Freeport Forever [3/6 - Company Of Heroes] FINAL UPDATE!

[peteyfrogboy]

Stalking In The Night

The Black Gull was its normal rowdy self that night. Nevroth, Rachel, and Parika sat around a table laden with food and drink. For the first time in quite a while they were relaxed and happy.

"So let me get this straight," said Rachel. "While Lucius was off being possessed, he ran into Thuron, who wasn't Thuron then. He was Kaballah."

"K'Stallo," corrected Nevroth.

"Right, that guy." Rachel took a long sip of wine before continuing. "Except he wasn't a guy, he was one of those snake people, but not the bad Unspeakable cultist ones."

"He's a priest of Yig, whoever that is," said Parika.

"Okay, so he came back with Lucius to the temple so he could poke around in the library, and he happened to run across the real Thuron keeled over at his desk. And then he turns himself into Thuron and takes over the temple?"

Nevroth nodded. "That's the story."

"That's nuts." Rachel patted her belt pouch and smiled. "But Edwin paid us like he said he would, so I am happy. And I may be a little drunk."

***

Nevroth leaned back in his chair as Parika and Rachel descended further and further into their cups. He was simply glad to be alive and well. As he sipped his ale, something caught his eye. A pair of sailors were walking by the window, wearing familiar red bandannas. He excused himself from the party and went out to the street. He watched as the pirates staggered down the street and around a corner. Despite the battles he had already fought that day, he still found himself with a taste for blood.

He tailed the two pirates westward, eventually coming to a tavern on the north edge of the Docks called the Rusty Hook. Unsurprisingly, the clientele seemed to be largely pirates and other sailors. His two marks were at the bar continuing their drinking. He found a seat at the other end of the bar, getting himself an ale which he sipped slowly as he watched them.

After a while, the two pirates headed for the back door, presumably to relieve themselves. Nevroth stayed where he was. He waited for them to return, but by the time he finished his drink they were still gone. He stood up, paid, and went out through the back. As he reached the narrow hallway leading out into the courtyard, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a few large men had gotten up as well and were walking behind him. Coincidence?, he thought. Perhaps I'm not the only one hunting tonight.

In the courtyard, a low brazier was providing light for a circle of men rolling dice on the cobbles. The rain had let up as the sun went down, reduced to nothing more than a mist. The two red bandannas were crouched among the gamblers. Nevroth considered breaking off his pursuit, but he found his way back blocked by the men who had followed him. He began to feel very uncomfortable about the entire situation.

Nevroth's discomfort only grew as the circle of men all turned his way and stood. One man who he had thought was standing before rose even higher. He reached for his weapons, but before they could even clear their scabbards the mob was upon him. The giant among them grabbed him and put a meaty arm around his neck. The others crowded around, holding him in place. He struggled, but it was clearly futile.

A familiar face appeared before Nevroth then, flipping a familiar knife end over end. The man wore a scowl that was made no less menacing by the dim firelight.

"Did you really think you could pick us all off one by one?" The man shook his head. "If I had my way, you'd be dead already, but it seems your mother has a soft spot for you." He stepped closer and laid his knife on the tip of Nevroth's nose. "Honestly, I don't give a rat's hindquarters about your father, and neither did those two men you butchered. Their wives are widows now, their children orphans." The knife disappeared, and the man stepped back again.

"Like I said, though, I'm not going to kill you." He stepped over to the brazier and stirred the coals, causing sparks to float up through the mist. "But your mother wanted us to teach you a lesson." He stopped moving the coals and pulled out a heavy hatchet, its blade glowing red hot. "Hold him down, boys."

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Intervention

Parika sat down across from Rachel, stabbing a chunk of cheese with her knife. "Nothing makes me hungrier than not having people out to kill me."

"I know what you mean," said Rachel, smiling. "Have you seen Nevroth today? I knocked on his door but he didn't answer."

"I just woke up. Last I saw of him was at the Gull last night." She frowned as she smeared butter across a thick slice of bread. "I hope he didn't get himself in any trouble."

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door opened then. She looked up to see Nevroth stumbling in, pale and haggard, wearing the same clothes as the night before. He seemed off balance somehow; it took a moment for Parika to realize that he was missing his left hand.

"Bright Lord, what happened to you?"

***

Nevroth woke to a stabbing pain in his left hand. He clutched at it with the other, but found only a raw stump where it should have been. He groaned and curled into a miserable ball beneath a thin blanket.

"Awake, eh?" The voice was unfamiliar.

Opening his eyes, Nevroth saw that he was in a small, run-down room, presumably at an inn. A broad shouldered man in worn leathers sat on a stool with his back to him, methodically stroking a dagger across a sharpening stone. The man turned, revealing a weathered face and bushy blond beard. Bright green eyes appraised him briefly, then returned to the dagger. "How're ya feeling?"

"Awful," admitted Nevroth. He sat up on the creaky bed, holding his left arm close to his chest. He couldn't bring himself to look at it quite yet. "Where am I?"

"The Flying Fish, down by the shipyard. It beats spending the night in the gutter, I'd wager, which is where I found you." The man examined the edge of his blade and seemed satisfied, returning it to a sheath at his belt. He turned around fully on the stool, revealing a tarnished silver disc pinned to his jerkin, pierced with a familiar "M". "Harrod Trask," he said by way of introduction.

Nevroth felt some of the tension leave him as he realized he was in no immediate danger. "I'm --"

"Nevroth," Harrod said with a nod. "I've heard about you. Even before last night. You haven't exactly been keeping a low profile." The senior manhunter stood and went to a small side table. He grabbed a pair of hard rolls, tossing one to Nevroth and biting into the other. He leaned against the table and chewed thoughtfully. "It didn't take long for the story to get to me last night. It's lucky for you I wasn't on a job, or I might not have gotten to you in time. The scavengers were already flocking around when I arrived."

"Um, thank you," replied Nevroth. He tried not to imagine how he might have ended up otherwise.

"Hmm." Harrod popped the last bit of the roll into his mouth and folded his arms across his chest. "If I were any other Manhunter, you'd probably lose your badge; the Guild takes a dim view of vendettas. I know what it's like, though, so I'm willing to give you a pass this once. You've found your own punishment, I'd wager."

Harrod looked out the window at the lightening sky. "I've been there. I know what it's like to crave vengeance. My baby sister was killed by goblins when I was sixteen. I spent almost a year doing nothing but hunting them, slaying them, taking out my rage." He turned his emerald gaze back to Nevroth. "The more of them I killed, though, the emptier I felt. Even if I could find the very one that clawed out her throat and even the score, it wouldn't have filled the hole in my heart. That's when I became a Manhunter. If I couldn't find justice for myself, I figured I could find it for others. It's a good feeling, far better than simply spilling more blood."

Nevroth's face was impassive. "Perhaps."

Harrod shrugged. "It's just one man's opinion, I suppose. If you ever need a bit of advice or an ear to talk to, I'll be around."

"I'll keep that in mind."

***

Wincing as he held up the stump that used to be his left hand, Nevroth said, "The pirates made a mistake."

Overcoming her shock, Parika's voice was full of sarcasm. "What, they punished the *wrong* man who had sworn vengance on their crew?"

"No." His voice was cool and steady despite his pain. "They left me alive."

Parika shook her head. "Well, uh, do we have anything planned for today? I'm all for relaxation, but something tells me there's a pay day out there waiting for us."

"I need a bath," said Nevroth. He held up his left arm. "And then I think I'll do some shopping."

Rachel looked over at the manhunter. "Do you still have that key we found in the sewer? I think I'll try to find out what it unlocks."

Parika held up her finger. "Aha! I knew there was something I was forgetting. Excellent."

"I'll go get it from my room. You ladies have fun; I'll catch up with you later."

 

[Smeege The Mighty]

Some people never learn

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door opened then. She looked up to see Nevroth stumbling in, pale and haggard, wearing the same clothes as the night before. He seemed off balance somehow; it took a moment for Parika to realize that he was missing his left hand.

"Bright Lord, what happened to you?"

Wincing as he held up the stump that used to be his left hand, Nevroth said, "The pirates made a mistake."

Overcoming her shock, Parika's voice was full of sarcasm. "What, they punished the *wrong* man who had sworn vengance on their crew?"

"No." His voice was cool and steady despite his pain. "They left me alive."

*Everything else is as the DM put it. He just left out the small fact that Nevroth's encounter with the pirate crew gave him more reason to hate them instead of disuading him from his course.

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Unearthing The Past

Snick crouched down behind the counter and opened a large trunk. "I guess whatever your job was worked out for you; I hear that Verlaine's dead."

Parika drummed her fingers on the counter. "Oh, is he? How tragic."

The shopkeeper rose again, a smirk on his scruffy face. "Whatever you say." He placed a leather bundle on the counter and unrolled it, revealing a wide assortment of picks, rakes, probes, and other tools. "Here you go."

"Perfect."

***

Reed looked up from his desk with his usual sour expression. As he saw Rachel come through the door his grimace transformed into a grin that was, if anything, less attractive. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need some information on this symbol." She produced a small piece of parchment with a rubbing of a small raised image on it.

Reed held the picture up to his nose and squinted. "What is that, a bird?"

"I think it's a wave, but I'm not entirely sure," replied Rachel. "Do you think you might be able to find anything out about it?"

The archivist scratched his stubbly chin. "Not really my sort of thing, I'm afraid." He handed the parchment back to Rachel. "What did you find that symbol on?"

"It was on a key."

Reed nodded. "Ah. Well, your best bet would be to check with the Locksmiths' Guild, then. They produce all of the high quality locks in the city and keep excellent records."

***

Rachel returned to the inn to find Parika and Nevroth sitting at a table in the common room. Parika waved her over. "Nevroth was just showing me his new toys."

The polished steel cap on the end of Nevroth's forearm was crowned with a round socket. On the table were a hook and a needle-sharp blade, each with a pair of studs at its base. He picked the hook up and inserted it into the socket, turning it until the studs clicked into a set of corresponding holes.

"Nice," said Rachel. "Where'd you get them?"

"There's a place up in Drac's End called the Second Hand Store." He nodded as the others groaned. "I know, I know, it's a bad joke, but they're supposedly the best place in town." He stowed the sword blade in a sheath on his belt. "So what did you find out?"

Rachel laid out a map of the city on the table. She pointed to a marked building in the Old City. "Reed said to check with the Locksmiths' Guild, which is here." She pointed to another marked spot. "This is the inn." She grinned. "Reed talked me into buying a map."

***

The Locksmiths' Guild, unsurprisingly, was a sturdily built stone building with ornate bars on the windows and a heavy reinforced door. No guards were present outside, so they simply went up to the door and knocked. After a moment, the sound of a number of slides and latches could be heard from within. Finally, the sounds stopped, and a small peephole opened in the door. A pair of eyes peered out. "Yes? What can we do for you?"

Rachel held up the key. "We need to find out some information on this."

The eyes looked down at the key. "I see. Come in." The peephole swung shut again. One final lock could be heard before the door opened. A well dressed, slender man gestured for them to come inside. The room beyond had a number of different locking mechanisms displayed on tables. Parika fought the urge to take them apart and inspect them.

The man sent an apprentice off through a side door. The boy returned a few moments later carrying a thick book, which he deposited on one of the display tables. "May I have a look at your mystery key?" asked the man. Rachel handed it over.

The locksmith inspected the key closely. "Hmm. This is an old design. Might I ask how you acquired it?"

"I inherited it," Rachel lied.

"Ah, I see. Interesting." He went to the book and opened it. "Let's see now..." He began flipping through the book, going further and further back as he compared the design on the key's handle to pictures in the book. Finally he stopped and nodded. "This key was commissioned for the Wavecrest Inn back in... 1123." He copied the address from the book, then took the key over to a nearby workbench. He took a rag and rubbed at the back of the key, removing the thick patina that had formed there over the years. "Aha, as I thought." He handed the key and address to Rachel. The back of the key, now clean and shiny, was engraved with the number "22".

***

"All this running around town is making me hungry," said Parika as they returned to the Goodhearth Inn. "Let's get some lunch and then check out that address." The others agreed and went to see what was on the day's menu.

Parika looked around the common room; it was the usual low key crowd that she expected to see. Delthic was sitting in the middle of the room like he often did, his songbooks laid out on the table. This time, though, he was chatting with a little girl dangling her feet from a chair opposite him. No, not a girl, thought Parika as she noticed the hair on her bare feet, a halfling.

Delthic waved as he saw Parika looking his way. The halfling leaned around the back of the chair to look at her. "We've got a new neighbor," said Delthic. "Parika, I'd like you to meet--"

"Seraphim Teahill? What in blazes are you doing here?"

"Parika?" The halfling hopped off the chair and ran over to wrap her arms around Parika's legs. "What a happy happenstance!"

The bard smiled. "Never mind, you seem to be acquainted already."

Parika came and sat down, while Seraphim climbed back into her chair. "Sera and I were friends back in Averdane during my misspent youth. We lost touch years ago." She shook her head and smiled at her old friend. "But really, what's a good girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The halfling giggled. "We were never good girls in those days." She shrugged. "It turned out that I had some other talents." She snapped her fingers and the tip of her finger began to glow with magelight. Another snap, and it was gone. "I started getting odd jobs here and there, making money and learning new tricks as I went along. It was a lot less work than our old fun and games.

"Anyway, there I was doing magical research for hire in Cahiedra when I was approached by an agent from Rhodes of Freeport to do arcane appraisals for them."

"Rhodes is an insurance company," explained Delthic.

"Right," said Seraphim. "So they paid my way out here and pay me to be on call to identify magical artifacts people want to insure. Pretty easy work compared to some other things I've done." She leaned her arms on the table and smiled. "So that's my story; what have you been up to?"

Parika shrugged. "Oh, you know, treasure hunting, fighting monsters, saving the city from time to time."

"Sounds like fun. Can I come?"

DM Notes:
* Seraphim is being played by Parika's player. When they met, she said, "They catch up, blah blah blah. I'm not having a conversation with myself."

 

[peteyfrogboy]

The Wavecrest Inn

"Somehow we always end up back here," said Parika as they walked through the narrow streets of Scurvytown. "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

Rachel checked her map. "Reed said that address was in this neighborhood." She looked around at the complete lack of signage on the twisting roads. "I guess we'll just have to trust him."

As they traveled north, the rickety shacks and leaning tenements slowly gave way to buildings that once were beautiful. Chipped marble columns loomed over piles of trash, while the broken feet of fallen gargoyles clung desperately to the edges of roofs.

"This is even more depressing," said Nevroth.

"That it is," agreed Rachel. "Reed said that this neighborhood was once the equal of the Merchants' District. Money comes and goes, though, and it left this place in a hurry. Once squatters started moving in to the abandoned mansions the few that were still inhabited cleared out."

They finally stopped at a set of worn marble steps leading to half a pair of double doors. The sign was long gone, but the number carved above the entry marked the place as the Wavecrest Inn.

***

The four companions went up the steps cautiously. They kept their hands near their weapons, except for Seraphim, who simply strolled along with her hands swinging at her sides. Despite the afternoon sun, the inside of the inn was dark and unwelcoming. The common room was stripped down to bare walls, and the air was heavy with the odor of unwashed bodies and a faint whiff of snakeweed smoke. A number of people roamed listlessly about the room or lay amid piles of flea-ridden blankets on the floor.

Most of the inn's residents paid the newcomers no mind, giving them only a passing glance. A tired-looking woman approached Nevroth, shrugging her bodice strap off one shoulder. "Hey sailor," she said, smiling with a mouth full of rotting teeth, "looking for a good time?"

Nevroth scowled and led the way toward the stairs at the far end of the room. The woman put her hands on her hips and spat in his direction. "Fine, get yourself killed. See if I care!"

The stairs led up to a hallway lined with doors. A few of the doors were open, though no one seemed to be inside. Rachel glanced back down the stairs. "What do you think she meant by that?"

Parika looked up and down the hall. "Nobody's been living up here. Maybe it's haunted?"

Nevroth slid his sword blade in place with a click. "Maybe so." He checked the numbers on the doors, then pointed down the hallway. "22 is that way."

They quickly reached the door they were looking for. It was closed, and Parika confirmed that it was locked. She took out the key, muttering, "This feels so unnatural." The key slid into the lock and turned smoothly. She removed the key and pushed the door open. The room beyond looked as though it had been completely undisturbed for the past century. Aside from a film of dust, nothing was out of place. The bed was made, the shelves were empty, a fresh candle sat on the bedside table.

Parika looked inside. "Looks safe enough." She stepped through the doorway and disappeared.

Nevroth's eyes widened, then he sighed and drew his sword. "Wonderful." He plunged ahead through the door, disappearing just as Parika had.

Seraphim looked at Rachel and shrugged. "She's my friend." She stepped through as well, leaving Rachel alone in the hall.

"That's crazy."

***

As Parika entered the room, she felt no different, but the walls of the room suddenly began to glow with a dim yellow luminescence. In fact, everything in the room was glowing, including the man sitting on the bed pulling on his boots. He looked up casually at Parika, as though strange people appearing out of nowhere were perfectly normal.

"Are you here to turn down the bed?"

Before she could answer, Nevroth appeared behind her, blades bared. Seeing that even this evinced no reaction from the room's resident, she shrugged. "Sure, we're here to turn down the bed."

"Lovely," said the man, and walked out past them into the empty hall, which was also glowing. He closed the door behind him.

Seraphim materialized before the door. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," said Parika. She looked around the room. "First things first." She pulled the bed away from the wall and looked behind it. She tapped a board on the wall and felt it rattle. It pulled free easily, revealing a large sack inside the wall. Smiling, the thief pulled the sack out of its hiding place. Peering within, she saw that it was full of coins. It seemed lighter than it should be, but she stowed it in her pack regardless.

Nevroth looked around the room. "Well, now that the important things are taken care of, how do we get out of here?"

Seraphim opened the door and stepped out into the hall, then back inside. "That didn't work." They tried opening, closing, locking, and unlocking the door, but to no avail. As they were trying to decide what to do next, Rachel appeared inside the room.

"I waited for you to come back," she said. "I checked with your girlfriend downstairs, and she said the place is haunted." She looked around the room. "Doesn't look so haunted to me."

Seraphim shook her head. "I think it's a transdimensional portal." She gestured up and down the hall, which was curved rather than straight. "The spatial deformities indicate a metaphysical translation rather than a direct temporal displacement." The others shared bewildered glances. The halfling sighed. "We're not in our world, and I don't think we went back in time."

"Okay," said Nevroth, "so how do we get out?"

Parika looked up and down the strangely curving hall. The walls seemed somewhat skewed as well, not quite meeting the floor and ceiling at right angles. The effect was vaguely disorienting. "We came in through a door; maybe there's a door somewhere else that leads out."

They started moving cautiously down the hallway. Occasionally people would walk past them, glowing softly like everything else. The inn's anachronistic patrons seemed unperturbed by armed intruders in their midst, simply stepping around them.

Parika stopped suddenly. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Nevroth had been busy avoiding a glowing matron and her servant.

"It's gone now, but I think I saw someone peeking out from that room up ahead."

Rachel shrugged. "We've seen a lot of people here. What makes that one any different."

The half-elf nocked and arrow. "He wasn't glowing."

They moved along the curving hall slowly. Up ahead the hallway forked, with the right hand branch curving in the opposite direction from the hall they were in. Parika silently pointed to an open door just before the fork. Nevroth leaned around the doorway. The room was as neat as the first one they had seen, with a perfectly made bed and nothing out of place. In the center of the room, however, crouched a man in ragged clothes, his hands held out before him like claws. Unlike the softly glowing people walking through the halls, he was dark, as though he were perpetually in a deep shadow. He said nothing, but hissed as he saw Nevroth.

At the sound of hissing, Parika leaped across the doorway and took cover. She wasn't sure what to make of the strange creature, so she held her fire. "We should try to take it alive. It might know how to get out of here."

"No... way... out!" it hissed.

Parika shrugged. "Then again, maybe not."

Rachel and Nevroth entered the room and tried to subdue the creature, but soon realized that it was ignoring their blows. It clawed at Rachel, but was unable to make contact. Seraphim had taken up a position directly across from the door. She held her hands out before her and uttered a few arcane syllables. Two fiery birds leaped forth from her hands, streaking toward the shadowy creature. They exploded in brilliant flashes, spraying black mist from the ragged man's body.

Seeing that they were not dealing with a normal man, the others laid into him with lethal force. Their blows struck true, but weapons had little effect on the creature. Wisps of black mist trailed in the wake of their swords and arrows, but the creature seemed unperturbed. Turning its hollow eyes on Seraphim, it rushed out of the room. The nimble halfling dodged under his clawing hands. She stepped back and released another pair of arcane bolts, and the creature dissolved into nothingness.

Parika entered the room, examining it from floor to ceiling. "There has to be some clue somewhere."

The others joined in, looking under the bed and inside drawers, finding nothing at all. Rachel went to the window and opened the shutter. "Uh, is this important?"

Nevroth and Parika joined Rachel at the window. Seraphim pushed a chair over and climbed up. Instead of a cityscape, the view from the window was a thick network of glowing yellow strands. The tangle started about an arm's length from the wall of the inn, and seemed to extend in all directions.

Seraphim shrugged as she saw everyone else looking at her. "I don't have any more idea about this than you do."

They returned to the hall, trying to decide which way to go. Parika looked each way, then slowly reached for an arrow. She nodded toward the left hand branch in the passage. "I think we should go that way." Down each of the other passages they could see another shadowy form advancing slowly. They didn't seem to be attacking immediately, so the four companions made their way down the one way left open to them. They reached a set of stairs in the middle of the hall that descended even as the passage continued to curve around. The two shadowy forms stopped at the fork in the hall and remained there.

From the rear of the line, Seraphim called out, "Do you see anything up ahead?"

Nevroth stopped as he came to the end of the hall. "Uh oh." The curving passage ended at a large square room, the mirror image of the common room they had seen back in the real Wavecrest Inn. All the original fixtures were intact, but the walls were festooned with a thick coating of the same yellow strands they had seen outside the window. Sitting in the middle of the room was an enormous spider, its bloated purple body perched atop mottled yellow legs.

Ah, visitors. The voice sounded in their heads. The words were Tavian, but somehow their inflection sounded bizarre and unnatural.

"Spider," said Nevroth by way of explanation to those further back in the passage, not taking his eyes off the beast.

"What is this place?" asked Parika, eager for some answers.

It is my... collection. Do you like it? Nevroth could see the thing's dripping mandibles rubbing together as it "spoke". I so rarely have visitors.

"It's very nice," said Rachel, "but we'd like to leave now."

Leave? There was no sinister sarcasm in the voice, only an alien bewilderment. You cannot leave. It would spoil things.

Nevroth looked back at Rachel, who shrugged and raised her cutlass. They rushed in, swords striking at the joints in the creature's shell. Nevroth stood his ground, while Rachel leaped back out of reach of the spider's fangs. The spider skittered backward. No, you must not go, it said. It rose up on its legs, towering above Nevroth, and arched its abdomen forward. A stream of yellow webbing spewed forth toward Rachel, but she dodged nimbly out of the way. Parika and Seraphim peeked around the corner, firing arrows and magical bolts past their comrades.

Swords again shattered bits of the spider's carapace, drawing gouts of ichor from within. As Rachel withdrew once more to the doorway, she saw the spider rising up again. She prepared to dodge another web attack, but this time the spider sprayed the strands back and forth across the wall, quickly forming a glowing barrier that blocked both steel and spells.

Seraphim jumped up and down. "Quick! Cut it apart! If I can't see it, I can't blast it." Parika and Rachel started sawing at the sticky strands.

Within the glowing cocoon, Nevroth stood alone against the beast. He could see the poison dripping from its fangs and knew that no help could reach him in time. The manhunter smiled as he advanced on the spider. He had survived being alone before. Once more his swords struck at the beast, slicing and stabbing at the joint between its head and abdomen. As he sank his new blade into the flesh within, he could feel a sudden vibration up the arm to which it was attached. In the space of a heartbeat, the jointed segments of chitin fell apart like empty eggshells. As they clattered to the floor, the yellow strands enshrouding the room began to dissolve into bright light

***

When their vision cleared, the four companions were back in the dingy common room where they had first entered the inn. The residents stared and muttered, unused to people appearing out of nowhere. Swords were sheathed and bows shouldered. Nevroth's smile remained. "I don't think the inn's haunted anymore."

Eager for better accommodations, several of the squatters started running up the stairs to stake their claims. Parika grinned at the thought of spending all their beautiful new money. She patted her pack, then patted it again. Her grin fell as she felt no heavy bag of coins. Cursing, she dashed toward the stairs, elbowing people aside as she ran.

DM Notes:
* A few days after this session, I realized that no one sustained a single point of damage during this entire encounter. I was trying to balance custom creatures on the fly, and I erred too far on the side of safety. Things will even out soon, as you will see.

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Paths Of The Heart

NOTE: Minor Freeport spoilers ahead.

Parika sat on her bed with a pile of gold coins in front of her. "Hello, my pretties!"

Rachel shook her head as she checked the edge of her cutlass with her thumb. "So, have you decided how you're going to spend your share?"

The half-elf flipped one of the coins with her thumb. She had started collecting antique coins after all, it seemed. "I think my precious body needs some better armor. I'm tired of being everyone's pincushion."

Rachel tried to imagine Parika wearing a suit of plate and chuckled. "Won't that make it hard to be all quiet and sneaky?"

"Ah," said Parika, holding up her finger, "not if it's mithril."

"Oh?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of that stuff." She glanced at her own sack of coins, and at the mail shirt she'd spent an hour oiling the night before. "But it's not like you can find it at the corner store."

"I've been asking around. It turns out that Blackhammer and Sons got a couple mithril shirts in trade a while back and haven't sold them yet."

Rachel wiped her cutlass with a rag and slid it back into its scabbard "Sounds like it's time for a shopping trip."

***

In the heart of the Old City, Blackhammer and Sons' smithy was a large complex housing not only the necessities of crafting armor and weapons but also a large family. Liam Blackhammer had been a member of the Captains' Council for fourteen years, and his prosperity had only increased during that time.

"This is where you guys got your armor before, right?" asked Rachel.

Parika nodded. "Yeah, we got a good deal. Their turnaround for custom work is pretty quick too."

The two women strolled through the open gate into a large courtyard in the center of the complex. Several forges dominated the center of the space, with armor stands and weapon racks arrayed around the edge. An awning extended from the encircling building, protecting the steel wares on display from the rain. At first glance, Rachel was impressed with the quality of their work.

As they entered the courtyard, they could hear the rhythm of hammers on metal echoing around them. Bright coals glowed in one of the forges. Yellow flames leaped as two young men hauled on bellows on either side. A third man had his back to the two approaching women. He was stripped to the waist, with only a leather apron to protect him from the heat. The muscles in his back bunched as he plunged his tongs into the coals and retrieved a long metal bar. He placed it on a massive anvil and began striking it with the hammer in his other hand, sending sparks flying around him. The rhythm was precise and measured as he moved the hammer along the bar, forming it into the rough shape of a blade. A mahogany colored ponytail swayed across his sweat-slicked back with each stroke.

Seeing no one else around, Rachel cleared her throat. "Ah, excuse me?"

The bladesmith half-turned, his hammer still striking unerringly as he looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were as blue and deep as the ocean. "Yes? Can I help--" His gaze swept over Parika and fixed on Rachel; there was a dissonant clang as his hammer struck the bare anvil. "--you?"

Rachel was suddenly keenly aware of her worn sailor's coat and patched breeches. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was, uh, looking for some armor."

The man blinked. "Armor?" He stared at Rachel a few heartbeats longer, then seemed to recover his senses. "Ah, yes. We make armor here."

Smiling, Rachel walked up to the smith. "I hear you might have a mithril shirt for sale."

He looked Rachel up and down and nodded. "It would take a little tailoring, but I think I have one that would fit you." He held out his hand. "I'm Angus, by the way. Angus Blackhammer."

Parika rolled her eyes.

***

"So did you get a good deal on yours, too?" Nevroth chuckled.

Parika huffed. "Not as good as hers, but he gave me a 'friend discount'." She took a sip of her wine. "Of course, mine didn't come with a personal armorer."

"Ah, so that's where she's been all week. I was wondering."

"Yeah, he's been taking her out to fancy restaurants and whatnot. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here with you."

Seraphim climbed up on an empty chair. "At least I have a job. You two just wander around the city all day like bums. Rich bums, but bums all the same." She looked down at Nevroth's hands. "Hey, I thought you were getting a new hook."

Nevroth reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a second, sharper hook. It was wreathed in magical, heatless flames. "I also got a better blade."

Rachel came down the stairs and headed straight for their usual table in the common room. She sat in the last chair and laid claim to a leftover meat pie.

"Don't fill up, Rachel," said Parika. "You don't want to spoil your appetite for your big date tonight."

Rachel shook her head. "He's working tonight. Big order due next week."

"Amazing."

The door opened, and at first it looked as though no one was there. Seraphim was used to looking lower, though, so she was the first to see Gorsky Glitterlights wringing his hands as he approached the table.

"Hi Gorsky," said Nevroth. "What brings you out here?"

"I, ah, was actually looking for you fine folks," said the gnome. He saw no empty chairs at the table, so he contented himself with pacing back and forth. "I have a little problem."

Parika grinned. "Why else would you be looking for us?"

"Yes, well, you see, there's the city's bicentennial coming up, with the dedication of the lighthouse and all. It's also the hundredth anniversary of the Opera House's opening, so we're celebrating by putting on The Death of Varula every day for a month."

"I don't see the problem," said Nevroth.

The gnome started wringing his hands again. "Well, do you remember that ghost we don't have? Well, it only strikes during productions of Varula. Every time we do the opera, someone ends up dead. It's incredibly popular, and it always brings in a lot of money, not to mention the careers it's helped. Normally it only runs for one night at a time a few times a year, so no one gets too worked up over the deaths. But if we have someone dropping dead twenty-eight days in a row, well, that's not going to be very good, is it?"

"Why not just do another opera?" asked Rachel.

"Oh, it's the Sea Lord's favorite, you see. I've really got no choice."

Nevroth shrugged. "So what are we supposed to do about it? Shouldn't you be talking to a priest?"

Gorsky sighed. "I did that already. According to them there's no way to get rid of a ghost except to put its spirit to rest. The problem is, no one who's seen it has survived to tell us what it wants."

Parika leaned forward on her arms. "So you want us to hang around backstage and chat with your murderous ghost, then make it go away?"

"Uh, yes?"

"And when is opening night?"

"Tonight."

"And what's in it for us?"

"Well, I could pay you three hundred crowns." He cringed at the thought of so much money leaving his hands. "Or I could give you your own private box," he forced a smile, "for life."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "That sounds interesting."

Parika narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "I'm sure it'd make a perfect little love nest." She returned her attention to Gorsky. "But what's it worth?"

"Well, of course it would provide you with a lifetime of entertainment and cultural..." he trailed off under Parika's cold stare. "Normally, a box goes for ten crowns a night, five of which is profit, which would go to you should you not use it that night. Something is in production most nights of the year, and while the boxes don't sell out every time, it still starts to add up."

The half-elf sat back and did some calculations in her head. She nodded slowly. "Okay, we're in."

***

Nevroth sat on the floor of Gorsky's office flipping through ledgers. He had tried sitting in one of the chairs, but he couldn't read past his knees. Seraphim was sitting there instead, humming as she shuffled papers.

Parika poked her head in the door. "Find anything interesting?"

Nevroth pointed to a series of entries in the book open before him. "This is the cast list from the first production of the opera. Judging by the names, I'd say they were all human, which means they'd be dead by now. Nothing useful there. Except this one: Avandrae Sialentha. Sounds Elvish, doesn't it?"

"That it does," said Parika. She leaned over his shoulder. She pointed to another column in the ledger. "Wow. Are those their wages?"

"Yeah, that's the other interesting thing. This elf, whoever she was, took up almost half the budget of the production. She was cast as Varula -- no big surprise. I wonder if she's still alive."

"Most likely," said Parika. "Barring accidents or disease, elves just go on and on and on. So which one of them died?"

"None of them," said Seraphim. "I've been going through the clippings and letters from around the time of the first production. The only death mentioned is the composer, another elf named Fiarella Donadrien. The cause is mysterious, but it doesn't say her hair had turned white or anything else like what happened to the ghost's victims."

Parika walked over to Gorsky's desk, where the gnome was busily calculating potential profits from the production. "Hey, Gorsky. Do you know anything about these elves?"

"Hm? Who?" After they filled him in on their discoveries, he shrugged. "The composer I've never heard of, except for her credit on the opera. I took over the Opera House after its first owner died. Got a good deal on it, too." He chuckled for a moment, then refocused. "Anyway, Avandrae Sialentha is definitely a name I know. She's an eccentric elvish singer. Very talented, but incredibly picky about the projects she takes on. Only surfaces once every couple years, and charges a king's ransom for her services. It's worth it, too, from what I understand." He closed his books and stood up. "Well, curtain's soon. You'd better get ready backstage. Good luck."

***

How are we supposed to find this ghost if no one's ever seen it before?" asked Rachel.

"Well, most people would be trying to avoid the murderous ghost," said Parika. "Even if they caught a glimpse of it they'd probably tell themselves it was something else."

The mood backstage was subdued. Stage hands scurried back and forth wordlessly, hauling props and costumes to and fro. The first act of the opera was in progress.

"This is supposed to be a popular opera? asked Seraphim.

Nevroth shrugged. "You have to take into account that they expect one of them to die every night for the next month. That's most of the cast." He looked around the jungle of ropes and curtains. "All right, let's get moving."

They didn't have to look long. In a small nook off to one side of the stage, a luminescent figure stood and watched the opera. She was dressed in the unchanging style of her people, her hair blowing around her delicately pointed ears in an unfelt wind. She watched the actors with a sour expression, arms crossed across her chest.

The manhunter started to reach for his sword, then stopped; it would do no good. "Fiarella Donadrien, I presume?"

The apparition's head turned. Her lifeless gaze sent a chill through all of them. "That was my name, soiled though it is."

"Soiled?" asked Parika. "How do you mean?"

The ghost looked back at the players on stage. "Chained to this travesty of an opera, how could it be unsullied? Listen to them, croaking away like congested toads."

"They're afraid you're going to kill them."

"As well I should. They've been butchering my masterpiece for a hundred years. They don't deserve to live."

"What about Avandrae Sialentha?" asked Seraphim.

The anger in the ghost's face faded, replaced by an even deeper pain. "Oh, Avandrae. She was different. She had the talent to make my music fly. After that first night I thought I could never hear anything so beautiful again. It broke my heart in two." Her features contorted in anger again. "Perhaps I should have waited for the encore so I could die of disgust instead."

Nevroth glanced at the others. "What if we could find Avandrae and convince her to perform your opera again?"

Fiarella turned again, hope blossoming on her tortured face. "You would do this?"

"If we can. She may be dead as well."

The ghost shook her head. "No, she lives still. I would know if it were otherwise." Her face hardened again.

"It will take some time to find her," said Parika. "Will you promise not to kill anyone until we return?"

The anger returned to the apparition's features. "I will stay my hand." A cold light burned in her eyes. "If you fail me, however, I will bring a horror the like of which not even this city can imagine!"

The ghost faded away, leaving only the echo of her final words in their ears.

DM Notes:
* The exchange between Rachel and Angus was the result of a simple opposed roll. They both made Diplomacy checks to haggle over the mithril shirt and both botched. "What does that mean?" I wondered. "Ah, it must be love!" On the second roll he botched again, so he fell particularly hard. Rachel is played by my wife, so it was quite amusing to run. I don't remember the exact words, but it went something like: "The sweaty, shirtless blacksmith turns around. You hear your bodice ripping."

 

[peteyfrogboy]

The Voyage Begins

Early the next morning, the four companions were sharing breakfast and discussing their impending trip. Parika buttered a biscuit as she spoke. "Gorsky said that Avandrae lives in the Tanglewood in Ahandria. Wherever that is."

"I'm sure we can find it," said Nevroth. How many Tanglewoods can there be?"

"Three," said a voice from the corner of the room. They looked over and saw Delthic with a songbook laid open in front of him. "Gorsky told me about his problem, and how you were going to help him out with it. There are two small forests in the north of the Midlands called 'Tanglewood', but Avandrae lives in the large one in the south. The elves call it Glamrenglir."

Nevroth and Parika shared a silent look, then Parika leaned over in her chair and smiled. "You know, we might have need of someone who knows their way around Ahandria."

Delthic picked up his already-packed bag from under the table and walked over to join them. "I thought you'd never ask." He pulled a roll of vellum from a pouch on the side of his pack and laid it out on the table. It was a map of the Eastern Kingdoms, from Moril down to Tavis and everything in between. "I picked up a new map; mine's covered in notes that aren't really pertinent to this expedition." He placed his finger on a tiny cluster of islands in the middle of the ocean. "We're here." He traced a line straight across the open water to the Midland coast. "The quickest route is going to be straight across the Dragon Sea to Istaro, here." He tapped his finger on a small dot. "Then we can pick up some horses and head east overland." The route he described went through Pradnipha, Travatti, San Frinalo, and finally Luni. None of these names were familiar to anyone else. "Luni's on the edge of Glamrenglir; we should be able to find someone there to guide us to where we need to go."

Nevroth looked around at the others, whose faces were uniformly blank. "Uh, that sounds like a good plan."

The bard nodded and stowed the map away again. "Now we just have to find a ship willing to take us across the Dragon in storm season. I've got to tell some people I'll be gone. I'll meet you all down at the docks in an hour or so."

As Delthic went out the door, Parika shook her head. "He can be a useful guy sometimes." She turned to Seraphim. "Come to think of it, don't you have people to talk to, too? You have a job here, unlike the rest of us."

The halfling smiled. "I checked with them already. Turns out they insure the Opera House. They really don't want to have to pay out any claims if there's a massacre. I have their blessing."

***

Rachel stopped and put her hands on her hips. She nodded as she looked up at the merchant galleon tied up by the pier. The lines of the ship were graceful compared to her neighbors, with a generous number of sails that could be configured for any wind or weather. Painted across the bow were the words Breath of Heaven. "This is the one."

"Why this one?" asked Nevroth. Despite growing up in the port town of Cahiedra, he had never taken much interest in sailing.

"First off, it's a big ship, so it should be able to handle any weather better. Second, it's an Ahandrian merchant ship, so it's probably used to making this run. Third," she traced the curves of the ship in the air with her fingers, "It's a Lagurn ship. The Duchy of Lagurn makes the fastest sailing ships on the sea. Of course, they keep the best for themselves, but this is going to get us where we're going faster and safer than any other tub out here." She snapped her fingers. "Come on, Gorsky, let's go talk to the captain."

She and the gnome went up to the ship and were let on board. From below the others could see them talking with the captain. Though they were too far to hear, it was possible to tell from his familiar hair-pulling that Gorsky was complaining that the cost of passage would ruin him.

Delthic chuckled. "Oh, one other thing you'll be happy to hear. Since I started hanging around with you lot I've learned a few new ditties to help patch you up should anything... violent happen."

"Oh, I'm sure it will," said Nevroth. "It always does."

***

Four days and a minor amount of seasickness later, the Breath of Heaven was approaching Istaro Harbor. The trip had been so uneventful as to almost be boring. Nevroth spent most of his time practicing with his new sword and hook. Seraphim and Parika played cards with the crew. Rachel made herself useful up on deck. The crew -- like most Ahandrian crews -- was all male, but they were impressed enough with Rachel's ability to let her help out.

There was a knock at the door of Nevroth and Delthic's cabin. The manhunter glanced at the small porthole and saw that it was not yet light out. He opened the door to see the captain. "We're in sight of Istaro. I'm dropping anchor here to wait for a pilot at dawn to take us in past the shoals. I'm sending some of my men ashore in the boat to make arrangements. You folks are welcome to go with them. I know you're in a hurry to get where you're going."

"I appreciate that, Captain. I'll let everyone know." He closed the door and poked the snoring bard. "Get up. We're leaving."

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Blood On The Water

The surface of the water was calm, and the glow of lanterns filtered down beneath the gentle swells. They have light, thought Bubuduul as he floated beneath the air breathers' boat. It will not save them. He gave the order to begin the assault, his low murmur carrying easily through the water. His warriors moved as one, taking up positions all around the unsuspecting vessel.

Bubuduul had recently been named Marr of the Western Reach, a prestigious office that would bring him much respect. To prove his worthiness, he chose to punish the air breathers who stole his people's food. Soon they would be food for the fish instead. Bubuduul swam upward toward the surface, his webbed hands wrapped tightly around the shaft of Breathstealer. The jagged edged spear was carved in a single piece from the bone of an ancient sea dragon and inlaid with rare corals, the sacred weapon of the Western Marr.

Quickly and quietly Bubuduul and his war party climbed the sides of the boat. they leaped over the rail as one, claws and teeth bared to rend the flesh of men. the handful of fishermen on board screamed and shouted as they saw the attacking sahuagin, especially those that laid eyes on the fearsome Ulupoodool. The Marr of the West had chosen the four-armed savage to accompany him on his inaugural campaign. Ulupoodool's kind were unpredictable and hard to control, but once set loose among enemies their viciousness was unmatched. Bubuduul stood back and watched as his warriors advanced. The fishermen, armed with little more than gaffs and belaying pins, would not last long.

Something caught the Marr's attention on the starboard rail of the ship. Two of his warriors were surrounding one of the fishermen. One of them, however, had an arrow sticking out of his back. Something struck the same warrior in the head, sending scales and blood flying. Bubuduul looked over the side and could barely see the stern of a boat being rowed up alongside. He could hear many voices and weapons being drawn. One of the voices was making a horrible noise that almost sounded like singing. Teeth bared, he hissed. He had wanted a quick and complete victory. No matter, he thought, readying Breathstealer, it will only increase my glory. One of the fishermen was standing amidships, shouting orders to the others. Bubuduul strode toward him and thrust his spear through the man's back. It emerged through his chest in a spray of blood and the orders ceased.

Two humans climbed up a net that was hanging over the side of the ship, coming over the rail on the poop deck. One of them held a curved blade in one hand and a shield in the other, while the second had two straight blades. Their swords glittered in the moonlight like darting fish. Bubuduul hurried aft to aid his warriors against the swordsmen. He passed Ulupoodool, who was making a mad charge at one of the fishermen, presumably to push him into the water. The Marr felt another pang of concern as he saw how awkwardly the four armed creature moved; he had likely never been out of the water before. Even as this thought occurred to him, he saw Ulupoodool trip and fall on the rocking deck.

As he arrived at the stern, his warriors were engaging the two air breathers. Now that he was closer he could see that the one with the curved sword was female. The females are weak, he thought. I will not waste Breathstealer on her. He worked his way around the melee to face the man with two swords. He thrust the serrated blade forward, piercing the human's arm. One strike from that spear was usually enough to fell a man -- Bubuduul had seen it many times -- but this one fought on. The Marr dodged a strike from the man's longer sword, but the shorter blade struck him in the leg. Now that he was closer he could see that the short blade seemed to be growing right out of the man's arm. He began to wonder what sort of creatures these were.

Stealing a glance behind him, Bubuduul saw four of his warriors surrounding the female. He thrust at his own opponent again, drawing blood from his flank but still not slaying him. Looking back again, he saw two warriors lying on the deck and the other two bleeding badly. The female was untouched. Three more men had climbed up from below, joining Bubuduul's first opponent. He backed up toward the aft rail to keep from being surrounded.

Breathstealer danced and weaved as Bubuduul tried to fend off his attackers, but one sword managed to get by and draw a stinging slash across his cheek. He watched as the female finished off her last two opponents and leaped down to the main deck. None of the fishermen were still standing, but that seemed a small victory at this point.

Arrows and stones were still flying up from the boat, occasionally striking any sahuagin too near the rail. Bubuduul was fighting for his life, but part of his mind was mesmerized by the ballet of defeat playing out down on the main deck. Three of his warriors fired their massive crossbows at the female, but she dodged or shrugged off every bolt. Ulupoodool stabbed her with the trident in his upper hands, but then he lost his footing again and fell on one of the daggers in his lower hands. The savage rose again and surrounded her with the rest of the war party. He slashed her across the ribs with one of her daggers, but it was nowhere near enough. In only a few heartbeats she had finished her massacre.

Bubuduul hissed with rage, plunging his spear into the chest of the sword-handed demon before him. Blood sprayed forth, and the Marr could tell the human was close to death. It was not close enough, though, and Bubuduul knew it. The water beckoned behind him, but he knew that no kinder fate would await him should he return home a failure. This is impossible! he thought. It must be Grupokul's doing. He put some sort of curse--

 

[peteyfrogboy]

On The Road

As the sun rose over the low roofs of Istaro, the five travelers found themselves on dry land once more. Nevroth could still feel a slight tingling where he had been wounded, but Delthic's magic had repaired most of the damage. He held the spear that had caused those wounds in his hands. "Enchanted, you say?"

Seraphim nodded. "I could be more specific, but I don't have any pearls on hand."

"Pearls?" Parika's attention was always drawn to talk of gems.

"I need it for the identification spell," explained the halfling. She held her thumb and forefinger up a half inch apart. "About so big."

Parika whistled. "I could use one of those myself."

Seraphim shrugged. "I used to keep a couple on me, but Rhodes has been supplying me since I got the job. This close to the ocean we might be able to find some here in town."

"You guys take care of that," said Rachel. "I'll try to find us some horses."

"I'll go with you," said Nevroth.

Delthic nodded his head toward the city. "I've got a few friends here. I'll see if any of them have heard anything about Avandrae."

***

As it turned out, Istaro had nothing in the way of pearls or information. They were able to find horses, however, and they headed out on the east road to Pradnipha that afternoon. The highway was well maintained and patrolled, with inns spaced comfortably all along the road. Seraphim and Parika were doubled up on one of the horses, recalling stories from their youth in Averdane. Delthic livened up the journey occasionally with songs drawn from his wide repertoire of traveling music.

After nearly five days on the road, they finally caught sight of the walls of Pradnipha. The high stone wall around the city center seemed out of place in the Midlands, but Pradnipha had been in the path of every Kufriti army that had come up from the south in the past centuries. Most Ahandrian cities had walls of wood, if they had any at all. Despite the relatively comfortable traveling conditions of the road, they were grateful to be able to rest in a higher class of inn.

Delthic was still unable to uncover any rumors about their quarry, but Seraphim was able to find some pearls suitable to use for her magic. It seemed that all of the best pearls -- and other goods -- from Istaro tended to make their way up the road to the much larger city of Pradnipha. She also found a couple of explorers who needed an artifact identified, which helped offset some of her costs. The sahuagin's spear turned out to bear only a minor enchantment, but it was still more than any of their other weapons. Nevroth decided to hang on to it just in case it was needed.

After a restful night in the city, they set out toward the rising sun once more. The road east of Pradnipha was less heavily traveled than the one they had been on, and the convenient wayside inns became less and less so. The flat coastal plains gradually gave way to rolling hills as they neared the slopes of the Cappelori Mountains, which Rachel knew as the Red Peaks. The dwarves, of course, claimed the entire range as part of the empire of Stonehome. The towering crags loomed silently on the horizon, unchanging no matter what they were named.

"We should be able to make Travatti by tonight," said Delthic. Shadows stretched long before the four horses as the sun sank behind them. "If we're lucky we can --" He heard a whinny and looked back to see Parika wheeling her horse around and heading back up the road. Nevroth, meanwhile, was drawing his sword as he rode up the hill on the right side of the road. Before he could ask what was going on, his unspoken question was answered by a hail of arrows from either side. He kicked his heels to the horse's flanks and rode straight ahead. Normally, his response to banditry was to run fast and not look back, but somehow he didn't think his traveling companions would do the same. He stopped the horse after a couple of heartbeats and turned around.

People were coming over the hills on either side of the road. On the north side were three archers and an unarmed woman, while on the south were another four archers. Parika and Seraphim were both dismounting as the woman on the hilltop began gesturing. She pointed her finger in their direction, sending a sizzling green bolt arcing through the air. Her aim was poor, though, and her intended targets retaliated with arrow and eldritch fire, felling her in an instant. Rachel seemed to have been caught as much off guard as had Delthic, and her lack of vigilance had been rewarded with a pair of arrows protruding from her side. She leapt off her horse and charged up the hill, cutlass raised high. Nevroth had already gained the opposite hilltop, swords at the ready. One of the archers dropped his bow and drew a sword, striking sparks from Nevroth's blade with a powerful blow.

The archers concentrated their fire on the swordsmen in their midst, finding more success targeting Nevroth than Rachel. The archers on the north hill retreated as they fired, but Rachel ran them down one at a time. Nevroth and the bandit swordsman dueled on the south hill, while Parika and Seraphim weakened Nevroth's opponent from afar. Rather than turn their attention to the women below, the archers on the south hill continued firing at Nevroth. They were continuing to injure him, but their tactical error proved to be their undoing; the swordsman fell, leaving them at Nevroth's mercy. After the first of them was struck down by the manhunter, the others ran off into the hills.

Delthic rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. He wore it mainly for show; if he ever was in a position where he needed to draw it, he would probably be better off fleeing. He looked up at the setting sun. If they moved quickly, they could still make Travatti before dark.

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Ever Eastward

Seraphim looked down at the town with an expression of distaste. "This is it?" From the top of the hill they could see the whole of Travatti, and there wasn't much to it. The largest buildings in sight were barns; Travatti was primarily an agricultural market town.

"What were you expecting?" asked Parika. "There's not exactly going to be a bustling metropolis out here in the sticks."

"Yeah, I know, but it's St. Hurin's Day."

Parika blinked, then mentally counted the days since they'd left Freeport. "Blast it, you're right." She joined the halfling in her sour mood. "Maybe we can get a good deal on a cow."

The traditional celebration of St. Hurin's Day, the patron saint of commerce, is the suspension of all fixed prices. Every sale must be negotiated, and most often the final price favors the buyer. According to folklore, St. Hurin himself travels in disguise on this night, testing the honesty of merchants. The punishment for misrepresentation of wares, gouging, or other duplicity differs from story to story, but it is uniformly harsh.

Parika and Seraphim wandered glumly through the bustling marketplace. If they had been in need of a new plow, they would have been in just the right place. They did find a booth selling jewelry, which was nothing spectacular but interesting enough to stop and browse. "I don't suppose you have any pearls about so big?" asked Seraphim doubtfully.

"Ahh, nope." replied the jeweler in the slow drawl common to rural Midland folk. "Sometimes I get big pearls like that from the city, but only when Master Lutti asks for them."

The halfling raised an eyebrow. "Master Lutti? Who's that?"

"Vincenzo Lutti. He's one of those wizards, you know. Lives outside of town a ways." He pointed across the square. "He's over yonder if you want to talk to him."

Vincenzo Lutti turned out to be a fairly average looking man, as wizards went. He was middle aged and slightly paunchy. His clothes were finely tailored, but they were a far cry from the elaborate robes affected by most who shared his profession. The few things he had for sale were either minor trinkets or out of their price range, St. Hurin's Day or no. He was pleasant enough, though, and he chatted with Seraphim for a while of matters arcane. As they were discussing the pros and cons of spellbooks, Parika's glazed expression became animated again. She rummaged in her pack and produced a small tome bound in green leather. "This was that woman's spellbook."

"Oh, I had forgotten about that," said Seraphim. She smiled sweetly at the wizard. "What's it worth to you?"

Vincenzo took the book from Parika and flipped through it. "Hmm, not much in here. A good apprentice's book, perhaps." He thumbed through a number of blank pages at the back of the book, then stopped at the inside back cover. "Ah, this was Catherine Rollins' spellbook?"

Parika shrugged. "We didn't quite catch her name. We were busy trying to keep her from killing us on the road."

"Hm, yes," the wizard looked back through the book again. "She's been a problem of late in these parts. She came up from Jal Kufri last year; I guess she didn't get along well with the Guild down there. Can't say as I blame her, actually. Still, she's made no friends on this side of the border either."

"Well, she's not going to be a problem any more," said Parika.

"Is that so?" Vincenzo frowned. "A pity. She had some talent." He closed the book.

In the end, Catherine Rollins' life's work was valued at four hundred gold crowns.

***

The next day, Seraphim used her last pearl to examine the magical properties of some items they had recovered from the bandits. The wizard had worn a plain copper pendant that was determined to have a protective aura. The swordsman had carried a few flasks full of a red tonic that increased the imbiber's strength. More interestingly, his sword turned out to be enchanted as well.

"The enchantment is no greater than the one on the fish-man's spear," she said after finishing her examination.

"But it's a sword, and that's a much better thing," replied Nevroth happily.

The halfling handed the sword back. "What do you make of the engravings on the blade?"

"Honestly, I hadn't bothered to look at them yet." He tilted the blade to catch the lamp light better. "'The Sun is propelled through the Sky by the Motion of Crystal Spheres.'" He flipped the blade over. "'The Sun moves through the Sky because it is Tavion's Will that it does so.'" He shrugged. "It makes no sense to me."

Delthic stopped strumming his lute and leaned forward. "What was that again?" Nevroth repeated the phrases. "That's interesting. That's one of St. Olan's more famous quotes." As often happened, his reference was met with blank stares. "St. Olan is fairly obscure; it's no wonder you haven't heard of him. He was a renowned philosopher and theologian. There are much more elegant arguments attributed to him, but the one about the sun is the best known. It's said that his tongue was as sharp as any sword. What it means in this case, however, is as much a mystery to me as it is to you."

***

None of them were sad to leave Travatti that afternoon. It had been nearly two weeks since they left Freeport, and they could feel the deadline looming over their heads. The endless parade of hills made it seem like they were making no progress. Delthic tried to keep the mood upbeat with songs and stories, but it was difficult. The few discussions they had about their quest were discouraging; none of them were sure that they would be able to find the reclusive singer, let alone convince her to make the journey back with them. They slept uneasily under the stars that night.

They had just resumed their journey after the next day's brief midday meal when the silence was broken by a pair of ear-splitting screeches. Swooping over the hills on either side of the road came a pair of beasts with the foreparts of giant eagles and the hindquarters of lions. The massive griffons bore down on Rachel and Nevroth, but they seemed unprepared for such well-armed riders. Each of the creatures attempted to stall their dives, landing awkwardly before their intended prey. Delthic clung desperately to his horse's reins as it bolted ahead. Parika managed to turn her panicked horse to the rear and cover some distance before dismounting. Seraphim slid off the back of Parika's horse, her fingers weaving magical energy before her feet hit the ground. The flashing bolts streaked toward the griffon near Parika, sending feathers flying into the air.

Rachel and Nevroth got down from their bucking mounts and readied their blades. They slashed and stabbed at the beasts, but every stroke from their swords was countered by a snapping beak or raking claw. Parika and Seraphim concentrated their fire on the beast mauling Rachel, and it slowly started showing signs of weakness. Rachel and Nevroth bled from a number of vicious wounds, staggering under the flurry of attacks. Rachel took a breath as the griffon stepped back from her, then threw her shield up over her face as the creature spread its wings and leaped over her head. It landed in front of Delthic's horse, which reared up and dumped the bard on the ground. The horse raced off, pursued by the bleeding griffon. Seeing its partner leaving, the second griffon broke off its attack and took to the air, flying away in the direction Parika's horse had run.

Delthic did what he could for Nevroth and Rachel's wounds as Parika rounded up the two remaining horses. They mounted up as best they could and made haste down the road. Afraid that the griffons might not have satisfied their hunger, the weary travelers walked and rode through the night. It nearly came as a surprise when they reached the outskirts of San Frinalo. The low buildings of the town were little more than deeper shadows in the dark of night; not a single light could be seen anywhere. They managed to find an inn along the main road, its sign lit only by the moon peeking over the hills. The door and shutters were closed.

"Some hospitality," muttered Nevroth.