D&D 5E (2014) Tap Tap Tap

[BoldItalic]

Next morning they all awoke refreshed and, if they had any interesting dreams, they didn't talk about them. After a simple breakfast of bread, cheese and pickles, they gathered up their few belongings and made for the stairway that lay a short distance to the south.

The stairs climbed steadily upwards for a while, until rounding a turn they came to a place where some heavy logs had been piled up, one above the other, to form a barrier. It was quite solidly constructed and obviously intended to keep people - or perhaps monsters - out.

Fingers climbed nimbly up the front of the wooden construction to see what lay beyond. "There is a flat area with some sort of door to the right," he reported, "Then there is another barrier on the far side, like this one, and the staircase continues beyond it."

"Interesting," remarked Rylnethaz. "Whoever dwells beyond the doorway obviously does not welcome visitors from the staircase."

"Yet it is not a very effective barrier, is it?" suggested BoldItalic, "We can easily scale it and any wild beast of sufficient size to pose a threat could probably just leap over it at a bound."

"Well, I think we should investigate," decided Rylnethaz.

With Fingers' help, they all climbed over the barrier and assembled before the door. Fingers ran his hands over it and pronounced it safe and unremarkable. He pushed it open. A long corridor lay before them, with a vaulted roof about eight feet above the floor and walls lined with good quality masonry. Rather surprisingly, the air smelt faintly of orange blossom. It was dark in the corridor but BoldItalic mumbled a few words under his breath and his staff gave off a convenient yellow glow to light the way.

The corridor led through an archway into a circular stone chamber with narrow slit windows spaced around the walls, through which daylight was streaming. There were odd boxes and crates scattered about and some barrels that might have held beer. This was apparently a storeroom of some kind. The only exit seemed to be a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. Climbing on BoldItalic's shoulders, Fingers reached up and carefully pushed it open.

"I think we are in a castle," he said. "at the bottom of some sort of tower. There's a door out to what might be a courtyard and a spiral staircase going up to an upper floor. Nobody in here, but I can hear voices nearby and there's a strange knocking sound from somewhere above us. A sort of hollow tapping, like a hammer on stone. Tap, tap, tap."

[ TAP! TAP! TAP! shouted the audience ]

"Hop down, then, Fingers," said BoldItalic, "and, Clotbert, help me pull some of those crates over here. We can climb on them, to get up through the trapdoor."

There was indeed a cobbled courtyard outside the tower. On the far side they could see a rather grand carriage with two horses in harness and several liveried coachmen waiting nearby. There was a coat of arms painted on the side of the carriage but Rylnethaz did not recognize it and the inscription underneath was in an elvish script so archaic that he could not read it.

But they kept inside the tower and went cautiously up the stairs and there they found a group of gnomes in workman's overalls. One was urgently hammering a metal rod into the stonework, which explained the tapping noise, and three others were urgently watching him. A fifth gnome, in a smart pin-stripe suit, seemed to be consulting various scrolls and occasionally holding aloft a magic wand of some obscure kind. BoldItalic was quite intrigued.

 

[BoldItalic]

The pin-stripe gnome looked up, surprised to see the four strangers. "You can't come in here," he said, "This is a secure area. Authorized personnel only."

"We are authorized," said Fingers quickly, and waved a piece of shiny paper on which many colourful runes were inscribed. "Safety inspection. We'll need to see your records."

"We weren't advised of any safety inspections," said Pin-Stripe, "We're self-certified up to level IV."

"Of course you weren't advised. This is an unannounced inspection," countered Fingers. "It's in the procedures."

Pin-Stripe sighed. "Oh, very well, but be quick about it, this is an urgent job. Royal command."

Rylnethaz was quick to catch on to what Fingers was doing. "I'll need you to account for what that man with the hammer is doing," he said sternly. "It doesn't appear to be adequately sound-proofed."

The gnome with the hammer stopped what he was doing and looked helplessly at Pin-Stripe, his face a question mark.

"Anchor points for the æther conduit," said Pin-Stripe. "Permitted noise levels are adhered to. If it's about the complaints from upstairs, we've promised her highness to be as quick as possible."

"We'll need the full name of the complainant, for the records," chipped in BoldItalic, getting out a quill pen and a small notebook.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Infántilë of Forlond," intoned Pin-Stripe with his eyes closed and a resigned expression on his face.

"Thank you," said BoldItalic, closing his notebook. "Must follow procedures, mustn't we? Now, perhaps you would care to show us where you intend to install the conduit upstairs? So that we can inspect the location for absence of moths."

"Moths?" asked Pin-Strike incredulously. "Moths don't eat æther conduits! They eat blankets and trousers."

"Quite. And you wouldn't want the royal blankets being eaten by moths attracted by the stray emanations of invisible light from the conduit, would you?"

Pin-Stripe knew when he was beaten. The training course didn't cover this kind of thing. It had been mainly about the proper use of clipboards. "Come on, then, I'll take you upstairs. Is it alright if my lads carry one with the work?"

"Yes, carry on, for now," said Fingers meaningfully.

Upstairs, Pin-Stripe knocked respectfully on an ornately-carved door. A female voice said "What?" in a rather angry tone and he opened the door, fully expecting to have something thrown at him. "Begging your pardon, your highness, but the inspectors are here about the moths," he announced timidly, then ducked sideways and fled back downstairs.

Rylnethaz marched smartly into the room, followed by the others. He thought he recognized the wallpaper and he definitely recognized the princess. She stared at him. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" she demanded. Then her eyes went ÔÔ and Rylnethaz' heart skipped a beat, because he adored it when she did that. Then she screamed. "A moth inspector? I have to marry a moth inspector?"

 

[Rylnethaz]

Pin-Stripe had hardly reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard the princess screaming. He couldn't quite make out the words but that was definitely a scream. Moody or not, she was the royal princess and if she was in danger she had to be protected, even against extremely well trained bureaucrats such as the recent moth inspection squad. “Let’s go gnomes, with me, the princess is in danger (I think), we are saving the day.” And up they ran.

Fingers could barely hold himself from bursting into full laughter. “All right, now you only have to figure out how to get from moth inspector to royalty. At least we made the first step.” Clotbert and BoldItalic both slapped their faces with their palms in frustration while Rylnethaz could only utter, “Marry what?”

Right on time, the gnome ‘rescue team’ charged into the chamber. “Unhand her you rapscallions!” Pin-Stripe bellowed, “Your moth inspecting days are over villains!”

Everyone in the room looked in complete frustration at the newcomers. “I beg your forgiveness good sirs but we haven’t even ‘handed’ her, so you must understand our difficulties in ‘unhanding’ her. A technicality, I know, but still…”

“I will not fall for your tricks, cunning bureaucrat, not this time!” At this point the whole scene degenerated into a miscommunication chaos with Fingers laughing on the floor, Clotbert trying to preach the values of peaceful negotiation, BoldItalic and Pin-Stripe arguing over a multitude of details, the gnomes arguing amongst themselves and supporting one side or the other or neither at all and the princess in dismay over her cruel fate and the stark difference between romantic books and real life. Of course the gnomes had an opinion on this too.

At this point Rylnethaz sighed and calmly walked at a nearby chair and sat for a while and sighed again. “Lovely,” he whispered, “still, I am the Coronal, the voice of reason, no need for rush actions. Everything will work out in the end.” Then he sighed once more and calmly walked towards the rabble, this time holding a large vase in his hands, an expensive vase that he took from a nearby table. Still perfectly calm, he threw the vase right in the middle of the rabble. It broke into a thousand pieces. Everyone stopped talking at once.

“Oh, good, I have your attention, how nice is that,” said Rylnethaz in a calm and stern voice, ”You, gnomes! Stop your incessant talking. You sound like a brood of hens." Turning to BoldItalic and Pin-Stripe, "You two, stop over-analysing everything, we are not cunning bureaucrats or anything like that. Your whole conversation is pointless. Clotbert, stop preaching. You, princess, stop snivelling! And Fingers, would you finally stop rolling on the floor like a dog?” At that point Pin-Stripe gulped and it was the only noise heard in the room.

“I am not snivelling," said the princess, "and that vase was…”

“Do I look like I care about the vase I just broke to get everyone’s attention? Stop it! Now!”

“Err, no, I mean, it is all right, it was not my favourite anyway, I have more vases if you like to…you know…inspect for moths… or break…”

Rylnethaz looked at her impatiently.

“All right, I am done talking, I promise.”

One of the gnomes asked the one next to him, “who is this elf anyway? He does not sound like a moth inspector at all.”

“I am Coronal Rylnethaz Redshield, this is my High Vizier BoldItalic the Bright and the Archpriest Clotbert. This one on the floor is our Jack-of-all-trades, Fingers.”

 

[BoldItalic]

BoldItalic stirred the fragments of vase with the end of his staff and mumbled something. The pieces re-assembled themselves and the vase was intact again. He didn't expect any thanks for it, he just thought it looked a nice old vase and it seemed a shame to see it lying there in pieces. So he was somewhat taken aback by what happened next.

Whether the princess was caught in the backwash of his magic or whether something spontaneously went 'click' in her brain we will never really know, but her demeanour suddenly changed. She switched from "spoilt brat" to "regal hostess" in about 14 milliseconds. She advanced on BoldItalic and held out her hand, palm down, fingers slightly spread, in the manner of one who expects it to be kissed by a dutiful subject and BoldItalic, being vaguely aware of court protocol, did so. Her hand tasted of rose-water and chalk.

"Why Mr. Italic," she gushed, "it's so nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you. Do you know my great aunt Agatha? I'm sure you do, she knows all the famous wizards. It's so clever of you to magic the vase together again, look, Rylni, see what Mr. Italic has done? You must take it as a gift, no, no, I insist, it's yours. And you must call me Infántilë, I'm sure we're going to be great friends. Did you have much trouble getting here? If you had sent ahead, I'm sure daddy would have send the carriage, wouldn't he, Rylni?"

She rattled and in that vein for several paragraphs seemingly without drawing breath until Rylnethaz laid a gentle hand on her arm and said "My dear, we ought to let the gnomes get back to their work, they are waiting to be dismissed, and should we not arrange to talk to your father this afternoon? When do you think would be a good time?"

She gazed at Rylnethaz almost in awe for a moment, then grabbed him by the hand and practically dragged him out of the room through a side door which led into a covered passage that connected with other parts of the citadel.

BoldItalic was left in the room with Clotbert and Fingers. "Some good stuff in here," remarked Fingers. "What do you reckon the vase would sell for?"

"It's not for sale," said BoldItalic, turning the vase over and reading the maker's inscription on the base. Then his face went suddenly white when he realised what he was holding. "This is not just valuable," he said with a shaky voice, "It's priceless. It was made thousands of years ago by a legendary elven potter called Elodíniel in the lost kingdom to the west. This might be the only one of its kind still in existence. Half a kingdom wouldn't buy one of these now."

"And she gave it to you, just like that?" exclaimed Fingers. "Do you think she has anything else to give away, to loyal and devoted servants like, say, the occasional halfling?"

"And Sir Rylnethaz smashed it without a thought?" put in Clotbert, "I'm sure he didn't know it was quite so valuable. Am I mistaken or does it not radiate a little magic, still? And is that an inscription around the side? I'm afraid I don't read ancient Elvish, do you?"

BoldItalic peered at the writing around the side of the vase. It seemed to be a special phrase of some kind, but it wasn't immediately obvious what it meant. He tapped the vase experimentally with his fingernail and it rang quite loudly, like a bell with delightful musical overtones. "I'm glad that being broken and mended hasn't ruined its tone," he said, "But the writing is strange. It seems to say 'Alómerian Quen Ty Bérian' but .."

He didn't finish what he was saying, for suddenly the vase glowed with an inner light that seemed to penetrate every corner of the room. It revealed something truly shocking, for perched on a ledge outside one of the windows was, not a raven, but a snarling and twisted demon that screeched and threw up scaly arm to protect itself from the elvish light.

Clotbert was the quickest to react.

 

[BoldItalic]

Infántilë and Rylnethaz ran with quite unseemly haste along corridors and oak-lined galleries, playfully bumping into each other and laughing like children until the reached the throne room where King Gil-Galad was holding court. "Daddy! Daddy!" shouted Infántilë, "I've found him! This is the one!"

The king gazed sternly down at a breathless Rylnethaz, who just about remembered to bow courteously. "Not very tall, is he?" remarked the king. "Oh well, I suppose you know what you are doing. Have you acquainted him with the seven-fold quest?"

Rylnethaz has a sudden sinking feeling and glanced sideways at Infántilë with a quizzical expression. "I think so," she said with a sudden doubt creeping into her mind. "Didn't I tell you, Rylni? I must have told you? Oh, it's all a lot of nonsense, anyway."

The king didn't wait to be asked, he simply informed Rylnethaz of how things would be. "To win the hand of my daughter, you must succeed in seven quests, each more deadly than the last. Your first is to recover the golden sword of Itraphon from the dungeons of Forelost Abbey."

"And of the others?" asked Rylnethaz, "I trust they are not too trivial? None has yet returned alive, and so on?"

"One may reasonably assume," said the king in a ponderous voice, "that none has yet returned alive from the seventh. Beyond that, you may draw your own conclusions."

"Before I begin these quests," said Rylnethaz, "There is the matter of the dowry. Your daughter, though a fair and lovely prize for any king, deserves to be kept in the manner to which she is accustomed. What had we in mind?"

"Half my kingdom," replied the king as if he were rehearsing a well-worn script. "The boring half, naturally. I keep the interesting provinces with the towns and cities that generate wealth and trade, while you get the useless ones at the margins that will need armies to defend them but do not provide enough income to pay the soldiers."

"Every challenge is an opportunity," said Rylnethaz tactfully. "It is a fair offer. I will speak to my advisors." The he bowed again and withdrew, taking Infántilë with him.

Out of earshot of the king, they had a flaming row.

 

[Rylnethaz]

The demon’s screech left almost everyone in the room stunned, their ears ringing. Almost everyone. With a quick prayer to Myrristra, Clotbert threw a radiant bolt of holy energy over Fingers’ head and straight to the demon. It was a simple but effective spell, with the additional benefit of guiding Clotbert’s next attack. He also made sure that he channeled enough divine energy to make it count. And count it did, for while the demon failed to connect with any of its talons, Clotbert’s next strike was straight on the demon’s head. The result however was disappointing as the demon’s natural resistances mitigated the damage. Still it was such a well-aimed strike that it gave the demon pause. It was all BoldItalic could ask for, for he had recovered from the supernatural attack. With a quick spell, he filled the air around the demon with spinning magical blades, slashing it with a thousand cuts and then again directed the light from the vase towards the creature. That was the last straw and so the foul, twisted being fled.

In a corridor not far away though…

“You are being mean Rylni, mean. How many times do I have to tell you and in how many ways? Daddy likes you, he wouldn’t want his little poppet to get sad.”

“See, this is what I am talking about, who talks like that, ‘Rylni’, ‘daddy’, ‘poppet’, what is this?. You are a woman, not a child. Start using full names. You are going to be a responsible ruler, the lives of the people in your hands, we should be serious about it.”

“But everything is all right, father is…”

“Your father is keeping you away from the affairs of state, keeps encouraging you not to start acting like the strong woman I know you really are and he keeps you from getting married out of fear that he will have to share power. He is not looking for suitors for you, he is looking for pawns to further his own plans and for puppets to do the dirty work for him.”

“But he has presented me with a lot of suitors to choose from and…”

“And what? Have you ever really chosen? Or is there always a quest first, a quest that coincidentally aligns with your father's current interests? And of course at some point the all too promising suitor meets his sad and untimely end. But daddy is always there, caring and eagerly looking for the next suitor. But let’s also not forget the next quest too.”

“But Rylnethaz that would make me…”

“Yes, a bait! The most beautiful bait ever but still a bait.” Then Rylnethaz thought to himself, ‘but this will not have to go on forever, I will see to it, even if we start as if I have accepted the king’s terms. I have to talk to BoldItalic at once, we have a lot to do. And what was that noise anyway, it reminded me of a Vrock screeching. I hope Fingers is not ransacking the room of my future wife.’

 

[BoldItalic]

Rylnethaz and the princess rejoined the others.

BoldItalic mused on what had gone on. "This is what I think," he said. "Firstly, the presence of the demon, hitherto unsuspected, is a warning that the princess is not safe here in her tower. Secondly, the king must stop sending people to their doom without cost to himself. He must not ask others to take risks that he himself is not prepared to take. Therefore I propose that you go back to the king and accept the quests but make it a condition of undertaking them that the princess accompanies us. You can say that you must know she is safe, so that you can marry when the quests are accomplished."

There was a shocked silence as the others digested the suggestion.

"The king would never agree to that, surely?" suggested Clotbert. "Be daft if he did," added Fingers.

"I think he will agree, because otherwise he would seem cowardly," said BoldItalic. "But he will counter it by insisting that he sends along a force of his own, perhaps a small detachment of palace guards, to whisk the princess to safety in the event that we are all slain in the attempt. And to spy on us, of course. You will, of course, agree reluctantly, Rylnethaz."

"Ohoh! And we thus collect the reinforcements we have come here to find!" cried Rylnethaz. "A masterstroke!"

"Excuse me, boys, but there's something you haven't thought of, if I'm to come questing with you," said Infántilë timidly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I haven't got a thing to wear!"

 

[Rylnethaz]

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Rylnethaz, “I am sure Fingers will set you up in no time, he is something of an expert in procurement.”

“Hold on a moment there,” said Fingers in desperation, “why Fingers, why is it always Fingers? Do I look like that sort of person? Clotbert? Do I look like that sort? Don’t I look more like respectable and urbane, elegant or something more like that?”

“Well, to be completely honest, you have a certain air of…”

“What? That is not true, BoldItalic, you know me, tell them it is not like that!”

“Err…”

“Great, thank you all for your help.” Finger sighed, “all right princess, I am going to need your measurements. The Coronal's fiancée should look the part too.”

“See,” commented Rylnethaz, “the professional in action, you were made for this my friend. You are indispensable.”

 

[BoldItalic]

Fingers went about his business, after making oblique references to broken vases and remarks about the generosity of princesses. Meanwhile, Clotbert said that he would like to visit the temple in the citadel and consult the palace library. He was thinking he might need to be acquainted with the local customs regarding wedding ceremonies, though he didn't explain this to the others. And funerals, too, just in case. Hope for the best and plan for the worst, as it were.

BoldItalic accompanied Rylnethaz and Infántilë to see the king again and complete the negotiations. As expected, the king at first refused outright but then reluctantly agreed when Infántilë threatened to burst into tears if she wasn't allowed to go. However, not to be out-manoeuvred, he insisted that a squad of guardsmen should accompany his daughter at all times. They would be led by his most trusted captain, an elf called Mandárion Bluehelm, and would be under strict orders not to render assistance in the quests themselves, but only to act as a royal bodyguard. He made it clear that Rylnethaz had to succeed in the seven quests using his own resources and the king wasn't giving him free soldiers to make it easier.

BoldItalic smirked inwardly at the king's demand, but managed to frown and give the impression that this was the last thing he wanted. The king pressed home his advantage, feeling sure that he had blocked a devious and cunning plan to make away with the princess and, probably, demand a ransom. "You must agree to my terms," demanded the king with a look of thunder.

BoldItalic sighed and put on a show of reluctance. "Very well, it is agreed, your majesty," he said gravely, "that your guardsman and the worthy captain Mandaríon will neither help nor hinder us in matters relating to the seven quests and in all other matters they are at the command of her highness for the duration."

The king glared at him, suspecting trickery but could find no fault with the words BoldItalic has spoken.

Infántilë clapped her hands with joy. Turning to Rylnethaz, she said "You'll like Captain Mandárion, he's a sweet old thing and engaged to my lady-in-waiting. That reminds me, I must tell her to arrange with your halfling about my luggage for the journey."

That evening, a banquet was held to which BoldItalic and Clotbert were naturally invited. BoldItalic was introduced to Great Aunt Agatha, who was a duchess and who had leanings towards the arcane, and they got on very well. Clotbert was paired with a rather attractive priestess who was so charming that he quite forgot about being shy with women. Fingers wasn't invited but didn't mind because he was in the kitchen sampling all the best dishes before they even reached the tables and collecting unwanted silver cutlery when no-one was looking.

Next morning, they all assembled in the courtyard where the Captain was waiting with six elven archers and six elven swordsmen drawn up in ranks. Their mail was polished to a brilliant shine, their surcoats were freshly ironed and the plumes on their helmets were neatly brushed. The swordsmen bore shields blazoned with the royal arms and looked very professional in a cheerful sort of way, while the archers had that fixed expression of soldiers who are forever seeing things in the far distance.

The princess herself was dressed in elegant and spotless travelling clothes with a finely-embroidered cape. Rylnethaz noticed that she was wearing a short sword in a green leather scabbard at her waist and asked her if she had been trained in swordsmanship. "Oh, a little," she said modestly, "a sweet old monk called Brother Tranquility taught me self-defence and handwaving. Father thought it might be useful. Of course, I've never had to beat a man senseless, I just let them run away. You aren't going to run away, are you dear? I'm probably faster than you anyway."

Rylnethaz coughed.

 

[Rylnethaz]

After clearing his throat, Rylnethaz gave her his most charming smile and said enthusiastically, “That is wonderful my dear, it is good to know that you already are leaving the nest and you will not need any special care from now on. And since you are that fast, you will surely help if we have to hunt anything to eat or, if it comes to that, anyone that tries to get away. And feel free to be as derisive as you like towards our quarry while you are at it.” He then lifted his left brow while smiling mischievously. “I will be right behind you of course.”

The princess giggled and turned her back smiling. “Shall we?”

And so the small party passed through the castle gates, following the western road, the road to the Forelost Abbey.

It would take them a day and a half to get there. The Abbey was on top of a low hill, next to a deserted hamlet. It was a foreboding grey church with a lead dome on top of it and a mosaic of a demonic and angelic duel over the main gate. A small copse of weakened trees was at the base of the hill, almost touching the deserted hamlet too.

BoldItalic was worried and so he decided to share his thoughts on the matter with Rylnethaz while the others were not listening.