This is written by Tarmus, but he's having BB troubles so I'm posting it...
[ Tarmus, Yeric, and two children - A girl and a boy, about six and nine - are sitting in the main room of the Woodblood farm. ]
“C’mon, finish the story.”
“Yeah, papa. You promised you would!”
“Mmmn, that’s good ale. All right, all right, gather ‘round, kids. Your uncle Yeric and I were just reminiscing, as a matter of fact. Good drink and old friends can do that to you. Now, where did I leave off last time?”
“With the big scary skeleton thingy!”
“And the evil elf with claws!”
“Ah, the Citadel of the Eye. Now there’s a nasty place. Can’t throw a rock without hitting a Mithral Blade, and he’d teach you not to throw rocks right quick. Yes, our intrepid band of adventurers and their dashing and daring bardic accompaniment – ”
“And his loyal, patient brother.”
“ – and his loyal, patient brother had just rescued our damsel in distress, captured the evil weapon of mass destruction, located yet another piece in the legendary Amulet of the Gods, and barely escaped some intensely displeased local beholders. Not bad for a day’s work.
“But stealing items, casting offensive spells, and knocking down stone walls tends to cause a bit of a ruckus; the group decided they’d need to get out of the city as soon as possible. Their first stop, they decided, should be Saven, so the six left quickly and quietly through the South gates. Their luck held fast, and no one attempted to halt their hasty departure.
“It had been a long day, and once they’d gotten far enough from the city to be at least a little bit safe, Lugtee requested they stop for a rest. That sounded damn good to me, since those bloody wraiths had left me weak as a kitten. Oh, I could carry my equipment and all, and could probably have done a little swashbuckling if the need arose, but every few hundred yards I felt like I was gonna cough up a lung. Some of the others weren’t doing so hot either, so we all delighted when Lugtee moved a bit off the main road and conjured up a very familiar door.”
“Ooooh! Oooh! I know!”
“Yes, Lita?”
“It’s one of those thingies like the dark wizard had!”
“Good girl! A memory for tales is a fine thing; it will serve you well, child. Yes, indeed, this was another of those fancy cantrips wizards do when they decide they don’t want to sleep in wet blanket on the cold ground, and Bryle bless ‘em for it. After we followed him inside (making sure to bring the still unconscious Lady Quickwater), we were treated to a fantastic sight. A full mansion, complete with individual rooms, a fully stocked kitchen, and a veritable army of sharply dressed invisible manservants at our beck and call. Lugtee, looking positively ragged, promptly excused himself to his room.
“2 hours, a clean change of clothes, and a dinner fit for a king later, our gracious host rejoined the party, once again dressed in his fantastic red, blue, and green self. We examined our latest spoils, trying the amulets together to observe their effects. Remus informed us that he’d been in touch with our absent cleric Canthor but, fearing magical spies, had refrained from giving him specific directions.
“Lugtee asked to examine our sword, which we’d stuffed in the bag of holding for safe keeping. None of us were too keen on messing with the bloody thing much, but he insisted that he’d be very careful, and that in his “extradimensional” abode our enemies would have quite a time tracking the weapon down.
“With a couple of forceps from Star’s – ah – “toolkit,” we got the bloody thing out and into some thick blankets. Remus wondered how long the magical house would stay up, but the wizard assured us we had plenty of time. ‘You should get some sleep,’ he said. ‘It will take me some time to analyze this… thing.
“Sounded like a good idea to us. And oh, those were some comfy beds. I’ve never seen finer, be it in castle or tavern. Great, fluffy pillows, and fantastic quilts of a myriad of – ”
“You’re rambling again, papa! Get to the part where you kill something!”
“All right, all right. Kids these days; no respect for the finer points of living. So, our courageous crowd awoke, just in time for Remus to catch another message from Canthor. The cleric was a wee bit peeved, it seemed, as he had wanted our location so he could join us before we left. Remus gave him some more precise coordinates – if someone was listening, well, we didn’t intend to sit still long enough to find out – and assured him we weren’t just ‘vacationing in another plane.’
“At which point we were once again joined by Lugtee. He summed up his findings rather nicely: ‘This…’ he snarled, throwing the sword down on the table, ‘…is evil.’ He elaborated a bit more, of course; it seemed a sinister parody of the lost Summer Sword, designed to slay angels and kindly mortals alike. He suggested we destroy it, and although I had my doubts – in my experience, sinister mages of unequalled malice and power make their items do nasty things when they’re casually snapped in two – the others insisted that it needed to be obliterated immediately. Especially since, as Lugtee pointed out, part of the enchantment on the weapon meant it could be tracked by its creator, possibly even if it was destroyed.
“Remus lay the weapon, carefully of course, on top of the two immovable rods. Lugtee concentrated a moment, mumbling a few arcane syllables, and then loudly pronounced, ‘Now.’ With an impressive swing, the warrior split the weapon in two, as easily as if it’d been a hobgoblin’s kitchen knife.
“That done, we prepared to leave, but were greeted by a finally cognizant Quickwater. With some gentle questioning – the poor girl was still quite weak – we discerned that shortly after returning to Polary, she was jumped by several Clerics of Balanin, who took her to the dungeon we’d so recently escaped. Her stay, we gathered, was – ah – unpleasant; Clerics of the fire god have atrocious manners. Though her memory was understandably foggy, she did recall our new best friend’s mention of sending someone to the Eastern edge of the woods between Aenith and Trademeet. Something to do with a “Nimra” or “Manba” or some such. Unfortunately, based on when she was captured, the dark envoy had probably already had a good two weeks travel time to reach their destination.
“But there was still a way to beat them, Lugtee claimed, although it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant. First, of course, we’d have to pick up our cleric, who by this point had gotten himself very much lost in the woods. Lady Quickwater was tired of adventuring; she opted for a much deserved early retirement. As for us, we gathered outside the door to wait, and we didn’t have to hang around long; oblivious to the danger of our enemies from the Citadel discovering our position, Canthor called a huge column of flame to pinpoint his location.
“The damage was done, though, and we would be miles away before anyone came searching, so we rejoined the holy roller and bid our wizard take us elsewhere. As it turns out, he wasn’t kidding about the ‘unpleasant’ part – the plane of shadow makes quick travel easy, but it’s no place for a living thing, children, believe you me. I’m not going to go into the details – your mother is already after me for giving you nightmares with that little fairy-tale about Merion’s Ghost last month – but suffice to say, we were very happy to leave that accursed place behind several hours later.
“We didn’t know exactly where the clerics had been headed, so the closest Lugtee could bring us was the edge of the forest. A bit of walking determined exactly where the trees stopped, and we pulled back a little ways to rest the night. Unfortunately, during our brief trek, our arcane companion suddenly declared, ‘Oh,’ – ah – ‘shoot, I gotta go,’ and promptly winked out. He could at least have left us that delightful stick of extremely loud death and destruction he’d been so proud of, but what you gonna do.
“Come morning, however, myself, Remus, and Star’s odd undead-induced ailments hadn’t cleared up. A quick examination later, Canthor declared he could definitely patch us up. All he needed was 300 gold pieces worth of diamond dust.
“Well, guess who doesn’t, as a matter of course, carry diamond dust? Things worked out OK, though, thanks to a quick message to our old buddy Lor. He certainly wasn’t too pleased, but then again, I don’t recall that boy every being happy about much of anything that didn’t involve obliterating his enemies.
“So good ol’ Bryle-boy patched us up – hell, I actually felt even better than usual, like I was a hot-blooded youngster again – and we started to search the edge of the trees for whatever it was Armathon felt worthy of such a lengthy excursion for retrieval. Wasn’t long before we’d found an old, abandoned, moss-ridden ruin of a castle. In fact, as I recalled now that I saw it in person, it looked much like a story I’d though pure fancy about an old man named Rothrups who’d died without an heir, leaving his great palace to rot.”
“Fancy? You mean, one of your stories wasn’t true?”
“Ah, hold it, I didn’t say that, little Yon. Just – er – I though the story was too, well, fancy. Yes. Anyway, everyone’s favorite rogue made a quick sweep of the area, and he found some fairly recent footprints (the snow would have covered anything older) made by a bare-footed human. There was no sign of our mysterious man, though, so we continued up to the ancient house.
“The doorway had what was likely once quite elaborate stonework surrounding the entrance, although time and the weather had long since dulled its effect. And, written carefully around the doorframe in the ancient language of angels, was a message:
‘In the darkest times,
Against the demons ire,
Mortals and angels can rely on this protector.’
“The door wouldn’t budge an inch, so we figured magic was involved. Star climbed up to the roof, where he found some beautiful statues of angels and a completely open stairwell down. He threw us a rope, and once we’d all gotten to the roof, we proceeded down the stairwell. Or tried to, anyway; an invisible barrier, set horizontally across the path flush with the top step, barred our way. Remembering the earlier footprints, I tried the stairs without my shoes on, but I just ended up a stupid-looking, barefooted old bard standing in midair.
“So, it seemed we would have to solve the riddle. Once we’d all gotten back down, we started rattling off anything (in both common and celestial, thanks to yours truly) that sounded like it might protect against a demon’s anger. A while later – a long while later, I’m afraid to admit – Canthor finally hit upon the idea that, just maybe, we were supposed to replace the ‘this’ in the prompt. It wasn’t much time then until he remembered that Bryle, his relatively new deity of choice, was often described as the ‘divine protector.’ And the second he voiced his opinion aloud, the door popped open.
“The inside looked much like the outside. Run down and riddled with rat droppings and fungus, it reeked of age and neglect. Bandits had long since relieved the old house of anything too valuable, but I was eager to search the place anyway; the tale of old man Rothrup was widely known but incomplete. No one really knew how he spent his final days locked in his mansion, bereft of the son he needed so desperately.
“More immediate matters were at hand, though. We could hear the sound of water running, an odd occurrence in a place like this one, from the room to the right of the entrance. The doorway in that direction stood wide open, but yet another riddle awaited us in that same glowing scrawl:
‘Only those who wield the power for good may claim Namarra.’
“The truth hit both Canthor and myself like a giant’s club to the skull. Namarra! Of course! What else other than the legendary sword of Surial, the greatest cleric of Bryle in history, would be guarded by stony angels and their mellifluous script? All of us entered the room carefully, expecting further traps.
“Most of the area was taken up by a large pool of clear, blue water. In the center of the pool stood a fountain shaped like a giant angel, and the water we’d heard falling earlier was flowing out from her hand. In front of her, hovering silently a few inches above the surface of the water, was a long, ornately crafted blade. It glowed slightly purple in the dim light of the room.
“The cleric, stunned by the proximity of a weapon known only in story, closed his eyes and felt for any magic in the room. He reeled almost instantly, falling to his knees with tears streaming down his face. Staring with disbelief, he regarded the pool in openmouthed awe.
“All of which got us nowhere, of course. As I could get no response from the god-groupie, I decided to go get the bloody thing myself. I didn’t get far, though; there was another of those blasted magical barriers a few feet from the water’s edge. Some quick legwork revealed it extended around all four sides of the water, so we weren’t going anywhere unless we figured out how to get through.
“By this time, the cleric had composed himself somewhat, but was still kneeling in prayer near the entrance. I didn’t like the idea of hanging out in this creepy room for too long, to tell the truth, and besides, there was a castle to be exploring. So I tried to get some sort of response out of ‘im, but before I’d said more than a few words, our resident sword monkey decided he’d rather clamp his hand over my mouth than try to get Canthor in gear. And since I wasn’t getting any help from a certain Successor…”
“I was enjoying the silence.”
“Yeah, go fu – Um, that wasn’t very nice of your uncle Yeric. Anyway, he eventually came to his senses and, with a few more of what looked like particularly fervent prayers, pushed through the barrier and stepped into the water. As he took the sword, a soft but omnipresent female voice spoke in common: ‘Namarra is now entrusted to you.’ I got a quick look at the blade later on, and it was engraved with ‘Namarra’ on one side and ‘Never Sleeps’ on the other. A nice little item, that.
“So, finally, we got around to exploring the castle. Which wasn’t much to write home about, to tell the truth. A few moldy carpets and some broken chairs, yee-hah. Star ran up to the roof – the barrier from before had disappeared, along with all the celestial writing in the house – while we waited in the main room. A quick glance out the front arrow-slits revealed no one was waiting for us outside.
“Which meant, most likely, we’d beaten them there. Not all that hard to believe, thanks to Lugtee’s shadow trick. But if we were going to stay here, or even if we just wanted to annoy our enemies, I had the perfect plan: write on the outside stonework, in celestial, a dire warning about what would happen to anyone who entered the castle without the proper, difficult-to-perform rituals. I rushed to complete it before Star returned, delighted by my, as always, supreme intellect.
“Remus blocked my path. He refused to let me outside – even though we could plainly see no one was waiting within at least 100 yards – and demanded to know what my plan was. Now, kids, your father isn’t one to keep a great plan to himself. But he’s also not about to let someone half his age tell him, right to his face, what he can’t do.”
“Well, he was the party leader, Tarmus.”
“Exactly; the party leader. He gave orders to that unlucky lot who’d been summoned in Mydrana, and Star seemed to go along with his plans to a certain extent. But I agree to no rule but my own, and I would be damned if I was going to back down, especially after his rough treatment earlier. The big lug shook off a quick spell, so I asked Yeric, who is quite a bit faster than this humble bard, to open the door for me, which he was kind enough to attempt.”
“I never agreed to do what he said, either. I just think you should have talked a bit more.”
“Yes, well, there’s a time for talk, and there’s a time for action. As the thug roughhoused your brave uncle, I strolled right out the front door. Yeric soon followed, and we slammed it behind us, seeing as how they were so scared of enemies.
“I think we smelled them before we saw them. Purple, shambling, hideous things that belong in a crypt, not a forest: ghasts. They weren’t exactly moving quickly, and were still far enough off for us to depart, so I turned both myself and Yeric invisible as we retreated around the side of the structure and into the forest. They could handle a few rotting purple guys themselves, and my trick wasn’t going to do much against the undead; besides, I’d had enough of being manhandled. But, my brother here didn’t think it was right to abandon them like that.”
“We couldn’t just high-tail it, after all y’all had done together. C’mon, you’re a bard, man, how could you exit before you heard the end of the story?”
“Yeah, yeah, I would have come to my senses eventually. Anyway, the group found us arguing about it few minutes later. Apparently, there had been one of those eyeball thingies there too, which I’m still sad I missed. I’ve always wanted to see a living beholder. I had a brief but enlightening discussion with Remus, and he agreed to a hands-off policy. I also disabused him of the idea that I was just another lackey in his parade; as I said before, I take commands from no man. He wanted the amulet piece back, which was fine by me. Amulet of the Gods my ass; it made my voice a bit lower and got rid of some of the gray in my hair. It takes a god to do that?
“Anyway, now that we had the sword, we had to decide what to do next. We were a bit worried about Lugtee, but we had no leads on where he’d gotten to, and there probably wasn’t much we could do to help if the wizard himself wasn’t powerful enough to deal with it. Canthor wanted us to assist in repelling a growing army of undead recently on the move, but between the increasingly severe winter and the fact that they’d only attacked orcs so far, the party decided they could wait. Of the most immediate interest, we decided, was showing the sword to Olin in Aenith. After all, Surial did found their order; he might have some vested interest.”
“The trip to Aenith was slow going, as the snowfall rose to nearly two inches. Normally, the area would be dangerous, but luck was with us: our trip was entirely uneventful. Once there, Canthor met with Olin a brief while, and quickly retreated to the library, while yours truly headed for the nearest tavern.
“And speaking of taverns, I’m out of ale, so this is where this story ends. I think I heard your mother calling you two, anyway.”
“Awwwww, c’mon, papa. There was only some ghasts and a beholder, and you weren’t even there for the fight! Tell us a story with some real monsters an’ stuff!”
“Heh. Hear that, Yeric? They want monsters. Well, do your chores, kids, and bring me another mug of ale, and I might be persuaded to continue. And believe me… You won’t believe what happens next.”
.
