Session #49
Session #49
“I never thought I’d say. . .” Belear coughed and his body was wracked with painful spasms, and Ratchis stood to give the elder dwarf some room to breathe after having just cast a miracle of healing on him. “But I looked forward to seeing the sun.”
Beorth wandered away from the group and fell prostrate to pray, “Oh Geb, thank you for devouring that place of evil and abomination.”
Captain Adalar was asking for the details of Helrahd and Kirla’s apparent death, when there was another deep rumbling beneath them and a crunch of stone from where the monolith had one been. It was echoed by a great belching sound.
“We should get further way,” Martin croaked, wiping dust from his mouth.
A second and prolonged rumbling seemed to concur with the Watch-Mage, and soon the whole group was running for the border of the dead land, as behind them more and more if collapsed into the hole at the center, creating a huge crater. Black dust rose higher and higher into the sky, and also blew out in all directions. In a few moments, it swallowed the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions.
They fumbled about in the dark for the edge of the cloud.
It took a few hours, but eventually they were able to gather on the other side of the ridge that marked the perimeter of the deadlands. The dust cloud dissipated a great deal there, as fresh breezes blew on those low grassy hills. The party was surprised to also see that while the grass had been patchy and brown when they had passed through here, before now it was bright green and small flowers were beginning to bud across it.
“Did anyone else see it?” Derek asked, out of breath as everyone began to make camp and wait for Blodnath and Baervard , who had gotten separated from everyone in the cloud.
“See what?” Jeremy asked.
“Eh?’ Martin cast a prestidigitation to clean his robes and looking around applied it to Beorth as well.
“A dragon,” Derek sputtered, looking up and around with some fear. “Or at least a great green and black reptilian shape flying over the area, just before the dust cloud overcame us.”
“I saw it as well,” said Beorth, taking a deep drink from his waterskin. “I wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely had that shape and aspect to it.”
“What?!?” Jeremy exclaimed with some shock; his shoulders drooped.
“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” asked Ratchis, looking up and around as well.
“I saw it, too,” said Blodnath, as he and Baervard finally joined the group, climbing the low ridge a little further north from where everyone else had. “It was black, but seemed to shine green where the sun hit it.”
“So, I guess that confirms that the dragon is real?” Kazrack said.
“Who said the dragon wasn’t real?” Derek asked, confused. “Isn’t that the reason why we all ended up here Gothanius the first place?”
“Yeah, but we can no confirmation that there really was a dragon,” replied Kazrack. “And some evidence that it was a fiction, a combination of gnomish illusions and sightings of the manticore.”
“But I came with some evidence about the dragon that Barnstable the Brown sent,” Derek said, exasperated. “I told Martin all about it when we first met.”
“I…uh…never told anyone else,” Martin said, sheepishly. “I guess I forgot.”
Ratchis glared at Martin with disgust.
“Well, that explains why you all never seemed overly concerned with the news,” Derek sat by the small fire that had been made.
“I hope that this campsite won’t attract this thing,” Jeremy said, sitting beside his friend.
“What would you have us do, Jeremy?” Ratchis asked, in a tone suggesting that he was certain that Jeremy had nothing to offer.
“We could go back into the cloud,” Jeremy suggested, but shrugged his shoulders.
“It is too dangerous,” Derek said. “Plus, the collapse of several square miles of land has already attracted whatever attention that there is to be attracted. I doubt a small fire would make it worse.”
“Oh, we can always make it worse,” Jeremy said, pessimistically.
The party took inventory of what they had left. Jeremy’s pack had been left behind, and Beorth’s armor was lost, along with several of the dwarves’ packs. Supplies were low. Derek, who had been carrying around the breastplate worn by one of Mozek’s demon-gnome brothers, gave it to Kazrack, who discarded his heavily damaged chain shirt for the more protective armor. Beorth took the suit of scale that Ratchis had once worn and cleaned it in preparation for using it.
The day waned, and the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven allies used it to take small naps, clean and repair equipment and to clean their wounds. There was a short discussion about the budding flowers, and a disagreement as to whether the destruction of the Necropolis had allowed life to fully return to the area, or whether spring had more fully arrived while they were all underground.
Martin maintained the illusion of a ledge of stone sticking out of the ground to provide cover from the air, but was unable to be disturbed while doing it.
While the day had been much warmer than the party had been used to in the days before going into the Necropolis, a snap of cold came with nightfall. Watches were set and soon everyone was sleeping a deep, if aching, sleep.
Teflem, 20th of Prem – 565 H.E.
“My compliments on that amazing stroke back there,” Jeremy said to Ratchis, hurrying his pace to keep up with the half-orc’s ample stride. The Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions marched westward over the low grassy hills towards the edge of the forest where the gnomes lives. They could see the dark outline of larger hills to the north and west, several days away. “You know, the thing that jumped out of that sarcophagus.”
“Praise Nephthys, not me,” Ratchis grunted.
“But, next time give us some warning, okay?” Jeremy continued.
Ratchis gave the blonde warrior a glance of half-confusion and half-disgust.
“I mean, after you chopped that thing’s head off back there everything started falling apart.”
Ratchis took a deep breath as if to holler, but then let it out slowly. “…Next time I’m goin to chop the head off of a powerful undead creature in an underground labyrinth, I’ll let you know beforehand.”
“Good enough,” Jeremy slowed his pace again, and soon fell back near the rear of the column. This was his usual spot, where he and Derek traded whispered jokes about the other party members, and discussed the warm meals and mead they’d drink when they got back to Garvan. (1)
“That is, if we don’t have to fight a gang of demon gnomes,” Jeremy warned.
Derek nodded solemnly, and then laughed nervously. Jeremy echoed it, and Martin looked back and them and glared, certain they were making fun of him.
“Could have been all that powerful,” Captain Adalar commented under his breath having heard Jeremy and Ratchis’ conversation.
They marched through the day, up over and around the dimpled earth.
“Belear, can you remind me the name of the first champion?” Kazrack asked the elder dwarf, who still showed signs of his recent wounds, but only that.
“You speak of Jocham?”(2)
“Yes… yes that’s it<” Kazrack shook his head, and then beat his breast with a fist as if pained.
“Kazrack, I think the touch of those black wights has addled your mind,” Belear stopped and put his hand on the younger dwarf’s shoulder.
“I am just ill. I will be fine,” Kazrack replied. “Though I do feel strange, as if my soul was shaken.”
“Yes, you have had some of your life essence drained out. The a bit of the very divine spark that gives you life and keeps you linked to the gods and to the world has been taken. This darkness in your spirit shakens not only your faith in yourself, but in your gods. You have suffered a great loss.” (3)
“I will be fine tomorrow,” Kazrack replied.
“No, you will not.”
They had not yet quite reached the treeline as the sun ducked behind it before them, when Kazrack realized that Belear was right.
“Is there nothing to be done about my state?” he asked his former teacher.
“You may still have time, but it is beyond my faith to restore this sacred energy to you,” Belear replied.
It was then that the debate started. After camp had been made in beside a large flowering tree, Belear called over Ratchis, Martin and Beorth at Kazrack’s request. Captain Adalar walked over as well.
“I feel as if my faith has been shattered,” Kazrack began. He explained how having had his life force permanently drained that his connection to the gods was weakened, and there was a whole set of miracles now denied him. “I am weak and my gods know it, and now I do not know if I am even worthy to continue on in their name. I feel as if I should try to regain at least some of that lost strength as soon as possible and before anything else if I am to declare myself worthy of it.”
“Do you mean delay going into Garvan see what has been happening there? And freeing the gnomes from the rule of Mozek and his brothers?” Martin asked, disbelievingly.
I mean, no offense, brother,” Captain Adalar said, stepping towards him. “But we have been delayed enough by the ill-fated descent into that necropolis.”
“Well, it served some purpose,” Martin protested. “The books we found inside are turning out to be very enlightening. I just read last night about how the Necropolis was one of several planar ‘nodes’.”
“Plana-wha?” asked Jeremy walking over.
“This doesn’t concern you, Jeremy,” Ratchis said.
“And why not?” Beorth asked. “We are talking about what we are going to do next. Jana explained in quite a bit of detail about the problems of the gnomes, of Richard the Red and all the various quests and enemies we’ve collected. I may have lost my memory, but I think this also give me a fresh perspective. And we need every perspective we have.” The paladin patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “And if what Jana said was right, Anubis let him back through the gate, and that does not happen often and for no reason, even though I feel a deep unease about it. And we need to consider the tasks of Osiris that still need doing.”
“Hold on,” Derek stepped into the circle, feeling drawn in by Beorth’s words. “Why do you have tasks for Osiris?”
“It was the price for bringing him back from the dead,” Ratchis pointed at Jeremy, who looked down nervously.
“Whoa! You were dead?” Derek turned to his friend. “And you were brought back to life?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Let’s not get side-tracked,” said Ratchis. “What are you proposing, Kazrack?”
“I am not sure… Only that maybe we should see if we can find someone who can restore that lost life essence before it is too late, especially since without it I am of a lot less help to the party.”
“I don’t know where you hope to find such a restoration,” Martin said. “Hmm, but then again, perhaps the priest of Bast would be able to do it…”
“He is missing,” said Beorth.
“Or he just wasn’t around that day,” Jeremy offered.
“We have no way of knowing if he can do it or is even around,’ Ratchis said. “I think it may be too much a long shot.”
“Plus we can brook no further delay, Captain Adalar said, looking to Belear. “We agreed to come help free these gnomes from their corruptors, but was it not you and your companions that warned us that the hairy bear-beast men were just servants of a greater and old evil; a great foe of our people? Everyday we let pass is another that goes by without our people being warned.”
“I would not have anyone do what they cannot or would not do,” said Kazrack. “I need to reflect on this for myself and will throw the runestones for guidance, but it is wholly possible that I may have to seek this out on my own, and that you and Belear and the others can return to Abarrane-Abaruch sooner, and leave the gnomes to me and my companions.”
“I can’t bel…” Adalar’s temper was kept in check by Belear’s raised hand.
“Let the stones be thrown and then we will see what needs to be done, all of this debate may be moot,” the elder dwarf said wisely. “It could be that we stand a day or two’s further delay.”
Kazrack and Belear retreated into a copse of trees away from the others, as the last lights of Ra’s Glory reached up from behind the mountains of the west, muted into a golden orange.
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Friendship repaid awaits where men rest upon the summit of your first dilemma… Time wanes, but it is still ample.”
There was a long discussion as to what the words meant.
As for Belear’s reading, he said he had not had as successful a reading as Kazrack’s, and that it seemed too many things were in flux in regards to Abarrane-Abaruch to know a decisive course of action.
Kazrack wanted to return to Summit. “That is the ‘summit of our first dilemma’,” he said.
“But there is no one in Summit who can restore you,” Martin said.
“I think there will be a friend there, who we do not expect,” said Kazrack.
“Unless the stones meant the summit of gnome’s hills, or the summit upon which the castle at Twelve Trolls stands, or somewhere else,” said Martin.
“Or our first dilemma could be where we fought the one-eared goblins back outside of… what was the name of that place?” Jeremy added.
“Cutter Jack’s,” said Beorth.
“Huh? How do you remember?” Jeremy was puzzled.
“I took careful notes of everything Jana told me and what I have put together from what I overhear,” Beorth explained.
“Regardless, that town is not close enough to allow ‘ample’ time to get there before it is too late for me to be restored,” Kazrack posited.
“But what is time ‘ample’ for?” Ratchis asked. “Could it be ample for us to go help the gnomes and then get back to Summit if that is the place where it talked about?”
There was a long silence, while everyone thought it over.
“Well, was there a capital letter for ‘summit’?” Jeremy asked, thinking he was being clever.
“There are no capital letters in the dwarven alphabet,” Martin said. “The concept comes from the elvish script.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, things are not spelled out like that when the stones are thrown, more like things are suggested within runic context and in the shapes the thrown stones make,” Kazrack tried to explain.
“This is getting too philosophical for me.” Jeremy complained and walked off to sharpen his long sword. “Just let me know what we are gonna do next when you all decide.” He signaled for Derek to join him, but the young woodsman seemed too interested in the conversation to be pulled away.
“I believe we should go to Summit. If help for me does not exist there then we will return to Garvan and do what needs to be done,” Kazrack offered.
“You are being bull-headed, Kazrack,” said Beorth. “You are putting yourself before the welfare of the gnomes you swore to protect, and you are taking advantage of your kin here by making them wait for you when they need to return to their stronghold and warn of the danger of the drow.”
“Do not insult me, Beorth,” Kazrack, stood growing angry. “I do not question your faith even though we cannot be certain that you interpret all things regarding it correctly now that much of your study has been wiped from your mind due to your transgression.”
“I have sinned, but I also continue on doing my best regardless,” Beorth retorted. He did not raise his voice. It remained cold and flat. “Anubis has not abandoned me of yet, nor have I abandoned him.”
“And I believe by going to Summit I am not abandoning my gods,” Kazrack said, lower his voice back down after sighing. “I have to believe in this reading of the runestones. If I chose to go on and ignore it, I would be giving in to whatever doubts plague me.”
There was a long silence.
“I support you, Kazrack,” said Ratchis, finally breaking the awkwardness. “I just hope you are not letting your pride get in the way of your judgment, and I hope you will not be too disappointed if this ‘friend’ ends up being cast in the mold of Richard the Red.”
Kazrack nodded, and then looked at Belear, who gestured to Captain Adalar.
“I have spoken with Belear and he seems to feel we should leave this choice up to Kazrack,” Captain Adalar said. “His wisdom has always served his people well, so I defer to him.”
“Then we leave in the morning,” Kazrack said.
The group dispersed to eat what was left of dry rations and bed down, leaving watches for the night. However, most did not get in their bedrolls very happy about the decision.
Anulem, 21th of Prem – 565 H.E.
Morning found Thomas the Squirrel leaping from tree to tree parallel to the group. He stopped and sniffed the fresh spring air and wished for the ability to enjoy food again, and then he noticed something else seemed to be on the air that he should be wanting, but that somehow he lacked. Screwing up his tiny brain to try to figure out what it was, he gave up and leapt back down, landing on the scratchy padding of Ratchis’ natty hair. The half-orc did not seem to mind and raised a ham-hand to scratch the tree-rodent, who chittered in delight and then pounced onto Martin’s nearby shoulder.
The group came back to the scorched remains of the gnomish safehouse that marked the edge of the border of Garavan. They needed to find this place as a landmark before making their way back to Summit.
“There have been gnomes here recently,” said Martin.
“How do you know? I see no tracks,” Ratchis asked, looking up from where he examining some twigs on the muddy ground.
“Thomas can smell them,” the watch-mage replied, patting his familiar on the head. “But he thinks the scent is from more than a day ago.”
“Good gnomes or demon-gnomes?’ asked Jeremy.
Martin shrugged his shoulders.
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The march the rest of the way to Summit was without event. They marched though the tunnel through the raise plateau that created Greenreed Valley (4), and saw that the great area of steam they had once traveled through seemed taller and larger, remaining thick even above the level of plateau. (5)
It was dusk when they finally picked their way up the stone path to the edge of Summit. They could tell immediately that something was strange. The paper lanterns and other decorations from the Festival of Isis (6) had either had not been taken down, or had been put back up. It seemed strangely quiet.
At the center of town, the dwarves made to travel to their old camping spot, not feeling comfortable remaining in a human town.
Kazrack was about to suggest they stick around in case there was trouble, but at that moment there was a rousing cheer from the inn, which was visible at the far end of town. There was light from within, and it was clear people were partying in and around it.
The dwarves began marching off as two children came running by, obviously arguing.
“Hey look! It’s the Fearless Manticore Killers! And a whole bunch of dwarves!” cried one of the kids and both stopped dead in their tracks in awe, but then one almost immediately began strutting about like a cheeky show-off.
“Nya!” he stuck his tongue out at Ratchis.
“What’s all this about?” Ratchis asked him.
The young boy stuck his tongue out again and then turned shaking his rear mockingly at the hulking friar.
Ratchis’ expression changed to one of consternation, but it was enough on his scarred and horrid face to make the boy still facing him pale.
“Uh…uh… Everyone’s celebrating the victory of the Shepherds,” the boy announced, proudly at first, but then looking down as he could not interpret the hard-ridges of Ratchi’s brow, or the glint of spit on protruding tooth as merely quizzical and not homicidal.
The dwarves continued marching off.
Ratchis flipped the kid a silver piece. “Oh wow,” was his response.
“Who are the Shepherds?” asked Martin.
“I know you!” the other kid turned back around and stepped over to Martin. “You’re the watch-mage, you can do magic!”
“Um… yes,” said Martin.
“The Shepherds are the town heroes!” the first boy said, answering the question and hoping for another whole silver piece. “They found the missing people and brought them back after the killed the bad guys!”
“Which bad guys?” Beorth asked.
“Uh, a bad man who steals people and the dog heads,” the boy looked frightened again.
“They’re called gnolls, dum-dum!” the cheeky boy said. “Give me a silver, too!”
Shrugging his shoulders Ratchis threw that boy a silver piece, too and they both ran off back towards the inn.
“I bet its Finn and his crew,” said Jeremy.
Martin nodded.
“Who is Finn again?” Beorth asked.
They all marched to the inn.
They were hit by a resounding cheer as they entered the common room of the Sun’s Summit Inn. They had never seen it so packed, and the smell of pipes and ale filled the room, along with the occasional whiff of a peppery beef stew some were eating.
“The Fearless Manticore Killers!” someone cried and then more people took up the name, while others cried, “The Shepherds! The Shepherds!”
“I hope that Finn’s crowd doesn’t get themselves in trouble by people thinking they are more capable than they really are,” Martin leaned over and whispered to Kazrack.
“That’s a good point, Martin,” the dwarf replied.
“Oh, let them enjoy their moment,” Jeremy scoffed coming in behind them. “Listen to you two, you sound jealous!”
“Oh them? Never.” It was Kazrack’s turn to scoff.
A table was cleared for them, and Finn jumped up from where he had been sitting by the bar, an overflowing mug of ale in his hand.
“Martin! Jeremy! Ratchis! Kazrack! Great to see you safe and sound!” The young fisherman came over to them, and Carlos fell in close behind.
“Hola!” he cried. “Hello!”
Finn Fisher seemed have lost some his color, and there was dirt caked under and around his finger nails, and carried a longsword sheathed at his side like he had had it there everyday for a long time; his hair was longer and shaggier. Carlos, on the other, had shaved his head, and he wore a sword (a short sword), but he wore a suit of studded leather, mostly unbuckled, also as if he had grown more used to its weight and discomfort.
As Martin sat he recognized Josef at another tables smiling as he talked with two other young men. The mousy fellow was growing a black beard, but his hairline seemed to have receded even more. He thought that two were missing, and craned his neck to look for more familiar faces. It was then that he noticed Simon and Peter, the other brothers from among the dragon-hunter recruits, ones he had traveled with to Gothanius from Westron (7). They waved to him excitedly, though their faces had lost some of the innocent roundness.
“When did Simon and Peter get here?” Martin asked Finn. The barmaids, brought pitchers of ale, and said bowls of stew and some bread would be served to them right away. The noise of the common room simmered down, but become more generalized as people’s attention went back to their individual songs, conversations and meals.
“Oh, they were among the people we rescued,” said Finn Fisher, putting his hand to his mouth to cover a momentary smile of pride. “Maria is somewhere here, too. We rescued her early on, so she was able to help us some. Man, I’ll tell ya, she is killer with a sword.”
Martin kept listening, but scanned the crowd for more familiar faces. There was the smith/constable, Maxel trying to get away from a gentleman extolling the virtues of his daughter who was soon to come of age, in order to get over to their table and greet them personally.
“What happened?” Ratchis asked.
“Well, there is a lot to tell, but let me just tell you this much right,” Finn leaned forward and cupped his mouth to whisper. “There was an evil priest kidnapping people and charming them to do his bidding. It was pretty horrible. Frank… well, Frank had to…”
Finn’s voice cracked, and Martin feared the worse, but then noticed Frank in a corner, holding a mug of ale in each hand. He looked deep into his cups with a blank stare and then took another long swig.
“Spit it out,” Jeremy admonished.
“Frank had to kill his brother, Gwar,” Finn finally, said, and Carlos dropped his head sadly, shaking it as if in disbelief. “Gwar was more than charmed, he was changed or controlled more powerfully somehow, Frank had no choice, though he tried at first to subdue him.”
Ratchis growled in anger.
“That is bitter tale,” Kazrack intoned. “To have to kill one’s own brother would be a foul fate for any dwarf.”
“Frank’s not a dwarf,” Jeremy said with a smirk.
“Jeremy,” Ratchis scowled, and the Neergaardian put a finger to his lip signaling that he’d shut up.
“But listen, that is not the story we’ve been telling the common folk,” Finn added.
“The common folk?” Martin was surprised by Finn’s use of the term.
“Frank insisted we all say that Gwar was a great hero and died killing the priest and we all agreed, though Maria is still pissed about it,” Finn continued. “But I figured I’d tell you since we know you know about how hard these things can be and because, well… look at Frank yourself, he’s pretty broken up about it.”
“Como no?” Carlos chimed in, and Martin nodded as if he knew what the dark-skinned young man had said.
“Anyway, once the party dies down we’ll tell you all about it,” Finn said and then suddenly stood up. “A toast to the Fearless Manticore Killers!”
“Here! Here!”
Ratchis leaned over to Beorth, “Can you think of a better name? This would be a good time to announce a change of name…”
“If anything, it is a mark of pride to be named by others like that,” Kazrack said, overhearing.
“Yeah, but it’s an awful name,” Ratchis replied.
The party in the common room continued for another couple of hours. Maxel came over to say hello and to let Martin know that the alderman had been called away to the capitol, but was expected back anyday. Eventually, Simon and Peter made it over, and so did Maria and soon they all retired to the room Ratchis would be sharing with Beorth and Finn told his tale.
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Notes:
(1) Garvan is the name of the gnomish community the party spent most of their winter at.
(2) Jocham was a powerful holy warrior of the dwarven people, in the time of what is called the Third (or Last) Great Dwarven Kingdom in the Second Age. He is also called the First Champion, and Dwitak’s Hand. Dwitak Chem was the last dwarven king who ruled over a united dwarven people.
(3) DM’s Note: Kazrack permanently lost two levels after blowing his Fortitude saves by rolling a ‘2’ once and being one point short because he lost that level of the second roll, thus losing another level.
(4) See map in next post.
(5) The party traveled through the great area of steam way back in Session #18.
(6) It was just around the Festival of Isis that the party had last been in Summit (see Session #
(7) The party met Simon and Peter (and Martin) at the ball at Castle Gothanius way in Sessions #11 & 12
Plus, despite my cheering for the monsters at the table, I do like to see my players succeed.
