Material Gain - 1/27/2022
I ran through the garbage choked alley in the rain, heavily laden with smoke and brimstone. The cobblestones were slick and I was trying to maintain my footing as my bare feet slapped against the stone. No one impeded me as I ran around the empty alley, turning corners and pulling down stacks of wooden crates as I passed them. All in a vain attempt to slow something approaching behind me. I heard wood shattering on the stone as the crates fell behind me as I continued to run. Rivulets of rain poured from my hair, and down my bare back and between my heaving bosom, as I continued to flee. As I ran, I became soaked with a deluge of filth, as all the upper stories of this infinitely tall alleyway, took to dumping their night water down into the alley below with me running through it. Still, I continued to run as my eyes watered trying to wash away the muck with my tears. I wiped my face with my hand as I tried to see where the alley led, and nearly wretched from the odor. Finally, I saw a hard turn to the left, and my feet slipping as I tried to navigate it. I managed to keep my balance, but skidded to a stop, as thunder pealed overhead.
The alley was cut short, with an imposing wall of brick in front of me. I stood upright in surprise, as a flash of lighting followed lit the wall ahead, and as thunder gave a low grumbling, I saw there painted in dark pitch a balance held by skeletal hand. But instead of being level I could see one scale pushed downwards, by the form of a golden woman laying on it. As I stood there trying to process the scene, I heard many footsteps on the cobblestone behind me, slowly approaching. I turned shivering, my breathes short as I looked at the gang behind me, each face lingering as I looked each in turn. Then I could hear them chant, as they approached, each muttering with gravelly voices, as I looked at them all and recognizing a few.
A small child, with a pair of spears protruding from her chest, pointed at me whispering.
“Myrai.”
A man, wearing the baldric of a Deneith Blademark, pale from exsanguination, pointed at me groaning.
“Myrai.”
A Genasi, hair grey with age, and whose severed head was firmly underneath his arm, and with his other hand, pointed at me, while the mouth bubbled with blood.
“Myrai.”
The bones of a gnome woman burned black to the core and still smoldering with embers stared with empty sockets and pointed at me hissing.
“Myrai.”
A wood elf, who stood smoking in front of me, her face blue and streaked with ash, and pointed at me wheezing.
“Myrai.”
So many were behind them; from Whitepetal. More Blademarks from here. Townsfolk. Sigilites. Elves. Humans. Gith. Gnomes. Men. Women. Children. All of them pointing at me.
“Myrai.”
And then, from behind the throng, a solitary figure pushed their way through. A tiefling with dark red skin, fiery red hair, and small horns. She looked at me with dead white eyes, one of them hanging from her eye socket by a strand of tissue. Around her neck, and around her mouth were stitches, now loosened with age and decay. She plodded forward, as I retreated, tripping, and falling backwards. I scrambled backwards away from the girl in horror, the rain pouring heavily on my naked form, water mixing with the filth from garbage and excrement. I pushed myself against the wall, under the symbol as the red and rotten tiefling approached. She bent at the waist and cocked her head and sneered as she spoke.
“What makes you special?” her voice was wet as she gurgled the question. “Why is it always you that lives? How do you manage not to die? Where is your soul taking you?” she reached out and wrapped her hands around my throat and began to squeeze. I wheezed for a moment, before falling silent as I wrestled with her. She stood up, pulling me off the stone and suspended me in the air. My heart pounded, and I felt pressure build in my head and lungs as I tried and failed to inhale. I hung helplessly, eyes bulging, and trying to speak with a burst, the last breath I had.
“I…I’m…sorr—” I choked before being cut off.
“Who
are you?” Elisna said. I felt my throat collapse with a sickening crack, and she threw me against the brick wall. The bricks broke apart behind me into an endless void, as I reached for her for succor. She receded from view wearing a sanctimonious smile as I fell backward, unable to breathe, my heart pumping its last beat when I hit…
I sharply inhaled and sat up in the Jorasco station. I clutched at my neck and panted for air. I looked around me and I first saw Adrissa curled up near the fireplace sleeping peacefully. Turning my head, I was surprised to see Doxx and Rosa back-to-back sharing blankets also deep asleep. I chuckled for a moment when I was startled to hear a voice behind me.
“That one seemed worse than normal,” twisting around I saw Bookshelf seated at a table. A plate on their chest had slid open, and from it was a small frame that held a shard and a small mechanical device with many buttons or keys. Mounted on it was a small candle, which shed a dim circle of light around the warforged.
I nodded, “I don’t usually remember them. This one was different.” Sitting up fully, I pulled up my knees and lay my forehead on them. My heart and breathing were slowing, and all that was left of the dream was a muddle of feelings that twisted in my stomach. My eyes teared up as I felt one specific one well up within me.
“Why?” I choked. “Too many people died around me, and yet I survive.”
The warforged sat there unmoving and then finally shrugged its shoulders and spoke. “That is not the first time I have heard that question. Sometimes I heard it from someone laying on the battlefield I crossed, delivering a missive or command. Other times, I heard it uttered in the Jorasco tents, as they fixed soldiers, or the Cannith ones as they repaired us. And yet they all paled in comparison to the soldiers captured.”
I looked at the warforged in puzzlement. “How? I’ve seen the fields of battle but not that.”
Bookshelf again was quiet, before they began again. “Warforged captured by the enemy are treated well. We got a new mission, and new targets. Little problem there. But the others were herded into cages or fenced in barracks. They were given meager scraps; barely enough to live. Soldiers need more food to keep fighting. The prisoners were secondary concerns. Some were held for ransom, and they were better fed. But if their families didn’t respond, they had a hard time. The nature of the question changed.”
“A hard time?” I said still trying to picture what had happened.
“Sometimes a simple missive wasn’t enough. Sometimes, proof was required, and that proof needed to be delivered.” Bookshelf said flatly. “An ear. A finger. A chunk of skin with a tattoo.”
My blood ran cold, “You…you did those things.” I said in shock.
Bookshelf paused again and then spoke plainly, “A warforged does what they are told. I did this during the last year of the war, because that what was expected of me. It wasn’t until the end of the war when I first considered that what I had done wasn’t a normal part of war. That was it considered a crime under the old code of Galifar. By then it made no difference; the war was over. But those prisoner’s question didn’t change from the ones laying on the field dying, or the ones being healed not dying. The question is the same regardless of circumstances, across the living or the warforged. General to peasant levy. Young or Old. And then as now, the answer is the same.”
“What?”
“There are no answers, and one must deal with the now as best one can. No one can change your circumstance but you. Some can accept that. Many cannot.”
“Bookshelf, the things you have done. Have you come to terms with it?” I asked as I pulled myself off my bed roll, feeling very awake.
“No. I’m not sure it would change anything. It didn’t for the prisoners asking. And wondering if it is fate or ill luck is pointless.”
I sat there thinking on their words and shook my head, “That’s too cold. The gods don’t want that for us. There is meaning to every life and every death!”
“Then, why are you asking the question?” Bookshelf flatly asked me.
I stopped short. I realized I had helped others answer that question many times. Sometimes when they lived. Sometimes as they lay before me dying. And sometimes as a prayer, hoping their souls might. They took comfort in my words, or so I hoped. And it didn’t matter what the answer was, just that they had an answer. But who was I to give such assurances? Who was I to have such certainty?
Who was I?
“The question doesn’t have a single answer,” I replied growing angry. “It’s not even the point. It’s a plea for understanding. And you would think as someone who often gives council, that I would know the answer. But the truth is I feel like I am missing something. Like a broken vase, but where the pieces don’t fit. Helping others along the way isn’t enough. Now I feel like I’m being led by the nose and being shown death and despair for a
reason.” I stood up in my small clothes, agitated and started to pace.
“I’ve almost died to vegepygmies. I’ve almost died to magical conflagration. I’ve almost died with a dagger in my side and a fall. Almost to a fall in Krona Peak onto a bar table. And the one time I
did die…I wasn’t allowed to.”
Bookshelf looked at me uncomprehendingly, “Allowed? Death simply comes when your body or mind is broken.”
“Perhaps for others. But I seem to be different,” turning I faced Bookshelf. “When I died at the jaws of hyenas, I was done. I didn’t want to return. I was relieved that I had reached the end and that I would forget all the pain. But my father forced me back to life somehow. Like he had a plan. Like he wanted me to experience…death,” my voice dropped to a whisper.
Experience. It was the credo of a Sensate that the best way to learn about the multiverse was to experience it. Was it possible that I didn’t just almost die all those times…but I actually
did?
“Why? Why is it important to him I keep dying?” I whispered.
“You are making no sense Myrai,” Bookshelf stated.
I chuckled a moment, “Probably not…but I think I understand what the question I have, really is,” I smirked and shook my head and looked down by my bedroll where my gear was, with the silvery cylinder lay;
The Apocrypha. It had been perhaps six months since I accidently found myself having a conversation with it:
“Element Myrai cannot be informed on the purpose of duties, as it would compromise nature of purpose. Duties are defined currently as ‘passive with active engagement’ with proto-petitioners as far as element Myrai’s judgement is concerned including executions as required.”
“Otherwise, best guidance provided is similar in nature as former member of ‘Society of Sensation,’ with different parameters of focus.”
“It looks like that I need to—” I started, when the door to the aid station was flung open, by the dripping wet form of the juggernaut, Sage.
“We have been summoned,” the warforged said flatly to everyone, now wide awake at the intrusion.
“By?” Doxx said, rubbing her eyes as she quickly scooted away from Rosa on the floor.
“Lolopethes. It appears Loramica wants a report this morning.” Sage said calmly. As we looked at each other with resignation he amended his statement. “He did say please.”
“Well, I’m sure Loramica didn’t say that.” Rosa said standing and pulling on her boots. As she did so she looked around puzzled. “Where’s The Blade?”
“I haven’t seen him since he jumped over the wall last night,” Bookshelf said as he put away his crystal and gathered their things.
“I saw him briefly last night, travelling around the alleys,” Sage said. “But he was so absorbed in what he was doing, that he didn’t respond to me shouting at him.”
“Lost in his head?” Doxx said mockingly. “I’m not surprised. Maybe he’ll find something.”
“In the alley or his head?” Bookshelf asked.
“Yes. Both.” Doxx spat.
We quickly dressed and armed ourselves and made our way to the Church of the Blood Sacrament, without The Blade. Gossamer followed us, flitting from roof to roof, ducking under eaves here and there to stay out of potential rain. As it was, the morning’s sky was covered in thick clouds. More than enough to keep the morning’s light dim and murky. The streets were still wet and slick from the rain, which also left the scent of damp, burned wood in our nostrils. After a hurried walk, we entered the grounds of the church.
The makeshift stables and tents were mostly empty, and there were several of Loramica’s soldiers fixing meals at a campfire in the center of the yard. But looking at the men there, their faces told the same tale. They were exhausted, with sagging eyes and thinning cheeks from hard labors. They might have been skilled soldiers, but they were clearly pushing themselves hard trying to patrol the town and keep the vegepygmies at bay. They looked at us with disdain, thinking we had the easier job than they and I would have been hard pressed to disagree.
We walked up to the steps to enter the church proper and were met by the elf Lolopethes. He said nothing and waved us inside. Once again, I felt ill inside the church. Its interior felt dark and cold to me, even with several braziers warming the chapel. The center still had the table set over the stone basin, and on it were even more scattered papers and maps. Leaning over it, Loramica looked only slightly better than her men. As we approached, she only glanced up for a moment, and said in an even tone, “Report.”
We looked at each other for a moment, and Doxx then stepped forward. “Ah yes. We found the druids. They were headed to an excavation of House Cannith—”
“—Cannith?” Loramica said surprised, but she didn’t look up. “Why would they be working with Cannith?”
“Ah…yes. Simply put, the Cannith group were…duped, by the druids,” Doxx explained quickly. “There was a journal of one of Cannith scions and it pretty much told us that they found the cave based on notes in a book in Cattbron.”
“A book?” Lolopethes said intrigued.
Doxx nodded and continued, “The place was thought by Cannith to be a Dhakaani installation of some sort…but we think it is…older.”
Loramica looked up from her maps and squinted at Doxx, ignoring the rest of us. “So…what is this installation?”
Sage then spoke before Doxx could respond. “It was part of an eldritch machine. Morrigon Finn had one of his disciples turn it on. We then had to flee before the place collapsed.”
“Destroying it?” Loramica asked in a guarded tone.
“No,” Bookshelf answered. “It was fully functional and buried beneath tons of rock. But I am certain that all the place did was provide energy to something else.”
“So, you just watched them turn it on?” Loramica growled between clenched teeth.
“They had a control…key and she broke it in front of us,” Rosa said. “She also said that only Morrigon had another.”
Loramica pounded her fist on the table in anger and was about to bellow something, when Lolopethes intervened. “You said there was a book in Cattbron?”
Rosa nodded, “Yes. In a journal from one of the Cannith’s discussed something about greater and lesser keys in that book.”
Lolopethes thought a moment as if he was trying to remember something before his eyes grew wide. “Of course. I have read this book. A complete chore: the gnome was very full of himself. I had stumbled on it looking for something else entirely. Paid it no mind at the time. But clearly, we need it now.”
“Shouldn’t we do something besides chase a stupid book down,” Adrissa said, her tone clearly annoyed.
“Yes, you should,” Lolopethes smiled at the girl warmly. “You should get Taget oil, and if you are lucky morning glys.”
“Didn’t you send someone for that?” Rosa asked exasperated.
“We did…but it is two days ride, and it’s been only a day.” Lolopethes said shrugging his shoulders. “But nothing is certain. So, you should at least check on it.”
“Well then if that is—” Loramica started to say when she was interrupted.
“I found the tracks!” The Blade said as he stepped out from the shadows of the room.
“Tracks?” Loramica asked exasperated.
“I spent all night searching every alleyway and found nothing,” The Blade began. “But the rain washed away the clues. But then I found a building that stood near the southern wall, and it had a rope hanging from a rafter. I used it to scale down the wall, and I found what I was looking for, trampled grass and mud. The conclusion was obvious.”
“What are you talking about?” Loramica raised her voice annoyed.
“How they were helped into the town from the southern wall from the inside, without using the gates. Then they snuck to northern wall, and then followed us to the canyon to the north,” The Blade continued, ignoring Loramica’s increasing fustration.
“WHO are THEY?” Loramica bellowed in frustration.
“The Emerald Claw troops that followed us,” The Blade said calmly.
Doxx shut her eyes tightly and raised her hand, “Yes, I was about—”
Loramica raised both of her mailed fists and pounded the table. She swept off the maps and papers in a fury pacing like a caged animal. “Of all the things we DON’T need is a bunch of…zealots running around making things worse!” She ranted, as Lolopethes bent down and started to collect the papers. She then narrowed her eyes and stomped over to Doxx. She grabbed the old woman and lifted her a up to her eye level. “And you said they
followed you? Like they knew where you were going?”
Doxx shrugged helplessly, “They were killed by basilisks before we could ask them.”
“There could be more in town,” The Blade said. “We should ask them.”
“Do you know where they are?” Loramica said her seething gaze now focused on the elf.
The Blade stood there quietly as if in thought. Then he just said “No.”
Loramica rolled her eyes and fumed, “I don’t have the men to do a door-to-door search
and patrol the exterior. And even if we did, they would likely just change hiding places.”
“It is more likely someone is hiding them here or that they have a safe house here, Lolopethes concurred. “It would be difficult to find. And the men are already worn out. Best for us to conserve our strength. Actually…if they are following you,” and he gestured at us. “You might just draw them out, so you can ask them yourselves.”
“So, go to Cattbron. Find out about the oil. Find a book. Hope to find some flowers. Find Emerald Claw folks following us,” I said looking the old elf in the eye. “Anything else?”
“I think that is quite enough for the group of you,” Lolopethes said. “But you must do it with haste. We don’t have much of the medicine to prevent infection; and once we run out, we will be vulnerable. But, I fear that the townspeople’s frustrations may boil over..”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Time for what?” Adrissa asked me.
I grimaced and looked at her, “I’ve seen situations like this in the Hive in Sigil. The townsfolks will be getting more and more desperate. With their kids dying, and the only cure seemingly in the hands of the soldiers, they may resort to…”
“To…what?” Adrissa pressed.
“Riots. Rebellion. Violence,” Lolopethes said calmly. “All in misguided frustration and desperation.
“We need to leave,” Bookshelf said resigned.
“I will see if we can get you some riding horses from the town stable,” Lolopethes said. “We cannot afford to loan you our steeds, however.
“Then stop standing around and get moving!” Loramica yelled, and never was I happier to make myself scarce. Lolopethes followed us out, and gave polite orders to some of the men, who simply grunted and headed to the town center to find us mounts. The sky above rumbled and all I could do was shake my head and hope that the weather wouldn’t turn.
--That went well. Back on the road.
I suppose.
I looked around the yard and sighed. Above me I heard the flapping of wings, and I watched a raven, with black feathers streaked with grey streaks on the wing alight on a roofline. It was the first bird I had seen in a while, not that I had been looking terribly hard for them. It looked like it was staring at me as it cocked its head from side to side. It sat there and pumped its breast and exhale sharply a number of times, before clacking its beak and taking to the air. As it flew over the church walls, there was a peal of thunder and the rain once again started to pour. I looked up at the clouds above, winced and said a silent prayer for us all.
We were going to need all the help we could get.
Session Notes:
This is a serious campaign as you may have noticed. But really one of the things that made it tolerable were the antics of The Blade. I probably don't do the comedy justice, but I try.
And now...lets see how Cattbron has fared since the last time we saw the town.
