Tales of the Legacy - Concluded
- Thread starter Delemental
- Start date
Delemental
First Post
Krafus said:Argh, a cliffhanger. Well, I look forward to the next episode. Looks like a major confrontation is brewing up. Here's hoping the party is ready for a big fight.
Oh, and those wings of Autumn's must be proving a challenge for her and Kyle when the lights go out... Although with some imagination, I'm sure they could be turned into opportunities in that area.
Though I don't think we've discussed the practical considerations in any detail, I think it's safe to assume that Kyle's getting used to sleeping on a much smaller portion of the bed these days. As far as the opportunities, well... probably best to leave that unspoken, out of respect for Grandma.
Krafus said:
This remains to be seen. I know that she intends to make use of the wings in combat when she can of course, though having a fly speed of 20 kind of cuts down on the tactical options a bit (looks like haste is going to become a staple for Kyle).
Our game isn't enough into realism to worry about things like targeting specific body parts or the physics of weapon use while aloft. So Autumn will probably stick with the axe. I do know that she's looking at getting the Flyby Attack feat down the road, which would work well for her as a crusader - since all of her strike maneuvers are standard actions, they work well with that kind of split movement attack.
Delemental
First Post
Sinewgrab said:
No, he was just throwing the stick. But he's just so darn fast he was able to run out and catch it before it hit the deck. Because he's just that bad-*ss. I left out the part where he was wailing on his guitar, and then rode his motorcycle across the ocean and killed all the Taurics using only his right buttcheek.
*Sigh* I suppose no one understands my genius. I guess I'll just have to change it so that Osborn is playing fetch with Rupert.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
Just caught up. Delemental, this is really good stuff. Parts of it remind me of games long in the past. That whole sort of "Boom, we are the badasses, fear us." vibe is awesome, and the relationships between the characters really sets it off with a great contrast. Both are very interesting to follow.
Delemental
First Post
Blarkon Dragonslayer said:
Thanks, Blarkon. It has been nice to have a GM who, while still challenging us, acknowledges that characters of our level have capabilities that are going to have wide-scale effects.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
Delemental said:
Yes indeed...having an encounter that runs like, "On your way to search the hilt of the Sundered Apocalypse blade in the Labyrinth of the Nameless, you run into a small army of orcs on their way up the high road, pillaging and ravaging. After the shattered remnants of the army scatter like chaff, you brush the dust off your cloaks, clean your swords, and ride on."
That's fun stuff.
Delemental
First Post
As the sun rose, the scene became clearer. The moving dunes were actually a massive horde of orcs, tens of thousands strong. Keth’s war banner was the most prominent within the horde, and several other clan banners had Clan Hulg’s symbol incorporated into their own design. To the south, the rapidly approaching ships were finally identified – as gnomish warships of the Pecish Navy*. The fleet, which already numbered several dozen vessels, was growing larger by the second as new ships would suddenly pop into sight, the telltale shimmer of dissipating illusion magic revealing their presence.
“So that’s where the gnomes went!” Arrie and Tolly exclaimed in unison.
Eventually, two small rowboats approached the Armadillo; one carrying a gnomish officer, the other an orcish warrior. Once on board, they were formally introduced, and then presented to the party.
“This is Warchief Ghraz of Clan Lorr, sub-chieftain to High Warchief Heth,” Talia said. “And this is Vice Admiral Nabbidosh of the Provincial National Navy.”
“Do you have a conference room where we could meet?” Admiral Nabbidosh asked.
“We can convert the galley,” Autumn offered, even as Kyle was ordering his elvish crew to make the arrangements. A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around two long galley tables that had been pushed together.
“A few months ago, during the diplomatic conference held in Tlaxan,” Talia began, “there were a number of… less public meetings held, among them a meeting between the governments of what we now call the Alliance and representatives of then-Warchief Keth, as to how best to bring the orcs of the Haran into the conflict.”
“Good,” Tolly said. “I was hoping that something was actually getting done at that conference.”
“Keth had agreed to rally as many tribes as he could under his banner,” Talia continued, “which, given his already considerable influence in the region, was a large amount. The main problem was transporting them to the front. Targeth would not consent to allowing several legions of orcs passage through their shield barrier, and the mountains of the Dwarven Confederates are all but impassable from the Haran, especially in winter.”
“And so,” Admiral Nabbidosh interjected, “Overgovernor Garlen agreed to put the Pecish Navy at their disposal. Our fleet set sail under the guise of mounting a direct offensive against the approaching Tauric fleet, and then feigned our ‘disappearance’ with the use of illusion magic and counter-scrying.”
“So you sailed south around the continent to come here,” Kyle said.
“Exactly. We are here to pick up the orc legions, and then attack the Taurics in a surprise flanking maneuver.”
“Fantastic!” Osborn exclaimed.
“So how do we come into play?” Autumn asked.
“You were sent to act as the rendezvous point for the operation,” Warchief Ghraz said, “and to act as a flagship for the fleet. Your vessel is one of only five heavy ships of war in Affon, and so it was thought that you stood the best chance of surviving the voyage through enemy waters to arrive her. Now,your presence will be a rallying point for both the gnomes and the orcs. Besides, with your cannon you will be able to neutralize ships from a great distance, which will prevent the Taurics from spotting our armada and going to warn their superiors.”
Autumn leaned over to Kyle. “What exactly is the range on that thing, anyway?”
“About two miles.”
“There has been considerable effort made to time this rendezvous precisely,” Nabbidosh said, “and we have a tight schedule to keep. We will need to have the entire orc army boarded within two days. Naturally, we are hoping that you can provide some logistical support.”
“Of course,” Tolly said.
“We would like to meet with High Warchief Keth,” Arrie interjected. “We have an important subject to discuss with him before we set sail.”
“A ceremony, actually,” Autumn added.
“The High Warchief was expecting you,” Ghraz said. “Is this ceremony something that he will have to prepare for?”
“Very likely,” Autumn said.
“Then we should go to see him soon.”
“Excuse me,” Admiral Nabbidosh said, “but is this something that my people should be preparing for as well?”
“We’ll leave the final decision up to Keth,” Arrie said, “but I’m sure that you will be invited to attend as honored guests.”
“I was going to suggest that all of the command staff from both forces be invited to breakfast with us tomorrow morning,” Autumn said. “Perhaps we could discuss the details then.”
“Very well.” Everyone stood up. “I will return to shore and wait to escort you to the High Warchief,” Ghraz said. With that, everyone returned to the main deck and began boarding their ships; Talia went over to the navy with Nabbidosh to speak with the other admirals. Soon the Legacy was left standing alone on deck.
“Now, just to make sure,” Kyle said, “everyone’s okay with giving Keth the crown?”
Arrie looked over at the teeming mass of orcs on the beach. “At this point, it’s not exactly like it’s going to change things much.”
“The amount of goodwill that will be created by giving the Crown of the Orcish King to Keth more than outweighs any risks of uniting the orcs under a single leader,” Tolly said. “Besides, Keth is a lawful being, and it will be good to see the firm hand of Law brought to these lands.”
“And if there are any clans that aren’t supporting Keth now,” Osborn added, “they will once he’s crowned.”
“Just wanted everyone to have a chance to voice any dissent,” Kyle said. “We have been carrying that thing around for a long time because we were afraid of the consequences of giving it away.”
They agreed to have Autumn and Osborn go meet Keth, though for safety the portable hole with the Crown (and other items of interest) was left on the Armadillo. They met up with Warchief Ghraz, and were quickly led straight through the orcish legions to Keth’s command tent. The tent was huge, and well guarded, and when Autumn and Osborn passed through the entrance, they noticed that the beaded curtain across the opening was made from lead beads, most likely meant to interfere with scrying without being too unwieldy to transport through the desert. Most likely strands of similar beads had been sewn into the entire tent.
Keth himself was sitting on a large wooden throne in the middle of the tent, flanked by his wives, guards, and advisors. By orcish standards, the throne was highly ornate, though still solidly built, looking like it had been carved from a large slab of volcanic rock. It was a sure sign of Keth’s power that a seat such as this was being hauled all over the desert.
“It is good to see you again, clan-brother,” Keth said to Osborn as he and Autumn approached and bowed. “And you as well, sentinel.” He glanced at Autumn’s wings. “I see your status among your kind has grown.”
“As has yours, High Warchief,” Autumn replied. “And it is for exactly that reason that we have come.” Keth’s eyebrow arched.
“We have come across an item in our travels,” Osborn said. “An artifact of great importance to you. We wish to bestow this item on you with a proper ceremony.”
“What is this artifact?”
Autumn approached Keth’s throne, pausing only a moment as Keth waved away the suddenly tense guards in the tent. Autumn leaned in close to whisper the information in Keth’s ear. Osborn heard one of Keth’s advisors mutter a crude joke about how the artifact must be ‘the silken tongue of an aasimar’ and some suggestions on how best to use it, which made him glad that Kyle hadn’t come with them.
“You can understand why we would want to make this a public affair when it’s presented,” Autumn said as she stepped back.
“Indeed,” Keth said, his mind whirling. “For this to come to me now, during Grabâkh’s holy days… it is a great omen. I will have to speak with the gnomish commander. This may change our plans.” He stood up suddenly. “We will do it tonight, amidst the sacred fires. I must give instructions to my high priests.” He began to walk out of the tent, but then turned and grabbed the ears of the two guards closest to him, yanking their heads close. “If you heard something, you heard nothing! Clear?” The two guards nodded as best they could.
Releasing the guards, Keth strode outside, followed by Autumn and Osborn. Once out of the tent, he waved over an orcish lieutenant, who came running up with a chest-crushing salute.
“Inform my advisor Kashok that his warchief wishes for him to visit the pleasure tents this evening. Escort him there yourself. When you arrive, you may inform him that he is there to serve his clan, have him stripped and bound, and allow those with the inclination to use him as they wish. Perhaps then he will learn to mind his tongue when speaking about our honored guests.”
The lieutenant saluted again and went into the command tent, as Keth strode off toward the shore.
“What was that all about?” Autumn asked.
“You probably don’t want the details,” Osborn said, “let’s just say that Keth's hearing is good, and he is definitely not lax in the discipline department.”
The sun had set hours ago, and so the barren desert should have been freezing. But the hundreds of huge bonfires that burned brightly throughout the orc encampment made the night feel like a sweltering summer day. The orcs had gathered around a large dune, pressing as close as they could to see the events before them. Near the top of the dune, a small contingent of gnomes in formal uniforms stood nervously witnessing the proceedings, clearly ill at ease being surrounded by so many orcs at the height of the Time of Burning.
Just as the clamoring of the horde was about to reach a fevered pitch, everyone suddenly fell silent as if on some unseen cue. Then the drums began. It was a frenetic, erratic beat that at first seemed to have no rhythm or meter at all. But then the orcs began to join in; some beat swords against shields, others stamped heavy boots into the sand, and others began to shout guttural chants. At first it seemed like a cacophony of noise, no one performer matching his neighbor. But those trained to listen would hear that the drums beat in unison with the drums, the shields were struck with the same rhythm, each boot stomp and shout was perfectly synchronized. The warsong took on an almost hypnotic quality for those within the horde; for the thousands of gnomish sailors, listening to the ceremony from afar, it sounded as though the desert itself had suddenly burst into flames and was being consumed.
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Then the voices of the priests rang out across the gathering, with the answering cries shouted at a deafening roar.
“Kas grazil duro’rashik!” (“The fires of our Lord consume us!”)
Mojh rashan Grabâkh! (Praise to Grabâkh the destroyer!)
“Kas grazil duro’pashai!” (“The fires of our Lord purify us!”)
Mojh pashan Grabâkh! (Praise to Grabâkh the purifier!)
“Duro’jahakar du kas grazil!” (“We are reborn from the fires of our Lord!”)
Nas dur Grabanar, vor grazos Grabhül! (His Eye sees all, his Wrath shall burn forever!)
The chant continued, nonstop, even as the crowds began to part to let a single figure through to the top of the dune.
Autumn walked slowly up the hill, looking regal in gleaming plate armor, her wings pulled up behind her like a cloak of white feathers. In her hands she held a heavy crown fashioned of solid adamantium, with irregular crests styled like leaping flames. The crown was adorned with enormous rubies, fire opals, and garnets. An inscription in Orcish ran around the brow, carved deep into the metal.
When she arrived at the top of the hill, she knelt and presented the crown to the head priest, who took it in his mail gauntlets and, shouting an invocation to Grabâkh, thrust the crown into a glowing brazier. Slowly, as the crown began to glow red, the chanting faded and then stopped, and the entire army stood in silent expectation as a new figure approached the crest of the hill.
Keth was clad in a suit of half-plate, the metal tinged red. He carried a massive barbed spear in one hand, and on his other arm was a large shield shaped to look like Grabâkh’s flaming Eye. The High Warchief gave his spear to the high priest, and then approached the smoking brazier. Without a moment’s hesitation, he thrust his hands into the coals, picked up the crown, and set it on top of his head. Wisps of black smoke curled up as the hot metal burned hair and seared flesh, but Keth stood stoically, his eyes burning with reflected firelight as the crown cooled. Then, with a sudden motion, Keth grabbed his spear from the high priest, thrust it overhead, and let out an ear-splitting shout of triumph. The cry was soon picked up by the other orcs, and by Autumn and the rest of the Legacy, who had been present through the entire ceremony. Even the gnomes couldn’t help but be overwhelmed as the cacophony slowly shaped itself into another rhythmic chant.
“Long live King Keth!”
A day later, the Pecish Navy set sail and began the long journey north, their small, maneuverable ships sitting low in the water under the weight of thousands of orcish passengers. The armada numbered in the hundreds of ships, all moving at a slow, steady crawl through the ocean due to the extra weight. This was perhaps a good thing, as it allowed the fleet to keep pace with their flagship, the ponderous Armadillo.
The Legacy had decided not to take on any additional troops, as Keth had requested to sail in their vessel, and he and his staff would take up what room was available. Initially, however, the party had the ship to themselves; Keth had ridden off into the desert with a small retinue the morning after the ceremony.
“As High Warchief, there were some clans even I could not persuade to join us,” he explained. “They will join their King. I will meet the fleet on the coast in five days time.”
Despite not having to entertain the newly crowned orc king, the party kept busy. As had been expected, having two such diametrically opposed races sharing the same small space made things tense, and conflicts broke out on almost every ship. The party soon found themselves acting as the fleet’s mediators, using their abilities to move rapidly from ship to ship. They applied Lanara’s gentle, persuasive touch where they could, and Arrie and Autumn’s less gentle approach when needed. Osborn worked to spot potential problems before they even flared up, and Tolly helped to settle things back to normal afterward. Kyle mostly remained on the Armadillo, coordinating everyone’s efforts through telepathic bond spells and divinations, only involving himself directly when large-scale interventions were required.
Surprisingly, the majority of the conflicts did not occur between the orcs and gnomes, but between the orcs and the battalions of Sargian pikemen that the navy had picked up on their way to meet with the orcs. Not that the conflicts themselves were surprising; Sargia had no great love for the marauding orcs. What was surprising was that the pikemen were there at all.
“I thought Sargia had chosen to remain out of the fight for now,” Tolly asked the Tlaxan advisor Talia one day.
“Things change,” she replied. “Officially the country is still not involved. But we have had private negotiations with the heads of the Cromanus Family, who controls Sargia’s Military Greatguild. They are the ones sending the pikemen, not the Sargian government.” She shrugged. “And it wasn’t even known for sure until the last moment whether the Cromanus Family would agree to it. Apparently our offer was going to be rejected, until the Shadow General made some sort of offer that swayed them to join our cause.”
“I hope one day we learn who this Shadow General is,” Tolly said. “From all I’ve heard about his work for the Alliance, he has earned my respect and deserves the gratitude of us all.”
Nearby, Osborn just smiled. Though he hadn’t known about the gnomish fleet, he was aware of the negotiations between the Cromanuses and the Alliance, and had helped sweeten the deal by providing them with some crucial information about some of the other Great Families of Sargia.
Things settled into a routine, more or less. Keth rejoined the armada as promised, another two thousand orcs or so following behind him. The fights continued but seemed to grow less frequent or intense at the days went on. Occasionally the armada would encounter Tauric ships; lone scout ships were blasted by the Armadillo’s cannon before they could come about to flee, and larger fleets were quickly dealt with by the fast gnomish ships. Despite their differences, the Sargians and orcs fought well together, and there was only the occasional accidental orc piking, or Sargian skull being split by an errant thrown axe.
As the days turned into weeks, Tolly grew increasingly irritable. He was seen walking around below decks for hours, poking through every nook and cranny, and the skin around his eyes was tinged dark yellow from repeated use of the saffron eye paste required for the true seeing spell.
“What on earth is he looking for down there?” Lanara asked one day, after seeing Tolly storm through the galley.
“He’s looking for whatever it is that fixed the ship,” Kyle said. Autumn, resting in Kyle’s arms, smiled. He’d let her in on the secret a few nights ago, and they’d discovered that both Osborn and Arrie were aware of the situation as well. Only Tolly and Lanara were left out; though they all figured they would let the bard in on the secret at some point, for now they were holding off; it was nice for once to have something that they knew before she did. It was probably only Lanara’s consternation at having been on board a ship for so long that had kept her from discovering the cover-up and prying it out of one of them already.
“I thought we agreed to let it go,” Lanara said, exasperated. “I thought we agreed that Kyle had his reasons for trying to cover things up, and we should trust you.”
“Oh, I think Tolly trusts that Kyle’s telling the truth,” Arrie said, “he just doesn’t trust whoever or whatever it is was telling the truth to Kyle. There’s a reason that Ardara’s creed isn’t ‘Let It Be’, you know.”
* * *
One night, about four and a half weeks after the coronation of Keth, as the Pecish fleet began to round the northwestern corner of Affon, the Legacy had a dream.
They found themselves standing outside a familiar seaside cliff, looking at a familiar two-story house. But there the familiarity ended. For one, they noticed that they had all of their armaments and equipment with them; even their horses were there, as were Rupert and Violet. Another oddity was that the house was in flames. Autumn immediately began running toward the house, the others right on their heels, Tolly and Kyle both feverishly casting defensive spells as they ran.
They saw movement at the balcony, and saw Aran emerge, blood caked on his head and the side of his face. He was streaked with grime and soot, and held an ordinary looking short sword in one hand. “Come through the side entrance!” he shouted down to them, waving his arms.
They bolted to the right as soon as they passed the outer gates. Soon they found the side entrance; a large double door, big enough for a man to ride through mounted.
“Kyle! Door!” Autumn shouted. Moments later, the wooden portal was shattered by a lightning bolt.
Weapons drawn, the party ran forward… into darkness. As the light vanished and the Legacy lost consciousness, the only thing they were aware of was a low, mocking laughter.
-------------------------
* True story: our DM had named the gnomish nation the Peca Provinces, but it became clear that he hadn't really thought it through. The first time we interacted with a citizen of the country, he realized that they would be referred to as... Pecans.
“So that’s where the gnomes went!” Arrie and Tolly exclaimed in unison.
Eventually, two small rowboats approached the Armadillo; one carrying a gnomish officer, the other an orcish warrior. Once on board, they were formally introduced, and then presented to the party.
“This is Warchief Ghraz of Clan Lorr, sub-chieftain to High Warchief Heth,” Talia said. “And this is Vice Admiral Nabbidosh of the Provincial National Navy.”
“Do you have a conference room where we could meet?” Admiral Nabbidosh asked.
“We can convert the galley,” Autumn offered, even as Kyle was ordering his elvish crew to make the arrangements. A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around two long galley tables that had been pushed together.
“A few months ago, during the diplomatic conference held in Tlaxan,” Talia began, “there were a number of… less public meetings held, among them a meeting between the governments of what we now call the Alliance and representatives of then-Warchief Keth, as to how best to bring the orcs of the Haran into the conflict.”
“Good,” Tolly said. “I was hoping that something was actually getting done at that conference.”
“Keth had agreed to rally as many tribes as he could under his banner,” Talia continued, “which, given his already considerable influence in the region, was a large amount. The main problem was transporting them to the front. Targeth would not consent to allowing several legions of orcs passage through their shield barrier, and the mountains of the Dwarven Confederates are all but impassable from the Haran, especially in winter.”
“And so,” Admiral Nabbidosh interjected, “Overgovernor Garlen agreed to put the Pecish Navy at their disposal. Our fleet set sail under the guise of mounting a direct offensive against the approaching Tauric fleet, and then feigned our ‘disappearance’ with the use of illusion magic and counter-scrying.”
“So you sailed south around the continent to come here,” Kyle said.
“Exactly. We are here to pick up the orc legions, and then attack the Taurics in a surprise flanking maneuver.”
“Fantastic!” Osborn exclaimed.
“So how do we come into play?” Autumn asked.
“You were sent to act as the rendezvous point for the operation,” Warchief Ghraz said, “and to act as a flagship for the fleet. Your vessel is one of only five heavy ships of war in Affon, and so it was thought that you stood the best chance of surviving the voyage through enemy waters to arrive her. Now,your presence will be a rallying point for both the gnomes and the orcs. Besides, with your cannon you will be able to neutralize ships from a great distance, which will prevent the Taurics from spotting our armada and going to warn their superiors.”
Autumn leaned over to Kyle. “What exactly is the range on that thing, anyway?”
“About two miles.”
“There has been considerable effort made to time this rendezvous precisely,” Nabbidosh said, “and we have a tight schedule to keep. We will need to have the entire orc army boarded within two days. Naturally, we are hoping that you can provide some logistical support.”
“Of course,” Tolly said.
“We would like to meet with High Warchief Keth,” Arrie interjected. “We have an important subject to discuss with him before we set sail.”
“A ceremony, actually,” Autumn added.
“The High Warchief was expecting you,” Ghraz said. “Is this ceremony something that he will have to prepare for?”
“Very likely,” Autumn said.
“Then we should go to see him soon.”
“Excuse me,” Admiral Nabbidosh said, “but is this something that my people should be preparing for as well?”
“We’ll leave the final decision up to Keth,” Arrie said, “but I’m sure that you will be invited to attend as honored guests.”
“I was going to suggest that all of the command staff from both forces be invited to breakfast with us tomorrow morning,” Autumn said. “Perhaps we could discuss the details then.”
“Very well.” Everyone stood up. “I will return to shore and wait to escort you to the High Warchief,” Ghraz said. With that, everyone returned to the main deck and began boarding their ships; Talia went over to the navy with Nabbidosh to speak with the other admirals. Soon the Legacy was left standing alone on deck.
“Now, just to make sure,” Kyle said, “everyone’s okay with giving Keth the crown?”
Arrie looked over at the teeming mass of orcs on the beach. “At this point, it’s not exactly like it’s going to change things much.”
“The amount of goodwill that will be created by giving the Crown of the Orcish King to Keth more than outweighs any risks of uniting the orcs under a single leader,” Tolly said. “Besides, Keth is a lawful being, and it will be good to see the firm hand of Law brought to these lands.”
“And if there are any clans that aren’t supporting Keth now,” Osborn added, “they will once he’s crowned.”
“Just wanted everyone to have a chance to voice any dissent,” Kyle said. “We have been carrying that thing around for a long time because we were afraid of the consequences of giving it away.”
They agreed to have Autumn and Osborn go meet Keth, though for safety the portable hole with the Crown (and other items of interest) was left on the Armadillo. They met up with Warchief Ghraz, and were quickly led straight through the orcish legions to Keth’s command tent. The tent was huge, and well guarded, and when Autumn and Osborn passed through the entrance, they noticed that the beaded curtain across the opening was made from lead beads, most likely meant to interfere with scrying without being too unwieldy to transport through the desert. Most likely strands of similar beads had been sewn into the entire tent.
Keth himself was sitting on a large wooden throne in the middle of the tent, flanked by his wives, guards, and advisors. By orcish standards, the throne was highly ornate, though still solidly built, looking like it had been carved from a large slab of volcanic rock. It was a sure sign of Keth’s power that a seat such as this was being hauled all over the desert.
“It is good to see you again, clan-brother,” Keth said to Osborn as he and Autumn approached and bowed. “And you as well, sentinel.” He glanced at Autumn’s wings. “I see your status among your kind has grown.”
“As has yours, High Warchief,” Autumn replied. “And it is for exactly that reason that we have come.” Keth’s eyebrow arched.
“We have come across an item in our travels,” Osborn said. “An artifact of great importance to you. We wish to bestow this item on you with a proper ceremony.”
“What is this artifact?”
Autumn approached Keth’s throne, pausing only a moment as Keth waved away the suddenly tense guards in the tent. Autumn leaned in close to whisper the information in Keth’s ear. Osborn heard one of Keth’s advisors mutter a crude joke about how the artifact must be ‘the silken tongue of an aasimar’ and some suggestions on how best to use it, which made him glad that Kyle hadn’t come with them.
“You can understand why we would want to make this a public affair when it’s presented,” Autumn said as she stepped back.
“Indeed,” Keth said, his mind whirling. “For this to come to me now, during Grabâkh’s holy days… it is a great omen. I will have to speak with the gnomish commander. This may change our plans.” He stood up suddenly. “We will do it tonight, amidst the sacred fires. I must give instructions to my high priests.” He began to walk out of the tent, but then turned and grabbed the ears of the two guards closest to him, yanking their heads close. “If you heard something, you heard nothing! Clear?” The two guards nodded as best they could.
Releasing the guards, Keth strode outside, followed by Autumn and Osborn. Once out of the tent, he waved over an orcish lieutenant, who came running up with a chest-crushing salute.
“Inform my advisor Kashok that his warchief wishes for him to visit the pleasure tents this evening. Escort him there yourself. When you arrive, you may inform him that he is there to serve his clan, have him stripped and bound, and allow those with the inclination to use him as they wish. Perhaps then he will learn to mind his tongue when speaking about our honored guests.”
The lieutenant saluted again and went into the command tent, as Keth strode off toward the shore.
“What was that all about?” Autumn asked.
“You probably don’t want the details,” Osborn said, “let’s just say that Keth's hearing is good, and he is definitely not lax in the discipline department.”
* * *
The sun had set hours ago, and so the barren desert should have been freezing. But the hundreds of huge bonfires that burned brightly throughout the orc encampment made the night feel like a sweltering summer day. The orcs had gathered around a large dune, pressing as close as they could to see the events before them. Near the top of the dune, a small contingent of gnomes in formal uniforms stood nervously witnessing the proceedings, clearly ill at ease being surrounded by so many orcs at the height of the Time of Burning.
Just as the clamoring of the horde was about to reach a fevered pitch, everyone suddenly fell silent as if on some unseen cue. Then the drums began. It was a frenetic, erratic beat that at first seemed to have no rhythm or meter at all. But then the orcs began to join in; some beat swords against shields, others stamped heavy boots into the sand, and others began to shout guttural chants. At first it seemed like a cacophony of noise, no one performer matching his neighbor. But those trained to listen would hear that the drums beat in unison with the drums, the shields were struck with the same rhythm, each boot stomp and shout was perfectly synchronized. The warsong took on an almost hypnotic quality for those within the horde; for the thousands of gnomish sailors, listening to the ceremony from afar, it sounded as though the desert itself had suddenly burst into flames and was being consumed.
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Then the voices of the priests rang out across the gathering, with the answering cries shouted at a deafening roar.
“Kas grazil duro’rashik!” (“The fires of our Lord consume us!”)
Mojh rashan Grabâkh! (Praise to Grabâkh the destroyer!)
“Kas grazil duro’pashai!” (“The fires of our Lord purify us!”)
Mojh pashan Grabâkh! (Praise to Grabâkh the purifier!)
“Duro’jahakar du kas grazil!” (“We are reborn from the fires of our Lord!”)
Nas dur Grabanar, vor grazos Grabhül! (His Eye sees all, his Wrath shall burn forever!)
The chant continued, nonstop, even as the crowds began to part to let a single figure through to the top of the dune.
Autumn walked slowly up the hill, looking regal in gleaming plate armor, her wings pulled up behind her like a cloak of white feathers. In her hands she held a heavy crown fashioned of solid adamantium, with irregular crests styled like leaping flames. The crown was adorned with enormous rubies, fire opals, and garnets. An inscription in Orcish ran around the brow, carved deep into the metal.
When she arrived at the top of the hill, she knelt and presented the crown to the head priest, who took it in his mail gauntlets and, shouting an invocation to Grabâkh, thrust the crown into a glowing brazier. Slowly, as the crown began to glow red, the chanting faded and then stopped, and the entire army stood in silent expectation as a new figure approached the crest of the hill.
Keth was clad in a suit of half-plate, the metal tinged red. He carried a massive barbed spear in one hand, and on his other arm was a large shield shaped to look like Grabâkh’s flaming Eye. The High Warchief gave his spear to the high priest, and then approached the smoking brazier. Without a moment’s hesitation, he thrust his hands into the coals, picked up the crown, and set it on top of his head. Wisps of black smoke curled up as the hot metal burned hair and seared flesh, but Keth stood stoically, his eyes burning with reflected firelight as the crown cooled. Then, with a sudden motion, Keth grabbed his spear from the high priest, thrust it overhead, and let out an ear-splitting shout of triumph. The cry was soon picked up by the other orcs, and by Autumn and the rest of the Legacy, who had been present through the entire ceremony. Even the gnomes couldn’t help but be overwhelmed as the cacophony slowly shaped itself into another rhythmic chant.
“Long live King Keth!”
* * *
A day later, the Pecish Navy set sail and began the long journey north, their small, maneuverable ships sitting low in the water under the weight of thousands of orcish passengers. The armada numbered in the hundreds of ships, all moving at a slow, steady crawl through the ocean due to the extra weight. This was perhaps a good thing, as it allowed the fleet to keep pace with their flagship, the ponderous Armadillo.
The Legacy had decided not to take on any additional troops, as Keth had requested to sail in their vessel, and he and his staff would take up what room was available. Initially, however, the party had the ship to themselves; Keth had ridden off into the desert with a small retinue the morning after the ceremony.
“As High Warchief, there were some clans even I could not persuade to join us,” he explained. “They will join their King. I will meet the fleet on the coast in five days time.”
Despite not having to entertain the newly crowned orc king, the party kept busy. As had been expected, having two such diametrically opposed races sharing the same small space made things tense, and conflicts broke out on almost every ship. The party soon found themselves acting as the fleet’s mediators, using their abilities to move rapidly from ship to ship. They applied Lanara’s gentle, persuasive touch where they could, and Arrie and Autumn’s less gentle approach when needed. Osborn worked to spot potential problems before they even flared up, and Tolly helped to settle things back to normal afterward. Kyle mostly remained on the Armadillo, coordinating everyone’s efforts through telepathic bond spells and divinations, only involving himself directly when large-scale interventions were required.
Surprisingly, the majority of the conflicts did not occur between the orcs and gnomes, but between the orcs and the battalions of Sargian pikemen that the navy had picked up on their way to meet with the orcs. Not that the conflicts themselves were surprising; Sargia had no great love for the marauding orcs. What was surprising was that the pikemen were there at all.
“I thought Sargia had chosen to remain out of the fight for now,” Tolly asked the Tlaxan advisor Talia one day.
“Things change,” she replied. “Officially the country is still not involved. But we have had private negotiations with the heads of the Cromanus Family, who controls Sargia’s Military Greatguild. They are the ones sending the pikemen, not the Sargian government.” She shrugged. “And it wasn’t even known for sure until the last moment whether the Cromanus Family would agree to it. Apparently our offer was going to be rejected, until the Shadow General made some sort of offer that swayed them to join our cause.”
“I hope one day we learn who this Shadow General is,” Tolly said. “From all I’ve heard about his work for the Alliance, he has earned my respect and deserves the gratitude of us all.”
Nearby, Osborn just smiled. Though he hadn’t known about the gnomish fleet, he was aware of the negotiations between the Cromanuses and the Alliance, and had helped sweeten the deal by providing them with some crucial information about some of the other Great Families of Sargia.
Things settled into a routine, more or less. Keth rejoined the armada as promised, another two thousand orcs or so following behind him. The fights continued but seemed to grow less frequent or intense at the days went on. Occasionally the armada would encounter Tauric ships; lone scout ships were blasted by the Armadillo’s cannon before they could come about to flee, and larger fleets were quickly dealt with by the fast gnomish ships. Despite their differences, the Sargians and orcs fought well together, and there was only the occasional accidental orc piking, or Sargian skull being split by an errant thrown axe.
As the days turned into weeks, Tolly grew increasingly irritable. He was seen walking around below decks for hours, poking through every nook and cranny, and the skin around his eyes was tinged dark yellow from repeated use of the saffron eye paste required for the true seeing spell.
“What on earth is he looking for down there?” Lanara asked one day, after seeing Tolly storm through the galley.
“He’s looking for whatever it is that fixed the ship,” Kyle said. Autumn, resting in Kyle’s arms, smiled. He’d let her in on the secret a few nights ago, and they’d discovered that both Osborn and Arrie were aware of the situation as well. Only Tolly and Lanara were left out; though they all figured they would let the bard in on the secret at some point, for now they were holding off; it was nice for once to have something that they knew before she did. It was probably only Lanara’s consternation at having been on board a ship for so long that had kept her from discovering the cover-up and prying it out of one of them already.
“I thought we agreed to let it go,” Lanara said, exasperated. “I thought we agreed that Kyle had his reasons for trying to cover things up, and we should trust you.”
“Oh, I think Tolly trusts that Kyle’s telling the truth,” Arrie said, “he just doesn’t trust whoever or whatever it is was telling the truth to Kyle. There’s a reason that Ardara’s creed isn’t ‘Let It Be’, you know.”
* * *
One night, about four and a half weeks after the coronation of Keth, as the Pecish fleet began to round the northwestern corner of Affon, the Legacy had a dream.
They found themselves standing outside a familiar seaside cliff, looking at a familiar two-story house. But there the familiarity ended. For one, they noticed that they had all of their armaments and equipment with them; even their horses were there, as were Rupert and Violet. Another oddity was that the house was in flames. Autumn immediately began running toward the house, the others right on their heels, Tolly and Kyle both feverishly casting defensive spells as they ran.
They saw movement at the balcony, and saw Aran emerge, blood caked on his head and the side of his face. He was streaked with grime and soot, and held an ordinary looking short sword in one hand. “Come through the side entrance!” he shouted down to them, waving his arms.
They bolted to the right as soon as they passed the outer gates. Soon they found the side entrance; a large double door, big enough for a man to ride through mounted.
“Kyle! Door!” Autumn shouted. Moments later, the wooden portal was shattered by a lightning bolt.
Weapons drawn, the party ran forward… into darkness. As the light vanished and the Legacy lost consciousness, the only thing they were aware of was a low, mocking laughter.
-------------------------
* True story: our DM had named the gnomish nation the Peca Provinces, but it became clear that he hadn't really thought it through. The first time we interacted with a citizen of the country, he realized that they would be referred to as... Pecans.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
Just...too...awesome.
How do the players react when the DM does one of these "the party is rendered unconscious" bits? Does he do some kind of game mechanics, or is it more a story device?
How do the players react when the DM does one of these "the party is rendered unconscious" bits? Does he do some kind of game mechanics, or is it more a story device?
Delemental
First Post
Blarkon Dragonslayer said:
Definitely as a story device. We can accept this because we know that A) it's done for a purpose, and B) he's not trying to screw us.
He does compensate for this kind of deus ex machina by giving us an extra XP boost - a reward for playing along. Another reason why he doesn't handle it with mechanics, because if he did we'd naturally resist (because if they're using the rules to capture us, we can use them to escape, and it should be obvious that it's darned hard to make a 16th level party stay put if they don't want to).
Delemental
First Post
Labyrinthine Plots
Osborn awoke in darkness.
He remained still, taking stock of his situation. He was laying on a cold stone floor, with no lights, dressed in only a threadbare tunic and pants He could hear no sounds except his own breathing, and the slight rattle of a set of manacles on his wrists. He was otherwise unbound and unrestricted in his movement. He stood slowly, listening to the echoes his movements made. The ache in his limbs as he moved told him that he had been unconscious for many hours.
He could tell he was in a small stone room, and that he was alone. He walked around slowly to get the measure of the space. The room was bare except for a foul-smelling bucket in one corner. A heavy wooden door barred the only exit from the room.
No bedding, no space in the door to push food and water through… whoever has us doesn’t intend to keep us long. He began to probe at the manacles on his wrists. They were solidly made, with only three short chain links between them, limiting his range of motion and the leverage he could apply.
These are very well made – almost impossible to escape, Osborn thought, as he slipped out of the shackles. Osborn made his way over to the bucket, and after a few delicate moments of picking with his fingernails, was able to pull off a splinter of wood of sufficient size for him to start working on the door lock.
Minutes later, Osborn was creeping along the pitch-black corridor, his manacles gripped in one hand as a makeshift weapon. He discovered other cells as he moved, but none of them were occupied.
Finally, Osborn caught a faint sound up ahead to his left, something that sounded like boots on stone. The hin moved forward cautiously until he caught the dim glow of torchlight. He heard a cell door open, and two people go inside. The door slammed shut, cutting off the torchlight. Then Osborn heard the sounds of a large commotion from behind the door.
Osborn moved ahead quickly and pushed open the door a crack. Inside he saw Arrie screaming and shouting as she attacked two guards with the waste bucket in her cell. The guards were armed with spears and armored, and seemed to be getting the worst of the exchange. Osborn saw that each man had a dagger on his belt.
Arrie twisted away from a spear point, and then used the momentum to bring the bucket up underneath the other guard’s chin. She was trying to stay in the center of the room as much as possible, to keep from being pinned against a wall, but the guards were not novices, and they were flanking her. More disturbing to her was the fact that she’d been unable to access her psionic abilities, as though they were being suppressed or withheld.
One of the guards grinned as he saw an opening in Arrie’s defenses. He stepped forward, but then suddenly lurched and stiffened. Blood began to trickle from his mouth as he tried to turn around, but he collapsed, revealing Osborn standing behind him, the guard’s own bloody dagger in his hand.
After Arrie dispatched the second guard, they began gathering up weapons. “Slipped out of your cell, I see,” Arrie said. “Hardly a model prisoner.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting any time off for good behavior. What’d you use?”
“Oh, the standard.” Arrie began fluttering her eyelashes in a mocking fashion. “‘Oh, I am ever so frightened of the dark. I would do anything if you big strong guards would bring me some light.’”
“Ah, the Lanara Gambit,” Osborn nodded.
Autumn awoke to find herself manacled to a wall by her hands and legs. Even her wings had been belted down against her body. She struggled against the bonds for a few moments, and then relaxed when she heard people coming down the wall outside her cell. The room itself was pitch black, but she could see well enough with darkvision to tell that she was in a small, bare cell with only a single door. She heard the sound of keys in the lock, and then a familiar female voice.
“Wait here, I won’t be long.”
Meeranda stepped into the room, a torch in her hand and a mocking grin on her face. She placed the torch into a sconce on the wall, then stepped up close to the sentinel.
“It’s very nice to see you,” the thrallherd said. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’ve come to visit us.”
“I haven’t come to visit you.”
“Well, you did walk through the door. I’m afraid I can’t stay long, but I so rarely get the chance to gloat.”
Autumn stared impassively. In truth, she was trying to call upon her divine power to blast Meeranda with beams of holy fire from her eyes, but the power wouldn’t come forth.
“You are fortunate that the master has no further interest in you. I thought you’d like to know that we will be torturing you and your companions to death. We will allow you to watch your husband die, which I’m sure will be very comforting to you. But not before he has the chance to witness all of my soldiers enjoying your flesh.”
“I am inspired by your words,” Autumn said flatly.
“Good! I wouldn’t want you to go into this bored. But I must say, it’s amazing how you can find help in the strangest places. There’s someone else who wants to say hello to you.”
Meeranda stepped back, and another figure squeezed into the room, ducking down to fit under the door. Autumn recognized it immediately. She refused to look it in the eye, instead addressing Meeranda.
“You have very bad taste in friends.”
The cornugon stepped up to Autumn and placed the tip of a claw on the end of her nose, a mockery of an affectionate gesture.
“She does not taste bad, sentinel,” it hissed. “But you will taste far sweeter. I am going to enjoy this.”
Autumn spat in the cornugon’s face. It’s long, serpentine tongue flicked out and licked the spittle away.
“Your disdain is delicious,” it chuckled. “Soon enough I will have the chance to savor your other fluids as well. Your soul will be mine.” The cornugon turned and pushed its way out of the cell.
“My soul belongs to someone else,” Autumn said defiantly.
Meeranda looked back at Autumn. “We have more pressing business to attend to now, but we will make sure you all stay safe and sound.”
“I hope you know that I will enjoy killing you.”
Meeranda laughed, and she walked out of the cell, and the door was pulled shut behind her.
Autumn waited until the sounds of footsteps had faded away completely before allowing a tear to well up in her eyes as she swore violently. But she blinked them back quickly. There was no time for that now. She began to consider her options.
“Well, I could use the Lanara Gambit on the next guards,” she said to herself, seeing no reason to keep quiet when she was alone. “But I’m hardly in the best position to take advantage of that,” she added, rattling the chains on her restraints. “I also doubt that they’d care much if I pulled the ‘sick prisoner’ routine. Maybe…”
She went silent as she heard more people outside her cell, and heard the door unlock. If they’ve come for me already, she thought, I’ll make sure that many of them live to regret it.
The cell door opened, and Osborn and Arrie walked in.
“I suppose you’d like to get down now.” Arrie said.
“Would you be so kind, Osborn?” Autumn asked, even as the hin moved to unlock the shackles. Moments later, she was free.
“Want a belt, Arrie?” Autumn asked, holding out the leather strap that had bound her wings.
“No thanks, I have a bucket.”
“Meeranda is here,” Autumn said. “And the cornugon who killed our father.”
“I know,” Arrie said. “We saw them leave. Meeranda ordered the guards doubled, and said something about ‘the ritual must not be interrupted’.”
“We need to find the others,” Autumn said. She took a spear and shield from Arrie, and followed them out into the corridor.
They eventually heard a strange sound like creaking metal, and following the sound, found another occupied cell, and opened it quickly. Inside they found Tolly, who was shackled to the middle of the floor, blindfolded and gagged. As Osborn unlocked the manacles, he noticed that the middle link had been twisted and stretched, as though Tolly had tried to shatter the chain with brute force.
“Blessed be,” Tolly said, rubbing his wrists as he rose. He accepted the second spear and shield from Arrie as Autumn filled him in on what they knew.
“We must act quickly to find the others,” Tolly said. He followed the rest out of the cell and down the corridor. After a while, they heard a commotion coming from a chamber at the far end.
“Sounds like about four men,” Osborn said, “and two dogs!” Osborn began moving down the corridor rapidly, and the others hurried to catch up. They came to a large intersection, where four guards were poking spears at a pair of snarling dogs. One was Rupert, and the second was a greyhound that had a shining metallic coat like Rupert’s, but with more of a brownish-gold tone. As the party rushed in to dispatch the guards, Osborn noted that the chains on the dogs’ collars had been snapped.
Once the guards were dead, Rupert ran up and licked Osborn’s face, while the strange dog gave Tolly a similar treatment. Everyone except Lanara covered up grins or stifled laughs.
“Why is everyone acting so strange?” Tolly asked.
“You’ll find out,” Autumn said.
Arrie walked up and patted the greyhound on the head. “Thank you.” The dog barked and licked her hand. Meanwhile, Osborn was talking to Rupert.
“Can you smell Lanara or Kyle?” In response, Rupert looked at the other dog, exchanged a few barks, and then Rupert pointed down one of the other hallways leading off the room.
“Let’s try down this corridor,” Osborn said, and walked down the hall, Rupert at his heels. The others followed, but the greyhound sat down, watching them.
“Come,” said Tolly, but the dog shook its head. Then it pointed its nose down the hallways leading out of the room.
“I think he is going to stay there and guard the passageways while we search,” Autumn said.
“Yes, he’s a very… communicative animal,” Tolly said.
They all walked down the corridor, while Osborn checked doors. “Has anyone else had trouble accessing their abilities?” Arrie asked quietly.
“Yes,” Autumn said. “Do you think it’s some sort of psionic block?”
“Maybe.”
Lanara’s cell was the next one they found. She, like Tolly, was found shackled to the floor, bound and gagged.
“They’re being extra cautious with the spellcasters,” Arrie said as Osborn worked to free Lanara. Once they got the gag off, Lanara unleashed a string of profanity perhaps unrivalled in the history of Affon. Once she calmed down, she was armed and briefed before joining the others to find Kyle.
They found him further down the corridor, shackled and gagged as they had expected. But he was laying on the floor, slowly and deliberately scraping the side of his face against the stone floor. He’d managed to pull the blindfold away, and was obviously trying to wear through the leather straps to the gag. Osborn quickly had him unshackled and ungagged, and Autumn hugged him.
“What on earth were you doing?” Autumn said, seeing blood trickling down Kyle’s cheek from where it had been scraped against the floor.
“Well, I had no idea how long I would be here, and I had to do something. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking forward to the horrible facial scarring, but…”
“We should stop and heal before continuing,” Tolly said. “Several of us have been injured fighting guards.”
“Yeah, I’ve got something moving in here that shouldn’t be,” Arrie said, poking at her ribcage.
Tolly moved to cast a healing spell on Arrie, but stopped mid-spell. “I can’t feel Ardara’s power.”
Lanara tried her own magic, with no effect. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”
Kyle concentrated for a moment, and then looked up at Lanara. “Say something dirty in Anarchic,” he said. The cansin looked puzzled, and then said a few words in the jumbled planar tongue.
“Didn’t understand a word,” he said, “that’s what I thought.”
“What did you think?” Autumn asked.
“I think this prison was built in a dead magic area,” Kyle said. “I normally have a permanent tongues spell active, but it’s not working. And I certainly can’t feel any of my other magic.”
“Why would a dead magic area block psionics?” Arrie asked. “I couldn’t use my powers either.”
“I’m not sure. Not much is known about dead zones – they’re kind of hard to study, you understand. Maybe they cut off all forms of power.”
“If this is true, then why bother binding and gagging the casters?” Arrie asked.
“Dead zones sometimes fluctuate,” Tolly replied, “they were probably being cautious. And I’m sure seeing all of us helpless gave Meeranda a thrill. The good news is that most dead zones are relatively small.”
“Then let’s find our way out of here,” Arrie said. “And besides, could they do this ritual in a dead magic zone?”
“Probably not,” Kyle told her.
“There’s another door I want to check,” Osborn said. “It’s more secure than the others. We passed it on the way to Kyle’s cell.”
They followed Osborn back, and after a minute or so Osborn managed to work the lock open. Inside, they found their equipment, thrown into the room in haphazard piles. The party began to strip out of their prison clothing and rearm themselves, though it quickly became apparent that their magical gear was not functioning. Despite this, Arrie affectionately addressed Anyweapon as soon as she found it, lovingly stroking the weapon which was currently fixed into the shape of a longsword.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she cooed. “I missed you. Look, I found a new friend for you. His name is Bucket.”
Kyle picked up his staff, and it flared to life, the crystalline ball detaching from the shaft and floating an inch or so away, filled with iridescent sparks and shapes.
“Aw, it missed me, too,” Kyle said, setting the staff aside to strap on his belt.
“I thought you said we were in a dead magic zone,” Autumn inquired. “How is your staff still working?”
“Because sufficiently powerful magical objects aren’t affected by dead magic,” Tolly answered for him. “The Scion’s Staff is a pre-Cataclysmic artifact.”
“Well, if we can all stop getting all lovey-dovey with our weapons,” Lanara said, “I’d like to go kill Meeranda and go home.”
“And the cornugon,” Autumn reminded them.
“And anyone else with them,” Arrie added.
“Isn’t it convenient that all of our enemies chose to gather in one place for us?” Kyle commented.
“Very considerate of them,” Tolly agreed.
The party, now rearmed and united, returned to the intersection where the strange bronze-copper dog had been waiting; however, he was nowhere to be seen. They eventually made their way out of the twisting passages of their prison, into a series of longer, wider corridors. It was obvious from the dust and cobwebs everywhere that the complex had not been used for some time until recently.
“The architecture isn’t familiar to me,” Kyle said. “But it’s definitely old, older than most of the stuff we’ve seen. But if I had to guess, I’d assume we’re in the Underdark again.”
“Well, maybe we can ask Meeranda about it just before we kill her and her scaly-faced friend,” Lanara said.
“Merciful hands of Ardara,” Tolly blurted out abruptly.
“What is it?” Kyle asked.
“It just occurred to me,” the cleric said. “Why is a cornugon, a servant of Grabâkh, working hand in hand with the Anathema? All of the servitors of the gods are commanded to destroy them on sight.”
“That’s not good,” Autumn said.
“But ironic, considering the orcs are fighting against them,” Arrie said.
“Or are they?” Kyle said, a look of worry on his face. “What if we just sent millions of Grabâkh-worshipping orcs into the middle of the war, and they intend to ally with the Taurics against the Alliance?”
They all paused and shuddered at the implication.
“If Keth does that,” Arrie said grimly, “I have dibs on his spleen.”
“We have to stop this ritual first, and then get out,” Osborn said. “Any ideas which way to go? Rupert’s not picking up a good scent in all this dust.”
Suddenly, they heard a bark from further down the right passageway. Going to investigate, they found the strange metallic dog sitting at the end of the hall at a T-intersection. Kyle’s familiar Violet was perched on the dog’s head. Kyle ran up to retrieve Violet, and as soon as he entered the intersection, his empathic link with her resumed.
“It’s the edge of the dead magic zone,” he announced.
Soon everyone was at the intersection, their magical gear functioning again. Tolly began working on healing the party’s injuries. Arrie looked at the party.
“Can someone enchant my bucket?”
“Not at the moment,” Kyle said. “However, before we go on, I’d like a chance to read my spellbooks and prepare some spells.”
“As would I,” Tolly said, “but it’s not time for me to pray yet. I’m not certain when dawn will be here.”
Kyle sat down and began studying his spells while the others waited or prepared themselves for the upcoming battle. Arrie focused on her wedding ring, issuing a sending to Herion:
Orcs on he way, Keth with new hat. Be cautious. Legacy captured by bad psions and cornugon. Evil ritual in the works. Will bust out.
Once Kyle was finished, they made ready to move on. They hadn’t gone very far when Kyle grabbed Autumn’s arm. “Give me the portable hole,” he said suddenly.
Autumn handed over the device, which Kyle spread out and jumped into. He came out a moment later, swearing.
“The Cage is gone,” he said. “I was hoping I’d be wrong, but they found it.” Kyle smashed a fist into the wall. “Gods be damned! That’s two major artifacts we’ve managed to completely mishandle in the space of a few weeks!”
Autumn took Kyle’s arm. “We don’t know for sure that Keth will use the Crown to betray us,” she said.
“Only if our luck changes,” he said bitterly.
“And as far as we could tell, the Cage doesn’t do anything,” Autumn added.
“Actually,” Lanara said sheepishly, “that’s not true.”
“What?”
“Well, after we found it, I started thinking a lot about stories I’d heard about the Cage,” she said. “Since I knew it would resist any magical means of finding out about it, I figured we’d have to learn about it the hard way.”
“It’s true,” Kyle said, “I tried to cast a legend lore on the Cage one night, and it failed.”
“Well, I finally managed to remember the story of its origin,” Lanara continued. “Just before I went to sleep on the night we were captured. I was going to tell you all in the morning.”
“Oh, why wait?” Arrie said. “I’m in the mood to be horribly depressed right now!”
“Well, first of all, it’s not called ‘The Cage’,” she began. “It’s known as the Gatekeeper’s Key. It all started way back in the days when Medos was first forming as a nation. The merchant-priests of Bail and Shesh had themselves a little financial scuffle. No one is entirely sure exactly what it was over – perhaps the price of stone for the Spire of Eternity, or something about slave trading. Regardless, the church of Bail ended up on the losing side of the battle. Though they complained loudly in council, they found they could not get satisfaction. A militaristic priest of Bail decided to take a detachment of soldiers over to the Temple of Shesh and reclaim what was rightfully theirs, no matter how well guarded it may have been.
When they arrived in the middle of the night, there was but a lone acolyte on guard, watching the doors. He was easily captured, but when the Bailites attempted to open the doors, they found that they simply would not open. The doors we not locked, nor barred - they simply would not open. They began to demand answers from the gatekeeper, and threatened to beat the answer out of him. In response, he bit off his own tongue and spat it at them - a clear indication that they would be getting no answers from him. When they wiped the blood from their eyes, both man and tongue were gone, and the doors stood wide open. The men eagerly entered. Those few who were found the next day were unable to speak coherently, gibbering only about a ‘place between places’....”
They all quietly digested this story.
“It’s been said that the Gatekeeper's Key has the power to open or close any passage, to render its bearer utterly silent in their movement, or to act as a divining rod for wealth.” Lanara said. “Only the faithful of Shesh truly know how to utilize it, and, well, they're not talking.”
“Considering that we know who has this Key,” Arrie said slowly, “and the fact that it can open up ‘any passage’, and that the people who have it are performing a ritual of some sort, I’m coming up with all sorts of highly unpleasant ideas.”
“Likewise,” Kyle agreed. “Let’s go make sure none of them happen.”
They wound their way through a maze of twisting passageways and rooms, until they came to a short set stairs leading down. Once down the stairs, they seemed to come into an area of the complex that had seen more recent use. The corridors also widened, allowing them to spread out more. But they had yet to see a sign of another living being.
Eventually they came to another intersection, but this one was unusual for the fact that a curtain of blackness cut across one of the branches, blocking their vision. They pondered the curtain for a moment.
“I’ll try to dispel it,” Tolly offered, and he held up his holy symbol. But he soon put it down again, frowning. “This is a potent spell,” he said.
“Well, are we going through or not?” Autumn asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” Kyle said, “but I think it’s nothing more than a curtain of darkness.”
“Still, seems like something they want to keep people away from,” Arrie said. “Which means we should go there.”
“Shh!” Osborn said suddenly. “Incoming!”
They fell silent, and soon they all heard it; slow, plodding footsteps. From down one of the other corridors, they saw an eight foot tall humanoid figure approaching. It looked like a mummy, but its wrappings consisted of what looking like old scroll parchments. Bits of broken staves and wands jutted out at odd angles.
“What is it?” Arrie shouted to Kyle.
“I’m not sure – some sort of construct!” he shouted back, as he unleashed a fireball from his staff. Osborn joined him with a searing light from his headband and then some magic missiles from a wand. All of the spells rolled off of the creature harmlessly.
“This thing’s tough!” Osborn said.
With spells useless, the front-line combatants made their move. Arrie struck the creature with one of her shotputs as she ran in, and when it struck she heard the crunch of glass and saw colored fluid leaking out of the impact point.
“It’s full of potions!” she exclaimed, as she shifted Anyweapon into the shape of a large hammer.
Autumn ran up to join her sister, her axe blazing with holy energy. Planting her feet, she swung with all her might at the construct, and was rewarded when the blade bit deep. Lanara began to sing, even as she summoned a celestial dire badger to help in the battle. Even Kyle was ready, casting adamantine wings on himself to use as weapons.
Wounded and threatened on several sides, the creature’s mouth yawned open, and a sheet of lightning blasted forth, striking Tolly and then arcing to the others. Fortunately, they all managed to avoid the worst of the damage.
“This ends now!” shouted Tolly, hefting his maul. Bolstered by the spiritual energy radiating from Autumn, he charged straight for the creature and swung, the force of his blow splitting it in half. It fell with a crash in two halves.
“Ugh, what a mess,” Lanara said, holding her nose at the stench emitted from several mixed potions.
“Now I remember,” Kyle said. “It’s a grisgol. A construct built from discarded magical items.” Kyle walked over to the top half, and stuck his fist in, rummaging around.
“What powers such a creature?” Tolly asked.
“This,” Kyle announced, drawing forth an object in his fist with an unusually wet sound. It was a small, jeweled box.
“A lich’s phylactery.” Kyle grinned, then pulled his arm back when he saw Tolly’s grip tighten on his maul. “It hasn’t got a soul in it,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s one that was prepared and never used. Grisgols do have powers similar to liches, though, so it’s a good thing it never touched anyone.”
Kyle was able to extract a few more usable items out of the body, while the others talked. “Well, the noise from that battle probably got some attention,” Lanara said.
“Are you kidding?” Osborn chuckled mirthlessly. “If the guards haven’t come by our cells by now and noticed we were missing anyway, then this is the worst prison ever.”
“Then why haven’t we seen any guards?” Autumn asked.
“Could be they’re gathered wherever the ritual is taking place, to protect it,” Arrie mused. “I’m getting the feeling that this complex is huge, and they probably only use a small portion of it. Makes more sense to concentrate everyone in a smaller area.”
“Well then, once we start finding guards, then we know we’re getting close,” Tolly said. “But now, which way?”
“I say through the curtain of darkness,” Arrie said.
Kyle finished a few moments later. “Nothing too valuable, some minor wands and potions, but I did find this,” he said, producing a circle of black cloth.
“Ooh, a second portable hole!” Lanara said.
“Great, now we have two places to keep powerful artifacts until we manage to completely screw things up and put them in the hands of the wrong person,” Kyle grumbled.
“Actually, can I have that?” Osborn asked. “I could use it.”
Everyone agreed to this, and a moment later they had moved beyond the curtain into a new series of passageways. However, after only a few minutes of exploring, they discovered that the area beyond the darkness was unused, and that the curtain was probably placed to keep people from wandering off, rather than to protect any secrets. They returned to the curtain to consider their options.
“Let me try something,” Kyle said. He sat down and cast a spell, and was immediately surrounded by two dozen eyeballs. He concentrated for a moment, and then the eyes went flying off in every direction. Kyle then pulled out a folding lap desk, some parchment and ink, and waited.
“This will take a while,” he said. “Keep watch.”
Several minutes went by before the first eye returned. Kyle grabbed it in his left hand and concentrated on it while his right hand picked up a pen and started sketching out hallways and rooms. Soon other eyeballs were returning, floating patiently nearby as Kyle grabbed them one by one, feverishly scribbling out lines and boxes. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
Finally, the eyes stopped appearing. The party noticed that several of the eyeballs had never come back at all. Kyle continued to draw for several minutes after the last eyeball vanished, and then finally pushed the lap desk away and began rubbing his temples.
“Ow.”
“Kind of a sloppy map,” Lanara commented, looking at the drawing.
Kyle glared. “I just constructed a map of an extremely large labyrinth using only the visual cues from two dozen magical eyeballs, traveling in random directions, which were in the dark most of the time. It was… somewhat difficult. I’d appreciate if you kept your criticism to yourself.”
“Sorry,” said the cansin, “just kidding.”
Tolly cast a healing orison at Kyle to ease his headache, and then he stood and looked at the map. “We’re here,” he said, pointing at the center of the map. “I was able to discover signs of activity in these areas I’ve marked.” There were about a half-dozen Xs marked on some of the larger rooms on the map.
“I say we start here, at the closest one,” Kyle said, “and then work our way in this direction.”
“As good a plan as any,” Osborn said. “Just tell me where to turn.”
Ten minutes later, the party was drawing near the first spot on Kyle’s crude map. “Let’s try and move quietly,” Osborn suggested, and in response Kyle cast a telepathic bond spell on the party. They moved forward together toward a large room which they would have to cross to get to their destination.
The corridor leading to the room was lit with torches, a sign that their directions were accurate. However, several of the party noticed some unusual piles of stone on the floor. Looking closer, they saw that the stone wasn’t rubble, but appeared to be intricately carved pieces of stone, which were designed to fit together like a puzzle. Looking over the pieces, they saw that if assembled they would resemble humanoid figures.
“Hey,” Tolly said suddenly, “they’re moving.”
Everyone looked closer, and sure enough, the pieces were slowly wriggling together. They were in no danger of reassembling themselves any time soon, but the intent of the movement was obvious. The sight triggered a tickle in the back of Lanara’s mind, but she couldn’t place it.
“Is this thing evil?” Autumn asked. Tolly shook his head.
Lanara picked up one of the larger pieces, which looked like a face. Turning it over in her hands, she nearly dropped it when it suddenly spoke, the stone lips moving as it uttered a string of words in an unknown language. It continued to repeat the same words over and over.
“What did it say?” she said, alarmed.
“At dawn a leaf-creeper, at noon a stem-sleeper, at dusk a sky-sweeper,” Kyle translated. “I think he’s speaking an archaic form of Elvish.”
“A puzzle man who asks riddles,” Arrie sighed. “How quaint.”
“It’s a butterfly,” Lanara said. She spoke to the face. “A butterfly!” It continued to utter the same phrase.
“Maybe you need to say it in the same language,” Tolly suggested. Kyle gave Lanara’s answer in the ancient language. The face stopped talking for a moment, and a look of comprehension crossed its face. Then it began to repeat the riddle again, but this time with a more hopeful tone in its voice.
“Maybe we should try to put him together,” Osborn suggested.
The party worked together to reassemble the figure, sorting out pieces and sliding them together. Finally, the figure was complete. It formed the statue of an elf, wearing clothing that was at least twelve hundred years out of date. Once the last piece was fit into place, the statue repeated its riddle one more time, and Kyle gave the answer. There was a shimmering, and the cracks and seams in the statue filled in. A moment later, the elf turned to flesh and blood. He appeared to be a scholar of some sort, and very nervous.
“Are you all right?” Autumn asked. The elf looked at her in puzzlement, unable to understand her. Lanara cast a tongues spell on the elf, after Kyle told him what she was about to do.
“You have my thanks, seasoned travelers,” the elf said. “I will say only this; do not anger the creature in the next room. With that, I am going to try to find my way out of these ruins. Thank you very much for your assistance, but I fear for my life.”
“Just so you are aware, we think you’ve been down here over a millennia,” Kyle advised.
“I was certain that much time had passed,” he said.
“Any advice besides ‘don’t make the creature mad’?” Lanara asked.
“Try very, very hard not to make it mad,” he said.
“Can you describe it?” Autumn asked.
“You’ll know it when you see it. I will be on my way now.”
They watched the scholar disappear out of sight, going back in the direction they had come. Then, with a mutual shrug, they turned and entered the next chamber.
Osborn awoke in darkness.
He remained still, taking stock of his situation. He was laying on a cold stone floor, with no lights, dressed in only a threadbare tunic and pants He could hear no sounds except his own breathing, and the slight rattle of a set of manacles on his wrists. He was otherwise unbound and unrestricted in his movement. He stood slowly, listening to the echoes his movements made. The ache in his limbs as he moved told him that he had been unconscious for many hours.
He could tell he was in a small stone room, and that he was alone. He walked around slowly to get the measure of the space. The room was bare except for a foul-smelling bucket in one corner. A heavy wooden door barred the only exit from the room.
No bedding, no space in the door to push food and water through… whoever has us doesn’t intend to keep us long. He began to probe at the manacles on his wrists. They were solidly made, with only three short chain links between them, limiting his range of motion and the leverage he could apply.
These are very well made – almost impossible to escape, Osborn thought, as he slipped out of the shackles. Osborn made his way over to the bucket, and after a few delicate moments of picking with his fingernails, was able to pull off a splinter of wood of sufficient size for him to start working on the door lock.
Minutes later, Osborn was creeping along the pitch-black corridor, his manacles gripped in one hand as a makeshift weapon. He discovered other cells as he moved, but none of them were occupied.
Finally, Osborn caught a faint sound up ahead to his left, something that sounded like boots on stone. The hin moved forward cautiously until he caught the dim glow of torchlight. He heard a cell door open, and two people go inside. The door slammed shut, cutting off the torchlight. Then Osborn heard the sounds of a large commotion from behind the door.
Osborn moved ahead quickly and pushed open the door a crack. Inside he saw Arrie screaming and shouting as she attacked two guards with the waste bucket in her cell. The guards were armed with spears and armored, and seemed to be getting the worst of the exchange. Osborn saw that each man had a dagger on his belt.
Arrie twisted away from a spear point, and then used the momentum to bring the bucket up underneath the other guard’s chin. She was trying to stay in the center of the room as much as possible, to keep from being pinned against a wall, but the guards were not novices, and they were flanking her. More disturbing to her was the fact that she’d been unable to access her psionic abilities, as though they were being suppressed or withheld.
One of the guards grinned as he saw an opening in Arrie’s defenses. He stepped forward, but then suddenly lurched and stiffened. Blood began to trickle from his mouth as he tried to turn around, but he collapsed, revealing Osborn standing behind him, the guard’s own bloody dagger in his hand.
After Arrie dispatched the second guard, they began gathering up weapons. “Slipped out of your cell, I see,” Arrie said. “Hardly a model prisoner.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting any time off for good behavior. What’d you use?”
“Oh, the standard.” Arrie began fluttering her eyelashes in a mocking fashion. “‘Oh, I am ever so frightened of the dark. I would do anything if you big strong guards would bring me some light.’”
“Ah, the Lanara Gambit,” Osborn nodded.
* * *
Autumn awoke to find herself manacled to a wall by her hands and legs. Even her wings had been belted down against her body. She struggled against the bonds for a few moments, and then relaxed when she heard people coming down the wall outside her cell. The room itself was pitch black, but she could see well enough with darkvision to tell that she was in a small, bare cell with only a single door. She heard the sound of keys in the lock, and then a familiar female voice.
“Wait here, I won’t be long.”
Meeranda stepped into the room, a torch in her hand and a mocking grin on her face. She placed the torch into a sconce on the wall, then stepped up close to the sentinel.
“It’s very nice to see you,” the thrallherd said. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’ve come to visit us.”
“I haven’t come to visit you.”
“Well, you did walk through the door. I’m afraid I can’t stay long, but I so rarely get the chance to gloat.”
Autumn stared impassively. In truth, she was trying to call upon her divine power to blast Meeranda with beams of holy fire from her eyes, but the power wouldn’t come forth.
“You are fortunate that the master has no further interest in you. I thought you’d like to know that we will be torturing you and your companions to death. We will allow you to watch your husband die, which I’m sure will be very comforting to you. But not before he has the chance to witness all of my soldiers enjoying your flesh.”
“I am inspired by your words,” Autumn said flatly.
“Good! I wouldn’t want you to go into this bored. But I must say, it’s amazing how you can find help in the strangest places. There’s someone else who wants to say hello to you.”
Meeranda stepped back, and another figure squeezed into the room, ducking down to fit under the door. Autumn recognized it immediately. She refused to look it in the eye, instead addressing Meeranda.
“You have very bad taste in friends.”
The cornugon stepped up to Autumn and placed the tip of a claw on the end of her nose, a mockery of an affectionate gesture.
“She does not taste bad, sentinel,” it hissed. “But you will taste far sweeter. I am going to enjoy this.”
Autumn spat in the cornugon’s face. It’s long, serpentine tongue flicked out and licked the spittle away.
“Your disdain is delicious,” it chuckled. “Soon enough I will have the chance to savor your other fluids as well. Your soul will be mine.” The cornugon turned and pushed its way out of the cell.
“My soul belongs to someone else,” Autumn said defiantly.
Meeranda looked back at Autumn. “We have more pressing business to attend to now, but we will make sure you all stay safe and sound.”
“I hope you know that I will enjoy killing you.”
Meeranda laughed, and she walked out of the cell, and the door was pulled shut behind her.
Autumn waited until the sounds of footsteps had faded away completely before allowing a tear to well up in her eyes as she swore violently. But she blinked them back quickly. There was no time for that now. She began to consider her options.
“Well, I could use the Lanara Gambit on the next guards,” she said to herself, seeing no reason to keep quiet when she was alone. “But I’m hardly in the best position to take advantage of that,” she added, rattling the chains on her restraints. “I also doubt that they’d care much if I pulled the ‘sick prisoner’ routine. Maybe…”
She went silent as she heard more people outside her cell, and heard the door unlock. If they’ve come for me already, she thought, I’ll make sure that many of them live to regret it.
The cell door opened, and Osborn and Arrie walked in.
“I suppose you’d like to get down now.” Arrie said.
“Would you be so kind, Osborn?” Autumn asked, even as the hin moved to unlock the shackles. Moments later, she was free.
“Want a belt, Arrie?” Autumn asked, holding out the leather strap that had bound her wings.
“No thanks, I have a bucket.”
“Meeranda is here,” Autumn said. “And the cornugon who killed our father.”
“I know,” Arrie said. “We saw them leave. Meeranda ordered the guards doubled, and said something about ‘the ritual must not be interrupted’.”
“We need to find the others,” Autumn said. She took a spear and shield from Arrie, and followed them out into the corridor.
They eventually heard a strange sound like creaking metal, and following the sound, found another occupied cell, and opened it quickly. Inside they found Tolly, who was shackled to the middle of the floor, blindfolded and gagged. As Osborn unlocked the manacles, he noticed that the middle link had been twisted and stretched, as though Tolly had tried to shatter the chain with brute force.
“Blessed be,” Tolly said, rubbing his wrists as he rose. He accepted the second spear and shield from Arrie as Autumn filled him in on what they knew.
“We must act quickly to find the others,” Tolly said. He followed the rest out of the cell and down the corridor. After a while, they heard a commotion coming from a chamber at the far end.
“Sounds like about four men,” Osborn said, “and two dogs!” Osborn began moving down the corridor rapidly, and the others hurried to catch up. They came to a large intersection, where four guards were poking spears at a pair of snarling dogs. One was Rupert, and the second was a greyhound that had a shining metallic coat like Rupert’s, but with more of a brownish-gold tone. As the party rushed in to dispatch the guards, Osborn noted that the chains on the dogs’ collars had been snapped.
Once the guards were dead, Rupert ran up and licked Osborn’s face, while the strange dog gave Tolly a similar treatment. Everyone except Lanara covered up grins or stifled laughs.
“Why is everyone acting so strange?” Tolly asked.
“You’ll find out,” Autumn said.
Arrie walked up and patted the greyhound on the head. “Thank you.” The dog barked and licked her hand. Meanwhile, Osborn was talking to Rupert.
“Can you smell Lanara or Kyle?” In response, Rupert looked at the other dog, exchanged a few barks, and then Rupert pointed down one of the other hallways leading off the room.
“Let’s try down this corridor,” Osborn said, and walked down the hall, Rupert at his heels. The others followed, but the greyhound sat down, watching them.
“Come,” said Tolly, but the dog shook its head. Then it pointed its nose down the hallways leading out of the room.
“I think he is going to stay there and guard the passageways while we search,” Autumn said.
“Yes, he’s a very… communicative animal,” Tolly said.
They all walked down the corridor, while Osborn checked doors. “Has anyone else had trouble accessing their abilities?” Arrie asked quietly.
“Yes,” Autumn said. “Do you think it’s some sort of psionic block?”
“Maybe.”
Lanara’s cell was the next one they found. She, like Tolly, was found shackled to the floor, bound and gagged.
“They’re being extra cautious with the spellcasters,” Arrie said as Osborn worked to free Lanara. Once they got the gag off, Lanara unleashed a string of profanity perhaps unrivalled in the history of Affon. Once she calmed down, she was armed and briefed before joining the others to find Kyle.
They found him further down the corridor, shackled and gagged as they had expected. But he was laying on the floor, slowly and deliberately scraping the side of his face against the stone floor. He’d managed to pull the blindfold away, and was obviously trying to wear through the leather straps to the gag. Osborn quickly had him unshackled and ungagged, and Autumn hugged him.
“What on earth were you doing?” Autumn said, seeing blood trickling down Kyle’s cheek from where it had been scraped against the floor.
“Well, I had no idea how long I would be here, and I had to do something. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking forward to the horrible facial scarring, but…”
“We should stop and heal before continuing,” Tolly said. “Several of us have been injured fighting guards.”
“Yeah, I’ve got something moving in here that shouldn’t be,” Arrie said, poking at her ribcage.
Tolly moved to cast a healing spell on Arrie, but stopped mid-spell. “I can’t feel Ardara’s power.”
Lanara tried her own magic, with no effect. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”
Kyle concentrated for a moment, and then looked up at Lanara. “Say something dirty in Anarchic,” he said. The cansin looked puzzled, and then said a few words in the jumbled planar tongue.
“Didn’t understand a word,” he said, “that’s what I thought.”
“What did you think?” Autumn asked.
“I think this prison was built in a dead magic area,” Kyle said. “I normally have a permanent tongues spell active, but it’s not working. And I certainly can’t feel any of my other magic.”
“Why would a dead magic area block psionics?” Arrie asked. “I couldn’t use my powers either.”
“I’m not sure. Not much is known about dead zones – they’re kind of hard to study, you understand. Maybe they cut off all forms of power.”
“If this is true, then why bother binding and gagging the casters?” Arrie asked.
“Dead zones sometimes fluctuate,” Tolly replied, “they were probably being cautious. And I’m sure seeing all of us helpless gave Meeranda a thrill. The good news is that most dead zones are relatively small.”
“Then let’s find our way out of here,” Arrie said. “And besides, could they do this ritual in a dead magic zone?”
“Probably not,” Kyle told her.
“There’s another door I want to check,” Osborn said. “It’s more secure than the others. We passed it on the way to Kyle’s cell.”
They followed Osborn back, and after a minute or so Osborn managed to work the lock open. Inside, they found their equipment, thrown into the room in haphazard piles. The party began to strip out of their prison clothing and rearm themselves, though it quickly became apparent that their magical gear was not functioning. Despite this, Arrie affectionately addressed Anyweapon as soon as she found it, lovingly stroking the weapon which was currently fixed into the shape of a longsword.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she cooed. “I missed you. Look, I found a new friend for you. His name is Bucket.”
Kyle picked up his staff, and it flared to life, the crystalline ball detaching from the shaft and floating an inch or so away, filled with iridescent sparks and shapes.
“Aw, it missed me, too,” Kyle said, setting the staff aside to strap on his belt.
“I thought you said we were in a dead magic zone,” Autumn inquired. “How is your staff still working?”
“Because sufficiently powerful magical objects aren’t affected by dead magic,” Tolly answered for him. “The Scion’s Staff is a pre-Cataclysmic artifact.”
“Well, if we can all stop getting all lovey-dovey with our weapons,” Lanara said, “I’d like to go kill Meeranda and go home.”
“And the cornugon,” Autumn reminded them.
“And anyone else with them,” Arrie added.
“Isn’t it convenient that all of our enemies chose to gather in one place for us?” Kyle commented.
“Very considerate of them,” Tolly agreed.
The party, now rearmed and united, returned to the intersection where the strange bronze-copper dog had been waiting; however, he was nowhere to be seen. They eventually made their way out of the twisting passages of their prison, into a series of longer, wider corridors. It was obvious from the dust and cobwebs everywhere that the complex had not been used for some time until recently.
“The architecture isn’t familiar to me,” Kyle said. “But it’s definitely old, older than most of the stuff we’ve seen. But if I had to guess, I’d assume we’re in the Underdark again.”
“Well, maybe we can ask Meeranda about it just before we kill her and her scaly-faced friend,” Lanara said.
“Merciful hands of Ardara,” Tolly blurted out abruptly.
“What is it?” Kyle asked.
“It just occurred to me,” the cleric said. “Why is a cornugon, a servant of Grabâkh, working hand in hand with the Anathema? All of the servitors of the gods are commanded to destroy them on sight.”
“That’s not good,” Autumn said.
“But ironic, considering the orcs are fighting against them,” Arrie said.
“Or are they?” Kyle said, a look of worry on his face. “What if we just sent millions of Grabâkh-worshipping orcs into the middle of the war, and they intend to ally with the Taurics against the Alliance?”
They all paused and shuddered at the implication.
“If Keth does that,” Arrie said grimly, “I have dibs on his spleen.”
“We have to stop this ritual first, and then get out,” Osborn said. “Any ideas which way to go? Rupert’s not picking up a good scent in all this dust.”
Suddenly, they heard a bark from further down the right passageway. Going to investigate, they found the strange metallic dog sitting at the end of the hall at a T-intersection. Kyle’s familiar Violet was perched on the dog’s head. Kyle ran up to retrieve Violet, and as soon as he entered the intersection, his empathic link with her resumed.
“It’s the edge of the dead magic zone,” he announced.
Soon everyone was at the intersection, their magical gear functioning again. Tolly began working on healing the party’s injuries. Arrie looked at the party.
“Can someone enchant my bucket?”
“Not at the moment,” Kyle said. “However, before we go on, I’d like a chance to read my spellbooks and prepare some spells.”
“As would I,” Tolly said, “but it’s not time for me to pray yet. I’m not certain when dawn will be here.”
Kyle sat down and began studying his spells while the others waited or prepared themselves for the upcoming battle. Arrie focused on her wedding ring, issuing a sending to Herion:
Orcs on he way, Keth with new hat. Be cautious. Legacy captured by bad psions and cornugon. Evil ritual in the works. Will bust out.
Once Kyle was finished, they made ready to move on. They hadn’t gone very far when Kyle grabbed Autumn’s arm. “Give me the portable hole,” he said suddenly.
Autumn handed over the device, which Kyle spread out and jumped into. He came out a moment later, swearing.
“The Cage is gone,” he said. “I was hoping I’d be wrong, but they found it.” Kyle smashed a fist into the wall. “Gods be damned! That’s two major artifacts we’ve managed to completely mishandle in the space of a few weeks!”
Autumn took Kyle’s arm. “We don’t know for sure that Keth will use the Crown to betray us,” she said.
“Only if our luck changes,” he said bitterly.
“And as far as we could tell, the Cage doesn’t do anything,” Autumn added.
“Actually,” Lanara said sheepishly, “that’s not true.”
“What?”
“Well, after we found it, I started thinking a lot about stories I’d heard about the Cage,” she said. “Since I knew it would resist any magical means of finding out about it, I figured we’d have to learn about it the hard way.”
“It’s true,” Kyle said, “I tried to cast a legend lore on the Cage one night, and it failed.”
“Well, I finally managed to remember the story of its origin,” Lanara continued. “Just before I went to sleep on the night we were captured. I was going to tell you all in the morning.”
“Oh, why wait?” Arrie said. “I’m in the mood to be horribly depressed right now!”
“Well, first of all, it’s not called ‘The Cage’,” she began. “It’s known as the Gatekeeper’s Key. It all started way back in the days when Medos was first forming as a nation. The merchant-priests of Bail and Shesh had themselves a little financial scuffle. No one is entirely sure exactly what it was over – perhaps the price of stone for the Spire of Eternity, or something about slave trading. Regardless, the church of Bail ended up on the losing side of the battle. Though they complained loudly in council, they found they could not get satisfaction. A militaristic priest of Bail decided to take a detachment of soldiers over to the Temple of Shesh and reclaim what was rightfully theirs, no matter how well guarded it may have been.
When they arrived in the middle of the night, there was but a lone acolyte on guard, watching the doors. He was easily captured, but when the Bailites attempted to open the doors, they found that they simply would not open. The doors we not locked, nor barred - they simply would not open. They began to demand answers from the gatekeeper, and threatened to beat the answer out of him. In response, he bit off his own tongue and spat it at them - a clear indication that they would be getting no answers from him. When they wiped the blood from their eyes, both man and tongue were gone, and the doors stood wide open. The men eagerly entered. Those few who were found the next day were unable to speak coherently, gibbering only about a ‘place between places’....”
They all quietly digested this story.
“It’s been said that the Gatekeeper's Key has the power to open or close any passage, to render its bearer utterly silent in their movement, or to act as a divining rod for wealth.” Lanara said. “Only the faithful of Shesh truly know how to utilize it, and, well, they're not talking.”
“Considering that we know who has this Key,” Arrie said slowly, “and the fact that it can open up ‘any passage’, and that the people who have it are performing a ritual of some sort, I’m coming up with all sorts of highly unpleasant ideas.”
“Likewise,” Kyle agreed. “Let’s go make sure none of them happen.”
They wound their way through a maze of twisting passageways and rooms, until they came to a short set stairs leading down. Once down the stairs, they seemed to come into an area of the complex that had seen more recent use. The corridors also widened, allowing them to spread out more. But they had yet to see a sign of another living being.
Eventually they came to another intersection, but this one was unusual for the fact that a curtain of blackness cut across one of the branches, blocking their vision. They pondered the curtain for a moment.
“I’ll try to dispel it,” Tolly offered, and he held up his holy symbol. But he soon put it down again, frowning. “This is a potent spell,” he said.
“Well, are we going through or not?” Autumn asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” Kyle said, “but I think it’s nothing more than a curtain of darkness.”
“Still, seems like something they want to keep people away from,” Arrie said. “Which means we should go there.”
“Shh!” Osborn said suddenly. “Incoming!”
They fell silent, and soon they all heard it; slow, plodding footsteps. From down one of the other corridors, they saw an eight foot tall humanoid figure approaching. It looked like a mummy, but its wrappings consisted of what looking like old scroll parchments. Bits of broken staves and wands jutted out at odd angles.
“What is it?” Arrie shouted to Kyle.
“I’m not sure – some sort of construct!” he shouted back, as he unleashed a fireball from his staff. Osborn joined him with a searing light from his headband and then some magic missiles from a wand. All of the spells rolled off of the creature harmlessly.
“This thing’s tough!” Osborn said.
With spells useless, the front-line combatants made their move. Arrie struck the creature with one of her shotputs as she ran in, and when it struck she heard the crunch of glass and saw colored fluid leaking out of the impact point.
“It’s full of potions!” she exclaimed, as she shifted Anyweapon into the shape of a large hammer.
Autumn ran up to join her sister, her axe blazing with holy energy. Planting her feet, she swung with all her might at the construct, and was rewarded when the blade bit deep. Lanara began to sing, even as she summoned a celestial dire badger to help in the battle. Even Kyle was ready, casting adamantine wings on himself to use as weapons.
Wounded and threatened on several sides, the creature’s mouth yawned open, and a sheet of lightning blasted forth, striking Tolly and then arcing to the others. Fortunately, they all managed to avoid the worst of the damage.
“This ends now!” shouted Tolly, hefting his maul. Bolstered by the spiritual energy radiating from Autumn, he charged straight for the creature and swung, the force of his blow splitting it in half. It fell with a crash in two halves.
“Ugh, what a mess,” Lanara said, holding her nose at the stench emitted from several mixed potions.
“Now I remember,” Kyle said. “It’s a grisgol. A construct built from discarded magical items.” Kyle walked over to the top half, and stuck his fist in, rummaging around.
“What powers such a creature?” Tolly asked.
“This,” Kyle announced, drawing forth an object in his fist with an unusually wet sound. It was a small, jeweled box.
“A lich’s phylactery.” Kyle grinned, then pulled his arm back when he saw Tolly’s grip tighten on his maul. “It hasn’t got a soul in it,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s one that was prepared and never used. Grisgols do have powers similar to liches, though, so it’s a good thing it never touched anyone.”
Kyle was able to extract a few more usable items out of the body, while the others talked. “Well, the noise from that battle probably got some attention,” Lanara said.
“Are you kidding?” Osborn chuckled mirthlessly. “If the guards haven’t come by our cells by now and noticed we were missing anyway, then this is the worst prison ever.”
“Then why haven’t we seen any guards?” Autumn asked.
“Could be they’re gathered wherever the ritual is taking place, to protect it,” Arrie mused. “I’m getting the feeling that this complex is huge, and they probably only use a small portion of it. Makes more sense to concentrate everyone in a smaller area.”
“Well then, once we start finding guards, then we know we’re getting close,” Tolly said. “But now, which way?”
“I say through the curtain of darkness,” Arrie said.
Kyle finished a few moments later. “Nothing too valuable, some minor wands and potions, but I did find this,” he said, producing a circle of black cloth.
“Ooh, a second portable hole!” Lanara said.
“Great, now we have two places to keep powerful artifacts until we manage to completely screw things up and put them in the hands of the wrong person,” Kyle grumbled.
“Actually, can I have that?” Osborn asked. “I could use it.”
Everyone agreed to this, and a moment later they had moved beyond the curtain into a new series of passageways. However, after only a few minutes of exploring, they discovered that the area beyond the darkness was unused, and that the curtain was probably placed to keep people from wandering off, rather than to protect any secrets. They returned to the curtain to consider their options.
“Let me try something,” Kyle said. He sat down and cast a spell, and was immediately surrounded by two dozen eyeballs. He concentrated for a moment, and then the eyes went flying off in every direction. Kyle then pulled out a folding lap desk, some parchment and ink, and waited.
“This will take a while,” he said. “Keep watch.”
Several minutes went by before the first eye returned. Kyle grabbed it in his left hand and concentrated on it while his right hand picked up a pen and started sketching out hallways and rooms. Soon other eyeballs were returning, floating patiently nearby as Kyle grabbed them one by one, feverishly scribbling out lines and boxes. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
Finally, the eyes stopped appearing. The party noticed that several of the eyeballs had never come back at all. Kyle continued to draw for several minutes after the last eyeball vanished, and then finally pushed the lap desk away and began rubbing his temples.
“Ow.”
“Kind of a sloppy map,” Lanara commented, looking at the drawing.
Kyle glared. “I just constructed a map of an extremely large labyrinth using only the visual cues from two dozen magical eyeballs, traveling in random directions, which were in the dark most of the time. It was… somewhat difficult. I’d appreciate if you kept your criticism to yourself.”
“Sorry,” said the cansin, “just kidding.”
Tolly cast a healing orison at Kyle to ease his headache, and then he stood and looked at the map. “We’re here,” he said, pointing at the center of the map. “I was able to discover signs of activity in these areas I’ve marked.” There were about a half-dozen Xs marked on some of the larger rooms on the map.
“I say we start here, at the closest one,” Kyle said, “and then work our way in this direction.”
“As good a plan as any,” Osborn said. “Just tell me where to turn.”
Ten minutes later, the party was drawing near the first spot on Kyle’s crude map. “Let’s try and move quietly,” Osborn suggested, and in response Kyle cast a telepathic bond spell on the party. They moved forward together toward a large room which they would have to cross to get to their destination.
The corridor leading to the room was lit with torches, a sign that their directions were accurate. However, several of the party noticed some unusual piles of stone on the floor. Looking closer, they saw that the stone wasn’t rubble, but appeared to be intricately carved pieces of stone, which were designed to fit together like a puzzle. Looking over the pieces, they saw that if assembled they would resemble humanoid figures.
“Hey,” Tolly said suddenly, “they’re moving.”
Everyone looked closer, and sure enough, the pieces were slowly wriggling together. They were in no danger of reassembling themselves any time soon, but the intent of the movement was obvious. The sight triggered a tickle in the back of Lanara’s mind, but she couldn’t place it.
“Is this thing evil?” Autumn asked. Tolly shook his head.
Lanara picked up one of the larger pieces, which looked like a face. Turning it over in her hands, she nearly dropped it when it suddenly spoke, the stone lips moving as it uttered a string of words in an unknown language. It continued to repeat the same words over and over.
“What did it say?” she said, alarmed.
“At dawn a leaf-creeper, at noon a stem-sleeper, at dusk a sky-sweeper,” Kyle translated. “I think he’s speaking an archaic form of Elvish.”
“A puzzle man who asks riddles,” Arrie sighed. “How quaint.”
“It’s a butterfly,” Lanara said. She spoke to the face. “A butterfly!” It continued to utter the same phrase.
“Maybe you need to say it in the same language,” Tolly suggested. Kyle gave Lanara’s answer in the ancient language. The face stopped talking for a moment, and a look of comprehension crossed its face. Then it began to repeat the riddle again, but this time with a more hopeful tone in its voice.
“Maybe we should try to put him together,” Osborn suggested.
The party worked together to reassemble the figure, sorting out pieces and sliding them together. Finally, the figure was complete. It formed the statue of an elf, wearing clothing that was at least twelve hundred years out of date. Once the last piece was fit into place, the statue repeated its riddle one more time, and Kyle gave the answer. There was a shimmering, and the cracks and seams in the statue filled in. A moment later, the elf turned to flesh and blood. He appeared to be a scholar of some sort, and very nervous.
“Are you all right?” Autumn asked. The elf looked at her in puzzlement, unable to understand her. Lanara cast a tongues spell on the elf, after Kyle told him what she was about to do.
“You have my thanks, seasoned travelers,” the elf said. “I will say only this; do not anger the creature in the next room. With that, I am going to try to find my way out of these ruins. Thank you very much for your assistance, but I fear for my life.”
“Just so you are aware, we think you’ve been down here over a millennia,” Kyle advised.
“I was certain that much time had passed,” he said.
“Any advice besides ‘don’t make the creature mad’?” Lanara asked.
“Try very, very hard not to make it mad,” he said.
“Can you describe it?” Autumn asked.
“You’ll know it when you see it. I will be on my way now.”
They watched the scholar disappear out of sight, going back in the direction they had come. Then, with a mutual shrug, they turned and entered the next chamber.
