Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Keep it coming. 
-
NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:Keep it coming.
Sadly, I'll be out of town for the next week or so. So no more updates for a while.
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Jon Potter said:Sadly, I'll be out of town for the next week or so. So no more updates for a while.
Does this mean we'll get a giant sized update in 10-12 days?
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:Does this mean we'll get a giant sized update in 10-12 days?
Probably not. I'm going to try doing some experience point calculation and some updating (we're making the switch to 3.5) while I'm away. That and the usual holiday madness will likely take up all of my time.
I promise that you'll see some interesting things in the coming weeks, though. So hang in there.
Dakkareth
First Post
I finally got the time to read this story hour from the beginning to the present. And considering the fun I had reading it I'm more than perplexed you have had so few people replying in the thread.
The campaign sounds very interesting and much more 'non-standard' than most I've seen. I especially like the bigger political picture in which it takes place, that the group manages to see a part of the big picture and struggles to do all that it needs to on all fronts. Also the purgatorium is a nice touch.
Now I want more
The campaign sounds very interesting and much more 'non-standard' than most I've seen. I especially like the bigger political picture in which it takes place, that the group manages to see a part of the big picture and struggles to do all that it needs to on all fronts. Also the purgatorium is a nice touch.
Now I want more
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Jon Potter
First Post
Dakkareth said:
I'm a well-kept secret it would seem.
Feel free to tell our friends to stop by for a read.In that regard, it helps that it's a revival of the campaign world I was using back in the days of 1E, before there was such a plethora of plug-and-play campaign worlds available for purchase.
They try, but they really have precious little idea what's really going on. At least for now. Things should begin to come together for them in the coming weeks/months.
Now I want more
Fear not, gentle reader. It'll likely be another week but you shall have more. Oh yes! More indeed!
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Hey, Jon! I just posted an update to my Story Hour thread and saw yours near the top of the list too. Thought I'd drop in and say hello.
I've had precious little time for updating my own Story Hour lately, much less reading those of others. But I have some time off and I'm hoping to get a chance to read some more of yours. From what little bit I've read, it looks very interesting.
Looking forward to seeing you again at the next NC Game Day. Keep up the writing!
I've had precious little time for updating my own Story Hour lately, much less reading those of others. But I have some time off and I'm hoping to get a chance to read some more of yours. From what little bit I've read, it looks very interesting.
Looking forward to seeing you again at the next NC Game Day. Keep up the writing!
Jon Potter
First Post
Rel said:
Thanks for stopping by, Rel. I'm sure there's room for another reader among the two or three that I currently enjoy.
I hope that you get a chance to read some more and that it gives you as much enjoyment as reading your Faded Glory story hour has given me.
And I'm pysched for Game Day III. It'll give me a chance at not one, but two d20 games I haven't yet had the opportunity to play: d20 Modern and Arcana Unearthed! Yahoo!!!
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #251] Dangling Threads
For those of you who've been waiting for some more reading, here's a rather lengthy (if a tad under-exciting) post.
------------------------------------
Windstryder's laughter caused Morier to stop in his tracks and shoot her a look of confusion and disdain. The ranger was bounding nimbly down the earthen mound, shaking her head as she came. "Again, it seems I have underestimated our team's combat abilities," she said, skidding to a halt between the albino and Ixin who was still lying on her side and clutching her heaving gut. "I am impressed by that greatsword of yours, Losse. Are you able to power it all the time?"
Morier looked first at the sword in his hand and then at Windstryder. "No more until I've rested," he admitted and then turned back toward Arwold. Windstryder looked at his back and nodded.
"Still, it is an impressive display," she said before turning to Ixin. She crouched down beside the trembling mage, careful to avoid the steaming pile of vomit beside her and laid a hand on Ixin's brow.
"How do you feel?" she asked as she fished in her medicine bag. "Is your stomach strong and your eyes steady?"
In response, the mage coughed up more of the breakfast she had enjoyed that morning in Strenchburg Junction. "I'll live," she managed to groan.
"I am afraid I only have mild cures for stomach ailments," the elf explained and handed Ixin a bit of dried root from her kit. "Chew on this. It should ease the cramping. When you are able, begin a search of the room whilst I to the door."
The mage nodded and bit down hesitantly on the offered root. Windstryder paused a few paces away then turned back to her nauseated companion. "I suggest that we stay away from the Queen," the ranger cautioned. "I fear even in her death throes she may be able to harm us still."
Ixin nodded again and continued to chew.
Morier crushed the larvae that were squirming over Arwold's cocooned body until his gloves were wet and sticky with their pulped organs. All the while, his red eyes kept searching the man's face for any sign of consciousness. There was none, however. And Arwold's normally tanned complexion looked deathly pale in the glow of the phosphorescent fungus.
"Don't die," Morier muttered, fumbling a vial from his belt.
From her vantage point at the entrance to the chamber, Windstryder's keen ears heard the albino's words and her equally keen eyes could see that the cocooned figure wasn't stirring. "Morier, is you friend fit for travel?" she asked and her voice betrayed her belief in what the answer would be.
"He will be," Morier said as he poured his last potion of Cure Light Wounds down Arwold's throat. The ranger's color improved, but still he showed no sign of stirring. Undeterred, Morier dropped the vial and began ripping at the cocoon's fibers.
"We cannot be burdened down," Windstryder cautioned and Morier glared at her before returning to the task at hand. In a more reconciliatory tone, the elven ranger asked, "Who is he to you that you risk the lives of us all?"
"He was... IS a great ranger," Morier grumbled as he shredded Arwold's cocoon. "An Archer of the Green. Sworn protector of Briarton Province. It was he who taught me swordplay some twenty harvests past."
Windstryder could think of nothing more encouraging to say than, "Once I secure the room I will examine him."
"Your time of need is echoed throughout the Realms. We came in part to assist in the retrieval of the girl, Ilea," Ledare sighed, clasping her free hand over her uncle's. She lowered her voice as she added, "But also in pursuit of the evil which has taken the city of Barnacus, as I'm sure you've heard."
Lord Arundel nodded grimly and drew away from Ledare. The weight of his years seemed to momentarily bow his shoulders. He sagged for only the span of two heartbeats, however, before his vigorous demeanor reasserted itself. "Gellir conveyed to me the sad news you shared with Maerwynn this afternoon. Hillville Junction is well removed from Elcadan's capital. We have heard nothing save what you have told us."
"It is imperative we get word to the king," Ledare said, skirting her great uncle's thinly veiled request for information. She was painfully aware that his daughter and grandson - her aunt and cousin - were likely stuck within the quarantined city. Their health was unknown, and no amount of explanation would ease Lord Arundel's mind. So for the time being she put off having to add further ill news to what little the man already knew. "Is there any way to contact Barnacus?"
"There is a shrine to Garjarven east of here on Centermarch," Lord Arundel said without much enthusiasm. "A Sacred Runner can be sent from there. When Gellir returns I'll have him dispatch a rider to the shrine. None will make better time than the chosen of the god of roads."
There was silence for a time as the lord stared off into the hearth fire. "Perhaps a magical means exists as well," Arundel said at last. "In the morning we can contact the druid, Malcolm and the wizard, ap-Llewellyn. In all my demesne, they are the most knowledgeable about such things."
"Very good, mi'lord," Ledare said with a courteous bow. When she raised her head, Lord Arundel was regarding her with amber eyes that seemed a trifle too wet, despite the fierce hold he kept on his emotions.
"Now, Ledare," her uncle said with carefully measured words. "You will tell me all that you know about the goings-on in Barnacus. Nearly the very last of my family might even now be suffering from plague and I would know all that may be known on the matter."
"Mi'lord-" Ledare began, sorrow creeping into her voice.
"No!" Arundel barked. "You will tell me, Janissary! I am a representative of the king. And if I have to compel the information from you by invoking the Charter of the Enlightened, I will!" Ledare hung her head.
"You do not, uncle," she said. "Sit and I will tell you everything I know."
After Ixin had recovered sufficient control of her guts to search the room she used a cantrip to Detect Magic. Other than the various bits of enchanted gear that she and her companions bore, only one aura of magic was evident. It had been many, many hours since Ixin had slept and in that time, she had very nearly exhausted her magical reserves, so she wasn't surprised when she couldn't adequately identify the school of magic represented by the glow.
Still, even her addled mind was able to follow the glow to its source: a ring worn by a desiccated corpse that was still partially entombed beneath a clot of webbing. With some disdain she reached out and pulled the band free of the skeletonized finger. Surprisingly, the ring wasn't made of precious metal as she had imagined, but rather of supple blackened leather. The band was cunningly crafted to look like a series of sculpted hands circling the wearer's finger. Each disembodied hand gripped the wrist of the hand in front of it in an unbroken chain.
"What did you find?" Windstryder asked from the doorway.
"A ring," Ixin told her and slipped it into a pocket of her cloak. "I'll examine it more later."
"Help me get him out of here," Morier grunted from Ixin's left. The mage turned to see the eldritch warrior struggling with the limp body of Arwold Wyverneye. She moved over to help her companion and they supported the unconscious ranger between them.
"Are we leaving?" Ixin asked and Windstryder answered at once.
"I suggest we away, away," the ranger said, breaking away from the door and moving to intercept her companions. "We must remember the mission."
"Ledare and Vade have the girl well in hand, Windstryder," Ixin countered. "We've come this far. Let us complete our search in a thorough manner."
"Arwold needs healing," Morier grunted as he and Ixin shouldered the unconscious ranger toward the earthen mound.
"We have an opportunity here," the mage pressed. "Let us search for clues, including any symbolism that might serve to enlighten us."
Windstryder scowled at her and then relieved the sorcerer of her burden. The ranger helped Morier lower Arwold onto the soft earth and then she reached for her healing satchel again. "You can see in the dark, yes?" she asked Ixin and received a nod in reply. "Then you have a few minutes while I tend to this man. Do not stray too far and at the first sign of danger return here."
"Agreed," Ixin said and she trotted off into the darkness beyond the chamber and Morier watched her go with concern on his pale features.
"I have a bad feeling about this," the eldritch warrior said grimly and Windstryder grunted noncommittally.
"You argue with her," she said and went to work on Arwold.
While Ledare and her uncle conferred on the other side of the room, Vade jumped up onto one of the benches flanking the table and from there boosted himself up onto the table itself. A bowl of tiny red and gold apples had caught his eye, and he grabbed one... and then stuffed four more in his pockets for later. The apple was small and a bit on the tart side, being very immature. But it was still quite juicy.
And Vade loved fruit.
He grinned around a huge mouthful until he caught Ilea's reproachful eye. "Wha-?" he grunted, juices dripping down his chin.
"You take from the master of this house without asking permission," the girl said in the annoying tone that she seemed to reserve solely for the halfling. "It is wrong."
"I like fruit," Vade said with a shrug. "I can't help it. I'm hungry."
Ilea harrumphed and Vade offered her one of his purloined fruits. "I like fruit," he said again. "Apples are my favorite, but I really like most any kind. Exotic fruits like mangos are good, too. Ever try a clementine? Man, they are good..." He slipped off into a momentary reverie as he chewed his mouthful.
"I am not hungry," she said and turned her back on the halfling.
Vade stuck his tongue out at her and thumbed his nose before turning to the silent Feln. The martial artist had been sitting motionless beside the hearth expertly disguised as a wood elf. His expression was forlorn and he had a far-away look in his unseeing eyes. Vade frowned and dropped lightly off the chair.
"What's wrong," the rogue asked, taking a big bite of apple.
"I am worried," Feln answered after a pause. "My sight has not returned - not even a shadow."
Vade waved his little hand in front of Feln's face experimentally but his companion didn't even blink. The halfling's frowned deepened and he offered an apple. "Do you want something to eat?" he asked. "Eating always makes me feel better. Why when we were little, if something went wrong, my mother would just cook up-"
Feln cut him off. "What I need is to see a cleric or a weaver of spells to see if they can help me," he said, laying a hand easily on Vade's slim shoulder despite the fact that he couldn't see it. "This could be the end of our acquaintance, humble warrior. I may not be able to venture further unless I can restore my sight."
"That dwarf went to get the cleric lady," Vade said. "I'm sure that she will be able to help." And as if on cue, Gellir thundered into the greathall with one-armed Maerwynn in tow.
"Here be yer healer, yer lordship!" the dwarf said with a flip tone. "I 'ad ta drag 'er outta bed, but here she be."
The cleric looked around and curtsied to the dewy-eyed Lord Arundel. "How may I serve you, mi'lord?" she asked and Vade jumped up quickly.
"Me!' he said at once. "Oh, me! I got shot with these arrows and I used some healing stuff, but it doesn't seem to have helped all that much so I could really use some magic or whatever you have because it really hurts whenever I do this!"
Ixin moved out into the roughly carved passages with as much stealth as she could. It was dark and claustrophobic, but no more so than some of the Undercity passages used by the Claw to make raids and move goods in Highgate. Her keen draconic eyesight allowed her to see perfectly well in total darkness within 60 feet, albeit in shades of gray, and she moved confidently with Martivir perched on her broad shoulder.
She stepped out of the narrow side passage into the vast central tunnel she had been in before. At the far end, which was well over 150 feet away at least, she could see the faint silvery glow of the chamber where they had found Ilea chained. That far-off light was sufficient to illuminate the tunnel as if it were full daylight to the mage's eyes. Ixin could clearly see two smaller passages branching off on each side of the main tunnel in the direction of the lighted chamber. In the other direction, the vast passage quickly ended in a wall of rubble. A single passage branched off it about mid-way between where she stood and the rubble. The vaulted tunnel echoed with the ever-present sounds of dripping water, but was otherwise as still and silent as a crypt.
Ixin dashed across the passage and entered the narrower tunnel. It ran straight for a time and then turned sharply to the left before opening up into another squarish chamber identical in size to the queen's lair. This room, however, was furnished as a human might live. Moldy tapestries masked the damp cave walls and the floor was piled with rugs that squished with moisture beneath Ixin's boots. A wooden bed was in the far corner, mounded high with blankets. Beside the bed stood a small wooden table atop which rested an oil lamp. Workbenches strewn with bits of alchemical gear and scrawled notes, most of them victims of water damage and smeared beyond legibility, ringed the walls of the room. Ixin was at once reminded of the Hibernian's disorganized chamber, but unlike Dwardolin's workshop, which always just seemed fairly sad to her, there was something sinister and vaguely unsettling about this place.
A quick Detec Magic revealed no auras, so Ixin grabbed the few items that looked to be of worth: seven moldy books which were still readable despite the moisture damage, a pair of purple gemstones, and a sealed jar of greenish fluid in which floated a blob of something unidentifiable.
"I think that's enough for now, Marty," Ixin said as she stuffed the items into her cloak's extra-dimensional pockets. "We should get back to the others."
The owl hooted his agreement and they headed back the way they came.
"I can find no sign of injury or disease," Maerwynn said with a weary sigh as she stared into Feln's purple eyes. The cleric's close scrutiny had revealed his glamered appearance, and the half-orc had reluctantly doffed his Hat of Disguise. He couldn't see her expression, of course, but Maerwynn seemed wholly unperturbed by his race. She examined him with as much diligence as she had used on Ledare which was nearly as much care as she had lavished on Ilea.
"The effect is magical," Feln asserted and the Orderbringer nodded.
"I'm beginning to agree with you, goodman," she said. "And it may be within my power to aid you. But unfortunately, I have not prayed to Sato for the miracle necessary to dispel such magic. Come tomorrow to the shrine and I will do what I am able."
"Thank you," Feln grunted, inwardly cursing his ill luck and trying once more to imagine what his life might be like if the Orderbringer was unable to restore his sight. He was well trained in the arts of blind fighting, but he didn't much fancy the prospect of relying on it for the rest of his days.
"I need a quiet place to meditate, sir," Feln said aloud, hoping that Gellir or Lord Arundel would hear him and take notice. "Do you have a quiet corner I could occupy?"
"Aye, orcblood!" the dwarf growled. "Ye an' tha halfling ken share a room. Tha way I ken keep me eye on the both o' ye at once. Now, where'd tha wee bugger get off ta?"
Angwyn ap-Llewellyn's dooryard was full of goats. It was always full of goats, Morier knew, but after finding Malcolm's grove warded against approach, the elf had half-expected to find changes at the wizard's as well. The sight (and, yes, even the smell) of the animals struck a nostalgic note within the eldritch warrior's breast that swelled his spirits, despite the limp burden that he and Ixin supported between them.
Arwold Wyverneye clung tenaciously to life, but despite Morier's healing potion death seemed a near thing. Angwyn was no healer, to be sure, but he might have another healing draught lying about and Morier was running low on ideas.
The eldritch warrior pushed the rickety gate open with his hip and led Ixin into the yard. Some of the goats were startled out of their sleep by the pair and began to bleat, shying away nervously. All except for one, that is. Undisturbed by the smell of blood one goat blocked their path and bayed out a challenge.
"Move aside, Daffyd," Morier urged as they approached, but the goat just lowered its head in a threatening manner. "We've no time for your-"
"WHO DARES DISTURB THE REST OF ANGWYN, THE MIGHTY?!" a voice thundered throughout the yard, sending all the goats save Daffyd scurrying around behind the ill-maintained hut. The front door was thrown aside from within and a wizard of epic proportions squeezed his way through the opening. He had a mostly bald head ringed in back with long white hair. A flowing beard of the same color trailed down across his oft-patched robe, stretching nearly to the ground. His eyes flashed icy blue in the near darkness and he raised an enormous, gnarled staff the size of an ogre's greatclub as if to smite them.
Then he stopped and blinked.
"Oh, it's you," he said and shrunk quickly back to his normal human proportions. He seemed almost disappointed. "I didn't expect you back so soon. And what in the nine hells did you do to the ranger?"
"He was poisoned and-" Morier began, but the old wizard just waved off the albino's response and turned back toward his front door.
"Yes. Yes. Just bring him inside," ap-Llewellyn sighed. "And take off that ridiculous sword before you come in here. You look silly. It's bigger than you are, for Kael's sake!"
"Yes, father," Morier said with the exasperated tone of a son who had heard it all before many, many times. He unbuckled the baldric that kept his greatsword in place and the weapon thudded unceremoniously on the ground. Morier favored the weapon, crafted in large part through his own sweat and blood, with a forlorn glance before he and Ixin stepped over the blade and carried Arwold into the wizard's hut.
For those of you who've been waiting for some more reading, here's a rather lengthy (if a tad under-exciting) post.
------------------------------------
Windstryder's laughter caused Morier to stop in his tracks and shoot her a look of confusion and disdain. The ranger was bounding nimbly down the earthen mound, shaking her head as she came. "Again, it seems I have underestimated our team's combat abilities," she said, skidding to a halt between the albino and Ixin who was still lying on her side and clutching her heaving gut. "I am impressed by that greatsword of yours, Losse. Are you able to power it all the time?"
Morier looked first at the sword in his hand and then at Windstryder. "No more until I've rested," he admitted and then turned back toward Arwold. Windstryder looked at his back and nodded.
"Still, it is an impressive display," she said before turning to Ixin. She crouched down beside the trembling mage, careful to avoid the steaming pile of vomit beside her and laid a hand on Ixin's brow.
"How do you feel?" she asked as she fished in her medicine bag. "Is your stomach strong and your eyes steady?"
In response, the mage coughed up more of the breakfast she had enjoyed that morning in Strenchburg Junction. "I'll live," she managed to groan.
"I am afraid I only have mild cures for stomach ailments," the elf explained and handed Ixin a bit of dried root from her kit. "Chew on this. It should ease the cramping. When you are able, begin a search of the room whilst I to the door."
The mage nodded and bit down hesitantly on the offered root. Windstryder paused a few paces away then turned back to her nauseated companion. "I suggest that we stay away from the Queen," the ranger cautioned. "I fear even in her death throes she may be able to harm us still."
Ixin nodded again and continued to chew.
Morier crushed the larvae that were squirming over Arwold's cocooned body until his gloves were wet and sticky with their pulped organs. All the while, his red eyes kept searching the man's face for any sign of consciousness. There was none, however. And Arwold's normally tanned complexion looked deathly pale in the glow of the phosphorescent fungus.
"Don't die," Morier muttered, fumbling a vial from his belt.
From her vantage point at the entrance to the chamber, Windstryder's keen ears heard the albino's words and her equally keen eyes could see that the cocooned figure wasn't stirring. "Morier, is you friend fit for travel?" she asked and her voice betrayed her belief in what the answer would be.
"He will be," Morier said as he poured his last potion of Cure Light Wounds down Arwold's throat. The ranger's color improved, but still he showed no sign of stirring. Undeterred, Morier dropped the vial and began ripping at the cocoon's fibers.
"We cannot be burdened down," Windstryder cautioned and Morier glared at her before returning to the task at hand. In a more reconciliatory tone, the elven ranger asked, "Who is he to you that you risk the lives of us all?"
"He was... IS a great ranger," Morier grumbled as he shredded Arwold's cocoon. "An Archer of the Green. Sworn protector of Briarton Province. It was he who taught me swordplay some twenty harvests past."
Windstryder could think of nothing more encouraging to say than, "Once I secure the room I will examine him."
"Your time of need is echoed throughout the Realms. We came in part to assist in the retrieval of the girl, Ilea," Ledare sighed, clasping her free hand over her uncle's. She lowered her voice as she added, "But also in pursuit of the evil which has taken the city of Barnacus, as I'm sure you've heard."
Lord Arundel nodded grimly and drew away from Ledare. The weight of his years seemed to momentarily bow his shoulders. He sagged for only the span of two heartbeats, however, before his vigorous demeanor reasserted itself. "Gellir conveyed to me the sad news you shared with Maerwynn this afternoon. Hillville Junction is well removed from Elcadan's capital. We have heard nothing save what you have told us."
"It is imperative we get word to the king," Ledare said, skirting her great uncle's thinly veiled request for information. She was painfully aware that his daughter and grandson - her aunt and cousin - were likely stuck within the quarantined city. Their health was unknown, and no amount of explanation would ease Lord Arundel's mind. So for the time being she put off having to add further ill news to what little the man already knew. "Is there any way to contact Barnacus?"
"There is a shrine to Garjarven east of here on Centermarch," Lord Arundel said without much enthusiasm. "A Sacred Runner can be sent from there. When Gellir returns I'll have him dispatch a rider to the shrine. None will make better time than the chosen of the god of roads."
There was silence for a time as the lord stared off into the hearth fire. "Perhaps a magical means exists as well," Arundel said at last. "In the morning we can contact the druid, Malcolm and the wizard, ap-Llewellyn. In all my demesne, they are the most knowledgeable about such things."
"Very good, mi'lord," Ledare said with a courteous bow. When she raised her head, Lord Arundel was regarding her with amber eyes that seemed a trifle too wet, despite the fierce hold he kept on his emotions.
"Now, Ledare," her uncle said with carefully measured words. "You will tell me all that you know about the goings-on in Barnacus. Nearly the very last of my family might even now be suffering from plague and I would know all that may be known on the matter."
"Mi'lord-" Ledare began, sorrow creeping into her voice.
"No!" Arundel barked. "You will tell me, Janissary! I am a representative of the king. And if I have to compel the information from you by invoking the Charter of the Enlightened, I will!" Ledare hung her head.
"You do not, uncle," she said. "Sit and I will tell you everything I know."
After Ixin had recovered sufficient control of her guts to search the room she used a cantrip to Detect Magic. Other than the various bits of enchanted gear that she and her companions bore, only one aura of magic was evident. It had been many, many hours since Ixin had slept and in that time, she had very nearly exhausted her magical reserves, so she wasn't surprised when she couldn't adequately identify the school of magic represented by the glow.
Still, even her addled mind was able to follow the glow to its source: a ring worn by a desiccated corpse that was still partially entombed beneath a clot of webbing. With some disdain she reached out and pulled the band free of the skeletonized finger. Surprisingly, the ring wasn't made of precious metal as she had imagined, but rather of supple blackened leather. The band was cunningly crafted to look like a series of sculpted hands circling the wearer's finger. Each disembodied hand gripped the wrist of the hand in front of it in an unbroken chain.
"What did you find?" Windstryder asked from the doorway.
"A ring," Ixin told her and slipped it into a pocket of her cloak. "I'll examine it more later."
"Help me get him out of here," Morier grunted from Ixin's left. The mage turned to see the eldritch warrior struggling with the limp body of Arwold Wyverneye. She moved over to help her companion and they supported the unconscious ranger between them.
"Are we leaving?" Ixin asked and Windstryder answered at once.
"I suggest we away, away," the ranger said, breaking away from the door and moving to intercept her companions. "We must remember the mission."
"Ledare and Vade have the girl well in hand, Windstryder," Ixin countered. "We've come this far. Let us complete our search in a thorough manner."
"Arwold needs healing," Morier grunted as he and Ixin shouldered the unconscious ranger toward the earthen mound.
"We have an opportunity here," the mage pressed. "Let us search for clues, including any symbolism that might serve to enlighten us."
Windstryder scowled at her and then relieved the sorcerer of her burden. The ranger helped Morier lower Arwold onto the soft earth and then she reached for her healing satchel again. "You can see in the dark, yes?" she asked Ixin and received a nod in reply. "Then you have a few minutes while I tend to this man. Do not stray too far and at the first sign of danger return here."
"Agreed," Ixin said and she trotted off into the darkness beyond the chamber and Morier watched her go with concern on his pale features.
"I have a bad feeling about this," the eldritch warrior said grimly and Windstryder grunted noncommittally.
"You argue with her," she said and went to work on Arwold.
While Ledare and her uncle conferred on the other side of the room, Vade jumped up onto one of the benches flanking the table and from there boosted himself up onto the table itself. A bowl of tiny red and gold apples had caught his eye, and he grabbed one... and then stuffed four more in his pockets for later. The apple was small and a bit on the tart side, being very immature. But it was still quite juicy.
And Vade loved fruit.
He grinned around a huge mouthful until he caught Ilea's reproachful eye. "Wha-?" he grunted, juices dripping down his chin.
"You take from the master of this house without asking permission," the girl said in the annoying tone that she seemed to reserve solely for the halfling. "It is wrong."
"I like fruit," Vade said with a shrug. "I can't help it. I'm hungry."
Ilea harrumphed and Vade offered her one of his purloined fruits. "I like fruit," he said again. "Apples are my favorite, but I really like most any kind. Exotic fruits like mangos are good, too. Ever try a clementine? Man, they are good..." He slipped off into a momentary reverie as he chewed his mouthful.
"I am not hungry," she said and turned her back on the halfling.
Vade stuck his tongue out at her and thumbed his nose before turning to the silent Feln. The martial artist had been sitting motionless beside the hearth expertly disguised as a wood elf. His expression was forlorn and he had a far-away look in his unseeing eyes. Vade frowned and dropped lightly off the chair.
"What's wrong," the rogue asked, taking a big bite of apple.
"I am worried," Feln answered after a pause. "My sight has not returned - not even a shadow."
Vade waved his little hand in front of Feln's face experimentally but his companion didn't even blink. The halfling's frowned deepened and he offered an apple. "Do you want something to eat?" he asked. "Eating always makes me feel better. Why when we were little, if something went wrong, my mother would just cook up-"
Feln cut him off. "What I need is to see a cleric or a weaver of spells to see if they can help me," he said, laying a hand easily on Vade's slim shoulder despite the fact that he couldn't see it. "This could be the end of our acquaintance, humble warrior. I may not be able to venture further unless I can restore my sight."
"That dwarf went to get the cleric lady," Vade said. "I'm sure that she will be able to help." And as if on cue, Gellir thundered into the greathall with one-armed Maerwynn in tow.
"Here be yer healer, yer lordship!" the dwarf said with a flip tone. "I 'ad ta drag 'er outta bed, but here she be."
The cleric looked around and curtsied to the dewy-eyed Lord Arundel. "How may I serve you, mi'lord?" she asked and Vade jumped up quickly.
"Me!' he said at once. "Oh, me! I got shot with these arrows and I used some healing stuff, but it doesn't seem to have helped all that much so I could really use some magic or whatever you have because it really hurts whenever I do this!"
Ixin moved out into the roughly carved passages with as much stealth as she could. It was dark and claustrophobic, but no more so than some of the Undercity passages used by the Claw to make raids and move goods in Highgate. Her keen draconic eyesight allowed her to see perfectly well in total darkness within 60 feet, albeit in shades of gray, and she moved confidently with Martivir perched on her broad shoulder.
She stepped out of the narrow side passage into the vast central tunnel she had been in before. At the far end, which was well over 150 feet away at least, she could see the faint silvery glow of the chamber where they had found Ilea chained. That far-off light was sufficient to illuminate the tunnel as if it were full daylight to the mage's eyes. Ixin could clearly see two smaller passages branching off on each side of the main tunnel in the direction of the lighted chamber. In the other direction, the vast passage quickly ended in a wall of rubble. A single passage branched off it about mid-way between where she stood and the rubble. The vaulted tunnel echoed with the ever-present sounds of dripping water, but was otherwise as still and silent as a crypt.
Ixin dashed across the passage and entered the narrower tunnel. It ran straight for a time and then turned sharply to the left before opening up into another squarish chamber identical in size to the queen's lair. This room, however, was furnished as a human might live. Moldy tapestries masked the damp cave walls and the floor was piled with rugs that squished with moisture beneath Ixin's boots. A wooden bed was in the far corner, mounded high with blankets. Beside the bed stood a small wooden table atop which rested an oil lamp. Workbenches strewn with bits of alchemical gear and scrawled notes, most of them victims of water damage and smeared beyond legibility, ringed the walls of the room. Ixin was at once reminded of the Hibernian's disorganized chamber, but unlike Dwardolin's workshop, which always just seemed fairly sad to her, there was something sinister and vaguely unsettling about this place.
A quick Detec Magic revealed no auras, so Ixin grabbed the few items that looked to be of worth: seven moldy books which were still readable despite the moisture damage, a pair of purple gemstones, and a sealed jar of greenish fluid in which floated a blob of something unidentifiable.
"I think that's enough for now, Marty," Ixin said as she stuffed the items into her cloak's extra-dimensional pockets. "We should get back to the others."
The owl hooted his agreement and they headed back the way they came.
"I can find no sign of injury or disease," Maerwynn said with a weary sigh as she stared into Feln's purple eyes. The cleric's close scrutiny had revealed his glamered appearance, and the half-orc had reluctantly doffed his Hat of Disguise. He couldn't see her expression, of course, but Maerwynn seemed wholly unperturbed by his race. She examined him with as much diligence as she had used on Ledare which was nearly as much care as she had lavished on Ilea.
"The effect is magical," Feln asserted and the Orderbringer nodded.
"I'm beginning to agree with you, goodman," she said. "And it may be within my power to aid you. But unfortunately, I have not prayed to Sato for the miracle necessary to dispel such magic. Come tomorrow to the shrine and I will do what I am able."
"Thank you," Feln grunted, inwardly cursing his ill luck and trying once more to imagine what his life might be like if the Orderbringer was unable to restore his sight. He was well trained in the arts of blind fighting, but he didn't much fancy the prospect of relying on it for the rest of his days.
"I need a quiet place to meditate, sir," Feln said aloud, hoping that Gellir or Lord Arundel would hear him and take notice. "Do you have a quiet corner I could occupy?"
"Aye, orcblood!" the dwarf growled. "Ye an' tha halfling ken share a room. Tha way I ken keep me eye on the both o' ye at once. Now, where'd tha wee bugger get off ta?"
Angwyn ap-Llewellyn's dooryard was full of goats. It was always full of goats, Morier knew, but after finding Malcolm's grove warded against approach, the elf had half-expected to find changes at the wizard's as well. The sight (and, yes, even the smell) of the animals struck a nostalgic note within the eldritch warrior's breast that swelled his spirits, despite the limp burden that he and Ixin supported between them.
Arwold Wyverneye clung tenaciously to life, but despite Morier's healing potion death seemed a near thing. Angwyn was no healer, to be sure, but he might have another healing draught lying about and Morier was running low on ideas.
The eldritch warrior pushed the rickety gate open with his hip and led Ixin into the yard. Some of the goats were startled out of their sleep by the pair and began to bleat, shying away nervously. All except for one, that is. Undisturbed by the smell of blood one goat blocked their path and bayed out a challenge.
"Move aside, Daffyd," Morier urged as they approached, but the goat just lowered its head in a threatening manner. "We've no time for your-"
"WHO DARES DISTURB THE REST OF ANGWYN, THE MIGHTY?!" a voice thundered throughout the yard, sending all the goats save Daffyd scurrying around behind the ill-maintained hut. The front door was thrown aside from within and a wizard of epic proportions squeezed his way through the opening. He had a mostly bald head ringed in back with long white hair. A flowing beard of the same color trailed down across his oft-patched robe, stretching nearly to the ground. His eyes flashed icy blue in the near darkness and he raised an enormous, gnarled staff the size of an ogre's greatclub as if to smite them.
Then he stopped and blinked.
"Oh, it's you," he said and shrunk quickly back to his normal human proportions. He seemed almost disappointed. "I didn't expect you back so soon. And what in the nine hells did you do to the ranger?"
"He was poisoned and-" Morier began, but the old wizard just waved off the albino's response and turned back toward his front door.
"Yes. Yes. Just bring him inside," ap-Llewellyn sighed. "And take off that ridiculous sword before you come in here. You look silly. It's bigger than you are, for Kael's sake!"
"Yes, father," Morier said with the exasperated tone of a son who had heard it all before many, many times. He unbuckled the baldric that kept his greatsword in place and the weapon thudded unceremoniously on the ground. Morier favored the weapon, crafted in large part through his own sweat and blood, with a forlorn glance before he and Ixin stepped over the blade and carried Arwold into the wizard's hut.
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Well, I thoroughly enjoyed it!
Great read Jon.
Great read Jon.
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