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Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Aw, man! It's over? Now I join the ranks of everyone else who laments catching up at a cliff-hanger, almost. This si still better than when I got to the end of the .PDFs and went frantic over Kibi's sidequest (I then remembered that the actual thread might be farther along. Score!)
Sagiro, PC, KidC, Aravis, and the rest o' you fine folks, it's been a heck of a week and a swell read. Thank you all; without Abernathy's Company this would have been the slowest work week ever.
And now that I have to wait for updates, maybe this won't consume my life anymore! The charm is broken, I'm practically free!... Until the next post, of course... Thanks again, for sharing this wi' us all. Your game is truly Mesmerising, Sagiro. Makes me sad to think what a jerk player I've been to DM's who've tried to do something similar. I must change my munchkin-y ways.
Sagiro, PC, KidC, Aravis, and the rest o' you fine folks, it's been a heck of a week and a swell read. Thank you all; without Abernathy's Company this would have been the slowest work week ever.
And now that I have to wait for updates, maybe this won't consume my life anymore! The charm is broken, I'm practically free!... Until the next post, of course... Thanks again, for sharing this wi' us all. Your game is truly Mesmerising, Sagiro. Makes me sad to think what a jerk player I've been to DM's who've tried to do something similar. I must change my munchkin-y ways.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Siuis, I know how you feel - Morningstar and Greywolf's players have just become proud parents, so the game is on hold for a bit. I miss it!
And for anyone who wishes to be utterly appalled, last summer I totalled up all the list of the "excess loot" that no one had claimed but that we hadn't gotten around to actually selling. It's.. err.. disturbing, in that the purchase value is 1.1 million gp. To wit:
[sblock]
1 shield of spell turning +4
1 heavy mace - strength drainer (1d6 str on crit)
1 bracers of armor +6
2 ring of deflection +4
1 large shield +5
1 breastplate +5
1 cloak of resistance +4
1 large shield +4
1 belt of strength +4
1 breastplate +1
2 belt of strength +4
1 shield +3, +5 vs human melee attacks
6 large shield +3
3 ring of deflection +2
6 longsword +2
5 amulet of health +2
3 periapt of wisdom +2
6 belt of strength +2
6 plate armor +2
6 dagger +1
1 ring of darkvision
1 headband of ferocity
1 belt of metamagic harmony
1 blue & green rolling marbles
1 ring of random energy protection
1 potion of cure serious wounds
1 wand - knock - 12 charges
1 wand - hidden lodge - 17 charges
1 wand - indomitability - 1 charge
1 scroll - dispel magic (10th), greater dispel magic (17th)
1 scroll - harm, mass inflict moderate wounds, ethereal jaunt (11th lvl)
1 plate mail of the brewing storm
1 gems 244,000
1 stuff 35,400
1 stuff 190,000
1 misc. magical stuff 45,000
[/sblock]
What do we learn from this? That xp loss (or action point loss for us) + time are far more important than money when it comes to constraining important magic item creation, that we have more magical doo-dads than we can easily track, that there's nowhere easy to buy or sell items (we gave a lot of these away to followers), and that everyone sort of has a schtick that they cleave to closely, instead of trying to track lots and lots of items.
And for anyone who wishes to be utterly appalled, last summer I totalled up all the list of the "excess loot" that no one had claimed but that we hadn't gotten around to actually selling. It's.. err.. disturbing, in that the purchase value is 1.1 million gp. To wit:
[sblock]
1 shield of spell turning +4
1 heavy mace - strength drainer (1d6 str on crit)
1 bracers of armor +6
2 ring of deflection +4
1 large shield +5
1 breastplate +5
1 cloak of resistance +4
1 large shield +4
1 belt of strength +4
1 breastplate +1
2 belt of strength +4
1 shield +3, +5 vs human melee attacks
6 large shield +3
3 ring of deflection +2
6 longsword +2
5 amulet of health +2
3 periapt of wisdom +2
6 belt of strength +2
6 plate armor +2
6 dagger +1
1 ring of darkvision
1 headband of ferocity
1 belt of metamagic harmony
1 blue & green rolling marbles
1 ring of random energy protection
1 potion of cure serious wounds
1 wand - knock - 12 charges
1 wand - hidden lodge - 17 charges
1 wand - indomitability - 1 charge
1 scroll - dispel magic (10th), greater dispel magic (17th)
1 scroll - harm, mass inflict moderate wounds, ethereal jaunt (11th lvl)
1 plate mail of the brewing storm
1 gems 244,000
1 stuff 35,400
1 stuff 190,000
1 misc. magical stuff 45,000
[/sblock]
What do we learn from this? That xp loss (or action point loss for us) + time are far more important than money when it comes to constraining important magic item creation, that we have more magical doo-dads than we can easily track, that there's nowhere easy to buy or sell items (we gave a lot of these away to followers), and that everyone sort of has a schtick that they cleave to closely, instead of trying to track lots and lots of items.
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coyote6
Adventurer
That right there is some impressive stuff.
Clearly, you guys need to build some tombs, fill them with traps and oodles of treasure, and spread incomplete maps and rumors of them. Pay it forward for the next generation of adventurers.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
It's Dranko's only chance to [giant redacted spoiler]. I like it!
Dranko's personal gear is varied, since he still clings to items he got at 1st level. My major and character-defining stuff includes:
[sblock]
Gloves of Dex +6 (fingers inserted in the nose will stick there unless you say "Kibi is a genius." I hate Kibi.)
+3 mithral shirt of true stealth (+15 move silently)
+5 buckler of moderate fortification
Robe of blending
Sash of transparency (improved invisibility 1/day, says "Miss Charagan" across the sash for anyone who can see invisible. Man, did I mention I hate Kibi?)
Eye patch of See Invisible
Coaltongue (whip +2; +1d6 holy dmg, +4 to trip, ignores alignment DR, with a few other enchantments on it. Usually made +5 by Ernie's greater magic weapon] spell each day.
Alazar's Tongue, a +5 whip that can shut down dimensional traveling foes.
Truedeath crystal, allows the whip to sneak attack undead.
Snooper's earring (+5 to listen)
Bag of endless rope (495')
Pouch of accessibility
Boots of haste
Immovable rod
At 19th level (the game in real time) he is a cleric 5, rogue 10, lasher 4 and has 191 hp, an AC of 36, and modified ability scores of 19 STR, 24 DEX, 20 CON, 09 INT, 14 WIS, and 08 CHA.
[/sblock]
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Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 305
Communiques
Dranko opens his mouth to make an additional snarky comment about Mokad, but finds that no sound issues from his lips. Tomnic mouths: “what?” but his voice is also silent. All of the Company look at one another in great alarm, as each tries and fails to talk.
A moment later they realize that it's not just them; the sounds from elsewhere in the temple, as well as outside the window, have ceased. Has someone cast silence in the room? It appears not; a glance out the window reveals confused townsfolk gesturing wildly. Whatever it is that's suppressing sound is affecting the entire street, and possibly all of Hae Charagan. There is only one exception to the profound quiet: each person can hear, faintly, the sound of their own beating heart.
Then there is a sound, and they all hear it, like a thousand whispers being uttered in their ears. Behind it is a noise like a rising wind, and over the course of a minute both the sounds grow louder, though there is no accompanying breeze, and no obvious source of the whispers. But still no one can produce sounds of their own.
As abruptly as it started, the whispers and rushing wind noises die down.
“...was that?” asks Tomnic, and they all hear him. From out in the town come numerous screams and shouts as the multitudes find their voices returned.
Grey Wolf looks thoughtful. “I bet that was all the spirits who have been hanging around.”
Tomnic nods. “I'm going to cast commune and find out.”
Morningstar looks worried. “Make sure that wasn't the sound of spirits getting sucked into some dark engine of the Black Circle.”
“I love your optimism!” Dranko exclaims.
“What are the odds,” Morningstar responds, “that something bad just got nicely taken care of by someone who wasn't us?”
But it looks like that's the case. Tomnic casts his spell and reports his findings. “Grey Wolf is right. All of the spirits who were bound to Abernia have ascended to their proper heavens.”
“Good,” says Ernie. “But how?”
“Death is no longer on holiday?” asks Grey Wolf.
“Another God has taken over the duties of Drosh,” says Tomnic. “I don't know the name; I could only ask yes or no questions. But I learned that it was a Kivian God whose intent was not malicious.”
“That's the best news we've had in weeks!” Ernie says with a smile. “Thank you!”
Indeed, as they stand and look at one another, each of them feels as if they had long been holding their breath without knowing it, and now have finally exhaled.
* *
In a private room in the Church of Delioch, the Company inventories and redistributes magic items after their recent haul. Dranko taps the magic spoon to a bowl (figuring it's a typical gruel-producing Murlynd's variety) and is startled to see the bowl fill up with maggots – live, wriggling, and highly nutritious.
“No wonder Zeg was so scrawny,” says Ernie.
“It's things like this that make me sorry Turlus is now Turlissa,” Dranko sighs. “If it were Turlus, he'd find this in his silverware drawer.”
“What should we do with this?” Flicker holds up the gold-plated dwarf skull with opals in its eyes. “It's probably worth more than 8,000 gold pieces if we sell it as is. Or, we can chip off the gold and pry out the gems, and maybe get a thousand for it.”
“I'm okay with saving the gold and gems,” says Kibi, “but we should bury the skull.”
“I dunno,” says Dranko. “That's a lot of wasted cash.”
“Dranko!” says Ernie, appalled.
“Seriously,” says Dranko. “Think of how much we could help the dwarves with 8,000 gold!”
Kibi looks pointedly at Dranko. “But you're not going to give the money to the dwarves. Are you.”
Dranko opens his mouth, then closes it. “You'd be easier to argue with if you'd take off that headband of intellect,” he grumbles.
* *
They also learn more about the diplomacy cloak. While it always gives the wearer a +5 bonus to Diplomacy checks, it occasionally grants a +20 bonus, at its own discretion. And though to Aravis's identify there's still no good reason why it should make someone want to wear it, he does think the cloak is very slightly sentient.
“Give it to Grey Wolf,” Ernie suggests. “He's already got one voice in his head. What's one more?”
Bostock speaks into Grey Wolf's mind. Remind them that I am no more a “voice in your head” than they are voices in each others' heads when using telepathic bond.
Grey Wolf sighs wearily. “I know, I know...”
* *
Morningstar leaves to visit her own temple in the city, and learns a bit more there. She is told that Myr Madar, the Kivian God of Judgment, has taken over for Drosh in the shepherding of souls. Little is known about Myr Madar in Charagan; while the core pantheon of Kivian Gods is essentially an extended family, Myr Madar is not related to the others by either blood or creation. Regardless, all of the churches in Hae Charagan are abuzz with the news.
The Company teleports back to Tal Hae to take care of some local business and start up on more research. Aravis casts a pair of vision spells, with the following two questions:
“How do I contact the Feline Conclave?”
“How do we defeat the Book of Lies?”
His vision on the first question starts high in the air, looking down upon an enormous forest. The view swoops down through the canopy and then into a small hidden clearing. Eight cats lounge there in an approximate semicircle, some stretching in the grass, others resting on stumps or logs.
They are having an argument.
About him.
While Aravis cannot specifically hear the words spoken, the vision conveys to him the gist of their dispute: some of the cats think he is vital to their survival, while others think he will be the instrument of their destruction. When he shares this with the others, Dranko guffaws.
“Oh my gosh! Cats are fickle! Alert everybody!”
The second vision is shorter and more straightforward: Aravis sees the black face of Grey Wolf's Mordenkainen's Cube – the one that casts disjunction.
“In other words,” Aravis concludes, “The book is unalterable, and we have to destroy it.”
“That's so annoying!” Dranko complains. “I wanted to write our own stuff in it.”
Aravis rubs his chin. “The worry is that the Book of Lies is powerful enough that I could lose my spell-casting ability if I destroy the thing. We know it's magical, and we know it doesn't detect as magic, so it could be a true artifact. On the other hand, it could simply have a minor enchantment upon it that hides its magic.”
He tries casting greater dispel upon the Book a couple of times, but the power of his spells is insufficient and so nothing changes.
Morningstar casts a sending to Arkin, member of the Great Pack. This is Morningstar, companion of Aravis. Human spirits can move on now after death. Has this helped your plight? You may respond, twenty-five words.
The reply: No, our spirits are not subject to your Gods. We've been neither helped nor harmed.
Aravis then tries to teleport to the cats' clearing he saw in the vision, but this fails. A scry cast upon one of the cats also fails, and he concludes that the whole area must be shielded.
“I guess I should be happy the vision worked at least,” he mutters.
* *
Dranko takes a stroll through town to the secret tailor-shop entrance to the Manse of the Undermen. He finds that Lucas Blackwell is out on business, but while walking the corridors he finds the halfling Gideon Hollow at work in a laboratory. The little arcane trickster is part of his Small Council, but their interactions have been few since Dranko's return from the past.
“How are you?” Dranko asks amiably, poking his head through the doorway.
Gideon doesn't look up. “Fine.”
“You look suspicious,” Dranko comments.
The halfling sets down the wand he was working on, sits up straight, and turns to Dranko. “And you look unattractive,” he says.
Dranko ignores the insult and keeps smiling. “How's everything?”
“It was going well until someone interrupted me while I was in the middle of crafting this wand.”
Dranko clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyhow, a new God of Death just took over for the old God of Death who fled, and all the souls who had been anchored to Abernia have now ascended to their ultimate reward in the heavens.”
Gideon Hollow picks his wand back up, along with a small file. “Oh. Good for them.”
“So... yeah,” says Dranko.
“I hope they end up somewhere nice,” adds Gideon. “And you're telling me this because...?”
“Because you asked,” says Dranko. Then, quickly: “No, no, I guess you didn't ask, but I wanted to tell somebody.”
“Well, that's very interesting,” says Gideon, entirely without interest.
Dranko smirks. “Would you mind if I just sat here and looked over your shoulder for half an hour?”
Gideon doesn't look up again. “Yeah, that would be great, Dranko. I'd love that.”
“Or perhaps I could go do other, more useful things.”
“You're the Oracle,” says Gideon, looking aggrieved. “Your word is law. Do whatever the heck you want. Speaking of which, how are you doing with your ragtag bunch of adventuring buddies?”
Dranko puffs up a bit. “My ragtag group of adventuring buddies has just made an unbelievably profitable gem-importing deal that I'll be telling the Small Council about soon.”
“Excellent,” says Gideon, and for the first time he seems to be sincere.
* *
Dranko makes two more stops in the Manse. The first is in the treasury office, where four Undermen functionaries are passing a number of papers around a small round table. Their conversation stops when Dranko enters the room, and they all leap to their feet.
“Sir!” exclaims one of them, a tall thin fellow with red hair. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“What are you doing?” Dranko asks.
“We're crunching numbers,” answers a second guild member. “Specifically we're reviewing various terms of our trade deal with Tev. It's, ummm, it's kind of boring.”
“That's not boring at all!” Dranko answers with a smile. “If you figure out a way in which they're trying to screw us, let me know.”
A third guild member, a short woman wearing glasses, smiles back at the Oracle. “It's more the other way around, sir.”
Dranko raises an eyebrow. “We're trying to screw them?”
“Subtly. It will increase the profit margins.”
Dranko nods approval. “How badly are we screwing Forquelle?”
“If you refer to our agreement with Seresef, Forquelle is not involved. I suppose in that sense, we're screwing them mightily.”
Dranko laughs. “Well, carry on. You're doing a great job.”
“Thank you sir,” says the red-haired man. “If you'd like to review the paperwork at any time, we are at your complete disposal.”
Finally Dranko stops in his own office. My own office. This is great! He evidently has a large desk, shelves, a carpet, paintings – the place is pretty posh. There's a large folded parchment on the center of the desk with his name written neatly upon it. He reads.
To Dranko Brightmirror, Oracle:
As you requested, I have shifted the main focus of the Undermen to taking advantage of the recently-opened border between Charagan and Kivia. As those efforts have now been underway for several weeks, I am able to make a preliminary report.
We have secured trade agreements, or are in the process of doing so, in a number of areas, the main ones being the gem trade with Seresef, furniture imported from Tev, and glassware and spices from Dir Tolia. Although the impact so far on our bottom line has been modest, this is due to initial outlays, purchases and investments necessary for future business. We expect that our available funds will triple within six months due to the increased revenues from new trade.
However, there are significant difficulties that may hinder our ability to extend our reach further. One is that Ocir controls much of the Kivian trade, due to the location and size of its main port city, Kai-Kin. They are an extremely insular country, xenophobic in the extreme, and they have rebuffed all of our attempts at contact.
The more serious problem is our main competition – a merchant guild known as the White Sun Cartel, based in Djaw. They were as quick off the block as we were, and have already secured many contracts with merchants in Charagan. The Cartel wields enormous clout, and it’s said that they are the mercantile arm of the Emperor made manifest. It is a fair statement to say that they have taken control of the trade markets between the two continents. They are willing to threaten and intimidate to further their ends; we have lost several contracts due to that pressure, most notably a lucrative agreement with a consortium of wine merchants from Fanaam, who backed out of a deal after being contacted by the Cartel.
I will continue to explore all avenues in this regard, and am pleased to note that despite the competition, the sum of revenues involved is so large that even a small player stands to gain significantly.
One unrelated note: Octavius and his people have expended some effort to locate King Farazil, as per your request of some weeks ago, but have made no progress. They have followed up several rumors of “possession by evil sprits” and such, but all have led to dead ends. His conclusion thus far is that Farazil has either gone deep into hiding, or has left Charagan altogether. However, he will continue to search until you explicitly countermand your previous instruction.
I continue to run the day-to-day affairs of the Undermen in your absence, knowing that your personal affairs can, and should, take precedence. As always, you may contact me via sending, visit to the Manse, or through Turlissa.
Ever your servant,
Lucas Blackwell, Hand
* *
Morningstar visits her church in Tal Hae. She hopes to hear news about Octesian but there is none. For better or for worse, the Dreamscape has been quiet under the constant watch of Ellish sisters. As she leaves to return to the Greenhouse she passes another sister coming in from outside, which is unusual because it's early afternoon under a bright sun. She can't help but notice that the sister wears an unusual necklace, the stone of which is a flat diamond formed of two triangles, one black and the other white.
The sister recognizes Morningstar and her eyes grow wide. She falls to one knee.
“Morningstar?”
“Yes. And you are...?”
“My name is Glory.”
“You can stand up, Glory. You are a Daywalker, I see.”
Glory smiles proudly. “I am.” If Morningstar notices that she's blinking more than is normal, and sports some conspicuous sunburn, she makes no mention of it.
“I have been visiting other churches today,” says Glory. “Making rounds, introducing myself. I assume you've heard about the souls of the dead; it's all anyone's talking about inside church walls.”
“How long have you been day-walking?” Morningstar asks.
“Three weeks.”
“Headaches?”
“They've gone away, mostly.”
“And you long have you been a priestess?”
“Three years,” says Glory. “But it was an honor to be called as a Daywalker.”
Morningstar reaches out to touch Glory's necklace. “And where did these pendants come from?”
“They were Amber's idea.”
“Of course they were,” Morningstar mutters. Then: “How many Daywalkers are there here?”
“In Tal Hae? Six.”
“How's it working out?”
“It's exhilarating,” says Glory. “And we see so many more people this way.”
“And what has been the reaction?”
“Mixed, but mostly good. Things have gone as smoothly as can be expected, given the tumultuous nature of our politics.”
* *
“Kibilhathur, I almost forgot. There was a delivery for you while you were away.”
Eddings hands the dwarf a badly-folded piece of parchment. Kibi reads it out loud, though only Aravis and Grey Wolf are currently there with him.
To the Knights of the Spire Guard, Greenhouse at the Street of Bakers, Tal Hae,
Wile we was moving sum rubble out of from the dunjuns here at Longtooth Keep, we found this here stone box. We can’t figger out how it gets open, and it’s got “Kibilhathur” carved on the lid, so I’m having it sent to you at Tal Hae. I hope its nuthing bad.
Yor servant and offishul caretaker of Longtooth Keep,
Fergus
Eddings gestures to a small stone block, about the size of a cigar box, resting on a side table. There is a seam that indicates it's a container, and Kibi's name is indeed engraved neatly on the top. When Kibi picks it up he hears an audible 'click' from inside, and the dwarf feels Earth Magic thrum through his fingertips. He tilts the box open and two folded-up pieces of paper fall out. One has his own name written on the outside, and other, which looks to have a small object wrapped up inside, says “Dranko.”
With Dranko still at the Manse, Aravis opens the half-orc's note and a small green stone falls out into his palm. It looks like a jade marble. Aravis puts the stone and paper back in the box without reading the note, while Kibi reads his aloud.
Dear Kibi,
It’s been several months now since you and your friends left my home. Let me tell you something right off: that battle against Condor was the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life! You had me on the edge of my seat, and the ending made it well worth watching. I cheered so loud I think I startled my unseen servants.
I don’t have much to say, just that my life has become much more enjoyable since your visit. I no longer look upon my daughter’s still face with sadness and trepidation, but instead with hope and happiness. And I’m not worried so much about Condor anymore, either!
I think about you almost every day, too. Please tell Gela again how pleased I am to know that she not only lived through the accident, but went on to raise a fine young dwarf with good proper magic in his veins. You make me so proud.
Much love,
Grandpa Cranchus
p.s. Don’t tell Dranko, but I did add a little something extra to his trinket. After he eats it, make sure to watch him the next time he smokes one of those foul cigars of his.
* *
Dranko comes back not too long after and is surprised to find he is also a beneficiary of Cranchus' gift box. His note reads thusly:
Dear Dranko,
For me, it’s only been a few months. For you, it’s been a couple thousand years. I’ll bet you didn’t think I’d take you up on your request, especially after that crack about my daughter being a bookend. I was tempted, I’ll tell you up front, to curse this thing, maybe make it turn your tusks green. But you probably have troubles enough right now, given your line of work. And since I have lots of time on my hands, I figured I could spend some of it making you something interesting. The real problem will be figuring out how to deliver it to you, since you won’t be born for about two thousand years, assuming everything worked out with the time travel. I’ll think of something – I’ve got centuries to work on the divinations and follow the probability lattices.
What you’re looking at is a charm that should give you some insight into the weaknesses of elementals; I figured that was the least I could do after Rumbler knocked you guys around. Ordinarily I wouldn’t make something like that, since it might fall into the wrong hands. That’s why you have to swallow it.
Good luck with your adventures. I hope you found the future the same as you left it.
Sincerely,
Cranchus
He gulps the jade marble without hesitation, and feels an innate understanding of elemental physiology come into his head. (In game terms, he can now crit and sneak-attack elementals.)
Dranko steps outside the Greenhouse. “Hey Cranchus! If you're paying attention: thank you!”
...to be continued...
Communiques
Dranko opens his mouth to make an additional snarky comment about Mokad, but finds that no sound issues from his lips. Tomnic mouths: “what?” but his voice is also silent. All of the Company look at one another in great alarm, as each tries and fails to talk.
A moment later they realize that it's not just them; the sounds from elsewhere in the temple, as well as outside the window, have ceased. Has someone cast silence in the room? It appears not; a glance out the window reveals confused townsfolk gesturing wildly. Whatever it is that's suppressing sound is affecting the entire street, and possibly all of Hae Charagan. There is only one exception to the profound quiet: each person can hear, faintly, the sound of their own beating heart.
Then there is a sound, and they all hear it, like a thousand whispers being uttered in their ears. Behind it is a noise like a rising wind, and over the course of a minute both the sounds grow louder, though there is no accompanying breeze, and no obvious source of the whispers. But still no one can produce sounds of their own.
As abruptly as it started, the whispers and rushing wind noises die down.
“...was that?” asks Tomnic, and they all hear him. From out in the town come numerous screams and shouts as the multitudes find their voices returned.
Grey Wolf looks thoughtful. “I bet that was all the spirits who have been hanging around.”
Tomnic nods. “I'm going to cast commune and find out.”
Morningstar looks worried. “Make sure that wasn't the sound of spirits getting sucked into some dark engine of the Black Circle.”
“I love your optimism!” Dranko exclaims.
“What are the odds,” Morningstar responds, “that something bad just got nicely taken care of by someone who wasn't us?”
But it looks like that's the case. Tomnic casts his spell and reports his findings. “Grey Wolf is right. All of the spirits who were bound to Abernia have ascended to their proper heavens.”
“Good,” says Ernie. “But how?”
“Death is no longer on holiday?” asks Grey Wolf.
“Another God has taken over the duties of Drosh,” says Tomnic. “I don't know the name; I could only ask yes or no questions. But I learned that it was a Kivian God whose intent was not malicious.”
“That's the best news we've had in weeks!” Ernie says with a smile. “Thank you!”
Indeed, as they stand and look at one another, each of them feels as if they had long been holding their breath without knowing it, and now have finally exhaled.
* *
In a private room in the Church of Delioch, the Company inventories and redistributes magic items after their recent haul. Dranko taps the magic spoon to a bowl (figuring it's a typical gruel-producing Murlynd's variety) and is startled to see the bowl fill up with maggots – live, wriggling, and highly nutritious.
“No wonder Zeg was so scrawny,” says Ernie.
“It's things like this that make me sorry Turlus is now Turlissa,” Dranko sighs. “If it were Turlus, he'd find this in his silverware drawer.”
“What should we do with this?” Flicker holds up the gold-plated dwarf skull with opals in its eyes. “It's probably worth more than 8,000 gold pieces if we sell it as is. Or, we can chip off the gold and pry out the gems, and maybe get a thousand for it.”
“I'm okay with saving the gold and gems,” says Kibi, “but we should bury the skull.”
“I dunno,” says Dranko. “That's a lot of wasted cash.”
“Dranko!” says Ernie, appalled.
“Seriously,” says Dranko. “Think of how much we could help the dwarves with 8,000 gold!”
Kibi looks pointedly at Dranko. “But you're not going to give the money to the dwarves. Are you.”
Dranko opens his mouth, then closes it. “You'd be easier to argue with if you'd take off that headband of intellect,” he grumbles.
* *
They also learn more about the diplomacy cloak. While it always gives the wearer a +5 bonus to Diplomacy checks, it occasionally grants a +20 bonus, at its own discretion. And though to Aravis's identify there's still no good reason why it should make someone want to wear it, he does think the cloak is very slightly sentient.
“Give it to Grey Wolf,” Ernie suggests. “He's already got one voice in his head. What's one more?”
Bostock speaks into Grey Wolf's mind. Remind them that I am no more a “voice in your head” than they are voices in each others' heads when using telepathic bond.
Grey Wolf sighs wearily. “I know, I know...”
* *
Morningstar leaves to visit her own temple in the city, and learns a bit more there. She is told that Myr Madar, the Kivian God of Judgment, has taken over for Drosh in the shepherding of souls. Little is known about Myr Madar in Charagan; while the core pantheon of Kivian Gods is essentially an extended family, Myr Madar is not related to the others by either blood or creation. Regardless, all of the churches in Hae Charagan are abuzz with the news.
The Company teleports back to Tal Hae to take care of some local business and start up on more research. Aravis casts a pair of vision spells, with the following two questions:
“How do I contact the Feline Conclave?”
“How do we defeat the Book of Lies?”
His vision on the first question starts high in the air, looking down upon an enormous forest. The view swoops down through the canopy and then into a small hidden clearing. Eight cats lounge there in an approximate semicircle, some stretching in the grass, others resting on stumps or logs.
They are having an argument.
About him.
While Aravis cannot specifically hear the words spoken, the vision conveys to him the gist of their dispute: some of the cats think he is vital to their survival, while others think he will be the instrument of their destruction. When he shares this with the others, Dranko guffaws.
“Oh my gosh! Cats are fickle! Alert everybody!”
The second vision is shorter and more straightforward: Aravis sees the black face of Grey Wolf's Mordenkainen's Cube – the one that casts disjunction.
“In other words,” Aravis concludes, “The book is unalterable, and we have to destroy it.”
“That's so annoying!” Dranko complains. “I wanted to write our own stuff in it.”
Aravis rubs his chin. “The worry is that the Book of Lies is powerful enough that I could lose my spell-casting ability if I destroy the thing. We know it's magical, and we know it doesn't detect as magic, so it could be a true artifact. On the other hand, it could simply have a minor enchantment upon it that hides its magic.”
He tries casting greater dispel upon the Book a couple of times, but the power of his spells is insufficient and so nothing changes.
Morningstar casts a sending to Arkin, member of the Great Pack. This is Morningstar, companion of Aravis. Human spirits can move on now after death. Has this helped your plight? You may respond, twenty-five words.
The reply: No, our spirits are not subject to your Gods. We've been neither helped nor harmed.
Aravis then tries to teleport to the cats' clearing he saw in the vision, but this fails. A scry cast upon one of the cats also fails, and he concludes that the whole area must be shielded.
“I guess I should be happy the vision worked at least,” he mutters.
* *
Dranko takes a stroll through town to the secret tailor-shop entrance to the Manse of the Undermen. He finds that Lucas Blackwell is out on business, but while walking the corridors he finds the halfling Gideon Hollow at work in a laboratory. The little arcane trickster is part of his Small Council, but their interactions have been few since Dranko's return from the past.
“How are you?” Dranko asks amiably, poking his head through the doorway.
Gideon doesn't look up. “Fine.”
“You look suspicious,” Dranko comments.
The halfling sets down the wand he was working on, sits up straight, and turns to Dranko. “And you look unattractive,” he says.
Dranko ignores the insult and keeps smiling. “How's everything?”
“It was going well until someone interrupted me while I was in the middle of crafting this wand.”
Dranko clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyhow, a new God of Death just took over for the old God of Death who fled, and all the souls who had been anchored to Abernia have now ascended to their ultimate reward in the heavens.”
Gideon Hollow picks his wand back up, along with a small file. “Oh. Good for them.”
“So... yeah,” says Dranko.
“I hope they end up somewhere nice,” adds Gideon. “And you're telling me this because...?”
“Because you asked,” says Dranko. Then, quickly: “No, no, I guess you didn't ask, but I wanted to tell somebody.”
“Well, that's very interesting,” says Gideon, entirely without interest.
Dranko smirks. “Would you mind if I just sat here and looked over your shoulder for half an hour?”
Gideon doesn't look up again. “Yeah, that would be great, Dranko. I'd love that.”
“Or perhaps I could go do other, more useful things.”
“You're the Oracle,” says Gideon, looking aggrieved. “Your word is law. Do whatever the heck you want. Speaking of which, how are you doing with your ragtag bunch of adventuring buddies?”
Dranko puffs up a bit. “My ragtag group of adventuring buddies has just made an unbelievably profitable gem-importing deal that I'll be telling the Small Council about soon.”
“Excellent,” says Gideon, and for the first time he seems to be sincere.
* *
Dranko makes two more stops in the Manse. The first is in the treasury office, where four Undermen functionaries are passing a number of papers around a small round table. Their conversation stops when Dranko enters the room, and they all leap to their feet.
“Sir!” exclaims one of them, a tall thin fellow with red hair. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“What are you doing?” Dranko asks.
“We're crunching numbers,” answers a second guild member. “Specifically we're reviewing various terms of our trade deal with Tev. It's, ummm, it's kind of boring.”
“That's not boring at all!” Dranko answers with a smile. “If you figure out a way in which they're trying to screw us, let me know.”
A third guild member, a short woman wearing glasses, smiles back at the Oracle. “It's more the other way around, sir.”
Dranko raises an eyebrow. “We're trying to screw them?”
“Subtly. It will increase the profit margins.”
Dranko nods approval. “How badly are we screwing Forquelle?”
“If you refer to our agreement with Seresef, Forquelle is not involved. I suppose in that sense, we're screwing them mightily.”
Dranko laughs. “Well, carry on. You're doing a great job.”
“Thank you sir,” says the red-haired man. “If you'd like to review the paperwork at any time, we are at your complete disposal.”
Finally Dranko stops in his own office. My own office. This is great! He evidently has a large desk, shelves, a carpet, paintings – the place is pretty posh. There's a large folded parchment on the center of the desk with his name written neatly upon it. He reads.
To Dranko Brightmirror, Oracle:
As you requested, I have shifted the main focus of the Undermen to taking advantage of the recently-opened border between Charagan and Kivia. As those efforts have now been underway for several weeks, I am able to make a preliminary report.
We have secured trade agreements, or are in the process of doing so, in a number of areas, the main ones being the gem trade with Seresef, furniture imported from Tev, and glassware and spices from Dir Tolia. Although the impact so far on our bottom line has been modest, this is due to initial outlays, purchases and investments necessary for future business. We expect that our available funds will triple within six months due to the increased revenues from new trade.
However, there are significant difficulties that may hinder our ability to extend our reach further. One is that Ocir controls much of the Kivian trade, due to the location and size of its main port city, Kai-Kin. They are an extremely insular country, xenophobic in the extreme, and they have rebuffed all of our attempts at contact.
The more serious problem is our main competition – a merchant guild known as the White Sun Cartel, based in Djaw. They were as quick off the block as we were, and have already secured many contracts with merchants in Charagan. The Cartel wields enormous clout, and it’s said that they are the mercantile arm of the Emperor made manifest. It is a fair statement to say that they have taken control of the trade markets between the two continents. They are willing to threaten and intimidate to further their ends; we have lost several contracts due to that pressure, most notably a lucrative agreement with a consortium of wine merchants from Fanaam, who backed out of a deal after being contacted by the Cartel.
I will continue to explore all avenues in this regard, and am pleased to note that despite the competition, the sum of revenues involved is so large that even a small player stands to gain significantly.
One unrelated note: Octavius and his people have expended some effort to locate King Farazil, as per your request of some weeks ago, but have made no progress. They have followed up several rumors of “possession by evil sprits” and such, but all have led to dead ends. His conclusion thus far is that Farazil has either gone deep into hiding, or has left Charagan altogether. However, he will continue to search until you explicitly countermand your previous instruction.
I continue to run the day-to-day affairs of the Undermen in your absence, knowing that your personal affairs can, and should, take precedence. As always, you may contact me via sending, visit to the Manse, or through Turlissa.
Ever your servant,
Lucas Blackwell, Hand
* *
Morningstar visits her church in Tal Hae. She hopes to hear news about Octesian but there is none. For better or for worse, the Dreamscape has been quiet under the constant watch of Ellish sisters. As she leaves to return to the Greenhouse she passes another sister coming in from outside, which is unusual because it's early afternoon under a bright sun. She can't help but notice that the sister wears an unusual necklace, the stone of which is a flat diamond formed of two triangles, one black and the other white.
The sister recognizes Morningstar and her eyes grow wide. She falls to one knee.
“Morningstar?”
“Yes. And you are...?”
“My name is Glory.”
“You can stand up, Glory. You are a Daywalker, I see.”
Glory smiles proudly. “I am.” If Morningstar notices that she's blinking more than is normal, and sports some conspicuous sunburn, she makes no mention of it.
“I have been visiting other churches today,” says Glory. “Making rounds, introducing myself. I assume you've heard about the souls of the dead; it's all anyone's talking about inside church walls.”
“How long have you been day-walking?” Morningstar asks.
“Three weeks.”
“Headaches?”
“They've gone away, mostly.”
“And you long have you been a priestess?”
“Three years,” says Glory. “But it was an honor to be called as a Daywalker.”
Morningstar reaches out to touch Glory's necklace. “And where did these pendants come from?”
“They were Amber's idea.”
“Of course they were,” Morningstar mutters. Then: “How many Daywalkers are there here?”
“In Tal Hae? Six.”
“How's it working out?”
“It's exhilarating,” says Glory. “And we see so many more people this way.”
“And what has been the reaction?”
“Mixed, but mostly good. Things have gone as smoothly as can be expected, given the tumultuous nature of our politics.”
* *
“Kibilhathur, I almost forgot. There was a delivery for you while you were away.”
Eddings hands the dwarf a badly-folded piece of parchment. Kibi reads it out loud, though only Aravis and Grey Wolf are currently there with him.
To the Knights of the Spire Guard, Greenhouse at the Street of Bakers, Tal Hae,
Wile we was moving sum rubble out of from the dunjuns here at Longtooth Keep, we found this here stone box. We can’t figger out how it gets open, and it’s got “Kibilhathur” carved on the lid, so I’m having it sent to you at Tal Hae. I hope its nuthing bad.
Yor servant and offishul caretaker of Longtooth Keep,
Fergus
Eddings gestures to a small stone block, about the size of a cigar box, resting on a side table. There is a seam that indicates it's a container, and Kibi's name is indeed engraved neatly on the top. When Kibi picks it up he hears an audible 'click' from inside, and the dwarf feels Earth Magic thrum through his fingertips. He tilts the box open and two folded-up pieces of paper fall out. One has his own name written on the outside, and other, which looks to have a small object wrapped up inside, says “Dranko.”
With Dranko still at the Manse, Aravis opens the half-orc's note and a small green stone falls out into his palm. It looks like a jade marble. Aravis puts the stone and paper back in the box without reading the note, while Kibi reads his aloud.
Dear Kibi,
It’s been several months now since you and your friends left my home. Let me tell you something right off: that battle against Condor was the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life! You had me on the edge of my seat, and the ending made it well worth watching. I cheered so loud I think I startled my unseen servants.
I don’t have much to say, just that my life has become much more enjoyable since your visit. I no longer look upon my daughter’s still face with sadness and trepidation, but instead with hope and happiness. And I’m not worried so much about Condor anymore, either!
I think about you almost every day, too. Please tell Gela again how pleased I am to know that she not only lived through the accident, but went on to raise a fine young dwarf with good proper magic in his veins. You make me so proud.
Much love,
Grandpa Cranchus
p.s. Don’t tell Dranko, but I did add a little something extra to his trinket. After he eats it, make sure to watch him the next time he smokes one of those foul cigars of his.
* *
Dranko comes back not too long after and is surprised to find he is also a beneficiary of Cranchus' gift box. His note reads thusly:
Dear Dranko,
For me, it’s only been a few months. For you, it’s been a couple thousand years. I’ll bet you didn’t think I’d take you up on your request, especially after that crack about my daughter being a bookend. I was tempted, I’ll tell you up front, to curse this thing, maybe make it turn your tusks green. But you probably have troubles enough right now, given your line of work. And since I have lots of time on my hands, I figured I could spend some of it making you something interesting. The real problem will be figuring out how to deliver it to you, since you won’t be born for about two thousand years, assuming everything worked out with the time travel. I’ll think of something – I’ve got centuries to work on the divinations and follow the probability lattices.
What you’re looking at is a charm that should give you some insight into the weaknesses of elementals; I figured that was the least I could do after Rumbler knocked you guys around. Ordinarily I wouldn’t make something like that, since it might fall into the wrong hands. That’s why you have to swallow it.
Good luck with your adventures. I hope you found the future the same as you left it.
Sincerely,
Cranchus
He gulps the jade marble without hesitation, and feels an innate understanding of elemental physiology come into his head. (In game terms, he can now crit and sneak-attack elementals.)
Dranko steps outside the Greenhouse. “Hey Cranchus! If you're paying attention: thank you!”
...to be continued...
iamwardicus
First Post
oh goodness... poor Dranko - Brilliant Job as always Sagiro!
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
You know, I'm standing right here.
[sblock=Pointy-headed character musing]Dranko has a weird role in the party. He fills the role of both damage sponge and striker, with more hit points than anyone else (a combination of good rolling and a 2nd-edition-legacy high con) and an impressive damage output against a single foe. On those occasions that I can manage a hasted sneak attack, Dranko will get five attacks doing something like 1d3+1d6 holy +10 + 6d6 sneak attack (reroll any 1s). That's about 14 pts of damage per attack with no sneak attack, or 40 points with sneak attack. The real weakness here is three-fold; he can only attack one foe at a time, he often needs to move and attack (squandering a full attack), and it's surprisingly difficult to manage consistent sneak attacks. The result is that foes often start strong until Dranko and Flicker can maneuver into position.
With a 14 wis, those cleric levels don't do a whole lot to his offense. They're great for defense, though, helping his saves and giving him a handful of utility and buff spells. Even better, they let him use a healing wand to act as party healer any time he isn't in optimal whipping position.[/sblock]
Thornir Alekeg
Albatross!
Wow, you can tell they are taking a break due to the new parenthood in the group. Piratecat is apparently missing the game so much he has failed his save against "Let me tell you about my character." 
I can tell you from experience that the compulsion does fade with time, but hopefully you won't be away from your game that long.
I can tell you from experience that the compulsion does fade with time, but hopefully you won't be away from your game that long.
