Travels through the Wild West: a Forgotten Realms Story

[Horacio]

Thanks, Horacio! I was debating spending the extra 300gps, but it really paid off I guess . Yes, the story of Arthur's birth through deception does resonate in my account of Lok's origins, but I can promise that our genasi won't be drawing any swords out of big rocks...

And what about an axe?
"The king once and future raised the mighty Axe of Dwarvenship from the rock and all the dwarves kneeled to acknowledge their sovereign. A thousand of grave and deep voices cried withour hesitation:

Gods save Lok, the Kings of all Dwarvenship!"

It could be an epic ending for the campaing...


BTW, book 1 chapter 1 was great, I like gargoyles...

 

[Lazybones]

Broccli_Head,
I haven't picked up LoD yet, but I did just get Magic of Faerun. Cool content, horrible artwork. Some of the spells are a little cheesy IMHO, but at least one of the prestige classes will be making an appearance in the story soon.

I've used two of the adversaries at the back of the FRCS now... perhaps I should have the companions encounter a group of murderous killer-rothe, to fill out the set?

Horacio, great idea! I do have some pretty dramatic ideas bouncing around for the end of the story, but that's a while off yet... Lok will delve back into the mysteries of his past, and as for the others...

Well, wait and see!

* * * * *


Book II, Part 2

The city of Baldur’s Gate was widely renown as one of the great metropolises of the northwestern coast of Faerun, its significance rivaled only by the City of Splendors, magical Waterdeep itself. Baldur’s Gate was a nexus of trade, connecting the wild North, the rich Heartlands, and the Sword Coast, all bound together by the trackless avenues of the ocean, the many rivers that ran through the region, and the various trade roads. For all that it was now a bustling city of tens of thousands, nearly twice the size of Elturel, Baldur’s Gate still bore the mark of the impermanent frontier, a place of exotic treasures, mysterious dangers, and unique characters.

The three companions paid little heed to the wonders of the city, however, focused as they were upon their vital errand. Their encounter with the gargoyles and the sudden appearance of a brief storm that had blown down from the north had slowed their travel down the river, but despite those obstacles only five days had passed since they had left Elturel. They disembarked from the keelboat at the city docks, paid the nominal entry tax for admission into the city, and made their way into the crowded streets.

They decided not to wait, and after getting directions from a passing merchant, made their way to the temple district. They got a lot of curious looks, both at Lok’s unusual appearance and at the small coffin they were carrying, but no one who got a look at the determination in their eyes tried to interfere with them.

The Lady’s Hall, the temple of the goddess Tymora, was a remarkable edifice, its thick columns and elaborate carvings tribute to the regard with which the Lady Who Smiles was held in the city. There was a steady stream of petitioners entering the temple through the massive double doors in the front of the structure, so the three companions joined the queue and passed through into the temple portico.

Perhaps it was their unusual appearance, or the obvious quality of their equipment, but it only a few minutes before an acolyte approached them in greeting. The young woman was a little taken aback when they asked for an audience with the High Priestess, and tried at first to deflect them, but Delem’s impassioned plea finally had her scurrying into the private chambers in the rear of the place.

“Way to go with that charm spell,” Benzan said.

“I didn’t use it,” the sorcerer insisted.

They did not have long to wait, and soon the acolyte returned and escorted them into a small but elaborately adorned chapel that adjoined the main temple. There, they met Ilyessa Beldarin, High Priestess of Tymora and one of the most powerful clerics of the Sword Coast. A fairly new resident of the city, Ilyessa was around forty, still youthful despite the traces of gray in her hair, and still possessed of a potent personality that each of the companions felt as she turned her steel-gray eyes upon each of them in turn.

“Thank you, child,” she said, dismissing the acolyte. If she felt any fear at being left alone with three armed strangers, she did not show it. Her gaze returned to Benzan, and she stared intently at him for a long moment. “What purpose do you have here, tiefling?” she said, her lips tightening slightly in an obvious gesture of disgust.

Delem opened his mouth to say something, but Benzan cut him off with a gesture. He stepped forward boldly, and stood before the regal woman. “I am here because my friend sacrificed his life to defeat a great evil, the kind that your gods of good are supposedly dedicated to fighting. We have letters from Lady Cleric Palintz and Secretary Padronus of Elturel, detailing our deeds, but if you are going to stand there and judge me, without even knowing me or my friends, on the basis of a heritage I had no choice in selecting, then perhaps we came to the wrong place for aid.”

The priestess’s eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but Benzan stood his ground, meeting her gaze squarely. Finally, her frown cracked, and the hint of a smile appeared on her face.

“It has been a long while since anyone has put me in my place,” she said, “and a fair time since I have deserved it so rightly. Very well then, strangers, I will read your letters, and hear your tale. But first tell me your names, so that I might know who it is who rebukes me so.”

They introduced themselves, handed over the sealed letters, and began relating what had happened to them. Cal had been the natural storyteller among them, but together, with even Lok contributing bits and details, they related their story to the priestess.

At her gesture they removed the top of the box, revealing Cal’s motionless form, his features preserved exactly as they had been by the power of Palintz’s spell. The priestess looked down at him for a moment, then she muttered a brief incantation over him, her hand moving in a small circle above his head.

“There is a lingering goodness about this one, that I can still feel,” she said.

“So you will help us?” Lok asked.

The priestess turned and walked back to the far wall of the shrine, where rays of light slanted down through windows of stained glass fashioned into a variety of colorful designs. “It is a great boon you seek,” she told them. “Bringing a soul back across the veil is not something that is done lightly, for all that so many in these times seem to wield such great power recklessly.” Her tone suggested that she knew personally of such cases.

“We have wealth,” Benzan said, and he opened the small box he carried to let the light play on the surface of their gemstones.

“It seems that the reputation of Tymora’s church is well-established,” Ilyessa said dryly. “While it is true that Our Smiling Lady’s church is known for selling healing spells and enchanted items for profit, I feel that what you are asking for goes beyond a simple mercantile transaction.”

“What do you mean?” Benzan asked, his tone admitting more than a little suspicion at her words.

“I will be happy to provide you with assistance—divine scrolls, potions, or other items of minor magic that we can provide. But for this boon you seek, I will require a service.”

“If you can help Cal, we will we do whatever you ask, be it within our power,” Lok said.

“Wait a moment,” Benzan added, before the priestess could respond. “I would like to find out what sort of chore you have in mind, first, if you don’t object.”

“Of course,” the priestess said, that enigmatic hint of a smile briefly returning for a moment. For some reason, Benzan found that that little smile worried him. “I promise that the aid I seek is in the cause of good, a cause that your friend here sacrificed so nobly to advance. It involves risk, but very existence here in the ‘wild west’ involves that, and I can see from your story thus far that you are no strangers to that challenge.”

“Ah, my good Benzan, I can see that your patience is wearing thin at my riddles. Very well, then, the favor I request is this: I require your help escorting a member of my order on a long journey, an important voyage to the farthest reaches of our continent of Faerun. Her destination, the place she requires safe escort to, is Port Nyanzaru, in the land of Chult.”

Delem and Lok exchanged a blank look, but Benzan, who was more widely traveled, and who had heard more stories from travelers, exclaimed, “Chult! The ‘farthest reaches,’ indeed! What business could you possibly have in that gods-forsaken land?”

“My own business,” the priestess replied, not giving the tiefling an inch. “All I ask of you is that you see my emissary to her destination safely, and see that she safely return. It should not take more than a few months of your time in total—a small price, I would think, for the life of your friend. And I promise you that your help will be aiding the cause of good, although I can say no more at this time about the nature of her errand, nor will she.”

“Where is this place?” Delem asked.

“Chult is a harsh land, a deep jungle, at the tip of a long peninsula that juts out into the Trackless Sea,” Benzan answered. “Cal would be able to tell you more, no doubt, were he able…” the tiefling broke off, uncomfortable at his own reminder of why they were here. He met the eyes of each of his companions, saw reflected there the feeling in his own heart, and then turned back to the priestess.

“If it will bring Cal back…” he began, but then something occurred to him, and he added, “But I cannot speak for Cal on this. If we agree, it is the three of us, unless he agrees willingly to go.”

“Had you not noted that, I would have suggested the same,” Ilyessa said. “I will not accept a service that is not freely granted—such a thing goes against the core tenets of the Lady’s creed.”

“How will you know if we honor our part of the bargain? I mean, what if you restore Cal, and we just leave?” Delem asked. By the look that Benzan shot the sorcerer, it was clear he’d been thinking the same thing, and regretted having it asked.

But the priestess had a ready answer for that question as well. “If you do accept this charge, I will administer a spell of questing, what wizards call a geas, upon each of you. If you honor your commitment, it will not hinder you in any way, but if you violate the bargain intentionally… well, you will not find the effects pleasant.”

Benzan looked like he wanted to say something more, but he felt Lok’s heavy hand on his shoulder, and held his tongue. He looked back at Delem, but the sorcerer, too, nodded his assent.

“Very well,” he said. “We accept. But if possible, can we have some time here before we leave on this ‘quest’? We need to reequip ourselves, and I think Cal might want some time to get used to being alive again.”

“Of course,” the priestess said. “A ship, the Raindancer out of Waterdeep, will dock here in a few days, and will depart a tenday’s hence. Do you have lodging here in the town?”

“We came straight here from the docks,” Delem said.

“Speak to the acolyte on the way out, and she can recommend a few comfortable places nearby, where you can take you rest. Return tomorrow morning, and I will cast the spells then. You may leave your friend in our care until then, and goddess-willing, tomorrow he will be restored to you.”

The three bowed—Benzan a little reluctantly—and took their leave, each bidding their friend a quiet farewell as they went.

 

[Horacio]

So it seems they have been engaged for another nasty adventure. And Cal will go back!!!!

Cool!

 

[Lazybones]

Book II, Part 3

They returned when the first rays of winter sunshine were just illuminating the bright dome of the Lady’s Hall, as the city was just beginning to stir from its night’s sleep. The companions were silent, each nursing their own private fears and anticipation as they entered the outer precincts of the temple. They were early, before the temple normally opened for the day, but they were not entirely surprised when an acolyte was waiting for them in the columned portico, and waved them inside through a side door.

They were escorted directly to the same chapel in which they had met the high priestess the afternoon before, and left to wait there.

“I didn’t get any sleep at all last night,” Delem said, fidgeting slightly with the hem of his cloak.

“I know,” Lok said, his manner a reassuring stability that bolstered them all. “I hope that everything goes well.”

“Indeed,” came a voice from the rear hallway. They turned as one as Ilyessa Beldarin walked into the room. She was clad in a simple robe of shimmering silk that brushed on the polished stone of the floor as she walked. She looked tired, with faint hints of rings under her eyes, but there was a gleam in those eyes that matched her smile as she greeted them.

“Good morning,” she said. “I believe there is someone here who wishes to see you.”

She stepped aside, and for the first time they could see the small figure who stepped up in her wake, dressed in a plain wool robe.

“Cal!” Benzan and Delem cried out together, as all three friends rushed over to their risen comrade.

“Hey guys,” the gnome said, his own smile weary but full of warmth. If the high priestess looked tired, Cal looked exhausted, but he clasped arms with each of his friends, and for a moment everyone was talking at once, and laughing.

It was Benzan who first looked up at the high priestess, whose normally cool expression had cracked on witnessing the open display of camaraderie. The tiefling said to her, “But—you haven’t cast the questing spell yet, the one that you mentioned last night.”

A hint of wry humor twisted the woman’s smile. “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Actually, that spell is beyond my abilities, you see.”

Benzan nodded, understanding, and he bowed to the woman with respect.

“Well, the duties of the day are calling me, and I am sure that you have many things to discuss,” the priestess said to them. “I will send an acolyte to the inn where you are staying in a few days, with more information about your upcoming journey. Remember that the Raindancer departs on its voyage in a tenday.”

“We’ll be there,” Lok said, and with another round of heartfelt thanks to the priestess, the companions, reunited again, departed.

* * * * *

The tenday passed quickly, as the companions rested from their ordeal, enjoyed the pleasures of the city, and made preparations for their next adventure. Cal was briefed on what had happened since his demise at the hands of the evil cleric—as Lok had put it, “Now, for once, someone else gets to be the storyteller.” The gnome was happy to be back among his friends, but there was a shadow that crept into his expression at times when he was alone, and some of his previously mastered abilities were no longer available to him, drained by the ordeal of being restored from death back to life.

They were wealthy, now, with the reward they’d received form the Town Council of Elturel and the treasures they’d found in the hidden shrine of Cyric. Their combined treasure, once they’d sold the gems taken from the evil priest’s quarters, came to just over two thousand gold pieces for each of them. Cal tried to insist that his share should be divided among his three friends, given all they had sacrificed for him, but Lok and Delem (and, belatedly, Benzan as well) vetoed that suggestion. They also had accumulated several magical items that they hadn’t taken the time to examine closely before, including the black sword wielded by the shade warrior, and a silver ring that had been worn by the gargoyle leader, and which proved to be a minor protective item. As the sword proved to be inferior to Benzan’s scimitar and Lok’s axe, and neither Delem nor Cal could use it, they elected to sell it trade it for something more useful, and they collectively agreed that Delem should wear the magical ring.

“You need some protection, to keep you from going down with the first blow of the battle,” Benzan teased him, referring to their encounter in the warehouse with the shade.

Benzan located a wizard who specialized in enchanting magical armor, and traded him the potent magical breastplate that had belonged to Lamber Dunn for lesser enchantments upon his mithral chainmail and Lok’s suit of full plate. Lok added a tall pile of gold coins and placed his shield into the transaction, requesting a similar enchantment upon it. With that hefty cash incentive the wizard was able to complete the task within the allotted time, and by the end of the tenday the two warriors were outfitted in their newly enhanced protection. Benzan kept the magical chain shirt that he had previously used, for it was light and easily stored.

They took advantage of the high priestess’s offer to sell them items created by the clerics of Tymora, and soon they had equipped themselves with potions and scrolls containing potent healing magic. Cal also purchased a new magical wand, a slim rod of polished ivory that could cast a protective ward against evil. After their battle with the demon, all of them welcomed the addition of that item to their arsenal.

While exploring what the city’s shops had to offer, Delem found one other item of note. After sharing his discovery with his companions, they agreed to pool much of what was left of their cash and purchase what he had found: a magical bag of holding, a remarkable device that could store goods inside much in excess of what its outside dimensions seemed to indicate. They all agreed that such an item would prove very useful on their upcoming journey, and were soon placing carefully packed sacks of supplies into the magical bag. Benzan in particular seemed interested in filling the bag with expensive foodstuffs and quality wines, so much so that Cal had to covertly remove a few of his additions to make room for more fundamental gear like rope and lamp oil. Lok took custody of the bag, as they all agreed that the item would probably be safest on his person.

Toward the end of the tenday another winter storm blew in off the Sea of Swords, soaking the city with a deluge of cold rain and blustery winds. People without urgent business out in the streets remained in the warm shelter of the indoors, and as the day passed into the night in Baldur’s Gate, the four companions were no exception.

Cal came down the stairs of the inn, and waved at his friends, who were already seated at a table near the massive stone hearth. The common room was crowded, but people made way for the gnome, who quickly moved to join his companions.

“He’s been spending a lot of time alone, lately,” Delem said in an undertone to his friends as Cal approached.

“Give the guy a break, he’s just been dead for half a tenday,” Benzan said, then turned to greet the gnome as he finally reached them. “Hey, Cal, buy you a drink?”

“I should be the one buying drinks for all of you,” Cal said, as he seated himself at the table. He smiled at them, but it was a wan smile, lacking the typical energy that they were accustomed to seeing in their friend. Still, there was a mischievous hint of something in his eyes as he turned to Benzan. “So, I was putting a few of those wine bottles you left out back in your room, and I found something… unusual among your things.”

“Oh?” Benzan said, but he clearly looked uncomfortable.

“Not that it’s any of my business, or that I want to pry, but do you want to talk about it?”

The tiefling looked over at Lok and Delem, who had turned to him with curious looks on their faces. “Oh, all right, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. I bought a spellbook, and some minor spells from that wizard who enchanted our armor. I thought I’d take some time to study them on the voyage—not like we’re going to have much else to do with the time, especially with you taking most of my wine out of the bag of holding.”

“You, a magic-user?” Delem asked incredulously.

“Yeah, me!” Benzan said. “I grew up in Unther, where the gift is commonplace, and my mother… spent some time with a wizard friend of hers, when I was a child. I didn’t think that I learned much then, but I guess some of it must have stuck. Anyway, if you can become a cleric of Kossuth, then I can become a wizard.”

“Well, maybe Lok will become a paladin, next,” Cal chided lightly. With more seriousness, he added, “It is every man’s right to develop his talents in whatever direction they may lead. Let me know if I can be of any help in your personal explorations into the Weave.”

Benzan opened his mouth to reply, but his thought was interrupted as he caught sight of someone approaching them through the crowd. The others saw his expression of surprise and turned to match his gaze, recognizing the individual who stepped up to their table and greeted them.

“Hello there,” Lady Dana Ilgarten said to them.

Cal recovered first, and replied, “Well, hello, Lady Ilgarten—Dana. What a surprise to run into you here; I mean, we knew you were headed to Baldur’s Gate, but we certainly didn’t expect to see you. Please, join us.” He looked around for a vacant chair that they could appropriate, but all of the ones around them were occupied.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” the young noblewoman said.

“Well, of course,” Cal replied. “What can we do for you?”

Her gaze traveled over each of them in turn, fixed with determination. “I wish to accompany you on your journey tomorrow,” she said.

For all of the noise in the crowded common room, there was shocked silence at one table, at least.

 

[Lazybones]

I've updated the character stats in the Rogues' Gallery, including information from the most recent post.

Happy weekend everybody!
Lazybones

 

[Lazybones]

Book II, Part 4

“This is not a good idea,” Benzan said, as he paced across the floor of his room.

Dana Ilgarten did not respond as she watched him from the bed. Cal, Lok, and Delem were seated at the small table near the windowsill. They had moved the discussion up here to gain some privacy and quiet, and thus far the young noblewoman had not wavered in her determination to join them on their quest for the church of Tymora.

“We will likely be gone for several months,” Cal offered.

“How did you even find out about this?” Benzan added, spinning to confront her. Dana, for her part, seemed nonplussed at his hard tone and fixed stare.

“My family’s business is all about knowing things before the competition,” she said.

“It’s too dangerous…” Benzan began, then caught himself and paused.

Dana’s eyes narrowed. “Too dangerous for a woman, you mean? Because I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time, now.”

Benzan didn’t back down. “I was going to say, too dangerous for a lord’s daughter, even one with your… talents.”

“What my friend is trying to say,” Cal interjected smoothly, “is that you aren’t the typical adventurer. Won’t your father be concerned if you suddenly disappear on a long journey half-way around Faerun? What of your responsibilities here?”

Dana sighed, and when she spoke again it was with heartfelt feeling. “Look, I know that you hardly know me, but I can assure you that this is not a decision that I am making lightly. I know that you four answer to no one except yourselves, that all roads are your home and every choice yours to make. Can you understand what it is like not to have that freedom? I know that there are many who would say that I am spoiled, that I have through a simple accident of birth inherited a station that would be the envy of most in this dangerous world we live in.”

“But all I’ve ever wanted is to live my own life. My father has sons and daughters who can give him what he wants, be what he wants. Just for once, I want to be Dana, not ‘Lady Ilgarten’. I have honed my skills, pushed myself to develop new talents, for just this opportunity.”

“And… and I owe you four. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what those men—and that monster, Zorak—might have done to me. I still wake up shaking, sometimes, but then I think of you four, and all that you did…”

She stood, and met their gazes squarely. “I’m not asking for your protection, and I’m not asking as the Lady Ilgarten. I’m just Dana, and I want to go with you as an equal member of your company.”

“Well spoken,” Cal said, and it was as if her words had eased a lingering pain within him as well, for when he smiled there was a hint of his old fire back in it.

Benzan, however, was not ready to surrender his point just yet. “You say that you want to be an equal member of the group—how do we know that you can take care of yourself?”

There was a blur of motion, and Benzan suddenly found himself lying on his back up against the wall, dazed. Dana stood above him, unable to keep a satisfied smirk from her expression.

“Good answer,” Lok said.


* * * * *

As the evening deepened into night, and the storm continued unabated over Baldur’s Gate, the fast sloop Raindancer bobbed at her moorings at the city’s docks, securely battened down against the wind and the rain. A pair of miserable watchmen cursed their ill luck as they paced the deck, envious of the fun that their comrades were having in the city—or even those few still aboard, below decks, playing dice and swapping tall tales.

The sailors took their duty seriously, but neither spotted the dark shadow that crept on board along the lowered gangplank and darted swiftly into the ship’s open hold. Nor did they notice anything unusual when the shadowy figure reappeared ten minutes later, and slipped off the ship and disappeared back into the night.

 

[Horacio]

So the party has a new member, well, well, well...
And the adventure begins again!

Lazybones, as usual, a great update, but with a big drawback...

It leaves me hungry for another update!!!!

Please, more soon!

 

[Maldur]

I couldn't agree more.

Horatio, your right !

keep it up lazybones.

 

[Lazybones]

Book II, Part 5

The storm broke by morning, leaving a few scattered gray clouds that continued an intermittent drizzle over the city. Cal, Benzan, Lok, and Delem left their inn early, making their way toward the docks district of the city. The would meet Dana there; after they had agreed last night to let the young woman accompany them, she had departed to, as she put it, “wrap up some loose ends.” They would also meet the Tymoran agent that they were supposed to escort for the first time; apparently she had been unavailable to see them until the very day of the departure. They knew the way, having already made one visit earlier in the tenday to see the ship and introduce themselves to its captain, an elf by the name of Kael Horath.

“I hope the weather holds up,” Benzan said, looking up at the lingering clouds overhead. To the west, over the sea, the skies appeared clear, but they all knew how quickly the winter storms could blow in from the ocean and unload their wet cargo.

“Well, hopefully the name of the vessel bodes well for a winter journey,” Cal said optimistically. “And that captain seems to know what he’s about, from what I could see.”

“Never did any ocean sailing, did you?” Benzan returned. “I’ve only sailed on the Sea of Fallen Stars, but I can tell you, that even that isn’t pleasant to ride in the wintertime.”

“Well, I did live in Waterdeep, and there was a fair amount of sailing going on out of there,” Cal replied. “It will be all right, you’ll see. Once we get further south, past the horn of Tethyr, the weather will improve some, and we’ll have a strong southerly breeze to speed our way.”

At the mention of Tethyr, Delem frowned, but did not say anything.

They saw that they were passing into the docks district of the city, a place of loud noises, strange smells, and unusual sights. People from all over the west of Faerun were in evidence despite the lingering rain, and the sounds of a dozen tongues filled the air. Over it all hung the salty tang of the sea, and the cries of seagulls hovering on the breeze.

“Starting a journey, travelers?” a scratchy voice called out to them from alongside the boulevard. “A long journey, should see what the fates have in store fer you, first.”

The four companions turned to see that the voice belonged to a wizened old woman, her face a maze of wrinkles, dressed in a once-colorful smock that hung about her bony frame like a shroud. She was hovering in the entry of a small shop, its waterlogged frame looking like it could collapse at any moment.

“A fortune teller,” Delem said.

“Read the threads of fate fer you, travelers,” the woman crowed at them, “only a pair o’gold fer each of you.”

Benzan and Lok had already turned to go, but Cal stopped them. “Maybe I should,” the gnome said. “Might help keep me from getting killed again.”

Benzan turned to him. “Don’t tell me you believe in this mummery?”

“Come on, we’ve got a little time,” Cal persisted. “What do you say, Delem?”

The sorcerer shrugged. “I guess.”

The four of them followed the old crone into the crowded front room of the run-down shack. The place smelled of herbs and other odors less readily defined, and old hangings of tattered cloth decorated with arcane symbols covered the walls. There was a tiny table in the center of the room, upon which rested a block of quartz that was only approximately spherical in shape.

The old woman directed them to sit down at the chairs around the table; or at least for Cal and Delem to sit, for there were only three chairs in the room all together. She sat down facing them and bent low over the crystal.

“So, who wishes to know of their future?” the old woman cackled.

“Why don’t you do a reading for all of us,” Cal said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said, somehow reading Benzan’s scowl without even turning. He counted out a number of gold pieces, and placed them on the table beside the quartz crystal.

The money quickly vanished, and the woman began moving her hands over the crystal, muttering phrases to herself that might have been arcane syllables or manufactured gibberish. The crystal did begin to glow, slightly, a blue radiance that cast a pallor over the woman’s face.

“Four strangers, meet on a desolate road,” she said. “Already they have faced dangers together, binding them as one against the darkness that lurks hidden. Spirits of fate, speak through me of where their course will take them.”

Delem glanced up at Benzan, who shrugged. “She’s got the showmanship down, I’ll give you that,” he whispered.

The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly, surprising them with the violence of it, she jerked back in her chair, her eyes popping wide. She opened her mouth, and a hollow voice, different from her earlier screeching, came from deep within her. Her lips did not move, but the voice was clearly audible.

• 
  “Four strands in the web of fate, four threads in the weave of life
  Will walk the roads of the West during a time of strife
  One will produce a scion that will prove the bane of nations
  One will end his days in peace, surrounded by generations
  One will be forever destroyed, his soul consumed in the fire
  One will… one will…”

The old woman hesitated, squirming in her seat as if resisting the words that wanted to come.

“… one will join the ranks of gods, to which few mortals can aspire!”

With that, she collapsed forward onto the table, as suddenly as if the string keeping her taut had been abruptly cut. Delem crouched beside her, concerned, but Benzan said, “It’s all part of the act, I’m sure she’s fine.”

Indeed, the woman stirred, and as her head rose she looked at them with a lingering confusion in her eyes. “I’m sorry… sometimes the spirits do not wish to share their wisdom. No refunds.”

As the four companions left the shack and continued on their way, they spoke of the unusual scene they had just witnessed.

“That was weird,” Cal said.

“She knew about us, how we met,” Delem said, his expression troubled. Clearly, the “consumed in the fire” line had given him pause, and he glanced back several times at the shack even after it disappeared into the crowd behind them.

“They always make it vague enough to apply to anybody,” Benzan said. “Look, if she really was legit, a powerful diviner, do you think she’d be selling visions for two gold a shot down by the docks? She was a canny one, I’ll grant you that, and maybe it was worth the gold for the show, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that ‘prophecy’ if I were you.”

“I liked the ‘end his days in peace’ one, myself,” Lok offered as they saw the tall masts of ships rise up above the crowds ahead of them, marking their destination.

Still talking about their strange encounter with the fortune teller, they made their way to their ship.

 

[Horacio]

Wow! Now they have even a PROPHECY...

Lazybones, your story is getting better and better. I love your descriptions, and I love your "non-combat" post, they are even better than combat oriented ones...