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Message: <blockquote data-quote="SurfMonkey01" data-source="post: 1483439" data-attributes="member: 1898">1: Nothing Important Happened Today, part twoTwelve hours and several fact-finding trips sooner, the companions had their next destination planned.  Anciano found out from the local guard that Vanderghast was believed to have maintained a cabin in the region known as the King’s Forest.  When it was mentioned that the area had been overrun by orcs since Azoun IV’s death, Aranna sported a frightening glint in her eye. Calling in a marker with the local knights, Anciano acquired horses for himself, Tiny, and Azek.  For himself and Aranna – the most skilled trackers of the group – Mourgram summoned a pair of phantom steeds.  At first light, the five of them set out towards the cabin.  They rode for the better part of the next nine hours – twice they were stopped by orc patrols, but only momentarily at most.  The brutish creatures were no match for the powerful adventurers.  Finally, they arrived at their destination: a lone cabin in the very heart of the forest. “It’s magically trapped,” Mourgram announced.  Undeterred by the warning, Anciano approached and knocked.  The albino stepped back in shock as a burst of electrical energy sprang forth from the door!  Frowning, Mourgram produced the ring “Charro” had given them.  “It’s us.  We’re outside your cabin.  We need to talk.”    The door to cabin swung open, inviting them to enter.  The interior was divided into four rooms: immediately upon entering was a small table and chair; to its left was a pair of bookshelves that appeared to contain powerful arcane tomes; in front of the library was a small hearth; and next to the hearth was a single-person cot.  In the center of the cabin, overlapping all four rooms, was a magic circle.  Charro stood waiting in the circle, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m glad to see you decided to return.  We have much to do.” Mourgram stepped closer to the wizard.  “Drop the act.  We know you’re Vanderghast.”    The wizard smiled.  “Took you a little longer than I thought it would.”  His entire body seemed to wrinkle and distort for a moment, and the magical illusion vanished, leaving the true man revealed.  Dressed in heavy robes covered with the arcane marks of a high wizard, he wore a Purple Dragon cloak clasped around his next by a brooch bearing the seal of Azoun IV.  His face was sharp-featured and angular, with only the weariness evident in his eyes betraying his true age.  He had growth of beard that seemed to have evolved beyond his control, and his long grey hair was splayed over his shoulders.  He was indeed the wizard Vanderghast, but he obviously had seen better days.  “Is this more satisfactory?”    The companions nodded.  It was again Mourgram who spoke next.  “So, have you really given up on finding the infant Azoun?”    “Of course not.  But finding him is going to take time – time we don’t have right now.  Events are already brewing that could spiral out of control and plunge this nation even further into chaos.”     “The nobles are making plays for the throne already, aren’t they?” Aranna asked.    Vanderghast nodded.  “If the young boy really is an heir to the throne, that gives him rights to the seat and would end the petty political squabbles.”    “What about Azoun?  What if they find him?   What do you do with the other guy then, just send him on his way?”  Anciano was obviously displeased with where this conversation was heading.    “It would still be many years until Azoun was old enough to sit on the throne himself, and I’m sure something could be worked out when the time came.  And you forget, we’re still not sure if this boy really is an heir or not.  That’s why we need to find him and make sure.”    Mourgram still wasn’t convinced.  “How did you find out about this guy, anyways?  I mean, how come no one knew about him before now?”    “No one knew because no one was looking,” Vanderghast explained.  “I found him because I had requested several divinations be cast to search for the heir to the throne.  Obviously, at the time I meant Azoun, but what I got instead was this other boy.”    The five companions all looked at each other, and nodded their agreement.  They were decided.  They would help to find the boy and learn of his true lineage.    Azek, who had been quietly leaning against the wall the entire time, drew himself to his full height and looked at the wizard.  “So, where is he being held?”    “He is being held somewhere among the Aphrunn Mountains, which are located in the land of Turmish.  If you wish, I can transport you there.”  They nodded.  “Very well.  Step into the circle and I will send you there.  Once you have found him, contact me with the ring and I will prepare for his arrival.”      The former Royal Mage’s hands began gesturing, weaving the components of a transportation spell together.  Quietly he whispered several arcane phrases, and the circle began to glow with magical energy.  The air around the adventurers shimmered and wrinkled, and then they were gone.    As they faded away, the five friends could swear they heard the old wizard say, “Good luck.”    Seconds later, reality bent and distorted once more, depositing the quintet of adventurers at their destination.  The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and they could see nothing but mountain for miles and miles – much further than the limits of any of their eyes could see.    “So, how do we find him?”  Azek asked.    Aranna knelt down near what looked like a narrow dirt path.  Brushing off a small stone, she picked it up and inspected all of its sides.  Then she leaned closer to the path itself, sweeping her fingers across it and trying to get as close a look as she could.  After several moments, she stood back up.    “There’s no tracks,” she announced.  “Odds are they’re underground somewhere around here.  I think it might take a long time to find them, though.”    “Maybe not.”  Before anyone could ask what he was thinking, Mourgram had sat down on a large stone and produced a fine mirror from his travel pack.  Gazing intently into the mirror, he muttered a handful of arcane words and gave a verbal description of the young man they sought.    A fog washed over the image in the mirror.  After a moment, the fog gave way, revealing a dank cell that was obviously located underground.  Kneeling in corner was the young man they had all seen in the vision – he looked like he was even worse for the wear than they had originally assumed, if that was even possible.  The image panned once around the room, showing that the boy was alone, and then the mirror returned to its normal state.    Mourgram returned the mirror to his bag.  “Alright, gang, gather around.  I know where he is, and I can get us there.”</blockquote>

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