Pathfinder 1E JollyDoc's Way Of The Wicked
carborundum
Adventurer
Happy Christmas, JD and players!
Settling Old Debts - 25 Neth, 4718 - 2 Kuthona, 4718
Timeon’s coronation was a grand affair, attended by most of the populace of Matharyn, and afterwards the Dannisters were free with the city’s coffers to provide a grand revelry that lasted 3 days. The people were happy, and distracted. Once again Tardaesha and her companions met with Count Barca, with the contract devil Dessiter in attendance, to finalize their arrangement. The Count received the land grants he’d requested in exchange for his unswerving loyalty to the new king. He was also granted the title Master of Ships for the King’s small council.
One evening, as the Ninth Knot was settling into their new roles, Dessiter abruptly appeared in their midst.
“Greetings, great and powerful lords,” the contract devil fawned. “It is my pleasure to stand again in the presence of your infernal majesties. Today I am not alone. I bring an ally and petitioner to your service. May I present the anti-paladin Sir Berithor, who has sworn service to our father and bound himself to hell. He has something to say... ”
To the shock of those assembled, Sir Richard stepped forward, though he barely resembled the proud knight they’d last encountered. He bowed low before them.
“I offer you my sword and my service, if you will have it.”
“ Ah,” said Dessiter. “How pleasant to see old enemies reconciled.”
“And just what is it that we are supposed to do with him?” Dakota sneered.
“Use him as you see fit,” Dessiter grinned. “He is yours to do with as you will.”
“He’s your puppet, not ours!” Dakota snapped.
“You wound me with your distrust,” Dessiter feigned. “Regardless, if you need assurance of his loyalties, we could have him swear an an oath in blood to you here and now that would guarantee his loyalty. Surely you remember the Pact of Thorns. He could sign something similar. And then you could make him a leader of a knot. You must have a few openings by now... ”
“That didn’t stop us from killing Thorn,” Kelvin observed dryly.
“Only because he didn't seek proper legal counsel!” Dessiter was dismissive. “Fortunately, O great ones, you have me to make sure we end up with an iron clad contract.”
He quickly produced a lengthy document effectively binding Sir Berithor to the Ninth Knot.
“Now, what is to become of him?” Dessiter asked.
“I have just the thing,” Tardaesha smiled. “The Wall needs rebuilding, and the garrison there is in need of a new Lord Commander...since Sir ‘Berithor’s’ father so abruptly vacated the post.”
_____________________________________________________________________
“I’ve found him,” Kelvin announced as he strode into Tardaesha’s quarters without knocking.
“Who?” Tardaesha asked, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“Who?” Kelvin repeated. “Whom do you think? Did you not task me with finding Thorn’s lackey, Wolfram? You know, I really do have better things to do than be your errand boy.”
“Now, now, brother,” Tardaesha soothed, “of course I appreciate your endeavors. It’s just that there is much more to this whole kingdom-ruling thing than I could have imagined. Where is the blackguard hiding?”
“The wilderness,” Kelvin said, only slightly mollified. “Middle of nowhere. I can transport us there whenever you’re ready. He hasn’t moved from his position in awhile.”
“Then why wait?” Tardaesha smiled. “Let’s assemble the others.”
__________________________________________________________________
Marcellus Wolfram had known it would only be a matter of time before the Ninth Knot tracked him down. In truth, he welcomed the moment when they finally appeared in the dank cavern in which he’d been huddled like a maggot for so many months. He was tired of waiting, and was determined to take at least some of them with him to Hell when he went. His two erstwhile allies, the blue dragon Azulla, and the void oni Subatai, on the other hand, were caught completely unawares.
“We assume that, since you have not reached out to us,” Tardaesha smiled, “that you are no longer interested in serving our lord Asmodeus.”
“You do not represent our Lord!” Marcellus screamed. “You are a usurper! You don’t deserve to clean the slop of Adrastus Thorn!”
“So it’s settled then,” Tardaesha smiled. “You can take the issue up with the Dark Lord when you see him.”
She nodded to Kelvin, who in turn cast out his hand towards the black-skinned oni. The creature disappeared, banished instantaneously to a hellscape of his own mind. Before Azulla or Marcellus could react, Kelvin followed up with an explosive ball of fire that engulfed half the chamber. Marcellus had prepared for such things. He did, after all, know the tactics of the Ninth Knot quite intimately. The magical wards against heat and fire he’d woven into his armor protected him. Azulla was not so fortunate. She screamed as half of her body was scorched. Marcellus did not care. He’d already turned to face Roger, who’d come rushing headlong towards him in the aftermath of Kelvin’s blast. Anti-paladin faced anti-paladin as the blades of the two unholy warriors clashed. Roger, undead and wielding his hellish blade, was the stronger of the two, but Marcellus had years of martial tactics under his belt. He feinted and moved deftly, drawing Roger in, and then surging forward. He caught the liche off guard, and with a flurry of strikes and parries, cut Roger down. He collapsed into a pile of ash.
Marcellus turned towards Tardaesha, his cloak swirling around him, but before he could take a step, a wall of flames erupted from the floor between him and the high priestess.
“That will only hold him back for a moment,” Kelvin told his sister. “If you have any last minute preparations, you’d best see to them now.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tardaesha snapped, nodding her head over Kelvin’s shoulder.
The wizard turned to look, and saw, much to his surprise, that the oni had returned.
“He must be smarter than I gave him credit for,” Kelvin muttered.
He casually tossed a fireball at the oni, but when it erupted, a shield of blue flames surrounded the creature, dissipating Kelvin’s fire harmlessly.
“This is really starting to piss me off,” Kelvin snarled.
Tardaesha took the opportunity to close the distance to Azulla, narrowly avoiding her jaws as the dragon snapped at her like a striking serpent.
“Where is my son!?” Azulla hissed.
“Your...son?” Tardaesha asked, honestly perplexed.
“Jeratheon!” Azulla screamed. “Return him to me!!”
Tardaesha almost laughed out loud.
“Jeratheon is your son? Not exactly mum-of-the-year were you?”
Azulla howled in rage and launched herself at Tardaesha. The High Priestess deftly side-stepped the clumsy charge and raked her blade down the dragon’s exposed flank. From behind Azulla, Katarina stepped out of the shadows and began tossing black-bladed daggers, each of them embedding in the creature’s flesh up to the hilt.
“Out of the way!” Kelvin shouted from somewhere behind Tardaesha.
The priestess had learned by now not to ignore such warnings. She tucked and rolled just as an explosive blast of fire washed over Azulla. Tardaesha leaped to her feet and ran to the struggling dragon. Before Azulla could recover, Tardaesha plunged her sword into her heart.
“I’ll give Jeratheon your regards,” she smiled.
When Tardaesha moved to return to Kelvin’s side, she saw that Wolfram had beat her to the punch. The dark knight was charging her brother, but at the last moment, a wall of flames erupted between them. Wolfram adjusted his trajectory, and turned towards Tardaesha. Though she braced herself for his attack, and even managed to score a glancing blow as he approached, she was not prepared for the sheer, unstoppable fury of the assault. He struck her so hard that his blade shattered all of her defenses, and sent her stumbling back a dozen feet or more. Wolfram stalked towards her, his weapon raised for a killing blow, but then Katarina appeared behind him and drove her dagger into his back in rapid succession. Wolfram reeled, momentarily bewildered as waves of numbness shot down his spine. Before he could regain his composure, Kelvin stepped through the wall of flames and conjured a large, disembodied hand, which immediately seized Wolfram in a crushing grip. The anti-paladin howled and flexed, bursting the fingers of the hand apart, but by that time Tardaesha was on him. She repeated the killing blow she’d used on Azulla, plunging her sword through Wolfram’s chest. As his eyes went dim, she leaned forward and hissed into his ear.
“Now you will see whom Asmodeus truly favors!”
Subatai had seen enough. His loyalty only went so far, and Wolfram was dead. His body melted and flowed into an amorphous black cloud, but before he could make his escape, the Ninth Knot boxed him in. There would be no witnesses and no survivors.
Timeon’s coronation was a grand affair, attended by most of the populace of Matharyn, and afterwards the Dannisters were free with the city’s coffers to provide a grand revelry that lasted 3 days. The people were happy, and distracted. Once again Tardaesha and her companions met with Count Barca, with the contract devil Dessiter in attendance, to finalize their arrangement. The Count received the land grants he’d requested in exchange for his unswerving loyalty to the new king. He was also granted the title Master of Ships for the King’s small council.
One evening, as the Ninth Knot was settling into their new roles, Dessiter abruptly appeared in their midst.
“Greetings, great and powerful lords,” the contract devil fawned. “It is my pleasure to stand again in the presence of your infernal majesties. Today I am not alone. I bring an ally and petitioner to your service. May I present the anti-paladin Sir Berithor, who has sworn service to our father and bound himself to hell. He has something to say... ”
To the shock of those assembled, Sir Richard stepped forward, though he barely resembled the proud knight they’d last encountered. He bowed low before them.
“I offer you my sword and my service, if you will have it.”
“ Ah,” said Dessiter. “How pleasant to see old enemies reconciled.”
“And just what is it that we are supposed to do with him?” Dakota sneered.
“Use him as you see fit,” Dessiter grinned. “He is yours to do with as you will.”
“He’s your puppet, not ours!” Dakota snapped.
“You wound me with your distrust,” Dessiter feigned. “Regardless, if you need assurance of his loyalties, we could have him swear an an oath in blood to you here and now that would guarantee his loyalty. Surely you remember the Pact of Thorns. He could sign something similar. And then you could make him a leader of a knot. You must have a few openings by now... ”
“That didn’t stop us from killing Thorn,” Kelvin observed dryly.
“Only because he didn't seek proper legal counsel!” Dessiter was dismissive. “Fortunately, O great ones, you have me to make sure we end up with an iron clad contract.”
He quickly produced a lengthy document effectively binding Sir Berithor to the Ninth Knot.
“Now, what is to become of him?” Dessiter asked.
“I have just the thing,” Tardaesha smiled. “The Wall needs rebuilding, and the garrison there is in need of a new Lord Commander...since Sir ‘Berithor’s’ father so abruptly vacated the post.”
_____________________________________________________________________
“I’ve found him,” Kelvin announced as he strode into Tardaesha’s quarters without knocking.
“Who?” Tardaesha asked, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“Who?” Kelvin repeated. “Whom do you think? Did you not task me with finding Thorn’s lackey, Wolfram? You know, I really do have better things to do than be your errand boy.”
“Now, now, brother,” Tardaesha soothed, “of course I appreciate your endeavors. It’s just that there is much more to this whole kingdom-ruling thing than I could have imagined. Where is the blackguard hiding?”
“The wilderness,” Kelvin said, only slightly mollified. “Middle of nowhere. I can transport us there whenever you’re ready. He hasn’t moved from his position in awhile.”
“Then why wait?” Tardaesha smiled. “Let’s assemble the others.”
__________________________________________________________________
Marcellus Wolfram had known it would only be a matter of time before the Ninth Knot tracked him down. In truth, he welcomed the moment when they finally appeared in the dank cavern in which he’d been huddled like a maggot for so many months. He was tired of waiting, and was determined to take at least some of them with him to Hell when he went. His two erstwhile allies, the blue dragon Azulla, and the void oni Subatai, on the other hand, were caught completely unawares.
“We assume that, since you have not reached out to us,” Tardaesha smiled, “that you are no longer interested in serving our lord Asmodeus.”
“You do not represent our Lord!” Marcellus screamed. “You are a usurper! You don’t deserve to clean the slop of Adrastus Thorn!”
“So it’s settled then,” Tardaesha smiled. “You can take the issue up with the Dark Lord when you see him.”
She nodded to Kelvin, who in turn cast out his hand towards the black-skinned oni. The creature disappeared, banished instantaneously to a hellscape of his own mind. Before Azulla or Marcellus could react, Kelvin followed up with an explosive ball of fire that engulfed half the chamber. Marcellus had prepared for such things. He did, after all, know the tactics of the Ninth Knot quite intimately. The magical wards against heat and fire he’d woven into his armor protected him. Azulla was not so fortunate. She screamed as half of her body was scorched. Marcellus did not care. He’d already turned to face Roger, who’d come rushing headlong towards him in the aftermath of Kelvin’s blast. Anti-paladin faced anti-paladin as the blades of the two unholy warriors clashed. Roger, undead and wielding his hellish blade, was the stronger of the two, but Marcellus had years of martial tactics under his belt. He feinted and moved deftly, drawing Roger in, and then surging forward. He caught the liche off guard, and with a flurry of strikes and parries, cut Roger down. He collapsed into a pile of ash.
Marcellus turned towards Tardaesha, his cloak swirling around him, but before he could take a step, a wall of flames erupted from the floor between him and the high priestess.
“That will only hold him back for a moment,” Kelvin told his sister. “If you have any last minute preparations, you’d best see to them now.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tardaesha snapped, nodding her head over Kelvin’s shoulder.
The wizard turned to look, and saw, much to his surprise, that the oni had returned.
“He must be smarter than I gave him credit for,” Kelvin muttered.
He casually tossed a fireball at the oni, but when it erupted, a shield of blue flames surrounded the creature, dissipating Kelvin’s fire harmlessly.
“This is really starting to piss me off,” Kelvin snarled.
Tardaesha took the opportunity to close the distance to Azulla, narrowly avoiding her jaws as the dragon snapped at her like a striking serpent.
“Where is my son!?” Azulla hissed.
“Your...son?” Tardaesha asked, honestly perplexed.
“Jeratheon!” Azulla screamed. “Return him to me!!”
Tardaesha almost laughed out loud.
“Jeratheon is your son? Not exactly mum-of-the-year were you?”
Azulla howled in rage and launched herself at Tardaesha. The High Priestess deftly side-stepped the clumsy charge and raked her blade down the dragon’s exposed flank. From behind Azulla, Katarina stepped out of the shadows and began tossing black-bladed daggers, each of them embedding in the creature’s flesh up to the hilt.
“Out of the way!” Kelvin shouted from somewhere behind Tardaesha.
The priestess had learned by now not to ignore such warnings. She tucked and rolled just as an explosive blast of fire washed over Azulla. Tardaesha leaped to her feet and ran to the struggling dragon. Before Azulla could recover, Tardaesha plunged her sword into her heart.
“I’ll give Jeratheon your regards,” she smiled.
When Tardaesha moved to return to Kelvin’s side, she saw that Wolfram had beat her to the punch. The dark knight was charging her brother, but at the last moment, a wall of flames erupted between them. Wolfram adjusted his trajectory, and turned towards Tardaesha. Though she braced herself for his attack, and even managed to score a glancing blow as he approached, she was not prepared for the sheer, unstoppable fury of the assault. He struck her so hard that his blade shattered all of her defenses, and sent her stumbling back a dozen feet or more. Wolfram stalked towards her, his weapon raised for a killing blow, but then Katarina appeared behind him and drove her dagger into his back in rapid succession. Wolfram reeled, momentarily bewildered as waves of numbness shot down his spine. Before he could regain his composure, Kelvin stepped through the wall of flames and conjured a large, disembodied hand, which immediately seized Wolfram in a crushing grip. The anti-paladin howled and flexed, bursting the fingers of the hand apart, but by that time Tardaesha was on him. She repeated the killing blow she’d used on Azulla, plunging her sword through Wolfram’s chest. As his eyes went dim, she leaned forward and hissed into his ear.
“Now you will see whom Asmodeus truly favors!”
Subatai had seen enough. His loyalty only went so far, and Wolfram was dead. His body melted and flowed into an amorphous black cloud, but before he could make his escape, the Ninth Knot boxed him in. There would be no witnesses and no survivors.
carborundum
Adventurer
Heavy stuff! Thanks for the update, and have fun this NYE!
Sorry for the long interval, folks. Here is the latest update of the daring deeds of our heroes (?). I only have a few more posts until the conclusion of our tale. I will hopefully be able to post them a bit more frequently.
2 Kuthona, 4718 - 14 Kuthona, 4718 - Consolidating Power
On the second day of Kuthona, a royal proclamation came down from the palace in Matheryn. Henceforth, all religions would be allowed to be freely worshipped in Talingarde. On that same day, ground was broken on the palace grounds for a new cathedral. It was not known to whom the grand church would be dedicated, only that it would dwarf the cathedral of Iomedae. Tongues wagged, and murmurs could be heard in all districts of the great city. Change was coming, but would it be for the better?
_________________________________________________________________
“Bellinda is still out there,” Dakota snapped, slapping her palm against Tardaesha’s desk, “and it is quite likely that she is gathering an army to march against us!”
“You’re telling me things that I already know,” Tardaesha sighed. “Kat has her spy network scouring the countryside for any details of her whereabouts, and we still have the mercenary army at our disposal. What more would you suggest?”
“The mercenaries are unreliable,” Dak snorted. “We need true allies.”
“And I suppose you know just the ones?” Tardaesha smirked.
“I at least know where to start,” Dakota nodded. “The Iraen.”
“The barbarians??” Tardaesha laughed. “Why do we need a bunch of loin-cloth wearing savages?”
“Because they despise House Darius as much as we do,” Dak retorted. “Don’t discount the power of their druids, nor the fighting prowess of their berserkers. They are just the sort we need. Vicious, blood-thirsty. Give me leave to approach them, and I promise you will not be disappointed.”
“Fine,” Tardaesha sighed again. “You’ll just do it anyway. Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?” Dak grinned.
____________________________________________________________
With Katarina’s help, Dakota had researched the Iraen extensively before venturing forth to make her overture to the barbarians. The had once dominated the entire island of Talingarde, but centuries before, the Talireans had taken it from them through force and invasion. In fact Matharyn actually took its name from the old Iraen tongue. Although the Talireans dismissed all of this as ancient history, the Iraens did not, and still sought dominion over their ancestral lands, or at the very least, their own sovereign nation in the Caer Bryr. It was speculated by some scholars of history that when the Victor went to Farholde (and destroyed the Horn of Abaddon) he was in fact going there to meet with an Iraen envoy of chieftains and druids. That secret meeting likely did happen and, because of religious differences, little came of it. Because of that, old wounds were reopened.
The Iraen were a very superstitious people who revered the wilderness. They did not worship Iomedae. In fact, they did not worship any gods directly in the way the Talireans did. Instead, they revered the nature spirits that lived all around them in the wild. Even more than reverence, the Iraen long considered mating with the fey-elves of the Caer Bryr a sacred rite. The children of those unions were almost always female and formed a priest caste of druids. Those half-elven druids were held in immense respect and were the true political power amongst the Iraen. The druids had a secret tongue, secret rites and a secret hold somewhere within the Caer Bryr. It was dangerous to visit though. Entering without permission was punishable by death. The druidic tongue of the Iraen wasn’t just secret. It was a magical gift. If one had not been anointed into the order of the priesthood, then they would never be able to master the tongue. The priesthood had a great legend concerning a mighty and seemingly immortal beast that prowled the Caer Bryr – The Caothach Ool. That primal terror would eventually be slain, said the prophecy, and whoever slew the beast would come to the House of Wisdom wearing only its hide, marked with its blood. This chosen one would unite the people of the Iraen and speak their destiny. Whatever that destiny might be, the people of the Iraen could not say. But to ignore it brought disaster.
So it was that, thru judicious use of divination magic, Dakota was able to ascertain a rough estimation of the possible location of the lair of the Caothach Ool. It lay in the wilds beyond Farholde, along the shore of a long, narrow lake. She sent Kat ahead to Farholde, where she hired a local tracker who recognized her description of the lake. The ranger guided her through the wilderness, and when they reached the lake, he found unfamiliar tracks, like those of a great cat. He followed them to a lagoon which lay at the base of a waterfall. Beyond the falls was a cave, and while Kat told the ranger to wait for her, she stole quietly inside. Behind that peaceful and idyllic pool she discovered a muddy cavern and a series of great natural steps that led up to a completely dry landing. The steps were adorned with beautiful natural formations – almost magical seeming sheets of polychromatic flowstone, stalagmites stained brilliantly blue and crimson, stalactites as delicate as they were massive. Beyond the steps was a great dry stone landing, and there on a bed of fur and bones, sat the refuge of the Caothach Ool. This six-limbed beast was gargantuan, yet it stalked about its lair with a fluid grace. Barbed quills ran along its back, and its eyes glowed with a blue light. Kat had seen enough. She crept from the cavern, unseen, unheard and unsmelt by the beast. When she returned to the ranger, she thanked him for his assistance, then quickly slit his throat. She reached into her belt pouch and retrieved a small, furled scroll. Unrolling it, she read the spell written there, then spoke in a whisper.
“I have found the beast’s lair. Have Hillary scry my location. I will await you here.”
__________________________________________________________________
The Caothach Ool smelled the intruders to its den long before it saw them. It crouched, tail twitching back and forth, pupils fully dilated. When Roger led the way into the den, the creature was on him instantly, pouncing from its perch and pinning him to the ground. Jeratheon burst into the cave and breathed his acidic venom upon the beast, causing its flesh to smoke and dissolve in various places. As the beast briefly reeled, Roger reached up and laid his bony hand upon its breast. The negative energy that was now his life’s blood pulsed into the Caothach Ool, sending it howling and spitting away from him. Katarina was waiting. She plunged a dagger into the animal’s flank, but was rewarded for her efforts by several painful pokes from the creature’s razor-sharp quills. Dakota had no such problems, as she fired a volley of arrows into the beast. The Caothach Ool tried to bite at the shafts, spinning in violent circles to get at them. Tardaesha moved in quickly and parted the beast’s head from its shoulders with one clean swipe.
____________________________________________________________________
When Timeon entered Taigh Eolach, the stronghold of the Iraens, clad in nothing but the skin of the Caothach Ool, he was at first met with hostility as the barbarians prepared to end the life of the fool who’d come some blindly among them. Then, one by one, they saw what he wore, and they began to understand.
He was led to a central longhouse, where a hastily assembled group of female half-elven druidesses gasped with realization. Fianna Mannochmor, the high druidess, lead the assembly, which remained deathly silent. Finally the high druidess spoke.
“You... you are the one... ” was all she could manage.
“I am Timeon the First,” the King replied, “called the Uniter, Slayer of Beasts, Creator of Worlds, King of all Talingarde!”
After a moment the high druidess regained her composure.
“We all know the signs,” she said. “We have heard the whispers amongst the trees. We all know what has been written in the stars in recent years. At last our moment has come. We have been cast out of our own land. We have been made to hide from the children of our conquerors. We have waited for our destiny. And here it is. Our fate it would seem, for good or ill, is with you, O child of destiny.”
_______________________________________________________________
One morning, during a meeting of the privy council, Tardaesha slammed her fists down on the table upon hearing that, once again, the kindgom’s coffers were running dangerously low.
“Why aren’t we receiving more tariffs from foreign trade!??” she raged.
“Because of the kraken, of course,” Cedric Malthus replied matter-of-factly.
“You've been listening to those addle-brained sailors too much!” Leothyn Barca snorted. “A kraken? Nonsense. Have you ever seen this kraken?”
Malthus laughed.
“Seen it? I'm alive aren't I? Of course I haven't seen it. Maybe it is just an old fish story, but I do know this. There is something in the sea between the eastern coast of Talingarde and the mainland that scares the piss out sea-going merchants. Every captain I talked to, and that's a lot, all consider the passage to Talingarde to be hazardous duty and demanded extra for the journey if they'd take it at all. You want to know how to increase the amount of taxes you collect every month? Well, here's a way: destroy whatever is scaring those captains. Do that and you'll open up trade with the mainland.”
Upon Tardaesha’s command, Malthus sought out and found a sailor who claimed to be an eye-witness to the rumors. Cedric produced the man, one Captain Curtis O’Farthing, at the next council meeting.
“The kraken is real,” O’Farthing confirmed. “Everyone knows that. But I'm one of the few to have seen it and lived. I was aboard the merchantman Grindal's Last Guilder out of Berckport. I was just an able seaman then. Suddenly it started to storm something fearsome. Blew up out of nowhere like the gods themselves were furious with us. That’s when the tentacles hit us. Great ropey lashes they were, thicker than a man. They tore the ship in half like you would rip a biscuit. By luck, I happened to buy a charm honorin' the sea queen before I rode the waves. Paid two gold for it. Best two gold I ever spent! For the sea queen sent me the broken masthead and I floated away from the wreck as sharks the size of elephants swarmed up from the water and began to feed upon the crew. The ghastliest thing I ever heard, your grace...the sound of a hundred men being eaten alive. I floated for three days till a small cutter picked me up. The kraken's real, your grace. That's the gods' own truth.”
_______________________________________________________________
Later that same evening, Tardaesha paid a visit to Captain O’Farthing aboard his ship. The weak-willed man easily submitted to her supernatural will, and she told him to prepare a crew to sail the following night. No questions asked.
The royal ship, Darkest ‘Fore Dawn, set sail the next night with all the Dannisters aboard. The captain made for the area rumored to be the kraken’s hunting grounds, a journey that would take two days at best. Tardaesha ordered the sailors to chum the waters, telling them they were hunting sharks. By noon of the second day, the weather had taken a dramatic change. The temperature dropped more than 40 degrees to sub freezing. The winds howled, blowing snow and ice through the rigging. The sailors began to panic as lines started to snap and sails flapped free. Finally, Hillary emerged from her quarters and held aloft a flashing blue orb. Lightning arced from the orb into the black clouds above. Within minutes the storm abated, the seas calmed, and the clouds parted to reveal clear night skies once more.
The lull did not last. Before Hillary had even returned to her cabin, the wind began to rise once more. In moments it gusted to hurricane strength, and from out of nowhere a massive funnel cloud appeared off the ship’s port side. Katarina, who had emerged to watch Hillary at work, suddenly found herself blown across the deck, along with several sailors. Then she was lifted bodily into the sky and sucked into the swirling maelstrom. Thought not a vampire, and thus not immortal, Kat was no fool. Despite being buffeted and beaten by the vortex, she still kept her wits about her. Grasping the edges of her flailing cloak, she wrapped it about her and activated its magical teleportation power, transporting herself out of the storm, and into the water beneath the ship. There, as she suspected, she found the arbiter of the storm above. Lurking just beneath the surface was the largest kraken Katarina had ever heard of, let alone seen. It was then that the ring Kat wore on her finger, the Hadean Signet, spoke to her...
“By blood I awoke and by blood will I rise. To heal what is broken then three spirits must die. The light of heaven falters, an angel is slain. A fiend upon my altar, its death is our gain. A titan's life lost, immortality fails. Pay the blood cost, and forever prevail.”
‘A titan,’ Kat thought. And then she knew. The reason the kraken was so enormous was because it had the blood of a titan coursing through it. Before Kat could react to the fact that the ring was now speaking to her, she saw a trio of enormous sharks closing in on her location. She knew the beasts couldn’t see her, but she’d also heard that such creatures had acute senses of smell. As they began circling her, the kraken’s attention was drawn to them, and it began waving its tentacles about rhythmically. Suddenly, electricity crackled all around Kat, coursing thru her body in waves. She quickly wrapped her cloak about her again and transported herself back to the deck of the ship.
Tardaesha took flight into the storm-tossed skies above the ship in order to gain a tactical view of the situation. She saw a monstrous shadow rising up from the depths, and then tentacles the size of columns erupted all around the vessel. As the sailors screamed and began leaping overboard, the kraken’s arms began crushing the ship, rupturing the bulkhead and allowing sea water to begin pouring in. Tardaesha dove down like an arrow, struck the water and disappeared beneath the waves. Immediately, one of the sharks that had been circling Kat launched itself at her. She swung her sword in a wide arc, slashing across the beast’s nose, sending it thrashing back into the depths. When she heard two more splashes nearby, Tardaesha whirled, prepared to fend off more sharks. Instead she saw that Hillary and Dakota had joined her in the water. The witch forked her fingers at an approaching shark, and it instantly rolled onto its back, fast asleep. Tardaesha hacked and slashed at another that drew near, disemboweling it. She then turned towards the kraken itself, which Dakota had already started peppering with arrows, using a magical bow that allowed her to shoot underwater.
Up above, Drax acted quickly when he saw the ship was going down. Moving to the largest hole, he conjured up a force wall, plugging the gap and allowing the sailors time to patch the smaller breaches. Drax then gazed over the side where the water roiled and churned below, blood pools rising to the surface. He prayed to Asmodeus that his mistress would be safe.
More sharks tried to intercept Tardaesha, but Hillary kept systematically putting them to sleep as they approached. Roger had joined them by then, and even Kat had returned, bolstered by the presence of her family. Soon they had the kraken surrounded. The titanic creature fought like a dervish, her arms and tentacles creating a great whirlpool around her. Hillary was buffeted away, while Kat nearly had her arm bitten off by the kraken’s beak, and Dakota found herself gripped and nearly crushed by an appendage the size of two giant pythons. In the midst of all of the chaos, however, Tardaesha and Roger were able to strike telling blows against the kraken. Gradually, she weakened, releasing her prey, who in turn delivered their own attacks. Soon enough, it was over, and Teuthia Stormsinger, kraken of the deep, was no more. As the Dannister’s returned to the surface, Katarina tarried just a bit longer, and bathed her signet ring in the beast’s blood.
2 Kuthona, 4718 - 14 Kuthona, 4718 - Consolidating Power
On the second day of Kuthona, a royal proclamation came down from the palace in Matheryn. Henceforth, all religions would be allowed to be freely worshipped in Talingarde. On that same day, ground was broken on the palace grounds for a new cathedral. It was not known to whom the grand church would be dedicated, only that it would dwarf the cathedral of Iomedae. Tongues wagged, and murmurs could be heard in all districts of the great city. Change was coming, but would it be for the better?
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“Bellinda is still out there,” Dakota snapped, slapping her palm against Tardaesha’s desk, “and it is quite likely that she is gathering an army to march against us!”
“You’re telling me things that I already know,” Tardaesha sighed. “Kat has her spy network scouring the countryside for any details of her whereabouts, and we still have the mercenary army at our disposal. What more would you suggest?”
“The mercenaries are unreliable,” Dak snorted. “We need true allies.”
“And I suppose you know just the ones?” Tardaesha smirked.
“I at least know where to start,” Dakota nodded. “The Iraen.”
“The barbarians??” Tardaesha laughed. “Why do we need a bunch of loin-cloth wearing savages?”
“Because they despise House Darius as much as we do,” Dak retorted. “Don’t discount the power of their druids, nor the fighting prowess of their berserkers. They are just the sort we need. Vicious, blood-thirsty. Give me leave to approach them, and I promise you will not be disappointed.”
“Fine,” Tardaesha sighed again. “You’ll just do it anyway. Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?” Dak grinned.
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With Katarina’s help, Dakota had researched the Iraen extensively before venturing forth to make her overture to the barbarians. The had once dominated the entire island of Talingarde, but centuries before, the Talireans had taken it from them through force and invasion. In fact Matharyn actually took its name from the old Iraen tongue. Although the Talireans dismissed all of this as ancient history, the Iraens did not, and still sought dominion over their ancestral lands, or at the very least, their own sovereign nation in the Caer Bryr. It was speculated by some scholars of history that when the Victor went to Farholde (and destroyed the Horn of Abaddon) he was in fact going there to meet with an Iraen envoy of chieftains and druids. That secret meeting likely did happen and, because of religious differences, little came of it. Because of that, old wounds were reopened.
The Iraen were a very superstitious people who revered the wilderness. They did not worship Iomedae. In fact, they did not worship any gods directly in the way the Talireans did. Instead, they revered the nature spirits that lived all around them in the wild. Even more than reverence, the Iraen long considered mating with the fey-elves of the Caer Bryr a sacred rite. The children of those unions were almost always female and formed a priest caste of druids. Those half-elven druids were held in immense respect and were the true political power amongst the Iraen. The druids had a secret tongue, secret rites and a secret hold somewhere within the Caer Bryr. It was dangerous to visit though. Entering without permission was punishable by death. The druidic tongue of the Iraen wasn’t just secret. It was a magical gift. If one had not been anointed into the order of the priesthood, then they would never be able to master the tongue. The priesthood had a great legend concerning a mighty and seemingly immortal beast that prowled the Caer Bryr – The Caothach Ool. That primal terror would eventually be slain, said the prophecy, and whoever slew the beast would come to the House of Wisdom wearing only its hide, marked with its blood. This chosen one would unite the people of the Iraen and speak their destiny. Whatever that destiny might be, the people of the Iraen could not say. But to ignore it brought disaster.
So it was that, thru judicious use of divination magic, Dakota was able to ascertain a rough estimation of the possible location of the lair of the Caothach Ool. It lay in the wilds beyond Farholde, along the shore of a long, narrow lake. She sent Kat ahead to Farholde, where she hired a local tracker who recognized her description of the lake. The ranger guided her through the wilderness, and when they reached the lake, he found unfamiliar tracks, like those of a great cat. He followed them to a lagoon which lay at the base of a waterfall. Beyond the falls was a cave, and while Kat told the ranger to wait for her, she stole quietly inside. Behind that peaceful and idyllic pool she discovered a muddy cavern and a series of great natural steps that led up to a completely dry landing. The steps were adorned with beautiful natural formations – almost magical seeming sheets of polychromatic flowstone, stalagmites stained brilliantly blue and crimson, stalactites as delicate as they were massive. Beyond the steps was a great dry stone landing, and there on a bed of fur and bones, sat the refuge of the Caothach Ool. This six-limbed beast was gargantuan, yet it stalked about its lair with a fluid grace. Barbed quills ran along its back, and its eyes glowed with a blue light. Kat had seen enough. She crept from the cavern, unseen, unheard and unsmelt by the beast. When she returned to the ranger, she thanked him for his assistance, then quickly slit his throat. She reached into her belt pouch and retrieved a small, furled scroll. Unrolling it, she read the spell written there, then spoke in a whisper.
“I have found the beast’s lair. Have Hillary scry my location. I will await you here.”
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The Caothach Ool smelled the intruders to its den long before it saw them. It crouched, tail twitching back and forth, pupils fully dilated. When Roger led the way into the den, the creature was on him instantly, pouncing from its perch and pinning him to the ground. Jeratheon burst into the cave and breathed his acidic venom upon the beast, causing its flesh to smoke and dissolve in various places. As the beast briefly reeled, Roger reached up and laid his bony hand upon its breast. The negative energy that was now his life’s blood pulsed into the Caothach Ool, sending it howling and spitting away from him. Katarina was waiting. She plunged a dagger into the animal’s flank, but was rewarded for her efforts by several painful pokes from the creature’s razor-sharp quills. Dakota had no such problems, as she fired a volley of arrows into the beast. The Caothach Ool tried to bite at the shafts, spinning in violent circles to get at them. Tardaesha moved in quickly and parted the beast’s head from its shoulders with one clean swipe.
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When Timeon entered Taigh Eolach, the stronghold of the Iraens, clad in nothing but the skin of the Caothach Ool, he was at first met with hostility as the barbarians prepared to end the life of the fool who’d come some blindly among them. Then, one by one, they saw what he wore, and they began to understand.
He was led to a central longhouse, where a hastily assembled group of female half-elven druidesses gasped with realization. Fianna Mannochmor, the high druidess, lead the assembly, which remained deathly silent. Finally the high druidess spoke.
“You... you are the one... ” was all she could manage.
“I am Timeon the First,” the King replied, “called the Uniter, Slayer of Beasts, Creator of Worlds, King of all Talingarde!”
After a moment the high druidess regained her composure.
“We all know the signs,” she said. “We have heard the whispers amongst the trees. We all know what has been written in the stars in recent years. At last our moment has come. We have been cast out of our own land. We have been made to hide from the children of our conquerors. We have waited for our destiny. And here it is. Our fate it would seem, for good or ill, is with you, O child of destiny.”
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One morning, during a meeting of the privy council, Tardaesha slammed her fists down on the table upon hearing that, once again, the kindgom’s coffers were running dangerously low.
“Why aren’t we receiving more tariffs from foreign trade!??” she raged.
“Because of the kraken, of course,” Cedric Malthus replied matter-of-factly.
“You've been listening to those addle-brained sailors too much!” Leothyn Barca snorted. “A kraken? Nonsense. Have you ever seen this kraken?”
Malthus laughed.
“Seen it? I'm alive aren't I? Of course I haven't seen it. Maybe it is just an old fish story, but I do know this. There is something in the sea between the eastern coast of Talingarde and the mainland that scares the piss out sea-going merchants. Every captain I talked to, and that's a lot, all consider the passage to Talingarde to be hazardous duty and demanded extra for the journey if they'd take it at all. You want to know how to increase the amount of taxes you collect every month? Well, here's a way: destroy whatever is scaring those captains. Do that and you'll open up trade with the mainland.”
Upon Tardaesha’s command, Malthus sought out and found a sailor who claimed to be an eye-witness to the rumors. Cedric produced the man, one Captain Curtis O’Farthing, at the next council meeting.
“The kraken is real,” O’Farthing confirmed. “Everyone knows that. But I'm one of the few to have seen it and lived. I was aboard the merchantman Grindal's Last Guilder out of Berckport. I was just an able seaman then. Suddenly it started to storm something fearsome. Blew up out of nowhere like the gods themselves were furious with us. That’s when the tentacles hit us. Great ropey lashes they were, thicker than a man. They tore the ship in half like you would rip a biscuit. By luck, I happened to buy a charm honorin' the sea queen before I rode the waves. Paid two gold for it. Best two gold I ever spent! For the sea queen sent me the broken masthead and I floated away from the wreck as sharks the size of elephants swarmed up from the water and began to feed upon the crew. The ghastliest thing I ever heard, your grace...the sound of a hundred men being eaten alive. I floated for three days till a small cutter picked me up. The kraken's real, your grace. That's the gods' own truth.”
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Later that same evening, Tardaesha paid a visit to Captain O’Farthing aboard his ship. The weak-willed man easily submitted to her supernatural will, and she told him to prepare a crew to sail the following night. No questions asked.
The royal ship, Darkest ‘Fore Dawn, set sail the next night with all the Dannisters aboard. The captain made for the area rumored to be the kraken’s hunting grounds, a journey that would take two days at best. Tardaesha ordered the sailors to chum the waters, telling them they were hunting sharks. By noon of the second day, the weather had taken a dramatic change. The temperature dropped more than 40 degrees to sub freezing. The winds howled, blowing snow and ice through the rigging. The sailors began to panic as lines started to snap and sails flapped free. Finally, Hillary emerged from her quarters and held aloft a flashing blue orb. Lightning arced from the orb into the black clouds above. Within minutes the storm abated, the seas calmed, and the clouds parted to reveal clear night skies once more.
The lull did not last. Before Hillary had even returned to her cabin, the wind began to rise once more. In moments it gusted to hurricane strength, and from out of nowhere a massive funnel cloud appeared off the ship’s port side. Katarina, who had emerged to watch Hillary at work, suddenly found herself blown across the deck, along with several sailors. Then she was lifted bodily into the sky and sucked into the swirling maelstrom. Thought not a vampire, and thus not immortal, Kat was no fool. Despite being buffeted and beaten by the vortex, she still kept her wits about her. Grasping the edges of her flailing cloak, she wrapped it about her and activated its magical teleportation power, transporting herself out of the storm, and into the water beneath the ship. There, as she suspected, she found the arbiter of the storm above. Lurking just beneath the surface was the largest kraken Katarina had ever heard of, let alone seen. It was then that the ring Kat wore on her finger, the Hadean Signet, spoke to her...
“By blood I awoke and by blood will I rise. To heal what is broken then three spirits must die. The light of heaven falters, an angel is slain. A fiend upon my altar, its death is our gain. A titan's life lost, immortality fails. Pay the blood cost, and forever prevail.”
‘A titan,’ Kat thought. And then she knew. The reason the kraken was so enormous was because it had the blood of a titan coursing through it. Before Kat could react to the fact that the ring was now speaking to her, she saw a trio of enormous sharks closing in on her location. She knew the beasts couldn’t see her, but she’d also heard that such creatures had acute senses of smell. As they began circling her, the kraken’s attention was drawn to them, and it began waving its tentacles about rhythmically. Suddenly, electricity crackled all around Kat, coursing thru her body in waves. She quickly wrapped her cloak about her again and transported herself back to the deck of the ship.
Tardaesha took flight into the storm-tossed skies above the ship in order to gain a tactical view of the situation. She saw a monstrous shadow rising up from the depths, and then tentacles the size of columns erupted all around the vessel. As the sailors screamed and began leaping overboard, the kraken’s arms began crushing the ship, rupturing the bulkhead and allowing sea water to begin pouring in. Tardaesha dove down like an arrow, struck the water and disappeared beneath the waves. Immediately, one of the sharks that had been circling Kat launched itself at her. She swung her sword in a wide arc, slashing across the beast’s nose, sending it thrashing back into the depths. When she heard two more splashes nearby, Tardaesha whirled, prepared to fend off more sharks. Instead she saw that Hillary and Dakota had joined her in the water. The witch forked her fingers at an approaching shark, and it instantly rolled onto its back, fast asleep. Tardaesha hacked and slashed at another that drew near, disemboweling it. She then turned towards the kraken itself, which Dakota had already started peppering with arrows, using a magical bow that allowed her to shoot underwater.
Up above, Drax acted quickly when he saw the ship was going down. Moving to the largest hole, he conjured up a force wall, plugging the gap and allowing the sailors time to patch the smaller breaches. Drax then gazed over the side where the water roiled and churned below, blood pools rising to the surface. He prayed to Asmodeus that his mistress would be safe.
More sharks tried to intercept Tardaesha, but Hillary kept systematically putting them to sleep as they approached. Roger had joined them by then, and even Kat had returned, bolstered by the presence of her family. Soon they had the kraken surrounded. The titanic creature fought like a dervish, her arms and tentacles creating a great whirlpool around her. Hillary was buffeted away, while Kat nearly had her arm bitten off by the kraken’s beak, and Dakota found herself gripped and nearly crushed by an appendage the size of two giant pythons. In the midst of all of the chaos, however, Tardaesha and Roger were able to strike telling blows against the kraken. Gradually, she weakened, releasing her prey, who in turn delivered their own attacks. Soon enough, it was over, and Teuthia Stormsinger, kraken of the deep, was no more. As the Dannister’s returned to the surface, Katarina tarried just a bit longer, and bathed her signet ring in the beast’s blood.
carborundum
Adventurer
Woah, epic stuff!
