Session #71 (part II)
Anulem, the 20th of Ter – 565 H.E.
The next morning found Martin and Roland in the Garden of Stones Cemetery.
“Are you sure this is a good site for this?” Roland asked, looking around nervously.
“Well, we can’t do it in town by law, and rightly so, and you told me yourself there are outlying farmhouses out past the southwestern gate. This is the only place we can be guaranteed to be alone and there be no one around to be accidentally hurt,” Martin explained.
“What do you want me to do?” Roland asked.
“I want you to create a magical circle of protection against evil for me to stand in, and stand ready to dispel magic as I cast some spells to see if the Book’s influence overtakes me as it did a few times already,” Martin replied (1)
“I shall do my best.” Roland said. “But first. . . “
Calling to Bast, Roland summoned a golden lion to stand guard as they experimented. Roland leaned close to it, stroking its mane and whispering something in its ear. (2)
And so, Martin the Green began casting various spells he had prepared, starting with simple spells of the First and Second House, and then working his way up. As chanted to summon a Celestial Dire Preying Mantis he felt a wave of cold swell up and down his body and out his hands, the minute and detailed movements of his fingers, slowing, and before him in blast of red and black fire appeared a huge mottled red preying mantis, the smell of burning copper and sulfur wafting up from it.
“Oh my!” Martin exclaimed.
“Dismiss it!” Roland cried, as his lion guard roared in disapproval.
In a moment it was gone.
“I don’t think the circle of protection helped,” said Martin.
“At least you didn’t lose consciousness or control of yourself when it happened, and you didn’t exude a shield of green and black fire,” Roland said. “That’s something.”
“I guess…” Martin trailed off. “I guess it can be a safe assumption that I should not try summoning spells anymore, and necromantic are probably off limits, too.
Roland shrugged his shoulders. “At least not unless it is an emergency.”
Martin nodded.
Isilem, the 23rd of Ter – 565 H.E.
In the afternoon, three days later the Keepers of the Gate gathered in their suite to discuss the questions they would ask by means of Lydia’s Commune spell. They had Huggert send them up a huge meal and a few flagons of mead and ale, and Roland brought three bottles of wine, as well. Mercy was there for input, but Gunthar had not been seen in days.
What ensued was an argument and debate fueled by pride and spirits, that would last several hours, as every possible question and phrasing of the questions was suggested, revised, shot down or ridiculed. (3)
Kazrack argued stubbornly for questions so detailed the others were unsure what use the information gained would be, since the answers came in the form of ‘yes’ or ‘no’. However, the dwarf was unsure that he could trust a human divinity to not to twist the answers to the questions.
Roland took offense to this, seeing it as an insult to Isis, who is a close ally of his own goddess.
The two of them barked in each other’s face for and hour, ignoring or belittling the suggestions others made. Ratchis stormed out followed by Mercy and Dorn, while Martin muttered, as if to himself, trying to calm down the other two.
Mercy and Ratchis waited downstairs to let things cool down, while Dorn exhausted by a subject he did not really care so much about left to find another tavern to have a drink in. He would meet the others back in the suite after the Commune. The two friars ordered some drinks.
Martin came down with Roland, and the Bastite order six rounds of dwarven spirits and brought them upstairs for him and Kazrack on a tray. The argument continued upstairs, while Ratchis, Martin and Mercy drafted a set of seven questions, leaving three slots for whatever Roland and Kazrack managed to come up with.
As Ra’s Glory finished setting in the west, Ratchis, Roland, Kazrack, Martin and Mercy made their way over to Lydia’s house.
They were greeted by Daphne at the door, and one by one introduced to a shriveled old woman with a few strands of woolen white hair left on her liver-spotted scalp. This was Lydia’s mother. She spoke in a whisper no one in the party could hear, but all were too polite to say so. She led them into the sitting room, where Lydia knelt before the shrine. She wore a white gown with a broad gold collar. Her hair was in one thick braid wrapped around on the top of her head.
“Have you prepared the questions,” she asked. “There will not be much time to think them over once the spell has begun.”
“Yes,” Martin said, speaking for the party. “I have written them down. Would you like to see them?”
“That will not be necessary,” Lydia replied, still not turning around. “I will remember little or nothing of this experience. You will need to speak the questions to the celestial that will be contacting. You will see. Please sit.”
The party took chairs that were lined up to face the shrine. Daphne and Lydia’s mother sat near the back.
Plumes of incense smoke rose slowly from either side of the shrine and gathered in swirling clouds among the ceiling rafters. Lydia began a long chant to Isis, calling to the moon and the stars.
“Mother of all! Weaver of Magic! She who gathered the pieces of her husband-brother and sowed them, infusing all nature with her Power, I call to you, to use my body as vessel to send some aspect of your divine beauty, or some servant infused with your eternal power so that we might uncover the mysteries of this world so that it might be safer for all the mothers who reflect your Love with the love they have for their own children, so that the world will be safe for those children, just as every man and woman is your child.”
On and on the chant went, but Lydia’s voice grew softer and softer, as the sphere of opaque white glass on the shrine began to glow in the dim room. Finally, her words went from a raspy wheeze to total silence and Lydia’s head lolled down, chin to chest, as if she had fallen asleep.
All was silent for a moment, and the Keepers of the Gate looked to each other in confusion. Finally, Lydia raised her head, but did not turn around.
“Whomever would ask the questions should speak now,” a voice like an autumn breeze rustling through trees to send bright colorful leaves to tumble across the air emanated from the priestess. “This vessel grows tired already, and soon she will not be able to withstand it.”
Martin the Green took a deep breath and looked to Kazrack who shrugged. Roland nodded that the mage should begin.
“Oh great mother of us all, or servant of her highest love,” Martin began. “Can the means to destroy the Book of Black Circles be found within the book itself?”
“No,” came the voice issuing from Lydia.
Martin’s shoulders sagged.
“Does the Book of Black Circles have to be destroyed in a specific place?”
“Yes,” came the voice. Roland gulped as he noticed that Lydia’s mouth did not move when the voice was heard. He felt a chill run down his back.
“Will we, the Keepers of the Gate, be able to locate Hurgun’s Maze in time to enter it before anyone else does with the information gained in the Pit of Bones?” Martin asked.
There was a long pause.
“You will be able.” There was a rush of air in the room, as the voice became deeper with the last syllable.
Kazrack sneered, but Martin hesitated, taken aback by answer that did not come in the form of ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
“Hurry,” Daphne whispered harshly.
“Are there any other parties currently seeking Hurgun’s Maze by means of watching what we, the Keepers of the Gate, are doing?” Martin asked.
There was almost no pause. “Yes.”
“Is our former companion, Beorth Sahkmet still alive?”
The wait for reply seemed excruciatingly long.
“Yes.”
The Keepers of the Gate of cheered spontaneously and smiled broadly.
“I knew it!” Ratchis said.
Martin cleared his throat.
“Will tossing the Book of Black Circles into the Positive Material Plane destroy it?”
“No.”
“Does Richard the Red seek out Hurgun’s Maze?”
“Yes.”
“Does the King of Gothanius carry fiendish blood in his veins?”
“No.”
“Do Adder’s splinter group of monks really serve Anubis?” Martin asked.
There was another long pause. “No.”
“Is there a connection between the goings on at the Garden of Stones and our quest for Hurgun’s Maze?”
“Not directly,” and with those two words, Lydia’s body slumped forward again, and this time she collapsed to the floor. Daphne leapt to her feet to help her mistress, and Ratchis helped the aid put the priestess in the seat he had been occupying a moment before. Lydia’s eyes fluttered and she jerked away startled at Ratchis’ closeness. The half-orc felt his face flush.
“I hope it was helpful,” Lydia said softly, closing her eyes again, and putting her hand to her head.
“It helped us to eliminate some possibilities,” Kazrack said, allowing some disappointment to creep into his voice; none of his questions had been used.
“It was very helpful. Thank you,” said Martin.
“Your sacrifice of this gift is appreciated,” Ratchis added.
“When we fulfill the alliances of our gods here in the mortal realm we do them great honor,” Roland said.
“Let us have some tea to clear our minds and relax,” Daphne said. “Wait here, I will prepare it and call you into the kitchen when it is ready.”
The rest of the evening passed with Ratchis, Martin, Kazrack, Roland and Mercy having tea with Lydia and Daphne (Lydia’s mother went to sleep). They did not speak of their mission, or the answers they had gotten, instead Kazrack told of his training, part of which involved the teaching of acolytes, and he went into detail about the intricate carvings that would be on the breastplate of his new armor. Mercy spoke a little of her time in Thricia working to ferry former slaves out of the western frontier of that land. Ratchis told the tale of his meeting Jetta and Narcel (4), and Roland told a funny tale about a drunken brawl his very first adventuring group got into the night before their very first adventure.
Feeling relaxed for the first time in months, the Keepers of the Gate wandered back to the in. Kazrack wanted to have one last drink, and Ratchis wanted to find Dorn to have it with. Mercy returned home. Uncharacteristically, Roland excused himself as well, and headed back to the temple of Bast.
“It lightens my heart that Beorth still lives,” Kazrack said, as the trio climbed up their suite room to see if Dorn was there. “We will drink to his health and success when we go back downstairs. I will buy the house a round in his honor!”
Ratchis opened the door, hearing Dorn’s voice within. “Dorn! Come join us for a…”
Sitting at the table in the suite’s parlor was a tall thin figure with shockingly white skin, black hair and a black mole on his left cheek. He had hawk-like features, and wore black travel-stained clothing. It was Rindalith.
End of Session #71
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Notes:
(1) See Sessions #63, 64 and 66.
(2) DM’s Note: In Aquerra, Summoning spells can be cast to have a duration of 10 minutes per level, if the creature summoned is given instructions that do not involve combat. If the summoned creature becomes involved in combat while undertaking its main task, it will disappear after one round regardless of how much of the duration is left.
(3) DM’s Note: This will probably go down as my least favorite session of ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ ever. The players argued over what questions to ask (both in and out of character) for nearly four hours of real time. My head was killing me by the time whatever compromise they came to was made, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) no notes or quotes were taken for the entire argument, so the details could not be recounted here.
(4) Jetta and Narcel are Mercy’s parents and Ratchis’ teachers.
