeste entered the library. Many heads turned to watch her as she made her way across the room and greeted her guests. She led them through a door to the east wing of the inn, and then into a private conference room. In the chamber sat a dwarf, so old and emaciated that he might pass for a skeleton. Even his snow-white beard looked ragged and thin, as if it were about to fall out. Yet he wore fine robes, and beneath them a coat of adamantine chain links. “You’re the heroes of the city right now, and it’s heroes I need,” the old dwarf wheezed. “I’ll pay you well to rescue my son.”
Both Rusty’s and Gardrid’s eyes grew wide, and their mouths fell open in unison, “Me Laird,” both of them said, dropping to one knee and bowing their heads before the older dwarf, for they recognized him, though only just, due to the ravages of his age. He was Davked Splintershield…father of Zenith Splintershield. “Ah, my kinsmen,” Davked said, a faint smile coming to his ruined face, “glad it makes my heart to see you. You know already of my son Zenith. Never was there a more stalwart defender of the dwarven people. He was lord of the Malachite Fortress. He built it to guard the underground approaches to Cauldron. Ten years ago, he gathered the best of his warriors to him, intending to launch a crusade into the Underdark and rid it of its evil. He never returned. I pleaded with him not to go, not to abandon the Fortress. We nearly came to blows in the heat of the moment. I admit, I was a harsh, unyielding father to all three of my sons. Alas, I have paid a terrible price for my intolerance. My wife, Marta, died last year. On her deathbed she cursed me for driving our sons away. I will waste away to nothing unless I make peace with all of them. Two I have already made amends with, but I am physically unable to travel to Zenith. That is why I need you to find him for me.”
“Without question, me Laird” Gardrid said, rising, “but…beggin’ yer pardon…how do ye know he still lives?”
“I have had priests and wizards use powerful divinations,” Davked replied, “They have told me that Zenith is being held prisoner in a kuo-toan shrine in the Underdark north of here. The shrine is called Bhal-Hamatugn.”
“How may we find this place, Laird,” Rusty asked.
Celeste, silent to this point, stood forward, “There is a complication. As you well know, The Stormblades caved in the only entrance to the Malachite Fortress, and thus into the Underdark.” Gardrid growled low in his throat as she continued, “However, there is reputed to be a fissure that leads to the Underdark in the mountains north of the city. Specifically, a hermit named Jared mentioned it to some of Davked’s clansmen. I have a map that will get you to Jared’s place. It lies about two days from here by horse.”
“Don’t ye be worryin’ Laird,” Gardrid said, taking the map, “We’ll be findin’ Zenith. We won’t be back without him.” The two dwarves then turned, leaving the room, fully expecting their companions to follow them, as if there were never any question that all of them would be in full agreement.
Tidus4444 said:Sounds like we gots a Cartman fan here
Cartman has inspirational advice too, particularly appropriate to a Trumpet Archon:Neverwinter Knight said:
"Follow your dreams. You can reach your goals. I'm living proof. Beefcake. BEEFCAKE!"
That's the quote Pez always starts when giving his sermons. You know, to inspire his parishoners to greatness.
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Hey JollyDoc, I think your writing style has reached new heights. I thoroughly enjoyed the last update!
Oh, you forgot to mention that Pez owes Raphael 1,044 gp since the Paladin covered my gambling debts. What can I say, there are no casinos in Celestia and I went a little overboard.
Oh, you forgot to mention that Pez owes Raphael 1,044 gp since the Paladin covered my gambling debts. What can I say, there are no casinos in Celestia and I went a little overboard.
That chapter really summed up what makes your story hours and campaigns so enjoyable to read, Doc.
First, the perception that the heroes really are heroes. It is quite cool to hear how the townspeople react to the adventures of Pez and Co.
Second, the memorable NPCs. You almost always seem to find a way to put NPCs back in the story. Your use of a "main base" helps with this.
Third, the player motivations. This is more your players than you yourself, but I find it very refreshing. Too many times have I played in adventures where we all kinda said "We're PCs! Let's team up!" And "there's money to be had? Then we must go!" Every character has a good reason to be adventuring.
First, the perception that the heroes really are heroes. It is quite cool to hear how the townspeople react to the adventures of Pez and Co.
Second, the memorable NPCs. You almost always seem to find a way to put NPCs back in the story. Your use of a "main base" helps with this.
Third, the player motivations. This is more your players than you yourself, but I find it very refreshing. Too many times have I played in adventures where we all kinda said "We're PCs! Let's team up!" And "there's money to be had? Then we must go!" Every character has a good reason to be adventuring.
Lela
First Post
Aw, the blessed naked dwarf scene. Always gets a laugh and always makes a stuffed shirt pale. Gotta love it.
And, as gfunk and Tidus have pointed out, your storytelling capabilities are becoming even more astounding as time progresses. Though perhaps unintentional, I loved how you put the characters in each scene. Tilly and the dwarves would of course be together and Pez, along with Wathros, would be able to get there easily. Raphael (love that character concept by the way) though, would have to play catch up later on.
It just all pieced together so nicely. I'm very impressed.
And, as gfunk and Tidus have pointed out, your storytelling capabilities are becoming even more astounding as time progresses. Though perhaps unintentional, I loved how you put the characters in each scene. Tilly and the dwarves would of course be together and Pez, along with Wathros, would be able to get there easily. Raphael (love that character concept by the way) though, would have to play catch up later on.
It just all pieced together so nicely. I'm very impressed.
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