FOUNDATION OF FLAME: PART ONE: ELECTION DAY
“Vhalantru was not a Cagewright himself,” Rusty explained, steepling his fingers beneath his bearded chin as he reclined in a comfortable chair in Jenya Urikas’ office, “but he was their most powerful ally. He woulda gained even more power if he’d lived to see their plan in action.”
Jenya massaged her temples, absorbing the narrative she had just heard. How could all this have come to pass? How could a beholder, of all things, have managed to supplant Cauldron’s Lord Mayor, orchestrated the encampment of a half-orc army of thugs within the city, and all along schemed with a cult of unholy demodand worshipers who planned to open a portal to Carceri in the middle of her home? How could she have been so blind to this? “Have you discovered any further information about the identification of the remaining Cagewrights, or where they might be based?” she asked the old dwarf.
“Nay,” Rusty grunted, “but I’ve got Dalthon and Gunther looking into it. For all we know, this ritual of theirs could already be taking place. I’m not sure what kind of time window we’ve got anymore.”
Jenya remained silent and thoughtful for a time, then she raised her eyes and sat upright, her features firmly set. “I’m going to call a meeting tonight of the more influential nobles and merchants in the city,” she said. “We have to make some hard and important decisions about Cauldron’s fate, not the least of which is who will rule the city now that we know the Lord Mayor is dead. Rusty, I ask that you and the rest of the Bright Axes attend this meeting. Your input would be valuable…and it would be a personal favor to me.”
The priest allowed a slight smile to his lips. “So, ye want we should rub elbows with the upper crust, eh? Well, I’ve certainly enjoyed chapping their asses by dining at the Cusp of Sunrise every chance I get, so why not send’em right over the edge by crashing this little shindig? Count us in!”
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The assembly room of the town hall was already crowded by the time the Bright Axes arrived. Every head in the chamber turned to regard them as they entered. Some of those faces were full of warmth and genuine friendship, others were more amused, especially considering the fact that all of the adventurers had come dressed in their armor and battle gear. Still some others were openly hostile, with looks of loathing and contempt shooting daggers at the would-be heroes.
“Welcome, my friends,” Jenya said as she approached, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I am pleased you could come. Allow me to introduce our other guests. This is Lord Ankhin Taskerhill. I believe you are acquainted with his daughter Annah, a member of the Stormblades.” The dour man she indicated was dark complected, with a regal bearing. He was known to be the wealthiest noble who had not yet abandoned Cauldron. He had made his money from several mines that he owned the rights to in the mountains surrounding the city, and he also was a dealer in exquisitely crafted obsidian furniture. He favored the Bright Axes with a cold look, and the barest hint of a nod. “Next,” Jenya continued, “we have Lord Premiach Vanderboren, and his wife, Lady Aeberrin. Again, I think you know their son, Todd.” The Vanderborens were a handsome couple, who seemed genuinely enamored of each other, judging by the way Lady Aeberrin kept her arm affectionately linked in her husband’s. They were known among the nobility as “new money,” having started off as a messenger runner, and a tavern server respectively, then having made their wealth by investing in real estate. Because of this, some of the other nobles tended to look down their noses at them, but the Vanderborens didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they thrived on taking any opportunity they could to bring the “old moneyed” nobles down a peg whenever the opportunity presented itself. Lord Premiach stepped forward, beaming, and grasped the hand of each of the adventurers. “Please, call me Vandy,” he laughed. “I believe my wife and I are in your debt. We owe you for the life of our son. Oh, by the way, I would dearly love to hear the details of this ‘secret lair’ beneath Lord Vhalantru’s house! Something like that would certainly increase the market value of the estate, don’t you think?” Jenya made a timely intervention at that point, moving the Bright Axes along to the next guest. “Here we have yet another proud parent of a Stormblade, Lord Zachary Aslaxin I.” Lord Aslaxin was a prominent art dealer in Cauldron, who was known to have a running feud with the Taskerhills over control of the obsidian trade in the region. He cast an icy gaze over each of the Bright Axes, not offering his hand nor a smile. However, when his stare fell on Dalthon, a slight grin creased his mustached face. “Dalthon of Redgorge, I presume,” he said in an emotionless voice. “I’ve heard much about you. Perhaps we can speak later in the evening.” The sorcerer stared after Lord Aslaxin, perplexed, as the company was led away to another noble. “Lady Ophellha Knowlern,” Jenya said, introducing a sternly beautiful woman with slightly elven features. The Lady was unmarried, and was a dabbler in many enterprises, including ownership of the Drunken Morkoth inn, and two local crematories. She also had the reputation of being a ruthless businesswoman, and a real “ball breaker.” No potential suitor had ever emerged unscarred by her savage inquisitions. She didn’t speak, but nodded politely to each of the adventurers.
Jenya then went on to introduce the remaining guests, all of whom were known to the Bright Axes, either personally, or by reputation. Present were all of the local members of the Harpers, including Fario Ellegoth, Fellian Shard, Shensen Tesseril, and Meerthan Eliothlorn, once more in his disguise as a dwarf merchant. Also in attendance were Maavu Arlintal, the leader of the Chisel, Omar Tiskinsen, priest of the temple of Tempus, Skie Alderson, a wizened gnome woman who traded in wondrous magical items, and lastly, Tygot Mispas, the halfling proprietor of Tygot’s Antiques.
After all of the introductions had been made, and everyone seated, Jenya opened the meeting. She began by having Rusty speak for the Bright Axes, and offer a summation of their recent dealings with the Cagewrights and their minions. The assembled nobles and merchants were aware of most of the general facts, but they were fascinated and horrified by the details, and the extent of the corruption in the city. When Rusty finished, Jenya addressed the assembly again. “As all of you can see, our city is in desperate straits. We have no firm idea where these Cagewrights are, or even who they are. They could be among us even now. Furthermore, we don’t know where or when this ritual of planar junction is to take place. We must devote all of our resources to discovering these facts, but we must also reassure the populace so as not to create a panic and a full-scale exodus. We need a strong leader in place to present a unified front to the people that their government is taking all steps to insure their safety and well-being. The question before us now is how should Cauldron go about replacing the lord mayor, or would a new form of government be better, such as a ruling council, with the office of lord mayor becoming a tie-breaking position within the council?”
Almost immediately, Ankhin Taskerhill rose to his feet. “I do not agree with the idea of a ruling council,” he began. “Leadership should rest with one person, advised by the council as it has been in the past. This would avoid petty bureaucracies and endless committee discussions. Furthermore, in my opinion, the Lord Mayor should be chosen by the nobility. After all, who better knows the intricacies of politics?”
This drew an immediate uproar from the assembled merchants, and it took Jenya several minutes to regain order. Lord Aslaxin stood once calm prevailed again. “It seems to me,” he said coolly, “that only someone with ulterior motives would actually want to assume such a difficult position as Lord Mayor.” His frigid blue eyes fixed on Lord Taskerhill as he spoke. “Personally, I would prefer a Lord Mayor who was reluctant to take the position.” There were a few murmured assents from the crowd at this, but Omar Tiskinsen surged to his feet, slapping one meaty hand on the table. “What kind of nonsense is this?” he shouted. “Tempus teaches us that it is the strong who should lead in battle! Cauldron needs a firm, decisive leader, one who will take charge and not suffer fools! I nominate Lord Taskerhill!” Another uproar erupted in the wake of the priest’s tirade, but Ankhin Taskerhill remained in his seat, smiling smugly across the table at Lord Aslaxin. “What about the will and representation of the people?” This from Maavu. “A city cannot survive on strength of arms alone. Political allies and economic ties are equally important. I nominate Lord Vanderboren. He rose from the masses to become one of the nobility. Who better to govern than a leader who has personally dealt with all levels of society?”
Skie Aldersun and Tygot Mispas both responded with hearty a hearty “Hear, hear!” The faces of the other nobles, however, showed clearly their opinion of this idea. As the bickering continued, Grimm rose silently from the oversized chair that had been provided for him. The sight of the hulking half-ogre, dressed in full plate armor, and dangling his spiked chain from his belt, quickly silenced the crowd. “Perhaps I have a solution,” the big warrior rumbled. “It seems to me that Cauldron is at war for its very survival. We are not talking about one nation attacking another. We are talking about a full-scale invasion from Hell! Now, how many of you here have ever even seen a demon? None? I thought not. My friends and I have. In fact, I’ve devoted most of my life to dealing with these foul creatures. What Cauldron needs now is a war-time leader, at least until this crisis has passed. Then you can elect a mayor in whatever manor you please. I say one of us, the Bright Axes, should fill this role. After all, we have the most hands-on experience at this point. My nomination is Rusty Anvilbreaker. He is a priest, a warrior, and a businessman. I think you can find no better candidate.” As Grimm resumed his seat, shocked silence filled the hall. Only Meerthan made any noise, softly chuckling to himself and nodding enthusiastically.
It was Lord Taskerhill who first found his voice. “That is the most preposterous idea I’ve ever heard of!” he sputtered. “An adventurer as Lord Mayor? Can you imagine?” At that moment, Grimm leaped to his feet, overturning the table as he did so. As he rose, his right hand moved like a striking serpent to his belt, unhooking his chain and coiling it in his grip. His one visible eye was fixed on Taskerhill, and the noble quailed at the look of intent that he saw there. “No! Wait! Please!” the man begged, but Grimm completely ignored him.
“Grimm!” Rusty shouted, meaning to put himself between the huge warrior and the pale-faced noble. “What’s gotten into ye? Are ye mad? Me skin’s not so thin that I can’t stomach a few insults from some fancy-pants dandy! Sit yerself down lad!” But Grimm ignored him as well, raising his left hand to silence the dwarf. “You can’t see it Rusty, but I can,” he said softly. “It’s there…right above Taskerhill’s head. It looks like a small, disembodied, floating eye.” Instantly everyone in the room was on their feet, gawking at Lord Taskerhill. The man himself whipped his head in all directions, looking horrified at the prospect of an eyeball floating somewhere near his head. “Is it glowing, Grimm?” Gunther asked the fighter, scanning the area intently. “Does it have a red iris?”
“Yes, exactly!” Grimm said. “Do you see it Gunther?”
“No,” the little dwarf replied, “but I think I know what it is. It’s a scrying sensor. Someone is spying on us!”
At that moment, pandemonium erupted in the small chamber. From out of nowhere, five creatures appeared in the center of the room. They appeared to be some sort of small, hunched dwarves, with blue-white skin, and bulging white eyes. Four of them were clad in chain shirts and held wicked looking great axes in their hands. Drool and foam dripped from their mouths, and they gibbered unintelligibly, turning this way and that. The fifth one was dressed in unkempt, but fine robes, and a long, wispy goatee hung from his chin and upper lip. His hair was crudely chopped in no particular fashion, and he wore various items of jewelry draped about him. “Enough talk!” he screamed in a squeaky, grating voice, followed by a torrent of maniacal giggles that ended in a violent bout of hiccups. “Time to die now!” he shouted again after he had caught his breath. “Now, my children! Kill all the pretty little people! Fireball!” With that he hurled a pea-sized ball of fire into a far corner of the room, and instantly the chamber filled with flames. Bodies flew in all directions, and Jenya looked on in horror as she saw the charred remains of Lord Aslaxin, and Lord Vanderboren. Dalthon was caught in the blast as well, and the sorcerer struggled to put out the flames that threatened to immolate him. Grimm managed to dive behind a table at the last instant, narrowly avoiding the conflagration. Most of the others were out of the initial blast radius, but they were by no means safe. Immediately, the berserkers waded into the crowd, swinging wildly with their axes.
Dalthon was the first of those assembled to gather his wits about him and take the offensive. Finally managing to extinguish his smoldering robes, he quickly summoned his own magic and sent four scorching rays of fire at the strange little sorcerer. “Ahhhhh!” the little mage shrieked. “Is that your most powerful spell, mud blood? Just stay where you are for a moment! I’ve got some real magic to show you! Hahahahah…whoops!” Just in time, the creature ducked beneath a crushing swing of Grimm’s spiked chain. “Missed!” he whooped with glee, and he continued to laugh madly as three more swipes of the big warrior’s deadly weapon failed to score a telling blow.
Across the room, Gunther struggled to reach some of the wounded, hoping to lend some magical aid to them before they died from shock. He had just managed to pull himself to Tygot’s side, when a shadow passed over him. The last thing he saw as he looked up was the axe blade descending towards his forehead. The ravening barbarian chortled and cavorted crazily over the theurge’s body as he wrenched his weapon free, but his celebration abruptly ended as he too saw a shadow loom above him. Turning slowly, he found himself face-to-knee with Sherman, whom Rusty had recently placed under Gunther’s command. The shield guardian smashed the berserker with a sweeping backhand, slamming him into a nearby wall, where he slid to the floor, unconscious. Then, a pulse of arcane light flashed from the construct, enveloping Gunther’s corpse. With a gasp, the dwarf drew in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. His contingency plan had worked. He had discovered that the shield guardian was capable of storing magic, to be released under a particular set of circumstances. Gunther had prudently placed a Revivify spell on Sherman, to be triggered in the event of his own untimely demise…like now.
Shensen Tesseril fought for her life. Unlike the Bright Axes, she had not come to the meeting prepared for a fight. Though she had studied the druid arts for years, it was her early monk training that took over as the berserk, axe-wielding warrior tried again and again to back her into a corner. Time after time, the half-drow had narrowly escaped decapitation by somersaulting and dodging away. Now, however, she was running out of escape routes. Her last bit of acrobatics had carried her to a part of the room with no nearby window, or door. As the berserker approached, gloating and drooling, she finally called upon her druid magic, using it to meld her body into the very stone of the wall itself.
Rusty saw Gunther’s murder, but he also knew of his cohort’s back-up plan, and he nodded in satisfaction when he saw the younger dwarf rise again. He then returned his attention to the business at hand, namely, trying to save these dandelions before they all got themselves dead. Speaking of which…Lord Aslaxin’s smoking remains lay at his feet. The old priest knew he only had seconds to act. With a quick prayer, he too summoned the Revivify magic, and in an instant, the dead noble’s wounds vanished, and he blinked his eyes open, astonished to be alive and breathing once more. “Maavu!” Rusty shouted, “Get’im outta here!” The retired wizard-turned-merchant did not hesitate. Grabbing the addled Aslaxin by the arm, Maavu uttered a single word and vanished.
Jenya, no slouch in healing magic herself, made her way quickly to Lord Taskerhill. In an instant, she had repeated Rusty’s spell, and lifted the newly revived man to his feet. “Go!” Rusty bellowed at her as she looked at him questioningly. The exit was nearby, and pushing Taskerhill before her, the high priestess made her escape, silently uttering a prayer to Tyr to protect her brave comrades.
“Now, my friend,” the demented sorcerer said, turning his attention to Dalthon once more, “here’s that spell I was telling you about. I like to call it…Disintegrate!” A brilliant beam of emerald light burst from his hand, engulfing Dalthon instantly. The aasimar screamed in agony as the destructive magic tore thru him. Miraculously, he did not crumble to dust, as his opponent had hoped, but he still collapsed to the floor in a heap, unmoving.
Fellian and Fario positioned themselves back-to-back as a pair of the barbarians harried them relentlessly. Like the Bright Axes, the two Harpers had come armed, but they quickly discovered they were outmatched by the sheer ferocity of their enemies. Fellian managed to deflect a devastating swing, but when he stepped forward to press the attack, his footing slipped in the blood and gore covering the floor. As he went down on one knee, the slavering warrior sank his axe into the half-elf’s chest. Fario cried out in anguish as his cousin fell. This reflexive display of grief was his undoing. His own opponent ducked his head and caught Fario around the knees, driving him to the ground. Before he could attempt to rise again, both berserkers were on him, hacking and slashing until he stopped moving forever.
The third remaining berserker had moved to the fallen form of Dalthon, meaning to end any life that still remained in the sorcerer. However, he was completely taken aback by the unarmed, and unarmored man striding calmly up to him. Thinking he would have another easy kill, the warrior swung with all his might, but he might as well have been striking a ghost. Kiko leaped over the axe blade easily, landing behind the barbarian as his momentum carried him completely around. Reaching over the creatures shoulder, the monk seized the axe haft and heaved, ripping it from his hands. Before the derro could turn back around, Kiko had dropped the axe and wrapped his muscular arms around the berserker’s neck. With one quick twist, the derro’s neck snapped. Kiko didn’t give the body a second glance as he began stalking towards the crazed sorcerer. “Stay back!” the savant shrieked, “I’m warning you! I’ll…I’ll turn you into a newt! I’ll grind your bones to dust! You don’t know who you’re dealing w…” A blindingly fast knife-hand strike shattered his jaw, silencing his ranting. His eyes bulged even further as a second blow crushed his windpipe. Gasping futilely for breath, he died still not fully aware how one bald human had managed to get the best of him.
As the last two derro gleefully stomped the dead bodies of Fario and Fellian, Grimm’s deadly, one-eyed gaze fixed on them. From the far side of the room, he snapped his chain, caving in the chest of the nearest berserker, and then hammering him again and again until the shapeless mass of flesh was unrecognizable. At the same time, Shensen stepped silently out of a nearby wall. She and Rusty now stood on either side of the remaining berserker. “Shall we?” she asked, cocking her head. “After you.” Rusty nodded. Simultaneously, two roaring columns of flame formed around the derro, and when they dissipated, only charred bones remained.
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“I told you we couldn’t trust that little worm!” Thearynn Louvel raged. The Cagewright conjurer leaned back from the crystal ball on the table before him, having just witnessed the disaster at Cauldron’s town hall. “We should have killed him from the moment he first appeared here! To think, he considered himself our equal! Hah! Now look what his rash behavior has done! It won’t take long for them to trace him back here. He was too stupid to have adequately covered his back trail. Now what do we do?”
“Not too worry, my dear Thearynn,” Dyr rumbled. The loathsome demodand leaned forward out of the shadows. “This merely moves the schedule up a bit. After all, we were only waiting for the others as a courtesy, not a necessity. There is no better time than the present, right Ryd?” The shator turned his head slightly, just enough for Thearynn to see the rest of his face. From the left side of the demodand’s skull, sprouted a small, misshapen version of Dyr himself, like some sort of twisted homunculus. “Right you are, my brother,” the grotesque twin chittered. “The Tree is ready. All is in place. Let the Ritual begin!”
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“Heroes of Cauldron! Please attend to me at once at the temple. The city and its citizens require your immediate aid. Hurry!” Jenya’s words echoed thru Rusty’s head as the Sending delivered her cryptic message. “What now?” the dwarf sighed. He and his companions had just spent the last several hours tending to the injured from the attack, and cleaning up the aftermath. There seemed to have been no rhyme or reason for the assault, and Jenya was supposed to be using her divination skills to investigate the matter more. To further complicate things, several small earth tremors had occurred throughout the city, and were getting steadily stronger since the attack. Not only that, but it looked as if a monster of a storm was forming as well. Dark clouds had gathered over the city, crackling with rippling lightning strikes. It was going to be a long day, and a dark night it seemed. Rusty had been looking forward to spending it indoors recovering from their ordeal. Now it appeared as if there was going to be no rest for the weary. “Looks like we’re back on duty,” he informed his friends.
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By the time the Bright Axes reached the temple of Tyr, the tremors had strengthened considerably, and the townsfolk they passed had gone from their usual casual attitude towards these occasional ground shakes, to overt concern, alternating worried looks between the dark sky above them, and the trembling earth below. A nervous acolyte quickly conducted them to Jenya’s chambers, where the high priestess stood calmly, giving orders to several clergy members present, and occasionally reaching out to steady herself by clutching a nearby chair when a tremor would shake the building. “My friends,” she said, turning to them as they entered, “I believe it is no coincidence that the attack on the city’s leaders, Lord Vhalantru’s death, and these tremors all occurred so quickly one after another, especially in light of all the other near catastrophes that have hit our city of late. But I cannot put these pieces together. Nor do I feel that I, or the citizens of Cauldron, have the time for such deliberation. I have consulted with Tyr, and his answers have led me to believe that I have neglected my duty to the city in my pursuit of these questions. The citizens of Cauldron are my first priority, and it is to them that I must see before any other concerns. That is why I have called you here. My divinations indicate that these tremors are but a forewarning of things to come. The volcano is becoming fully active, and I fear a full eruption is imminent. The people must be warned, and evacuated with all haste. You, my friends, as heroes to the populace, are the best choice to aid in this process. The people will listen to you, and follow you. For myself and my followers, I will devote all my resources to discovering where the Cagewrights are operating, and what must be done to stop them. We shall be relocating outside the city walls for now, and it is at the old Trilspeck manor that you can find me, should you need my immediate assistance. Might I suggest that you direct the evacuees towards Redgorge? I will notify the governors there of our circumstances, and our need.”
The Bright Axes were at a loss for words. How could this day have gone from charting a new beginning for Cauldron to preparing for its destruction in such a short time? Jenya fully believed what she was saying. That much was obvious from the look in her eyes. “We will of course do as you ask,” Dalthon said, speaking for all his comrades, “but how would you suggest we…?” Just then, a huge quake shook the building, and panicked screams sounded from the streets outside. The adventurers bolted for the doors, followed by Jenya. When they reached the street, they were astonished at what they saw. In a matter of minutes, the sky had gone completely black. Multi-colored flashes of energy swept thru the clouds, unlike any conventional lightning they had ever seen. Fires could be seen burning in distant quarters, and great gouts of steam and smoke rose skyward in several other districts. “The lake!” one citizen shouted as he ran by. “The lake is boiling! It’s going to flood the lower neighborhoods!”
“Go now!” Jenya urged. The Bright Axes needed no further prompting. They set off at a run to the aid of their city.
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As the company reached the lakefront, they could see the waters of the crater lake steaming and bubbling. People fled in panic in all directions, and several of the lower docks were already being submerged. Suddenly, a huge geyser fountained in the center of the lake, and a massive pale gray shape surged out of the boiling water with a thunderous roar. The creature’s face was that of a deep-sea fish with protruding red eyes and a gaping, fanged maw. Horns protruded from its brow and chin, and a spiny, sail-like fin ran along its back. Its lower body resembled that of an octopus in that it had eight tentacles, but the creature also sported long, lobster-like legs. The front pair of these legs ended in massive pincers. A pair of huge, silvery wings or flippers unfurled from its sides, lifting it out of the water and into the air. Its flesh was blistered in places, obviously scalded by the boiling water, and it roared again as it approached the shore and a group of panicked citizens. The legendary Monster of the Lake, a story used to frighten small children for decades, had now come to horrible life, bent on destruction!
Our general philosophy regarding 3rd party stuff is that you can't be certain that those writers necessarily have game balance foremost in mind.
