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The Thorns of Winter -(updated 8/1/2023)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 8118428" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><h2 style="text-align: center"><p style="text-align: center">Dark Places of Salvation - 11/1/2020</p> </h2><p></p><p></p><p>I awoke in my cell feeling ill. Sitting up hastened that feeling past queasy and straight to nauseous. I scrambled over to the hole that was my latrine, and heedless of the odor, I stuck my head inside and vomited. It wasn’t like I had much to give out, beyond remnants of the potion and whatever bile was deep within me. So, the dry heaving accomplished little. But in between breaths, I heard a voice behind me.</p><p></p><p>“Are êow myne alright?” said the voice followed by the sound of sporadic coughing.</p><p></p><p>Still on my knees, I glanced backwards at the door and didn’t see anyone beyond the bars in the door. Staggering to my feet, and taking care not to hit my head, I staggered over to the door, avoiding kicking a small tray on the ground that had some bread and a mug of liquid. I looked outside and saw nothing beyond the passage; just the door of a cell opposite of mine.</p><p></p><p>“I’m feeling ill,” I said in Elvish and waited.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, if you are speaking Tel’Quessir to cover up what you say from the Mror, don’t bother,” said the voice from the other cell stifling another cough. “They don’t listen or care, and I am pretty sure they have someone that speaks it anyway. Didn’t realize I had a neighbor till I heard you spill your insides. You’re new.”</p><p></p><p>“I guess so,” I said panting a little from my exertion. “They gave me something that disagreed with me.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah the serum,” the voice said sympathetically. “Swear it was meant for Mror only, I was sick for days after they fed it to me. And they learned nothing new for the stomach ache it caused. Anyway, my name is Iryn.” And the voice again was interrupted by fit of hacking, “Iryn Boromar.”</p><p></p><p>I nodded in agreement, and still looked for his face at the other door. “Iryn…mine is Myrai…just Myrai. I can’t see you at your door.”</p><p></p><p>“See? Hah!” and another single cough sound came from the cell, “That’s a joke. It’s all dark to me, and I am a bit short to stare out a window into more darkness. Stupid joke that is.”</p><p></p><p>“Too short?” I said feeling relieved to have a real conversation with anyone else. “You aren’t a dwarf I take it.”</p><p></p><p>The voice was silent a moment, “You can’t be serious.”</p><p></p><p>“About what?” I said puzzled.</p><p></p><p>“I’m a Boromar…<strong><em>Boromar</em></strong>,” and Iryn’s voice trailed off in another fit of coughing.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry…I suppose it might mean something to a lot of people. Let’s say I’m not up on who‘s who,” I said.</p><p></p><p>Iryn seemed to recover,“We are a clan of Halflings! One of the sixty great families of Sharn…and you <strong><em>haven’t</em></strong> heard of us?”</p><p></p><p>I smiled bitterly, “No…I’ve never heard of Sharn or—”</p><p></p><p>“—Not heard of the City of Towers? What rock in the Mournland have you been hiding under?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah…well, I’m from a long way from here…from another plane, if you know what that is.”</p><p></p><p>“Well…sort of. Sometimes someone shows up in Sharn from Syrania. Makes sense since its Syrania that makes Sharn possible.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t understand.’</p><p></p><p>“Nor I; better off asking someone from Morgrave University if you want an explanation."</p><p></p><p>I nodded, and then I smelled something. Sniffing the air, I smelled something like smoked grape leaves. I Looked across the passage, and could barely make out the smoke leaving the cell.</p><p></p><p>“You have pipeweed?”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, some kin made sure I got some and some matches. No idea on how much that cost them, but it’s the only thing in the darkness that keeps me sane, beyond the matchlight itself.”</p><p></p><p>“Is that why you are coughing so much?”</p><p></p><p>There was silence for a moment and Iryn spoke with a wry tone, “Yeah…Jorasco healers says the smoke is killing me. But the only thing that soothes it is more smoke,”</p><p></p><p>I nodded to myself and turned around, landing against the door. “How long have you been here?”</p><p></p><p>“I can’t say now. Think maybe a week or so. I tried to keep count, but…I don’t know. But I don’t think I will be here much longer.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?”</p><p></p><p>“The Soldorak in charge of questioning me, has already made up his mind to send me to Dreadhold. There is no way that’s going to happen though.”</p><p></p><p>“Dreadhold?”</p><p></p><p>“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…it’s a prison. A prison that even the dwarves hate to guard. But it’s a place that only the worst of the worst should be sent. But truth be told, its whoever can pay for it.” I heard a guffaw and then he continued. “I should be flattered I guess, to warrant such accommodations.”</p><p></p><p>“I’d ask why…but that—”</p><p></p><p>“Robbed payroll on the outbound Lightning Rail. Its no secret, they know it, I know it, and I said it. But I can’t tell them where it is, because I don’t know. What about you?”</p><p></p><p>I chuckle, “A spy and murderer…and I owe someone for healing me.”</p><p></p><p>“Jorasco healer shake down. They certainly want to be paid, but your voice sounds too pretty to be a murderer.”</p><p></p><p>Smiling I replied, “Well, I have killed a lot…but not here. They don’t like my answers either.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, best of luck with that. I honestly don’t think that Soldorak cares. I’d give his boss a piece of my mind, but that’s not going to happen.”</p><p></p><p>“Boss?”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, the clan in charge of security here is working for their bitter rivals, the Mroranons. And Urkiel Mroranon is the one in charge; but he’s busy doing something. Like he would believe me.”</p><p></p><p>“Why wouldn’t he?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah…well…the Boromar’s are well known…and some folks would say our reputation colors their opinion. Not sure why I am telling you that…but I guess you might need to know how to get around and know who’s who. But leave it at this; you don’t mess with the Boromars, or our business. It’s a quick way to the grave.”</p><p></p><p>I nodded to myself, “I get your meaning,” I was silent a moment when he spoke up again.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not going to bite…don’t mean to scare you. Frankly talking to anyone that isn’t a Mror is a nice change.”</p><p></p><p>“Can…can you help me with something?” I asked as an idea came to mind.</p><p></p><p>“From here I can do very little.”</p><p></p><p>“You can though. I seem to understand only a portion of the trade language here. Can you help me with the words? Elvish is fine and all, but I’d like to understand what’s going on.”</p><p></p><p>“Why not…where do you want to start?”</p><p></p><p>““Myne?’”</p><p></p><p>“Feeling.”</p><p></p><p>“Leafa?’”</p><p></p><p>“Let us.”</p><p></p><p>“’Aganwe?’”</p><p></p><p>“Again.”</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p>Third bell had just rung and Taryn d’Kundarak leaned back on his chair in the Enclave receiving office, and glared at the large pile of contracts, and the smaller pile of receiving documents. He fervently wished he could delegate this to someone, anyone else. But he did author the deals, and he needed to make sure they were honored. Otherwise, there were going to be a number of very upset soldiers and worse a furious uncle. He rubbed his short cut beard thoughtfully as he thought about the implication.</p><p></p><p>“Not even a quarter of the herds have made it here. Debrika this is all there was from this morning’s rail?” he turned and glanced at his companion, another brown-haired dwarf with streaks of silver shot through it’s lengths. She was standing by one of many files in the receiving room and was occupied filing various bits of paperwork. She turned, and gave Taryn a cold stare at the question, saying nothing.</p><p></p><p>Meeting her gaze, he sighed. “Of course, it is. Late, late, late” he said glumly, and he turned to scowl at the uneven paper work, when a knock at the door sounded.</p><p></p><p>“About time Melisandre showed up…<strong><em>come in!”</em></strong> and the door to the receiving office opened. And in entered not the half-elf in a blue dress that Taryn was expecting, but instead a familiar dwarf, dressed in a long duster.</p><p></p><p>“Vernan? I thought you were busy on a contract with us…or are you looking to switch occupations?”</p><p></p><p>Vernan said nothing and set a small keg on the table. Taryn rubbed his hands together as he looked over the seal on the keg, nodding approvingly.</p><p></p><p>“Official business then. Is this to loosen my tongue or celebrate a fine deal?”</p><p></p><p>“Technically…it’s for Debrika. But I’m sure she’ll share,” Vernan said, causing Debrika to look up from her files frowning in disapproval. “How’s your gold mine going?” Vernan asked pleasantly.</p><p></p><p>Taryn glared at the inquisitive, “That’s my uncle Kaelin’s mine, not Kundarak’s. You know that.”</p><p></p><p>“Convenient. His sister marries in, and he gets the House resources, while he keeps ownership of his claims.” Vernan said mildly.</p><p></p><p>“The rules have been followed,” Taryn said pointedly. “And what does that have to do with your assignment?”</p><p></p><p>“Nothing at all. However, it seems that there is more going on that I originally guessed. But rather than bore you with the details, I just need to ask you about your prior position. I have some general questions for you both on how the contracts for the Dreadhold work.”.</p><p></p><p>Taryn was taken aback a moment. He then shrugged and said, “That was an unpleasant business I was happy to leave behind. The short answer, five-year contracts with provisions for renewals. They’re payable annually, with the pay somewhat front loaded on the first contract’s term.”</p><p></p><p>Vernan nodded and thought a moment before asking, “What about cancellations?”</p><p></p><p>“Depends on the contract actually,”</p><p></p><p>“What about the Soldorak one for Krona Peak?”</p><p></p><p>Taryn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and again shrugged, “I understand that one is a bit complicated, because while it is with Soldorak, the coin for it comes from Mroranon’s coffers.”</p><p></p><p>“So Soldorak doesn’t pay it?”</p><p></p><p>“No, they do, <em>after</em> they get funding. It was a compromise as it was originally written as if Kundarak had won the business. In that case it would have just been handled by us entirely.”</p><p></p><p>“So, if there was a cancellation on a contract, it would have come through this room, right?” Vernan pressed.</p><p></p><p>“Of course it would, once we get the notarized document from Sivis…wait…what are you thinking?”</p><p></p><p>“I think Mroranon is being taken advantage of, which is a breech of trust and a threat to Kundarak security,” Vernan said with a grimace.</p><p></p><p>Wordlessly, Debrika stepped up to the pair of dwarves talking, and dropped a binder of papers on the table, and with a strong right hand palmed the keg on the table, taking it down the hall out of sight.</p><p></p><p>“So much for sharing,” Taryn said mournfully, and he opened the binder and started to review the papers. His disinterest changed to puzzlement as he flipped more papers over. “What in the? In a single month, four contracts for Dreadhold were executed? And what is even stranger there are a cancellation notices for the first two; both one year in the future.”</p><p></p><p>“I take it that’s not normal?” Vernan said frowning.</p><p></p><p>“The cancellations are unusual, but not unheard of, although a year stay on a frontloaded contract is expensive.” Taryn said. “But usually a contract a year is high traffic. Four in less than a month? Unheard of.”</p><p></p><p>“Wouldn’t someone question it?” Vernan asked, rubbing his chin through his beard.</p><p></p><p>Taryn shook his head, “Unless Dreadhold complains about space, no one cares really. And there is plenty of space last I heard.”</p><p></p><p>“So, what happens when a contract is cancelled?”</p><p></p><p>“Well if cancelled, the prisoners are set free of course.”</p><p></p><p>“Where?”</p><p></p><p>“A port in Lhazaar unless arrangements are made otherwise. But that is beside the point, Kundarak is being paid here.”</p><p></p><p>“I bet. Are these the originals?”</p><p></p><p>Taryn shook his head, “No, these are copies; Sivis handles the papers in the middle and they have the originals.”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks Taryn. And good fortune with the mine; you’re going to need it,” Vernan stood up and headed to the door. Reaching it he paused and turned to ask Taryn a final question.</p><p></p><p>“By the way, when would be the next time someone would be sent there?”</p><p></p><p>Taryn thought a moment, “Well a supply run, and guard rotation occurs every month. Sometimes prisoners are part of it. In fact if I am not wrong,…the next run is three days from now.”</p><p></p><p>“Well then, I guess I know where I am going next.” Vernan said. “It looks like someone is running out of time.”</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p>“Mona</p><p></p><p>“Moon. You are all over the place on the words. You going to remember this all?</p><p></p><p>I shrugged to myself. “I don’t know. But have to start somewhere.” I leaned against the door, and took a bite of the bread that was on a plate and swallowed some of the sour ale they had left on the tray. I grimaced at the ale’s taste.</p><p></p><p>“You know, I probably shouldn’t be complaining, but the food leaves a lot to be desired.,” I said still chewing the stale bread.</p><p></p><p>“I can tell you there are worse—wait. You did sip it right, not gulp it down?”</p><p></p><p>I had a sinking feeling, “No…why?”</p><p></p><p>“The Mror usually water down their stuff from the taps for guests; they don’t do that here…so you need to take it slo—”</p><p></p><p>My stomach suddenly heaved, “—Too late.” And I crawled over to the hole and started to empty the contents of my insides for the second time, although having something to come up made it liveable.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry about that, I’m going to get some sleep.”</p><p></p><p>I nodded my head in the hole, waiting for another round, panting with exhaustion laying there, barely conscious of the smells coming from below. As the nausea passed, I found myself laughing at the absurdity of everything happening. Escaping from evil slaving dwarves, to being jailed by what I guessed were respectable ones, all because I broke a table in the wrong bar. How could I not laugh at this?</p><p></p><p>I pushed myself up onto all fours, and I noticed something; the buzzing in my head suddenly appeared.</p><p></p><p>“Wait…” I whispered to myself. I then lowered my body again so lay next to the hole. And as I did so, I felt the buzzing in my head ebb. Then, I lowered my head into it and as I did so, I felt the buzzing completely dissipate. Pulling myself up, I felt the tunic I had been wearing, and found an errant thread. I easily pulled it away from the cloth, and with it in hand, I lay once again, with my head and hand in the sewer hole, and focused. I pulled on that part of myself that was me; not the strands, and I felt the familiar rush along my spine.</p><p></p><p>And there in the hole, the thread began to glow with a dim red light; the pain I remembered from earlier, no where to be felt. I flexed again and dispelled it. Now I was smiling, and chuckling. I lay there and started to focus on the strands within me. But this time I didn’t pull on them.</p><p></p><p>Instead I followed them slowly with my mind, feeling them as they spread out in the metaphorical distance. The strands seemed to twist and turn and then I found what I was looking for.</p><p></p><p>The strands were always connected to me, and they always seemed to stretch out in the distance forever. But I wasn’t the only thing connected to them. In my mind’s eye, I found where the strands, light and dark braided together on a shape; a cylindrical object. I reached out with my mind’s eye and grasped it and pulled.</p><p></p><p>My vision and nose returned to the sewer hole, with my arm extended down into the depths. I pulled myself back and rolled over and looked at my right hand. Clutched in it was a silver cylinder. Smiling in victory, I reached with my left hand and pulled a tab, revealing the metal sheets and the etched Celestial lettering within.</p><p></p><p><em>The</em> <em>Apochrypha</em>. The lessons of my lord Kelemvor, and all the ritual magic that I possessed.</p><p></p><p>I rolled over and pushed the cylinder back into the hole, and wedged it so it wouldn’t roll down, although if it came to it, I could just resummon it. Before pulling myself out, I pulled on a bit of the strand to clean off the filth from the sewer, but not so much that someone would notice I was clean.</p><p></p><p>I crawled over to the platform and stretched out on it, smiling at my discovery. And more than that my mind considered the possibilities, and a plan began to form. It wouldn’t be easy, but everything I needed was nearby. All I needed was a little luck.</p><p></p><p>And a lot of faith.</p><p></p><p><strong>Session Notes</strong></p><p></p><p>So...there are a lot of skill checks being reflected here in long prose. We are really half way in a single day.</p><p></p><p>It's amazing how abstract the game can be, even when you role play a large bit.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 8118428, member: 6971069"] [HEADING=1][CENTER][CENTER]Dark Places of Salvation - 11/1/2020[/CENTER][/CENTER][/HEADING] I awoke in my cell feeling ill. Sitting up hastened that feeling past queasy and straight to nauseous. I scrambled over to the hole that was my latrine, and heedless of the odor, I stuck my head inside and vomited. It wasn’t like I had much to give out, beyond remnants of the potion and whatever bile was deep within me. So, the dry heaving accomplished little. But in between breaths, I heard a voice behind me. “Are êow myne alright?” said the voice followed by the sound of sporadic coughing. Still on my knees, I glanced backwards at the door and didn’t see anyone beyond the bars in the door. Staggering to my feet, and taking care not to hit my head, I staggered over to the door, avoiding kicking a small tray on the ground that had some bread and a mug of liquid. I looked outside and saw nothing beyond the passage; just the door of a cell opposite of mine. “I’m feeling ill,” I said in Elvish and waited. “Ah, if you are speaking Tel’Quessir to cover up what you say from the Mror, don’t bother,” said the voice from the other cell stifling another cough. “They don’t listen or care, and I am pretty sure they have someone that speaks it anyway. Didn’t realize I had a neighbor till I heard you spill your insides. You’re new.” “I guess so,” I said panting a little from my exertion. “They gave me something that disagreed with me.” “Ah the serum,” the voice said sympathetically. “Swear it was meant for Mror only, I was sick for days after they fed it to me. And they learned nothing new for the stomach ache it caused. Anyway, my name is Iryn.” And the voice again was interrupted by fit of hacking, “Iryn Boromar.” I nodded in agreement, and still looked for his face at the other door. “Iryn…mine is Myrai…just Myrai. I can’t see you at your door.” “See? Hah!” and another single cough sound came from the cell, “That’s a joke. It’s all dark to me, and I am a bit short to stare out a window into more darkness. Stupid joke that is.” “Too short?” I said feeling relieved to have a real conversation with anyone else. “You aren’t a dwarf I take it.” The voice was silent a moment, “You can’t be serious.” “About what?” I said puzzled. “I’m a Boromar…[B][I]Boromar[/I][/B],” and Iryn’s voice trailed off in another fit of coughing. “Sorry…I suppose it might mean something to a lot of people. Let’s say I’m not up on who‘s who,” I said. Iryn seemed to recover,“We are a clan of Halflings! One of the sixty great families of Sharn…and you [B][I]haven’t[/I][/B] heard of us?” I smiled bitterly, “No…I’ve never heard of Sharn or—” “—Not heard of the City of Towers? What rock in the Mournland have you been hiding under?” “Ah…well, I’m from a long way from here…from another plane, if you know what that is.” “Well…sort of. Sometimes someone shows up in Sharn from Syrania. Makes sense since its Syrania that makes Sharn possible.” “I don’t understand.’ “Nor I; better off asking someone from Morgrave University if you want an explanation." I nodded, and then I smelled something. Sniffing the air, I smelled something like smoked grape leaves. I Looked across the passage, and could barely make out the smoke leaving the cell. “You have pipeweed?” “Yeah, some kin made sure I got some and some matches. No idea on how much that cost them, but it’s the only thing in the darkness that keeps me sane, beyond the matchlight itself.” “Is that why you are coughing so much?” There was silence for a moment and Iryn spoke with a wry tone, “Yeah…Jorasco healers says the smoke is killing me. But the only thing that soothes it is more smoke,” I nodded to myself and turned around, landing against the door. “How long have you been here?” “I can’t say now. Think maybe a week or so. I tried to keep count, but…I don’t know. But I don’t think I will be here much longer.” “Why?” “The Soldorak in charge of questioning me, has already made up his mind to send me to Dreadhold. There is no way that’s going to happen though.” “Dreadhold?” “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…it’s a prison. A prison that even the dwarves hate to guard. But it’s a place that only the worst of the worst should be sent. But truth be told, its whoever can pay for it.” I heard a guffaw and then he continued. “I should be flattered I guess, to warrant such accommodations.” “I’d ask why…but that—” “Robbed payroll on the outbound Lightning Rail. Its no secret, they know it, I know it, and I said it. But I can’t tell them where it is, because I don’t know. What about you?” I chuckle, “A spy and murderer…and I owe someone for healing me.” “Jorasco healer shake down. They certainly want to be paid, but your voice sounds too pretty to be a murderer.” Smiling I replied, “Well, I have killed a lot…but not here. They don’t like my answers either.” “Well, best of luck with that. I honestly don’t think that Soldorak cares. I’d give his boss a piece of my mind, but that’s not going to happen.” “Boss?” “Yeah, the clan in charge of security here is working for their bitter rivals, the Mroranons. And Urkiel Mroranon is the one in charge; but he’s busy doing something. Like he would believe me.” “Why wouldn’t he?” “Ah…well…the Boromar’s are well known…and some folks would say our reputation colors their opinion. Not sure why I am telling you that…but I guess you might need to know how to get around and know who’s who. But leave it at this; you don’t mess with the Boromars, or our business. It’s a quick way to the grave.” I nodded to myself, “I get your meaning,” I was silent a moment when he spoke up again. “I’m not going to bite…don’t mean to scare you. Frankly talking to anyone that isn’t a Mror is a nice change.” “Can…can you help me with something?” I asked as an idea came to mind. “From here I can do very little.” “You can though. I seem to understand only a portion of the trade language here. Can you help me with the words? Elvish is fine and all, but I’d like to understand what’s going on.” “Why not…where do you want to start?” ““Myne?’” “Feeling.” “Leafa?’” “Let us.” “’Aganwe?’” “Again.” [HR][/HR] Third bell had just rung and Taryn d’Kundarak leaned back on his chair in the Enclave receiving office, and glared at the large pile of contracts, and the smaller pile of receiving documents. He fervently wished he could delegate this to someone, anyone else. But he did author the deals, and he needed to make sure they were honored. Otherwise, there were going to be a number of very upset soldiers and worse a furious uncle. He rubbed his short cut beard thoughtfully as he thought about the implication. “Not even a quarter of the herds have made it here. Debrika this is all there was from this morning’s rail?” he turned and glanced at his companion, another brown-haired dwarf with streaks of silver shot through it’s lengths. She was standing by one of many files in the receiving room and was occupied filing various bits of paperwork. She turned, and gave Taryn a cold stare at the question, saying nothing. Meeting her gaze, he sighed. “Of course, it is. Late, late, late” he said glumly, and he turned to scowl at the uneven paper work, when a knock at the door sounded. “About time Melisandre showed up…[B][I]come in!”[/I][/B] and the door to the receiving office opened. And in entered not the half-elf in a blue dress that Taryn was expecting, but instead a familiar dwarf, dressed in a long duster. “Vernan? I thought you were busy on a contract with us…or are you looking to switch occupations?” Vernan said nothing and set a small keg on the table. Taryn rubbed his hands together as he looked over the seal on the keg, nodding approvingly. “Official business then. Is this to loosen my tongue or celebrate a fine deal?” “Technically…it’s for Debrika. But I’m sure she’ll share,” Vernan said, causing Debrika to look up from her files frowning in disapproval. “How’s your gold mine going?” Vernan asked pleasantly. Taryn glared at the inquisitive, “That’s my uncle Kaelin’s mine, not Kundarak’s. You know that.” “Convenient. His sister marries in, and he gets the House resources, while he keeps ownership of his claims.” Vernan said mildly. “The rules have been followed,” Taryn said pointedly. “And what does that have to do with your assignment?” “Nothing at all. However, it seems that there is more going on that I originally guessed. But rather than bore you with the details, I just need to ask you about your prior position. I have some general questions for you both on how the contracts for the Dreadhold work.”. Taryn was taken aback a moment. He then shrugged and said, “That was an unpleasant business I was happy to leave behind. The short answer, five-year contracts with provisions for renewals. They’re payable annually, with the pay somewhat front loaded on the first contract’s term.” Vernan nodded and thought a moment before asking, “What about cancellations?” “Depends on the contract actually,” “What about the Soldorak one for Krona Peak?” Taryn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and again shrugged, “I understand that one is a bit complicated, because while it is with Soldorak, the coin for it comes from Mroranon’s coffers.” “So Soldorak doesn’t pay it?” “No, they do, [I]after[/I] they get funding. It was a compromise as it was originally written as if Kundarak had won the business. In that case it would have just been handled by us entirely.” “So, if there was a cancellation on a contract, it would have come through this room, right?” Vernan pressed. “Of course it would, once we get the notarized document from Sivis…wait…what are you thinking?” “I think Mroranon is being taken advantage of, which is a breech of trust and a threat to Kundarak security,” Vernan said with a grimace. Wordlessly, Debrika stepped up to the pair of dwarves talking, and dropped a binder of papers on the table, and with a strong right hand palmed the keg on the table, taking it down the hall out of sight. “So much for sharing,” Taryn said mournfully, and he opened the binder and started to review the papers. His disinterest changed to puzzlement as he flipped more papers over. “What in the? In a single month, four contracts for Dreadhold were executed? And what is even stranger there are a cancellation notices for the first two; both one year in the future.” “I take it that’s not normal?” Vernan said frowning. “The cancellations are unusual, but not unheard of, although a year stay on a frontloaded contract is expensive.” Taryn said. “But usually a contract a year is high traffic. Four in less than a month? Unheard of.” “Wouldn’t someone question it?” Vernan asked, rubbing his chin through his beard. Taryn shook his head, “Unless Dreadhold complains about space, no one cares really. And there is plenty of space last I heard.” “So, what happens when a contract is cancelled?” “Well if cancelled, the prisoners are set free of course.” “Where?” “A port in Lhazaar unless arrangements are made otherwise. But that is beside the point, Kundarak is being paid here.” “I bet. Are these the originals?” Taryn shook his head, “No, these are copies; Sivis handles the papers in the middle and they have the originals.” “Thanks Taryn. And good fortune with the mine; you’re going to need it,” Vernan stood up and headed to the door. Reaching it he paused and turned to ask Taryn a final question. “By the way, when would be the next time someone would be sent there?” Taryn thought a moment, “Well a supply run, and guard rotation occurs every month. Sometimes prisoners are part of it. In fact if I am not wrong,…the next run is three days from now.” “Well then, I guess I know where I am going next.” Vernan said. “It looks like someone is running out of time.” [HR][/HR] “Mona “Moon. You are all over the place on the words. You going to remember this all? I shrugged to myself. “I don’t know. But have to start somewhere.” I leaned against the door, and took a bite of the bread that was on a plate and swallowed some of the sour ale they had left on the tray. I grimaced at the ale’s taste. “You know, I probably shouldn’t be complaining, but the food leaves a lot to be desired.,” I said still chewing the stale bread. “I can tell you there are worse—wait. You did sip it right, not gulp it down?” I had a sinking feeling, “No…why?” “The Mror usually water down their stuff from the taps for guests; they don’t do that here…so you need to take it slo—” My stomach suddenly heaved, “—Too late.” And I crawled over to the hole and started to empty the contents of my insides for the second time, although having something to come up made it liveable. “Sorry about that, I’m going to get some sleep.” I nodded my head in the hole, waiting for another round, panting with exhaustion laying there, barely conscious of the smells coming from below. As the nausea passed, I found myself laughing at the absurdity of everything happening. Escaping from evil slaving dwarves, to being jailed by what I guessed were respectable ones, all because I broke a table in the wrong bar. How could I not laugh at this? I pushed myself up onto all fours, and I noticed something; the buzzing in my head suddenly appeared. “Wait…” I whispered to myself. I then lowered my body again so lay next to the hole. And as I did so, I felt the buzzing in my head ebb. Then, I lowered my head into it and as I did so, I felt the buzzing completely dissipate. Pulling myself up, I felt the tunic I had been wearing, and found an errant thread. I easily pulled it away from the cloth, and with it in hand, I lay once again, with my head and hand in the sewer hole, and focused. I pulled on that part of myself that was me; not the strands, and I felt the familiar rush along my spine. And there in the hole, the thread began to glow with a dim red light; the pain I remembered from earlier, no where to be felt. I flexed again and dispelled it. Now I was smiling, and chuckling. I lay there and started to focus on the strands within me. But this time I didn’t pull on them. Instead I followed them slowly with my mind, feeling them as they spread out in the metaphorical distance. The strands seemed to twist and turn and then I found what I was looking for. The strands were always connected to me, and they always seemed to stretch out in the distance forever. But I wasn’t the only thing connected to them. In my mind’s eye, I found where the strands, light and dark braided together on a shape; a cylindrical object. I reached out with my mind’s eye and grasped it and pulled. My vision and nose returned to the sewer hole, with my arm extended down into the depths. I pulled myself back and rolled over and looked at my right hand. Clutched in it was a silver cylinder. Smiling in victory, I reached with my left hand and pulled a tab, revealing the metal sheets and the etched Celestial lettering within. [I]The[/I] [I]Apochrypha[/I]. The lessons of my lord Kelemvor, and all the ritual magic that I possessed. I rolled over and pushed the cylinder back into the hole, and wedged it so it wouldn’t roll down, although if it came to it, I could just resummon it. Before pulling myself out, I pulled on a bit of the strand to clean off the filth from the sewer, but not so much that someone would notice I was clean. I crawled over to the platform and stretched out on it, smiling at my discovery. And more than that my mind considered the possibilities, and a plan began to form. It wouldn’t be easy, but everything I needed was nearby. All I needed was a little luck. And a lot of faith. [B]Session Notes[/B] So...there are a lot of skill checks being reflected here in long prose. We are really half way in a single day. It's amazing how abstract the game can be, even when you role play a large bit. [/QUOTE]
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The Thorns of Winter -(updated 8/1/2023)
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