James McMurray
First Post
OOPS!
I forgot all about the ends of those other battles. I'll have to dig out the logs and finish them up.
I forgot all about the ends of those other battles. I'll have to dig out the logs and finish them up.
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Return to the Tomb of Horrors finally gets a Story Hour!
- Thread starter James McMurray
- Start date
James McMurray
First Post
Charater Stats
I know that Billy and William are a bit behind (Billy is 17th level and William is 18th now).
Amastacia - Her update is coming soon. She is tending tot he people freed from the tome, and has managed to meet someone quite unexpected.
Galrond Glorykin
Gundarag - Amastacia's husband and the father of her unborn child.
Kargur Melasur He has suffered the worst privations from the City and the Tomb, as shown by his gear list being so small.
Lanis - Kargur's faithful friend.
Lo'ser - Recently seen being pulled into the Tome, the group desperately want to find him (or at least the Circlet of True Seeing that he wore).
Mhyst - Recently freed from the Tome, he waits for Amastacia's return so that he can get to know the woman who was once the child he refused to kill.
Oskar - Dwarven Defender and fellow seeker for Glory.
Teflon Billy - No longer traveling under the Pseudonym Protekote Joey, Billy has recently lost and reacquired his Wizardly powers. He now owes the mysterious being known as Raffi a(nother) favor, and has not stopped feeling a tiny bit of dread in the back of his mind since the destruction of the Tome.
William Siege - Priest of Heironious, and Teflon Billy's role model.
I don't have the stats for Fokurt Deathdodger Stonegut right now, but maybe his player will be kind enough to post them?
I know that Billy and William are a bit behind (Billy is 17th level and William is 18th now).
Amastacia - Her update is coming soon. She is tending tot he people freed from the tome, and has managed to meet someone quite unexpected.
Galrond Glorykin
Gundarag - Amastacia's husband and the father of her unborn child.
Kargur Melasur He has suffered the worst privations from the City and the Tomb, as shown by his gear list being so small.
Lanis - Kargur's faithful friend.
Lo'ser - Recently seen being pulled into the Tome, the group desperately want to find him (or at least the Circlet of True Seeing that he wore).
Mhyst - Recently freed from the Tome, he waits for Amastacia's return so that he can get to know the woman who was once the child he refused to kill.
Oskar - Dwarven Defender and fellow seeker for Glory.
Teflon Billy - No longer traveling under the Pseudonym Protekote Joey, Billy has recently lost and reacquired his Wizardly powers. He now owes the mysterious being known as Raffi a(nother) favor, and has not stopped feeling a tiny bit of dread in the back of his mind since the destruction of the Tome.
William Siege - Priest of Heironious, and Teflon Billy's role model.
I don't have the stats for Fokurt Deathdodger Stonegut right now, but maybe his player will be kind enough to post them?
James McMurray
First Post
"Only 32 point buy?" I hope that was sarcasm. 32 points is quite high by the DMG standards, which consider 28 to be high powered (I think). Besides, who says they're stuck? They could always just let Acererak become one with the negative plane and capable of transferring his essence to any undead anywhere. Heck, he might not even start his rampaging with the prime material.
At the higher levels it hasn't really shown itself as much, but when the party was young, those stats were incredible. With 32 point buy you can easily get:
All-in-all I'd have to say I would welcome a chance to play in a 32 point game. In any case, I much prefer pont buy to rolling, as I've got a better chance of being able to make any character I can envision.
Mr. Binx, The only reason the other character sheets are so colorful is because I cheated. PCGen comes with all sorts of nice templates that you can export to.
At the higher levels it hasn't really shown itself as much, but when the party was young, those stats were incredible. With 32 point buy you can easily get:
- 10,12,12,12,12,17 (can easily bump to 18 at 4th level)
- 10,10,12,12,12,18 (start with an 18, but don't get a true increase until 8th, after a stat has gotten two bump)
- 8,10,10,15,16,16 (you can be a good monk without having to get lucky and roll a lot of great stats)
All-in-all I'd have to say I would welcome a chance to play in a 32 point game. In any case, I much prefer pont buy to rolling, as I've got a better chance of being able to make any character I can envision.
Mr. Binx, The only reason the other character sheets are so colorful is because I cheated.
PCGen comes with all sorts of nice templates that you can export to.
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Ain't yer ever noticed how much low stats tend ta favor magic characters? A spell slinger with one good stat can wreak untold devastation with the "save or die" spells. An up close character tends ta need about three decent stats or they end up bein' window dressin' or door stops fer the spell slingers.
*shrug*
Anyhows, keep it comin'.
-Immort
*shrug*
Anyhows, keep it comin'.
-Immort
James McMurray
First Post
Low stats may favor spellcasters (although I still think that a smart spellcaster is going to want at least three decent stats) but I don't agree that 32 point buy is low. I don't know what the average is on 4d6 drop the lowest, but I'd be willing to bet that it is under or near the level of stats attainable by 32 point buy. Heck, I was worried that 32 points would be too much when I started the campaign.
Mr.Binx
First Post
IMO those who whine over non-examplary stats are crack whores. In real life you have to make due with what you are given. If you see above average stats that are less than exemplary as a problem then you are only adding obstacles to your path. The challenge is part of the fun of this game. Quit your whining and have fun with what ya' got.
On a side note: I actually thought Fokurt's stats came out pretty kick-ass..
On a side note: I actually thought Fokurt's stats came out pretty kick-ass..
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James McMurray
First Post
The party gathered themselves up after leaving the Shi'ar Pool and headed to the next tower. Above the door is a strangely familiar emblem: a humanoid figure wrapped in cloth around which two snakes entwine. Sending the scout on ahead, they follow closely behind, and are there in time to take down two Moilian Undead before much damage is caused. The by-now standard tactic of "bash them into submission and then have the cleric Mace of Disruption them" gains the party a few more minor magic items and some coins.
Traveling further inward, Fokurt enters into a room where a beautiful young woman sits in the floor sobbing. all around her the room is in total disarray. The solid metal hospital bed is bent and mangled, the armoire and nightstand shattered, and papers litter the floor. As Fokurt enters, Cyndia looks up, "Hello?" she says in a confused voice, still wracked with sobs.
Fokurt replies in kind, and asks who she is. "I am Cyndia, a Medron Magen. Are you injured?"
Through discussion, the party finds out that Cyndia is a construct, that this was previously the Tower of Health where Moilian citizens went to recover from injury and excess, and that Dr. Tarr may be able to remove the Mask from Fokurt.
"Come this way please. Dr. Tarr will be more than happy to see to your troubles, but first we must get you scanned." Further talk lets the party know that scanning will give a more complete diagnosis and that Dr. Tarr can then use that information to remove the Mask.
As the group enters the Deep View Chamber, Cyndia points to the massive metal cylinder in the center. Its Lead door is hanging from broken hinges, and the crystals above the door are cracked and flickering with a sickly light. This does not deter Fokurt though, and he climbs in. The door clangs several times as it tries to close, and then the outer screen lights up with a line drawing of Fokurt. A few small red splotches are visible on his body, and a large green aura surrounds the head area. Moments later a muffled cry is heard from inside, and the entire drawing lights in red. "This patient has suffered severe crushing damage and requires immediate medical attention." says a disembodied female voice in an uncaring, soothing tone.
"Oh dear! We must get him to medical attention soon!" Cyndia exclaims. She opens the huge metal door (which was only half closed) and easily pulls the dwarf out of the chamber. Cradling him in her petite arms she carries him out of the room. The party follows, somewhat amused and curious.
Up the stairs they go, and then find themselves in a massive operating theatre. All around are hospital beds in neat rows, each one perfectly made. From the ceiling drops an almost arachnid figure who introduces himself as Dr. Tarr. "What seems to be the trouble?" His upper body is humanoid, but the lower half is completely mechanical. Dangling from the round base is a large assortment of medical instruments: scalpels, syringes, and even a couple of bone saws.
Cyndia explains about the mishap with the Deep View chamber and the party explains about the mask (which looks on amused the entire time. Dr. Tarr insists that he be allowed to work on Fokurt to remedy his injuries and remove the mask.
Fokurt does not want to, but the rest of the party talk him into it. They seem completely uncaring as to whether he lives or dies, and insist on taking back the majority of the gear they gave him before they allow Dr. Tarr to start. They do agree to raise him if something terribly wrong happens.
The good Dr. lies Fokurt gently on a table and prepares to go to work. Moments after his body hits the table, Fokurt feels several tiny piercings below him, and the injected Moilian soporifics put him under rapidly. As one of his saw blades starts up Oskar asks what it is for. "To remove the Mask of course," replies Dr. Tarr. He then moves towards Fokurt, but an invisible force pushes him back as his blade nears Fokurt's face.
Dr. Tarr stops for a moment, thinking, then tries to move forward again. This time he seems to be steadily pushing against an unseen force, and his saw begin to cut around Fokurt's facial area.
William looks on, and his Eyes of Doom's Deathwatch ability shows him that Fokurt is very nearly dead, and he casts Mass Heal to fix him completely. The doctor rises back up on his mechanical base and looks around bemused. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the chamber. Surgery is delicate business and I can’t work properly with all of the distractions."
Cyndia begins to usher the group towards the door, but they resist. "He was almost dead." William says.
Dr. Tarr explains to them that of course he was almost dead. Surgery is a delicate matter and requires extreme balance to maintain the subject's life force. The Moilian science in the tables will do that, but if a distraction causes him to make a misstep, the patient could be lost.
The group decides to allow the Doctor to work, and head to the waiting room. Over an hour passes and the group begins to get impatient. William, knowing he will be able to see the stats of Fokurt moves back to the door and opens it. He sees Fokurt propped up on the table, with his chest spread wide, the skin held back from the rib cage with prongs. Fokurt's head is shaved in ragged patches, and the Doctor is digging around in his chest with various surgical instruments.
Cyndia sees him and rushes towards the door to close it again. "Please, sir. There can be no distractions at this delicate stage of the operation."
William asks how it is going and if the Mask has been removed, to which Cyndia replies, "the Mask is still there, but we have removed several other malignant growths. The good doctor is now going to attempt to reach the mask from behind."
"Would it be too much to ask if we could get a lock of his hair for sentimental reason?" William asks, hoping to be able to resurrect Fokurt if things go terribly wrong. Cyndia agrees and returns moments later with a small patch of skin which is covered in ragged hair.
The group goes back to waiting, and after another hour they again try to open the door, which is locked this time. Billy casts knock and the door opens. William sees that Fokurt is still alive and the mask is still on him. Cyndia rushes back out and explains that this is a delicate operation and could take quite a while. The group tells her to please let them know when the Doctor is done with him and she agrees. Galrond calls forth the entryway to Heironious' guest house, and the group piles in to rest up while they wait.
------------
I took the battle logs to work yesterday and didn't have time to write them up. Now I'm at home and don't have them. I will finish them up when I've got time, but for now suffice it to say that the Titan won, in a battle that spanned several Mountain tops. All of the battles with celestials in them were won by the celestials once the reinforcementts arrived.
Traveling further inward, Fokurt enters into a room where a beautiful young woman sits in the floor sobbing. all around her the room is in total disarray. The solid metal hospital bed is bent and mangled, the armoire and nightstand shattered, and papers litter the floor. As Fokurt enters, Cyndia looks up, "Hello?" she says in a confused voice, still wracked with sobs.
Fokurt replies in kind, and asks who she is. "I am Cyndia, a Medron Magen. Are you injured?"
Through discussion, the party finds out that Cyndia is a construct, that this was previously the Tower of Health where Moilian citizens went to recover from injury and excess, and that Dr. Tarr may be able to remove the Mask from Fokurt.
"Come this way please. Dr. Tarr will be more than happy to see to your troubles, but first we must get you scanned." Further talk lets the party know that scanning will give a more complete diagnosis and that Dr. Tarr can then use that information to remove the Mask.
As the group enters the Deep View Chamber, Cyndia points to the massive metal cylinder in the center. Its Lead door is hanging from broken hinges, and the crystals above the door are cracked and flickering with a sickly light. This does not deter Fokurt though, and he climbs in. The door clangs several times as it tries to close, and then the outer screen lights up with a line drawing of Fokurt. A few small red splotches are visible on his body, and a large green aura surrounds the head area. Moments later a muffled cry is heard from inside, and the entire drawing lights in red. "This patient has suffered severe crushing damage and requires immediate medical attention." says a disembodied female voice in an uncaring, soothing tone.
"Oh dear! We must get him to medical attention soon!" Cyndia exclaims. She opens the huge metal door (which was only half closed) and easily pulls the dwarf out of the chamber. Cradling him in her petite arms she carries him out of the room. The party follows, somewhat amused and curious.
Up the stairs they go, and then find themselves in a massive operating theatre. All around are hospital beds in neat rows, each one perfectly made. From the ceiling drops an almost arachnid figure who introduces himself as Dr. Tarr. "What seems to be the trouble?" His upper body is humanoid, but the lower half is completely mechanical. Dangling from the round base is a large assortment of medical instruments: scalpels, syringes, and even a couple of bone saws.
Cyndia explains about the mishap with the Deep View chamber and the party explains about the mask (which looks on amused the entire time. Dr. Tarr insists that he be allowed to work on Fokurt to remedy his injuries and remove the mask.
Fokurt does not want to, but the rest of the party talk him into it. They seem completely uncaring as to whether he lives or dies, and insist on taking back the majority of the gear they gave him before they allow Dr. Tarr to start. They do agree to raise him if something terribly wrong happens.
The good Dr. lies Fokurt gently on a table and prepares to go to work. Moments after his body hits the table, Fokurt feels several tiny piercings below him, and the injected Moilian soporifics put him under rapidly. As one of his saw blades starts up Oskar asks what it is for. "To remove the Mask of course," replies Dr. Tarr. He then moves towards Fokurt, but an invisible force pushes him back as his blade nears Fokurt's face.
Dr. Tarr stops for a moment, thinking, then tries to move forward again. This time he seems to be steadily pushing against an unseen force, and his saw begin to cut around Fokurt's facial area.
William looks on, and his Eyes of Doom's Deathwatch ability shows him that Fokurt is very nearly dead, and he casts Mass Heal to fix him completely. The doctor rises back up on his mechanical base and looks around bemused. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the chamber. Surgery is delicate business and I can’t work properly with all of the distractions."
Cyndia begins to usher the group towards the door, but they resist. "He was almost dead." William says.
Dr. Tarr explains to them that of course he was almost dead. Surgery is a delicate matter and requires extreme balance to maintain the subject's life force. The Moilian science in the tables will do that, but if a distraction causes him to make a misstep, the patient could be lost.
The group decides to allow the Doctor to work, and head to the waiting room. Over an hour passes and the group begins to get impatient. William, knowing he will be able to see the stats of Fokurt moves back to the door and opens it. He sees Fokurt propped up on the table, with his chest spread wide, the skin held back from the rib cage with prongs. Fokurt's head is shaved in ragged patches, and the Doctor is digging around in his chest with various surgical instruments.
Cyndia sees him and rushes towards the door to close it again. "Please, sir. There can be no distractions at this delicate stage of the operation."
William asks how it is going and if the Mask has been removed, to which Cyndia replies, "the Mask is still there, but we have removed several other malignant growths. The good doctor is now going to attempt to reach the mask from behind."
"Would it be too much to ask if we could get a lock of his hair for sentimental reason?" William asks, hoping to be able to resurrect Fokurt if things go terribly wrong. Cyndia agrees and returns moments later with a small patch of skin which is covered in ragged hair.
The group goes back to waiting, and after another hour they again try to open the door, which is locked this time. Billy casts knock and the door opens. William sees that Fokurt is still alive and the mask is still on him. Cyndia rushes back out and explains that this is a delicate operation and could take quite a while. The group tells her to please let them know when the Doctor is done with him and she agrees. Galrond calls forth the entryway to Heironious' guest house, and the group piles in to rest up while they wait.
------------
I took the battle logs to work yesterday and didn't have time to write them up. Now I'm at home and don't have them. I will finish them up when I've got time, but for now suffice it to say that the Titan won, in a battle that spanned several Mountain tops. All of the battles with celestials in them were won by the celestials once the reinforcementts arrived.
James McMurray
First Post
Meanwhile, to the East, a host of angelic figures harries and finally destroys a few fleeing devils. As the last battle ends, the silence is deafening. Then a voice rings out, “The first one’s free!”
Looking towards the sound, Amastacia sees a ramshackle stand set up. Across the top signpost in several languages is the word “Refreshments”. Behind the counter are three gnomes. They take turns climbing on each others’ shoulders to reach the counter, and begin distributing drinks to anyone who will come near enough. An unfamiliar figure breaks away from the party’s area and heads that way.
The party goes to ask Amastacia if she will Scry for Lo’ser (or William’s Circlet) when she gets a chance. The party then heads back to town, where they say they will be raising the dead and doing some shopping.
Amastacia turns her attention to the task at hand, and begins to gather people to herself. The vast majority of the beings dropped here that still remain are human, dwarven, elven, halfling, or gnomish. However, here and there she spies a kobold or two heading for the
hills, as well as Orcs, Trolls, and a couple of creatures whose type she is unsure of. These last appear to be Humanoid Snakes, but they aren’t like any Lizard men she has ever seen. The majority of the non-demi-humans disappear over the hills in the distance rather rapidly, although 4 kobolds and an orc stay behind.
Casting about for something elevated to stand on, she spies a massive dragon corpse not too far away. Feeling it will be dramatic enough, Amastacia gets Gundarag’s help and climbs atop the beast’s head. Its glazed over dead eyes stare out at the people who turn to listen to her speech.
"My good people. If you seek refuge inside the safety of the nearby city, then please come with us. We have come to assist you in whatever needs you have by whatever means we have possible. There is food, shelter, good drink and good people where I am going. Also, we have access to temples of various deities and I am certain they would be happy to assist you too. Please, let us begin talking to see how best to get back to the city. If we have to walk, it will take about a week. Shall we see who does not speak Common, then? Those who can understand me, please raise your hands.”
Although she has to repeat herself several times in order to get the attention of many of the farthest people, her powerful voice and commanding presence soon grabs the attention of the vast majority of the people assembled. The throng of people begins to quiet down, and what few interruptions there are (“WHO ARE YOU???”, “WHERE ARE WE???”, “WHEN ARE WE???”) get rapidly squelched by the people who want to know where and when they are.
Once the crowd is assembled, she asks for a show of hands one final time. It seems the vast majority of the 1,000 or so people assembled do indeed speak common. This includes two of the Kobolds. They have managed to keep their places on the outskirts of the group, although several times they are the target of hurled epithets (or rocks). When this happens they rapidly move away from that group, but always stay close enough to hear.
The lone Orc also shows a bit of interest in coming along, although he does not raise his hand when the question of language is posed. He does keep to the outskirts of the group though, and his firm and strong appearance stifle any thoughts of attacking him by the assemblage.
"I understand you have many questions. First, you are about 50 miles West of Lopolla. In case you don't know, you have been freed from the book formerly owned by Conrad. You are, indeed, free as far as I know. That should be good news. I don't know where Conrad is, if he's dead, alive or what. My fellow-adventurers would better be able to tell you details about him, but they have gone back to town already to get their dead raised. The year is 615. You are in the land of Ket. If you see someone who did not raise their hand and you think you speak their language, please try to help them understand what is going on here. If we can't find enough spell casters to teleport our crowd, then we'll simply have to start our pilgrimage, relying on our magic and hunting skills to provide what is needed."
"I don't mean to begin asking things of you, for I know you've been through a great deal. But if we can just work together until we get into the city where we have more resources, things will go much more smoothly. I will allow anyone to travel with us, as long as they do not harm or rob us. The moment violence, thievery or any other menacing behavior or activity is witnessed, there could be swift justice. So, please, let's not take advantage of each other's hospitality and trust." So, please report to the charioteers if you have some way of teleporting us back to the city or another idea that would expedite our travel. She looks towards the kobolds to see how they react to this message, and she faces the others with bravery in her choice.
The people look around at each other then back to Amastacia. Apparently if any of the book's captives could teleport, they have already done so. The kobolds are looking towards her with curiosity in their eyes. It is a bit of a shock to see that a non-kobold would have pity for them. One of them begins to step forward, then seems to think twice about it and fades back again.
The orc appears a bit surprised when Amastacia approaches him and greets him in Orcish. He replies in perfect common, "I am Gormash. How do I reach the Lortmil Mountains from here?" The name strikes a chord in Amastacia and after a moment she recognizes it: he is the ruler of Gundabad, the orc who has been behind the war with the humans and the orcs. It is because of his troops that the Duchy of Ulek is unable to fight off the encroaching undead.
"So I finally meet the Great Gormash face-to-face. This is a day I will not forget." She pauses, a mixture of respect and curiosity on her face. "Perhaps it is fated we should meet here, for I have longed to speak to you face-to-face, but thought it would never happen." Gundarag has remained in between them the entire time, but she steps from behind him and steps just one step closer to Gormash. "This is my husband, Gundarag." There is more protocol than politeness in her introduction. She's not expecting handshakes and warm hugs by any means. "You owe me no explanation, this is for certain, but I wanted to hear from your lips why you make war on the Duchy of Ulek. I have my own assumptions, but surly there is more reason for this than to take the land." Again she pauses and looks him over from head to toe. "There is a part of me that thinks ending your life this day would be a turning point in the war. Your dead body would be just the rallying cry needed for that land. But, Mr. Gormash, I don't operate that way." She looks him in the eyes, searching for a sign of “humanity.”
"It is quite obvious that you have me out manned and out maneuvered. But do not think that I would fall so easily." As he speaks, his sword leaps into his hand, almost as if it has a life of its own. His cloak whirls around in a brisk wind that is not there, and the many tattoos on his arms and head begin to glow with an unearthly yellow light. Moments later, before Gundarag can leap to Amastacia's defense, the spectacle dies back down. "I too do not need to operate that way." Amastacia sees in his eyes that he is a creature of honor.
"My people war upon the Duchy of Ulek and the Gran March because that is what they wanted. For several years we had between us a treaty. There was even a measure of respect between our nations. We traded our masterful weaponry for your agriculture and livestock. That all changed once his 'Illustrious Majesty' Duke Magnus Vrianian decided that we had grown too strong." The name of the party's patron is spoken with utter disdain, and followed by black spit from Gormash's mouth which spatters the ground at his feet.
"Under my leadership the Urek Hai grew strong. We delved deep into the depths of ancient Gundabad, and made its secrets our own. Our women were trained in the ways of magic, and breeding programs instigated which brought the inner strength of the orcish men to the fore. This worried the Duke."
"He struck in treachery, killing Torok, my diplomat, in his sleep. He then proceeded to blame the prvations of petty bandits upon my people, using it as an excuse for war. He now sees the folly of that ploy." Gormash's pride at his peoples' strength is plain to see, and though he is obviously outnumbered, there is no fear at all in his demeanor.
"Perhaps he felt that the deal I had struck with Conrad would stay my people. For you see, in exchange for peace with humanity, Conrad sped my peoples' growth. We accomplished in a mere 3 breeding cycles what would have taken 20 to achieve."
"Vrianian did not count upon my love for my people, and the inevitability of the future. The deal that was struck concerned only me. And I gladly gave my soul to the tome so that my people could defend themselves freely."
"So come then. Take the body that will become your peoples' worst nightmare. But know that I die happily, for it was I, Gormash the outcast, who gave new birth to my clan."
Amastacia becomes frustrated at the news, for it is not at all what she expected. "Gormash, I have no way of proving what you say is true or is not true, but in my heart, I do not doubt you, for I know the greediness of each race. I have learned from you this day, and for that, I am humbled. But many men, Orcish and human, are losing their lives as we speak. Is there nothing that would bring an end to this needless destruction sooner? We both know the perils of war--most often those who control the war are never the ones who fight for or die in that cause. Right now, I have men and women who are wanting to go and fight the undead that are also attacking in that region. But I am torn. I am a peace-bearing woman who lives among war-making men. Is there no wisdom in the way of peace?" She looks kind of sad and defeated, knowing the answer in her heart is not how most creatures feel.
Gormash seems reassured that she believes him, but it is obvious from his deportment that he would not have been upset if she had not. “My people are strong. Those that fight in this war do so because they choose to. Those that die know why they do so. Perhaps there can be an end to the slaughter. All that is necessary is to have Magnus Vrianian admit his treachery, and submit himself to me for punishment. The diplomats will want other things, they always do. But that alone will satisfy my people and me. Any other offers will be accepted, but only the truth will free your kind from their impending doom.
“Now then, I believe you were about to direct me back to my homeland? If I recall correctly, Ket is a great distance from the Southern Lortmils. Perhaps you would not mind if I were to travel with you to Lopolla, where I can surely find a faster means of transport?”
"Yes, you are far away from your home." she agreed. "May I please ask you one more thing? Would you allow me to go to Magnus Vrianian and begin speaking with him about what you have told me would bring peace between our people? And if he were agreeable to it, would you also receive me in the future, for perhaps more talks that would benefit both of our people? It will take time, but when you hear of Amastacia the Bard, please at least think of speaking with me." She smiled, stepped up to him and held out her hand in a gesture to shake his hand. Gundarag bristled, but did not draw his weapon (yet). Gormash did not accept the hand, but neither did his demeanor spurn it. It seems obvious that he understand the human convention of handshakes but does not follow it himself.
Amastacia moves away and talks to the two kobolds she had seen. She finds out that they are lost from Dragon Mountain and will most likely return to Lopolla with the huge group of people. They acted very strong willed and brave though, and so she did not offer many helpful niceties, even though she wanted to.
Amastacia and the kobolds finish their talk, and she heads back to check on the progress. The charioteers tell her it will be at least an hour or two before the group can get it together enough to know what kinds of resources they have available.
Given that, she decides to take the time to scry for the circlet as requested by the rest of the party. Pulling out her paints, she begins to create a scene in the air. A small group of people gather to watch as it slowly comes to life. Only one person makes it through the hour long ritual required to create the scrying sensor though, and he sits by patiently watching.
As the scene takes shape, Amastacia sees the circlet on the head of an old man. The man seems is standing I along line of people, going where she cannot see. Looking for a minute, she is about to give up on guessing the man's location when she sees a familiar figure in the background. One of the children freed from the book is sneaking up to a person three people back in the line and snatching his coin purse.
Amastacia calls four of her people to her to see what she sees. She asks them to bring the old man and the boy to her. She gives them explicit commands to not be rude, man-handle, or threaten them in any way.
Her people do not arrive in time to see the boy stealing the coin purse, he has already rejoined the crowd. They set out, and about 15 minutes later bring the older man and the young boy to her. The old man looks Amastacia up and down and say, "Hello young lady, what may I do for you?" The boy just sits back, looking slightly pensive, but also curious.
She looks at the old man with kindness, "My good sir, it seems you have something on your head that looks like something I've been looking for. May I ask where you it so that I may get one as well?"
"Of course you may my dear. Anyone as pretty as you can ask an old fool like me any questions she wants to. I got it right here on the battlefield. It was a spoil of war, taken from a fallen foe."
She smiled kindly at him. "I'm Amastacia by the way. What did you say your name was again? What brings you to this battlefield?" Looking over the circlet he wears, she is quite certain that it is indeed William’s Circlet. The many tiny fists and lightning bolts are a dead giveaway.
"My name is Nathaniel Delacroix. I was ensnared by the machinations of Conrad Adar in Greyhawk City in the year 611. Apparently you and your friends have managed to free those of us trapped by the devil, so in a manner of speaking I could say you bring me here."
"Well, Mr. Delacroix, I'm glad to meet you." She shakes his hand. "And that half-orc not ever far from me is my husband, Gundarag. Should you need anything, you tell either one of us and we'll see what we can do about it. Now, this 'thing' on your head--do you have any idea what it does?"
"Well, the little bugger that came at me was wearing it (he'd just pulled it off someone he'd killed). After I fought him off, at no small loss to myself, I took it off of him and put it on." As he is talking, he draws back his cloak to show Amastacia his dagger at his side, and moves his arm up to show a couple of nasty claw marks, which are still bleeding a bit. "I suppose I could certainly stand to have this arm fixed."
As Amastacia heals his arm he continues. "As soon as I put it on, these old eyes started to work better than they have in ages. I've seen things clearer than I have since I was a small boy. It also seems that I can peer into men's souls, which is why I know that you are such a good person, and that your husband has a deep well of danger that he keeps constantly in check. He's a good man though. I reckon I'll have to assume that it enhances a person's senses." This last is said with a chuckle, since that is quite obviously what it does.
Mr. Delacroix continues, "I also seem to be a bit more knowledgeable about matters of religion than I used to be. Time was I couldn't tell a Pelor symbol from a Gruumsh symbol, much less even knew who Gruumsh was. But now I can rattle off the names and general tenets of every deity you've got tied around your neck there. I'm going to have to assume that whatever Priest of Heironious created this trinket he also instilled a bit of his own religious knowledge in it."
"You are very correct. I do not care one way or the other as to what you do with what you have rightfully found. But, you seem the kind of man that likes to be fair and have all the facts, so you should know that I believe this is a lost item of one of my fallen comrades. He is a cleric of Heironious and very dedicated to his work. He's an honest man, and fair like you. They have taken him into town to get raised, for he died fighting the good fight. They asked me to search for his lost item before they left. And I can vouch for him--I've seen him wear this item and his looks just like this one, so I believe it to be the one he lost. But, like I said, they didn't ask for me to return it to them, just to look for it. If they ask me, I'll tell them you have it. What you all decide to do from there is up to the two parties involved. But until then, won't you stay with me and be my personal guest once we get to town? I'm sure you have lots of things to share. I've never been trapped in a book--what was that like?" But then Amastacia realizes, before she gets lost in a chatty conversation with this stranger that she must tend to the boy.
The man graciously accepts her offer, and seems about to start talking when Amastacia excuses herself and turns to the boy.
She bends down on one knee to get to his level. "And what is your name?"
"M'name's Jason. Who'r you?" The boy's tone is an odd mix of trepidation, curiosity, and defiance. Its obvious he knows he was seen but that he'll most likely deny it until the end.
"Jason, I am Amastacia. Do you not have any family here with you?" She keeps a hold of the old man's arm, so he does not think she isn't interested in his story too.
"What's a family?" It is plain from his tone that Jason knows what a family is and is only being sarcastic. "I ain't never had a family with me, why would there be one here? There was just a man, and we talked, and then he spoke with an angel. Then there was a lifetime in the book. Please do not mistake me for a child, dear, I have lived several lifetimes in torment, and am far older than I appear to be."
His demeanor indicates he is telling the truth, but it is also fairly certain that although he may be old, he has not lived the full breadth of life required to grant maturity and is rather an old soul with a young mind and a young body.
She straightens "Oh, I'm sorry" she exclaims innocently. "You look younger than you are. I'm sure you get that all the time then." There is a pause. "Well, then I won't sugar-coat this." Her voice kind of lowers so only she and he can hear "Just believe me when I tell you that I saw you take a coin purse from a fellow traveler here just moments ago. You know what I said earlier about people being allowed to travel with us as long as they are doing no harm to fellow travelers? What was your cause for taking the money?"
"Actually, I don't get that all the time. Ya may not have noticed, but I just busted outta a book of pain. Weren't much talking in there. S'okay though, I don't mind too much. Figger I oughta get usedta it. Least 'til I can find someone to give me a body commensurate with my experiences. As fer the coins, yeah, I took 'em. So what? The man I took 'em from had just took 'em from another guy."
Nathaniel clears his throat and speaks up. "The boy, umm... the man... Anyway... He's telling the truth. I saw it happen."
Amastacia rolls her eyes at the big, fine mess she's trying to govern. "Good grief! Does that make it right then?!?!" Then she decides to cut them all a break, because, like he said, they'd just been freed from a book of terrors. "So be it. Do you follow a deity, sir, boy. . .whatever the case may be?"
Ain't no god never done nuthin' fer me. Why should I do sumthin' fer him?
"That is certainly understandable. So, if I'm understanding correctly, you live by the law of 'if you snooze, you lose'? It's survival of the fittest, and you plan to have before you are had?"
"That sounds good. But I was stealin' from a thief."
"I'm trying to explain to you that stealing is against the law and wrong, whether it be from a thief or a law-abiding citizen. Now, there can always be circumstances--a family is starving, a child has no other way to survive, an elderly person cannot get a job and must have something warm at night. So, I can't say it's wrong every, single time. What I do see here is a person who has been told they would be taken care of as best as possible until we get to the city, who has been warned that breaking the law would result in banishment from the group, and so I can only deduct that you are stealing for the act of stealing. So, then, we go to the next level of assumptions and give you the benefit of the doubt. He's in shock, he's afraid, he's just exited a book of terrors the like of which I hope to never know. He's not sure of his future once he gets to town, so he must secure something now. He justifies this by saying he is stealing what was already stolen. I'll even follow you to that point. But what I'm trying to point out to you is this train of thought is going to have to make you the best thief in the land, or, more likely, you're going to be the victim more often than the victor due to bad attitude and greed. But I don't have time to keep debating moral behavior with you, so you can either be banished from the group for your wrongdoing or you can agree to give one-quarter of what you stole from that person to a cause or deity of your choice the day after we get back into the city." She gave him a tired look, but one that showed she understood, "And learn to trust some people every once in a while. I said I'd do the best I could to get everyone safely back to the city, and that's what I intend to do."
“Um, I'll take that second option. Sorry." He does seem sincerely apologetic.
"Very good choice, I believe. One more thing," she paused, "if I see you or hear report of you stealing anything else on this trip, then you will automatically be banished from the group. So, either behave or suddenly become the best thief there is." she kind of laughed. "Either way, you'd live a lot longer." She wished she could talk some since into his head, because he was young and had his entire life ahead of him.
She turned back to Delacroix. "Now, tell me about being in this book." They walked towards the charioteers to see what information had come forward.
"Well young lady, there are things in that book that one such as young and pretty as yourself doesn't need to know about. Suffice it to say that it is not a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination. I have learned the one lesson Conrad seemed intent on teaching though: always get it in writing."
As the two reach the chariot area, they see that the lines are much smaller. Algernon comes up to Amastacia. The final numbers have not come in of course, as we still have many people in line. However, it looks as if food will be a very big issue. We have almost no food ourselves, perhaps enough to feed 20 people for a day. We have about 1,250 people to transport. By my estimates we should be able to hunt for enough to feed half of those people for the next four days or so. We will leave behind us a swath of destruction though, as we will have to take every last bit of resources that this land has to keep them fed. If we ration well, we should be able to make it, but the old and the sick may perish on the journey. Finally, once we do get to Lopolla, what will we do? I guess that is a matter we can deal with then though."
"Well, at least there is a chance of making it." she replied hopefully to Algernon.
She looked at Delacroix. "Let's hope neither you nor I nor anyone we love ever has to deal with that Conrad person again. He is certainly more evil than I ever knew a being could be."
Amastacia took Gundarag's hand in hers and he could sense her worry. "You do the right thing." he reassured her that his journey would not be a waste.
"Gundarag, Algernon, would you mind being in charge of the hunting parties? I assume there are some around here who could assist in this?" again her voice trailed off, hoping Raffi had not given her too big of a task just to amuse himself in her failure. After all, he is the god of trickery and secrets, so there was nothing assured that she would actually be triumphant in this deed. But she didn't want to be a baby about every little thing that crossed her path, so she vowed to not ask him to help her with this. She could do it--she reassured herself. "What do you guys think if we started migrating back to town? We have a good afternoon ahead of us. And if any game crossed our way, all the better. I doubt any animals have hung around here after all the chaos this afternoon."
Algernon agreed and motioned for one of the three entertainers on the trip to sound his drum. A rhythmic, prompting beat filled the air, repeatedly. "Move out." one charioteer announced. The cry was repeated throughout the crowd as everyone slowly began migrating South-east, towards the Vida River and the City. The chariots only had one driver, and where the other soldier usually rode, they placed one of the sick. Those who could not stand or sit up in a chariot were rigged onto travois and pulled behind the chariots. But, overall, people were in fairly good spirits, for this was the day they were liberated from Conrad's book, so a journey on foot into the flourishing city was a small price to pay for their freedom.
The group headed East for a few hours. Overall it was a fairly joyful occasion, as most everyone was glad to have been freed of the tome. A few fights break out between people of radically different mindsets, but none are fatal and all are easily stopped. The day wears on and Gundarag points out that night is fast approaching. "we should make camp," he says.
The group camps, and watches are set. The night passes completely uneventfully, but the morning preparations are interrupted by a loud shrill shriek. Amastacia moves to investigate, but Gundarag slows her, "let the men report, you don't need to be in danger."
Sure enough, Algernon soon comes to the two. "There was a murder last night."
Looking towards the sound, Amastacia sees a ramshackle stand set up. Across the top signpost in several languages is the word “Refreshments”. Behind the counter are three gnomes. They take turns climbing on each others’ shoulders to reach the counter, and begin distributing drinks to anyone who will come near enough. An unfamiliar figure breaks away from the party’s area and heads that way.
The party goes to ask Amastacia if she will Scry for Lo’ser (or William’s Circlet) when she gets a chance. The party then heads back to town, where they say they will be raising the dead and doing some shopping.
Amastacia turns her attention to the task at hand, and begins to gather people to herself. The vast majority of the beings dropped here that still remain are human, dwarven, elven, halfling, or gnomish. However, here and there she spies a kobold or two heading for the
hills, as well as Orcs, Trolls, and a couple of creatures whose type she is unsure of. These last appear to be Humanoid Snakes, but they aren’t like any Lizard men she has ever seen. The majority of the non-demi-humans disappear over the hills in the distance rather rapidly, although 4 kobolds and an orc stay behind.
Casting about for something elevated to stand on, she spies a massive dragon corpse not too far away. Feeling it will be dramatic enough, Amastacia gets Gundarag’s help and climbs atop the beast’s head. Its glazed over dead eyes stare out at the people who turn to listen to her speech.
"My good people. If you seek refuge inside the safety of the nearby city, then please come with us. We have come to assist you in whatever needs you have by whatever means we have possible. There is food, shelter, good drink and good people where I am going. Also, we have access to temples of various deities and I am certain they would be happy to assist you too. Please, let us begin talking to see how best to get back to the city. If we have to walk, it will take about a week. Shall we see who does not speak Common, then? Those who can understand me, please raise your hands.”
Although she has to repeat herself several times in order to get the attention of many of the farthest people, her powerful voice and commanding presence soon grabs the attention of the vast majority of the people assembled. The throng of people begins to quiet down, and what few interruptions there are (“WHO ARE YOU???”, “WHERE ARE WE???”, “WHEN ARE WE???”) get rapidly squelched by the people who want to know where and when they are.
Once the crowd is assembled, she asks for a show of hands one final time. It seems the vast majority of the 1,000 or so people assembled do indeed speak common. This includes two of the Kobolds. They have managed to keep their places on the outskirts of the group, although several times they are the target of hurled epithets (or rocks). When this happens they rapidly move away from that group, but always stay close enough to hear.
The lone Orc also shows a bit of interest in coming along, although he does not raise his hand when the question of language is posed. He does keep to the outskirts of the group though, and his firm and strong appearance stifle any thoughts of attacking him by the assemblage.
"I understand you have many questions. First, you are about 50 miles West of Lopolla. In case you don't know, you have been freed from the book formerly owned by Conrad. You are, indeed, free as far as I know. That should be good news. I don't know where Conrad is, if he's dead, alive or what. My fellow-adventurers would better be able to tell you details about him, but they have gone back to town already to get their dead raised. The year is 615. You are in the land of Ket. If you see someone who did not raise their hand and you think you speak their language, please try to help them understand what is going on here. If we can't find enough spell casters to teleport our crowd, then we'll simply have to start our pilgrimage, relying on our magic and hunting skills to provide what is needed."
"I don't mean to begin asking things of you, for I know you've been through a great deal. But if we can just work together until we get into the city where we have more resources, things will go much more smoothly. I will allow anyone to travel with us, as long as they do not harm or rob us. The moment violence, thievery or any other menacing behavior or activity is witnessed, there could be swift justice. So, please, let's not take advantage of each other's hospitality and trust." So, please report to the charioteers if you have some way of teleporting us back to the city or another idea that would expedite our travel. She looks towards the kobolds to see how they react to this message, and she faces the others with bravery in her choice.
The people look around at each other then back to Amastacia. Apparently if any of the book's captives could teleport, they have already done so. The kobolds are looking towards her with curiosity in their eyes. It is a bit of a shock to see that a non-kobold would have pity for them. One of them begins to step forward, then seems to think twice about it and fades back again.
The orc appears a bit surprised when Amastacia approaches him and greets him in Orcish. He replies in perfect common, "I am Gormash. How do I reach the Lortmil Mountains from here?" The name strikes a chord in Amastacia and after a moment she recognizes it: he is the ruler of Gundabad, the orc who has been behind the war with the humans and the orcs. It is because of his troops that the Duchy of Ulek is unable to fight off the encroaching undead.
"So I finally meet the Great Gormash face-to-face. This is a day I will not forget." She pauses, a mixture of respect and curiosity on her face. "Perhaps it is fated we should meet here, for I have longed to speak to you face-to-face, but thought it would never happen." Gundarag has remained in between them the entire time, but she steps from behind him and steps just one step closer to Gormash. "This is my husband, Gundarag." There is more protocol than politeness in her introduction. She's not expecting handshakes and warm hugs by any means. "You owe me no explanation, this is for certain, but I wanted to hear from your lips why you make war on the Duchy of Ulek. I have my own assumptions, but surly there is more reason for this than to take the land." Again she pauses and looks him over from head to toe. "There is a part of me that thinks ending your life this day would be a turning point in the war. Your dead body would be just the rallying cry needed for that land. But, Mr. Gormash, I don't operate that way." She looks him in the eyes, searching for a sign of “humanity.”
"It is quite obvious that you have me out manned and out maneuvered. But do not think that I would fall so easily." As he speaks, his sword leaps into his hand, almost as if it has a life of its own. His cloak whirls around in a brisk wind that is not there, and the many tattoos on his arms and head begin to glow with an unearthly yellow light. Moments later, before Gundarag can leap to Amastacia's defense, the spectacle dies back down. "I too do not need to operate that way." Amastacia sees in his eyes that he is a creature of honor.
"My people war upon the Duchy of Ulek and the Gran March because that is what they wanted. For several years we had between us a treaty. There was even a measure of respect between our nations. We traded our masterful weaponry for your agriculture and livestock. That all changed once his 'Illustrious Majesty' Duke Magnus Vrianian decided that we had grown too strong." The name of the party's patron is spoken with utter disdain, and followed by black spit from Gormash's mouth which spatters the ground at his feet.
"Under my leadership the Urek Hai grew strong. We delved deep into the depths of ancient Gundabad, and made its secrets our own. Our women were trained in the ways of magic, and breeding programs instigated which brought the inner strength of the orcish men to the fore. This worried the Duke."
"He struck in treachery, killing Torok, my diplomat, in his sleep. He then proceeded to blame the prvations of petty bandits upon my people, using it as an excuse for war. He now sees the folly of that ploy." Gormash's pride at his peoples' strength is plain to see, and though he is obviously outnumbered, there is no fear at all in his demeanor.
"Perhaps he felt that the deal I had struck with Conrad would stay my people. For you see, in exchange for peace with humanity, Conrad sped my peoples' growth. We accomplished in a mere 3 breeding cycles what would have taken 20 to achieve."
"Vrianian did not count upon my love for my people, and the inevitability of the future. The deal that was struck concerned only me. And I gladly gave my soul to the tome so that my people could defend themselves freely."
"So come then. Take the body that will become your peoples' worst nightmare. But know that I die happily, for it was I, Gormash the outcast, who gave new birth to my clan."
Amastacia becomes frustrated at the news, for it is not at all what she expected. "Gormash, I have no way of proving what you say is true or is not true, but in my heart, I do not doubt you, for I know the greediness of each race. I have learned from you this day, and for that, I am humbled. But many men, Orcish and human, are losing their lives as we speak. Is there nothing that would bring an end to this needless destruction sooner? We both know the perils of war--most often those who control the war are never the ones who fight for or die in that cause. Right now, I have men and women who are wanting to go and fight the undead that are also attacking in that region. But I am torn. I am a peace-bearing woman who lives among war-making men. Is there no wisdom in the way of peace?" She looks kind of sad and defeated, knowing the answer in her heart is not how most creatures feel.
Gormash seems reassured that she believes him, but it is obvious from his deportment that he would not have been upset if she had not. “My people are strong. Those that fight in this war do so because they choose to. Those that die know why they do so. Perhaps there can be an end to the slaughter. All that is necessary is to have Magnus Vrianian admit his treachery, and submit himself to me for punishment. The diplomats will want other things, they always do. But that alone will satisfy my people and me. Any other offers will be accepted, but only the truth will free your kind from their impending doom.
“Now then, I believe you were about to direct me back to my homeland? If I recall correctly, Ket is a great distance from the Southern Lortmils. Perhaps you would not mind if I were to travel with you to Lopolla, where I can surely find a faster means of transport?”
"Yes, you are far away from your home." she agreed. "May I please ask you one more thing? Would you allow me to go to Magnus Vrianian and begin speaking with him about what you have told me would bring peace between our people? And if he were agreeable to it, would you also receive me in the future, for perhaps more talks that would benefit both of our people? It will take time, but when you hear of Amastacia the Bard, please at least think of speaking with me." She smiled, stepped up to him and held out her hand in a gesture to shake his hand. Gundarag bristled, but did not draw his weapon (yet). Gormash did not accept the hand, but neither did his demeanor spurn it. It seems obvious that he understand the human convention of handshakes but does not follow it himself.
Amastacia moves away and talks to the two kobolds she had seen. She finds out that they are lost from Dragon Mountain and will most likely return to Lopolla with the huge group of people. They acted very strong willed and brave though, and so she did not offer many helpful niceties, even though she wanted to.
Amastacia and the kobolds finish their talk, and she heads back to check on the progress. The charioteers tell her it will be at least an hour or two before the group can get it together enough to know what kinds of resources they have available.
Given that, she decides to take the time to scry for the circlet as requested by the rest of the party. Pulling out her paints, she begins to create a scene in the air. A small group of people gather to watch as it slowly comes to life. Only one person makes it through the hour long ritual required to create the scrying sensor though, and he sits by patiently watching.
As the scene takes shape, Amastacia sees the circlet on the head of an old man. The man seems is standing I along line of people, going where she cannot see. Looking for a minute, she is about to give up on guessing the man's location when she sees a familiar figure in the background. One of the children freed from the book is sneaking up to a person three people back in the line and snatching his coin purse.
Amastacia calls four of her people to her to see what she sees. She asks them to bring the old man and the boy to her. She gives them explicit commands to not be rude, man-handle, or threaten them in any way.
Her people do not arrive in time to see the boy stealing the coin purse, he has already rejoined the crowd. They set out, and about 15 minutes later bring the older man and the young boy to her. The old man looks Amastacia up and down and say, "Hello young lady, what may I do for you?" The boy just sits back, looking slightly pensive, but also curious.
She looks at the old man with kindness, "My good sir, it seems you have something on your head that looks like something I've been looking for. May I ask where you it so that I may get one as well?"
"Of course you may my dear. Anyone as pretty as you can ask an old fool like me any questions she wants to. I got it right here on the battlefield. It was a spoil of war, taken from a fallen foe."
She smiled kindly at him. "I'm Amastacia by the way. What did you say your name was again? What brings you to this battlefield?" Looking over the circlet he wears, she is quite certain that it is indeed William’s Circlet. The many tiny fists and lightning bolts are a dead giveaway.
"My name is Nathaniel Delacroix. I was ensnared by the machinations of Conrad Adar in Greyhawk City in the year 611. Apparently you and your friends have managed to free those of us trapped by the devil, so in a manner of speaking I could say you bring me here."
"Well, Mr. Delacroix, I'm glad to meet you." She shakes his hand. "And that half-orc not ever far from me is my husband, Gundarag. Should you need anything, you tell either one of us and we'll see what we can do about it. Now, this 'thing' on your head--do you have any idea what it does?"
"Well, the little bugger that came at me was wearing it (he'd just pulled it off someone he'd killed). After I fought him off, at no small loss to myself, I took it off of him and put it on." As he is talking, he draws back his cloak to show Amastacia his dagger at his side, and moves his arm up to show a couple of nasty claw marks, which are still bleeding a bit. "I suppose I could certainly stand to have this arm fixed."
As Amastacia heals his arm he continues. "As soon as I put it on, these old eyes started to work better than they have in ages. I've seen things clearer than I have since I was a small boy. It also seems that I can peer into men's souls, which is why I know that you are such a good person, and that your husband has a deep well of danger that he keeps constantly in check. He's a good man though. I reckon I'll have to assume that it enhances a person's senses." This last is said with a chuckle, since that is quite obviously what it does.
Mr. Delacroix continues, "I also seem to be a bit more knowledgeable about matters of religion than I used to be. Time was I couldn't tell a Pelor symbol from a Gruumsh symbol, much less even knew who Gruumsh was. But now I can rattle off the names and general tenets of every deity you've got tied around your neck there. I'm going to have to assume that whatever Priest of Heironious created this trinket he also instilled a bit of his own religious knowledge in it."
"You are very correct. I do not care one way or the other as to what you do with what you have rightfully found. But, you seem the kind of man that likes to be fair and have all the facts, so you should know that I believe this is a lost item of one of my fallen comrades. He is a cleric of Heironious and very dedicated to his work. He's an honest man, and fair like you. They have taken him into town to get raised, for he died fighting the good fight. They asked me to search for his lost item before they left. And I can vouch for him--I've seen him wear this item and his looks just like this one, so I believe it to be the one he lost. But, like I said, they didn't ask for me to return it to them, just to look for it. If they ask me, I'll tell them you have it. What you all decide to do from there is up to the two parties involved. But until then, won't you stay with me and be my personal guest once we get to town? I'm sure you have lots of things to share. I've never been trapped in a book--what was that like?" But then Amastacia realizes, before she gets lost in a chatty conversation with this stranger that she must tend to the boy.
The man graciously accepts her offer, and seems about to start talking when Amastacia excuses herself and turns to the boy.
She bends down on one knee to get to his level. "And what is your name?"
"M'name's Jason. Who'r you?" The boy's tone is an odd mix of trepidation, curiosity, and defiance. Its obvious he knows he was seen but that he'll most likely deny it until the end.
"Jason, I am Amastacia. Do you not have any family here with you?" She keeps a hold of the old man's arm, so he does not think she isn't interested in his story too.
"What's a family?" It is plain from his tone that Jason knows what a family is and is only being sarcastic. "I ain't never had a family with me, why would there be one here? There was just a man, and we talked, and then he spoke with an angel. Then there was a lifetime in the book. Please do not mistake me for a child, dear, I have lived several lifetimes in torment, and am far older than I appear to be."
His demeanor indicates he is telling the truth, but it is also fairly certain that although he may be old, he has not lived the full breadth of life required to grant maturity and is rather an old soul with a young mind and a young body.
She straightens "Oh, I'm sorry" she exclaims innocently. "You look younger than you are. I'm sure you get that all the time then." There is a pause. "Well, then I won't sugar-coat this." Her voice kind of lowers so only she and he can hear "Just believe me when I tell you that I saw you take a coin purse from a fellow traveler here just moments ago. You know what I said earlier about people being allowed to travel with us as long as they are doing no harm to fellow travelers? What was your cause for taking the money?"
"Actually, I don't get that all the time. Ya may not have noticed, but I just busted outta a book of pain. Weren't much talking in there. S'okay though, I don't mind too much. Figger I oughta get usedta it. Least 'til I can find someone to give me a body commensurate with my experiences. As fer the coins, yeah, I took 'em. So what? The man I took 'em from had just took 'em from another guy."
Nathaniel clears his throat and speaks up. "The boy, umm... the man... Anyway... He's telling the truth. I saw it happen."
Amastacia rolls her eyes at the big, fine mess she's trying to govern. "Good grief! Does that make it right then?!?!" Then she decides to cut them all a break, because, like he said, they'd just been freed from a book of terrors. "So be it. Do you follow a deity, sir, boy. . .whatever the case may be?"
Ain't no god never done nuthin' fer me. Why should I do sumthin' fer him?
"That is certainly understandable. So, if I'm understanding correctly, you live by the law of 'if you snooze, you lose'? It's survival of the fittest, and you plan to have before you are had?"
"That sounds good. But I was stealin' from a thief."
"I'm trying to explain to you that stealing is against the law and wrong, whether it be from a thief or a law-abiding citizen. Now, there can always be circumstances--a family is starving, a child has no other way to survive, an elderly person cannot get a job and must have something warm at night. So, I can't say it's wrong every, single time. What I do see here is a person who has been told they would be taken care of as best as possible until we get to the city, who has been warned that breaking the law would result in banishment from the group, and so I can only deduct that you are stealing for the act of stealing. So, then, we go to the next level of assumptions and give you the benefit of the doubt. He's in shock, he's afraid, he's just exited a book of terrors the like of which I hope to never know. He's not sure of his future once he gets to town, so he must secure something now. He justifies this by saying he is stealing what was already stolen. I'll even follow you to that point. But what I'm trying to point out to you is this train of thought is going to have to make you the best thief in the land, or, more likely, you're going to be the victim more often than the victor due to bad attitude and greed. But I don't have time to keep debating moral behavior with you, so you can either be banished from the group for your wrongdoing or you can agree to give one-quarter of what you stole from that person to a cause or deity of your choice the day after we get back into the city." She gave him a tired look, but one that showed she understood, "And learn to trust some people every once in a while. I said I'd do the best I could to get everyone safely back to the city, and that's what I intend to do."
“Um, I'll take that second option. Sorry." He does seem sincerely apologetic.
"Very good choice, I believe. One more thing," she paused, "if I see you or hear report of you stealing anything else on this trip, then you will automatically be banished from the group. So, either behave or suddenly become the best thief there is." she kind of laughed. "Either way, you'd live a lot longer." She wished she could talk some since into his head, because he was young and had his entire life ahead of him.
She turned back to Delacroix. "Now, tell me about being in this book." They walked towards the charioteers to see what information had come forward.
"Well young lady, there are things in that book that one such as young and pretty as yourself doesn't need to know about. Suffice it to say that it is not a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination. I have learned the one lesson Conrad seemed intent on teaching though: always get it in writing."
As the two reach the chariot area, they see that the lines are much smaller. Algernon comes up to Amastacia. The final numbers have not come in of course, as we still have many people in line. However, it looks as if food will be a very big issue. We have almost no food ourselves, perhaps enough to feed 20 people for a day. We have about 1,250 people to transport. By my estimates we should be able to hunt for enough to feed half of those people for the next four days or so. We will leave behind us a swath of destruction though, as we will have to take every last bit of resources that this land has to keep them fed. If we ration well, we should be able to make it, but the old and the sick may perish on the journey. Finally, once we do get to Lopolla, what will we do? I guess that is a matter we can deal with then though."
"Well, at least there is a chance of making it." she replied hopefully to Algernon.
She looked at Delacroix. "Let's hope neither you nor I nor anyone we love ever has to deal with that Conrad person again. He is certainly more evil than I ever knew a being could be."
Amastacia took Gundarag's hand in hers and he could sense her worry. "You do the right thing." he reassured her that his journey would not be a waste.
"Gundarag, Algernon, would you mind being in charge of the hunting parties? I assume there are some around here who could assist in this?" again her voice trailed off, hoping Raffi had not given her too big of a task just to amuse himself in her failure. After all, he is the god of trickery and secrets, so there was nothing assured that she would actually be triumphant in this deed. But she didn't want to be a baby about every little thing that crossed her path, so she vowed to not ask him to help her with this. She could do it--she reassured herself. "What do you guys think if we started migrating back to town? We have a good afternoon ahead of us. And if any game crossed our way, all the better. I doubt any animals have hung around here after all the chaos this afternoon."
Algernon agreed and motioned for one of the three entertainers on the trip to sound his drum. A rhythmic, prompting beat filled the air, repeatedly. "Move out." one charioteer announced. The cry was repeated throughout the crowd as everyone slowly began migrating South-east, towards the Vida River and the City. The chariots only had one driver, and where the other soldier usually rode, they placed one of the sick. Those who could not stand or sit up in a chariot were rigged onto travois and pulled behind the chariots. But, overall, people were in fairly good spirits, for this was the day they were liberated from Conrad's book, so a journey on foot into the flourishing city was a small price to pay for their freedom.
The group headed East for a few hours. Overall it was a fairly joyful occasion, as most everyone was glad to have been freed of the tome. A few fights break out between people of radically different mindsets, but none are fatal and all are easily stopped. The day wears on and Gundarag points out that night is fast approaching. "we should make camp," he says.
The group camps, and watches are set. The night passes completely uneventfully, but the morning preparations are interrupted by a loud shrill shriek. Amastacia moves to investigate, but Gundarag slows her, "let the men report, you don't need to be in danger."
Sure enough, Algernon soon comes to the two. "There was a murder last night."
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