Rybaer
First Post
Session #9.3 – On the Town Suite
(My apologies in advance for such a long post. I considered breaking it up, but the events really fit into one continuous reading much better.)
It was a hot, muggy summer night in Water Break. The air felt as if it needed a good thunderstorm to unleash its built-up tension. People were moving about through the lamp-lit streets in search of nighttime entertainment, particularly on this week’s end eve. Nigel and Amblin, dressed in their new threads, moved with the crowds toward the river that cut through the center of the port city. Amblin was feeling carefree and eager. After all, he was off to a party with the beautiful brunette Marina after almost two months of rough travel and harrowing adventure. Nigel felt a bit more like a chaperone to the young human, but he forced himself to try and relax and enjoy the downtime. It was difficult, though, in this strange city and without his comfortable leather armor or trusty elven bow. At least he had a dagger tucked away inside his pant leg. Something in the back of his mind kept suggesting that he’d need it before the night was out.
At the riverfront, they turned right and followed the noise and lights spilling from several taverns. A couple blocks further, they finally found the entrance the girls had described. The place had no name, it was merely a non-descript door set among others in a densely packed block. They recognized it by the throng of people milling about outside waiting on others and by the pair of half-orc brutes that blocked access. Amblin gave the bouncers the password and they were admitted. A long, dark hallway eventually led to a surprisingly large establishment. The main room was packed with well-dressed folk of all description. Two bars were busy serving drinks and a group of bards were producing a lively melody from an elevated stage in the far corner. Several passages led off the main room and there was an open stairway leading to a balcony with still more doors and passages.
In spite of the throng, they managed to spot Marina and Svala soon enough. They were with a group of friends getting drinks at one of the bars. When Amblin and Nigel finally reached them, Marina gave Amblin an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek and thanked them for coming to the party. Drinks were had all around, and Amblin started on his way to his first really good drunk of his short life. After Marina introduced Amblin and Nigel to her friends, the group started splitting up. Marina pulled Amblin to the dance floor. Amblin, with no formal training in dance, faked it remarkably well and let the girl teach him the rest. Nigel and Svala joined them on the floor after finishing their drinks.
After a while dancing, Marina and Amblin were hitting things off marvelously. Both were drinking and dancing and having a wonderful time. Nigel and Svala were a bit more restrained. The elf could tell that Svala was not overly keen on him. Eventually, she muttered something about meeting some other friends who had just come in and that she’d find him again later. Now Nigel really felt out of place. Nursing another drink, he casually mingled with the shadows in the corners and decided to just keep an eye on Amblin and make sure to keep his drunk ass out of trouble.
-----
Back at the Priest’s Pole, Zalman and Rurik were living things up. Zalman was studying his spellbook, making notes and updating certain spells. Rurik was busily sharpening his axe, polishing his armor, and drinking ale. As the hour closed in on midnight, flashes of distant lightning could be seen through their window. A storm was coming, but it was still far enough away that the thunder could not be heard over the ambient noises of the city.
Trying to get some air flowing through the stifling room, Rurik opened the window just a bit further. Their room looked out over a dark courtyard behind the inn. It was an L-shaped affair and they were near the corner. The stables were further back, across the courtyard. While standing there, savoring each hint of breeze, Amblin’s dog started barking and growling. Rurik’s darkvision couldn’t quite make out the dog or what it might have been barking at. He yelled at it to shut up, but it refused to comply. Zalman, tired and bleary eyed, dropped his quill on the desk.
“What’s that dog’s problem?” he asked the dwarf.
“Dunno,” Rurik replied. “I can’t see anything out there.” Zalman just grunted. “I’ll go shut ‘im up. I could use some fresh air anyway.”
Rurik looked at his armor, shield and axe, thought for a moment, and then just left the room without his gear. At least he had a dagger in his boot if there was something making trouble out there. He went down the stairs, past the relatively quiet tavern on the first floor, and out the back door into the courtyard. He stomped over to the far corner of the stables where the dog had been tied up. As his darkvision began to reveal the back of the yard, he could make out a man dressed in dark clothing and openly carrying a short sword trying to make his way around the dog’s reach. At that moment, the man heard Rurik’s approach and turned his sword on the dwarf. Rurik pulled his dagger and prepared to cast a spell when the man charged and attacked.
Rurik ordinarily wouldn’t be too concerned with a mere thug, but he ordinarily would be wearing his magic full-plate armor with his magic shield in one hand and masterwork dwarven war axe in the other. Instead, defending himself with a dagger, he took the charge with only a minor scratch. At this point, Amblin’s dog had managed to work itself up so furiously that it snapped it’s rope and attacked the thug from behind. Seeing an opening, Rurik abandoned the spellcasting and sank his dagger into the assailant’s thigh. He grinned and prepared to stab again when two sharp pricks hit him in his back.
“What the heck?” he blurted as he felt around and found a pair of tiny crossbow bolts protruding from his back. The bolts themselves hadn’t hurt much, but a lethargic feeling suddenly came over him. Within moments, his muscles all seized up and he collapsed in the dirt of the courtyard, paralyzed. He watched helplessly as the thug turned on Amblin’s dog and ran it through with his short sword.
The side door to the stables opened upon them at that moment and a crack of weak yellow light from a lantern held by the stable boy lit the scene. Rurik could only tell that the thug was dressed all in black and that the dog was most definitely dead. The thug looked up at the boy and growled. The stable boy let out a gasp and slammed the door shut.
Zalman, meanwhile, had been trying to focus back on his studies. He sipped his glass of wine and picked his quill back up. Amblin’s dog, however, kept barking. If anything, it was getting even more animated. Hoping Rurik would hurry up, Zalman sat back, closed his eyes, and focused on listening. Two thwacks from somewhere just outside his window caught his ear. He wasn’t quite sure what they were, but they just seemed out of place. Moments later, the dog abruptly yelped and gurgled mid-bark. That didn’t sound good, Zalman thought to himself. He got up and peered out the window. It was too dark for him to see anything aside from a few distant city lights. Even the increasingly frequent flashes of lightning didn’t help much – there were a couple large trees hanging over much of the yard.
Zalman closed his spell book and then slid the group’s small treasure chest up against the room’s door. He then leaned his staff against both the door and the chest and muttered the command word to render it immobile, effectively blocking shut their door and pinning the chest closed and in spot. He then went back to the window and looked around more closely. Again, there was nothing to be seen or heard. As it was a short drop from their second floor window to the ground, he decided to just climb out. Before he could even drop to the ground, another of those thwaks he’d heard earlier came again, and he was pretty sure they were from the roof of the inn. Two sharp pinpricks of pain lanced his side and arm and the paralysis overtook him as he landed awkwardly on the ground and rolled onto his back.
Zalman laid there, watching as two men dressed in black looked back at him from the corner of the inn’s roof. They tucked hand crossbows into their cloaks and called out to their accomplice who was standing over the paralyzed dwarf. Rurik, half expecting the thug to just run him through with his sword, was surprised when he walked away toward the inn. Though he was facing the wrong direction, he could hear what was going on over by the inn and he surmised that they’d gotten Zalman as well.
One of the thugs on the roof swung under the eaves and into Zalman and Rurik’s room. Zalman could hear grunting and swearing and, in spite of his predicament, he couldn’t help but be amused at the thug’s frustration in trying to move the treasure chest. The other two thugs stood over him then and discussed something in hushed tones. “Which one should we take?” one asked. The other replied, “How ‘bout this one? He’s gotta be easier to carry than that dwarf.” With that, they tossed a bag over his head and knocked him unconscious with a sap – just in case the paralysis wasn’t sufficient.
The two picked up Zalman and called for their comrade. Noise could be heard from the inn now and they were getting anxious to leave. Rurik could just make out their conversation. “The chest is all stuck. Some magic stick or something.” “Can you open it?” “No!” “Well, just leave it then! We gotta hurry.” “Ugh. Fine.”
That was the last that Rurik heard from the thugs. All he could do was lay on the ground, paralyzed and helpless. Fury began to build within him just as the thunder from the approaching storm began to shake the buildings of the city.
-----
Back at the party, Amblin was starting to act silly. Marina seemed okay with that, though. They had made their way upstairs and through a quieter room set with tables full of partiers having their own private conversations. Beyond that was a long porch overlooking a park-like courtyard in the center of the city block. A few couples were out on the dark porch, enjoying the cool air coming in ahead of the storm.
Amblin started showing off, leaping off the porch and bouncing around the courtyard. The combination of his monkish speed, leaping prowess, and Ring of Jumping, he was putting on quite a show. Nigel, who had slipped onto the porch behind them and made himself scarce in a shadowy corner, just shook his head. “Kid just can’t hold his liquor.”
Finally, Amblin tired of showing off and came back up to the porch. He and Marina started kissing, touching and giggling. Nigel really wanted to be somewhere else, doing anything else. Unexpectedly, he got his wish.
A lady, elven, wearing a dress of cream and white silks that clung over her figure in a most flattering fashion, came out onto the porch, spotted him, and unabashedly approached his hiding spot. Nigel was surprised that she had spotted him in the shadowy corner, but he reminded himself that she was an elf. Her skin was pale white and her hair was a golden yellow color that never appears in humans. Startling blue eyes pierced into him as she stepped within a foot of him. She proffered one of the two glasses she carried.
“May I share a glass of wine with you?” she asked. Her voice was song itself. Nigel appreciated the grace with which she carried herself, something no human woman could achieve.
“Sure,” Nigel said and accepted the drink. Well, he thought, she has good taste in wine.
“I hope you don’t mind my forwardness, but I spotted you earlier and couldn’t resist the chance to meet you.”
“Oh, well, nice to meet you,” Nigel said.
“My name is Lohna,” she said. “And you?”
“Nigel,” he replied.
“A pleasure,” she said. “There are so few elves in this region these days that it’s always refreshing to see a new face. You’re an archer, aren’t you?”
Nigel was flustered. How did she know that? “Uh, yes, I am. How did you know?”
“The calluses on your fingertips,” she explained. “I felt them when you took the glass of wine from me.”
“Oh,” he said in genuine surprise.
“I suspect you’re not from around here,” Lohna said. “And, therefore, I suspect you have some interesting stories to tell.”
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” Nigel said. “I’m currently from New Selmar, several hundred miles west of here.”
“Really?” she said. “Is that near Selmar? I recall that city from before the war.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It is a few miles away from the ruins of the old city. The city has been built up by the few of us who survived the war and over a decade of enslavement at the hands of the orcs.”
“Oh my,” she said. “You must really have some stories to tell. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing a few of them with me?”
Nigel glanced over at Amblin and Marina and Lohna followed his gaze. Marina had broken off their kissing to whisper something in Amblin’s ear. Amblin had a stupid grin on his face as she led him back indoors.
“Looks like your friend is about to get lucky,” Lohna said with a smile. “There are some private rooms elsewhere in the building. You might not see him till morning.”
Something about splitting up the group was nagging Nigel in the back of his mind. On the other hand, he felt he should let Amblin take care of himself for a while. Besides, Lohna seemed a lot more interesting to him at the moment. For the next few hours, Nigel shared some of the stories of his home and his adventures on the way from New Selmar to Water Break. Lohna listened in rapt attention. They shared a few drinks and a few dances late into the night.
-----
Marina led Amblin back to the balcony overlooking the main throng of the party. He was drunk and having a great time. He found himself lost in Marina – her voice, her face, her eyes, her touch, her smell. She led him down another hall, handed a few coins to a doorman, and led him down yet another hall. It was dimly lit and there were dozens of other doors lining its length. She opened one with the key that the doorman had given her. Inside was a simple bed and nightstand with a basin and pitcher of water. A low burning candle provided the only illumination.
Ten minutes later, Amblin became a man. A minute after that, he was fast asleep.
-----
Rurik was found a few minutes after the thugs had fled by the inn’s owner and his son when the stable boy had gathered the courage to go fetch them. The storm had already broken and Rurik was wet and muddy when he was brought inside and laid on his side upon a table. The dagger he had wielded was still stuck in his paralysis-clenched fingers. The owner of the Priest’s Pole was distraught at the condition of the dwarf. Rurik’s eyes were open and moving, so he was clearly awake. He was unable to move or speak, though. They were careful not to aggravate the tiny crossbow bolts stuck in his back. The inn keep’s son was finally sent to fetch a doctor.
By the time a doctor was found and roused, the paralysis had begun to wear off. The first thing Rurik was able to do was open his mouth, and he took advantage by unleashing a steady stream of curses. He told the inn keep of the attack and that he suspected his friend had been hit as well. The inn keep hadn’t seen his friend, so he went up to their room to check. He returned a moment later to say that the door appeared to be blocked and there was no response to his knocking.
The doctor gave the dwarf a cursory examination and removed the tiny bolts. A greasy black residue could still be seen on the tips of the missiles. Rurik was just starting to stand when a pair of city guard arrived at the call of the inn keep’s son. Rurik, in his rage, could barely give them a full accounting. The guard seemed indifferent at best and not terribly interested in hurrying back out into the storm that was now raging in all its fury.
Giving up on finding anyone willing to help find Zalman, he crawled back upstairs. He was prepared to break his way into their room but was surprised to find that the door pushed open easily. Zalman’s staff and their treasure chest were sitting on the floor just in front of the door. No Zalman, he noted, but most of the wizard’s gear was still there and the window was open. It was a safe guess that the thugs had taken him. He quickly strapped on his armor, grabbed his axe and shield, and tromped back downstairs.
“You,” he said, pointing to the inn keep. “Bring the dog up to my room. There is a chest of coin and some other valuable possessions up there. I expect you to personally watch over them until I or one of my companions return. If any of my friends get back first, tell them what happened and that I’m out looking for Zalman.” He tossed a handful of gold on the table and left, blowing past the guards who were still standing under the eaves in front of the inn, sheltered from the howling wind, rain and lightning. He had no idea where to go or where to look, so he picked a direction and started off. Those few folk he passed on the street he questioned mercilessly for any info about men dressed in black, possibly carrying another person. No one had seen a thing.
-----
Zalman slowly regained consciousness. He had a splitting headache. Before even opening his eyes, he could determine a number of things about his situation. First, he was cold and wet. Second, he was propped up against a hard stone wall. Third, his hands were bound in metal cuffs that were chained to the wall behind him.
He cracked his eyes open a bit and found that it was quite dark. It was raining hard outside. Occasional flashes of lightning revealed a small window set high in the wall above him – a window with vertical bars. The flashes of light also showed him that the room was about ten foot square with a single door leading out. Interestingly, there was another person in the room, apparently chained up just like him. The person was small enough to be either a child or a halfling or gnome. They were slumped forward, unconscious, so it was difficult to discern for certain.
He reconstructed the events that had led to him getting here. Thugs, poisoned hand crossbows, attempted robbery. That was about it. Then a thought occurred to him – Hooty was still out there. He mentally contacted his familiar, who had been out hunting mice and rats during the whole ordeal. Telepathically, he tried to recount what had happened and a description of what little he could tell about his cell. Hooty started flying around the city, looking for buildings with bars. They both realized that such an approach would take time, so he finally sent Hooty to go try and find his companions.
The other captive started to stir. Zalman feigned sleep for a moment, keeping his eyes open just a slit to observe.
“What? Where, where am I?” a high-pitched voice croaked out. The figure lifted her head and a flash of lightning revealed to Zalman that it was most likely a halfling. “Ouch.” She groaned again. Something about that voice was triggering a strong suspicion in Zalman’s mind. He studied her face closely as another flash of lightning flickered through the dark room. It couldn’t be, he thought to himself.
“Hey,” he whispered harshly, “what’s your name?”
She groaned again, seemingly still out of it. “Oh, Kis…Kisty,” she said. Zalman’s suspicions were confirmed. “Who…who are you?”
“It’s me, Zalman,” he replied, still in a whisper, but letting his normal vocal tone come though.
“Zalman?” she said. “Where are we? What are you doing here? What happened?”
“I’m not sure where we are,” he replied. “Or, for that matter, I’m not sure how either of us got here.”
“I…I don’t remember…I don’t remember anything,” she said. “No, that’s not right, I just don’t remember anything recent. I don’t even remember where I last saw you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I’ve been drugged,” she said. “My mind feels like mud. How long ago did you last see me?”
“About four or five days,” he replied.
“Where was I? What was I doing?”
“You were in High Hill,” he said. “We had just parted ways.”
“High Hill?” she said, groaning again and shaking her head. “I don’t recall anything about that. What the hell happened to me?”
“I don’t know,” Zalman replied, “but I’m all for getting the heck out of here.” He had been going through his repertoire of spells available without his components or much flexibility in his hands. It didn’t look good, but he thought he might be able to pull off a distraction. “Are you feeling well enough to make a getaway if we get a chance?”
She groaned as she flexed her shoulders. “I think so.”
The chains behind Kisty began to jingle just a bit. “Hand on a sec,” she whispered. “I don’t think these restraints are of the best quality.” Zalman waited patiently, hoping she could indeed get herself free. It would make any escape much simpler.
Half a minute later, she announced that she was free. She slowly stood and crept over to Zalman. “Hey, Zalman,” she said as she leaned over him. “Thanks for all the help.” She whipped out a sap from behind her back and thumped him into unconsciousness. He never even had time to look shocked.
-----
By a couple hours after midnight, the party had thinned out considerably. Lohna finished her last dance with Nigel and told him that it was time for her to be going.
“Will you be in the city long?” she asked.
“Not quite sure yet,” he replied. “We have some business to attend to. I’m not sure what our plans are for after that.”
“Well, I’d love it if you could pay a visit to my home,” she said. “Your friends are welcome as well.”
“That’d be great,” Nigel said. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I would love to spend some more time with you. Where can we find you?”
“I live in Vineyard Pass, a small town just a few hours north of Water Break.”
Nigel gave a slight grimace. “I suppose we’d have to subject ourselves to that whole interrogation, registration deal again with the Cult?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “They are pretty stringent on that. Tell you what, I can write up a letter that should help ease your way though the city gates. It’ll basically say that you’re on official business for me…which won’t be completely untrue. Let me find something to write with.”
Lohna pinned down one of the servants and was led off through a side door. A few minutes later, she returned with a piece of parchment rolled up and handed it to Nigel. “That should help some.”
“Thanks,” he said and tucked it away in his shirt.
“If you can come, just ask around in the village for me and anyone can direct you to my house.”
“Right. Well, I’ll really try to make it.”
“I look forward to it,” she said as she favored him with a radiant smile. She offered him her hand, which he dutifully kissed. With that, she turned and left.
Nigel made one last sweep though the party. Amblin was still nowhere to be found, so he decided to just head back to the Priest’s Pole and hope that Amblin would find his way back eventually.
The rain had lessened somewhat, but it was still dark, wet, and muddy outside. The inn was not far away and he made it back without incident. The inn’s tavern was dark for the night, so he quietly slipped up the stairs to his room. As he passed Zalman and Rurik’s room, he noted that a light was still on. He thought about checking in on them, but decided against it. It was late and he was wet and sleepy.
He lit a candle in his own room and started to peel off his shirt when a knock came at his door. Expecting one of his friends, he was surprised when he found the inn keep’s son standing in the hall.
“Sir,” the teen said.
“Yeah?” Nigel said.
“Your friend, the dwarf, wanted to pass along a message to you.” The boy quickly recounted the events of the evening as best he knew them. By the time he finished telling Nigel that Rurik had gone out searching almost two hours ago, Nigel was already dressed in his leather armor and had bow and swords donned.
Nigel hurried out into the streets and started seeking his friend. He knew it was dangerous creeping around a city this size in the dead of night, especially alone, but he saw little alternative. He decided to start looking south, which was fortunate, as he came across Rurik just a short while later.
The dwarf was exhausted and dejected. His rage had lessened into frustration for he had found no clues as to the wizard’s whereabouts. Hooty circled around, similarly expressing his concern. They discussed the matter for a while and finally decided to wait until morning to continue the search. The city guard might be a bit more cooperative by then and they both desperately needed a bit of rest. Hopefully, Amblin would be back by then as well to help.
The two returned to the inn and found that the inn keep’s son had fallen asleep in Zalman and Rurik’s room. They left him there and crashed in Nigel’s room for a couple hours of fitful rest. Before dawn, they both gave up sleeping and went back on the prowl, pausing only long enough to tell the boy next door what to pass along to Amblin if and when he returned.
-----
Amblin was unsure what time it was when he awoke. He half expected Marina to have split, possibly even with some of his magic gear, but he was pleasantly surprised to see he was wrong on both accounts. Marina rolled over and kissed him. Amblin realized that he had a pounding headache, but managed to return the kiss. “This must be what a hangover is like,” he thought to himself. He felt like crap, but Marina took it upon herself to spend a few minutes making him feel much, much better.
When they were finally dressed, Marina gave Amblin a last peck on the cheek. “Thanks for a wonderful night,” she said. “Can I see you again tonight?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, eager at the prospect of spending another night with this lovely.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
Fighting through the haze of his hangover, he managed to recall the name of the inn. “The Priest’s Pole,” he said. “Just down the main avenue toward the keep a bit.”
“Yeah, I know the place,” she said. “I’ll come by there later this evening.”
“Okay.”
She left the room alone. Amblin finished collecting his clothing and followed a few minutes later. The room where the party had been was all but deserted. A couple servants were busy scrubbing the floors, but it was otherwise desolately quiet. He left the building and walked along the river, whistling to himself and feeling giddy.
-----
Zalman fought his way up through a pounding headache to consciousness. Again, before opening his eyes, he made an assessment of his situation: cold and wet. And something nearby stank horrendously. He cracked his eyes a bit and found that he was in an alley, draped across a trash heap. He was also quite naked. There was daylight above, so he knew it was at least morning.
He rolled over and rats scurried away at the disturbance. A piece of parchment, rolled and tied shut with a red piece of string, fell off of his chest. He grabbed it and unrolled it. It read: “Thanks for your help, Zalman. Sorry about the clothes and gear, but I’m sure you’ll understand. Don’t bother coming after your stuff or me, it’ll just end badly. Yours, M. Goodbread.”
Zalman instantly descended into the deepest, seething pool of rage in his life. Who was M. Goodbread? It was most certainly one of Kisty Goodbread’s relatives. And he recalled her mentioning that the reason she was avoiding Water Break was due to some “family issues.” As he began to recall his imprisonment the night before, he began to put some pieces together. Whoever had been impersonating Kisty had managed to fake forgetfulness, acting as if drugged. Zalman had unwittingly given Kisty’s whereabouts to them. Kisty was not Zalman’s favorite person in the world, but she had been fairly trustworthy and had done her best to lead them back to Water Break as promised – apparently at some person risk.
He got up, fighting off a massive headache and countless scratches and bruises. As he started toward the end of the alley, a side door opened and a man in a leather apron stepped out with a bucket of refuse. He gave the naked Zalman an inquisitive look.
“You okay there, boy,” the man asked.
“Not really,” Zalman said. “I seem to have been left here, bereft of my possessions.”
“Uh, tell you what,” the man said. “I think I’ve got a couple old items lying around that you could wear just to be decent and all.” He led Zalman into his leatherworking shop and dug out a few old rags of clothing – a shirt and pants. Zalman thanked him and left the shop, calling Hooty telepathically.
Hooty was ecstatic to hear his master, alive and mostly well. Zalman gave him a few landmarks he could see from the street and Hooty was able to lead Nigel and Rurik right to him in a matter of minutes. They were shocked at Zalman’s appearance, but elated to see him okay. They sensed the fury burning within him, and were careful not to push him the wrong way. As they hurried back to the inn, each recounted their tales. Nigel and Rurik agreed that it was likely one of Kisty’s family that had duped Zalman into giving up her location. Furthermore, they agreed that their friend was likely in grave danger. When they had parted ways, Kisty told them that she’d stay in High Hill for a week or so. That had been five days ago. She wasn’t necessarily going to be gone in time.
Amblin, meanwhile, had just returned to the inn. He took a peek in the tavern and found it empty. He trotted upstairs to his room and also found it empty. Nigel was gone, as was his armor and weapons, but not the rest of his gear. Odd. He went next door to check Zalman and Rurik’s room. The door was locked and he didn’t have the key so he fetched the inn keep.
The inn keep blanched slightly at the sight of Amblin. As he led the monk up the stairs, he turned and asked, “Have you spoken with any of your friends yet?”
“No,” Amblin said. “Why?”
“Well, some things happened last night.” He opened the door and the first thing that greeted Amblin was the sight of his dog’s body, bloody and damp, lying on the floor. The bottom dropped out on his giddy elation from the previous night’s events. He got the gist of what had happened from the inn keep and just started heading outside to find his friends when they arrived back at the inn.
They grabbed their cash and Zalman went on a hasty shopping spree to get new clothing and as many spell components as he could find. In spite of having some of his gear stolen, he had been fortunate to leave his really important items (spellbook and staff) behind in the room. They returned to the inn, collected the rest of their gear and horses, and paid the inn keep a bit extra for his troubles.
At the south gate, they retrieved those magic items that they had left with the city guard. The guards gave them some odd looks, partly due to their grim expressions and partly due to the brutally slain dog that Amblin was carrying with him. When the letter that Lohna had given Nigel was presented, things went much more smoothly than they had the first time they'd passed through the gate. Before Nigel put the note away, he gave it a quick read. The signature at the bottom caught his eye - Countess Lohna Goldenoak-Graeble. Countess?
A short way out of the city, they paused just long enough for Amblin to bury his dog under some trees. Then, setting a hard pace, they were off for High Hill. They had to try to get to Kisty before someone else did.
Next session: The eagerly awaited rematch and a very unexpected explanation.
-Rybaer
(My apologies in advance for such a long post. I considered breaking it up, but the events really fit into one continuous reading much better.)
It was a hot, muggy summer night in Water Break. The air felt as if it needed a good thunderstorm to unleash its built-up tension. People were moving about through the lamp-lit streets in search of nighttime entertainment, particularly on this week’s end eve. Nigel and Amblin, dressed in their new threads, moved with the crowds toward the river that cut through the center of the port city. Amblin was feeling carefree and eager. After all, he was off to a party with the beautiful brunette Marina after almost two months of rough travel and harrowing adventure. Nigel felt a bit more like a chaperone to the young human, but he forced himself to try and relax and enjoy the downtime. It was difficult, though, in this strange city and without his comfortable leather armor or trusty elven bow. At least he had a dagger tucked away inside his pant leg. Something in the back of his mind kept suggesting that he’d need it before the night was out.
At the riverfront, they turned right and followed the noise and lights spilling from several taverns. A couple blocks further, they finally found the entrance the girls had described. The place had no name, it was merely a non-descript door set among others in a densely packed block. They recognized it by the throng of people milling about outside waiting on others and by the pair of half-orc brutes that blocked access. Amblin gave the bouncers the password and they were admitted. A long, dark hallway eventually led to a surprisingly large establishment. The main room was packed with well-dressed folk of all description. Two bars were busy serving drinks and a group of bards were producing a lively melody from an elevated stage in the far corner. Several passages led off the main room and there was an open stairway leading to a balcony with still more doors and passages.
In spite of the throng, they managed to spot Marina and Svala soon enough. They were with a group of friends getting drinks at one of the bars. When Amblin and Nigel finally reached them, Marina gave Amblin an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek and thanked them for coming to the party. Drinks were had all around, and Amblin started on his way to his first really good drunk of his short life. After Marina introduced Amblin and Nigel to her friends, the group started splitting up. Marina pulled Amblin to the dance floor. Amblin, with no formal training in dance, faked it remarkably well and let the girl teach him the rest. Nigel and Svala joined them on the floor after finishing their drinks.
After a while dancing, Marina and Amblin were hitting things off marvelously. Both were drinking and dancing and having a wonderful time. Nigel and Svala were a bit more restrained. The elf could tell that Svala was not overly keen on him. Eventually, she muttered something about meeting some other friends who had just come in and that she’d find him again later. Now Nigel really felt out of place. Nursing another drink, he casually mingled with the shadows in the corners and decided to just keep an eye on Amblin and make sure to keep his drunk ass out of trouble.
-----
Back at the Priest’s Pole, Zalman and Rurik were living things up. Zalman was studying his spellbook, making notes and updating certain spells. Rurik was busily sharpening his axe, polishing his armor, and drinking ale. As the hour closed in on midnight, flashes of distant lightning could be seen through their window. A storm was coming, but it was still far enough away that the thunder could not be heard over the ambient noises of the city.
Trying to get some air flowing through the stifling room, Rurik opened the window just a bit further. Their room looked out over a dark courtyard behind the inn. It was an L-shaped affair and they were near the corner. The stables were further back, across the courtyard. While standing there, savoring each hint of breeze, Amblin’s dog started barking and growling. Rurik’s darkvision couldn’t quite make out the dog or what it might have been barking at. He yelled at it to shut up, but it refused to comply. Zalman, tired and bleary eyed, dropped his quill on the desk.
“What’s that dog’s problem?” he asked the dwarf.
“Dunno,” Rurik replied. “I can’t see anything out there.” Zalman just grunted. “I’ll go shut ‘im up. I could use some fresh air anyway.”
Rurik looked at his armor, shield and axe, thought for a moment, and then just left the room without his gear. At least he had a dagger in his boot if there was something making trouble out there. He went down the stairs, past the relatively quiet tavern on the first floor, and out the back door into the courtyard. He stomped over to the far corner of the stables where the dog had been tied up. As his darkvision began to reveal the back of the yard, he could make out a man dressed in dark clothing and openly carrying a short sword trying to make his way around the dog’s reach. At that moment, the man heard Rurik’s approach and turned his sword on the dwarf. Rurik pulled his dagger and prepared to cast a spell when the man charged and attacked.
Rurik ordinarily wouldn’t be too concerned with a mere thug, but he ordinarily would be wearing his magic full-plate armor with his magic shield in one hand and masterwork dwarven war axe in the other. Instead, defending himself with a dagger, he took the charge with only a minor scratch. At this point, Amblin’s dog had managed to work itself up so furiously that it snapped it’s rope and attacked the thug from behind. Seeing an opening, Rurik abandoned the spellcasting and sank his dagger into the assailant’s thigh. He grinned and prepared to stab again when two sharp pricks hit him in his back.
“What the heck?” he blurted as he felt around and found a pair of tiny crossbow bolts protruding from his back. The bolts themselves hadn’t hurt much, but a lethargic feeling suddenly came over him. Within moments, his muscles all seized up and he collapsed in the dirt of the courtyard, paralyzed. He watched helplessly as the thug turned on Amblin’s dog and ran it through with his short sword.
The side door to the stables opened upon them at that moment and a crack of weak yellow light from a lantern held by the stable boy lit the scene. Rurik could only tell that the thug was dressed all in black and that the dog was most definitely dead. The thug looked up at the boy and growled. The stable boy let out a gasp and slammed the door shut.
Zalman, meanwhile, had been trying to focus back on his studies. He sipped his glass of wine and picked his quill back up. Amblin’s dog, however, kept barking. If anything, it was getting even more animated. Hoping Rurik would hurry up, Zalman sat back, closed his eyes, and focused on listening. Two thwacks from somewhere just outside his window caught his ear. He wasn’t quite sure what they were, but they just seemed out of place. Moments later, the dog abruptly yelped and gurgled mid-bark. That didn’t sound good, Zalman thought to himself. He got up and peered out the window. It was too dark for him to see anything aside from a few distant city lights. Even the increasingly frequent flashes of lightning didn’t help much – there were a couple large trees hanging over much of the yard.
Zalman closed his spell book and then slid the group’s small treasure chest up against the room’s door. He then leaned his staff against both the door and the chest and muttered the command word to render it immobile, effectively blocking shut their door and pinning the chest closed and in spot. He then went back to the window and looked around more closely. Again, there was nothing to be seen or heard. As it was a short drop from their second floor window to the ground, he decided to just climb out. Before he could even drop to the ground, another of those thwaks he’d heard earlier came again, and he was pretty sure they were from the roof of the inn. Two sharp pinpricks of pain lanced his side and arm and the paralysis overtook him as he landed awkwardly on the ground and rolled onto his back.
Zalman laid there, watching as two men dressed in black looked back at him from the corner of the inn’s roof. They tucked hand crossbows into their cloaks and called out to their accomplice who was standing over the paralyzed dwarf. Rurik, half expecting the thug to just run him through with his sword, was surprised when he walked away toward the inn. Though he was facing the wrong direction, he could hear what was going on over by the inn and he surmised that they’d gotten Zalman as well.
One of the thugs on the roof swung under the eaves and into Zalman and Rurik’s room. Zalman could hear grunting and swearing and, in spite of his predicament, he couldn’t help but be amused at the thug’s frustration in trying to move the treasure chest. The other two thugs stood over him then and discussed something in hushed tones. “Which one should we take?” one asked. The other replied, “How ‘bout this one? He’s gotta be easier to carry than that dwarf.” With that, they tossed a bag over his head and knocked him unconscious with a sap – just in case the paralysis wasn’t sufficient.
The two picked up Zalman and called for their comrade. Noise could be heard from the inn now and they were getting anxious to leave. Rurik could just make out their conversation. “The chest is all stuck. Some magic stick or something.” “Can you open it?” “No!” “Well, just leave it then! We gotta hurry.” “Ugh. Fine.”
That was the last that Rurik heard from the thugs. All he could do was lay on the ground, paralyzed and helpless. Fury began to build within him just as the thunder from the approaching storm began to shake the buildings of the city.
-----
Back at the party, Amblin was starting to act silly. Marina seemed okay with that, though. They had made their way upstairs and through a quieter room set with tables full of partiers having their own private conversations. Beyond that was a long porch overlooking a park-like courtyard in the center of the city block. A few couples were out on the dark porch, enjoying the cool air coming in ahead of the storm.
Amblin started showing off, leaping off the porch and bouncing around the courtyard. The combination of his monkish speed, leaping prowess, and Ring of Jumping, he was putting on quite a show. Nigel, who had slipped onto the porch behind them and made himself scarce in a shadowy corner, just shook his head. “Kid just can’t hold his liquor.”
Finally, Amblin tired of showing off and came back up to the porch. He and Marina started kissing, touching and giggling. Nigel really wanted to be somewhere else, doing anything else. Unexpectedly, he got his wish.
A lady, elven, wearing a dress of cream and white silks that clung over her figure in a most flattering fashion, came out onto the porch, spotted him, and unabashedly approached his hiding spot. Nigel was surprised that she had spotted him in the shadowy corner, but he reminded himself that she was an elf. Her skin was pale white and her hair was a golden yellow color that never appears in humans. Startling blue eyes pierced into him as she stepped within a foot of him. She proffered one of the two glasses she carried.
“May I share a glass of wine with you?” she asked. Her voice was song itself. Nigel appreciated the grace with which she carried herself, something no human woman could achieve.
“Sure,” Nigel said and accepted the drink. Well, he thought, she has good taste in wine.
“I hope you don’t mind my forwardness, but I spotted you earlier and couldn’t resist the chance to meet you.”
“Oh, well, nice to meet you,” Nigel said.
“My name is Lohna,” she said. “And you?”
“Nigel,” he replied.
“A pleasure,” she said. “There are so few elves in this region these days that it’s always refreshing to see a new face. You’re an archer, aren’t you?”
Nigel was flustered. How did she know that? “Uh, yes, I am. How did you know?”
“The calluses on your fingertips,” she explained. “I felt them when you took the glass of wine from me.”
“Oh,” he said in genuine surprise.
“I suspect you’re not from around here,” Lohna said. “And, therefore, I suspect you have some interesting stories to tell.”
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” Nigel said. “I’m currently from New Selmar, several hundred miles west of here.”
“Really?” she said. “Is that near Selmar? I recall that city from before the war.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It is a few miles away from the ruins of the old city. The city has been built up by the few of us who survived the war and over a decade of enslavement at the hands of the orcs.”
“Oh my,” she said. “You must really have some stories to tell. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing a few of them with me?”
Nigel glanced over at Amblin and Marina and Lohna followed his gaze. Marina had broken off their kissing to whisper something in Amblin’s ear. Amblin had a stupid grin on his face as she led him back indoors.
“Looks like your friend is about to get lucky,” Lohna said with a smile. “There are some private rooms elsewhere in the building. You might not see him till morning.”
Something about splitting up the group was nagging Nigel in the back of his mind. On the other hand, he felt he should let Amblin take care of himself for a while. Besides, Lohna seemed a lot more interesting to him at the moment. For the next few hours, Nigel shared some of the stories of his home and his adventures on the way from New Selmar to Water Break. Lohna listened in rapt attention. They shared a few drinks and a few dances late into the night.
-----
Marina led Amblin back to the balcony overlooking the main throng of the party. He was drunk and having a great time. He found himself lost in Marina – her voice, her face, her eyes, her touch, her smell. She led him down another hall, handed a few coins to a doorman, and led him down yet another hall. It was dimly lit and there were dozens of other doors lining its length. She opened one with the key that the doorman had given her. Inside was a simple bed and nightstand with a basin and pitcher of water. A low burning candle provided the only illumination.
Ten minutes later, Amblin became a man. A minute after that, he was fast asleep.
-----
Rurik was found a few minutes after the thugs had fled by the inn’s owner and his son when the stable boy had gathered the courage to go fetch them. The storm had already broken and Rurik was wet and muddy when he was brought inside and laid on his side upon a table. The dagger he had wielded was still stuck in his paralysis-clenched fingers. The owner of the Priest’s Pole was distraught at the condition of the dwarf. Rurik’s eyes were open and moving, so he was clearly awake. He was unable to move or speak, though. They were careful not to aggravate the tiny crossbow bolts stuck in his back. The inn keep’s son was finally sent to fetch a doctor.
By the time a doctor was found and roused, the paralysis had begun to wear off. The first thing Rurik was able to do was open his mouth, and he took advantage by unleashing a steady stream of curses. He told the inn keep of the attack and that he suspected his friend had been hit as well. The inn keep hadn’t seen his friend, so he went up to their room to check. He returned a moment later to say that the door appeared to be blocked and there was no response to his knocking.
The doctor gave the dwarf a cursory examination and removed the tiny bolts. A greasy black residue could still be seen on the tips of the missiles. Rurik was just starting to stand when a pair of city guard arrived at the call of the inn keep’s son. Rurik, in his rage, could barely give them a full accounting. The guard seemed indifferent at best and not terribly interested in hurrying back out into the storm that was now raging in all its fury.
Giving up on finding anyone willing to help find Zalman, he crawled back upstairs. He was prepared to break his way into their room but was surprised to find that the door pushed open easily. Zalman’s staff and their treasure chest were sitting on the floor just in front of the door. No Zalman, he noted, but most of the wizard’s gear was still there and the window was open. It was a safe guess that the thugs had taken him. He quickly strapped on his armor, grabbed his axe and shield, and tromped back downstairs.
“You,” he said, pointing to the inn keep. “Bring the dog up to my room. There is a chest of coin and some other valuable possessions up there. I expect you to personally watch over them until I or one of my companions return. If any of my friends get back first, tell them what happened and that I’m out looking for Zalman.” He tossed a handful of gold on the table and left, blowing past the guards who were still standing under the eaves in front of the inn, sheltered from the howling wind, rain and lightning. He had no idea where to go or where to look, so he picked a direction and started off. Those few folk he passed on the street he questioned mercilessly for any info about men dressed in black, possibly carrying another person. No one had seen a thing.
-----
Zalman slowly regained consciousness. He had a splitting headache. Before even opening his eyes, he could determine a number of things about his situation. First, he was cold and wet. Second, he was propped up against a hard stone wall. Third, his hands were bound in metal cuffs that were chained to the wall behind him.
He cracked his eyes open a bit and found that it was quite dark. It was raining hard outside. Occasional flashes of lightning revealed a small window set high in the wall above him – a window with vertical bars. The flashes of light also showed him that the room was about ten foot square with a single door leading out. Interestingly, there was another person in the room, apparently chained up just like him. The person was small enough to be either a child or a halfling or gnome. They were slumped forward, unconscious, so it was difficult to discern for certain.
He reconstructed the events that had led to him getting here. Thugs, poisoned hand crossbows, attempted robbery. That was about it. Then a thought occurred to him – Hooty was still out there. He mentally contacted his familiar, who had been out hunting mice and rats during the whole ordeal. Telepathically, he tried to recount what had happened and a description of what little he could tell about his cell. Hooty started flying around the city, looking for buildings with bars. They both realized that such an approach would take time, so he finally sent Hooty to go try and find his companions.
The other captive started to stir. Zalman feigned sleep for a moment, keeping his eyes open just a slit to observe.
“What? Where, where am I?” a high-pitched voice croaked out. The figure lifted her head and a flash of lightning revealed to Zalman that it was most likely a halfling. “Ouch.” She groaned again. Something about that voice was triggering a strong suspicion in Zalman’s mind. He studied her face closely as another flash of lightning flickered through the dark room. It couldn’t be, he thought to himself.
“Hey,” he whispered harshly, “what’s your name?”
She groaned again, seemingly still out of it. “Oh, Kis…Kisty,” she said. Zalman’s suspicions were confirmed. “Who…who are you?”
“It’s me, Zalman,” he replied, still in a whisper, but letting his normal vocal tone come though.
“Zalman?” she said. “Where are we? What are you doing here? What happened?”
“I’m not sure where we are,” he replied. “Or, for that matter, I’m not sure how either of us got here.”
“I…I don’t remember…I don’t remember anything,” she said. “No, that’s not right, I just don’t remember anything recent. I don’t even remember where I last saw you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I’ve been drugged,” she said. “My mind feels like mud. How long ago did you last see me?”
“About four or five days,” he replied.
“Where was I? What was I doing?”
“You were in High Hill,” he said. “We had just parted ways.”
“High Hill?” she said, groaning again and shaking her head. “I don’t recall anything about that. What the hell happened to me?”
“I don’t know,” Zalman replied, “but I’m all for getting the heck out of here.” He had been going through his repertoire of spells available without his components or much flexibility in his hands. It didn’t look good, but he thought he might be able to pull off a distraction. “Are you feeling well enough to make a getaway if we get a chance?”
She groaned as she flexed her shoulders. “I think so.”
The chains behind Kisty began to jingle just a bit. “Hand on a sec,” she whispered. “I don’t think these restraints are of the best quality.” Zalman waited patiently, hoping she could indeed get herself free. It would make any escape much simpler.
Half a minute later, she announced that she was free. She slowly stood and crept over to Zalman. “Hey, Zalman,” she said as she leaned over him. “Thanks for all the help.” She whipped out a sap from behind her back and thumped him into unconsciousness. He never even had time to look shocked.
-----
By a couple hours after midnight, the party had thinned out considerably. Lohna finished her last dance with Nigel and told him that it was time for her to be going.
“Will you be in the city long?” she asked.
“Not quite sure yet,” he replied. “We have some business to attend to. I’m not sure what our plans are for after that.”
“Well, I’d love it if you could pay a visit to my home,” she said. “Your friends are welcome as well.”
“That’d be great,” Nigel said. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I would love to spend some more time with you. Where can we find you?”
“I live in Vineyard Pass, a small town just a few hours north of Water Break.”
Nigel gave a slight grimace. “I suppose we’d have to subject ourselves to that whole interrogation, registration deal again with the Cult?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “They are pretty stringent on that. Tell you what, I can write up a letter that should help ease your way though the city gates. It’ll basically say that you’re on official business for me…which won’t be completely untrue. Let me find something to write with.”
Lohna pinned down one of the servants and was led off through a side door. A few minutes later, she returned with a piece of parchment rolled up and handed it to Nigel. “That should help some.”
“Thanks,” he said and tucked it away in his shirt.
“If you can come, just ask around in the village for me and anyone can direct you to my house.”
“Right. Well, I’ll really try to make it.”
“I look forward to it,” she said as she favored him with a radiant smile. She offered him her hand, which he dutifully kissed. With that, she turned and left.
Nigel made one last sweep though the party. Amblin was still nowhere to be found, so he decided to just head back to the Priest’s Pole and hope that Amblin would find his way back eventually.
The rain had lessened somewhat, but it was still dark, wet, and muddy outside. The inn was not far away and he made it back without incident. The inn’s tavern was dark for the night, so he quietly slipped up the stairs to his room. As he passed Zalman and Rurik’s room, he noted that a light was still on. He thought about checking in on them, but decided against it. It was late and he was wet and sleepy.
He lit a candle in his own room and started to peel off his shirt when a knock came at his door. Expecting one of his friends, he was surprised when he found the inn keep’s son standing in the hall.
“Sir,” the teen said.
“Yeah?” Nigel said.
“Your friend, the dwarf, wanted to pass along a message to you.” The boy quickly recounted the events of the evening as best he knew them. By the time he finished telling Nigel that Rurik had gone out searching almost two hours ago, Nigel was already dressed in his leather armor and had bow and swords donned.
Nigel hurried out into the streets and started seeking his friend. He knew it was dangerous creeping around a city this size in the dead of night, especially alone, but he saw little alternative. He decided to start looking south, which was fortunate, as he came across Rurik just a short while later.
The dwarf was exhausted and dejected. His rage had lessened into frustration for he had found no clues as to the wizard’s whereabouts. Hooty circled around, similarly expressing his concern. They discussed the matter for a while and finally decided to wait until morning to continue the search. The city guard might be a bit more cooperative by then and they both desperately needed a bit of rest. Hopefully, Amblin would be back by then as well to help.
The two returned to the inn and found that the inn keep’s son had fallen asleep in Zalman and Rurik’s room. They left him there and crashed in Nigel’s room for a couple hours of fitful rest. Before dawn, they both gave up sleeping and went back on the prowl, pausing only long enough to tell the boy next door what to pass along to Amblin if and when he returned.
-----
Amblin was unsure what time it was when he awoke. He half expected Marina to have split, possibly even with some of his magic gear, but he was pleasantly surprised to see he was wrong on both accounts. Marina rolled over and kissed him. Amblin realized that he had a pounding headache, but managed to return the kiss. “This must be what a hangover is like,” he thought to himself. He felt like crap, but Marina took it upon herself to spend a few minutes making him feel much, much better.
When they were finally dressed, Marina gave Amblin a last peck on the cheek. “Thanks for a wonderful night,” she said. “Can I see you again tonight?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, eager at the prospect of spending another night with this lovely.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
Fighting through the haze of his hangover, he managed to recall the name of the inn. “The Priest’s Pole,” he said. “Just down the main avenue toward the keep a bit.”
“Yeah, I know the place,” she said. “I’ll come by there later this evening.”
“Okay.”
She left the room alone. Amblin finished collecting his clothing and followed a few minutes later. The room where the party had been was all but deserted. A couple servants were busy scrubbing the floors, but it was otherwise desolately quiet. He left the building and walked along the river, whistling to himself and feeling giddy.
-----
Zalman fought his way up through a pounding headache to consciousness. Again, before opening his eyes, he made an assessment of his situation: cold and wet. And something nearby stank horrendously. He cracked his eyes a bit and found that he was in an alley, draped across a trash heap. He was also quite naked. There was daylight above, so he knew it was at least morning.
He rolled over and rats scurried away at the disturbance. A piece of parchment, rolled and tied shut with a red piece of string, fell off of his chest. He grabbed it and unrolled it. It read: “Thanks for your help, Zalman. Sorry about the clothes and gear, but I’m sure you’ll understand. Don’t bother coming after your stuff or me, it’ll just end badly. Yours, M. Goodbread.”
Zalman instantly descended into the deepest, seething pool of rage in his life. Who was M. Goodbread? It was most certainly one of Kisty Goodbread’s relatives. And he recalled her mentioning that the reason she was avoiding Water Break was due to some “family issues.” As he began to recall his imprisonment the night before, he began to put some pieces together. Whoever had been impersonating Kisty had managed to fake forgetfulness, acting as if drugged. Zalman had unwittingly given Kisty’s whereabouts to them. Kisty was not Zalman’s favorite person in the world, but she had been fairly trustworthy and had done her best to lead them back to Water Break as promised – apparently at some person risk.
He got up, fighting off a massive headache and countless scratches and bruises. As he started toward the end of the alley, a side door opened and a man in a leather apron stepped out with a bucket of refuse. He gave the naked Zalman an inquisitive look.
“You okay there, boy,” the man asked.
“Not really,” Zalman said. “I seem to have been left here, bereft of my possessions.”
“Uh, tell you what,” the man said. “I think I’ve got a couple old items lying around that you could wear just to be decent and all.” He led Zalman into his leatherworking shop and dug out a few old rags of clothing – a shirt and pants. Zalman thanked him and left the shop, calling Hooty telepathically.
Hooty was ecstatic to hear his master, alive and mostly well. Zalman gave him a few landmarks he could see from the street and Hooty was able to lead Nigel and Rurik right to him in a matter of minutes. They were shocked at Zalman’s appearance, but elated to see him okay. They sensed the fury burning within him, and were careful not to push him the wrong way. As they hurried back to the inn, each recounted their tales. Nigel and Rurik agreed that it was likely one of Kisty’s family that had duped Zalman into giving up her location. Furthermore, they agreed that their friend was likely in grave danger. When they had parted ways, Kisty told them that she’d stay in High Hill for a week or so. That had been five days ago. She wasn’t necessarily going to be gone in time.
Amblin, meanwhile, had just returned to the inn. He took a peek in the tavern and found it empty. He trotted upstairs to his room and also found it empty. Nigel was gone, as was his armor and weapons, but not the rest of his gear. Odd. He went next door to check Zalman and Rurik’s room. The door was locked and he didn’t have the key so he fetched the inn keep.
The inn keep blanched slightly at the sight of Amblin. As he led the monk up the stairs, he turned and asked, “Have you spoken with any of your friends yet?”
“No,” Amblin said. “Why?”
“Well, some things happened last night.” He opened the door and the first thing that greeted Amblin was the sight of his dog’s body, bloody and damp, lying on the floor. The bottom dropped out on his giddy elation from the previous night’s events. He got the gist of what had happened from the inn keep and just started heading outside to find his friends when they arrived back at the inn.
They grabbed their cash and Zalman went on a hasty shopping spree to get new clothing and as many spell components as he could find. In spite of having some of his gear stolen, he had been fortunate to leave his really important items (spellbook and staff) behind in the room. They returned to the inn, collected the rest of their gear and horses, and paid the inn keep a bit extra for his troubles.
At the south gate, they retrieved those magic items that they had left with the city guard. The guards gave them some odd looks, partly due to their grim expressions and partly due to the brutally slain dog that Amblin was carrying with him. When the letter that Lohna had given Nigel was presented, things went much more smoothly than they had the first time they'd passed through the gate. Before Nigel put the note away, he gave it a quick read. The signature at the bottom caught his eye - Countess Lohna Goldenoak-Graeble. Countess?
A short way out of the city, they paused just long enough for Amblin to bury his dog under some trees. Then, setting a hard pace, they were off for High Hill. They had to try to get to Kisty before someone else did.
Next session: The eagerly awaited rematch and a very unexpected explanation.
-Rybaer
