The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed it!

Great read Jon.

Well, I'm glad you like it! Half of my players love chatting it up with NPCs and delving into social politics while the other half likes hack-n-slash and daring-do all the time. It's tough to balance that and still keep it interesting for non-players to read.

I'm glad it's worked so far. With you, at least.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #252] Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes..

"Ah dinna like tha wee hobbit roamin' free about tha manor," Gellir grumbled as he led Feln down a passage off the greathall. The dwarf's incessant complaints allowed the blind martial artist to follow behind him without fear of becoming lost. And despite the fact that Feln was forced to slow his normally swift gate to what seemed a crawl, it was still sufficient to keep pace with his short-legged guide. "Thieves an' sneaks, tha lot of 'em! Mark me words, orcblood, e'en now 'e be fillin' his pockets with Roderick's heirlooms."

"I think you judge Vade poorly, dwarf," Feln said bluntly and he heard Gellir suck in his breath. The dwarf stopped suddenly and the martial artist nearly slammed into him, but his training allowed him to narrowly avoid the collision.

"Ah'd expect as much comin' from an orcblood," Gellir snarled up at Feln and the half-orc could smell beer and sausages and pipe smoke on the dwarf's breath. "But what ah dinna ken be wha' Ledare be doin' with the likes. She was raised better than tha!"

Gellir harrumphed and began walking again.

"Dwarf, would you humor a blind traveller and spar with me?" Feln asked. It sounded more like a challenge than a request. "Do you have a practice room or fighting yard?" He heard the dwarf stop short again, but this time he had no trouble avoiding any collision.

"There be no valor in fightin' a blind warrior," Gellir told him. "But ye'd do well ta watch yer tongue. There be many who dinna share me sense o' honor."

"Ooo! Ooo! Can I play?" Vade's voice issued from Feln's left.

"Where've ye been hiding, hobbit?" Gellir demanded.

"I've been right here all along," the halfling insisted and Feln suspected that Vade was getting some use out of the Ring of Invisibility. "I'm surprised you didn't see me!"

Feln heard Gellir's sharp intake of breath and suspected another tirade to ensue. He quickly cut off the dwarf by speaking directly to Vade. "Perhaps we can devise a game of sorts, humble warrior," the martial artist suggested. "I could have something in my pocket and you could try to take it from me without my noticing. If I caught you in the act, I would have to snatch your arm or wrist or otherwise prevent you from taking it. The winner would be obvious."

Vade giggled and clapped his little hands with delight. "Mama and Papa used to play this game with me. They always kept candy in their pockets. They said my brothers and I were welcome to it and could help ourselves as long as they did not know about it. Duece and Trey were good, but I was the best," Vade said with a wide grin. "I think it is because I am so huggable. I would have worked even harder if they kept fruit in their pocket...healthier you know. I usually gave my candy to Duece....he was kind of fat."

"So we will play with fruit?" Feln asked, bemused at his eager sparring partner. "Is that it?"

"Sure!" Vade asserted and Feln felt tiny hands shoving things into the pockets of his rough clothes. "Here, Feln.... Put some fruit in your pockets... No, I did not take anything yet. The game doesn't start until you say go."

"An' there'll be nae roughhousin' in yer chamber!" Gellir rumbled. "If yer ta be playin' games an' sparrin' an' such, ye'll be doin' it in the greathall where ye won't break anythin'!"

"As you wish," Feln replied with a nod. "Please lead the way."

"Mr. Dwarf, sir, would you like to play too?" Vade asked after Gellir had taken a few steps back toward the greathall. "I bet you would be good at it, being a dwarf, who I know have such keen senses... Hee hee hee."

Gellir only harrumphed in reply.



"Set him down on your bed, Morier," Angwyn ap-Llewellyn instructed, pointing toward a narrow sleeping pallet built into a recess in the wall. The wizard bent over one of the workbenches nearly overflowing with vials and alembics, one hand dancing among the various alchemical apperati while the other kept his beard from trailing across the workbench itself. "I think I've still got one of Malcolm's Cure-"

He was interrupted as Windstryder darted in through the front door with her bow in hand and her hawk perched on her shoulder. She carried Morier's sword in her other hand and she leaned it up against the wall. "It seems we have not been followed by the creatures," she stated without preamble. "Of course they could have flown over me although Anta would have alerted me were that the case." Anta screeched as if to acknowledge this and ap-Llewellyn sputtered angrily.

"Who is this?!" the wizard asked Morier. "Another of your friends?"

"This is Windstryder," the albino elf said as he and Ixin lowered Arwold Wyverneye onto the narrow pallet. "She's a ranger, father. Like Arwold."

The old man made a huffing sound with his lips. "She has the manners of a bugbear!" he said before turning back to his workbench.

"This is your father!?" Windstryder said with a chuckle as she took in the familiar contents of a dedicated wizard's home with a glance.

"My adoptive father," the albino said although it was clear that no human wizard could ever sire a full-blooded elf.

"Well, it seems we have more in common then our blood, Losso," she replied and Angwyn looked up at her sharply as she called Morier by the nickname she had chosen for him. She didn't notice. "Are the others here?"

"Others? I've no time to host parties for your friends, boy!" the wizard said, and Morier raised a calming hand.

"They're not here," he told Windstryder. "They most likely took the girl to Arundel Manor."

"Can your father care for the Archer or shall I send for clerical aid?" the ranger asked. "If my scouting is correct we should be very near Hillville Junction where the one-handed cleric resides."

"Aye. Head northeast along the path until you reach the fields," ap-Llewellyn said without looking up from his search of the workbench. "The village should be easy enough to spot from there. But we've no need for Maerwynn's aid this night."

Windstryder looked questioningly at Morier and Ixin. The two nodded and she shrugged before heading for the door. "I will away to Maerwynn to report what we have found on the bug creatures and to find the girl." And saying thus, she slipped out into the night.

The wizard groaned and gestured at the door. It slammed shut immediately and the old man looked up angrily at Morier. "I don't like her," he said flatly and the eldritch warrior sighed.

"Father, she's-" he started but ap-Llewellyn silenced him with a cautionary finger.

"That name she calls you. Losso." He spit the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. "It's elvish. Did she tell you what it means?"

"I-" Morier began, but the wizard cut him off again.

"It's no more flattering that the name your parents chose for you," ap-Llewellyn said and an awkward silence settled on the room. Ixin's stomach broke the tension by growling loudly.

"Sorry," the sorcerer said, clutching her belly and turning an even darker shade of red than was normal for her. "I suddenly find myself very hungry. Do you happen to have anything to eat?"



Vade was in his glory.

His touch had never been lighter. His fingers had never felt so nimble. He snatched three of the five pieces of fruit that he had deposited on Feln without the martial artist even reacting. He surprised even himself with his skill.

On the fourth try, his thumb accidentally brushed against Feln's trousers, and the martial artist's hands lashed out like twin cobras. Fortunately for Vade, the half-orc was blind, and the grapple attempt missed by a wide margin.

Vade laughed good-naturedly. "That was close, Feln," the halfling lied. "Are you sure that you're blind."

"Perhaps you're just clumsy, my friend," the martial artist replied. A smile played across his lips until he realized that Vade had reached in and taken the last apple while they were talking. The halfling had taken something else as well.

"Oops!" Vade said as if he'd reached into Feln's pocket and found a rat trap there. "F-Feln? C-Can I try for your dagger, too... if I promise not to protect it for you too long... or... or would you have to hurt the person who was protecting it for you?"

Feln's hand went instinctively to the now-empty hidden pocket where he normally kept the eagle-hilted dagger. He felt sure that the halfling hadn't taken the knife on purpose; he was just playing the game and run out of fruit. He smiled. "Vade, the dagger is a prized possession of mine but I think I would trust you to hold it from time to time," he said.

"You trust me! Thank you!" Vade said and impulsively threw his arms around Feln's muscular torso. The half-orc returned the gesture with some reluctance. "That means so much. I won't let you down!"

"Please remember its importance to me," Feln said, patting the halfling's back reassuringly.

Vade felt the martial artist clumsily take one of the mithril coins from his pocket but didn't say anything. Especially since Feln hadn't noticed him lifting the Hat of Disguise right off the half orc's head.



Windstryder moved through the dark streets of Hillville Junction like a shadow. Her low-light vision, coupled with the light of the moon hanging low in the sky, was more than adequate to keep her from stepping on a fallen branch or kicking a loose stone. None were alerted to her presence, least of all the cleric Maerwynn or the armsman who escorted her home from Arundel Manor. The ranger spotted them easily enough and appeared in their path before either of them knew she was there.

The armsman was too surprised to get off a shot, but he raised his crossbow even as Windstryder knelt down and bowed her head. "H-halt!" he stammered. "What- who goes there?"

"Oh, Great Holy One," Windstryder said, ignoring the man's question. "I seek to advise you we found a nest of the bug creatures and have dispatched their Queen and her lieutenants. I do not think a counter attack is imminent but you may want to post a watch to the South where the Lair is."

"Who are you?" the armsman asked again. "Do you know this elf, Orderbringer?"

Maerwynn looked at the ranger and nodded. "I believe I do," she said. "We met this afternoon. You're with Ledare, are you not?"

"We serve a common cause," Windstryder answered. "Have you seen the Lord Janissary this night?"

"I have," the cleric replied. "She is with her uncle in his manor. A halfling and a half-orc are with her."

"Very good," Windstryder replied. "Also, I must ask of the girl Ilea. Where is she? It was my duty to find and protect her. Do you knowest where I may find her?"

"She too is at Arundel Manor," Maerwynn told her. "I was just there tending to their many wounds."

As if she had just remembered her own sorry state of health, Windstryder stood and looked hopefully at the cleric. "If I may further inquire," she began. "My own wounds are beyond my healing ability. May I ask as the King's servant for some healing so I may continue my quest to return the Miracle One to the King?"

"Were it within my power, gentle lady" she replied. "But I have used the last of my healing to mend the others. The half-orc, Feln, is coming to see me tomorrow about his blindness. Join him when he does and I will offer what aid I may then."

"Thank you, Holy One," the ranger replied and dropped again to one knee.

"But now I must take my leave," Maerwynn said, urging her chaperon to get her home. "Without sleep, I will be ill-prepared to seek divine blessings come the 'morrow. Good night to you."

"And to you," Windstryder returned before vanishing once more into the night.



Moonsday, the 12th of Wealsun, 1269 AE


Morier was jerked out of his trance state by a woman's scream. He leapt nimbly to his feet, a spell coming almost unbidden to the forefront of his mind. Sparks seemed to dance in his red eyes and across his fingertips.

It was Ixin who had screamed, and she sat bolt upright on the floor across the room. She was naked to the waist and her sheets and blankets were pooled around her hips. They were bright with blood.

"Are you alright?" Morier asked as he looked around for some sign of the mage's attacker. Ixin groaned in response and raised an arm to demurely shield her breasts. She turned with some effort to face away from him and Morier's jaw dropped open with a snap.

The sorcerer's back was broad and plated with flexible scales. A raised set of spiny nodules traced the curve of her spine from her hairline down to below the drift of white blankets. Her entire back was wet with blood that streamed down from two rents in the flesh that covered her shoulders. Small, membranous wings hung there, dripping with fluid where they had broken though the scales.

Ixin looked at Morier over her left shoulder and she smiled. "Looks like my wings finally came in," she said.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

Ixin looked at Morier over her left shoulder and she smiled. "Looks like my wings finally came in," she said.

Yes, I also find that those are consistantly on back order as well.

 

[Jon Potter]

Yes, I also find that those are consistantly on back order as well.

My wife plays Ixin and she chose the Dracowings feat from Sean K. Reynold's site as the sorcerer's 3rd level feat.

The link is here if you're interested in taking a peek. They don't allow actual flight (yet), but they're still pretty cool and full of oh so much character flavor.

 

[Jon Potter]

I've uploaded the main story so far to the EN World story hour archive here for your downloading pleasure. It's saved into three parts and is up-to-date with the current postings here.

I've got some other miscellaneous bits that I may upload at a later date should there be an interest.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #252a] More About Town

"Man, these apples are good!" Vade asserted again, slurping back on the tart juice of yet another small golden fruit. "Want a piece, Feln? You had better not put it in your pocket though."

"No, my friend," the half-orc said holding up a hand. "I have already eaten. I find that moderation in all things is the best path."

The serving girl came to the table again with a steaming kettle. The cloying odor of cinnamon preceded her as she came. "More tea, goodman?" she asked and Feln had lifted his stout mug before the third word was out of her mouth.

"Yes, please," he said with an eager grin. Vade completely missed the irony.

"It sure was fun playing Mama and Papa's candy game again... especially with fruit," the halfling went on. "I think I'll go see if that silly dwarf wants to play." He hopped down but Feln's big right hand moved out to block him.

"That might not be the best idea," the martial artist said. "The dwarf was... less than pleased that we were spending the night. He did not seem the type to enjoy playing games."

Vade nodded and then said, "Maybe I'll just take a look around then. There must be something interesting in this drafty old-"

"I thought that you were going to accompany me into town," Feln reminded quickly. "I must meet with Maerwynn about my sight."

"And I can check out that cool old shop, too!" the halfling remembered, his body quivering with excitement. "When do we leave?"

Feln savored another sip of his bantern tea before putting down the cup and standing fluidly. "I must go outside and perform some exercises. But they shouldn't take too long. Why don't you join me?"

"Oh. I don't know," Vade hedged. "Exercise? It sounds kinda-"

"You could tell stories of your family," Feln suggested. "I would hear more of them. They sound interesting."

"Oh, they are!" Vade agreed. "And I haven't even told you the really good stuff yet! There was this one time I thought Grumblebutt the ogre had fallen on Trey..."



"'Occultum Esoterica and Other Theories'," Angwyn ap-Llewellyn read from the binding of one of the books Ixin had liberated from the bug men's cave complex. He scowled. "'Theory of the Arcane Gambit'. What rubbish!" The wizard tossed the book onto the table where he and Morier sat eating a small meal. The albino picked up one of the other volumes.

"'The Great Compendium of Spell Components'," he read. "You have a copy of this one. You made me read it. Twice." Angwyn snorted and waved his hand.

"And a great lot of good it did too!" the old man said. "You couldn't just cast spells like a proper mage!" Morier sighed and gestured toward the window. Ixin was visible without standing in the sunshine and stretching her new wings.

"Ixin is a proper mage and I've never seen her eat a spider or throw bat guano," Morier argued. He took a bite of barley cake.

His father looked out the window at Ixin for a moment and shook his hoary head. "Sorcerers," he said disapprovingly. "There's just no accounting for them." There was silence for a time as ap-Llewellyn fussed about with something on one of his workbenches and Morier ate quietly, watching Ixin through the window. "Tell your sorcerer friend that I'll take the books off her hands. Tell her I'll trade her potions in exchange for the lot of them."

"Tell her yourself, father," Morier countered. "And besides, maybe she wants to keep them."

"And just what is a sorcerer going to do with an old copy of 'Magic and Military Tactics: Spellcasters on the Battlefield'?" the old man asked, picking up a thin tome from the pile. "Ah, now that's one that good old Battlecaster would have loved, eh, Morier?"

Before his father could settle into more stories about his former adventuring partners, Morier changed the subject. "We found some other things, too, father," he said and reached for Ixin's Cloak of Many Pouches. "There was a ring, I think. And some other things that we could use Identified."

"Do you suppose that she might want to get rid of that cloak?" ap-Llewellyn asked, eying the cloth-of-gold greedily. "I think I still have that old mithril cloak of mine hanging up in the back closet."

"You'll have to ask her," Morier replied and the wizard nodded, making a shooing gesture with one hand.

"Well go and fetch her while I check on our patient," he said taking Morier's plate away before the elf could argue.

------------------------------------------

Note that the titles of the books that Ixin uncovered are from the great resource "The Netbook of Books". Angwyn ap-Llewellyn's assessment of the various titles' value is strictly his own and does not reflect the management of this story hour.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

Man without that disclaimer, I thought that I was seriously undercutting the profits in my campaign.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #252b] Even More About Town

Lord Arundel looked much the worse for wear. The man's face sagged. His eyes were ringed by the dark circles of sleeplessness, his cheeks and jowls bristling with a night's growth of beard as he descended from his chamber. His clothes, however, were impeccable, and his hair was held in place by a polished circlet of gold that was the symbol of his office. And he didn't let the heaviness in his heart deter him from his duties as lord.

His steward, a shrewd-eyed man who seemed wed to his ledger, outlined Lord Arundel's day while the older man picked at his breakfast. Ledare had witnessed such interaction many times during her stays at the manor house and she knew that matters of manorial law would be first on her great uncle's agenda. It had long been her habit as a child to sit in on the hallmote when her uncle managed disputes. It was assumed that she would continue to do so, and so she joined him as he dispensed justice.

Justice almost always involved paying amercement to the court which Lord Arundel would benevolently roll into the guilty party's yearly chevage rather than demand payment in minted coin.

When the hallmote was over, and the steward brought in the grangers and the haywards to give an accounting before his lordship, Ledare excused herself and went off to look over the book that they had recovered from the rat-headed giant's lair. The tome, grimly entitled "The Trials of Decay", was of simple construction: rough parchment pages stitched to a black leather binding. The symbol of Aphyx emblazoned in iron on the cover gave little doubt as to what subjects would be covered in the text.

The writing within was spidery and cramped, obviously penned by a zealot to Aphyx's cause. As such it read more like a religious text than an historical document and after spending a goodly amount of time reading it, Ledare had culled only a few tidbits from the rhetoric. She estimated that it would take her the better part of a week to sort through the book in its entirety.

What little she learned amounted to the following:

"Centuries ago, during the Age of Pestilence, the lands that now make up the great kingdom of Pellham were divided. The rulers of the land held their position not through law, but through strength of arms and war between the city-states was common. One of the strongest of these warlords was Greurd Wulfhun who ruled a territory known as Erlacor. Lord Wulfhun's army was the largest and best trained fighting force in all the lands and few would dare challenge his troops on the field of battle."

"It was during this age that Aphyx, goddess of decay, reached the pinnacle of her power on the face of Oerune. Famine and plagues that devastated the people as much as the weapons of war followed in the wake of the ever-present conflicts. Flor, goddess of health and fertility - and Aphyx's antithesis among the gods - had been severely weakened by a confrontation with Graath, god of chaos and murder, and Aphyx saw in this her opportunity to gain the upper hand over her eternal adversary. With dreams, visions, sendings and omens, Aphyx directed her worshippers to take up arms against the followers of Flor. The campaign of horror that ensued was gruesome to behold, and the followers of Flor were unable to hold back the tide of undead that Aphyx's Plaguebringers unleashed against them. Their patron goddess, in her weakened state was unable to grant them the divine support they needed, and so most perished at the hands of Aphyx's minions."



"Lord Sato, Patron of Enlightenment, King of the Gods, grant thy humble servant the power to set right that which was made crooked by the unclean touch of chaos!" Maerwynn said and laid her hand upon Feln's forehead.

For a moment. the half-orc felt only the cool touch of the woman's hand. Then there was a slow building of crystalline light within his mind's eye. It unfolded with steady and orderly precision filling more and more of his mind until light seemed to force out all thought. The cleric's hand grew chill with the cold power of absolute Law and, with a flash of white so dazzling that Feln reeled away from Maerwynn, the darkness fell away from Feln's eyes.

"I can see!" he cried out, in spite of himself.

"Good," said Vade. "Can we go now?" The little halfling felt discomforted by the stark symmetry of Sato's shrine. He squirmed in his seat and found his eyes drawn frequently up the mirrored ceiling where he could see himself staring down. To him, it was just plain creepy.



"I believe that the common name for such an item is a Ring of Climbing," ap-Llewellyn announced, holding the leather circlet between the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. With his right he slipped the pearl spell focus back into a pouch at his hip. "Personally, I have little use for such an item. But I'll take the two spellbooks off your hands."

Ixin looked at the two volumes - one had been among the mysterious Kirnoth's belongings and the other was from the bug men cave - and shrugged. Her own magic came from the draconic blood that flowed through her veins so she had little use for book magic. Ur-Skrazargul's son, Drake Irthos, would burn spellbooks to release their magic, she knew, but the results were far from stable. There had been a few spectacular successes and a few equally spectacular failures, but most of the stolen spellbooks turned to ash without incident. To him, burning spellbooks was an end unto itself as it represented one less avenue for any upstart wizard to tread toward power. As a sorcerer, Irthos saw wizardry as inferior and he chafed under the lordship of the Wizard Council in Highgate.

"I'm not sure that these books can truly be called mine to sell, good sir," Ixin said, standing up. Her wings stretched and flexed behind her involuntarily. "Allow me to go into town and confer with my companions. I will have an answer for you then, one way or another."

"I've got a few old items leftover from my adventuring days that might be of use to a spellcaster such as yourself," the wizard told her. "I would offer them in fair trade for the spellbooks."

"I understand. But I must consult with my friends," Ixin repeated with a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me. I must get dressed. I can't very well go into town in this." She had put on a strapped undertunic that hung to mid-thigh and allowed her wings to move freely while she got used to them. It hardly made for appropriate public attire.

Once she was out of earshot Morier shook his head at the old man. "You shouldn't pressure her so, father," the albino said. "Either she'll sell the books or she won't. I haven't known her long, but I know her enough to tell you that pushing won't sway her."

The old wizard snorted and moved over to another of his workbenches. "I just wanted her to know that I was interested in helping her get rid of books that have little value to her," ap-Llewellyn said as he picked up a smallish package wrapped in colorful paper. "And I have something for you, son."

"What's this?" Morier asked as he accepted the package. It was fairly light for its size.

"Open it," the mage insisted with a grin. "Today is your birthday is it not?"

Morier thought back. It wasn't the actual day of his birth - he didn't truly know when that was - but it was 40 years ago today that Angwyn ap-Llewellyn had found the young Morier near death in the benighted tunnels of the Underdark. Morier smiled and tore open the package. "Parchment..," he said with a note of confusion. "Thank you..."

"It's for scribing scrolls, Morier," ap-Llewellyn explained. "It's one of the few lessons I taught you that actually stuck and I thought that if you had the proper supplies you might do it more often." Morier smiled and stood.

"Thank you , father," he said and embraced the man warmly. When he looked up, he saw Ixin standing nearby. She had slipped on her leather pants but still had the undertunic on.

"I can't go into town," she cursed and stretched her wings. "I can't go anywhere. Neither my shirt nor my leather armor fits anymore."

"Perhaps we could cut it," Morier suggested but his father shook his head.

"Don't be foolish. Must you always think of sharp objects first, Morier?" he moved over to an old trunk under a crowded bench and rummaged through it briefly. "Ah. Here we go. I took this off of a dark elven witch-priestess on one of my last adventures. It's got a fair bit of protective magic on it, but it's not quite my style."

He turned around and held up a chainmail bikini.

"That covers less than the undertunic!" Ixin exclaimed with a shake of her head.

"But'll it'll protect you better than that silly leather armor and leave your wings free," the wizard told her with a grin as he pressed the abbreviated garment into her hands. "Besides that's part of its charm."

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

He turned around and held up a chainmail bikini.

"That covers less than the undertunic!" Ixin exclaimed with a shake of her head.

"But'll it'll protect you better than that silly leather armor and leave your wings free," the wizard told her with a grin as he pressed the abbreviated garment into her hands. "Besides that's part of its charm."

heh, heh, heh. I was going to say something witty but.....

Nice update Jon. It's the "down times" that bring out the best in parties.

 

[Jon Potter]

heh, heh, heh. I was going to say something witty but.....

The chainmail bikini is based on an item from "Son of a Portable Hole Full of Beer". I toned it down considerably to make it a legitimate - if a bit embarassing - item.

Nice update Jon. It's the "down times" that bring out the best in parties.

Well if you've been reading along, you probably realize that these guys have essentially had no 'down time' for quite a while. They've been operating under the "advance/retreat to heal and regain spells/repeat" method of adventuring for some time. As a result, they've got some un-Identified magic, some un-examined clues, and lots of un-crafted items (scrolls and weapons) that they're itching to make.

You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get them to just sit and relax in town for a few days.