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Talislanta - Tales of the Bloody Hell
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<blockquote data-quote="xnosipjpqmhd" data-source="post: 2977943"><p>Tales of the Bloody Hell</p><p>Book Two: The Tree of Life </p><p>Session 5, Part 1 (from 28 Feb 2004)</p><p></p><p>“Who the hell sent me this?” scowled Motar.</p><p></p><p>“The wizard in the tower,” came the humble reply. “I must go.” The woman who had been speaking turned and left without further explanation.</p><p></p><p>Motar examined the bottle with suspicion. It looked like chakos, smelled like chakos, tasted like chakos. He looked back to watch the mysterious woman depart. She was very comely, and as he watched her, she turned and smiled back at him as she walked away.</p><p></p><p>Motar smiled back and drank the chakos. In a short while he began to feel tired, as if the weight of his recent travels had finally caught up with him. The people celebrating around him continued to dance and swirl around in his mind as the beautiful woman came again into his view. She approached him, caressing her cheek as if to say, “You can touch me if you want.”</p><p></p><p>Motar turned and slowly staggered through the crowd toward the wizard’s tower. The woman followed.</p><p></p><p>When he reached the stables at the foot of the tower, Motar entered the pitch black within. The young woman hastened in behind him, running her eager hands up and down his body, undoing the clasps and ties that fastened his clothes. Motar felt her gentle caresses mix with overwhelming fatigue as he slipped off into unconsciousness.</p><p></p><p>Some time later, Motar awoke tied up in a room on a windrigger, his head pounding with pain. After a moment, the door opened, and a familiar girl entered. It was the same one that had brought him the chakos during Phantar’s wedding feast.</p><p></p><p>“I’ve brought you food and water.”</p><p></p><p>Motar made no response. His hands were bound fast to a stout wooden chair.</p><p></p><p>“Shall I feed you?” she asked.</p><p></p><p>“Will you knock me out again?”</p><p></p><p>“No.” Sensing that Motar would not resist, the woman gave him food and drink.</p><p></p><p>As she lifted a morsel of mushroom loaf to his lips, Motar noticed her ring. It had a similar design to the ring which Vidian recovered from the body of the Cymrillian noble, the ring that had changed his visage to that of a Zandiran. He turned his gaze fully upon the comely woman for the first time in the sunlight, and the silver eye slowly revealed that she was not all that she appeared to be.</p><p></p><p>The woman, noticing that the silver eye was been focused upon her, removed her ring, and at once the magical veil dropped, revealing her true appearance.</p><p></p><p>“You will stay here and rot,” she said. Her voice had the chill of one who had been long dead. “Then you will be my slave.”</p><p></p><p> * * *</p><p></p><p>The morning after the wedding celebration, Salizayn’s servant, Much, sorted through the various gifts that had been given to the bride and groom, including of all things, a female erd. The repairs to the Bloody Hell had been completed, and the gifts (except the erd) were loaded aboard.</p><p></p><p>Later Salizayn invited the heroes to a late breakfast. Dar, Gann, and Vidian accepted gratefully and ate their fill. Phantar slumped himself wearily into a chair as if he hadn’t slept all night. He neither ate nor drank. Motar was not in attendance. Gann muttered that the Arimite was probably off playing with his beads.</p><p></p><p>When breakfast was finished, Vidian investigated Motar’s room. There he found all of the Arimite’s weapons and possessions but no notes or clues to his whereabouts. Vidian returned to the dining chamber to report that Motar was not in his room. Vidian left immediately to check the Bloody Hell.</p><p></p><p>Phantar and Dar left the chamber and strolled into town, looking for signs of the Arimite. Everyone he asked said they had seen no one like that today. Finally, Phantar was directed to a small tavern called the Lucky Monkey, while Dar continued to make inquiries among the villagers.</p><p></p><p>In the Lucky Monkey, a short, obese man sat in a green-panelled room playing a long stringed instrument.</p><p></p><p>“Are you the monkey?” asked Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“No, I am the owner of the Lucky Monkey!” said the man in a thick foreign accent.</p><p></p><p>“Is your name monkey?”</p><p></p><p>“No, I am Lucky.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh. We seem to have misplaced our Arimite, and he may have wandered in here.”</p><p></p><p>“No, none today. Thank you, bye!”</p><p></p><p>“Last night?”</p><p></p><p>“Hmm,” he paused to think. “I saw one!”</p><p></p><p>“Where?” asked Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“At your wedding.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s him!” Phantar’s excitement grew.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, congratulations! She is a very beautiful woman.” When the little man spoke the last words, he dropped his voice to a low baritone in imitation of the bride, then he returned to his playing.</p><p></p><p>“Did you see where he went?” interrupted Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“I saw him walking around with some servant girl, drinking heavily.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you know this servant girl?”</p><p></p><p>“Never seen her before.”</p><p></p><p>“Zandiran?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>“Did you see where they went?”</p><p></p><p>“He was staggering through the crowd, and she was following him. He had quite a purpose. He was very drunk, on purpose!” Lucky’s face beamed with joy for the Arimite.</p><p></p><p>“Which way was he going as he staggered?”</p><p></p><p>“Forward and listing slightly to the left!”</p><p></p><p>Phantar seemed unamused. “No, which road was he on.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah,” said Lucky. “He was heading for the tower.”</p><p></p><p>“Salizayn’s tower?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>Suspicion of the decrepit wizard grew in Phantar’s heart. Could Salizayn be responsible for Motar’s disappearance? As Phantar turned to leave, Lucky stopped him with a final thought. “Always remember this: a monkey that cannot speak walks silently through the woods.” The little man then returned once more to his music.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Dar met with much less ‘luck’ than had Phantar. Many of the villagers held the Arimite in low regard for his vulgar statements to small children, his challenging innocent women to fistfights, and other indecencies. Yet some of them related that they saw Motar staggering through the wedding crowd as drunk as a Gao rum-pensioner.</p><p></p><p>At the sea docks, Dar met the dockmaster.</p><p></p><p>“No,” he replied in answer to Dar’s inquiries. “No ships departed last night, and none depart today.”</p><p></p><p>“Is that odd?”</p><p></p><p>“No. They trade on week ends and travel during the week. Most likely, the ships you see here will leave tomorrow to distribute their goods. But last night nobody docked, and nobody left. Oh sure, a small skiff or something like it may have gone out, but I do not regulate those.”</p><p></p><p>“The reason I ask is that an Arimite in my company may have decided to leave town by sea.”</p><p></p><p>“He’s probably drunk,” said the dockmaster. “Good luck. I know if you find a good Arimite and train him well, he’s hard to replace.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar and Dar returned to the tower to find the other heroes discussing what to do.</p><p></p><p>“Can’t we just find another Arimite?” he asked Vidian.</p><p></p><p>“No, this one has the eye. We have to get this one back.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar cursed. “When I find him, I’m plucking that eye out, killing him, and finding ourselves another Arimite. I have one in mind, actually,” he said as he recalled painful memories from the trip to Vardune.</p><p></p><p>“Let us ask Lord Salizayn if he may scrye into the whereabouts of our companion,” suggested Vidian.</p><p></p><p>“Can that be done?” asked Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“If he cannot locate a particular person, perhaps he can read the emanations of such an object of power as the eye.”</p><p></p><p>The heroes gathered in the wizard’s reception chamber. Salizayn sat in his chair, reading a book and eating slices of a purple apple. A dagger floated in the air beside his head, and after turning a page, he took the dagger from the air, sliced another piece of apple, and placed the utensil back into its aerial position.</p><p></p><p>Vidian cleared his throat. “My Lord,” he began. “We are missing a companion. It is the Arimite.”</p><p></p><p>“So it is,” said Salizayn with little concern. “He’s probably drunk.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar spoke up impatiently. “It is imperative that we find him... or at least part of him.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you have any way of locating him,” asked Vidian. “Do you have servants you can send out, scour the village and surroundings, at the least?”</p><p></p><p>Salizayn pointed to a bell, and it rang. Much entered the room.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” said the manservant gruffly.</p><p></p><p>“The Arimite. Have you seen him?” inquired the wizard.</p><p></p><p>“He’s probably drunk.”</p><p></p><p>Vidian whispered to Phantar: “It seems Motar’s reputation has preceeded him.”</p><p></p><p>“But have you seen him around?” continued the wizard.</p><p></p><p>“No, I haven’t seen him,” said Much with disdain for the guests in the room. “I’ve been doing my work! I have enough to do around here anyway... for what I’m getting paid. Should have two or three people around here doing this!”</p><p></p><p>There was an uneasy silence. The heroes stared at the manservant.</p><p></p><p>“Well?” barked Much in their direction. “Do you have any other questions? I’m out back milking that erd, and it’s taking forever! It’s got some big ol’ teets on it! I’ve gotta use both hands! Every time I touch it, it gives an enormous belch! Sort of reminds me of that girl down there in the village, you know, the tailor’s daughter! Every time I touch--” Much stopped short, recognizing Phantar’s presence. “Well, never mind. Is that all you need of me?”</p><p></p><p>There is no response.</p><p></p><p>“Alright,” said Much and left.</p><p></p><p>Salizayn turned back to the heroes. “Well, apparently, Much doesn’t know where he’s at. And I haven’t seen him since last night, staggering around in the crowd. I saw him stumble into an old lady and stammer, ‘Hey grandma, do you wish to see my beads, for I see yours.’ I do not know what he meant by that, however.”</p><p></p><p>“Well,” said Phantar suspiciously, “Lucky said Motar staggered in this direction.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmm,” intoned the wizard. “Perhaps he got... lucky.”</p><p></p><p>“If so, he would have returned this morning to brag, I am sure. Besides, Lucky said he didn’t recognize the woman Motar was with, and this is a small town. So you see our worry.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” said the wizard.</p><p></p><p>“You wouldn’t know,” asked Vidian, “of another way to locate what has been lost?”</p><p></p><p>“Possibly,” said the wizard. “I have ways.”</p><p></p><p>Dar looked up. “We only need one way, if it works.”</p><p></p><p>Salizayn put down his book, folded his arms, and closed his eyes, still speaking to the heroes. “If he is in the village, I can find him.” Everyone in the room became deadly quiet as the feeling of magic entered the chamber. After a brief moment, the sensation was gone, and Salizayn said, “He is not here. Even if he had stumbled into the ocean nearby and drowned, I would know it.”</p><p></p><p>“Right,” said Vidian decisively. “Mount up.”</p><p></p><p>The heroes looked at each other sheepishly.</p><p></p><p>“I mean, let’s gather our things and board the ship.” Vidian rolled his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“And go where?” asked Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll fly around the edge of town--”</p><p></p><p>“And look for a dead Arimite with one eye?”</p><p></p><p>“Only as long as it takes to circle the village, and then we head to the tomb,” said Vidian. “If he was taken from us, that is the direction his captor will go.”</p><p></p><p>“What tomb?”</p><p></p><p>“Modor’s.”</p><p></p><p>“We cannot take that chance. That is half way across the continent.”</p><p></p><p>“Who would kidnap an Arimite for any other reason than to use the eye?” interrupted Dar.</p><p></p><p>“I agree,” grunted Gann. “He’s been bushwhacked.”</p><p></p><p>“We know he’s not in the village,” reasoned Vidian. “His captor would’ve had probably twelve hours of travel by now.”</p><p></p><p>“What if they sailed the sea?” argued Phantar in frustration. “They could be anywhere.”</p><p></p><p>“No,” said Vidian. “She must go to Modor’s Tomb.”</p><p></p><p>“I say only that we must seriously consider all options before we fly that far.”</p><p></p><p>“Fine. Consider the options.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar left the tower and headed once more for the Lucky Monkey. The place wasn’t crowded, and only a couple of patrons were in the building. Lucky sat in a corner smoking a hookah. Phantar kicked the hookah from the little man’s mouth.</p><p></p><p>“What did you do that for?” he yelled.</p><p></p><p>“My friend was with a woman last night, correct?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” he said indignantly.</p><p></p><p>“What did she look like?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, a very pretty woman. Her breasts were very...” he thought for a moment, “erd-like.”</p><p></p><p>“Was she Zandiran?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes. This I told you before.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar turned to the villagers in the room and described Motar, asking if anyone had seen him. A small-framed woman seated nearby nodded.</p><p></p><p>“Did you see him last night at the wedding?” asked Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“I did see him,” she croaked. “He was just walking around.”</p><p></p><p>“Drunk?”</p><p></p><p>“Horribly.”</p><p></p><p>“Was he accompanied?”</p><p></p><p>“No.”</p><p></p><p>“Did you see where he was heading?”</p><p></p><p>“Forward and listing slightly to the left.” She nodded solemnly.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, everyone headed to their rooms to collect their possessions. Dar stopped at Motar’s room to get the Arimite’s things as well.</p><p></p><p>At the sky dock, Vidian paid the repair bill of three and a half hundred lumens. “Were you here last night?” he asked the master of the sky dock.</p><p></p><p>The master nodded.</p><p></p><p>“Did anything out of the ordinary occur?”</p><p></p><p>“The ugliest windrigger I ever laid eyes on. It came and went.”</p><p></p><p>Vidian stared at the Zandiran with keen interest. “What did it look like?”</p><p></p><p>“Black as pitch. Shifty crew. We wouldn’t let ‘em off,” said the master. “’cept for that poor girl what was with ‘em.”</p><p></p><p>“Did they pick her back up again?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, her and her lover. Poor drunk bastard.”</p><p></p><p>Vidian’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stared hard at the man. “Which way did they head?”</p><p></p><p>No sooner did he reply “east” than Dar ran down the steps and toward the Lucky Monkey. When he burst in, Phantar was about to assault an elderly lady.</p><p></p><p>“Come, now!” cried the Sindarin. “We know where they went!” They both returned to the sky dock, Dar urging Phantar to make haste the entire way. “A windship of pitch black set down a young girl last night,” said Dar between gasps for breath. “Later they took her back on, along with Motar. And then they left.”</p><p></p><p>When they arrived, the Bloody Hell had been made ready to leave, and everyone took their positions. Vidian pointed the prow east and pushed the ship forward at considerable speed away from Conjuror’s Point.</p><p></p><p>Phantar approached Vidian at the helm. “Is it possible that the dock master was not telling the truth?”</p><p></p><p>“Would you have reason to question his word?”</p><p></p><p>“Everyone I have questioned said that Motar headed for the tower. What if our new found friend wanted the eye for himself?”</p><p></p><p>“Lord Salizayn?” asked Vidian.</p><p></p><p>“He is Cymrillian, you know,” said Phantar, as if that alone was damning evidence.</p><p></p><p>“We didn’t say anything to him about--”</p><p></p><p>Phantar interrupted. “We’re talking about the most powerful wizard on this side of the continent and he could not locate Motar? Perhaps he saw him but decided not to reveal the location?”</p><p></p><p>“We would be wasting our time,” said Vidian, “to stay here and try to prove him wrong. If he does have the eye, then it is lost to us beyond hope, for he could conceal it from us with ease.”</p><p></p><p>“But is it wise to fly against a fully armed pirate ship that has twice bested us, when we are down a crewmember?”</p><p></p><p>“When all clues point to the most logical solution, it is folly to pursue those that are less likely.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, but Modor’s Tomb is half way across the continent,” argued Phantar.</p><p></p><p>“And that is where she must go--”</p><p></p><p>“If indeed she has the eye.”</p><p></p><p>“What makes you think she does not?”</p><p></p><p>“I know nothing more than you,” admitted Phantar, “but I believe we should remain here for a few more days.”</p><p></p><p>“In a few more days,” said Vidian, “she will be at Modor’s Tomb. Once there, she will use the eye to navigate the many doors, and she will find the Tree of Life. And within her body, Mordante would regain the full powers he once held on this world.”</p><p></p><p>Phantar looked unconvinced.</p><p></p><p>Vidian continued. “The time between her departure and ours is the only time we have to stop her plan. If we delay, all will be for naught. The seriousness of the situation demands </p><p>action.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you recommend that we get to the tomb before them, or will we attack at first opportunity? My concern is that they are powerful enough even without the Tree to destroy us.”</p><p></p><p>“Then we shall delay the confrontation to the last moment... at Modor’s Tomb.”</p><p></p><p>The debate had at last come to an end, and Phantar skulked away. Gann watched from the crow’s nest. Below decks, Dar continued to work on his alchemical creations.</p><p></p><p>Vidian piloted the ship at full speed toward Arim, skirting the mountains and crossing into Urag. As the suns began to set behind them, the crew spotted a dark spot floating above the horizon to the east. Vidian slowed to match its speed and course, and the Bloody Hell followed the black ship through the night.</p><p></p><p>In the bowels of the black ship, Motar struggled against the ropes that bound him to the chair. He strained, and the ropes bit into his flesh. He could not know how close his companions were.</p><p></p><p>To be continued...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="xnosipjpqmhd, post: 2977943"] Tales of the Bloody Hell Book Two: The Tree of Life Session 5, Part 1 (from 28 Feb 2004) “Who the hell sent me this?” scowled Motar. “The wizard in the tower,” came the humble reply. “I must go.” The woman who had been speaking turned and left without further explanation. Motar examined the bottle with suspicion. It looked like chakos, smelled like chakos, tasted like chakos. He looked back to watch the mysterious woman depart. She was very comely, and as he watched her, she turned and smiled back at him as she walked away. Motar smiled back and drank the chakos. In a short while he began to feel tired, as if the weight of his recent travels had finally caught up with him. The people celebrating around him continued to dance and swirl around in his mind as the beautiful woman came again into his view. She approached him, caressing her cheek as if to say, “You can touch me if you want.” Motar turned and slowly staggered through the crowd toward the wizard’s tower. The woman followed. When he reached the stables at the foot of the tower, Motar entered the pitch black within. The young woman hastened in behind him, running her eager hands up and down his body, undoing the clasps and ties that fastened his clothes. Motar felt her gentle caresses mix with overwhelming fatigue as he slipped off into unconsciousness. Some time later, Motar awoke tied up in a room on a windrigger, his head pounding with pain. After a moment, the door opened, and a familiar girl entered. It was the same one that had brought him the chakos during Phantar’s wedding feast. “I’ve brought you food and water.” Motar made no response. His hands were bound fast to a stout wooden chair. “Shall I feed you?” she asked. “Will you knock me out again?” “No.” Sensing that Motar would not resist, the woman gave him food and drink. As she lifted a morsel of mushroom loaf to his lips, Motar noticed her ring. It had a similar design to the ring which Vidian recovered from the body of the Cymrillian noble, the ring that had changed his visage to that of a Zandiran. He turned his gaze fully upon the comely woman for the first time in the sunlight, and the silver eye slowly revealed that she was not all that she appeared to be. The woman, noticing that the silver eye was been focused upon her, removed her ring, and at once the magical veil dropped, revealing her true appearance. “You will stay here and rot,” she said. Her voice had the chill of one who had been long dead. “Then you will be my slave.” * * * The morning after the wedding celebration, Salizayn’s servant, Much, sorted through the various gifts that had been given to the bride and groom, including of all things, a female erd. The repairs to the Bloody Hell had been completed, and the gifts (except the erd) were loaded aboard. Later Salizayn invited the heroes to a late breakfast. Dar, Gann, and Vidian accepted gratefully and ate their fill. Phantar slumped himself wearily into a chair as if he hadn’t slept all night. He neither ate nor drank. Motar was not in attendance. Gann muttered that the Arimite was probably off playing with his beads. When breakfast was finished, Vidian investigated Motar’s room. There he found all of the Arimite’s weapons and possessions but no notes or clues to his whereabouts. Vidian returned to the dining chamber to report that Motar was not in his room. Vidian left immediately to check the Bloody Hell. Phantar and Dar left the chamber and strolled into town, looking for signs of the Arimite. Everyone he asked said they had seen no one like that today. Finally, Phantar was directed to a small tavern called the Lucky Monkey, while Dar continued to make inquiries among the villagers. In the Lucky Monkey, a short, obese man sat in a green-panelled room playing a long stringed instrument. “Are you the monkey?” asked Phantar. “No, I am the owner of the Lucky Monkey!” said the man in a thick foreign accent. “Is your name monkey?” “No, I am Lucky.” “Oh. We seem to have misplaced our Arimite, and he may have wandered in here.” “No, none today. Thank you, bye!” “Last night?” “Hmm,” he paused to think. “I saw one!” “Where?” asked Phantar. “At your wedding.” “That’s him!” Phantar’s excitement grew. “Yes, congratulations! She is a very beautiful woman.” When the little man spoke the last words, he dropped his voice to a low baritone in imitation of the bride, then he returned to his playing. “Did you see where he went?” interrupted Phantar. “I saw him walking around with some servant girl, drinking heavily.” “Do you know this servant girl?” “Never seen her before.” “Zandiran?” “Yes.” “Did you see where they went?” “He was staggering through the crowd, and she was following him. He had quite a purpose. He was very drunk, on purpose!” Lucky’s face beamed with joy for the Arimite. “Which way was he going as he staggered?” “Forward and listing slightly to the left!” Phantar seemed unamused. “No, which road was he on.” “Ah,” said Lucky. “He was heading for the tower.” “Salizayn’s tower?” “Yes.” Suspicion of the decrepit wizard grew in Phantar’s heart. Could Salizayn be responsible for Motar’s disappearance? As Phantar turned to leave, Lucky stopped him with a final thought. “Always remember this: a monkey that cannot speak walks silently through the woods.” The little man then returned once more to his music. Meanwhile, Dar met with much less ‘luck’ than had Phantar. Many of the villagers held the Arimite in low regard for his vulgar statements to small children, his challenging innocent women to fistfights, and other indecencies. Yet some of them related that they saw Motar staggering through the wedding crowd as drunk as a Gao rum-pensioner. At the sea docks, Dar met the dockmaster. “No,” he replied in answer to Dar’s inquiries. “No ships departed last night, and none depart today.” “Is that odd?” “No. They trade on week ends and travel during the week. Most likely, the ships you see here will leave tomorrow to distribute their goods. But last night nobody docked, and nobody left. Oh sure, a small skiff or something like it may have gone out, but I do not regulate those.” “The reason I ask is that an Arimite in my company may have decided to leave town by sea.” “He’s probably drunk,” said the dockmaster. “Good luck. I know if you find a good Arimite and train him well, he’s hard to replace.” Phantar and Dar returned to the tower to find the other heroes discussing what to do. “Can’t we just find another Arimite?” he asked Vidian. “No, this one has the eye. We have to get this one back.” Phantar cursed. “When I find him, I’m plucking that eye out, killing him, and finding ourselves another Arimite. I have one in mind, actually,” he said as he recalled painful memories from the trip to Vardune. “Let us ask Lord Salizayn if he may scrye into the whereabouts of our companion,” suggested Vidian. “Can that be done?” asked Phantar. “If he cannot locate a particular person, perhaps he can read the emanations of such an object of power as the eye.” The heroes gathered in the wizard’s reception chamber. Salizayn sat in his chair, reading a book and eating slices of a purple apple. A dagger floated in the air beside his head, and after turning a page, he took the dagger from the air, sliced another piece of apple, and placed the utensil back into its aerial position. Vidian cleared his throat. “My Lord,” he began. “We are missing a companion. It is the Arimite.” “So it is,” said Salizayn with little concern. “He’s probably drunk.” Phantar spoke up impatiently. “It is imperative that we find him... or at least part of him.” “Do you have any way of locating him,” asked Vidian. “Do you have servants you can send out, scour the village and surroundings, at the least?” Salizayn pointed to a bell, and it rang. Much entered the room. “Yeah,” said the manservant gruffly. “The Arimite. Have you seen him?” inquired the wizard. “He’s probably drunk.” Vidian whispered to Phantar: “It seems Motar’s reputation has preceeded him.” “But have you seen him around?” continued the wizard. “No, I haven’t seen him,” said Much with disdain for the guests in the room. “I’ve been doing my work! I have enough to do around here anyway... for what I’m getting paid. Should have two or three people around here doing this!” There was an uneasy silence. The heroes stared at the manservant. “Well?” barked Much in their direction. “Do you have any other questions? I’m out back milking that erd, and it’s taking forever! It’s got some big ol’ teets on it! I’ve gotta use both hands! Every time I touch it, it gives an enormous belch! Sort of reminds me of that girl down there in the village, you know, the tailor’s daughter! Every time I touch--” Much stopped short, recognizing Phantar’s presence. “Well, never mind. Is that all you need of me?” There is no response. “Alright,” said Much and left. Salizayn turned back to the heroes. “Well, apparently, Much doesn’t know where he’s at. And I haven’t seen him since last night, staggering around in the crowd. I saw him stumble into an old lady and stammer, ‘Hey grandma, do you wish to see my beads, for I see yours.’ I do not know what he meant by that, however.” “Well,” said Phantar suspiciously, “Lucky said Motar staggered in this direction.” “Hmm,” intoned the wizard. “Perhaps he got... lucky.” “If so, he would have returned this morning to brag, I am sure. Besides, Lucky said he didn’t recognize the woman Motar was with, and this is a small town. So you see our worry.” “Yes,” said the wizard. “You wouldn’t know,” asked Vidian, “of another way to locate what has been lost?” “Possibly,” said the wizard. “I have ways.” Dar looked up. “We only need one way, if it works.” Salizayn put down his book, folded his arms, and closed his eyes, still speaking to the heroes. “If he is in the village, I can find him.” Everyone in the room became deadly quiet as the feeling of magic entered the chamber. After a brief moment, the sensation was gone, and Salizayn said, “He is not here. Even if he had stumbled into the ocean nearby and drowned, I would know it.” “Right,” said Vidian decisively. “Mount up.” The heroes looked at each other sheepishly. “I mean, let’s gather our things and board the ship.” Vidian rolled his eyes. “And go where?” asked Phantar. “We’ll fly around the edge of town--” “And look for a dead Arimite with one eye?” “Only as long as it takes to circle the village, and then we head to the tomb,” said Vidian. “If he was taken from us, that is the direction his captor will go.” “What tomb?” “Modor’s.” “We cannot take that chance. That is half way across the continent.” “Who would kidnap an Arimite for any other reason than to use the eye?” interrupted Dar. “I agree,” grunted Gann. “He’s been bushwhacked.” “We know he’s not in the village,” reasoned Vidian. “His captor would’ve had probably twelve hours of travel by now.” “What if they sailed the sea?” argued Phantar in frustration. “They could be anywhere.” “No,” said Vidian. “She must go to Modor’s Tomb.” “I say only that we must seriously consider all options before we fly that far.” “Fine. Consider the options.” Phantar left the tower and headed once more for the Lucky Monkey. The place wasn’t crowded, and only a couple of patrons were in the building. Lucky sat in a corner smoking a hookah. Phantar kicked the hookah from the little man’s mouth. “What did you do that for?” he yelled. “My friend was with a woman last night, correct?” “Yes,” he said indignantly. “What did she look like?” “Oh, a very pretty woman. Her breasts were very...” he thought for a moment, “erd-like.” “Was she Zandiran?” “Yes. This I told you before.” Phantar turned to the villagers in the room and described Motar, asking if anyone had seen him. A small-framed woman seated nearby nodded. “Did you see him last night at the wedding?” asked Phantar. “I did see him,” she croaked. “He was just walking around.” “Drunk?” “Horribly.” “Was he accompanied?” “No.” “Did you see where he was heading?” “Forward and listing slightly to the left.” She nodded solemnly. Meanwhile, everyone headed to their rooms to collect their possessions. Dar stopped at Motar’s room to get the Arimite’s things as well. At the sky dock, Vidian paid the repair bill of three and a half hundred lumens. “Were you here last night?” he asked the master of the sky dock. The master nodded. “Did anything out of the ordinary occur?” “The ugliest windrigger I ever laid eyes on. It came and went.” Vidian stared at the Zandiran with keen interest. “What did it look like?” “Black as pitch. Shifty crew. We wouldn’t let ‘em off,” said the master. “’cept for that poor girl what was with ‘em.” “Did they pick her back up again?” “Yes, her and her lover. Poor drunk bastard.” Vidian’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stared hard at the man. “Which way did they head?” No sooner did he reply “east” than Dar ran down the steps and toward the Lucky Monkey. When he burst in, Phantar was about to assault an elderly lady. “Come, now!” cried the Sindarin. “We know where they went!” They both returned to the sky dock, Dar urging Phantar to make haste the entire way. “A windship of pitch black set down a young girl last night,” said Dar between gasps for breath. “Later they took her back on, along with Motar. And then they left.” When they arrived, the Bloody Hell had been made ready to leave, and everyone took their positions. Vidian pointed the prow east and pushed the ship forward at considerable speed away from Conjuror’s Point. Phantar approached Vidian at the helm. “Is it possible that the dock master was not telling the truth?” “Would you have reason to question his word?” “Everyone I have questioned said that Motar headed for the tower. What if our new found friend wanted the eye for himself?” “Lord Salizayn?” asked Vidian. “He is Cymrillian, you know,” said Phantar, as if that alone was damning evidence. “We didn’t say anything to him about--” Phantar interrupted. “We’re talking about the most powerful wizard on this side of the continent and he could not locate Motar? Perhaps he saw him but decided not to reveal the location?” “We would be wasting our time,” said Vidian, “to stay here and try to prove him wrong. If he does have the eye, then it is lost to us beyond hope, for he could conceal it from us with ease.” “But is it wise to fly against a fully armed pirate ship that has twice bested us, when we are down a crewmember?” “When all clues point to the most logical solution, it is folly to pursue those that are less likely.” “Yes, but Modor’s Tomb is half way across the continent,” argued Phantar. “And that is where she must go--” “If indeed she has the eye.” “What makes you think she does not?” “I know nothing more than you,” admitted Phantar, “but I believe we should remain here for a few more days.” “In a few more days,” said Vidian, “she will be at Modor’s Tomb. Once there, she will use the eye to navigate the many doors, and she will find the Tree of Life. And within her body, Mordante would regain the full powers he once held on this world.” Phantar looked unconvinced. Vidian continued. “The time between her departure and ours is the only time we have to stop her plan. If we delay, all will be for naught. The seriousness of the situation demands action.” “Do you recommend that we get to the tomb before them, or will we attack at first opportunity? My concern is that they are powerful enough even without the Tree to destroy us.” “Then we shall delay the confrontation to the last moment... at Modor’s Tomb.” The debate had at last come to an end, and Phantar skulked away. Gann watched from the crow’s nest. Below decks, Dar continued to work on his alchemical creations. Vidian piloted the ship at full speed toward Arim, skirting the mountains and crossing into Urag. As the suns began to set behind them, the crew spotted a dark spot floating above the horizon to the east. Vidian slowed to match its speed and course, and the Bloody Hell followed the black ship through the night. In the bowels of the black ship, Motar struggled against the ropes that bound him to the chair. He strained, and the ropes bit into his flesh. He could not know how close his companions were. To be continued... [/QUOTE]
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Talislanta - Tales of the Bloody Hell
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