The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

So who did Ahlear replace? Ixin is my guess.

Actually, it was two for one... or would that be one for two? Anyway, he's the only new character (for a little while anyway). And he comes with a new player, to boot!

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #430a] The Road North

"I know that you don't intend on dying, Huzair, but neither did Ixin or Karak or Ledare or Feln," Morier argued, gesturing with the sheathed Waveblade to indicate the shortsword sheathed at the wizard's hip. "To ensure that they don't fall into the wrong hands, would you please leave the elemental weapon with us so that the four keys remain together?"

"How many blades do you really need, sword boy," Huzair quipped, his hand resting protectively on Flameblade's pommel."Your father was right about your fixation with long pointy things. I wonder what that could mean?" He smiled devilishly as color rose unnaturally to Morier's cheeks.

"Huzair, I understand that you are loathe to part with your weapon," Shamalin interceded. "But, I can assure you that the swords will be protected, at least from scrying, until your return." Huzair turned on the cleric, his teeth bared.

"Look!" he snapped. "I will use the damned sword if anyone casts a spell on me or attacks me. It provides great protection and not only for me, but for all of us in our group. So back off. You are not getting it!"

Morier sighed the long weary sigh of a man who finds himself facing the same argument again and again, and having his words each time fall upon deaf ears. He looked first at Huzair, then at Ayremac and Ahlear who were both readying their gear and sighed again.

"Before we divide this party for what I am telling you now will be the final time, I ask you three to once more consider what we're charged with doing," the albino said. "Ayremac, you speak of justice... but if you back away from it for a moment it echoes with the tenor of vengeance. Put aside your anger for just a moment and ask yourself, how often does an action taken to satisfy one man's vengeance benefit the greater good?" For a moment Ayremac's resolve seemed to waiver, but then he took a deep breath and squared off with the albino.

"Morier, your words are moving because they resonate your conviction," he said. "You are wrong about vengeance, but I understand why you would see it that way. I am truly concerned with justice, Morier. You know that about me. I want to complete this quest, help to conquer Aphyx and save our realm... but I cannot turn my back on justice to do it. Please do not ask me to do so." The eldritch warrior's face took on a biter expression as he looked away from the holy warrior to address the group as a whole.

"I know that not everyone here remembers every one of them, but Ledare, Vade, Feln, Lela, and now Ixin and Karak have given their lives so that we could stand here together, in possession of four elemental keys that might allow us to reunite the heart and body of one that can defeat Aphyx. Do you hear those words??? DEFEAT APHYX!" He paused in his speech to give his words time to sink in, but when he continued a moment later his voice had lost none of its passion. "The six of us that stand here... help trigger the events that DEFEAT APHYX!!! Can we afford to lose one of these keys while we chase those who have taken our friends from us unjustly?"

"Morier, together we are an unstoppable force. Cut us in half and we are only half as effective," Huzair said suddenly. "Seriously, stay back in battle, you cannot be killed. I get that. But we can take this Sir Alechtus out with a well planned attack if we work together. I can use my spells. We have missile weapons and may have suprise. We are fully loaded! Do not call me a coward either; call me smart."

"I'm not calling anyone a coward, Huzair. But I am asking whether we can afford to risk another of our group to kill one man. WE are the ones that remain. Those of us who carry these keys have not been taken. Whether that is coincidence or providence, I can't say," the eldritch warrior continued. "But I can ask that we not tempt the fates any more than necessary. If we go our separate ways, neither group of us stands a great chance of survival and who knows what hands the elemental keys fall to then?" He looked at the three who were intent on seeking Alechtus; Huzair and Ahlear seemed resolute, but Ayremac was pondering the ramifications of the decision and that gave the albino hope.

"Please... come with us," Morier pleaded one last time and the Officer of Umba looked up at him intently.

"I will make you this deal... give us three turns of the sun. If we cannot track and kill this madman in that time, I will follow you with out question to the completion of this quest." Pausing, allowing the words to settle he extended his hand to Morier. "Do we have a pact?"

Without hesitation, Morier grasped Ayremac's hand firmly, a light smile turning at the corners of his mouth as he countered, "Two days. And we take the trail immediately." Ayremac returned the grin and nodded.

"Agreed," he said and looked at the others. "Everyone else on board?"

"Whatever you like," Shamalin said, relieved that they'd reached an agreement.

"Lets get moving then," Ayremac suggested.

And they did.



"So, Sadlar, are you sure that your mouse can track a man on horseback?" Huzair asked as they moved north away from the keep. "I still think that Sparky could do it faster. Or fly boy here could-"

"Pardon me, Huzair, but where would your familiar or Ayremac look?" Ahlear countered. "Nibble can tell us where he went and then you can send fliers." Huzair snorted and went back to chewing on the spiced meat strip that Ahlear had offered around earlier.

"The creature's sense of smell is an asset here," Anania called back. "It is able to follow a trail which would be otherwise obscured by the snow."

"Nibble naa i'ro, ilnaa i'ta," Ahlear said in flawless elven and Anania looked back at him somewhat startled by his fluency. She nodded.

"Manka lle merna," she told him. "Detholalle." Then she went back to closely following the rat.

"I am sorry, not being too familiar with the ways of the elves," Ayremac began. "What is the name you prefer to be called? Sadlar? Ahlear Marhaun?"

"Being human in elven society does not change my attitude regarding either," the druid answered. "You may call me Ahlear. It is my first name and will suffice for all our communication. It's easier this way..."

"My name is Ayremac, I am a Holy Warrior of Umba from the town of Frothingham," the half-celestial offered with a smile. "I started this quest searching for the cause of a foul disease which wiped out half that town. But it has lead me to these people and this quest to try and restore the goddess Dridana, to fight the rising power of Aphyx."

"Interesting indeed," Ahlear relied with a thoughtful nod. He kept his eyes on Nibble as they walked, but clearly gave Ayremac the rest of his attention.

"We had been searching for the 'keys', which turned out to be these ancient, and powerful elemental weapons and not keys at all," the holy warrior went on and his hand dropped to his side where Windblade normally hung but which now held only his morningstar. He cast a longing glance at the saddle that Ahlear carried over one shoulder. "I carried Windblade, the sword of elemental air."

"It's safer in there," Shamalin assured him. "Even if Huzair won't give up his own blade, at least I can shield the other three from Divination."

"The blade sounds useful," the druid told him. "It is powered by air, and this is my favorite element. Use it well."

"Assuming he gets it back," Huzair laughed, his own hand holding snuggly to the sheathed grip of Flameblade. Morier reached out a hand and gave Huzair a reproachful shove.

"It was an amazing adventure to retrieve the swords," Ayremac continued, ignoring Huzair as best he could. "We journeyed into an infested cave of negative energy and dispicable evil, then fought in an alternate realm of wind, water, fire, and earth to conquer a mental, physical and spiritual challenge. We lost some of our numbers there, but the gods, in their infinate generosity and wisdom have always provided us with someone new." He clapped a hand on Ahlear's back when he said this and the man turned to regard him strangely.

"It seems you take these deaths as just something to be accepted. Strange," the druid said. "I do understand that nature takes its due, and so do gods. But still, it is not in my nature personally to be complacent about this topic." Ayremac looked as if he'd been slapped and he faltered momentarily in his walking pace before he regained his composure.

"Not so, Ahlear," he said. "If anything, I have a great appreciation for death, and the mark it leaves on the living. I was not always Ayremac, Holy Warrior of Umba, you know. But that former life... that is something I prefer to keep locked away. Maybe sometime over a nice pint, when the evils of this quest have been quelled, I will tell you of that man and his simple life." He looked meaningfully at Shamalin but did not catch her eye.

"All in your own time and due course," answered the druid. "It is not mine to tread where you don't wish to go. And neither, I would hope, vice versa. I will await till you feel ready to diverge into this topic again." Ahlear stopped and gestured ahead. "But for now it seems likely that our quarry stuck to this road. Nibble has not left this course in over ten minutes. Why don't you fly ahead and see what you can see?"

"Wish me luck," Ayremac said and launched himself into the sky. Ahlear shielded his eyes and watched enviously as the holy warrior soared effortlessly through the heavens.

"Dumb ass should have taken the Invisibility Ring," Huzair groused and kept walking.



It didn't take Ayremac long to spot the place where the man had briefly set up a camp before pressing on. He was no tracker, but it was clear to him that someone had recently paused along the roadside long enough to build a small fire. Its remains were clearly visible despite being cold and half-filled in with blowing snow.

"I found a campsite," he said into the Ring of Communication and waited for the others to catch up.



"He slept here," Anania announced, indicating a spot on the snow that to the untrained eye looked exactly like everyplace else nearby. She reached into a snow drift and lifted up a gnawed ham bone. "He enjoyed a meal as well."

"The horses were hobbled over here," Ahlear said, nudging some spoor with the toe of one boot. "Two horses, just like the man said."

"Great," Huzair said impatiently. "What does your rat say?" Ahlear issued some commands in elvish and watched as Nibble snuffled around for a moment and then headed off down the snow choked road once more.

"He says that Alechtus continued on this way," the druid announced.

"You should call him back," Anania told him. She'd begun at once to follow the rat, but now stopped staring northward with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun setting to her left. "Someone's coming."

"Where?" Morier asked, hustling up to stand nearby. "I don't see anything."

"Me either," Huzair agreed, but Ayremac shook his head.

"I do," he said peering off into the distance. "She's right. It's a horse and an enclosed wagon. I make out a single driver." Huzair looked at him skeptically.

"You can see all that?" he doubted and again Ayremac nodded.

"I was trained extensively to spot clues that criminals did not wish me to see," he said simply. Then smiling he added, "Having celestial blood doesn't hurt either."

"What is your order?" Anania asked, looking pointedly at Morier. She had an arrow notched in her bow.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #431] The Wagon

"Anania, stay your bow," Ahlear protested at once. "Why are you so aggressive?" She did not reply, favoring him with a single appraising glance before looking back to Morier. The albino nodded.

"Anania, stand down," he said, stepping forward, and Anania lowered her bow at once and released the tension on the string. "Ayremac, can you scout this situation quickly from above?" The holy warrior nodded.

"Huzair, give me that Invisibility Ring," the Officer of Umba said, holding out one gauntleted hand to the mage. Surmising the plan, Huzair pulled the ring from his finger and placed it in Ayremac's palm.

"The driver may fear an ambush by brigands, so I do not think he will just give in to a demand to search his wagon," Huzair added as he lifted the flap on his Valiant Vessel traveller's purse and reached inside. "Ayremac, I do have some Dust of Slumber. Perhaps if you dropped it on his horse, it would prevent a chase." Ayremac's eyes twinkled like twin emeralds in the late afternoon light.

"Great idea, Huzair," he said, grinning. "Give me the bag of slumber dust, too."

"You've got one of the Ring of Communication, right?" Morier asked and Ayremac waggled the finger of his other hand. "Good. Fly over there and tell me what you see." Ahlear laid a hand on the albino's arm and spoke directly to him then.

"This man in the wagon might not appreciate the notched arrows and angels flying out; it will make him not amicable towards asking for information, specially if our dear target has already scared him before us," he asserted. "We need to be more subtle in our approach of him."

"Ahlear, maybe after a few of your friends have died in the blink of an eye you will see that subtley is better suited for politicians or horny school boys," Ayremac said as he stripped off his gauntlet and slipped on the Ring of Invisibility. Ahlear turned then, regarding him with a confused expression.

"In your eyes your paranoia may be justified, Ayremac, but in other people's eyes it comes across as unneeded aggressiveness... and will provoke that which you seek to avoid, in my opinion, namely unneeded conflict," the druid argued. He turned to Morier and added, "And if you let Anania go on with an arrow pointed like that, and have Ayremac dive in invisible with sleeping powder on the man's horses, what is he to think about us?" Morier looked at the man but said nothing.

"Anania... Huzair... stay ready," Ayremac said as he took the tiny packet of fairie dust from Huzair. He spread his wings in anticipation of flight. "Things could turn at any minute."

"I can cast Magic Missile at a moment's notice," the mage assured him. "Just give the word."

Anania caught the holy warrior's eye and nodded her readiness. Ahlear shook his head in disbelief.

"I will have no part in this blatant and arrogant show of force," the druid said, stepping a half-dozen paces away from the group as Ayremac activated the Ring and vanished. Ahlear crossed his arms in a defensive posture, keeping his hands far from his weapons. He made a clicking noise with his tongue and Nibble waddled over to nuzzle his ankle.

"Everyone who can help to assess the situation before we find it on top of us should do so," Morier said. "The guy is probably just spooked, but let's see what he can tell us."

"Let us spread out so a spell attack can not affect us all," Huzair advised as he looked off in the direction of the approaching wagon which was now close enough for them all to see. Most everyone took his counsel, spreading out from one another, wary of what Ixin had referred to on more than one occasion as 'fireball formation'.

Ahlear looked bewildered at the others, and let them go on with their little world. He thought that safety in numbers was agreeable, but grumbled to himself. First they set a timetable which to his mind was far too presumptuous to make, especially with such dangers abroad. This situation was not such a danger, however. He presumed the man was driving so hard because he had an encounter with their culprit. And knowing their quarry babbled insane, Ahlear imagined, would not make anybody more comfortable with the villain's presence.



The wagon, Ayremac saw from above, wasn't all that large, but it was large enough to serve one man as home for a long while if he needed and was a clever packer. It was of the sort that the holy warrior had seen halflings and gnomes occasionally use for travel, having a wooden roof and small smoked glass windows set to allow light to enter. A metal chimney jutted from the rear corner of the wagon. The whole was, unlike halfling wagons, unpainted and unremarkable in most every way.

The man sitting in the narrow driver's seat was not, however. He was dressed in somber blacks and dark grays with a wide-brimmed hat shading his features. He was long-of-limb, Ayremac could see and thin beneath his voluminous wraps, but the holy warrior could discern little else before he man, seeing the assemblage in the road ahead, pulled mightily on the reins and forced the wagon to a stop.

"What deviltry is this?" the keen-eared Ayremac heard the man hiss in common. His hand slipped beneath his seat and pulled forth a staff of elaborate design and craftsmanship. Capped with a loop of what looked like polished brass, the staff fairly screamed "Magic!" as the man raised it.

"Stop!!" the holy warrior commanded from above and the man jerked in surprise, craning his eyes and the staff upward.

"Who's there?" the driver called menacingly and Ayremac could see a fierce energy in the man's features. He was middle-aged by human reckoning, but worn in such a way that the holy warrior did not doubt for an instant that there was still steel in the man. His face was gaunt and angular, with a pointed nose and a silver goatee that contrived to make his features seem longer still. There was white hair beneath that wide hat, that hung wild and unkempt about his face. A pair of spectacles were perched as if by magic on the hook of his long nose, and Ayremac thought that it might well be magic when the man raised the staff.

"Sir, I am not here to cause you harm," Ayremac said, shifting his position so that the man would not unexpectedly blast him. But instead of pointing the staff, the driver raised the brass loop to his eye and peered through it.

"Easy enough to say that when you're invisible, sir," the man spat back and began scanning the sky. "Are you in league with those folk ahead?"

"I am," Ayremac admitted. "And I must know why you are in such a hurry." The man snorted and continued searching the air above the wagon.

"What business is it of yours? This is a free road and I've paid my taxes," he said and suddenly shifted so that he peered through the loop directly at the spot where Ayremac hovered, invisible. The man's face suddenly split into a grin. "Ah, there you are! And using a spell to make yourself Invisible, I see." Ayremac hesitated, but then removed the Ring and dropped the fifteen feet to the ground nearby.

"I am Ayremac," the holy warrior told the driver. He proudly displayed the symbol of Umba worked into his breastplate. "I am a holy warrior in the service of Umba." The man lowered his staff and tugged thoughtfully at his goatee.

"An Officer of Umba, eh?" he grinned. "Well, perhaps we can be of some use to each other. My name is Doctor Julius Akerman and I'm pursuing a man who has cheated his way out of Umba's rightful judgment."

"Really?" Ayremac asked, intrigued.

"Indeed," Doctor Akerman said, placing his staff on the seat beside him. He leaned forward over the reins fixing Ayremac with an intense gaze. "Do you know of a man calling himself, Alechtus of Gudiberg?"

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

"I will have no part in this blatant and arrogant show of force," the druid said, stepping a half-dozen paces away from the group as Ayremac activated the Ring and vanished. Ahlear crossed his arms in a defensive posture, keeping his hands far from his weapons. He made a clicking noise with his tongue and Nibble waddled over to nuzzle his ankle.

So, safe to say he's not a card carrying member of "Shoot first, reincarnate later Druidic order"?

 

[Jon Potter]

So, safe to say he's not a card carrying member of "Shoot first, reincarnate later Druidic order"?

Uhh... no. He's pretty far removed from that most savage of orders. He definitely brings a different voice to the group as you'll see in the upcoming posts.

 

[Burningspear]

Uhh... no. He's pretty far removed from that most savage of orders. He definitely brings a different voice to the group as you'll see in the upcoming posts.

LoL

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #431a] Memento Mori

Ayremac smiled at Doctor Akerman and held up a finger. "Sir, please excuse me for a moment," he said and raised the Ring of Communication to his lips. Into the Ring he said, "Morier, come on up. I think we have stumbled onto a bit of luck for once." Akerman looked at the distant group and arched an eyebrow at Ayremac as the holy warrior lowered his hand.

"So you know of Alechtus of Gudiberg, do you?" he asked, removing his hat to fuss momentarily over its rumpled brim. Ayremac saw that the top of the man's head was bald and tattooed with geometric patterns.

"Dr. Akerman, we are tracking this man right now," the Officer of Umba answered. "He has just left a keep near here and has laid waste to it and, we believe, killed at least one if not two of our own." Akerman looked up, concerned.

"But you're coming from the south," he said and Ayremac nodded which prompted Akerman to hurl down his reins and clap the hat back on his head. "The bastard's doubled back on his own trail again! That's how he lost me outside Flavonshire." Ayremac had heard of Flavonshire from Morier and Karak and knew that it was over a moonsdance of hard travel away, north of the Altan Tepes.

"You've been after him for a long time then," he observed and Akerman nodded, but he seemed distracted now as if he were only half listening. "Why are you tracking Alechtus? And how do you know he has eluded Umba's judgement?"

"He has something I want and I am a wizard of no small skill," the man answered with a wave of his hand. "I have resources to draw upon that you would not understand."

"Try me!" Huzair remarked as he and the rest of the group approached.

"Dr. Akerman, please allow me a moment to introduce this party," Ayremac said. He indicated each member in turn, starting with the druid who stood off to the side with his arms crossed. "This man is Ahlear, he is new to our company as of this morning; this is Huzair and Morier and Shamalin, whom I have traveled with for some time. This less vocal member is Anania." Akerman looked appraisingly at each of them, as Ayremac made introductions. When it was done, Ahlear spoke up, his tone carefully neutral.

"Saying, I told you so would be appropriate, Ayremac, but I will not," the druid said. "I will, however, tell you that next time please try a less aggressive stance with anything neutrally unknown. It might actually do more good than you would expect."

"Ahlear, Ayremac's caution is-" Morier began but Ahlear cut him off.

"I intended my comment as a direct response to you, too," he said simply before slipping into elvish to direct a few words at Anania. "Elellalle seler'di'thang vithel." She regarded him with a rare expression of emotion for a moment and then turned away, her lips set in a tight line.

"My sweet flower is nobody's 'lackey'! Huzair protested. "Least of all Morier's!" Ahlear snorted at the mage's words and directed his attention to Doctor Akerman.

"How is it that you come opposite the trail we have been following Alechtus on and have not met him on his way towards us?" he asked. "It seems very unlikely"

"What are you insinuating, goodman?" Akerman countered. He shifted his weight, his hand drifting toward the staff on the seat beside him.

"I'm insinuating nothing," Ahlear replied. "Perhaps if you could please explain how you could miss the quarry you seem to know is around here, yet not intercept him when that same quarry should have been right between you and us."

"Ah... I see," Akerman said, drawing himself up to his full height so that he could glower down his pointy nose at Ahlear. "So I am either incompetent or a liar. Is that it?"

Ayremac intervened quickly, flexing his wings to break line of sight between the two men.

"I am sure that's not what he meant," the holy warrior said, stepping forward to ply the diplomatic skills honed a lifetime ago when he'd been a yeoman to Duke Brelton. "I am curious though, sir. Our tracking has led us directly to you, so I must think that Alechtus has either passed right by or possibly been hidden from you somehow... which seems a difficult task given how easily you discovered me."

"As I told you, he's undoubtedly doubled back on his trail, probably back in Colybury," he said, cocking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction he'd come. "Alechtus has been pursued by some of the most determined hunters in the Realms. He's a wily devil."

"So if you do not know where Alechtus is why were you driving so fast?" Huzair countered and Akerman scowled.

"Because, as I said, I did know where he was," the Doctor snapped. "I was following his divine energy trail from Colybury, but he doubled back-"

"Divine energy trail?" Morier interrupted. "Alechtus is a divine caster? We had not heard that." Doctor Akerman's expression grew guarded at that question and he shook his head.

"I did not say that," he muttered and his hand stole again to the staff on the seat beside him.

At the rear of the party and off to the side, Shamalin warily continued to concentrate on her Detect Thoughts spell. She'd already determined that Akerman was inhumanly smart, possessed perhaps of the single greatest intellect she had ever encountered. But, as she tried to probe deeper and actually read his surface thoughts, she felt that intellect form itself into a bulwark against her, repelling her voyeuristic attempts and dissipating her spell at the same time.

"Who is casting against me?" Akerman roared, springing at once to his feet, his staff held in one hand and the other clutching at something in the folds of his clothes. Magical energy began to gather spectacularly in the air around him.

Shamalin stepped meekly forward, her hands held in a position of peace. "Forgive me, sir, for I meant no insult," she said and Akerman brought the brass loop on his staff to his eye, peering through it at her. "We have been beset by enemies often of late and I was only seeking to divine your intentions."

After a moment, the magic energy dissipated and Akerman lowered the staff snorting, "There are other ways to determine such, priestess. Less uncivilized ways." He pursed his lips and nodded before lowering himself back to his seat. "What knowledge do you seek?"

"What kind of Doctor are you?" Ayremac asked first and this made Akerman smirk.

"I received a Doctorate of Arcane Studies from Mageholme in Barnacus," he said. "It is an honorary title, but one I earned by virtue of my training as a Loremaster."

"Does Sir Alectus know you are after him?" Huzair asked next and Akerman shrugged.

"I doubt it. We crossed paths but briefly," he told them. "I was studying some rare texts at the Redhurst Academy at the same time he passed through Battle City. He is used to pursuit, however. The Sanctifiers have been seeking him with a fervor I have not seen before. And he, in his turn, has been hunting them."

"If an entire sect of holy warriors haven't been able to stop him, how do you hope to take on this Alechtus of Gudiberg alone?" Shamalin asked and Akerman looked at her with a merry twinkle in his eye.

"Why from a distance, of course," he said. "The Sanctifiers have all made the same mistake: they've tried to get close enough to use the Rite of Ending on him so that he cannot return from the dead again!"

"Again?" Morier asked. "He's undead?" The Doctor shook his head.

"Not in the truest sense, but the Sanctifiers see any magic that returns a departed soul to Oerune to be necromancy," he explained. "To them he is no better than undead."

"So he's returned from death," Ayremac stated and Akerman nodded. "How do you know he has eluded Umba's judgement?"

"Yes," Huzair suggested. "Perhaps you should tell us all you can about this man." Akerman considered this, tugging on his goatee as he ruminated.

"Perhaps you're right," he began. "Have any of you heard of an organization called Momento Mori? No? Well, I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Outside the Walk of a Hundred Days, there's precious few of us who devote any attention to the study of dead gods."



Sir Alechtus of Gudiberg was once a good man, a Sanctifier of some fame in the areas around Gessex, Restenford and Battle City. He'd defeated undead of every stripe and personally put to the sword a cabal of druids who were selling Reincarnation magic to noble families in Farmin. He then journeyed to the Freeport of Farmin to find and cleanse those aristocrats who had defied Calaam.

It was while in Freeport that Alechtus ran afoul of a group devoted to the trickster aspect Lukane. He stumbled quite unwittingly upon their plot to create something called a Faith Golem and handily disrupted the attempt, earning himself more glory and the undying ire of a halfling named Harcourt. Irritating these vindictive followers of a trickster god proved to be Alechtus' undoing.

While on the way back to Restenford, Harcourt and his band ambushed Alechtus, slew the man and smuggled his body into Battle City. There they Raised him from the Dead - a fate far worse than dying to one who worships Calaam. The process apparently drove Alechtus mad, for he never behaved the same again.

He spent some time wandering Battle City shunning friends and clashing with his former brothers-in-arms, the Sanctifiers of Calaam. After that, he cut a bloody swath eastwards to Barnacus. At this time, the capital city was suffering from plague, and it is unknown what Alechtus did within or what drove him there in the first place. But when he reappeared less than a week later in Strenchburg Junction, he had with him the samsara sword that he now carries at all times.

There were some deaths in Strenchburg Junction attributed to Alechtus, and then he vanished, resurfacing in Battle City where he crossed paths with Akerman for the first time. Akerman has often wondered if some divine hand was not guiding his own that day as he brought the staff of blood to his eye and looked upon Alechtus. For if he had not, he might never have realized the truth: the man housed within him the Divine Spark of a dead deity, the goddess of freedom, Rhianne, who was slain centuries ago by Cretia, the Blood God of Hule.

With his staff it was a simple matter for Akerman to see the power that Alechtus housed, and with another object in his possession, a Divinity Collector, it would be just as simple to harvest the spark once Alechtus was dead.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

"How is it that you come opposite the trail we have been following Alechtus on and have not met him on his way towards us?" he asked. "It seems very unlikely"

"I'm insinuating nothing," Ahlear replied. "Perhaps if you could please explain how you could miss the quarry you seem to know is around here, yet not intercept him when that same quarry should have been right between you and us."

So he's paranoid? Which is actually how all of the True Neutral PCs I've ever had in my campaings work it.

"I doubt it. We crossed paths but briefly," he told them. "I was studying some rare texts at the Redhurst Academy at the same time he passed through Battle City. He is used to pursuit, however. The Sanctifiers have been seeking him with a fervor I have not seen before. And he, in his turn, has been hunting them."

Redhurst.... mmm... hopefully we'll get to know more of this as the campaign progresses, that's an awesome book.

While on the way back to Restenford, Harcourt and his band ambushed Alechtus, slew the man and smuggled his body into Battle City. There they Raised him from the Dead - a fate far worse than dying to one who worships Calaam. The process apparently drove Alechtus mad, for he never behaved the same again.

Kept demanding brains for dinner, smelled of rotten flesh and liked it, apparently became a dermatologist by commenting on my complextion and saying how he had a permanent fix for it, Stopped dating that cute girl and started hanging out in cemetaries looking for his perfect woman, nasty habit of burying holy symbols about his person that requuired a team of physicians to extract.

With his staff it was a simple matter for Akerman to see the power that Alechtus housed, and with another object in his possession, a Divinity Collector, it would be just as simple to harvest the spark once Alechtus was dead.

So after trapping him in the streams of ions, Dr. Akerman would step on the switch for the divinity collector and a bright line would erupt from underneath Alechtus and suck his soul into the collection device? Cool, I hope his got a proper permit for that, you know how bureaucracies love to interfere and shut things down.

 

[Burningspear]

So he's paranoid? Which is actually how all of the True Neutral PCs I've ever had in my campaings work it.

Not paranoid if u think the druid dude is such, but its your impression, fair due ,

Now i am more and more annoyed, but i cant spill the beans yet...read on i should say

and enjoy

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #432] Clearing the Air

Ahlear was the first to speak when the Doctor had concluded the tale of Sir Alechtus. "Does it have to be the same person who gets 'returned' into the body in order to live?" he asked the Doctor before looking around at the others to explain. "As he says, Alechtus did not treat friends and allies the way he used to do... I wonder, might there be someone else in the body of the former Alechtus?"

"If there is such magic, I am not privy to it," Doctor Akerman admitted. "Perhaps druidic magic, but as I said, there was no love between Alechtus and the Druids of Shrouded Lake. I can see no benefit for them to return life to a man who had slain the higher-ranking members of their order." Ahlear snorted at that.

"Who decides what is a rightly use of revivification magic and not?" he asked. "Who deems he has the right to do such, when no mortal can rightly judge another so simply?"

Morier suddenly found he could take no more and he whirled on the druid, his face livid with frustration and anger.

"Ahlear, enough!" he roared. "I have listened to your opinionated crap for too long today without speaking, and I cannot and will not hold my tongue any longer!" Ahlear blinked at that and looked neutrally into the albino's eyes.

"I am surprised that you let a stranger make accusations on my words and when I neutrally defend myself and my brother druids, you bark at that?" he scoffed, genuinely confused by Morier's outburst.

"Listen to me now, friend, and listen well. Some day very, very soon, you will be in a position where you will need to call on one or two, perhaps all of the people who stand before you, to save your life. It has been true of every one of us on many occasions," Morier went on, indicating the other members of the Order with a sweep of one arm. "The problem is, right now I cannot think of the slightest reason whatsoever to put myself in harm's way to save a hair on your mouthy, obnoxious, opinionated ass. In the very short time that you have been here, you have managed to alienate every single soul you will need to ensure your survival in the coming days. In truth, I think many of us have very quickly come to the conclusion that we would welcome the opportunity to see you devoured, in whole or in pieces, by something, simply to shut you up."

"Probably yes, but the way your group has been handling the interaction has not been what I would call exemplary. You insult each other and more without any cause and it wonders me why my simple statements of fact make you so annoyed," Ahlear observed, cocking his head, quizzically. "I am surprised, and I think you should all change your attitudes, not just to me, but also within your group and to outsiders. To me it seems the stress of being in this group has not done you any good. I knew a less easily agitated Morier when you were still living in the village." Morier's teeth clenched and sucked in a breath to master his emotions.

"You arrived here a mere minutes ago upon the premise of joining this party and already you presume to know far too much about us and about how we need to conduct ourselves," the eldritch warrior told him, his carefully controlled voice raising once more to a shout as he continued. "You know nothing! You have not experienced our loss! You have not seen the things we see every day! Until you have walked with us long enough to gain your bearings on what we are doing and how we do it, stand back, shut your mouth, and try not to piss everyone around you off!" Ahlear raised his hands in a gesture of concession and took a step backward.

"As you wish," he said. "I will stand back and watch your group insult itself and strangers. I will not lift a hand then, either to help out when you would need support in communications or knowledge... until you ask for it and you apologize for this needless outburst."

"Apologize?! I am ashamed to admit to these people that I know you Ahlear, and Malcolm should be ashamed to have sent you here with so little social grace," Morier pressed. "You can take my advice or not, but I assure you now that I haven't any intention of lifting a sword to protect you in any way unless you take a far different approach to the way you treat every one of these individuals you will rely on to keep you alive. And you're sure as hells not getting an apology!"

"I have treated the others no different then your group has treated itself," Ahlear said. "I am sad to see you take offense so easily at what I see merely as neutral observations, not designed at all to insult or denigrate any person." The druid then bowed with a blank face, and slowly walked away from the party commanding Nibble to join him. He dropped his saddle onto the frozen ground and sat down on it, gazing off into the gathering gloom of night.

"Gees, I thought you only felt that way about me," Huzair said to Morier, holding back laughter as the albino glowered at him.

"Doctor, I apologize for this... As I said we have just met this man this morning," Ayremac intervened, smiling brightly. "I would really like to work with you and bring down this Alechtus. But I have only a day to do it. Would you be ready to move forward with us right now and try to take him down?" Doctor Akerman's eyebrows raised in surprise and he looked off to the west where Orin's Shield was settling into Da'har Su'revar's grip where it would remain until morning.

"The hour is late," he said and then cast his eyes on Ahlear who was chewing on a strip of spiced meat. "And you seem to have problems of your own to deal with."

"Come on, Doc," Huzair smiled, spreading his arms in a gracious gesture. "How can we work together to get this guy?"

"I care little for Alechtus, the man," Akerman corrected. "Whatever madness drives him is no concern of mine. I am sorry for your loss at his hands, but that sorrow is not enough to compel me into mindless confrontation with a known murderer. However, he has absorbed a Divinity Spark and it is only extractable upon his death, so I must seek him."

"So it is the Spark that you are looking to retrieve from Alechtus?" Shamalin asked. and Doctor Akerman nodded.

"Indeed," he confirmed. "I am not a bloodthirsty man by nature, but I will do what must be done to secure the Spark. If I am not there directly at the time of his death, the Spark will be bound to his spirit and go on to the afterlife with him, lost to me forever. I can't allow that!"

"What do you plan to do with it once you 'harvest' it?" the Mercybringer asked and Akerman's face lit up.

"Why study it, of course," he said. "Divinity Sparks represent power unlike anything that we mortals can muster. The secrets of life and death are held within them. They can be used to create magical objects, power certain spells, and increase a person's abilities to superhuman levels."

"Like Alechtus' strength," Morier observed and Akerman nodded.

"Exactly like that," he said. "It is the Divinity Spark that grants him it."

"Dr. Akerman, you seem to have knowledge of things that could be extremely beneficial, but I fear to share with you all that we have learned," Ayremac said and the Doctor pursed his lips disapprovingly.

"So you are of the same mind as your new friend over there?" he asked, gesturing at Ahlear. "I am an incompetent liar?"

"Do you have a suggestion on how we might be able to trust you, and in turn, you trust us... enough for us to pool our information?" Ayreamc asked and this time the Doctor barked laughter.

"What, holy warrior? All that I have shared thus far is not enough?" he chuckled, and waved Ayremac out of his path. "Let me move this thing to the side of the road and we'll talk more over some supper."

Akerman maneuvered the wagon to the shoulder and hopped down from the driver's seat with his staff in hand. He produced a bronze amulet from beneath his cloak and spoke a word of magic that caused his horse to first glow and then shimmer into golden light that promptly leapt into the amulet. Nodding to himself, the Doctor patted his jerkin pocket, producing a gold key on a long chain with which he headed toward the back of the wagon. He eschewed the obvious side doors in favor of a barely-visible panel in the rear. Into this he placed the key, turned it and opened the unassuming door. Golden light spilled out of the doorway, bathing Doctor Akerman with its radiance.

"Well, come on," he said, gesturing for the others to join him as he stepped into the open door. "I'm not going to eat my dinner sitting on a cold rock!" And then he was gone.

Ayremac went around to the rear of the wagon and gasped. The doorway looked in on the tiled courtyard of a palatial estate. Three fountains of varying sizes were arrayed in the center of the space with two story walls on all sides. Various doors and windows faced the courtyard, but there was no other living things visible apart from Doctor Akerman who was stooped over drinking water from the nearest fountain. There was no sky above, but the ceiling of the place was lit with a uniform glow that approximated sunlight. Heat came out to Ayremac in waves.

"Well, come on if you're coming," Doctor Akerman said, turning. "And have the last one in close the door behind them. There's a draft in here."