JollyDoc's Shackled City
JollyDoc
Explorer
Lela said:I'm not sure if you deleted it, as I just got it back a few minutes ago with a failure delivery notice. I'm using the AOL account you've got listed on the boards. Should I be sending ot somewhere else?
Besides gfunks e-mail.
My aol email is JollyDoc@aol.com. Now don't ya'll start deluging me with fan mail.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
What secrecy! What suspense!
Yes, I can see the Lela and JollyDoc conspiracy for the next TPK: Beware the six-armed Hextor !
Looking forward to the update JD, especially the dialogue between Caine and Ajax.
Yes, I can see the Lela and JollyDoc conspiracy for the next TPK: Beware the six-armed Hextor !
Looking forward to the update JD, especially the dialogue between Caine and Ajax.
JollyDoc
Explorer
THE PLOT THICKENS
As the group began tending their wounds, and checking on the injured in the area, two familiar faces arrived on the scene. One was Asfelkir Hranleurth, a priest from the temple of Tempus. The other was none other than Raphael Jurgensen, Lathander’s paladin, and ex officio member of the Bright Axes (editor’s note: Raphael’s player has not returned to the game. Raphael is being used as an NPC). Immediately, Asfelkir produced one of the wands of controlling water, and began dousing the remaining fires, while Raphael lent his assistance with the healing.
“Well done, men,” Asfelkir said, extending his hand once the flames were all extinguished. “It’s good that you came when you did. Perhaps I have…misjudged your group in the past, and for that I apologize. You are all true citizens, in the truest sense of the word.”
Raphael was in not such a beneficent mood. He scowled at the people who had gathered around to gawk…the same people who had been jeering at the half-orcs before. The paladin leaped to his feet, and rushed toward the crowd, “Fool!” he shouted at them, startling them back several paces, “The flames of discord will raise hell in our town!” Asfelkir took him by the arm, and drew him back, away from the angry mutterings.
“He’s right, you know,” Caine said to Ajax, “I fear something is at work here, deliberately trying to tear these people apart by setting them at each others throats.”
Rusty recognized the boy, Jacob by name, as one of the older residents of the Pez Home for Foundlings. He returned the lad to Gretchyn, explaining what had happened. “I’d be happy to have the boy come by my place if he’s looking fer work,” Rusty offered, “Don’t look like he’ll be needed at the inn anytime soon, and I could always use another strong back.” Jacob smiled at the offer, looking to Gretchyn for approval. The old halfling nodded briefly. “I’ll start first thing!” Jacob shouted. “Don’t be so eager, lad” Rusty admonished, “There’s plenty to do, and plenty of time to do it. Rest up and get yer strength back. The job’ll be there waitin’ fer ya.”
Caine made his way back to the church of Tyr, and found Jenya waiting for him. “I’m glad you’ve returned,” the high priestess said, a worried look on her face. “The rumors of what transpired today have been horrendous. Can you tell me what happened?”
Caine sighed, and then recounted the events of the day and of the evening. When he’d finished, Jenya just shook her head. “I fear for our city, and I tend to agree with your assessment that something is amiss and foul here. It seems to be spreading, like a cancer. Tell me, did you happen to see Alek Tercival?”
“No,” Caine replied, “though Ajax told me you expected him to be there. Have you not had word?”
“None,” Jenya sighed, “Not for two months. He has been seen in several areas to the west, including Red Gorge. You know,” she said, sitting down in one of the pews, “Alek and I have been friends for many years. We practically grew up together. Did you know he is of noble birth?” Pez shook his head. “It’s true. The Tercival family was once very prominent here, but when Alek’s father died, he left the family destitute. Alek joined the church, with my sponsorship. Though his advancement through the hierarchy has been slow due to his wanderlust, his devotion has always remained strong. However, I know that it has always been a dream of his to restore his family name. He has been trying to accumulate enough wealth to buy back his family’s ancestral home. He sells any treasure he finds to Tygot, the antique dealer. I’m worried for him, Caine. I have tried to divine his activities. The answer I received was…cryptic: Late on the path of justice, trapped between glass and stone, he weeps where many can see him, but he can see only himself.”
“Cryptic indeed,” Caine said thoughtfully. “As I mentioned, my companions and I have been invited to this meeting in Redgorge. From what Maavu told Ajax, Alek is expected to attend. Perhaps he can explain thing more fully. Might I ask you a favor?”
“Of course,” Jenya replied.
“I am…concerned about this trip. All may be exactly as it seems, but my heart tells me to beware. Perhaps you could divine for me whether or not this venture will be wise.”
“I will try,” the high priestess said, “See me again before you depart.”
_________________________________________________________
The next morning, several town criers announced that order had been restored to the city. The Lord Mayor pardoned all citizens involved in the riot, and most of those arrested were freed. There was to be no pardon, however, for the ‘evil merchant’ Maavu. His properties were confiscated, and he was sentenced to death in absentia. Alek Tercival’s letter of challenge was also published, but reliable sources were cited as saying that the paladin was a victim of demonic possession, and thus the challenge had been declared null and void. The local government offered a reward of five thousand gold galleons to whoever could find and save the possessed paladin. Lastly, it was announced that, in the wake of the destruction of Minuta’s Board, all half-orc mercenaries were to be transferred to an encampment outside the city walls.
Caine informed his friends of his meeting with Jenya, of the possible lead to be had at Tygot’s Old Things. As a group, they descended upon the antique shop, full armed, armored and spelled, fearing another incident similar to their encounter with Keygan Ghelve. The shop was a small, two-story affair, just as cozy on the inside as on the out. The walls were lined with shelves and glass cases displaying a variety of interesting, if esoteric, items. Tygot himself was an elderly halfling, and at first he looked up with alarm at the intimidating band entering his store. His face soon turned to a smile when he recognized several of the Bright Axes. “Well, bless my soul,” he said, coming from behind the counter and extending a hand to Tilly, “genuine heroes, right here in my shop! To what do I owe the honor, gentlemen?” At that moment, a bright flash of light appeared next to Ajax, and standing beside him was a large, wolf-like dog. It sniffed his hand with interest, and then licked it. “Don’t mind Lepook,” Tygot laughed, “he’s always doing that.” Taking advantage of his ability to speak in Tongues, Ajax leaned over the dog, “Greetings Lepook, I am Ajax.” The dog looked up at him with an odd intelligence behind its eyes, then began a series of yips, barks and whines, “The pleasure is mine Ajax,” the deva understood him to say, “welcome to our shop.”
Caine looked on in interest, smiling warmly, and then turned his attention back to Tygot, “We are sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have reason to believe that you have had dealings with a paladin by the name of Alek Tercival.”
“Alek?” Tygot asked in surprise, “Why yes! He is an interesting supplier of mine, and a good friend to boot. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him though. Is something wrong?”
“We hope not,” Caine said, “but that is why we’re here. We are looking for him, and we hoped that you could perhaps point us in the right direction by letting us examine some of the items he has sold to you recently.”
“Of course!” Tygot said, “I keep detailed records of all my acquisitions and sales. Whenever Alek found art objects on his journeys, he invariably brought them here to sell for cash. Please, make yourselves at home while I fetch the register.”
In short order Tygot returned with several esoteric items ranging from a life-size statuette of a small goose carved from basalt, to a rectangular silver plate etched with odd figures and ciphers. It was this last item that caught Rusty’s attention, for on the back of the plate was scratched what appeared to be a map of some sort. There was river noted on the drawing and several landmarks, such as a drawing of a humanoid figure titled ‘headless demon,’ a small mountain titled ‘home,’ a path marked as ‘gnoll path,’ a tunnel like drawing marked as ‘round cave,’ and a strange figure titled ‘Vaprak’s voice.’ This last notation was familiar to Rusty, for Vaprak was one of the chief deities of the ogres. The rest of the drawing made no sense at all, but it seemed to be a recent addition to the otherwise ancient plate. “I’ll take this one,” he said to Tygot, “How much ye askin’ fer it?”
“Eight-hundred galleons,” he replied without hesitation, but as he did so, Lepook began growling menacingly. “Oh all right,” the halfling relented, “four-hundred, but that’s my final offer.”
“Done,” Rusty said, and then he took a seat to examine the etched side of the plate more closely. The inscriptions were in a language he had never seen before, but fortunately, he had prepared a prayer that allowed him to comprehend foreign tongues. He muttered over the plaque for a moment, and then began to read the writings aloud to his companions. He determined that the larger, more prominent figures were creatures called spell weavers. The smaller figures, depicted as laboring for the spell weavers seemed to be ogres. The leader of the spell weavers was shown to be holding an object over his head called the ‘Starry Mirror.’ There was a series of numbers drawn beneath this object. There were three scenes on the far side of the plate, illustrating the construction of some sort of planar travel installation. Though all of this made no sense to the group, they all agreed that the crude map was probably drawn by Alek, and could very possibly be a clue as to where he had gone. In any event, he was supposed to be at the meeting in Red Gorge, so perhaps this would be all for naught.
________________________________________________________
They began making preparation for the trip to Red Gorge immediately, for the journey would take at least two days, and the meeting was scheduled to take place in four days time. Caine returned to Jenya to inquire as to the results of her divination.
“The answer was cryptic, as these things so often are,” she said, shaking her head, “ ‘Your journey will be long and perilous, but the outcome could prevent war for years to come.’”
Caine pondered the response for a moment, and then shook his head as well. “I admit, I’m perplexed as well, but I’m sure all things will be revealed in due course.”
When the group rendezvoused on the south road out of Cauldron, they were surprised to see Wathros mounted on a rhinoceros.
“This is Cyrano,” the druid said. “He has taken One Sock’s place, and will be journeying with us.”
The trip was uneventful, and they arrived in Red Gorge on the morning before the meeting with Maavu and his allies. Red Gorge was considerably smaller, and older, than Cauldron. It was founded some eight hundred years ago, and had once been a thriving town, but currently its population was only about six hundred adults, and many of its homes and businesses stood empty. The town sat on a narrow strip of flat ground between a cliff and an immense quarry of red pebble gravel. West of the village, a prodigious line of fortifications known as the Basalt Bastions protected the land, their massive walls unguarded and draped with vines.
They made their way to the Redhead Miner’s Inn, and found a comfortable, two-story establishment with a large common room. The innkeeper was a big, smiling man named Mikimax, who kept his long, red hair tied back in a ponytail. When the party entered, several villagers were relaxing there, enjoying drinks and the free snacks which Mikimax provided every evening. A handsome man in his mid-thirties quietly plucked the strings of a lute in one corner. He was dark-haired and rather short, clothed in a fine, blue robe and polished knee-high boots. He looked up as the motley group arrived and called out to them, “What can bind with water, sand, and lime?” Remembering Maavu’s words to him, Ajax quickly responded, “Mortar.” The bard smiled and waved them over to join him.
“I am Ekaym Smallcask,” he said, introducing himself, “also known as the Honest Minstrel. I assume you are friends of Maavu.”
Ajax nodded, “We were told to meet him here.”
“You are indeed in the right place,” Ekaym replied, “Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Ekaym led them down a small passage to a hidden stair. At the bottom, they entered a small room, silent and comfortable, with a great oaken table in the center. Several beautiful frescoes adorned the walls. A tall human dressed in brown, with gray hair and a short, well-trimmed goatee sat at the head of the table. He rose as the party entered. “I am Oliron Masht,” he began, “I am called the Foreman.” Introductions were made, after which Oliron strode over to the frescoes, “I see you have taken note of our history. I’m sure you have all heard of Surabar Spellmason?” The party members shook their heads in embarrassment, for they had not heard this name before. “Pity,” Oliron said, “for he was one of the greatest elementalist who ever lived. It was he that founded both Red Gorge, and Cauldron.” He indicated one of the frescoes, which depicted a robed man standing at the foot of a dormant volcano, easily recognizable as Cauldron. The next fresco showed Surabar kneeling before a sword-wielding, angelic being, who seemed to be presenting him with a staff. “That is the angel Nidrama,” Oliron explained, “who was said to once be the protector of this region. Here she is giving Surabar the quarterstaff known as Alakast, famed for its potency against demons.” The next two frescoes showed the foundation of Red Gorge, and Surabar’s construction of the Basalt Bastions. Following them was one which depicted a horde of demons rising from a smoking rift and doing battle with the people of Red Gorge. In the foreground, Surabar was locked in combat with a towering, hyena headed demon. “The Battle of Red Gorge,” Oliron said, “fought five-hundred years ago. The fiends rose from the Demonskar, a large rift canyon in the jungle west of here, but were repelled by Surabar and his allies.” The final fresco showed Surabar’s death, and his symbolic transformation into a mountain.
As the tour concluded, two more men entered the chamber, Maavu and Mikimax. “Ah, I see we are all here,” Oliron said, seating himself again, and motioning for the others to do the same.
“What about Alek Tercival?” Caine said.
“Yes,” Oliron sighed, “I had hoped that he would arrive, but I truly did not expect it. I am concerned about his absence.” Once everyone was seated, he spoke again, “We welcome our guests to this conclave. We are the Chisel, an organization founded by Surabar Spellmason to protect this region and support artisans and craftsmen. However, recently greed and selfishness have corrupted several members of our brotherhood, especially in Cauldron. We fear that some great force of chaos and evil is at work in Cauldron’s government, and the Lord Mayor may be under its influence. All of our sources of divination indicate that some great disaster is on the horizon, though the details are vague.” At this point, the Forman looked towards Maavu, “Recently, our brother decided to take matters into his own hands, and though he was well-intentioned, he ultimately caused more harm than good. I fear that the Chisel has now become a scapegoat for the current troubles in Cauldron, and forces from there may soon take drastic measures against us.”
Maavu spoke up, “I only meant to organize a peaceful demonstration. Some villain stirred up the riot to discredit us!”
Honest Minstrel barked laughter, “Don’t be a fool Maavu. You know who it was. The Last Laugh suckered you, nothing else, using you to do their dirty work!”
“Better dead then, than slaves,” Maavu shouted back, “A wandering strummer like you should know!”
“Peddler!” Ekaym yelled, “You count lives like money! No difference to you, eh?”
“Enough!” said the Foreman, slamming his hand down on the table, “Minstrel, tell us of the reports you have received from Cauldron. Ekaym continued to glare at Maavu, but he obediently answered, “My informants tell me that Terseon Skellerang plans to invade and search Red Gorge, using the half-orcs now camped outside Cauldron.”
“That would be disastrous,” Oliron said in shock, “While I’m sure the Chisel itself could weather the attack, the villagers would also fight the invaders. It would lead to full-scale war! Skellerang must be persuaded to renounce this plan.” He looked over to Caine and his companions, “Perhaps you could be of assistance here?”
Caine’s expression was confused, “To be sure, we would be deeply aggrieved to see such events come to pass, but I fail to see what we can do against hundreds of armed soldiers.”
“Nothing directly,” Oliron agreed, “but if Alek Tercival could be found, he could retract his challenge of the Captain, and that may in turn lead Skellerang to halt his assault.”
Caine looked at his friends, then back to the Forman, “We are, in truth, searching for Alek anyway, but we are at a loss for where to start. We found this,” he handed the silver plate across the table to Oliron, “yet we cannot make sense of it.”
“I know this place,” Honest Minstrel chimed in, peering over Oliron’s shoulder, “The headless demon is an old statue on the banks of the Red River, about twenty miles from here.”
“Yes, I know of it,” Oliron nodded, “The quickest route there is by river. I can provide you with a boat, if you wish to go.”
_____________________________________________________
At dawn the next day, the Bright Axes boarded a large rowboat at the docks of Red Gorge, and set out down the Red River. Wathros had performed a spell of reduction on Cyrano, and now the rhino stood in the center of the boat, about the size of a small horse currently. They spent most of the day traveling down river, and by evening, they had sighted a small beach on the north shore. A badly weathered stone statue of some sort of humanoid creature stood at the edge of the jungle, overlooking the beach. It neck ended in a stump, and its expressive canine head lie in the sand a few feet away. Patches of mold and moss grew on the statue, but the vegetation around it seemed to have been recently cleared away. A narrow trail wound off to the northwest, into the jungle just beyond the statue.
As they approached the beach, they were met by a volley of arrows from the shadows of the trees. Quickly, they each exited the boat and made for the cover of the canopy, searching for their unseen assailants. It didn’t take long to realize that they were under attack by a group of gnolls. The large, hyena-like creatures were dressed in woodland garb, and bore large bows and battleaxes. They fought viciously, and to the bitter end, but the conclusion was forgone. The Bright Axes had dealt with far worse than gnolls in their time, and they wasted little effort on the brigands.
There was still an hour or so of daylight remaining, and so they elected to begin the trek into the jungle, following the ‘gnoll path’ (aptly named) marked on Alek’s simple map. As night neared, they came upon a large cave opening into the side of a small hill. As near as Rusty could tell from the map, they were at the spot marked ‘home.’ “Strange place for a paladin to call home,” he muttered. Ajax approached the cave cautiously, and was immediately repelled by the horrible odor of decay emanating from its interior. He motioned the others to stay back, and then slowly made his way in. Inside, he found the decayed skeleton of a large, giant-like creature, as well as two other carcasses that seemed to have once been baboons. However, not all the occupants of the cave were deceased. A huge, bear-like animal crouched in one corner, wickedly curving claws flexing in agitation. Ajax hastily backed out of the lair, and called Wathros to him. The druid followed him back inside, and was shocked to see that the animal was not a bear at all, but a giant forest sloth. Normally these were relatively docile creatures, but when cornered, especially in their lairs, they could be vicious. Wathros immediately began trying to calm the beast, but quickly realized that it was not working. The sloth attacked, and after a short, but dangerous fight, they were forced to put it down. A thorough search of the cave showed no sign of Alek, although Rusty found a used up wand which bore the symbol of Tyr. Alek had been here, but how long ago was impossible to tell.
The party set up camp a short time later, and assigned watch details. Caine and Ajax took the first watch, and sometime after midnight, they were startled to hear a sudden flutter of large wings. Stepping out of the foliage, just beyond the firelight, was a beautiful woman, with perfectly white skin and stern, sparkling eyes of silver. A pair of feathered wings spread out behind her, and she held a flaming sword, which emitted a myriad of flickering beams of light. Ajax’ eyes grew wide, for he recognized the woman’s nature, if not the woman herself. She was a movanic deva, one of the lower choirs of angels. He, as an astral deva, would normally stand above her in the hierarchy, but only when he had come into his full glory. For now, they were equals. Ajax reached up and removed the eye patch from his head, dispelling the illusion he wore, and revealing his true nature. Now it was the woman’s turn to go wide-eyed, as she recognized her kinsman. “I greet you brother,” she said in a musical voice, “though I am surprised to find you here among these mortals. I am Nidrama, and I bring a warning. Powerful forces of chaos and evil are afoot. I dare not remain here long, lest my presence attract the attention of those forces. Yet I could not sit by and watch you and your companions march into danger. The Lord of the Demonskar knows of your approach, and even now his minions prepare for your arrival. They shall use deceit and treachery against you, just as they have done with Alek Tercival before you. You must remain resolute; Alek Tercival must be saved. I have no aid to offer you but knowledge. In ages past, I provided to Surabar Spellmason a powerful weapon to assist him in his conflict with the Lord of the Demonskar. This was Alakast, a quarterstaff infused with an undying hatred of the fiends of the outer rifts. Unfortunately, Alakast was stolen centuries ago, ripped from Spellmason’s tomb by a grave robber. Yet, do not despair, for it is fated that Alakast should be wielded again against the Lord of Demonskar. It has found its way to you, and all that needs be done is for you to claim it. Seek Alakast in the lair of my false sisters, beyond the watchful eyes of the north. That is all I am at liberty to say. I wish you well in your travails, and never lose sight of your goals.”
“I do not understand,” Ajax said, perplexed, “Why can’t you tell us more of the nature of this threat?”
“You above all should understand,” Nidrama said sympathetically, “We follow our dictums as they are handed down to us. You are here for a purpose, but do you truly understand that purpose? We are soldiers, Ajax. Ours is not to question why.”
“Profound words,” Caine said, his face twisted in a grimace of disgust. By this time, the others had awakened, and were gawking at Nidrama, and at the exchange taking place. Caine continued, “The warning you have brought is next to useless. We could have guessed as much ourselves. If you will give us no further information, then waste no more of our time and be gone!”
Nidrama’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she drew herself up imperiously, “I see my assistance is not appreciated here. I will offer it no further. You,” she pointed one finger accusingly at Caine, “are not worthy to wield Alakast.” She looked pityingly at Ajax, “I sorrow for you brother. You have chosen your companions poorly. Farewell.” With that, she vanished, opening up a planar rift and returning to Celestia.
“Why did you do that?” Ajax cried, whirling on the sorcerer, “She only offered her help. Why would you refuse it?” For the first time since he’d met the man, Ajax saw true anger on Caine’s face, “She offered nothing!” he spat, “Only the same sanctimonious platitudes that all of her kind espouse, present company excepted. Have you been to Cormyr, Ajax? Have you seen the devastation there, the horrendous suffering and misery? I have. I once served with the War Wizards there, and with them I fought against the drow invaders. I watched Vangerdahast and Joachim Dethik in the last battle, and my heart soared with their victory, but the cost was terrible. Did you know celestials also fought there? Oh yes, they did, but they did not fight for the cause of the Cormyrians, no. They fought to avenge their own, a seraphim and her consort who were slain by Entropy, the Chosen of Kiaransalee. Yes, let one celestial die, and the Heavens weep, but let untold thousands of innocent mortals suffer and perish, and not one tear is shed. Do not speak to me of the aid of celestials. I serve the Gods of Goodness, not their errand boys and messengers. They do not know the meaning of the word service. They wallow in their own arrogance, and seek to pass judgment on all they see as beneath them.” He stopped abruptly and turned away, leaving his friends confused an bewildered.
As the group began tending their wounds, and checking on the injured in the area, two familiar faces arrived on the scene. One was Asfelkir Hranleurth, a priest from the temple of Tempus. The other was none other than Raphael Jurgensen, Lathander’s paladin, and ex officio member of the Bright Axes (editor’s note: Raphael’s player has not returned to the game. Raphael is being used as an NPC). Immediately, Asfelkir produced one of the wands of controlling water, and began dousing the remaining fires, while Raphael lent his assistance with the healing.
“Well done, men,” Asfelkir said, extending his hand once the flames were all extinguished. “It’s good that you came when you did. Perhaps I have…misjudged your group in the past, and for that I apologize. You are all true citizens, in the truest sense of the word.”
Raphael was in not such a beneficent mood. He scowled at the people who had gathered around to gawk…the same people who had been jeering at the half-orcs before. The paladin leaped to his feet, and rushed toward the crowd, “Fool!” he shouted at them, startling them back several paces, “The flames of discord will raise hell in our town!” Asfelkir took him by the arm, and drew him back, away from the angry mutterings.
“He’s right, you know,” Caine said to Ajax, “I fear something is at work here, deliberately trying to tear these people apart by setting them at each others throats.”
Rusty recognized the boy, Jacob by name, as one of the older residents of the Pez Home for Foundlings. He returned the lad to Gretchyn, explaining what had happened. “I’d be happy to have the boy come by my place if he’s looking fer work,” Rusty offered, “Don’t look like he’ll be needed at the inn anytime soon, and I could always use another strong back.” Jacob smiled at the offer, looking to Gretchyn for approval. The old halfling nodded briefly. “I’ll start first thing!” Jacob shouted. “Don’t be so eager, lad” Rusty admonished, “There’s plenty to do, and plenty of time to do it. Rest up and get yer strength back. The job’ll be there waitin’ fer ya.”
Caine made his way back to the church of Tyr, and found Jenya waiting for him. “I’m glad you’ve returned,” the high priestess said, a worried look on her face. “The rumors of what transpired today have been horrendous. Can you tell me what happened?”
Caine sighed, and then recounted the events of the day and of the evening. When he’d finished, Jenya just shook her head. “I fear for our city, and I tend to agree with your assessment that something is amiss and foul here. It seems to be spreading, like a cancer. Tell me, did you happen to see Alek Tercival?”
“No,” Caine replied, “though Ajax told me you expected him to be there. Have you not had word?”
“None,” Jenya sighed, “Not for two months. He has been seen in several areas to the west, including Red Gorge. You know,” she said, sitting down in one of the pews, “Alek and I have been friends for many years. We practically grew up together. Did you know he is of noble birth?” Pez shook his head. “It’s true. The Tercival family was once very prominent here, but when Alek’s father died, he left the family destitute. Alek joined the church, with my sponsorship. Though his advancement through the hierarchy has been slow due to his wanderlust, his devotion has always remained strong. However, I know that it has always been a dream of his to restore his family name. He has been trying to accumulate enough wealth to buy back his family’s ancestral home. He sells any treasure he finds to Tygot, the antique dealer. I’m worried for him, Caine. I have tried to divine his activities. The answer I received was…cryptic: Late on the path of justice, trapped between glass and stone, he weeps where many can see him, but he can see only himself.”
“Cryptic indeed,” Caine said thoughtfully. “As I mentioned, my companions and I have been invited to this meeting in Redgorge. From what Maavu told Ajax, Alek is expected to attend. Perhaps he can explain thing more fully. Might I ask you a favor?”
“Of course,” Jenya replied.
“I am…concerned about this trip. All may be exactly as it seems, but my heart tells me to beware. Perhaps you could divine for me whether or not this venture will be wise.”
“I will try,” the high priestess said, “See me again before you depart.”
_________________________________________________________
The next morning, several town criers announced that order had been restored to the city. The Lord Mayor pardoned all citizens involved in the riot, and most of those arrested were freed. There was to be no pardon, however, for the ‘evil merchant’ Maavu. His properties were confiscated, and he was sentenced to death in absentia. Alek Tercival’s letter of challenge was also published, but reliable sources were cited as saying that the paladin was a victim of demonic possession, and thus the challenge had been declared null and void. The local government offered a reward of five thousand gold galleons to whoever could find and save the possessed paladin. Lastly, it was announced that, in the wake of the destruction of Minuta’s Board, all half-orc mercenaries were to be transferred to an encampment outside the city walls.
Caine informed his friends of his meeting with Jenya, of the possible lead to be had at Tygot’s Old Things. As a group, they descended upon the antique shop, full armed, armored and spelled, fearing another incident similar to their encounter with Keygan Ghelve. The shop was a small, two-story affair, just as cozy on the inside as on the out. The walls were lined with shelves and glass cases displaying a variety of interesting, if esoteric, items. Tygot himself was an elderly halfling, and at first he looked up with alarm at the intimidating band entering his store. His face soon turned to a smile when he recognized several of the Bright Axes. “Well, bless my soul,” he said, coming from behind the counter and extending a hand to Tilly, “genuine heroes, right here in my shop! To what do I owe the honor, gentlemen?” At that moment, a bright flash of light appeared next to Ajax, and standing beside him was a large, wolf-like dog. It sniffed his hand with interest, and then licked it. “Don’t mind Lepook,” Tygot laughed, “he’s always doing that.” Taking advantage of his ability to speak in Tongues, Ajax leaned over the dog, “Greetings Lepook, I am Ajax.” The dog looked up at him with an odd intelligence behind its eyes, then began a series of yips, barks and whines, “The pleasure is mine Ajax,” the deva understood him to say, “welcome to our shop.”
Caine looked on in interest, smiling warmly, and then turned his attention back to Tygot, “We are sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have reason to believe that you have had dealings with a paladin by the name of Alek Tercival.”
“Alek?” Tygot asked in surprise, “Why yes! He is an interesting supplier of mine, and a good friend to boot. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him though. Is something wrong?”
“We hope not,” Caine said, “but that is why we’re here. We are looking for him, and we hoped that you could perhaps point us in the right direction by letting us examine some of the items he has sold to you recently.”
“Of course!” Tygot said, “I keep detailed records of all my acquisitions and sales. Whenever Alek found art objects on his journeys, he invariably brought them here to sell for cash. Please, make yourselves at home while I fetch the register.”
In short order Tygot returned with several esoteric items ranging from a life-size statuette of a small goose carved from basalt, to a rectangular silver plate etched with odd figures and ciphers. It was this last item that caught Rusty’s attention, for on the back of the plate was scratched what appeared to be a map of some sort. There was river noted on the drawing and several landmarks, such as a drawing of a humanoid figure titled ‘headless demon,’ a small mountain titled ‘home,’ a path marked as ‘gnoll path,’ a tunnel like drawing marked as ‘round cave,’ and a strange figure titled ‘Vaprak’s voice.’ This last notation was familiar to Rusty, for Vaprak was one of the chief deities of the ogres. The rest of the drawing made no sense at all, but it seemed to be a recent addition to the otherwise ancient plate. “I’ll take this one,” he said to Tygot, “How much ye askin’ fer it?”
“Eight-hundred galleons,” he replied without hesitation, but as he did so, Lepook began growling menacingly. “Oh all right,” the halfling relented, “four-hundred, but that’s my final offer.”
“Done,” Rusty said, and then he took a seat to examine the etched side of the plate more closely. The inscriptions were in a language he had never seen before, but fortunately, he had prepared a prayer that allowed him to comprehend foreign tongues. He muttered over the plaque for a moment, and then began to read the writings aloud to his companions. He determined that the larger, more prominent figures were creatures called spell weavers. The smaller figures, depicted as laboring for the spell weavers seemed to be ogres. The leader of the spell weavers was shown to be holding an object over his head called the ‘Starry Mirror.’ There was a series of numbers drawn beneath this object. There were three scenes on the far side of the plate, illustrating the construction of some sort of planar travel installation. Though all of this made no sense to the group, they all agreed that the crude map was probably drawn by Alek, and could very possibly be a clue as to where he had gone. In any event, he was supposed to be at the meeting in Red Gorge, so perhaps this would be all for naught.
________________________________________________________
They began making preparation for the trip to Red Gorge immediately, for the journey would take at least two days, and the meeting was scheduled to take place in four days time. Caine returned to Jenya to inquire as to the results of her divination.
“The answer was cryptic, as these things so often are,” she said, shaking her head, “ ‘Your journey will be long and perilous, but the outcome could prevent war for years to come.’”
Caine pondered the response for a moment, and then shook his head as well. “I admit, I’m perplexed as well, but I’m sure all things will be revealed in due course.”
When the group rendezvoused on the south road out of Cauldron, they were surprised to see Wathros mounted on a rhinoceros.
“This is Cyrano,” the druid said. “He has taken One Sock’s place, and will be journeying with us.”
The trip was uneventful, and they arrived in Red Gorge on the morning before the meeting with Maavu and his allies. Red Gorge was considerably smaller, and older, than Cauldron. It was founded some eight hundred years ago, and had once been a thriving town, but currently its population was only about six hundred adults, and many of its homes and businesses stood empty. The town sat on a narrow strip of flat ground between a cliff and an immense quarry of red pebble gravel. West of the village, a prodigious line of fortifications known as the Basalt Bastions protected the land, their massive walls unguarded and draped with vines.
They made their way to the Redhead Miner’s Inn, and found a comfortable, two-story establishment with a large common room. The innkeeper was a big, smiling man named Mikimax, who kept his long, red hair tied back in a ponytail. When the party entered, several villagers were relaxing there, enjoying drinks and the free snacks which Mikimax provided every evening. A handsome man in his mid-thirties quietly plucked the strings of a lute in one corner. He was dark-haired and rather short, clothed in a fine, blue robe and polished knee-high boots. He looked up as the motley group arrived and called out to them, “What can bind with water, sand, and lime?” Remembering Maavu’s words to him, Ajax quickly responded, “Mortar.” The bard smiled and waved them over to join him.
“I am Ekaym Smallcask,” he said, introducing himself, “also known as the Honest Minstrel. I assume you are friends of Maavu.”
Ajax nodded, “We were told to meet him here.”
“You are indeed in the right place,” Ekaym replied, “Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Ekaym led them down a small passage to a hidden stair. At the bottom, they entered a small room, silent and comfortable, with a great oaken table in the center. Several beautiful frescoes adorned the walls. A tall human dressed in brown, with gray hair and a short, well-trimmed goatee sat at the head of the table. He rose as the party entered. “I am Oliron Masht,” he began, “I am called the Foreman.” Introductions were made, after which Oliron strode over to the frescoes, “I see you have taken note of our history. I’m sure you have all heard of Surabar Spellmason?” The party members shook their heads in embarrassment, for they had not heard this name before. “Pity,” Oliron said, “for he was one of the greatest elementalist who ever lived. It was he that founded both Red Gorge, and Cauldron.” He indicated one of the frescoes, which depicted a robed man standing at the foot of a dormant volcano, easily recognizable as Cauldron. The next fresco showed Surabar kneeling before a sword-wielding, angelic being, who seemed to be presenting him with a staff. “That is the angel Nidrama,” Oliron explained, “who was said to once be the protector of this region. Here she is giving Surabar the quarterstaff known as Alakast, famed for its potency against demons.” The next two frescoes showed the foundation of Red Gorge, and Surabar’s construction of the Basalt Bastions. Following them was one which depicted a horde of demons rising from a smoking rift and doing battle with the people of Red Gorge. In the foreground, Surabar was locked in combat with a towering, hyena headed demon. “The Battle of Red Gorge,” Oliron said, “fought five-hundred years ago. The fiends rose from the Demonskar, a large rift canyon in the jungle west of here, but were repelled by Surabar and his allies.” The final fresco showed Surabar’s death, and his symbolic transformation into a mountain.
As the tour concluded, two more men entered the chamber, Maavu and Mikimax. “Ah, I see we are all here,” Oliron said, seating himself again, and motioning for the others to do the same.
“What about Alek Tercival?” Caine said.
“Yes,” Oliron sighed, “I had hoped that he would arrive, but I truly did not expect it. I am concerned about his absence.” Once everyone was seated, he spoke again, “We welcome our guests to this conclave. We are the Chisel, an organization founded by Surabar Spellmason to protect this region and support artisans and craftsmen. However, recently greed and selfishness have corrupted several members of our brotherhood, especially in Cauldron. We fear that some great force of chaos and evil is at work in Cauldron’s government, and the Lord Mayor may be under its influence. All of our sources of divination indicate that some great disaster is on the horizon, though the details are vague.” At this point, the Forman looked towards Maavu, “Recently, our brother decided to take matters into his own hands, and though he was well-intentioned, he ultimately caused more harm than good. I fear that the Chisel has now become a scapegoat for the current troubles in Cauldron, and forces from there may soon take drastic measures against us.”
Maavu spoke up, “I only meant to organize a peaceful demonstration. Some villain stirred up the riot to discredit us!”
Honest Minstrel barked laughter, “Don’t be a fool Maavu. You know who it was. The Last Laugh suckered you, nothing else, using you to do their dirty work!”
“Better dead then, than slaves,” Maavu shouted back, “A wandering strummer like you should know!”
“Peddler!” Ekaym yelled, “You count lives like money! No difference to you, eh?”
“Enough!” said the Foreman, slamming his hand down on the table, “Minstrel, tell us of the reports you have received from Cauldron. Ekaym continued to glare at Maavu, but he obediently answered, “My informants tell me that Terseon Skellerang plans to invade and search Red Gorge, using the half-orcs now camped outside Cauldron.”
“That would be disastrous,” Oliron said in shock, “While I’m sure the Chisel itself could weather the attack, the villagers would also fight the invaders. It would lead to full-scale war! Skellerang must be persuaded to renounce this plan.” He looked over to Caine and his companions, “Perhaps you could be of assistance here?”
Caine’s expression was confused, “To be sure, we would be deeply aggrieved to see such events come to pass, but I fail to see what we can do against hundreds of armed soldiers.”
“Nothing directly,” Oliron agreed, “but if Alek Tercival could be found, he could retract his challenge of the Captain, and that may in turn lead Skellerang to halt his assault.”
Caine looked at his friends, then back to the Forman, “We are, in truth, searching for Alek anyway, but we are at a loss for where to start. We found this,” he handed the silver plate across the table to Oliron, “yet we cannot make sense of it.”
“I know this place,” Honest Minstrel chimed in, peering over Oliron’s shoulder, “The headless demon is an old statue on the banks of the Red River, about twenty miles from here.”
“Yes, I know of it,” Oliron nodded, “The quickest route there is by river. I can provide you with a boat, if you wish to go.”
_____________________________________________________
At dawn the next day, the Bright Axes boarded a large rowboat at the docks of Red Gorge, and set out down the Red River. Wathros had performed a spell of reduction on Cyrano, and now the rhino stood in the center of the boat, about the size of a small horse currently. They spent most of the day traveling down river, and by evening, they had sighted a small beach on the north shore. A badly weathered stone statue of some sort of humanoid creature stood at the edge of the jungle, overlooking the beach. It neck ended in a stump, and its expressive canine head lie in the sand a few feet away. Patches of mold and moss grew on the statue, but the vegetation around it seemed to have been recently cleared away. A narrow trail wound off to the northwest, into the jungle just beyond the statue.
As they approached the beach, they were met by a volley of arrows from the shadows of the trees. Quickly, they each exited the boat and made for the cover of the canopy, searching for their unseen assailants. It didn’t take long to realize that they were under attack by a group of gnolls. The large, hyena-like creatures were dressed in woodland garb, and bore large bows and battleaxes. They fought viciously, and to the bitter end, but the conclusion was forgone. The Bright Axes had dealt with far worse than gnolls in their time, and they wasted little effort on the brigands.
There was still an hour or so of daylight remaining, and so they elected to begin the trek into the jungle, following the ‘gnoll path’ (aptly named) marked on Alek’s simple map. As night neared, they came upon a large cave opening into the side of a small hill. As near as Rusty could tell from the map, they were at the spot marked ‘home.’ “Strange place for a paladin to call home,” he muttered. Ajax approached the cave cautiously, and was immediately repelled by the horrible odor of decay emanating from its interior. He motioned the others to stay back, and then slowly made his way in. Inside, he found the decayed skeleton of a large, giant-like creature, as well as two other carcasses that seemed to have once been baboons. However, not all the occupants of the cave were deceased. A huge, bear-like animal crouched in one corner, wickedly curving claws flexing in agitation. Ajax hastily backed out of the lair, and called Wathros to him. The druid followed him back inside, and was shocked to see that the animal was not a bear at all, but a giant forest sloth. Normally these were relatively docile creatures, but when cornered, especially in their lairs, they could be vicious. Wathros immediately began trying to calm the beast, but quickly realized that it was not working. The sloth attacked, and after a short, but dangerous fight, they were forced to put it down. A thorough search of the cave showed no sign of Alek, although Rusty found a used up wand which bore the symbol of Tyr. Alek had been here, but how long ago was impossible to tell.
The party set up camp a short time later, and assigned watch details. Caine and Ajax took the first watch, and sometime after midnight, they were startled to hear a sudden flutter of large wings. Stepping out of the foliage, just beyond the firelight, was a beautiful woman, with perfectly white skin and stern, sparkling eyes of silver. A pair of feathered wings spread out behind her, and she held a flaming sword, which emitted a myriad of flickering beams of light. Ajax’ eyes grew wide, for he recognized the woman’s nature, if not the woman herself. She was a movanic deva, one of the lower choirs of angels. He, as an astral deva, would normally stand above her in the hierarchy, but only when he had come into his full glory. For now, they were equals. Ajax reached up and removed the eye patch from his head, dispelling the illusion he wore, and revealing his true nature. Now it was the woman’s turn to go wide-eyed, as she recognized her kinsman. “I greet you brother,” she said in a musical voice, “though I am surprised to find you here among these mortals. I am Nidrama, and I bring a warning. Powerful forces of chaos and evil are afoot. I dare not remain here long, lest my presence attract the attention of those forces. Yet I could not sit by and watch you and your companions march into danger. The Lord of the Demonskar knows of your approach, and even now his minions prepare for your arrival. They shall use deceit and treachery against you, just as they have done with Alek Tercival before you. You must remain resolute; Alek Tercival must be saved. I have no aid to offer you but knowledge. In ages past, I provided to Surabar Spellmason a powerful weapon to assist him in his conflict with the Lord of the Demonskar. This was Alakast, a quarterstaff infused with an undying hatred of the fiends of the outer rifts. Unfortunately, Alakast was stolen centuries ago, ripped from Spellmason’s tomb by a grave robber. Yet, do not despair, for it is fated that Alakast should be wielded again against the Lord of Demonskar. It has found its way to you, and all that needs be done is for you to claim it. Seek Alakast in the lair of my false sisters, beyond the watchful eyes of the north. That is all I am at liberty to say. I wish you well in your travails, and never lose sight of your goals.”
“I do not understand,” Ajax said, perplexed, “Why can’t you tell us more of the nature of this threat?”
“You above all should understand,” Nidrama said sympathetically, “We follow our dictums as they are handed down to us. You are here for a purpose, but do you truly understand that purpose? We are soldiers, Ajax. Ours is not to question why.”
“Profound words,” Caine said, his face twisted in a grimace of disgust. By this time, the others had awakened, and were gawking at Nidrama, and at the exchange taking place. Caine continued, “The warning you have brought is next to useless. We could have guessed as much ourselves. If you will give us no further information, then waste no more of our time and be gone!”
Nidrama’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she drew herself up imperiously, “I see my assistance is not appreciated here. I will offer it no further. You,” she pointed one finger accusingly at Caine, “are not worthy to wield Alakast.” She looked pityingly at Ajax, “I sorrow for you brother. You have chosen your companions poorly. Farewell.” With that, she vanished, opening up a planar rift and returning to Celestia.
“Why did you do that?” Ajax cried, whirling on the sorcerer, “She only offered her help. Why would you refuse it?” For the first time since he’d met the man, Ajax saw true anger on Caine’s face, “She offered nothing!” he spat, “Only the same sanctimonious platitudes that all of her kind espouse, present company excepted. Have you been to Cormyr, Ajax? Have you seen the devastation there, the horrendous suffering and misery? I have. I once served with the War Wizards there, and with them I fought against the drow invaders. I watched Vangerdahast and Joachim Dethik in the last battle, and my heart soared with their victory, but the cost was terrible. Did you know celestials also fought there? Oh yes, they did, but they did not fight for the cause of the Cormyrians, no. They fought to avenge their own, a seraphim and her consort who were slain by Entropy, the Chosen of Kiaransalee. Yes, let one celestial die, and the Heavens weep, but let untold thousands of innocent mortals suffer and perish, and not one tear is shed. Do not speak to me of the aid of celestials. I serve the Gods of Goodness, not their errand boys and messengers. They do not know the meaning of the word service. They wallow in their own arrogance, and seek to pass judgment on all they see as beneath them.” He stopped abruptly and turned away, leaving his friends confused an bewildered.
Black_Kaioshin
First Post
Cool stuff, Jollydoc! Nice update!
Did you know he is of noble birth?” Pez shook his head.
Heh, so does good Pez live on in Caine?
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Great stuff, JD! 9000+ views - way to go!
You tell 'em, gfunk !!! Even those celestials sent to earth on internships don't know the meaning of the word humility.
Of course that would have to apply to Pez more than to Ajax...
You tell 'em, gfunk !!! Even those celestials sent to earth on internships don't know the meaning of the word humility.
Of course that would have to apply to Pez more than to Ajax...
Last edited:
Similar Threads
