"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book III: Fanning the Embers
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
For those of you who want a more frequent taste of "Out of the Frying Pan" be sure to check out the "Out of the Frying Pan" Repreise over at Nutkinland.
I am reposting the entire stropy hour from the first session with one installment every other day or so.
I am only up to Session #4 so far, so you can catch up real quick. I've been re-reading it too and trying to catch errors I missed the first time around and enjoying it if I do say so myself.
I makes me miss Jana horribley.
Anyway, here is the link: http://www.nutkinland.com/showthread.php?t=5735
I am reposting the entire stropy hour from the first session with one installment every other day or so.
I am only up to Session #4 so far, so you can catch up real quick. I've been re-reading it too and trying to catch errors I missed the first time around and enjoying it if I do say so myself.
I makes me miss Jana horribley.
Anyway, here is the link: http://www.nutkinland.com/showthread.php?t=5735
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
handforged said:
They never met before this game and as far as I know the only time they ever hung out outside of gaming sessions was when we all as a group went to see the first two Lord of the Rings movies.
Derek and Jeremy became good friends because it would only make sense that the two youngest and most "carefree" of the characters would bond.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Manzanita said:
Feh.
The players aren't using shizzit to keep track of it, the lazy bums - but they sure will whine and complain if they misremember something.
I don't think it is all that complicated - feel free to ask questions and I will answer them to the best of my ability w/o giving anything away to the players.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
session #51 (part i)
Session #51
“You see, it is all starting to make sense to me,” Martin added.
“Well, explain it to us, by all means,” Jeremy said sarcastically, and laughed.
Derek smiled, but Martin frowned and continued, “Briendel translated a lot of that marginalia in gnomish to me.”
“Maraga-whatzit?” Jeremy asked.
“The notes in gnomish in those books we found. Remember I told you about the place of power? Well, there was speculation in those notes that increasing ‘mortal fear’ and ‘chaos’ in the area between those four places of power will weaken the curtains between this world and the realm of shadow. Someone who controlled that power could do a lot of things,” Martin’s pallid face suddenly seemed calm as he confidently explained what he had been able to learn from the complicated notes.
“I don’t get it,” Jeremy said and Derek shrugged.
“Martin, I believe you need to be more explicit in your explanations,” Beorth said.
Ratchis cleared his throat and nodded.
“The plane of shadow exists in parallel to this world, and it does with all worlds. It touches even the foundation of the heavens and the hellish realms of demons,” Martin said with some passion and then began to cough. He sipped some tea and continued. “If someone could control this connection to the shadow realm he could then summon things, foul things, and taint animals and monsters with the foulness of darker realms, like those wolverines that Mozek’s brothers had with them.”
The watch-mage turned to Captain Fistandilus and frowned, “And I am sad to have to tell you Captain but the notes in those books pretty much tell the tale of Mozek’s demonic parentage and that of his brothers. Though it does not say how many there were.”
“Thirteen,” Captain Fistandilus replied, and then he let out a long slow breath. “Though the seven that remained in Garvan were killed in the battle.”
“I think Hurgun’s Maze is the key,” Beorth suddenly said. “We have learned it is a planar nexus, correct?”
Martin and Ratchis nodded, and then Kazrack followed suit. Jeremy shrugged, “That stuff makes my eyes glaze over.”
Derek laughed.
“No wonder everyone is so anxious to find out where it is and how to get in,” Beorth went on. “It must be the key to controlling this anomaly, that is probably why Hurgun built it, or the entrance to it, in this area.”
“Seems reasonable,” said Kazrack.
“I believe that creature, you know the one with the pyramidal shape and the horn-like nose and three spindly legs and arms is the key to finding the Maze,” Martin said. “I believe it came from there, and if I can examine it and try to communicate with it we may not need waste our time going to the Pit of Bones.” (1)
“It is gone,” Distelbowden said, coming back into the room.
“Gone?”
“It disappeared the night of the battle. We did not think of it that night, feeling it was best kept safe in its room, but the next morning when we went to give it some exercise and let it wander about a bit, it was gone.”
“I would bet anything that Mozek took it,” Kazrack said.
“Natan-Ahb does not approve of gambling,” Belear chastised.
“He probably used it to find the Maze,” Martin theorized.
“Or killed it to keep us from learning something from it,” Ratchis suggested.
“So all we need do is tell the King of Gothanius,” Kazrack. “Explain to him that he is being manipulated.”
Beorth shook his head, “Kings and lords of men are often prideful. I do not think he will as easily convinced as all that.”
“Anyway, he wants to expand Gothanius,” Derek piped in. “He summoned the dragonhunters because he plans to bring Greenreed Valley into the kingdom, don’t you think he’s already considered what he may have to do to accomplish that?”
“His men destroyed the orcs that were near here,” Ratchis said.
“Gnomes are not orcs,” Belear said, and Ratchis grunted.
“And he cannot be totally unreasonable,” Kazrack said. “He certainly cannot want to fight a war on two fronts.”
“Two fronts?” Jeremy asked.
“The Menovians,” Ratchis answered. “They would use any sign of weakness or excuse to conquer Gothanius like they did Rhondria.”
The room was silent as everyone considered what was being shared and speculated upon.
Finally, Ratchis spoke, “Captain Fistandilus, would your people be willing to send a delegation of some kind to parley with the human king?”
“I don’t know,” the gnome replied. “And I don’t know that I trust this king of men or any of his representatives.”
“I could send word to the king so that he at least more fully understands the situation,” Martin proffered.
Derek rolled his eyes.
“I have to talk this all over with Hatzel, who is leader today, and then we will bring it before the elder’s council,” Captain Fistandilus explained. “But I will tell you one thing, if such a negotiation were to occur we would want Martin present.”
“Huh? Me?” Martin was shocked.
“We trust you, Martin,” the Captain said. “You have given us reason to, but the kings of men have given us reason not to trust them. My people remember the Mountain Wars as well as Belear’s do.”
“We may be away at the Pit of Bones a long time,” Ratchis said. “Martin may not be available for such a negotiation.”
Fistandilus shook his head. “I’m afraid it will have to be Martin or no one. He of all men I know would not let us agree to anything that was not fair, or if he thought there was some trickery in it.”
Ratchis sighed.
“You do me honor, Captain,” Martin stood and bowed, and then swaying, for he was still very weak, he fell back into his seat.
Captain Fistandilus excused himself, as he had to return to duty and explained that he had to examine the new armor being made in smithy before turning in for the night.
After he had gone Beorth said, “You know, the gnomes may not let us leave.”
“What? Why would they do that?” Jeremy asked, shocked.
“They kept us here last time did they not?” Beorth stood and paced the room. “Jana told me you were here for months.”
“Yes, but they let us go then, they’ll let us go now,” Ratchis said. “They know we are trying to help them.”
“Do you think it would be wise for him to let us go so Martin can tell the king about the gnomes’ preparations for war?” Do you think this will deter him? Or rather make him more cautious, make whatever war comes more protracted? There are consequences no matter what actions we take. We must choose wisely, but regardless of what we choose the number of souls Anubis must guard over will grow before this is all over.”
“No matter what, word must be sent to the Academy,” Martin said, weakly. “It is this kind of potential abuse of power and threat to the free peoples of the world that the Academy was formed to stop.”
The watch-mage began to cough, his now frail body convulsing as he gasped for breath. Beorth hurried over and kept him from falling, and soon after led the mage back to his room to rest more.
---------------------
Days passed.
Jeremy and Derek spent their time playing with the young gnomes, the wild and complicated games they often played. Derek suspected they made up the rules on the spot, but Jeremy confirmed that what he had witnessed had seemed consistent, though the rules of a game could change depending on the day of the week, the color of the sunset or whether the number of players was a prime number.
“What’s a prime number?” Derek asked.
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.
Martin spent his days recovering and going over the books and spells recovered from the Necropolis with Briendel. They made a list of spells to tear from the books and have Beorth destroy as he has asked for them to do if they found any spells of black necromancy. (2)
They also discovered a lot more from the books and marginalia, like how the vampire Ratchis had beheaded was named Zedarias and was a necromancer from the late portion of the Third Age and that he worshiped Rahkefet. (3)
It seemed he had been tricked by a powerful monkey-demon, infected with vampirism and trapped in that sarcophagus. The notes even speculated that the vampire’s eternal pain in his undying thirst is what supported the seemingly insupportable chasm ceilings of the chambers below. The monkey-demon was a servant of the same demon-lord that Mozek’s mother served. And they learned her name was Ora-amira-el
The notes in gnomish had been made by Mozek’s father, a normal mortal gnome name Socher, who having discovered the Necropolis wanted its power and summoned the greater succubus. But the notes were garbled and some of it seemed fractured or mad. Some of it seemed to suggest that Socher had figured out a way to contact other planes and make deals with other infernal creatures and that he had made just such a deal to get rid of the succubus, but he still feared his own children.
Martin’s mind boggled at all this information about the netherworlds he was gaining. The more he absorbed the more confused he felt he became trying to juggle and sculpt speculation and scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to explain it all to the others.
He spent his time cross-referencing between the notes and the illustrated guide to fiends he had found. The Academy of Wizardry had taught him a great deal of general knowledge about so-called ‘outsiders’, but nothing had prepared him for such an intense immersion in the subject. Put beside the lore of names and planes and summoning, the school of illusion seemed paltry to him. And for the first time in his life he wondered if he might have been better off studying under the Master Summoner of the Academy.
Beorth spent his days in quite meditation and getting the final fittings for his splint mail armor. It was beautifully crafted.
Kazrack spent his days alternately working in the forge or studying with Belear. The dwarves gathered gear and supplies for the journey back to Abarrane-Abaruch. They made their plans and got the blessing from Captain Fistandilus (who consulted with whomever was in charge that day) and soon it was the night before they were to leave.
Teflem, the 27th of Prem – 564 H.E.
Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar were forbidden to go to the pub that night, as they were likely to get to drunk march out the next day. They were glum about it.
Captain Adalar was questioning Kazrack intensely about the fighting habits of quaggoths, and for whatever else might be known about the drow. (4)
Jeremy and Derek said quick good-byes to the dwarves, and then went to the pub as they usually did in the evening. Ratchis sat quietly in the common room at Kazrack’s request, while different gnomes came in and out all night to bid the dwarves farewell.
Beorth spoke with Belear.
“Father Belear, I have been thinking long and hard about the dilemma with these peace-loving gnomes and the human king,” he said in his always-serious tone. “I have prayed on it, and I have read over the notes I put together that serve as my memory. I wanted to ask you if your people have a connection to…”
The paladin looked at his notes.
“The Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium?”
“Yes, most dwarven stronghold do,” Belear explained. “It is the lifeline of trade between the vast majority of dwarves and even the towns of other races in Derome-Delem, and to some extent abroad. Why?”
“I remembered Jana mentioning something about this dwarven consortium building a road to Gothanius. The subject also came up when we were trying to decide if and to whom we might send messages about our predicament,” the paladin paused.
“And?”
“Expanding his kingdom is important to the King of Gothanius, but so is trade and so is his relationship with the NDMC. Perhaps some pressure from them can accomplish what we cannot and force him to look for a peaceful resolution to this dispute.”
Belear nodded. “You are very wise. They say the blind develop other senses and foresight to overcome their blindness. So too have you gained something in having lost connection to your past self.”
“Do you think it will work?” Beorth asked.
“There is hope,” Belear replied. “When I return to Abbarrane-Abaruch I will meet with a representative of the Consortium. I will even send a letter to Mnormthord-Wyrmraugh if I must.” (5)
The night ended with a small meal and a toast.
“We are in your debt,” Ratchis said, lifting his foaming mug of ale out, since he could not lift it up due to the low ceiling that caused him to slouch more than half the time he was inside.
“I more than any,” Kazrack added.
“We have only done what is right; what needed to be done,” Belear replied. “I only wish that I could accompany you to this ‘Pit of Bones’. It was once a might dwarven fortress, and there will wonders to behold there.”
“To safe journeys and quests fulfilled,” Kazrack said, lifting his mugs. The dwarves and gnomes followed suit.
“Here! Here!” Jeremy and Derek yelled bursting drunkenly into the common area.
The next morning Martin gave Belear message to be sent via the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium to watch-mages in Bountiful, Ettinos and the Far Shore League. Blodnath pulled Jeremy aside and gave him a set of thieves’ tools as a gift.
“Keep working on it, kid,” he said. “Remember to be patient, and those locks will start unlocking themselves if you wait long enough.”
Jeremy thanked him and rushed to the room he and Derek shared to unroll the black cloth and examine the fine tools.
Ralem, the 1tst of Sek – 564 H.E.
It was two nights later that Captain Fistandilus finally got back to them. It was evening, and he came to share supper with the party and Distelbowden and he brought Ashkenbach, Briendel and Obenhammer along.
As was gnomish custom, the Captain did not discuss business he had with the Fearless Manticore Killers until after everyone had finished eating.
“In the past few days we have had many discussions,” the Captain began. “We have agreed that you free to come and go as you will. You are no longer our guests, but our cousins (6), and as such you shall be shown the way out and how to find the four hills without escort.”
“We are honored at your trust,” said Kazrack.
Ratchis nodded.
“You will have to take an oath beforehand that you will reveal it to no one,” the Captain said in a very serious voice. “It is considered a grave crime to our people.”
“You can trust us,” Jeremy said, smiling.
“What of the delegation?” Beorth asked, dispensing with the pleasantries.
Fistandilus sighed, “We have not yet decided if we are going to recognize Gothanius as a sovereign nation to even be negotiated with.”
“What?” Jeremy dropped a spoon on the table.
“But recognized or no, you need to parley with any significant force,” Kazrack said, aghast. “Unless you want it to come to bloodshed.”
“I certainly do not,” the captain said, adamantly. “But I must consider all options, and they say gnomes are like badgers it is dangerous to pull us from our holes.”
No one knew what to say.
“But,” the Captain continued. “Martin could negotiate for us, that is use reason to convince this human king that sending his soldiers against us will do naught but kill more soldiers and bring an enemy into this world that neither one of us want to have to deal with.”
“Perhaps we should go see the King right away,” Martin suggested to the others. “And then go to the Pit of Bones.”
Kazrack shook his head. “What if this king did not let us go? He, too, may want you to advice him and negotiate for him.”
“Or think we are in league with his enemies if we come representing the gnomes,” Beorth added, delivering his gloomy assessments phlegmatically.
“We have to risk it,” Martin said, wide-eyed. “I mean, I don’t know what else to do. If only I could get a message through to Alexandra or Barnstable or the Academy itself, then they would tell me what it is I ought to do.”
There was a long awkward pause and then they all agreed that they should make their way to Summit and then travel from there to Twelve Trolls and seek an audience with the King of Gothanius.
The next day was spent gathering supplies and bidding farewell to their gnomish friends and the morning after that found them climbing through the craterous valley to arrive at Summit.
Captain Fistandilus and a patrol of gnomish guards escorted them along the hidden path out of Gravan and to the now burned ruin of the traitors’ safehouse. It was only a three-hour march. (7)
The shadows were long when then came atop the ridge and onto the streets of Summit. It seemed eerily quiet. The only sound was the wind whipping around the buildings.
They headed towards the Sun’s Summit Inn, and the square they saw a large pavilion tent pitched across from the town well. Two lightly armored soldiers flanked the entrance, holding spears, and having shields on their backs.
------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) The strange creature that only said “Haaaahnt! Hooornt!” was first seen in Session #16. It was speculated that it came from Hurgun’s Maze as that was the only part of its language the gnomes could interpret.
(2) Necromancy comes in three varieties. ‘Black Necromancy’ is powered by the negative material plane and regardless of the effect is always evil. ‘Grey Necromancy’ can be used for good or evil, though they are generally considered a corruptive influence. ‘White Necromancy’ channels positive energy and is considered innately good.
(3) Rahkefet is the son of Set. Known as the God of the Lost and the Astray, he is considered a lost of ‘forgotten’ power. It is said that in The Time Before he was pharaoh.
(4) Abbarrane-Abaruch was assaulted by scores of quaggoth using great tactics and possessing great skills in battle. It was for that reason that such a small force was all that could be afforded to fulfill the ancient pacts between their races and be sent to help the gnomes. The Fearless Manticore Killers informed the dwarves that returning drow were behind the well-planned quaggoth attacks.
(5) Mnornthord-Wyrmraugh (called ‘Rockmar’ by humans) is the headquarters of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium and the oldest existing dwarven city in Aquerra.
(6) Gnomes consider all other gnomes their cousins, as they believe they are all related.
(7) When the party was first led here the gnomes blind-folded them and took them on a circuitous two-day trek. (Session #15)
Session #51
“You see, it is all starting to make sense to me,” Martin added.
“Well, explain it to us, by all means,” Jeremy said sarcastically, and laughed.
Derek smiled, but Martin frowned and continued, “Briendel translated a lot of that marginalia in gnomish to me.”
“Maraga-whatzit?” Jeremy asked.
“The notes in gnomish in those books we found. Remember I told you about the place of power? Well, there was speculation in those notes that increasing ‘mortal fear’ and ‘chaos’ in the area between those four places of power will weaken the curtains between this world and the realm of shadow. Someone who controlled that power could do a lot of things,” Martin’s pallid face suddenly seemed calm as he confidently explained what he had been able to learn from the complicated notes.
“I don’t get it,” Jeremy said and Derek shrugged.
“Martin, I believe you need to be more explicit in your explanations,” Beorth said.
Ratchis cleared his throat and nodded.
“The plane of shadow exists in parallel to this world, and it does with all worlds. It touches even the foundation of the heavens and the hellish realms of demons,” Martin said with some passion and then began to cough. He sipped some tea and continued. “If someone could control this connection to the shadow realm he could then summon things, foul things, and taint animals and monsters with the foulness of darker realms, like those wolverines that Mozek’s brothers had with them.”
The watch-mage turned to Captain Fistandilus and frowned, “And I am sad to have to tell you Captain but the notes in those books pretty much tell the tale of Mozek’s demonic parentage and that of his brothers. Though it does not say how many there were.”
“Thirteen,” Captain Fistandilus replied, and then he let out a long slow breath. “Though the seven that remained in Garvan were killed in the battle.”
“I think Hurgun’s Maze is the key,” Beorth suddenly said. “We have learned it is a planar nexus, correct?”
Martin and Ratchis nodded, and then Kazrack followed suit. Jeremy shrugged, “That stuff makes my eyes glaze over.”
Derek laughed.
“No wonder everyone is so anxious to find out where it is and how to get in,” Beorth went on. “It must be the key to controlling this anomaly, that is probably why Hurgun built it, or the entrance to it, in this area.”
“Seems reasonable,” said Kazrack.
“I believe that creature, you know the one with the pyramidal shape and the horn-like nose and three spindly legs and arms is the key to finding the Maze,” Martin said. “I believe it came from there, and if I can examine it and try to communicate with it we may not need waste our time going to the Pit of Bones.” (1)
“It is gone,” Distelbowden said, coming back into the room.
“Gone?”
“It disappeared the night of the battle. We did not think of it that night, feeling it was best kept safe in its room, but the next morning when we went to give it some exercise and let it wander about a bit, it was gone.”
“I would bet anything that Mozek took it,” Kazrack said.
“Natan-Ahb does not approve of gambling,” Belear chastised.
“He probably used it to find the Maze,” Martin theorized.
“Or killed it to keep us from learning something from it,” Ratchis suggested.
“So all we need do is tell the King of Gothanius,” Kazrack. “Explain to him that he is being manipulated.”
Beorth shook his head, “Kings and lords of men are often prideful. I do not think he will as easily convinced as all that.”
“Anyway, he wants to expand Gothanius,” Derek piped in. “He summoned the dragonhunters because he plans to bring Greenreed Valley into the kingdom, don’t you think he’s already considered what he may have to do to accomplish that?”
“His men destroyed the orcs that were near here,” Ratchis said.
“Gnomes are not orcs,” Belear said, and Ratchis grunted.
“And he cannot be totally unreasonable,” Kazrack said. “He certainly cannot want to fight a war on two fronts.”
“Two fronts?” Jeremy asked.
“The Menovians,” Ratchis answered. “They would use any sign of weakness or excuse to conquer Gothanius like they did Rhondria.”
The room was silent as everyone considered what was being shared and speculated upon.
Finally, Ratchis spoke, “Captain Fistandilus, would your people be willing to send a delegation of some kind to parley with the human king?”
“I don’t know,” the gnome replied. “And I don’t know that I trust this king of men or any of his representatives.”
“I could send word to the king so that he at least more fully understands the situation,” Martin proffered.
Derek rolled his eyes.
“I have to talk this all over with Hatzel, who is leader today, and then we will bring it before the elder’s council,” Captain Fistandilus explained. “But I will tell you one thing, if such a negotiation were to occur we would want Martin present.”
“Huh? Me?” Martin was shocked.
“We trust you, Martin,” the Captain said. “You have given us reason to, but the kings of men have given us reason not to trust them. My people remember the Mountain Wars as well as Belear’s do.”
“We may be away at the Pit of Bones a long time,” Ratchis said. “Martin may not be available for such a negotiation.”
Fistandilus shook his head. “I’m afraid it will have to be Martin or no one. He of all men I know would not let us agree to anything that was not fair, or if he thought there was some trickery in it.”
Ratchis sighed.
“You do me honor, Captain,” Martin stood and bowed, and then swaying, for he was still very weak, he fell back into his seat.
Captain Fistandilus excused himself, as he had to return to duty and explained that he had to examine the new armor being made in smithy before turning in for the night.
After he had gone Beorth said, “You know, the gnomes may not let us leave.”
“What? Why would they do that?” Jeremy asked, shocked.
“They kept us here last time did they not?” Beorth stood and paced the room. “Jana told me you were here for months.”
“Yes, but they let us go then, they’ll let us go now,” Ratchis said. “They know we are trying to help them.”
“Do you think it would be wise for him to let us go so Martin can tell the king about the gnomes’ preparations for war?” Do you think this will deter him? Or rather make him more cautious, make whatever war comes more protracted? There are consequences no matter what actions we take. We must choose wisely, but regardless of what we choose the number of souls Anubis must guard over will grow before this is all over.”
“No matter what, word must be sent to the Academy,” Martin said, weakly. “It is this kind of potential abuse of power and threat to the free peoples of the world that the Academy was formed to stop.”
The watch-mage began to cough, his now frail body convulsing as he gasped for breath. Beorth hurried over and kept him from falling, and soon after led the mage back to his room to rest more.
---------------------
Days passed.
Jeremy and Derek spent their time playing with the young gnomes, the wild and complicated games they often played. Derek suspected they made up the rules on the spot, but Jeremy confirmed that what he had witnessed had seemed consistent, though the rules of a game could change depending on the day of the week, the color of the sunset or whether the number of players was a prime number.
“What’s a prime number?” Derek asked.
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.
Martin spent his days recovering and going over the books and spells recovered from the Necropolis with Briendel. They made a list of spells to tear from the books and have Beorth destroy as he has asked for them to do if they found any spells of black necromancy. (2)
They also discovered a lot more from the books and marginalia, like how the vampire Ratchis had beheaded was named Zedarias and was a necromancer from the late portion of the Third Age and that he worshiped Rahkefet. (3)
It seemed he had been tricked by a powerful monkey-demon, infected with vampirism and trapped in that sarcophagus. The notes even speculated that the vampire’s eternal pain in his undying thirst is what supported the seemingly insupportable chasm ceilings of the chambers below. The monkey-demon was a servant of the same demon-lord that Mozek’s mother served. And they learned her name was Ora-amira-el
The notes in gnomish had been made by Mozek’s father, a normal mortal gnome name Socher, who having discovered the Necropolis wanted its power and summoned the greater succubus. But the notes were garbled and some of it seemed fractured or mad. Some of it seemed to suggest that Socher had figured out a way to contact other planes and make deals with other infernal creatures and that he had made just such a deal to get rid of the succubus, but he still feared his own children.
Martin’s mind boggled at all this information about the netherworlds he was gaining. The more he absorbed the more confused he felt he became trying to juggle and sculpt speculation and scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to explain it all to the others.
He spent his time cross-referencing between the notes and the illustrated guide to fiends he had found. The Academy of Wizardry had taught him a great deal of general knowledge about so-called ‘outsiders’, but nothing had prepared him for such an intense immersion in the subject. Put beside the lore of names and planes and summoning, the school of illusion seemed paltry to him. And for the first time in his life he wondered if he might have been better off studying under the Master Summoner of the Academy.
Beorth spent his days in quite meditation and getting the final fittings for his splint mail armor. It was beautifully crafted.
Kazrack spent his days alternately working in the forge or studying with Belear. The dwarves gathered gear and supplies for the journey back to Abarrane-Abaruch. They made their plans and got the blessing from Captain Fistandilus (who consulted with whomever was in charge that day) and soon it was the night before they were to leave.
Teflem, the 27th of Prem – 564 H.E.
Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar were forbidden to go to the pub that night, as they were likely to get to drunk march out the next day. They were glum about it.
Captain Adalar was questioning Kazrack intensely about the fighting habits of quaggoths, and for whatever else might be known about the drow. (4)
Jeremy and Derek said quick good-byes to the dwarves, and then went to the pub as they usually did in the evening. Ratchis sat quietly in the common room at Kazrack’s request, while different gnomes came in and out all night to bid the dwarves farewell.
Beorth spoke with Belear.
“Father Belear, I have been thinking long and hard about the dilemma with these peace-loving gnomes and the human king,” he said in his always-serious tone. “I have prayed on it, and I have read over the notes I put together that serve as my memory. I wanted to ask you if your people have a connection to…”
The paladin looked at his notes.
“The Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium?”
“Yes, most dwarven stronghold do,” Belear explained. “It is the lifeline of trade between the vast majority of dwarves and even the towns of other races in Derome-Delem, and to some extent abroad. Why?”
“I remembered Jana mentioning something about this dwarven consortium building a road to Gothanius. The subject also came up when we were trying to decide if and to whom we might send messages about our predicament,” the paladin paused.
“And?”
“Expanding his kingdom is important to the King of Gothanius, but so is trade and so is his relationship with the NDMC. Perhaps some pressure from them can accomplish what we cannot and force him to look for a peaceful resolution to this dispute.”
Belear nodded. “You are very wise. They say the blind develop other senses and foresight to overcome their blindness. So too have you gained something in having lost connection to your past self.”
“Do you think it will work?” Beorth asked.
“There is hope,” Belear replied. “When I return to Abbarrane-Abaruch I will meet with a representative of the Consortium. I will even send a letter to Mnormthord-Wyrmraugh if I must.” (5)
The night ended with a small meal and a toast.
“We are in your debt,” Ratchis said, lifting his foaming mug of ale out, since he could not lift it up due to the low ceiling that caused him to slouch more than half the time he was inside.
“I more than any,” Kazrack added.
“We have only done what is right; what needed to be done,” Belear replied. “I only wish that I could accompany you to this ‘Pit of Bones’. It was once a might dwarven fortress, and there will wonders to behold there.”
“To safe journeys and quests fulfilled,” Kazrack said, lifting his mugs. The dwarves and gnomes followed suit.
“Here! Here!” Jeremy and Derek yelled bursting drunkenly into the common area.
The next morning Martin gave Belear message to be sent via the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium to watch-mages in Bountiful, Ettinos and the Far Shore League. Blodnath pulled Jeremy aside and gave him a set of thieves’ tools as a gift.
“Keep working on it, kid,” he said. “Remember to be patient, and those locks will start unlocking themselves if you wait long enough.”
Jeremy thanked him and rushed to the room he and Derek shared to unroll the black cloth and examine the fine tools.
Ralem, the 1tst of Sek – 564 H.E.
It was two nights later that Captain Fistandilus finally got back to them. It was evening, and he came to share supper with the party and Distelbowden and he brought Ashkenbach, Briendel and Obenhammer along.
As was gnomish custom, the Captain did not discuss business he had with the Fearless Manticore Killers until after everyone had finished eating.
“In the past few days we have had many discussions,” the Captain began. “We have agreed that you free to come and go as you will. You are no longer our guests, but our cousins (6), and as such you shall be shown the way out and how to find the four hills without escort.”
“We are honored at your trust,” said Kazrack.
Ratchis nodded.
“You will have to take an oath beforehand that you will reveal it to no one,” the Captain said in a very serious voice. “It is considered a grave crime to our people.”
“You can trust us,” Jeremy said, smiling.
“What of the delegation?” Beorth asked, dispensing with the pleasantries.
Fistandilus sighed, “We have not yet decided if we are going to recognize Gothanius as a sovereign nation to even be negotiated with.”
“What?” Jeremy dropped a spoon on the table.
“But recognized or no, you need to parley with any significant force,” Kazrack said, aghast. “Unless you want it to come to bloodshed.”
“I certainly do not,” the captain said, adamantly. “But I must consider all options, and they say gnomes are like badgers it is dangerous to pull us from our holes.”
No one knew what to say.
“But,” the Captain continued. “Martin could negotiate for us, that is use reason to convince this human king that sending his soldiers against us will do naught but kill more soldiers and bring an enemy into this world that neither one of us want to have to deal with.”
“Perhaps we should go see the King right away,” Martin suggested to the others. “And then go to the Pit of Bones.”
Kazrack shook his head. “What if this king did not let us go? He, too, may want you to advice him and negotiate for him.”
“Or think we are in league with his enemies if we come representing the gnomes,” Beorth added, delivering his gloomy assessments phlegmatically.
“We have to risk it,” Martin said, wide-eyed. “I mean, I don’t know what else to do. If only I could get a message through to Alexandra or Barnstable or the Academy itself, then they would tell me what it is I ought to do.”
There was a long awkward pause and then they all agreed that they should make their way to Summit and then travel from there to Twelve Trolls and seek an audience with the King of Gothanius.
The next day was spent gathering supplies and bidding farewell to their gnomish friends and the morning after that found them climbing through the craterous valley to arrive at Summit.
Captain Fistandilus and a patrol of gnomish guards escorted them along the hidden path out of Gravan and to the now burned ruin of the traitors’ safehouse. It was only a three-hour march. (7)
The shadows were long when then came atop the ridge and onto the streets of Summit. It seemed eerily quiet. The only sound was the wind whipping around the buildings.
They headed towards the Sun’s Summit Inn, and the square they saw a large pavilion tent pitched across from the town well. Two lightly armored soldiers flanked the entrance, holding spears, and having shields on their backs.
------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) The strange creature that only said “Haaaahnt! Hooornt!” was first seen in Session #16. It was speculated that it came from Hurgun’s Maze as that was the only part of its language the gnomes could interpret.
(2) Necromancy comes in three varieties. ‘Black Necromancy’ is powered by the negative material plane and regardless of the effect is always evil. ‘Grey Necromancy’ can be used for good or evil, though they are generally considered a corruptive influence. ‘White Necromancy’ channels positive energy and is considered innately good.
(3) Rahkefet is the son of Set. Known as the God of the Lost and the Astray, he is considered a lost of ‘forgotten’ power. It is said that in The Time Before he was pharaoh.
(4) Abbarrane-Abaruch was assaulted by scores of quaggoth using great tactics and possessing great skills in battle. It was for that reason that such a small force was all that could be afforded to fulfill the ancient pacts between their races and be sent to help the gnomes. The Fearless Manticore Killers informed the dwarves that returning drow were behind the well-planned quaggoth attacks.
(5) Mnornthord-Wyrmraugh (called ‘Rockmar’ by humans) is the headquarters of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium and the oldest existing dwarven city in Aquerra.
(6) Gnomes consider all other gnomes their cousins, as they believe they are all related.
(7) When the party was first led here the gnomes blind-folded them and took them on a circuitous two-day trek. (Session #15)
Last edited:
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
part 2 (of 3)
Session #51 (part ii)
Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.
“The King couldn’t have come here, could he?” There was shock in Martin’s voice as he stopped in his tracks across the way and examined the large tent.
“The King would not stay in a tent, I think,” Beorth said.
“Anyway, don’t you know anything, Martin?” Jeremy piped up. “Kings have huge retinues and heavily armored guards, not just some light armored spearmen.”
The Neergaardian rolled his eyes and snickered.
“Let’s go see Maxel,” Martin said, ignoring Jeremy. “He’ll know what’s going on, and I doubt the Alderman is back yet. (1)
Martin and Kazrack entered, while the others waited outside.
-------------------------------------
“What happened to you?” Maxel asked, wiping sweat from his brow. The party could see he seemed to be hard at work. There were scores of arrow and spearhead lined up on a table, and several suits of armor in various stages of being put together. He seemed to be preparing to make swords as well.
Martin was puzzled by the question and then realized the smith/constable meant his new leaner and careworn visage.
“Magic,” Martin shrugged his shoulders by way of explanation.
“I hope you killed the evil wizard that did that to you,” Maxel said seriously, but with a smile.
“Ah, if only it were that easy, my dear sir,” Martin replied. “But I am afraid I have not the time tell the tale, I am more concerned about the tent near the alderman’s house and the soldiers.”
“Gerard Prichett,” Maxel replied. “He is the queen’s brother and the Royal Huntsman. He has been sent by the king and the council of Alderman to collect the militia here. Riders have been sent to all the alder-villages that fit men and what of the dragon-hunters did choose to help to come here and come under his command for the hunt for the vicious gnome menace.”
Martin sighed.
“Actually, he asked for you first thing when he arrived and seemed very concerned about where you were and was quite surprised you were not here coordinating the groups of dragon-hunters, or at least that is what he seemed to think you were supposed to be doing here.”
Martin sighed again.
“”I tried to explain to him that you have been busy and that you were very ‘hands on’, and the we hadn’t even really started in your house yet, though the foundation is set to be laid day after tomorrow, you may want to come by.”
“I thank you for your help,” Martin replied. “I guess I should go talk to him then.”
“I would just be careful not to go with your friend Ratchis,” Maxel warned. “He was a great slayer of orcs in the skirmishes and it is said he enjoyed it.”
Martin sighed.
-------------
Martin asked the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers to wait and he approached the tent. He introduced himself to a guard, who entered the tent and returned holding open the flap for the watch-mage to enter.
The rest of the group watched Martin enter the tent from across the square and around the corner of a large house.
“We’ll watch from here,” said Ratchis.
“Why should we wait here? Surely you don’t think Martin is in any physical danger?” Beorth asked.
“Because there is no way that evil creatures that look like people are actually half-demon spawn and have infiltrated the humans,” Ratchis replied with scathing sarcasm. He had learned the nuances of languages by spending so much time with humans, but he still used it as a blunt instrument.
“But we have every indication that just might be the case!” Kazrack exclaimed, not getting it. (2)
Inside Martin found the tent to be rugged, but well-appointed.
The Royal Huntsman, Gerard Pritchard, was a tall and broad-shouldered young, with golden brown tightly curled locks and well-trimmed beard. He was very handsome, and his green eyes were very alert.
“Martin the Green, esteemed watch-mage of the Crown!” Gerard greeted him with respect and friendliness. “It gladdens me to see you here at last. I pray your duties have not called you too far a field and into too much danger?”
“More danger than I care recall, actually” Martin replied. He felt at ease around this gregarious man immediately. He was invited to sit. Pritchard called for his squire to bring them wine.
“Well, I hope you can tell me something about these gnomes. I was not shown the letter you sent the King about it, but I did learn through my own means that you did send one,” Gerard said, smiling.
“These gnomes are a peace-loving people,” Martin replied, deciding the truth was the best option with this man. “I believe that both they and the king are being manipulated to bring about a war.”
“Really?” Gerard did not seem surprised. He stood and took the huge skin his squire had brought in. Beads of moisture hung to the outside of the finely crafted bladder, as the Huntsman lifted it, leaning it on his forearm and poured himself a mouthful. He handed the heavy skin gently over to Martin, who grinning uncomfortably took a long sip himself. He was glad he had not put the ring back on. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and did his best to explain.
Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard as best he could about Mozek and how the gnomes of Garvan had been led to believe they were being attacked by a force just as horrific as the one the soldiers sent by the Crown has been decimated by.
Gerard Pritchard was quite for a moment and then took another long swig from the wineskin.
“So you are saying that evil gnomes born of a demon-woman are trying to manipulate good peace-loving gnomes and the Kingdom of Gothanius into a war?’
“I know it is hard to believe, but. . . “
“No, no. I mean, it is far-fetched, but I think that if you were going to make something up you would not have made something up that is so bizarre. In addition, the description of the gnome attack did not fit with what I know about gnomes. Unlike a lot people in court, I have traveled some around Derome-Delem. I have nothing against the free people of this island.” Gerard handed the skin back to Martin and scratched his beard. “Now, what does this have to do with the dragon?”
“Nothing, so far as we know,” Martin said, deciding to keep the speculation that the gnomish ‘traitors’ were behind the dragon sightings all along.
“You know, I mentioned to king at dinner one night, soon after your group brought back that Manticore to be stuffed, that I thought perhaps the dragon sightings were this Manticore all along,” Gerard said. “The common folk tend to exaggerate in their stories, so it is not so far out of the question.”
“We had considered that,” Martin replied.
“Which mean the Fearless Manticore Killers have already completed the King’s quest,,” Gerard said with a smile and a wink, but Martin winced at the name.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, that name,” Martin replied. “We were saddled with it, but none of us really like it.”
“I’m afraid you are stuck with it until you kill something bigger,” Gerard said, laughing. He stood and called Martin over to a table where he had a map of the area unfurled.
“So these gnomes must live somewhere north of Greenreed Valley, right? Can you point it out to me on the map?” He asked the watch-mage.
“Uh, actually I can’t really,” Martin quickly searched his mind for the smallest lie he could tell.
The Royal Huntsman looked at him quizzically.
“You see the gnomes blindfolded us when they brought us to their village. When we have gone to see them there is uh, a meeting place where they come to us and then guide us from there.”
“I see,” Gerard did not seem convinced. “Well, you know I will not be able to speak to the king on this matter and give him my counsel about the gnomes until I have parleyed with them. The King has entrusted me as his eyes, ears and even hands in this situation and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not look into it myself.”
Martin opened mouth to speak, but Gerard continued. “And I can assure you I was going to go alone. The last thing I want to do is bring a bunch of green militia in among a bunch of gnomes. I have lived among the rangers of Archet. I know how to handle myself in the woods and among other races.”
Martin sighed.
“Can you at least bring me to them?” Gerard tried again.
Martin shook his head. “But my companions and I can return to them and ask permission, or else have them send a delegate to you.”
Gerard nodded. “If it has to work that way I’ll respect it even if I don’t like it, but I don’t want a war, least of all one we’ve been tricked into, and we have a chance to stop it now before it goes any further and royal pride becomes involved.”
The huntsman cocked an eyebrow when he said that and looked Martin right in the eye.
“Yes, yes, of course,” stammered the watch-mage. “I will go gather my companions and let them know and we’ll return to the gnomes on the morrow, for it is too late in the day to do so now.”
-----------
Ratchis didn’t think so and insisted the party return immediately.
“We didn’t even see Finn and those guys and have a drink,” Jeremy complained.
“You just saw them a few days ago,” Beorth said. “And we will be returning soon enough.”
However, Martin initial estimate was correct. They had barely made the burned down safehouse before it was too dark to continue with much effect.
The Fearless Manticore Killers made camp there once again, and Martin sent Thomas off to retrieve the gnomes.
“Be careful,” Martin said. “Watch out for owls.”
Thomas gulped and ran for it, leaping from tree to tree.
Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.
“The gnomes are coming! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Martin the Green singing in his head as his squirrel approached upon Ashkenbach’s shoulder.
The sun shone brightly, illuminating the tops of the tall trees of this forest and turning their budding leaves golden. A bird called and another answered from across the forest. The taste of spring was on the still frosty air.
Soon doughty gnome arrived with a dozen of his kinsmen and a pair of wolverines.
“Had you even left yet? Ashkenbach joked.
“We spoke with a representative of the King of Gothanius, a man responsible for the organizing of the militia,” Martin began to explain.
“So you came to warn us?”
“Yes,” said Jeremy and Ratchis.
Martin frowned.
“There is nothing to warn you of that did not already know, but instead we bring an opportunity for peace,” Martin said. “The king’s man is called Gerard Pritchard, and I think you would like him and he just wants to parley with you, so he can advise the king that war is not the way to handle this situation.”
“He wants to talk to me? He doesn’t even know me!” Ashkenbach was confused.
“No, I meant, ‘you’ as in the gnomes of Garvan.”
Derek and Jeremy laughed.
Martin explained the huntsman was willing to speak to a representative of gnomes, if he could not be granted permission to come see the gnomes himself.
“This is awful hasty,” said Ashkenbach and the other gnomes nodded. “We expected you to be gone at least a little while to allow us to make some plans and have a referendum about how best to handle the problem with the humans.”
“Humans are hasty folk,” Martin replied. “And that is why you must not tarry too long in parleying, for they will look upon your hesitancy with suspicion.”
“Suspicion! We haven’t done anything to be suspicious of! They were the ones that sent soldiers near our home to begin with,” Ashkenbach grew angry, and Martin was startled. He was not used to such a reaction from a gnome.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Martin said. “I meant no offense.”
“Offense or no, you have a choice and an opportunity in front of you,” Ratchis said gruffly.
Ashkenbach sighed.
“I must return to Garvan,” he said. “I must get the counsel of Captain Fistandilus and other elder gnomes of our community, but you can tell this general or whatever he is that we will send someone soon.”
“How soon?” Martin asked, nervously, remembering that gnome’s had a unique definition of ‘soon’.
“As soon as possible,” Ashkenbach rolled his eyes and smiled at same time.
“Hasty!” a gnome in the patrol chastised.
Remembering his gnomish manners, Martin the Green invited Ashkenbach and the other gnomes to have lunch with them in the circle of trees before returning to Garvan. (3)
The subject of how gnome and humans see time different came up during the meal.
“Why are humans always in such a rush to do everything?” Ashkenbach asked, almost rhetorically.
“I think it is because of their long legs,” Kusiel, one of the gnome patrol, said. “They are used to getting everywhere fast so they think everything should be fast. They probably complain that the wind doesn’t blow fast enough.”
The gnomes all laughed.
“Well, a human on a ship might think that,” Jeremy said, screwing up his face as if offended.
“Oooh, I’d love to see a ship,” said one of the other gnomes.
“How long do you live?” Ratchis asked Ashkenbach.
“How long do I live? Who knows that? What am I, a seer?” Ashkenbach looked confused.
“No, he meant, how long does the average gnome live?” Kazrack explained.
“Hmmm… Well, we’d have to check the birth and death records of the council and then take into effect years with war or famine,” Ashkenbach scratched his wispy white beard, and tugged on it twice when thinking hard. “You know, that’d be fun to figure out, but kind of morbid.”
“Can you make a guess?” Ratchis asked, becoming annoyed.
“Hmm, maybe 350 winters,” the gnome replied.
”Humans live 60 winters, maybe a little more, sometimes less,” Kazrack said. “It is for that reason that they are always in a hurry.”
“I’ll be lucky to reach 40 winters,” Ratchis said, shrugging. “And I will be an old man by then.” (4)
“I promise to make sure you are buried properly when that time comes,” Beorth said.
“It may come a lot sooner,” Ratchis replied, gloomily.
----------------------------------------
The mid-afternoon found the Fearless Manticore Killers making their way back up the ridge to Summit once again.
There Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard that he should be expecting a visit from the gnomes soon and that they would likely come clandestinely for their own safety and from keeping the skittish locals from panicking. He also tried his best to explain that gnomes sometimes took a long time to make up their minds and explored things from every angle, so he should try to be patient with them.
Pritchard agreed and shook Martin’s hand firmly thanking him.
“And where do you go now?” the Royal Huntsman asked. “I will have to tell his majesty of your exploits and intentions when I next correspond with him.”
“We are going to the southwest to seek out information that will help us stop the demons I told you about in a long abandoned dwarven citadel,” Martin explained.
“It sounds like quite the adventure,” Gerard smiled. “You and your companions are brave men, Martin the Green.”
Martin smiled weakly and said his good-byes.
The party spent the night at the Sun’s Summit Inn, having a meal with Finn and his crew and discussing what supplies they might need for their trip. The gnomes had given them food and water, and they had replaced some clothing and Beorth had new armor, so they had wont for little. They hoped the elves of Aze-Nuquerna would be able provide them whatever else they needed for their journey for they planned to stop there on their way south.
---------------------------------------------
Notes
(1) The alderman was called to court about the situation with the gnomes, as were all the aldermen of Gothanius.
(2) Dwarven culture never developed sarcasm, and those dwarves who have come to recognize it despise it as a vice and a lie.
(3) Traditional gnomish never considers a business deal or other contract fulfilled until the involved parties share a meal. In addition, many gnomes refuse to do anything of substantial importance without sharing a meal the people involved first.
(4) Orcs are a short-lived race. They reach full maturity by 12 or 13 and even if lucky enough to die of natural causes rarely make it past 30 or 35. Half-orcs inherit their lack of longevity from their orc parentage, sometimes making it to 40 or 45.
Session #51 (part ii)
Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.
“The King couldn’t have come here, could he?” There was shock in Martin’s voice as he stopped in his tracks across the way and examined the large tent.
“The King would not stay in a tent, I think,” Beorth said.
“Anyway, don’t you know anything, Martin?” Jeremy piped up. “Kings have huge retinues and heavily armored guards, not just some light armored spearmen.”
The Neergaardian rolled his eyes and snickered.
“Let’s go see Maxel,” Martin said, ignoring Jeremy. “He’ll know what’s going on, and I doubt the Alderman is back yet. (1)
Martin and Kazrack entered, while the others waited outside.
-------------------------------------
“What happened to you?” Maxel asked, wiping sweat from his brow. The party could see he seemed to be hard at work. There were scores of arrow and spearhead lined up on a table, and several suits of armor in various stages of being put together. He seemed to be preparing to make swords as well.
Martin was puzzled by the question and then realized the smith/constable meant his new leaner and careworn visage.
“Magic,” Martin shrugged his shoulders by way of explanation.
“I hope you killed the evil wizard that did that to you,” Maxel said seriously, but with a smile.
“Ah, if only it were that easy, my dear sir,” Martin replied. “But I am afraid I have not the time tell the tale, I am more concerned about the tent near the alderman’s house and the soldiers.”
“Gerard Prichett,” Maxel replied. “He is the queen’s brother and the Royal Huntsman. He has been sent by the king and the council of Alderman to collect the militia here. Riders have been sent to all the alder-villages that fit men and what of the dragon-hunters did choose to help to come here and come under his command for the hunt for the vicious gnome menace.”
Martin sighed.
“Actually, he asked for you first thing when he arrived and seemed very concerned about where you were and was quite surprised you were not here coordinating the groups of dragon-hunters, or at least that is what he seemed to think you were supposed to be doing here.”
Martin sighed again.
“”I tried to explain to him that you have been busy and that you were very ‘hands on’, and the we hadn’t even really started in your house yet, though the foundation is set to be laid day after tomorrow, you may want to come by.”
“I thank you for your help,” Martin replied. “I guess I should go talk to him then.”
“I would just be careful not to go with your friend Ratchis,” Maxel warned. “He was a great slayer of orcs in the skirmishes and it is said he enjoyed it.”
Martin sighed.
-------------
Martin asked the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers to wait and he approached the tent. He introduced himself to a guard, who entered the tent and returned holding open the flap for the watch-mage to enter.
The rest of the group watched Martin enter the tent from across the square and around the corner of a large house.
“We’ll watch from here,” said Ratchis.
“Why should we wait here? Surely you don’t think Martin is in any physical danger?” Beorth asked.
“Because there is no way that evil creatures that look like people are actually half-demon spawn and have infiltrated the humans,” Ratchis replied with scathing sarcasm. He had learned the nuances of languages by spending so much time with humans, but he still used it as a blunt instrument.
“But we have every indication that just might be the case!” Kazrack exclaimed, not getting it. (2)
Inside Martin found the tent to be rugged, but well-appointed.
The Royal Huntsman, Gerard Pritchard, was a tall and broad-shouldered young, with golden brown tightly curled locks and well-trimmed beard. He was very handsome, and his green eyes were very alert.
“Martin the Green, esteemed watch-mage of the Crown!” Gerard greeted him with respect and friendliness. “It gladdens me to see you here at last. I pray your duties have not called you too far a field and into too much danger?”
“More danger than I care recall, actually” Martin replied. He felt at ease around this gregarious man immediately. He was invited to sit. Pritchard called for his squire to bring them wine.
“Well, I hope you can tell me something about these gnomes. I was not shown the letter you sent the King about it, but I did learn through my own means that you did send one,” Gerard said, smiling.
“These gnomes are a peace-loving people,” Martin replied, deciding the truth was the best option with this man. “I believe that both they and the king are being manipulated to bring about a war.”
“Really?” Gerard did not seem surprised. He stood and took the huge skin his squire had brought in. Beads of moisture hung to the outside of the finely crafted bladder, as the Huntsman lifted it, leaning it on his forearm and poured himself a mouthful. He handed the heavy skin gently over to Martin, who grinning uncomfortably took a long sip himself. He was glad he had not put the ring back on. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and did his best to explain.
Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard as best he could about Mozek and how the gnomes of Garvan had been led to believe they were being attacked by a force just as horrific as the one the soldiers sent by the Crown has been decimated by.
Gerard Pritchard was quite for a moment and then took another long swig from the wineskin.
“So you are saying that evil gnomes born of a demon-woman are trying to manipulate good peace-loving gnomes and the Kingdom of Gothanius into a war?’
“I know it is hard to believe, but. . . “
“No, no. I mean, it is far-fetched, but I think that if you were going to make something up you would not have made something up that is so bizarre. In addition, the description of the gnome attack did not fit with what I know about gnomes. Unlike a lot people in court, I have traveled some around Derome-Delem. I have nothing against the free people of this island.” Gerard handed the skin back to Martin and scratched his beard. “Now, what does this have to do with the dragon?”
“Nothing, so far as we know,” Martin said, deciding to keep the speculation that the gnomish ‘traitors’ were behind the dragon sightings all along.
“You know, I mentioned to king at dinner one night, soon after your group brought back that Manticore to be stuffed, that I thought perhaps the dragon sightings were this Manticore all along,” Gerard said. “The common folk tend to exaggerate in their stories, so it is not so far out of the question.”
“We had considered that,” Martin replied.
“Which mean the Fearless Manticore Killers have already completed the King’s quest,,” Gerard said with a smile and a wink, but Martin winced at the name.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, that name,” Martin replied. “We were saddled with it, but none of us really like it.”
“I’m afraid you are stuck with it until you kill something bigger,” Gerard said, laughing. He stood and called Martin over to a table where he had a map of the area unfurled.
“So these gnomes must live somewhere north of Greenreed Valley, right? Can you point it out to me on the map?” He asked the watch-mage.
“Uh, actually I can’t really,” Martin quickly searched his mind for the smallest lie he could tell.
The Royal Huntsman looked at him quizzically.
“You see the gnomes blindfolded us when they brought us to their village. When we have gone to see them there is uh, a meeting place where they come to us and then guide us from there.”
“I see,” Gerard did not seem convinced. “Well, you know I will not be able to speak to the king on this matter and give him my counsel about the gnomes until I have parleyed with them. The King has entrusted me as his eyes, ears and even hands in this situation and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not look into it myself.”
Martin opened mouth to speak, but Gerard continued. “And I can assure you I was going to go alone. The last thing I want to do is bring a bunch of green militia in among a bunch of gnomes. I have lived among the rangers of Archet. I know how to handle myself in the woods and among other races.”
Martin sighed.
“Can you at least bring me to them?” Gerard tried again.
Martin shook his head. “But my companions and I can return to them and ask permission, or else have them send a delegate to you.”
Gerard nodded. “If it has to work that way I’ll respect it even if I don’t like it, but I don’t want a war, least of all one we’ve been tricked into, and we have a chance to stop it now before it goes any further and royal pride becomes involved.”
The huntsman cocked an eyebrow when he said that and looked Martin right in the eye.
“Yes, yes, of course,” stammered the watch-mage. “I will go gather my companions and let them know and we’ll return to the gnomes on the morrow, for it is too late in the day to do so now.”
-----------
Ratchis didn’t think so and insisted the party return immediately.
“We didn’t even see Finn and those guys and have a drink,” Jeremy complained.
“You just saw them a few days ago,” Beorth said. “And we will be returning soon enough.”
However, Martin initial estimate was correct. They had barely made the burned down safehouse before it was too dark to continue with much effect.
The Fearless Manticore Killers made camp there once again, and Martin sent Thomas off to retrieve the gnomes.
“Be careful,” Martin said. “Watch out for owls.”
Thomas gulped and ran for it, leaping from tree to tree.
Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.
“The gnomes are coming! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Martin the Green singing in his head as his squirrel approached upon Ashkenbach’s shoulder.
The sun shone brightly, illuminating the tops of the tall trees of this forest and turning their budding leaves golden. A bird called and another answered from across the forest. The taste of spring was on the still frosty air.
Soon doughty gnome arrived with a dozen of his kinsmen and a pair of wolverines.
“Had you even left yet? Ashkenbach joked.
“We spoke with a representative of the King of Gothanius, a man responsible for the organizing of the militia,” Martin began to explain.
“So you came to warn us?”
“Yes,” said Jeremy and Ratchis.
Martin frowned.
“There is nothing to warn you of that did not already know, but instead we bring an opportunity for peace,” Martin said. “The king’s man is called Gerard Pritchard, and I think you would like him and he just wants to parley with you, so he can advise the king that war is not the way to handle this situation.”
“He wants to talk to me? He doesn’t even know me!” Ashkenbach was confused.
“No, I meant, ‘you’ as in the gnomes of Garvan.”
Derek and Jeremy laughed.
Martin explained the huntsman was willing to speak to a representative of gnomes, if he could not be granted permission to come see the gnomes himself.
“This is awful hasty,” said Ashkenbach and the other gnomes nodded. “We expected you to be gone at least a little while to allow us to make some plans and have a referendum about how best to handle the problem with the humans.”
“Humans are hasty folk,” Martin replied. “And that is why you must not tarry too long in parleying, for they will look upon your hesitancy with suspicion.”
“Suspicion! We haven’t done anything to be suspicious of! They were the ones that sent soldiers near our home to begin with,” Ashkenbach grew angry, and Martin was startled. He was not used to such a reaction from a gnome.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Martin said. “I meant no offense.”
“Offense or no, you have a choice and an opportunity in front of you,” Ratchis said gruffly.
Ashkenbach sighed.
“I must return to Garvan,” he said. “I must get the counsel of Captain Fistandilus and other elder gnomes of our community, but you can tell this general or whatever he is that we will send someone soon.”
“How soon?” Martin asked, nervously, remembering that gnome’s had a unique definition of ‘soon’.
“As soon as possible,” Ashkenbach rolled his eyes and smiled at same time.
“Hasty!” a gnome in the patrol chastised.
Remembering his gnomish manners, Martin the Green invited Ashkenbach and the other gnomes to have lunch with them in the circle of trees before returning to Garvan. (3)
The subject of how gnome and humans see time different came up during the meal.
“Why are humans always in such a rush to do everything?” Ashkenbach asked, almost rhetorically.
“I think it is because of their long legs,” Kusiel, one of the gnome patrol, said. “They are used to getting everywhere fast so they think everything should be fast. They probably complain that the wind doesn’t blow fast enough.”
The gnomes all laughed.
“Well, a human on a ship might think that,” Jeremy said, screwing up his face as if offended.
“Oooh, I’d love to see a ship,” said one of the other gnomes.
“How long do you live?” Ratchis asked Ashkenbach.
“How long do I live? Who knows that? What am I, a seer?” Ashkenbach looked confused.
“No, he meant, how long does the average gnome live?” Kazrack explained.
“Hmmm… Well, we’d have to check the birth and death records of the council and then take into effect years with war or famine,” Ashkenbach scratched his wispy white beard, and tugged on it twice when thinking hard. “You know, that’d be fun to figure out, but kind of morbid.”
“Can you make a guess?” Ratchis asked, becoming annoyed.
“Hmm, maybe 350 winters,” the gnome replied.
”Humans live 60 winters, maybe a little more, sometimes less,” Kazrack said. “It is for that reason that they are always in a hurry.”
“I’ll be lucky to reach 40 winters,” Ratchis said, shrugging. “And I will be an old man by then.” (4)
“I promise to make sure you are buried properly when that time comes,” Beorth said.
“It may come a lot sooner,” Ratchis replied, gloomily.
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The mid-afternoon found the Fearless Manticore Killers making their way back up the ridge to Summit once again.
There Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard that he should be expecting a visit from the gnomes soon and that they would likely come clandestinely for their own safety and from keeping the skittish locals from panicking. He also tried his best to explain that gnomes sometimes took a long time to make up their minds and explored things from every angle, so he should try to be patient with them.
Pritchard agreed and shook Martin’s hand firmly thanking him.
“And where do you go now?” the Royal Huntsman asked. “I will have to tell his majesty of your exploits and intentions when I next correspond with him.”
“We are going to the southwest to seek out information that will help us stop the demons I told you about in a long abandoned dwarven citadel,” Martin explained.
“It sounds like quite the adventure,” Gerard smiled. “You and your companions are brave men, Martin the Green.”
Martin smiled weakly and said his good-byes.
The party spent the night at the Sun’s Summit Inn, having a meal with Finn and his crew and discussing what supplies they might need for their trip. The gnomes had given them food and water, and they had replaced some clothing and Beorth had new armor, so they had wont for little. They hoped the elves of Aze-Nuquerna would be able provide them whatever else they needed for their journey for they planned to stop there on their way south.
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Notes
(1) The alderman was called to court about the situation with the gnomes, as were all the aldermen of Gothanius.
(2) Dwarven culture never developed sarcasm, and those dwarves who have come to recognize it despise it as a vice and a lie.
(3) Traditional gnomish never considers a business deal or other contract fulfilled until the involved parties share a meal. In addition, many gnomes refuse to do anything of substantial importance without sharing a meal the people involved first.
(4) Orcs are a short-lived race. They reach full maturity by 12 or 13 and even if lucky enough to die of natural causes rarely make it past 30 or 35. Half-orcs inherit their lack of longevity from their orc parentage, sometimes making it to 40 or 45.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Hey Loyal Readers!
I stumbled upon THIS THREAD which is a more detailed account of the debate the FMK had while staying with the gnomes about what to next and who to send messages to.
The version in the story hour is obviously a trimmed down version of this debate - It makes for an interesting read.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Also,
I compiled a list of all the "adventures" the party has been on so I thought I'd post here and let you choose which one you liked best.
I stumbled upon THIS THREAD which is a more detailed account of the debate the FMK had while staying with the gnomes about what to next and who to send messages to.
The version in the story hour is obviously a trimmed down version of this debate - It makes for an interesting read.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Also,
I compiled a list of all the "adventures" the party has been on so I thought I'd post here and let you choose which one you liked best.
- Rite of Passage - A Goblin coming-of-age ceremony is uncovered
- Janx's Jinx - The party helps an elven pilgrim cure her blink dog companion and destroy the plague of diseased wolves.
- Auld Lang Syne - An old mausoleum holds the secret to the plague of zombies near Stonebridge
- The Castle Caper - The party foils Markle & Co.'s attempt to rob the king's treasury.
- Door To Darkness - Gnomish pranksters cause undesired mayhem at the Sun's Summit Inn
- Rahasia - Seeking the aid of elves for the gnomes, the party finds they are the ones who have to do the aiding.
- Descent into the Honeycombe - A trip into the tunnels beneath Aze-Nuquerna to seek Richard the Red and the drow witch uncovers an assualt by quaggoths
- The Circle of Thorns/The Beast From Beyond - The party seeks to fulfill the first two tasks needed to pay for Jeremy's return from Anubis' Realm
- The Necropolis of Doom! - On their way to return to Garvan the party is side-tracked in a subterranean city of the dead.
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