Wraithdrit
First Post
Session 9.5 - Log 1
Drena Najul was a very long way from home. She sat atop her horse, contemplating the valley below her. Her companion’s horse protested the pause, but Navar was able to calm his steed down with a soft whisper. Drena knew that beyond this small canyon and the fields barely visible on the other side was the final approach to the ruins of Tethyamar. There in the ruins she was hoping to finally catch up with her quarry.
The Red Wizard that she knew only as Lurkhaus’ last known location was the ruins of Tethyamar. She could tell she was getting close, but now was not the time to become hasty and let her mark slip through her fingers. She swiveled to turn her masked visage toward Navar. Her voice was clear despite the enchanted mask that fully covered her face, “We are getting close now, be on the look out.”
Navar was quiet as usual. The large man nodded then looked around, as if to show he was taking her recommendation seriously. It was not an order, for though Drena was a Rashemi Witch, she was not truly a member of the Ethran or Hathran so carried none of the authority of either. Even if she had been, anything she would say to Navar would be merely suggestion anyways. One did not order a scarred berserker around, regardless of how high in the Rashemi social structure you are. It just is not good for one’s health.
Navar and Drena had been traveling together for a very long ways. When she had been asked to undertake this assignment, she knew it would be some time before she would see her beloved homeland again, but that was a price she was willing to pay. Her village Othlor had chosen her to undertake this quest in the name of the goddess of magic. With all the Hathran that could have been chosen, the Othlor had instead chosen her. Many whispered that she would fail. Drena was going to enjoy proving them wrong.
The sharp cry of her rashemi falcon familiar snapped Drena from her memories. She looked up to see the bird circling ahead. She and Navar were soon able to make out what had the bird upset. A battleground loomed before them. Between massive, limestone rocks there lay several rotting bodies. Some of the massive rocks were charred from magical fire. The smell of the dead was unmistakable.
Navar dismounted quickly. Even though the wind here was enough to chill Drena to the bone at times even through her flowing robes and cloak, the berserker preferred to go without sleeves and with only the thinnest of vests covering his torso. The shapes of many different runes covered most of the visible skin. Drena had long ago stopped trying to understand why it was Navar chose to carve his own skin into magical runes. It worked for him, and for her that was good enough.
Navar knelt by one of the bodies and frowned, “Been dead at least a week.”
Drena nodded, “Have the been searched?”
Navar nodded and point to some cut strings hanging off one corpse’s belt. “Aye… thoroughly.”
Drena nodded and glanced up as she felt her familiar tugging at her thoughts. The small hawk swooped in, letting out the ear-piercing shriek it was famous for before landing atop her outstretched forearm. “Yes my little friend?” She nodded once then a second time and glanced up along the ridgeline.
Navar followed her gaze but saw nothing. “What is it?” He rose to his feet and slipped his sword from its scabbard.
“Ruins… up there.” Drena pointed then turned her horse to pick through the rocks in that direction.
Navar blinked and narrowed his eyes, staring at where she had indicated. He could not see any ruins, but that did not mean a thing. He had been proven time and again that the bird could see well better than him. He quickly slipped up into his saddle and followed Drena toward the ruins.
The old tower was half destroyed. Only a single door remained, and half the original outer wall. The two companions dismounted and slipped into the ruin and looked around. Drena cast as soft incantation then started to scan her surroundings. She point at one pile of rubble. “There… a trap-door.”
Navar looked down and nodded. Yes, there was some sort of trap door hidden down there. He began to move the rubble blocking the trapdoor, quickly revealing it. He glanced up at her, “Ready?”
The ivory white and painted mask hid her features, but he could see her eyes were focused and ready. When she nodded, the plumes of feathers off either side of the mask bobbed gently. Navar pulled and the ancient trap door opened with a groan. Air sucked into the ancient shaft below. It had been a long time since the trap door had been opened. Drena looked down at Navar, “After you.”
Navar nodded and slid down the ladder leading down the shaft. Once below he lit a torch, illuminating a small corridor ending in a door. Drena slipped down behind him and then moved around to examine the door. Navar stepped forward after she studied it a few moments and grasped the handle. He pulled the door open and held his sword at the ready.
Beyond was a small well kept storeroom. Drena blinked and shook her head. There was not a bit of ancient dust on the boxes in side. There was no rubble and no ancient cobwebs. Navar too frowned, something was definitely not right. He began to step forward, but Drena laid a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” She moved to beside him and rubbed a hand along the doorway. Faintly they could make out a soft glow coming from the doorframe.
When Navar saw it he took a half step back. The berserker snarled an ancient Rashemi curse and held his sword hilt tighter.
Drena muttered a few arcane words and the glow of the enchantment flared in her vision. There was definitely a small amount of magic on the doorway. She waited and concentrated till she could see the ebb and flow of the magical aura. The pattern was distinctive. It was some form of transmutation magic. She thought through the list of possible uses until it struck her. “Teleportation.”
Navar growled, “Or a trap more likely.”
Drena nodded, “Aye, one way to be sure.” She laid a single hand on the berserker and softly cast a fairly complex little spell. Space warped around the two, and when things came back into focus they were standing in the middle of the storeroom.
Navar frowned even further. “Thanks… I think.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you hear what I am hearing?” From a small doorway with a staircase on the otherside leading up and out of the storeroom could definitely be heard sounds drifting in from above.
Drena looked worried. “A bar room?” She pointed at a few of the crates, “Open some of those.” She started working on some of the stored supplies while Navar worked on a crate or two.
“All fresh supplies as far as I can tell,” Navar told her after opening a few crates.
Drena nodded, “Lets find out what is going on.” She walked up the stairs quickly. Navar followed, slipping his sword away at the last moment. The stairs led into a fairly comfortable common room of a tavern. The front doors of the tavern were hanging wide open, and people could be seen moving along a street outside.
A barmaid approached them and smiled asking, “Care for anything to drink?” Drena stared at her a moment, started to speak but was cut off.
“Welcome!” The bartender raised his hands in greeting. “Welcome to my tavern… you must have come in from the gate below.
Navar scanned the room. Besides the barmaid and bartender, there were four other fellows in the bar as well.
Drena looked at the bartender and nodded, stepping to the bar. Navar stepped up beside her. Drena spoke softly, “Yes, we did. Can you tell me where we are?”
The bartender smiled, “Why you are in Waterdeep! The City of Splendors!” He smiled.
The barmaid slid up beside him behind the bar and asked again, “So care for a drink?”
Drena nodded slowly and muttered something about wine. All she could think about over and over again where the words the bartender had just uttered. She was so close to her target, now she was in Waterdeep? She growled, “Waterdeep?” Shaking her head she let herself just get mad, “Waterdeep?” Her voice raised and she slammed one hand down, “Damn it!”
The bartender chuckled, “Not where you wanted to be?”
Navar nodded to the barmaid, “You have jhuild?” The barmaid nodded and slipped into a back room. Navar knew he would only be getting the exported version of jhuild. The Rashemi berserkers where known for their drinking, and many an outsider who thought they knew what they were getting into challenged a Rashemi warrior to a jhuild drinking contest only to later learn that they had only ever been drinking some watered down version of jhuild.
Drena shook her head quickly, “No, only a few thousand miles from where I wish to be. Can the gate be used to go the other way?”
The bartender nodded, “Aye, the gate goes several places: Thaymount, mountains near Dagger Falls, an island in the middle of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and a few others.”
Drena nodded, “How do you get back through?”
The bartender leaned in and whispered, “Gotta have a key gem.”
Drena nodded, “And I would get one…?”
The barmaid set two drinks in front of them and hearing what they were talking about she smiled and chirped, “We sell them.”
The bartender frowned at the girl then looked back to Drena, “I take it you want one? Where to?”
Drena nodded, “Aye… the mountains near Dagger Falls.” She sipped the wine and looked over to watch Navar consume all of the jhuild in a long draw from his mug.
He grimaced a little and frowned. He lifted the mug and looked into it, then shook his head a little, trying to clear it. Drena thought that may the berserker had been away from his homeland too long if the cheap jhuild they would serve her had any effect on him. Her thoughts were interrupted when the barmaid set a large gem on the table. “There you go.” They haggled over price and once payment was made Drena picked up the gem.
That is odd, she thought. The gem does not have the feel of an enchanted item. She began the incantation of a simple magic detection spell.
That was when everything seemed to move at once. The bartender seemed to pull a pair of swords from out of nothingness and slid over the bar top at Navar. The barmaid stepped back a step and began to cast her own spell. The four other men in the room all leapt from their seats and seemed to pull swords from thin air.
Drena leapt up as several small globes of energy slammed into from the barmaid’s outstretched hand. Catching the edge of the bar, Drena vaulted over and landed beside the barmaid, her own spell already slipping from her lips. Her hands raised and she opened her mouth, calling out in a clear voice. It sounded like a hawk’s cry, and her familiar lent its voice to the call. Ahead of her a cone of destruction appeared as the sound flowed forward. Glasses shattered, wood splintered, the barmaid staggered a few steps, pummeled this direction and that, the bartender also stumbled, caught in one portion of the deadly cone of sound.
Navar was on his feet; though shaky he had his sword out in no time. Anger flashed in the berserker’s eyes and he leapt at his foes with reckless abandon. The four thugs and the bartender all come at him. Metal clanged off metal, and in the middle stood the loan berserker, crying out in anger and slashing out as fast as he could twist his form around.
The bartender was obviously an expert fighter. He was able to wound Navar multiple times, but nothing seemed to phase the berserker, his rage now fully overtaking him.
The barmaid turned on Drena. Stepping back she cast another spell, lightning ripping from her hands to course through the young witch. Drena was able to sidestep the worst of the attack, but she knew she could not take much more.
Drena quickly cast up a shroud of invisibility around herself and tumbled back over the bar and away from the fight. The barmaid narrowed her eyes and searched for where Drena could have gone. Not seeing the witch, she began to cast something else at Navar.
Drena was not about to flee though. She backed into a corner then focused on the far corner. Again she cast a spell, this time her cry was clear to all. It slipped forth like a small sound that seemed to streak across the room. When the sound hit the far corner it erupted into a barrage of sonic energy. Sound waves rocked almost the entire room, sparing only Drena.
Navar stumbled under the onslaught but stayed standing. The barmaid cried out in pain, grabbed her head and fell to the ground with blood flowing freely from between her fingers. She was dead before she came fully to a stop on the hard floor. All four of the thugs stumbled and fell dead, the bones crushed from the sonic energy.
The bartender was the only other one left standing. He stumbled forward, dropped one sword and grabbed Navar by the shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the man’s ears, noise and mouth as he drove his sword deep into Navar’s stomach. The berserker never even flinched; instead he grabbed the bartender around the neck, his own sword abandoned.
Slamming his head forward Navar smashed into the bartender’s face. His opponent slumped back.
Drena threw up her hands and cast her last spell. Small globes of energy streaked forward and slammed into the bartender’s falling form. They burst through his chest and head, leaving gaping holes in their wake. The man’s body hit the ground with a dull thud. Navar stumbled and dropped to his knees. He pulled the sword from his stomach with a cry of pain. Blood gushed from the horrible wound.
Drena ran forward, a healing potion already in her hand. She knew that berserkers could fight much longer than most, but often they fought through wounds that would kill a normal man only to succumb to the wound the moment the fight was over. She dumped the potion down his throat and watched as he touched a rune on his upper right arm. It flashed brightly then dulled to a normal scar.
Between the potion and the first rune Navar seemed to be out of danger of dieing. Quickly he activated two more runes. Only then did his face relax.
Drena had been so worried about her companion that when he looked past her and chuckled she was not really sure what he was laughing at. She looked around and sighed. What had looked like a bar moments before now looked like a dungy ancient room buried for centuries beneath ancient ruins. What had looked before like a bartender, barmaid, and several thugs now looked like the crumbled bodies of several tieflings. One of the demonic mongrels, probably the barmaid, must have been a master of illusions.
Drena sat down next to her companion and sighed. She lifted her mask and wiped some of the sweat off her face before sliding the mask back over her features. “Well that was fun.” She sighed softly.
Navar grinned up at her, “Well at least we aren’t in Waterdeep.”
Drena Najul was a very long way from home. She sat atop her horse, contemplating the valley below her. Her companion’s horse protested the pause, but Navar was able to calm his steed down with a soft whisper. Drena knew that beyond this small canyon and the fields barely visible on the other side was the final approach to the ruins of Tethyamar. There in the ruins she was hoping to finally catch up with her quarry.
The Red Wizard that she knew only as Lurkhaus’ last known location was the ruins of Tethyamar. She could tell she was getting close, but now was not the time to become hasty and let her mark slip through her fingers. She swiveled to turn her masked visage toward Navar. Her voice was clear despite the enchanted mask that fully covered her face, “We are getting close now, be on the look out.”
Navar was quiet as usual. The large man nodded then looked around, as if to show he was taking her recommendation seriously. It was not an order, for though Drena was a Rashemi Witch, she was not truly a member of the Ethran or Hathran so carried none of the authority of either. Even if she had been, anything she would say to Navar would be merely suggestion anyways. One did not order a scarred berserker around, regardless of how high in the Rashemi social structure you are. It just is not good for one’s health.
Navar and Drena had been traveling together for a very long ways. When she had been asked to undertake this assignment, she knew it would be some time before she would see her beloved homeland again, but that was a price she was willing to pay. Her village Othlor had chosen her to undertake this quest in the name of the goddess of magic. With all the Hathran that could have been chosen, the Othlor had instead chosen her. Many whispered that she would fail. Drena was going to enjoy proving them wrong.
The sharp cry of her rashemi falcon familiar snapped Drena from her memories. She looked up to see the bird circling ahead. She and Navar were soon able to make out what had the bird upset. A battleground loomed before them. Between massive, limestone rocks there lay several rotting bodies. Some of the massive rocks were charred from magical fire. The smell of the dead was unmistakable.
Navar dismounted quickly. Even though the wind here was enough to chill Drena to the bone at times even through her flowing robes and cloak, the berserker preferred to go without sleeves and with only the thinnest of vests covering his torso. The shapes of many different runes covered most of the visible skin. Drena had long ago stopped trying to understand why it was Navar chose to carve his own skin into magical runes. It worked for him, and for her that was good enough.
Navar knelt by one of the bodies and frowned, “Been dead at least a week.”
Drena nodded, “Have the been searched?”
Navar nodded and point to some cut strings hanging off one corpse’s belt. “Aye… thoroughly.”
Drena nodded and glanced up as she felt her familiar tugging at her thoughts. The small hawk swooped in, letting out the ear-piercing shriek it was famous for before landing atop her outstretched forearm. “Yes my little friend?” She nodded once then a second time and glanced up along the ridgeline.
Navar followed her gaze but saw nothing. “What is it?” He rose to his feet and slipped his sword from its scabbard.
“Ruins… up there.” Drena pointed then turned her horse to pick through the rocks in that direction.
Navar blinked and narrowed his eyes, staring at where she had indicated. He could not see any ruins, but that did not mean a thing. He had been proven time and again that the bird could see well better than him. He quickly slipped up into his saddle and followed Drena toward the ruins.
The old tower was half destroyed. Only a single door remained, and half the original outer wall. The two companions dismounted and slipped into the ruin and looked around. Drena cast as soft incantation then started to scan her surroundings. She point at one pile of rubble. “There… a trap-door.”
Navar looked down and nodded. Yes, there was some sort of trap door hidden down there. He began to move the rubble blocking the trapdoor, quickly revealing it. He glanced up at her, “Ready?”
The ivory white and painted mask hid her features, but he could see her eyes were focused and ready. When she nodded, the plumes of feathers off either side of the mask bobbed gently. Navar pulled and the ancient trap door opened with a groan. Air sucked into the ancient shaft below. It had been a long time since the trap door had been opened. Drena looked down at Navar, “After you.”
Navar nodded and slid down the ladder leading down the shaft. Once below he lit a torch, illuminating a small corridor ending in a door. Drena slipped down behind him and then moved around to examine the door. Navar stepped forward after she studied it a few moments and grasped the handle. He pulled the door open and held his sword at the ready.
Beyond was a small well kept storeroom. Drena blinked and shook her head. There was not a bit of ancient dust on the boxes in side. There was no rubble and no ancient cobwebs. Navar too frowned, something was definitely not right. He began to step forward, but Drena laid a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” She moved to beside him and rubbed a hand along the doorway. Faintly they could make out a soft glow coming from the doorframe.
When Navar saw it he took a half step back. The berserker snarled an ancient Rashemi curse and held his sword hilt tighter.
Drena muttered a few arcane words and the glow of the enchantment flared in her vision. There was definitely a small amount of magic on the doorway. She waited and concentrated till she could see the ebb and flow of the magical aura. The pattern was distinctive. It was some form of transmutation magic. She thought through the list of possible uses until it struck her. “Teleportation.”
Navar growled, “Or a trap more likely.”
Drena nodded, “Aye, one way to be sure.” She laid a single hand on the berserker and softly cast a fairly complex little spell. Space warped around the two, and when things came back into focus they were standing in the middle of the storeroom.
Navar frowned even further. “Thanks… I think.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you hear what I am hearing?” From a small doorway with a staircase on the otherside leading up and out of the storeroom could definitely be heard sounds drifting in from above.
Drena looked worried. “A bar room?” She pointed at a few of the crates, “Open some of those.” She started working on some of the stored supplies while Navar worked on a crate or two.
“All fresh supplies as far as I can tell,” Navar told her after opening a few crates.
Drena nodded, “Lets find out what is going on.” She walked up the stairs quickly. Navar followed, slipping his sword away at the last moment. The stairs led into a fairly comfortable common room of a tavern. The front doors of the tavern were hanging wide open, and people could be seen moving along a street outside.
A barmaid approached them and smiled asking, “Care for anything to drink?” Drena stared at her a moment, started to speak but was cut off.
“Welcome!” The bartender raised his hands in greeting. “Welcome to my tavern… you must have come in from the gate below.
Navar scanned the room. Besides the barmaid and bartender, there were four other fellows in the bar as well.
Drena looked at the bartender and nodded, stepping to the bar. Navar stepped up beside her. Drena spoke softly, “Yes, we did. Can you tell me where we are?”
The bartender smiled, “Why you are in Waterdeep! The City of Splendors!” He smiled.
The barmaid slid up beside him behind the bar and asked again, “So care for a drink?”
Drena nodded slowly and muttered something about wine. All she could think about over and over again where the words the bartender had just uttered. She was so close to her target, now she was in Waterdeep? She growled, “Waterdeep?” Shaking her head she let herself just get mad, “Waterdeep?” Her voice raised and she slammed one hand down, “Damn it!”
The bartender chuckled, “Not where you wanted to be?”
Navar nodded to the barmaid, “You have jhuild?” The barmaid nodded and slipped into a back room. Navar knew he would only be getting the exported version of jhuild. The Rashemi berserkers where known for their drinking, and many an outsider who thought they knew what they were getting into challenged a Rashemi warrior to a jhuild drinking contest only to later learn that they had only ever been drinking some watered down version of jhuild.
Drena shook her head quickly, “No, only a few thousand miles from where I wish to be. Can the gate be used to go the other way?”
The bartender nodded, “Aye, the gate goes several places: Thaymount, mountains near Dagger Falls, an island in the middle of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and a few others.”
Drena nodded, “How do you get back through?”
The bartender leaned in and whispered, “Gotta have a key gem.”
Drena nodded, “And I would get one…?”
The barmaid set two drinks in front of them and hearing what they were talking about she smiled and chirped, “We sell them.”
The bartender frowned at the girl then looked back to Drena, “I take it you want one? Where to?”
Drena nodded, “Aye… the mountains near Dagger Falls.” She sipped the wine and looked over to watch Navar consume all of the jhuild in a long draw from his mug.
He grimaced a little and frowned. He lifted the mug and looked into it, then shook his head a little, trying to clear it. Drena thought that may the berserker had been away from his homeland too long if the cheap jhuild they would serve her had any effect on him. Her thoughts were interrupted when the barmaid set a large gem on the table. “There you go.” They haggled over price and once payment was made Drena picked up the gem.
That is odd, she thought. The gem does not have the feel of an enchanted item. She began the incantation of a simple magic detection spell.
That was when everything seemed to move at once. The bartender seemed to pull a pair of swords from out of nothingness and slid over the bar top at Navar. The barmaid stepped back a step and began to cast her own spell. The four other men in the room all leapt from their seats and seemed to pull swords from thin air.
Drena leapt up as several small globes of energy slammed into from the barmaid’s outstretched hand. Catching the edge of the bar, Drena vaulted over and landed beside the barmaid, her own spell already slipping from her lips. Her hands raised and she opened her mouth, calling out in a clear voice. It sounded like a hawk’s cry, and her familiar lent its voice to the call. Ahead of her a cone of destruction appeared as the sound flowed forward. Glasses shattered, wood splintered, the barmaid staggered a few steps, pummeled this direction and that, the bartender also stumbled, caught in one portion of the deadly cone of sound.
Navar was on his feet; though shaky he had his sword out in no time. Anger flashed in the berserker’s eyes and he leapt at his foes with reckless abandon. The four thugs and the bartender all come at him. Metal clanged off metal, and in the middle stood the loan berserker, crying out in anger and slashing out as fast as he could twist his form around.
The bartender was obviously an expert fighter. He was able to wound Navar multiple times, but nothing seemed to phase the berserker, his rage now fully overtaking him.
The barmaid turned on Drena. Stepping back she cast another spell, lightning ripping from her hands to course through the young witch. Drena was able to sidestep the worst of the attack, but she knew she could not take much more.
Drena quickly cast up a shroud of invisibility around herself and tumbled back over the bar and away from the fight. The barmaid narrowed her eyes and searched for where Drena could have gone. Not seeing the witch, she began to cast something else at Navar.
Drena was not about to flee though. She backed into a corner then focused on the far corner. Again she cast a spell, this time her cry was clear to all. It slipped forth like a small sound that seemed to streak across the room. When the sound hit the far corner it erupted into a barrage of sonic energy. Sound waves rocked almost the entire room, sparing only Drena.
Navar stumbled under the onslaught but stayed standing. The barmaid cried out in pain, grabbed her head and fell to the ground with blood flowing freely from between her fingers. She was dead before she came fully to a stop on the hard floor. All four of the thugs stumbled and fell dead, the bones crushed from the sonic energy.
The bartender was the only other one left standing. He stumbled forward, dropped one sword and grabbed Navar by the shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the man’s ears, noise and mouth as he drove his sword deep into Navar’s stomach. The berserker never even flinched; instead he grabbed the bartender around the neck, his own sword abandoned.
Slamming his head forward Navar smashed into the bartender’s face. His opponent slumped back.
Drena threw up her hands and cast her last spell. Small globes of energy streaked forward and slammed into the bartender’s falling form. They burst through his chest and head, leaving gaping holes in their wake. The man’s body hit the ground with a dull thud. Navar stumbled and dropped to his knees. He pulled the sword from his stomach with a cry of pain. Blood gushed from the horrible wound.
Drena ran forward, a healing potion already in her hand. She knew that berserkers could fight much longer than most, but often they fought through wounds that would kill a normal man only to succumb to the wound the moment the fight was over. She dumped the potion down his throat and watched as he touched a rune on his upper right arm. It flashed brightly then dulled to a normal scar.
Between the potion and the first rune Navar seemed to be out of danger of dieing. Quickly he activated two more runes. Only then did his face relax.
Drena had been so worried about her companion that when he looked past her and chuckled she was not really sure what he was laughing at. She looked around and sighed. What had looked like a bar moments before now looked like a dungy ancient room buried for centuries beneath ancient ruins. What had looked before like a bartender, barmaid, and several thugs now looked like the crumbled bodies of several tieflings. One of the demonic mongrels, probably the barmaid, must have been a master of illusions.
Drena sat down next to her companion and sighed. She lifted her mask and wiped some of the sweat off her face before sliding the mask back over her features. “Well that was fun.” She sighed softly.
Navar grinned up at her, “Well at least we aren’t in Waterdeep.”
Heh.
