el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Finally. . .
Session #37 (part II)
They marched through the woods that covered the hilly land, northward to Summit. Kazrack marched with Belear the entire time, and they talked in hushed, but serious tones the entire time. Ratchis led the way, but Helrahd was close behind. The others marched clustered in groups. Jeremy walked with Blodnath and Baervard at first, but later walked ahead to chat with Beorth and Martin.
The three companions discussed Jana, and Chance and even Malcolm, Jeremy fearing that the others had forgotten them, but then remembered that Beorth did not remember any of them, and Martin had never met Malcolm.
A recurring topic of discussion was Kazrack’s refusal to wear armor. It seemed everyone in the party thought he was being foolish.
“Kazrack?” Beorth asked the dwarf. “When you die, How shall I bury you?”
“You need not concern yourself with that,” Kazrack replied. “With Belear here, if such a thing were to occur, he could take care of it.”
“I am afraid your lack of armor will cause your demise,” Beorth stated flatly.
“I have made a pledge,” Kazrack said solemnly. “Please do not rebuke me. When I have seen that I have regained my gods’ favor, then I will re-don my armor.”
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Summit was reached by late afternoon. Camp was made at the foot of one of the trails leading up the ridge to the town proper, and a list was made of equipment the group needed for their endeavor. The dwarves donated an emerald they claimed was worth 200 pieces of silver towards the collection, while Martin and Jeremy went into town, craving the comforts of an inn.
At the Sun’s Summit Inn, they were spotted immediately by Maxel the local smith that also acted as town constable. He called them over to his table.
“You two look pretty road-weary,” the constable said, standing to pull over an extra chair. “Come sit and eat and rest your feet and tell me of you journeys.”
“Well, um,” Martin pulled at his collar. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy added. “We ran into a bunch of gnolls and a crazy monster and had to come back here to rest and recollect our supplies.”
“In order to hunt the dragon?”
“Of course,” Martin replied.
“Well, those friends of yours. The brothers and foreigner,” Maxel began.
“Finn and Carlos and Frank and Gwar?” Martin asked.
“Yes,” the constable said. “They went looking for the missing people, which I am glad they are doing. Even if they don’t find the dragon, they can still do some good around here. I think the king was smart to attract stout-hearted young men here to Gothanius. We needed their spirit after the dark years of the wars with the orcs.”
“Um, do you know where they went?” Martin asked.
“Not exactly, but I know they were going to go to the temple of Bast to ask the young priest there for help,” Maxel replied.
“Temple of Bast?” Martin asked.
“Yes, surely you’ve been told about it,” Maxel said. “A little place north of town, a very thick wood separates the town from it. It is in the shadow of large outcropping of rock, where the ridge’s height rises dramatically. Arrias is a young priest that came took over the place after the old priest died. Not many people go there anymore. Bast has fallen out of favor in these parts, just not much call for luxury or pleasure.”
“I was unaware there was a priest there,” Martin said. “Perhaps we too can enlist his aid.”
“I’m up for going out there tomorrow,” Jeremy said. “Anything else unusual going on?”
“Well, actually,” Maxel said. “You see that young man over there.” He pointed to a young man of probably no more than 17 summers sitting at the bar. He had short dark red hair, and a fresh lightly freckled face, but it had the deep marks of dirt that only comes from weeks on the road. He wore a dark brown tunic with a green shirt, and had a dusk colored cloaked folded over the seat next to him. He had a pack beneath his feet, and he slurped from a bowl of steaming stew in fingerless gloves, but thicker leather gauntlets lay on the bar. The boy had a battleaxe on his back, and a bow wrapped up beside him.
“What about him?” Jeremy asked.
“Oh, he’s looking for you,” Maxel replied, looking at Martin.
“For me?” Martin asked. The constable nodded. In the meantime Gibb had brought them both food himself. And bringing a pitcher mead “on the house.” The constable noted that Martin did not drink any.
“I am abstaining from drink,” Martin replied, fingering his ring nervously.
“And the stew?”
“I ate on the road,” Martin said, as Jeremy slurped his down hungrily, smearing a thick slab of bread in the leftovers and then gobbling it down with relish. The Neergaardian washed it down with a second mug of mead.
The constable looked at Jeremy’s zest and then to Martin, but the watch-mage excused himself and walked over to the young man.
“I was told you seek me out,” Martin said, allowing his outer fur cloak to open to reveal his road-worn but immaculately clean emerald Academy robes. (184)
“You are Martin the Green!” The young man said, smiling. He stood and took Martin’s hand.
“I am called Derek. Derek Jamison,” the young man said. “I was sent to give you a message and to aid you if at all possible, by Barnstable the Brown, of Ettinos.”
“Oh? Have you really?” Martin replied with a smile. “What bring you to Derome-Delem to begin with?”
“Oh, I have been here 6 or 7 months,” Derek replied. “I have things I need to tell you, but perhaps here in the common room is not the best place.”
“Of course,” Martin replied, and waved for Jeremy to follow him. Mara led them to the room that had been prepared for them.
“Barnstable was a friend of my teacher, Red Arrow,” Derek said. “And my teacher sent me in his place to aid you and inform you however I could about the dragon.”
“What do you know about the dragon?” Martin asked intrigued.
“Well, there is evidence he uncovered that it might not just be any old dragon,” Derek claimed. “It is supposed to be one of the oldest dragons. One of the first generations of dragons - I think they call the ‘Progenitors’.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jeremy quipped.
‘Tell me something,” Martin said. “What kind of familiar does Barnstable have?”
“Uh, a goat named Scrappy,” Derek replied.
Martin nodded.
“Are you some kind of dragon expert?” Jeremy asked.
“No, not at all,’ Derek replied. “I am just a good tracker. Good at getting into place, decent in a fight, if I have my bow, that is.” The kid winked.
“Heh,” Jeremy dropped into his bed and started pulling off his boots.
“Well, we can use all the help we can get,” Martin said. “It is good to know that my Academy contacts an actually pan out for me. But unfortunately, the dragon is the last thing on our list right now. We have quaggoths from the Plutonic Realms and people searching for Hurgun’s Maze and demon gnomes and drow.”
“Well, I gave my word I’d help you, and so I will,” Derek said. “What are you doing next?”
“We are going to go save some good gnomes from evil gnomes,” Martin explained. “Or at least try. But in a way that will help because they might know more about the dragon, especially after we were led to believe there was no dragon.”
“Oh, there is a dragon,” Derek said.
“Well, if Barnstable says there is, then I believe it,” Martin replied. “But there is a lot you need to get caught up on if you should hope to help.”
“Well, tell it to him quietly then, will ya?” Jeremy said, crankily rolling over in the bed. “And you know Ratchis would kill ya if he knew you were telling a stranger about all the things we been doing.”
“But Barnstable the Brown sent him,” Martin objected.
“Yeah, yeah, Barneby the Buh. . .” the Neergaardian’s voice trailed away into a snore, the kinks and knots in his body relaxing as he snuggled into the straw filled mattress.
Martin and Derek talked into the night, until finally the well-traveled boy fell asleep on the floor. Martin who only needed two hours of sleep, spent the rest of the night scouring his maps and studying his notebooks and spellbooks, while Thomas ran around in circles about the room.
Osilem, 24th of Onk – 562 H.E.
Jeremy was up early the next day, and after a quick bite brought Derek with him to the camp. He introduced him around as “Martin’s friend who is gonna help us” and proceeded to enlist his aid in helping the party gather the needed supplies.
The dwarves all paid no attention to the young man, except Kirla, who Ratchis noticed giving the once over.
Kazrack shook the boy’s hand heartily, “Know how to use that thing?” He gestured to the battle axe.
“Kind of,” Derek replied. He was soft-spoken, but had a tone of confidence that rung in the few words he used to express himself.
Ratchis immediately trusted him, and decided to go with his gut feeling. “Is not Nephthys also goddess of friendship?” he thought. (185)
Jeremy, Derek and Ratchis went to retrieve the goods the party needed.
Meanwhile, Martin finally awoke, having finally gone to sleep as the sun had appeared below the eastern mountains. He washed up, and gathered his things to visit the Alderman. However, when he opened the door, there stood William Turnkey.
William’s long brown hair was back in a neat pony-tail, and he wore a long coat of dyed sheepskin and a three-corner hat.
“May I come in?” he asked with a polite smile.
Martin stepped back and let him in, closing the door again. “Richard?”
The form of William Turnkey shifted and bulged and twisted. There stood Richard the Red, his auburn hair falling in neat ringlets on his adorned ear. His crimson Academy robes were immaculate, especially when compared to Martin’s shabby road set. He smiled broadly. He had finely combed beard and mustache. The inner lining of his blood red dyed sheepskin cloak was a soft turquoise satin. He wore a short sword on his belt, and a huge red stone on a golden ring on left pinky finger.
“So, where have we been?”
“I don’t know where we have been, but I have been helping to fulfill tasks required to reverse the consequences of your misdeeds,”: Martin said. He offered Richard a chair, but the watch-mage preferred to stand.
“You are not being clear, Martin,” Richard replied. “How am I supposed to help you if you are unclear with me. The more information you give me the more I can piece together and figure out exactly what is going on around here and fix it.”
“I dare say that you, Richard, a good part of ‘what is going on around here’,” Martin replied. He plopped down on the bed. Thomas popped up onto his shoulder.
“Oh, your familiar is cute,” Richard said, and suddenly there was a nut in his hand. He offered it to Thomas.
“Thomas isn’t hungry,” Martin said, flatly. And the squirrel leapt into the younger watch-mage’s hood.
Richard flicked the nut into the air and then caught it again. It disappeared up his sleeve.
“It’s important to know all kinds of magic,” Richard winked after his little trick.
“What do you want Richard?” Martin sighed/. “Have you freed another drow witch we should know about?”
“Come now, Martin! Where are your manners?” Richard chided him. “Is that any way to treat a colleague and wizened mentor?”
“I ask again, what do you want?”
“I come to offer you something, Martin,” Richard replied, sighing some himself. He sat down beside Martin on the bed. “Surviving in this environment means growing and becoming more powerful to help defeat the evils we both know exist. We are on the same side, Martin. We may have different means, but we have the same ends. Peace. Stability. Justice. I have a proposal for you.”
“And what is that?” Martin the Green stood and walked across the room.
“I train you,” Richard replied. “I teach you some spells. I am certain you are ready for spells of the Third House (186) and maybe a little bit of this or that, and you inform me.
“Inform you?”
“Yes,” Richard stood and walked over to him. “You and your companions can serve as another set of eyes and means of gathering information. If we pool our knowledge we can both be better prepared. I with share with you my magical knowledge and arcane lore and you will share with me your gathered knowledge, you rumors, and sightings and theories and what-have-yous. Of course, I would tell you some of these things as well.”
Richard turned and walked back to the bed.
“I cannot speak for my companions.”
“Then speak for yourself,” Richard retorted. “What will it be? Will we help each other?”
Martin hesitated.
“I don’t see any reason why we cannot aid each other in mutual goals, or with some shared knowledge,” Martin finally said. “But I must confer with my companions about the training. I, too, think I can handle spells of the Third House – but this will take time and that we do not have much of.”
“Okay, so let me start by asking you where you and your companions have been,” Richard said.
“The Circle of Thorns,” Martin replied. “A druid’s circle dedicated to the Beast Gods, west of here.”
“I have heard rumor of them. What were you doing there?”
“Kazrack and Ratchis had tasks to accomplish there. Tasks for Osiris in return for bring Jeeremy back to life,” Martin explained.
“ What?’ Richard seemed genuinely shocked. “When did Jeremy die?”
“In Aze-Nuquerna,” Martin replied. “You know after you charmed him and drew him down to the garbage pit was, with the living pile of tentacled filth?”
Richard looked down suddenly. “I, uh, I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t mean for him to get hurt. I, uh, didn’t want him to go down there after me. Could you tell him I’m sorry?” Richard looked up at Martin, who eyed the older watch-mage intensely looking for a sign of sarcasm.
He found none.
“Tell him yourself.”
“How did he come back to life?” Richard asked.
“The Urn of Osiris,” Martin answered. “The elves had one.”
“Of course, they can’t use it themselves,” Richard scratched his chin. “So you all had to make promises to Osiris to get him back?”
“Yes.”
“What was yours?”
Martin hesitated.
“Why do I think you are going to be able to tell me something about my required task?” He finally said.
“I don’t know. What is it?”
Martin sighed.
“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Martin replied.
“I cannot help you if you don’t tell me,” Richard said, softly.
“I am supposed to retrieve something called the Book of Black Circles from some Brotherhood of the Lost and then cast one spell from it and then destroy the book,” Martin said, all in one breath as if to sneak it by the elder mage.
Now it was Richard the Red’s turn to sigh. He sat back down on the bed. Martin sat on the chair.
“That is not exactly an easy task,” Richard finally spoke.
“It’s not.”
“What is the alternative?”
“Death.”
“Have you considered dying?”
Martin did not reply, but rolled his eyes.
“I am not kidding, Martin,” Richard said solemnly. “The Book of Black Circles is not just any old spellbook and if half the things I have heard about it are true, death is preferable to reading even a single one of its pages.”
Martin buried his face in his hands.
“What was written in that book was transcribed by seven of the most diabolical and corrupt minds of all time.”
Martin looked up, “The Corruptor?” (187)
“Yes,” Richard nodded. “He was the last. It was he who was finally able to bend the book to his will.”
“What more do you know about it? What specifics?” Martin asked.
“This has to be an even trade. I’ll tell you all I know about the book and you tell me about, hmmm, the other tasks. I assume the others were for Kazrack, Jana and Ratchis?”
Martin nodded.
“Well?”
Martin went into a long-winded and carefully worded description of what the party had done in Dybbuk Akvram, and about the death of Jana. He left out the monks, the golden dire ram and about Ratchis’ night of copulation.
“So what spells can you offer me?” Martin asked as soon as his tale was done.
Richard laughed and named five spells. Martin could choose any two of them.
“I would not seek out that book if I were you,” Richard then said. “It will mean your death, or worse and the same for your friends. Sure, there is great power in it – but it will corrupt you. It cannot be used for good. You do not have the strength to withstand it.”
“And I bet you would, right?”
Richard was silent for a moment, and then shook his head.
“No, I would not trust myself. I would not touch it.”
The two watch-mages were silent again. “But not to worry we’ll figure you a way out of this. You know, even promises made to gods can be circumvented with the proper loopholes.” Richard winked.
“I need to find companions and discuss the question of my training with them,” Martin said, standing. “I am afraid we are under too tight a schedule to fit it in now, but I will try my best. How shall I find you?”
“I have a room here under William Turnkey,” Richard said.
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Martin caught up with his companions and spent the morning with them collecting gear. He mentioned to Ratchis about Richard the Red and training.
“I don’t trust him,” Ratchis replied.
“Neither do I,” Martin said. “But I need the spells, and the power will help us against Mozek, if he is who we are to face next.”
Ratchis nodded. “I think we have waited this long, we can afford to wait a little longer. How long will it take?”
“Eight days or so,” Martin replied.
‘The hardest part will be convincing Kazrack,’ Ratchis said.
“But at least we will be able to spend the Festival of Isis here in town,” Martin said.
Again, Ratchis nodded.
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The afternoon found Jeremy, Martin, Ratchis, Derek and Beorth having a light meal and sipping beer (except Martin of course) at the Sun’s Summit Inn.
Suddenly, the door burst open and a teen-aged boy in an apron came running in. He had bowl-cut black hair and chubby cheeks despite his tall thin, almost gawky, frame. He had a hammer in his hand.
“Gibb! Sound the militia bell!” the boy cried, out of breath. “There are dwarves marching on the town dressed for war!”
“Ranold Horton, if you are fibbing me you know you’re going to get in quite a bit of trouble,” Gibb said, snapping the towel he had on the bar.
Martin rose and walked over. “I’ll handle this,” he said. “It is my fault. The dwarves are with us. I should have informed the constable and the alderman. Run back to your father and tell him to not raise the alarm. I will be right over to explain everything.
“Yes sir,” the boy said and went running back out.
Beorth and Ratchis decided to head to the dwarf camp “just in case”, while Jeremy accompanied Martin to the Alderman’s house.
The two companions found Alderman Henry Horton up on the roof of his house with one of his sons, re-shingling the roof after what had been a harsh winter.
“Make sure you get those straight, Garold,” the alderman said to his oldest son, and then waved to Martin.
“Martin the Green! I’m glad to see you alive and well, and to hear we are not under attack by dwarves!” the alderman said, as he made his way to the ladder and down off the house.
“I like him, he’s down to earth,” Martin whispered to Jeremy.
“Down to earth? But he’s on the roof!” Jeremy replied, with a chuckle.
Martin poked the Neergaardian with an elbow.
The alderman invited the Martin and Jeremy inside, where his wife Melanie, served crackers and cheese, along with some wine. Jeremy ate hungrily, while Martin did his best to look as if he were eating, and even managed to swallow down a mouthful of the stuff, that was as tasteless and disgustingly textured as damp parchment covered in half-solidified glue to him.
Martin did his best to tell the alderman some of what the party had been doing, without giving away anything too specific, though at one point he mentioned the gnomes, causing Jeremy to shoot him a glance.
“Gnomes?” the alderman asked. “What gnomes?”
“Oh, nothing terribly important, and nowhere around here,” Martin replied. “Just some gnomes we encountered journeying from abroad. Um, we told them we’d give them what aid we could to get home safely.”
Jeremy nodded.
“Well, even a day’s journey beyond here to the west, north or southwest can lead to very dangerous territory,” the alderman said. “While the people of Gothanius have never seen eye to eye with the non-humans of Derome-Delem, I hope no harm comes to them.”
“I’m sure none will,” Martin replied.
“Anyway, gnomes are pretty short. You’d have to get down on one knee to see eye to eye with them,” Jeremy quipped.
Martin glared at Jeremy. But the Alderman laughed.
“Well, hopefully those mercenaries the king sent to explore the territory north of Greenreed Valley for further expansion will make this whole area a lot more safe,” the Alderman said, and took a sip of wine.
“Mercenaries? You mean the dragon-hunters?” Martin asked.
“Huh? No, no. A group of maybe two dozen men passed through here to explore the area north of Greenreed Valley. They arrived during that last horrible snowstorm, and left right after it cleared. Hmmm, maybe four days ago; No word from them yet, but it hasn’t been too long.”
“Oh, I see,” Martin mused over this silently.
“Not to butt in, but do you know why the king has decided to send these men now?” Jeremy asked.
“Well, springtime is the best time for exploration, and the dragon has not been sited for some time, as far as I know,” the alderman explained. “The more land we have, the more resources, the more resources, the more strength.”
Melanie walked into the living room, and Martin noticed she was looking at his plate.
“I… um… um… I…” Martin hemmed and hawed.
“How long do you plan to be in town?” the alderman asked. “Now that the thaw is here, we can begin the work on your house.” (188)
“Oh, my companions and I have not decided yet…”
Jeremy interrupted, “But hopefully, we will be here for a few days at least. We can use the rest and recuperation.”
“Yes, I hope we will be here long enough to celebrate the Festival of Isis with you and your townsfolk,” Martin finished.
“That would be lovely indeed, and would mean a lot to the people of Summit.” The alderman replied.
As Martin and Jeremy walked back to the place at the foot of the ridge where the dwarves were camped, Jeremy said, “I have a bad feeling about what might happen if those mercs run into the gnomes or vice versa.”
“I know.”
At the camp, Martin pulled Ratchis and Kazrack aside to speak with them about Richard the Red’s proposal.
“At the very least it would mean another delay,” Kazrack said. “Not to mention, that Richard the Red is not to be trusted and is responsible for great evils beings loosed on the world and the effective death of two young elven women.” (189)
Martin nodded, and Ratchis scratched his own chin.
“In fact, instead of trying to convince me that it is in our interest to allow you to train with this villain, perhaps you should explain to me how it is not in our interest to tell Belear of Richard, rally my kinsmen we have here and march into town to capture, and failing that, kill, this so-called Watch-Mage?”
“We should discuss this with everyone,’ Ratchis said. “I have no objections to involving Belear, but we should limit what the other dwarves know, lest one of them put it on themselves to do something rash.”
“Dwarves are never rash,” Kazrack replied.
“Uh-huh.” Jeremy said, walking over.
Soon, Jeremy, Martin, Ratchis, Kazrack, Beorth and Belear had made their own circle around a smaller fire to discuss the situation. Derek was busy looking through the various supplies the others had gathered in and around town, hovering not too far away.
“Beorth, what have you been told about Richard the Red?” Ratchis asked the paladin.
“He… freed the drow witches, at least that is what Jana told me,” Beorth replied.
“It is a bit more complicated than just that,” Martin sighed.
And the tale of the party’s woes, especially as they pertain to Richard the Red were discussed in some detail, each member of the party adding what they remembered and their own two coppers besides. Martin and Jeremy added what the alderman had said about the mercenary band.
”This is as convoluted as the ancient tales that take six days to tell,” Belear commented.
“And yet, we did it in less than an hour, not bad eh? Jeremy quipped.
“I do not think it is in our power to defeat or capture Richard the Red,” Martin said.
“And yet, it seems perfectly within his power to know where we are and when Martin is around,” Jeremy added. “Maybe we can learn something from this, and eventually be able to defeat him.”
“I don’t like it,” Kazrack said.
“Kazrack,” Belear spoke in his typical solemn tone. “You are more familiar with this man’s crimes than I am, so I leave this decision in your hands, and out of mine. However, Martin, my advice to you is that you abandon these foul arcane practices that can only lead to your corruption.”
“Um, thank you,” Martin coughed. “I will consider the advice.”
“I say he does it,” Ratchis said. “We are going to need whatever firepower we can against Mozek, and we can use more time to gather supplies, and I want to commission a bow built for my strength. In addition, we should seek out the aid of the priest of Bast, and perhaps Finn and the others will return with some useful news.”
Kazrack grunted and stood, as if to walk away, but then turn back to the circle, and looked to Martin. “You know best in regards to your own order and ways, Martin,” the dwarf said. “I do not trust Richard the Red, but I do trust you, and thus I trust you to make the right decision.”
There was silence around the fire, broken only by Derek’s sudden whistling as he moved to where the dwarves were preparing dinner.
“Then I say we stay a while and I learn what I can from him,” Martin finally said. “Whatever evils Richard may have done or allowed to have happened, I have to assume at this moment that he still had a good intention despite his means, and still seeks to fulfill the oath of our order to help each other in training and gaining of knowledge.”
“And what of the mercenaries?” Beorth asked.
“They have either found the gnomes or not by now,” Ratchis said. “There is nothing we can do about that.”
“Also, I would like to be around for the Festival of Isis,” Martin said. “As superficial as it may seem to some of you, the ability for a watch-mage to accomplish his duties is often dependent on the goodwill of the people he is sworn to help protect, and if I do not know the people of Summit and they do not see me among them celebrating holidays as they do, there could be an irreparable gulf that could cause greater harm later.”
And so, it was agreed.
End of Session #37
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Notes:
(184) Martin uses the prestidigitation cantrip to keep his travel robes clean. He has a second set of robes he dons for special occasions.
(185) As friendship is a duty chosen by freewill, Nephthys also concerns herself with element of human life.
(186) In Aquerra, arcane spells are divvied by “House” to describe level of power.
(187) Marchosias the Corruptor is one of the most infamous of evil wizards in Aquerra’s history. A former master of the Academy of Wizardry, he is responsible for the Second Humano-Orc War, the creation of The Void Heart (aka the Sphere of Annihilation), and the collection of countless items of great magic for his plans of world domination.
(188) Remember, Martin the Green is supposed to be stationed in Summit overseeing the dragon-hunting project and helping to aid the people of Gothanius in general and the settling of Greenreed Valley in specific.
(189) Rahasia and Tirhas Tesfay.
Session #37 (part II)
They marched through the woods that covered the hilly land, northward to Summit. Kazrack marched with Belear the entire time, and they talked in hushed, but serious tones the entire time. Ratchis led the way, but Helrahd was close behind. The others marched clustered in groups. Jeremy walked with Blodnath and Baervard at first, but later walked ahead to chat with Beorth and Martin.
The three companions discussed Jana, and Chance and even Malcolm, Jeremy fearing that the others had forgotten them, but then remembered that Beorth did not remember any of them, and Martin had never met Malcolm.
A recurring topic of discussion was Kazrack’s refusal to wear armor. It seemed everyone in the party thought he was being foolish.
“Kazrack?” Beorth asked the dwarf. “When you die, How shall I bury you?”
“You need not concern yourself with that,” Kazrack replied. “With Belear here, if such a thing were to occur, he could take care of it.”
“I am afraid your lack of armor will cause your demise,” Beorth stated flatly.
“I have made a pledge,” Kazrack said solemnly. “Please do not rebuke me. When I have seen that I have regained my gods’ favor, then I will re-don my armor.”
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Summit was reached by late afternoon. Camp was made at the foot of one of the trails leading up the ridge to the town proper, and a list was made of equipment the group needed for their endeavor. The dwarves donated an emerald they claimed was worth 200 pieces of silver towards the collection, while Martin and Jeremy went into town, craving the comforts of an inn.
At the Sun’s Summit Inn, they were spotted immediately by Maxel the local smith that also acted as town constable. He called them over to his table.
“You two look pretty road-weary,” the constable said, standing to pull over an extra chair. “Come sit and eat and rest your feet and tell me of you journeys.”
“Well, um,” Martin pulled at his collar. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy added. “We ran into a bunch of gnolls and a crazy monster and had to come back here to rest and recollect our supplies.”
“In order to hunt the dragon?”
“Of course,” Martin replied.
“Well, those friends of yours. The brothers and foreigner,” Maxel began.
“Finn and Carlos and Frank and Gwar?” Martin asked.
“Yes,” the constable said. “They went looking for the missing people, which I am glad they are doing. Even if they don’t find the dragon, they can still do some good around here. I think the king was smart to attract stout-hearted young men here to Gothanius. We needed their spirit after the dark years of the wars with the orcs.”
“Um, do you know where they went?” Martin asked.
“Not exactly, but I know they were going to go to the temple of Bast to ask the young priest there for help,” Maxel replied.
“Temple of Bast?” Martin asked.
“Yes, surely you’ve been told about it,” Maxel said. “A little place north of town, a very thick wood separates the town from it. It is in the shadow of large outcropping of rock, where the ridge’s height rises dramatically. Arrias is a young priest that came took over the place after the old priest died. Not many people go there anymore. Bast has fallen out of favor in these parts, just not much call for luxury or pleasure.”
“I was unaware there was a priest there,” Martin said. “Perhaps we too can enlist his aid.”
“I’m up for going out there tomorrow,” Jeremy said. “Anything else unusual going on?”
“Well, actually,” Maxel said. “You see that young man over there.” He pointed to a young man of probably no more than 17 summers sitting at the bar. He had short dark red hair, and a fresh lightly freckled face, but it had the deep marks of dirt that only comes from weeks on the road. He wore a dark brown tunic with a green shirt, and had a dusk colored cloaked folded over the seat next to him. He had a pack beneath his feet, and he slurped from a bowl of steaming stew in fingerless gloves, but thicker leather gauntlets lay on the bar. The boy had a battleaxe on his back, and a bow wrapped up beside him.
“What about him?” Jeremy asked.
“Oh, he’s looking for you,” Maxel replied, looking at Martin.
“For me?” Martin asked. The constable nodded. In the meantime Gibb had brought them both food himself. And bringing a pitcher mead “on the house.” The constable noted that Martin did not drink any.
“I am abstaining from drink,” Martin replied, fingering his ring nervously.
“And the stew?”
“I ate on the road,” Martin said, as Jeremy slurped his down hungrily, smearing a thick slab of bread in the leftovers and then gobbling it down with relish. The Neergaardian washed it down with a second mug of mead.
The constable looked at Jeremy’s zest and then to Martin, but the watch-mage excused himself and walked over to the young man.
“I was told you seek me out,” Martin said, allowing his outer fur cloak to open to reveal his road-worn but immaculately clean emerald Academy robes. (184)
“You are Martin the Green!” The young man said, smiling. He stood and took Martin’s hand.
“I am called Derek. Derek Jamison,” the young man said. “I was sent to give you a message and to aid you if at all possible, by Barnstable the Brown, of Ettinos.”
“Oh? Have you really?” Martin replied with a smile. “What bring you to Derome-Delem to begin with?”
“Oh, I have been here 6 or 7 months,” Derek replied. “I have things I need to tell you, but perhaps here in the common room is not the best place.”
“Of course,” Martin replied, and waved for Jeremy to follow him. Mara led them to the room that had been prepared for them.
“Barnstable was a friend of my teacher, Red Arrow,” Derek said. “And my teacher sent me in his place to aid you and inform you however I could about the dragon.”
“What do you know about the dragon?” Martin asked intrigued.
“Well, there is evidence he uncovered that it might not just be any old dragon,” Derek claimed. “It is supposed to be one of the oldest dragons. One of the first generations of dragons - I think they call the ‘Progenitors’.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jeremy quipped.
‘Tell me something,” Martin said. “What kind of familiar does Barnstable have?”
“Uh, a goat named Scrappy,” Derek replied.
Martin nodded.
“Are you some kind of dragon expert?” Jeremy asked.
“No, not at all,’ Derek replied. “I am just a good tracker. Good at getting into place, decent in a fight, if I have my bow, that is.” The kid winked.
“Heh,” Jeremy dropped into his bed and started pulling off his boots.
“Well, we can use all the help we can get,” Martin said. “It is good to know that my Academy contacts an actually pan out for me. But unfortunately, the dragon is the last thing on our list right now. We have quaggoths from the Plutonic Realms and people searching for Hurgun’s Maze and demon gnomes and drow.”
“Well, I gave my word I’d help you, and so I will,” Derek said. “What are you doing next?”
“We are going to go save some good gnomes from evil gnomes,” Martin explained. “Or at least try. But in a way that will help because they might know more about the dragon, especially after we were led to believe there was no dragon.”
“Oh, there is a dragon,” Derek said.
“Well, if Barnstable says there is, then I believe it,” Martin replied. “But there is a lot you need to get caught up on if you should hope to help.”
“Well, tell it to him quietly then, will ya?” Jeremy said, crankily rolling over in the bed. “And you know Ratchis would kill ya if he knew you were telling a stranger about all the things we been doing.”
“But Barnstable the Brown sent him,” Martin objected.
“Yeah, yeah, Barneby the Buh. . .” the Neergaardian’s voice trailed away into a snore, the kinks and knots in his body relaxing as he snuggled into the straw filled mattress.
Martin and Derek talked into the night, until finally the well-traveled boy fell asleep on the floor. Martin who only needed two hours of sleep, spent the rest of the night scouring his maps and studying his notebooks and spellbooks, while Thomas ran around in circles about the room.
Osilem, 24th of Onk – 562 H.E.
Jeremy was up early the next day, and after a quick bite brought Derek with him to the camp. He introduced him around as “Martin’s friend who is gonna help us” and proceeded to enlist his aid in helping the party gather the needed supplies.
The dwarves all paid no attention to the young man, except Kirla, who Ratchis noticed giving the once over.
Kazrack shook the boy’s hand heartily, “Know how to use that thing?” He gestured to the battle axe.
“Kind of,” Derek replied. He was soft-spoken, but had a tone of confidence that rung in the few words he used to express himself.
Ratchis immediately trusted him, and decided to go with his gut feeling. “Is not Nephthys also goddess of friendship?” he thought. (185)
Jeremy, Derek and Ratchis went to retrieve the goods the party needed.
Meanwhile, Martin finally awoke, having finally gone to sleep as the sun had appeared below the eastern mountains. He washed up, and gathered his things to visit the Alderman. However, when he opened the door, there stood William Turnkey.
William’s long brown hair was back in a neat pony-tail, and he wore a long coat of dyed sheepskin and a three-corner hat.
“May I come in?” he asked with a polite smile.
Martin stepped back and let him in, closing the door again. “Richard?”
The form of William Turnkey shifted and bulged and twisted. There stood Richard the Red, his auburn hair falling in neat ringlets on his adorned ear. His crimson Academy robes were immaculate, especially when compared to Martin’s shabby road set. He smiled broadly. He had finely combed beard and mustache. The inner lining of his blood red dyed sheepskin cloak was a soft turquoise satin. He wore a short sword on his belt, and a huge red stone on a golden ring on left pinky finger.
“So, where have we been?”
“I don’t know where we have been, but I have been helping to fulfill tasks required to reverse the consequences of your misdeeds,”: Martin said. He offered Richard a chair, but the watch-mage preferred to stand.
“You are not being clear, Martin,” Richard replied. “How am I supposed to help you if you are unclear with me. The more information you give me the more I can piece together and figure out exactly what is going on around here and fix it.”
“I dare say that you, Richard, a good part of ‘what is going on around here’,” Martin replied. He plopped down on the bed. Thomas popped up onto his shoulder.
“Oh, your familiar is cute,” Richard said, and suddenly there was a nut in his hand. He offered it to Thomas.
“Thomas isn’t hungry,” Martin said, flatly. And the squirrel leapt into the younger watch-mage’s hood.
Richard flicked the nut into the air and then caught it again. It disappeared up his sleeve.
“It’s important to know all kinds of magic,” Richard winked after his little trick.
“What do you want Richard?” Martin sighed/. “Have you freed another drow witch we should know about?”
“Come now, Martin! Where are your manners?” Richard chided him. “Is that any way to treat a colleague and wizened mentor?”
“I ask again, what do you want?”
“I come to offer you something, Martin,” Richard replied, sighing some himself. He sat down beside Martin on the bed. “Surviving in this environment means growing and becoming more powerful to help defeat the evils we both know exist. We are on the same side, Martin. We may have different means, but we have the same ends. Peace. Stability. Justice. I have a proposal for you.”
“And what is that?” Martin the Green stood and walked across the room.
“I train you,” Richard replied. “I teach you some spells. I am certain you are ready for spells of the Third House (186) and maybe a little bit of this or that, and you inform me.
“Inform you?”
“Yes,” Richard stood and walked over to him. “You and your companions can serve as another set of eyes and means of gathering information. If we pool our knowledge we can both be better prepared. I with share with you my magical knowledge and arcane lore and you will share with me your gathered knowledge, you rumors, and sightings and theories and what-have-yous. Of course, I would tell you some of these things as well.”
Richard turned and walked back to the bed.
“I cannot speak for my companions.”
“Then speak for yourself,” Richard retorted. “What will it be? Will we help each other?”
Martin hesitated.
“I don’t see any reason why we cannot aid each other in mutual goals, or with some shared knowledge,” Martin finally said. “But I must confer with my companions about the training. I, too, think I can handle spells of the Third House – but this will take time and that we do not have much of.”
“Okay, so let me start by asking you where you and your companions have been,” Richard said.
“The Circle of Thorns,” Martin replied. “A druid’s circle dedicated to the Beast Gods, west of here.”
“I have heard rumor of them. What were you doing there?”
“Kazrack and Ratchis had tasks to accomplish there. Tasks for Osiris in return for bring Jeeremy back to life,” Martin explained.
“ What?’ Richard seemed genuinely shocked. “When did Jeremy die?”
“In Aze-Nuquerna,” Martin replied. “You know after you charmed him and drew him down to the garbage pit was, with the living pile of tentacled filth?”
Richard looked down suddenly. “I, uh, I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t mean for him to get hurt. I, uh, didn’t want him to go down there after me. Could you tell him I’m sorry?” Richard looked up at Martin, who eyed the older watch-mage intensely looking for a sign of sarcasm.
He found none.
“Tell him yourself.”
“How did he come back to life?” Richard asked.
“The Urn of Osiris,” Martin answered. “The elves had one.”
“Of course, they can’t use it themselves,” Richard scratched his chin. “So you all had to make promises to Osiris to get him back?”
“Yes.”
“What was yours?”
Martin hesitated.
“Why do I think you are going to be able to tell me something about my required task?” He finally said.
“I don’t know. What is it?”
Martin sighed.
“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Martin replied.
“I cannot help you if you don’t tell me,” Richard said, softly.
“I am supposed to retrieve something called the Book of Black Circles from some Brotherhood of the Lost and then cast one spell from it and then destroy the book,” Martin said, all in one breath as if to sneak it by the elder mage.
Now it was Richard the Red’s turn to sigh. He sat back down on the bed. Martin sat on the chair.
“That is not exactly an easy task,” Richard finally spoke.
“It’s not.”
“What is the alternative?”
“Death.”
“Have you considered dying?”
Martin did not reply, but rolled his eyes.
“I am not kidding, Martin,” Richard said solemnly. “The Book of Black Circles is not just any old spellbook and if half the things I have heard about it are true, death is preferable to reading even a single one of its pages.”
Martin buried his face in his hands.
“What was written in that book was transcribed by seven of the most diabolical and corrupt minds of all time.”
Martin looked up, “The Corruptor?” (187)
“Yes,” Richard nodded. “He was the last. It was he who was finally able to bend the book to his will.”
“What more do you know about it? What specifics?” Martin asked.
“This has to be an even trade. I’ll tell you all I know about the book and you tell me about, hmmm, the other tasks. I assume the others were for Kazrack, Jana and Ratchis?”
Martin nodded.
“Well?”
Martin went into a long-winded and carefully worded description of what the party had done in Dybbuk Akvram, and about the death of Jana. He left out the monks, the golden dire ram and about Ratchis’ night of copulation.
“So what spells can you offer me?” Martin asked as soon as his tale was done.
Richard laughed and named five spells. Martin could choose any two of them.
“I would not seek out that book if I were you,” Richard then said. “It will mean your death, or worse and the same for your friends. Sure, there is great power in it – but it will corrupt you. It cannot be used for good. You do not have the strength to withstand it.”
“And I bet you would, right?”
Richard was silent for a moment, and then shook his head.
“No, I would not trust myself. I would not touch it.”
The two watch-mages were silent again. “But not to worry we’ll figure you a way out of this. You know, even promises made to gods can be circumvented with the proper loopholes.” Richard winked.
“I need to find companions and discuss the question of my training with them,” Martin said, standing. “I am afraid we are under too tight a schedule to fit it in now, but I will try my best. How shall I find you?”
“I have a room here under William Turnkey,” Richard said.
-----------------
Martin caught up with his companions and spent the morning with them collecting gear. He mentioned to Ratchis about Richard the Red and training.
“I don’t trust him,” Ratchis replied.
“Neither do I,” Martin said. “But I need the spells, and the power will help us against Mozek, if he is who we are to face next.”
Ratchis nodded. “I think we have waited this long, we can afford to wait a little longer. How long will it take?”
“Eight days or so,” Martin replied.
‘The hardest part will be convincing Kazrack,’ Ratchis said.
“But at least we will be able to spend the Festival of Isis here in town,” Martin said.
Again, Ratchis nodded.
------------
The afternoon found Jeremy, Martin, Ratchis, Derek and Beorth having a light meal and sipping beer (except Martin of course) at the Sun’s Summit Inn.
Suddenly, the door burst open and a teen-aged boy in an apron came running in. He had bowl-cut black hair and chubby cheeks despite his tall thin, almost gawky, frame. He had a hammer in his hand.
“Gibb! Sound the militia bell!” the boy cried, out of breath. “There are dwarves marching on the town dressed for war!”
“Ranold Horton, if you are fibbing me you know you’re going to get in quite a bit of trouble,” Gibb said, snapping the towel he had on the bar.
Martin rose and walked over. “I’ll handle this,” he said. “It is my fault. The dwarves are with us. I should have informed the constable and the alderman. Run back to your father and tell him to not raise the alarm. I will be right over to explain everything.
“Yes sir,” the boy said and went running back out.
Beorth and Ratchis decided to head to the dwarf camp “just in case”, while Jeremy accompanied Martin to the Alderman’s house.
The two companions found Alderman Henry Horton up on the roof of his house with one of his sons, re-shingling the roof after what had been a harsh winter.
“Make sure you get those straight, Garold,” the alderman said to his oldest son, and then waved to Martin.
“Martin the Green! I’m glad to see you alive and well, and to hear we are not under attack by dwarves!” the alderman said, as he made his way to the ladder and down off the house.
“I like him, he’s down to earth,” Martin whispered to Jeremy.
“Down to earth? But he’s on the roof!” Jeremy replied, with a chuckle.
Martin poked the Neergaardian with an elbow.
The alderman invited the Martin and Jeremy inside, where his wife Melanie, served crackers and cheese, along with some wine. Jeremy ate hungrily, while Martin did his best to look as if he were eating, and even managed to swallow down a mouthful of the stuff, that was as tasteless and disgustingly textured as damp parchment covered in half-solidified glue to him.
Martin did his best to tell the alderman some of what the party had been doing, without giving away anything too specific, though at one point he mentioned the gnomes, causing Jeremy to shoot him a glance.
“Gnomes?” the alderman asked. “What gnomes?”
“Oh, nothing terribly important, and nowhere around here,” Martin replied. “Just some gnomes we encountered journeying from abroad. Um, we told them we’d give them what aid we could to get home safely.”
Jeremy nodded.
“Well, even a day’s journey beyond here to the west, north or southwest can lead to very dangerous territory,” the alderman said. “While the people of Gothanius have never seen eye to eye with the non-humans of Derome-Delem, I hope no harm comes to them.”
“I’m sure none will,” Martin replied.
“Anyway, gnomes are pretty short. You’d have to get down on one knee to see eye to eye with them,” Jeremy quipped.
Martin glared at Jeremy. But the Alderman laughed.
“Well, hopefully those mercenaries the king sent to explore the territory north of Greenreed Valley for further expansion will make this whole area a lot more safe,” the Alderman said, and took a sip of wine.
“Mercenaries? You mean the dragon-hunters?” Martin asked.
“Huh? No, no. A group of maybe two dozen men passed through here to explore the area north of Greenreed Valley. They arrived during that last horrible snowstorm, and left right after it cleared. Hmmm, maybe four days ago; No word from them yet, but it hasn’t been too long.”
“Oh, I see,” Martin mused over this silently.
“Not to butt in, but do you know why the king has decided to send these men now?” Jeremy asked.
“Well, springtime is the best time for exploration, and the dragon has not been sited for some time, as far as I know,” the alderman explained. “The more land we have, the more resources, the more resources, the more strength.”
Melanie walked into the living room, and Martin noticed she was looking at his plate.
“I… um… um… I…” Martin hemmed and hawed.
“How long do you plan to be in town?” the alderman asked. “Now that the thaw is here, we can begin the work on your house.” (188)
“Oh, my companions and I have not decided yet…”
Jeremy interrupted, “But hopefully, we will be here for a few days at least. We can use the rest and recuperation.”
“Yes, I hope we will be here long enough to celebrate the Festival of Isis with you and your townsfolk,” Martin finished.
“That would be lovely indeed, and would mean a lot to the people of Summit.” The alderman replied.
As Martin and Jeremy walked back to the place at the foot of the ridge where the dwarves were camped, Jeremy said, “I have a bad feeling about what might happen if those mercs run into the gnomes or vice versa.”
“I know.”
At the camp, Martin pulled Ratchis and Kazrack aside to speak with them about Richard the Red’s proposal.
“At the very least it would mean another delay,” Kazrack said. “Not to mention, that Richard the Red is not to be trusted and is responsible for great evils beings loosed on the world and the effective death of two young elven women.” (189)
Martin nodded, and Ratchis scratched his own chin.
“In fact, instead of trying to convince me that it is in our interest to allow you to train with this villain, perhaps you should explain to me how it is not in our interest to tell Belear of Richard, rally my kinsmen we have here and march into town to capture, and failing that, kill, this so-called Watch-Mage?”
“We should discuss this with everyone,’ Ratchis said. “I have no objections to involving Belear, but we should limit what the other dwarves know, lest one of them put it on themselves to do something rash.”
“Dwarves are never rash,” Kazrack replied.
“Uh-huh.” Jeremy said, walking over.
Soon, Jeremy, Martin, Ratchis, Kazrack, Beorth and Belear had made their own circle around a smaller fire to discuss the situation. Derek was busy looking through the various supplies the others had gathered in and around town, hovering not too far away.
“Beorth, what have you been told about Richard the Red?” Ratchis asked the paladin.
“He… freed the drow witches, at least that is what Jana told me,” Beorth replied.
“It is a bit more complicated than just that,” Martin sighed.
And the tale of the party’s woes, especially as they pertain to Richard the Red were discussed in some detail, each member of the party adding what they remembered and their own two coppers besides. Martin and Jeremy added what the alderman had said about the mercenary band.
”This is as convoluted as the ancient tales that take six days to tell,” Belear commented.
“And yet, we did it in less than an hour, not bad eh? Jeremy quipped.
“I do not think it is in our power to defeat or capture Richard the Red,” Martin said.
“And yet, it seems perfectly within his power to know where we are and when Martin is around,” Jeremy added. “Maybe we can learn something from this, and eventually be able to defeat him.”
“I don’t like it,” Kazrack said.
“Kazrack,” Belear spoke in his typical solemn tone. “You are more familiar with this man’s crimes than I am, so I leave this decision in your hands, and out of mine. However, Martin, my advice to you is that you abandon these foul arcane practices that can only lead to your corruption.”
“Um, thank you,” Martin coughed. “I will consider the advice.”
“I say he does it,” Ratchis said. “We are going to need whatever firepower we can against Mozek, and we can use more time to gather supplies, and I want to commission a bow built for my strength. In addition, we should seek out the aid of the priest of Bast, and perhaps Finn and the others will return with some useful news.”
Kazrack grunted and stood, as if to walk away, but then turn back to the circle, and looked to Martin. “You know best in regards to your own order and ways, Martin,” the dwarf said. “I do not trust Richard the Red, but I do trust you, and thus I trust you to make the right decision.”
There was silence around the fire, broken only by Derek’s sudden whistling as he moved to where the dwarves were preparing dinner.
“Then I say we stay a while and I learn what I can from him,” Martin finally said. “Whatever evils Richard may have done or allowed to have happened, I have to assume at this moment that he still had a good intention despite his means, and still seeks to fulfill the oath of our order to help each other in training and gaining of knowledge.”
“And what of the mercenaries?” Beorth asked.
“They have either found the gnomes or not by now,” Ratchis said. “There is nothing we can do about that.”
“Also, I would like to be around for the Festival of Isis,” Martin said. “As superficial as it may seem to some of you, the ability for a watch-mage to accomplish his duties is often dependent on the goodwill of the people he is sworn to help protect, and if I do not know the people of Summit and they do not see me among them celebrating holidays as they do, there could be an irreparable gulf that could cause greater harm later.”
And so, it was agreed.
End of Session #37
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Notes:
(184) Martin uses the prestidigitation cantrip to keep his travel robes clean. He has a second set of robes he dons for special occasions.
(185) As friendship is a duty chosen by freewill, Nephthys also concerns herself with element of human life.
(186) In Aquerra, arcane spells are divvied by “House” to describe level of power.
(187) Marchosias the Corruptor is one of the most infamous of evil wizards in Aquerra’s history. A former master of the Academy of Wizardry, he is responsible for the Second Humano-Orc War, the creation of The Void Heart (aka the Sphere of Annihilation), and the collection of countless items of great magic for his plans of world domination.
(188) Remember, Martin the Green is supposed to be stationed in Summit overseeing the dragon-hunting project and helping to aid the people of Gothanius in general and the settling of Greenreed Valley in specific.
(189) Rahasia and Tirhas Tesfay.
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(I'm not kidding either)
