drnuncheon's Online Story Hour (now playing: Of Sound Mind)

[drnuncheon]

As The Harvester and Ahoke depart on their separate errands, the Mayor slumps back in his chair for a moment - looking far more frail and exhausted than before. He shakes his head sadly, and says, almost to himself, "I hope I'm doing the right thing." Looking up to Sen-Jyu, he asks plaintively, "Your companions are reliable? They'll find the children?"

"They are," Sen-Jyu confirms without hesitation. "One cannot camp in dangerous territory with two others over the course of weeks without being quite certain of their reliability." He shrugs it off, and continues, "You should know -- our introduction to Bellhold was given by Othic, the farmer outside of town. We had captured two of his stray horses for him and discovered some of the oddities of the area through his stories. However, upon waking in the morning, we discovered him murdered. We found the killers..." He suspires rather heavily, eyes falling to the table.

"By gods," the mayor breathes. "Poor Othic - what happened to him? What did you do to the killers?"

Sen-Jyu says, "As strange as it must seem -- certainly, it did to us -- the killers were the horses that we had captured the day before. Only... changed. Horrifically." Sen-Jyu looks up and meets the Mayor's eyes. "They seemed to be as oni -- demons -- and their gaze had me hypnotized when I discovered the blood on their mouths and hooves from where they had bitten and trampled good Othic. If not for my companions, I would have met Othic's fate. Ahoke had revealed some insight to this: she had had a dream while she slept, describing what must have been the vision from Othic's eyes as the pair killed him. What is occurring in this town is obviously supernatural and malicious." He leans forward to make a stern point. "Such things will not go away with time. I do not expect you to tell your townsfolk all this information at once, but neither would I conceal it. If we should fail, then it is best that you are forewarned." Sen-Jyu smiles craftily, leaning back. "I have no intention of failing.""

Mayor Waterman's face is pale, as if the very thought had drained him of blood. "I...I see. But Utrish..." He shakes his head as if to clear it, clutching to his optimism. "She has never been wrong before..." His voice trails off and his eyes close as he gathers his strength. Then he opens them and abruptly stands. "Well, you wanted to see the bell, and the light is failing - I suppose we'd best get to it."

"Mmmm," agrees Sen-Jyu, as he rises from his chair. "What was it that Utrish said, exactly? What were her precise words?"

Mayor Waterman opens the door, and considers the question for a moment. "Well...Phillippa is the one who actually spoke with her. But she said that 'the bad dreams and the headaches would definitely stop within a week'."

Nodding as he prepares to follow, Sen-Jyu adds after a moment or two, "That could be an omen for ill as well." A hand lightly touches Waterman's shoulder, as Sen-Jyu murmurs, "Do not draw your strength, your optimism, from words or assurances. Draw them from deeds and actions. When you feel powerless, you are powerless, and it is worn like a mask, for all to see." Sen-Jyu's hand leaves the Mayor, but his eyes do not.

Mayor Waterman looks away, unable to meet Sen-Jyu's gaze. "I have to take hope somewhere," he says, quietly. "I've been mayor of this town for fifteen years, and nothing like this has ever happened before. It seems as if everything has gone wrong at once, and there is nothing I can do about it. Headaches, nightmares - I should be dealing with Druther's taxes, not that sort of thing." Ashamed, he steps out into the hall, and starts heading out of the building.

Sen-Jyu laughs a little at the Mayor's comment. "There is your strength," he says, following the mayor from the hall, allowing him to lock it before they begin walking for the bell tower. "Your humor, your compassion. Visit amongst your people. Reassure them. They chose you, yes? That was for a reason." His feet make little sound as he trails after the Mayor, and his thin frame trails Waterman's like a shadow.

The walk to the bell tower is silent, and nearly deserted - it seems that few people wish to be out and about at this time of night. Shadows of clouds pass over the bloody moon, and the chill of the onrushing winter bites at you through your clothing.

Waterman leads you to the door set in the base of the tower - it opens easily, revealing a walled staircase to your right, and ahead a small room that rises into darkness. Hanging down in the center of the room are a pair of hempen ropes, two inches thick. Enormous counterweights hang from their bases.

Scanning the inside and marvelling at the construction, Sen-Jyu steps into the tower, jaw lax as he stares up the long, open inside of the tower.

"Is it safe to climb to the belfry?" asks Sen-Jyu, looking up the dark staircase.

"Of course," says the Mayor. "There's no reason for anyone to ring the bell tonight." He turns to the right, and begins to ascend the wooden staircase. "It's quite a ways up, and you'll miss the view at this hour, but the Wyrmcall is still quite impressive."

Sen-Jyu catches the Mayor on the shoulder. "Just in case," he asks, "allow me?" One nod indicates the stairwell. "... I don't know if you've been here while the bell has been ringing, but how well does this passage echo its sound?"

"Oh, quite well - although the platform muffles it a bit. Nobody's died from /ringing/ the bell..." Waterman smiles, and lets Sen-Jyu go first.

"Mmm," says Sen-Jyu, "but they weren't in the stairwell at the time." Looking up the rounding corridor, Sen-Jyu scowls for a time, then sighs. "Do you have a candle around?"

Mayor Waterman disappears into the room with the ropes, and emerges a moment later with a lantern. Opening it, he fusses with flint and steel for a moment before the flame blossoms into light. Wordlessly, he passes it up to the swordsman.

Sen-Jyu shakes his head, warding the offer of the lantern away. "Not a lamp. A candle. Something with wax. I can see perfectly well. Unfortunately, I can also hear perfectly well."

"Oh." The mayor looks a bit disappointed, then shakes his head. "No, nothing here. I suppose we could go back to my office."

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," Sen-Jyu says softly. "I think safety should come as a first practice. I'll wait here for your return."

Mayor Waterman looks rather unsure, but moves off to get the candle.

In the meantime, Sen-Jyu busies himself -- first, he investigates the storage room from where the Mayor had procured the lamp, blowing out the wick and replacing it. He looks about the storage room for anything unusual, especially hiding places. Next, he advances up the stairwell about half the height of the tower, taking the steps carefully and with some scrutiny as he goes. All this he does as silently and stealthily as possible.

The 'storage room' is merely a shelf on the wall of the otherwise bare room with the bell-ropes. Little else is there - a hammer, a few nails - and noplace to hide.

Creeping up the staircase, you are met with a second door - and this one, unlike its sibling at the base of the tower, is locked.

Disappointed with the results of his intended cleverness, Sen-Jyu sulks back down to the bottom of the staircase, sitting down and waiting.

A few minutes later, the mayor returns, puffing and bearing a wax candle. "Sorry it took so long," he said. "All I could find were tallow at first."

"... that's perfectly all right," replies Sen-Jyu. He acquires the lamp once more, lights it, then lights the candle from the lamp's wick. He waits for the candle's flame to become steady before tilting it, allowing the molten wax to dribble into his cupped palm. Once enough of it has been accumulated to form a small bead, he sets the candle right, waiting for the wax to cool and shaping it into a small earplug. He repeats, alternating his palms so he doesn't burn himself too badly.

Sen-Jyu hands two to the mayor. "Just in case, you understand. Not that it'll help much if we're in the tower should the bell be rung, but it should help while we move up and down the stairs." He places his share in.

Mayor Waterman chuckles a bit nervously. "Really, nobody's going to ring the bell - it hadn't been rung in...well, years, before today." Nevertheless, he dons the earplugs.

Sen-Jyu tilts his head at the mayor's mouth moving, but shrugs and moves up to the doorway, stepping aside to allow the mayor to unlock it.

Mayor Waterman pushes past Sen-Jyu, one hand feeling around on the doorjamb. With a slightly sheepish look, he uses the key he finds there to unlock the door, then carefully replaces it.

Sen-Jyu sniffs once at the revelation of the key, and sighs, hoping that the Mayor doesn't catch the self-disparaging look that is drawn on his face. Opening the door, he walks up the stairway, eyes riveted to the steps ten feet before him as he goes.

The staircase winds around the inside of the tower - once, twice, thrice. Now, some forty feet above where you started, the staircase emerges onto the top of the belltower - little more than a roof supported by four pillars, and (of course) the framework for supporting the massive Wyrmcall. The bell-ropes pass down through a large hole on the floor, descending into the darkness below.

Tentatively, Sen-Jyu looks about the tower, holding the Mayor back with a gesture as he seeks out the nooks where danger could possibly lie. He also notes how large the hole through which the bell-ropes pass is, and how much clearance there is between the Wyrmcall and the floor.

The top of the tower is little more than a 5' wide platform that skirts the edge of the hole - a hole that is roughly 10' across. At the corners are the pillars for the roof - the 'walls' are great open spaces to let the tolling of the Wyrmcall sound out across the town loud (very loud) and clear.

The great bell is nearly as large as the hole it hangs above, and its bottom lip rests a foot or so above the wooden platform - enough space that a dedicated person could perhaps climb through, if they were somehow able to get up to it in the first place.

Sen-Jyu begins to investigate the bell itself, peering down the hole as best he can to see the base of the tower's inside. As he walks about the perimeter of the bell, looking over the town and surrounding countryside, he occasionally checks the hole again. Once he's walked the perimeter once, he begins to examine the bell.

The hole stubbornly refuses to reveal any secrets. The bell hangs above it, solid and silent - a masterpiece of polished brass. Its surface bears reliefs of the very thing it was cast to warn of: a fierce dragon, soaring through the sky, and below - carved in exquisite detail - the town of Bellhold. Looking from bell to countryside, you see that the bell was designed in such a way that it seems to reflect the town around it - although there are differences born of decades of change to the town, of course.

Sen-Jyu's perimiter walk is interrupted by the fact that the walkway does not go all the way around - it ends where the stairs come up from the lower floor.

One hand runs over the relief on the bell's surface, examining it for details, perhaps of buildings that once stood and stand no longer, or buildings that appear to have been of extraordinary import - but nothing stands out.

Sen-Jyu sits down near the inner hole, gesturing to the Mayor to come closer, and clamping both his hands on his own ankles, looking at the Mayor questioningly. He points at himself, then the lip of the bell.

Mayor Waterman, confused, kneels down and grasps Sen-Jyu's ankles.

Sen-Jyu lies back, taking hold of the lip of the bell, and pulling himself closer to the edge. He doesn't do so without a cautious look over his shoulder toward the ground below, his eyes following the lengths of the ropes.

The dim moonlight that filters down reveals nothing at the base of the tower - and even less inside the bell. Perhaps there are some cobwebs, some dust - it must be difficult to clean - but nothing else: just the great arc of the bell, and the clapper hanging in the center, the weight as large as your head.

A minute is spent in assuring himself that nothing lies on the inside of the bell before pulling himself back from the edge. He frowns as he stands once more, looking at the supports that hold the bell in place for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and pointing to the stairwell once more. He proceeds down it, less careful than before, and intermingled relief and disappointment reside in his eyes.

Mayor Waterman follows dutifully, locking the stairwell door behind you. At the base of the tower, he pulls the waxen plugs from his ears with a concerned look. "Do you think there is something wrong with the bell?" he asks, when Sen-Jyu has done the same.

"Hard to say," says Sen-Jyu, tucking the wax earplugs into his pocket. "I am no magician, but something that Ahoke had noticed earlier had me wondering. Perhaps it was nothing, but it didn't hurt to investigate." Grinning, Sen-Jyu cleans up what mess he's made with the candle and lantern, then turns to face the Mayor. "You've been a great help. When dawn comes, I'll go to the woods by the river and see what we can find there."

Mayor Waterman grabs your hand and pumps it vigorously. "Thank you."

Accepting the hand, Sen-Jyu nods his own thanks in return. "I will see that you hear of what we find as soon as we can."

 

[drnuncheon]

The Harvester passes through the streets in the gathering gloom, nodding a greeting to those few people willing and able to look his way. A low whistle issues from beneath the hood as he walsk - something of a funeral dirge. He stops before a building and smiles to himself, and tries the door.

Outside, the icy wind claws at your cowl and cloak, whipping them against your back and legs as it pushes you onward. The last few leaves of the season dance down the street past you and vanish into the night.

The door opens, revealing a whitewashed space where an oil lamp does its best to banish the gathering gloom. It is not altogether successful. Sitting in a chair, behind a table, is a young man - presumably one of the guard - and in one of the cells that form the eastern part of the room, Cobble sits on a bunk, mumbling disconsolately to himself.

The Harvester stands within the doorway for a moment, framed by the darkness without, his scythe dully reflecting the light within. He pauses for dramatic effect, and intones, once he has the guards attention, "I have come...." A thin hand rises to point a finger towards the guard, "...for Cobble."

The legs of the chair slam forward into the floor of the room as the young guard scrambles to his feet. "I...uh...uh...I..." He takes a deep breath and reaches bravely for the club at his side, and you realize that he's about to scream for backup.

The Harvester lowers the hood quickly, his face a mix of laughter and concern, "Wait, wait, wait... Sorry, I honestly don't know what gets into me sometimes." He enters peaceably enough and closes the door with his foot. The scythe hangs loosely in his hand at his side. "Sorry about that, chum. lemme buy you a drink as a peace offering, eh?" He nudges a 'skin at his side.

The guard lets out a breath and calms down. "Oh...I thought - well, never mind. But I can't drink right now, I'm on duty."

The Harvester grins. "S'alright. After you get off then." He approaches the boy, pulling out the paper. "I've got permission from the mayor to have a chat with old Cobble there..."

Von Morris takes the note and looks at it. "Oh...I see. Well, that's certainly all right..." He pulls an extra chair over from the window and then sets it by the bars of the cell for you. The cell being as tiny as it is, this places you right next to the mumbling man.

The Harvester moves towards the chair after leaning his scythe against the table. He sits, looking at Cobble for a moment, then back to Von Morris. "He may speak more freely if we're alone..."

"...alone, yes that's right...alone in the dark...I can feel it all around me, the dark, that's where he is..."

The guard sighs, getting up again. "I'll be outside if you need me, then." The door opens, and he is gone.

The Harvester turns the chair so that it faces Cobble, his face obscured by shadow. "Hello, Cobble."

Cobble looks up from his intense scrutiny of the floor, his unwashed hair falling in front of his face. "He tells me he misses me," he whispers. "But I don't miss him..."

The Harvester watches Cobble's face intently, studying its every line and crevice, "Tell me about him, Cobble."

"He's going to bury us all and swallow us. He was swallowed too. I painted him...it was the only way I could show it so I painted him....but he's still looking for me and I won't go back to the mine, he'll find me there, I won't go back...I won't..."

The Harvester listens quietly, and speaks in low, soft, deep tones, "I will stop him, Cobble, if you can tell me of him.... All who have come fear my Lord... All gaze upon his countenance in the end... Have no fear, but tell me of this devourer..."

Cobble looks up at you, silent for the first time since you've seen him. His lips quiver, and almost noiselessly he speaks.

"...he's getting louder..."

The Harvester murmurs soothingly, taking another tack, "Is he the one who came fifty years ago, and enslaved the town?"

"Yes!" says Cobble, and then immediately contradicts himself: "No...no...nobody else can hear him but me but he's getting louder and soon everyone will be able to hear him." His eyes beg you to understand as he climbs off of the bunk and reaches through the bars to you. "Can you hear him? Have you heard him yet?"

The Harvester does not shy away from Cobble's grasp, but does not allow himself to be pulled forward, either. He doesn't answer the question yet, but asks another of his own, "Did he call the children? Is he responsible for their disappearances?"

Cobble's hands fold into the Harvester's cloak, gripping with the strength of a madman. His voice is a desperate hiss as he tells you, "Not the children. Not the children. Everyone! Me. You. Trapped in his belly as it rots." His eyes glow with intensity, as he pushes his face up to the bars, pressing through them. You can smell the stink of his breath as he studies your face. "You haven't heard him yet," he tells you.

"But you will."

Then, in an instant, he releases you, flinging himself backwards into a trembling ball on the bunk, clutching the pillow over his head and shivering.

The Harvester doesn't move for a long time now, and just sits watching Cobble. Finally he speaks a single word. Softly. "Copperdeath." And watches for a reaction.

Cobble freezes for an instant, even under his pillow, as the Harvester speaks that name - and then the pillow is flying at the bars, Cobble hurtling after it, slamming into the iron rods, his arms flailing and reaching through, clawing at whatever is in reach - all the while screaming: "CHOTH! CHOTH!"

The Harvester jerks back in his chair, away from the scrabbling hands. He goes over with a clatter and begins to rise, watching Cobble calmly all the while.

The door flings open and the young guardsman leaps into the room. "Here! What's going on?"

Cobble continues to batter himself against the bars, blood running down his face, as if he would beat through them by main force - still clawing the air, reaching for the Harvester. "CHOTH!" he screams, his voice already going hoars. "CHOTH!"

And then, it is as if a string is cut: abruptly he sinks, sliding down the smooth metal to kneel in a crumpled heap. A single sob racks his form. "I won't go back..." he says plaintively. "I won't."

The Harvester ignores Von Morris, giving him only a silencing wave as he slams his way into the building, and instead approaches Cobble once the crazed man calms. He kneels and speaks softly. "Then don't, Cobble.... Seek release, or not... The choice is yours, and yours alone..." The whispers continue but briefly, as he senses the young guardsman moving closer. "Or wait and help me defeat 'him'... Seek the salvation of my Lord as reward or promise... He greets you... He greets everyone, in the end... Even this thing that calls to you..."

Cobble looks up, his hair matted with the blood that flows from his forehead and cheekbone. His expression changes - no longer is there fear, or anger, but rather...pity. The filthy man shakes his head, slowly, sadly, tears mingling with the gore. He gently reaches a hand out, to stroke the Harvester's face, trailing down to touch the skull pendant.

"He has already met your Lord."

 

[Caliber]

Very cool!

I've never considered using wax from a candle as ear plugs. Very ingenious of Sen-Jyu.

Very creepy with the Harvester and Cobble. Very creepy indeed.

 

[drnuncheon]

Very cool!

I've never considered using wax from a candle as ear plugs. Very ingenious of Sen-Jyu.

Yes, it was - I almost felt guilty that the bell didn't get rung...

J

 

[Paka]

Hey Doctor,

After a long vacation from forums, it is nice to see a friendly familiar face still here. Can't wait to go back and read your new Story Hours over.

Paka

 

[drnuncheon]

The road to Utrish's cottage leaves the village far behind, and it would take a normal dwarf quite a long time to travel down the dust-caked path to her destination - but, then, Ahoke is no ordinary dwarf. While her legs may be short, her energy is boundless, and the combination eats up the mile-long walk in short order.

The cottage squats sullenly ahead, half hidden beneath sickly trees that cling feebly to their few remaining leaves. A grey streak of a cat dashes across the path, embarking upon some mission known only to its feline mind, and Ahoke can see the occasional glint of moonlight from other eyes in the gloom.

Coming closer, the cottage proves itself to be inhabited by a mighty worker of magic indeed: the outer walls are covered in strange sigils and charms unfamiliar to the dwarf: chalk runes on the walls, lumps of fur and feathers dangling before the windows, and paint daubed on in hex-marks above the door.

From somewhere there is a faint bang, as of a window shutter being blown shut.

Ahoke grumbles as she hikes out the mile. "The things that I do for people that I don't even know," she mutters to herself. After striding a few more yards, she adds, "The things that I do for Harvester and Sen-Jyu for that matter... and for nothing too." Her words, bitter though they are, lack any true anger.

Quickly enough, she comes upon the cottage. After pausing and looking at the strange runes for a moment, she shrugs, and then moves up to the cottage's front door. She draws back her fist, and knocks firmly on the door three times.

The cottage sits impassively, unmoved by the impact of dwarven fist - as is its presumed occupant, apparently, for there is no answer.

Ahoke frowns at the door, and then tries to open it.

The door swings open easily, revealing the interior of the single-room cottage. Eyes flash in the gloom as their feline owners prowl about the place - easily a dozen or more. One arches its back at Ahoke's presence, hissing a warning, while another sits beside the back door and emits a piteous yowl.

The house is not quite ransacked, but mussed - as if someone had been rapidly searching, or perhaps packing. Whoever it was can't have been gone long: a cup of tea, still faintly steaming, sits on the table, and the embers of the fire continue to glow.

Ahoke frowns at the cats. "Oh, hush," she says to them. She steps back out of the cottage, closing the door behind her. And then starts searching around in the yard for traces of where the former occupant may have gone.

The hard, caked ground surrounding the cottage does nothing to reveal the presence or passage of anyone - but as Ahoke's eyes flicker over the treeline, a movement in the shadows catches her attention. Too big to be one of the cats...

Ahoke swivels her head to look at the movement in the shadows, and then runs at the woods with a speed that one does not associate with a dwarf. She does approach, however, with the subtlety that one would associate with a dwarf. Although she is not brandishing either great club or stone axe, both are readily accessible.

There is a sound of indrawn breath, and the shape begins to hustle away at top speed - which, sadly for it, is only about half that of the approaching miniature juggernaut. Scrub brush and brittle brambles give way before Ahoke's charge, the thorns going unheeded by the barbaric dwarf as she bursts through directly behind the stooped form of an old woman, leaning heavily on a crooked staff, and with a sack slung over her shoulder as she hobbles away from the cottage.

The old woman turns as Ahoke breaks through the plant life, and her wizened features freeze in momentary panic before she raises her staff. "Halt, dwarf!" she quavers. "Or all manner of curses be visited upon ye!"

Ahoke does slow to a halt, and grins at the old woman. "I don't mean you harm," she says. "No need to run away from me. It's not as if I'm from the /South/," she says, as if this should be reassuring.

Ahoke can see the old woman's eyes widen a bit more as she interposes the staff between them. "From the North, across the Shoulders of Samrahn," she says, standing as if rooted to the ground by whatever oracular force flows through her. "With one who serves those who are gone, and one who does not understand what it is that he serves. You will not find what you seek in Bellhold, chieftain's daughter, nor will you find it in the Steeple. Turn east, to Blasingdell." She staggers, leaning heavily on the staff, and looks up at Ahoke fearfully. Apparently the dwarf's reassurances meant little to her.

Ahoke's eyes narrow to dangerous little slits, and she folds her arms across her chest. "Then why are you so frightened of me," she growls to the old woman. "And besides. I came to talk to you about something that /does/ affect the area. The people that live here."

Utrish looks away. "The dreams will end within the week," she mutters. "I can do nothing more, say nothing more. Already some begin to mutter that I caused them, and it will be my death if I remain here."

Ahoke stares at the old woman unflinchingly. "Why can't you say anything more? Because you don't know? Or because you don't want to? I don't think you caused them, but if you know what did and aren't doing anything, then you deserve that death."

"I did not cause them," the old woman says. "Nor do I know what does." She shudders, even though the biting wind has lapsed.

"But I fear it."

Ahoke sighs then, nodding. "As do I, wise woman. As do I. What was the prophecy that you gave concerning the headaches? I didn't hear about it until the mayor was telling the entire town."

The wizened woman's gaze turns to Ahoke once again. "The dreams will end within the week. There, I have said it three times now - first to Phillippa and twice to you - and what I speak three times is true." Slowly her head droops, to study the leaves at her feet. She shifts the sack on her shoulder, and a black cat detaches itself from the darkness to twine about her legs. "If I stay here I will die," she repeats wearily. "Do not make me ask again."

Ahoke hmmphs. "Asking you people to elaborate is like trying to milk a he-goat. If you fear death so much, then go. I do not plan on clubbing you to death, for your cowardice."

Utrish nods, and turns - but then slowly turns back. "Speaking the future is a dangerous business," she states. "For too much knowledge is as deadly as too little. I will not be back this way until the dreams are gone."

Ahoke nods. "Good travels. Hopefully the death that you seek to avoid is not waiting for you in the trees." She turns, then, and starts to tramp her way back through the brambles, towards the witch's cottage, and ultimately, to the road.

 

[Caliber]

Really good descriptions of the cottage and the area.

I particularly liked the references to Dwarven Barbarian speed.

 

[Piratecat]

One of the reasons I like reading this so much is that it reminds me how much a good DM and group can improve a module.

Huzzah for you guys!

 

[Piratecat]

The Harvester wonders how long til the twilight bell.
<OOC> Tokket says, "It's midmorning, so...a while."
<OOC> Sen-Jyu says, "Great! In the meantime, let's go clean giant rats out of the basement of the busty woman's tavern!"
(Baldur's Gate II: Dark Alliance joke)

In OSM 2, you'll meet an annoying ex-thief who will conveniently forget to tell you about the extremely handy secret entrance, just because... well, because he's a jerk. Every female NPC will jiggle and do awkward gestures with their hands. Oh, and I'm adding uneven cut scenes and a beholder too damn big to fit through any doors.

 

[drnuncheon]

One of the reasons I like reading this so much is that it reminds me how much a good DM and group can improve a module.

Hey, it didn't need much work, and I got to scour half a continent for my players, so that was kind of an advantage.

Now, if I can just make it to BisbeeCon...

J