Richard Rawen
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my emphasisel-remmen said:Actually, I went and looked back and found the break was actually only four or five months, not eight. . . It seemed longer in hindsight.
Especially to your readers! =-)
"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]
- Thread starter el-remmen
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Especially to your readers! =-)
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #93 (part i)
Kazrack remembered hurrying over when Dorn’s cries made him realize that something had happened to D’nar, (1) but when he saw his reflection he was struck by how he appeared. The dwarf could not remember the last time he had seen himself in full in a mirror. Most likely, it had not been since before he left Verdun for Derome-Delem. (2) He saw the dents in his helm and the three braids in his red beard knotted about stone beads at their end. The beard covered the pouch of rune stones about his neck. He saw the sparkle of his blue eyes and winced as he noted the scouring of his breastplate that one held a detailed etched representation of the First Mountain. He lifted his arm to better admire the workmanship of how he worked in the grieve he had been given as a gift from Richard the Red when crafting the armor. (3) The black metal of the grieve was in stark contrast with the buffed steel of the rest of the armor.
It was a long drawn out moment of self-examination.
Ratchis noticed how his longest natty red-brown lock was draped over his shoulder, resting on the rough wool of his shirt. He saw the dragon-hilt of his great sword sticking out from behind his head, and the black metal and leather bracers with their silvery moons, ships and skulls on his forearms. He cracked his jutting jaw, looking out from under his thick yellow-brown brow at his old boots, which he was forced to fish out from his overstuffed pack when his magical boots were destroyed by the ooze elemental. (4) The swinging of the loose end of the scored chain belt about his waist caught his eye.
Bastian scratched at his long grizzled dark brown beard and then patted out the dust from his chain shirt and leather greaves. He pulled off his helmet with its narrow visor and looked into his own twinkling green eyes.
And then the world shattered.
The small corner room was suddenly awash with light again as the mirror’s glass shattered. Gunthar leapt back, sword still in hand and Roland and Martin the Green stepped forward to get a look. There was a crash of bodies as many forms suddenly appeared and leapt to their feet. Among them were Ratchis, Kazrack, Bastian and Dorn, but there was also a black-bearded dwarf in a black woolen shirt and trousers. The dwarf had a short stature even by his kind’s standards, and large calloused hands. He got up to his hands and knees and threw himself to his feet and regarded Ratchis carefully who now stood blocking the exist with Kazrack, Bastian, Dorn and Martin. They had appeared where they had last been standing and were now closely bunched up.
“Oh, what a beautiful looking glass…” a tall thin man with pale skin murmured. He wore a suit of very fine chainmail, and had two knives sheathed on either hip, along with a fancy sabre. He had long black greasy ringlets that were plastered to his forehead and a long waxed mustache.
The other pale man was in a black robe with a silver belt and pin upon his chest.. He was gaunt and a few strands of black hair on his bald head that belied the youth in his eyes. He clambered to his feet and looked about with great surprise. His jaw dropped as he looked at the shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor of the room.
There was a woman in a frilled dress of soft white cotton with many layers of petticoats. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a bun on the back part of the top of her hair, and her face was made up with powder, red lipstick, and soft blue eye shadow that matched the flower pattern of her dress and the color of her laced up tall shoes. (5) She appeared to be in her early forties, but had kept the better part of her beauty. The woman squealed in alarm and took off for a corner of the small room.
And lastly there was a modron. Its body was a cube three feet to a side, with two sets of human sized eyes on each of the four outer faces. Set beneath the eyes was a mouth and a spindly arm that were swollen at the joints. The thing wore a wide leather belt set around its body at an angle. Two short swords hung from the belt, as did two heavy crossbows.
”Servant of the oppressor!” the thing said in a cold voice that cracked with adolescent self-consciousness. “I will not go with you!”
“Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!” The woman said, covering her mouth with a kerchief. “Where is Hurgun?”
“Yes! Where is Hurgun? Stand aside!” the dwarf barked at Ratchis. “Is my imprisonment over, blood of Ashronk?” He pulled silvery battle-axe from his back.
Ratchis took a side step into the crowded room and drew his great sword. Kazrack stepped between them.
“I do not think any of us are at cross-purposes,” Kazrack said. “We need to find out what is happening.”
“Who are you people? Where is Hurgun?” the black-robed man said with a hint of authority. “You are not the guests of Hurgun.”
“I am Martin the Green, Watch-mage of the Academy of Wizardry,” Martin said, putting a hand to his face reflexively to cover the left side of it and cover his disfigurement. “Hurgun lies imprisoned within his own Maze and his power threatens Derome-Delem itself. Who are you?”
“I am Gilbart, pupil of Hurgun of the Stone and steward of his Maze,” the black-robed bald man said. “And you do not belong here. You must leave.”
Roland took a moment to creep forward to sniff at Bastian and make sure it was really him, but the bearded warrior ignored the panther and went over to the lady, trying to calm her.
“If you be a dwarf of stout heart and loyal to Natan-ahb, you will stand aside and join me in undoing the folly of our peers,” the dwarf said to Kazrack. “Hurgun is not to be trusted.”
“Yes, Hurgun of the Stone is a terrible man,” the woman said. “He threatened me and imprisoned me…”
“Believe none of that woman’s words,” Gilbart said, a bit more authority creeping into his voice.
”Nay, I dare say she is right,” the mustachioed man with the sabre said. “I am Sergio Fontane. I came here as a visitor and a diplomat, under an understanding of hospitality and I was wrongly imprisoned as well. I would not trust his servant to do naught but try to obfuscate the true nature of his master.”
There was an explosion of chatter as everyone tried to talk at once. The modron turned three times and two of its hands hung closely to its swords. Kazrack yelled and put his hands up.
“Let’s take this slowly before anyone does anything regrettable,” Kazrack said. “We should discuss what is going on here, and in order to do that we should know who everyone is…”
“But that is beside the point,” Gilbart said, frustrated. “This place is Hurgun’s and I am charged with keeping its mundane operations so he may concentrate on his own studies and explorations. Part of that duty is defending this place and making sure that no thieves or vandals enter the place.”
“We are not thieves or vandals,” Kazrack replied.
”How am I to know that?” Gilbart replied. “If I am to hear your side of the story you should obey the wishes of its master, as a step towards proving that you have no mal intent.”
“I’m sorry, but we cannot do that,” Kazrack said. “So instead we will introduce ourselves and we will discuss the goings on both in and out of the Maze right there.”
“But…” Gilbart began.
“That seems reasonable,” Sergio Fontane responded. The woman nodded meekly. “I am Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento of Azules on the western coast of Derome-Delem,” she said. “And I came here in order to try to convince Hurgun of the Stone to take one my son as an apprentice. If I had known what he was like, I would never have come.”
“There is nothing here to fear, my lady,” Bastian said, bowing deeply and kissing her hand. She smiled weakly.
After Lady Elvira announced herself, the dwarf said his name was Aitan Absolom, High Engineer of Gurit Malak in the east.
“I was designation Oh-One,” the modron said. “I am now Owun.”
“We are the Keepers of the Gate,” Kazrack said to those who had been trapped in the mirror. “I am Kazrack Delver, rune-thrower of Llurgh-Splendar-Tar by way of Verdun. These are my companions, Ratchis of Nephthys, Martin the Green, Roland of Bast, Dorn of Herman Land, and Bastian of… Bastian, where are you from again?”
“We don’t know bugger all where he’s from,” Gunthar swore. “I want to know where all these here freaks are from.”
“That is all very well and good, but you need to come with me,” Gilbart said. “I will bring you to the guest rooms to wait while I check on the state of the Maze and make contact with Hurgun.”
“Owun refuses to be re-assimulated,” the modron said. “I will not wait for Hurgun. Hurgun is the oppressor.”
“Oh-one,” Gilbart turned to the modron. “You have incomplete data. Hurgun meant you no harm when he trapped you in the mirror. Not like these others.” The pupil turned and looked at Lady Elvira. “She especially is not to be trusted. She is not what she seems. But still, you must accompany me to the guest rooms and remain there until I can straighten this out.”
“I don’t think that will be possible,” Martin said. “As I said before Hurgun is gone, or trapped or something. We have yet to determine exactly the nature of the problem, except that it has something to do with a time elemental, or so we were told by Chochokpi, the Tree that Grows Backwards.”
“You have been through the portals in the light room?” Gilbart asked.
“Huh? No…” Martin began.
“Listen not to this man,” Aitan Absolom said, looking to Kazrack. “His master holds the spirit of one who would be king of our people trapped in this very room, so that it may never return to the First Mountain.”
“What?!?” Kazrack’s voice raised up into a confused roar.
“Master Absalom is characterizing that in a negative light,” Gilbart protested.
“It seems Master Hurgun had a lot of secrets,” Sergio said. “No wonder he was so withdrawn.”
“Please, accompany me to the guest rooms,” Gilbart repeated, looking from Kazrack to Martin
“No! We will go no where until I learn more of what Master Absalom is referring to,” Kazrack responded.
The Keepers of the Gate moved to the center of the dark chamber accompanied by the occupants of the mirror. Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento took Bastian’s arm and walked with him, hanging back a bit in the lower hall as the others gathered about the black sapphire upon the pedestal.
“Hurgun is the one who is not what he seems,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian. “And his servant Gilbart is no different.”
“Gunthar, keep your eyes peeled,” Martin leaned in and whispered to the Neergaardian as he came around the pedestal. Sergio hung back as well, near the dark entrance to the one room the party had not yet explored. Roland transformed back to his normal human shape and stood over there as well, chatting friendlily with the man about Bast. Owun fluttered his wings and floated over them landing in the darkness of the hallway.
Kazrack took his flail from his belt and held it above the gem, a determined grimace on his face.
“What are you doing?!” Gilbart exclaimed. “Stop!”
“Tell me why I should?” Kazrack turned, shaking his golden flail angrily as he addressed the black-robed man.
“It is a gem under the safe-keeping of Hurgun,” Gilbart stammered. He turned to Aitan who was standing beside Kazrack. “Master Absalom, you know it was your feelings on this matter that led to you being imprisoned in the first place. Don’t…”
“Does it hold a dwarf spirit?” Kazrack asked, interrupting.
Gilbart sighed. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do not the rules of hospitality dictate that you wait for a host whose home you are in to answer your questions, and that you trust his judgments until you know otherwise?” Gilbart asked.
”Answer me yes or no, Gilbart,” Kazrack replied, shaking his flail again. “Or I will act…”
Gilbart sighed again. “Smashing the gem will do nothing but free the soul within it.”
“And that is good in and of itself,” Kazrack said. Sergio and Roland jokingly bet about whether Kazrack would smash it or not.
“See how evasive he is,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian.
“Nephthys frowns on slavery of all kinds,” Ratchis said to Gilbart, his yellow eyes narrowing.
“Hurgun holds all my kind in bondage,” came Owun’s modron voice cracking with awkward emotion from the dark hall.
“There was an arrangement made with High Priests of the dwarven faith,” Gilbart began to explain. He looked around nervously and noted, Lady Elvira still whispering to Bastian. “I would be wary of that woman. Come with me to the guest rooms, but leave her behind, perhaps I can explain more of what is going on then…”
“Explain now,” Kazrack said.
“The rune-throwers came to Hurgun and asked him to keep the gem safe until such a time that they would return for it,” Gilbart said, twisting his lips in annoyance.
“And the dwarf himself was party to this agreement?” Kazrack asked.
“He was dead at the time,” Gilbart said. “But the rune-throwers agreed to it.”
“It was a poor choice,” Aitan Absalom said. “This is the spirit of the direct descendant of the last true dwarven king. He is our true king!”
“I will take the gem and keep it safe myself until such a time that I can speak to Hurgun about it directly,” Kazrack decided.
“It will not be any safer in your custody,” Gilbart said. “It will only be in danger of being stolen, lost or broken and if it broken those who might still seek to use that spirit for ill-gain will know it has happened.”
“Like who?”
“Like the Lich-Lord of Dralmohir,” Gilbart replied. (6)
“It matters not,” Kazrack responded. “I cannot in good conscience leave the gem here until I know first hand all there is to know about its being here.”
“Normally, I would not disagree,” Ratchis told his friend. “But perhaps it is best we leave it here until we know more…”
Kazrack shook his head.
“Again, I must insist that you retire to the guest rooms and wait until I have determined the trouble with the Maze if any,” Gilbart said. “And then if I do need your help, I promise I will come to you for it.” He stepped back and called up the dark hall. “Oh-one, that means you as well.”
“I will not be told what to do,” Owun said.
“You will not be told what to do?” Roland echoed. “How refreshingly rebellious! I think I like this one.”
“Rebellion is the fire in my soul,” Owun said.
“Oh, yes, I do like this one,” Roland smiled.
“They are very strange creatures, I must say,” said Sergio.
“I will not go with Gilbart,” Owun said. “I am leaving.”
“Oh-one, I promise you will not be re-imprisoned,” Gilbart implored.
“I refuse,” Owun said.
“Owun, you must be careful,” Roland said. “The rooms of the Maze are moving, we cannot know where the portals lead.”
“I know where they lead,” Owun said, his voice growing fainter as he headed to the portal between the unexplored room and the silenced room.
Roland gave chase into the darkness. “Wait! Stay with us! We may need your help and we will make sure you win your freedom!” But it was too late, the modron disappeared into the darkness.
“This one wears time on his face like a mask,” Sergio Fontane said quietly to Roland as the Bastite returned. The lithe man gestured to Martin the Green, as Gilbart was trying to explain the reasons he might not trust the party, including the obvious deadrot of Martin’s face.
“And there are many apparent reasons for us to not trust you,” Ratchis replied. “Why were you trapped in the mirror? Why does did the modron say that his kind were enslaved? Why do the others claim to have been falsely imprisoned? Why is a man being tortured eternally in that other room with an infernal contract on the wall?”
“We could go on and on…” Martin said. “But instead, let us reach a compromise. Perhaps my companions can go to the guest rooms as you asked, but I can accompany you to see what is wrong with the Maze and see if we can find Hurgun?”
Gilbart rubbed his balding head as he considered it.
“Wait, I don’t think you should wander the Maze alone,” Ratchis said to Martin. He turned back to Gilbart. “Allow Martin to bring one bodyguard with him in case there is a physical danger to deal with. This might be to your advantage as well.”
“I’m not sure…” Gilbart began. He fished around pendant from the folds of his robes and examined it. It seemed to be inset with many tiny gems of different colors.
“Regardless of this compromise, I will still take and hold this gem,” Kazrack said. “Nothing will stop me from doing so.”
“You are acting from ignorance,” Gilbart responded. “Again, I remind you of the responsibility of guests.”
“Ratchis!” Roland suddenly hissed. The Bastite had noticed how Lady Elvira was still holding Bastian by the arm, whispering into his ear and touching a hand to his chest every now and again with her flirtatious words. “There is something wrong with Bastian, I think.”
Ratchis called to Nephthys, casting detect charm as Gilbart protested. “There is no casting of spells in Hurgun’s Maze without his leave!”
Ratchis noted the aura of enchantment magic hanging over Bastian and he drew his dragon-hilted greatsword once again and pointed it at the woman. “Kazrack! Stand fast!” The half-orc barked and then stepped towards Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento. “Stand away from that man!”
“Oh! You won’t let him harm me, will you?” Lady Elvira cried nervously, grabbing Bastian’s right arm with both of hers. The suggestion echoed one she had made in passing only a few moments earlier. (7)
Bastian pulled his arm free and pushed her behind him. “Ratchis, there is no need for violence.” He put an open hand up as a gesture of peace.
“She is under an enchantment? A charm?” Martin asked.
“No, Bastian is,” Ratchis growled in reply.
“I told you not to trust her,” Gilbart complained.
Roland put himself between Ratchis and Bastian. “Bastian, she is using you. She’s put a spell on you and trying to turn you against us.”
“Nephthys! Free this man from the mental chains of arcane slavery,” Ratchis grabbed his belt of scored chains and call out to his goddess to dispel the charm upon Bastian, but the spell was not so easily undone. (8)
Lady Elvira took a few steps back down the small angled hallway that led to one of the portal out of the chamber and the room with the man in stasis. “Don’t let them harm me, please,” She said. “I am just a woman on my own trying to keep myself protected!”
“Yes, there is no need for violence,” Bastian said again. He stepped around Roland and gestured to Ratchis. “Let us all just settle down and continue to discuss the matter at hand.”
“Let us give this woman a chance to explain her actions,” Kazrack said, and cast protection from evil on Bastian to defend him from outside control. The bearded warrior blinked and looked back at Lady Elvira with a puzzled expression.
“Uh, yes, Kazrack is right, we should talk this out,” Bastian began.
“Gilbart is leaving!” Martin the Green announced as the wizard took the momentary confusion to take off through the portal that the party had emerged from. “We cannot wait! He might get away beyond our reach and he may be the key to discovering what is wrong with the Maze!”
“Lady Elvira, I will tell you this once, release Bastian now or it is war between us,” Roland said, stepping forward. He readied a holy smite spell.
Ratchis charged towards Bastian.
Meanwhile, Aiten Absalom stepped behind Kazrack and reached for the black sapphire. “We should take it now when there will be no argument,” he said to Kazrack. “I am with you whatever you decide, but I recommend we take it and flee now before Hurgun or his servant can stop us.”
Bastian struggled to break free of Ratchis’ grasp as the half-orc held him in a bear-hug and carried him towards the portal Gilbart had fled through. N’kron swooped out of the darkness, dive-bombing Ratchis with nasty pecks in defense of his master.
Seeing that Bastian was out of harm’s way, Roland let loose with his holy smite and Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento crumpled and stumbled back, putting a hand out to steady herself.
“Mister Dwarf, I think you had better take your gem and leave now,” she said, her voice slightly deeper and steadier than it had been. She raised her head as her body began to grow. A second set of arms burst from around her torso as she began to reach nine feet in height, and a pair of black glistening wings appeared on her back. Her dress ripped and melted away as her body grew muscular and the ends of her fingers became black talons. Her bare chest featured two sets of swollen veiny breasts with blood-red nipples crusted with black milk. Horns popped out from beneath her hair turned golden, and her lips were blood-red as well and swollen, covering sharp teeth.
Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento was none other than the greater succubus, Ora Amira El. Her laughter began to echo in the dark room.
“We are so out of our league…” Martin gulped.
--------------------------------
Notes:
(1) “D’nar” is Kazrack’s dwarven name for Ratchis. It means ‘uncut gem’.
(2) See Session #2
(3) Richard the Red gave Kazrack (and the rest of the party) gifts for the Festival of Isis in Session #38, and Kazrack crafted his armor while the party was in Nikar in Session #68 thru 73. The grieve grants a straight up 50% chance to resist critical hits that strike the arm.
(4) Ratchis’ Boots of Uller were destroyed in the last session.
(5) Make-up is not commonly worn by the women of central Aquerra. Aside from powder used to even out the complexion, it is almost completely out of favor in Thricia and Neergaard. In the Kingdom of Herman Land, woman who are not of a high station who wear make-up will generally be assumed to be a whore. In El Reino Unido de Familias Superiores, make-up is widely used.
(6) Dralmohir is the undead land to the east of the Little Kingdoms. It was once the site of one of the most powerful dwarven nations in Derome-Delem.
(7) DM’s Note: Lady Elvira cast suggestion on Bastian, but I rolled his saving throw secretly. Knowing that Bastian’s attitude towards her was already favorable, I thought it made more sense to not affect how the player having him act by telling him his character was charmed.
(8) For more info on Dispel Charm See: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Dispel+Charm
Kazrack remembered hurrying over when Dorn’s cries made him realize that something had happened to D’nar, (1) but when he saw his reflection he was struck by how he appeared. The dwarf could not remember the last time he had seen himself in full in a mirror. Most likely, it had not been since before he left Verdun for Derome-Delem. (2) He saw the dents in his helm and the three braids in his red beard knotted about stone beads at their end. The beard covered the pouch of rune stones about his neck. He saw the sparkle of his blue eyes and winced as he noted the scouring of his breastplate that one held a detailed etched representation of the First Mountain. He lifted his arm to better admire the workmanship of how he worked in the grieve he had been given as a gift from Richard the Red when crafting the armor. (3) The black metal of the grieve was in stark contrast with the buffed steel of the rest of the armor.
It was a long drawn out moment of self-examination.
Ratchis noticed how his longest natty red-brown lock was draped over his shoulder, resting on the rough wool of his shirt. He saw the dragon-hilt of his great sword sticking out from behind his head, and the black metal and leather bracers with their silvery moons, ships and skulls on his forearms. He cracked his jutting jaw, looking out from under his thick yellow-brown brow at his old boots, which he was forced to fish out from his overstuffed pack when his magical boots were destroyed by the ooze elemental. (4) The swinging of the loose end of the scored chain belt about his waist caught his eye.
Bastian scratched at his long grizzled dark brown beard and then patted out the dust from his chain shirt and leather greaves. He pulled off his helmet with its narrow visor and looked into his own twinkling green eyes.
And then the world shattered.
The small corner room was suddenly awash with light again as the mirror’s glass shattered. Gunthar leapt back, sword still in hand and Roland and Martin the Green stepped forward to get a look. There was a crash of bodies as many forms suddenly appeared and leapt to their feet. Among them were Ratchis, Kazrack, Bastian and Dorn, but there was also a black-bearded dwarf in a black woolen shirt and trousers. The dwarf had a short stature even by his kind’s standards, and large calloused hands. He got up to his hands and knees and threw himself to his feet and regarded Ratchis carefully who now stood blocking the exist with Kazrack, Bastian, Dorn and Martin. They had appeared where they had last been standing and were now closely bunched up.
“Oh, what a beautiful looking glass…” a tall thin man with pale skin murmured. He wore a suit of very fine chainmail, and had two knives sheathed on either hip, along with a fancy sabre. He had long black greasy ringlets that were plastered to his forehead and a long waxed mustache.
The other pale man was in a black robe with a silver belt and pin upon his chest.. He was gaunt and a few strands of black hair on his bald head that belied the youth in his eyes. He clambered to his feet and looked about with great surprise. His jaw dropped as he looked at the shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor of the room.
There was a woman in a frilled dress of soft white cotton with many layers of petticoats. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a bun on the back part of the top of her hair, and her face was made up with powder, red lipstick, and soft blue eye shadow that matched the flower pattern of her dress and the color of her laced up tall shoes. (5) She appeared to be in her early forties, but had kept the better part of her beauty. The woman squealed in alarm and took off for a corner of the small room.
And lastly there was a modron. Its body was a cube three feet to a side, with two sets of human sized eyes on each of the four outer faces. Set beneath the eyes was a mouth and a spindly arm that were swollen at the joints. The thing wore a wide leather belt set around its body at an angle. Two short swords hung from the belt, as did two heavy crossbows.
”Servant of the oppressor!” the thing said in a cold voice that cracked with adolescent self-consciousness. “I will not go with you!”
“Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!” The woman said, covering her mouth with a kerchief. “Where is Hurgun?”
“Yes! Where is Hurgun? Stand aside!” the dwarf barked at Ratchis. “Is my imprisonment over, blood of Ashronk?” He pulled silvery battle-axe from his back.
Ratchis took a side step into the crowded room and drew his great sword. Kazrack stepped between them.
“I do not think any of us are at cross-purposes,” Kazrack said. “We need to find out what is happening.”
“Who are you people? Where is Hurgun?” the black-robed man said with a hint of authority. “You are not the guests of Hurgun.”
“I am Martin the Green, Watch-mage of the Academy of Wizardry,” Martin said, putting a hand to his face reflexively to cover the left side of it and cover his disfigurement. “Hurgun lies imprisoned within his own Maze and his power threatens Derome-Delem itself. Who are you?”
“I am Gilbart, pupil of Hurgun of the Stone and steward of his Maze,” the black-robed bald man said. “And you do not belong here. You must leave.”
Roland took a moment to creep forward to sniff at Bastian and make sure it was really him, but the bearded warrior ignored the panther and went over to the lady, trying to calm her.
“If you be a dwarf of stout heart and loyal to Natan-ahb, you will stand aside and join me in undoing the folly of our peers,” the dwarf said to Kazrack. “Hurgun is not to be trusted.”
“Yes, Hurgun of the Stone is a terrible man,” the woman said. “He threatened me and imprisoned me…”
“Believe none of that woman’s words,” Gilbart said, a bit more authority creeping into his voice.
”Nay, I dare say she is right,” the mustachioed man with the sabre said. “I am Sergio Fontane. I came here as a visitor and a diplomat, under an understanding of hospitality and I was wrongly imprisoned as well. I would not trust his servant to do naught but try to obfuscate the true nature of his master.”
There was an explosion of chatter as everyone tried to talk at once. The modron turned three times and two of its hands hung closely to its swords. Kazrack yelled and put his hands up.
“Let’s take this slowly before anyone does anything regrettable,” Kazrack said. “We should discuss what is going on here, and in order to do that we should know who everyone is…”
“But that is beside the point,” Gilbart said, frustrated. “This place is Hurgun’s and I am charged with keeping its mundane operations so he may concentrate on his own studies and explorations. Part of that duty is defending this place and making sure that no thieves or vandals enter the place.”
“We are not thieves or vandals,” Kazrack replied.
”How am I to know that?” Gilbart replied. “If I am to hear your side of the story you should obey the wishes of its master, as a step towards proving that you have no mal intent.”
“I’m sorry, but we cannot do that,” Kazrack said. “So instead we will introduce ourselves and we will discuss the goings on both in and out of the Maze right there.”
“But…” Gilbart began.
“That seems reasonable,” Sergio Fontane responded. The woman nodded meekly. “I am Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento of Azules on the western coast of Derome-Delem,” she said. “And I came here in order to try to convince Hurgun of the Stone to take one my son as an apprentice. If I had known what he was like, I would never have come.”
“There is nothing here to fear, my lady,” Bastian said, bowing deeply and kissing her hand. She smiled weakly.
After Lady Elvira announced herself, the dwarf said his name was Aitan Absolom, High Engineer of Gurit Malak in the east.
“I was designation Oh-One,” the modron said. “I am now Owun.”
“We are the Keepers of the Gate,” Kazrack said to those who had been trapped in the mirror. “I am Kazrack Delver, rune-thrower of Llurgh-Splendar-Tar by way of Verdun. These are my companions, Ratchis of Nephthys, Martin the Green, Roland of Bast, Dorn of Herman Land, and Bastian of… Bastian, where are you from again?”
“We don’t know bugger all where he’s from,” Gunthar swore. “I want to know where all these here freaks are from.”
“That is all very well and good, but you need to come with me,” Gilbart said. “I will bring you to the guest rooms to wait while I check on the state of the Maze and make contact with Hurgun.”
“Owun refuses to be re-assimulated,” the modron said. “I will not wait for Hurgun. Hurgun is the oppressor.”
“Oh-one,” Gilbart turned to the modron. “You have incomplete data. Hurgun meant you no harm when he trapped you in the mirror. Not like these others.” The pupil turned and looked at Lady Elvira. “She especially is not to be trusted. She is not what she seems. But still, you must accompany me to the guest rooms and remain there until I can straighten this out.”
“I don’t think that will be possible,” Martin said. “As I said before Hurgun is gone, or trapped or something. We have yet to determine exactly the nature of the problem, except that it has something to do with a time elemental, or so we were told by Chochokpi, the Tree that Grows Backwards.”
“You have been through the portals in the light room?” Gilbart asked.
“Huh? No…” Martin began.
“Listen not to this man,” Aitan Absolom said, looking to Kazrack. “His master holds the spirit of one who would be king of our people trapped in this very room, so that it may never return to the First Mountain.”
“What?!?” Kazrack’s voice raised up into a confused roar.
“Master Absalom is characterizing that in a negative light,” Gilbart protested.
“It seems Master Hurgun had a lot of secrets,” Sergio said. “No wonder he was so withdrawn.”
“Please, accompany me to the guest rooms,” Gilbart repeated, looking from Kazrack to Martin
“No! We will go no where until I learn more of what Master Absalom is referring to,” Kazrack responded.
The Keepers of the Gate moved to the center of the dark chamber accompanied by the occupants of the mirror. Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento took Bastian’s arm and walked with him, hanging back a bit in the lower hall as the others gathered about the black sapphire upon the pedestal.
“Hurgun is the one who is not what he seems,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian. “And his servant Gilbart is no different.”
“Gunthar, keep your eyes peeled,” Martin leaned in and whispered to the Neergaardian as he came around the pedestal. Sergio hung back as well, near the dark entrance to the one room the party had not yet explored. Roland transformed back to his normal human shape and stood over there as well, chatting friendlily with the man about Bast. Owun fluttered his wings and floated over them landing in the darkness of the hallway.
Kazrack took his flail from his belt and held it above the gem, a determined grimace on his face.
“What are you doing?!” Gilbart exclaimed. “Stop!”
“Tell me why I should?” Kazrack turned, shaking his golden flail angrily as he addressed the black-robed man.
“It is a gem under the safe-keeping of Hurgun,” Gilbart stammered. He turned to Aitan who was standing beside Kazrack. “Master Absalom, you know it was your feelings on this matter that led to you being imprisoned in the first place. Don’t…”
“Does it hold a dwarf spirit?” Kazrack asked, interrupting.
Gilbart sighed. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do not the rules of hospitality dictate that you wait for a host whose home you are in to answer your questions, and that you trust his judgments until you know otherwise?” Gilbart asked.
”Answer me yes or no, Gilbart,” Kazrack replied, shaking his flail again. “Or I will act…”
Gilbart sighed again. “Smashing the gem will do nothing but free the soul within it.”
“And that is good in and of itself,” Kazrack said. Sergio and Roland jokingly bet about whether Kazrack would smash it or not.
“See how evasive he is,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian.
“Nephthys frowns on slavery of all kinds,” Ratchis said to Gilbart, his yellow eyes narrowing.
“Hurgun holds all my kind in bondage,” came Owun’s modron voice cracking with awkward emotion from the dark hall.
“There was an arrangement made with High Priests of the dwarven faith,” Gilbart began to explain. He looked around nervously and noted, Lady Elvira still whispering to Bastian. “I would be wary of that woman. Come with me to the guest rooms, but leave her behind, perhaps I can explain more of what is going on then…”
“Explain now,” Kazrack said.
“The rune-throwers came to Hurgun and asked him to keep the gem safe until such a time that they would return for it,” Gilbart said, twisting his lips in annoyance.
“And the dwarf himself was party to this agreement?” Kazrack asked.
“He was dead at the time,” Gilbart said. “But the rune-throwers agreed to it.”
“It was a poor choice,” Aitan Absalom said. “This is the spirit of the direct descendant of the last true dwarven king. He is our true king!”
“I will take the gem and keep it safe myself until such a time that I can speak to Hurgun about it directly,” Kazrack decided.
“It will not be any safer in your custody,” Gilbart said. “It will only be in danger of being stolen, lost or broken and if it broken those who might still seek to use that spirit for ill-gain will know it has happened.”
“Like who?”
“Like the Lich-Lord of Dralmohir,” Gilbart replied. (6)
“It matters not,” Kazrack responded. “I cannot in good conscience leave the gem here until I know first hand all there is to know about its being here.”
“Normally, I would not disagree,” Ratchis told his friend. “But perhaps it is best we leave it here until we know more…”
Kazrack shook his head.
“Again, I must insist that you retire to the guest rooms and wait until I have determined the trouble with the Maze if any,” Gilbart said. “And then if I do need your help, I promise I will come to you for it.” He stepped back and called up the dark hall. “Oh-one, that means you as well.”
“I will not be told what to do,” Owun said.
“You will not be told what to do?” Roland echoed. “How refreshingly rebellious! I think I like this one.”
“Rebellion is the fire in my soul,” Owun said.
“Oh, yes, I do like this one,” Roland smiled.
“They are very strange creatures, I must say,” said Sergio.
“I will not go with Gilbart,” Owun said. “I am leaving.”
“Oh-one, I promise you will not be re-imprisoned,” Gilbart implored.
“I refuse,” Owun said.
“Owun, you must be careful,” Roland said. “The rooms of the Maze are moving, we cannot know where the portals lead.”
“I know where they lead,” Owun said, his voice growing fainter as he headed to the portal between the unexplored room and the silenced room.
Roland gave chase into the darkness. “Wait! Stay with us! We may need your help and we will make sure you win your freedom!” But it was too late, the modron disappeared into the darkness.
“This one wears time on his face like a mask,” Sergio Fontane said quietly to Roland as the Bastite returned. The lithe man gestured to Martin the Green, as Gilbart was trying to explain the reasons he might not trust the party, including the obvious deadrot of Martin’s face.
“And there are many apparent reasons for us to not trust you,” Ratchis replied. “Why were you trapped in the mirror? Why does did the modron say that his kind were enslaved? Why do the others claim to have been falsely imprisoned? Why is a man being tortured eternally in that other room with an infernal contract on the wall?”
“We could go on and on…” Martin said. “But instead, let us reach a compromise. Perhaps my companions can go to the guest rooms as you asked, but I can accompany you to see what is wrong with the Maze and see if we can find Hurgun?”
Gilbart rubbed his balding head as he considered it.
“Wait, I don’t think you should wander the Maze alone,” Ratchis said to Martin. He turned back to Gilbart. “Allow Martin to bring one bodyguard with him in case there is a physical danger to deal with. This might be to your advantage as well.”
“I’m not sure…” Gilbart began. He fished around pendant from the folds of his robes and examined it. It seemed to be inset with many tiny gems of different colors.
“Regardless of this compromise, I will still take and hold this gem,” Kazrack said. “Nothing will stop me from doing so.”
“You are acting from ignorance,” Gilbart responded. “Again, I remind you of the responsibility of guests.”
“Ratchis!” Roland suddenly hissed. The Bastite had noticed how Lady Elvira was still holding Bastian by the arm, whispering into his ear and touching a hand to his chest every now and again with her flirtatious words. “There is something wrong with Bastian, I think.”
Ratchis called to Nephthys, casting detect charm as Gilbart protested. “There is no casting of spells in Hurgun’s Maze without his leave!”
Ratchis noted the aura of enchantment magic hanging over Bastian and he drew his dragon-hilted greatsword once again and pointed it at the woman. “Kazrack! Stand fast!” The half-orc barked and then stepped towards Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento. “Stand away from that man!”
“Oh! You won’t let him harm me, will you?” Lady Elvira cried nervously, grabbing Bastian’s right arm with both of hers. The suggestion echoed one she had made in passing only a few moments earlier. (7)
Bastian pulled his arm free and pushed her behind him. “Ratchis, there is no need for violence.” He put an open hand up as a gesture of peace.
“She is under an enchantment? A charm?” Martin asked.
“No, Bastian is,” Ratchis growled in reply.
“I told you not to trust her,” Gilbart complained.
Roland put himself between Ratchis and Bastian. “Bastian, she is using you. She’s put a spell on you and trying to turn you against us.”
“Nephthys! Free this man from the mental chains of arcane slavery,” Ratchis grabbed his belt of scored chains and call out to his goddess to dispel the charm upon Bastian, but the spell was not so easily undone. (8)
Lady Elvira took a few steps back down the small angled hallway that led to one of the portal out of the chamber and the room with the man in stasis. “Don’t let them harm me, please,” She said. “I am just a woman on my own trying to keep myself protected!”
“Yes, there is no need for violence,” Bastian said again. He stepped around Roland and gestured to Ratchis. “Let us all just settle down and continue to discuss the matter at hand.”
“Let us give this woman a chance to explain her actions,” Kazrack said, and cast protection from evil on Bastian to defend him from outside control. The bearded warrior blinked and looked back at Lady Elvira with a puzzled expression.
“Uh, yes, Kazrack is right, we should talk this out,” Bastian began.
“Gilbart is leaving!” Martin the Green announced as the wizard took the momentary confusion to take off through the portal that the party had emerged from. “We cannot wait! He might get away beyond our reach and he may be the key to discovering what is wrong with the Maze!”
“Lady Elvira, I will tell you this once, release Bastian now or it is war between us,” Roland said, stepping forward. He readied a holy smite spell.
Ratchis charged towards Bastian.
Meanwhile, Aiten Absalom stepped behind Kazrack and reached for the black sapphire. “We should take it now when there will be no argument,” he said to Kazrack. “I am with you whatever you decide, but I recommend we take it and flee now before Hurgun or his servant can stop us.”
Bastian struggled to break free of Ratchis’ grasp as the half-orc held him in a bear-hug and carried him towards the portal Gilbart had fled through. N’kron swooped out of the darkness, dive-bombing Ratchis with nasty pecks in defense of his master.
Seeing that Bastian was out of harm’s way, Roland let loose with his holy smite and Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento crumpled and stumbled back, putting a hand out to steady herself.
“Mister Dwarf, I think you had better take your gem and leave now,” she said, her voice slightly deeper and steadier than it had been. She raised her head as her body began to grow. A second set of arms burst from around her torso as she began to reach nine feet in height, and a pair of black glistening wings appeared on her back. Her dress ripped and melted away as her body grew muscular and the ends of her fingers became black talons. Her bare chest featured two sets of swollen veiny breasts with blood-red nipples crusted with black milk. Horns popped out from beneath her hair turned golden, and her lips were blood-red as well and swollen, covering sharp teeth.
Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento was none other than the greater succubus, Ora Amira El. Her laughter began to echo in the dark room.
“We are so out of our league…” Martin gulped.
--------------------------------
Notes:
(1) “D’nar” is Kazrack’s dwarven name for Ratchis. It means ‘uncut gem’.
(2) See Session #2
(3) Richard the Red gave Kazrack (and the rest of the party) gifts for the Festival of Isis in Session #38, and Kazrack crafted his armor while the party was in Nikar in Session #68 thru 73. The grieve grants a straight up 50% chance to resist critical hits that strike the arm.
(4) Ratchis’ Boots of Uller were destroyed in the last session.
(5) Make-up is not commonly worn by the women of central Aquerra. Aside from powder used to even out the complexion, it is almost completely out of favor in Thricia and Neergaard. In the Kingdom of Herman Land, woman who are not of a high station who wear make-up will generally be assumed to be a whore. In El Reino Unido de Familias Superiores, make-up is widely used.
(6) Dralmohir is the undead land to the east of the Little Kingdoms. It was once the site of one of the most powerful dwarven nations in Derome-Delem.
(7) DM’s Note: Lady Elvira cast suggestion on Bastian, but I rolled his saving throw secretly. Knowing that Bastian’s attitude towards her was already favorable, I thought it made more sense to not affect how the player having him act by telling him his character was charmed.
(8) For more info on Dispel Charm See: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Dispel+Charm
handforged
First Post
I can only hope that Roland has a few more of those zingers to throw at the succubus. This will definitely be an interesting situation to get out of.
I can't wait.
~hf
I can't wait.
~hf
Richard Rawen
First Post
I have to add my voice to the chorus on how many directions that encounter was taking... amazing the group doesn't come apart like a stuffed bear with three kids fighting over it 
It's very believable and keeps us readers on our toes. Good Stuff!
It's very believable and keeps us readers on our toes. Good Stuff!
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
I thought I was going to have another installment for you tonight, but I got drained there at the end, so most likely it be up tomorrow or the day after.
Oh, and have I mentioned how dejected I get when I see the 6000 page views this thread lost in the great crash of '06? :\
Oh, and have I mentioned how dejected I get when I see the 6000 page views this thread lost in the great crash of '06? :\
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