Zad
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The Secrets of Stone - Chapter 1
The Secrets of Stone – Chapter 1
OOC Notes:
Exp is 1500 this week for everyone.
This Week’s Adventure:
There was a tension in the air of Cauldron that was more palpable. The discontent over taxes had crossed the threshold between words and action, and people were leaving the city in droves due to the taxes. The disappearance of the mayor was common talk at the Morkoth that night and everyone and his brother had a theory as to the forces behind it.
For my part I just wasn’t that interested. The Lord Mayor was a drunken sot, and I was hardly concerned for his safety, despite being more concerned about what it meant for the hidden forces that had been manipulating events in the city. But despite not being at the forefront of discussion lately (the tale of the Siege of Redgorge had not yet made it to Cauldron) we did still retain some degree of popularity. According to the innkeeper, there were several parties that were interested in meeting with us, including one quiet stranger in the corner. Beyond him, there was a furtive glance from Tyro Amberhelm wanting to talk, and someone had inquired after Bellsin. None of us were in much mood for it tonight and enjoyed dinner and a bath before going to bed, leaving the interactions for the morning.
The next day consisted of endless amounts of traipsing around the city. In some cases it was to sell the proceeds of the trip, in others to meet up with those who had wanted to speak to us.
Tyro informed us there was a cleric of Farlanghan who wished to speak to us regarding a debt, and he was waiting at Shensen’s grove. So during the course of business we went to the grove and found him. He was an unkempt man lazing about smoking a pipe and every bit what you would expect from a cleric of Farlanghan. His name was Festol Ormond and the debt was one he felt the church – such as it was – owed us.
The Lucky Monkey was a safe haven operated by the worshippers of Farlanghan and they were grateful to us for saving the inn and shrine. They wanted to re-establish operations there, but lacked the financial resources to do so. Put simply, they were offering us the opportunity to fund the reconstruction and in so doing receive a large share of the profits from its operation. It could also serve as a permanent home for the group should we wish to fund construction of quarters there. Elizabeth, her business sense keenly honed by several months in the city, was immediately interested and the group soon agreed to fund the inn’s rebirth.
Bellsin had a more private visit from a man named Artus Shemwick. Shemwick was a man with many contacts on the street. Apparently he had an association with the Last Laugh but that was no longer in play. He had information to offer Bellsin and also offered his on-going services. The information related to someone who was in town four days ago – an Ekbiri – who was looking for Bellsin of the Thousand Tales. He seemed like a merchant who gave the name of Nahazir. He was going to do business until he saw the prices and went off to the neighboring towns.
Bellsin paid the man well, and secured his services as an ear on the street for the future.
The city watch apparently had also been looking for us – we learned it was to question us regarding a recent murder.
We also made time to stop by the Church of St. Cuthbert to check on Jenya and Alek. The Church had a notice saying there would be no services until later that day, but we entered regardless and were warmly greeted by Rufus. He informed us Sir Alek had chosen to return, and Jenya was exhausted from the effort and was resting. Alek was at the front of the church meditating and we approached him. We waited quietly until he paused in his rituals.
“Sir Alek – are you well?” Elizabeth asked as he turned.
“I am… better than I was, much thanks to you. I have much to pay for my hubris. I have sworn not to raise sword or shield until I have repaired the damage I have done. I have strayed too far from this temple for too long. In time I make take those things up again, but the words that have reached my ears in the last few hours have disturbed me. Jenya needs a protector and it is past time I took up that mantle. You have done what I should have done, and I thank you for that. I was not going to come back, but Jenya begged that I do so, and for her sake I did. Truth be told, I was not enthused about the prospect of returning to life here, but she says that will change. I pray she is right.”
“I am diminished, and I was not ever a good servant of St. Cuthbert, but I shall strive to improve myself. Should you have need of my sword, simply ask and if Jenya gives her leave I shall aid you. You know me and I can be a faithful ally. I admit to being… unsophisticated in certain matters, but I am here if you have need. Understand now that I am guided by one thing above all others – Jenya’s safety. But I have traveled these lands extensively even as far as Hookface’s lair. I can guide you to places others cannot.”
“I wanted to say we’re sorry that we could not save you from Nabthateron’s anger,” Elizabeth offered.
Alek laughed a wry laugh. “You did all you could, and more in fact. You have nothing to apologize for – you have set an example I would do well to follow.”
We talked a bit more, then left Sir Alek to continue his atonement. On our way out, Rufus was enthusiastically signaling his approval.
During a trip to Skie’s, Astrid learned another interesting bit of news – Todd Vanderboren was dead. The Stormblades were ambushed in caverns beneath Cauldron. Indeed the Stormblades may not continue their adventuring as a result. The body bore no cut or bruise, but the Stormblades are not discussing the matter. Their mission failed and they show no interest in resuming it.
One of the more intriguing meetings was with Tygot. Elizabeth would have needed to go visit him to return the sliver plate and sell some of the art objects retrieved, but she was also hoping he could tell her something about the painting of Lady Celeste. She had no idea how much we would learn.
Tygot’s shop was even sparser than last visit with many of Tygot’s good apparently being shipped to other outlets. Elizabeth was not planning to sell the portrait but wanted to show it to Tygot to perhaps get an idea of when it was painted. Tygot, wasting no time, went far beyond that, asking her to retrieve a wand from a drawer.
“Not the left drawer dear – wouldn’t want the fire wand. That would have unfortunate results,” he laughed.
Tygot used the retrieved wand, and then began reciting the detailed history of the painting.
“Hm. Painted by a moderately talented halfling who was visiting the plane of Celestia and encountered a woman of untold beauty and wanted to capture her likeness so that he might remember her when he returned to the Prime. She was not human… she was a … lillend I believe they’re called. Sort of a celestial muse, which explains the harp – they’re creatures of song and verse. He brought the picture back, and then passed it to a relative who… oh my was killed in a caravan assault in the southern mountains. Stepped on by an ice giant – nasty that. It went back to a fortress in the mountains, and then was traded by the giants to an ice demon, then he traded it for… thirty five souls – how odd.”
Tygot looked disgusted at the distasteful practice but went on. “From there the portrait went to a place called Occipitus. It was used to bargain with a ghost of some kind, then it was ultimately left in a large cathedral for many years where you found it.”
“Fascinating,” Elizabeth said. “Far more than I hoped to learn, thank you so much!”
“One other thing – this is apparently not the only one. It was part of a set. There were at least two by the same artist of this subject.”
Tygot either did not recognize the Lady Celeste or chose not to mention it. Either way was fine.
So Lady Celeste is a lillend, I thought
But then she two is skirting this interdiction business, Elizabeth realized.
We concluded our business and moved on.
By now it was nearly time for dinner, so we returned to the Morkoth and changed into appropriate attire for the Cusp of Sunrise and some other appointments. Elizabeth found herself unwilling to leave Alakast behind lest something unpleasant happen to it. Him. Whatever. Fortunately it was not so notorious a weapon as to cause a stir when carried around, and it just seemed to be another fantastic weapon carried by the Blue Tygers. We were greeted with the usual (im)politeness at the Cusp of Sunrise and were seated.
Maris was quickly drawn away to the Lady Knowlern’s table. Apparently the Lady has taken an interest in Maris. But the rest of us had a pleasant enough meal and part way through the soup course we were joined by yet another party who had been seeking us.
He was tall, and wore a silver silk shirt open to the mid-chest, and a fabulous grey ermine cape. He was polite yet still had an air of superiority about him even as he bowed slightly. “I was hoping I might join you to discuss something. I am Sir Dorcus – I’m told you have heard I wished to speak with you.”
We nodded and he sat down, and immediately tore off a large hunk of bread and ate it with relish. “You would be Astrid of the Bearkiller Clan? A pleasure. Not that I know of any Bearkiller clans, despite having studied the northern clans quite a lot.”
Astrid did not respond to the simplistic goad and just waited quietly.
“Would you mind if I used a magic item?” he asked through gulping mouthfuls.
“For what purpose?” Glyph asked warily.
“Privacy,” he said simply, re-buttering the bread.
We nodded and he removed a necklace set with a brilliant blue stone. “Vitaesis…” I heard Glyph whisper under his breath. He wrapped the necklace around a candle in the center of the table.
“I do hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I hate being… overheard. Of course my name is not Sir Dorcus any more than I’m human. Though I do love your society. Such wonderful foods.” To punctuate the point he helped himself to some of the appetizers. “In any case, call me Skorad.”
“If you’re not human, then what are ya?” Kris asked plainly.
“A dragon. Have you been contacted by someone from the Council yet?” he replied.
“The only dragon we’ve had contact with is a rather strange black dragon…” Elizabeth started.
“Dorlat – the pervert. If I didn’t know better I’d say Dorlat’s only function in life was to see what kind of half dragon he could produce with every race on the Flaness. Still it’s not my place to tell him how to behave. So that’s a ‘no’ then on being contacted by the Council?”
“What Council?” Astrid asked in a clearly leading manner.
“The Scaled Council. It’s a… well let me begin from the beginning. I am a mediator. When certain groups – such as yourselves – or armies, militias, what have you – reach a certain status, which is to say is known to have killed a dragon of a specific size and nature or is likely to be capable of such…”
“We haven’t killed any dragons,” Elizabeth said calmly.
“You misunderstand my dear,” he said patronizingly. “I’m not here to chastise you. I’m here to inform you that there are some rules which you may be unaware of. I suspect sooner or later you’ll run afoul of another dragon and there are things you need to know.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You may or may not be aware of two great Dragon wars in history. You likely do not know of the third. What evolved after that was a détente between the chromatic and metallic dragons. To maintain that peace, an oversight council was formed. This worked well until about ten years ago at which time negotiations broke down and large scale warfare ensued. Cities were razed, and thousands died. It was most unfortunate.”
The last dragon war was widely known, even if its impact was only felt in certain areas of the world.
“That’s where I come in. My group is an… outside faction. A third group if you wish. After the last war it was apparent that both sides needed a further negotiation system. We steel dragons stayed effectively neutral from either side and maintained a defense of the larger settlements.”
“The Greyhawk dragons – is that you?” Glyph said with sudden realization, using the name of the somewhat mysterious protectors of Greyhawk during the last war.
Skorad looked like he had eaten something distasteful. “Yes, that would be us, though our scope is far from limited to Greyhawk. You live in one of the many cities thoat does not have direct steel dragon oversight. This is my first visit to Cauldron in many months.”
“In any case, my purpose is to inform you of the rules. Whenever a group of adventurers or an army or government slays a dragon, they get a visit like this. I am here to facilitate your knowledge of the rules – the do’s and don’t’s if you will. You don’t have to follow the rules, but if you chose not to, you do not get the protection from retribution that they offer.”
“There are rules?” Astrid said.
“Yes. Let me explain. Left unchecked, the chromatics would do harm to the countryside. They are dragons after all. Some are ravenous, some are simply not too bright. It is the way of things. But to prevent all out war, they are allowed to do as they wish. But there are rules of engagement between dragons – direct confrontation is not permitted. You really not need concern yourself with the details of dragon-to-dragon interactions but there are things you need to know involving you and dragons.”
Skorad’s face turned serious, perhaps for the first time. “The first and most important is this. You must never raise a dragon from the dead or violate its body in the form of the undead. This is considered the most cardinal sin and both sides will hunt you down and destroy you.”
Not what I was expecting to hear.
He went on. “If a dragon attacks you, you are expected and encouraged to defend yourselves. But if you hunt them down without justification, then you will not be sheltered by the Council’s graces against retribution.”
“Wait,” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Are you saying that if it was a legitimate engagement or defense of ourselves or the country or what have you, that these rules protect us from retribution?”
“Oh absolutely,” he said. “Whether it was ‘legitimate’ can be contested of course – the steel dragons will conduct a trial in such cases.”
“So if someone killed a dragon who had attacked them,” she pressed, “the rules prevent retribution by the deceased dragons family for instance?”
“Yes. We call it the ‘Bastards have brothers’ clause.”
“Not that we have, of course,” Elizabeth replied.
Skorad’s patience was getting weary. “Please girl. I know you killed Hookface’s son. And given your general proximity to such a large, territorial dragon, it was important that I stop by. I really should have done it sooner. And given you this,” he said, pushing a small box towards us.
Glyph opened the box and inside was a dragon scale.
“As of the accord of five years ago, these are provided to groups like you that might run up against the rules. It allows for quicker communication with the Council. This can be used to contact me directly. I am your legal representative in this. You should notify me after you fight a dragon – or before, if you can.”
The entire group just looked at him silently so he went on.
“There are some other key elements. Anything that happens off-plane is not the Council’s concern, for instance. Dracoliches are fair game and you may hunt them all you wish. I only know of three. And should you fight a dragon and not slay him, he is permitted to seek retribution against you personally. Also only pureblood dragons count – if you slay one of Dorlat’s progeny, I certainly won’t say anything.”
“So how did you find out about our… encounter?” Elizabeth asked.
“Dragons of a given age are continually monitored by magic. When a dragon ends up dead, investigations are done to see who did it. I was a bit surprised to learn of your deeds but as I said it’s been some time since I was here last. But with your proximity to Hookface, well I’m not saying you’re going to go after him but it was past time for this conversation regardless.”
The conversation continued and there were some details explained. But the practical upshot was that as long as Maris didn’t go creating draconic zombies, we were protected from Hookface coming after us for killing his son. Still I was in no rush to brag about it.
After some time, Lord Vhalantruu, who the city council had elected mayor a few hours ago, emerged from a private room and took dinner. Elizabeth sent word she wished to speak with him and he received her a short time later.
“Welcome my dear. Congratulations on Redgorge – I just heard.”
“Thank you. It was a close thing. Congratulations to you on your election,” she replied.
“That too was a close thing, and unexpected. And not entirely welcome,” he said quietly.
“I do not wish to over-stay my welcome and tax your time,” she said politely. “But I was concerned about Lady Celeste and I understand you’ve done quite a lot of work trying to find her.”
“Indeed. I will be happy to share what I know. Lady Celeste came from the north some months ago. I confess I could deny her little. She had come south to investigate the disappearance of a relative close to her. I gave her access to many of my resources and she undertook some diplomatic work on her own, such as the affair you were involved in with the Splintershields. The day after you left on that task, she told me she had some information on a group called the… oh what was it… Prison… no… cagemaker… no…”
“Cagewrights?” Elizabeth supplied before she could stop to consider it.
“Yes, that’s it! She believed they were related to her relative’s disappearance but gave no details. She said she might have to go to Sasserine which was hardly unusual. She met up with an elf named Ramir before she left. I only know his name because he turned up dead last week, murdered. The watch had wanted to question you about it but having learned of your whereabouts I’ve rescinded that order. Ramir had approached me a short time ago inquiring after Celeste. I provided him what information I had and sent him on his way.”
Vhalantruu said quietly “Skellerang wanted to put a warrant out on you about that, but cooler heads prevailed.”
“In any case I’ve had divinations done by the Blue Crater Academy, the priests of Wee Jas and by Jenya. I asked a variety of questions. Most of them failed completely. She resists attempts to be scried, she cannot be summoned, and cannot be located. She is not in the afterlife. If she lives – and I believe she does – she is transformed or protected from being scanned. I cannot bankrupt myself on this but I have tried. For all I know, she might be hiding on purpose. I suspect foul play however.”
“So you have heard of these Cagewrights?” he asked.
“It’s a name that has come up during some of our travels,” Elizabeth said after a moment. By now she had sense enough to be cautious. “By some accounts they are a powerful group manipulating events behind the scenes in Cauldron for some nefarious purpose. But it’s more likely that it’s simply empty rumor and suspicion and it means nothing at all.”
Lord Vhalantruu had been helpful so far, but Elizabeth was worried she was being pumped for information and since we knew practically nothing, it seemed wiser to play off the group as meaningless until their reach could be better understood.
“Well, do keep me informed if you learn anything more about Celeste or these Cagewrights,” he asked.
“Of course, Lord Mayor,” she said with a small smile, and departed.
Meanwhile Glyph had gone back to the Morkoth to meet up with another person who seemed to be looking for us – the stranger at the inn. Glyph ordered himself a drink and then quite directly asked the man to join him. The man accepted.
“I am Govaris. I have been tasked with locating you.”
“I see. And for what purpose?” Glyph asked.
“To deliver this,” he said, pushing a small book out onto the table. “This is the book of my people – the People of Stone. I was charged with making you aware of my presence.”
Glyph opened the book and flipped through some of the pages. Cursory examination showed it to be a series of philosophies and study material. Many pictures were drawn, including one of a giant crystal inscribed with symbols, an elven man in ornate armor meditating before it. “This is a treatise on lucid dreaming?” Glyph asked.
“Indeed. As I said, I am one of the People of Stone. One of the Tested ones,” Govaris said as if it was evident.
Glyph finally made the connection. “Ah, the Testing. You’re from the Lendore Isles?”
Govaris nodded. “We seek enlightenment as the Great Dreamer does. This book is for you to keep. I travel from city to city, wherever the dreams tell me to go. They told me to come here. The book contains some of the secrets of our arts. Should you wish you, you can learn the secrets of dreaming and discoveries. And with it the secrets of your own Marks. I seek those who bear marks and help them bring them to fulfillment.”
“Interesting. One of us has often had prophetic dreams. But the Marks? Ah yes, we were just told of these recently.”
“Indeed. One amongst your number has received the benefit of our gifts before. She is powerful in the ways of the Dreaming, if she would only tap it. She can train herself in the art of the Lucid Dream. Should she desire to know more, she may find me at the Blue Crater Academy for three more days. “
“As for the Marks - these techniques are not simple, nor are the paths easy ones. There are two paths – the path of the mind and the path of the body. If you wish, you can seek out the Tested Ones – it is an epic journey either way. But I have discharged my duty and now I may go.”
“We thank you for your gift, Govaris,” Glyph said and shook the man’s hand.
By now the rest of us had returned from the Cusp of Sunrise and come to the table. We sat down and Glyph told us about Govaris. The end of his story was punctuated by a sharp crack as the door to the street flew off its hinges and half way across the room.
Three people charged into the inn – a woman in armor with a sword, a half-orc with a large sword and fine custom armor, and a human, his hands glowing with magical energy.
“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to come inside first and then attack us?” Astrid asked.
The Secrets of Stone – Chapter 1
OOC Notes:
Exp is 1500 this week for everyone.
This Week’s Adventure:
There was a tension in the air of Cauldron that was more palpable. The discontent over taxes had crossed the threshold between words and action, and people were leaving the city in droves due to the taxes. The disappearance of the mayor was common talk at the Morkoth that night and everyone and his brother had a theory as to the forces behind it.
For my part I just wasn’t that interested. The Lord Mayor was a drunken sot, and I was hardly concerned for his safety, despite being more concerned about what it meant for the hidden forces that had been manipulating events in the city. But despite not being at the forefront of discussion lately (the tale of the Siege of Redgorge had not yet made it to Cauldron) we did still retain some degree of popularity. According to the innkeeper, there were several parties that were interested in meeting with us, including one quiet stranger in the corner. Beyond him, there was a furtive glance from Tyro Amberhelm wanting to talk, and someone had inquired after Bellsin. None of us were in much mood for it tonight and enjoyed dinner and a bath before going to bed, leaving the interactions for the morning.
The next day consisted of endless amounts of traipsing around the city. In some cases it was to sell the proceeds of the trip, in others to meet up with those who had wanted to speak to us.
Tyro informed us there was a cleric of Farlanghan who wished to speak to us regarding a debt, and he was waiting at Shensen’s grove. So during the course of business we went to the grove and found him. He was an unkempt man lazing about smoking a pipe and every bit what you would expect from a cleric of Farlanghan. His name was Festol Ormond and the debt was one he felt the church – such as it was – owed us.
The Lucky Monkey was a safe haven operated by the worshippers of Farlanghan and they were grateful to us for saving the inn and shrine. They wanted to re-establish operations there, but lacked the financial resources to do so. Put simply, they were offering us the opportunity to fund the reconstruction and in so doing receive a large share of the profits from its operation. It could also serve as a permanent home for the group should we wish to fund construction of quarters there. Elizabeth, her business sense keenly honed by several months in the city, was immediately interested and the group soon agreed to fund the inn’s rebirth.
Bellsin had a more private visit from a man named Artus Shemwick. Shemwick was a man with many contacts on the street. Apparently he had an association with the Last Laugh but that was no longer in play. He had information to offer Bellsin and also offered his on-going services. The information related to someone who was in town four days ago – an Ekbiri – who was looking for Bellsin of the Thousand Tales. He seemed like a merchant who gave the name of Nahazir. He was going to do business until he saw the prices and went off to the neighboring towns.
Bellsin paid the man well, and secured his services as an ear on the street for the future.
The city watch apparently had also been looking for us – we learned it was to question us regarding a recent murder.
We also made time to stop by the Church of St. Cuthbert to check on Jenya and Alek. The Church had a notice saying there would be no services until later that day, but we entered regardless and were warmly greeted by Rufus. He informed us Sir Alek had chosen to return, and Jenya was exhausted from the effort and was resting. Alek was at the front of the church meditating and we approached him. We waited quietly until he paused in his rituals.
“Sir Alek – are you well?” Elizabeth asked as he turned.
“I am… better than I was, much thanks to you. I have much to pay for my hubris. I have sworn not to raise sword or shield until I have repaired the damage I have done. I have strayed too far from this temple for too long. In time I make take those things up again, but the words that have reached my ears in the last few hours have disturbed me. Jenya needs a protector and it is past time I took up that mantle. You have done what I should have done, and I thank you for that. I was not going to come back, but Jenya begged that I do so, and for her sake I did. Truth be told, I was not enthused about the prospect of returning to life here, but she says that will change. I pray she is right.”
“I am diminished, and I was not ever a good servant of St. Cuthbert, but I shall strive to improve myself. Should you have need of my sword, simply ask and if Jenya gives her leave I shall aid you. You know me and I can be a faithful ally. I admit to being… unsophisticated in certain matters, but I am here if you have need. Understand now that I am guided by one thing above all others – Jenya’s safety. But I have traveled these lands extensively even as far as Hookface’s lair. I can guide you to places others cannot.”
“I wanted to say we’re sorry that we could not save you from Nabthateron’s anger,” Elizabeth offered.
Alek laughed a wry laugh. “You did all you could, and more in fact. You have nothing to apologize for – you have set an example I would do well to follow.”
We talked a bit more, then left Sir Alek to continue his atonement. On our way out, Rufus was enthusiastically signaling his approval.
During a trip to Skie’s, Astrid learned another interesting bit of news – Todd Vanderboren was dead. The Stormblades were ambushed in caverns beneath Cauldron. Indeed the Stormblades may not continue their adventuring as a result. The body bore no cut or bruise, but the Stormblades are not discussing the matter. Their mission failed and they show no interest in resuming it.
One of the more intriguing meetings was with Tygot. Elizabeth would have needed to go visit him to return the sliver plate and sell some of the art objects retrieved, but she was also hoping he could tell her something about the painting of Lady Celeste. She had no idea how much we would learn.
Tygot’s shop was even sparser than last visit with many of Tygot’s good apparently being shipped to other outlets. Elizabeth was not planning to sell the portrait but wanted to show it to Tygot to perhaps get an idea of when it was painted. Tygot, wasting no time, went far beyond that, asking her to retrieve a wand from a drawer.
“Not the left drawer dear – wouldn’t want the fire wand. That would have unfortunate results,” he laughed.
Tygot used the retrieved wand, and then began reciting the detailed history of the painting.
“Hm. Painted by a moderately talented halfling who was visiting the plane of Celestia and encountered a woman of untold beauty and wanted to capture her likeness so that he might remember her when he returned to the Prime. She was not human… she was a … lillend I believe they’re called. Sort of a celestial muse, which explains the harp – they’re creatures of song and verse. He brought the picture back, and then passed it to a relative who… oh my was killed in a caravan assault in the southern mountains. Stepped on by an ice giant – nasty that. It went back to a fortress in the mountains, and then was traded by the giants to an ice demon, then he traded it for… thirty five souls – how odd.”
Tygot looked disgusted at the distasteful practice but went on. “From there the portrait went to a place called Occipitus. It was used to bargain with a ghost of some kind, then it was ultimately left in a large cathedral for many years where you found it.”
“Fascinating,” Elizabeth said. “Far more than I hoped to learn, thank you so much!”
“One other thing – this is apparently not the only one. It was part of a set. There were at least two by the same artist of this subject.”
Tygot either did not recognize the Lady Celeste or chose not to mention it. Either way was fine.
So Lady Celeste is a lillend, I thought
But then she two is skirting this interdiction business, Elizabeth realized.
We concluded our business and moved on.
By now it was nearly time for dinner, so we returned to the Morkoth and changed into appropriate attire for the Cusp of Sunrise and some other appointments. Elizabeth found herself unwilling to leave Alakast behind lest something unpleasant happen to it. Him. Whatever. Fortunately it was not so notorious a weapon as to cause a stir when carried around, and it just seemed to be another fantastic weapon carried by the Blue Tygers. We were greeted with the usual (im)politeness at the Cusp of Sunrise and were seated.
Maris was quickly drawn away to the Lady Knowlern’s table. Apparently the Lady has taken an interest in Maris. But the rest of us had a pleasant enough meal and part way through the soup course we were joined by yet another party who had been seeking us.
He was tall, and wore a silver silk shirt open to the mid-chest, and a fabulous grey ermine cape. He was polite yet still had an air of superiority about him even as he bowed slightly. “I was hoping I might join you to discuss something. I am Sir Dorcus – I’m told you have heard I wished to speak with you.”
We nodded and he sat down, and immediately tore off a large hunk of bread and ate it with relish. “You would be Astrid of the Bearkiller Clan? A pleasure. Not that I know of any Bearkiller clans, despite having studied the northern clans quite a lot.”
Astrid did not respond to the simplistic goad and just waited quietly.
“Would you mind if I used a magic item?” he asked through gulping mouthfuls.
“For what purpose?” Glyph asked warily.
“Privacy,” he said simply, re-buttering the bread.
We nodded and he removed a necklace set with a brilliant blue stone. “Vitaesis…” I heard Glyph whisper under his breath. He wrapped the necklace around a candle in the center of the table.
“I do hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I hate being… overheard. Of course my name is not Sir Dorcus any more than I’m human. Though I do love your society. Such wonderful foods.” To punctuate the point he helped himself to some of the appetizers. “In any case, call me Skorad.”
“If you’re not human, then what are ya?” Kris asked plainly.
“A dragon. Have you been contacted by someone from the Council yet?” he replied.
“The only dragon we’ve had contact with is a rather strange black dragon…” Elizabeth started.
“Dorlat – the pervert. If I didn’t know better I’d say Dorlat’s only function in life was to see what kind of half dragon he could produce with every race on the Flaness. Still it’s not my place to tell him how to behave. So that’s a ‘no’ then on being contacted by the Council?”
“What Council?” Astrid asked in a clearly leading manner.
“The Scaled Council. It’s a… well let me begin from the beginning. I am a mediator. When certain groups – such as yourselves – or armies, militias, what have you – reach a certain status, which is to say is known to have killed a dragon of a specific size and nature or is likely to be capable of such…”
“We haven’t killed any dragons,” Elizabeth said calmly.
“You misunderstand my dear,” he said patronizingly. “I’m not here to chastise you. I’m here to inform you that there are some rules which you may be unaware of. I suspect sooner or later you’ll run afoul of another dragon and there are things you need to know.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You may or may not be aware of two great Dragon wars in history. You likely do not know of the third. What evolved after that was a détente between the chromatic and metallic dragons. To maintain that peace, an oversight council was formed. This worked well until about ten years ago at which time negotiations broke down and large scale warfare ensued. Cities were razed, and thousands died. It was most unfortunate.”
The last dragon war was widely known, even if its impact was only felt in certain areas of the world.
“That’s where I come in. My group is an… outside faction. A third group if you wish. After the last war it was apparent that both sides needed a further negotiation system. We steel dragons stayed effectively neutral from either side and maintained a defense of the larger settlements.”
“The Greyhawk dragons – is that you?” Glyph said with sudden realization, using the name of the somewhat mysterious protectors of Greyhawk during the last war.
Skorad looked like he had eaten something distasteful. “Yes, that would be us, though our scope is far from limited to Greyhawk. You live in one of the many cities thoat does not have direct steel dragon oversight. This is my first visit to Cauldron in many months.”
“In any case, my purpose is to inform you of the rules. Whenever a group of adventurers or an army or government slays a dragon, they get a visit like this. I am here to facilitate your knowledge of the rules – the do’s and don’t’s if you will. You don’t have to follow the rules, but if you chose not to, you do not get the protection from retribution that they offer.”
“There are rules?” Astrid said.
“Yes. Let me explain. Left unchecked, the chromatics would do harm to the countryside. They are dragons after all. Some are ravenous, some are simply not too bright. It is the way of things. But to prevent all out war, they are allowed to do as they wish. But there are rules of engagement between dragons – direct confrontation is not permitted. You really not need concern yourself with the details of dragon-to-dragon interactions but there are things you need to know involving you and dragons.”
Skorad’s face turned serious, perhaps for the first time. “The first and most important is this. You must never raise a dragon from the dead or violate its body in the form of the undead. This is considered the most cardinal sin and both sides will hunt you down and destroy you.”
Not what I was expecting to hear.
He went on. “If a dragon attacks you, you are expected and encouraged to defend yourselves. But if you hunt them down without justification, then you will not be sheltered by the Council’s graces against retribution.”
“Wait,” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Are you saying that if it was a legitimate engagement or defense of ourselves or the country or what have you, that these rules protect us from retribution?”
“Oh absolutely,” he said. “Whether it was ‘legitimate’ can be contested of course – the steel dragons will conduct a trial in such cases.”
“So if someone killed a dragon who had attacked them,” she pressed, “the rules prevent retribution by the deceased dragons family for instance?”
“Yes. We call it the ‘Bastards have brothers’ clause.”
“Not that we have, of course,” Elizabeth replied.
Skorad’s patience was getting weary. “Please girl. I know you killed Hookface’s son. And given your general proximity to such a large, territorial dragon, it was important that I stop by. I really should have done it sooner. And given you this,” he said, pushing a small box towards us.
Glyph opened the box and inside was a dragon scale.
“As of the accord of five years ago, these are provided to groups like you that might run up against the rules. It allows for quicker communication with the Council. This can be used to contact me directly. I am your legal representative in this. You should notify me after you fight a dragon – or before, if you can.”
The entire group just looked at him silently so he went on.
“There are some other key elements. Anything that happens off-plane is not the Council’s concern, for instance. Dracoliches are fair game and you may hunt them all you wish. I only know of three. And should you fight a dragon and not slay him, he is permitted to seek retribution against you personally. Also only pureblood dragons count – if you slay one of Dorlat’s progeny, I certainly won’t say anything.”
“So how did you find out about our… encounter?” Elizabeth asked.
“Dragons of a given age are continually monitored by magic. When a dragon ends up dead, investigations are done to see who did it. I was a bit surprised to learn of your deeds but as I said it’s been some time since I was here last. But with your proximity to Hookface, well I’m not saying you’re going to go after him but it was past time for this conversation regardless.”
The conversation continued and there were some details explained. But the practical upshot was that as long as Maris didn’t go creating draconic zombies, we were protected from Hookface coming after us for killing his son. Still I was in no rush to brag about it.
After some time, Lord Vhalantruu, who the city council had elected mayor a few hours ago, emerged from a private room and took dinner. Elizabeth sent word she wished to speak with him and he received her a short time later.
“Welcome my dear. Congratulations on Redgorge – I just heard.”
“Thank you. It was a close thing. Congratulations to you on your election,” she replied.
“That too was a close thing, and unexpected. And not entirely welcome,” he said quietly.
“I do not wish to over-stay my welcome and tax your time,” she said politely. “But I was concerned about Lady Celeste and I understand you’ve done quite a lot of work trying to find her.”
“Indeed. I will be happy to share what I know. Lady Celeste came from the north some months ago. I confess I could deny her little. She had come south to investigate the disappearance of a relative close to her. I gave her access to many of my resources and she undertook some diplomatic work on her own, such as the affair you were involved in with the Splintershields. The day after you left on that task, she told me she had some information on a group called the… oh what was it… Prison… no… cagemaker… no…”
“Cagewrights?” Elizabeth supplied before she could stop to consider it.
“Yes, that’s it! She believed they were related to her relative’s disappearance but gave no details. She said she might have to go to Sasserine which was hardly unusual. She met up with an elf named Ramir before she left. I only know his name because he turned up dead last week, murdered. The watch had wanted to question you about it but having learned of your whereabouts I’ve rescinded that order. Ramir had approached me a short time ago inquiring after Celeste. I provided him what information I had and sent him on his way.”
Vhalantruu said quietly “Skellerang wanted to put a warrant out on you about that, but cooler heads prevailed.”
“In any case I’ve had divinations done by the Blue Crater Academy, the priests of Wee Jas and by Jenya. I asked a variety of questions. Most of them failed completely. She resists attempts to be scried, she cannot be summoned, and cannot be located. She is not in the afterlife. If she lives – and I believe she does – she is transformed or protected from being scanned. I cannot bankrupt myself on this but I have tried. For all I know, she might be hiding on purpose. I suspect foul play however.”
“So you have heard of these Cagewrights?” he asked.
“It’s a name that has come up during some of our travels,” Elizabeth said after a moment. By now she had sense enough to be cautious. “By some accounts they are a powerful group manipulating events behind the scenes in Cauldron for some nefarious purpose. But it’s more likely that it’s simply empty rumor and suspicion and it means nothing at all.”
Lord Vhalantruu had been helpful so far, but Elizabeth was worried she was being pumped for information and since we knew practically nothing, it seemed wiser to play off the group as meaningless until their reach could be better understood.
“Well, do keep me informed if you learn anything more about Celeste or these Cagewrights,” he asked.
“Of course, Lord Mayor,” she said with a small smile, and departed.
Meanwhile Glyph had gone back to the Morkoth to meet up with another person who seemed to be looking for us – the stranger at the inn. Glyph ordered himself a drink and then quite directly asked the man to join him. The man accepted.
“I am Govaris. I have been tasked with locating you.”
“I see. And for what purpose?” Glyph asked.
“To deliver this,” he said, pushing a small book out onto the table. “This is the book of my people – the People of Stone. I was charged with making you aware of my presence.”
Glyph opened the book and flipped through some of the pages. Cursory examination showed it to be a series of philosophies and study material. Many pictures were drawn, including one of a giant crystal inscribed with symbols, an elven man in ornate armor meditating before it. “This is a treatise on lucid dreaming?” Glyph asked.
“Indeed. As I said, I am one of the People of Stone. One of the Tested ones,” Govaris said as if it was evident.
Glyph finally made the connection. “Ah, the Testing. You’re from the Lendore Isles?”
Govaris nodded. “We seek enlightenment as the Great Dreamer does. This book is for you to keep. I travel from city to city, wherever the dreams tell me to go. They told me to come here. The book contains some of the secrets of our arts. Should you wish you, you can learn the secrets of dreaming and discoveries. And with it the secrets of your own Marks. I seek those who bear marks and help them bring them to fulfillment.”
“Interesting. One of us has often had prophetic dreams. But the Marks? Ah yes, we were just told of these recently.”
“Indeed. One amongst your number has received the benefit of our gifts before. She is powerful in the ways of the Dreaming, if she would only tap it. She can train herself in the art of the Lucid Dream. Should she desire to know more, she may find me at the Blue Crater Academy for three more days. “
“As for the Marks - these techniques are not simple, nor are the paths easy ones. There are two paths – the path of the mind and the path of the body. If you wish, you can seek out the Tested Ones – it is an epic journey either way. But I have discharged my duty and now I may go.”
“We thank you for your gift, Govaris,” Glyph said and shook the man’s hand.
By now the rest of us had returned from the Cusp of Sunrise and come to the table. We sat down and Glyph told us about Govaris. The end of his story was punctuated by a sharp crack as the door to the street flew off its hinges and half way across the room.
Three people charged into the inn – a woman in armor with a sword, a half-orc with a large sword and fine custom armor, and a human, his hands glowing with magical energy.
“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to come inside first and then attack us?” Astrid asked.
