The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #361a] Riddles and Scrolls

"I'm certain that the most obvious answer isn't the right choice in this, Huzair," Morier implored yet again. They had camped out in the room to consider the stone guardian's riddle and had debated possible solutions for what seemed like hours.

"It's five for 'healer' and one against," Shamalin reminded the mage, failing to keep the exasperation from her voice.

"Should we hear it again?" Ayremac suggested, looking meaningfully at Lela. For what seemed like the hundredth time, the sprite recited the riddle [1] out loud.

"On the Feast-day of Brogine Four men sat on the slopes of a hill under the sun.
Said the Carpenter: "Woe is me, for though my family is healthy, I have a splinter under my flesh."
Said the Clothier: "Woe is me, for though I am rich, I have a needle-stick 'pon my finger."
Said the Farmer: "Woe is me, for though my fields are abundant, the calluses on my palms ache so."
Said the Leper: "Joy, joy is me! For though my body succumbs to the plague and my death
draws surely near, I have neither splinter nor needle-stick nor calluses!"

Who, then, was the happiest man?"​

​

"I don't care what you all say, the leper is the only answer that makes sense!" Huzair insisted, thrusting his chin in a truculent angle. Ayremac sighed and turned to address the face.

"Do we have to have consensus?" He demanded, sounding a little like an overtired child.

The face, which seemed to have fallen asleep during the argument opened its eyes and responded solemnly, "You must all agree on the answer."

Karak grunted and elbowed Ayremac. When he had the holy warrior's attention he leaned in and muttered, "Perhaps Rake will make this easy on us and kill him." Ayremac looked shocked, but both Lela and Morier grinned at the dwarf's jest.

Huzair rolled his eyes and toyed with the tiny flame that flickered atop his out-stretched finger. "I heard many times from Garan-Zak that it is often the most obvious choice which is overlooked," he grumbled. "You're all over-thinking."



No amount of coaxing would change his mind, and finally the decision was made to forgo any answer, and rest for the night before backtracking in order to re-examine the scroll room before facing the challenge of Rake.

DAY THREE​

​

Shamalin cast her miracle and concentrated on the scrolls that Karak and the others handed to her. The strange parchment was coarse and somewhat brittle. She handled it carefully, suppressing a shiver. What had been totally indecipherable to her before was easily legible now, and she whispered a silent prayer of thanks for that ability. The first scroll was a strange collection of names and dates and numbers. She shivered as she realized that it was a long list of individuals along with what were presumably dates of their capture. All names were elven, and Shamalin's gaze swept over the lengthy list thinking of the nameless elven woman dead in the upstairs room.

"Why elves?" she wondered out loud and Ayremac shrugged.

"You saw the wilderness we came through to get here," he said as he handed her another scroll. "This far into Spiney Wood there's few but elves to be found. There are some human barbarian tribes to the east, but the nearest settled land is days away." Shamalin nodded her understanding and accepted the scroll.

She unfurled it and saw that it was a kind of journal entry by someone named Mendel, detailing a failed attempt to apply spell-stitching to a living subject. Shamalin made no connections to events as she knew them, but Huzair's eyes lit up.

"You can't spell-stich a body while they're alive," the mage told her, peering over her shoulder as if he'd suddenly be able to read the harsh lettering. "That's a necromantic thing; you use it on undead. I'm pretty sure it would kill a living creature."

"I'm quite certain that's of little concern to a necromancer," Ayremac hissed through clenched teeth.

"The name Mendel is familiar to me," Morier said hesitantly. He massaged his jaw thoughtfully. "Ledare mentioned meeting a fat man named Mendel in Riverneck."

"Aye," Karak nodded. "I remember her tellin' us 'bout him. They shared a tender moment, if I recall the tale proper."

"I believe there was a Charm spell involved, but you remember correctly," the albino said. "Riverneck is pretty far removed from here for it to be the same man. But if it is, then I'd say he was likely the naked wizard we killed when we first arrived here."

"A fitting end for such a butcher," Ayremac replied and selected another scroll for Shamalin.

Her eyes were beginning to blur as she studied the third scroll, and she knew in her heart that it would be her last. This one was written in the same hand as the first and specifically mentioned another group of Aphyx's followers on the shores of the Frozen Sea to the south who were attempting to release from his prison the former High King of Erlacor, Zagaroth the Despoiler. Apparently the group had sought the scriber's help in freeing the Rot Queen's son from his bondage, but he had refused - calling them fools. Suddenly Shamalin's blood ran cold and she nearly dropped the scroll. She was beginning to lose her ability to decipher the language, but something had sounded strangely familiar. Frantically she skimmed the rest of it, searching for some mention of names and events she knew all too well. But if that part of history had been documented, Flor was shielding her from it. She released the scroll and it closed of its own accord.

"That is as much as I can do," she announced, wearily.


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


[1] Readers of the EN World boards may recognize both this riddle and some of the Tests of Character to follow. They were discussed in threads on these very boards, but that was before the database failure earlier this year, so I no longer know who to credit. If you know, please do mention it in this thread so that the proper author(s) can be credited.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

"I believe there was a Charm spell involved, but you remember correctly," the albino said. "Riverneck is pretty far removed from here for it to be the same man. But if it is, then I'd say he was likely the naked wizard we killed when we first arrived here."

"A fitting end for such a butcher," Ayremac replied and selected another scroll for Shamalin.

It's never that easy.



BTW are/were you letting the party rest up inside, or our you forcing them to retreat back outside?

 

[Jon Potter]

BTW are/were you letting the party rest up inside, or our you forcing them to retreat back outside?

Well, you might remember that they entered the place through a one-way teleporter in the back of a remote cave. Retreating outside is not an option.

Plus, the place is virtually empty - so long as nobody's blinking that is. They killed the only human early on and he was the only guy who moved around a lot.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #362] Rake

The Order had learned precious little relevant information about their foe. The murdered elf girl had told them that Rake was 'strong in both limb and magic'. Grandfather Plaque had confirmed that he was a spellcaster of the divine variety. Both sources of information warned them not to underestimate Rake's evil. "Don't let him take you alive," the elf maid warned. "Don't let him cast spells," suggested the stone face.

They determined to use this advice to their best advantage.



Rake's hold, the stone guardian told them was located at the end of a twisting hallway that turned out to be a horror in and of itself. The same sanguine torches provided illumination, casting in disturbing shadows the numerous humanoid corpses impaled on black iron spikes along the walls. As they neared the location of the Mendicant's lair, even the floor was clad in iron. Huzair stopped them there and turned to Karak.

"May I please have my spear back... or are you all going to ban me from having all weapons?" the mage asked, indicating the shortspear the dwarf had lashed to his back. The banner of Ibrahil depended from it, hanging down across Karak's back.

"Ye do nae use weapons, wizard!" the dwarf grumbled. He clutched protectively at the banner. "Ye'd likely poke yerself in the eye."

"I do need something if my spells run out," Huzair said flatly. The Mark of Fire he'd placed on his forehead seemed to burn in the ruddy light.

"If your spells run out I think we'll be in real trouble," Lela chirped.

"Aye! An' this banner be magic!" the dwarf pressed. "It's power might mean th' difference 'tween victory an' defeat!"

"We don't even know what the stupid thing does!" Huzair countered, prompting Ayremac to step into the debate.

"If we stick to our attack plan, we won't need the magic of your flag, Karak," the holy warrior said. "Huzair was kind enough to lend you his spear for use as a flagpole, but the banner didn't aid us when we fought those foul undead husks. The spear is his by right." Karak stared at Ayremac for a long moment then he harrumphed and began untying the spear.

"Now let's move," Morier hissed impatiently. "Our enemy can't be far now!"



Rake sat on his massive throne, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he listened to Rezsaamar's whispers*. It told him things, mysteries unheard of on the Prime. He was doing the Queen's work and he would be rewarded when she returned to ascendence. Rake grinned darkly, lost in his reverie and anticipating the dark blood-letting that would follow in Aphyx's footsteps.



Karak heaved against the massive portal, once again pricking himself on the spiky metal. He grunted in pain, making absolutely no sound within the radius of Shamalin's Silence spell. They saw the massive figure slouching in an equally massive chair some 60 feet away at the top of a set of stairs that elevated the throne some ten feet above the level of the floor. Braziers full of fire set along the far wall illuminated the chamber and the monstrous horror that as Rake. He was humanoid, they could see, but he was unlike any humanoid they'd ever seen. His vacant face was largely orcish with a toothsome snout and heavy brow ridge. The eyes that stared out of that face, burned with an unholy light that no natural orc had even possessed. Its clothing consisted of robes of leather and untanned, pinkish hides and he appeared to have actually sewn onto himself other bits and pieces of flesh creating a grisly patchwork of skin tones. The rough seams visibly oozed puss.

The stench in the chamber was unwholesome.

At once, The Order sprang into action.

Lela darted forward first, carrying the coin upon which Shamalin had cast her spell. Before the figure on the throne could even react, she moved near him and dropped the coin, blanketing him in complete Silence.

Huzair stepped forward and invoked Pyrotechnics, causing one of the braziers against the far wall to belch forth great gouts of churning black smoke. In the space of a few heartbeats Rake and the entire dais upon which his throne was raised had disappeared within a billowing cloud.

Morier and Ayremac both moved forward to the edge of the cloud and the Silence effect. The eldritch warrior boosted himself with a Bull's Strength even as Ayremac invoked his Shield of Righteousness. They waited with weapons ready for Rake to appear (hopefully gagging uncontrollably) from within the smoke cloud.

Karak, however, had another tactic in mind. He stamped up the stairs, his heavy boots going suddenly silent as he entered the cloud.

Lela hovered near Shamalin, protecting her tiny form with Barkskin while the cleric called on Flor to let her Detect Thoughts. The half-elf concentrated on the smoke cloud, picking up only the mental signature of Karak angrily thinking, "Where be tha' great bastard?"

"He's not in there," she announced, wishing that there were some what she could tell Karak that he was wasting his time scouring the smoke cloud.

"Perhaps he's gone invisible," Huzair's disembodied voice suggested from somewhere nearby.

"Spread out!" Morier barked, swinging Ravager through the air in a wide arc. Huzair had Blurred the albino and his form looked smeared somehow as a result, as if some god had taken his thumb and purposely obscured his outline. "Look for any sign of an invisible creature!"

Shamalin positioned herself near the door to watch as the others fanned out across the room in their search. The air was thick with a heavy silence that did not seem to emanate solely from her spell. Tensely, she shifted her weight back and forth, the creak and clank of her armor sounding particularly loud in the hushed chamber. Movement in the hallway they'd entered by caught her eye and she had to blink a few times to be sure that her own imagination was not toying with her. Within mere heartbeats, wisps of fog from the low corners of the hall began to swirl and mass into the solid form of the Mendicant. Up close she saw it was huge - easily twice her own height. Numbly, she tried to think of some warning, but as the thing's gaze locked with hers she could do little more than utter a strangled cry. Before she could move, Huzair's Flaming Sphere ignited the space between them, startling her enough that she took a shaking step back out of Rake's reach.

Ayremac heard the woman's cry of alarm and he rushed over to the doors and the creature beyond. His morningstar glowed brightly as he charged the noisome creature, but he was two late to prevent its spellcasting.

It gestured and a clashing wall of red and black energy sprang up at Ayremac's back, isolating him in the corridor with the giant orc.

"He's casting spells!" Morier observed as he charged forward. Lela took off in the opposite direction.

"I'll get the coin!" she offered, heading toward the dissipating smoke cloud. She didn't see Morier rebound off the barrier that Rake had erected across the doorway.

Shamalin stepped up and tried thrusting her hand through the wall of magical power, but something that pulled at her soul rather than her flesh prevented her from passing. She grimaced and drew back from the Wall of Evil as something thundered up behind her. Turning, she saw Karak charging forward, axe at the ready and teeth bared. He came on, a deep guttural battle roar coming from his throat; he too slammed into the barrier and fell back, unable to pass it.

"This is a b*tch!" Huzair said, rolling his Flaming Sphere onto Rake's feet, hoping to disrupt any further spellcasting he might do. If it had any effect on the mendicant, he didn't let it show as he reached out and touched Ayreamc lightly on the arm. The holy warrior shrieked involuntarily as he felt a wave of Poison move magically through his body at that touch. His very lifeforce seemed to ebb in the wake of the spell and he staggered back.

"What's the matter, Holy Warrior?" Rake grinned evilly down at Ayremac. "You're looking a little pale."

Ayremac's response was to raise his shield in a warding gesture as he began to chant a powerful prayer to Umba - one that he knew would Counterspell any Necromantic magic. He just hoped that it would provide him enough protection to pass through the barrier and distance himself from the cruelly-smiling horror that loomed in the hallway before him.

To face Rake alone, he knew, would be his death.


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

* Rezsaamar, the fiendish symbiot, is filed under the heading of missed opportunities. I totally forgot about his existance throughout the battle with Rake. Alas...

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

* Rezsaamar, the fiendish symbiot, is filed under the heading of missed opportunities. I totally forgot about his existance throughout the battle with Rake. Alas...

This would've something to see. I've yet to see someone use the symbiote rules.

 

[Jon Potter]

This would've something to see. I've yet to see someone use the symbiote rules.

Admittedly, I secretly hoped that he could tempt Huzair into taking him on much as you've done with the intelligent rod in your campaign, HM.

Whether he culd have succeeded we'll never know. :\

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #363] BBEG

Morier saw the position Ayremac was in and slammed his shoulder ineffectually against the barricade. Behind him Karak got to his feet, glowering at the Wall of Evil.

"Outta the way, lad," the dwarf growled as he lowered his head and charged. The power of the wall tugged at his will, but this time he made it passed. Rake's long arm reached out and slammed into Karak before he'd taken more than two steps, and the force of the blow made the dwarf stagger back a step.

"Why look, little one!" Rake cackled in mock-glee. "One of your friends has come to play! Once I'm finished with the holy warrior, dwarf, I'll-" Rake's words were suddenly cut off as Lela tossed the Silenced coin into the hallway behind him. For a few moment his lips continued to move comically, then the motion dissolved into a snarl.

Ayremac used the distraction to withdraw back toward the group. He found himself unable to retreat, however - blocked by the power of Rake's spell - and he sagged against the wall, his face gone white as paper. Doggedly, he continued to mutter a constant string of prayers to Umba.



"Speculum effiga!" Huzair shouted as his hands moved through a series of intricate gestures. Suddenly he was surrounded by a bevy of Images whose every action Mirrored his own. He admired the nearest version of himself saying, "One of me is great and now there are five. Wow!"



Rake spread his arms and they reached almost entirely across the twenty foot hallway. Still grinning maniacally, it darted in to grapple the dwarf. Karak recognized the motion at once and brought his waraxe up, slashing the foul-smelling thing once across the shoulder as it came in close.



On the other side of the wall, hovered Lela. She studied the magical structure with her mystic vision, noting after a moment's study where its attachment to the Prime was weakest. She targeted that area with a powerful Dispel Magic that knifed through the eldritch energy like it wasn't even there. The threads of The Weave unravelled from that point and Ayremac staggered through the opening at once. He reached the staircase leading up to Rake's throne but collapsed on the first step, pale and breathless.

Shamalin stepped up to him and could tell immediately that he had sustained unusual damage. Even so, he was still chanting low against the evil of necromantic arts as she reached him. Rectifying constitutional damage was an involved process, but she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring nod and settled in for the duration of her Restoration spell. There was no decision to be made here - something which unsettled her almost as much as the orc had.



Huzair pointed his Wand of Scorch and fired a gout of flame at Rake, the fire streaking over Karak and Morier to wash over the black orc's head. Whether the magic was unable to overcome the creature's resistance to spells or Rake was simply immune to fire, the mage couldn't tell, but either way it seemed little inconvenienced by the conflagration.

Rake kept glancing over its broad shoulder, backing slowly up, shuffling its feet in an odd manner. It became suddenly apparent to Karak what it was up to as it kicked out low to the floor and the sounds of battle suddenly returned. Rake grinned broadly and raised its clawed hands.

"Now!" it drooled, its voice like gravel being ground together inside a fist. "Now I will grant you the Queen's blessing!" It gestured and an Unholy Blight exploded in the corridor, tearing at Morier and Karak both.

Morier fell back, his True Strike spoiled by the pain wracking his body, but Karak gritted his teeth and flew into a frenzy. His waraxe striking Rake in the arm and chest and thigh. Rake stepped back again, out of the dwarf's reach and back into the range of Shamalin's Silence spell.

Its words were lost, but the snarled twist its mouth took on, said it all. It flicked a claw out, slicing contemptuously into Morier despite the fact that he was Blurred. The eldritch warrior's blood was hot and red, livid against his pale skin. Raising Ravager defensively, he withdrew from the battle, passing Huzair - well, five Huzairs actually since the wizard's Mirror Image spell was still in effect - and heading with equal parts reluctance and desperation for the priestess of Flor.



Morier was hit. It wasn't a mortal wound, Shamalin saw as the eldritch warrior staggered back, but it followed the creature's Unholy Blight. And though Morier was clenching his teeth against requesting her aid yet again, Shamalin could tell it was needed. For the second time she found herself hesitating, and in the space of that moment an awful image came into her mind. In the vision, she was standing over Morier's body wielding the longsword that she had yet to use. It was bloody and she stared in horror at the gash in his side that she knew she had caused. Accusing eyes stared up at hers as the life drained from his body to pool around her feet.

Karak's battlecry yanked her back to the present and she knelt next to the albino, consumed with guilt. He was breathing heavily, but did not look at her. Frightened, Shamalin prayed more fervently than she had in many days - begging healing for Morier and mercy for the blackness in her own heart.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

In the vision, she was standing over Morier's body wielding the longsword that she had yet to use. It was bloody and she stared in horror at the gash in his side that she knew she had caused. Accusing eyes stared up at hers as the life drained from his body to pool around her feet.
.

Foreshadowing of what has occured in game, or what may occur in game?

Pretty cool Jon!

 

[Jon Potter]

Pretty cool Jon!

I'm glad you approve, HM. But...

Foreshadowing of what has occured in game, or what may occur in game?

I've got to come clean and tell you that Shamalin's player actually wrote that bit and supplied it to me "as is". So I'm not 100% certain what it means. I have my suspicions it has something to do with Shamalin and Morier's training sessions with the longsword as well as Morier's ability to find himself at death's door and in need of Shamalin's healing handiwork on a regular basis.

I know that her player reads these boards so maybe she'll step in and shed a bit of light.

 

[Kristeneve]

I know that her player reads these boards so maybe she'll step in and shed a bit of light.

What? And ruin a perfectly good surprise?