InterSession #8.5 – “Denouement & Decampment”: Meanwhile, Bleys About In Quillton
Balem, the 5th of Ter – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
After seeing his companions off and an hour of uncomfortable poses at the
Rare Earth Armory, Bleys Winter walked past the Quillton market. He rolled his neck and stretched his arms, trying to work out the cricks that developed while Harvel Hammeral and his assistants measured and sketched, and asked him to change positions and then back again while they gibbering in numbers. He heard a deep voice call his name over the sound of the peddlers and their customers loudly haggling. Bleys blinked in the late afternoon sunlight, as he turned to see a tall handsome man with long black curly hair approaching. He had deep tanned skin, a well-kept goatee, and amber eyes. He wore bronze watch-mage's robes over a black tunic and close-fitting pants, and tall boots. His ears were pierced with only slightly more various silver hoops hold tiny sparkling gems than his fingers were covered in gaudy rings.
"Bleys!" he greeted smiling. "I was hoping to run into you! I was just doing what watch-mage's do. wandering about town talking to folks and seeing how they are and how I can help them… But I am glad I ran into you, I should have some time now if you'd like to walk with me back to my house and talk… Maybe have a drink…"
Bleys met the
eldritch-knight's eyes and extended a hand, careful to control his excitement. "Sir Malcolm the Bronze! I apologize for not announcing myself sooner. As you were busy, I took the time to visit your armorer. Harvel is obviously a master of his craft, and I am truly fortunate that he finds the time to hammer for me."
“Oh yes, and Harvell is an excellent armorer… None better on the island, and among the best in Thricia. He must like you if he is taking personal time to work on armor for you… Usually he relegates his everyday work to his family…"
Malcolm the Bronze shook Bleys’ hand firmly and he smiled widely.
"I imagine that it may have something to do with liking you, sir, but I am greatly appreciative nonetheless. I hope you do not think I take advantage of our shared alma mater," Bleys replied, his voice betraying his awe at having this conversation with the famous Malcolm the Bronze. He cleared his throat, and regained his normal even tone. "He tells me he has crafted armor for you."
"Yes. He did. . " Malcolm replied with a sly smile as if hinting at a secret. "As for taking advantage of our alma mater - well, that's what it's for! We take care of our communities and if we are lucky they help take care of us…It is a reciprocal relationship…Anyway… How goes the charter? Having fun yet? Any good plans? I assume this more than a social call… but a social call works just as well. . . "
"I have the time and can think of nothing that I would rather do than consult with you," Bleys added.
"That's the spirit!" Malcolm said with an avuncular slap on the younger mage’s back as they begin to walk. Bleys gave an uncharacteristic wince at the blow, which was harder than he expected, but then he noticed how broad the watch-mage really was. He rivaled Timotheus.
As Malcolm the Bronze led the way through town, the people… Well,
gnomes of
Quillton all greeted him kindly, some interrupting to ask if they can come see him later. He treated each one of them with great respect and seemed to have total recall of their many names.
"It like having the best of both worlds once you have established yourself," he said, musing. "Wandering and adventuring are fun and diverting, but it is in the coming back here that I see what all that work and danger are really for…”
Soon, he pointed out a large house near the center of the town as they approached it. It was two stories tall and loomed over the squat gnomish architecture used in most other places in town. In front of it is a large green plot on which is planted an exquisite garden. A small figure was working in it.
Bleys admired the garden as they approached, but tried to keep the conversation going. "And here I worried the Charter's conception eclipsed by the disappearance of
Agon's Reef. Even so far as the far shore of Quillton, you have heard of our coming? I must admit, it is not all the glory I had hoped for. Nothing so daring and as adventurous as I am sure you are accustomed to…"
The gardener stood and waved as the two watch-mages came through the gate.
"Perhaps we will find more excitement when we travel to the King Stones,” Bleys added as the gardener greeted them warmly, standing beside a patch of yellow tulips.
"Hello Master Malcolm! Back from your walk already?" Malcolm introduced the curly-topped halfling named "Penn". Bleys gave a courteous half-bow to the gardener.
"The King Stones, huh?" Malcolm said as he held the door to his house open for Bleys to step in first. "It has been a while since I have been there… But there's a long tradition of exploring that area… Lot's going on… Plenty of mysteries to still be discovered and solved… Ah!" He looked wistful. "It was a simpler time…"
The front door opened into a main hall with a wide staircase that led up into a large parlor with a picture window. Here he asked Bleys to sit and called loudly for one of his servants. A petite woman with a round face, probably on the far side of thirty, came to the door. "Oh, hi Tanya! Can you please be a dear fetch us some wine and maybe something to nibble on…” She nodded and was off to do his bidding.
The picture window was more glass in one place than Bleys has seen since his time at the
Golden Tower of the West. It looked out on the town square and the market, and the towers of the harbor fortress was visible in the distance, as were the tall masts of the naval ships docked there.
"We'll get back to the King Stones in a minute… So, I have to admit," Malcolm said, sitting down across from Bleys. "I did not know of your coming or even who was in your charter exactly until I spoke with Mistress Vanderboren the other day. She explained that you and your companions were looking to find her brother and save him from himself when you ran into those that wished him harm, or wished his family harm as a means of hurting him…?"
"That is correct, sir, apparently the result of a series of unfortunate events, which we discovered while pursuing leads to a haven for smuggler's known as
Kraken's Cove."
"Hmm, yes… Well, if he made enemies in Kraken's Cove no wonder they tried to kill him…Sometimes you have to leave well enough alone… So I take it you went there? Were you quoted good prices?" He winked and then stood as Tanya came back into the room with a bottle of wine and two goblets. He turned to her and said, "You know what? I don't want wine in the afternoon, have Tomo bring up a couple of hand casks from the basement instead." She nodded and turned away again.
"I hope you don't mind," Malcolm said, turning back to Bleys. "But meeting fellow alumni always makes me feel like I am back at the Academy, sneaking skins of mead into the dormitories, sneaking them under our robes after coming back from White Plumerock… Well, you must remember that stuff better than I…Not too long ago you were still doing it!" He laughed and sat again.
"Yes, I did graduate but only recently," Bleys offered timidly, not sure how else to respond.
"So… Any idea where this brother is now? Do you think people might still be wishing him or his sister harm?"
Bleys did his best to elucidate. "Well, obviously Vanthus made an enemy of one Harliss Javel, the pirate who sent her first mate, Drevoraz Kabran and a hold full of bullywugs to savage the Vanderboren manse. And while I think Mistress Lavinia is in no further danger at the moment, her brother I am not so sure about. Vanthus now seems to be consumed for some quest after some magical pearls." Bleys eyed Malcolm for a reaction. “Apparently the destruction of the black one in the cove caused all of the unfortunate inhabitants there to be transformed into feral, tentacled, hybrid, bullywug creatures. Harliss blamed Vanthus for its destruction, thence laying said mission upon her crewman. Her tale had Vanthus escaping the cove aided by great feats of jumping and swimming."
Again, Bleys regarded Malcolm carefully, checking for reactions to his revelations.
"What?!" Malcolm frowned. "This is the first I have heard of these pearls and this transformation! Please recount to me your tale from the beginning… and tell me everything you know about these magical pearls…"
Bleys did not react to Malcolm's surprise, as if suspecting it. And with composure began to recount the tale of seeking out Vanthus and the rumors regarding an attack on
House Wetherwax. He also explained about the map folios and the
sepia snake sigil, and finished with Aug Bohr’s escape (1), and the reference to the ivory pearl on Vanthus’ map.
“And as the bloated bullywug shaman hopped off into the night, he called back…” Bleys concluded. “Or at least, that is what my companions have recounted to me. He said… something about how we’d get what was coming to us when the ‘savage tide’ begins…? Or maybe, he said, when it comes… Again, I was not there…”
During the time Bleys was telling the story, Tanya appeared with the two handcasks (2) and poured a rich frothing ale into two large mugs on a low round table between him and the elder watch-mage.
"The Savage Tide…? Hmmm…" Malcolm was quiet a long time. "I wonder if there is any connection to 'the Savage Tide' in
Azure? Um, I forget his name, young kid…Must have been at the Academy at the same time as you, he runs the place by that name. . . If I understand correctly he inherited it from his grandfather who was also of the Academy… Other than that, I am not sure what it refers to… But I can try to find out…Now that I hear your story, the bullywug involvement makes a lot more sense, however, I can never imagine that ‘wugs would align themselves with anyone, unless it had to be done for their bizarre religious devotion."
He took three large gulps of ale and then poured himself some more, gesturing to Bleys' mug. "As for Kraken's Cove. . . It won't be long until the Coopers find out what happened…You know the Cooper's right? And if they find out that the
Charter of Schiereiland were there, they may think you were involved… So be careful whom you tell… But boy, is
THAT going to de-stabilize the area. . ."
Bleys grabbed the large foaming mug grudgingly and put down a large swallow with an audible gulp.
"Coopers? You mean barrel-makers? Yes, I understand what a cooper is…" Perhaps it was the taste of the ale, so uncommon for Bleys, but he seemed slightly annoyed. "But I fail to understand what they may have to do with the cove. It is my suspicion, however, that the place will continue to be used for nefarious purposes. But, I cannot understand why, if House Wetherwax, or Swann for that matter, knows of its existence, they allow such activity to persist…"
"Bleys…" Malcolm smiled widely with paternal condescension. "The Coopers are a guild of thieves. They are the Thrician branch of what is sometimes called 'Berman's Gang', which are
Herman-lander merchant/thieves. A bad bunch, but certainly no
Red Lantern Gang… As for why the noble houses tolerate the cove, well, they profit from it… And they always know where the contraband is being traded - in a controlled and relatively peaceful environment outside of Thrician territory… Is that not preferable to many small clandestine possibly violent meetings that become more dangerous the more those involved have to worry about secrecy? But now, if the involvement of young nobles gets out, and if this Harliss lives, it is sure to be reported to her superiors, whoever they may be, it will undermine the security the smugglers felt they had there…" He took another sip. "Good stuff, right?
Quillton Brew. . . At least sixty percent of the reason why I have stayed on here…" He winked again.
Abashed by his display of ignorance, Bleys made no inquisition as to who Berman might be or what the Red Lantern Gang's province was. Instead he swallowed another less hefty mouthful of Quillton Brew, noting that it was good, bringing his palate to life after so long.
"This 'savage tide' in Azure? Is it an inn? A Watch-mage runs it?" Bleys finally asked.
"Yes, you know Azure…Council of Watch-mages and all that…The watch-mage of Graingate has always run the inn there. Just one of those strange little local traditions, I guess. Well, the kid there now, I forget his name… Something the white? No, not white…" He scratched his beard as he puzzled at it for second and then continued. "They change the name, but the new one… He gave it the same name his grand dad had… It was the '
Mulberry Bush' during most of my time. . . You should know him, he could not have graduated more than two or three years ago…"
Malcolm the Bronze stood and went over a table with small drawers and pulled out a pipe and leather pouch. "Have a pipe? Want one?"
Bleys politely refused. "No, thank you all the same. I wish not to sully the flavor of this fine beverage." Bleys finishes his mugful. Malcolm packed his pipe and soon there is a sweet lime-like smell in the room.
"Athoen the Blanche?" Bleys tried to remember, "Fercal the Sand?"
"Athoen! That's it!" Malcolm laughed easily. "Pale as a ghoul. . .!"
Bleys the Aubergine produced the map folios, and held them out to show his senior. "These are the maps we recovered. I have yet to circumvent the warding on the bottom two."
Malcolm took the folios and tossed them casually on the table. "I shall examine their wardings later, and if it is a simple matter I shall remove them for you. Were there other things you wished to consult me on?"
Abashed again, this time by Malcolm's dismissive treatment of what he considered a rare and precious find, Bleys soldiered on. "Well, um, yes. I am excited to be visiting these King Stones. Though they are not exactly in my realm of knowledge, I have always been fascinated with the time of Thricia's
Six Kingdoms. You implied that you have been there. Any sagacious words?"
"Hmm, well actually I was hoping that you might do me a favor… Do you know about the Moor-tombs?" Malcolm sat back, down taking a long pull on his pipe before continuing. He rolled his rings around on his fingers as he talked. "In my youth, when I visited the King Stones with some friends, we never got to see the one place I was most interested in exploring… I have an old map I could give you to find the place, though it was drawn from memory… And more information, of course… If you are interested…"
Eager at the talk of high adventure Bleys let down his guard. He grabbed his refilled mug and took another long sip, nodding.
Malcolm continued: "As for the Stones themselves, I recommend exploring as close to mid-day as possible, as whatever humanoids are living there are usually active in the late evening and the time before dawn… Also, avoid the
Baphomet Stone Maze…"
"The Baphomet Stone Maze? Sounds mysterious…”
"Let me say again. . . DON'T GO THERE,” Malcolm’s face grew serious, and his voice deepened with practiced authority. “It is for that reason that were never got to the Moor Tomb, that I spoke of… For my old companions' curiosity led to the death of one of our number and we chose to return to civilization instead…”
"If you order me not to go, I will not,” Bleys sat up straight, considering the connotations of the warnings of one of the most powerful wizards outside of the Academy Masters that he knew of… “But, may I ask, what more you know of it? Knowledge, especially of this kind, is ever my pursuit. It may help me further convince someone else to proffer from your wisdom some day. Sir, and if I may ask without being impolite, how green were you then?"
"A race that was long considered extinct in Thricia, and most other places in Aquerra except perhaps the U.K.S.F… They live there,” Fatigue crept into Macolm’s voice. “And even though many years have passed and I have grown, I hope…wiser than those green years, I would not go back. We were warned and did not listen, and thus we were in the wrong… Green or not, it is a place best avoided.”
“But certainly, I'd be honored to do you the favor, but I don't quite understand…” Bleys wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin that he conveniently noticed beside the keg. “Do you merely just wish your curiosity slaked? What has kept you from the final tomb? I thought they'd all long since been plundered?"
“Life being as it is, I just never got back there,” Malcolm replied, perking up again. “Regardless, the map I have shows the way to it. I don't think anyone has found it and lived since the last time I was in the area… As far as I know, it remains untouched for over a millennia."
“I see…”
Malcolm the Bronze leaned forward and continued in a quieter voice, as if practiced for the use when retelling lore. "Dalvan d'Amberville was a wizard that served
Agon the God-King much to the chagrin of his fellow nobles of that lost house.
The d’Ambervilles purged all those members of their house who served the God-king after he was defeated, and Dalvan was among those. In exile, he went among the people of the moors who among the ancestors of the Ray-Ree."
“The name ‘Ray-Ree’ appears on the map of the King Stones we have,” Bleys mentioned. “They are a barbarian people, are they not?”
"Yes. They are usually willing to trade information and give food for common tools and the like…But they are a proud people. Everything should seem like a gift freely given or else they will drive a hard bargain or refuse to trade at all." Malcolm paused and furrowed his brow, and then slapped his leg. "Oh! So. . . Dalvan hated
Fallon and her followers, and it said he had stolen an amulet once blessed by the mortal
Fallon from one of her followers. He cherished the theft of it, and it is likely still among the treasure in his tomb. I would like to examine it before giving it as a gift it to the
Church of Fallon, which is my primary intention…” He looked up and then smiled again. “Of course, you and your companions would be given the credit for retrieving it."
Intrigued, Bleys peppered Malcolm with a salvo of questions: "The moors: who were they who lived there, barbarians as well? And did Dalvan just end up there or search them out? So, you suspect that the sole tomb that you did not enter is where Dalvan is interred? Along with this artifact of Fallon?"
"The people of the moors were common folk and mercenaries driven out of the northern portion of the
Island of the Six Kingdoms when Agon was defeated, for they had supported him…Legend says they were all evil people, though I doubt that… I am sure many were just caught up in the wrong place and had to serve him or die… And while death is ever an option for people such as you and me, a common person cannot be expected to do the same, or else they would no longer be common…” He cleared his throat. “I am fairly certain the amulet is there… And I know the tomb
is Dalvan's and thus likely to be well-guarded. I know of at least three groups that sought it out in the past and did not return… But they were from before my time. I have not heard about it again in all these years, and I keep my ear to the ground for the softest of rumors and news of adventuring exploits…"
Malcolm paused and smiled again, seeing Bleys was excitedly trying to piece together the information he been given. "By guarded, do you mean traps… Wardens? Might there be some similarity to the other tombs I should know about?"
"I do not know of what other tombs you know of, but it is certainly nothing as dangerous as the
Mud-Sorcerers, for example, or I would not send one so inexperienced as you there… No offense. As to what kind of protections, it is hard to know except that Dalvan was something of a necromancer and that each of the wizards that ruled the people of the moors took pride in devising the protections of their tombs when immortality became inaccessible by other means… Of course, all of them were seeking to emulate Dalvan… and as far as I know, his is the only tomb left."
"I take no offense sir. For I was still suckling at my mother's teat while you were already engaged in learning the ways of magic. I am green, I concede, but seeking to remedy that, though it may take some doing to convince my companions that this is worth doing…"
"Seems to me like you need to learn how to make them think its their own idea," Malcolm winked. "But it should not be hard to convince them… It is less than three days march from the King Stones. The Ray-Ree should know the general area, and the map should help from there…”
The younger mage patted his sabre hilt, "I was also wondering if you might be able to procure the skills that would help me meld my arcane abilities with the martial skills I trained for in my youth," Bleys grew sullen. "As I have mentioned, I still wear armor despite the danger of its weight and discomfort disrupting the free somatic expressions required to cast. It seems fruitless to abandon the training I had when I thought I would become a squire… The goal to someday, perhaps, even become a knight…"
“Returning that amulet will begin to cement your reputation, and knighthoods are built upon reputation… Trust me on that one…" Malcolm the Bronze smirked. “As for casting in armor, I can introduce you to someone, if you want to get better at it. (3) It'll cost some, but it shouldn't take more than a week or so… If you can promise you'll do your best to get your group to check out the Moor-tomb I will use my influence for you to get you a discount…" The elder watch-mage’s smile never died.
"Ah…" Bleys was somewhat deflated. "I am greatly interested but my desires far outweigh my purse…Unfortunately, I also lack the leverage to make the promise that my companions will want to look into this Moor-tomb. I would rather not give my word lightly to you, sir. But I can promise you that I will do my best to convince them. And I believe that they may be receptive, particularly the priests…
"You don't have seventy-five silver?" Malcolm looked at Bleys with disbelief.
Embarrassed for a third time, Bleys nodded and admitted that yes, he did have that much. They shook hands on the deal. Malcolm told him he would send word to the manse once the arrangements for the training were made, and that he would also send along the map to the Moor-Tomb. In addition, he would look into dispelling the wards on the map folios.
Bleys thanked him graciously.
"And while I am sure you will decline, I believe proper decorum demands I offer you spell exchange. I am not so naive to think as I may have anything to offer you, but I humble myself all the same…" Bleys slipped his spellbook from his satchel and handed it over. Malcolm smirked and flipped through it disinterestedly and then handed it back with amusement.
“No, there is nothing, but I appreciate the gesture,” Malcolm said.
As Bleys the Aubergine left soon after, Malcolm told him that since he was called away on business often this would likely be the only time they would get to meet, but that Bleys should come back the next time he was in Quillton.
Bleys agreed.
End of InterSession #8.5
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Notes:
(1) See Session #8
(2) A handcask is a small cask of ale or mead with a handle for easier pouring. It usually holds one and half gallons.
(3) Soon after Bleys began his training with a local gnomish wizard to learn the
still spell feat.