Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 133
It was Clinger who drew their attention, issuing a sibilant hiss that drew their attention up and down the trail.
The path ahead twisted up between a field of boulders before heading up a series of switchbacks to the crest of a rise ahead. A number cloaked figures had emerged from the boulders, and regarded them with hard, greedy eyes.
They were human men, for the most part, although one broad-shouldered brute looked like he had more than a splash of orcish blood in his veins. There were eight in total, and they all shared a hunted look about them, with unkempt beards and garments that bore dirt and wear in roughly equal proportions. They were armed; their weapons, a collection of various poking and cutting implements, seemed entirely functional. Two of them, remaining back among the rocks with higher vantages, carried loaded crossbows. The “armor” worn by the newcomers was a diverse medley of hides and shaped pieces of boiled leather. One, a long-limbed fellow who was missing part of his left ear, actually wore a shirt of mail links, and it was he who addressed the companions.
“Hail and well met!” he exclaimed, waving and offering a friendly smile that belied the hard looks of his fellows.
“Well met,” Dannel offered. He carefully laid Zenna’s stretcher down in a flat space beside the trail, but made no threatening move toward the crossbow—unloaded, unfortunately—at his hip. He had left the cumbersome quarterstaff he’d used against Zenith in Bhal-Hamatugn, but had since equipped himself with a rapier taken from a fallen kuo-toa.
“It would seem that you have run afoul of the dangers of the mountains,” the man said companionably. “I am Torlan, and this crew are my band of Guardians.” He indicated the sweep of his fellows with a wide brush of his hand. “You are headed back to Cauldron, then?”
“Indeed,” Dannel said, his voice pleasant. “Our friend has taken seriously ill from a nasty malady; you may wish to have your friends keep their distance, lest they catch sick.”
“That is terrible news, and I hope that you find aid in Cauldron; the clerics there can treat many illnesses, if one has the coin.”
“I thank you for your concern, and wish you good day; we must continue to make haste.” The elf shot a quick sidelong glance at his companions; Arun’s expression looked like it could break stone, while Mole was nowhere to be seen.
“That there’s the ugliest horse I ever did see,” one of the men said, to the snicker of his neighbor, a rat-faced man carrying a hook-ended military pick. Torlan silenced them both with a hard look, before turning back to Dannel and his friends.
“Of course, I know you have no time for idle chatter. However, I must ask your tolerance for one more moment; my Guardians have worked hard to keep the high trails clear, and our expenses are significant in this venture. I am afraid that I am compelled to ask a toll, of travelers, to subsidize these efforts.”
Arun muttered something unpleasant, but Dannel only smiled and nodded. “A worthy goal, although as you can see, we are not wealthy travelers by any means. What is the tally of this fee?”
“We would not want to interfere with your ability to seek treatment for your friend,” Torlan said with a nod of magnanimity. “We will take a mere twenty gold coins for the toll... and that nice suit of silvery mail links that you bear. Such will greatly aid our efforts at keeping the peace. Why, just a few months back, three of my men were harshly murdered on one of the lower trails.”
“Sadly, I regret...”
The elf was interrupted as Arun stepped forward. “Enough of this garbage,” he said. “We do not have time for this.” He held up his hammer, its heavy iron head pointed at Torlan. “Move yourselves out of our way, or you will be moved.”
There were a few sneers and harsh comments from the gathered men, but Torlan’s smile only deepened, though his eyes gleamed with a nasty light. “You might want to reconsider, ser dwarf. That’s quite a smasher you’ve got there, but I must admit, Olog here has a certain fondness for cutting up dwarves.” He indicated the half-orc, who unlimbered a massive two-handed greataxe.
Arun did not falter, even though both crossbowmen had now drawn a bead on him. “Last chance,” he said.
One of the crossbowmen suddenly screamed, jerking roughly back, twisting around in a circle. Everyone turned in that direction, and as the man turned, they could see the feathered end of a tiny crossbow bolt jutting from his left eye.
The attention of the bandits was drawn back to the companions as Arun bowled forward, his warhammer clutched tightly in both hands. The half-orc Olog roared his own challenge and rushed ahead to meet him. The huge axe came up above the bandit’s head, the thick muscles of his arms corded with amassed strength, but before he could strike the dwarven paladin leapt up and delivered an incredible blow to the brute’s chest. The hammer, backed by the entire strength of the dwarf as well as by the divinely sanctioned justice of a smite evil, crushed the half-orc and drove him back three paces, to land in a heap across the trail.
For a long moment, everyone just looked at the corpse.
The silence was shattered as the second crossbowman aimed and fired. The bolt stabbed into Arun’s shoulder, piercing deeply through the damaged links of his chain shirt.
“At him, boys!” Torlan yelled, drawing his own sword.
The bandits, their ardor for violence diminished somewhat, rushed the dwarf. Four of them charged at his front and flanks, stabbing and cutting. For a moment, the dwarf was obscured behind the ring of attackers.
But then Dannel leapt into the fray, followed but a heartbeat later by Clinger. The elf ran one man through with a thrust from his rapier, the bandit collapsing as Dannel withdrew his blade from his lung. Clinger took down another, seizing the man’s thigh with his powerful bite, and knocking him roughly aside with a shake of his wedge-shaped head.
The second crossbowman quickly reloaded, but before he could take aim at another target he felt a sharp pain in his throat as another tiny bolt from the still-unseen Mole pierced him. He clutched at the wound and fell.
Arun, virtually unarmored, took a few hits but in turn unleashed a storm of death. One man stabbed him with his rapier but paid for it with his life, as the warhammer crashed into the side of his skull. The second turned to run but barely got one foot down before the hammer caught him in the small of his back, snapping his spine and knocking him down to flop out the last moments of his life in the dirt.
And then the battle was over. They looked up to see Torlan’s departing form, already a good fifty paces down the trail and running fast.
Arun paused only long enough to yank the crossbow bolt from his shoulder. “All right, let’s go,” he said.
* * * * *
Full two-handed power attack plus smite evil... ouch. Without crit: 22-29 damage (the half-orc was a mere War3). Final post of "Zenith Trajectory" tomorrow. I'll also post their post-adventure stats (up to ECL7, now).
It was Clinger who drew their attention, issuing a sibilant hiss that drew their attention up and down the trail.
The path ahead twisted up between a field of boulders before heading up a series of switchbacks to the crest of a rise ahead. A number cloaked figures had emerged from the boulders, and regarded them with hard, greedy eyes.
They were human men, for the most part, although one broad-shouldered brute looked like he had more than a splash of orcish blood in his veins. There were eight in total, and they all shared a hunted look about them, with unkempt beards and garments that bore dirt and wear in roughly equal proportions. They were armed; their weapons, a collection of various poking and cutting implements, seemed entirely functional. Two of them, remaining back among the rocks with higher vantages, carried loaded crossbows. The “armor” worn by the newcomers was a diverse medley of hides and shaped pieces of boiled leather. One, a long-limbed fellow who was missing part of his left ear, actually wore a shirt of mail links, and it was he who addressed the companions.
“Hail and well met!” he exclaimed, waving and offering a friendly smile that belied the hard looks of his fellows.
“Well met,” Dannel offered. He carefully laid Zenna’s stretcher down in a flat space beside the trail, but made no threatening move toward the crossbow—unloaded, unfortunately—at his hip. He had left the cumbersome quarterstaff he’d used against Zenith in Bhal-Hamatugn, but had since equipped himself with a rapier taken from a fallen kuo-toa.
“It would seem that you have run afoul of the dangers of the mountains,” the man said companionably. “I am Torlan, and this crew are my band of Guardians.” He indicated the sweep of his fellows with a wide brush of his hand. “You are headed back to Cauldron, then?”
“Indeed,” Dannel said, his voice pleasant. “Our friend has taken seriously ill from a nasty malady; you may wish to have your friends keep their distance, lest they catch sick.”
“That is terrible news, and I hope that you find aid in Cauldron; the clerics there can treat many illnesses, if one has the coin.”
“I thank you for your concern, and wish you good day; we must continue to make haste.” The elf shot a quick sidelong glance at his companions; Arun’s expression looked like it could break stone, while Mole was nowhere to be seen.
“That there’s the ugliest horse I ever did see,” one of the men said, to the snicker of his neighbor, a rat-faced man carrying a hook-ended military pick. Torlan silenced them both with a hard look, before turning back to Dannel and his friends.
“Of course, I know you have no time for idle chatter. However, I must ask your tolerance for one more moment; my Guardians have worked hard to keep the high trails clear, and our expenses are significant in this venture. I am afraid that I am compelled to ask a toll, of travelers, to subsidize these efforts.”
Arun muttered something unpleasant, but Dannel only smiled and nodded. “A worthy goal, although as you can see, we are not wealthy travelers by any means. What is the tally of this fee?”
“We would not want to interfere with your ability to seek treatment for your friend,” Torlan said with a nod of magnanimity. “We will take a mere twenty gold coins for the toll... and that nice suit of silvery mail links that you bear. Such will greatly aid our efforts at keeping the peace. Why, just a few months back, three of my men were harshly murdered on one of the lower trails.”
“Sadly, I regret...”
The elf was interrupted as Arun stepped forward. “Enough of this garbage,” he said. “We do not have time for this.” He held up his hammer, its heavy iron head pointed at Torlan. “Move yourselves out of our way, or you will be moved.”
There were a few sneers and harsh comments from the gathered men, but Torlan’s smile only deepened, though his eyes gleamed with a nasty light. “You might want to reconsider, ser dwarf. That’s quite a smasher you’ve got there, but I must admit, Olog here has a certain fondness for cutting up dwarves.” He indicated the half-orc, who unlimbered a massive two-handed greataxe.
Arun did not falter, even though both crossbowmen had now drawn a bead on him. “Last chance,” he said.
One of the crossbowmen suddenly screamed, jerking roughly back, twisting around in a circle. Everyone turned in that direction, and as the man turned, they could see the feathered end of a tiny crossbow bolt jutting from his left eye.
The attention of the bandits was drawn back to the companions as Arun bowled forward, his warhammer clutched tightly in both hands. The half-orc Olog roared his own challenge and rushed ahead to meet him. The huge axe came up above the bandit’s head, the thick muscles of his arms corded with amassed strength, but before he could strike the dwarven paladin leapt up and delivered an incredible blow to the brute’s chest. The hammer, backed by the entire strength of the dwarf as well as by the divinely sanctioned justice of a smite evil, crushed the half-orc and drove him back three paces, to land in a heap across the trail.
For a long moment, everyone just looked at the corpse.
The silence was shattered as the second crossbowman aimed and fired. The bolt stabbed into Arun’s shoulder, piercing deeply through the damaged links of his chain shirt.
“At him, boys!” Torlan yelled, drawing his own sword.
The bandits, their ardor for violence diminished somewhat, rushed the dwarf. Four of them charged at his front and flanks, stabbing and cutting. For a moment, the dwarf was obscured behind the ring of attackers.
But then Dannel leapt into the fray, followed but a heartbeat later by Clinger. The elf ran one man through with a thrust from his rapier, the bandit collapsing as Dannel withdrew his blade from his lung. Clinger took down another, seizing the man’s thigh with his powerful bite, and knocking him roughly aside with a shake of his wedge-shaped head.
The second crossbowman quickly reloaded, but before he could take aim at another target he felt a sharp pain in his throat as another tiny bolt from the still-unseen Mole pierced him. He clutched at the wound and fell.
Arun, virtually unarmored, took a few hits but in turn unleashed a storm of death. One man stabbed him with his rapier but paid for it with his life, as the warhammer crashed into the side of his skull. The second turned to run but barely got one foot down before the hammer caught him in the small of his back, snapping his spine and knocking him down to flop out the last moments of his life in the dirt.
And then the battle was over. They looked up to see Torlan’s departing form, already a good fifty paces down the trail and running fast.
Arun paused only long enough to yank the crossbow bolt from his shoulder. “All right, let’s go,” he said.
* * * * *
Full two-handed power attack plus smite evil... ouch. Without crit: 22-29 damage (the half-orc was a mere War3). Final post of "Zenith Trajectory" tomorrow. I'll also post their post-adventure stats (up to ECL7, now).
Jon Potter
First Post
Lazybones said:Heh, I take it no one's visited the Rogues' Gallery thread lately, and noted Arun's L6 feat selection...
So Hodge was already a cohort?
If so, I guess that explains why I could so easily see him in such a roll, eh?
Hodge
Works for me. Hodge rocks.
--------
By the way, gotta love those deliciously heroic moments. Arun crushed the snot out of that half-orc, eh?
In one of my games, a warrior sundered the fighter's sword. The fighter fought the warrior with his dagger and then took his weapon -- a scythe.
In the final fight against the BBEG, he charged up and immediately critically hit the cleric, nearly killing him in one blow (two-handed, x4 crit, a few points of power attack based on Bless, a Strength buff, and the charge). He never did get another sword -- he had the scythe enchanted and named it Nerull's Bane. (Still one of my favorite 3.0 stories).
Jon Potter said:
Works for me. Hodge rocks.
--------
By the way, gotta love those deliciously heroic moments. Arun crushed the snot out of that half-orc, eh?
In one of my games, a warrior sundered the fighter's sword. The fighter fought the warrior with his dagger and then took his weapon -- a scythe.
In the final fight against the BBEG, he charged up and immediately critically hit the cleric, nearly killing him in one blow (two-handed, x4 crit, a few points of power attack based on Bless, a Strength buff, and the charge). He never did get another sword -- he had the scythe enchanted and named it Nerull's Bane. (Still one of my favorite 3.0 stories).
Lazybones
Adventurer
Yes, scythes are juicy. I have a custom baddie in NWN who uses a keen scythe and has ImpCrit... when that bad boy connects, it ain't pretty.
As for Hodge, I was planning for him to become Arun's cohort from the start, but the latter part of Book 3 chronicles the process by which these two very divergent characters come together. The raise dead (which, as we'll see, involves Arun forfeiting his share of the reward for returning Zenith, and then some) only serves to "seal the deal," as it were.
* * * * *
Chapter 134
The enveloping folds of the gray split open, and Zenna was immersed in light, painful in its intensity. She tried to draw back, but was propelled forward despite her resistance, until colors began to emerge within the radiance, vague forms that only gradually took on substance.
“She will recover, but it will take some time,” a voice said. Jenya Urikas, Zenna realized, the fog that had hung over her thoughts now gone and replaced with clarity of memory. All that she had experienced since they had left Bhal-Hamatugn was still vague, like a dream, but at least she remembered who she was and all that had happened before.
Zenna blinked, looking around. She was in the small chapel in the rear of the Temple of Helm, in Cauldron. In addition to Jenya, her companions were there, tired but with triumphant expressions on their faces.
“Hodge?” she asked.
“He will recover,” Jenya said. “He was returned just in time for me to raise him, using one of the scrolls that Sarcem had prepared, before his death.”
“What about Zenith?” Zenna asked.
“We returned him to his kinsman,” Dannel reported. “I’ll fill you in on all of the details later.”
Zenna tried to get up, but Jenya’s firm hand restrained her. “You came very close to death,” she said, her voice warm. “You need to rest, and recover your strength.”
Zenna nodded, and fell back on the cushioned bier upon which she lay. They had made it. This mission had brought them all to the brink of destruction several times, and she knew it would take some time for her to recover from her own ordeal. But they were alive, and for now, that was enough.
THE END OF “ZENITH TRAJECTORY”
COMING SOON: “THE DEMONSKAR LEGACY”
As for Hodge, I was planning for him to become Arun's cohort from the start, but the latter part of Book 3 chronicles the process by which these two very divergent characters come together. The raise dead (which, as we'll see, involves Arun forfeiting his share of the reward for returning Zenith, and then some) only serves to "seal the deal," as it were.
* * * * *
Chapter 134
The enveloping folds of the gray split open, and Zenna was immersed in light, painful in its intensity. She tried to draw back, but was propelled forward despite her resistance, until colors began to emerge within the radiance, vague forms that only gradually took on substance.
“She will recover, but it will take some time,” a voice said. Jenya Urikas, Zenna realized, the fog that had hung over her thoughts now gone and replaced with clarity of memory. All that she had experienced since they had left Bhal-Hamatugn was still vague, like a dream, but at least she remembered who she was and all that had happened before.
Zenna blinked, looking around. She was in the small chapel in the rear of the Temple of Helm, in Cauldron. In addition to Jenya, her companions were there, tired but with triumphant expressions on their faces.
“Hodge?” she asked.
“He will recover,” Jenya said. “He was returned just in time for me to raise him, using one of the scrolls that Sarcem had prepared, before his death.”
“What about Zenith?” Zenna asked.
“We returned him to his kinsman,” Dannel reported. “I’ll fill you in on all of the details later.”
Zenna tried to get up, but Jenya’s firm hand restrained her. “You came very close to death,” she said, her voice warm. “You need to rest, and recover your strength.”
Zenna nodded, and fell back on the cushioned bier upon which she lay. They had made it. This mission had brought them all to the brink of destruction several times, and she knew it would take some time for her to recover from her own ordeal. But they were alive, and for now, that was enough.
THE END OF “ZENITH TRAJECTORY”
COMING SOON: “THE DEMONSKAR LEGACY”
Niiiice.
Just in time.
I have to say, though, that this is one of the nastiest modules I've ever read about. There are a large number of really dangerous encounters all together, without much (any) time to rest and resupply. Not to mention how far the party is taken from any kind of possible help.
Hardcore.
Just in time.
I have to say, though, that this is one of the nastiest modules I've ever read about. There are a large number of really dangerous encounters all together, without much (any) time to rest and resupply. Not to mention how far the party is taken from any kind of possible help.
Hardcore.
skullsmurfer
First Post
i read it all in one day. great story i am looking forward to more
Black Bard
First Post
You are not alone, skullsmurfer!!skullsmurfer said:
Can't wait to see how they wiil fare in "Demonskar Legacy"...
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Lazybones
Adventurer
The Shackled City IV: “The Demonskar Legacy”
The Shackled City IV: “The Demonskar Legacy”
Here we go again.
The party is a level behind where they "should" be according to the module descriptions, and somewhat behind in magical power/gear as well (I think the modules expect that you will clear every room and find every treasure, which may work in an actual game, but would make for a rather dry and bloated story IMO). Rather than artificially boost the characters, I will adjust the modules as needed and make greater reliance on the rich NPCs provided in the modules. And as always, there are always more priests of Helm to feed into the grinder...
I've updated the characters in the Rogues' Gallery thread (see my sig). They are now ECL7. All of the core characters will be taking a prestige class at the next level-up (I'm sure you can guess most if not all of them, as I've provided hints to the directions that they are taking in the story).
My schedule's still rather amorphic, but I will try to post regularly to this story, say 2-3 posts/week as a goal.
* * * * *
Chapter 135
Zenna woke to warm morning sunlight streaming in through the large bay windows to the left of the bed. The sounds of activity were just audible through the thick leaded panes, enough to tell her that the city of Cauldron was gearing up to face the day. It was Tenth Day, a day of rest and fun, and she remembered that she’d made plans to visit the markets with Mole later.
She stretched languidly, enjoying the sensations of her body. Finally, she rose, grabbing her new cloak from the chair beside the bed to offer some warmth against the chill of the morning. Spring had arrived in Cauldron, but the city was situated in the mountains, and the mornings in particular were still fairly chilly.
She looked back down at the bed, at Dannel lying there, still asleep. She smiled, her mind drifting back to pleasurable memories. She still wasn’t entirely sure which of them had made the first move last night, but after that initial moment, it had definitely been mutual. She remembered being nervous before, for this had been her first time being with a man, but Dannel had been gentle, and once she’d been swept up in the emotions of the moment, all fears had faded to the background...
Careful to tread quietly, so as not to awaken the sleeping elf, she crossed to the outer chamber, closing the door softly behind her. Their clothes were scattered about the floor—they had not started the evening in the bedchamber—so she gathered a few things up and laid them on the wide expanse of the desk, careful not to disturb the small heap of scrollcases she’d laid there. She grinned wryly at a fleeting thought—what if Esbar had returned last night? The adept of Azuth had given her free rights to his home in Cauldron while he was away, but she doubted that his mandate extended to what she and Dannel had been up to last night. Or perhaps it would; Esbar was a man of wisdom and understanding, and no doubt he himself had been young once. The thought made her smile.
Her gaze lingered on the leather scroll cases, bound together by a threaded leather cord. The scrolls contained an important store of lore, new spells that she’d purchased with her share of the reward from the elder Splintershield for the return of his son, Zenith. Idly she wondered if his kinsmen had been able to help the dwarf, who’d clearly been driven into insanity by his time spent wandering the Underdark, and as a captive of the kuo-toa of Bhal-Hamatugn. In all honesty, she hadn’t spent much thought on Zenith, after they’d brought him back to Cauldron.
Celeste and Davked Splintershield had proven as good as their word, granting them a generous reward in the form of gold coins or dwarf-crafted arms and armor. Zenna had spent her share on the new spells, a pair of new wands from the well-stocked shelves of Skie’s Treasury, and some other components that might useful in her researches. She had a few ideas about useful magical items that she could craft for herself and her companions, and the facilities in Esbar Tolerathkas’s well-stocked laboratory would prove most useful in this regard. Mole had been able to procure the mithral shirt she’d long desired, while Dannel acquired a new sword to replace the one that he had lost in Bhal-Hamatugn. Only Arun had not acquired new gear, instead giving his share of the reward to the church of Helm to offset the cost of the magic used to raise his friend Hodge from the death he’d suffered at the hands of the insane Zenith Splintershield in the Underdark temple of the kuo-toa.
Zenna turned and caught sight of her magical hat lying on the low table near the windowbench. Instinctively she reached for it, but then hesitated, finally lowering her hand and leaving the hat where it lay. Later, when she went out, she would have to don it once more, but for now, she would allow her true self to show freely, to a man who accepted her for who and what she was. The feeling was liberating, in a way.
But her smile faded quickly, for the thought reminded her of something else. Turning and returning quickly to the desk, she found her blouse, instantly feeling the reassuring solidity of her pin tucked neatly inside. She doffed her cloak long enough to slip into the garment, feeling a familiar sense of relief at the feeling of the cold metal against her skin. Last night she hadn’t thought about it, the first time in quite some time that it hadn’t occurred to her when removing her garments. For nearly a year now she’d worn it, even in her sleep, relying upon the defense that it offered from scrying or other forms of magical tracking. She’d pressured Mole to wear hers as well, when it was clear that the gnome was less rigorous about relying upon its protection. Well, she’d been careless last night, but just because she was in love was no reason to stop being cautious.
She paused, her mouth falling open. Well, that thought had caught her off guard. In love? Well, Dannel was a true friend, and last night had certainly been great, but... love?
To distract herself from these complicated thoughts, she busied herself with straightening Dannel’s garments into a neat pile on the desk. As she lifted his tunic, something fell out from the inner edge of the collar, landing on the floor with a faint clatter. She looked down, and her breath froze in her chest.
Even before she bent low, she knew what it was. Tears blurred her vision as her fingers closed on it, and as she stood, she slumped against the desk, her muscles suddenly weak.
Remembered words sounded in her head, spoken by Zenith Splintershield to her in a dark chamber in Bhal-Hamatugn.
”You will taste the bitter fruit of betrayal from one you love...”
She fell to the ground, sobbing, and the object she’d found slipped from her hand to the ground. It was a small silver pin, identical to the one she wore covertly against her skin.
A silver harp.
The Shackled City IV: “The Demonskar Legacy”
Here we go again.
The party is a level behind where they "should" be according to the module descriptions, and somewhat behind in magical power/gear as well (I think the modules expect that you will clear every room and find every treasure, which may work in an actual game, but would make for a rather dry and bloated story IMO). Rather than artificially boost the characters, I will adjust the modules as needed and make greater reliance on the rich NPCs provided in the modules. And as always, there are always more priests of Helm to feed into the grinder...
I've updated the characters in the Rogues' Gallery thread (see my sig). They are now ECL7. All of the core characters will be taking a prestige class at the next level-up (I'm sure you can guess most if not all of them, as I've provided hints to the directions that they are taking in the story).
My schedule's still rather amorphic, but I will try to post regularly to this story, say 2-3 posts/week as a goal.
* * * * *
Chapter 135
Zenna woke to warm morning sunlight streaming in through the large bay windows to the left of the bed. The sounds of activity were just audible through the thick leaded panes, enough to tell her that the city of Cauldron was gearing up to face the day. It was Tenth Day, a day of rest and fun, and she remembered that she’d made plans to visit the markets with Mole later.
She stretched languidly, enjoying the sensations of her body. Finally, she rose, grabbing her new cloak from the chair beside the bed to offer some warmth against the chill of the morning. Spring had arrived in Cauldron, but the city was situated in the mountains, and the mornings in particular were still fairly chilly.
She looked back down at the bed, at Dannel lying there, still asleep. She smiled, her mind drifting back to pleasurable memories. She still wasn’t entirely sure which of them had made the first move last night, but after that initial moment, it had definitely been mutual. She remembered being nervous before, for this had been her first time being with a man, but Dannel had been gentle, and once she’d been swept up in the emotions of the moment, all fears had faded to the background...
Careful to tread quietly, so as not to awaken the sleeping elf, she crossed to the outer chamber, closing the door softly behind her. Their clothes were scattered about the floor—they had not started the evening in the bedchamber—so she gathered a few things up and laid them on the wide expanse of the desk, careful not to disturb the small heap of scrollcases she’d laid there. She grinned wryly at a fleeting thought—what if Esbar had returned last night? The adept of Azuth had given her free rights to his home in Cauldron while he was away, but she doubted that his mandate extended to what she and Dannel had been up to last night. Or perhaps it would; Esbar was a man of wisdom and understanding, and no doubt he himself had been young once. The thought made her smile.
Her gaze lingered on the leather scroll cases, bound together by a threaded leather cord. The scrolls contained an important store of lore, new spells that she’d purchased with her share of the reward from the elder Splintershield for the return of his son, Zenith. Idly she wondered if his kinsmen had been able to help the dwarf, who’d clearly been driven into insanity by his time spent wandering the Underdark, and as a captive of the kuo-toa of Bhal-Hamatugn. In all honesty, she hadn’t spent much thought on Zenith, after they’d brought him back to Cauldron.
Celeste and Davked Splintershield had proven as good as their word, granting them a generous reward in the form of gold coins or dwarf-crafted arms and armor. Zenna had spent her share on the new spells, a pair of new wands from the well-stocked shelves of Skie’s Treasury, and some other components that might useful in her researches. She had a few ideas about useful magical items that she could craft for herself and her companions, and the facilities in Esbar Tolerathkas’s well-stocked laboratory would prove most useful in this regard. Mole had been able to procure the mithral shirt she’d long desired, while Dannel acquired a new sword to replace the one that he had lost in Bhal-Hamatugn. Only Arun had not acquired new gear, instead giving his share of the reward to the church of Helm to offset the cost of the magic used to raise his friend Hodge from the death he’d suffered at the hands of the insane Zenith Splintershield in the Underdark temple of the kuo-toa.
Zenna turned and caught sight of her magical hat lying on the low table near the windowbench. Instinctively she reached for it, but then hesitated, finally lowering her hand and leaving the hat where it lay. Later, when she went out, she would have to don it once more, but for now, she would allow her true self to show freely, to a man who accepted her for who and what she was. The feeling was liberating, in a way.
But her smile faded quickly, for the thought reminded her of something else. Turning and returning quickly to the desk, she found her blouse, instantly feeling the reassuring solidity of her pin tucked neatly inside. She doffed her cloak long enough to slip into the garment, feeling a familiar sense of relief at the feeling of the cold metal against her skin. Last night she hadn’t thought about it, the first time in quite some time that it hadn’t occurred to her when removing her garments. For nearly a year now she’d worn it, even in her sleep, relying upon the defense that it offered from scrying or other forms of magical tracking. She’d pressured Mole to wear hers as well, when it was clear that the gnome was less rigorous about relying upon its protection. Well, she’d been careless last night, but just because she was in love was no reason to stop being cautious.
She paused, her mouth falling open. Well, that thought had caught her off guard. In love? Well, Dannel was a true friend, and last night had certainly been great, but... love?
To distract herself from these complicated thoughts, she busied herself with straightening Dannel’s garments into a neat pile on the desk. As she lifted his tunic, something fell out from the inner edge of the collar, landing on the floor with a faint clatter. She looked down, and her breath froze in her chest.
Even before she bent low, she knew what it was. Tears blurred her vision as her fingers closed on it, and as she stood, she slumped against the desk, her muscles suddenly weak.
Remembered words sounded in her head, spoken by Zenith Splintershield to her in a dark chamber in Bhal-Hamatugn.
”You will taste the bitter fruit of betrayal from one you love...”
She fell to the ground, sobbing, and the object she’d found slipped from her hand to the ground. It was a small silver pin, identical to the one she wore covertly against her skin.
A silver harp.
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