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Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 624558" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>A cool class, but it would require him to be at least 8th level, and I'm not sure I'm willing to make him that powerful (since he'd be incredibly stronger than even most of the shamans, who are only 4-6th level adepts). </p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p>Only if it was a particularly delicious puppy. </p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Book VII, Part 36</p><p></p><p>The companions arrived at the Ilgarten estate to find themselves in the midst of a tumult. Artemos Ilgarten was not present, still engaged at the Tower of Justice where the Guild Council sat in ongoing meetings to debate the fate of the city. But they were able to learn a fair amount just talking to the staff at the manor house.</p><p></p><p>The first thing on everyone’s tongue, of course, was the destruction of Asbravn. Refugees continued to stream into the city, although most now were from the outlying farms and other communities of the Sunset Vale rather than from the ruined town itself. It was difficult to get a clear idea of what was responsible, since rumor wove a thousand different tales, but what they did hear was not good. There was a lot of fear, and a lot of uncertainty. The Council had taken the decisive action of naming General Goran to the position of First Consul, a move that gave him more or less complete authority to lead the city’s military forces into war. </p><p></p><p>Apparently Goran had not been one to hesitate when it came time for action. The Council had made their decision on the afternoon of the day before yesterday, and the following morning—even as the companions had learned of the disaster at Asbravn from Cylyria—he’d led a force of cavalry out of the city on the north road, riding hard for Asbravn. </p><p></p><p>The five of them agreed that it would be foolish to rush off without more information, and so decided to split up. Cal and Dana headed off to the Tower of Justice, to meet with Dana’s father and if possible consult with the leaders of the Council on what they had discovered in the Reaching Woods. Dana would also visit the Moontower and report their information there as well. Benzan and Lok were also heading into the city, to restore their depleted stores and acquire new equipment to replace that lost or damaged in their encounters in the Woods. Lariel departed on his own errand, his manner asking that they not press him for details. His friends—and they were that, now, after the shared troubles they had faced together—understood, respecting his privacy and that of the Harpers. He promised to rejoin them that evening, and they chose a familiar inn in the core of the city as their meeting place. </p><p></p><p>The day passed quickly, and was deceptively pleasant although dark clouds drew nearer to the north and west as the afternoon deepened into evening. The anxiety within the city was palpable, however, almost like a living thing that grew on the apprehensions of its citizens. The city was crowded with strangers, many worn and battered and bearing the vacant looks of people who had lost everything. Still, the folk of Iriaebor moved with a purpose, and the faces of grim despair were countered by other expressions of hard determination in the face of adversity. </p><p></p><p>As night fell over the city, a warm glow lit the common room of the popular inn entitled “The Laughing Maiden.” There was little laughter here this night, only gloomy faces and tired expressions. The common room was packed with people, and the private booths along the back wall were all occupied. One such booth contained four persons who spoke in low voices, though there was little chance of being overheard against the backdrop of the general din that surrounded them. </p><p></p><p>“Where is Lariel? He said he would be here,” Dana said.</p><p></p><p>“He will come,” Cal replied. He turned toward Lok and Benzan. “Did you two learn anything of note today?”</p><p></p><p>“Just the same rumors and guesses,” Benzan said. “We heard a lot about a Zhent army that supposed to be heading south from Darkhold, to bolster the raiders that sacked Asbravn.”</p><p></p><p>Cal grimaced. “That’s a rumor the Council would rather have not taken hold among the general population. But it is true—they learned of through magical means just before Goran’s promotion.”</p><p></p><p>Benzan nodded. “The consensus in the street is that Goran is leading his army against the Zhents, although there’s a lot of talk about summoned demons and other things too weird even for us to believe.”</p><p></p><p>“It would seem that the Zhentarim are directly involved in the troubles plaguing the West, or at least wish to take advantage of them,” Lok added. “I spoke to several people who said that the raiders that attacked Asbravn wore the Black Hand. There are a number of people now in the city who witnessed the attack and fled the carnage. Perhaps a thousand people escaped; it is difficult to be certain.”</p><p></p><p>Cal nodded. “That fits with what we learned.”</p><p></p><p>“Prices have skyrocketed, but we managed to lay hands on some new equipment, and supplies for your magical backpack,” Benzan said. He indicated a pair of bulging sacks that lay beside his feet next to their booth. “I assume we’ll be leaving in a hurry tomorrow?”</p><p></p><p>Cal nodded, and Dana took up the report. “I spoke to my father and two other members of the Council, as well as several clerics of Selûne and Chauntea. Goran had evidently been making preparations even before the Council acted to grant him emergency powers."</p><p></p><p>“What kind of force was he able to muster?” Benzan asked. “And do we know anything more about what we’re up against?”</p><p></p><p>Cal stood in his seat and took a tightly rolled parchment from his pouch. Spreading it across the table, he revealed a map of the Sunset Vale, with the Sunset Mountains running along one edge and the Reaching Woods covering the other, with Iriaebor at the bottom and Darkhold inked in within the mountains at the top. The gnome stabbed his finger at a point deep within the Far Hills, southeast of the town of Hluthvar. </p><p></p><p>“As of a few days ago, the Zhent army was somewhere around here,” he said. “They have about five hundred men, mostly foot, and a skymage.” At Lok and Benzan’s confused looks, he added, “Skymages are potent wizards that ride trained flying mounts, like hippogriffs or griffons—or even younger dragons, in a few cases.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, that’s just great,” Benzan drawled. “Haven’t we had enough dragons already?”</p><p></p><p>Cal ignored him, and continued his report, drawing his finger down to where Iriaebor sat at the bottom of the map. “Goran’s advance force is entirely mounted, and from what we’ve heard of the man it’s likely he’ll push them hard. He has upwards of three hundred City Guard, about half of which are mercenaries that have been recently hired with the blessing of the Council. The core of the Guard is a company of fifty heavy cavalry, hand-picked by Goran, most of whom came into city service along with the general—then a captain—several years ago. From all reports they’re good, with experience against the organized bandit gangs and humanoid tribes that haunt the western roads, but we know that the Zhents are good, too.”</p><p></p><p>“In addition to the guardsmen, Goran’s picking up mounted militia from the villages as he goes north, and from the best information I was able to muster he should have about five hundred of them by the time he reaches the foothills. They’re of mixed quality, of course, and with little if any training, but most should have at least some skill with a bow or a hunting spear. He also has with him a half-dozen clerics from the city’s churches, priests of Selûne, Chauntea, and Eldath.” </p><p></p><p>“The current high priest of the Moontower, Avril Lessalon, is one of those,” Dana pointed out, “and I assume that the others possess considerable power between them.”</p><p></p><p>“They’ll need it, if even half of what we heard about that summoned demon turns out to be true,” Benzan noted.</p><p></p><p>Cal slid his finger along the bottom of the map from Iriaebor to Easting. “Goran will rendezvous with a smaller column coming up from Easting,” he said, drawing his finger up along a route that ran around the southern edge of the Far Hills to Asbravn. “Fifty dwarves and a column of remounts provided by that city’s famous horse traders. Once reinforced, Goran will probably head north along the edge of the foothills until he can engage the Zhent army on favorable terms. Or at least that’s the best guess; in campaigns against bandit raiders in past years he earned a reputation for being unpredictable.”</p><p></p><p>“What about the raiders that attacked Asbravn?” Lok asked. </p><p></p><p>“According to the best information held by the Council, they disappeared back into the Far Hills, heading north according to the last reports. They could be moving to join the Zhent army coming down from Darkhold.”</p><p></p><p>“So we’re going to join Goran’s army then?” Lok asked.</p><p></p><p>Cal and Dana shared a look. “That seems like the best bet,” Cal said. “There’s another column riding north tomorrow with reinforcements, but they’ll be accompanying supply wagons and likely won’t be able to move very fast. Dana and I agree that we’ll cover a lot more ground on our own, and the Council has agreed to provide us with mounts and spares to speed our way.”</p><p></p><p>“Goran might want to move fast, but with that many men, and their horses, he’ll have to pause for forage,” Benzan pointed out. “And the skies have been promising more bad weather for the coming tenday.”</p><p></p><p>“The army won’t have a supply problem, at least not immediately,” Dana explained. “One of the items that the Council had access to was a <em>portable hole,</em> which Goran took with him when he departed, along with a cache of magical potions and a goodly bundle of enchanted arrows.”</p><p></p><p>Benzan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose the Council could be persuaded to equip us in like manner?”</p><p></p><p>“Sorry.” </p><p></p><p>“Ah, well, I guess we’ll have to make do then, like we always do.” He looked up as a familiar figure entered the inn, looking around briefly before walking in the direction of their booth.</p><p></p><p>“Greetings, Lariel,” Cal said.</p><p></p><p>The elf still looked rather worn, although he’d changed into a new tunic and his cloak had been cleaned of the clinging mud and toxic stink that had lingered from their battles with the dracolich and its minions. His eyes were alert and determined, though. </p><p></p><p>“Greetings. I trust your deliberations with the Council were fruitful?”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed,” Cal said. “We will be riding north with the dawn tomorrow, to join the army that is riding against the Zhentarim. Will you be able to join us for another mission?”</p><p></p><p>“I will,” Lariel said. Lok made a space for him in the booth, and the elf gratefully sat down. “I have passed on the details of what we learned, and made arrangements for Gorath’s remains to be transported to Twilight Hall. Word has spread of the black clouds gathering over the Sunset Vale. Reinforcements are on their way to Iriaebor from the western cities, but the nearest of those will not arrive for at least three more days, and we cannot delay further.”</p><p></p><p>“Agreed.” </p><p></p><p>“Well, if we’re going to spend the next tenday slogging through mud and rain, the least we can do is stuff ourselves with hot food and cold beer tonight,” Benzan said. He tossed a fat pouch on the table that clinked as it landed. “Tonight, the Cult of the Dragon treats.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 624558, member: 143"] A cool class, but it would require him to be at least 8th level, and I'm not sure I'm willing to make him that powerful (since he'd be incredibly stronger than even most of the shamans, who are only 4-6th level adepts). Only if it was a particularly delicious puppy. * * * * * Book VII, Part 36 The companions arrived at the Ilgarten estate to find themselves in the midst of a tumult. Artemos Ilgarten was not present, still engaged at the Tower of Justice where the Guild Council sat in ongoing meetings to debate the fate of the city. But they were able to learn a fair amount just talking to the staff at the manor house. The first thing on everyone’s tongue, of course, was the destruction of Asbravn. Refugees continued to stream into the city, although most now were from the outlying farms and other communities of the Sunset Vale rather than from the ruined town itself. It was difficult to get a clear idea of what was responsible, since rumor wove a thousand different tales, but what they did hear was not good. There was a lot of fear, and a lot of uncertainty. The Council had taken the decisive action of naming General Goran to the position of First Consul, a move that gave him more or less complete authority to lead the city’s military forces into war. Apparently Goran had not been one to hesitate when it came time for action. The Council had made their decision on the afternoon of the day before yesterday, and the following morning—even as the companions had learned of the disaster at Asbravn from Cylyria—he’d led a force of cavalry out of the city on the north road, riding hard for Asbravn. The five of them agreed that it would be foolish to rush off without more information, and so decided to split up. Cal and Dana headed off to the Tower of Justice, to meet with Dana’s father and if possible consult with the leaders of the Council on what they had discovered in the Reaching Woods. Dana would also visit the Moontower and report their information there as well. Benzan and Lok were also heading into the city, to restore their depleted stores and acquire new equipment to replace that lost or damaged in their encounters in the Woods. Lariel departed on his own errand, his manner asking that they not press him for details. His friends—and they were that, now, after the shared troubles they had faced together—understood, respecting his privacy and that of the Harpers. He promised to rejoin them that evening, and they chose a familiar inn in the core of the city as their meeting place. The day passed quickly, and was deceptively pleasant although dark clouds drew nearer to the north and west as the afternoon deepened into evening. The anxiety within the city was palpable, however, almost like a living thing that grew on the apprehensions of its citizens. The city was crowded with strangers, many worn and battered and bearing the vacant looks of people who had lost everything. Still, the folk of Iriaebor moved with a purpose, and the faces of grim despair were countered by other expressions of hard determination in the face of adversity. As night fell over the city, a warm glow lit the common room of the popular inn entitled “The Laughing Maiden.” There was little laughter here this night, only gloomy faces and tired expressions. The common room was packed with people, and the private booths along the back wall were all occupied. One such booth contained four persons who spoke in low voices, though there was little chance of being overheard against the backdrop of the general din that surrounded them. “Where is Lariel? He said he would be here,” Dana said. “He will come,” Cal replied. He turned toward Lok and Benzan. “Did you two learn anything of note today?” “Just the same rumors and guesses,” Benzan said. “We heard a lot about a Zhent army that supposed to be heading south from Darkhold, to bolster the raiders that sacked Asbravn.” Cal grimaced. “That’s a rumor the Council would rather have not taken hold among the general population. But it is true—they learned of through magical means just before Goran’s promotion.” Benzan nodded. “The consensus in the street is that Goran is leading his army against the Zhents, although there’s a lot of talk about summoned demons and other things too weird even for us to believe.” “It would seem that the Zhentarim are directly involved in the troubles plaguing the West, or at least wish to take advantage of them,” Lok added. “I spoke to several people who said that the raiders that attacked Asbravn wore the Black Hand. There are a number of people now in the city who witnessed the attack and fled the carnage. Perhaps a thousand people escaped; it is difficult to be certain.” Cal nodded. “That fits with what we learned.” “Prices have skyrocketed, but we managed to lay hands on some new equipment, and supplies for your magical backpack,” Benzan said. He indicated a pair of bulging sacks that lay beside his feet next to their booth. “I assume we’ll be leaving in a hurry tomorrow?” Cal nodded, and Dana took up the report. “I spoke to my father and two other members of the Council, as well as several clerics of Selûne and Chauntea. Goran had evidently been making preparations even before the Council acted to grant him emergency powers." “What kind of force was he able to muster?” Benzan asked. “And do we know anything more about what we’re up against?” Cal stood in his seat and took a tightly rolled parchment from his pouch. Spreading it across the table, he revealed a map of the Sunset Vale, with the Sunset Mountains running along one edge and the Reaching Woods covering the other, with Iriaebor at the bottom and Darkhold inked in within the mountains at the top. The gnome stabbed his finger at a point deep within the Far Hills, southeast of the town of Hluthvar. “As of a few days ago, the Zhent army was somewhere around here,” he said. “They have about five hundred men, mostly foot, and a skymage.” At Lok and Benzan’s confused looks, he added, “Skymages are potent wizards that ride trained flying mounts, like hippogriffs or griffons—or even younger dragons, in a few cases.” “Oh, that’s just great,” Benzan drawled. “Haven’t we had enough dragons already?” Cal ignored him, and continued his report, drawing his finger down to where Iriaebor sat at the bottom of the map. “Goran’s advance force is entirely mounted, and from what we’ve heard of the man it’s likely he’ll push them hard. He has upwards of three hundred City Guard, about half of which are mercenaries that have been recently hired with the blessing of the Council. The core of the Guard is a company of fifty heavy cavalry, hand-picked by Goran, most of whom came into city service along with the general—then a captain—several years ago. From all reports they’re good, with experience against the organized bandit gangs and humanoid tribes that haunt the western roads, but we know that the Zhents are good, too.” “In addition to the guardsmen, Goran’s picking up mounted militia from the villages as he goes north, and from the best information I was able to muster he should have about five hundred of them by the time he reaches the foothills. They’re of mixed quality, of course, and with little if any training, but most should have at least some skill with a bow or a hunting spear. He also has with him a half-dozen clerics from the city’s churches, priests of Selûne, Chauntea, and Eldath.” “The current high priest of the Moontower, Avril Lessalon, is one of those,” Dana pointed out, “and I assume that the others possess considerable power between them.” “They’ll need it, if even half of what we heard about that summoned demon turns out to be true,” Benzan noted. Cal slid his finger along the bottom of the map from Iriaebor to Easting. “Goran will rendezvous with a smaller column coming up from Easting,” he said, drawing his finger up along a route that ran around the southern edge of the Far Hills to Asbravn. “Fifty dwarves and a column of remounts provided by that city’s famous horse traders. Once reinforced, Goran will probably head north along the edge of the foothills until he can engage the Zhent army on favorable terms. Or at least that’s the best guess; in campaigns against bandit raiders in past years he earned a reputation for being unpredictable.” “What about the raiders that attacked Asbravn?” Lok asked. “According to the best information held by the Council, they disappeared back into the Far Hills, heading north according to the last reports. They could be moving to join the Zhent army coming down from Darkhold.” “So we’re going to join Goran’s army then?” Lok asked. Cal and Dana shared a look. “That seems like the best bet,” Cal said. “There’s another column riding north tomorrow with reinforcements, but they’ll be accompanying supply wagons and likely won’t be able to move very fast. Dana and I agree that we’ll cover a lot more ground on our own, and the Council has agreed to provide us with mounts and spares to speed our way.” “Goran might want to move fast, but with that many men, and their horses, he’ll have to pause for forage,” Benzan pointed out. “And the skies have been promising more bad weather for the coming tenday.” “The army won’t have a supply problem, at least not immediately,” Dana explained. “One of the items that the Council had access to was a [I]portable hole,[/I] which Goran took with him when he departed, along with a cache of magical potions and a goodly bundle of enchanted arrows.” Benzan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose the Council could be persuaded to equip us in like manner?” “Sorry.” “Ah, well, I guess we’ll have to make do then, like we always do.” He looked up as a familiar figure entered the inn, looking around briefly before walking in the direction of their booth. “Greetings, Lariel,” Cal said. The elf still looked rather worn, although he’d changed into a new tunic and his cloak had been cleaned of the clinging mud and toxic stink that had lingered from their battles with the dracolich and its minions. His eyes were alert and determined, though. “Greetings. I trust your deliberations with the Council were fruitful?” “Indeed,” Cal said. “We will be riding north with the dawn tomorrow, to join the army that is riding against the Zhentarim. Will you be able to join us for another mission?” “I will,” Lariel said. Lok made a space for him in the booth, and the elf gratefully sat down. “I have passed on the details of what we learned, and made arrangements for Gorath’s remains to be transported to Twilight Hall. Word has spread of the black clouds gathering over the Sunset Vale. Reinforcements are on their way to Iriaebor from the western cities, but the nearest of those will not arrive for at least three more days, and we cannot delay further.” “Agreed.” “Well, if we’re going to spend the next tenday slogging through mud and rain, the least we can do is stuff ourselves with hot food and cold beer tonight,” Benzan said. He tossed a fat pouch on the table that clinked as it landed. “Tonight, the Cult of the Dragon treats.” [/QUOTE]
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