Session #50 (part II)
“We have come to help you and your people,” Ratchis called out, putting his hands in the air, but holding his hammer in them. Kazrack gripped his halberd.
From all sides there now appeared several gnomish armored forms, and three more wolverines. The dwarves all tensed automatically, and Captain Adalar swung his great axe above his head.
“Hold!” called the voice of burly gnome with long gray pointed beard and a trimmed mustache. It was Captain Fistandilus. “There are thos among you we count as friends. We only ask that you drop your weapons and kneel on the ground.”
Beorth leaned in slowly towards Martin the Green and whispered, “Are these friends or foes?”
“These are friends, not the enemy,” Martin replied, crossing his fingers.
“If you are truly our friends you will know we need not lay down our weapons,” replied Kazrack to the gnomes, and Ratchis nodded in agreement.
“Hey come on these are our friends right?” Jeremy asked spinning around looking at familiar faces. Obenhammer waved at him and then quickly placed his steadying hand back on his cocked crossbow. “We an just put down our weapons. I don’t see any of the bad ones.”
Martin got on his knees and put both hands in the air.
“How do we know this is not a trap of the evil gnomes?” Captain Adalar asked, leaning into Kazrack.
“I have faith that these gnomes mean us no harm and are only protecting their home as any would,” said Beorth dropping his sword and getting on his knees. “I have only heard of their hospitality and friendship secondhand, but I will not repay it with suspicion even if my memory doth betray me, my integrity shall not.”
Derek put a finger to his mouth to keep from laughing and rolled his eyes at Jeremy who gestured with his weapon downward before dropping it and fell to his knees. Derek mimicked him.
Captain Adalar looked back and forth from Kazrack to Belear.
“I remember these gnomes fondly. I trust them with my life,” Belear said, gesturing to all the dwarves and he also dropped his weapon and got down on his knees. The dwarves all followed suit, some less grudgingly than others.
Ratchis looked over at Beorth who was simply looking down at the ground eyes closed as if in prayer. He dropped his hammer and knelt, even as Kazrack did the same.
The gnomes came among them all and collected the weapons and looked at them all closely.
“Oh! Hi Beorth!” said Obenhammer, picking up the paladin’s sword. “Oh yeah, uh… don’t move or anything okay?” The rosy-cheeked gnome winked and tugged on his own silver beard.
Captain Fistandalus leaned his heavy silvered warhammer on his shoulder and walked over to Ratchis and Kazrack, standing where he could easily see Martin and Beorth as well. Even with Ratchis kneeling the captain only reached his shoulder.
“It is good that you have returned. Many things have happened in your absence,” he said. “You may stand.”
The Fearless Manticore Killers and the dwarven companions did.
“We will bring you back to our home and you shall be our guests again as we tell you all of what has happened and what it means for our people,” Captain Fistandilus said. “You will have to be blind-folded, but I think we can do without the binding of hands this time.
“Is your Interim Chief there?” Ratchis asked, tensing.
“The Interim Chief is no longer among us,” Fistandilus replied.
“I trusted you last time, Captain. I will trust you again,” Kazrack said, Jeremy furrowed his brow in response.
The dwarves grumbled as they were blind-folded, but soon they all were being led slowly along.
“This time we will not take such a circuitous route,” the Captain said. “You were closer than you probably think.”
“Hey Martin!” the Watch-Mage heard a familiar high-pitched voice from beneath his blindfold. “It’s me Briendel!”
“Briandel, I am glad to know you are all right,” Martin replied.
“Yeah, but a lot of bad stuff has been happening,” Briendel said, sadness entering his voice. “Uh, you are coming up on a tree root on your right, step carefully.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Martin told the gnome who had trained him some in the illusory arts, and who had traded spells with him.
“Yeah, but a lot of good gnomes aren’t,” Briendel’s voice trailed off.
Obenhammer was marching near Beorth and said, “Yeah, we aren’t supposed to tell you much, because you know the current leader has to decide about you and stuff, but that battle was terrible.”
The gnome shuddered.
“New leader?” Beorth asked, puzzled.
“Oh, well, I’m really not supposed to say, heck I don’t even know who the leader is today.”
Beorth was even more puzzled, but Obie did not elucidate any more.
They marched for some time, at leas t part of which was underground, but as opposed to the overnight affair the last time the party was brought to the gnome community of Garvan, they had barely walked three hours, when they were told they could remove their blindfolds.
Once again they in the middle of four hill carves with terraces and balconies and plateaus, and scores and scores of gnomes peered from every corner looking down at the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions.
The central area was not several feet deep in snow as it had been when the party was lat here, now it and the hills that made it were dotted with small colorful flowers, and birds of many kind, both songbirds and chickens of golden plumage were everywhere, chirping and clucking away. Somewhere, a dog barked.
Captain Fistandilus called out to his people, “Garvan! You remember our friends Kazrack, Jeremy, Martin, Beorth, Ratchis and the wise rune-thrower, Belear. They have returned and will be staying with us briefly.”
The gnomes cheered and clapped, and soon the party and companions were being ushered into the quarters they had stayed at before. The home of Distilbowden and his little nephew Cornelius. The dwarves were all led to the upper rooms just beyond the common area, where Belear had stayed before.
As the others bustled in the common area, getting ready for a meal Distelbowden was going to serve them, Jeremy paused at a familiar door. It had been in the room behind it that Jana and Chance had spent so many passionate nights and lazy morning together. (1) He placed a hand on the door and thought of his two dead friends. He looked up and saw Martin looking at him from the common area. The Watch-mage frowned slightly.
The dwarves were rambunctious. Happy to be in rooms and tunnels carved out of the earth for the purpose of warmth and shelter and comfort like their people did, not for some foul purpose. The smell of food came wafting from the kitchen and the energy in the room rose with anticipation.
“Will we have time to talk tonight?” Martin asked, Briendel who was joining them. “And will your brother be joining us?” (2)
Briendel’s face grew mournful, and his usual smile turned into a tight little ‘o’ atop his dimpled chin and beneath his bulbous nose. “Socher was killed in the battle,” he said.
“I…I’m sorry,” Martin replied, putting a hand on the gnome’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna see if old Distel need help in the kitchen” Briendel said, hopping to his feet with a slightly forced smile.
Martin turned to Ratchis, “Could you have some healing magics ready for me?”
“Huh?”
“I am going to take off my ring (3),” Martin replied. “And I am afraid all the effects of not eating would hit me all at once.”
“I don’t know that even the curing miracles of could repair that,” Ratchis’ furrowed his brow.
“No harm in trying if it means I’m going die anyway.”
“Why take it off?” Jeremy asked, walking over.
“I just… I need to… I need to eat something and so does Thomas. I may not be hungry, but there is something comforting mentally about food, and Thomas is having a really hard time because it is harder for him to understand, but it is not picnic for me either,” Martin replied in a rush of annoyed words. The smell of the food was mocking him.
“Maybe we should get some food in front of you first,” Ratchis suggested. “Wait a moment.”
The half-orc ducked into the kitchen and came out with a bowl of soup and some bread and butter. Martin could hear Distelbowden playfully cursing in gnomish back in the kitchen, understanding a few of the cuss words from things Briendel and Socher had called each other at times.
Ratchis placed the food before the watch-mage and Martin grabbed the ring between two fingers.
“Here goes everything,” Martin quipped and slipped it off.
Suddenly, Martin coughed and then gasped, and then the gasp was echoed by the others in the room as they saw a great change overcome him. The very flesh on his body began to wear away before them, as if time had sped up. The doughiness of his boy-like cheeks shriveled down until his f ace was gray and sallow and his eyes were rheumy and seemed to bulge. The bit of extra girth he carried around his middle was gone in a moment, and his robes drooped down as they suddenly became very baggy. He threw his head back and then collapsed forward with a wheeze. Thomas’ shriveled form came falling from Martin’s collar. The squirrel seemed like naught more than a raggedy piece of gray leather.
“Martin!” Ratchis dropped a cloth knapkin in the soup and leapt over the table, and tilting the watch-mage’s head back, began to drip soup into his mouth.
Derek scooped up Thomas and held him up, as Jeremy dripped honey into the little squirrel’s mouth.
They lived, but would needs days of rest and careful tending.
“It seems to me that he will need to rest and be fed for several days,” Belear said to Kazrack when he emerged from the watch-mage’s room, where Ratchis still tended him. “And to never put that foul ring on again.”
Kazrack shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had long ago given up trying to convince the others to do anything.
The meal was served and the dwarves dug in with great appetite. They seemed more jovial than when out on the road and were soon making boasts and promises about what they would do when they returned to Abarrane-Abaruch. They treated the gnomes with friendly deference, being the behaving as the perfect guests for their earthy cousins.
“Lord Distelbowden, I heartily thank you for this meal, and am grateful for your generosity especially after such a battle as was fought by your people not so long ago,” Beorth said, wondering if he was as careful to learn everyone’s name before he had lost his memory. Nowadays even thing he learned he was certain to remember; pages of parchment filled with notes were wadded in his pack.
“Battle? Who told you about a battle?” asked Ashkenbach, who had joined them for the meal as well.
“Obenhammer,” said Beorth looking at the gnome, who turned a bright red beneath his gray-brown skin.
“Hmmm,” Ashkenbach shot a disapproving glance over at Obie. “He’s not supposed to speak of that. Only the leader can. I was the leader two days ago, but I’m not anymore.”
“Huh?” Beorth was puzzled again.
“Let me explain,” said Distilbowden, filling mugs with more steaming kafka. “We had to go to the ‘new law’, which is really the old law we used before going back to the new law which was renounced with the retain to chiefdom. It was declared that the return to the old law would incorporate the ‘new law’, if by customs of old law the chief were not present to choose an interim chief.”
“I think I need to echo Beorth’s ‘huh?’” Jeremy laughed.
“Basically, when the chief is not around to choose an interim chief we go back to the law that replaced the use of a chief which had been abandoned in place of a chiefdom,” Obenhammer said.
“So, what is this new old law?” Kazrack asked.
“People take turns every few day being the leader, and all decision go through them,” Ashkenbach explained.
Kazrack rolled his eyes.
“You all take turns?” Jeremy was incredulous.
“Well, a few days at a time and if someone wants they can just give the responsibility to someone else for the day,” Ashkenbach said in a tone that told him he thought everyone knew this. “That is how the line of chieftains was first picked, they were given leadership more often than anyone else.”
“So there’s not going to be a fight, right?” Captain Adalar.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Ashkenbach shrugged his shoulders.
“It is better that we did not have to fight,” Belear said.
“So what happened to the Interim Chief?’ Jeremy asked.
Ashkenbach and Obenhammer lookd at each other and then former said, “You have to wait for whoever is leader to tell you, or for them to tell the captain that he can do it.”
“So, Captain Ironhammer is not the leader?” Ratchis asked, walking into the room.
“No, but people give him leadership often,” Distilbowden said.
“Well Captain Fistandlus deserves the honor,” Kazrack said. “He always struck me as a wise and dedicated leader.”
“And if it comes to war, these gnomes are going to need one,” Ratchis said.
Everyone looked at him.
“War?” Little Cornelius asked, looking scared. Distilbowden looked at Ratchis with disappointment.
“It could come to that,” Ratchis said.
“The breach gnomes would hold anyone out,” Obenhammer said, winking at Cornelius.
“What’s a breach gnome?” Derek asked, speaking for the first time since arriving. He was overwhelmed by the fact that he was actually in a gnomish town. He had never experienced what the others had become so used to.
Cornelius stood and left the room. He seemed upset, and Distilbowden still looking disappointed went after him.
“What was that about?” Jeremy asked, and Adalar sneered at him for acting as if it had not happened as a good guest should do.
“He’s just upset because I’m a breach gnome,” Obenhammer said.
“What’s a breach gnome?” Jeremy asked, echoing Derek’s question.
“Let it lie,” Belear said, sternly.
A gloom had come over the room, and the normally cheerful gnomes. For a long time the only sound was that of people eating.
“With Mozek dead, it just may come to war,” Ashkenbach said.
“Ash!” Obie cried out, surprised. ‘We aren’t supposed to…”
”Oh, they were going to find out anyway,” Askenbach said, and he cleared his own dishes bringing them into the kitchen.
Ratchis raised and eyebrow, but Kazrack smiled broadly, “It is both happy and amusing that what we’ve worried about for so long turns out to be not a worry after all.”
“Yes, now instead of having to kill a half-fiend gnome, we only have to stop the kingdom we are contractually bound to from going to war with our hospitable gnome friends here,” Beorth said.
“Don’t think I would hesitate to take the side of gnomes,” Ratchis said. “If it comes to that.”
“We can’t let it come to that,” Kazrack said, and Beorth nodded.
“That’d be pretty terrible,” Jeremy chimed in.
“Maybe that’s what Mozek wanted,” Beorth theorized. The Obenhammer, the only gnome left in the room began to look distressed. “Uh, now I remember why we’re supposed to keep quite. Best you let the Captain explain it all to you first chance he gets before you go concocting stories.”
Cornelius came back into the room with Disilbowden, and Obenhammer stood.
“I have to go back on duty,” he said, and not clearing his own plates tussled Cornelius’ hair and bid farewell.
After the meal, Kazrack suggested the Fearless Manticore Killer retire to the public house to discuss the information they had gained and their options for preventing war.
“Why would you go to the pub to discuss?’ Cornelius asked in a puzzled voice. “It’s for singing and dancing and drinking.”
“Pub!” Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar said at once, and though they had to wait until after they helped Distil with the dishes (by order of Captain Adalar) they soon hurried over to raucous pub across the way.
The other made their way over in time.
“Wait ‘til you see this place,” Jeremy said to Derek. “Be ready for the headache of your life tomorrow!”
Ratchis and Beorth checked on Martin before going over.
As Kazrack and Belear left the ‘guest burrows’ to go to the public house, the elder dwarf said, “You know to the humans the Mountain Wars were long ago, but to us people of earth and stone it was not so long ago.”
“It was in my grandsire’s time,” Kazrack nodded.
“If it comes to it and these fine gnomes are attacked by human forces then old treaties and alliances will be remembered. Even if Abarrane-Aberuch is too busy with its own problems to help, they will send heralds to other strongholds calling for aid to the gnomes. This could have very big consequences if not handled correctly.”
Kazrack nodded gravely. “I am sure when Martin wakes up he’ll figure something out. He is good with human diplomacy and law and custom. He’ll be able to talk the human king out of doing it. I have faith in him.”
“You put your faith in a human mage,” Belear sighed. “Kazrack, you never cease to amaze me.”
“The world of our creator is an amazing place. I am due no credit.”
Belear let out a deep belly laugh and slapped Kazrack on the shoulder with avuncular affection.
-----
There was a grand time to be had at the public house that night. There was much dancing and singing, and even Jeremy took a turn to swing around and show the gnomes a Neergaardian dance he had learned as a boy. And all the while the dwarves sang along and drank endless amounts of mead and ale, barking at each other in slurred dwarvish and laughing a great deal.
Both Ratchis and Beorth left early, but Kazrack remained with his brethren and Jeremy and Derek were happily drunk and watching the mayhem as Jolnar, Tolnar and Golnar began to have wrestling matches against some of the burlier gnomes. The laughed drunkenly as the slammed into each other and held each other in tight armlocks. The gnomes cheered each move, and one gnomes began to call the matches in high-pitch and drunken gnomish.
Isilem, 23rd of Prem – 565 H.E.
Kazrack spent the day working in the great gnomish smithy and could see that they were preparing for war, making a great number of helmets and shields and axes and other weapons. Workers were tirelessly pinching together chain shirts. The heat rose up in visible waves. While he was there he found out that the armor Beorth had ordered when he was last here was completed. The paladin would now have a suit of splint mail to wear.
Martin spent the day in bed, but Briendel kept him company. The gnome was able to dispel the ward on the two remaining books found at the Necropolis that had not been opened, and as suspected they were spell book with dark necromancy spells in them of up to the 5th House. (4)
“Ooh, wow! Look at this one,’ Briendel said, pointing excitedly to page. “It lets you send out a wave of death in all directions from the caster! I’ve never seen anything like that!”
“Yes, that will have to be destroyed,” Martin said.
Briendel clucked his tongue, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
In the evening after the fourth meal, the Fearless Manticore Killers gathered in the common area to talk. Most of the dwarves went back to the public house, and they propped Martin up in a cushioned chair, with Thomas cradled in his lap. Kazrack had invited Belear to come, but no gnomes were present.
“I was thinking that we could get some messages I wanted to send to my fellow Academy mage and perhaps to the Academy itself translated into gnomish, and then send them when we get back to town. That way, if they are intercepted it is unlikely anyone will be able to know what they say, but another watch-mage should either know gnomish or have access to someone who does,” Martin explained.
“And perhaps we can leave word so that if a message returns for you with specific instructions as to what is to be done, but we are away we can have Finn and his group do it, if it is not too dangerous,” Kazrack suggested.
“We are not going to drag those boys into this,” Ratchis said.
“They are boys no longer,” said Beorth. “I do not remember them from before, but they have the look of those who have killed and nearly died in their eyes; that look I know.”
“Let’s attend to the matter at hand,” Ratchis said. “What do you all make of Mozek’s supposed death?”
“I don’t believe it,” Kazrack said immediately and Martin nodded weakly.
Beorth only shrugged.
“He can’t be dead,” Jeremy said, matter-of-factly. “If he were dead it’d just be too easy, and if there is one thing I have learned since joining this group is that nothing is easy.”
Derek chuckled.
Ratchis turned to Martin, ignoring Jeremy. “Do you think it is possible that the demon was inside of Mozek like a possessing spirit? And when the body died the spirit moved on?”
“I don’t know, but we best try to find out when it supposedly happened so we can work it out with when we last saw him,” Martin coughed.
“There is a bigger question than any of these,” Beorth said. “We are getting bogged down in details, but the real question is ‘why all of this attention focused here all at once?’ Academy wizards, mysterious monks, demon spawn and drow witches, all here, all now. That is not a coincidence.”
“Hurgun’s Maze,” Martin coughed out. “That’s all it could be. There are thing I have read in those books we recovered from the Necropolis that lead me to believe that there is a lot more to it than we even thought before.”
“Those books mention Hurgun’s Maze?” Kazrack asked.
“No, but it speaks of the realm of shadow, what some sages all the ethereal plane and how this whole area of this plane is somehow weakened because of the existence of four nodes of power. The Necropolis was one of them.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jeremy said.
“And you think Hurgun’s Maze is one of them?” Beorth asked.
“No, actually I don’t,” Martin said. “It pretty much says where the four are, but comparing the description to the maps of the area I made at Aze Nuquerna I think that one of them is where the Pit of Bones is now.”
“Pit of Bones?” Derek asked.
“It is a former dwarven citadel, now a great chasm of rock and bone. Martin was able to discover in the tomes of Aze Nuquerna that it was the last known place where a map could be found that told of the location of Hurgun’s Maze,” Beorth said.
“I thought you lost your memory, but you remember this stuff better than I do,” Jeremy quipped.
“Jana told me much, and I asked a lot of questions and took notes,” replied Belear.
“I have a different answer for that question,” Kazrack said, smiling and nudging Martin with an elbow.
Martin groaned and clutched his side.
“I was even there once, but I only know because I was told and because I found reference to it in my own notes,” Beorth said, his tone grew even colder than usual. (5)
“So that is where we’re going next,” Ratchis said. “The Pit of Bones. Mozek told us he had already found Hurgun’s Maze, so we need to go after him. We can’t let him have access to the power that is there.”
“But if he already knows where it is then he’d already be there and it wouldn’t matter what we did,” Jeremy reasoned.
“We don’t know how long it would take him to harness the power or even discover how to,” Beorth said. “We can’t not try.”
“Another possibility is that he doesn’t know where it is and is counting us to find it for him and reveal its location,” Martin croaked. “We have thought that he was scrying on us before.”
“It matters not,” replied Kazrack. “We’re going to have to take the chance.”
At that moment, Captain Fistandlus walked in, followed by Distelbowden and Cornelius.
“I will make you all some tea,” Diselbowden said, hurrying his nephew into the kitchen.
“I have come to speak with you sooner rather than later because I know my people cannot resist the telling of a tale and you will hear a dozen versions before you hear two that match,” the Captain said in his dour tone that was so unlike any of the other gnomes.
“You honor us with you time and attention,” Beorth said, and he bowed his freshly shaven head.
The doughty captain placed his helmet and blade on the table and pulled out a small bench so he could face everyone.
“Where should we begin?” asked Fistandlus.
“Start when we left here last,” suggested Beorth, taking out his scraps of parchment and his quill.
The captain sighed and began.
“After your escape I was imprisoned by Mozek and the last of the old chieftain’s guards were removed and Mozek’s brothers were put in charge of defense. Mozek was convinced that I had arranged your escape.”
Distilbowden came in with a tray full of mugs and a huge steam pot of tea.
“But I don’t remember you being the one to help us escape,” Kazrack said.
“I didn’t,” Captain Fistandlus said. “I would not disobey my chieftain, even an interim one, even Mozek – but when he imprisoned me without calling on a council of peers y fears about him were confirmed.”
“That he’s a demon?” Jeremy asked.
Captain Fistandlus screwed up his face and snorted.
“That he was corrupt, as I had discovered some of his younger brothers to be and had forbade them from being part of the tribes or to tend to the wolverine dens; that he was only interested in having power over our people,” he said. “However, little more than a fortnight ago Mozek came to me in my cell. He told me that human forces were marching on our community. He told me that they had already been intercepted by a border patrol and they had nearly been wiped out, and that they were accompanied by a powerful priest of an evil human priest who enslaved the wills of dead men to do his bidding.”
Beorth’s eyes narrowed.
Captain Fistandlus paused. He lifted a mug to his lips and blew the steam away, and then put it back down.
“Mozek went on to tell me that the survival of Garvan depended on our working together and putting our differences aside, and that my skills as a leader and warrior were needed, along with calling those gnomes that had left the community against Mozek’s command against it to come and help, as among them were some of our best warriors and scouts.”
“And he was telling the truth?” Beorth asked.
“Yes, he released me and we coordinated an attack,” the Captain continued. “It was a more terrible fight than I’ve ever been in. The human soldiers wore black and the heraldry of the human kingdom. We have traveled among them unseen in days past enough to know it. The human priest would make the very men we killed rise again and attack, and the soldiers seemed to be mercenaries, hired, for they were more seasoned than the farmers and tradesmen who fought the Fir-Hargre a bit ago.”
“Did the priest have a holy symbol?” Kazrack asked.
“A serpent,” replied Fistandilus. “The miracles he called down from his dark god were heinous. He killed Mozek and I soon after I killed him. One of the Gothanian lieutenants slew three wolverines, and it took five gnomes together to take him down, and two did not survive the night from the wounds they took. It was no skirmish. This is war. We were forced to kill every one of those men. We did not like it, but if more come we are prepared to do it again.”
“So you say Mozek is dead?” Martin asked.
“Yes.”
“How many days ago was this?” Beorth asked, looking through his scraps of papers again.
“Three cul-dozens, about,” replied the Captain. (6)
“Ah-ha!” cried Beorth. “We saw Mozek alive one or two days after that.”
“You did?” the captain was incredulous.
“Yes, he came and spoke to us about his mother and his brothers and Hurgun’s Maze and…and…” Jeremy scratched his chin.
“Let me explain,” said Martin, and he did just that. (7)
“That is a queer tale,” Fistandlus said. “I cannot accept that Mozek somehow staged his own death and if so, perhaps the whole attack?”
“Did you ever see him display any, let’s call it demonic qualities?” Martin asked.
“Never. I heard the rumors, but I do not accept them to be true.”
“They are true,” Ratchis said, flatly. “But it doesn’t matter, what matters now is that more solider will come. There was at least one survivor, and as we speak news of this attack reaches the king.”
“Of course it does, he knew about it, they attacked us,” said Captain Fistandlus.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Kazrack. “He would risk much to begin a war with you when he has such a dangerous foe to his southeast.”
“Who?” asked Jeremy.
“Menovia,” Ratchis replied for the dwarf and spat.
“Could they be involved?” asked Kazrack, his mind going new directions.
“There is no evidence of that or reason to even speculate it,” said Beorth.
“Except for the priest of Set, that kind of clinches it,” said Ratchis, sounding biting.
“It is interesting that Ephraim’s story and Fistandlus’ story do not match up,” said Martin. “It is as if they were in two totally different fights. One side thought it was fighting the other, but wasn’t, and now both sides prepare for war.”
“All you say may be true,” Captian Fistandilus said. “And my heart tells me to believe you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. If the humans come they come to kill us and lay our hills flat. We cannot allow that.”
“The war can be avoided,” said Martin. “I must think of how to do it, but I will do all in my power to figure out a way.”
End of Session #50
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Notes
(1) Chance was killed by Mozek Steamwind as a demonstration of his seriousness in session #17. Jana’s very essence was absorbed into the body of an extra-dimensional amorphous creature in session #35.
(2) Briendel has a twin brother named Socher.
(3) Martin’s magic ring, Lacan’s Demise sustains him without food or drink and he feels no hunger, but also makes it so he cannot enjoy food or drink if he does try to eat it.
(4) DM’s Note: In Aquerra games we try to use as little artificial language as possible when talking about “rule stuff” in game. However, arcane spells are divided into various “houses” depending on the level they are. Thus, a fireball would be a spell of the 3rd House.
(5) Beorth traveled there with the monks Maynard and Vander, meeting up with Master Hamfast.
(6) A ‘cul-dozen’ is a gnomish term for a half-dozen, which merchants of other races have picked up in some places in Aquerra.
(7) See Session #39 for the vents Martin described here regarding Mozek Steamwind and Hurgun’s Maze.
