[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign

[Alexander Bryant1]

Journal of Eleanor 01

“My name is Eleanor.”

I felt my eyes widen.

“What?” I said. My lips moved repeating the name Eleanor. Had I heard it before? Yes, that name again. It wasn’t right. Or was it? “Eleanor of, Eleanor of A--.” Of what? Flows and arcs, it was right there and I couldn’t bring it to the surface!

“Lady Fier?” prompted the Elven priestess, Lady Etona Aspianne.

I had chosen that moment – signing up for arena combat – to make my introductions and by the rivers of essence I cannot even get past my own name. I was Lucienne Fier of Greyhawk. Not Eleanor of –.

I pressed on reciting their full names with title, as far as we knew them.

“Lady Etona Aspianne of the Mirror.” Small, lithe, she moved with certainty and grace, smiling easily and sincerely. Our observer net confirmed she didn’t behave much like other elves, certainly nothing like the haughty, laughing, sometimes cruel, ambassadors from Seline. I could see she was this party’s leader or at least some kind of emotional center.
“Ambassador Rey.” A tall, muscled, dour-looking half-Elven woman who belonged in Greyhawk negotiating a treaty about as much as the other ambassador who lurked next to her. She exuded the kind of confidence that Greyhawk’s Shadow Rangers wear: solitary, quiet, utterly capable of living without a word spoken to anyone for months at a time. In fact, I looked her up to make certain she wasn’t a Warren Lord here. How was she to be the Speaker that the dragon folk’s tribe required?
“Ambassador Rishkar of the Southern Swamp.” The enigmatic lizard man who seemed more an assassin than anything else. The half-elf represented his people in the upcoming treaty talks, so whether the lizard man was here as observer, bodyguard or potential assassin should the fae-touched fail was anyone’s guess.
“Officer Melinde Vereene of Greyhawk.” Red hair, holy symbols in the armor, the sword, around her neck. Paladin. Comfortable in armor and probably nothing else. She’s accumulated a history of violence from a temper that emerged whenever her holy will was thwarted, was removed from office because of it. But so young! Celestial arcana but she was young. What was this girl doing here?
“Private Lucien Cromwell.” A withered drunk haunting the back alleys of Greyhawk bars. Discharged, our records say, for neglect of duty. Miss Zinia remembered his mother, Jane, a lady-in-waiting. She told me that Ms. Cromwell had fallen prey to the thug manservant of a nobleman here – no recourse, obviously – though in the course of my own investigation here I inquired about the manservant that had his way with her, Maas Tetrem, and discovered he died in the mad house. Lady Zinia’s response was simply a look of satisfaction … the knowing satisfaction I’ve associated mysterious turns of justice with her. Despite attaching this shamed woman to a staff in another noble’s house, Jane Cromwell died when Lucien was nine. He was taken in by an orphanage. Then odd jobs. Then the streets. Then the army. All-too-common story.
He was an outsider to this group.

This group. They were an odd party. Adventurers, clearly: going out into the world to fight and explore and die as heroes. What was their quest such that an organization like the Asmadi was firing fusillades of insects at whole buildings to get at them? That they, possibly accidentally, brought down a deep changeling infiltration at the hands of their Doppleganger leader. That they were here to shepherd the halting of a war between Greyhawk and another race after saving a human fort and lizardman’s den in the same week? Any one of these deeds made them heroes in all senses of the word including meddlesome, unpredictable and dangerous. Heroes they are. It was my job to reign them in.

Sparks at the end of my fingertips. Control. Control! Elements, something has set me off again, and now save for Cromwell who looked like he was trying to decide if it was worth it to proposition a genie, or whatever he thought I was, they all backed away a step, Ambassador Rey moving in front of Lady Aspianne. This, my reveal to them, was supposed to be a bit dramatic, yes – cowl lowered, badge presented, take command – but my body was off again and they saw the silver eyes, the silver veins, the sparks. I probably didn’t look human to them.

Nothing for it. Make the best of this Flow: both this “Eleanor” name and my storm essence that chose the same moment to surface.

I wave away the effects dismissively. “I am Eleanor Fier representing Lady Xaro Zinia on assignment for the Circle. I am also, like you, currently retained in service to Lord Chosik. I greet each of you as my teammates in the latter regard and as fellow investigators in the former.”

I looked at us. A drunk, a horse, two beasts, two Fae, a fanatic, and me. And we’ve never fought nor even trained together, and we’re not down there even to win. We had better find what we seek quickly.

I ascertained details from the suspected Asmodi attack and we parted ways. They were curiously incurious about me, asking no questions whatever, though they did answer all of mine, if curtly. The elf took an early dislike to me, if I am reading her kind’s features correctly, and the Fae-touched seemed to be following suit which made the lizard man bristle. Or maybe he just always bristles. According to Lady Zinia, the elf and half-elf both disliked it here. I was probably a representative, in their eyes, of a noisy, messy civilization their simpler minds cannot handle. I found an ally of sorts in Officer Vereene, at least. And the lizard man did seem to understand the Flows to an extent, through his feral nature and tiny eyes. There is no one to talk to inside the shell of Lucien.

Later, I watched the elf priestess’s little ceremony. Well-attended by the dregs by the docks, there for a free hand-out, her emotional words certainly sailed over their heads. It was a good show, though, and from what I knew of Lady Aspianne, her words were heartfelt. I don’t know what her motive is for putting it all on, for the food and fresh water she handed out to sixty people: elves do not proselytize. Elves most certainly do not help humans for no mischief in return.

A changeling was there, and the elf let her go free. This was shocking, given recent revelations. I at least insisted on questioning her, this Ziki, and the story I had from the party earlier corresponded to her account. Officer Vereene also let her go, deferring to their priest, and so into the night she vanished. I sincerely hope she goes all the way to the Mirror or somewhere else as distant: her kin has brought ruin to Greyhawk. Her master’s schemes have caused the government to take emergency measures such as bringing in Truthsayers from all over the kingdom. Once the distraction of the Arena Games is over, secrets are going to spill, accusations will fly, mistrust at all levels, at a boil now, will explode. According to Lady Zinia, who was doing her best to manage the situation for her own two lords, Greyhawk’s government was in pre-upheaval and would shortly fall into civil war. She was considering fleeing the city to one of her ten thousand friends and allies she seemed to have all over the land.

That was a problem for another day, hopefully not tomorrow. For now, there was the Arena.

***

 

[Alexander Bryant1]

Eleanor's Journal - Part 02

The master changeling, Telaken the doppleganger, was to watch a demonstration of his new powers at the games. From his letter: I was pleased to see a few tickets to the Champion’s Games awaiting me. These seats should give us a good view of the coming of a new Age. I truly look forward to enjoying the privileges of true power.

More changelings in the works. And we had just released one. How many more had that beatific elf let back into the world to terrorize and corrupt in her personal quest to feel wonderful about herself or bow to the whims of her mercurial goddess. Oh yes, I knew about this Sehanine: chaos and mischief and cruelty and, above all, disrupter to civilizations such as Greyhawk represented.

It was another night of troubled sleep for me.

We met the next day, 26 Coldeven, and travel to the arena. My Nessian silvers – with the Fittenberg boots and Rondon gloves to match – should present me in the appropriate light. They set my mind at peace: their carefully-engineered fabrics sewn to exacting specifications exuded a devils-may-care turn that belied their rigor and raw intellectual majesty underneath; their colors were produced, not found, after thousands of hours, or centuries depending on how broad your scope, of craft arriving at this apex; folds that tumbled according to temperature, the down-force of the material planes, moisture and so much else. Donning these garments, truly inhabiting them, was vanity to some among the dim who did not comprehend; even most who wore them well did so without deeply appreciating at the elemental level what it was they became: acknowledgment of hard-won knowledge and reaffirmation of will against a world ever seeking to reduce us to apathetic dust.

Just in case, though, I also packed my RaTs. Rough and Tumbles, created for me just that second week in Miss Zinia’s employ, three years four months, thirty-seven hours, six minutes and, tick tick tick, 15 seconds now.

Officer Vereene relayed her charming of a maintenance man named Leef who works in the arena. Some salient points she was able to take away:
• All equipment is ferried by elevator to the underground complex from above; after the start of the Games, maintenance staff reside down in the complex until the end
• Each team has its own minimal quarters – there are no shared bedrooms between teams
• There are vents throughout the complex which may be locked (and possibly trapped) or may not
• There is a separate barracks for Loris’ private security force in addition to Greyhawk-employed arena guards called Gray Wardens
• There may be a guarded passage from Loris’ house to the arena
• There is a waterway that runs through the arena providing fresh water

Leef also gave her a map of both levels of the arena.

Opening Night Dinner
There was a delightful dinner that night where the rules and prizes were explained by old Tellebir Welleck. Briefly:

• A party or individuals can always surrender: drop weapons and kneel with hands in the air
• Combatants may fly up to 40’ above the ground; burrowing into the arena is disqualified
• Winning gladiators cannot loot the fallen
• Combatants may not endanger the spectators
• Disqualified gladiators must move to the outer ring
• No time limit on battles

The schedule:
Day 1: four-team elimination, that is, the winner in a free-for-all of four teams advances
Day 2: day of rest
Day 3: one-on-one team vs. team
Day 4: one-on-one team vs. team or battle an exotic beast

The prizes, to be handed to the team manager for splitting however they agreed:
1st round: 2000GP
2nd round: 5000GP
3rd round: 10,000GP
Winner of the games: 20,000GP

Lord Chosik was present for the occasion reinforcing the importance, though not the details, of our mission and the necessity for our winning the first battle.

The champions from last year’s Arena Games were present as well, a trio I was aware of: Orik the warrior, adjunct Kellek and another troublesome elf, Tira, who is under five investigations at last count. Her two teammates along with her own fame and fortune shield her, and her membership in the Thieve’s Guild makes her invisible to the law, so she is unlikely ever to be even fined a silver piece let alone imprisoned. They were together the fabled “Orik’s Warband”, fighting again this year though Tira has recused herself.

My thoughts: Why did Tira recuse herself? She isn’t a judge or anything connected to the Games in that way as far as we know.

Loris gave his short, standard speech and then, later, in conversation with Lord Chosik he said in a tone clearly mocking him: “Councilman, what news of your sister? Have you found her yet?” It was a telling moment. That Loris has done something to or with Lahaka seems even more likely, but we must proceed without blinders or assumptions.

A crush from Karush
During dinner, I talked to Karush, the leader of one of the teams we were facing, a confident, pruning ladies’ man though certainly not without his charms. He seemed very interested in me despite – or perhaps because of – my appearance. Enjoyment of witty banter aside, it was imperative we advanced to the next round in the Games to be in a position to investigate, so I feigned great interest at conversing with him. This blossomed into the real thing when I electrocuted him only to give him pleasure not unlike goosebumps.

I would discover that like myself he was not entirely human, though unlike me he probably knew what the rest of him is.

At any rate, he said he would help us. I said I wanted to see more of him, after. It was a deal.

Adventures in the dark darkness
After, while I was sleeping, Rishkar and Rey headed deep into submerged tunnels. They found and eliminated eight ghouls there, possibly the outer ring of an entire band. Perhaps our chances tomorrow will not ride completely on Karush. They also found a hidden chamber that communicated with the sewer and has at least one hole poking up into the city. They both wanted to go exploring again the next night, after we had won the first contest.

Our showing in the arena
Well, most of us didn’t die.

Officer Vereene lost her celestial horse, and Greyhawk’s lesser pubs will find themselves saddled with an extra gallon of their cheapest ale now that Lucian Cromwell is gone, and my RaTs have a score of holes in them from more elves causing me trouble, but otherwise we survived.

Karush and his team rode from their corner to help us mow down a shaman and his guard. We then turned to the Elven trio of women raining arrows all over the battlefield.

A simple smoke screen or fog cloud would have essentially disarmed them: they were very lucky we didn’t have anything like that. Extremely poor planning on our part. We even knew the trio would be there facing us, and that they would likely have bows. Our lack of foresight should have murdered us: they should have won. We only defeated them because Karush rode across the field – taking many arrows that felled both his men – and struck at them, forcing a surrender from their leader after we felled two of their three. Several of their magic-tipped arrows plunked into me knocking me unconscious as I tried to approach, so I did not even see the end of the battle.

How come I to the Games to fight with so little thought to the combat? Was I going to charm them? Perhaps these Bow Maidens of Sehanine were out there to parlay? That must be what I thought.

Ridiculous.

After felling the elves, Karush knelt and put his hands up in surrender looking up at me.

So we won when we should not have. But we did win.

The spoils of battle: data at last
While we recovered underneath the arena, a courier delivered Rishkar’s crafted frost sword. He allowed me to see its pommel and examine the blade. The craftsmanship is excellent, I could plainly see.

Lord Chosik was waiting for us, smiling broadly. He awarded us the bronze bull and 200 platinum. This was all given to Rey, for some reason, which I accepted on Officer Vereene’s assurance. I do not in the slightest believe that Rey is some kind of thief, but it put me in the position of asking for my own money from an ambassador. Hopefully, as an ambassador, she will properly request from me that I take my share when appropriate as soon as we can surface.

Lord Chosik brought us more riches than these: he awarded us his confidence and bestowed information.

“I had a hidden agenda for entering you into the Games,” he explained. “You have risked injury and possible death to win a difficult match. I can now be forthright with you.

“My sister Lahaka disappeared just after the Games last year. She was, is a traveling musician. Some months before the games, she caught Loris’ eye. They began to be seen together. And then she vanished the day after the championship. I have found nothing in twelve months of scrying and investigating.”

We engaged him in a question-and-answer.

Eleanor: Where was she seen last? Near Loris’ palace.
Eleanor: Was she romantically close to others? She is a free spirit. Many lovers. There were signs that she was probably going to move on from Loris.
Eleanor: Did she appear happy? Yes, initially. But she was going to leave Greyhawk shortly after the Games. Her friends said she seemed like she was growing weary of Loris’ company.
Eleanor: Was the relationship understood to be monogamous? Yes.
Melinde: What did Loris have to say? She left. That was all.
Melinde: Did Loris seem bothered? Not at all.

My thoughts: The window of investigation thus appears to be that day after the championship.

Eleanor: She left without contacting you, my lord? Was this unusual? Very much so.
Melinde: Did she have any friends? Many, but none know where she had gone. They thought her happy during the year she was with Loris, until the end.
Rey: Did your sister speak with the winners from last year? Yes. She sang at their victory celebration. Orik is an incredible warrior; Kelleck is an adjunct professor here in Greyhawk; Tira a member of the Thieves Guild.

My thoughts: I know Sandrishan Kelleck. I was in a class he taught at university. His theory class was middling – I felt he hadn’t a true grasp on some of the subject matter – but he was competent and, though a bit sour most mornings, was friendly to me. And we shared something else in common ….

(Chosik continued): Loris has removed everyone who could be close to him save perhaps for his personal security head, Okoral. He has no close relations, does not seem to be interested in female companionship at all.

Rey: How old is Lahaka? 31.
Eleanor: What actions have you taken to look for her? I sent out, at great personal expense, spies, criers and posters to all the surrounding towns asking about her whereabouts. I engaged multiple scryers. Many had seen someone like her but nothing ever came of it. Her friends have no clue, and musicians who might know her have heard nothing.

My thoughts: We are probably looking for Lahaka’s body at this point.

We concluded the questioning session and promised to use whatever method we could down here under the arena to find clues. There were several places on the map Leef provided that would be worth investigating.

Squim and the Varmint Patrol
After Lord Chosik left, the burnt and battered bodies of other combatants started being carried through to the medical center or their own rooms. One in particular interested us very much.

While I spoke with Sandrishan, Officer Vereene and Ambassador Rey found Varmint Patrol, a group of were-rats plus the merchant captain Fellador Arma’s son, Kragen. They had not been prepared to fight in the arena and had fared poorly.

Squim was in the medical bay fretting about his fallen teammates who were alternately burned or sliced to pieces. The ambassador and the paladin each used a healing spell, and this earned his trust enough to be led away for questioning. He had little choice since they were flanked by three Gray Wardens, arena security. Officer Vereene was able to bribe them in disturbingly easy fashion allowing us to separate and question Varmint Patrol’s patron.

Their story was this: through a series of strategic bets and the prize money itself, Varmint Patrol was to have become rich off of this first round and instantly retire, leaving the Games. Kragen was looking to make easy coin through his participation. He was able to buy his way into the group through giving Squim the family compass that his father was searching for. Squim initially wanted nothing to do with this deal, wary of placing the well-known merchant’s son into a path of danger, but Loris’ chief of security – who somehow got wind of this – expressed considerable interest in the compass.

Officer Vereene: What happened to the compass? I passed it along as a promise of future wealth.
I had already registered the team but then Kragan wanted in. I didn’t want harm to come to him, given his father, so I refused. He had only offered a compass which was not of interest to us.

Officer Vereene: What made you change your mind? Okoral, “speaking on behalf of Loris” (meaning that Loris would not be connected officially, true of all his dealings), wanted the compass. So we found Kragan again and said Yes. I told him he would face easy opponents, but instead we were matched with Orik and annihilated.
Rey: You were meant to die.

My thoughts: An excellent and surprising insight from Tall and Silent. They were meant to die, and none would know then of the compass.

Officer Vereene: What did you face out there in the arena? Fire. Walls of it. Storms of it. No one could get by Orik or the wizard’s golems to get to that bastard himself.

Officer Vereene: When was the transaction, handing the compass to Okoral? A few days ago.

They then found and cornered Kragan, 18 years old and thoroughly shaken by the sudden overwhelming defeat. He’d only survived by immediately surrendering. This seemed to fit his description: well-manicured, beard carefully trimmed, unused armor never scratched. Not prepared for real fighting beyond a skirmish with a dueling teacher, according to Officer Vereene.

He tried to escape but the ambassador wasn’t having it. Officer Vereene ultimately calmed him by stating he wasn’t under arrest – the compass theft was family business, not Greyhawk’s – and could he answer a few questions about how he came to be on the team?

Kragan had given the compass to ‘the patron’ – he initially hadn’t known Squim’s name – who didn’t want him on the team and laughed in his face. Later, though, he came back and said OK so long as the payment was still the compass. The agreement was that they weren’t going to fight, not really: the battle was supposed to be rigged up for a round with lots of betting on the side.

My thoughts: Check to see if Orik’s Warriors or Varmint Patrol were moved at the last minute to fight one another. If so, who moved them and why?

They asked him about Phreet. He didn’t think much of her. She had, he said, been hanging out with his dad’s crew but kept trying to steal stuff, so his father put her in the brig. He’d intended to let her out and tell her to go away, but then the compass went missing so he kept her a little longer.

My thoughts: The compass obviously represents Phreet which seems to lead to the Lady Etona. Okoral would be in a position to move fights around, no doubt. Did he?
Does Okoral need to be a changeling himself to accomplish any of this. Presumably no: money is as effective as powers, but what is the long game here? Does it extend all the way up to Loris?


Talking to Kellek
While they were interviewing Kragan about Phreet and the compass, I spoke with Kellek. He was open and cheerful enough, particularly after remembering that I had been a student of his, and the one who shared his interest in perfectly engineered designer garments.

He remembered Lahaka at the evening feast that Loris put on last year. She had been wearing an Umarra (!!) from the fall line. If you are from caves and live on leaves and bugs, you possibly do not know that Gwendolyn September Umarra is one of the preeminent gown designers in Greyhawk.
Lahaka’s dress, on loan from Umarra for the occasion, was a snow-white Hidden Color silk gown, an experiment of color then that is quickly becoming known now. We talked much of it, though I did not think to ask if Umarra ever got the dress back.

My thoughts: Use this opportunity to speak to Umarra herself (!!).

Tira would possibly know more about where Lahaka went, but she recused herself from the Games and was not available.


Talking to Orik
Orik didn’t remember Lahaka until his memory was jogged through prompting.

“Oh yeah. I was planning on getting together at a later time, but I never saw her again.”

Rey: Do you think Loris knew where she went when she disappeared? Or knows where she is now? Dunno. They used to be an item, so maybe.
Melinde: Was the relationship between Loris and her amicable? Dunno. She was all over me that night, though.

My thoughts: What if Loris had not been not using Lahaka for some purpose but was really fond of her, or just resented the appearance of his being a cuckhold, and so was moved to remove Orik and replace him with a changeling who then was supposed to throw the match to Varmint Patrol? Far-fetched but not impossible. It would tie into changelings to replacing people – specifically Orik – at the Games.

We reassembled in our room and traded information. That evening we would be looking for Leef to get us in to some forbidden places. More bribery, apparently, but the Flows know I am not above it if it means understanding the truth.

It finally occurred to me that Lord Chosik’s offer to help us included materials. We decided to requisition some potions and certain specialized clothing:
• Gaseous form
• Invisibility
• Sleep bombs
• Water breathing
• Silence cloaks/boots
We sent a courier with the request. Over dinner and some rest, as we waited for the reply, we talked about our plan for the night.

The evening shifts are more lax than the day and get better for us as the graveyard hours go by. Leef will be on his own shift tonight, and Officer Vereene will use him to make friends with his friends: that and money should get us upstairs closer to the high-security area in the center.

We shall see what we can.

 

[Alexander Bryant1]

The Journal of Eleanor 03

Rest Day
Ah, our order of liquid mischief has arrived. What do we have here?
• Four water breathing distillates which typically last an hour each
• An invisibility mix, another hour, I have read
• One mid-level healing drought

I’d spent much of the day receiving details about these people’s recent pasts, filling in gaps where I have missed information. After a bland lunch livened by the spices I always carry, we demonstrated one another’s abilities a bit more thoroughly with light sparring. I use illusions to call upon mine as it is quite wearing to actually cast higher-order spells. We are not a fighting force, not yet, but we are a step closer to behaving like a team in the future.

That evening, an early and uninspired dinner of “meat rolls” later (what are we, apprentices?), we decide to use the potions to swim to the location with the hole leading up into a non-arena area. We would need to leave the Village unobserved.

The ambassadors slip away before I even realize they are gone leaving Officer Vereene and myself. I make a great show of my unhappiness with our performance yesterday, an easy temper to feed as I am still sparks and thunder about it. Officer Vereene manages to move off as well, though I find out she used our sole invisibility potion – as precious an item we have down here – to merely walk away. This is akin to using a wish ring to order breakfast (although down here, it would be tempting). Where did she get it the elixir? Why did she have it? Oh yes, the Ambassador Rey collection. Easy come, easy go. This will become my mantra around these people, I suspect: they are not fastidious with details nor rigorous planners. They are resourceful, and fearless, but impulsive. I must find some way to contain that.

My ruse works and I am left alone: no one wants to talk down the mad storm woman. I go soak myself in the river, swimming noisily back and forth. I am wearing too much for this to be entertaining to the puerile, so people tire of me and wander back to what they were doing. I retrieve the rest of my gear and submerge.

It is a winding trek to the room the two ambassadors had discovered the previous night. When we emerge to considerable stench, I realize we have decided to infiltrate their toilet system. Flows and essence! this was not in the job description, and I mentally increase my fee before mist-stepping into the room above as quickly as possible, taking Ambassador Rey’s rope and grapnel with me. I tie it off on one of four chain rings spaced … hmm, equidistant … around the room….

This is not a toilet, it is a torture room or at very least one where bodies are suspended over the hole presumably for bloodletting.

The party climbs up behind me. The scent is earthy, the air tingling with magic but also rot. It is well-lit with ever-burners on the walls and I can see into the next room. Boxes, no, coffins. Oh yes, they are already beginning to vibrate. We arrange ourselves to meet them, and here they come, greenworm-infested corpses shambling to their feet.

“They were sealed into the coffins, sealed in with the worms,” a woman says, her voice shaking with emotion. It is my voice but not me, not my thoughts. “By the blood of Our Savior, who would do this?” I continue. I feel tears!

It is Eleanor again. Not Lucienne, not me, but this woman from another life, the one from whom I am merely wearing her name.

People became theseworm-infested creatures, but what am I becoming right now? Who isthis? Who is Our Savior?

I have to snap out of this. I lash out with a Witch Bolt raising the hair on everyone’s arms and swirling the air in the tiny chamber. The ambassadors line up behind Mel who has bottlenecked the horrors in the corridor, and they throw their own lightning and frost. I am unnerved, even frightened, fighting my fears as much as these shambling nests of disease.

Ambassador Rey looks back at us. She is also wide-eyed and pale as I had not seen on her before nor imagined her able to wear. Her look is one of, “Wish me luck,” and she pushes ahead to one of the things. She melts it with a touch! It stiffens, the worms burning. The current in the air isn’t from me, or not solely so: the ambassador is wielding lighting not merely with a magic spear but something else, something intrinsic to her. Fascinating.

With her lead and Officer Vereene’s armor, we kill the monsters.

Two corridors lead out ahead as does the unhidden side of a secret door on the side. Stairs roll up to another secret door behind this one seeming to exit somewhere within the round, closed-off area of the first floor. I think we should investigate there but our paladin is concentrating and predicting that each of the hallways leads to walking corpses, one direction far worse like a volcano next to a bonfire.

“We must burn every unclean thing here,” she says, and everyone begins to nod. Everyone but me: I think we should move up into what is probably offices or storage or someplace civilized so we can talk about this and, with luck, perhaps arrest ringleaders right there on the spot. Failing that we should retreat and bring news of all this to the surface world. But Ambassador Rishkar pronounces the worms-corpses anti-nature creatures and so must slay them now, and Ambassador Rey hopes still to find Lord Chosik’s sister here – at least as a body – so they move forward.

We take the lightly-cursed corridor first to an old, desiccated combat training room. Six worm zombies are here which we dispatch. All but one who turned out to be important for it managed to crawl to a double door, open it, pull itself into the short corridor behind and open yet another double door which led into….

I think I’ll call it the Cosmic Evil Ripening Room.

A simple altar ofstone squatted in the middle of this oval chamber. It faced a largeset of stone double doors. On the altar are two scrolls glowing withan unnatural green light and casting green beams into a gem whichfocused the ray onto the doors, bathing them in the same green glow.I sense the temporal magic: this is a time-speeding spell. Whateveris behind those doors is not being held in stasis – at least not bythis process – but rather is being accelerated. The scrollsare not actually in this time shard and so cannot be destroyed. Theoverall spell is necrotic but also evocational.

A being who I imagine to be the Faceless One, based on listed descriptions, comes out of a door in the back.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"The future"

"I am interested in the future."

"Indeed?"

Mel is charging but is stopped by an invisible barrier in front of the being.

"Is your future pain and suffering for the people of Greyhawk?"

"Quite the contrary: I bring glad tidings, a world without pain."

"A world withoutfree will," I return. "A world without hope or light. Yes, I recognize yourspecific brand of evil."

But the creature, I immediately sense, is more powerful than we are prepared to do battle with. He will kill or capture one or more of us, I feel it not only in my bones but as a buzzing sensation up and down Thoth, my silent armband, who is already preparing to remove the two of us. I don’t know wherethis information is coming from, but it is almost certainly tied towhy I know that the energies here are temporal.

“Retreat! Everyone retreat!” I command.

The Faceless One casts a black field of sharp, writhing tentacles behind Officer and Vereene and me. It snags and slices Rey, but she electrocutes the ground and pulls free, running away. Rishkar dances through the things which don’t seem to be interested in him for some reason. They also leave me alone as I charge through.

That left Officer Vereene facing the Faceless One alone with her escape route cut off and the party retreating. But I could see in her eyes a sort of elation: she wants to die, or at least to die in this way, perhaps facing an unbeatable foe while securing our escape.

Paladins! Flowsbless them.

As my final action, I fire a Haste spell at her.

“Use this magic, Melinde. Run!”

Thankfully she sprang alive and raced through the tentacle field right past the rest of us running for our lives back to the stream from which we crawled.

The Faceless One has in the meantime walked behind us and now enflames the entire corridor. We have no choice but to continue running through necrotic fire sucking our lives away.

Ambassador Rishkar,however, turns and – I don’t know what part of his soul or spiritor chakra he has that he dumped into the spell, but he concentrateslike never before with that Ray of Frost of his and somehow freezesthe cult leader to the wall. This also succeeds in dropping theflames.

Everyone dives into the water.

I feel overcome, just exhausted. Officer Vereene, still Hasted, helps me swim further down the stream.

…into a functionally invisible gelatinous cube taking its afternoon constitutional there. Desperation drives Officer Melinde, and particularly Rey, straight through it – tearing it to pieces – and we wash up on the beach beyond.

As we lay there gasping, I notice some symbols carved into the walls of wherever we now are.
- a triangle with a circle on top, a little like a pawn from the Royal Game
- some waves
- a circle with a jack through it
- a spiral
Bits of bone remain in the grooves of each one indicating they were carved from the many bones around us.

Hmm. The spiral looks out of place from the others. It would have been an onerous task to carve that into stone and as well as it was done. Curious.

“Catastrophe,” a woman says. “Remember?”

It is I, or a rather a translucent version of me, in a very strange metallic outfit. I am holding a metal-wound staff of some sort. “Thee burn away precious minutes.”

“What?” I say to her.

She disappears.

“What was that?” asks Ambassador Rey. Of course, only I can see the apparition.

“We have doomsday to avert. We must get back to the village.” The half-elf nods to a passage, indicating, Yes, it’s right there. “And we must leave the Games. We need to tell everyone what we have found.”

“That would mean forfeiting, withdrawing from here permanent-like,” says Officer Vereene.

I nod vigorously. “The good we can do here is slight compared to what an activated Royal Guard, Watch, Church of Greyhawke and all the other organizations I intend to alert can bring to bear.”

They still do not look convinced, particularly the paladin whom, I have no doubt, honestly believes she can wade into any problem requiring something evil to kill and simply handle it. I suppose she is still here so it is working for her so far.

“Each one of you has deposed to me and others your opinion of the magnitude of the danger these worms bring. My own research has borne everything you say out. We do not have a problem with a couple of corpses lurching about somewhere in a tunnel: this is a powerful cult leader with an artifact building a disease bomb in the middle of the city. This is beyond our skills to deal with.”

“We will be prevented,” Officer Vereene says. “They know about us, and to be right there in the middle of the Arena, they are obviously tied into Loris’ operation, and so the guard here is going to nab us.”

“They’re welcome to try! But keep this in mind, Officer Vereen: you, all of you, are extremely well-known. You might be the most famous people down here other than Orik’s Warriors. Two of you are ambassadors. I am working for the palace. You are a member of the Watch. If they cause a scene with us, then they are pointing out for us whom to fight, a great risk. I suspect they are, instead of looking for us, speeding up preparations for their attack or abandoning it altogether and fleeing.”

This seems to convince the girl, so we go to the Grey Wardens nearest the exit and tell them we are forfeiting the match. We have been summoned by Lord Chosik and must leave for the surface immediately. This very much confuses and dismays the guards, but they allow us to leave. One of them on the way out confides that he bet a hundred clinks on us. Ambassador Rey rolls her eyes and hands him a palmful of gold coins. I believe she has made a lasting friend today.

We go our separate ways to alert the city.

 

[Alexander Bryant1]

Eleanor's Journal - Part 04

I take my leave of my companions.

Officer Vereene is heading to the Watch.

The ambassadors travel to locate Lady Etona, probably near her temple or down by the docks where she seems to be ministering to the poor there? Nothing I know of Sehanine – or elves in general – allows this to make sense to me. Elves do not preach their gods unless insane, and they do not concern themselves with the trivial, noisy, short lives of us human specks.

“You are not human,” she says. It is that woman, me, again, but not me, someone who might look like my sister if I had one. She is dressed regally, though in fabrics and jewels I have never seen the like of before. And she is shocked at her pronouncement. And, I now see, merely the reflection from a mirror I am gazing into. “Lucienne?” she says – I say – touching lips.

“Ma’am?” calls out a food cart owner. He has been saying it several times now. I recognize his voice.

“Landrau,” I say shaking off scene which evaporates. “Just thinking of … official court business.” It is a little joke between us. Landrau is one of those people gifted with the ability to not take anyone seriously while at the same time letting you in on the joke. I like both him and his unique product very much.

“Oh, official court business. Madam President looks parched. Her usual?”

I don’t know what a president is, but it sounds like a title so I laugh. “Official, trade secret, palace, utensil business. And yes, a small pineapple juice as usual, please.”

“Utensils. Mmm.” He hands me a cup with the exotic yellow liquid. “No ownder you were wool-gathering. It’s been turning winds all day. Somethin’ up?”

Copper coins clatter on his table. “Yes, you could say that. Keep an ear to the juice trade these next couple days, won’t you?” A silver bounces among them now. That is professional courtesy: he would help whether I paid him or not, but I know he can do more with more, so I am helping my own cause with the coin.

He scoops them up leaving the silver coin spinning, one brief movement that makes me smile at his fingers’ cleverness. “Always lovely to see you, my queen.”

A final grin and I am hurrying to Loris Chosik who, regrettably, is in the middle of hosting a gathering when I arrive. Terrible manners my interrupting like this, but there is nothing to be done.

Lord Chosik is surprised and concerned to see me, so he takes me to his study where he hears my story. He becomes as alarmed as I had hoped, asking that the party meet him at the Hall of Justice in three hours. He has much arranging to do.

I go to Lady Zinia. Over enforced tea and through polite chit-chat lasting eight minutes exactly, I am able to bring her up to date in what may have been my fastest briefing ever delivered to her. Zaro also has news: she tells me that Elgios is a member of the Circle reporting to the Loris himself! And we are to meet him at once at his house.

I run and retrieve the others, Lady Etona included – she was at her temple – and we dash to the house of Elgios. He seems relieved to see us and takes us into his small mansion.

“I have for the first time in my life been subject to multiple assassination attempts in a single week,” he begins after we summarize for him what we know. “The Age of Worms is a prophecy of doom. Most such divinations are rubbish, but this one can be traced back 2000 years, and several of the predictions have come true. There are in fact a mere two left:

“And on the eve of the Age of Worms, a hero of the Pit shall use his fame to gift a city to the dead. I fear that eve is today, and that city is Greyhawk.

“The other concerns the reunification of a tripartite spirit. More mysterious, but you are closer to the actual machinations of the prophesy unraveling itself, so perhaps you will understand it? No?”

We are collectively shaking our heads.

“Someone,” I begin, “some organization is making this nonsense true.” I turn to the others. “Have any of you detected any connection between the Asmodi and any player in this Age of Loris narrative so far?”

“No,” says Lady Etona. “The Asmodi were simply trying to retain a member who traveled with us in their ranks. He reneged on payment to them and the powers he borrowed were lost. I consider the matter closed, but they do not. We will have to meet with them to inform them of their error.”

“After our current problem is dealt with,” adds Ambassador Rey.

Elgios opens a safe and extracts an amulet. It is a silver disk with a ruby in the middle attached to a gold chain. “I know you are on a mission, but we must stay in communication. Activate this at any time to send a message to me and my trusted companions. We can use it to track your location and potentially summon you to us.”

He tells us further that the scrolls powering up whatever was behind the doors might be the Apostolate Scrolls from Kyuss, God of Worms. They purportedly allow the ability to contact Kyuss for the purpose of sacrificing. They will summon an ulgustasa, a great, green worm undead monstrosity.

We have 34 minutes left, just enough time to get to the Hall of Justice without running. Lord Chosik is there as we arrive.

The Justicier will assemble troops, he says, secure search warrants for the arena and question Loris and Okoral. All troops, including us, must submit to a Zone of Truth which we willingly enter. I confess to making ready for battle as each of my party members submitted to the test. I don’t really trust any of them yet.

We are all clean. Or not Changelings, anyway.

Two squads of 30 each have assembled under the overall command of Captain Stor. They will accompany us to the arena.

Stor is well-known to me: captain of the Watch, older at about 40 years, handsome, soft-spoken with a gift for calming men and exciting women. His is a long and storied career.

He is currently carrying two long swords and wearing heavy armor covered with layers of protection runes. Stor is anyone’s perfect embodiment of a hero and has certainly been helpful to my Lady Zinia in the past, so I am grateful enough that he is here.

We all troop in to the arena, Stor clearing the way. “Hello, Tom. We need to get through here, a priest of Vecna is attempting to infect the populace with gods-knows-what,” and “Hey there, Venset. There some kind of cult leader in here causing mischief – we need to see what’s going on.” he says to Grey Wardens in front of him and they fall aside. His aim is to arrest Loris and Okaral. We find them readily enough: Okaral is chained at Loris’ feet. Unless this is a ruse, some of our work has been done for us already, as one of these men is clearly guilty of something. Loris clears this up in a moment.

The captain has brought two lieutenants. His first one takes some men and goes through the secret door. The second one heads downstairs with a squad and myself, going down into the Village with the idea of rousting the warriors there. Officer Vereene would be the best person to do this but she is sticking with the captain.

“Lo, here is the apostle you seek!” Loris is shouting as I descend. I hear madness in that voice. We have our man, and he is undefended. He will be swiftly taken, I am sure. But where is the cult leader?

Halfway down to the Village I am almost knocked off my feet by an earthquake. A terrible buzzing – I feel it on my skin and inside my brain as much as in my ears. The scrolls … something unleashed … time is wrong, or right after being wrong. The men around me freeze into place, stopped in time, and then everything flies forward, time frantic, then … then normal.

It has happened. It has been unleashed.

I race down the rest of the way to the Village. “Heroes of Greyhawk! You are summoned to defend your city! Fly! Fly!!”

 

[SolidSnake_01]

Egan's Journal: Return to the Cairn

When the heroes left Diamond Lake almost a month ago, Egan had a clear path. He wanted to search the cairns to find out the source of their magic. And, in doing so, either learn their meaning and make peace with it, or find a greater purpose that could lead him forward. He was affected by his sisters death, but was a fatalist at heart. For him, there was a reason she died in the Whispering Cairn, and he felt like it was to lead him there. The path of deal-making with a devil was not something that made him proud, but, driven by helplessness and guilt, he knew there was a reason for that as well. After renouncing the devil’s power, and ultimately running off the pursuers, he returned to the only other path he knew, hard work and study.

Albeit, far from hard, he had some gold from his recent adventures, and a place to stay in Diamond Lake, he still had no leads and little help with his arcane investigation. He had to turn to Allustan once again and make amends.

The reunion was not unfriendly, and Allustan had relied on Egan before to investigate the Cairn with some success. The sorcerer quickly regained a working relationship with Allustan and put his mind to work on some of the ancient writings. After a few days of repetitive head-banging and dead-end texts, Egan and Allustan headed into the Cairn itself to look.

Much as before, the Cairn whispered ancient words of the Wind Dukes, making a endless monologue of seemingly meaningless sound to the untrained ear. Allustan bestowed a spell of comprehension to Egan, and the two went to work observing the various runes and writings. Egan led the elder wizard to the hidden burial chamber, and even the the rooms where he found his sister in eternal sleep. The two uncovered some information that had been overlooked before, but the mechanical blockages of the tunnels were more than they could handle.

A day later, and with a small pot of gold dispensed with the dwarven mining team from the lakeside mining town, the teacher and pupil had returned to move some debris. After extensive clearing of some of the collapsed tunnels, Egan uncovered a message referring to a book, a codex more specifically, of the ancient Wind Dukes. Later that day, an altar was uncovered from another collapsed area. Neither human dared interact with it. In fact, Allustan placed a wizard’s ward on it to alert him if it was used, and he sealed the chamber with another ward.

The dwarf team camped inside the entryway to the Cairn, and Egan worked late into the night, studying the runes of the architect’s quarters. Within another day, most of the debris had been cleared. The broken elevators were beyond the dwarven team’s skills, but Egan secretly vowed to get them working again. The flooded section remained submerged, and the team had yet to be able to fully examine it.

As the sun set on the third day in the Cairn, Egan found himself dozing off in the architect’s quarters. He had arranged the sparse furniture to make a cot-like bed, and had even tried to keep the room warm enough to rest in. Allustan had said the orange substance that seemed to seep from the central feeding trough was safe to eat, but Egan wasn’t sure. He was weary though, and laziness overcame him. He dipped a finger into the orange goo, then tasted it. It was sour, something like yeast but more like citrus too. A couple of handfuls later, he felt quite full. After burping loudly and appreciating the echo, he lay down on the stone cot and drifted off to sleep.

As he rested, he dreamed. An armored figure came to him and granted him a boon. The armor was ancient and covered in runes, much the guardians of the resting places of the Dukes of Aqua’a. He stood from his cot and followed the armored specter to a mural. A wall of stone depicting a duke handing a book to a diminutive air elemental. He followed the specter as the mural changed and shifted. The small elemental carried the book to another wall with a stone basin and deposited it above the basin. From there, the basin flowed with a strange luminous water. The specter motioned to the basin and spoke a word: Drink.

Egan nodded and complied, extending his hands first then submerging his face in the cold luminous flow. As he did, he woke, coughing and sputtering as his face was soaking wet. Realizing suddenly that he was no longer in his sleeping chamber, he jumped back from the water before him. Luckily the dwarves had placed ever-burning torches at each room, and the dim, bluish glow flickered across the now-rippling pool before him.

The room was part of the Cairn that had not been fully repaired yet. Flooded by some unknown source, Egan and Allustan, had left this part for a later date. Egan knew he was here for a reason though. Something was hidden in that water that he needed to find. A book and a basin, perhaps more.

Steeling himself against the cold chill of the water, he waded in, taking the magical torch with him. A few brief dives revealed some more runic language, which he was beginning to recognize but still could not read without Allustan’s magical ward. He followed some similar runes to ones he had seen above in the burial room. After a point though, he could no longer hold his breath, and he had to emerge, empty-handed but with a purpose.

The next day, he brought his team to the flooded space. Allustan suspected an underground spring with a failed pipe, but the dwarves disagreed. A couple spells later and Egan was breathing water and reading the runes easily. He followed them to a niche in the wall, much like the dream, it was a small basin, likely once used for drinking.

He inspected it quickly, though found nothing. He mimicked the motion of submerging his head in the font. As he did, some hidden force grasped his head and held him there, forcing him into a flow of water that rose from the basin, almost as if it were trying to drown him while already underwater. The grasp initially startled him, but he knew he could not drown with Allustan’s magic.

Instinctively, he tried to push himself free, but was unable to break the grasp. His hands began searching the edges of the basin, feeling the cracks, the edges, the divets. His eyes were stuck looking into the basin, and so his other senses took over. After a few minutes, he began to feel a bit trapped. Surely Allustan would come into the water after him, but what if he didn’t? What if the dwarves led the old wizard down another tunnel to check for pipes?

Instead of panicking, which he was prone to do, he thought of his sister. She always told Egan to not believe everything that he saw. Mustering all his nerve, he calmly let go. He stopped fighting the pull, and his body floated, weightless, like a leaf on the wind. As he drifted, he felt the flow of the water on his face, passing upwards, as if a fountain, then catching the edges of the font and swirling away. Without thinking, he let his hands stroke the stone, following the flow.

Something clicked above him, a small drawer, or slot, opened. He still could not see it, but he raised his hands and gingerly felt the edges of a rectangular slot in the wall. Sliding his fingers ever so gently into the space, he felt air in the pocket, as if the water was being expelled. Reaching further, his hands clasped onto a small rectangular shape, a book! Unsure if it was trapped or magically warded, he feared to move it. Moments passed as he contemplated his predicament.

Finally, without any other real resolve, his fatalist took over. He felt it was a sign, and if he found this book, then he was to use is. He grasped the edges and pulled it free from the nook. As he did, he felt his body suddenly surrounded by a bubble of air. The hidden watery grasp, vanished and he breathed in a warm, fresh breath.

Raising his torch, he looked at the font, realizing now that there was a pattern to the decorations that his hands had followed, and a small cubby for a book. In his hand lay a silvered tome, small enough to fit into a large pocket and not very thick. It was decorated with scrollwork that looked like wisps of air, storm clouds and a series of interlocking circles on the front. Indeed, this was the codex from his dream.

Elated, he swam back to the encampment to discuss his find with Allustan. Upon returning, the older wizard was busy with assessing an aqueduct that was seemingly not draining. Just as Egan had feared, they might not have come back for him if the spell had worn out while he was underwater A quick private discussion led the two men aside to explore the tome.

Allustan determined that the tome was a relic of the Wind Dukes and that it likely had belonged to the architect of the Cairns. Within were many writings in the elemental language of the Aurans. The tome, though small, expanded magically when opened, and the pages extended well beyond the original size. A quick glance showed that there were theories of magic as well as the lore of the many planes. Truthfully, the knowledge was an explanation of many phenomena based on the elemental properties of air and gases.

Deeper into the tome, they discovered some minor spells that had been recorded and a series of rituals. Being untrained in such magic Egan relied on Allustan to explain it. Within an hour or two, the dwarven team was ready to move back to their campsite to rest for the day while the two pored over the codex. Late into the night Allustan studied, and when Egan woke from a drifting sleep, he found the old man likewise snoring over the book.

Egan took the codex and hid it in his belt and slept once more. As he slept, he dreamed of a great circle of 5 rings with lines interlocking. He dreamt that he traced them out, and stood above them reading from the book. He did not understand the words, but, placing his hand on the nape his neck, he raised the codex in a final gesture and felt enveloped by light and the rush of wind. A silence followed, and he dreamed of his sister alive, watching from the gaping door of the Cairn, looking unusually calm and not alone. She was surrounded by figures, clad in flowing robes with indistinct features, each singing softly in whispering voice of the wind.

He woke with Allustan shaking him. Around the camp, there were lines on the dusty floor, circles within circles. Allustan waved a hand and cast a spell, then coughed aloud. The faint blue glow of a magical aura began to emanate from Egan once again. The small man looked at the room, quite the same as he remembered from his dream, and felt a sense of calm, of home. He turned to survey the floor and, as he did, Allustan mumbled under his breath. The older wizard touched Egan’s nape of his neck and a crackle of electricity could be heard in the cave. Both men jumped.

With a look of astonishment in his eye, Allustan conjured a small mirror for Egan to look. On the nape of his neck, five rings, interlocked, were darkly tattooed on his skin. Indeed, as he wondered, he opened the Codex, suddenly the words were clear. He could read them and understand them. He flipped to the end where the the rituals were inscribed. Indeed, the same finding with the previously alien writing. He felt that somehow he had been accepted, bonded to the codex, and to the Dukes.

A quick discussion, and Allustan agreed. It seems that Egan had unknowingly sleep-walked, perhaps even through astral projection, and performed a ritual in his sleep that bound him to the Wind Dukes. In return, he had gained their sight and their awareness. Allustan likened the binding to the oath he took with the Asmadi, but it was not clear what the Legacy of the Dukes required in return.

Egan set his mind to reading and learning. He had come to serve his sister’s memory and prevent her fate from happening to another, but he had found much more. What would the pact entail? What knowledge and power lay within the codex? And what would he do with his newfound abilities?

The days seemed to speed by at this point. He spent most waking hours reading the codex, learning the magic and knowledge within. It was hardly a surprise that Allustan had to tear him from its pages a few days later to show him a new discovery. The dwarves managed to excavate a section that had previously been collapsed in the main entrance hall to the Cairn.

Behind the cave-in, there was a stone and metal opening, about 6 inches in depth and about 8 feet tall and 4 feet wide. It was ovoid and clearly inscribed with Wind Duke magic. After some testing and more scouring of the codex, the opening seemed to fit the description of a portal of sorts that might connect this cairn with others. Egan wryly nicknamed it the “Wind Tunnel.” He and Allustan worked tirelessly on the runes, and, after only half a day, determined how to activate the portal. When it sprung to life, the center became a hollow nexus of air, like the eye of a hurricane.

Neither of them had the gall to utilize it, but secretly Egan yearned to step into the stone hyper loop and see the other side. Sadly, Allustan’s caution was enough to hold Egan back. The old man had a point. There was no guarantee that the other end was not broken or obstructed or a hole in the astral plane.

Egan felt certain that the runes indicated that the portal could be taken to multiple sites and that they were other Cairns, but clearly the portal had not been used in centuries. As the day set, both men took a stroll outside in the evening mist that surrounded the lake. The discussion was jovial, reminiscing about Egan’s sad attempts at magic in the past.

As they took the hill above the Cairn’s main entrance, a glow of fire, and then a loud explosion, unlike the usual sounds of Diamond Lake erupted from across the water. Something was happening in town, something large and destructive. The explosion lit the lake in a eerie phosphorescent glow for many moments as some chemical-like fire burned hotter and brighter than normal flames.

Allustan fell into a trance, his eyes glazing over as he began to scry. He mumbled and cursed as he did. Just as he finished, Egan spotted a dark shape, larger than a bird hovering over the white-hot burning object. He knew immediately that it was a dragon. Fear began to grip him again. They were just beginning to find the secrets of the Cairn, and now this beast was invading Diamond Lake.

His mentor looked gravely at his pupil and sighed. “We part ways here, Egan. I must go face this beast. It is seeking out a wizard, and I am the only one by that description.”

The calm of the Cairn’s whispers seemed dull as Allustan quickly gathered his things. He gave a few words to the dwarves, who took note of the destruction, and promptly gave Egan notice of their termination of their agreement. The wizened old man vanished with a small pop as he teleported away. The dwarves took a bit longer with their tools, but they offered to allow Egan to come with them into the hills to hide out. Egan declined. He knew his place, and the Cairn would lead him where he needed to go next.

Once again, he was alone except for the quiet company of the Cairn. Little did he know that trouble would soon be coming his way, and even less why he would be the target. His mind reeled at the thought of losing his hometown, but his heart felt at home in the Cairn, and Diamond Lake could never replace that. For a moment, he wondered if his sister had felt the same thing when he had left her on that fateful night. Why hadn’t she left? Why did she stay? How did she make it to the architect’s chambers, alone, unguided?

Perhaps, she was not awake when she went…and then…perhaps she was guided by the same force as he.

 

[Alexander Bryant1]

Journal of Etona 19

(sending Journal to players because of persistent formatting errors on this website's part).

 

[SolidSnake_01]

Journal of Etona 19

It is a writhing monstrosity towering twenty feet high. The worm in the space of a few seconds eats Orrick, blazes green, then a wave of that color explodes out through the crowd. I feel it go through me and it is terrible. I feel poisoned.

“No, not you, little one,” She whispers to me in a second of total silence, of stopped time. Angivre flares and lights a tiny scene, now, where I am surrounded by my father’s garden, at the table he made for me, and the Moon at half over a summer’s night. She is there also, across from me, eating a poam’e, an ‘apple’.

She wipes Her divine lips and says only, “Here there be dragons.” As She evaporates, She adds, “Save the blue woman.”

Then Rey is before me fighting through the nausea herself. I am back on the arena battlefield. Melinde, Rishkar: we are all ill, but, that is all. Where the wave flows over spectators, however, some double over, some clutch their head. All are screaming.

They are beginning to transform into something ….

The fire wizard, Kellek, is cursing and raising white-hot, blistering walls of fire at the thing. So immersed is he in rage and the summoning of great gouts from Hell that he doesn’t see the writhing, crisping monster inside the conflagration pick him out and lunge for him. He, too, gets scooped up and devoured.

I am far out of its range, close to the side of the arena where Stor and Loris are, so I see another astonishing sight: Loris’ skin bursts out with purplish fire that hurts the back of my eyes to look directly at and, and … resh! He doffs his skin like it was unwanted clothing!

Orakal is open-mouthed. If he was ‘the bad guy’, he was not bad enough: his master is some kind of death knight.

Stor plunges his sword into Loris, all the way up to the hilt, but whatever this skeletal creature is now just cackles madly.

It is not through, however.

A few years ago I ran with another group of friends likewise outside of my own people. We also battled these worms; we, too, saw wonders. I pine for one of them even now. I wonder if she still thinks of me, her wild little friend. And we fought world-destroyers and liars as now. Among these was a devil, a denizen from Dis. The occasion of our killing it showed me my first Nightmare.

Like this one here in the arena, it flashes into being, a ripple that becomes fiery hooves, mane and eyes. It is a real, ride-able steed summoned from Hell.

The thing that was Loris jumps onto it and flies off into the afternoon sky, a comet blazing up to taunt Pelor, or would were not thickening purple and green clouds boiling out directly over us. The worm, or perhaps Loris, has brought its own weather.

A few more well-placed arquae from Angivre save a small knot of people. And then I see that Eleanor has arrived, half the heroes in the Village are behind her. They see what people are becoming, ghoulish things with white eyes and a decidedly un-zombie look of purpose, and they charge! But the royal investigator herself does not: she has her eyes locked on the clouds, starts to says something and gesture but is jostled by a steady stream of those she’d led up from the area’s depths. She finally moves to where she can square her back against a stadium wall.

Moments later a strong wind rises, and I think the clouds are clearing. Is she doing that?

Rishkar, meanwhile, is also roasting this towering worm. I dash over and lend Silver to his effort. But three of these undead things that had been the Free City’s citizens follow me. Faster than the worm-infested bodies we have fought before, they are nevertheless not swift enough. All fall before the Silver.

And worm falls before Melinde, Rey, Rishkar and me.

We have no time to reflect and begin immediately cutting a path to one of the main gates that people are swarming to. A group of the undead creatures that Melinde is yelling are wights follow.

We engage them at the gate, cutting them down and allowing people to stream away. A figure arises out of the ground as we do, a phantom of some kind. It materializes a clawed hand and it plunges it into Melinde’s chest! She crumples at first and I want to race to her, but she faces the thing, head up, eyes slit, a snarl on her lips. She rights herself, stands tall, and drives her sword into the being. She is making her last stand.

“Not while I have breath!” I yell and my Angivre channels my rage into a bolt strides long. It enters the monster’s chest, gathering there and reeling the rest of the Silver behind it like a fishing pole, and then explodes out utterly annihilating the phantom. The other wights flee from a paladin drenched in the holy lights of Sehanine and her own Heironeous.

Among the tumult of fleeing, crying people, Rey and Rishkar and Eleanor were battling for their lives, but the tide has turned.

As if to underscore that fact, the unnatural clouds move off revealing sunlight. Eleanor probably believes she did this, and perhaps her efforts helped, but I see Baerov, a druid I knew from my days as traveling priest. He is hundreds of paces away so I cannot contact him, but I have no doubt he also lent a hand in whisking away the darkness. Like Verdre, his path is the storms. Far more likely than the officious sorceress who was, anyway, busy escorting an odd trio of halfling, gnome and dwarf away to royal parts of the city to have spent more than thirty seconds gazing skyward.

Melinde and I make sport of harrying the undead through the night with Rey and Rishkar grimly guarding our flanks.

******************************​

Morning. Wreckage. Pain.

My mind feels like this city.

How did I think I could fire a hundred Silver without penalty, each one taking a little bite out of my will as it did?

And Greyhawk, hardly a beacon of justice and goodwill in the first place, is stunned. It will wake to fear and consequence and all the responses frightened humans can muster. There will be suffering above what has been inflicted here this arc for a long time to come.

Our young paladin meets us the next morning along with a representative from Chosik. They both urge us to leave the city: no more good can come from us being here now that the wights have been hunted to extinction. We are now outsiders in considerable danger. More upheaval comes. Its first caress today is Melinde’s news that she will remain behind in her new position in the City Watch. My impression of Greyhawk has just risen a notch, though I am unexpectedly disappointed. She is noisy, willful, prideful and angry, but I have seen the girl beneath and in so doing glimpsed the woman she could become.

“Will you hunt this Faceless One?” I ask her.

She smiles wickedly. “Oh yes.” And then she scowls. “Though I’m sure he’s fled already.”

“Listen, Melinde: if you find anything about Phreet, will you tell Estee? If you find a hidden lair, take a sensitive there, a priest or a wizard. Maybe, maybe she is there, my little sister, somehow trapped in a jar or bound to a totem.” She looks uncomprehending. “I know. It is, we do not know what we do not know about where she is or if she even has a physical form anymore. I am only asking you to remember her when you are looking for captives or beings in chains when you and your people turn that arena inside out. Please look. Please save her if you can.”

She nods solemnly. “I swear it.” And she does, I see it in her eyes.

I hug her, and it is like hugging Rey or a startled cat. “You listen to your caer’e,” I whisper to her. “when you swear this oath to me. Not your mighty god nor your captain nor your friends nor even me, but to who you are.” I draw back. “It is why you are special.”

I do not know if any of that is true, but perhaps hearing it will make it true for her.

I say goodbye to Estee who is remaining in the city to deal with, I believe they are called converts? People who have opened to Sehanine because of me? This was not my aim, exactly, but it is gratifying, if unsettling. It has happened before, but ever with humans. It is what they believe I do, I suppose.

I greet two I recognize who are even now helping Estee rebuild our small temple area.

“Where will you go next?” he asks me in our tongue.

“South, at first,” I reply. “Since the treaty is to be ratified now, we can deliver ‘Ambassador Rishkar’ back to his home. That is Rey’s priority, and I want to meet up again with Verdre. Then, then … home.” The word causes me to tremble.

“The Mirror of Sehanine,” he says. I can only nod. “It is not my place to say, but you have earned it. What of Rey?”

“I think she is coming, too. I really want her to. There is human expression: ‘I cannot wait’. Obviously this is not true – I can and must; that is the way of things – but I understand the sense of it. It is a longing, an excitement. And I want to catch up to Ziki, if she is still heading there.”

He begins to bow. How silly: I hug him and hold him close. “Thank you, Estee.” We elves turn pale when we ‘blush’; it is the opposite of the human word used to describe it for us. He looks like chalk, and I laugh at it – though not at him, he knows this – in fair imitation of our Mistress.

******************************​

The “Free City” recedes behind us. Outwardly calm, I know it will not be the same there for many human generations. Will it rise again better or worse for its punishment? I am sure I have no idea.

We leave the road some two miles from the gates and do not tread on it again until we reach Diamond Lake days later. Rey and I shake off what has happened after a day and we play games together; she would call it training for the hunt but there is too much laughter for such a stoic endeavor.

Our smiles drop near Diamond Lake, though.

We all smell it first. Then we see. Cresting a rise affords us a look down at the town: smoldering ruins.

Before I can even close my mouth that had fallen open, we hear soldiers approaching. They are known to us, and we to they: from Greyhawk’s garrison here, Sergeant Beejum and two men.

“What,” I stretch my arm out to indicate the destruction in front of us, “is this?”

“Lady Etona,” he starts. Lady Etona. Word travels quickly. “We were attacked. A dragon, a frickin’, dragon! Oh, uh, pardon, my lady. Black as pitch. It flew around spitting this green slime everywhere that melted whatever it touched.”

“Ithane,” Rey breathes, and there is a hiss from Rishkar.

“We tried to fight it – Williams got a lucky hit with a ballista; we buried what was left of him when we could get near him – but we’re not equipped to take on a frickin’ dragon! Oh, pardon, my lady.”

“What did she want? Did she say anything?” I ask.

“She kept bellowin’, ‘Bring me the wizard’ over and over again. So Allustan, he thinks it’s him, he goes to meet her, and she jus’ looks all cross and blasts him. That old man lived longer than he should’ve, but he’s ….” He trails off shaking his head, and then he sees my expression. “Pardon, my lady.”

I look to Rey. “Allustan is dead,” I say. She understands all the ways this hurts. Not the least: another friend slain. People who associate with the two of us die. We had discussed it on the first day traveling from Greyhawk.

“Why is Allustan dead?” Rey murmurs to no one in particular, but her voice carries.

“That’s just it,” replies one of the sergeant’s men. Restan. Yes, that is his name, Restan Pereatha. “She – well, the voice was female, I guess – she kinda screamed after she killed Master Allustan. She flew up and melted the sheriff’s place, Boyer’s bakery, a bunch of houses and half of Madame Z’s. And then she yelled, ‘No! The wizard, the young one!’ That’s what she said, over and over. ‘The young one’.”

“Egan,” says Rey, her eyes widening. “Where is Egan?”

They look nonplussed at one another, and then Sergeant Beejum says, “Oh, Master Allustan’s apprentice! The guy who hired those dwarves.” The other two nod and make ‘Oh, yeah, right,’ noises. He turns to Rey again.

“We don’t know, uh, ambassador. He was always out of town somewhere, kept comin’ in for supplies and goin’ to Master Allustan’s.”

“He is at the Cairn,” I say in Elvish and Rey nods.

I hear a growl in the tree next to me and see a purple-tipped tale only visible to the three of us from our angle. Thank the Goddess! Not everything has gone wrong.

“We will look into all of this, Sergeant Beejum,” intones Rey sending them off. “Is the captain …?”

“Yeah, captain’s OK. Most of us, actually: she didn’t really the garrison.”

“I am glad to hear this,” Rey replies and then turns back to us.

Once they are out of sight, I say to the branches above me, “Cousin!”

Verdre, now in her normal form, jumps down and allows me hug her. I don’t want to let her go, not anymore.

“You’re back,” I say into her shoulder.

“Indeed,” she returns. “And I have much to tell you. It is good to see you as well, Rey. Thank you for bringing back my Etona to me.” She weaves a gesture to Rishkar who returns it, and she says, in Common: “And it is well for me to meet you again, guardian. Pleased am I that you still tread the breathing earth.” He nods. “We must deal with Ithane’s fallout. The factory on the outskirts of this town is spewing poison into the lake. The very water is on fire.”

“The water is on fire?” Rey echoes, her face showing deep puzzlement. “How can that be?”

“Verdre,” I say, “we need to find our friend, Egan. He is at the center of this destruction, somehow.”

“I will be working to stop the death of the lake here. You do what you must, Etona. I am aware of your den near the Cairn and will check for you there each mirren if you do not locate me near the human factory. The Briarwood Lodge should know where I am. We will find one another.” She kisses my forehead. “Her light shine on you, cousin.” And she is a purple-tinged big cat of some kind again racing off.

“What is it?” Rey asks seeing my surprise.

“She has never blessed me in our Mistress’ name before.”

******************************​

We pass through our ‘den’ – our headquarters, our common home in the area – where I check to make certain our two artifacts are still concealed in the old well. They are. We proceed to the Cairn.

As we approach, my feet notice the ground beginning to grow soft, the soil changing to a watery clay which squishes between my toes. The very air seems to be bit more opaque, and there is a scent in it of decay and something sour. Eventually we walk into a low mist clinging to the ground. Rey and I exchange glances as we discover these changes to the land.

Rishkar hisses. “This cannot be. It is a corrupted version.”

“Of?” I ask.

“My home.”

Another half mile – the Cairn’s outline fuzzy in mist that has risen – and Rey says, “Ithane is here.” She drops to her knees and begins whispering with her eyes closed in, I think it is Draconic? Whatever she is saying makes Rishkar’s head snap up. He assumes a low combat-ready stance and looks all around. I hear her say the word “Ithane” quite clearly.

On the back of her neck, her dragon mark begins glowing blue. I point to my own back and she looks at me, puzzled. I gently pull her cloak over her head and whisper, “You’re glowing.”

We approach some boulders for a clear view of the scene in front of us.

A small band of skritt – humans call them ‘kobolds’ – are interspersed throughout rocks in front of the Cairn. Behind them is a barricade in front of the opening of the cave. We hear chanting, at least two voices, form there. Rishkar mutters the word ritual. I can see writhing, dancing kobolds silhouetted in front of a bright, rainbow light behind them stretching across the cave entrance.

Draped across the top is Ithane.

She is large but not as much as Seraph, at least not from this angle. There is something diminished about her. Still, she isn’t not dangerous so we plot a course around the front of the cave to the left, stealthily creeping up to a side view of the cave and the mysterious colors and the kobold activity there.

Oh! There is Egan! He is standing behind the wall of color. It looks very much like it is keeping the kobolds out. Ithane herself confirms this when she speaks:

“I can smell your fear, wizard. It will be only a few moments more. The best meals are the ones that have been marinating in their own juices. I am in your debt: thank you for this delicious anticipation.”

We whisper to one another. I have never whispered this quietly in my life.

“They are trying to get through the color wall.” Rey hazards. “To nab him once it goes down.”

“What if we kill them all first and then run in from Ithane?”

“It is a good start ….”

We form a plan to wipe out most of the kobolds we can see. It will be a quick strike and then a retreat into the scrub at high speed, splitting up, make sure at least one of us lives. It isn’t my best plan ever, and I am frankly surprised when both of them agree. Rey keeps looking at Ithane and gripping her spear. But she isn’t …. Surely not ….

Rey quietly kills a skritt in front of her. No activity from the others.

“Your charlatan powers are pitiful against Dragotha,” Ithane brays.

A dragon with a master.

That’s why she seems … small somehow. And her eyes are black on black. She’s not, maybe, completely a dragon anymore?

We all attack. Three more skritt are dead instantly. And battle is well and truly joined as Ithane, furious, takes to the air.

“Rise, my pets! Rise!” she bellows, and marching down from the top of rocky hill forming the roof of the Cairn are worm-infested skritt. I also hear movement out in the mists back from where we came.

It is a blur of activity:

Rey runs dodging a variety of traps the skritt have lain. Obi appears out of nowhere. A massive worm-infested boar emerges from the mist and knocks her down, a raging thing careening through the fog at astounding speed. Another rises up and smashes the palisade in front of the cave entrance. It is then that Egan comes out, the color wall gone, and summons some kind of localized whirlwind charged with flashes of lightning. This keeps away Ithane, at least for a moment, Obi goes is pounded again and again and goes down. Rey looks battered as well. No one seems to have noticed me, not even the worm-kobolds walking just three strides in front of me, even after I take down two more skritt and harry a boar!

“Get into the cave, lasses!” shouts Egan, “and, eh, you also, lizard – brave lizard man! How er’ ye still alive, man?” But there is no time: Ithane zeroes in on Rey. I take aim, a hopeless arrow to fell a dragon but one carrying my very soul. If I can distract her….

I don’t need to. She is knocked out of the air, a web of sparks dancing all over her as a great blue form whooshes by. I am stunned to hear a cheer go up from from Rey, a single whoop, but for her it is like a celebrating tribe.

“You!” Ithane says. “I will enjoy this,” and she rockets up into the sky, into Seraph. They bite and claw and cast their breath weapons against one another until they disappear past the tree line and we can no longer follow them.

“Do ye want to go after them?” Egan asks Rey who nods. He gestures and she rises into the air. This is a day for unique sights.

Ithane flies back, gashed and wounded, but alone. Seraph is nowhere to be seen. Rey drops out of a fold in the fog onto the black dragon’s head and stabs. Ithane, snarling, grabs her in a claw and begins squeezing.

Remember the soul arrow my Angivre was to launch? She and I summon massive Silver – I feel my blood cool, my head aches: I will pay a price for this, I know – and we let it fly. It pierces Ithane’s skull and she falls, Rey never letting up stabbing her again and again such that lightning once again flows all over the dragon’s twitching, expiring body.

We limp back together, I touch Obi’s fur and concentrating, pulling what is left from my small reserves, and she breathes more cleanly. Her wounds close to drip blood and not flow with it. She will not die.

We have much to talk about, but it will have to wait. Seraph is down somewhere, and Rey means to find her.

 

[SolidSnake_01]

Rey's Journal

Return to Diamond Lake

We arrived at Diamond Lake and were greeted by...devastation. Buildings were burnt to the ground, the foundry was burning and the lake was on fire. How in the world can water be on fire? The garrison, or whatever was left of it came and found us. A black dragon had come yesterday and demanded the wizard. Allustan had gone to meet her and perished. He was not the wizard she wanted. She’s demanding the young wizard, whom I can only guess is Egan. Ithane would not know that Egan is powerless these days. According to the garrison men, Egan is hiding out in the Cairn. I missed him in Greyhawk, more than I thought I would but how does trouble follow him everywhere? He’s a magnet for it.

Etona, Rishkar and I headed to the Cairn to rescue our friend. Or die. I am not sure we could take on Ithane and win. But I seem to be the only one NOT surprised by the coming battle. I somehow knew we would end here. Seraph has battled Ithane before. I didn’t know it then but Ithane was the black dragon she had battled while ill with mercury poisoning. Seraph sent me to find Ithane those months ago. Meeting Etona then Egan, I do believe were all part of her plan. We destroyed Ithane’s eggs in the swamp and created an alliance with the Lizardmen. This battle was coming. Maybe that is why I was so on edge in Greyhawk? Who knows.

We headed toward the Cairn and witnessed three kobolds chanting at a prismatic wall. Strange little dragon creatures. In another time I would have wanted to speak with them. They are oddly adorable, although in my experience cunning too. Above the Cairn rested Ithane. She is larger than Seraph but it was her eyes that sent a curl of fear through me. Her eyes were orbs of black. She exuded evil.

I kneeled and called to her, my Mistress Seraph. I did not know if she was nearby or if she would heed my call. Mistress, Ithane is here. Ithane is here! I could feel the tattoo heat and spread warmth throughout my body, pushing aside my fear. Time to face my destiny.

We chose, upon Etona’s insistence, stealth. Our plan was to circle around and pick off kobolds, hiding our position until the last possible second. If Ithane spotted us, we would be dragon dinner. We had a second of surprise but they were ready for us. I saw a worm-infested dire boar and froze. The last time I felt this kind of fear was the first time Seraph turned her eyes on me. My spear did not strike true and I knew for sure this battle would be my last. Obi fought beside me, clawing at the boars as worms dug into our skin. It all became a blur. Then. She came. My Mistress. I saw a streak of blue lightning and Ithane was blown into the hurling wind in front of the Cairn. I knew she had come. She had heard my call. All my fears vanished in that instant. The direboar charged and Obi went down beside me. I could not heal her but cast the worms out. Egan has regained some power, not his Asmodi powers but a new one. He shoots lightning as well. He pointed to the sky and I nodded, and in a moment I was flying. Next thing I knew, I was in Ithane’s mouth, her teeth piercing into me, the acid burning me. I did not see Seraph but Ithane had been badly injured, clawed and scorched and bleeding. I would have to finish it, for Seraph and to save my friends. I could not fail. I stabbed at Ithane with my lightning spear. The very spear we took from her and imbued with Seraph’s lightning blessing. I wonder if she recognized it.

I am never alone. Tonight I am reminded of that once again. Specifically Etona’s silver came flying up from the ground, through Ithane’s head narrowly missing my own. It brought us down. Ithane had me once again, this time in her claws. I could feel tearing into me and squeezing my life away. One last strike was all I had. So I put everything into it and stabbed her in the eye. It was enough.

 

[SolidSnake_01]

Gray Fox Journal: Introductions

It has been a long time since I have put my thoughts to paper. Some of my instructors counseled me during interrogation training that it was a risk to do so. That your thoughts, once they leave your mind, can be used against you. Except for the Boss. I mean Jade. That is her name after all. For some reason, she was the only one who did not believe that. She told me one day after dismissing class that writing down your feelings can stave off the madness only soldiers come to know. A sickness that endless war infects us with. I haven’t written anything down since my training for fear that it would fall into the wrong hands. How ironic that such fears were so misplaced. I ended up divulging my past freely to the first person that showed me kindness, and now many of my brothers have suffered for it. But let us not dwell on the past, I want to look toward the future. A future where decent men are not used as pawns in the Great Game. The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must. I want to change that, but I am going to need some help. And money...lots of it.

Which brings us to the here and now. I’ve done my best to avoid detection for as long as I can, even moving to the bustling metropolis of Greyhawk. My hopes are to recruit candidates from the Champion’s Games. Though “civilized” in nature, I know all too well the formula for contests such as these. Bodies are broken and spirits are shattered. Purpose is usually lost in the process. It is from these individuals that I need to determine whether they can rise again. Instill in them meaning and help them see the greater picture. The War Dogs are finished, but I am not.

Any successful organization will need a base of operations. I have managed to secure a hostel down in the Slum Quarter. The location puts it in close proximity to the Southern Gate and far enough away from the Thieves Quarter to avoid further taxation. Though the building is quite dilapidated, I was not able to buy it outright. The owner, a member of the Council of Greyhawk, has agreed to rent to me at a “fair” market price. He is leveraging the influx of visitors to inflate the price. A very clever man this Thran Chozik is. He would probably be able to sell snow to a frost giant. Though with men like these, money is not everything. I knew at some point my skill would be utilized and so I too did some bargaining of my own. It seems like his sister has been missing for some time, a point that triggers deep emotions. He has hired me to look into her disappearance, reducing the rent I would have to otherwise pay him. Clearly this was important to him. So important that he could not wait for my report. He has engaged a separate group to perform a similar task. These individuals are brave, but not subtle. In the short time they have been in Greyhawk, they have set political institutions ablaze with their discoveries. Exposing a changeling cabal within the government of Greyhawk is a recipe for civil war. I would know, I used to do this type of work.

Nevertheless, I continued my work and came to one inescapable conclusion: Loris Raknian was likely responsible for Lahaka’s disappearance. In my profession, proof is not necessary. I suggested an elegant solution to Councilman Chozik’s problems, but he declined. He said that other individuals were already looking into Loris’ wrongdoing and that he would pay for his crimes in a public forum. I imagine it is that same group that exposed the changelings. Initially I was intrigued to see what they would be able to uncover, but that feeling quickly evaporated once wights came pouring out of the arena. Reports are conflicting, but it would seem that a giant worm erupted from the arena floor and consumed last year’s champions. A few individuals that survived describe a green wave of energy that emanated from the monster and transformed living spectators into an undead horde. Predictably, the higher quarters sealed themselves off quickly, forcing the problem south. I had to take care of a few of these things myself before the priests finally arrived to dispel them into the sewers. I am very sure that this problem has not been completely eradicated. On a positive note, the hostel is still intact and one of the young men I saved was so grateful for my intervention that he has pledged to come work for me. His name is Keth and he is a hard worker. I have promoted him to manager of the “Fox and the Hound.” I know, there is a bit of irony in the name but it felt right. Gray Fox and his Dogs of War.

 

[SolidSnake_01]

Gray Fox Journal: Fated Meeting

After the chaos subsided, Keth and I came out of hiding to assess the damage. I was helping the young man hoist our new sign up over the entrance when I spotted a familiar messenger. It was the same man Chozik used to summon me...before Martial Law was declared. Interestingly enough, this courier escorted me to the Garden Quarter. Though devoid of obvious opulence, the mansion was an architectural masterpiece and most definitely not Councilman Chozik’s home. The servant who maintained the home was an elderly elven man who escorted me to a foyer where two men awaited.

“Treig, I would like for you to meet a friend of mine,” Chozik said as he gestured towards the other man in the room. “This is Elgios and he and I have a special assignment for you.”

The other man had short-cropped auburn hair and a scarlet robe adorned with gold jewelry. He looked like he hadn’t spent a day in his life doing any physical labor. I lit a cigar, drawing the smoke into my lungs before exhaling. I saw Elgios’ facial expressions change subtly as he stared at the cigar. “What do you need?”

Chozik’s face grew dark before he continued. “There is a man in Diamond Lake by the name of Allustan. He is a trusted friend of Elgios and we need you to deliver a package to him.”

Something in my face must have changed because both men seemed to notice.

“It is nothing dangerous, just research I have been working on,” Elgios responded. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Councilman, in my line of work, information is the most dangerous thing you can carry. Perhaps we could dispense with the pleasantries and get down to business.”

Chozik was clearly not accustomed to being spoken to in that fashion, but he hid his anger well. “Yes, as I was saying, we need you to transport this research to Allustan. The case is sealed with magic for...security reasons. At this moment, we are unable to transport you to village. You will need to use mundane means to make you way there. I also want you to check on the status of the Mines. Report if there are any issues with ore processing and output of the Smelting House. Contact me with this,” Chozik said as he handed me a smooth stone with a single magic rune upon it.

“The building,” I said nonchalantly.

“Excuse me,” Chozik sputtered incredulously.

I took another long breath, the embers of my cigar flaring to life as I filled the air with more smoke. “I want the deed to the hostel. If I do this for you, the building is mine.”

“I am not sure what you are accustomed to in your dealings, but-” Elgios laid his hand on Chozik’s sleeve. “That is fine.”

I left Elgios’ home with a secured victory. Or so I thought. My plan had been to pack up my things and commence my travels immediately, leaving Keth in charge of the Fox and the Hound until I got back. That was until I was ambushed by a pale-faced ranger and his shadow mastiff. The man was of no consequence and I easily subdued him before he evaporated into mist and escaped. More reason to get out of the city as soon as possible.
______________________

Everything was as it should be. Keth had his instructions, I secured a fairly swift horse with a contact at a nearby stable I knew, and I had finally secured the necessary supplies...many of them quite expensive, given the recent unrest. It felt good to be back on assignment. Having a mission and a purpose. This time, it was my own and I decided how it would go.

I was finishing my preparations when a stranger walked into the hostel. It was odd given the fact that we were closed for the evening, but I tried not attract any attention to myself. He was young and his skin pale as well, indicating his shared ancestry with the assassin who tried to relieve me of the case. He also had long white hair and was dressed in very expensive clothing. But something was different about this one. Unlike Elgios, he had seen hardship...and dealt with it.

Keth gave him the runaround and so he left, but not before giving the young half-orc a noble token in the event the owner of the establishment “returned.” I was relieved that nothing occurred and was about to follow the man out of the hostel, until he was ambushed. Apparently my assailant wasn’t finished with me. He pinned the man to the door with a magical viscous substance. After a quick curse, as it was obviously me he had hoped to target, the man ran in and drew his blades.

“Let’s try this again old man. Give me the case.”

“Son,” I replied. “I am going to have to put you down this time.”

I did. He lasted only a few moments after I closed the distance between us, caught him around the throat, and choked the consciousness out of him. I was so focused on ending the fight quickly, I didn’t notice his canine friend enter the establishment. That was a tactical error which cost me footing as the shadow mastiff wrenched me to the ground. I was probably going to be fine, but the man encased in tar held out his hand and fiery chains shot out, lancing the mastiff. They wound themselves around it, crushing it, and drawing it closer before we were enveloped in magical darkness. After exiting and discovering our enemies had fled, Jordan introduced himself to me.

“Are you the owner of this establishment,” he asked.

“I am. My name is Treig and you have my thanks,” I replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I was interested in speaking with Elgios on a matter of some personal interest to me. Unfortunately, after securing an appointment, I discovered he had been murdered.” Jordan waited for the event to settle before continuing. “I understand that you were the last person to see him while he was still alive. Did he disclose any information to you about what has transpired in our city?”

“He did not. I am actually leaving town as Greyhawk has become quite unsafe with all the recent events.”

“It would seem that you do know something Treig or have something of some import,” Jordan stated flatly. “I am willing to provide you with protection on your travels in exchange for useful information.”

I don’t want to fight this man if the other assassins are still around. There is no way he could have cast the darkness spell and escaped by himself, which means he has help. Fighting more than two enemies at once would not be ideal. Let’s try a different strategy this time: the truth.

“Truth be told, I know very little. However, I am on my way to Diamond Lake to meet a close associate of Elgios. His name is Allustan and he might have the answers you seek.”

This seemed to satisfy Jordan because the next thing I knew, we were on the road in a comfortable carriage drinking very good wine. This was going to be a good trip after all.