Nthal
Lizard folk in disguise
Breaking Out in Good Faith - 11/5/2020
Breaking Out in Good Faith - 11/5/2020
Paron d’Sivis poured himself some hot coffee just as First Bell rang. He sighed, mornings were usually quiet, as most of Khorvaire was west of Krona Peak and messages inbound would only pick up about half way to Second Bell. Still, the quiet in the Message Room allowed him to take care of small things. As a scion of the house, he was rarely involved matters that didn’t require the Mark, giving him some latitude on how he could allocate his time. As long as he was around for his assigned time by the Message Stone, he could do what he wanted.
He was about to consider exactly what he was going to do before Second Bell, when a gnome clerk approached him; “Pardon, but there is a visitor who is insistent in talking to you. A Vernan Galandrak?”
Paron looked up in surprise, “Show him in.” He sat himself at a nearby table and waited, for the clerk to escort the Inquisitive inside. Vernan looked much like he always did, with his duster and a smile behind his beard.
“What brings you here now? Aren’t we going to spend enough time together with that stupid interrogation?” Paron said resigned as he looked at the dwarf.
“Yes, a waste of time,” Vernan said. “I need your help though, and this has everything to do with the interrogation.”
“Really…and what is that?” and Paron started to drink his coffee.
“Can you get the billing documents for Soldorak, Mroranon, and Kundarak?”
Paron sputtered hot coffee everywhere and looked at the dwarf as if he had grown a symbiont from his head. “Do you have any idea how many rules I would be breaking? And the sheer number of documents we are talking about? What on Eberron requires that?”
“Because I think our friend is pocketing a bit of gold—”
“—On what proof?” Paron said, his eyes hard. “I can’t just take your word on it.”
“The proof on this requires all three sets of papers, I can order Kundarak’s—”
“—But not Mroranon or Soldorak’s Those are private—”
“—We really don’t have time—”
“Certainly, we do; the papers aren’t going anywhere. If you have a suspicion, we can file a request with my leadership and have a House team look—”
“—Paron, I am telling you we need to do this fast.” Vernan said fuming.
“What am I missing here?” Paron said putting down his mug and raising his hands mystified.
“That woman is going to be crated off to the Dreadhold, unless we do this now!”
Paron looked puzzled at Vernan, “This isn’t like you to get so…attached.”
“I’m not attached, but…my gut is telling me something big is on the line.”
“Your…gut?” Paron said slowly, his tone in disbelief.
“And I was asked to.”
“By whom?”
Vernan, looked around and leaned forward, “Melisandre d’Med—”
“Are you insane?” Paron leaned forward, his voice lowered to a near whisper. “Who are you working for again? Her or Kundarak? How do you know she isn’t playing her own game?"
"You know the answer to that! And think about this; both Kundarak and Sivis’ reputation is on the line here.”
“What?”
“If Kundark and Sivis are party…sorry victim, to what I suspect, it will be a black mark against both houses. Some might think…they were complicit.” Vernan hissed quietly.
“Does the Medani know about this?”
Vernan shook his head, “No…her interest was on the woman, and I didn’t know what I know now.”
“Flinders.” Paron cursed. He drained the rest of his coffee from the mug, before speaking to Vernan again. “You had better be right about this. I can pull a favor and get Benfiq to do some digging. If you are right, he is the right gnome to pull it all together.”
“I am. Just trust me.”
“I was afraid you would say that,” Paron said glumly. “Now, what are we looking for?”
The position on my knees was familiar, and yet no more comfortable. My arms ached still, but at least I wasn’t fed more serum so my stomach wasn’t on the edge of spilling its contents again. But this time it was different.
“Ask her again,” the dwarf called Rior asked in the trade language.
“She’s not changing her answer why are we—?” the other dwarf Vernan I thought, started to say.
“—Do it!” Rior then barked,
Vernan then sighed and then said to me in Elvish, “So who hired you to come here and spy?”
So different didn’t mean better. But having a stronger grounding in the trade tongue let me get a clearer picture on the dynamic. The gnome was only there to document me repeating myself. Vernan and Rior really didn’t like each other, although the gnome seemed to like Vernan.
But as our time together progressed, I got the sense that Rior wasn’t really interested that I answer the question. The more he barked, it sounded like he was killing time and that he had something better to do than make me suffer on my knees. Now, considering things, this was not pain and suffering by a long shot. The position I was in made me helpless, and probably would make a lot of people feel vulnerable. I just happened to have perspective on how much worse it could be. It didn’t mean I liked it. But it did mean I could deal with it and pay attention now I didn’t have poison coursing through me. And as I sat there, head bowed I heard something interesting.
In the trade language, the gnome spoke up, “You know for as much as you are paying Sivis on this, we could have just used an Eye of Aureon.”
Eye of Aureon?
“Are you saying I can’t interrogate a prisoner?” Rior spat back angrily.
“Not at all. But we would be done with this waste of time. I do have other work I need to do for Soldorak after all.” The gnome said wearily. As he finished, somewhere in the distance I heard three chimes of a large bell.
“Paron, that’s very nice, but the Eye is simply not needed,” Rior said his voice condescending. “Assuming what she said of her origins is true, she isn’t a citizen of old Galifar or one of the Five Nations. She has no standing here in Mror, and therefore no privileges to stand in a house of law. But I agree, this is a waste of time. Guards! Take her back to her cell. We’ll just send her off in two days.”
Sodding Baator. I thought as two dwarves grasped and released me from the t-block on the floor. As I stood, I noticed that Vernan was watching me expectantly. Like something was supposed to happen. I didn’t pay it any mind at first, but as the dwarves escorted me back to the cell block, I realized he was following me.
After passing through the halls, we entered a square room that was the entry point to my cell block. in the center of three walls were locked iron doors with bars at dwarf eye height. A single table was in the center of the room with three pitchers and four mugs on top of it, and two dwarves sitting bored around it on chairs. One of the seated dwarves, stood up and walked past me. They grabbed a metal key on a hook that was on the wall near the passageway leading back to where I was questioned. As he passed, I saw something on the floor. My heart quickened a bit, and I made my play.
“Vernan,” I said in Elvish. “Can you convince the dwarves to loan me a bucket, water and cloth. I haven’t had a bath in days.” I turned to look at him pleadingly and was surprised.
I was expecting any number of reactions, but not this. I saw him think a moment, and he looked around in…desperation. Like a compulsion had washed over him. Looking around he stammered.
“I don’t exactly see a bucket or anything.”
“That would do,” I nodded at a brass pot on the floor next to the table.
“That’s a spittoon you realize?”
I nodded, “And they don’t use it I notice.” Turning back to Vernan I said. “Please…it doesn’t sound like I have a lot of time left here.”
His eyes narrowed for a moment and then he nodded and spoke in Dwarvish. The two room guards and my escort started to laugh, and I watched as the seated dwarf poured half a pitcher of water into the brass pot and then tossed a rag on the table into it. He looked dubiously at the contents and said something in dwarvish.
The other dwarf had opened the door to the cell block and had already opened the door to my cell. One of the escorts grabbed the spittoon, and then they together pushed me down the hallway. Once they reached my cell, they then spun me around to release me from my manacles, while thrusting the spittoon into my arms and pushing me inside my familiar cell, locking it behind me. And in no time, the threesome left the cellblock, as I heard the block door slam shut and lock once again.
I stood there head bowed in my cell and looked at my prize. The spittoon’s contents were now mixing with the water, turning it a vile color of brown.
“So much for a bath,” I said.
I then hear across the way coughing and then “Myrai…back again!”
“Yes, probably for the last time. Sounds like they are done with me.” I said recalling what I heard. “Hey, do you know what an Eye of Aureon is?”
“Yeah I do. It’s a big magical plate in the ground, that prevents you from telling lies. Tricky business with them. You can evade as much as you like, but most judges would see ‘dodging the question’ as guilty.”
“And there is one somewhere in this place…thanks,” I said.
“Well…I’m sorry about the new accommodations,” Iryn said. “I heard they nail you shut in a box with a small hole for food for the trip over. Course that might be an ugly rumor. Won’t be joining you though as my times about up.”
I blinked and put down the spittoon and moved to the cell door, “Iryn…what did you do?”
“Well…not all the weed was pipeweed. One of them had a bit of poison. Safe to smoke, but not so much to eat. I’ll be dead before First Bell.”
“Iryn…it…it can’t be that bad.” I said concerned, my plans of the moment forgotten.
“I was dying when I came here; my lungs shot. But I let myself get caught to let my kin get away. In exchange, my share goes to my wife and son.” And Iryn began to cough again, quietly.
“Why? They certainly need—”
“—Look I said I was a Boromar. I tried to leave. Tried to have a family away from the Clan. Thing is you can’t leave it. It wasn’t a big deal until my son was born. I want him to grow up with out the name and without the baggage. This…This was the price. I just wish I could have told her.”
I have heard this type of story before; a parent paying it forward in desperation. A better life for your kids than what you had. I couldn’t argue its seductiveness and while the cost in this case couldn’t be higher, I could no more judge his life, as much as I couldn’t judge his death.
But I wasn’t done with him.
“Iryn, you didn’t smoke all of the weed did you?”
“Hah! I would be green to my ears if I did that. Thought I was pacing myself for more time, until the Dreadhold came up. Why?”
“Well…if you aren’t going to use it—”
“—Nope.”
I blinked in surprise, and I probably sounded desperate. “I need it!”
“I am saving you from yourself. This is a nasty habit. Can’t have that on my conscience now.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No…I need it. But I’m not going to smoke it.”
“So…wait. You want it…but not smoke it? You can’t chew it…it’s still got poison in it!”
“No, I don’t want to consume it either. I just need to burn it.”
Iryn’s cell was silent for a long moment and I was about to speak up again. “Well…as long as you promise you don’t imbibe it either way. Let’s see if my arm is any good. Catch!”
Quickly, I stretched out my arms past the bars ready to blindly catch something. I felt it bounce off of my fingers on my left hand, and I continued to bobble it from hand to hand. Finally, my fingers on my right hand closed on a corner of cloth, keeping it from dropping on the ground. I slowly pulled my hand backwards and used my left hand to press the bundle against the door, and let my right get a better grip. Gaining that I pulled it into my cell.
I moved over to my sleeping platform and opened it. There inside were three pouches of pipeweed, and a smaller bundle of wooden sticks. Each stick had a bulb of some type of rough material. I looked at these in confusion when Iryn read my mind.
“The sticks are matches, just draw it across the stone and it will catch aflame. New invention making the rounds from Zilargo.”
I nodded to myself and said, “Thank you Iryn. Thank you.” I had everything I needed.
I moved to the door and listened, and I could hear the dwarves muttering down the hallway. They were always loud. Loud enough that I doubt they would hear me.
I moved the spittoon and then all the bundles of weed and the matches to the sewer hole. Laying down I reached inside and pulled out The Apocrypha. And lay it against my left thigh. I then took the rag and squeezed out the foul water into the hole, leaving it damp but not soaking. Setting it aside, I poured the water and filth out of the spittoon, and down the sewer, emptying it. Once done I took the cloth from the bundle and wiped dry the interior. Then I set the spittoon into the hole, and wedged it so it wouldn’t slip any farther down.
I then took all three of the pipeweed bundles and emptied their contents into the bottom of the brass spittoon, spreading it evenly along the bottom. I took the damp rag and wrapped it around my face, covering my mouth and nose, all the while trying to forget where it had been. I then took the bundle of cloth and covered my head with it, and spread it out so to cover the sewer hole, and with my head and arms inside.
I lay there, with a match in my right hand and I looked at it gulping.
“Please Kelemvor…let this work…Please just help your servant this once.” And I struck the match.
It flared to life, startling me. I knew I could do something like this with a pull on a strand, but I did marvel at the concept, that anyone could do this magic. No, that wasn’t right; it wasn’t magic. This was something else.
The match was half way down when I refocused on what I was doing. I then dropped the match on the pipeweed in the brass spittoon. Quickly it began to smoke and smolder just as I hoped. Closing my eyes, I started to whisper to myself. They weren’t words, just sounds of particular pitches and tones. I breathed slowly and began to weave.
The light and dark strands danced in my mind, as I slowly wove it into a circular pattern. I pulled the threads thin, and wove and knotted them, slowly and carefully. This was nothing to be rushed, it was delicate work to create a trap of sorts. I breathed deeply the air, filtered partially by the rag and the water within. My eyes teared as the fumes filled the cavity of the spittoon. It prevented the weed from flaring into a sudden fire as my makeshift brazier let the material smoke, and not turn to ash all at once.
I worked the strands, forming a pattern that I had made once before months ago. The strands to my mind looked like a web of sorts, but not one for a spider. This one had was like patterns of diamonds and with bits of strand loose at the knots to be toyed with. Finally complete, in my mind I moved it through the weave, like a net in water. I was slow at first, and then I moved it with greater speed. I kept chanting phrases and focused on the knots, tightening some, and loosening others.
Then I felt it, a tug. I waited a moment, and I felt the tug again, but this time less tentative, surer. Finally, I felt the strands being pulled away from me. I then pushed forward with the weaving and enveloped something. It didn’t fight like it did before months ago; it clutched and grasped desperately to the woven strands. I then pulled with my mind on all the strands that I wove, and forced them into my world.
I opened my eyes and blinked. There I could see the physical manifestation of the strands, now an ashen web. The web covered a black furred form, supine in the bottom of the spittoon. I watched as it shifted and I saw along the soft fur, wings covered in black feathers flex slightly as the creature took in a new breath. My eyes teared up in joy as I saw the slitted yellow feline eyes regard me with interest. And then finally heard in my head, words that were sorely missed.
--Well it took you long enough!
Gossamer!
I lifted out my familiar and clutched him to my breast in a embrace, crying in joy. The Tressym shifted awkwardly in my arms, half trying to escape, and half trying to find a measure of comfort.
--Look now, I do need to breathe.
Sorry…It’s been a trying couple of days.
--I am sure it was now…hold it. What happened? Why was I in a stinky pot?
You don’t remember?
--Remember what?
You being consumed in fire?!?
--Of course, I remember that, and then you summoned me…back…wait…no. You didn’t do that. I then…oh.
I had to recreate you…or find you again. Needless to say, I need you.
--So, the Duergar caught you then. Could be worse.
It is worse. I’m somewhere else. I know it is called Eberron, but that’s it.
--This looks like a cell.
It IS a cell. The dwarves here, who aren’t duergar, think I’m a spy and murderer…oh and I didn’t pay a healer, I think.
--You? A spy? What did Iesa say about that?
He…he’s not here.
--What? He and that silly monkey what…’wound up biting the dead book?’
No…we were separated.
--“We” who is here with you and I?
That’s it. Just us…now.
--So you don’t know where we are exactly, we have no friends, and you want to what break out of this cell without a plan?
So, yes, not quite, and dead wrong. That’s why you’re here Gos.
--Well…what’s the plan?
I need you to get a key; its beyond a couple of doors, both with bar slots like the door in here. It’s hanging on a hook. There were two dwarves in the room, so you are going to need to be careful getting it.
--Well this should be simple, all you need to do is use the weave to--
That’s a problem. I can only use the strands if my head is in the…sewer there.
--Sewer…wait, you summoned me in a sewer pipe?!?
Well…yes?
--That’s disgusting.
I’ve been laying with my face in it, you don’t need to tell ME!
--Ah…right…sorry. Can you look through my eyes?
I looked at the Tressym and concentrated, and then my sight shifted, to me. My hair was matted, and it like my face was covered in dirt or worse. The skin around my mirrored eyes red and puffy from crying and dealing with smoke, and my nose running. I quickly shifted my vision back.
Sodding Baator, I look like I was at the bottom of that pipe.
--Might be a bit strong. Not as bad as you smell though.
Bath…need a bath…later. But yes, I can point out the key.
--But I can’t use it. I’m not that good.
Just get it. I have a plan for the next part.
I lay down by the sewer and pulled out the spittoon while Gossamer squeezed his lithe body between the window bars of my cell, and was quickly out of sight. I moved the spittoon aside, and after taking a deep breath, lowered my head inside and waited.
--Is this it?
I quickly shifted and looked through Gossamer’s eyes again, and saw he was staring straight at the key.
Yes, turn so I see the guards.
Gos turned his head, and I saw the guards sitting at the table, their backs to the door to my cell block. They had now a small keg in front of them and they were certainly deep in their cups.
They look near gone. I can’t help you here; you need to get the key and get back to my cell door. Take your time.
--Got it.
I lay and waited. Time of course crawled as I lay there, with a head full of sewer fumes. Anxiously, I was tapping my foot when finally Gossamer spoke up.
--That was close. Here.
Close?
--The pair on the table, are light sleepers. But I got it. Now what?
Put the key down, and then when you see it move, look at the lock.
I then put my head in the hole again and focused and using a white and black strand, formed a glove and imagined my hand inside of it. Looking up from the hole, I saw the hand floating there. I concentrated and moved the hand between the bars and then looked through Gossamer’s eyes.
It was strange but it worked. I quickly picked up the key and manipulated it in my ghostly hand, and then moved it up to the lock. As Gossamer watched, I slowly and carefully to avoid making noise, I threaded the key into the keyhole, and turned it, retracting the bolt.
Sighing to myself, I grabbed a pair of bags that held the pipeweed and stuck my head into the sewer again. I flexed and felt the rush on my back, and I placed a dim warm yellow light on one bag, and then I quickly stuffed it into the second, blocking the light from escaping. I then grabbed the Apocrypha and stood up, ducking to avoid hitting my head, and moved to the door. I took a deep breath and pulled it open slowly, trying not to let the hinges creak. Fortunately, the hinges made no noise, and I was relieved to see Gossamer sitting patiently on the floor.
I smiled at him and I pulled the door closed and then locked again. Taking the key, I then looked at the cell door across from mine; Iryn’s.
“One thing at a time,” I said to myself, and I put the key in the lock and unlocked it.
--Myr? What are you doing?
Keep an eye out. This has to be done.
I pushed the door slowly, again trying to prevent it creaking. I slowly opened it until it was just wide enough for me to slip through, and I entered Iryn’s cell.
He was laying on the stone platform that passed for a bed. To my eyes, his head was once shaven close, but now had a stubble of growth around the pate, as the top of his head would never grow any hair. His skin was loose around him, as the lack of food had taken its toll. He was struggling to sit up as his eyes searched the darkness.
“What do you want now?” he growled. And I instinctively put my finger to my lips and made a shushing sound, causing his face to contort in confusion. “What?” he whispered. “Who’s there?”
“Your neighbor has come to say…goodbye.” I said, and I stepped over and sat down on the platform next to him, placing a hand on his.
“You…you’re free?” he stammered his hand touching mine, and following up the length of my arm.
“Told you I wasn’t going to smoke it,” I smiled at the blind halfling.
“Damn it…you could have—”
“I still can…if you want. If you want to see your wife and son again.”
He blinked in the darkness and his body sagged, “Its too late for that…the poison.”
“I…can cure it. I’m a priestess of a…far away god. You aren’t beyond me yet.”
“If only I could see...”
I pressed the bag into his hands. “Inside this is a light that will shine. Open it carefully; its not bright, but it should suffice.”
I watched him pull on the draw strings, and he pulled out the second bag, now appearing almost like a yellow flame in his hands. His eyes squinted as they adjusted and he then looked into my face and I saw his expression soften into rapture.
“You…you…are…an angel…those eyes…”
“Part angel…my father was one, “ I said stroking his head with my fingers.
“I’ve seen one in Sharn…I would be pressed to tell the difference; except they were a little taller I think.” Iryn said reverently.
“Sharn has angels?” I said quietly. “I might have to visit I suppose. But let’s talk about you. What do you want?”
“You mean…save me?”
“Or let you choose your death.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “Choose my death? I thought you were a priestess?”
I nodded, “I am. My god is…far away I suppose, but he is a god of death. As his servant one of my duties is to help those, with their life…or their death. You can’t really separate them. But while you don’t choose the first; you should be able to choose when you want to face the second.”
“So, If I chose to let the poison take me you would?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “And if you couldn’t end it on your own, I would…assist.”
His eyes grew wide, “By the Sovereign…is that allowed?”
“It is by my god…but it should be in accordance with what you believe. It isn’t for me to tell you what is right. I only intervene if asked, if needed, if warranted. And so, I can also cure you, and perhaps you will escape. Or I will sit with you until you pass beyond.”
“Why would you—?”
“Because no one should die alone…in the dark.” I said stroking his cheek.
He nodded and thought. After awhile he looked at me again and touched my own cheek. “If it is all the same, living means my son would…no. I can’t do that. But if you could, tell my wife that I love her.”
“What’s her name and how do I—?”
“—She works in an inn called ‘The Three Black Dogs’ in Sharn…her name is Peris…have a message brought to her there.
“I will do so when I am able Iryn.”
“Thank you,” and he gave out a sigh of relief. “It feels easier now…is that normal?”
“When you aren’t fighting for life, it is easier to let go. If you don’t mind, I will say a prayer for you.” I said quietly, still stroking his head.
“That’s…that’s…fine,” he said softly.
I placed a hand on his breast, and felt his heartbeat slowing, and I whispered to him:
“No one should be alone, in life or death,
Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning
Death is without deceit and has meaning,
All should strive to help those to live,
So, they can die at their appointed time,
I will honor those who have died before me,
For it is their lives and deeds that give us the world today,
Bless this soul at his chosen, appointed time,
So, his deeds will live forever,
So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith
May Death grant you peace.”
I leaned forward and gave Iryn a final kiss on the lips, and I felt his heart slow to a stop, as his soul slipped free from his mortal coil.
I tucked the light bag, back within the first, and placed it in his hands on his chest. And quietly I stepped out of the cell, to see the judging eyes of my familiar.
What?
--You have time for that?
It is a responsibility.
--At a time like this? I don’t want to be blasted into another ball of smoke.
Trust me…I don’t want that either. You stunk.
--I should…wait I did?
Burnt fur is bad. And you had a lot of it. Or did. Let’s move on.
I looked the hallway up and down. I could see six or so paces away the cell block door, and the passage of the cell block went farther at least three doors or perhaps twenty paces. Looking down the hall I saw more cages that could have held the strange purple veined crystal, but they were empty.
“Perfect,” I said. Speaking aloud, “Gos, go to the block door and warm me if someone is coming, but stay there otherwise.” and I walked down to the end of the hallway and sat down. I then pulled a tab from the Apocrypha and started to chant quietly, looking at the door.
I pulled and created a lattice of dark strands and a single thread of light and wove it so the edge of the lattice covered the cell block door, and extended deeper into the hallway, close to where I sat. After some focus, I looked up and pulled the lattice strands taut, and I let the field manifest.
--Hey, I can’t hear them.
And they can’t hear you either.
--Oh…I see what …or hear what you…or not hear what you…never mind.
Go slip through the bars and stare at the lock, I need to unlock it with the key again. Let me know if the dwarves are awake of course.
--Nah dead asleep. I am looking at it now.
I quickly created another glove out of the strands and placed the key in it and jogged down the corridor. I first stopped at Iryn’s door, and pulled it shut and locked it. I then jogged to the cell block door and moved the key outside the barred window with the ghostly hand. Shifting my sight to Gossamer, I quickly unlocked it. Gossamer turned to look at the guards fast asleep, and I quickly and noiselessly opened the door. I quickly shut it and relocked it, while still in the field of silence.
Without thinking or saying a word I motioned to Gossamer. I first hung the key back on its hook, and then moved into the hall that led toward where I had been questioned. I padded quietly in my bare feet, feeling almost naked with a tunic almost too short to be modest. But no one was in the halls to see me. On the walls I saw plaques inset into the stone in script I couldn’t understand. Frowning we continued until we got to a four-way intersection. Twisting around all of them looked the same. I stood there and had an idea.
Gos, can you smell anything? Anything like food or smoke?
Gossamer smelled the air a moment and then blinked at me.
--Yes, left of here I smell smoke and I think meat…I’ll bound ahead.
I nodded. It was a good idea, as he was far quieter than I. He stayed on the floor against the wall and trotted forward. As I followed, I saw him come to a doorway and he peeked inside. He then quickly darted into the room. I followed and my mouth watered at what I saw.
This was a side storage room, with wheels of cheese, and small kegs of ale or beer. There was also an assortment of cured meats on a side board. On it was a lit candle, utensils and a couple of small bowls, containing white crystals.
Without a thought I grabbed a whole round of cheese and bit into it. The nutty smoked flavor was almost enough to make me forget the horrid food from the prison, and from the Lathander islands. Pirates were lousy cooks it turned out.
--You are going to share right?
I need this, you don’t. But sure…in a bit. Watch the door, I need some time.
--To eat?
No…to understand.
Keeping the wheel of cheese under my arm, with The Apocrypha, I grabbed the small bowl of crystals, and I pulled it to my face and I stuck my tongue in it. I smiled again. My suspicion was correct, it was salt. Putting it down, I then looked at the candle and with a quick thought doused it. I then took it and crumbled the top of the wick. The soot fell into the bowl of salt. I returned the candle and with a whipping of a white strand relit it.
I then moved into the corner of the room, and set the bowl on the ground, while I pulled another tab on the Apocrypha and focused, pulling strands of white around my mind. Then I formed small webs and let them orbit with the strand, letting them catch what they needed. After a bit of time, I pulled the strand hard to start it spinning around my mind and I then grabbed the bowl and stood up. Gossamer followed in confusion, as I returned to the intersection where we started.
Once there, I looked at the plaques. What was once unintelligible dwarven script…was still that. But looking at the plaques I could understand their intent.
--Ah I see. So which way is out?
Out? I don’t want to get out.
--What? I thought we were getting free?
We are. But the exit isn’t what I am looking for.
--You might need some more cheese…you seem to be, what I don’t know, out of your mind!?!
Ignoring the Tressym’s rebuke, I read one of the plaques and turned what was the opposite direction of the pantry we found. Moving quickly, we came to another intersection. Reading them again, I smiled, and continued forward. I was so excited, that I almost didn’t hear the clank of armor as I approached a room.
Panicking, I pressed myself against the wall. I peeked in and saw a pair of armored dwarves talking. The room itself was rectangular, with a desk in front of an ornate door, and two other side passages leading left and right. The room itself had some murals on the walls, and a pair of suits of armor flanking the passages leading off. Next to the door was a plaque made of a shiny copper metal, with greenish lettering. And it was the plaque I was looking for:
‘Urkiel Mroranon’
The dwarven guards seemed to be not at attention, but were rather paused on a patrol talking:
“I hear that they need more troops below.”
“Yeah, I heard that. I also heard that Kaelin Skolhanker is still hiring for his push to take back the Sieve. I heard it pays better.
“You want to fight for someone else’s gold mine?”
“Nah. I just rather stick an axe in a Jhorash’tar than the stuff creeping below.”
Frustrated, I leaned against the wall, out of sight and thought a moment. I snuck my head and looked past the dwarves at one of the suits of armor. The armor was mounted on some type of rack, but it held some type polearm. I grinned, and quickly created a glove and I sent it along the floor to the suit of armor. I focused a moment and slapped the polearm shaft so the shaft would hit the armor, and then released the strand holding the glove together, causing it to vanish.
What I was hoping was for some noise as a distraction. But what happened was even better than I hoped. The polearm, hit the armor, and then clattered on the floor, attracting both of the guard’s full attention.
“Cripes! What in the Five was that?
“The poleaxe slipped, it seems, help me put it back so it doesn’t fall again.”
Once their backs were turned, I dashed across the room, and grabbed the door handle to Urkiel’s office, and quickly opened it and slid inside.
The room probably was dark, based on I saw no shadows and no light. After Gossamer trotted inside, I closed the door to look around. It was well appointed, with a large tapestry on one wall, and a cold fireplace on the other wall, flanked by bookshelves. A desk was centered against the wall opposite the door, and behind it were an array of windows, looking outside.
I pressed my ear to the door, and heard the dwarves replace the polearm, and then they walked off, still talking to themselves. I hung my head down and gave a sigh of relief. I moved toward the desk and put down the bowl, the Apocrypha, while I bit into the cheese again. I also tore off a small piece and placed the nugget on the desk, where Gossamer jumped onto and started to nibble on it.
--The cheese is pretty good.
I looked out the windows to see the first sight of this new world. It was night, and the sky overhead was partly cloudy. My vantage point placed me on the side of a mountain valley, and I could see the opposite side clearly. The face of it was almost shear, as if an axe had cut a furrow in the mountainside. As my eyes travelled down the mountain, I realized that there were levels of streets on the outside of buildings carved into the face of the rock. The streets crisscrossed haphazardly ascending and descending at different points on the shear wall. Lights illuminated the streets below, and in the bottom of the valley, there was a broad avenue. Larger than many carts across, and lined with smaller sets of buildings as one got closer to the mountain. In the middle of the street was a pattern of round objects in a trench, and at various points, ramps and bridges crossed over the trench at three times the needed height I though.
This was a place carved, hewn and shaped from stone. It stood in contrast of the elven places I had been, where everything was grown into shapes. Here it was like the shapes were always here, hidden by the rock. While chiseled and carved, it was done in a way that looked and felt right. That the stone was meant for this path. Its beauty in its order, even among the chaotic striations of the rock itself. It was a wonder. As I looked upwards to the firmament above, I was amazed to see a sky with four moons peeking through the clouds.
“Wow,” I said mostly to myself as I sat on the edge of the desk drinking in the beauty, taking in a moment to eat the cheese I brought.
--Yes, yes, very nice. Where to now?
Nowhere.
--You lost me.
We need to talk to the man who works in this office.
--Huh the guards aren’t that smart it looked. We could get outside easily..
If I run off, they will hunt me down and throw me in that cell again. Look, I’m a stranger in a city I don’t know, with no one to call a friend. Where could I go? My things are somewhere I am sure but finding them would be dangerous. No, I need a fair chance to be heard.
--So how do you do that?
I straightened my tunic, and I started to use the strands to clean off the filth and blood from me and my ‘garment.’ I rushed the strands through my hair, cleaning it, I then focused on removing the stink from my skin and replaced it with something a little more earthy with a hint of spice.
Simple. I’m going to make an offer he can’t refuse.
Session notes:
Good, smart familars are hard to find, which is why pushed for and got the Tressym. Owls make better combat scouts, but that was never what Gossamer was intended for.
