handforged
First Post
Wow! That is quite some cave system! I wish I knew who had blue eyes.
~hf
~hf
"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
- Thread starter el-remmen
- Start date
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Happy Groundhog!
Session #18 – “The Broken Circle” (part 2 of 3)
The blinded dervish in the hall made his way awkwardly to the curtain and began to call through it in his tongue.
Victoria let out an exultation to Anhur as she felt her spear puncture something inside the dervish’s body. No man should have been able to continue to fight after such a blow, but fight on he did, the rage within him seeming endless in the long moments of the melee.
“Drop your weapons or your friend dies!” The marked one called out. Timotheus’ eyes widened, flat on his back, as he felt the point of the great sword touch him on the neck just under the chin. One false move and he was dead. 1
“Maxima material! Markos muttered at the end of his long incantation and Dunlevey grew so tall the top of his head nearly touched the ceiling, and the swings of his sword became awkward.
“Call off the dervish and we will talk,” Markos negotiated with a smirk. Crusta stood beside him, long sword in her hands.
“I think the only ones fighting are the ones frothing like maniacs,” Telémahkos said with a weak smile. He threw down his sword and looked to the marked man and then to his helpless cousin. Bleys followed suit, tossing down his sabre as he stepped over to the doorway. “I am now unarmed,” he said. “Call off the dervish or the militant will keep fighting until one kills the other…”
“Bleys…?” The blue-eyed new arrival drew the scarf from around his face, revealing deeply laid freckles on a normally pale face, now sun-drenched. “Uri!” He looked to the man holding Timotheus at his mercy. “Call him off!”
But in that same moment, the spear-wielding dervish leapt out of the way of one of Victoria’s thrusts and slammed Dunlevey so hard across the face with the haft of the weapon, the sellsword fell to the ground, coughing up blood as he passed out.
“Baqir! Havase! Uri the Marked called to his man as he raised his sword from Timotheus’ neck in a sign of good faith. Tim scrambled up to his feet, his back to the nearby corner.
The dervish pulled back his spear and shuddering, collapsed to the cold hard ground, bleeding. Victoria of Anhur panted with her spear held over him, but taking a deep breath let it out slowly.
“Fiss’iss! We need healing in here, now!” The scarf-wearing man called out.
Victoria knelt beside Laarus and called to Anhur to close the priest’s wounds before he died.
“Is someone going to help Dunlevey?” Timotheus never hid his concern and responsibility for the hirelings. Bleys was already hurrying over to do what he could, saying to Ethan. “You know I am honorable. I need to tend to my man…” Crusta crawled over to help.
“Put your finger there…” Bleys commanded the half-orc witch and she obeyed. “Not so hard!” 2
Telémahkos looked over at Falco, noting that the guide had not raised a weapon during the entire fight.
“Who is that? Another watch-mage?” Markos asked Bleys. Bleys just nodded, busily working to save Dunlevey’s life. “Can you ask him if we can trade warriors?” As the lean young sailor-turned-mage chuckled, he looked up to see a lizardfolk step into the chamber and hurry over to squat by the dying dervish. The creature was mottled green and brown and had crests on the top of its head. It had a scimitar hanging from each side of a webbed belt, and wore a necklace of scored and twisted chain links holds an ankh.
“I am Ethan the Pearl,” the formerly scarfed man said with a smile. “That is Fiss’iss of Nephthys, and this…” He gestured to the scarred man. “…is Uri the Marked.” 3
The disguised watch-mage looked at the scattered piles of treasure and wondered aloud where it might have come from.
“Well, we may not know where it came from, but we certainly have ideas on how we’re going to spend it,” Markos replied with a frown.
“That will have to be discussed with Fallon,” Ethan the Pearl looked to Markos with seriousness,
“Fallon? The goddess…?” Timotheus’ voice was filled with a mix of awe and skepticism.
-------------------------------------------
When the wounded were brought to another chamber off that from which the Signers had first heard the voices of the dervishes, Basit and Baqir, in order to rest on thick straw pallets, some explanations were given.
These caves were on the far northwestern side of the great black hill rising out of the moors. The same hill that the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville was located in, but if not for the inadvertent direct route carved out by running water, many miles around from where the adventuring nobles had first entered, it would have been a difficult place to find. Ethan the Pearl was a part of a group calling itself ‘The Broken Circle’ and they had recently wrested control of this lair from a group of Rubar bandits who were using it as a base of operations in their abducting of slaves for sale to the nefarious slaver group known simple as ‘The Nine.’
The caves gave way to a rocky shore on a thicket-covered lake recessed into a nook in the hill. There were three large huts built on the beach, but there was no obvious way through the immense thicket to escape the area.
“We finally were able to trace them to their lair, and had to wait until one of them led inadvertently by the secret path through the thicket to get here,” Ethan the Pearl explained. “This was nearly a fortnight ago, but some of the bandits escaped and we were forced to go after them, and only recently returned. We had not finished searching the whole place, thus our failure to discover the secret treasure room you found your way to…”
Bleys the Aubergine explained of their quest for the amulet of Fallon and the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville, and how they had luckily been able to take advantage of the passage of time and the running of water to escape the chamber of the masks. 4 “Did you know of the tomb’s existence?” Bleys asked.
Ethan nodded. “The bandits used the reputation of the tomb as a means to keep locals away, but it proved their undoing when a source I had access to was able to tell me where the tomb was,” he explained. “We needed only wait for sign of the bandits and pinpoint their lair.”
“But the tomb itself…?
“Not as immediate a concern to us in our reason for banding together, the destruction of the Nine and the slave trade that they control,” Ethan replied.
Uri the Marked was an escapee from the dervish camps, who had come to hate the missionaries of the Red God of the West and had recently returned from Herman Land where he had adventured from some time. Basit and Baqir were in a similar situation, having recently been led away from such a life by Uri’s efforts. Uri was seeking his younger brother said to been sold to such a camp. Friars of Nephthys were natural allies to their cause. In addition to Fiss’iss, another friar was counted among their number, but he was out patrolling the area. The leader of the Broken Circle was a woman they called ‘Fallon,’ though Ethan offered no insight as to the origin of her divine name or who or what she might be.
“I must go speak to her of your arrival and get her advice on where to proceed from here,” Ethan said, excusing himself. Uri the Marked followed him out, but the lizardfolk priest remained behind. Baqir stood just outside the door.
“Will we get to meet her?” Markos asked.
“You have already found this place… I cannot see the harm, but that will be for her to decide,” Ethan replied as he left, giving a short bow.
Markos turned to Fiss’iss. “I greatly honor the work you are doing here,” he told her in the tongue of lizardfolk.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“What did she say?” Timotheus asked, fascinated by a lizardfolk priest of the goddess he revered.
“She said, ‘Tim should mind his own damn business,’” Markos smirked.
“Why must you always be an ass?” Timotheus snapped back angrily. The lizardfolk looked back and forth between them, her alien face unable to contort to reveal what subtleties of emotion she may have been feeling.
“Bleys, tell me… do you trust this Ethan the Pearl?” Victoria asked her watch-mage companion in quiet tones. Telémahkos stood nearby straining to hear without trying to be obvious. “You went to school with him?”
“Yes… Well, he was a few years ahead of me… We were both there for one… Maybe two years…?” Bleys absently scratched at the dark beard growing in patches on his angular face. It was said he went missing soon after his graduation. Many feared him dead… It seems to me that he may have good reason to prefer having people think of him as such… But he as far as I know he is an alumnus in good standing, and have no reason to not trust him…”
“That is enough for me,” Victoria replied in her stolid way.
Markos took the masks to one corner, along with one of the party’s pearls and cast identify. He was puzzled when he found no dweomers to identify at all! A quick detect magic spell revealed the magical auras were gone. The pearl was wasted.
As they waited for Ethan to return the other friar of Nephthys came in and called to his goddess to heal Laarus and Dunlevey’s wounds. Moments later they were awakening.
“I am called Harber of Nephthys,” the young priest said. He had the dark brown hair common to many Thricians, and he wore it in the long shaggy style in back, clipped short in front. He was clearly very athletic, and his physique accentuated the good looks hiding behind the layers of dirt on his face. Only his crooked yellow teeth marred his beauty.
“You are a Winter?” He turned to Bleys after he introduced himself. The watch-mage nodded. “But not of the Winters of Tribunisport, eh? I know some of them well, and have spent many months at a time in that town…”
“No, I am of the Devenpeck Winters,” Bleys said, his steady eye never moving from the friar’s gaze. “Though I would be made happy to know my honorable cousins as you do…”
It was nearly an hour later when Ethan the Pearl finally returned. In the meantime, Telémahkos made sure to let the others know he was against returning to the tomb. Timotheus agreed with his cousin, finding the traps and puzzles of the place not to his liking. Markos was ambivalent, but Victoria did not relish a return as well.
“Anhur would have me prove my skill versus worthy combatants, not mechanics and magic,” she said. Informed of what had happened during his unconsciousness, Laarus withheld judgment until it could be discussed at length.
“Fallon will see you in the morning,” Ethan said to them. “She and I talked for a long time and agreed to try to recruit you to our cause. We are at your mercy having discovered our hiding place, and require your silence on our presence here, but hope that we can bind our fates together by committing ourselves to aiding each other in the good…”
“If you are asking us to help you, for my part I am more than willing to pledge what coin and knowledge I have to your cause,” Markos said with an uncommon earnestness.
“Hey! I want to help, too,” Timotheus added. “Is there slaver ass-kicking involved?” He was smiling eagerly.
Ethan laughed. “Well… We were hoping for something requiring a little more delicacy, but there may be plenty of opportunity for ass-kicking in the long run…”
“You mean that you would have us aid you in your work against the Nine?” Bleys asked.
Ethan nodded. Basit carried in a large pot full of steaming porridge and Harber opened a sack containing half a dozen large hard rolls. The porridge was divvied out in bowls and the rolls ripped into enough pieces that everyone had the same amount; that is, except for Fiss’iss. She did not eat.
“You have to understand that we may be slitting our own throats in sharing this information with you,” Ethan continued. “But as it is, we have no choice. We cannot hold you and we certainly cannot kill you.” He smiled weakly. “So all we can do is trust you…”
“And you can trust us,” Timotheus replied.
“We may already have information on the Nine to offer you,” Telémahkos said. “That blue demon that Hezrah was breeding the orcs for… Could it not be working for the Nine?”
“That would connect the Nine to the efforts of the hobgoblins,” Laarus said.
“Blue demon? Hobgblins?” Ethan was puzzled.
“This…” Markos showed the watch-mage the ivory plaque they had found among Hezrah’s things. 5
“Stygian Demonborn!” Ethan hissed. He pointed to the rune above the image on the plaque. "That is the rune of the Nine. You see how there is a smaller rune within the loop of the nine-shape? That is his personal rune, showing him as one of the nine ruling slave-lords of the organization. We know of him as a powerful illusionist or warlock, not as some kind of demon ogre… This may just be a form he uses to intimidate the rabble.”
“Or else, this is his true form and whatever human form you know for him is the illusion,” Markos offered.
“Where did you find this?” Ethan asked. “Is it magical?”
They explained about Hezrah and her breeding pit for ogrillions, and how they thought that this ‘Master’ she served might be working with the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw to raise troops of ogrillion slave-warriors.
“It bears no dweomer that we can detect,” Bleys added.
“Be careful with it,” Ethan warned. “It may still serve some nefarious purpose, even if it is simply as the focus for scrying.”
“You were explaining what you hoped we’d help you with…” Laarus brought the conversation back to the matter at hand.
”It is very important that you keep whatever we share with you to yourselves,” Ethan continued, reminded that he had had a point. “You should not even mention ‘the Nine’ when you return to civilization, for we have good reason to believe that there is a high-ranking member of Thricia’s nobility in the Nine right now, and whomever it may be has spies in one or more of the House courts.”
“If that is so, such corruption needs to be rooted out!” Laarus said, sternly. Bleys and Victoria nodded.
“We agree, but as I said, delicacy is important,” Ethan explained. “The Nine are powerful and ruthless. If they learn your names and your involvement then you will not be safe, nor will your loved ones, or servants. Fallon will be able to explain more the situation and what we need of you on the morrow, until then you should rest.” He turned to leave, but then stopped. “Oh, and about the treasure, Fallon is happy to split it sixty-forty…
“Will you be satisfied with forty percent?” Bleys asked.
“No, you will get forty, we get sixty, though the statue is yours to take if you like, it is too inconvenient to get out of here and resell,” Ethan responded.
“You get sixty?” Markos sputtered. “We found it!”
A debate upon the splitting of the bandit treasure ensued, that led to everyone getting up and going back to that chamber to look more closely at what was there. Bleys the Aubergine, however, made an offer that seemed fair to Ethan, and the Broken Circle were willing to take their share of the coins from among the money of the Kingdom of the Red God of the West, as it was what was commonly used in the Western Conurbation.
“That is the second time you mentioned that place,” Markos said. “What and where is it?”
“It is a league of villages west of here amid the Levar Ach Piedi Hills,” Ethan explained. “It falls under no jurisdiction of Thricia or the Kingdom of the Red God of the West, and can be a wild place. There are Thrician ex-patriots, less traditional Rubes, bandits, slavers, Setites, homeless barbarians, all kinds of people. It is a place that the Nine can use to their ends.”
“I thought no one was allowed to settle in the Disputed Territories,” Laarus said.
“The law and reality are two different things,” Ethan replied. “Those people have been there for over a century, and nothing short of an army is going to get them out… Who is going to send an army to remove common people to enforce a treaty no one likes?”
Ethan the Pearl also said that the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland could take the holy books that were found among the treasure. They should be very valuable back in civilization, but would be suspicious among the pious people of the Conurbation because of the tradition regarding the handling of such holy texts. 6
By the time the treasure discussion was over, exhaustion was really settling into their bones and muscles and they began to stretch out their bedrolls in the large cave with the straw mats. They could all still feel the cold of the emanations they had suffered through in the chamber of masks. Timotheus went out to the gravelly beach to spend some time with Harber of Nephthys in prayer and discussion before going to sleep. The bastard Briareus explained about what had happened with the orc women in Hezrah’s breeding pit, and his uncertainty on how to handle such a situation.
“You were right to let them go, I think…” Harber replied. “Nephthys teaches us that everyone deserves the trust to make the right choices…”
“What about hobgoblins?” Tim asked. “Are they not inherently evil?”
“Some say the same about lizardfolk or half-orcs, but look at Fiss’iss or your own companion…”
“Crusta? I’m not too sure about her. She’s just saving her own skin…” Timotheus replied.
“What does it matter why she does it for now? If it can teach her something about true freedom and doing good, then it is worth it… The ideology of freedom is not about words or intentions, but about actions…” Harber said.
Meanwhile, Markos fought off tiredness long enough to follow Fiss’iss part of the way through the thicket to have their own discussion in her tongue, far from the ears of others. Ethan the Pearl led Bleys the Aubergine to one of the huts out on the beach, and they had their own private discussion as well. 7
…to be continued…
-------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) You can see the rules used for “covering” someone on the Aquerra Wiki, here.
(2) This group uses the “aid other” option for skills a great deal, especially for healing checks to stabilize someone.
(3) Both Ethan the Pearl and Uri the Marked are former PCs. I played Ethan the Pearl in a short-lived campaign set in Thricia that Sean (aka Rastfar on these boards) ran back in ’97 or ’98. Uri the Marked was a player character from The Oath Campaign that lasted less than a full session, having been arrested and left to his fate before he could bond with the existing party of player characters.
(4) See Session #17
(5) Click here to see a replica of the plaque.
(6) The two holy texts were The Sacred Journey of Man, and the much more rare and poetic, Prophetic Visions of the One.
(7) This conversation was handled after the game session using the group’s forum on some private message boards. See InterSession #18.1, which will be posted soon.
Session #18 – “The Broken Circle” (part 2 of 3)
The blinded dervish in the hall made his way awkwardly to the curtain and began to call through it in his tongue.
Victoria let out an exultation to Anhur as she felt her spear puncture something inside the dervish’s body. No man should have been able to continue to fight after such a blow, but fight on he did, the rage within him seeming endless in the long moments of the melee.
“Drop your weapons or your friend dies!” The marked one called out. Timotheus’ eyes widened, flat on his back, as he felt the point of the great sword touch him on the neck just under the chin. One false move and he was dead. 1
“Maxima material! Markos muttered at the end of his long incantation and Dunlevey grew so tall the top of his head nearly touched the ceiling, and the swings of his sword became awkward.
“Call off the dervish and we will talk,” Markos negotiated with a smirk. Crusta stood beside him, long sword in her hands.
“I think the only ones fighting are the ones frothing like maniacs,” Telémahkos said with a weak smile. He threw down his sword and looked to the marked man and then to his helpless cousin. Bleys followed suit, tossing down his sabre as he stepped over to the doorway. “I am now unarmed,” he said. “Call off the dervish or the militant will keep fighting until one kills the other…”
“Bleys…?” The blue-eyed new arrival drew the scarf from around his face, revealing deeply laid freckles on a normally pale face, now sun-drenched. “Uri!” He looked to the man holding Timotheus at his mercy. “Call him off!”
But in that same moment, the spear-wielding dervish leapt out of the way of one of Victoria’s thrusts and slammed Dunlevey so hard across the face with the haft of the weapon, the sellsword fell to the ground, coughing up blood as he passed out.
“Baqir! Havase! Uri the Marked called to his man as he raised his sword from Timotheus’ neck in a sign of good faith. Tim scrambled up to his feet, his back to the nearby corner.
The dervish pulled back his spear and shuddering, collapsed to the cold hard ground, bleeding. Victoria of Anhur panted with her spear held over him, but taking a deep breath let it out slowly.
“Fiss’iss! We need healing in here, now!” The scarf-wearing man called out.
Victoria knelt beside Laarus and called to Anhur to close the priest’s wounds before he died.
“Is someone going to help Dunlevey?” Timotheus never hid his concern and responsibility for the hirelings. Bleys was already hurrying over to do what he could, saying to Ethan. “You know I am honorable. I need to tend to my man…” Crusta crawled over to help.
“Put your finger there…” Bleys commanded the half-orc witch and she obeyed. “Not so hard!” 2
Telémahkos looked over at Falco, noting that the guide had not raised a weapon during the entire fight.
“Who is that? Another watch-mage?” Markos asked Bleys. Bleys just nodded, busily working to save Dunlevey’s life. “Can you ask him if we can trade warriors?” As the lean young sailor-turned-mage chuckled, he looked up to see a lizardfolk step into the chamber and hurry over to squat by the dying dervish. The creature was mottled green and brown and had crests on the top of its head. It had a scimitar hanging from each side of a webbed belt, and wore a necklace of scored and twisted chain links holds an ankh.
“I am Ethan the Pearl,” the formerly scarfed man said with a smile. “That is Fiss’iss of Nephthys, and this…” He gestured to the scarred man. “…is Uri the Marked.” 3
The disguised watch-mage looked at the scattered piles of treasure and wondered aloud where it might have come from.
“Well, we may not know where it came from, but we certainly have ideas on how we’re going to spend it,” Markos replied with a frown.
“That will have to be discussed with Fallon,” Ethan the Pearl looked to Markos with seriousness,
“Fallon? The goddess…?” Timotheus’ voice was filled with a mix of awe and skepticism.
-------------------------------------------
When the wounded were brought to another chamber off that from which the Signers had first heard the voices of the dervishes, Basit and Baqir, in order to rest on thick straw pallets, some explanations were given.
These caves were on the far northwestern side of the great black hill rising out of the moors. The same hill that the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville was located in, but if not for the inadvertent direct route carved out by running water, many miles around from where the adventuring nobles had first entered, it would have been a difficult place to find. Ethan the Pearl was a part of a group calling itself ‘The Broken Circle’ and they had recently wrested control of this lair from a group of Rubar bandits who were using it as a base of operations in their abducting of slaves for sale to the nefarious slaver group known simple as ‘The Nine.’
The caves gave way to a rocky shore on a thicket-covered lake recessed into a nook in the hill. There were three large huts built on the beach, but there was no obvious way through the immense thicket to escape the area.
“We finally were able to trace them to their lair, and had to wait until one of them led inadvertently by the secret path through the thicket to get here,” Ethan the Pearl explained. “This was nearly a fortnight ago, but some of the bandits escaped and we were forced to go after them, and only recently returned. We had not finished searching the whole place, thus our failure to discover the secret treasure room you found your way to…”
Bleys the Aubergine explained of their quest for the amulet of Fallon and the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville, and how they had luckily been able to take advantage of the passage of time and the running of water to escape the chamber of the masks. 4 “Did you know of the tomb’s existence?” Bleys asked.
Ethan nodded. “The bandits used the reputation of the tomb as a means to keep locals away, but it proved their undoing when a source I had access to was able to tell me where the tomb was,” he explained. “We needed only wait for sign of the bandits and pinpoint their lair.”
“But the tomb itself…?
“Not as immediate a concern to us in our reason for banding together, the destruction of the Nine and the slave trade that they control,” Ethan replied.
Uri the Marked was an escapee from the dervish camps, who had come to hate the missionaries of the Red God of the West and had recently returned from Herman Land where he had adventured from some time. Basit and Baqir were in a similar situation, having recently been led away from such a life by Uri’s efforts. Uri was seeking his younger brother said to been sold to such a camp. Friars of Nephthys were natural allies to their cause. In addition to Fiss’iss, another friar was counted among their number, but he was out patrolling the area. The leader of the Broken Circle was a woman they called ‘Fallon,’ though Ethan offered no insight as to the origin of her divine name or who or what she might be.
“I must go speak to her of your arrival and get her advice on where to proceed from here,” Ethan said, excusing himself. Uri the Marked followed him out, but the lizardfolk priest remained behind. Baqir stood just outside the door.
“Will we get to meet her?” Markos asked.
“You have already found this place… I cannot see the harm, but that will be for her to decide,” Ethan replied as he left, giving a short bow.
Markos turned to Fiss’iss. “I greatly honor the work you are doing here,” he told her in the tongue of lizardfolk.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“What did she say?” Timotheus asked, fascinated by a lizardfolk priest of the goddess he revered.
“She said, ‘Tim should mind his own damn business,’” Markos smirked.
“Why must you always be an ass?” Timotheus snapped back angrily. The lizardfolk looked back and forth between them, her alien face unable to contort to reveal what subtleties of emotion she may have been feeling.
“Bleys, tell me… do you trust this Ethan the Pearl?” Victoria asked her watch-mage companion in quiet tones. Telémahkos stood nearby straining to hear without trying to be obvious. “You went to school with him?”
“Yes… Well, he was a few years ahead of me… We were both there for one… Maybe two years…?” Bleys absently scratched at the dark beard growing in patches on his angular face. It was said he went missing soon after his graduation. Many feared him dead… It seems to me that he may have good reason to prefer having people think of him as such… But he as far as I know he is an alumnus in good standing, and have no reason to not trust him…”
“That is enough for me,” Victoria replied in her stolid way.
Markos took the masks to one corner, along with one of the party’s pearls and cast identify. He was puzzled when he found no dweomers to identify at all! A quick detect magic spell revealed the magical auras were gone. The pearl was wasted.
As they waited for Ethan to return the other friar of Nephthys came in and called to his goddess to heal Laarus and Dunlevey’s wounds. Moments later they were awakening.
“I am called Harber of Nephthys,” the young priest said. He had the dark brown hair common to many Thricians, and he wore it in the long shaggy style in back, clipped short in front. He was clearly very athletic, and his physique accentuated the good looks hiding behind the layers of dirt on his face. Only his crooked yellow teeth marred his beauty.
“You are a Winter?” He turned to Bleys after he introduced himself. The watch-mage nodded. “But not of the Winters of Tribunisport, eh? I know some of them well, and have spent many months at a time in that town…”
“No, I am of the Devenpeck Winters,” Bleys said, his steady eye never moving from the friar’s gaze. “Though I would be made happy to know my honorable cousins as you do…”
It was nearly an hour later when Ethan the Pearl finally returned. In the meantime, Telémahkos made sure to let the others know he was against returning to the tomb. Timotheus agreed with his cousin, finding the traps and puzzles of the place not to his liking. Markos was ambivalent, but Victoria did not relish a return as well.
“Anhur would have me prove my skill versus worthy combatants, not mechanics and magic,” she said. Informed of what had happened during his unconsciousness, Laarus withheld judgment until it could be discussed at length.
“Fallon will see you in the morning,” Ethan said to them. “She and I talked for a long time and agreed to try to recruit you to our cause. We are at your mercy having discovered our hiding place, and require your silence on our presence here, but hope that we can bind our fates together by committing ourselves to aiding each other in the good…”
“If you are asking us to help you, for my part I am more than willing to pledge what coin and knowledge I have to your cause,” Markos said with an uncommon earnestness.
“Hey! I want to help, too,” Timotheus added. “Is there slaver ass-kicking involved?” He was smiling eagerly.
Ethan laughed. “Well… We were hoping for something requiring a little more delicacy, but there may be plenty of opportunity for ass-kicking in the long run…”
“You mean that you would have us aid you in your work against the Nine?” Bleys asked.
Ethan nodded. Basit carried in a large pot full of steaming porridge and Harber opened a sack containing half a dozen large hard rolls. The porridge was divvied out in bowls and the rolls ripped into enough pieces that everyone had the same amount; that is, except for Fiss’iss. She did not eat.
“You have to understand that we may be slitting our own throats in sharing this information with you,” Ethan continued. “But as it is, we have no choice. We cannot hold you and we certainly cannot kill you.” He smiled weakly. “So all we can do is trust you…”
“And you can trust us,” Timotheus replied.
“We may already have information on the Nine to offer you,” Telémahkos said. “That blue demon that Hezrah was breeding the orcs for… Could it not be working for the Nine?”
“That would connect the Nine to the efforts of the hobgoblins,” Laarus said.
“Blue demon? Hobgblins?” Ethan was puzzled.
“This…” Markos showed the watch-mage the ivory plaque they had found among Hezrah’s things. 5
“Stygian Demonborn!” Ethan hissed. He pointed to the rune above the image on the plaque. "That is the rune of the Nine. You see how there is a smaller rune within the loop of the nine-shape? That is his personal rune, showing him as one of the nine ruling slave-lords of the organization. We know of him as a powerful illusionist or warlock, not as some kind of demon ogre… This may just be a form he uses to intimidate the rabble.”
“Or else, this is his true form and whatever human form you know for him is the illusion,” Markos offered.
“Where did you find this?” Ethan asked. “Is it magical?”
They explained about Hezrah and her breeding pit for ogrillions, and how they thought that this ‘Master’ she served might be working with the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw to raise troops of ogrillion slave-warriors.
“It bears no dweomer that we can detect,” Bleys added.
“Be careful with it,” Ethan warned. “It may still serve some nefarious purpose, even if it is simply as the focus for scrying.”
“You were explaining what you hoped we’d help you with…” Laarus brought the conversation back to the matter at hand.
”It is very important that you keep whatever we share with you to yourselves,” Ethan continued, reminded that he had had a point. “You should not even mention ‘the Nine’ when you return to civilization, for we have good reason to believe that there is a high-ranking member of Thricia’s nobility in the Nine right now, and whomever it may be has spies in one or more of the House courts.”
“If that is so, such corruption needs to be rooted out!” Laarus said, sternly. Bleys and Victoria nodded.
“We agree, but as I said, delicacy is important,” Ethan explained. “The Nine are powerful and ruthless. If they learn your names and your involvement then you will not be safe, nor will your loved ones, or servants. Fallon will be able to explain more the situation and what we need of you on the morrow, until then you should rest.” He turned to leave, but then stopped. “Oh, and about the treasure, Fallon is happy to split it sixty-forty…
“Will you be satisfied with forty percent?” Bleys asked.
“No, you will get forty, we get sixty, though the statue is yours to take if you like, it is too inconvenient to get out of here and resell,” Ethan responded.
“You get sixty?” Markos sputtered. “We found it!”
A debate upon the splitting of the bandit treasure ensued, that led to everyone getting up and going back to that chamber to look more closely at what was there. Bleys the Aubergine, however, made an offer that seemed fair to Ethan, and the Broken Circle were willing to take their share of the coins from among the money of the Kingdom of the Red God of the West, as it was what was commonly used in the Western Conurbation.
“That is the second time you mentioned that place,” Markos said. “What and where is it?”
“It is a league of villages west of here amid the Levar Ach Piedi Hills,” Ethan explained. “It falls under no jurisdiction of Thricia or the Kingdom of the Red God of the West, and can be a wild place. There are Thrician ex-patriots, less traditional Rubes, bandits, slavers, Setites, homeless barbarians, all kinds of people. It is a place that the Nine can use to their ends.”
“I thought no one was allowed to settle in the Disputed Territories,” Laarus said.
“The law and reality are two different things,” Ethan replied. “Those people have been there for over a century, and nothing short of an army is going to get them out… Who is going to send an army to remove common people to enforce a treaty no one likes?”
Ethan the Pearl also said that the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland could take the holy books that were found among the treasure. They should be very valuable back in civilization, but would be suspicious among the pious people of the Conurbation because of the tradition regarding the handling of such holy texts. 6
By the time the treasure discussion was over, exhaustion was really settling into their bones and muscles and they began to stretch out their bedrolls in the large cave with the straw mats. They could all still feel the cold of the emanations they had suffered through in the chamber of masks. Timotheus went out to the gravelly beach to spend some time with Harber of Nephthys in prayer and discussion before going to sleep. The bastard Briareus explained about what had happened with the orc women in Hezrah’s breeding pit, and his uncertainty on how to handle such a situation.
“You were right to let them go, I think…” Harber replied. “Nephthys teaches us that everyone deserves the trust to make the right choices…”
“What about hobgoblins?” Tim asked. “Are they not inherently evil?”
“Some say the same about lizardfolk or half-orcs, but look at Fiss’iss or your own companion…”
“Crusta? I’m not too sure about her. She’s just saving her own skin…” Timotheus replied.
“What does it matter why she does it for now? If it can teach her something about true freedom and doing good, then it is worth it… The ideology of freedom is not about words or intentions, but about actions…” Harber said.
Meanwhile, Markos fought off tiredness long enough to follow Fiss’iss part of the way through the thicket to have their own discussion in her tongue, far from the ears of others. Ethan the Pearl led Bleys the Aubergine to one of the huts out on the beach, and they had their own private discussion as well. 7
…to be continued…
-------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) You can see the rules used for “covering” someone on the Aquerra Wiki, here.
(2) This group uses the “aid other” option for skills a great deal, especially for healing checks to stabilize someone.
(3) Both Ethan the Pearl and Uri the Marked are former PCs. I played Ethan the Pearl in a short-lived campaign set in Thricia that Sean (aka Rastfar on these boards) ran back in ’97 or ’98. Uri the Marked was a player character from The Oath Campaign that lasted less than a full session, having been arrested and left to his fate before he could bond with the existing party of player characters.
(4) See Session #17
(5) Click here to see a replica of the plaque.
(6) The two holy texts were The Sacred Journey of Man, and the much more rare and poetic, Prophetic Visions of the One.
(7) This conversation was handled after the game session using the group’s forum on some private message boards. See InterSession #18.1, which will be posted soon.
Last edited:
handforged
First Post
Well, now I know who has blue eyes. It's a good thing everything got straightened out there before someone died. That certainly would have made everything a lot more complex. Not that adding another whole plot line won't complicate things.
I also like the idea of characters from other campaigns making appearances. It gives strength to the idea that PCs are special. There aren't that many people like them out there in the world. They have even heard of some of them before.
~hf
I also like the idea of characters from other campaigns making appearances. It gives strength to the idea that PCs are special. There aren't that many people like them out there in the world. They have even heard of some of them before.
~hf
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
InterSession #18.1 – “Watch-Mage’s Business”1
As the rest of the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland stretched out their rolls in the large cavern, readying to bed down for the night, Ethan the Pearl led Bleys to one of the small huts out on the gravelly beach in the shadow of the black stone hill and beneath the cover of the immense briar. The inside of the hut had a small fire pit and a variety of random clothing and objects hang from the hut frame, including a hammock covered with a mosquito net.
Ethan gestured for Bleys to sit on the pelt of what must have been an immense weasel. He fetched a skin from a peg on a beam. “You must have graduated, when? 564?”
Bleys sat. The purple of his robes obscured by drying mud. “565 H.E. Yes.”
“Oh! Let me help you with that!” Ethan the Pearl said, noting Bleys’ state compared to his own clean gray and white clothing. With an arcane word, he used prestidigitation to clean Bleys' robes. He folded his legs and sat across from him and handed over the skin.
“Thank you.” Bleys offered monotonously as he watched flakes fall from his deep purple robes.
“It is a local mead-like drink from the Western Conurbation,” Ethan was talking about the drink. “Reminds me of some of the stuff back home… It is really good to have some contact with someone from the Academy… Direct contact anyway. . . What route did you take down here?”
Bleys raised the skin and sniffed at it, before taking the smallest swig of the swill. After swallowing he gave a slight and respectful nod as if agreeing with Ethan estimation of its flavor. He handed the skin back to his host. “We came through Jacoba's territory, the Border Shires.”
Ethan's eyes widened perceptibly when Jacoba was mentioned, but he quickly regained his composure. “Did you get to consult with Jacoba?”
“We did not have opportunity to meet with Jacoba, unfortunately. Why?”
“Well, between you and me. . .” Ethan leaned in conspiratorially. “We are betrothed. …I do not get to see her very often and only get to pass messages along with slightly more frequency, and usually that has mostly to do with information being trading between what is going on out here and what is going on in Thricia proper…”
“Last I heard, none at the Academy had seen nor heard from you. Some suspected you rogue...” Bleys let the information dangle, eyeing the measure of the watch-mage before him. “The Master of Wards2 will be glad of my tidings.”
Ethan’s face grew grim. “Speaking for my absence and all that, well…” He blew a stray strand of his out of his face dismissively and his face relaxed. “Let's just say some erroneous rumors and reputations can still prove useful. Those who need to know the truth of my location and efforts already know it.”
“I see,” Bleys dismissed the subject of Ethan's status.
”It is for that reason that our betrothal must remain secret, and is the reason why I do not get to see Jacoba as much as I’d like…” Ethan continued. He looked sad.
“Is there some message that you would have me bring her?” Bleys offered as awkward consolation.
“If you will be going back that way, I would relish the opportunity,” Ethan smiled with the friendliness Bleys remembered from his first years at the Academy. Known as something of a practical joker back then, Ethan was never mean-spirited, or talked down to the underclassmen. 3 “So you said you found the Tomb of Dalvan d'Amberville using the obelisk? I've seen that place, we used it as a guide to find this black hill, but avoided the tomb.”
Bleys leaned in a bit, more attentive to a subject he wa much more comfortable with. “Interesting. So you must have seen the strange runic masks, maybe even encountered some of the odd mummy cultists? This is an intriguing area, rich with history dating back before the time of the Six Kingdoms. Were you also seeking the tomb, or did you know that the hill also sheltered this lair? Did the bandits seek to make their hideout near Dalvan's tomb intentionally, do you know?”
“I was told that the obelisk would point out the hill holding the tomb, and the bandits, who called themselves ‘the Dead Men’ had bragged that their hideout was well-hidden and protected by the ancient magic of Dalvan. I put two and two together. My source about the tomb did not know about the bandits, and I did not care so much about the tomb. If it were sealed up and not doing anyone harm, it did not seem worth it to look into… at least it was not a high priority…”
“And was it…?” Bleys lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “…protected by Dalvan's magics?”
“No… No…” Ethan smiled, and then took a swig from the skin. “It was just a rumor they spread when they traveled west; a way of bragging. I knew their hideout had to be in this area because of scout reports and information gotten from a prisoner… Like I said, I put two and two together… The bandits were too scared to ever try to handle the tomb themselves, or at least those that did, never returned.”
“These 'Dead Men', who were they?” Bleys asked.
“Brigands, cut-throats… dervish deserters and Thrician exiles, but most were just poor boys of the Conurbation who turned to what they could to make a living in a hard world. . . It pains me that we had to slay most of them in the process of stopping their operation… But what would we have done with them?” Ethan sighed with genuine remorse.
“And these dervishes who share your company, how does your arcane craft reconcile with them?” Bleys made no attempt to hide his study of the clothing that took the place of his fellow alumni’s signatory robe.
“They remain a bit distrustful, I am sure… But they trust Uri, and he has spent time abroad and is more used to the wider world than they are. They have not been with us long, but as time goes on they have come to see the value of skills such as ours… “ Ethan replied. “Listen, Bleys, I wanted to ask… Well, unless if it is a secret, or you have made some promise not to reveal it, but I would really like to know how you knew to find the Tomb… If someone else knows how to find this place, we need to know. . “
Bleys looked quizzically at Ethan. “Well, you have visited the obelisk. The directions are there, plain for anyone to decipher should they be so inclined. We only sought out the location, knowing it would lead us to the tomb of Dalvan d'Amberville.”
“But not everyone knows where the obelisk is, or even that it exists. In fact, I would guess that most don't, even if they have heard of the tomb… And since the obelisk is the key to getting into this area, if there is someone else that has this information, I would like to know so I can evaluate the danger… Is who told you a secret? Have you given your word that you would not tell anyone? I thought that might be case, and I would not want to ask you to violate that promise…”
“No. It was no secret. Perhaps an oversight on his part, but I like to think of it that he trusted my discretion… We came to seek out what I believe is an artifact holy to the Trinity. The hatred Dalvan bore towards Fallon, in life, is well known for those learned in the subject of the time. Legend has it that he took with him to his death an amulet; an amulet that she herself blessed before her ascendance. It is that, specifically, that we sought to unearth inside.” Bleys eyed Ethan carefully, in anticipation of a possible reaction with the words he knew would issue from his mouth. “Malcolm the Bronze set me to the task.”
“I knew it! That clever bastard!” Ethan jumped halfway out of his sitting position and shook his fist. The sun-burned watch-mage took a deep breath and then settled back down. “Well, at least I don't have to worry on that account, seeing as he was where I got my information on the place. Not that it was easy, it took a lot of convincing that he needed to trust me as to why I could not tell him the ultimate goal of finding the place, and he did not like me refusing his help… He did not mention an amulet to me… But perhaps that is because he inferred that I had some ulterior purpose to finding the place aside from the tomb itself. . I would bet money that the reason he told you about the place was as a way to find out what I was up to…” A tense edge in Ethan's voice betrayed his anger at the elder watch-mage.
“So you do not trust his gregarious nature?” Bleys asked flatly, not reacting to Ethan's disparaging assessment of the eldritch knight.
“Heh… I am not saying Sir Malcolm is untrustworthy necessarily, only that he is condescending and values his own judgment over that of anyone else, especially that of younger alumni. According to Jacoba, he is always passing on news and rumors and maps and things to young watch-mages as he sees himself as a kind of mentor, but also probably because it fits into some plan he has of his own…” Ethan took another swig from the skin and passed it back to Bleys.
“Well, should the rumors of the amulet hold true, the boon for Thricians may be great. So now I must ask, do you know anything more that may aid us?” Bleys took the skin and made the obligatory tilt before returning it to its rightful owner. “Mmmmm.” He swallowed “Or better yet, would you care to accompany us? Lending your strength to ours would almost certainly ensure our success. Much good could come of it…” He did not let Ethan reply. “And certainly clearing the black hill you plan to occupy is in your best interest. If for no other reason than collapsing the tomb once we have completed our task means no harm will befall anyone else, and will be a deterrence to future glory seekers… What say you?”
Ethan shook his head. “I have no doubt the amulet, if it is there, would prove a great boon to the church, but we have our agenda and our plans, and clearing the tomb is not on that list as of yet. I doubt Fallon… Our Fallon… would agree that it would be an acceptable risk for us at this point…But there may be other ways I can aid you without accompanying you.”
“We would welcome any aid,” Bleys said. He drew one of the masks with archaic runes etched in its forehead and handed it to Ethan. “Do you recognize this at all?”
The other watch-mage turned it over in his hands. “Is it magical? What kinds of magic did it emanate?”
“It emanated an overwhelming aura of necromancy, but was also accompanied by an aura of enchantment as well.” Bleys explained the posed skeletal bearers of the masks and what he had learned of the runes.
Ethan handed back the mask. “And identification did not work?” He took up the skin again and took another long swig. He stood and moved to hang it back up, but then stopped and gestured to Bleys if he would like more.
Bleys waved it off. “No. Apparently, the masks no longer hold their dweomer after being removed from the tomb. My hope is that they will still be viable upon re-entry. But perhaps I was being overly hopeful that you might have knowledge of the tomb’s contents, seeing as the tomb itself was never your goal. Had you some other specific form of aid in mind?”
“I was thinking I might have some spells you might find useful…” Ethan sat back down. “Perhaps vice versa, as well? I am not sure how long you and your companions plan to stay here, but I would recommend resting for a day or two… To recover your strength and talk over your plans… Plus, I do not know what Fallon will tell you on the morrow. . “
“Yes, yes…Of course, decorum dictates I offer an exchange of spells, I just wished not to seem presumptuous or over-eager.” Bleys pulled his own traveling spellbook from his satchel. “Though I am yet fresh-faced and may have little to nothing to your gain.” He offered the book forth humbly.
Ethan waved away the spellbook. “Just tell me, do you have comprehend languages? I would prefer tongues, but I think it might be too much to hope that you'd happen to know or carry spells of the Third House#. . . What do you need? Shield? Protection from Evil? Protection from Arrows?"
“Uh… Yes.” Bleys attempted a smile. “Of course there are others I am interested in as well. Though protection from arrows particularly, though it is beyond my abilities to prepare, as of yet…”
"Detect scrying, I need it. . .” Ethan the Pearl replied, almost as if reminding himself. “I know you don't have access to it yet. That and like I said, tongues… Let's make a deal. I will pen you a scroll with protection from arrows on it for you to scribe it into your own book at a later date, if you will ask around for a scroll or book with one of those two spells on it." He looked to Bleys eagerly, and then filled in the usual silence of Bleys' thoughts before speaking with more speedy words. "And if it ends up costing you actual coin, then we'll negotiate whatever's fair with the scroll I am going to make you tomorrow defrayed from the cost. Though of course, hopefully we can just keep trading and the money won't matter…Isis willing. . ." Ethan nodded and winked, and then continued again, as if nervous. "Oh! And don't think you'll have to get it all the way down here again, though depending on what happens with Fallon tomorrow, who knows… we might see you back here again… But anyway, yes. . You can always have it delivered to Jacoba, and she will get it to me…"
The two alumni handled the logistics of trading spells books and making time for the studying and copying required. They fell easily into talking shop, easily understanding the jargon and slang of students at the Academy. Further discussion led to them agreeing to trade a couple of more spells. Ethan thought that low-light vision would be a handy spell to use around magic-fearing Rubes, and Bleys became enamored of the idea of halt missiles. The conversation took several twists and turns, including a brief reminiscence of Master of Wards Methusahlal.
Eventually Bleys reiterated what he knew of Dalvan d'Amberville and the tomb's reputation. “Is there any piece of information that you would add? Something you may have learned from your own investigations into the area?”
“I don't really know anything about him specifically. I do know that the d'Ambervilles were a cursed family, prone to madness and delusion and some given to evil. They've all died out, though it is said there are still among the nobles of Thricia those who bear the taint of their accursed blood. . . “ Ethan paused. “Oh! And, while it is more of the bandit bragging, it was said that Dalvan still lived tomb, which doesn't seem likely, but the legends are vague about how he died, so perhaps he did not die at all? Or perhaps, he did not choose to be entombed, but it was his followers that did it? I don't know…” He shook his head.
“Hmmmm…Well it would seem that my companions and I will need to discuss more before we decide what our next step shall be. I know that I am eager to return to the necromancer's tomb, but the others, it would seem, may need more coercion. I am uncertain as to what our immediate future holds.” Bleys began to collect his belongings, methodically re-organizing them back into his satchel.
“So your group would come all the way down here just to go to the tomb and find the amulet and then give up so quickly?” Ethan seemed dubious. “I understand it is supposed to be a dangerous place, but if what you described is the case, then the way you came out was not really meant to be a way out, but a luck break due to the years of natural wear on the place - otherwise, you would still be trapped down there, or figured out the riddle of the masks by now… It could be that that structural flaw is a sign that it might be easier to determine its secrets now than it has ever been before…”
“I am tenacious in my resolve, certainly, but there are some amongst our number who have become… distracted…and look for reasons to return home. We also visited the King Stones investigating a rumor of a box of wands held amongst goblin shamans there, but discovered it taken by hobgoblins; supposedly from the north, possibly of the Blue Claw, but we have no way to corroborate that. Those wishing to flee feel it best to warn Schiereiland of these developments…immediately.”
“Also… I believe them scared.” Bleys continued flatly. “With the exception of our priests who are driven by faith, the tomb is a cold place, the very kind that tests a man's mettle. And for those not familiar in the tests of the arcane, just such a feat can seem overwhelming. I do not know how you think the structural integrity of the tomb will make Dalvan's riddles and wards any more navigable… I would be wary for just the opposite… But it is hope nonetheless, just the kind these others may need. Though I suspect them to believe our escape serendipitous indeed.”
“Well, I have been scared and cold in a tomb before, so I know what it's like, and there is something to be said for avoiding the situation if possible, but still… to travel all this way. . .” Ethan let his words hang for a minute before continuing. “Fallon will be interested in this news about the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw, if reliable news it is. . .”
Bleys remained flat, “As I said, I agree it would be a waste, but I am one voice in six, and there are always the lives of our hirelings that must be considered. But… If you would allow me to digress, as I recall, you were not far from Oroleniel…? They granted him the color ‘salmon’ upon graduation… Did you know him well at all?”
“He was a half-elf, right?” Ethan nodded. “He was a couple of years behind me. Weird… You know, in that way that elves can be… I don't know much about him except he's in… uh…New Harbinger? Yeah, New Harbinger, and I always though it was interesting that he was only half elf, but grew up in Tempestas. I was just curious what life would be like for a half-blood there… I mean, it can't be like being a pi…. uh, half-orc here. But why do you ask?”
“Have you heard of a group referred to as the Pillars? Some group other than the Pillars of Ra that is…I am attempting to divine a connection between him and them…”
“The Pillars?” Ethan shook his head for seemingly the hundredth time. “It doesn't ring a bell… Is it a religious or historical reference?”
“I must assume that it is contemporary,” Bleys replied. “But do not trouble yourself, I knew that the reference would be obscure at best, I merely thought that I would ask nonetheless.”
After a long awkward silence, Ethan continued, “You wouldn't happen to have any news of Wallbrook, or of the war, would you?”
“Only that o'Leinster has sailed from Outretowne with his fleet in anticipation of bolstering his numbers in Wallbrook, before attempting to land on Black Island soil.”
“Again? I heard about that failed Wallbrookian push a couple of years ago… I guess when Herman Land needs bodies to fill its army's ranks, Wallbrook answers the call. . .” He spoke with a strange mix of disappointment and pride. “So there looks like there is no end to it any time soon? What about signs that it might spread? Will other nations get involved?”
“Of course there are those who call for Wallbrook to make peace with the Baron, but those seem to be unheeded,” Bleys offered. “There is polite talk in Thrician court debating the merits of aiding our good neighbors, the Herman-landers, but if aid does come at all I suspect it will be nominal and late.”
Bleys continues in a flat, factual tone. “I expect a resolution soon. I believe Herman Land is losing an increasingly unpopular war and has not enough soldiers to continually sustain losses.”
Bleys the Aubergine stood and lifted his satchel to his shoulder. “The hour grows late. I have enjoyed our talk, but I do not wish to keep you.” He looked down at the now meticulously clean deep purple robes. “It comforts me to me know that even here, there are those to be found that hold true to our common purpose. Thank you.”
“We're doing important work down here. We're in the thick of it, so to speak, and I hope we get the honor of your help and that of your noble companions,” Ethan replied, taking Bleys' hand for a firm shake.
Bleys let himself out. “Thank you again. It sounds as if tomorrow is shaping up to be a fairly busy day. I am eager to get started. Good night.”
End of InterSession #18.1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) This InterSession was played out on our messageboard forum after Session #18, but is presented here in chronological order of the campaign’s events.
(2) The hierarchy of the Academy of Wizardry includes a ‘Master’ for each of the schools of magic (save for necromancy).
(3) This is actually stuff from the character background written for Ethan.
As the rest of the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland stretched out their rolls in the large cavern, readying to bed down for the night, Ethan the Pearl led Bleys to one of the small huts out on the gravelly beach in the shadow of the black stone hill and beneath the cover of the immense briar. The inside of the hut had a small fire pit and a variety of random clothing and objects hang from the hut frame, including a hammock covered with a mosquito net.
Ethan gestured for Bleys to sit on the pelt of what must have been an immense weasel. He fetched a skin from a peg on a beam. “You must have graduated, when? 564?”
Bleys sat. The purple of his robes obscured by drying mud. “565 H.E. Yes.”
“Oh! Let me help you with that!” Ethan the Pearl said, noting Bleys’ state compared to his own clean gray and white clothing. With an arcane word, he used prestidigitation to clean Bleys' robes. He folded his legs and sat across from him and handed over the skin.
“Thank you.” Bleys offered monotonously as he watched flakes fall from his deep purple robes.
“It is a local mead-like drink from the Western Conurbation,” Ethan was talking about the drink. “Reminds me of some of the stuff back home… It is really good to have some contact with someone from the Academy… Direct contact anyway. . . What route did you take down here?”
Bleys raised the skin and sniffed at it, before taking the smallest swig of the swill. After swallowing he gave a slight and respectful nod as if agreeing with Ethan estimation of its flavor. He handed the skin back to his host. “We came through Jacoba's territory, the Border Shires.”
Ethan's eyes widened perceptibly when Jacoba was mentioned, but he quickly regained his composure. “Did you get to consult with Jacoba?”
“We did not have opportunity to meet with Jacoba, unfortunately. Why?”
“Well, between you and me. . .” Ethan leaned in conspiratorially. “We are betrothed. …I do not get to see her very often and only get to pass messages along with slightly more frequency, and usually that has mostly to do with information being trading between what is going on out here and what is going on in Thricia proper…”
“Last I heard, none at the Academy had seen nor heard from you. Some suspected you rogue...” Bleys let the information dangle, eyeing the measure of the watch-mage before him. “The Master of Wards2 will be glad of my tidings.”
Ethan’s face grew grim. “Speaking for my absence and all that, well…” He blew a stray strand of his out of his face dismissively and his face relaxed. “Let's just say some erroneous rumors and reputations can still prove useful. Those who need to know the truth of my location and efforts already know it.”
“I see,” Bleys dismissed the subject of Ethan's status.
”It is for that reason that our betrothal must remain secret, and is the reason why I do not get to see Jacoba as much as I’d like…” Ethan continued. He looked sad.
“Is there some message that you would have me bring her?” Bleys offered as awkward consolation.
“If you will be going back that way, I would relish the opportunity,” Ethan smiled with the friendliness Bleys remembered from his first years at the Academy. Known as something of a practical joker back then, Ethan was never mean-spirited, or talked down to the underclassmen. 3 “So you said you found the Tomb of Dalvan d'Amberville using the obelisk? I've seen that place, we used it as a guide to find this black hill, but avoided the tomb.”
Bleys leaned in a bit, more attentive to a subject he wa much more comfortable with. “Interesting. So you must have seen the strange runic masks, maybe even encountered some of the odd mummy cultists? This is an intriguing area, rich with history dating back before the time of the Six Kingdoms. Were you also seeking the tomb, or did you know that the hill also sheltered this lair? Did the bandits seek to make their hideout near Dalvan's tomb intentionally, do you know?”
“I was told that the obelisk would point out the hill holding the tomb, and the bandits, who called themselves ‘the Dead Men’ had bragged that their hideout was well-hidden and protected by the ancient magic of Dalvan. I put two and two together. My source about the tomb did not know about the bandits, and I did not care so much about the tomb. If it were sealed up and not doing anyone harm, it did not seem worth it to look into… at least it was not a high priority…”
“And was it…?” Bleys lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “…protected by Dalvan's magics?”
“No… No…” Ethan smiled, and then took a swig from the skin. “It was just a rumor they spread when they traveled west; a way of bragging. I knew their hideout had to be in this area because of scout reports and information gotten from a prisoner… Like I said, I put two and two together… The bandits were too scared to ever try to handle the tomb themselves, or at least those that did, never returned.”
“These 'Dead Men', who were they?” Bleys asked.
“Brigands, cut-throats… dervish deserters and Thrician exiles, but most were just poor boys of the Conurbation who turned to what they could to make a living in a hard world. . . It pains me that we had to slay most of them in the process of stopping their operation… But what would we have done with them?” Ethan sighed with genuine remorse.
“And these dervishes who share your company, how does your arcane craft reconcile with them?” Bleys made no attempt to hide his study of the clothing that took the place of his fellow alumni’s signatory robe.
“They remain a bit distrustful, I am sure… But they trust Uri, and he has spent time abroad and is more used to the wider world than they are. They have not been with us long, but as time goes on they have come to see the value of skills such as ours… “ Ethan replied. “Listen, Bleys, I wanted to ask… Well, unless if it is a secret, or you have made some promise not to reveal it, but I would really like to know how you knew to find the Tomb… If someone else knows how to find this place, we need to know. . “
Bleys looked quizzically at Ethan. “Well, you have visited the obelisk. The directions are there, plain for anyone to decipher should they be so inclined. We only sought out the location, knowing it would lead us to the tomb of Dalvan d'Amberville.”
“But not everyone knows where the obelisk is, or even that it exists. In fact, I would guess that most don't, even if they have heard of the tomb… And since the obelisk is the key to getting into this area, if there is someone else that has this information, I would like to know so I can evaluate the danger… Is who told you a secret? Have you given your word that you would not tell anyone? I thought that might be case, and I would not want to ask you to violate that promise…”
“No. It was no secret. Perhaps an oversight on his part, but I like to think of it that he trusted my discretion… We came to seek out what I believe is an artifact holy to the Trinity. The hatred Dalvan bore towards Fallon, in life, is well known for those learned in the subject of the time. Legend has it that he took with him to his death an amulet; an amulet that she herself blessed before her ascendance. It is that, specifically, that we sought to unearth inside.” Bleys eyed Ethan carefully, in anticipation of a possible reaction with the words he knew would issue from his mouth. “Malcolm the Bronze set me to the task.”
“I knew it! That clever bastard!” Ethan jumped halfway out of his sitting position and shook his fist. The sun-burned watch-mage took a deep breath and then settled back down. “Well, at least I don't have to worry on that account, seeing as he was where I got my information on the place. Not that it was easy, it took a lot of convincing that he needed to trust me as to why I could not tell him the ultimate goal of finding the place, and he did not like me refusing his help… He did not mention an amulet to me… But perhaps that is because he inferred that I had some ulterior purpose to finding the place aside from the tomb itself. . I would bet money that the reason he told you about the place was as a way to find out what I was up to…” A tense edge in Ethan's voice betrayed his anger at the elder watch-mage.
“So you do not trust his gregarious nature?” Bleys asked flatly, not reacting to Ethan's disparaging assessment of the eldritch knight.
“Heh… I am not saying Sir Malcolm is untrustworthy necessarily, only that he is condescending and values his own judgment over that of anyone else, especially that of younger alumni. According to Jacoba, he is always passing on news and rumors and maps and things to young watch-mages as he sees himself as a kind of mentor, but also probably because it fits into some plan he has of his own…” Ethan took another swig from the skin and passed it back to Bleys.
“Well, should the rumors of the amulet hold true, the boon for Thricians may be great. So now I must ask, do you know anything more that may aid us?” Bleys took the skin and made the obligatory tilt before returning it to its rightful owner. “Mmmmm.” He swallowed “Or better yet, would you care to accompany us? Lending your strength to ours would almost certainly ensure our success. Much good could come of it…” He did not let Ethan reply. “And certainly clearing the black hill you plan to occupy is in your best interest. If for no other reason than collapsing the tomb once we have completed our task means no harm will befall anyone else, and will be a deterrence to future glory seekers… What say you?”
Ethan shook his head. “I have no doubt the amulet, if it is there, would prove a great boon to the church, but we have our agenda and our plans, and clearing the tomb is not on that list as of yet. I doubt Fallon… Our Fallon… would agree that it would be an acceptable risk for us at this point…But there may be other ways I can aid you without accompanying you.”
“We would welcome any aid,” Bleys said. He drew one of the masks with archaic runes etched in its forehead and handed it to Ethan. “Do you recognize this at all?”
The other watch-mage turned it over in his hands. “Is it magical? What kinds of magic did it emanate?”
“It emanated an overwhelming aura of necromancy, but was also accompanied by an aura of enchantment as well.” Bleys explained the posed skeletal bearers of the masks and what he had learned of the runes.
Ethan handed back the mask. “And identification did not work?” He took up the skin again and took another long swig. He stood and moved to hang it back up, but then stopped and gestured to Bleys if he would like more.
Bleys waved it off. “No. Apparently, the masks no longer hold their dweomer after being removed from the tomb. My hope is that they will still be viable upon re-entry. But perhaps I was being overly hopeful that you might have knowledge of the tomb’s contents, seeing as the tomb itself was never your goal. Had you some other specific form of aid in mind?”
“I was thinking I might have some spells you might find useful…” Ethan sat back down. “Perhaps vice versa, as well? I am not sure how long you and your companions plan to stay here, but I would recommend resting for a day or two… To recover your strength and talk over your plans… Plus, I do not know what Fallon will tell you on the morrow. . “
“Yes, yes…Of course, decorum dictates I offer an exchange of spells, I just wished not to seem presumptuous or over-eager.” Bleys pulled his own traveling spellbook from his satchel. “Though I am yet fresh-faced and may have little to nothing to your gain.” He offered the book forth humbly.
Ethan waved away the spellbook. “Just tell me, do you have comprehend languages? I would prefer tongues, but I think it might be too much to hope that you'd happen to know or carry spells of the Third House#. . . What do you need? Shield? Protection from Evil? Protection from Arrows?"
“Uh… Yes.” Bleys attempted a smile. “Of course there are others I am interested in as well. Though protection from arrows particularly, though it is beyond my abilities to prepare, as of yet…”
"Detect scrying, I need it. . .” Ethan the Pearl replied, almost as if reminding himself. “I know you don't have access to it yet. That and like I said, tongues… Let's make a deal. I will pen you a scroll with protection from arrows on it for you to scribe it into your own book at a later date, if you will ask around for a scroll or book with one of those two spells on it." He looked to Bleys eagerly, and then filled in the usual silence of Bleys' thoughts before speaking with more speedy words. "And if it ends up costing you actual coin, then we'll negotiate whatever's fair with the scroll I am going to make you tomorrow defrayed from the cost. Though of course, hopefully we can just keep trading and the money won't matter…Isis willing. . ." Ethan nodded and winked, and then continued again, as if nervous. "Oh! And don't think you'll have to get it all the way down here again, though depending on what happens with Fallon tomorrow, who knows… we might see you back here again… But anyway, yes. . You can always have it delivered to Jacoba, and she will get it to me…"
The two alumni handled the logistics of trading spells books and making time for the studying and copying required. They fell easily into talking shop, easily understanding the jargon and slang of students at the Academy. Further discussion led to them agreeing to trade a couple of more spells. Ethan thought that low-light vision would be a handy spell to use around magic-fearing Rubes, and Bleys became enamored of the idea of halt missiles. The conversation took several twists and turns, including a brief reminiscence of Master of Wards Methusahlal.
Eventually Bleys reiterated what he knew of Dalvan d'Amberville and the tomb's reputation. “Is there any piece of information that you would add? Something you may have learned from your own investigations into the area?”
“I don't really know anything about him specifically. I do know that the d'Ambervilles were a cursed family, prone to madness and delusion and some given to evil. They've all died out, though it is said there are still among the nobles of Thricia those who bear the taint of their accursed blood. . . “ Ethan paused. “Oh! And, while it is more of the bandit bragging, it was said that Dalvan still lived tomb, which doesn't seem likely, but the legends are vague about how he died, so perhaps he did not die at all? Or perhaps, he did not choose to be entombed, but it was his followers that did it? I don't know…” He shook his head.
“Hmmmm…Well it would seem that my companions and I will need to discuss more before we decide what our next step shall be. I know that I am eager to return to the necromancer's tomb, but the others, it would seem, may need more coercion. I am uncertain as to what our immediate future holds.” Bleys began to collect his belongings, methodically re-organizing them back into his satchel.
“So your group would come all the way down here just to go to the tomb and find the amulet and then give up so quickly?” Ethan seemed dubious. “I understand it is supposed to be a dangerous place, but if what you described is the case, then the way you came out was not really meant to be a way out, but a luck break due to the years of natural wear on the place - otherwise, you would still be trapped down there, or figured out the riddle of the masks by now… It could be that that structural flaw is a sign that it might be easier to determine its secrets now than it has ever been before…”
“I am tenacious in my resolve, certainly, but there are some amongst our number who have become… distracted…and look for reasons to return home. We also visited the King Stones investigating a rumor of a box of wands held amongst goblin shamans there, but discovered it taken by hobgoblins; supposedly from the north, possibly of the Blue Claw, but we have no way to corroborate that. Those wishing to flee feel it best to warn Schiereiland of these developments…immediately.”
“Also… I believe them scared.” Bleys continued flatly. “With the exception of our priests who are driven by faith, the tomb is a cold place, the very kind that tests a man's mettle. And for those not familiar in the tests of the arcane, just such a feat can seem overwhelming. I do not know how you think the structural integrity of the tomb will make Dalvan's riddles and wards any more navigable… I would be wary for just the opposite… But it is hope nonetheless, just the kind these others may need. Though I suspect them to believe our escape serendipitous indeed.”
“Well, I have been scared and cold in a tomb before, so I know what it's like, and there is something to be said for avoiding the situation if possible, but still… to travel all this way. . .” Ethan let his words hang for a minute before continuing. “Fallon will be interested in this news about the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw, if reliable news it is. . .”
Bleys remained flat, “As I said, I agree it would be a waste, but I am one voice in six, and there are always the lives of our hirelings that must be considered. But… If you would allow me to digress, as I recall, you were not far from Oroleniel…? They granted him the color ‘salmon’ upon graduation… Did you know him well at all?”
“He was a half-elf, right?” Ethan nodded. “He was a couple of years behind me. Weird… You know, in that way that elves can be… I don't know much about him except he's in… uh…New Harbinger? Yeah, New Harbinger, and I always though it was interesting that he was only half elf, but grew up in Tempestas. I was just curious what life would be like for a half-blood there… I mean, it can't be like being a pi…. uh, half-orc here. But why do you ask?”
“Have you heard of a group referred to as the Pillars? Some group other than the Pillars of Ra that is…I am attempting to divine a connection between him and them…”
“The Pillars?” Ethan shook his head for seemingly the hundredth time. “It doesn't ring a bell… Is it a religious or historical reference?”
“I must assume that it is contemporary,” Bleys replied. “But do not trouble yourself, I knew that the reference would be obscure at best, I merely thought that I would ask nonetheless.”
After a long awkward silence, Ethan continued, “You wouldn't happen to have any news of Wallbrook, or of the war, would you?”
“Only that o'Leinster has sailed from Outretowne with his fleet in anticipation of bolstering his numbers in Wallbrook, before attempting to land on Black Island soil.”
“Again? I heard about that failed Wallbrookian push a couple of years ago… I guess when Herman Land needs bodies to fill its army's ranks, Wallbrook answers the call. . .” He spoke with a strange mix of disappointment and pride. “So there looks like there is no end to it any time soon? What about signs that it might spread? Will other nations get involved?”
“Of course there are those who call for Wallbrook to make peace with the Baron, but those seem to be unheeded,” Bleys offered. “There is polite talk in Thrician court debating the merits of aiding our good neighbors, the Herman-landers, but if aid does come at all I suspect it will be nominal and late.”
Bleys continues in a flat, factual tone. “I expect a resolution soon. I believe Herman Land is losing an increasingly unpopular war and has not enough soldiers to continually sustain losses.”
Bleys the Aubergine stood and lifted his satchel to his shoulder. “The hour grows late. I have enjoyed our talk, but I do not wish to keep you.” He looked down at the now meticulously clean deep purple robes. “It comforts me to me know that even here, there are those to be found that hold true to our common purpose. Thank you.”
“We're doing important work down here. We're in the thick of it, so to speak, and I hope we get the honor of your help and that of your noble companions,” Ethan replied, taking Bleys' hand for a firm shake.
Bleys let himself out. “Thank you again. It sounds as if tomorrow is shaping up to be a fairly busy day. I am eager to get started. Good night.”
End of InterSession #18.1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) This InterSession was played out on our messageboard forum after Session #18, but is presented here in chronological order of the campaign’s events.
(2) The hierarchy of the Academy of Wizardry includes a ‘Master’ for each of the schools of magic (save for necromancy).
(3) This is actually stuff from the character background written for Ethan.
handforged
First Post
I'm not sure if it is Bleys, or just the way Watchmages talk to each other, as I don't know that I can take Martin and Richard as a good example, but these conversations seem less than cordial. I get that Academy alumni are supposed to support each other despite personal feelings, but they seem so cold.
Can't wait to see what happens next.
~hf
Can't wait to see what happens next.
~hf
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
handforged said:
Wait, are you saying that Martin/Richard conversations were cold too? I wasn't clear on that.
As for "less than cordial," I think they are cordial - but sometimes that is all they are.
In this case, though, I think it's Bleys not the general relationship between watch-mages.
I'd be curious what other readers, and the players themselves think on this issue. . .
Ciaran
First Post
You really can't take Martin and Richard as a good example. Richard made a poor first impression, what with the mind control and the drow witches and the demon wolverines and the getting Jeremy killed and all. Later impressions only served to reinforce the original impression of a Machiavellian prick. And if you're talking about dealings between watch-mages, does a rogue watch-mage like Richard count at all?handforged said:
As to Bleys, he's cold to everyone. You can't expect him to be friendly to other watch-mages when he's not friendly to anyone at all, ever.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #18 – “The Broken Circle” (part 3 of 3)
Ralem, the 8th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
The next day found the noble adventurers groaning from the aches of their battles and travails. Worst of all, not only had none of them recovered from the effects of the evil green stone in the chamber of masks, but Bleys was even worse off. He quickly found the piece of stone he had taken from the chamber of the masks from his pack (which he used as a pillow), and brought it to Ethan.
“This is a piece of that cursed stone we told you about,” Bleys explained. “It seems its effects linger, and in its presence may become even worse.”
The other watch-mage took it carefully and said he would bring it to Fallon to examine. She might be able to tell them something about it when they met with her after breakfast.
“It may be that we will need to go back to the tomb to rid ourselves of this affliction,” Markos said at breakfast. There was a dour mood hovering over the group, for Laarus and Victoria’s calling to their gods for healing had had no effect on the vile damage they were suffering from.
After breakfast, they were led to one of the large huts on the beach, and within its dim interior, amid many rugs and drying herbs and a small black stove, was the huddled form of Fallon. Dressed in gray, she was propped on a stool, and long white hair fell out of her deep hood that cast shadows on the crags of her face.
“Greetings…” She croaked, raising a withered hand.
“Greetings!” Timotheus replied happily. He introduced the party, except for Crusta, Dunlevey and Falco who were back in the other chamber. Telémahkos brought Tymon along in case his linguistic or geographical skills were needed.
“I choose to believe that the hands of fate have brought you here to us,” Fallon said. “As I am sure Ethan has warned you, the corruption of the Nine has infiltrated the nobility of Thricia. We cannot know who to trust, and for all we know one or more of you here might already so tainted… But we choose not to believe that, and that you have the good of your people, and of people in general in mind…”
“I have heard such a rumor in the past,” Timotheus offered. “Were there not other nobles who were once allied with the Nine?”
“Yes,” Fallon replied. “But they are dead, or their influence gone. There was Gelton Tenbrook who was banished from his House by pain of death, and is said to have met his end in Neergaard…”
“That’s the guy! That’s the guy I was talking about!” Timotheus was pleased with himself.
“There was also Delorius Nathanalus of House Brill. Our information tells us that she has fallen out of favor with the Nine, her own personal drive for revenge against a band known as the Oath having blinded her to that organizations nefarious goals,” Fallon continued. 1
“Is not the Oath the band that discovered the Nine’s use of the Sunra city of Highport some years ago?” Bleys asked.
Fallon nodded. “I have worked with them a few times before, but they have gone missing. There is among another band of adventurers who works with us a young marshal of the god Thor who seeks out his master, a dwarven priest of the thunder god who was the leader of the Oath… Well, some people say the militant of Anhur among their number was the leader, but I knew them well, and knew the truth… This other band calls themselves ‘the Promise’ in honor of the Oath, but we have not heard from them for a time either. Last we knew they were investigating a dervish camp to the east…” 2
“So we would not be the only ones aiding you in this?” Victoria of Anhur asked.
“When one is fighting a group as well-connected and resourceful as the Nine there are many different places where many different talents are needed…” She brought her hand to her withered mouth and coughed, sending spasms through her frail swollen body. She took a deep rasping breath before continuing. “Excuse me… When you get to be my age… It is a time of turmoil in the Kingdom of the Red God of the West. The politics of the place are a lot less uniform than most outsiders would think… The interpretation of their dogma varies and each of these groups asserts its power and influence at different times in different ways, leading to the varied relations with that nation that Thricia has had over the years. The fundamentalists believe that true believers should continue the journey westward, looking for paradise here on Aquerra, interpreting their texts very literally. They do not care for war or dealing with Thricia, except to escape them and reach their promised reward. The moderates, who are in power now, interpret their scripture as meaning that paradise awaits after death. They seek to eliminate the influence of outsiders, increase the buffer between the two nations and eliminate all non-humans in their lands. If war is what is needed to accomplish this, then they will do it, but from what we can gather, it is not their first choice. And lastly, there are the so-called ‘progressives.’ They gain influence, and are sometimes allied with the moderates. They interpret their texts to mean that paradise in the west is for them to create for the benefit of true believers. They accept that there are no more islands to the west 3 and instead seek to conquer all of the Spice & Thread Islands, including Thricia, as a bulwark against the outside world… They are the most dangerous… They are the ones most willing to interpret scripture in any way necessary to justify their goals… They are the one most likely to work with the Nine in order to increase their number of slaves to run their theocratic plantations, to allow for more of their true believers to become soldiers and dervishes in preparation for invasion…”
“If the Nine are providing slaves to the Rubes in preparation for an invasion, then their possible connection to the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw makes sense…” Telémahkos mused. “It will weaken Thricia’s ability to respond…”
Again, Fallon nodded. “We are very interested in knowing more of this possible hobgoblin connection, and that too may fall under your ability to look into for us… eventually… But more pressing is figuring out who among the Thrician nobility is working against us… And to that end we have a possible source of information. Someone who used to be a member of the Nine and had connections to House Vandermok. However, from what the rumors say, there is no love lost there any longer…”
Bleys’ brow furrowed with the mention of the Vandermoks.
“We do not know who it is, but one of our agents does, and when you return to civilization, we can arrange for you to be contacted with this information so you may seek this person out and see if we might garner their help…” Fallon continued.
“So you do not know the names of the other members of the Nine?” Laarus asked.
“We know some… There is Ignus of Set, who took over for Ajakstu who was killed by the Oath in Highport. There is Nimnott Grick, an evil trickster gnome, exile of his people… You already know of Stygian Demonborn… And finally, most distressing… We have learned that the pirate-queen Misery Tlalok is now a member, and she has brought her fleet of ships and her recently gained power over the Red Lantern Gang to their cause.”
“Is it possible that the Coopers are involved in the machinations of the Nine?” Telémahkos asked.
Fallon shrugged. “It is possible, however unlikely… The Coopers are no friends of Misery or the Red Lantern Gang…”
“So House Vandermok is no longer involved with the Nine?” Bleys asked.
“No… We have reason to believe that they still do, that of the nobles involved, the Vandermoks are the most likely, but we think there may be others…” Fallon explained. “Our own spies have brought back information about something they called ‘the Vandermok Investment.’ It seems noble coins are making their way into slaver coffers in hopes of some return further down the line… The only name we have though is ‘Torn’.”
For once there was no need for discussion, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland readily agreed to aid the Broken Circle however they could.
“One thing…” Victoria said. “While I have no desire to expose your noble work, if I am asked by a superior about your group or about the Nine I will not be able to hide what I know in good conscience…”
“Of course… We would not ask you to betray past promises for this more recent one,” Fallon said, solemnly. “But with a bit of help from Bes, no one will have reason to ask you such a thing if you do not offer it…”
Victoria nodded.
“Now… You must have questions for me…” Fallon said.
And they did. Bleys wanted to know more about Fallon herself. How an old and infirmed woman named for a goddess made it out to the wilderness so close to an relic blessed her namesake. Fallon had no answer for this that she was willing to give aside from divine providence.
“We are ill and are not sure what to do about it…” Markos said. “There was this green stone…”
“Ah, yes… Vile…”
“Yes, it certainly is…” Markos replied.
“No, it is called ‘Vile Stone,” Fallon said. She explained that the evil stuff occurs naturally in some places where stone from the elemental plane of earth is extruded through the negative material plane and into their world to create it. Its effects could only be countered on consecrated ground.
Fallon’s shoulders sagged. The long discussion had tired her out, and the young nobles politely withdrew back to the cave to discuss their options.
End of Session #18
-----------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) These are events from The Oath Campaign played from 1996 to 2000. Delorius was one of that game’s recurring villains. You can read about the Oath’s infiltration on the city of Highport, and their conflict with the Nine, here.
(2) Clearly, this is the band the party heard word of while in New Harbinger, back in Session #4.
(3) Ships that travel west of the Spice & Thread Islands either never return, or come back after weeks of travel with no sight of land.
Ralem, the 8th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
The next day found the noble adventurers groaning from the aches of their battles and travails. Worst of all, not only had none of them recovered from the effects of the evil green stone in the chamber of masks, but Bleys was even worse off. He quickly found the piece of stone he had taken from the chamber of the masks from his pack (which he used as a pillow), and brought it to Ethan.
“This is a piece of that cursed stone we told you about,” Bleys explained. “It seems its effects linger, and in its presence may become even worse.”
The other watch-mage took it carefully and said he would bring it to Fallon to examine. She might be able to tell them something about it when they met with her after breakfast.
“It may be that we will need to go back to the tomb to rid ourselves of this affliction,” Markos said at breakfast. There was a dour mood hovering over the group, for Laarus and Victoria’s calling to their gods for healing had had no effect on the vile damage they were suffering from.
After breakfast, they were led to one of the large huts on the beach, and within its dim interior, amid many rugs and drying herbs and a small black stove, was the huddled form of Fallon. Dressed in gray, she was propped on a stool, and long white hair fell out of her deep hood that cast shadows on the crags of her face.
“Greetings…” She croaked, raising a withered hand.
“Greetings!” Timotheus replied happily. He introduced the party, except for Crusta, Dunlevey and Falco who were back in the other chamber. Telémahkos brought Tymon along in case his linguistic or geographical skills were needed.
“I choose to believe that the hands of fate have brought you here to us,” Fallon said. “As I am sure Ethan has warned you, the corruption of the Nine has infiltrated the nobility of Thricia. We cannot know who to trust, and for all we know one or more of you here might already so tainted… But we choose not to believe that, and that you have the good of your people, and of people in general in mind…”
“I have heard such a rumor in the past,” Timotheus offered. “Were there not other nobles who were once allied with the Nine?”
“Yes,” Fallon replied. “But they are dead, or their influence gone. There was Gelton Tenbrook who was banished from his House by pain of death, and is said to have met his end in Neergaard…”
“That’s the guy! That’s the guy I was talking about!” Timotheus was pleased with himself.
“There was also Delorius Nathanalus of House Brill. Our information tells us that she has fallen out of favor with the Nine, her own personal drive for revenge against a band known as the Oath having blinded her to that organizations nefarious goals,” Fallon continued. 1
“Is not the Oath the band that discovered the Nine’s use of the Sunra city of Highport some years ago?” Bleys asked.
Fallon nodded. “I have worked with them a few times before, but they have gone missing. There is among another band of adventurers who works with us a young marshal of the god Thor who seeks out his master, a dwarven priest of the thunder god who was the leader of the Oath… Well, some people say the militant of Anhur among their number was the leader, but I knew them well, and knew the truth… This other band calls themselves ‘the Promise’ in honor of the Oath, but we have not heard from them for a time either. Last we knew they were investigating a dervish camp to the east…” 2
“So we would not be the only ones aiding you in this?” Victoria of Anhur asked.
“When one is fighting a group as well-connected and resourceful as the Nine there are many different places where many different talents are needed…” She brought her hand to her withered mouth and coughed, sending spasms through her frail swollen body. She took a deep rasping breath before continuing. “Excuse me… When you get to be my age… It is a time of turmoil in the Kingdom of the Red God of the West. The politics of the place are a lot less uniform than most outsiders would think… The interpretation of their dogma varies and each of these groups asserts its power and influence at different times in different ways, leading to the varied relations with that nation that Thricia has had over the years. The fundamentalists believe that true believers should continue the journey westward, looking for paradise here on Aquerra, interpreting their texts very literally. They do not care for war or dealing with Thricia, except to escape them and reach their promised reward. The moderates, who are in power now, interpret their scripture as meaning that paradise awaits after death. They seek to eliminate the influence of outsiders, increase the buffer between the two nations and eliminate all non-humans in their lands. If war is what is needed to accomplish this, then they will do it, but from what we can gather, it is not their first choice. And lastly, there are the so-called ‘progressives.’ They gain influence, and are sometimes allied with the moderates. They interpret their texts to mean that paradise in the west is for them to create for the benefit of true believers. They accept that there are no more islands to the west 3 and instead seek to conquer all of the Spice & Thread Islands, including Thricia, as a bulwark against the outside world… They are the most dangerous… They are the ones most willing to interpret scripture in any way necessary to justify their goals… They are the one most likely to work with the Nine in order to increase their number of slaves to run their theocratic plantations, to allow for more of their true believers to become soldiers and dervishes in preparation for invasion…”
“If the Nine are providing slaves to the Rubes in preparation for an invasion, then their possible connection to the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw makes sense…” Telémahkos mused. “It will weaken Thricia’s ability to respond…”
Again, Fallon nodded. “We are very interested in knowing more of this possible hobgoblin connection, and that too may fall under your ability to look into for us… eventually… But more pressing is figuring out who among the Thrician nobility is working against us… And to that end we have a possible source of information. Someone who used to be a member of the Nine and had connections to House Vandermok. However, from what the rumors say, there is no love lost there any longer…”
Bleys’ brow furrowed with the mention of the Vandermoks.
“We do not know who it is, but one of our agents does, and when you return to civilization, we can arrange for you to be contacted with this information so you may seek this person out and see if we might garner their help…” Fallon continued.
“So you do not know the names of the other members of the Nine?” Laarus asked.
“We know some… There is Ignus of Set, who took over for Ajakstu who was killed by the Oath in Highport. There is Nimnott Grick, an evil trickster gnome, exile of his people… You already know of Stygian Demonborn… And finally, most distressing… We have learned that the pirate-queen Misery Tlalok is now a member, and she has brought her fleet of ships and her recently gained power over the Red Lantern Gang to their cause.”
“Is it possible that the Coopers are involved in the machinations of the Nine?” Telémahkos asked.
Fallon shrugged. “It is possible, however unlikely… The Coopers are no friends of Misery or the Red Lantern Gang…”
“So House Vandermok is no longer involved with the Nine?” Bleys asked.
“No… We have reason to believe that they still do, that of the nobles involved, the Vandermoks are the most likely, but we think there may be others…” Fallon explained. “Our own spies have brought back information about something they called ‘the Vandermok Investment.’ It seems noble coins are making their way into slaver coffers in hopes of some return further down the line… The only name we have though is ‘Torn’.”
For once there was no need for discussion, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland readily agreed to aid the Broken Circle however they could.
“One thing…” Victoria said. “While I have no desire to expose your noble work, if I am asked by a superior about your group or about the Nine I will not be able to hide what I know in good conscience…”
“Of course… We would not ask you to betray past promises for this more recent one,” Fallon said, solemnly. “But with a bit of help from Bes, no one will have reason to ask you such a thing if you do not offer it…”
Victoria nodded.
“Now… You must have questions for me…” Fallon said.
And they did. Bleys wanted to know more about Fallon herself. How an old and infirmed woman named for a goddess made it out to the wilderness so close to an relic blessed her namesake. Fallon had no answer for this that she was willing to give aside from divine providence.
“We are ill and are not sure what to do about it…” Markos said. “There was this green stone…”
“Ah, yes… Vile…”
“Yes, it certainly is…” Markos replied.
“No, it is called ‘Vile Stone,” Fallon said. She explained that the evil stuff occurs naturally in some places where stone from the elemental plane of earth is extruded through the negative material plane and into their world to create it. Its effects could only be countered on consecrated ground.
Fallon’s shoulders sagged. The long discussion had tired her out, and the young nobles politely withdrew back to the cave to discuss their options.
End of Session #18
-----------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) These are events from The Oath Campaign played from 1996 to 2000. Delorius was one of that game’s recurring villains. You can read about the Oath’s infiltration on the city of Highport, and their conflict with the Nine, here.
(2) Clearly, this is the band the party heard word of while in New Harbinger, back in Session #4.
(3) Ships that travel west of the Spice & Thread Islands either never return, or come back after weeks of travel with no sight of land.
Last edited:
handforged
First Post
I meant that relations between Richard and Martin were always tense, but for good reason, and therefore couldn't be counted as normal. I understand that Bleys is pretty cold all the time, but is that typical for Watchmages? Are they trained to be that way, or is it just him?
The talk with Fallon is interesting. I wonder if it is merely coincidence that she is so near to the artifact of her namesake.
~hf
The talk with Fallon is interesting. I wonder if it is merely coincidence that she is so near to the artifact of her namesake.
~hf
Similar Threads
