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DM Brainiac's Prison of the Firebringer (Updated 12/21/05)
- Thread starter ltclnlbrain
- Start date
Terenon
First Post
Great fight
I do believe that was the only battle we had where no one suffered even a scratch.
I for one became a little too cocky and had my ass handed to me not soon after. The battles became progressively harder and harder, but we had already established that we could work well together as a team.
I do believe that was the only battle we had where no one suffered even a scratch.
I for one became a little too cocky and had my ass handed to me not soon after. The battles became progressively harder and harder, but we had already established that we could work well together as a team.ltclnlbrain
First Post
Well, now that I've spoiled all of you with updates every day, I'm afraid new chapters will be coming a bit more slowly the rest of this week. It's final exam time, and unfortunately studying takes precedence over updating the story hour. Here's a little preview of Chapter 5 to heighten your anticipation:
The adventurers explore the forbidden building, a new member joins the party, and an old member kicks the bucket. Who will it be? Who. I ask? Stay tuned to find out!
The adventurers explore the forbidden building, a new member joins the party, and an old member kicks the bucket. Who will it be? Who. I ask? Stay tuned to find out!
ltclnlbrain
First Post
Chapter 5
“Anyone want a trophy for their wall at home?” Gillian asked, nudging the minotaur’s head with her foot.
Rhys smiled at the little halfling. “Torm must have been watching over. This battle was swift and bloodless.”
Indeed, the battle at the barracks house had gone exceptionally well, and the adventurers had been able to take out or drive off all of the combatants without suffering a scratch. Now they were able to claim their reward: two large chests sat against the far wall.
Grundar finished cleaning the blood off of his rapier and sheathed it at his belt. “We need to find that woman who escaped or she'll report what happened here,” he told the others. “If she gets to the ruins before us, it won't be as easy as it was here."
Spotting a key hanging on a chain around Moskogg's neck, the elf took it off and looked at it curiously. He then headed over to the two wooden chests to them for traps. Finding some glyphs of warding, he set to work disarming them.
“I had expected one of them might flee,” said Terenon, “though I was pretty sure it would have been Moskogg.” The mage dismissed his transmutation spell, and his body returned from Osterel’s back into his normal form. “When the woman reaches the others to report of the attack, she will tell them of Osterel's treachery. That ought to convince her of my story when her former allies start to attack her. Gather up the paper work on the desk; I don’t want to waste my fly spell. I will scout out a place to camp away from here so we can rest up and regain spells.” Saying this, Terenon exited the room and set off into the air.
Outside, Osterel had landed next to Varra's blackened corpse and was kicking at it, laughing evilly. "For a Flame Priest, it seems that you couldn't handle the heat!"
Rhys moved up to the chaond, slightly disturbed by her actions. "Osterel, do you know who the lady with the minotaur was? She disappeared during the battle.”
Osterel stopped harassing the corpse and looked up at the priest, thinking. "The woman would probably have been Degradzel, Moskogg's secretary. But...she disappeared, you say? I didn't think she had any magical powers. Perhaps Moskogg gave her something that let her do that? I didn't think she would pose any sort of threat to us.”
Rhys shrugged. “Well, she didn’t exactly do anything threatening. Still, we should not underestimate her the next time we meet.”
--
Allanon started flying slowly towards the barracks when he remembered the ogress in the kitchen. He had completely forgotten about her during the battle, and he only hoped that she had not gone too far away yet. Shrouding himself with invisibility again, the mage flew to a spot where he could see inside the kitchen tent.
The ogress was on her knees behind one of the walls, digging at the ground. She held the chains of two captives in one massive hand while she dug with the other. Finally she stopped digging and pulled out a large clay pot from the earth. The pot jingled with the sound of coins. She did not notice the invisible Allanon hovering over her.
"Thulma knows when to cut her losses," the ogress said to her captives. "Let Moskogg burn for all I care, as long as I get away, right? He never appreciated my cooking anyway!"
Allanon thought through possible strategies to free the captives. He cared nothing about the ogress and doubted that she would flee to warn the cultists, but he could not abide slavery. Most of his attack spells affected a large area, so he'd have to play this one cool.
Hovering about fifty feet over the ogress, he chanted the words to a minor cantrip. Suddenly, a huge voice boomed through the night air directly in front of the ogress and her captives, sounding as if ten humans were shouting.
"Ogress, I care nothing for you or your treasure,” the ghost sound said. “Flee if you'd like. However, free your captives or you will meet the same fate as those in the barracks."
The ogress nearly fell over from fear at the sudden voice over her. She nervously looks up and saw nobody there. Her fingers drew a ward against the evil eye across her chest before dropping the chains of the captives. "I'm leaving! I don't want to hurt nobody! You'll never see me again!" she exclaimed. Scrambling to her feet, holding the pot close to her chest, the ogress fled into the woods.
Allanon nodded in satisfaction, then he floated down to the captives, dismissing his mirror images, his fire shield, and last, his invisibility. He settled to the ground between the two frightened captives and held up his hands in a placating gesture. He muttered two quick spells and the two chains slid off of the slaves. Allanon grinned.
"You two are lucky that I happened by when I did, or you'd be working under the whip for that ogre for the rest of your lives. The name is Allanon Harpell."
He extended his hand, then smiled again when neither of the captives tok it. "I have some friends in the main barracks who destroyed the Flame Lord. They'll be waiting for my report. Come with me if you'd like, we'll be freeing the other prisoners as well."
With that, he starts walking towards the barracks. Glancing about nervously, the former prisoners followed behind him.
--
Terenon returned a few minutes late and called for Osterel. “I’ve found a clearing a few hundred yards from here that looks like a suitable place to rest,” he told her. “Go there and start setting up a camp; we will be with you shortly.” Osterel nodded and set off in the direction Terenon had told her.
Grundar, Rhys, and Gillian emerged from the barracks house, their magical bags full of coins and paperwork. Allanon arrived shortly thereafter with two bedraggled prisoners in tow. “We should go free the other slaves now,” he said. The others agreed, and they headed over to the prison.
Most of the slaves were humans, dwarves, and half-orcs who were either merchants or caravan guards before they were taken. There were also a half-elf woodcutter and a halfling adventurer who wandered to close to the camp and were captured as well. Grundar took the key to the holding pen from the fallen guard nearby and unlocked the cage.
"You are now free,” Terenon told them. “Take what weapons you need and we will supply you with enough silver to get you back on your feet. I just need some information from you. One of you should be a mage captured from a caravan bound toward Silverymoon. We have been sent to rescue you specifically. Come forward so we make talk privately."
An aasimar woman stepped out of the throng of prisoners. Despite the layers of dirt and grime that covered her, Terenon still thought she looked rather attractive. She had thick silver hair and golden eyes, and her white robes were tattered and stained. Her face was set with grim determination, but her eyes were watery and seemed on the verge of tears.
"You are looking for me, I assume,” the woman said. “My name is Serrila Destare. My fellow adventurers and I were escorting a Three Shields caravan along the Surbrin Way when the bandits attacked us. Tell me: do you have news of my friends? Of Nelissa, and Bolgodd, and Jerrol? I have not seen them since I was taken." She looked at Terenon with pleading eyes.
The mage looked away from her eyes for a moment. He knew losing a fellow companion was hard, but he could not imagine what it would be like to lose three of them all at once. Terenon eyes locked back onto hers and he stepped forward, laying a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. He sighed as he prepared to break the news to her.
"No one survived except you,” he said solemnly. “I'm sorry.”
"Dead?" Serrila asked mournfully, blinking back tears. "All of them?" She tried hard to compose herself, but her voice still trembled. The tough facade she had been putting on for the past few days crumbled completely, and she was left utterly drained. The tears came freely now, leaving wet trails in the grime on her face. She seemed to melt at Terenon's touch and collapsed into his arms.
"It was supposed to be an easy job: just make sure that nothing bad happened to a few wagons. Then my whole world exploded in fire and death. My friends are dead, yet I live because of my study of magic.”
Terenon hugged the beautiful woman, trying to impart some of his own strength to her. “Your study of magic? Is that why they captured you?
Serrila nodded, sniffling. "The Acolytes of the Hidden Flame--that's what they're called. They're trying to free some being called the Firebringer from his prison. They need wizards for the ritual, though, but they have to be of different outlooks. One lawful, one neutral, one chaotic. I was the first wizard they had captured so far. They had hoped I would be lawful so that their ritual would be completed. When they found out I wasn't they...I'd rather not say what they did to me.” The aasimar shuddered at the memory.
“If it's any consolation, we killed the brigands that ambushed you,” said Terenon. “Our task is far from over, though. We intend to see that all of the Acolytes are wiped out. I will offer you a chance to in bringing them down."
Serrila shook her head sadly. "I know I am not powerful enough to take them on. Though I desire vengeance for my friends, getting myself killed will do not do any good."
"I understand, replied Terenon. “It will be very dangerous, but I do have a task you might be interested in. The man that hired you, Merik Thornridge. I believe he sent the caravan into harm’s way on purpose. He sent our group, I believe, upon learning that you would not be of use for the ritual. I was the intended target for them when we came across the ruins of the caravan. Our group has no way of keeping an eye on him while we take on the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame here. The task I ask is for you to keep track of him, stay in the shadows, and report what you have learned to me. Once the problem here is dealt with, I will locate you and we will take care of him. The task is not without danger and I will understand if you do not accept."
"Very well. I shall head to Silverymoon and keep an eye on Thornridge. I'll wait for you to come back. Please be careful."
Serrila turned to leave, but before she could, Terenon reached out and touched her slender arm. "I don't want you to worry about money right now," he told her. The mage pulled out his purse and counted out forty platinum pieces and handed them to her. “Stay safe. I will be in touch.”
--
When Terenon had finished speaking to Serrila, Grundar helped the others distribute the mundane arms and armor to the prisoners, as well as a large amount of silver for each of them, so that they would have a safe trip back to Silverymoon. As the ragged group passed out of sight in the forest, the elf gave Terenon a nudge with his elbow.
“So, you were getting awfully friendly with Serrila there. She’s cute and vulnerable: I can see what you like about her.”
Terenon blushed deeply, but this only served to make Grundar’s grin bigger. “You’re crazy. I was merely sympathizing with her pain. My mind wasn’t even on romance.”
“That’s not what it looked like from down here,” Gill piped up, laughing. “I’d say you’ve got a little crush, Terenon.”
Terenon rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous. I don’t—“
The conversation was interrupted by a cry of fury and a torrent of metallic noise coming from up the stone road. Grundar’s hand went for his rapier, and Terenon prepared to fry whatever monstrosity was heading their way. A few seconds later, a short figure suddenly appeared, rushing up along the main stone road, just now cresting the hill. The huge hammer held high overhead and the incoherent battle cries the warrior randomly spewed made his intent seem obvious...at least, until the dwarf drew into the clearing and spotred the destruction already scattered about the battle site. Confusion spreading across his face like a wave, the dwarf slowly lowered his weapon and coaxed his feet to stagger to a halt.
"Er...um…” The dwarf mumbled uncertainly for a few moments, scratching uneasily at his beard. "Don't suppos'n you lot'd be the dangerous bastards who been lurking out here? Maybe, you know," he continued gloomily, already well aware of the answer, "there was a violent battle and ye'd be the sole-surviving remnants who still need a stern thrashing?”
Terenon arched an eyebrow at the dwarf. Obviously, he had a screw loose. The mage relaxed a bit and responded, "Don't need a thrashing today. It seems that you are late for the party here; we've mopped up these cronies without much of a sweat. I do wonder, though, why you would attack a fortified position by ground, alone, and screaming to alert your position?"
"Bah!" the dwarf said dismissively, shouldering his hammer on one shoulder. "What other way would I go about it? Sneakin' in like a dirty gobbo'? Better to die gloriously in a moment than live quietly for a lifetime."
“If you say so,” said Grundar. “Who sent you here?”
“Send me?" the dwarf said incredulously, spinning towards Grundar. "Why in the name of the Abyss would someone be sendin' me? I heard of the dirt-eaters and came out here me'self. Damn shame your lot seems to have bashed 'em already."
With a snort of disgust the dwarf plopped down on the ground, loosed a stream of spittle on the ground, then began to fumble with a small bag of tobacco. "No damn luck," he muttered as he filled his pipe. "If'n it's not one adventuring group beating me to the punch 's 'nother.”
Allanon smiled as the surly dwarf finished his tirade. "Well, if you're still interested in bashing some 'dirt-eaters', there is still a large nest of them down in the ruins. We're going to finish the job tommorow and you're welcome to come with us." Allanon grins and winked at the dwarf. "You'll just have to be more quiet."
"Long as I'm out here anyway," the dwarf replied, standing up slowly, "I suppose I might as well. Better'n walkin' back with nothing to show for it." Stuffing his things back into their respective pouches, he headed towards the nearest dead body and, laying down his weapon first, slung it over his back with a grunt. "Suppose somebody better deal with these. Not quite what I expected to be doin' out here, mind you. Name's Berek." With the introductions over in his mind, Berek carried the body away, intent on finding somewhere to burn those dead not already roasted during the battle.
“Well, he seems like a nice enough guy,” said Gill.
--
The adventurers finally left the barracks house and met Osterel at the campsite. They had a light dinner of roasted game before settling down for the night. Before he went to sleep, though, Terenon pored over the paperwork that had been retrieved from Moskogg’s desk.
The papers were mostly an account of the bandit activities along the Surbrin Way, lists of the captives that had been taken and tabulations of the loot they had plundered. One letter, written in Abyssal, was rather interesting, though:
Flame Lord Moskogg,
Your efforts in the Selskar Vale are going well. We just need a lawful wizard for the ceremony to be completed; we have already secured the scrolls of dismissal and the staff of the ar-magus. The deal you worked out with Orichalxos seems to be holding up. Just as long as none of your Acolytes bothers him, I do not foresee any problems. Continue your efforts to capture the wizard and soon the Firebringer will be free and your patience rewarded.
High Conflagration Jendar Tholm
Terenon relayed the information to Grundar, who nodded. "This Orichalxos is probably in that building that Moskogg forbids his troops to enter. I wonder how he fits into all this. We should check out the building as soon as possible tomorrow. Maybe we can do a little charm on him as well to get him on our side." Grundar winked at Terenon.
Terenon acknowledged Grundar with a nod. "Anything is possible." He paused for a moment and added, "We will deal with that tomorrow, I suppose. I am going to turn in now. Make sure nothing averse happens, my friend.”
With that the mage curled up on the ground and let sleep take him over.
“Anyone want a trophy for their wall at home?” Gillian asked, nudging the minotaur’s head with her foot.
Rhys smiled at the little halfling. “Torm must have been watching over. This battle was swift and bloodless.”
Indeed, the battle at the barracks house had gone exceptionally well, and the adventurers had been able to take out or drive off all of the combatants without suffering a scratch. Now they were able to claim their reward: two large chests sat against the far wall.
Grundar finished cleaning the blood off of his rapier and sheathed it at his belt. “We need to find that woman who escaped or she'll report what happened here,” he told the others. “If she gets to the ruins before us, it won't be as easy as it was here."
Spotting a key hanging on a chain around Moskogg's neck, the elf took it off and looked at it curiously. He then headed over to the two wooden chests to them for traps. Finding some glyphs of warding, he set to work disarming them.
“I had expected one of them might flee,” said Terenon, “though I was pretty sure it would have been Moskogg.” The mage dismissed his transmutation spell, and his body returned from Osterel’s back into his normal form. “When the woman reaches the others to report of the attack, she will tell them of Osterel's treachery. That ought to convince her of my story when her former allies start to attack her. Gather up the paper work on the desk; I don’t want to waste my fly spell. I will scout out a place to camp away from here so we can rest up and regain spells.” Saying this, Terenon exited the room and set off into the air.
Outside, Osterel had landed next to Varra's blackened corpse and was kicking at it, laughing evilly. "For a Flame Priest, it seems that you couldn't handle the heat!"
Rhys moved up to the chaond, slightly disturbed by her actions. "Osterel, do you know who the lady with the minotaur was? She disappeared during the battle.”
Osterel stopped harassing the corpse and looked up at the priest, thinking. "The woman would probably have been Degradzel, Moskogg's secretary. But...she disappeared, you say? I didn't think she had any magical powers. Perhaps Moskogg gave her something that let her do that? I didn't think she would pose any sort of threat to us.”
Rhys shrugged. “Well, she didn’t exactly do anything threatening. Still, we should not underestimate her the next time we meet.”
--
Allanon started flying slowly towards the barracks when he remembered the ogress in the kitchen. He had completely forgotten about her during the battle, and he only hoped that she had not gone too far away yet. Shrouding himself with invisibility again, the mage flew to a spot where he could see inside the kitchen tent.
The ogress was on her knees behind one of the walls, digging at the ground. She held the chains of two captives in one massive hand while she dug with the other. Finally she stopped digging and pulled out a large clay pot from the earth. The pot jingled with the sound of coins. She did not notice the invisible Allanon hovering over her.
"Thulma knows when to cut her losses," the ogress said to her captives. "Let Moskogg burn for all I care, as long as I get away, right? He never appreciated my cooking anyway!"
Allanon thought through possible strategies to free the captives. He cared nothing about the ogress and doubted that she would flee to warn the cultists, but he could not abide slavery. Most of his attack spells affected a large area, so he'd have to play this one cool.
Hovering about fifty feet over the ogress, he chanted the words to a minor cantrip. Suddenly, a huge voice boomed through the night air directly in front of the ogress and her captives, sounding as if ten humans were shouting.
"Ogress, I care nothing for you or your treasure,” the ghost sound said. “Flee if you'd like. However, free your captives or you will meet the same fate as those in the barracks."
The ogress nearly fell over from fear at the sudden voice over her. She nervously looks up and saw nobody there. Her fingers drew a ward against the evil eye across her chest before dropping the chains of the captives. "I'm leaving! I don't want to hurt nobody! You'll never see me again!" she exclaimed. Scrambling to her feet, holding the pot close to her chest, the ogress fled into the woods.
Allanon nodded in satisfaction, then he floated down to the captives, dismissing his mirror images, his fire shield, and last, his invisibility. He settled to the ground between the two frightened captives and held up his hands in a placating gesture. He muttered two quick spells and the two chains slid off of the slaves. Allanon grinned.
"You two are lucky that I happened by when I did, or you'd be working under the whip for that ogre for the rest of your lives. The name is Allanon Harpell."
He extended his hand, then smiled again when neither of the captives tok it. "I have some friends in the main barracks who destroyed the Flame Lord. They'll be waiting for my report. Come with me if you'd like, we'll be freeing the other prisoners as well."
With that, he starts walking towards the barracks. Glancing about nervously, the former prisoners followed behind him.
--
Terenon returned a few minutes late and called for Osterel. “I’ve found a clearing a few hundred yards from here that looks like a suitable place to rest,” he told her. “Go there and start setting up a camp; we will be with you shortly.” Osterel nodded and set off in the direction Terenon had told her.
Grundar, Rhys, and Gillian emerged from the barracks house, their magical bags full of coins and paperwork. Allanon arrived shortly thereafter with two bedraggled prisoners in tow. “We should go free the other slaves now,” he said. The others agreed, and they headed over to the prison.
Most of the slaves were humans, dwarves, and half-orcs who were either merchants or caravan guards before they were taken. There were also a half-elf woodcutter and a halfling adventurer who wandered to close to the camp and were captured as well. Grundar took the key to the holding pen from the fallen guard nearby and unlocked the cage.
"You are now free,” Terenon told them. “Take what weapons you need and we will supply you with enough silver to get you back on your feet. I just need some information from you. One of you should be a mage captured from a caravan bound toward Silverymoon. We have been sent to rescue you specifically. Come forward so we make talk privately."
An aasimar woman stepped out of the throng of prisoners. Despite the layers of dirt and grime that covered her, Terenon still thought she looked rather attractive. She had thick silver hair and golden eyes, and her white robes were tattered and stained. Her face was set with grim determination, but her eyes were watery and seemed on the verge of tears.
"You are looking for me, I assume,” the woman said. “My name is Serrila Destare. My fellow adventurers and I were escorting a Three Shields caravan along the Surbrin Way when the bandits attacked us. Tell me: do you have news of my friends? Of Nelissa, and Bolgodd, and Jerrol? I have not seen them since I was taken." She looked at Terenon with pleading eyes.
The mage looked away from her eyes for a moment. He knew losing a fellow companion was hard, but he could not imagine what it would be like to lose three of them all at once. Terenon eyes locked back onto hers and he stepped forward, laying a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. He sighed as he prepared to break the news to her.
"No one survived except you,” he said solemnly. “I'm sorry.”
"Dead?" Serrila asked mournfully, blinking back tears. "All of them?" She tried hard to compose herself, but her voice still trembled. The tough facade she had been putting on for the past few days crumbled completely, and she was left utterly drained. The tears came freely now, leaving wet trails in the grime on her face. She seemed to melt at Terenon's touch and collapsed into his arms.
"It was supposed to be an easy job: just make sure that nothing bad happened to a few wagons. Then my whole world exploded in fire and death. My friends are dead, yet I live because of my study of magic.”
Terenon hugged the beautiful woman, trying to impart some of his own strength to her. “Your study of magic? Is that why they captured you?
Serrila nodded, sniffling. "The Acolytes of the Hidden Flame--that's what they're called. They're trying to free some being called the Firebringer from his prison. They need wizards for the ritual, though, but they have to be of different outlooks. One lawful, one neutral, one chaotic. I was the first wizard they had captured so far. They had hoped I would be lawful so that their ritual would be completed. When they found out I wasn't they...I'd rather not say what they did to me.” The aasimar shuddered at the memory.
“If it's any consolation, we killed the brigands that ambushed you,” said Terenon. “Our task is far from over, though. We intend to see that all of the Acolytes are wiped out. I will offer you a chance to in bringing them down."
Serrila shook her head sadly. "I know I am not powerful enough to take them on. Though I desire vengeance for my friends, getting myself killed will do not do any good."
"I understand, replied Terenon. “It will be very dangerous, but I do have a task you might be interested in. The man that hired you, Merik Thornridge. I believe he sent the caravan into harm’s way on purpose. He sent our group, I believe, upon learning that you would not be of use for the ritual. I was the intended target for them when we came across the ruins of the caravan. Our group has no way of keeping an eye on him while we take on the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame here. The task I ask is for you to keep track of him, stay in the shadows, and report what you have learned to me. Once the problem here is dealt with, I will locate you and we will take care of him. The task is not without danger and I will understand if you do not accept."
"Very well. I shall head to Silverymoon and keep an eye on Thornridge. I'll wait for you to come back. Please be careful."
Serrila turned to leave, but before she could, Terenon reached out and touched her slender arm. "I don't want you to worry about money right now," he told her. The mage pulled out his purse and counted out forty platinum pieces and handed them to her. “Stay safe. I will be in touch.”
--
When Terenon had finished speaking to Serrila, Grundar helped the others distribute the mundane arms and armor to the prisoners, as well as a large amount of silver for each of them, so that they would have a safe trip back to Silverymoon. As the ragged group passed out of sight in the forest, the elf gave Terenon a nudge with his elbow.
“So, you were getting awfully friendly with Serrila there. She’s cute and vulnerable: I can see what you like about her.”
Terenon blushed deeply, but this only served to make Grundar’s grin bigger. “You’re crazy. I was merely sympathizing with her pain. My mind wasn’t even on romance.”
“That’s not what it looked like from down here,” Gill piped up, laughing. “I’d say you’ve got a little crush, Terenon.”
Terenon rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous. I don’t—“
The conversation was interrupted by a cry of fury and a torrent of metallic noise coming from up the stone road. Grundar’s hand went for his rapier, and Terenon prepared to fry whatever monstrosity was heading their way. A few seconds later, a short figure suddenly appeared, rushing up along the main stone road, just now cresting the hill. The huge hammer held high overhead and the incoherent battle cries the warrior randomly spewed made his intent seem obvious...at least, until the dwarf drew into the clearing and spotred the destruction already scattered about the battle site. Confusion spreading across his face like a wave, the dwarf slowly lowered his weapon and coaxed his feet to stagger to a halt.
"Er...um…” The dwarf mumbled uncertainly for a few moments, scratching uneasily at his beard. "Don't suppos'n you lot'd be the dangerous bastards who been lurking out here? Maybe, you know," he continued gloomily, already well aware of the answer, "there was a violent battle and ye'd be the sole-surviving remnants who still need a stern thrashing?”
Terenon arched an eyebrow at the dwarf. Obviously, he had a screw loose. The mage relaxed a bit and responded, "Don't need a thrashing today. It seems that you are late for the party here; we've mopped up these cronies without much of a sweat. I do wonder, though, why you would attack a fortified position by ground, alone, and screaming to alert your position?"
"Bah!" the dwarf said dismissively, shouldering his hammer on one shoulder. "What other way would I go about it? Sneakin' in like a dirty gobbo'? Better to die gloriously in a moment than live quietly for a lifetime."
“If you say so,” said Grundar. “Who sent you here?”
“Send me?" the dwarf said incredulously, spinning towards Grundar. "Why in the name of the Abyss would someone be sendin' me? I heard of the dirt-eaters and came out here me'self. Damn shame your lot seems to have bashed 'em already."
With a snort of disgust the dwarf plopped down on the ground, loosed a stream of spittle on the ground, then began to fumble with a small bag of tobacco. "No damn luck," he muttered as he filled his pipe. "If'n it's not one adventuring group beating me to the punch 's 'nother.”
Allanon smiled as the surly dwarf finished his tirade. "Well, if you're still interested in bashing some 'dirt-eaters', there is still a large nest of them down in the ruins. We're going to finish the job tommorow and you're welcome to come with us." Allanon grins and winked at the dwarf. "You'll just have to be more quiet."
"Long as I'm out here anyway," the dwarf replied, standing up slowly, "I suppose I might as well. Better'n walkin' back with nothing to show for it." Stuffing his things back into their respective pouches, he headed towards the nearest dead body and, laying down his weapon first, slung it over his back with a grunt. "Suppose somebody better deal with these. Not quite what I expected to be doin' out here, mind you. Name's Berek." With the introductions over in his mind, Berek carried the body away, intent on finding somewhere to burn those dead not already roasted during the battle.
“Well, he seems like a nice enough guy,” said Gill.
--
The adventurers finally left the barracks house and met Osterel at the campsite. They had a light dinner of roasted game before settling down for the night. Before he went to sleep, though, Terenon pored over the paperwork that had been retrieved from Moskogg’s desk.
The papers were mostly an account of the bandit activities along the Surbrin Way, lists of the captives that had been taken and tabulations of the loot they had plundered. One letter, written in Abyssal, was rather interesting, though:
Flame Lord Moskogg,
Your efforts in the Selskar Vale are going well. We just need a lawful wizard for the ceremony to be completed; we have already secured the scrolls of dismissal and the staff of the ar-magus. The deal you worked out with Orichalxos seems to be holding up. Just as long as none of your Acolytes bothers him, I do not foresee any problems. Continue your efforts to capture the wizard and soon the Firebringer will be free and your patience rewarded.
High Conflagration Jendar Tholm
Terenon relayed the information to Grundar, who nodded. "This Orichalxos is probably in that building that Moskogg forbids his troops to enter. I wonder how he fits into all this. We should check out the building as soon as possible tomorrow. Maybe we can do a little charm on him as well to get him on our side." Grundar winked at Terenon.
Terenon acknowledged Grundar with a nod. "Anything is possible." He paused for a moment and added, "We will deal with that tomorrow, I suppose. I am going to turn in now. Make sure nothing averse happens, my friend.”
With that the mage curled up on the ground and let sleep take him over.
ltclnlbrain
First Post
OK, so I realize I didn't get to the building or the death yet. I didn't want to make this chapter too long, though, and this seemed like a natural stopping-off point. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer to see who bites the big one. Chapter 6 will be up either tonight or tomorrow.
Oh, and if any of you readers out there are interested in leaving comments on my work so far, feel free.
Oh, and if any of you readers out there are interested in leaving comments on my work so far, feel free.
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ltclnlbrain
First Post
Chapter 6
The night passed without incident. Berek founds a relatively open area where he could dispose of the bodies without risking setting fire to the forest. With that grisly work out of the way, he joined the others in rest. Grundar arose from his reverie about four hours before the others; he watched the sun rise over the treetops while waiting for the others to awaken.
After a brisk breakfast, the adventurers retraced their steps about half a mile and took the road they bypassed the night before. Within a bend of the stream ahead rose a low hill, crowned by the ruins of a domed building. Most of the dome had collapsed, leaving a jagged roofline above thick octagonal walls. The structure was made of polished white stone that was now covered with a thick patina of dirt and climbing ivy. Ancient designs of moons and stars lined the upper portions of the outer walls, interspersed with narrow, slitlike windows. A pair of massive green bronze doors marked the main entrance.
“I would assume the entry way is trapped,” said Terenon, “but I have no skill in finding such things. I believe the key you took should work for the door."
Grundar walked up to the bronze doors and began checking out the area for traps, being careful to take his time. Once he was satisfied that there were no traps, he put in the key and tried to unlock the door. Unfortunately, the key didn’t fit. “Looks like it goes somewhere else,” he said, shrugging. He pushed on the door a bit, but it didn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”
The group studied the door for a bit, trying to figure out how to get in. Getting fed up with waiting, Allanon stepped forward and waved for the others to get behind him. Grabbing at the raw essence of magic in the Vale, he formed it into a spell and gestured at the door commanding it to open.
Nothing happened.
Well, not exactly nothing. Allanon could feel his whole body getting smaller in size. The whole world seemed to grow until he finally stabilized at a height no taller than Gill. He looked around in surprise at the results of the surge, and the rest of the party burst out in laughter. About a minute later, he grew back to his normal size.
Terenon looked at the wild mage with amusement. "I have the spell knock. Obviously you are in a hurry." The mage let the arcane syllables slip from his mouth, and the rusty doors squealed in protest as they swung open.
A magnificent dome once crowned the building, but it had collapsed long ago, leaving the interior open to the sky. Heaps of rubble lay here and there. In the center of the building, a large platform rose 10 feet above the floor, supported by thick columns. Steep, narrow stairs led from the floor up to the platform, and slender balconies accessible via other flights of stairs ran along the north and south walls. Some sort of pedestal or mount stood atop the platform, and a small bronze door was located beneath the platform
The adventurers passed through the door and looked around, but before they had time to see much, two arrows flew at them from on top of the platform! One bounced off of Allanon's mage armor, but the other sunk deep into Terenon's shoulder. Now that they had attacked, the group could see two gargoyles clad in studded leather armor and wielding shortbows at the lip of the platform, cloaked in shadows. From beside the door, a third gargoyle charged at Osterel. It rammed into her with its horns and gored a large hunk out of her side, causing her to scream in pain. Its horns dripping Osterel's blood (which changed colors at random like her eyes), the gargoyles hissed menacingly.
Before anybody could react, the gargoyles on the platform sent a barrage of arrows sailing at the mages. One arrow sunk deep into Allanon's chest, while the second was barely deflected by the mage armor. Unfortunately, the two arrows aimed at Terenon hit their mark, causing the wizard to collapse to the ground, dying. The third gargoyle tore at Osterel with its claws. The first claw opens up a bloody streak across the chaond's chest. She staggered to her knees, but not for long; the second claw tore across her throat, opening it up and causing her blood to spray all over the creature and the floor. Osterel collapsed in a quickly growing pool of blood, lying quite still and lifeless.
“Rhys! Terenon is down!” shouted Grundar. The spry elf drew his rapier and tumbled around Osterel’s killer, opening a small puncture wound in its chest with his blade.
"Fat lot of good being quiet did us!" Berek shouted as he rushed towards the platform, boots clomping loudly on the floor. "'Least if I had blown through the door we mighta had the element of surprise for a moment or two!" He scarcely missed a beat as he reached the stairs, leaping upward on them two at a time. Drawing near the gargoyles, his teeth snapped together with a loud clack, foam bubbled at his lips, and his shoulder lowered as he lines his body up for a bull rush. Shouting like a madman, the dwarf charged into the one on the left, plummeting down with him the 20 feet to the ground, landing hard and throwing chunks of stone across the room.
As Rhys moved over to tend Terenon’s wounds with Torm’s holy energy, Gillian raced up the stairs as well. Instead of leaping off the platform like the dwarf did, she took a few moments to get her bearings. Heaps of rubble cluttered the platform's surface. At its center stood the wreckage of a great device--a machine composed of lenses and gears aimed blindly toward the sky. Three foul nests of uncured hides and gore-spattered clothing lay atop the platform as well. Gill then lashed out at the last gargoyle with her spiked chain, scoring a hit.
The gargoyle on the ground lashed out at Grundar with its claws, teeth, and horns, but he was able dodge or parry each of the attacks. Grundar responded with a flurry of quick strikes that created several more bleeding wounds on the creature’s body.
"I may have been too late to prevent ye from shooting your blasted pin-pricks," Berek howled at his foe as he rolled to his feet, gobs of spittle flying with every word, "but I'll be damned if you'll leave this place in one piece!" The dwarf looked mad before—now he looked truly insane. Blood dribbled down his chin from where he'd begun to gnaw on his lip in anticipation, while his fingers flexed and twitched randomly on his hammer hilt. His foe scrambled to its feet and, flapping its stony wings took to the air. Berek delivered a massive parting shot with his hammer, but the creature survived and flapped across the room.
The third gargoyle spread its wings and lifted off the platform; Gill took a parting swipe at it but the chain passed harmlessly beneath. The creature flew backward and fired its bow at her, but she easily deflects the arrow out of the way.
As Allanon and Rhys concentrated on defenses against the gargoyles, Terenon regained consciousness and rose shakily to his feet. He thought he had been dead, and that scared him. Cursing the gargoyles’ ancestors, the mage counterattacked with a blast of chain lightning. Unfortunately, the nimble creatures were able to completely evade the deadly magic.
The two gargoyles in the air flapedp about the room, firing their bows at Gill. She deflected one of the arrows but was struck in the shoulder by the second. Again the third gargoyle lashed out at Grundar, and again he avoided the attacks.
Seeing that the gargoyles were giving as well as they were taking, Rhys closed his eyes briefly before chanting, "Torm's might is known to all, for evil is his foe. No matter the time or place or form it takes, no barrier can stop it. Guide our arms and strengthen our hearts while the true words of the one true deity cause pain to our enemies’ ears and fill their minds with fear and dread." The magic of the spell flowed through his allies and enemies.
Berek stepped up and engaged the landbound gargoyle in melee—though, strangely enough, he seemed to be splitting his time between swinging his weapon back and forth and freeing a hand to...well...punch himself in the side of the head. Whatever the reason Berek had for doing it, it certainly didn’t slow him down. He kept on swinging his maul until the gargoyle was a bloody pulp on the ground, then swung some more for good measure.
Deciding they could use some aerial support, Allanon began to cast a spell to summon a celestial griffon. As he worked his magic, Terenon worked some of his own and telekinetically tore of the gargoyles’ bows out of its hands.
Seeing Allanon beginning to summon something, the gargoyle that still had its bow fired at Allanon, scoring a hit in his shoulder. Luckily, the sorcerer was able to retain concentration on the spell. The second gargoyle charged down at Rhys and lashed out with a claw, but he managed to knock it aside with his staff.
Grundar moved to flank the gargoyle in front of Rhys and scored a deep hit in its back, eliciting a cry of pain and a spray of blood. Gill also lashed it several times with her spiked chain. Overwhelmed by the vicious assault, the creature collapsed.
Allanon utters the last syllables to his spell, and a large griffon with silver wings appeared and tore at the last remaining gargoyle, dragging it out of the air and causing both of them to plummet to the ground. Allanon then drew upon the wild magic of the Realms and the gargoyle's form began to change, transforming into a small, cuddly bunny rabbit. The griffon, glad to see a reasonably-sized snack, proceeded to tear the rabbit apart.
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"That was so stupid of me,” muttered Terenon.
Once the griffon had finished its meal, Allanon had moved over and patted its mane. He had thanked it for its help before dismissing it. Rhys had then tended to the mages’ wounds as Grundar collected the gargoyles’ valuables.
“I can't believe I didn't prepare better,” Terenon continued. “The spells I save will be of no use when I'm dead." He looked to Rhys and smiled wanly. "You saved my life. Thank you. I owe you a debt I intend to repay."
Rhys returned the smile. “Terenon, I am grateful for your thanks, but it is nothing that any one of us would have done for another given the opportunity. We're all in this together. I'm sure at some point you'll return the favor.”
Berek snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. “Enough o’ this mushy stuff, let’s get on with it.” The dwarf paused for a long moment after speaking, clearly choosing his next words carefully. "Not that I really care, but I don't suppose any of you would be plannin' on buryin' or coverin' or somethin' your friend over there? I mean, she was yer friend, wasn't she?" Berek turned pointedly towards Osterel’s body as he said this, rubbing uneasily at the back of his neck.
Terenon turned to Berek with an unsettling smile. "She was more of a pet. She was one of those who we are fighting. I twisted her mind to serve us. She deserves to rot where she dropped."
Gill and Rhys shared a concerned look, but said nothing. The halfling then coughed a bit to change the subject. “Hate to say it, but I have to agree with the dwarf’s first sentiment. That fight was pretty loud, and if that Orichalxos or anybody else is around, they already know we’re coming.”
“Well then, madame,” said Grundar, gesturing toward the now-open door in the base of the platform, “ladies first.”
Beyond a door was a spiral staircase that descended about 20 feet, eventually opening into a small, subterranean chamber about 20 feet across. A passage to the west led to a low, vaulted room filled with crates, sacks, and casks. To the east, a larger passage led to a massive set of bronze double doors. Along the north wall was a small, rusty door made of iron plate.
After a cursory search of the supplies that turned up nothing interesting, the party opened the large double doors. The doors opened into a large but cluttered room, perhaps 50 feet long and 40 feet wide. In the center of the chamber stood a great machine made of tarnished brass and rusted iron. It consisted of several globes suspended from long arms that revolved slowly around the center of the device. Along the walls were crude workbenches and shelves piled high with musty old tomes and parchments covered with arcane scrawlings. The air smelled of some strange incense.
Grundar didn’t like the look of this. There had to be something more here. Concentrating hard, he spotted it; a disturbance in the air behind the machine. A large creature was lurking invisible here, waiting for an excuse to attack. Grundar leaned over to his comrades and whispered, “Somebody’s here.”
“We should try to communicate first,” replied Terenon. Then, stepping forward, he called out, “We mean you no harm. We are not here to fight you. We only wish to talk.”
The creature dismissed its invisibility spell, making it visible to all in the room. And what a sight it was.
It floated before them, a bulbous body with a huge, empty eye socket in the center of its face and a large maw filled with daggerlike teeth. Small eyes, attached to ten wriggling stalks, sprouted from the top of the orblike body. A beholder, but one that had seemingly gouged out its own central eye.
“Oh…crap,” whispered Allanon.
The night passed without incident. Berek founds a relatively open area where he could dispose of the bodies without risking setting fire to the forest. With that grisly work out of the way, he joined the others in rest. Grundar arose from his reverie about four hours before the others; he watched the sun rise over the treetops while waiting for the others to awaken.
After a brisk breakfast, the adventurers retraced their steps about half a mile and took the road they bypassed the night before. Within a bend of the stream ahead rose a low hill, crowned by the ruins of a domed building. Most of the dome had collapsed, leaving a jagged roofline above thick octagonal walls. The structure was made of polished white stone that was now covered with a thick patina of dirt and climbing ivy. Ancient designs of moons and stars lined the upper portions of the outer walls, interspersed with narrow, slitlike windows. A pair of massive green bronze doors marked the main entrance.
“I would assume the entry way is trapped,” said Terenon, “but I have no skill in finding such things. I believe the key you took should work for the door."
Grundar walked up to the bronze doors and began checking out the area for traps, being careful to take his time. Once he was satisfied that there were no traps, he put in the key and tried to unlock the door. Unfortunately, the key didn’t fit. “Looks like it goes somewhere else,” he said, shrugging. He pushed on the door a bit, but it didn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”
The group studied the door for a bit, trying to figure out how to get in. Getting fed up with waiting, Allanon stepped forward and waved for the others to get behind him. Grabbing at the raw essence of magic in the Vale, he formed it into a spell and gestured at the door commanding it to open.
Nothing happened.
Well, not exactly nothing. Allanon could feel his whole body getting smaller in size. The whole world seemed to grow until he finally stabilized at a height no taller than Gill. He looked around in surprise at the results of the surge, and the rest of the party burst out in laughter. About a minute later, he grew back to his normal size.
Terenon looked at the wild mage with amusement. "I have the spell knock. Obviously you are in a hurry." The mage let the arcane syllables slip from his mouth, and the rusty doors squealed in protest as they swung open.
A magnificent dome once crowned the building, but it had collapsed long ago, leaving the interior open to the sky. Heaps of rubble lay here and there. In the center of the building, a large platform rose 10 feet above the floor, supported by thick columns. Steep, narrow stairs led from the floor up to the platform, and slender balconies accessible via other flights of stairs ran along the north and south walls. Some sort of pedestal or mount stood atop the platform, and a small bronze door was located beneath the platform
The adventurers passed through the door and looked around, but before they had time to see much, two arrows flew at them from on top of the platform! One bounced off of Allanon's mage armor, but the other sunk deep into Terenon's shoulder. Now that they had attacked, the group could see two gargoyles clad in studded leather armor and wielding shortbows at the lip of the platform, cloaked in shadows. From beside the door, a third gargoyle charged at Osterel. It rammed into her with its horns and gored a large hunk out of her side, causing her to scream in pain. Its horns dripping Osterel's blood (which changed colors at random like her eyes), the gargoyles hissed menacingly.
Before anybody could react, the gargoyles on the platform sent a barrage of arrows sailing at the mages. One arrow sunk deep into Allanon's chest, while the second was barely deflected by the mage armor. Unfortunately, the two arrows aimed at Terenon hit their mark, causing the wizard to collapse to the ground, dying. The third gargoyle tore at Osterel with its claws. The first claw opens up a bloody streak across the chaond's chest. She staggered to her knees, but not for long; the second claw tore across her throat, opening it up and causing her blood to spray all over the creature and the floor. Osterel collapsed in a quickly growing pool of blood, lying quite still and lifeless.
“Rhys! Terenon is down!” shouted Grundar. The spry elf drew his rapier and tumbled around Osterel’s killer, opening a small puncture wound in its chest with his blade.
"Fat lot of good being quiet did us!" Berek shouted as he rushed towards the platform, boots clomping loudly on the floor. "'Least if I had blown through the door we mighta had the element of surprise for a moment or two!" He scarcely missed a beat as he reached the stairs, leaping upward on them two at a time. Drawing near the gargoyles, his teeth snapped together with a loud clack, foam bubbled at his lips, and his shoulder lowered as he lines his body up for a bull rush. Shouting like a madman, the dwarf charged into the one on the left, plummeting down with him the 20 feet to the ground, landing hard and throwing chunks of stone across the room.
As Rhys moved over to tend Terenon’s wounds with Torm’s holy energy, Gillian raced up the stairs as well. Instead of leaping off the platform like the dwarf did, she took a few moments to get her bearings. Heaps of rubble cluttered the platform's surface. At its center stood the wreckage of a great device--a machine composed of lenses and gears aimed blindly toward the sky. Three foul nests of uncured hides and gore-spattered clothing lay atop the platform as well. Gill then lashed out at the last gargoyle with her spiked chain, scoring a hit.
The gargoyle on the ground lashed out at Grundar with its claws, teeth, and horns, but he was able dodge or parry each of the attacks. Grundar responded with a flurry of quick strikes that created several more bleeding wounds on the creature’s body.
"I may have been too late to prevent ye from shooting your blasted pin-pricks," Berek howled at his foe as he rolled to his feet, gobs of spittle flying with every word, "but I'll be damned if you'll leave this place in one piece!" The dwarf looked mad before—now he looked truly insane. Blood dribbled down his chin from where he'd begun to gnaw on his lip in anticipation, while his fingers flexed and twitched randomly on his hammer hilt. His foe scrambled to its feet and, flapping its stony wings took to the air. Berek delivered a massive parting shot with his hammer, but the creature survived and flapped across the room.
The third gargoyle spread its wings and lifted off the platform; Gill took a parting swipe at it but the chain passed harmlessly beneath. The creature flew backward and fired its bow at her, but she easily deflects the arrow out of the way.
As Allanon and Rhys concentrated on defenses against the gargoyles, Terenon regained consciousness and rose shakily to his feet. He thought he had been dead, and that scared him. Cursing the gargoyles’ ancestors, the mage counterattacked with a blast of chain lightning. Unfortunately, the nimble creatures were able to completely evade the deadly magic.
The two gargoyles in the air flapedp about the room, firing their bows at Gill. She deflected one of the arrows but was struck in the shoulder by the second. Again the third gargoyle lashed out at Grundar, and again he avoided the attacks.
Seeing that the gargoyles were giving as well as they were taking, Rhys closed his eyes briefly before chanting, "Torm's might is known to all, for evil is his foe. No matter the time or place or form it takes, no barrier can stop it. Guide our arms and strengthen our hearts while the true words of the one true deity cause pain to our enemies’ ears and fill their minds with fear and dread." The magic of the spell flowed through his allies and enemies.
Berek stepped up and engaged the landbound gargoyle in melee—though, strangely enough, he seemed to be splitting his time between swinging his weapon back and forth and freeing a hand to...well...punch himself in the side of the head. Whatever the reason Berek had for doing it, it certainly didn’t slow him down. He kept on swinging his maul until the gargoyle was a bloody pulp on the ground, then swung some more for good measure.
Deciding they could use some aerial support, Allanon began to cast a spell to summon a celestial griffon. As he worked his magic, Terenon worked some of his own and telekinetically tore of the gargoyles’ bows out of its hands.
Seeing Allanon beginning to summon something, the gargoyle that still had its bow fired at Allanon, scoring a hit in his shoulder. Luckily, the sorcerer was able to retain concentration on the spell. The second gargoyle charged down at Rhys and lashed out with a claw, but he managed to knock it aside with his staff.
Grundar moved to flank the gargoyle in front of Rhys and scored a deep hit in its back, eliciting a cry of pain and a spray of blood. Gill also lashed it several times with her spiked chain. Overwhelmed by the vicious assault, the creature collapsed.
Allanon utters the last syllables to his spell, and a large griffon with silver wings appeared and tore at the last remaining gargoyle, dragging it out of the air and causing both of them to plummet to the ground. Allanon then drew upon the wild magic of the Realms and the gargoyle's form began to change, transforming into a small, cuddly bunny rabbit. The griffon, glad to see a reasonably-sized snack, proceeded to tear the rabbit apart.
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"That was so stupid of me,” muttered Terenon.
Once the griffon had finished its meal, Allanon had moved over and patted its mane. He had thanked it for its help before dismissing it. Rhys had then tended to the mages’ wounds as Grundar collected the gargoyles’ valuables.
“I can't believe I didn't prepare better,” Terenon continued. “The spells I save will be of no use when I'm dead." He looked to Rhys and smiled wanly. "You saved my life. Thank you. I owe you a debt I intend to repay."
Rhys returned the smile. “Terenon, I am grateful for your thanks, but it is nothing that any one of us would have done for another given the opportunity. We're all in this together. I'm sure at some point you'll return the favor.”
Berek snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. “Enough o’ this mushy stuff, let’s get on with it.” The dwarf paused for a long moment after speaking, clearly choosing his next words carefully. "Not that I really care, but I don't suppose any of you would be plannin' on buryin' or coverin' or somethin' your friend over there? I mean, she was yer friend, wasn't she?" Berek turned pointedly towards Osterel’s body as he said this, rubbing uneasily at the back of his neck.
Terenon turned to Berek with an unsettling smile. "She was more of a pet. She was one of those who we are fighting. I twisted her mind to serve us. She deserves to rot where she dropped."
Gill and Rhys shared a concerned look, but said nothing. The halfling then coughed a bit to change the subject. “Hate to say it, but I have to agree with the dwarf’s first sentiment. That fight was pretty loud, and if that Orichalxos or anybody else is around, they already know we’re coming.”
“Well then, madame,” said Grundar, gesturing toward the now-open door in the base of the platform, “ladies first.”
Beyond a door was a spiral staircase that descended about 20 feet, eventually opening into a small, subterranean chamber about 20 feet across. A passage to the west led to a low, vaulted room filled with crates, sacks, and casks. To the east, a larger passage led to a massive set of bronze double doors. Along the north wall was a small, rusty door made of iron plate.
After a cursory search of the supplies that turned up nothing interesting, the party opened the large double doors. The doors opened into a large but cluttered room, perhaps 50 feet long and 40 feet wide. In the center of the chamber stood a great machine made of tarnished brass and rusted iron. It consisted of several globes suspended from long arms that revolved slowly around the center of the device. Along the walls were crude workbenches and shelves piled high with musty old tomes and parchments covered with arcane scrawlings. The air smelled of some strange incense.
Grundar didn’t like the look of this. There had to be something more here. Concentrating hard, he spotted it; a disturbance in the air behind the machine. A large creature was lurking invisible here, waiting for an excuse to attack. Grundar leaned over to his comrades and whispered, “Somebody’s here.”
“We should try to communicate first,” replied Terenon. Then, stepping forward, he called out, “We mean you no harm. We are not here to fight you. We only wish to talk.”
The creature dismissed its invisibility spell, making it visible to all in the room. And what a sight it was.
It floated before them, a bulbous body with a huge, empty eye socket in the center of its face and a large maw filled with daggerlike teeth. Small eyes, attached to ten wriggling stalks, sprouted from the top of the orblike body. A beholder, but one that had seemingly gouged out its own central eye.
“Oh…crap,” whispered Allanon.
Chaostream
First Post
Oh crap indeed. Hehe.
I have to say I'm very impressed with the story so far. All of the characters are well on their way to developing distinct and interesting personalities and the pace is great. I love the new character, Berek, already, and the fact that there's a wild mage in the party makes me want to fanboy everywhere. Keep up the good work.
I have to say I'm very impressed with the story so far. All of the characters are well on their way to developing distinct and interesting personalities and the pace is great. I love the new character, Berek, already, and the fact that there's a wild mage in the party makes me want to fanboy everywhere. Keep up the good work.
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ltclnlbrain
First Post
Woo hoo, my first official non-player commentator (NPC). Thanks for the support.
Expect much more character development, plot twists, and fun wild surges as the story continues. Chapter 7 will hopefully be up some time in the next few days.
Expect much more character development, plot twists, and fun wild surges as the story continues. Chapter 7 will hopefully be up some time in the next few days.
ltclnlbrain
First Post
Chapter 7
The beholder gave the party an appraising look with its eyestalks before responding.
"So, you are not with the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame, then? Intriguing. I am Orichalxos. If you have not come to destroy me, then why are you here?"
The adventurers exchanged nervous glances, then Allanon stepped forward. "The Hidden Flame has been ambushing parties traveling along the Surbrin Way and taking many prisoners. We were sent to investigate and discovered that this cult was behind the disappearances. In our earliest battle, we managed to gain the trust of one of the cultists, who mentioned this forbidden observatory. Forbidden from anyone by order of the late Flame Lord. So we investigated, and here we are; I am known as Allanon Harpell."
"And I am Grundar,” said the elf, being careful not to look directly in any of the floating aberration’s eyes. He had heard stories about the magical powers beholders had, and he did not want to be on the receiving end of any of them. “As our friend Allanon said, we are not from the cult. We had come upon the Flame Lord Moskogg's papers mentioning your deal with him. Just what exactly is this deal you had with Moskogg?"
"The deal was quite simple,” said Orichalxos. “I have lived in this vale for many years, studying the research the Selskaryn conducted before they were wiped out. The Acolytes moved in several months ago and agreed to leave me alone if I returned the favor. They plan to free Bazim-Gorag, however, which would have serious repercussions across the Realms should they succeed. Not to mention that I want the Vale back to myself. Therefore, I am willing to deal with you. I will pay you well if you can drive the adherents of the Hidden Flame from the Dungeon of the Ruins. I can provide you with the history of the area, which may prove helpful to you later on."
Terenon overcame his nervousness and stepped closer to the beholder and smiled broadly. "Well it seems no one wants these Acolytes of the Hidden Flame to succeed. Not even you, Orichalxos. My name is Terenon. We both have the same goal. Your payment only sweetens the deal. Provide us with all the knowledge you have on the Hidden Flame, the Dungeon of the Ruins and the history of this area, and I will guarantee the elimination of the Acolytes.”
The mage turned to look at the machine behind the beholder and the piles of books and papers. He glanced back at Orichalxos. "I too have a great deal of interest in the arcane. What is this machine, and who were the Selskaryn?"
"This machine is an orrery," said Orichalxos. "An apparatus which illustrates, by the revolution of balls moved by wheelwork, the relative size, periodic motions, positions, and orbits, of this world Toril and the other heavenly bodies that travel through the heavens. And as for who the Selskaryn were, that is a longer tale, as detailed in The Fall of the Tower of the Star by the one of the last Selskar wizards, Vandar Nightshade."
"In the year of Oaths Forsaken, a cabal of wizards cast out from Netheril formed an arcane college in the pristine wilderness of the ancient North. Known as the Selskar Order, the cabal took over a ruined dwarven stronghold named Andalbruin in the foothills of the Frost Hills. The Netherese built a village atop the ruins, centered on a school of wizardry, which they called Selskartur, the Tower of the Star. The Selskaryn claimed to be neutral in the affairs of the world, but in truth they were ambitious and haughty."
"In time, the Selskar Order might have become yet another wizard-ruled tyranny in western Faerun and gone the way of Athalantar or Illusk. But fate intervened in the form of Harska Thaug, the Render of Thrones--a troll warlord who had united the savage humanoids of the North into a bloodthirsty raiding horde. In the Year of Rumbling Earth, Harska Thaug led his horde south from the Spine of the World against the elves of Rilithar, a remnant of ancient Illefarn that lay on the eastern slopes of the Sword Mountains. The town of Andalbruin stood directly in the troll lord's path."
"The Ar-magus Ilviroon, then leader of the Selskar Order, rallied the school to defend Andalbruin. But although the massed Selskaryn inflicted tremendous damage on Harska Thaug's horde, the shamans and warpriests serving the Render of Thrones blunted many of the magical assaults unleashed from the Tower of the Star. At last, Ilviroon decided to use his mightiest weapon to drive Harska Thaug from the vale. The ar-magus cast a gate spell and summoned the slaad lord Bazim-Gorag, also called the Firebringer, and made a deal with him to burn Harska Thaug's army."
"Bazim-Gorag did as the Selskaryn desired, wreaking great slaughter among the trolls and orcs. Harska Thaug and the survivors of his horde fled back to the Spine of the World. But the price the slaad lord demanded for his labor was high, and when the Selskaryn hesitated to pay, he turned on the Tower of the Star, scouring the citadel and slaughtering several of the mages. Angered by the slaad lord's rebellion, Ilviroon resolved to break Bazim-Gorag to his will. The ar-magus enticed the slaad into a devious trap, then worked a mighty binding spell in cooperation with a few other survivors to imprison him in the deep vaults of the tower. The ar-magus created a relatively simple set of conditions, which he named the rite of unbinding, for the slaad's freedom. But he did not share the details of this ritual with anyone, fearing that an ambitious underling might turn Bazim-Gorag against him."
"Decimated by the onslaught of the trolls and the battle with the slaad lord, the Selskaryn struggled to rebuild. But the following winter, Harska Thaug returned with an even greater horde. The Ar-Magus Ilviroon fell in battle before he could coerce Bazim-Gorag to aid the cabal against the trolls and orcs a second time. The Tower of the Star fell, and the Selskar Order was no more. Harska Thaug's horde continued south, overrunning the Fair Folk of Rilithlar two years later."
The beholder grimaced as he completed his tale. "Now, the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame work to free Bazim-Gorag from his prison beneath the ruins of the Tower of the Star, what is now known simply as the Dungeon of the Ruins."
Terenon shifted uncomfortably as he digested the beholder’s history listen. "If the ar-magus set the ritual of unbinding himself and told no one, how did the Acolytes find it?"
"I am uncertain how the Acolytes managed to discover the rite of unbinding,” replied Orichalxos. “There are powerful magicks that can reveal things of that nature, though. Perhaps one of the cultists cast a legend lore spell?"
"Well, I see no reason to threaten you or your work here,” said Terenon. “You did mention a reward. What specifically did you have in mind? Once we are done dealing with the slaad lovers, I'm sure we will return to collect it."
The beholder smiled. "I'm sure we can work some sort of suitable price for your aid in this matter. Say, a few thousand gold pieces worth of cash and equipment for each of you? We can discuss the exact amount once the deed is done."
"Sounds good to me,” said Grundar, making some calculations in his head as to how large their reward would be. “We shall be back once we rid the vale of this cult."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't expect we're to actually trust that great big ball of lies, eh?" Berek growled, thrusting a thumb back towards the observatory. "I mean, why not kill it, then do what he wants? If it even turns out to be everything he claims?" Snorting, the dwarf cracked his knuckles uneasily. "Don't trust anything that speaks that well and that much. Ain't the way things're supposed to work.”
“That creature is pure evil,” said Gillian softly. “I took the liberty of reading his aura while you were talking. Nothing but bad news.”
Terenon turned to the gruff dwarf and arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think anybody here trusts that floating abomination? Our goal is the same now as before we met that thing...to destroy the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame. Just because it wants us to do what we were already going to do, does not mean we're working for it. I fully believe it will try and get out of rewarding us. However, I am not comfortable about killing anything that has done nothing wrong that I am aware of."
"Bah!" Berek said, rolling his eyes. "It's a beholder which lives amongst evil creatures and somehow has enough wealth to offer us a reward. Bettin' odds lie with it bein' a bastard." He shrugged his shoulders as he spoke again. "It’s your show though, as I damn well barely know what's going on here. If you want me to wait until after he pays us--assuming he don't just try to kill us or shirk us--then I suppose I could always just beat his eyeballs'n then. Course, if'n you’re just doin' this for the reward, I don't see why we can't just kill 'em now and take the whole kettle of fish..."
"I do sympathize with you and Gillian,” said Rhys, “but I do see a greater good in stopping the slaad lord. There will be plenty of bloodshed in our future, and if we can avoid more of it by working with the beholder, then I have to agree with Terenon."
“Well then, before we head off to the ruins,” said Terenon, “we should probably check in with that woman who escaped from the barracks house. Degradzel, Osterel said her name was. If you all will wait a few minutes, I will attempt to scry on her.”
The mage pulled out a mirror from his pack and set it up against the wall of the observatory. He then cast his spell and was rewarded as an image began to form. In the mirror, Terenon could see Degradzel and her immediate surroundings. Degradzel was seated in a large chair across from a wooden table. Seated at the table, a man with a shaven head wearing robes of iridescent green examined several documents. A sheathed longsword laid across the table within easy reach. Degradzel was helping the man go over the documents; both were all but silent.
Terenon looked deeper into the looking glass, trying to read the papers. The documents that Terenon could see seemed to be notes about troop movements and attack plans once the Firebringer was freed from his prison. A few also appeared to be propositions for alliance and threats of destruction to those who might defy the Firebringer's will.
Terenon dismissed the spell and turned his attention to the group. "From what I've seen, it suggests that this scheme to release the slaadi is backed by a kingdom. It's not just a bunch of crazed cultists. Very interesting…very interesting indeed."
"Don't change a lot. Well, maybe a bit more killin' in the end, I suppose," Berek grunted, clearly less than shocked at this new information.
“Well,” said Grundar, “at any rate, we better make a move soon and head toward the ruins. We don’t want to give the Acolytes longer to prepare than we already have.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Allanon. “Let’s head out.”
The beholder gave the party an appraising look with its eyestalks before responding.
"So, you are not with the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame, then? Intriguing. I am Orichalxos. If you have not come to destroy me, then why are you here?"
The adventurers exchanged nervous glances, then Allanon stepped forward. "The Hidden Flame has been ambushing parties traveling along the Surbrin Way and taking many prisoners. We were sent to investigate and discovered that this cult was behind the disappearances. In our earliest battle, we managed to gain the trust of one of the cultists, who mentioned this forbidden observatory. Forbidden from anyone by order of the late Flame Lord. So we investigated, and here we are; I am known as Allanon Harpell."
"And I am Grundar,” said the elf, being careful not to look directly in any of the floating aberration’s eyes. He had heard stories about the magical powers beholders had, and he did not want to be on the receiving end of any of them. “As our friend Allanon said, we are not from the cult. We had come upon the Flame Lord Moskogg's papers mentioning your deal with him. Just what exactly is this deal you had with Moskogg?"
"The deal was quite simple,” said Orichalxos. “I have lived in this vale for many years, studying the research the Selskaryn conducted before they were wiped out. The Acolytes moved in several months ago and agreed to leave me alone if I returned the favor. They plan to free Bazim-Gorag, however, which would have serious repercussions across the Realms should they succeed. Not to mention that I want the Vale back to myself. Therefore, I am willing to deal with you. I will pay you well if you can drive the adherents of the Hidden Flame from the Dungeon of the Ruins. I can provide you with the history of the area, which may prove helpful to you later on."
Terenon overcame his nervousness and stepped closer to the beholder and smiled broadly. "Well it seems no one wants these Acolytes of the Hidden Flame to succeed. Not even you, Orichalxos. My name is Terenon. We both have the same goal. Your payment only sweetens the deal. Provide us with all the knowledge you have on the Hidden Flame, the Dungeon of the Ruins and the history of this area, and I will guarantee the elimination of the Acolytes.”
The mage turned to look at the machine behind the beholder and the piles of books and papers. He glanced back at Orichalxos. "I too have a great deal of interest in the arcane. What is this machine, and who were the Selskaryn?"
"This machine is an orrery," said Orichalxos. "An apparatus which illustrates, by the revolution of balls moved by wheelwork, the relative size, periodic motions, positions, and orbits, of this world Toril and the other heavenly bodies that travel through the heavens. And as for who the Selskaryn were, that is a longer tale, as detailed in The Fall of the Tower of the Star by the one of the last Selskar wizards, Vandar Nightshade."
"In the year of Oaths Forsaken, a cabal of wizards cast out from Netheril formed an arcane college in the pristine wilderness of the ancient North. Known as the Selskar Order, the cabal took over a ruined dwarven stronghold named Andalbruin in the foothills of the Frost Hills. The Netherese built a village atop the ruins, centered on a school of wizardry, which they called Selskartur, the Tower of the Star. The Selskaryn claimed to be neutral in the affairs of the world, but in truth they were ambitious and haughty."
"In time, the Selskar Order might have become yet another wizard-ruled tyranny in western Faerun and gone the way of Athalantar or Illusk. But fate intervened in the form of Harska Thaug, the Render of Thrones--a troll warlord who had united the savage humanoids of the North into a bloodthirsty raiding horde. In the Year of Rumbling Earth, Harska Thaug led his horde south from the Spine of the World against the elves of Rilithar, a remnant of ancient Illefarn that lay on the eastern slopes of the Sword Mountains. The town of Andalbruin stood directly in the troll lord's path."
"The Ar-magus Ilviroon, then leader of the Selskar Order, rallied the school to defend Andalbruin. But although the massed Selskaryn inflicted tremendous damage on Harska Thaug's horde, the shamans and warpriests serving the Render of Thrones blunted many of the magical assaults unleashed from the Tower of the Star. At last, Ilviroon decided to use his mightiest weapon to drive Harska Thaug from the vale. The ar-magus cast a gate spell and summoned the slaad lord Bazim-Gorag, also called the Firebringer, and made a deal with him to burn Harska Thaug's army."
"Bazim-Gorag did as the Selskaryn desired, wreaking great slaughter among the trolls and orcs. Harska Thaug and the survivors of his horde fled back to the Spine of the World. But the price the slaad lord demanded for his labor was high, and when the Selskaryn hesitated to pay, he turned on the Tower of the Star, scouring the citadel and slaughtering several of the mages. Angered by the slaad lord's rebellion, Ilviroon resolved to break Bazim-Gorag to his will. The ar-magus enticed the slaad into a devious trap, then worked a mighty binding spell in cooperation with a few other survivors to imprison him in the deep vaults of the tower. The ar-magus created a relatively simple set of conditions, which he named the rite of unbinding, for the slaad's freedom. But he did not share the details of this ritual with anyone, fearing that an ambitious underling might turn Bazim-Gorag against him."
"Decimated by the onslaught of the trolls and the battle with the slaad lord, the Selskaryn struggled to rebuild. But the following winter, Harska Thaug returned with an even greater horde. The Ar-Magus Ilviroon fell in battle before he could coerce Bazim-Gorag to aid the cabal against the trolls and orcs a second time. The Tower of the Star fell, and the Selskar Order was no more. Harska Thaug's horde continued south, overrunning the Fair Folk of Rilithlar two years later."
The beholder grimaced as he completed his tale. "Now, the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame work to free Bazim-Gorag from his prison beneath the ruins of the Tower of the Star, what is now known simply as the Dungeon of the Ruins."
Terenon shifted uncomfortably as he digested the beholder’s history listen. "If the ar-magus set the ritual of unbinding himself and told no one, how did the Acolytes find it?"
"I am uncertain how the Acolytes managed to discover the rite of unbinding,” replied Orichalxos. “There are powerful magicks that can reveal things of that nature, though. Perhaps one of the cultists cast a legend lore spell?"
"Well, I see no reason to threaten you or your work here,” said Terenon. “You did mention a reward. What specifically did you have in mind? Once we are done dealing with the slaad lovers, I'm sure we will return to collect it."
The beholder smiled. "I'm sure we can work some sort of suitable price for your aid in this matter. Say, a few thousand gold pieces worth of cash and equipment for each of you? We can discuss the exact amount once the deed is done."
"Sounds good to me,” said Grundar, making some calculations in his head as to how large their reward would be. “We shall be back once we rid the vale of this cult."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't expect we're to actually trust that great big ball of lies, eh?" Berek growled, thrusting a thumb back towards the observatory. "I mean, why not kill it, then do what he wants? If it even turns out to be everything he claims?" Snorting, the dwarf cracked his knuckles uneasily. "Don't trust anything that speaks that well and that much. Ain't the way things're supposed to work.”
“That creature is pure evil,” said Gillian softly. “I took the liberty of reading his aura while you were talking. Nothing but bad news.”
Terenon turned to the gruff dwarf and arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think anybody here trusts that floating abomination? Our goal is the same now as before we met that thing...to destroy the Acolytes of the Hidden Flame. Just because it wants us to do what we were already going to do, does not mean we're working for it. I fully believe it will try and get out of rewarding us. However, I am not comfortable about killing anything that has done nothing wrong that I am aware of."
"Bah!" Berek said, rolling his eyes. "It's a beholder which lives amongst evil creatures and somehow has enough wealth to offer us a reward. Bettin' odds lie with it bein' a bastard." He shrugged his shoulders as he spoke again. "It’s your show though, as I damn well barely know what's going on here. If you want me to wait until after he pays us--assuming he don't just try to kill us or shirk us--then I suppose I could always just beat his eyeballs'n then. Course, if'n you’re just doin' this for the reward, I don't see why we can't just kill 'em now and take the whole kettle of fish..."
"I do sympathize with you and Gillian,” said Rhys, “but I do see a greater good in stopping the slaad lord. There will be plenty of bloodshed in our future, and if we can avoid more of it by working with the beholder, then I have to agree with Terenon."
“Well then, before we head off to the ruins,” said Terenon, “we should probably check in with that woman who escaped from the barracks house. Degradzel, Osterel said her name was. If you all will wait a few minutes, I will attempt to scry on her.”
The mage pulled out a mirror from his pack and set it up against the wall of the observatory. He then cast his spell and was rewarded as an image began to form. In the mirror, Terenon could see Degradzel and her immediate surroundings. Degradzel was seated in a large chair across from a wooden table. Seated at the table, a man with a shaven head wearing robes of iridescent green examined several documents. A sheathed longsword laid across the table within easy reach. Degradzel was helping the man go over the documents; both were all but silent.
Terenon looked deeper into the looking glass, trying to read the papers. The documents that Terenon could see seemed to be notes about troop movements and attack plans once the Firebringer was freed from his prison. A few also appeared to be propositions for alliance and threats of destruction to those who might defy the Firebringer's will.
Terenon dismissed the spell and turned his attention to the group. "From what I've seen, it suggests that this scheme to release the slaadi is backed by a kingdom. It's not just a bunch of crazed cultists. Very interesting…very interesting indeed."
"Don't change a lot. Well, maybe a bit more killin' in the end, I suppose," Berek grunted, clearly less than shocked at this new information.
“Well,” said Grundar, “at any rate, we better make a move soon and head toward the ruins. We don’t want to give the Acolytes longer to prepare than we already have.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Allanon. “Let’s head out.”
