Ancient's Table • Bastion of Flames • Blackscale Sepulcher • Bloodskull Valley: The Training Grounds • Cazel's Mesa • Condemned Catacombs • Court of Innovation • Cove of Decay • Crypt of Valdoon • Deathfist Citadel • Den of the Devourer • Tower of the Drafling • Eternal Gorge • Firemyst Gully • Gobblerock's Hideout • Nest of the Great Egg • Halls of Fate • Hidden Cache • Mines of Meldrath • Nektropos Castle: The Return • Nektropos Castle: Tribulation • Nektropos Castle • Nizara, City of the Nayad • Obelisk of Blight • Poet's Palace • Valley of the Rogue Magi • Scornfeather Roost • Shard of Fear • The Acadechism • The Sanctorium • Tombs of Night • Estate of Unrest • Vault of Dust • The Sanctum of Fire • Vault of the Fallen • Vaults of El'Arad • Crypt of T'Haen
Goodies for Grobb:
Accessorizing, Grobb Style • Fundamental Furnishings • Home Cooking • Snapper Security • Swamp Reeds
Working Hard for Tupta:
Getting Plastered • House Repairs • Pottering Around • Swamp Treats • Tupta Toys
Accord Assistance:
A Rush Job • Air Repair • Letters From Home • Swamp Foot Lotion • To Dye For
Far Seas Supply Division:
Shipyard Services/Shipyard Building Work • Clockwork Rescue/Clockwork Components • Emergency Portal Repairs/Building a Better Portal • Supply Stocking/Firemyst Supply Stocking
Far Seas Supply Division Weekly:
A Recipe for Disaster • Rescuing the Relics • Restocking the Stores
Craftkeepers:
Bready Goodness • Full Metal Artisan • Eats Shoots and Leaves • Stonebrunt Express • Paineel Replenishment • Further Essential Studies • Back to the Grindstone
Hua Mein Craftsmen:
A Tasty Task • Hua Mein Craftsmanship • Hua Mein Heating • The Bear Necessities • Netting More Fish • Shining Shells • Honoring the Ancestors
Kerra Isle Outfitters:
A Close Eye on Quel'ule • Kerra Kindling • Kerra Clothing • Weaving A Profit • Herbal Healing • Paw Tips and Tail Feathers • Defensive Dressing
Researchers of Quel'ule:
Supplies for the Fighters • Sampling More Strangeness • Reporting to Paineel • Equipping the Front Line • Rebuilding Materials • Reinforcing the Wards • Tracking the Void Influence
Obol Plains:
Tonic for the Soul • Herbs and Spirits • Focused Fire • Where Are All The Clean Bedrolls?
Far Seas Trading:
Botanical Divergence • Reporting Home • Fishing Up Fauna • Researching the Recordings
Altar of Malice Daily:
Sampling the Danger • Sour Tooth • Grim Running • Legendary Pepper • Salve Supplies • Small Arms for Small Arms • Fruitful Foraging
Being the tale of Mergott Mizzlefig McScroogle's Corporation and its impact on the holiday of Frostfell throughout Norrath.
PREFACE
I HAVE endeavored in this Ghostly little book, to explain why Frostfell should be the most profitable of seasons. May it haunt the houses of those who read it with a desire to earn a living, honest or otherwise.
Your faithful Friend and Servant, M.M.M.
STAVE I: Those Annoying Frostfellians
For the past twenty years, the Frostfell elves and Fae have endeavored to change me. At first, their visitations during Frostfell did indeed give me pause. I considered their message of charity toward others and harmony to all living beings.
And yet, there is no profit in living this way. Why should I give away the hard-earned coins within my grasp to someone else? And truly, the loss of sleep on the night of these Frostfell visits was harming me for the work at hand.
Profit! Yes, profit! And soon enough, even the Frostfell folk, those merry and capering fools, learned the cost of maintaining these annual Frostfell visitations upon others. For soon, they replaced the actual ghosts of my associates with cheaper imitations due to budgetary constraints.
Their decision led me to finding a way of my own to allow myself a night of sweet, uninterrupted repose. Using my skills and the backbones of my own cheap laborers, I discovered a way to allow someone else to take on the task of attending to these Ghosts on my behalf, for next to nothing.
Ka-ching.
STAVE II: The First of the Three Ghosts
And so, in my stead, someone else was forced to live through the events that supposedly shaped my past. Alas, my business partner Marlon, whose specter troubled me the most, for I owed him some plat and do not want to repay it.
In some years, the Frostfell elves would present Lani Cogspinner, my ex-girlfriend whose ghost is available much more cheaply than she ever was in life. At other times, I have had to endure a Gigglegibber impersonating my father.
They so annoy me.
Comes now Gwenda Gurgley Gigglegibber, the Ghost of Frostfell Past and waste of breathable air.
This time, it is Lani Cogspinner's tale of misplaced woe that we must endure. Does no one realize that this chatty little flizgig DUMPED ME on Feast Day? Why do the Frostfell Elves and Fae feel that this apparition would move me to change my ways?
I enjoy seeing her again, though, as it gives me enormous pleasure to remember how much I had saved through the years by not having her drain my bank accounts for the creams and potions she must surely need to stay presentable. Hah!
STAVE III: The Second of the Three Ghosts.
Gergus Gigglegibber, Ghost of Frostfell Present, is not particularly bright. Within the folds of his cloak huddle two miserable young Gigglegibbers: Ignoranty and What, who had been accidentally sewn into the garment's lining.
Ah, a visit to the home of Bobby Kritchat. A family of petulant losers if ever there was one, and Tiny Jim the most whiny of all! This is usually when the Gigglegibbers try to pole it on thick, having me clean house and do chores. Not this time!
STAVE IV: The Last of the Ghosts
A truly frightful apparition, Gilby Gigglegibber should really not wear that particular shade of red. This is the worst part of the whole visitation, for the Ghost of Frostfell Future does not take you into a warm, if somewhat uncomfortable home. Instead, he drags you out to the middle of an icy valley and gives you no hint as to how to find the future. I've done this one nineteen times before. But you, my friend... you are on your own. Just remember: there is a reward for finishing this task! Ka-ching!
What's that? Oh... you want the key to the mystery? The secrets of the maze? I give you but one piece of advice: find a high point and gaze across the valley.
The canyons of ice and snow are meant to confuse us. They are intended to show us that we must all make choices in our lives that can lead us astray. The unrelenting sameness of each sparkling blue wall thrusting upwards from the snow like a blank slate is to show that we can each of us write our own story.
It is annoying beyond words. Nineteen seasons, I've lost countless hours negotiating the maze. But no longer!
For yes! We can all score the icy walls with the pathetic scribbles of our worthless lives!
And to what purpose? What gain can be had in this wretched exercise? Nothing but the loss of a night's sleep and the usual hourly wage! Pathetic!
The Gigglegibbers wish me to learn that Frostfell is a time of giving and charity. Bah! The only giving should be shoppers giving me their hard-earned coin! The only charity should be buying only McScroogle Corporation goods and redistributing them to the poor!
That is giving. That is charity. Ka-ching!
STAVE V: The End of It
Ah, to wake the finally morning of Frostfell fully-rested and full of energy! I throw open the window of my boudoir and exclaim to the butcher's boy who passes below:
"You there! Boy! Yes, yes I mean you, lad! What day is it?" "Today, sir? Why it's Frostfell Day, sir!"
I had not been bothered through the night, finally! A good rest does wonders for the spirit of someone long-used to being annoyed throughout the long watches of the night by frivolous Frostfellian do-gooders.
And so, dear friend, I thank you for assisting me to this end. I, Mergott Mizzlefig McScroogle, appreciate your assistance this Frostfell season and reward you with not only this book tat celebrates your adventure, but also a warm and seasonal Frostfell cloak!
Which, might I add, was left over from a batch of poorly-cut fabric and comes at no cost to me. Therefore, you have not only given me the gift of rest, but also am taking off my hands something that is absolutely worthless to me but of potentially great value to you! This, my friend, is the true message the McScroogle Corporation wishes to impart this Frostfell season. Ka-ching!
Unobtainable
an enchanter's book This item can be placed in any house type.
Undiscovered.
Unobtainable
Ancient Cyclops & Terrorantula This item can be placed in any house type.
HEIRLOOM NO-VALUE
Undiscovered.
Books
Book of the Dead This item can be placed on the floor in any house type.
This completed book can be placed in your house and read.
By the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell, This is the account of our leader, a plainsman by the name of Bayle. He had trouble speaking about his past, but it was necessary for us to understand the whole background of what we were dealing with. Further details came with time, as the conflict we all became a part of drew us closer together. As far as I can tell, he still does not believe he has atoned. Despite all of his great acts of heroics, he still believes his folly outweighs them. It is a shame that such a great man should bear such a burden, but we all must feel as we must, and the past cannot be forgotten, only forgiven in time.
A Storm of Sorrow
In the cold light of the early morning, a young man plunged into the chilly currents of the sea. Bayle had passed just to the point at which the coastline had begun to blur when he caught sight of a collection of shadowed shapes far down beneath the cresting waves. Though the depth of it was intimidating, he had been marveling others with his ability to hold his breath for many minutes at a time ever since he was a young lad, and Bayle knew he might just have enough in him to reach and explore it.
The water parted with storms of small bubbles as his strokes carried him downward. As he went, the shadows began to thin, his vision of what lay before him growing clearer. He would have gasped had he not had enough sense to know the foolishness of it, as he took in the site of a ruined city strewn along the ocean floor .The stonework had been worn almost smooth by the currents, but they still held the unmistakable shape of buildings, crumbled as they might be. Sea plants had snaked their way through every available crack and crevice, giving the walls a textured look. Toppled pillars marked what might once have been the entry way of the city, and around them were the remains of buildings. He veered to his right and ventured into the first building he could find that was marginally intact. Its ceiling had collapsed and lay in scattered piles of rubble across the checkered pattern of the floor stones. Crushed pieces of white and green and blue coral mixed within the stones, and in one corner he found a giant head of brain coral intact and shaped to the distinct look of a sofa. Above it, he noted a wall carving of what vaguely resembled a man; only he knew it for no man. It was crowned with a spine and its body was thin and spindly. Behind its ears were the distinct shape of gills and its eyes and lips were large and distended. Around it, what looked like words were carved in an alien script.
What had he found? He pondered the question only a moment before a stab of pain in his chest reminded him it was time to resurface. Retreating upward, he watched the algae-coated spires disappear behind him. His chest was just beginning to tighten as he broke through the surface and let out a "whoop" into the empty sky. Bayle spent only a few moments restoring air to his lungs before diving back down for another look.
~~~
His successive trips down revealed more of the same -- ruined buildings, images featuring the odd fishmen; nothing, however, that he could really take with him. Though he was able to find pockets of air in some of the buildings, his lengthened stays did little to fill his hands. Bayle made it his occupation to hunt treasures, and though it would seem he had found a gold mine, everything portable appeared to have been smashed or long since swept away to distant locales. Finally, however, he found a building at the center of the city that stood higher than the rest. It was characterized by high domes topped in coral spires, and as he passed through the arched entryway, he noticed that at its center were the remains of what might have once been an altar and below it; something glinted in a shaft of light that forced its way down through one of the toppled domes.
He swam quickly, energized by the find, and dug among the stone and plants below the altar. As he cleared away the detritus, Bayle gradually revealed the long, golden shaft of a staff. It was untarnished and covered in curious arcane markings. Bayle would no doubt have paused to marvel had two things not happened. Firstly, he had been running low on air when he entered the temple, and by this point, his chest had tightened considerably and his veins had begun to burn. Secondly, the moment his hands clasped around the shaft of the staff, his surroundings began to shake violently.
Bayle shot up through the water, trying to dodge falling stone as he made for one of the ruined domes. He emerged just in time, watching the temple collapse into a heap around him. Throughout the city, ancient structures fell one by one, and the water filled with a storm of dirt and plant matter, billowing up from the ground in clouds as crumbling mortar landed in a chorus of thumps. Bayle pumped as fast as his legs and arms would go, carrying him to the surface with his loot. Finally, taking in a great breath of air, he emerged, and in his hands, the staff glittered in the sunlight.
Back on shore, Bayle pulled his leather boots back on over his soaked britches, constantly glancing at where the staff lay wrapped in his cloak beside him. Piece by piece he reassembled himself from the pile of gear he had left hidden within a fallen log on the shore. His last act was to strap the wrapped up staff to his back and then bind his ivory-handled claymore overtop it so that they balanced in an X shape. Pulling the strap tight, he began the journey back to his village with a spring in his step. The boy Bayle was proving himself a man.
~~~
It seemed as if every two steps it had taken him to reach the seashore now only took one, as he crossed the plains of Karana in record time. His eagerness to show the village elders what he had found spurred him. No longer would the young Bayle be called foolhardy and crippled by his dreams of glory. He had found something real, something they could all see and touch and would finally show them that his ambitions were well placed.
It was well into night when he reached the village of Oceangreen some days later, and only the central fire still burned, low and little more than embers. As Bayle approached it, his heart leapt to see a friendly face. The aged hunter Graycat sat on one of the carved wooden benches that surrounded the fire pit. He was hunched over, his long, thin gray hair forming a curtain around his face. As Bayle approached, the hunter eased up to a sitting position, and the younger man noted that the old hunter's milky white eye darted toward him almost before the still seeing hazel eye reached him. Even half-blinded, Graycat was more alert than most men could ever claim to be. Smiling, Graycat rose to meet him, arms spread for an embrace. Though Bayle stood at six and a half feet tall, Graycat had him beaten by at least an inch. Age would have bent a lesser man's back, but Graycat had been a warrior and chieftan before a voice asked him why he was so eager to shed the blood of his kinsmen, and when Graycat could find no good answer, he had joined the emigration out of the peaks of Everfrost and to the southern plains.
Though most who came to the village of Oceangreen, and many other similar settlements spread throughout Karana, claimed to have heard a similar voice, Bayle had followed nothing of the sort. Instead, the voice of a beautiful woman had invited him to seek his fortune, and he had followed, venturing to the south, where he knew the riches he dreamed of would be found. He had lived among the plainsmen for 10 years, but he had never found any of the treasures the woman promised -- until now. The villagers had thought his ambitions foolish, and only after they threatened to make him leave had he picked up a trade as a tailor. His stitches were only passable, but it was enough to keep him in town and dreaming of a different tomorrow. Only Graycat had ever believed in him, and it made him happy to know the old hunter would be the first to see his prize.
"It's good to have you home," said Graycat, brushing away a piece of grass that clung to Bayle's shirt. "The Kiersey mare had twins, and the Kiersey woman had triplets. Truly, we have been blessed in your absence." "I'm sure many would say those two go hand in hand," said Bayle with a grin. Graycat chuckled. "I am sure there are. So, how fared your journey, lad?" Graycat settled back down on a bench and invited Bayle to join him with a wave of a hand. "Fruitful, I think," said Bayle, taking a seat on the edge of the bench. He itched to show Graycat his prize. "You think?" asked Graycat, squinting at him. "How is that?"
Bayle removed his claymore from his back, placing it below the fire so that the light from the flames danced off of the ivory handle, a trophy of his first kill. With that, he drew the staff in his lap and began to unwind the cloak from around it, slowly, almost reverently. Graycat's face was emotionless as Bayle, almost giddy, showed him what he had found. The old man took the staff and examined it slowly. Bayle's exhilaration faded as Graycat showed no sign of the same excitement Bayle had been feeling.
"Where did you find it?" asked Graycat, finally. Bayle launched into the story of his swim, and the sunken city, and of the strange images and writing he had seen on its walls. He finished with the description of the temple and what happened when he picked up the staff. No flickers of recognition passed over his old friend's face as Bayle described the unfamiliar civilization, and though he had hoped Graycat would know something about his prize, the possibility that the aged hunter was ignorant to it meant it might be all that much more precious and powerful. "...And so I plan to show it to the elders in the morning," said Bayle. "Perhaps they will know something about the city that I found."
Graycat stared at him, studying him intently and grinding his teeth as he did. "Bayle," said Graycat. "Tell me truly, is it really the advice of the elders you are looking for? Or their praise?"
Bayle bristled at the insinuation that his pride was what drove him, though deep down he couldn't deny that he had dreamed of this day for years. Standing before the elders, all would fall prostrate in humility before his heroism and his good fortune. Still, he wanted to refute what Graycat had said, but try as he might, he couldn't think of something good to say.
Sensing his young friend's reticence, Graycat continued. "If it's answers you're really looking for, I would bring this to the elves, and not our humble village men. They won't be able to tell you anything more than I, and if I'm speaking plainly, there is something about it that makes me uneasy." He paused and leaned closer to the young man. "If you care for the people of this village, I would advise you to leave with it, soon." As he finished, his words hung heavily in the air, and his eye searched those of his young companion.
Bayle averted his gaze, and leapt to his feet, fuming. "I can't believe it, Graycat," said the young man. "I came here looking to share my discovery with someone who would appreciate it, and this is what you have for me? You've always played the friend, giving me advice and encouragement. And now that I've found something, you turn on me. You never really wanted me to find anything, did you? There's only room for one hero in this town, isn't there? Well, I am telling you, when the elders see what I've found, there will be two, and you had best accept that." He ripped the staff from Graycat's hands and threw the cloak around it. The old hunter barely reacted, but in the firelight, he looked tired and worn. "Good night, Graycat."
"Good night to you, Bayle. And best of fortunes." Turning, Bayle made for his cottage in a haze of anger and pain. Behind him, Graycat sat still at the fire, watching him go without another word.
A Storm of Sorrow Part 2
By the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell,
This is the account of our leader, a plainsman by the name of Bayle. He had trouble speaking about his past, but it was necessary for us to understand the whole background of what we were dealing with. Further details came with time, as the conflict we all became a part of drew us closer together.
As far as I can tell, he still does not believe he has atoned. Despite all of his great acts of heroics, he still believes his folly outweighs them. It is a shame that such a great man should bear such a burden, but we all must feel as we must, and the past cannot be forgotten, only forgiven in time.
A Storm of Sorrow - Part II
He was awoken by the fingers of light on his forehead that signaled the coming of a new day. Hot breath fell rhythmically on his cheek, and he rolled beneath the blankets to gaze at the face of Danaria. Wheat blonde hair fell over her eyes and played on her cheek. He brushed the hair aside and touched his fingers to her cheekbone for just a moment before slipping from her arms deftly, landing on the balls of his feet as he left the bed. He wasn't sure how she had known he'd returned, but sometime just before sleep had taken him fully, he'd awoken to feel her fall onto the bed beside him, whispering, "Welcome home." She was young, just a bit foolish, and he sometimes thought she had only ever taken up with him because her father had forbidden it, but here she was just the same, and Bayle, who was otherwise alone, wasn't about to turn her out.
Bayle shimmied into his trousers and then pulled on a cotton shirt. He was just fastening his leather jerkin when her eyes opened drowsily. "Leaving so soon?" she asked in a teasing voice. He concentrated on the fastenings of his jerkin, knowing if she cooed just a little bit softer he might be right back in that bed, but he needed to be on to the hall to present the staff to the town elders. "I found something when I was gone," he said, "and I need to show it to the elders as soon as I can." She rolled over onto her back, yawning and stretching like a cat. He briefly reconsidered having left the bed, but as he turned toward where the staff was bundled in the corner of the room, he felt a surge of anticipation at delivering it to the elders. Steps brisk, he traveled over and scooped it up into his arms.
"Well," she said, voice laden with disappointment, "at least come by for some breakfast. I believe father's making sweetbread today." Bayle imagined waltzing into the baker's shop and seeing the look of disappointment cross the old man's face as he realized his daughter's consort had neither died nor gone missing on his most recent venture; but had instead returned with something beyond anything the village had ever seen. It was a tempting scenario. "Maybe I will," he said, smiling. He stepped over to the bed and kissed her. She bit into his lip, threatening to hold him there, but he lifted his head sharply. "Good-bye Danaria." He could feel her eyes follow him all the way out the door, but already, his mind had drifted to his prize, and the anticipation of presenting it for all to see.
~~~
The morning passed as Bayle sat outside the village meeting hall. The staff lay wrapped up in his lap, and he compulsively tapped his feet against the ground as he waited to be called in. Around him, the village's morning movements had begun. It played home to a few dozen homes and tradesman's shops, and the denizens of all were up and on the move. Thin trails of smoke disappeared into the sky above cook fires, and children carried pails of water up from the river for washing. Some plainsmen set off to farm fields while others worked at stretching pelts to dry or working at other trades. The hammering of the blacksmith echoed in a series of clangs from a nearby building, and a carpenter sat outside of her home shaving the edges of a long plank of wood smooth.
Finally, he was called in. On piles of furs, a group of men sat and appraised him. They had all once been chieftains of their respective clans, but here they worked together to establish a new kind of community. All had left behind their clan names and adopted new monikers. Bayle himself had once been known as Bayle Shiverfist, but he had left behind his surname in the mountains. Though the plainsmen might have made for a different life in Karana, even going so far as to call themselves by a new name, human, there were still echoes of their barbarian past to be found in the hall. Though the men might have spoken of peace and cooperation within the building, its walls were decorated with the weapons of war and trophies of the hunt. Bayle himself stood beneath the head of a snarling wolverine. The axe that removed the head from its trunk was mounted nearby. The man who had claimed it, Urth, once of the Iceaxe clan, spoke first.
"Young Bayle, I understand you have something you wish to show us," said Urth. The man was of middle years and carried a full red beard. His curly copper colored hair was cropped close to his head, a fashion one would rarely find in the mountains but it was becoming more popular within the plains for men and women alike to cut down their locks. On some men, it looked foolish, but Urth was the sort who carried everything with dignity. He was not dressed as a warrior but in the simple cloth of a farmer, though his clothes were of a richer cut than most. Bayle cleared his throat and stepped forward. He slid the cloak from off of the staff and held it up, saying, "Off the shore some miles south I found the ruins of an ancient civilization. From the images I found engraved throughout, I would guess it at one time was home to fishlike men. This was all I found that seemed salvageable, but I think you'll agree it was quite the prize."
As he lifted the cloak, eyebrows lifted throughout the room and men immediately began to whisper back and forth. Bayle deliberately avoided looking at Graycat, who sat near the back, though he could feel the old man's unflinching gaze upon him. "It was deep beneath the ocean's surface. So deep that I doubt any man but I could hold his breath long enough to explore it. It was a strain even for me, and I had to be alert all the time for falling debris. Just around the same moment that I found the staff, the whole thing began to collapse around me. It was all I could do to swim out of the way of stones bigger than I to escape. But I escaped, and I stand before you. You said I couldn't do it, but I have. I have brought our village a great, ancient treasure, to the glory of us all."
Satisfied, Bayle crossed his arms over his chest and evaluated the room. The men all eyed him, and the hushed speaking continued. The young man couldn't help but note that all had marveled when he had drawn the staff out, but their gazes were much more critical now. Finally, Urth spoke again. "You say you have brought us a treasure," he said, "and looking at it, I will not deny it is made of gold, and doubtless very precious. But I can't help but wonder what use you believe we would have for such an item."
Bayle's heart fell as the old man's word struck him, and his mouth flapped open, wordless, before he could say, "What? What do you mean?" "What does it do, exactly?" asked Urth, spreading his hands to either side. "Can it make our crops grow? Can it tame our horses?" "Can it lift new roofs?" chimed in another elder. "Or raise children?" asked another. "We may have warred over trinkets in the past," continued Urth. "But we have no use for them anymore. So I ask you again, what can it do for us?" Bayle's hands shook as he turned the staff over, inspecting it carefully. "Well, it has these markings," said Bayle. "They must indicate... something." He turned it over and over in his hands, rubbing at the markings as if that might make their meanings clear. As his examination became more desperate, and the harsh remarks of the elders rang in his ears, Bayle rubbed harder. Suddenly, in a flash of light, the staff sprang from his hand.
The room quieted immediately. All eyes were glued to the staff as it began to turn in the air like a wheel, at first slowly and then more furiously until it was a blur. The men in the room scattered, Bayle included, getting out of its path. Then, with a sound like a snap in the air, it stopped and clattered to the ground, but where it had been there remained a hole in the air, though there was no wall or any other surface for it have broken. The air seemed to crack around the hole, as it bristled with energy. No one knew quite what to do, so they all stood and watched it, paralyzed and anticipating what might happen next. Finally, Bayle stepped forward to peer through it, but before he could reach it, he was swept to the side as he was slapped with a large arm that resembled a lobster claw.
Dazed, he struggled to make sense of what was going on from where he had landed on the ground. A beast massive in size and terrible to look at was clawing its way through the crowd of men. It let out a series of high pitched wails that rang in his head furiously, and it regarded the crowd with what must have been close to a dozen, red eyes. It gouged the ground beneath it with tri-clawed feet as it cut a bloody swathe out into the village. Bayle stumbled to his feet and through the bodies as he followed the panicked screaming into the streets. He was shocked to find that the sky had darkened and that the plains played host to swirling clouds of energy. Men, women and children ran desperately in all directions as the beast tore at them. He choked as he noticed the broken body of a little boy being cradled by a screaming woman, and all around him, the sights were similarly horrific. He made for the center of the panic, and as he rounded a building, he came to a halt as the beast was before him. Its attention was not on him, however. Instead, it battled a large man bearing a battered axe. Graycat had the beast locked in combat. Though others stood around with spears and forks in hand, only the old man seemed to have the courage to face it. He was battered, however, as one of his legs seeped blood and a similarly wicked gash crossed his chest.
"Graycat! Be careful!" shouted Bayle. The old man glanced at him, and in that moment, the beast pushed forward, shoving one of his claws deep into Graycat's chest. Almost simultaneously, Graycat buried the axe into the creature's throat. The two fell into a heap with cries of anguish. For a moment, no one reacted, and then Bayle ran forward. The moment he touched the beast to roll it off of Graycat, however, it vanished -- only a choking black fog staying in its place for a moment before dissipating. Where it had been, only Graycat lay now, his chest wound gaping. Bayle knelt down and picked up the old man, trying to think in a panic where he might take him for help! "Stop!" said Graycat, his voice coming out with a splatter of blood. "Stop, please, boy. There's no use." "There is a use," insisted Bayle. "You need help."
"Ahh, now," said Graycat, his breathing labored. "I'm done in. No sense denying it. But, I'm ready." Around them, a crowd had gathered, but their words were distant and indistinct. Bayle focused on Graycat, cradling his head in his hands. "Please," he said, "just try."
Graycat grew still and looked up at him. With a shaking hand, the hunter drew the young man in close. "It's time for me to leave this world," Graycat said. "My time is done, but yours is just beginning." He grimaced in pain and hacked. Bayle gripped him more tightly, as if that might prevent what was happening. Graycat waved him forward again, so that none but the two of them heard what he was to say next. In words punctuated by the low gurgle of death, and the blood that stained the old man's lips, Graycat said to him, "Nations will know your name." And with that, the old hunter passed.
~~~
By sundown, Bayle had packed everything he could onto his back and left the village of Oceangreen. All told, six people had died, and scores were injured; among the dead was a child, the young boy he had seen when he first emerged from the meeting hall, and that was more than Bayle thought he could bear. Five had been killed by the beast, while the sixth was battered to death by the odd arcane storms that appeared suddenly, disappearing when the monster vanished. When the confusion had died down, and it was clear the tear in the world was gone, the elders had come to him and thrown the staff at his feet.
"This is all your exploits have brought us," said Urth. His voice was calm but beneath the surface, it simmered in anger. "Death and sorrow. Take it and get out of here. Carry your bad luck somewhere else."
Head hanging low, Bayle had muttered his apologies, though he knew they would never truly atone for what had occurred. Everyone watched him with heavy gazes as he walked slowly from the town, leaving, for the second time in his life, his home behind. Danaria had called for him, and he'd glanced back at her, but her father held her firmly. She squirmed in the man's grip, but when Bayle had mouthed, "I'm sorry" and turned away, she had stopped. He glanced back once more to see her eyes wide with shock at his abandonment, but he couldn't think of it now. What was happening here was more important than the emotions of one young woman. She'd find a better husband than he could have been anyway; a man too full of lofty dreams would only find love a weighty anchor. His bag hung heavy against his shoulder, but the staff hung the heaviest. Part of him was tempted to throw it as far as he could into a ravine or back into the ocean or some place else that no one would ever find it again, but another part of him knew he couldn't, and that somehow it was now bound up in his fate, for good or ill.
Nations will know your name. Graycat's final words haunted him. If the old man's words rang true, did it mean he would be known as a hero? Or would he be known as a horror? The thought of it chilled him. Bayle stopped, turned, and gazed at the distant sight of the village. Despite the distance, he could see stones being piled for cairns. The village would lay their dead within the stones and bury with those bodies the grief that deadened their souls, but the events of this day were unlike any usual slaughter. The cries of the beast and the screams of their loved ones would echo in their hearts for long to come. Had he any say in it, he would see to it that no village ever again would know the horrors Qeynos had known.
"I swear it," he whispered.
With that, he continued on his path through the green stretches of the plains of Karana. Where he ventured, he wasn't certain, but he did so with a new purpose: destroy the staff, and anything associated with it. It was in that moment that the Shadow Odyssey truly began, and the destiny of those bound to it called for collection.
Asharae Part I
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell --
You can never know what destiny will demand of you. If you had told me only a year ago that I would be called upon to travel with a dark elf, fighting along side one rather than against one, I would never have believed you, but fate has no room for niceties.
Of the party, only Kruzz was more friendless than Asharae, and though she might have been charming enough, I think in the end if you were to put a dagger in the hands of anyone in the party and go to sleep before them, most would choose Kruzz over Asharae. But it is this bard's duty to tell a story as true as I can tell it no matter what I may think of the subject, and so I will bring to you as best I can the story of Asharae.
Asharae - Part I
Once in the city of Neriak there lived a noble dark elf, Baron V'Nol, and his wife, the Madam V'Nol, and their four daughters. Within this house lived a fifth daughter, though she was not a true born child and had no knowledge of her parentage. You see, her mother had been a dancer and a woman of low birth, and though she left the child at her lordly paramour's front step, wanting nothing more to do with her, the Baron and his Madam raised the child as a slave and told her none of the truths of her origins. Asharae was her name, and not only did she sweat upon their floors for eighty years, but her tasks were ever the lowliest of the low. The Madam, you see, looked upon her and saw the Baron's infidelity and her own imperfect beauty, and nothing she could say or do to the child from then on out could come forth without the most vicious of venom. Where another girl might receive a swift rebuff for leaving a grease smudge on the reflective black obsidian walls of the manor, Asharae was beaten until her back was reduced to a sea of welts. For his part, the Baron never acknowledged her. He had no reason, after all, to acknowledge any of the slaves, save those comely enough for him to catch around a dark corner when the Madam wasn't looking. Asharae was a pretty enough girl, having inherited her mother's looks. Those who looked at her thought it difficult to shake her image, as she possessed a single lock of white hair that started at the peak of her widow's crown and bled back into her otherwise raven mane. However, she was not so stunning that one would find it curious the Master ignored her.
Though day in and day out the young elf went about her duties without a sign of emotion, enduring the beatings and the slander and the Madam dunking her face daily in her washbucket, holding her there until just before drowning, at night the young woman would weep as she slept. No one heard her tears, or if they did, they didn't care. And Asharae grew up alone within a house that hated her, though she did not know why.
When Asharae was an adolescent, she found within her Madam's wastebasket a book of wizardry. The Baron and Baroness were both accomplished mages, and their wealth afforded them the luxury of throwing away tomes they had happened to run a little thin. Though the book was frayed and battered, when she touched the cool black leather of its cover, she felt as if something electric were passing through her, and she clutched it to her breast, stealing a look about to see if she had been spotted. There was no sound to be heard in the high obsidian walls of the V'Nol manner. The whole of the household had left to attend, or attend to, the wedding of the oldest of the V'Nol daughters. Only Asharae had been left behind to see to the daily tasks of the household. The rest of her day's tasks were done in a blur, as the girl could not wait to steal back to the small closet she kept as her own space in the cellar.
As the day came to a close, and the distant sounds of a celebration were heard, the girl opened the book for the first time. Her eyes passed over the arcane symbols on its thin pages, and though they were foreign to her, she devoured the text explaining them. The book was nothing but a student's guide to the most basic of magics, but that was a perfect place for Asharae to begin. She practiced her magics on the rats and the bats that were unlucky enough to travel into her radius. The sight of the rodents turning to crispy black ash as they were struck by the lightning bolts that leapt from her fingers filled her with joy and lightened her spirit. Sometimes she would laugh to herself thinking about it later on, and when the Madam scolded her for it, she would picture her in the place of the rats and it cheered her even more. From then on forth, she divided the scant hours she was afforded for sleep between rest and study, and with time, her power grew.
All went as usual until the day that the V'Nol household produced such an important magical artifact that they were compelled to throw a grand party to which only the highest ranks of Neriak's society would be attending. They called it the Scryona and with it, they would be able to predict tears in the fabric of reality and use them to tap into the power of planar entities. Whispers of its power spread through the city like a fast acting poison and then to the King and Queen themselves. It was rumored they might appear at the party briefly, only to view the Scryona and move on, but all preparations were made as if the monarchs would be enjoying each inch of the manor and every dish served and every song performed by the quartet of musicians. The servants worked hard preparing for it, Asharae most of all, and the manor was turned upside down and inside out with their efforts. Asharae was given the job of polishing every piece of jade and pearl and turquoise inlay in the house's many walls, of which there were many. So many that she continued to work even as the guests began to arrive in the downstairs foyer. They were drawn into the ballroom where they broke open casks of bloodwine and feasted as Asharae continued to work.
And so it happened that Asharae passed the room in which the Scryona was being kept. She heard a soft humming noise before she ever saw it, but as she gently pushed open the room to the Madam's study, torch flooded in from the hallways to illuminate the small metal ball on the pedestal in the dark room. She walked over to it and picked it up gingerly, turning it over. It was curiously light, no larger than an orange, and from its north and south poles, two crystals cut into diamonds protruded. At some angles it looked gold, but when she turned it over, it shifted so that it seemed silver at others. Along a central band, foreign symbols were etched. Some of them seemed to be Druzaic, the language of magic she had seen in her spellbook, but others were completely unidentifiable. As she ran her thumb across a central rune, the orb began to glow an orange light. The ball warmed quickly and then split into two even parts. With its insides exposed, she was able to discern two pools of energy cupped in either half of the object. They shifted and turned, forming images and runes of different sizes and colors. "Why wasn't such a thing better protected?" she wondered to herself.
Asharae was so entranced that she almost didn't near the sound of approaching footsteps. Placing the Scryona quickly back on the pedestal, she dove for cover behind a desk. The Madam V'Nol materialized in the room from the hallway. Behind her, a manservant held up a torch and waited dutifully. Through a slit between the two halves of the desk, she watched the Baroness pick up the Scryona and turn it over, stroking it as one might a lover. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and she replaced it carefully before turning to depart with a swish of opal-chased, black silk.
As she began to exit, her manservant asked, "Aren't you going to secure it, mistress?"
"Of course not," said Baroness V'Nol, dismissively, "the curses and bindings on it are such that any who would dare touch it that wasn't of V'Nol blood would die instantly. No, Thiran, you needn't worry. This Scryona is going to carry the V'Nol name into the annals of history, and no one will take that from me. In fact, I would like to see one or two of my enemies try. That would quickly and effectively rid us of more than one annoyance." The sound of her laughter faded as the door shut behind them.
When all was once again quiet, Asharae emerged from her hiding spot. "Your protections have failed, my lady," she thought to herself, looking at the Scryona hungrily. As she once again clasped the Scryona, triumph surged through her. The Madam's devastation would be great, and it would be all Asharae's doing. She slipped the ball beneath her blouse and stole her way down through the house and to her room in the cellar, where in just a few minutes she had packed up everything she dared. Taking one final look around her, a smile crept across her face. If she succeeded in stealing away, the V'Nol house would fall into disgrace, and she would be free.
Lifted high by that knowledge, Asharae took flight.
Asharae Part II
Asharae - Part II
The tale of the V'Nol family would end here as your narrator could tell it if Asharae did not come into the company of the most ragtag band of adventurers on Norrath and, by her continued presence, make it all the more unlikely. In her flight from the city of Neriak, she encountered our crew and became our reluctant mage, despite the protests of many a member, myself included. Unfortunately, it was hard to deny with the nature of our mission that the Scryona would not come in handy. More than that... it would be essential in predicting rifts from which the Void would enter our world. Unfortunately, Asharae's ability to use it was mediocre at best and, at worst, a matter of pure luck. So it came upon us to take a detour to the city of Neriak, and forcibly detain Baron and Baroness V'Nol. And with this, the tale of Asharae and the V'Nol's comes to its true closing point.
The Madam V'Nol was left bound in the back of the cart, her own sash serving to gag her, and Asharae led the Baron, blindfolded, into a cave.
"Do you need any help there, lassie?" asked Kaltuk the aged dwarf, eyeing her as she went.
Asharae turned to look back at him and then, one by one, her eyes passed over the party. It was agreed within the group that never had they seen her so calm, and yet so obviously excited, as they did that day, and never would they again. Her dark blue skin gleamed in the light that filtered down through the tops of the trees and her eyes locked on each of them intently.
"No," she said finally. " There shouldn't be a problem. He is unarmed, and will be defenseless within the anti-magic field. No, you needn't worry about me."
As they disappeared into the dark mouth of the cave, Kaltuk leaned over and whispered to his companion, the ogre Nurgg, "It wasn't her I was worried about."
Within the cave, Asharae bound Baron V'Nol to a post and removed his blindfold. His eyes went wide as he looked at her and he screamed dully against his gag. "Now," said Asharae, letting her fingers trail across his chest as she passed from one side of him to the other, "I need you to tell me all that I need to operate the Scryona, or..." with a flick, a dagger had appeared in her hand, and she toyed with its end against a hollow in his neck, "I begin cutting you down to size." The dagger flashed as she quickly cut the gag. As it fell away, the scream he had let loose at the sight of the knife in motion came out, echoing in the cavern. He breathed deeply and gazed at her like a wild thing caught in a net. She stared down at him between the part of her hair, calmly assessing whether she believed he would speak, or whether he would need more convincing.
Quickly, she decided on convincing. Like lightning, a gash appeared across his arm, missing the delicate veins of his wrist by only fractions of an inch. He screamed again and this time, the words rolled freely off his tongue. "Asharae," he said, "Asharae, I do not believe you wish to do this."
Asharae gazed at him for a moment before laughing. The laughter was soft at first, and then it seemed to take her over completely. "I don't, do I?" she asked, arms sweeping out to either side of her. "Are you forgetting that until very recently, I spent the whole of my life a slave in your household? When I could do naught but crawl, I scrubbed the floors. And when I could walk, I scrubbed the walls. And when I missed a spot, I was beaten by your wife within inches of death." She drew up closely to him. "So many times I wanted her to go one step further. So many times I wished she would just do me in as she so obviously wished to." Asharae was quiet for a moment, and then she drew away again. Balancing the knife point on one of her fingertips, she said, "So tell me then, Baron V'Nol, what reason would I have for not wanting to do this? I will tell you what reason: no reason at all. Much like the reason that your wife targeted me for this abuse. No one was treated as horribly as I was, and I never gave her cause." She walked up briskly and cut across the Baron's opposite arm, once again coming dangerously close to the artery. For good measure, she shifted the stroke to move upward as she was through, gashing his cheek. "Now, tell me what I need to know."
Baron V'Nol panted and between his teeth said to her, "There was a reason, a reason for it all. You are the daughter of a doxy who I paid for my pleasure, a dancer from the Maiden's Fancy. And that I would choose to seek consolation in the arms of such a commoner rather than go to her bed has driven my wife crazy for all these years. So you see, you are my daughter, Asharae, left to your fate by your mother on my doorstep. So that's why you don't want to do this. Because you may think your life has been terrible, but I did you a good deed in letting you live. Your mother most likely expected I would kill you to hide my shame, but I didn't. I am your father, Asharae. Let me go, return the Scryona, and because of our shared blood, I will let you live." The Baron held his head high as he finished, lips twitching into a smile.
Asharae stared at him, completely quiet. Only the Baron V'Nol knew the look that passed over her face at that moment, and all that this narrator knows is that it caused him to erupt into shrill, chilling screams. By the time the party made for the cave, headed by Kaltuk, who had already been posed to charge, Asharae stepped out, and her gaze stopped them in their tracks. Her robe was streaked with blood and the dagger in her hand seemed it would slip out of her hands, as it was so slick with it.
Kaltuk set his jaw and stepped forward, demanding, "By Brell's beard, what have you --?"
Bayle stepped forward and put a hand out to the dwarf's chest. The human man towered above the small dark elf woman, but the look she gave him acknowledged none of that. "What happened, Asharae?" he asked. "You were supposed to be questioning him, nothing more."
Asharae let her head fall to the side before pursing her lips and saying, "The Baron, unfortunately, did not survive the questioning."
"We are down to one person on the whole of Norrath who knows how to use it," said Bayle, his leather armor creaking as he drew a step closer to her. "Will you be more careful in questioning her?"
Asharae's cheek twitched visibly as she seemed to consider the request. "I will try as best I can," she said, waving a hand dismissively.
"You will torture no one else under my protection today," said Bayle, and his hand fell to his sword. "And you will especially not kill them. Even a dark elf deserves more than that." The whole party watched the exchange intently.
Asharae's glare burned into him as her eyes flicked from his sword to his face. "Then you will have none of the Scryona," said Asharae. "And the Void will take us all. If you think you can, do it yourself, but you'll get answers out of the Baroness V'Nol by no kinder means." Her head dropped, and her gaze locked on the ground. Around her, the party murmured. Twiddy Bobick, who had coaxed the girl to join them by the fire after a month of sleeping separate from the rest of the crew, turned his back on her and left the clearing in the direction of the Cloudskipper. Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz followed behind him shortly.
Bayle looked at her for a long time before finally saying, "We need the Scryona to work as more than a fluke. Kaltuk, you go with her. I know you'll tolerate nothing that goes too far." He turned and began to walk away. Stopping, he cast a glance back at her over his shoulder. "Nothing you do will change what has already been done, only the road you go forward on from this day. Consider that, Asharae." With that, Bayle left the clearing, and all but Kaltuk and Nurgg followed suit.
Kaltuk came to a stop beside her with a grumble and said, "Come on then. Behave if you can." Together, they disappeared into the cave, and Nurgg settled against the cliff side a step out of the tunnel.
Asharae learned all she needed to know about how to use the Scryona, and the Baroness V'Nol survived her questioning. But in the night, the Madam was set upon by wolves and gored to death before anyone could stop them. None could help but glance at Asharae when it was through, though she had moved her tent once again so that it was separate from the rest of the group, but the dark elf would give no comment regarding the death. She would also not sleep beside them again, but in the distance, they could hear her weeping as she dreamed.
It is only by my ability to see the truth of things that I know the whole of this story. Many could guess at the identity of Baron V'Nol. She had told us all of her curious ability to bypass the curse, and after that bloody day, it made all too much sense.
I pity her, even though I know I shouldn't.
By the Wings of Dragons Part I
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell --
The last of all our destinations save the bastion of the invasion, the first location we failed to save, Innothule Swamp would be the continent of Kunark. The iksar might have once been powerful, if not entirely trustworthy, allies, but they had been reduced to small villages of savage jungle dwellers. Even so, we tried to approach them, but our efforts were met with spearheads in response. We learned to travel by night, as silently as possible, heading as directly as we could to where we found the rifts. Though we were refused entry to Chardok, an envoy of the sarnak heard our story and said the sarnak would not be letting any invaders into their lands. Any found would be killed. It was made clear we were not much more welcome than the Void invaders, and though we would be able to keep our lives as reward for the warning, we had best be on our way. We found ourselves able to close some of the portals, but others were too much for us, and we ran for our lives desperately.
It was then that we were approached by a representative of the dragons themselves, and led to the highest spires of Veeshan's Peak to stand before the Ring of Scale.
By the Wings of Dragons - Part 1
For too many nights now to count, her dreams had been edged with cascades of peacock feathers, and the face of a woman, both beautiful and terrible, lingered behind everything that she saw. Tonight the woman pursued her down a corridor of darkness. Eylee was aware that if she paused at any moment, she would be swallowed. She knew that she was dreaming. This was certainly not where she had gone to sleep, curled up against Nurgg's back beneath an overhang of shale, and more than that, it made no sense for her to be in this undefinable space, but despite all of that, she couldn't make herself wake up. She beat against consciousness like the walls of a prison, but to no avail, she couldn't leave the dream. All of a sudden, her path ended as she collided with a wall. Turning, she pressed back up against it as a tide of feathers enveloped her. She screamed as they surrounded her, and as she did, feathers flooded into her mouth. She choked for air, clawing against the barrier between sleep and wake. Finally, when she thought she was going to black out, her eyes flew open, early morning sunlight flooding her senses.
Eylee awoke suddenly, gasping for breath but not able to take anything in. She tried to struggle, sliding around on the flakes of shale, realizing she was being held to the ground, a hand held over her mouth. No wonder she had felt as if she had been suffocating. Nurgg stared down at her, expression heavy with concern. The ogre had her locked to the earth, and over one of his shoulders, Kaltuk looked on, eyebrows stitched together. He released his hold over her mouth and she breathed in a long, sharp breath.
What... I mean... she struggled to formulate a thought, but her head was splitting with pain. It had been happening this way as long as the woman had been invading her dreams. Every night, they were more intense and, every morning, so was the pain.
Shhhh, said Nurgg, holding one large finger over his lips. Eylee's eyes darted around her surrounding, noting Kruzz sitting nearby with his fingers in his mouth, looking worried.
He grinned and hissed as she looked at him. You is awake! he said. She managed a weak smile for him.
You were flailing, lass, said Kaltuk, in a hushed voice, calling out, and tearing at the ground. Illisia found suspicious tracks nearby, so everyone scattered to look about. We couldn't wake you, though, no amount of shaking did a bit of good. The three of us decided to stay til you woke and keep watch, but then you started up with the screaming and well... Kaltuk shrugged his head to one side. ... here we are. Eylee forced herself to breath in long, slow breaths and gradually she felt herself relax. Nurgg relaxed his grip on her and eased away.
There was a flash of gold as their guide stepped into sight from around a craggy edge of mountain. Eylee's heart leaped into her throat as her eyes locked with the elven man who she knew to be no elf at all but a dragon stepped into the clearing.
She is well, then? asked Xygoz, in a voice that played like a song that broke the young wood elf's heart to hear it. His eyes were a bottomless blue that slit in the center like a cat's and stood out against his dusky skin. He was garbed in a loose robe of golden silk and wore no armor, nor carried any weapons, only a lute inset with platinum and silver discs and strung with strings the colors of sunrise. She could hear nothing but the pulse of her blood as they locked eyes.
Finally, Kaltuk's voice pushed its way back into her head. She's awake, not sure if she is well, though, said Kaltuk. She blinked and glanced at the dwarf, who she noted had adopted a touch of a scowl, which overpowered his concern.
Nurgg snorted and said under his breath, All better now.
Eylee flushed and glared at Nurgg. I'm fine, Xygoz, thank you, she said, smiling. Just bad dreams.
But your dreams are more than dreams, said the elven man, coming in closer, you shouldn't dismiss the possibility that the pain that comes with them... He paused and touched her forehead, and the skin of his fingers was hot, burning with his internal fire. ...might not be able to truly hurt you.
We won't be letting anyone hurt the lass, said Kaltuk, bristling.
If this woman, said Eylee, swallowing heavily, her mouth having gone dry, is somehow tied to the invasion... maybe even behind it... and if she has truly gotten into my head, then I doubt you can protect me from her, Kaltuk.
I doubt that she is truly there, said Xygoz, standing back up. If she were able to cross to do that, she would have done it already. I simply believe this is your own power giving you insight into your enemy, but such power, especially in the hands of a mortal, often has a price. Eylee rubbed at her temples, wondering if it was worth while.
You speak with familiarity, dragon, said Kaltuk, eying him. Do you know something you aren't telling us? Nurgg stood up and looked down flatly at Xygoz, cracking the bones of his fists. Behind him, Kruzz followed suit, scrambling to his feet as small chunks of rock sprayed out from around him. His hand went to the cleaver at his side that he had adopted as his weapon, and he did his best to look menacing.
The dragon elf was unimpressed. He simply smiled at them and tipped his head down. Phara'Dar asked me to bring you to her, not to answer your questions, he said. I imagine that everything you need to know, you will know. And everything you don't, you won't.
Kaltuk grunted and Nurgg leaned back on the balls of his feet. Just then, Bayle and Illisia came up the path, speaking softly. Eylee watched them and her mouth twitched into a smile as she noticed that the fingers of their inside arms, while not fully entwined, scratched softly at one another's.
Oh good, Eylee, you've woken! said Bayle. His spoke with gusto and smiled broadly at everyone as he came forward. When he noticed the generally sour expressions, his smile fell and he glanced around. What's happened?
Nothing, said Kaltuk, glancing at Xygoz, except that our 'friend' here has information he isn't quite willing to share.
Bayle glanced at Xygox, who was smiling and shaking his head. We've been given the chance to speak with the Ring of Scale, said the plainsman, an honor not many mortals are privy to. I believe our guide is not bound to do anything more than he has.
You're all right, Eylee? asked Illisia, examining the girl with her hawk eyes.
The wood elf smiled and nodded, saying, I'll be fine. The pain is already fading.
Bayle looked at her with concern. While I won't badger our guide as the rest of you have... He turned and looked at Xygoz. I hope that maybe your people can help her.
I hope so too, said Xygoz, smiling down at Eylee, causing her heart to flutter. Miss Eylee should not be made to suffer so.
Asharae finally returned a few minutes later, looking around her distastefully. She slipped a little on the shale as she was approaching the camp and glared at the ground venomously, adjusting her cloak, which had become tangled around her arms. This rock is no doubt the fancy of Fizzlethorp Bristlebane, she said. No other god would so completely miss the idea that rock is supposed to be solid.
I am sorry you find our home inhospitable, Mistress Asharae, said Xygoz, bowing slightly. Asharae looked at him with an arched eyebrow, and a smile played on her full lips. Eylee drew in on herself, aware of what a child she looked like beside the Teir'dal.
It's not that at all, Master Xygoz, she said. You have been nothing if not the perfect host. It's the earth that's not so compliant.
Forgive us if we don't notice, said Xygoz. After all, for a dragon, it doesn't often matter what the ground feels like, only the sky.
For any spellcaster with enough practice, said another voice, interrupting their banter, the same is true. Roadyle drifted down from a nearby cliff top. He glanced up at Bayle as he landed, Nothing. I haven't found any sign of who might have might have left the tracks.
Nor I, said Asharae, eyes full of spite as they locked on Roadyle.
Bayle nodded and said, We had no luck either.
Xygoz folded his hands in front of him and said, I wouldn't worry. We are getting close enough to our territory that the chance of anyone being foolish enough to attack travelers is unlikely. After all, the possibility of there being travelers to raid in and of itself is not particularly high. It was most likely a lone wanderer, more frightened of our party than we should be of him.
Or four, murmured Illisia, not loudly enough for Xygoz to actually hear it. She had felt that the tracks belonged to at least four individuals, based on subtle variations in their shape, but four individuals who were good at sneaking and leaving the tracks of fewer. Still, their search had yielded nothing, so what else could they do?
Bayle nodded and said, I will leave it be then. He glanced around the sky, surveying the high, broken peak before them. I wish the Cloudskipper had been up and running when you found us. This would be so much easier.
Twiddy and the Professor will have it working by the time we're back, said Illisia, placing a hand on his arm reassuringly. He smiled at her and nodded.
Master Bayle, said Xygoz, it's not much further. We will be there by sundown. I hope that's enough assurance for you.
Of course, said Bayle, nodding to him and smiling.
Eylee reflected, looking at Bayle, that he smiled much more easily than he had when they first met. It made her happy to see it. They'd ridden high on success for some time, though since coming to Kunark, their luck had seemed to run thin. Still, though they had faced defeat, they had never truly been devastated.
Suddenly, Xygoz was standing above her, holding a hand down for her. Miss Eylee, he said, let me help you up, so we can be on our way.
She felt light on her feet as she took his hand and rose, brushing dirt and rock from the seat of her pants with her other. Thank you, she said, shooting a satisfied glance in Asharae's general direction.
I never thought I'd be accepting an invitation from dragons, said Kaltuk, shaking his head as the group continued up the mountain.
* * *
The music that Eylee coaxed from Xygoz's lute was surprisingly sweet. She couldn't help but wonder if it had been magically imbued to forgive the minor off strumming of the musician, because she had only ever had basic lessons in playing stringed instruments from another traveling bard at the inn where she had stationed herself in the Plains of Karana.
I told you that you would have very little trouble, said Xygoz with a smile. He reached over and slid one of her fingers over to another string. Try it again here.
Once again, Eylee attempted to mimic the song he had been playing earlier. It sounded even closer this time. She grinned and laughed happily. Amazing, she said.
It's coming from you, young one, said Xygoz, accepting the lute as she passed it over to him. You have bardic magic, and though you are hardly a master of anything you touch, you'll find it won't take you long to master anything you set out to play.
She smiled and shook her head, saying, My grandmother must have had it, and never told anyone... She was my only teacher. Those who had power in our community used it to pursue druidic functions and nothing else. This is not true of all Fier'dal, but our village was particularly devoted to keeping the forest alive. She felt her lips tremble and tears spot the corners of her eyes. Which meant we took it the hardest when we couldn't save the Elddar.
Xygoz was quiet for a moment and then placed a hand on her back. You couldn't, he said. You were mortals against the will of a god.
Eylee nodded and smiled. Xygoz hoisted the lute and began to play it expertly. He began to sing with the instrument, and she recognized the song as an old Feir'dal devotion to growth and nature. Loneliness and longing for friends and family welled up inside of her, and she thought she might be overwhelmed. Suddenly, a group of four iksar descended down into the path in front of them, straight on top of Roadyle and Kruzz, who had been in the middle of their marching order.
As I said, four! shouted Illisia from in front of them, turning with her swords already drawn. Behind her, she could her Kaltuk beginning to murmur a prayer and Nurgg push his way forward. Bayle was spinning with Illisia at the front and beside them, elemental energy flared between Asharae's fingers, strings of power going from one finger to the next. Eylee herself reached for her rapier, but all of the sudden, there was a roar. She turned, and her expression slackened, as she noticed that Xygoz the elf had vanished and been replaced by Xygoz the dragon, flapping in the air above them. He was still beautiful, but in a terrifying sort of way; having a long, sinuous body covered in golden scales. The catlike appearance of his eyes spread to the whole of his face, which had fanning scales that almost looked like scruff and curled ears. His eyes were still deep and blue beneath a ridged brow of gold and a pair of fangs extended down from his mouth.
Leave, intruders. His voice still had a sonorous, lyrical quality to it, but it was deeper and more imposing. Everyone was frozen, stopped in their tracks and gazing at him.
But the surprise didn't last long on the iksar, who were each on top of Roadyle and Kruzz, two at each. Though Kruzz had managed to grasp at his cleaver, one knocked it from his hand, and they began to rake at the two Ethernauts savagely. Roadyle shouted and cursed, but they seem to know better than to let him gesture for his spells. They had obviously been on their trail and watching. Eylee looked at them closely, and noted they had the same eerie shadow that they had long since noticed in all who were Void-touched.
Void! she said, but everyone else had begun acting as well. Asharae had let her spell die and instead slipped the Scryona from its bag. She whispered to it softly, stroking at it and looking at the Void iksar intently. Illisia and Bayle had come at the pair on Roadyle and a bolt of energy crashed down onto another from the sky. Kaltuk howled in triumph behind her just as Nurgg barreled past and knocked into the same one. Eylee herself began to beat against her drum, singing a song to bolster everyone in combat. Nothing they had done, though, had managed to bring the iksar down, or even barely slow them. They lashed with their tails and raked with their claws, barely slowed from the blows they had been dealt.
Then Xygoz descended in a single fluid motion, claws latching around one of the two that Nurgg and Kruzz were battling. The iksar, whose elaborate fanning at either side of its face marked it for a female, screamed and struggled in his grasp, hissing and clawing, but the effort was futile. Xygoz drew her up high and then threw her against a cliff face nearby. Her body crunched as it hit, and whatever bones were left unbroken, or perhaps the already broken ones crunched again as she hit the ground hundreds of feet below.
Eylee's song nearly broke as she was struck with the realization that if they were on the other side of the dragon's anger, the same could happen to them. She reminded herself that the same could be said of any powerful ally, and that the best you could do was trust that a person was who they claimed to be, and Xygoz had done nothing to make her question his intentions.
With the quartet reduced to a trio, the party was able to bring them down easily. Eylee watched Asharae carefully, noting with relief that she didn't seem to disappear completely into the Scryona the way she had every time previously. She'd wanted to believe their intervention would do some good, but part of her had to be concerned it wouldn't. The Teir'dal had withdrawn from the group and been studying it intently, drawing in and releasing power as she could. On more that one occasion, she'd heard her shout out and curse at it. The struggle had been palpable, and from Asharae's bearing, it seemed she had succeeded. Asharae met Eylee's eyes and lifted an eyebrow, winked, and then opened her palm wide at a fallen iksar and drew out the energy from it, turning as she finished and releasing a series of three small fireballs at another.
As the fighting settled down, Xygoz returned to his elven shape and walked back to them.
No chance at all of being attacked here, hmm? asked Asharae.
Xygoz's normal smile was gone and replaced with a perturbed look edged in anger. They are foolish if they try anymore, he said. The shadowed men may not be of exactly the same make as a mortal, but they are using the bodies of said mortals as shells, and those shells can be crushed very easily.
It might be best to examine your own ranks, said Bayle. You never know. Maybe they have a reason for confidence.
If those creatures have the strength to control one of us, said Xygox, then Norrath is in more danger than I care to think of. Let's hurry.
The party pressed on, making their way to the top of Veeshan's Peak.
By the Wings of Dragons Part II
By the Wings of Dragons - Part II
The adventurers stood in the center of a massive cavern of jagged stone. They were surrounded on all sides by members of the Ring of Scale, dragons of many colors and shapes that lounged around the room, sprawled over rock formations that seemed well-worn to their shape, suggesting they had assumed these traditional posts for some time. There was a dark dragon with gray and silver scales and a pair of curled horns, and a blue one with horns running down the length of its head and snout, and in the center was what Eylee took to be Phara-Dar herself, the leader of the Ring of Scale. Her scales shimmered a beautiful azure color, with purple on her wings and chest. Her head was long and elegant and her eyes were frighteningly intelligent.
Xygoz gestured to the group to stand in the center and then reverted to his natural form. The gold dragon joined the others in the circle, watching the party with inquisitive eyes.
"You've come," said Phara-Dar.
Bayle glanced at the rest of the group and then stepped forward uneasily. "Yes," he said, "Master Xygoz said you wished to speak to us."
"Yes," said the dragon, stretching her wings and letting them settle against her back once more. "We know what you're doing here. You have the Staff of Theer."
"You know what this is?" asked Bayle. He unstrapped it from his back and held it up.
Phara-Dar exhaled a deep breath, which blew across them hot and wet. "Yes," she said, "we know very well what it is, where it came from, and what it can do."
Asharae stepped forward and said, "Perhaps you would be so kind as to share, then?"
There was an audible groan from Kaltuk's direction and even Eylee had to shake her head at the Teir'dal, who stood haughtily before the dragon.
"Only a dark elf," muttered Nurgg.
Phara-Dar stared at her intently. "What you have been doing is futile," she said. "You are patching the cracks but not fixing the break. In order to stop this, someone would have to go to the source, and use the staff there."
"Which is...?" asked Asharae.
"The first full invasion happened in Innothule Swamp," said Phara-Dar. "We believe it to be there."
Bayle nodded and then said, "Thank you, this has been very helpful. Why was it that you wanted us to come here? This has all seemed to be to our benefit."
There was something like a chuckling among the dragons, but to say that a dragon ever truly "chuckles" is grossly inaccurate. It was a deep, rumbling noise that echoed throughout the cavern. "You will not be going," said Phara-Dar.
A cold chill passed down Eylee's back. Reactions were similar throughout the group. Everyone began to shift uneasily, Kaltuk cursed under his breath. "What was that?" asked Bayle.
"We are talking about the fate of Norrath," said Phara-Dar. "You have run away bleeding from more than one place here on Kunark, and you think you're ready to enter the Void and take all of that into your hands?"
Eylee had to admit that as she listened to the dragon, she didn't entirely doubt Phara-Dar's words. It stirred up doubt inside of her. Were they ready? Was it foolishness to think that they, of everyone, should be the group to follow this through? Looking amongst her companions, she noted that others were obviously experiencing the same self doubt. Only Roadyle seemed unaffected. His expression was passive, as it had been since they entered the dragons' caves. She landed lastly on Bayle, whose expression was even more of a struggle than anyone else's and her heart sunk. But then, she thought of her visions, and the certainty they had granted her every step of the way. They had all come together for very specific reasons, in very specific ways. That had to mean something.
She gathered together whatever shred of courage she could find inside and stepped forward, saying, "I've had visions of every member of this party, of things that have happened, and things that still need to happen. We were meant to do this." She looked among the dragons, guessing little from their expressions. She glanced back at her companions though and was pleased to find that they looked bolstered.
"It is true," said Xygoz, "that the Feir'dal has visions. She's seen their enemy in her dreams." Eylee's heart leapt a little as she heard Xygoz's voice but quickly sank again. This was Xygoz the dragon, back among his kind, and any tenderness from him she might have imagined was just that, imagination. That he might have had any regard for them was as ridiculous as thinking they might have regard for a spider, or a fly. She felt foolish and childish.
Phara-Dar snorted and said, "Then we keep her too, but we will still be handling it, and they will not."
Eylee shrank back and Nurgg stepped between her and Phara-Dar. Bayle said, "Are you threatening us?"
"Only if that's what must happen," said Phara-Dar. "Leave the staff and the prophet and you can go."
Around the room, the dragons began to rise, and at their full heights, they were even more threatening than seated. Eylee heard Roadyle whisper, "Get in close to me." Everyone began to inch in slowly. At first, Asharae seemed to consider resisting, but then she too followed.
"Now, please, the staff," said Phara-Dar.
Roadyle began to chant and with a gesture, circles of light surrounded them. Eylee felt herself slowly dissolving, and in front of her, Phara-Dar began to chuckle again. "Wizard, your magic is not going to --" Then the dragon's voice fell and her head reeled back in surprise. "That one is more powerful than he looks. Who is he?!"
But if any dragon had insight into it, Eylee didn't hear it. She phased completely from the room. As she began to slip away, she felt as if a force reached for her and tried to pull her back, but then she ripped away in her current direction. She felt herself reeling, though, spinning around wildly as she passed through nothingness. When she hit, she landed apart from the others and went headlong into a tree, knocking her into unconsciousness.
* * *
When she woke, she was aware of the acrid smell of burning and that she was bouncing. She opened her eyes groggily and found that she was being carried on Nurgg's back as he barreled through the forest. No one else was nearby except for Kruzz, who ran alongside Nurgg with his cleaver in his hand. They seemed to have landed in the Emerald Jungle, and despite its dampness, it was ablaze. Few things could burn like that, but one of them was dragon fire.
"What's going on?" she murmured. She gazed at a long swaying vine that was completely alight, leaving trails of smoke as it moved.
"Wizard got us close, but not close enough," said Nurgg. "We need to cross the jungle. But they are here, hundreds of them, and dragons above."
"We going to die," said Kruzz. The most terrifying thing about the way he said it was that he didn't sound frightened, just certain.
"Where's everyone else?" she asked.
"Scattered," said Nurgg. "Better to move in pairs."
"Kaltuk isn't with you?" she asked.
"He would not leave you," grunted Nurgg in Kruzz's direction. "Kaltuk is with Asharae. Illisia with Bayle. Roadyle is safe. He cannot be seen. Though not safe from dragon fire."
"They caught up with us? So soon?" she asked.
"You were asleep a long time," said Kruzz.
"But dragons are also fast," said Nurgg. "Too fast. They are fighting with Void creatures, but they will not let us go. They will be back."
The trio moved through the jungle quickly. For a time, they didn't encounter the hundreds of alluded to "them", though Eylee assumed those to be void-touched iksar and void beasts and whatever else they had corrupted. Soon, though, they encountered a group of four iksar. Nurgg dropped Eylee and barreled at them, Kruzz beside him screaming and raising his cleaver. Eylee struggled to get to her feet and began to sing, bolstering her own damaged self, as well as her companions.
Kruzz and Nurgg each faced off against a pair of them. Nurgg danced around the blows while striking in soft spots when he could manage. Kruzz, on the other hand, was fighting madly, ignoring the fact that he took more than one blow, simply focusing on hacking at them. As her strength returned, Eylee advanced on them, stunning them with screams when she could. Finally, their opponents had all fallen, and they moved on. Nurgg offered to carry Eylee once again but she shook her head and said, "No, I'm fine." Before she could get out of the way, however, he'd grabbed her and tossed her up on his shoulders anyway. She struggled only for a moment and then quit as they barreled on. They fought their way through more groups, and before too long, the airship came into sight. Eylee's heart sunk as she noticed the vast number of iksar and shadow beasts below the airship, throwing spears up at its body. She couldn't see Fiddlewiz or Twiddy, but assumed that they were huddled for safety, overcome with terror. She hoped it was that, anyway, and not that they were already dead.
It didn't take long for them to be spotted. Nurgg slipped Eylee to the ground again and said, "Get to the boat."
"I'm not going to leave you two," she muttered.
"Go!" he said, practically shoving her, but she wouldn't budge.
"We're all going," she said. Nurgg pulled back and glared down at her. Kruzz stared at the pair of them nervously. Then the ogre's expression faded and he nodded. Eylee drew her weapons and they began running in the shortest possible line, ready to fight those around them. Just as they reached their first set of opponents, an arrow buried itself in the head of the iksar advancing on her. Behind her, Illisia and Bayle emerged from the jungle and rushed into the fight with them. Shortly after, spells began to rain down from the boat on the crowd, consuming the attacking force in fire and lightning and dazzling lights. Eylee spied Roadyle flashing in and out of sight, and then Twiddy and Fiddlewiz were there, throwing things down at the aggressors.
Eylee fought desperately for her life, thrusting her rapier at whoever came at her. Her world became a blur of blood and ichor. She knew she had taken wounds herself, and every now and then, she would feel warmth pass through her as presumably one of Kaltuk's spells healed her, but mostly, the wounds persisted. There was probably too much to do to focus on just one person. Finally, though, a path was cut to the ship. Bayle gestured them at it and called for the ladder to be dropped. Twiddy and Fiddlewiz scrambled, and the rope ladder fell. Eylee began running at it. All of the sudden, a void beast stepped in front of her, raising its razor-sharp arm with a roar. She stumbled back, but realized she was too slow. Before it struck her, though, Kruzz was there, shoving her out of the way and swinging his cleaver. He cut into the pincer deeply with his cleaver, slicing through it cleanly, but the other arm stabbed him in the side before he could react. He cried out in pain but then whipped around, chopping off the other arm. Meanwhile, Eylee let out a piercing scream that caused every eye on the void beast's head to bleed, and the thing staggered away.
"Are you all right?" she asked Kruzz. He was hunched over, hand on his side where the pincer hit him. He nodded his head vigorously.
"We go!" he said.
Eylee nodded and the pair of them ran toward the ladder. Asharae had already climbed up to the boat, and Kaltuk was on his way. Nurgg shoved Eylee and Kruzz up as soon as they reached the ladder, he, Illisia, and Bayle standing stalwart until the others could make it into the boat. Illisia followed them, and then there was an argument about who would go next.
"Go on," said Bayle.
Nurgg shoved him. "I am taller. Boat should begin to move. I will make it."
Bayle frowned at him, but the ogre pushed him again, and the plainsman began to climb. "Hurry, though," he said.
Eylee held her breath as Bayle made his way up and Fiddlewiz and Twiddy struggled to get the boat going. She glanced at Bayle and then noticed something that alarmed her.
"What happened to the staff?" she asked, looking at a place where the Staff of Theer seemed to have been scratched, and one of the runes was completely missing.
Bayle glanced at her, his expression strained. Illisia stepped in for him and said, "It happened on our flight from Veeshan's to the ship. An iksar struck it with a spear and one of the runes fell off."
"Did you recover it?" demanded Roadyle.
Illisia glanced at him and shook her head. "No," she said, "one of them got it first and then ran."
"Was it void corrupted?" asked Asharae, her eyebrows stitched together.
"No," said Illisia, shaking her head so that her long auburn braid bounced, "not that I could tell. We passed too close to a village, that's all, I think."
"We weren't done," said Twiddy, pulling at his hair with a concerned expression. "She's not ready, and now she's sustained even more damage." He worked at it, though, and Fiddlewiz beside him. Even the gnome looked anxious, eyes darting around.
"Come on Nurgg!" she shouted as Bayle was up in the boat. The ogre jumped onto the ladder as the boat began to move and climbed desperately. Just then, Eylee felt herself go completely numb as one of the promised dragons came into view. The dragon with the horns running down the front of his face, one that Eylee had found particularly terrifying, came at them, breathing fire and screaming furiously.
"Go!" shouted Bayle. "Go, go!"
Illisia ran to the side of the boat that the dragon was coming up on, an arrow at the ready. As soon as it came in close, she let loose the arrow, and the dragon reacted to its strike, shrieking in pain. It wasn't enough to make it so much as pause though; it kept coming at them. Nurgg reached the deck, watching everyone. As it drew in close, Eylee gasped as, suddenly, Nurgg barreled across the deck and launched himself into the air over the side, sending himself straight at the dragon.
"No!" shouted Eylee.
Everyone moved to the side of the ship, staring in amazement as Nurgg struck at the dragon. Those who could began to launch what they could at the dragon, Illisia firing arrows and Asharae and Roadyle casting spells. Bayle paced back and forth, looking as if he wanted desperately to help. But he couldn't. All he could do was watch as the dragon whipped Nurgg from side to side and he punched and kicked him, clinging to his neck.
The events that unfolded over the next few minutes seemed slowed. Twiddy and Fiddlewiz went back to the controls, pushing the ship as hard as they could to go faster. It accelerated until it was going faster than any of them had ever seen it go. They had long since left the land mass of Kunark behind and were over the ocean. The dragon kept pace with the ship, which might have been all that kept Nurgg alive: the dragon had to focus both on fighting him and keeping behind the airship.
The deadlock broke finally when Nurgg managed to strike at the dragon's eyes even as Asharae landed a bolt right in a soft spot on the dragon's underside. But then the dragon, done with this tomfoolery, dove down straight toward the sea.
"What is he doing?" asked Kaltuk, his voice harsh and demanding, wracked with grief. "What is that beast doing?"
"He's going to drown him," said Illisia. Her voice was soft and sad. "Or force him to let go. And when he lets go, swallow him whole. If it's anything else, I'll be surprised."
"No," whispered Eylee. "We have to do something."
"What can we do?" asked the barbarian, shaking her head. "We'll have to wait."
"I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and wait!" shouted Kaltuk. His chest was heaving.
"What else are you going to do?" barked Bayle in response. "We wait, and hope." Kaltuk let out a noise of disgust and stalked away.
By the Wings of Dragons Part III
By the Wings of Dragons - Part III
As the ship pushed forward, Fiddlewiz approached Bayle cautiously. "I can make us go very fast," said Fiddlewiz, "but it risks blowing the engines."
"I don't even know what that means," muttered Bayle, harshly.
"We aren't going to take her much further either way," said Twiddy. His voice was full of defeat. "We can push her to go hard, but it might ruin her. I don't think we have a choice."
Bayle looked out to where the dragon had gone beneath the water sadly and said, "We'll out pace them too, won't we?"
"It might be better," said Twiddy, sadly. Kaltuk had been sitting down but he jumped to his feet, nostrils flared and an indignant expression on his face.
"We aren't leaving him," said Kaltuk. "It might be I can save him..."
"Maybe," said Bayle, "and maybe that means letting the dragon catch up with the rest of us." Kaltuk glared at him furiously, their eyes locked, but then the dwarf broke the gaze and turned away. Eylee thought she saw a shudder to the dwarf's back.
"Fine," muttered the dwarf.
"Do it," said Bayle, nodding.
Twiddy and Fiddlewiz worked quickly, throwing a number of multicolored vials into the furnace. Eylee stood at the side of the ship, keeping a vigil for Nurgg. Just as the gnome and halfling finished, and Twiddy said, "It's coming, hold on," she noticed the dragon break through the water in the distance. As it reached the sky, it noticed how far they had gone and roared, soaring at them.
"Go, go, go!" said Bayle.
"It needs to ignite," said Twiddy. "It will though!"
Not soon enough. The dragon overtook them. Eylee felt a surge of excitement as she noticed Nurgg was still attached to the dragon, but then it vanished as she noticed he was completely still. As the dragon grew closer, it was apparent he had been impaled by one of the horns and stuck there. Behind her, she heard Kaltuk choke.
"You see what it will mean if you keep fighting with me," said the dragon.
Bayle had gone to the head of the airship and held out his claymore, swinging at the dragon's nose as it approached. The dragon was struck and reeled back. It returned, swinging its horns at Bayle, but he struck back. "Just give me the staff," said the dragon. "Give it to me, and you can go."
"No," shouted Bayle, bringing his claymore in an arc across the dragon's face. It dodged out of the way and the two continued their parley. Eylee glanced to the side just as Kaltuk ran past her, heading straight for the edge of the boat and launching himself at the dragon. The creature didn't notice in time, its attention focused on Bayle, but then blinked as the dwarf landed on him.
"Will you stop that!" growled the dragon.
"Kaltuk!" said Bayle. "The engines! What are you doing?"
But Kaltuk scrambled straight for Nurgg. Eylee watched in amazement as the dwarf wrenched the ogre from the horn and onto his shoulders. Seeing what he was doing, Bayle struck the dragon again, returning its attention to him. As the dragon tried to strike back, sweeping close to the deck, Kaltuk threw himself onto the ship, dragging Nurgg with him.
Just then, Twiddy shouted, "They're going!"
Everyone hit the deck, including Bayle, who dove off the railing and onto the ship, as there was a thundering explosion. Half of the ship went up into multicolored flames as it thrust wildly away from the dragon. It seemed there was a high scream of pain as the same flames hit the dragon. It was hard to tell though, as they went so fast that soon the dragon was out of sight. Everyone reeled about wildly. Eylee had been gripping a line, but on one jerk, lost her grip and tumbled toward the open hatch to below deck. She tried to grab for the side of the hatch but couldn't get a grip, falling down wildly into the cargo hold. Perhaps if she hadn't already experienced one head injury that day, or had not fought her own share of dozens of opponents, she might have kept her consciousness. But none of those things were true, and she once again went into blackness.
* * *
Eylee was aware of a burning in her lungs and a sensation of extreme heat. She dragged her eyes open despite lids heavy with swelling. Though the boxes she had landed against when the jerking motions of the ship sent everything tumbling toward its front were smashed on impact and her limbs had seemed tangled in loosed plants and bent metal banding, she didn't feel as though anything in her had broken terribly. The impact had left her swollen and cut, her skin a rash of gashes that hadn't had time to crust over and still bled freely, but she was in one piece, it seemed.
The pain of breathing was due to the smoke that filled the remains of the hold, let loose from the flames that licked against the wood greedily no more than a dozen feet from where she lay. Her heart began beating furiously and panic threatened to set in. She scanned her surroundings, looking for the ladder to above deck. When she finally found it, though, not only was it across a wall of flame, but it was also broken half way up. Her lips began to tremble as thoughts of escape were beaten down by the reality of what surrounded her.
"At least I was the only one down here," she thought. It then occurred to her that there was no reason to assume being on deck meant any better of a fate. Perhaps they wouldn't burn, but they could have been thrown from heights too high for any of them to survive, or crushed on impact. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced to shake them off. She was still alive, and there might be something yet she could do. She began chanting to herself a song of courage and the fear that edged into her mind began to ebb. Glancing around, it occurred to her that there were many areas where the wood had been crushed and even slits where light from outside peeked through; perhaps she could break her way out.
Groping through her surroundings, she managed to find a pile of tools that had spilled from a barrel. The first she reached for was all metal and burned red hot when she gripped it. Crying out, she recoiled and tore a piece off of her tunic, wrapping her hand in it. She reached out for a mallet, this time made of wood and stone, and managed to hold onto it. She crawled over to a spot where the ship was splitting and swung as hard as she could; happily, she was awarded with a cracking noise. The flames were getting closer, though, and the smoke thicker. She swung wildly, knowing well enough that it would never break in time.
Then, her heart soared as she heard voices on the other side.
"Eylee!" A muffled male voice came through that she believed belonged to Bayle. "Are you here?"
She felt a surge of hope rush through her and she pounded her fists against the wood. "Yes!" she shouted, but her lungs were so full of smoke that it didn't come out nearly as loud as she'd hoped.
"She's there," continued the voice. "Hurry, try to break through!"
Eylee leaned back to get out of the way, but all of the sudden, Roadyle materialized beside her. He shook his head and said, with his signature half smile, "I teleport all of us for miles, and they don't assume I can teleport into here?" She felt her mouth caught in an O of surprise as she tried to respond but he reached out and put an arm around her. She had never touched him before, and was surprise to find that his skin was cold, colder than anyone she could ever imaging touching. Before she could think on it too much longer, though, he had gestured and the pair of them were outside of the ship and on a dusty patch of ground.
* * *
"They're gone. Nurgg was dead when Kaltuk had him, but Kruzz died in the crash."
Eylee knelt on the ground beside Kruzz's body and lifted up one of his hands so that it lay atop the other. His face was surprisingly peaceful, which was not an expression he was seen wearing often in life. It was as if every fear he'd had in life had been working to twist and turn at him every moment, but in death, it all melted away and finally left him be. "You're not afraid anymore," whispered Eylee, "at least there's that."
Kaltuk stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder and said, "He'd been wounded already. He didn't tell me. The poor wretch might've died even if we hadn't crashed, but once it happened, he was done." Kaltuk let out a long sigh and said, "I am sorry I didn't get to him in time, if only for your sake. When we crashed, it was all panic and to and fro. We didn't find him until too much time had gone by."
Tears ran down Eylee's face. She couldn't stop them, and she didn't try. "He was wounded helping me, Kaltuk," she murmured. "I didn't realize... I should have." The dwarf inhaled deeply as if he might say something, but then he just let it out. Nearby, they had laid out Nurgg's body as well, which they had managed to pull from the wreckage. The ship had broken in half and the flames remained contained to one end. The other, in which Nurgg's body had been placed, had remained well enough intact. Though none had made it through the fall unharmed, no one else had sustained any serious injuries, and Kaltuk managed to heal any wounds that might actually have slowed anyone down while preserving some strength in case their fighting was not done.
Kaltuk plodded away toward Nurgg. Eylee watched him go through strings of tangled hair, feeling nothing but a great emptiness in her chest. The dwarf stopped before the ogre and shook his head saying, "I wasn't there for you friend. I'm sorry."
The Feir'dal looked around her forlornly. The rest of their group was digging at the half of the ship that hadn't burned, salvaging whatever supplies and personal possessions they could. Even Asharae worked diligently and without complaint. Though Twiddy had at first wandered around as if in a daze, he returned and worked beside Fiddlewiz. His expression, though, was still that of a halfling with a broken heart. Eylee knew from where they had landed that this was the Elddar Forest, but even in the time since she had been gone, it had become unrecognizable. Leaves had long since blown away, bark curled off of the trunks like layers of dead skin, leaving them pale and vulnerable, eventually drying up and bleaching in the sunlight. The ground was dry, brittle, and cracking. In parts the loam had broken down to all but dust. Wind howled through the skeletons of the wood, kicking up clouds of dust, but other than the whooshing and whistling of the air streams, everything was silent. That was maybe the worst of any of it, the overbearing silence of a land that had once been so full of life. Eylee looked down at Kruzz's body again and brushed aside dirt that had settled on his jerkin.
She swallowed heavily and looked at Kaltuk, saying, "Maybe you could still help him."
Kaltuk glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow and said, "Oh, and how's that?"
"Resurrection... it's not uncommon," she continued.
Kaltuk's chin dropped to his chest and he crossed his large, barrel arms across his front. "That requires the help of a god, lass," he said. "Brell never took my power away, but I doubt he'd find it to do this much, and I've hardly given enough devotions to any other god to expect so much as a blink from any request I make."
Eylee looked down at Kruzz, and then at Nurgg. "It's worth trying," she said. "Don't you think so? We've seen a lot of things happen with your powers since we've been on this journey. Maybe Brell has been trying to make up for things."
Kaltuk stared at her, one eye squinting and his hand closing around the chain of his censer. "You realize you're asking me to do what I turned away all of Kaladim for asking me to do?"
Eylee breathed in deeply and returned the stare. "But not for the same reasons," she said. "I'm not asking you to follow blindly. I'm just asking you to try and cooperate."
Kaltuk made a scoffing noise and turned away. After a moment or two, he looked back and said, "Maybe... it is time." He frowned briefly. "Could you leave me to it, Eylee?"
She nodded and drifted away, leaving him by the bodies. As she went, she couldn't help but glance back. He had knelt beside Nurgg's body and, though his shoulders slouched heavily as if under a great burden, his head was bowed in prayer. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and hoped it would be enough.
By the Wings of Dragons Part IV
By the Wings of Dragons - Part IV
"He didn't raise."
Eylee glanced up and over at Kaltuk. The dwarf's eyes were dark and saggy. The whole of the group stood around, watching him. The Feir'dal had explained what was going on when she reached the rest of the group, and though there had been some semblance of trying to keep at their work, most had been glancing at him so often that they finally just stopped. Most didn't react to the news. There had been too much, too fast today and everyone was so drained that one more should-be-crushing revelation couldn't affect them. Asharae, however, cursed audibly, and Illisia actually turned and embraced Bayle, burying her head against his chest. He stroked at her head dully and rested his chin against her head, staring forward.
"So you tried to raise Nurgg?" asked Eylee. Kaltuk nodded. "Did you try Kruzz?"
Kaltuk looked startled, then his eyes narrowed, and he regarded the wood elf with guarded curiosity. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"Did you only try to raise Nurgg, or did you ask for Kruzz as well?" repeated Bayle. He looked at Eylee significantly, and she guessed he had some idea of her reasoning.
Kaltuk scoffed and said, "If you're meaning did it fail to work for my good friend, and so instead of continuing to try to bring him back, I instead put all my energy toward resurrecting a troll, then no."
"Maybe you should," pressed Eylee, "maybe it's a test on Brell's part."
Kaltuk stared at her, and in his eyes, there was certainly a more than significant ration of anger. That anger slowly faded though, and he nodded. They all watched as he crossed to where the bodies were and instead of continuing on to Nurgg's, stopped at Kruzz. He bent over the troll and faintly, Eylee could hear chanting. He began tracing a bright white outline of the cook's body and then stood at his head. The wood elf's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, daring to hope her intuition had been correct.
Kaltuk thrust his arms to the sky and this time his words were clear and ringing. "Brell! I ask you to bring back Kruzz, born to the wretched Clan Grobb and the worst cook I've ever met, but a hero despite all of that. Do it and you've a devoted follower in Kaltuk Ironstein once more."
Eylee winced slightly, wishing he hadn't added the last bit, but hoping it would not offend Brell too deeply. But then, any god who would have created the dwarves might well appreciate their less yielding nature, and the rest of the gesture could still be enough.
A pillar of light came down from the sky, enveloping Kruzz and lifting his body up from the ground. Everyone watched in amazement as there was a flash and then he was down on the ground, curled up and coughing. For a moment, everyone just watched, and then there were cheers and sounds of amazement. Eylee herself sprang down from where she had been perched on the wreckage and ran to Kruzz, wrapping him as tightly as she could in a hug. Kaltuk had yet to react. He looked on amazedly at the troll, who seemed fairly confused himself.
"I's not dead?" asked Kruzz, blinking and looking around.
"You're not dead," said Eylee, smiling as fresh tears ran down her face. "Kaltuk brought you back."
"Dwarf brought troll back?" asked Kruzz, staring at Kaltuk, blinking.
Kaltuk scoffed and said, "Yes, but only by the very minimum of choice."
"Thank you, Kaltuk," said the troll. Kaltuk stammered and then nodded to him, smiling slightly, moving over to where Nurgg's body lay.
"Where is we?" asked Kruzz, head swinging from side to side.
Eylee felt the happiness that had filled her lessen slightly. "This is the Elddar Forest, or it was..." she said.
"Hmph," said Kruzz, after a few moments of looking at it again, "not so much a forest."
She shook her head and said, "No, no it isn't."
Just then, Eylee was swept up off the ground and found herself pressed against Kaltuk as the pair of them were mashed against Nurgg's great ogre chest. Dark thoughts vanished and happiness and relief once again filled the Feir'dal as it seemed that once again, their group had managed to sidestep complete devastation.
* * *
The company moved forward the next day, bangs and bruises - and in a few cases, death itself - healed as well as could be managed. Bayle walked at their head, saying, "We know where we need to go now to stop this at its head, but we need to touch base with our allies. We don't know what will happen when we enter the Void, and they need to be ready for the possibility that we won't come back. We'll travel as far into the Plains as we need to in order to find a contact and then veer back down toward Innothule."
There were murmurs of agreement. Twiddy kept glancing over his shoulder, keeping watch on the remains of the Cloudskipper until they were far beyond his sight. When they had finally gone, he let out a long sigh and hugged a small box to his chest. Fiddlewiz patted him on the back and said through his scarf, "Keep your chin up, Twiddy."
Twiddy nodded blankly and said, "Maybe so. My destiny was to reach the skies, though, Fiddlewiz. Now that it's over, well, I don't know what's left for me."
"Never had much use for destiny," said Fiddlewiz. "I'd rather do with my life as I see it. We'll build another. Maybe a better one." Twiddy seemed to nod and consider what he had said, then straightened up a little.
Asharae pulled the hood of her cloak up and over her head, pulling out her long hair so that it hung to one side. She squinted up into the sky and said, "It's much hotter here than it should be."
Illisia glanced back at the Teir'dal and then stopped to put one hand against one of the dying trees, bark flaking off beneath her hand. "I imagine the trees are thinking the same thing."
"Well, it's clearly too late for them," said Asharae. "While we are still here, does anyone have a plan for finding water? We only have so much."
"I am sure Illisia will find it if it is to be found," said Bayle.
Illisia nodded and seemed to examine the ground. "I am sure we will find a pocket of it soon enough."
"And if we don't?" asked Asharae, lifting an eyebrow inquisitively.
"We will," repeated Illisia. "There is still some life here, and that means water.
"Hmm, I see," said Asharae, but she looked dubious.
"Eylee," said Bayle, "maybe a song would help us?"
She smiled and hoisted her drum, which had fortunately made it through the crash in one piece, up to her side. Beating on it softly, she began to chant a song to help them walk briskly and without tire.
By late afternoon, they had come to a part of the forest where life seemed to be struggling to hold on, and there was a little more in the way of foliage and fauna to be found. Just before nightfall, Illisia stopped them all. "There's a party of humanoids in the area," she said. "From the shape and size of the feet, I think elven, but I'm not certain. We should lie low until we know."
They hid themselves as best as they could in the limited environment. Eylee found herself beside Roadyle. Thinking of the way she had felt before, she found herself considering his presence beside her. Unlike Nurgg, who radiated heat like a furnace, Roadyle gave off nothing. She wondered if he was always so cold, or if it was something to do with his powers.
"I hope you know how grateful I am," she whispered to him. "I know I said thank you, but there is no way that can really express it."
He smiled at her thinly and nodded, saying under his breath, "We've all done what we must for each other."
"Still," she said, "that was dangerous. You didn't have to take the risk. Thank you."
"Do not mention it," he responded. "Very literally, at the moment. We need to be stealthy."
She nodded to him and smiled, peering into the forest beyond. Without warning, she was thrust headlong into a vision. She found herself groping for purchase, her hand locking onto Roadyle's upper arm. In her mind, she saw a great blue-green dragon stretched out in a cavern. A beautiful elven woman wearing a dress of white embroidered with gold threading stepped before him and presented him with a satchel. He lifted it with a single claw and nodded to her.
"When the time is right," she said to him.
"Very well."
As the vision faded, she loosened her grip on Roadyle's arm and drew back. As the details put themselves together in her head, she knew two things for certain about the dream. The elven woman was Queen Elizerain, and the satchel was Eylee's very own, the container in which she kept her writings. She was almost certain of the identity of the dragon. He matched the descriptions she had heard of Trakanon, and the sense of power around him really didn't suit anyone else.
"What was that?" asked Roadyle, staring at her.
"I don't know yet, exactly," said Eylee, frowning. "But I believe we have no reason to hide."
Not long later, a party came into view. Eylee squinted, and even from a distance, she made out a figure with the distinct quality of Elizerain. As they drew closer, the young wood elf was sure it was her. She was dressed more simply than Eylee's vision, primarily wearing traveling leathers, but the armor was made of a doeskin of the softest white. She wore a long white cloak and carried herself with a regal bearing. Nearby, she heard Bayle and Illisia discuss what they were seeing.
"Probably trustworthy, but we can't be certain," said Illisia. "Best to stay where we are."
"Agreed," said Bayle. He gestured for all of them to lay low.
Eylee, though, knew she had to speak with the queen. Even if she hadn't had her vision, there was no one she would trust more, but she couldn't expect anyone but Roadyle to understand why.
She looked over at him and said, "What are they saying? Of course we can trust her!"
Roadyle blinked and looked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Quickly, though, his expression shifted and he nodded to her, "Oh yes, definitely."
Eylee stood up. Bayle and Illisia looked at her, startled and gestured at her, but she walked past them and toward Elizerain, falling to a knee when she was finally there.
The party of elves around the queen tensed slightly but did not look aggressive. No doubt her sudden appearance startled them. The queen did not react except to smile at her.
"Hello young Feir'dal," said the queen. "Were you left behind? Would you like to join us? The last of our boats is leaving for the Faydark. After that, you are free to make your own way, but there will be no more ships going back and forth. Stand, you don't need to stay down here."
"No, Queen Elizerain," she said, shaking her head as she stood. "I'm not lost and I was not left behind. My name is Eylee Zephyrswell, and I've been traveling with a group..." Eylee glanced behind her and gestured toward the spots where her party was hiding. The rest of them eased out of their hiding spots. The elven guards grew a little more uneasy at the sight of the assorted races but there was no further response from them. "... of adventurers, doing our best to stave off the invasion from the Void."
"Ah," said Elizerain, her expression clouding, "yes, we have been hearing word of that, but not encountered any of the invaders ourselves."
Eylee nodded to her and said, "Look, I had a... vision... with you in it."
"A vision?" asked Elizerain, raising an eyebrow with a bit of an amused smile. "I know something about those."
"Well then you'll believe me when I say that I need to give something to you," she said, removing her satchel from her shoulder and tapping it, "and that you need to give it to the dragon Trakanon."
Elizerain started visibly. "Trakanon?" she asked. "You need me to take this to Trakanon?"
Eylee nodded to her and said, "The writings inside here describe what we have faced, and what we have learned. We are going to enter the Void, because it's the only way to stop the invasion completely. Hopefully we succeed, and Norrath never faces threat from the Void again, but in case we don't, these need to be kept safe until they are needed again."
The others came forward and mingled behind Eylee. Bayle came to stand just about beside her, nodding respectfully to Queen Elizerain. Elizerain swept her eyes across the members of the party and said, "So diverse a group would not come together lightly. I believe your story."
"You're welcome to read them," blurted Eylee, feeling foolish the moment the words were out. Blushing, she continued, "They're just modest scribblings, but it would be an honor."
Elizerain nodded distantly, assumably lost in thought. "I most likely will," she said, "I need to return these people to Faydark..." Her hand moved in a sweeping gesture, encompassing the group of elves behind her. Eylee now noted, looking more closely, that the group was full of both Koada'dal and Feir'dal, and that not all of them were guards. There was an assortment of men, women, and children who all seemed to be wearing civilian clothing. "... as this is the final sweep we are doing of the area, collecting any who have held out here but are now willing to go. Once that is done, I will turn my ship straight away and visit Trakanon. All of that, though, will afford me ample time to read it. Though I must say, this is impressively heavy."
Eylee smiled bashfully and said, "It's been a long journey."
"Well," said the queen, "do you wish to pass them over now?"
Eylee shook her head and said, "I would like to record some final notes. I will do it quickly, though. I'm sure you need to move on."
The queen nodded and said, "We will dine together. Finish what you need to, young Eylee, and give them to me when you are done."
Eylee glanced back at all of her companions, examining them each in turn, and thinking of how she might possibly be writing the end to all of their stories now.
She settled below a tree, leaning up against the peeling trunk, and caught up to the exact point at which she sat. For the longest time after, she considered how to end it, but anything too final unsettled her, as if it spelled this too clearly as their end. Instead, she left it at that, a silent image of herself beneath a tree dotting the final sentence and shuffling away the papers. What ever followed would not be written and would be left only to the annals of time.
* * *
And this is where I leave you, whomever this may be, in whatever time you might live. If you are reading this, then it's likely we succeeded at least in keeping Norrath from being swallowed completely by the Void. Of course, if you are reading this because you face the same peril, then what we did must not have been enough. I can only hope, then, you are able to learn from what we did, and move forward from where we left you. -- Eylee Zephyrswell
Escape from Guk
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This is the first of those writings...
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell -- This tells the account of the escape of Kaltuk Ironstein and Nurgg Rockfist from Guk and the hands of the trolls. My friends told me the tale over many an open fire, quibbling over the specific details. I most often stuck to Nurgg's account, as he is not quite as prone to exaggeration as Kaltuk.
Escape from Guk Part I
For as long as it seemed he could remember, he had toiled. He might have been someone once, but who could say? He'd had a home, a family -- No. Nurgg slammed the stone heavily to the floor, not even flinching as a splash of green-colored water hit him in the face. He wasn't going to think about it, because it didn't amount to anything here in the dank. As the ogre leaned against one of the cut rock walls, he meditated on the gradually intensifying pain in his back. He was... how old now? He'd been nearing forty when he entered that place, and it had been more years than he had bothered giving count since he'd arrive; more than a fair share of years for an ogre. The oldest ogre in his clan had been pushing seventy, but that was uncommon, and mildly shameful. Leather stung his flesh and interrupted his thoughts. He set his jaw and looked down. A spindly troll grinned up at him with a mouthful of cracked teeth and tiny pupils that floated in the yellow puddles of his eyes. "Get a move on, then," said the taskmaster, breathing heavily and smelling of rot. "There's no time for lying about, rock for brains." Nurgg grunted. Oaf, dullard, rock for brains, they had many names for him -- all but his own. His people may have been dim, but Nurgg had always been accounted bright for his kind. Why, at one time, he had even thought to forge metal for the making of weapons, distinguishing him among the whole of the clans of Oggok.
Drawing away from the wall, he lumbered toward the block he had dropped. Here, he was no weaponsmith, only a pack animal good for lugging heavy objects. Wrapping his arms around the now wet surface of the rock, he felt his muscles strain as he hoisted it upward. The stone walls of the room shone with a dull emerald light and figures shuffled around in the near darkness, making hollow echoing sounds as they kicked the thin layer of water on the ground. The taskmaster watched with narrowed eyes as Nurgg carried the stone over and fit it into the masonry, groaning with relief when it was down. He moved aside as a froglok scurried up and slopped caulking into the gaps. Nurgg stared momentarily into the creature's eyes. It -- he had never been able to distinguish male from female -- caught his gaze for only a moment and then drew away without a word. The whip hit him again, and the muscles of his arms twitched as he suppressed the urge to snatch at it. He'd tried that, once upon a time, and still bore the scars to prove it. There was nothing to be had with rebellion. "Go on then, get another," hissed the taskmaster. "We'll be waiting!" The froglok knelt at the troll's feet, stirring at the bucket of caulking, eyes fixed on its work. Nurgg swung around and began the long trek back to where the wagon from the quarry waited, taking only mild satisfaction as he observed the way in which the green mildew crept further through the halls of Guk. Every day the trolls lost a little more of her, no matter how they might push their slaves to reinforce her walls. Maybe some day soon Nurgg would die down here, but at least he would be able to go knowing that in not too much more time, the trolls' ancient home would be crumbled as well. As he plodded on, he could hear the taskmaster exchanging words with one of the younger guards. "Shouldn't I go wit 'im, boss?" asked the guard. "That one? No, no need to worry about him. He's well broken indeed!"
~~~
Nurgg lowered himself in the corner of the cell as the bar slammed shut behind him. The troll guard stuck his long, narrow nose through the g ap in the cell bars as he shouted out, "Dinner, oaf!" The metal plate clattered as it skidded across the ground. Nurgg shot a glance at it. He was the one they called oaf, but they were the ones who counted offal as fine eating; and what their prisoners received was something even less than offal. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He'd rest a moment and then get to the business of forcing it down. Before he could stop himself, he'd drifted off into sleep. Nurgg was awoken as the cell door slammed open. He opened his eyes just in time to see a small shape hurtled through the door. It landed and rolled straight over his dinner plate before skidding to a halt. The small man picked himself up promptly and, wobbling, shouted after the retreating guards, "That's right, run! Ye ain't got the spine to face me standing, do ye?! Have to bag me in me sleep! Just like the sniveling whelps ye surely be!" Nurgg closed his eyes and thought to himself, "Oh good. A dwarf." The last dwarf they'd thrown in here had died -- what? At least five years ago now, and no cellmate he'd had before or since had been quite so loud. At one time, he might have broken every tooth in the dwarf's mouth to quiet him, but by that time, it no longer seemed worth the effort. It was an odd thing to see a dwarf on this continent, but it happened, and when they came anywhere near Innothule, they almost inevitably ended up here. The ogre opened his eyes and looked back at his new cell mate. Long white hair with a few thin braids descended down the back of a deep blue robe cinched at the waist with a rawhide leather belt. He'd been stripped of any armor or weapons he was once carrying, and only a stained ale skin hung at his side. The dwarf turned to him, appraising him with one cocked, bushy eyebrow and then, glancing down, seemed to notice he was covered in Nurgg's dinner. "What in the bleeding name of the gods is this tripe?" he demanded, scrubbing at his clothes as if that might do anything. "Have you ever smelled anything so foul?" When Nurgg only stared back at him, the dwarf wheeled in close, squinting at him. His face was lined heavily and his eyes were shot through with red veins. The dwarf, Nurgg noted, was no more a youth than he, but the old man seemed stout enough. The smell of ale on his breath was unmistakable, and potent.
"You don't say much, do you?" asked the dwarf. "Well, I can hardly blame you. You look as if you've been here a hundred years, thereabouts, and this dark is enough to break even the heartiest soul." He straightened slightly and inclined his head back. "And this hearty soul is Kaltuk Ironstein, once a cleric of Kaladim and member of the Stormguard. Now not much more than an outcast and, as it appears, a miserable prisoner; if you beg my pardon for saying so." Nurgg nodded and looked down toward the empty plate. The gnawing in his stomach reminded him that offal it may be, but there would be nothing else for supper. Kaltuk followed his gaze. "That was supper, aye? If that's what they feed you here, you'd be better off to starve." As if on cue, another plate slid under the cell store. The long troll nose stuck its way through the bars and said, "Little dwarfie must be hungry. Have a meal little dwarfie, for you'll be working in the morning with nothing else to eat!" The sound of laughter followed the retreating guard down the hallway. Kaltuk gave the plate a stiff eyeing and then plopped to the ground, waving his hand dismissively. "You can have it, I won't crumble so soon." Nurgg shrugged and picked it up before the dwarf could take it back. Moving only far enough to pick up the plate, he quickly retreated to his corner. Aware of how much like a trapped animal he was acting, he lowered his head and focused on shoveling the food in his mouth too quickly to smell it. "Well! You waste no time, do you?" asked Kaltuk with a laugh like a bark. The dwarf eased back against a wall and took a sip from the skin at his side. "I suppose you must need something to mark the days. It's probably hard, isn't it? Holding on to something? I'd reckon so. I was a prisoner once, you see, so I understand. For a full month I had to sit and consider what each day could offer when there was nothing to do but wait, and it did quite a number to my noggin', let me tell you..."
~~~
Hours passed and still the dwarf continued. Nurgg had stopped trying to separate the dwarf's ramblings into distinct topics and instead simply focused on the flow of the words. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't help but keep listening. Hearing the dwarf talk about anything but this place reminded him that there was something more out there, that he himself had once been a part of it. Besides, the dwarf spoke animatedly, gesturing wildly and occasionally laughing deep from his gut at one thing or the other he'd said, pausing only to partake of his ale skin. Kaltuk was a captivating speaker, of that there was no denying. "... and I must admit, of all I miss, I miss my children the most. If not for them, I wouldn't spare a thought for the place at all. Perhaps you have a family, perhaps you don't, but if you did --" "I did," blurted Nurgg. The sound of his own voice startled him even more than the fact he had spoken at all. Though he hadn't seen it coming, the words had forced their way to the surface, and then out. "I had a family," he continued, gaze leveled at the stunned looking dwarf.
The dwarf was stunned. Then, he slapped his knee. "Aha!" he said. "I knew you were still in there somewhere. I knew you couldn't be all gone." He rose to his feet and took a few steps forward. Nurgg considered him a few moments, and then shrugged, and nodded. Kaltuk lowered to a crouch beside the ogre and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, taking another swig from his ale skin. "Now, my friend, as much as I love to speak, I think you need it a bit more than I. Tell me about this family. Nurgg lowered his head, listening to the sounds around him. In the distance, he heard the soft sound of weeping, and a single piercing cry, and the shuffling of timid feet. The stone wall he leaned against was cold, and wet, and his skin sucked in that cold so that even the tips of his fingers and toes seemed to feel it, numb and awkward. The Nurgg who lived in this almost ruin of a city was not a man with a family, or a trade, or a clan. He lugged stones and broke ground and did as he was told. Could the other Nurgg, Nurgg of the Rockchest clan, come back out after so long? The moments ticked by and Kaltuk watched him expectantly. Finally, he opened his mouth and said, "There was an ogre called Nurgg of the Rockchest clan. He made weapons like no ogre could. Strong weapons. Sharp weapons. He had a wife. He had children. He had a name. He did not eat offal or lug stones for lesser beasts. This was until his rival killed his family, and none in his clan would give him the vengeance he deserved. There was an ogre named Nurgg Rockchest, and that ogre was me..." In a stream of words, the Nurgg that was began to wake up.
It took only five days for Kaltuk Ironstein to hatch a plan for escape. Nurgg watched the dwarf, amazed, as the plan was laid out before him. Nurgg had been here for twice that many years, and never had he truly considered it, but then, the ogre who had wandered in here so many years ago was broken, drowning in grief. Had Nurgg of the Rockchest clan not been broken by the slaughter of his family, and the betrayal of his clan, he would not have been pacified so easily. Kaltuk traced imaginary lines along the ground, visualizing their pathway to freedom. "It's a good thing we aren't in that village of theirs. There'd be more of them there. They can lock us tight here, but it's all but empty in the night time. It'd mostly be upon us to get past the cell guards, and we're on our way. Well, excepting the perimeter guards... and the scouting parties that circle regularly. I ken get us past the cell guards, trust in that, if ye can fashion us some weapons to get past the rest." Nurgg cleared his throat, hocking a thick glob of slime to the ground. "This is a dead man's task." The dwarf pressed his eyebrows together and gazed at Nurgg. "You aren't thinking of backing out, are you?" Nurgg muttered under his breath and looked away. "We will die, most like," he repeated. "That is all." Kaltuk stood and walked to Nurgg. The ogre felt a distinct sense of discomfort as the strange little man approached and set a hand on his shoulder. "Tis high time for you to leave here, my friend, whether by death or flight," he said. "We're not young, anymore, not you nor I, and it would be a crime to spend the rest of our days here in the dark. There must be time for one last great adventure for two such hearty souls. Maybe we'll die, aye, but we'll die with glory." The dwarf pulled his hand back and shook the pouch at his side. "Besides, my ale will be runnin' dry soon, and then I'd just prefer be a dead man."
Nurgg folded his arms across his chest and cast a glance down the hallway, listening to the not too distant chatter of the prison guards and wishing the conspirator could keep his voice down. "You speak pretty, dwarf," said Nurgg, "but I don't know yet if you speak true. I will listen, though, if you keep your voice down." "Fair enough, brother, fair enough!" said Kaltuk. The dwarf lifted his aleskin and tapped it with shining eyes. Nurgg eyed it skeptically. "You plan to drink us out?" asked Nurgg. "On the contrary, I plan to drink them out," said Kaltuk, lowering his voice to a hush. "Aye, I plan to drink them out." Nurgg was shocked to find that nothing about that statement seemed strange to him. He shrugged and said, "If you think you can do it." "Think I can? Hah! I know I can. They used to sing a song about me, you know," said Kaltuk, chuckling to himself, "and about my love of a good drink. They don't sing it so much anymore." His voice grew high and wistful as he began to sing, "Raise 'em high for me boys... And drink 'em low for me boys... Raise 'em high for me boys... For I'll soon be on me back." Kaltuk's voice trailed off slowly before quieting. There was a moment of silence as the two figures sat solemnly in the dark. "I'd like to hear your song sometime," said Nurgg. Kaltuk grinned and clapped a hand on the ogre's back. "My friend, if we get out of here, you shall."
End of part one...
Escape from Guk (part 2)
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This is the second of those writings...
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell -- This tells the account of the escape of Kaltuk Ironstein and Nurgg Rockfist from Guk and the hands of the trolls. My friends told me the tale over many an open fire, quibbling over the specific details. I most often stuck to Nurgg's account, as he is not quite as prone to exaggeration as Kaltuk.
Escape from Guk Part II
The halls of Guk were the deepest dark. With the prisoners' confines afforded no windows, the only light came from the torches in their stone sconces, and as the night wore on, those torches dimmed to the point of near extinguish. Nurgg sat at the edge of the cell in one of the small slants of light given off by a nearby torch and retrieved a piece of wagon wheel banding he had stored in a gap between the cell wall and the floor. Squinting in the light, he ran his finger down its edge. Dull, dull, dull, but perhaps he could do something with it. The sound of Kaltuk's snoring filled the cell -- an unlikely blessing. If Nurgg was really going to do as he had set down to do, then the noise might help mask the sound of his work. He held the thin, brittle piece of metal in one hand and a whetstone he had lifted from one of the guards in the other. Staring at them, he released a heavy sigh and leaned his forehead against the bars. But he didn't let himself stay there long. After a few moments, he sat up and began grinding the stone against the metal in a futile attempt to sharpen it. He began at first softly and then more fiercely until sparks burned the skin of his hands. Grinding away, he felt his teeth clench and the muscles of his neck tighten and everything in him became focused on the act. He began to think to himself that maybe the dwarf wasn't so crazy, that perhaps this really could work, and that maybe some day soon he would be free of this place.
But then, the banding snapped in his hands, one half clattering to the ground and the other hand gripped between his fingers. Breathing heavily, he sat for a few minutes, frozen and staring at the remains of his work. With a grunt of frustration, he tossed the whetstone across the cell so that it clattered off the wall and fell down onto Kaltuk's chest. The snoring stalled for only a moment before resuming, and the whetstone traveled up and down with the rise and fall of the dwarf's slumber. Nurgg's head fell heavily against the cell door again as he felt the burning in his hands subside and the emotion the act had stirred in him quell until his usual feeling of numbness had returned. Sitting in the deep dark, he muttered to himself, "A dead man's task. This is nothing but a dead man's task." It was a good thing, he was later to say, that at that time, he was no better than a dead man.
Nurgg sat in the back of the cell scratching at the dirt between the stones of his cell floor with a fingernail as Kaltuk rapped his hands against the cell door. "Hey there! You lot paying attention?" he shouted. "Come here if you have the mettle to face my fearsome mien." There was quiet down the hall in the station where the troll guards forever sat, gambling with bones and drinking their foul liquor. After a moment, one of the guards came shambling down and with a frown said, "What's this? What are you on about, dwarf?" Kaltuk pressed his chest against the bars and raised his aleskin. "I'm dry; can you good sirs fill me up?" The troll took one look at the aleskin and let out a peal of shrill laughter. Turning, he called down the hall, "Little dwarfsie wants some of our grog, boys!" The chorus of laughs that followed did nothing to deter Kaltuk. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him. He stood up a little straighter and said, "You're right in assuming your spirits are quite foul, and if I had any choice in the matter, I'd nay drink them for all the gemstones of Kaladim, but I'm dry, and that's enough to drive any dwarf to desperation. You'll not find my constitution lacking when it comes to a stiff drink, I promise you that." The troll scratched at a boil that protruded from his temple as he seemed to consider it. "All right," he said with a snicker. "You can drink with us, dwarf, but only if you drink all that we give you."
"A fair deal, indeed," said Kaltuk with a bit of a bow. "I only ask that for every two I drink, you all drink one as well. I hate to drink alone." "Two for one?" asked the troll. "Haha! I believe we can promise that." Nurgg watched with mild amazement as the door swung open, and Kaltuk, pausing only long enough to lean back and wiggle his eyebrows at Nurgg, followed after the troll. Minutes passed, and then tens of minutes, and then what must surely have been hours. In the distance, the trolls all chanted as Kaltuk downed flagon after flagon, followed by a hearty roar from Kaltuk as they took their compensatory drink. Nurgg felt every moment tick by as he wrapped his arms around his legs and watched the cell door, half-expecting the trolls to deliver an unconscious dwarf at any moment and barely daring to hope it would be otherwise. But as the night drew on and morning threatened to arrive at any moment, the chanting grew quiet and slurred and only the dwarf's voice continued to resound. Finally, when Nurgg had all but gone insane with waiting, Kaltuk's blue clad figure stumbled up to the cell door, fumbling with a ring of keys. Nurgg shot to his feet and crossed the space of the cell in two steps. Kaltuk swayed dangerously as he stared up at Nurgg and said, "You didn't think I could do it, did you? Well, I have done it! Tell my wife and all those miserable elders that I am still a penitent! That I still deserve a place in Kaladim! Let it be known that Kaltuk Ironstein never failed to drink for the glory of the gods! For Brell Serillis, that miserably ungrateful whelp! I did it all for you, do you hear me!"
The ogre waited uncomfortably through the dwarf's diatribe, glancing constantly down the hallway. The guards were well unconscious, of that he was sure, but there were others to hear what was going on. Already, other prisoners had begun coming forward and staring at them from the doors of their cells. "Do you hear me?!" shouted Kaltuk, thrusting his head back. "I am sure Brell hears you," said Nurgg through gritted teeth. "All of Guk can hear you. Be quiet, you drunken fool." Kaltuk peered through one eye at Nurgg. He raised one indignant finger and then toppled forward. It was all Nurgg could do to catch him through the bars and wrest the key ring from his hands. Minutes later, he finally had the door open. Kaltuk hadn't so much as stirred since losing all consciousness, and in the distance, Nurgg swore he could hear footsteps. "You poor little fool," grumbled Nurgg. He knelt down and drew out the crude machetes he had made in a more successful attempt to fashion them some weapons. Hoisting Kaltuk, he threw him over his shoulder and began to retreat. "Don't leave us! Please!" Nurgg whipped back and saw the froglok from the construction site. The voice was soft and feminine, and he could see tears in her eyes. Nurgg looked at the keys in his hands and then back at the froglok. He stepped back only far enough to throw them to her cell. "I am sorry," he said. "Free yourself, if you can." With that, he set off, Kaltuk's limp body slapping against his chest and back.
~~~
It was difficult for Nurgg to recreate what followed, and Kaltuk was, for obvious reasons, little help. When trying to describe it, he admitted to have felt as if he were in some sort of trance. Years of servitude were shed further with every step, and he had to command instincts to resurface that had long since gone dormant with neglect. And if the events that followed had not been of such an unusual caliber, maybe then it might have been easier, but they were most unusual, and Nurgg did all that he could to carry Kaltuk and he through them with their lives in tact.
End of part two...
Escape from Guk (part 3)
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This is the third and last of those writings...
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell -- This tells the account of the escape of Kaltuk Ironstein and Nurgg Rockfist from Guk and the hands of the trolls. My friends told me the tale over many an open fire, quibbling over the specific details. I most often stuck to Nurgg's account, as he is not quite as prone to exaggeration as Kaltuk.
Escape from Guk Part III
The morning was just beginning to break as Nurgg emerged from Guk, and it was unlike any morning Nurgg had ever seen before. The sky was lit with an eerie purple cast, and veins of silver light threaded through what seemed like gold specked dust clouds high above him. Nurgg had met no one progressing through Guk, but he found where they had all gone. The ground in front of the crumbling stone city was littered with bodies all of them trolls and all of them with wounds that had bloated in shades of purple and blue and black. What enemy, he wondered, had come through here and not managed to lose one of their force, when the trolls had lost so many. Kaltuk had begun to stir and mutter by the time they emerged and Nurgg hissed, "Quiet, Kaltuk. Quiet." Kaltuk muttered something inaudible and seemed to fall back into unconsciousness as Nurgg stole across the earth, glancing from side to side. Just as he was about to enter a line of trees, a troll reeled up in his pathway, gripping a long, wicked blade. Panic surged up in him for just a few moments before he reminded himself, "A Rockchest doesn't fear one measly troll." Though the years might have taken their toll on him, it had taken a whole squadron of them to bring him down when he was caught. This one would not stand in his way. He raised the machete and brought it down quickly through the troll's chest, but just before he did, he started as he noticed the troll's eyes. They were completely black, and where the machete struck, darkness seeped out from the wound.
Nurgg broke into a run, pushing his way into the surrounding swampland and away from the carnage. He continued running, even when his feet stopped hitting dry land and started sinking deeper with every step, coming up with sick slurping sounds as the ground grew less and less sturdy beneath his feet. Finally, it was no longer possible to go above a walk, as he was trudging through knee deep water. Only then did he notice the way in which the swamp was completely silent. Despite his time beneath the ground, he knew immediately that something wasn't right. There should have been a buzz of insects and the flap of swamp birds as they flew through the low hanging trees and high stalks of willowy reeds, but there was none of that. All of the sudden, a beast descended down in front of them. It was all Nurgg could do but react. Rockchest or no, the sight before him was enough to make any ogre quake. He swung wildly with the machete, aware only that what was before him was unlike nothing he had seen. It had no eyes, only an expanse of black skin and long, lashing tentacles. The noises it made drove him to want to drop his machete and drunken dwarf and clamp his hands over his ears, but he didn't. Acting without thought, he slashed and hacked furiously. Finally, he managed to shove one of the machetes deep into the creature, and immediately he was struck by a single cry so sharp that he did indeed drop all he was holding into the swamp. Nurgg fell to his knees with a groan. After a few moments of waiting expectantly for death, he finally opened his eyes and dared to move. He felt blood, wet and sticky, as he drew his hands away from his ears. Kaltuk floated beside him in the water face up, by good fortune, with his mouth agape but the creature was gone, having disappeared completely and left no trace.
~~~
They encountered no more of the creatures, but Nurgg had often hidden the two of them beneath overhangs when he heard the sound of nearby combat. Frequently, these skirmishes concluded with the sound of trolls screaming in pain and defeat; only rarely did he hear anything that indicated any trolls had survived. Throughout the day, he heard many more of those unnatural wails and every time, he fought the urge to fall to the ground and cower like a child. He walked far into the next night before it had been long enough since he had encountered combat that he dared to think of stopping to rest. By then, Kaltuk was snoring lightly and stirring more frequently. When he had finally found them a suitable spot to camp and had already gone about the business of stirring up a fire, the dwarf let out a monstrous yawn and sat up. Kaltuk blinked heavily and looked around in a daze, finally stopping and regarding the ogre. Nurgg sat stirring the fire, dimly aware of the dwarf's eyes on him, unable to stop going over the day's events in his head. "Well?" asked Kaltuk, breaking the silence. "We survived, then? Or is this some vengeful god's idea of a blissful afterlife?" Nurgg looked up and caught the dwarf's gaze. Something in his face must have struck his companion, because Kaltuk's eyes widened. Before the dwarf could say anything else, Nurgg said, "You have first watch." With that, he curled up by the fire and rolled over. Kaltuk gave no hint of protest, and in time, he fell asleep; but his dreams were troubled with the black, soulless eyes of the troll he had encountered, and the high, piercing wail of the creature that no doubt had something to do with them.
Nurgg woke up some time just before sunrise. Kaltuk sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire, which had burned low in the night, regarding him with curiosity. "You didn't wake me," said Nurgg, sitting up slowly as the stiffness in his joints argued against moving. "You seemed like a good sleep was in order," said Kaltuk with a faint smile. "Aside from that, I feel oddly refreshed. Just how long was I out?" Nurgg shook out his stiffness as he stood. "Long enough," he said. "Ah-hmm," said Kaltuk. "Now, would you mind explaining just what happened? And why it was you cried out in the night? I've not been sharing sleeping space with you for too long, but it's been long enough to know that's not usual."
Nurgg considered how to answer. "We escaped," he said. "But the trolls did not." He explained about their escape, and about the field of dead trolls, and the troll with the black eyes. Finally, he told of his encounter with the beast and of the skirmishes he did his best to avoid for the rest of their run. Kaltuk sat and took it all in with a surprising stillness. His brows were knit together tightly as he regarded his companion and the tale. "I think it was fate I came here," said the dwarf, when all that needed to be told had been said. "I think it's fate we ran from that place when we did. Nurgg, I would be very surprised if you and I did not have some great destiny waiting for us, and if these beasts didn't portent that Norrath has some very dire destiny coming for it." Nurgg considered his companion's assessment before responding, "We should move." Kaltuk laughed, and Nurgg was surprised to find how pleasing the sound of it actually was. "My friend," said Kaltuk, "you have proven thus far to possess a great deal of simple wisdom, but never have you uttered such wise words as those."
~~~
Around them, the sun seemed to strengthen as the overhang of the swamp began to thin, allowing resilient shafts of light to penetrate and brighten their path. Every step they took away from Guk seemed to remove a stone that Nurgg had been shouldering for, he realized, quite some time. The sounds of life had begun to return by midday, and Nurgg had to reflect that he had never been so glad to swat a biting fly. "So, do I remember correctly that you were heard to say you wanted to hear my song some day?" asked Kaltuk. "Maybe," grunted Nurgg. "Does that mean you have to be the one to sing it?" "Ahh, there's no backing out of it now, my friend!" said Kaltuk with a grin. Perhaps it was indeed time for a song. Nurgg shifted on his feet, and tipped his chin to Kaltuk in ascent. The dwarf seemed to spring a little as he launched into it. "They used to sing it in all the bars of Kaladim! Back when the Church of Ale was growing in faithfuls by the day, with yours truly at her head. And it went a little something like this..."
Why, let me tell you a story of a lad most dry! Always stone cold sober, oh it makes me cry... To think this lad didn't know the joy! Of a dark frothy ale... Let us pity that boy!
The Flight of the Mudskipper (part 1)
By the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell -- Though the tight lipped Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz was sometimes difficult to coax a tale from, Twiddy enlightened me many a time with the tales of their shared past. Like many halflings, he has an innate storytelling ability that would shame many a trained bard, or at least he carries on as if he does. It is clear that the more I get to know my companions, the more I have come to believe they were all in some way fated for this journey. Of them, only I seem out of place, as if I somehow forced the hand of fate to include me.
The sun dropped low in the sky, and as it cast a final spray of light on the tree tops of the Misty Thicket, a chorus of voices rose up from the village of Rivervale. The home of the halflings was dressed in all the colors of Myrthday, and the sunset marked a shift in the festivities. Over the squeals and squeaks of many a successful prank were the songs and cheers of a birthday celebration, and not just any birthday, this day marked the 50th year that Twiddy Bobick had walked, skipped, and jumped his way across Norrath, and the whole of the village came out to celebrate him as he entered his prime. Merrymakers flooded into the party in a parade of costumes and dancing; debutants wore masks and mocked the lads close at their heels, old folk dressed as characters from tales to delight of the infants, and young ones hobbled in atop stilts in their fake beards and oversized tunics, scolding elders in mock ups of their own voices.
Twiddy stood at the helm of his boat and raised a drink high. Below him, the crowd let out another cheer and lifted their own drinks before taking a long swallow of whatever spirit they had filled it with. The scaffolding that held the R.N.S. Mudskipper up high in the center of the vale was surrounded by a mess of tables spilling over with juicy roasts stuffed with cabbage and apple, and salads of wild spring lettuce topped with shavings of roasted nuts, and crispy jum-jum pies with their sugared purple insides. Though the boat might one day hold a mess of passengers, it was in the middle of construction and its deck had just enough room for Twiddy and his most honored guests. Twiddy himself sat on poop deck presiding over everything like a king at his court, and the town elders, as well as Twill and Liddy Bobick, his well aged parents, sat below him on a long table of fresh oak that his father had just put the finishing touches on that day. Everyone beamed with pride and good drink, Twiddy's father more than any other. He spent the whole of the night boasting of his son's fine skills; Twiddy had already proven to be an accomplished carpenter and was bringing them the first of many vessels in their very own halfling navy, so there was much to celebrate.
Our young shipwright drank as much as any, swallowing cup after cup of honeyed dandelion mead, and as the night wore on, and he listened to his praises sung again and again, Twiddy grew bold. Finally, as the ship was praised for what must have been the many dozenth of times, this particular time by the venerable Rothbur Tagglefoot, Twiddy interjected: "Aye, a good ship she is, she'll certainly give the birds something to talk about!" The party atop the ship all laughed. Rothbur Tagglefoot tipped his head to Twiddy, exhaled two long strings of smoke from either side of his mouth, and said, "Yes, the birds, and the fish too, I'm sure." Twiddy shook his head and said, "I doubt the fish will see much of her when she is so high in the sky."
There was a pause before the laughter this time, as everyone stopped to consider his meaning. Tagglefoot took a long drag off of his pipe before pointing its end at Twiggy and saying, "You mean she will go so fast they won't have a chance to see her?" By this time, the revelers below had begun to listen to the conversation above them, watching as Twiddy staggered about the poop deck making grand, sweeping gestures as he spoke. Twiddy shook his head yet again, emboldened by alcohol and a desire to share his secret that had been building for months, before saying, "I mean exactly what I say. This ship is bound for the sky, not the waves."
This time the awkward pause was even longer, but finally everyone laughed. Below, a group of chorus boys and girls began to spin a song about Twiddy and his flying ship. The ditty quickly caught on, with all the revelers chanting it. "A very fine prank, young Bobick," said Tagglefoot, leaning back in his chair. "But it's no prank," said Twiddy with an edge of frustration to his voice. "This ship is meant to fly." This time the silence went unbroken until another elder, the portly Brombbo Stoutloam, said, "If I take your meaning to be the product of the vale's honest truth and not the drink in your hand, Twiddy Bobick, then you mean to tell me that you have been lying and using what we gave you to be so foolish as to try to build a ship that would fly?" "I wouldn't say I lied, Brombbo," said Twiddy, shrugging. "I said I would be building us a navy, used to travel to distant lands and keep our borders safe. It was you who assumed it would be sea bound."
There was another moment of quiet before the deck exploded with angry voices. Only Twiddy's parents remained silent and still, staring at the clamor around them. Twiddy scrambled away from the surge of angry elders as Rothbur Tagglefoot tried to grab him by the ear and Brombo Stoutloam tried to kick him in the pants and all the other elders went at him in their own way.
Below, the partygoers assumed that all that was going on above them was intended and laughed to stitches over it, continuing to sing Twiddy's song. Finally, Twiddy stopped scrambling, stood up straight, and pointed off into the distance. All the elders stopped their pursuit and stood, glaring, waiting for what he had to say. "This is my ship!" said Twiddy. "And I say, walk the plank if you won't believe me!" Rothbur Tagglefoot stepped forward and said, "Twiddy Bobick, your birth might have been spectacular, but that is all that has ever been spectacular about you. You can no more make this ship fly than I can teach a fish to talk. You have shamed us all, as surely as you have shamed Bristlebane by declaring this foolishness on his day of all days. I will make my Myrthday elsewhere."
Tagglefoot began the slow descent down the ladder resting against the side of the boot. After him followed each of the elders, pausing to cast a good glare at Twiddy before they went. Finally, only his parents remained. His father stopped before him, looking deep in his eyes, and then dropped his head and shook it, following the elders out of the boat. His mother, Liddy, stopped and put her hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps it can still sail the seas, Twiddy," she said with a weak smile. "I am sure this business can be turned around for the best." Twiddy took one look at her and then out at the crowd, which still sung their ditty in high voices. In the morning, when intoxication had worn off, and the elders spread the truth of what had happened, the village would no longer find it quite so funny. Twiddy let out a long sigh and pulled away from his mother. "It can't be anything but what it was meant to be, mum," he said, "and neither can I." Liddy clasped her hands together and watched him retreat to the captain's cabin of the ship that was meant to fly.
Twiddy Bobick was nearly never born. Well, born he may have been but it would have been a very short stay in the wide world of Norrath. You see, Liddy and Twill Bobick had been enjoying a picnic on a fine Myrthday on the banks of Scratchbottom Pond when the young Liddy went into labor before her time. Young Twiddy came out as if in a burst and tumbled straight into the pond. Twill ran after him in panic, but in the briefest of moments he had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Though the poor father plunged into the water and searched through the silt of the pond for his errant boy, it was to no avail.
The couple had nearly given up, and their tears flowed freely, when the sound of a baby giggling on the opposite bank caught their attention. Not nearly daring to hope, they ran to the sound, and there among the reeds they found their baby gurgling happily and chewing on a piece of green plant. Though Liddy knelt to scoop up her boy, Twill spun to search for any sign of who might have rescued his child. For a few moments, there was no sign of any presence save his own small family, but then he glimpsed a froth of curly black hair and a flash of gold and green scales slapping the surface of the water before disappearing into the depths below.
So it seemed a mermaid had touched young Twiddy's life, and from then on forward, neither a birthday nor Myrthday could pass without the tale being spun around firesides. And as this taleteller has told, many had taken the birth to mean he was fated for great things, but as more time passed, and his dreams grew more and more outrageous, the power of the tale wore thin and similarly so did the faith of the elders in his dreams. From here on out, it would be on the shoulders of Twiddy, and Twiddy alone, to prove his dreams were more than just fancies, but realities waiting to prove themselves.
The Flight of the Mudskipper (part 2)
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an otherwise unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This, the second story to be pulled from those documents, deals with an odd little halfling and his even odder gnomish companion.
For weeks, none but Twiddy set foot on the Mudskipper. When any came close, a ballista launched rotting food their way. For his part, Twiddy sulked around on deck. The truth was, he hadn't been anywhere near achieving flight with his contraption. He had built the boat to what he believed would be suitable specifications necessary for it to travel aloft, balancing and rebalancing time and time again; but it was lacking any necessary mechanism to actually perform the lifting. In order to keep trying to find the necessary mechanisms to lift the boat into the air, he was going to need support, and they'd all but cut him off from that.
Twiddy was lying within the crow's nest and gazing into the sky, waiting patiently for some inspiration to hit -- after all, if he was truly destined for this, it was not so foolish to think the answer might be written in the sky -- when his ears picked up a ruckus some distance off. He sat up and peered over the edge of the nest. From his vantage, he was able to watch in plain view as a giant metal wheel rolled through the tunnel leading through the village and down the pathway. Halflings were scattering this way and that out of its pathway, children screaming in excitement and mothers screaming in earnest. Twiddy squinted, studying the contraption attached to it. There was some sort of small cabin with a similarly small driver inside of it, and a series of pipes attached to the back of the wheel belched smoke and steam. The halfling watched as the wheel rolled and rolled, noting as it drew closer the stream of frustrated shouts that were coming from the cabin of the strange craft. The wheel veered wildly to the left just as it was about to run into one the small red-roofed cottages that the Stubtoes called home. It careened into a creek and stuck fast in the gooey mud of its bed.
Twiddy scaled down the mast of his ship and then down the scaffolding to join the flood of halflings running to check on their curious visitor. Rivervale was no stranger to visitors. Especially in recent times, as the elves of the Elddar Forest flooded out of its dying canopies to make for new lands, they played hosts to visitors nightly, and as their hospitality was considered only second to their good cooking, their inn had remained almost solidly booked.
This particular visitor was one of the strangest they had received in some time. Climbing out of the jumbled mass of metal, a gnome appeared muttering a string of words and numbers to himself. He was dressed in such a way that nothing but his eyes and bulgy nose were visible, and his eyes only remained visible until he pulled goggles down over them and stuck his head straight into the creek to survey his craft. His head was covered by a bulky cap, his mouth by a scarf, and the rest of his clothing seemed to serve as a tool shelf. Odds and ends stuck out everywhere from his person.
While everyone else stared on in fascination, Twiddy stared on in excitement. He knew the gnome to be one Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz, and they had met some years ago when Twiddy undertook a journey to find the mermaid who had rescued him from Scratchbottom Pond. On his way north to the Everfrost peaks, his boat had fallen to disrepair, and he needed to moor it in an elven outpost known as Fayspire until it had been fixed. Fiddlewiz had in his possession the only book on shipcraft that could be found in the Fayspire library, and in exchange for a lift to the north, the gnome had offered his help in repairing the vessel.
They had parted ways then without much of a thought of seeing one another again, but Twiddy knew that the gnome's timing was nothing less than the destiny he had been waiting for. He pushed his way through the crowd, crying, "Fiddlewiz! Fiddlewiz!"
When he had finally reached the creek's banks, trying his best to ignore the laughter and chanting that had started up behind him, Fiddlewiz was waiting for him. The gnome had by then settled down to lean against his vehicle and light up a pipe. Twiddy smelled a distinct scent of moon's glow root, and knew it for elven tobacco.
"Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz," said Twiddy as he finally reached the gnome and leaned over, panting, "I don't know if you remember me, but we journeyed together so many years ago on our way to the north." The gnome regarded him and then, after a moment, nodded. Fiddlewiz pulled up the goggles onto his head and unwrapped the scarf, smiling.
"Twiddy Bobick, if I recall correctly," said the gnome. Twiddy nodded rapidly. "The very same!" said Twiddy. "And how is it you've landed here, friend?"
The Professor looked at Twiddy and then back at the wheel and said. "My craft's stuck," he said. "I lost control just as I hit town. I believe it may have to do with the mechamagical carthine converter, which, you see..." With that, the gnome proceeded to launch into a full explanation of the inner workings of his machine, which caused more than one halfling to doze off before it was through. "And that is why I am going to need to ask for your hospitality."
Twiddy nodded, and said, "Of course! Of course! I believe the inn may be full..." "No it isn't," piped up Sully the Innkeep from behind them. "I've at least two good rooms empty."
Twiddy shot a glance of annoyance back at Sully and then looked back at the Professor. "Well, the inn is always very crowded," he said. "You are more than welcome to stay with me on my ship. There's plenty of room for another"
Fiddlewiz looked long at Twiddy and then back at the crowd. He shrugged and said, "It's always a pleasure to talk with another craftsman."
Twiddy led the Professor away from the crowd, who watched the pair go with curious eyes. How did Twiddy know such a curious individual? Everyone supposed it must have been on the journey he went on so many springs past, and as that memory was stirred, stories of Twiddy's uncommon fate began to resurface, and by nightfall, Twiddy's humiliation on Myrthday had all but disappeared as the village of Rivervale remembered why they had once believed in Twiddy in the first place.
For Twiddy and the Professor, it was a sleepless night. Twiddy showed Fiddlewiz what he had built so far, and all the notes he had been making in regards to his studies of the possibility of flight. Fiddlewiz looked over it all quietly, only now and then muttering an equation to himself and then shouting the answer gleefully. Finally, when all was said that could be said, and Twiddy stared on at Fiddlewiz hopefully, the little gnome nodded a short, quick nod and declared:
"This is a challenge meant for a gnome. I'm going to stay with you and work on this whether you like it or not, so I hope you are amenable."
Twiddy grinned ear from ear, as all night he had been dancing around asking for the Professor's help. As the new day broke, the halflings of Rivervale peered out from their windows to see Twiddy scurrying around with planks and lengths of cloth and ropes of all lengths and thicknesses, and in the background, Fiddlewiz drew out equations in the dirt with a stick, occasionally stopping to shout something at Twiddy. The town buzzed with excitement. Even the elders couldn't deny that something great seemed to be coming for the village of Rivervale.
But there were none who could claim to be as excited as Twiddy himself, who saw, piece by piece, his dreams assembled before his eyes.
It was in his twentieth year that Twiddy Bobick had first met Professor A. M. Fiddlewiz. Though not yet an adult, it came upon Twiddy that he should make a journey unlike most halflings ever would, due to circumstances most halflings would never understand, and creatures they would never meet. You see, as a young child, Twiddy had been terrified of water, and on a day when he should have been in swimming lessons, he was instead running wild and had his first encounter with the mysterious Drafling. The tiny green dragon with the face of a halfling and his servant, a stoic ogre with a penchant for chewing on tree bark, rescued the young lad from a swarm of angry bixies, and in that meeting, gave Twiddy his first taste of destiny.
While comforting the frightened child with pieces of jum-jum toast, the Drafling got to talking, and in his talking, revealed a thing or two about Twiddy's past and future. "Tell me, why do you fear the water?" asked the Drafling, amid a cloud of sweet dragon smoke.
"When I was born I was swallowed up by Scratchbottom Pond!" said Twiddy, chewing the toast as he spoke. "If it were not for a kind mermaid, I would have drowned. She scooped me up and threw me onto the edge of the pond."
"Lasydia! That was Lasydia you were saved by. She's the queen of all mermaids. She must have swum down from the Nest. I hear she visits the frozen lakes of Norrath while on holiday." The Drafling nodded matter-of-factly. Behind him, the ogre grunted and tore a strip off a nearby tree.
"Lasydia!" said Twiddy, wide-eyed. "The queen of all mermaids? Do you think she might still be watching over me?"
"Ahh... No!" The Drafling shook his head. "That's a bit much to expect anyone to do out of the simple goodness of their heart. You know what though? You might be able meet up with her someday and do something nice for her, I bet then she would be there to save you from drowning for the rest of your life."
Twiddy jumped to his feet and came straight up to the Drafling, clasping his arm; the Drafling looking on with amusement at his boldness. "What can I do? Where can I find her? Will she come back to the pond?"
"Slow down, lad. It's not like Lasydia to venture here. I doubt she'll be back to this little vale. But you might be able to meet up with her at the Nest. Yep, that is your best bed, lad."
"Can you take me there? You are the Drafling and you can use your magic tower to get up and walk all the way to the Nest you speak of. Will you please take me?"
"Look, lad..." The Drafling pushed him away and turned around, trundling across the clearing in which they sat. "You're a good stout and all, but my tower is neither child proof nor leg advantaged. You'll have to get to the Nest on your own. It will be a long and dangerous trip. The Nest is hundreds of miles beyond the horizon, far into the wintry lands to the North. Good luck with that one, lad!"
"Please help me Mr. Drafling! I am just a child, and a cowardly one at that. I can't survive a trip to the frozen Northlands."
He turned back to the boy wearing a deep smile. "You are many things, Twiddy Bobick, but a coward you are not. Don't worry, lad. Lasydia won't be on holiday in the Nest for another ten years. You'll be a full grown stout by then. And I am sure you will make the journey then. As I am sure you will make many journeys in your life and do many great things. For now, be the child that you are and worry not about such things."
The Drafling blew a plume of sweet smelling smoke into the boy's face, and Twiddy faded into dreams, barely remembering the encounter until many years later when it would come for him to make that journey, though in those brief moments when he would remember it, he always stopped to wonder, "How did the Drafling know my name?"
When it came time for that journey to be made, the Drafling did not appear himself but rather sent his ogre companion, who still spent his time chewing on bark. The two travelled north, passing through lands belonging to elves and barbarians and all other manner of folk Twiddy had only ever seen in passing. They glimpsed the Elddar Forest in its final days, walking silently through dried out husks of what had once been the world's greatest wood and passing retreating groups of elven refugees, and they had met Fiddlewiz while in one of the last outposts of the elves off of Faydark. Along the way, Twiddy learned much about building a ship as he struggled to keep together their small ship. Battling gnolls and building ice shelters and dodging bloodthirsty clans of thanes, they finally reached the fabled pool, and waited many a long night for the mermaid queen to appear. Finally, in a mist, they caught sight of Lasydia at the highest point of Mermaid Rock.
"Who is it that comes to visit?" she asked with a voice that lilted like a haunting melody. "Why, it is the Scratchbottom newborn all grown up. What brings you to my holiday home?"
Twiddy mustered all his courage and glanced at the ogre, who nodded at him. "I have come to thank you for saving my life when I was born... with the hope that you can remove my fear of the water."
Taylisia smirked and even as she smirked, her face was enchanting to look upon. "Young halfling, you need not fear to drown. There is much below the surface of pond, lake, and ocean that is too beautiful to lose to fear."
Looking doubtful, young Twiddy frowned and said, "Please, the Drafling said you could help me."
"Listen little halfling, and listen well. I saved you only as a favor to that funny little man. It is not in my nature to play guardian to the creatures of the land, as there are too many below the water that need me." The mermaid drew closer to Twiddy, and as she drew out of the water, what had once been a fin became a pair of long, elegant legs. "The puffing man wishes you to fulfill your fate. Such a destiny would have been destroyed had I not stepped in, so I was happy to play my part, but would likely never even have noticed your presence had he not alerted me."
"Destiny? What destiny? This destiny? To come here? I've already done more than many of Rivervale dare to dream by coming here. But..." He looked at the mermaid sheepishly. "I can't help but hope there is more."
Lasydia smiled, and the smile was beautiful to behold. "Oh there is, there is. I do not know the full extent of your destiny, but you have completed it in part. You have earned your legs as an adventurer, and I do believe you'll find that all your troubles getting you here have helped you master the craft of shipbuilding. For all that will come, you are now far better prepared to face it. Let your odysseys begin."
With that, the mermaid queen jumped high and landed in the water, her legs gone and swapped once again for a green and gold scaled fin. In a flash, she was gone.
As Twiddy considered her words, the ogre gave him a cup of warm Mudtoe Mocha to drink, and from the smell of it, Twiddy could tell it was unlike anything he had ever drunk before. As his world began to spin, Twiddy asked the ogre, "What have you done to me?"
The ogre smiled, removed the bark from his mouth, and said, "You will know. You will know soon enough."
Twiddy Bobick awoke the next day home in his bed, gripping a cup of Mudtoe Mocha and filled with a desire to build. But not just anything, no, he would build a boat unlike any the world had seen -- one that would fly above the trees and the mountains and even the clouds. This was the destiny the mermaid had spoken of, the destiny the Drafling had meant for him, and he intended to see it made true.
And so Twiddy Bobick began to build.
The Flight of the Mudskipper (part 3)
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an otherwise unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This, the second story to be pulled from those documents, deals with an odd little halfling and his even odder gnomish companion.
Nearly five years had passed, and it was once again Myrthday. Similarly to five years previous, everyone had come out to celebrate Twiddy, but this time they did so not only to celebrate his birth, but the launch of the Mudskipper.
Twiddy dashed this way and that, checking rigging and pounding nails that protruded just slightly. Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz looked on calmly, smoking his pipe and lounging against the console from which he would operate the wing-like structures that protruded from either side of the craft. "Just a little of this and a little of that and ahh! I need to settle down." Twiddy fell to a heap before Fiddlewiz and looked up at him. "How are you always so calm, friend?" Fiddlewiz shrugged, releasing a breath of pipe smoke, and said, "I calculate the odds of failure in everything I do. When you realize it all comes down to precise calculations, of which there is no true variability if you've done your equations right, you can more or less know and accept what is coming?" Twiddy blinked and shook his head, saying, "I don't understand you, Fiddlewiz, but I wish I did."
Fiddlewiz shrugged and turned to the side of the boat to knock ashes out of his pipe. They floated down through the wind and twirled past the crowds of halflings that waited to see the Mudskipper off. Among them were Twill and Liddy Bobick, and Twiddy paused at the side of the boat to lift a hand to them. Liddy was weeping into a kerchief, but she lifted a hand and said, "Twiddy, my little love, do us proud!" Twiddy smiled to her and then looked at Twill. The halfling's hair had gone completely white in the last five years, and his back was just beginning to stoop from so many years bent over a workbench. Twill looked neutral for a moment as he caught his son's gaze, but finally, he smiled and said, "Like your mother said, we are waiting for you to show us exactly what we didn't think could be done."
Twiddy stood up a little straighter as he went to the wheel. Assuming a position behind it, he shouted, "Fiddlewiz, let's launch!" The gnome nodded and gestured to the halflings on the ground. One by one, they released the cords binding the ship to the ground. The balloon of multicolored cloth above their head began to shift in the wind, and Fiddlewiz one by one pulled down a series of levers that made the wings at the side of the ship begin to move up and down mechanically. Ever so slowly, the ship began to move. Twiddy's heart leapt as he felt it shudder beneath him, and as they began to move, he appreciated the wind in his hair and stared into the sky above him as the ship drew away from the scaffold that had held it in place for so many years and, miraculously, took flight.
For close to half an hour, they kept altitude, and Fiddlewiz pumped at levers to try to gain them height. They had not yet made any altitude, but Twiddy wasn't worried. It would happen, and they had done it: they had flown. Behind them, the village roared, and excitement surged through Twiddy's veins. But as quickly as it seemed they had triumphed, everything began to fall apart. Fiddlewiz was the first to notice.
"Twiddy," he shouted, "the wings are moving all wrong. This isn't the way I set them to go!" Immediately, the gnome began to mutter equations to himself and crawled under the console upon which his levers connected to the wings. Twiddy watched him disappear, trying not to panic. He tried to keep his gaze fixed forward, toward the sky, and maintained a firm grip on the wheel. Suddenly, the whole craft lurched to the side. The wheel spun out of his grip. "Fiddlewiz!" he shouted. "What's happened?" "Nothing!" said Fiddlewiz, emerging from under the console with a perplexed look on his face. "I didn't touch anything!"
The craft lurched to the opposite side and it was all Twiddy could do to grab something to keep from falling straight off the poop deck. Below, Fiddlewiz had slid to the opposite side of the ship, crashing heavily into the railing. "Hold on!" shouted Twiddy. "I'm going to try to steady her!" But they lurched again, and this time, one of the wings caught in a tree, tearing off completely as the ship continued forward. The change was immediate, and nothing was to be done about it, the ship began tipping down toward the ground. "Fiddlewiz!" shouted Twiddy. "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"
Fiddlewiz was on his feet in a flash, making to jump from the side. "Bobick!" he called. "Come on!" They had not been so high in the sky that there was time for any more conversation. Twiddy made one last desperate attempt to straighten her before moving to jump off the side. As he did, his leg caught on a piece of loose rope and was caught. He tried futilely to loosen himself, but there was no time. The ship hit the ground with a terrible crunch, and Twiddy screamed, covering his face with his hands. The last thought he could recall before darkness took him was that the Drafling must have been playing some terrible joke on him so long ago. If he'd had any destiny, it must have been to die here, a fool and a failure, and where was the greatness in that?
Twiddy awoke to feel himself being pulled across the ground. Through blurred vision, he saw Fiddlewiz, a bloody gash across his forehead, dragging him across the ground. "Fiddlewiz?" he mumbled. "What's happened?" "She's down, boy," said Fiddlewiz, in a soft voice. "She's down and burning." Twiddy immediately snapped to attention. "Burning? My ship? The Mudskipper?!" He pulled himself to his feet and out of Fiddlewiz's grip. Turning, he set eyes on the truth of it. Before him, his ship was burning as the alchemical agents in the mechamagical engine ignited; flames devouring the cloth of the balloon, and wearing down the wood of her hull slowly, but steadily. Twiddy watched it all for what could have been minutes but felt like hours, too shocked to speak. When Fiddlewiz finally set a hand on his arm, something inside of him snapped as the reality of what had happened set in.
"Auuuuugggghhhh!" screamed Twiddy. "Auuuuuughhh!" He dropped to the ground and began tearing at the grass and pulling up clumps of dirt and throwing them every which way. "Auuuugggghhh!" He screamed again and again as he pounded furiously at the ground. Behind him, Fiddlewiz watched without comment or gesture, pulling a now cracked pipe from inside his jacket and setting to light it. For his part, Twiddy tore at his hair as he watched so many years of work burn before him. "I'm done!" he shouted. "I've had it! So much wasted time! So much wasted effort! I won't do it anymore! I won't be laughed at for nothing! Nothing! Why did they tell me I could when it could not be done?! Why!"
There was a long stretch of quiet as Twiddy remained kneeling on the ground, hands gripping his hair, breathing heavily. Finally, the Professor stepped forward and put his hand on the halfling's shoulder. For a long time, he didn't say anything, but only watched his friend breathe heavily and hold back tears.
Finally, Fiddlewiz said, removing his pipe from his mouth, "My dear boy, I do believe what we have seen here today proves well and indeed that a ship can fly. So far as I am concerned, what needs be done now is to figure out how to make it fly at length. We have done the impossible and proved that the possible is not what anyone previously thought it to be. Now it is time to get to work at the may-be-possible, and that's not nearly so intimidating, now is it?"
Twiddy gently released his grip on his hair and straightened to a stand again. He stepped up beside Fiddlewiz and once again surveyed the smoldering wreckage of the Mudskipper. Turning to look at his friend, he noted that for once, Fiddlewiz's head was not covered by anything. Though seeing him so made him realize how tiny the man was, with his nearly bald dome, and his pointy little chin, and his too large mouth, but despite it all, Fiddlewiz did not look small, or scared, or upset by the day's events. The gnome's eyes shone with anticipation, and his lips were set in determination. He had truly believed what he had said.
"What do you say," said Fiddlewiz, finally, turning to look back at Twiddy, "shall we begin work on the Mudskipper II?" Twiddy considered his friend's words and, without response, went to the wreckage. Twiddy marched over to the Mudskipper and began walking her length at as close a distance as he could manage. "She'll need to be lighter but somehow stronger... and made in a way that the air parts like water before her... and, and..." Twiddy paused and struggled, searching for that missing piece.
A flash of metal caught his eye. He frowned and made his way over to it. By the forest's edge, within a patch of long stemmed ferns, he spied a small metal object in the ground. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands. It all but completely resembled his flying ship -- with one exception, its tail end was shaped differently, almost like a four pointed star.
"What in the name of Bristlebane...?" he muttered.
A green tail flashed between the trees before him, and a familiar chuckle filled the air. "The Drafling?" Twiddy murmured. He bolted into the trees. "Hey! Hello!" he called after the disappearing figure. "Is this yours? Did you leave it?" He swung the box around, snaking through the undergrowth. Immediately, the figure stopped and turned. The halfling face squinted out at him from the dragon's body. "Is what mine, then?" asked the Drafling. "This... model of my boat," said Twiddy. He tapped it and started as it resonated with his touch.
The Drafling grinned. "This is for the egghead and you. Consider it carefully, and you might find a way to stay off the ground for more than a minute." Twiddy looked down at the box and then back up at the Drafling. "How can I ever thank you?" he asked. The Drafling's eyes crinkled with delight. "In exchange for my good deeds, I ask that you do one thing for me. Build me a tower at the heart of this land, on that isle. Do so and... well... do so and I won't eat you and all you love!" The Drafling roared ferociously and Twiddy scampered backward, tripping over an exposed root and falling to the ground. The Drafling laughed for a minute before continuing, "Hah ha ha! Get on with your work. Build the tower here and the boat someplace higher. Farewell little mugs."
With that, the Drafling turned and in just a few moments, had vanished into the underbrush. Twiddy scrambled to his feet and gripped the box tightly. He retreated back to Fiddlewiz, carrying the box aloft. "Fiddlewiz!" he called. "Fiddlewiz! Get to your gears, we've work to do! This time, it will fly. This time, the ship will not just leave the water, it will fly straight up into the clouds! Let's not let ourselves get tangled up in the past. This is the future. We'll be building ourselves the Cloudskipper, and she will fly as high as the birds - no, higher! Fiddlewiz! We've work to do! Get working!"
And that is how Twiddy Bobick and Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz began down a path that would lead to the building of the Cloudskipper, the craft that would eventually carry our party to locales none had known before. Though they were a pair of little men, their ambitions were enormous, and we wouldn't have gone half so far without them. And the tower they promised the Drafling? It was built tall and true just outside of Rivervale only months before our party was to encounter and recruit them. Though I myself have not ever truly believed he was anything more than a halfling dressed up as a dragon, Twiddy swears otherwise, and loathe am I to disagree with him.
- Eylee Zephyrswell
Heart of the Hound
Erollisi day approached, at first, swiftly, and then fell straight into his life with a crash of flower petals and strong perfume. Rhinehart Nasin knew that in order to capture Finella's heart, drastic measures were necessary. He'd heard rumor of a musty apothecary shop in East Freeport that all spurned lovers regarded as their truest of friends, but he'd never considered visiting it - until today. He'd awoken to find the bundle of graveblooms he had sent her through a beggar boy crushed on his front step; their delicate petals ground to a paste beneath, no doubt, the fine heel of her boot. He coughed on the acrid smoke that drifted in curled wisps up from a claw-footed brazier standing just within the store's entry. An old man stooped above a table full of vials and bottles, glancing up with his one good eye as Rhinehart stepped into the room. The other, Rhinehart noted with a cringe, was patterend with savage red welts and scarred over.
"Can I help you with something?" The apothecary's voice came out in a high screech. Rhinehart swallowed his distaste and said, "Yes, actually, I hear that, well, you are able to help one with... matters of the heart." "So it's a love potion you're after, then?" asked the apothecary, bluntly. "Yes," said Rhinehart with a nod. "I've done all I can to win her... that is, Finella, her name is Finella... I've done all I can to win her heart, but she refuses to give." "So you figure it's time to take it." "Yes. In a manner of speaking." He fiddled with the ends of his leather gloves nervously, watching the old man.
The apothecary tongued a blackened tooth at the front of his mouth, and gazed at Rhinehart with that one eye of his. The young man couldn't help but feel as if the other were oriented at him as well, penetrating through the scarred flesh. The apothecary moved suddenly, and with surprising speed, toward a warped wooden cabinet on the opposite side of the room. "I'm fresh out of love potions," said the old man. "They're not easy to make, and it's the busy season. You should've moved quicker if you wanted one." "Well, I..." Rhinehart began, but the old man silenced him with one, withering look. "I may have something else for you," said the old man. "I took this as trade for one of my more potent concoctions just last night. The kerra who traded it swore that it was very old, and very valuable -- unique in this world." The apothecary turned, and with him, he carried a scroll that seemed to crumble at the touch. "It's a poem."
"A poem?" asked Rhinehart, not even attempting to hide his disbelief. "I come for a love potion, and you offer me poetry? I have tried poetry! I have tried flowers! I have tried candies! I even had her overbearing aunt removed permanently, if you will, from her life. None of it has done a thing to win her! Why would some tired old bard's hackneyed verses be any different?" The apothecary moved toward Rhinehart, and the flesh around his nose and mouth wrinkled at the smell of years of acids and bases soaked into the old man's skin. Despite his recoiling backward, the scroll was pushed straight into his chest. "This is not tired, and not hackneyed," said the apothecary. "It hasn't been heard for thousands of years. If she can't appreciate that hers are the first spoiled ears to hear these verses spoken to her, then I suggest you find yourself another trollop, because nothing will please this Finella." Rhinehart fumbled for words, but found himself only able to grip the scroll tightly. The apothecary turned, the hunch of his black-clothed back looming in Rhinehart's vision. "What will you charge for it then?" he asked. "Nothing," said the apothecary, over his shoulder and without turning. "Consider it a gift... My devotion to Erollisi on this most auspicious of days." "A fine lot of good that will do," said Rhinehart, chuckling slightly. The old man turned suddenly, and his eye was flared opened and reddened. "Take the scroll and go. I've important work to do." Rhinehart swallowed heavily. "Where did you say the kerra had gotten it?" "Go."
The young man sunk into his doublet and turned, gazing at the scroll. As he made a hasty retreat through the storefront, he unrolled it to see what he had been given, eye passing swiftly over the words.
Heart of the Hound
It was an age of great changes, And an age of heroes born, And in pursuit of true love's lovers' folly, Erollisi's greatest champion was sworn.
For the bold Prince of Wintal Syd And the Princess of Koldwynd, most fair, Did under love's sweet rapture fall, Wrapped ever so tightly in its snare.
He the captive, her people the captor, They developed a dangerous rapport, And when came the day he did escape, They swore to be together once more.
Three years did pass, and war waged on, Between Koldwynd and Wintal Syd, But the battles that raged could not kill, The connection that their crown heirs hid. Loyal messengers carried letters of affection, And their desire for flight became an infection. A plan was hatched, a scheme unfurled, And before they both could think the better, They fled frosty peaks and warring kin, Pursuing a life that would be unfettered.
But it took not long for loose lips to spill, And soon a tracker was at their neck, Her mission: to capture, but also to kill, She was Illisia Iceheart, called the Hound of Zek.
Iceheart set upon their trail, Doing exactly as she did best, Delivering deserters all bound up in chains, Ignoring, as she could, their cries and their pains. And so the pair, it seemed, would be swiftly remanded. But they would prove to be not so easily disbanded.
The lovers traveled ever long to a mountain peak, Where the Eternal Prism was said to have its rest, It would be their priest, they its penitents, And thus their marriage would be blessed.
For the Prism was powerful, and very old -- Older than war and territory and rage -- And its powers would preserve love's tenor Through their chaotic and brutal age.
As Illisia pursued them, she pondered their flight: Why had they abandoned family, title, and might? What possessed them to run without stop, without tire? What could be worth provoking such unyielding ire?
She never could come to any conclusion, No matter how hard she thought, In the hollow of her heart a small voice nagged, But against its ideas she fought.
On the eighth day out, the lovers found their crystal, Sparkling, radiant, splaying a pale shaft of light, Upon pale, naked snow, a virgin field, And their eyes filled with tears at the sight. They came forward reverently, almost fearing their steps. Hands extended, they prepared themselves for eternity, And on his voice were whispered, "I love you"s. And on hers were promises quite dear, And it all came to close to simple perfection, But Illisia finally caught them there.
Her arrow struck true, but off -- Not in the Prince, at whom she aimed, Instead it cracked the Eternal Prism, Its flawless surface mangled and maimed.
The lovers thrust their hands upon the crystal, Vanishing from the field, as formless as gas, Illisia, though startled, made for pursuit. Retrieving the shard she'd loosed from the glass Before touching the Prism in similar turn, And giving into its magic with little concern.
In a tangle of bodies, they found themselves Deep within a cavern of ice and snow, Conflict momentarily overridden by confusion. Where they had landed? They could not know.
But an enemy is an enemy, No matter the place, The lovers jumped to their feet, And Illisia rose with quiet grace. A stand off commenced, As they eyed each other warily, Swords were drawn, shields to the ready, But the stance was to be only momentary.
For then the Visitor came, A dark old man all in robes, And his surprise was as great as theirs, At seeing them so composed.
Before they could banter, bargain, or sniff, He let loose a spell, Freezing Erasmus quite stiff. And Illisia shuddered, feeling true love's great pains, As Unna cried out, charged, And spilled dark blood from the Visitor's veins.
The Princess fought hard, but very soon found Her limbs stuck in place, her weapon on the ground. And the Visitor smiled in sweet satisfaction, Then turned to Illisisa, not prepared for her reaction.
She knocked him right back, she shattered his hands, For the voice that had been whispering Now issued demands. "Go forth, my champion, go forth and drive He who dare harms my children Back from whence he arrived."
These strange new stirrings were alien -- but good, For the first time she knew why the lovers had stood, Why they suffered, and frozen, evaded, and run, It was for love, for wholeness, for hatred undone.
And it was with these feelings she drove the man back, Why she grunted and glided, swung and hacked, But in time he recovered and whispered incantations, And threw spells right at her sans hint of desperation.
She was losing, she could feel it, And so it was with a swing, That she toppled an archway, Trapping the Visitor clean in.
Running, sliding, she flew back to the center, And as he screamed, cursed, hissed, and rattled, She dragged the two lovers toward the Prism, To travel beyond the caves they had so embattled.
She did not know whether it would accept their forms, Did it regard them with sympathy -- or justified scorn? Then she remembered the shard, bound near her waist. She drew it out, said a prayer, and touched it to their gate.
It took only a flash of light, And a clear, high whistle, Before they were back in their field, Deposited by the dismissal.
Illisia built a shelter, wrapped the lovers in blankets, Stoked up a fire, and hunted for meat, Never taking her eye from the way they had come, She tended her charges and prepared for defeat.
But the Visior never followed -- where he went, who can say? And so it was that the lovers awoke one day, And in the eyes of their guardian, the now flawed Prism, They gave thanks to Illisia, mending their schism.
They traveled together -- the lovers, the hound -- Down through the mountains and Over the ground, Toward the promise Of a new day, a new way, And a civilization Where reason, not carnage, Brought one's sweet salvation. The great Southern Walk That populated the plain, Where humanity emerged, And peace was to reign.
But all things, they say, have a price, For Illisia's treachery, The Icehearts were put to the knife, The name was lost, their honor soiled, They say Koldwynd had them boiled.
Was it to tempt Illisia to seek revenge? If so, they misjudged her, those embittered men. Though Illisia grieved, wept, and screamed, She never did seek to do them in.
And in honor of Illisia's fallen kin, And to celebrate their queen of queens, Unna and Erasmus did contrive a clan, Called the Marsheart, and there they began.
And so the Hound of Zek, Tamed by Erollisi's gentle ways, Began a life of service To her the heart obeys.
And Illisia had many further adventures, While the Marshearts grew and prospered. Great ballads they did author, Of the accomplishments she proffered. In Erollisi's name, she deposed, And in Erollisi's name, they composed. And so the queen of love was honored.
Rhinehart rolled the scroll back up, struck by it. Could it be true? Had this scroll really just told a story of the Lost Age when humans were born on the Plains of Karana? He felt uncomfortable, and just a bit queasy, knowing what he might be holding. He stole a glance back at the apothecary's shop. Did the old man know what he had just given away? The young man stowed the scroll within his hip pouch and set out swiftly. Finella was gone from his mind. If this was what he thought, it was worth much more in platinum than a kiss from his true love.
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part I
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell -- Finally, we all came together, and that was when things began to become truly dangerous.
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part 1
The sensation of being taller than so many people put Eylee ill at ease. She had always been petite for a Fier'dal, and in the plainsmen's settlements she had been forced to crane her head up to look at some of her taller companions. Here in Rivervale, however, she felt as though she were a giant. At one point she had caught her reflection in a window and despite being surrounded by a crowd of bustling individuals, not a one of them had even been able to reach her shoulders. She'd caught herself staring at the oddity and practically came to a stop, causing the bustling halfling behind her to bump his head square into her back. "Sorry," she had muttered, flushing as she spoke. The cheerful little man simply tipped his hat to her and politely quickened his step so he could overtake and then pass her. She glanced over at Kaltuk and wondered if he was feeling the same thing. Though he was shorter than her, he still, with no irony intended, dwarfed the halflings. The old priest, however, simply trundled along with an easy smile and an open ale skin, which he occasionally passed to the mountainous Nurgg at his side. There was no questioning how Nurgg must be feeling, but then, being the tallest person in his vicinity was nothing new for him. Now, if they managed to keep company in which the tall-even-for-an-ogre felt short, that would be a sight to see.
The city was a sea of color and sound; red buildings with yellow rooftops, blue buildings with purple trimming, green buildings with orange rooftops and indigo trimming -- and all of them filled with people eager to pop off with a quick witted joke or friendly greeting. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and cinnamon sugar pastries and jumjum. Their band, Eylee noted, were not the town's only visitors. In particular, the streets were peppered with Koada'dal and Feir'dal, no doubt displaced masses from the dying Elddar Forest. She examined each of them closely, waiting to stumble head long into someone she had known from her childhood, but all of the faces were unfamiliar. Still, she shrunk back and away from any of those searching elven eyes, not quite comfortable with their scrutiny and the company she was keeping. Eylee jumped to the side as in front of her Bayle came to a stop. He swung around, blue eyes flashing beneath strands of auburn hair. She flushed again as his eyes passed over her and then smiled. Illisia turned beside him and took a markedly defensive stance, keen eyes surveying the crowd in all directions. Eylee marveled at her suspicious nature. Even among such a good natured folk, Illisia still felt the need to watch their backs. The muscles of the Halasian's shoulders seemed to relax as she finished her inspection, but Eylee noted that her hands were always moving, sometimes landing on the hilts of her twin long swords, and at other times toying with the strap of her quiver. A shudder passed down Eylee's back, and she glanced back. Kruzz had come to a stop just behind her, and she could smell his breath, which had the odor of rotting vegetation - musty and sour. His eyes darted up and down her person, evidence of the fact he was constantly watching her. She took a small step toward Bayle and Illisia then turned, sticking her chin up and meeting his gaze. The troll averted his eyes and tapped his fingertips together nervously.
"We should stop here and resupply," Bayle said. "If it were closer to dusk, I'd say we should take the opportunity to sleep in a bed, but whether or not they could actually accommodate us, or whether they would want to..." His eyes strayed over the party, lingering on the faces of Kruzz, Asharae, and Nurgg the longest. "... I think it's best if we keep traveling." "Perhaps it would have been best if some of us had not entered the city at all, as I suggested," said Asharae. Her eyebrow raised and her lips pursed as she spoke. "Like I said then," began Bayle, "we shouldn't --" Suddenly, Eylee's head was filled with a dizzying sensation. Crying out, she cut off Bayle's words and began to fall back, groping desperately and catching Illisia's hand as she did. Though Eylee could barely catch the tracker's movements, the woman stepped behind her before she could hit the ground, catching her and lowering her gently. "Eylee?" asked Bayle. "What's the matter?" It was a boat, but not quite a boat, the most curious contraption one might ever lay eyes on. It swam, but in the air, like a bird with no grace. At its helm, a halfling bellowed orders, and behind him a small gnome worked at the gears. As her vision cleared, she said, "A boat that flies!"
"What?" asked Kaltuk, blinking. "Did I just hear you say a boat that flies?" "A boat that flies?" an unfamiliar voice chimed in. Eylee stood wobbly, Illisia guiding her. She drew away from the barbarian once she was to her feet, and then glanced at the source of the question. A few Rivervalians had stopped to watch and wonder at the girl's sudden collapse, whispering amongst themselves with concern, and from amongst them emerged an older halfling with long brown hair graying at the roots. Eylee looked at her companions and then said to the halfling woman, "I sometimes see odd things, I'm sorry if I disturbed you." The halfling looked at her skeptically. "So you haven't ever heard one thing of Twiddy Bobbick, then? Nor his flying ship?" The companions once again exchanged glances. "No," said Bayle, stepping in, "we haven't." "Well," said the halfling with a shrug, "he's been at work on it for years. Crashed one a few years back and then he and his odd little friend --" "A gnome?" piped Eylee. The halfling gave her a boggled look. "Yes, a gnome, Fiddlewiz by name," continued the halfling. "The two of them vanished into the Thicket to keep at work at it. They come into town for supplies now and then, but the poor fellows haven't managed yet to fly anything again."
Bayle and Illisia exchanged a look. Kaltuk leaned to the side and muttered under his breath to Nurgg. Eylee glanced around. Her eyes landed first on Asharae, but the Teir'dal was stuck in her standard pose -- arms crossed over her chest and eyes refusing to meet those of the rest of the party. She moved on and found only Kruzz left to confer with. He looked at her blankly and then seemed as if he were trying to say something, but his face twisted into something like a grin crossed with a snarl, and it was so unnerving that Eylee looked right back at the halfling woman. "Perhaps you could tell us where we could find them?" she asked. The halfling woman chuckled and then said, "I am Twiddy's own mother, and I can't tell you exactly. But I am sure if you follow the tracks of Fiddlewiz's wheeled horse, you might find them." "Thank you, ah..." said Bayle. "Mrs. Bobbick," said the halfling with a neat little nod, "Twiddy Bobbick is the name of my son."
"Mrs. Bobbick," said Bayle, tipping his head to her. "We just might go looking for him." "If you beg my pardon..." A tall Koada'dal stepped up in front of the group. "I could lead you to the halfling and his ship if you wished." His eyes trained over the assembled group, ending at Asharae. "Though I must say I've never seen such a... diverse... company as this one." The word diverse was cut with a cruel humor. Eylee examined the newcomer closely. He wore robes of a very fine, light weight red silk banded with blue, white, and gold dressings. His features were smooth and untroubled, giving him a youthful look despite the intellectual affectation to his voice. He was hooded, but beneath the edge of it, dark brown eyes peered at them. Asharae spat, but before she could say anything, Bayle stepped in. Bayle glared at her before answering, "If you know exactly where these two can be found, then we wouldn't lose much time stopping to take a look. I believe it's worth the sidetrack." "Aye, I agree," said Kaltuk, "and unless anyone feels the very strong need to argue it, let's get it to it right away!" The high elf bowed before them and said, "I am Roadyle Yerethe Tol, and I will be your guide."
* * *
Eylee walked beside Kaltuk and Nurgg through the deep grass of the Misty Thicket. As she passed under a pine tree, Nurgg's head brushed some of the bowed branches and sent a rain of pine needles down on her head. The smell was almost worth the mild pain that accompanied the pricking of needles on her skin. It was fresh and tart and made her wistful for home. It might not have been her destiny to stay amongst the Feir'dal, but it had not been all bad. Nurgg bent over and with his large fingers, plucked a needle from her hair. "I am sorry," he said in his slow, deep voice. "No need to apologize," she said, smiling. "I'm used to having tree bits in my hair." Beside her, Kaltuk grunted and then chuckled good-naturedly, shaking a finger at Nurgg. "The lass is kinder than she should be," he said. "If I end up picking those things from my beard for a week, you'll get some far harsher words, I promise you." Before Kaltuk could react, Nurgg had snatched a handful of pine and sprinkled it all over his face. Eylee stifled a giggle as the dwarf roared and stumbled back. When the rest of the party finally noticed that the trio had lagged behind them, Kaltuk was up on Nurgg's head, swatting him with a branch as the ogre stumbled around trying to snatch him off. Eylee was just watching it all with a mixture of astonishment and amusement, trying to do her best to stop them between bouts of laughter.
"You would almost think the world wasn't in danger of invasion from a hostile plane," said Illisia as she sauntered up to stand beside the spectacle. A smile played on her lips, but her words were serious. Kaltuk and Nurgg stopped immediately, and Eylee put her hands behind her back, shoulders sinking down. It was true. They had no right acting so foolish in the face of so much, but then, it had felt so good to laugh. Nurgg dropped to his knee so Kaltuk could roll off his back. On the way down, he landed one last swat square on Nurgg's nose. The dwarf brushed needles from his bright blue mantle, and then looked up at the ogre with a self-satisfied smirk. Bayle swung his eyes over them and said, "Illisia is right. We don't have time for games." There was no smile on Bayle's face. "Hold on now," said Kaltuk, stepping forward and putting his hands on his hips. "I do believe if the pair of you added together the years you've seen on this world and multiplied them five times over you still wouldn't have my years, so I'll not be letting you lecture me on proper behavior." "So the world is not in grave danger, then?" asked Bayle, stepping up so that he loomed above Kaltuk. "Because the last that I checked, it was."
"Oh, the world is always in grave danger," said Kaltuk with a snort, wagging his finger at the much younger man, "and if the world isn't, then at least every one of us is, but you know why we fight it? Why we don't just curl up in a corner weeping over the mistakes we've made and the danger we're in? Because of games, and because of laughing, and if the world you live in is one where no one smiles, then what's the point of bothering to fight for it?" Bayle and Kaltuk stared at one another. Bayle narrowed his eyes, Kaltuk stuck out his chest. Eylee stole a glance around. Asharae was looking at Kaltuk with a quizzical expression, but Kruzz, Nurgg, and even Illisia all seemed to be showing agreement in their own way. Kruzz had his hands up to his mouth, covering one of his overly wide and unsettling grins; Nurgg was chuckling softly; and Illisia nodded to herself slightly. Roadyle hung some distance back and simply watched the proceedings, hands folded in front of him. When he caught Eylee's eyes on him, he smiled and nodded to her. Her eyes trained back to Bayle. He seemed to have noted the other reactions, and looked rebuffed. He spun on his heel and began walking toward Roadyle. "Let's go," he said. Kaltuk mimed the young man's steps, walking heavily and looking very grave, before laughing and picking up his usual gait. As they drew away, Illisia passed by Kaltuk and ever so casually, the bottom of her bow knocked him on the back of his head. "Hey!" he muttered, rubbing the spot. Illisia looked back at him as she walked and said, "When you carry the burden he does, then you can mock him. Not before."
* * *
They heard them before they saw them. The far off sound of metal clanking and wood cracking was audible through the wood. As the party made their way through trees and into a clearing, Eylee started. There it was standing before her, the flying ship from her vision. Suspended from thick ropes that were wound around the wide trunks of the trees lining one end of the clearing was what looked like a boat attached to a giant balloon. She took a few steps forward, wading through knee-high grass, gawking at the sight. The girl glanced back and saw her companions all standing around similarly, eyes fixed on what was before them with an awed expression. Only Roadyle watched the proceedings with no hint of fascination or wonderment, only cool acceptance. "If I hadn't seen it myself, I'd have refused to believe it," said Asharae with a slight scoff. Eylee glanced with mild annoyance at the Teir'dal, feeling a bit of satisfaction when she noted that the young woman's skeptical tone contrasted with the amazement in her eyes, but then returned to gazing at the ship. All of the sudden, a small head popped from above one of the wooden sides of the boat. "Ho now, who's there?" called a voice. Squinting, Eylee could make out the face of a halfling, obviously in the middle years of his life but still on the youthful side of them.
Roadyle stepped forward and called back, "Roadyle Yerethe Tol. I came through here a week ago and complimented your work!" "Well, if you are an appreciator of my craft, then I'm sure you're welcome!" The head of what Eylee assumed to be Twiddy Bobbick vanished, only to reappear attached to a body that shimmied down a rope ladder suspended below the belly of the ship. A second figure appeared on deck, heavily padded with layers of clothing but presumably the gnome, Fiddlewiz. Twiddy approached the group at a slow jog and the gnome settled against the side of the boat, a curl of smoke rising from a pipe sticking out of the side of his mouth. "To what do I owe this --" The halfling paused and fully took in the group, his eyes widening slightly. "-- visit." "Your boat flies," blurted Kruzz. Everyone peered back at him. Twiddy paled slightly at being addressed by the troll. Kruzz, catching their stares, glowered and kicked at the ground below him. "As he said," said Bayle, "we came because we heard you've been at work on some kind of... Well, that!" He gestured toward the ship.
The color returned to Twiddy's face and he perked up, nodding furiously. "Yes," he said. "That would be the Cloudskipper, the sister to the Mudskipper, our first craft, which sadly only made it in the air for a few glorious minutes, and my friend up there, Professor A.M. Fiddlewiz --" At the mention of his name, the gnome waved down at them, " -- thinks we may be ready to fly her." He leaned in toward them, eyes sparkling. "Care to watch?" "Yes," said the plainsman, smiling, "and if she manages to fly, we might be interested in talking about a ride. We're involved in something very important at the moment, and we believe this ship might be a part of the piece of a puzzle." "Very important?" asked Twiddy, examining them curiously. "Yes," said Bayle, taking in a deep breath, "important to the fate of all of Norrath. It's going to be very dangerous, but if we manage to do what we set out to, you would be called a hero for your part in it." "A hero?" The halfling's eyes twinkled. "And Cloudskipper involved in it all?" Twiddy shoved his hands in his pockets and skipped slightly, saying, "Then what are we waiting for? Fiddlewiz, throw some fuel into her bellows! And the rest of you, if you wouldn't mind grabbing hold of those ropes, this will go much more quickly. I had planned on releasing the last one and making a mad dash for the ladder, but this should lead to much less certain failure!"
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part II
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part 2
Eylee had been excited, and then nervous, but somewhere into the fourth hour of watching the gnome and halfling dash around the deck of the ship embroiled in last minute" preparations, she had grown bored and her mind began drifting. Fortunately, she was distracted shortly after by a curt exchange between Asharae and Roadyle.
"If you wish to die a very painful death, feel free to touch it," said Asharae, "but I suggest not."
Eylee caught the dangerous tone in the young woman's voice right away and her ears had perked up. Glancing to her side, she saw Asharae clutching the Scryona to her tightly and Roadyle standing above, watching her. Asharae's patience had been much shorter than Eylee's and she had settled at the edge of the clearing to examine the globe soon after the halfling's preparations began. Eylee shifted uncomfortably, still not quite at ease with being so near a Teir'dal. To think it was her own vision that had convinced the party Asharae could be trusted!
The wood elf had to admit, Asharae had yet to wrong any member of the group any further than being nasty to them. The dark elf did little but study the Scryona, trying to unlock its secrets. All that Asharae knew was what she had observed in the V'Nols' studies; that it would start glowing when they neared a tear between this dimension and another, and that somehow it both destroyed and drew power from Void energies. The high elf seemed to be offering to help her discover more, but she doubted Asharae would take him up on the offer.
"You would kill me in front of your friends?" asked Roadyle with a quirk of his eyebrow. "It seems they already only barely tolerate your presence. I doubt that would do much to change that."
"They aren't my friends," snapped Asharae, "and I am the one doing the tolerating. They need me more than I need them."
"How altruistic," said Roadyle. "Somehow, that doesn't strike me as your nature."
Asharae glared. "I don't have to wish you dead for the Scryona to kill you," she said, "just having your unworthy high elf blood."
Roadyle nodded. "So it's cursed," he said, "very interesting. Well, if you change your mind, I know more than just a thing or two about magics of all kinds, and I am sure I could help you learn about it without needing to touch it. That is, if you are willing to accept my help." He bowed and drew away from her. Asharae caught Eylee gazing at her and made a face.
Eylee looked down and then up again, saying, "Maybe he could help."
"Well I don't need his help," muttered Asharae. Her fingers trailed over the surface of the orb. Eylee found herself caught by its glow, and the two young women gazed at it silently.
Eylee ripped her eyes away and tried to recall the vision. It had been more feelings then images, and words of power. They drifted nebulously in a fogged part of her mind, but through it all she had the overpowering sensation that this young woman was going to give everything she had to save a great deal of people. Her gaze softened as she stared at the Teir'dal, and though the sensation unnerved her, she was filled with pity and gratitude for a woman she knew she should have loathed. Asharae's eyes flicked up at her. The single lock of white in her dark black hair played over her violet eyes and casually she blew it out of her face. Eylee swallowed heavily and said, "Thank you for tolerating us."
Asharae looked away and nodded. "Well," she said, "it will no doubt teach me much about using the Scryona, and when we're done, I'll have exactly what I need to draw on its power for my own means." Eylee nodded, but the dangerous tone in the Teir'dal's voice fell flat, and the wood elf felt a smile twitch at the side of her lips.
* * *
A strong wind blew through the Misty Thicket, rustling the tree branches and picking up tufts of white down from the heads of dandelions and carrying them toward the suspended craft and those who worked on her. Twiddy was standing at the bow of the Cloudskipper, gesturing toward the scattered party below him.
On my count!" he said. Release the ties!"
Eylee glanced from face to face. The halfling had assured them all that once the ship was going, he and Fiddlewiz would be able to stop it long enough for the group to climb in with them, but with the way the wind was blowing, she wasn't so sure. The craft already strained against the ropes binding it in place, as if struggling to get free, causing the trunks to which it was bound to creak and crack.
Twiddy had positioned himself on the bow of the ship, gripping one of the lines tightly that bound the large, banded balloon to the hull of the craft. "Fiddlewiz, are you ready?"
A short and somewhat muffled voice responded with, "Get 'er going, Twiddy!"
Twiddy gazed down at the people below and held out his hand. "Count of 5! 1... 2..." The wind howled and rushed past them, almost snapping the rope from Eylee's grip. "3...4... 5!" The assembled group unwound the knots in the ropes they had been assigned to. Their relative strength and speed made the ropes drop at different moments, and the ship lurched from side to side as tension gave way to release. The rope slipped through Eylee's hand, burning her skin ever so slightly as she released her grip. There was a shouting from across the clearing. Kruzz muttered and stomped, jumping in place.
"No release! Stupid rope! Stupid, stupid rope!" He screamed and pounded his fist against the tree as the ship strained to be free of his, the final, rope, and the tree that it was attached to began to bow, a cracking sound filling the area. This caused Kruzz to panic further as he lashed his hands out against it. Fortunately, Bayle had been stationed at the next tree over. The plainsman closed the distance between he and the troll in only a few steps, pulling a knife from his boot as he did. He rapidly sawed the rope and the fibers popped one by one before the line snapped and the ship lurched away from the trees, pulled in the direction of the now roaring wind. The craft's wings began to flap, but their effort looked futile as the ship lurched forward chaotically, at the mercy of the elements.
Eylee waited for a moment, uncertain of what to do next. Then Twiddy's voice came through on the wind, shouting, "Catch up! Hurry! If you truly want on this thing, you had best move your feet because I don't think we're going to be able to stop!" As he yelled, he released a pair of rope ladders that managed to dangle just low enough to be reached.
One by one they began moving and running for the ladders. Eylee made for the same ladder as Kaltuk, Nurgg, and Asharae. She noticed with panic that the dwarf was not nearly tall enough to reach the bottom of the rope. He ran very close to his ogre friend, however, and said, "Nurgg, though I'll be asking you not to tell this story later, please, if you could, give me a boost!"
The pair of them reached the ladder first, running beside it as it was swept along beneath the boat. The ogre leaned down and managed to stumble only slightly as he lifted up his friend and launched him upward. Kaltuk began climbing the ladder, nimbly for one as stout as him. Asharae reached it next and Nurgg gave her a small boost.
She cried out, "Watch your hands, ogre!" as he pushed her up by the bottom. By the time Eylee reached him, she noticed that his gait had slowed and his chest was heaving.
"Come, little one!" he barked at her. She let him hoist her up and reached desperately for the ladder, fingers entwining with its rough fibers. Step by step, she climb toward the ship, struggling to keep her balance as the wind pushed it one way and the climbing of those above her caused the ropes to shake and shimmy.
She looked down to Nurgg, her heart leaping as she noticed he'd fallen behind. "Nurgg!" she called.
His run had become a lope and every moment, the distance widened between him and the ladder. They were also, she noticed, swiftly running out of clearing. The thickly wooded Misty Thicket approached swiftly. Eylee felt an upwelling inside of her as she stared at her friend. Opening her mouth, she began to steadily chant an old canto about a tireless wanderer. Suddenly, Nurgg sped up, overtaking the ladder in moments.
His eyes were wide as he looked up at her and muttered, "Clever bard!"
The ladder lurched downward as he grabbed hold, and for a moment, she was terrified it would break. Then she noticed Roadyle beside her, not clutching any of the ropes but rather levitating in the air. He was glowing softly and chanting. With a wave of his arm, the ladder slackened, as if nothing at all were weighing it down.
"Hurry," said Roadyle. "Especially you, ogre. The spell will only last so long!" At that moment, the ship tipped upward and began gaining altitude as its wings beat furiously. For a moment she lost her bearings as the ladder reoriented itself, but then she was able to begin climbing again.
As Eylee ascended, she looked over to the other half of the team and was relieved to find Illisia, Kruzz, and finally Bayle making their way up it to the deck of the Cloudskipper. She returned to her upward trek, watching as Kaltuk disappeared onto the deck, then Asharae, and finally it was her own turn to drag herself off the rope and onto the mahogany of the deck. Kaltuk was standing there, ready to take her by the arm and help her regain her balance.
The dwarf glanced around suspiciously as he eased Eylee up, taking in the length of the boat. "I don't like this at all," he muttered. "Dwarves are not meant to be in the sky. We are meant to be in the earth."
"Well," said Twiddy, stepping up behind them and clapping a hand on the dwarf's back, "you can now boast that you're the first flying dwarf."
Kaltuk made a noise that said he was not impressed and began leaning over to help Nurgg up. Eylee drifted over to where Illisia and Bayle stood at the side of the boat, coming to a stop beside Bayle.
"Amazing," said Bayle. His voice was breathless with wonderment as they gazed at the tops of the trees roll by below them. Illisia nodded wordlessly, but her eyes were rich with emotion. Below them, the Thicket was spread out like a great sea of green that shifted constantly in the wind. Eylee let out a long sigh of contentment and then smiled, thinking of all the places this ship could take them next.
* * *
The Cloudskipper drifted through the early morning air, which hung heavy with fog through which shafts of dawn penetrated in glowing patches. As the morning moved toward day, the mist slowly thinned and separated until the air swirled with tendrils of smoky white water vapor. Eylee unwrapped herself from her cloak and yawned, the muscles of her arms and back crying out from the night spent in a less than comfortable nook of the flying machine's deck. Her vision was blurry, but it took her only a moment to figure out why she had woken. Nurgg was shaking her. She could vaguely remember having falling asleep against his side as they watched the treetops roll by and wondered at how it was they'd ended up so high.
Nurgg?" she asked, voice slurred. What's happening?"
It is glowing," said Nurgg, pointing toward Asharae. Against a far wall of the deck, far from everyone else, Asharae was curled up tightly and clutched within her fingers was a thin silken bag. Even from within the nest of silk, the Scryona was glowing strongly enough to create a bright orange halo against the mauve embroidery of the purse.
Eylee turned to tell Nurgg to wake Bayle, but he was already moving across the deck. She hadn't even noticed that he had gone, but the ogre was light enough on his feet that he had managed to stand up and cross half the deck without making much more than a patter. She went next to Illisia. The woman's eyes opened the moment Eylee stepped within a few feet of her, and the ranger rolled up onto her knees, hand immediately on her bow nearby.
What's wrong?" asked Illisia. What's happened?"
Eylee shook her head and said, Nothing's wrong, but look!" She pointed to the Scryona. Illisia stood wordlessly and nodded, moving to Kaltuk. Eylee glanced around. All over the deck, figures were stirring. It seemed the chain had moved far enough along that everyone had either had someone to wake them or been woken by the commotion. Only Asharae was still asleep. Eylee knelt beside her, wondering how well the Teir'dal was trained to sleep through anything, snatching sleep wherever and whenever she was actually beyond the demands of her master and mistress.
Asharae," she said, at first quietly and then louder. Finally, she reached out and touched the dark elf on the shoulder. Asharae's eyes flew open and she sat up, clutching the bag more closely to her chest and breathing heavily. The young elf's eyes searched her face with confusion.
Look." Behind her, the others had assembled, and Twiddy, who had no idea what was going on, pointed toward her bag. What's in there?"
Just then, an arrow pierced the wood of the side of the Cloudskipper with a thunk, landing just below where Kruzz was standing.
"Back!" shouted Kruzz, rambling off something longer in Trollish as he scrambled back and dropped down. After the moment necessary for everyone to register what had just happened, the whole of the group hit the deck. Not a moment too soon, as the air filled with small arrows decorated with colorful feathers that buried themselves in the wood of the ship. Twiddy crawled across the deck toward the helm, where Fiddlewiz was inside trying to work the gears of the ship to get them going again while remaining low and out of arrow range. Roadyle bowed his head and began chanting. When the next volley of arrows came at the Cloudskipper, heading directly for the balloon, a large red rune of warding flared in the air, and most of the arrows clattered off of it harmlessly.
"Who's firing at us?" asked Asharae, still clutching the Scryona to her breast. Eylee could feel her own fear reflected in the Teir'dal's eyes. Her pulse raced and her breathing was rapid.
"Those arrows look goblish," said Nurgg, grunting with displeasure as he eyed the closest shaft.
"Yes," said Illisia, eyes darting between them. "I caught a glance of one of the archers as we dropped. Definitely a goblin." As if on cue, a series of high shrieks filled the air from below them.
"I had hoped the mist might obscure us," said Bayle, "but it had to evaporate at some point." Below them, they could pick out piercing commands screamed from what must have been the goblins' leader.
"Even with the mist, we'd be fooling ourselves if we thought we were easy to miss," muttered Kaltuk, peering suspiciously around the boat.
"And then we'd have no chance of spotting them," said Illisia. As she spoke, she rose, pivoting on the balls of her feet as she unstrapped her bow and let loose three arrows in rapid succession, which were met with three corresponding cries of pain. She hit the deck again just as arrows flew past where she had stood moments before.
Kaltuk blinked, his jaw dangling. "Remind me to stand behind you in a scrape, lass," he said.
Illisia just nodded to him. Her expression was serious and set. Eylee had seen her in action once before, when Illisia and Bayle had saved her from the thugs at Harmon's Tavern, but Illisia had fought casually and without any care then. Now the Feir'dal understood how she had earned her nickname, the Hound of Zek, as the seasoned hunter assessed their situation and plotted the best way to get them all through it alive. Bayle gestured everyone in close to him. "Only Illisia's of any use up here," he said in a soft voice. "The rest of us are just targets waiting to be shot. Besides, the Scryona is glowing, so there must be a tear near here. We need a plan to get down there and close it." He touched his hand to the staff that was strapped across his claymore. Eylee gazed at the staff uneasily. The runes that lined its shaft were quiet now, but she could almost feel them pulse.
"I have an idea." They glanced over at Twiddy, who was crawling back on his hands and knees toward them. "Listen carefully, because I believe we only have one shot at it."
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part III
Of New Friends and Troublesome Enemies Part 3
The winds had died down over the night, so the boat moved along slowly by the force of its wings alone. The forest was still and silent. Except for the occasional arrow in the side of the boat, one could almost think it was a perfectly peaceful afternoon. Glancing at an arrow that had just struck, Asharae said under her breath, "Goblins have no brains in their heads. They'd have a much better chance of killing us if they hid their position."
"Scare," said Kruzz from where he was huddled against the side of the boat. "They want to scare us. It is good to make your enemy afraid."
Arching a delicate eyebrow at the troll, Asharae said, "And sneaking up on your enemy to strike them in a vital spot is twice as useful."
Kruzz sneered at her and said, "Very much an elf way, small and weak."
"Weak?" asked Asharae, glaring at him. The troll shrunk back under the heat of it. "You're the most cowardly creature on this boat. I'd sooner send the girl --" She gestured at Eylee, who blinked. -- then you to fight for me. You're a disgrace to what is already the most pathetic race on Norrath, which makes your opinion somewhere on the level of dirt to me."
"Quiet the both of you," snapped Kaltuk.
"Listen to the dwarf," said Bayle, staring at them both hard, "we have other things to do right now than squabble."
Asharae glared one last time then looked back toward Twiddy and Fiddlewiz. They were adjusting the small, gnome-like bundle they had placed within a compartment atop a large single-wheeled contraption. Fiddlewiz lifted the goggles that covered his eyes and Eylee noted that they were heavy with sorrow. The gnome placed a hand on the wheel of the cycle and through the scarf that covered his mouth said, "If I don't see you again, good-bye."
Twiddy glanced at the others and said, "The Professor rode this all over Norrath before retiring it to work on the Cloudskipper. This is an emotional moment for him."
Fiddlewiz drew back, clasped his hands behind his back, crouched, and nodded. Twiddy gestured to the group to stand on the opposite side of the boat as the cycle. The halfling crawled to the helm and took the place of Roadyle, who had been steering while the other two worked out their plan. "As soon as I bring her down, Fiddlewiz will send the cycle in one direction. You all should go the other."
Fiddlewiz darted up from his crouched position to fiddle with the controls of the cycle one last time, jamming them in place and double-checking the positioning of the small rockets affixed to its back. The gnome stuck up his thumb and Twiddy steered the ship closer to the ground. "Now!" said Twiddy in a voice just above a whisper. Fiddlewiz lit the fuses on the rockets. Eylee held her breath as the fire ate its way down to the backs of the rockets and then in a burst, the cycle was propelled across to where Fiddlewiz had set up a small ramp to take it up and over the side of the craft. She could hear the crashing of branches and screaming of goblins as it continued careening off into the woods.
Bayle gestured for them to move, and Eylee stood up quickly, slipping off the opposite side of the ship. All but Fiddlewiz, Twiddy, and Roadyle did the same, with the mage staying on board to cast periodic glyphs of warding on the sensitive areas of the boat. As soon as the other seven had hit ground, the Cloudskipper retreated back up into the air, where they would be circling periodically, scanning for a signal that the party was ready to be retrieved.
As quietly as they could manage, the group slipped through the undergrowth. There were no games this time, nor any squabbling. Everyone held their tongues and kept a watchful eye about them. They could hear a distant commotion where goblins were no doubt contending with Fiddlewiz's fearsome cycle.
"Asharae," said Bayle, drawing in close to her, "can the Scryona give us a more specific location?"
Her expression look annoyed for a second and then she shrugged, pulling the orb from its sack, letting it come to rest on her palm where it glowed intensely. The young woman closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, tightening her lips and focusing in on it. Illisia paced around them, watching closely. Kaltuk said a small prayer, tracing a sigil in the air that flared up briefly before disappearing. Eylee began to chant to herself a story of strong heroes and battles won.
"There," Asharae said suddenly, and her arm shot up. Eylee traced the length of the Teir'dal's slender finger with her eyes, peering in the direction the young woman pointed. Far off through the trees, she thought she caught a glimpse of lightning and a touch of darkness. When Asharae opened her eyes, they glowed the same orange as Scryona, and she began walking directly toward the corrupt energy. A shiver passed down Eylee's back as she stared at the Teir'dal; she felt distinctly that there was little of Asharae in the figure that shambled ahead, and much of Scryona.
"Asharae, wait," said Bayle. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she kept walking so that his hand passed uselessly through her hair. "Come on!" He gestured everyone forward with him.
Eylee gripped her drum in both hands. She'd never thought to use it as a weapon until their fight in Innothule Swamp with the void-touched trolls, but with its long, slender body, it had proven remarkably effective in bashing things. Kruzz walked near her, and she noted that he was gripping his meat cleaver so tightly that his knuckles had gone an almost white-yellow. Everyone else held their weapons at ready, except Nurgg, who simply wrapped strips of cloth around his fists as they walked. Bayle stuck close to Asharae, claymore raised and eyes constantly searching.
Suddenly, Illisia turned to Eylee. The young woman barely realized what had happened before the hunter had shoved her to the side and fired an arrow over her head. A goblin stumbled from the trees, dropping a short sword he'd been holding above his head. This face was stuck in a cruel death mask, a grin twisted by pain. One of Illisia's arrows was buried deep in his chest, right where the heart should be.
Then there was chaos. Goblins streamed out of the trees, screaming, dancing from side to side, and menacing them with a whole manner of crude weapons. Some jumped from above, one landing on Nurgg's shoulders and biting at his ears. The ogre ripped the goblin off of his back and roared, throwing the goblin against a tree with a sickening thud. Eylee began swinging her drum and chanting songs of bravery and luck, thinking all the while of all the things she might never do after that day. You can't think like that. Illisia doesn't think like that. I bet she thinks of what she'll be doing when this is over.
Eylee cried out and charged at one of the goblins that had come in at Kaltuk. To her surprise, the goblin next her snapped backward in tandem with her cry, howling and gripping its ears. There's so much I need to learn about this magic. She only gave herself the luxury of being surprised by what had happen for a brief moment, and then she pressed on, bringing her drum into the legs of Kaltuk's aggressor. The goblin tumbled into the ground and with a fluid motion Kaltuk brought the head of his hammer down onto the skull of the creature, where it landed with a satisfying crunch. Then he turned to smack another goblin in the jaw with the body of the censor that dangled from his other hand. The dwarf tipped his head to her, but his eyes were not Kaltuk's eyes. They were the eyes of a seasoned warrior, impassive to all but the motions of battle.
She scrambled on, checking in on each of her companions. They all seemed to be holding their own. Illisia was a blur of motion, her twin swords felling goblins as she whirled with such fluidity that it seemed she could be doing a dance. Nurgg brought his fist in to crush the skull of one attacker, and then picked up the limp body of the goblin he'd just killed to be used as a club against another of them. Asharae continued walking and Bayle fought goblins off from either side of her. Eylee started as one goblin stepped directly in front of the entranced Teir'dal, but without comment, Asharae lifted a hand and from her palm shot an orb of that same orange light. When the ball struck the goblin, he screamed and then scratched at his skin furiously. In moments, he had dissolved.
Then Eylee noticed something curious. Where that goblin had been, a cloud of purple and black smoke remained. The orange light that had struck the goblin lingered and then enveloped the black energy hungrily. Asharae then whispered a word and the now orange and black mixed energies flowed into Scryona in a quick stream. The Feir'dal didn't puzzle this long, there was no time to be distracted by such mysteries; as her eyes passed through the scene, however, she noticed flashes of similar black and purple clouds around all of the goblins.
They had to have been touched by the Void. "Be careful!" she screamed.
In that instant, she heard Kruzz scream. He was backed up against an embankment, two goblins menacing him. But what was worse was that one of the red-eyed Void beasts they had seen in Innothule was stalking toward him, snapping at the air with its pincers. Kruzz swung his butcher knife in front of him wildly but to little effect. Eylee glanced over at Nurgg, who had also noticed their green-skinned companion's problems. He nodded to her and the two of them ran toward the troll.
Eylee shouted as she approached the goblins and one of them fell to his knees, blood running from its ears and eyes. The other turned to her and she brought her drum into his neck, knocking him forward. One of Kruzz's wild swings finally struck true, the large, jagged blade cutting through the flesh of the remaining opponent's neck. The goblin stabbed downward as he fell, sword piercing the troll's foot. Kruzz let out a scream of pain and began hacking at the goblin's corpse furiously.
Though concerned for him, Eylee turned to check on Nurgg. The ogre had launched himself headlong at the large void beast and now had it in a grapple, pounding it with his fists. The beast swung its pincers this way and that, and let out high, eerie wails, but it couldn't manage to get its grip on the ogre, nor could it shake him off its back. She noted a gash above Nurgg's eyebrow, which was bleeding down into his eyes, but so far he seemed to be holding up. Still, she felt she had to do something.
Another shout lingered at the back of her throat, and she stepped toward the beast, letting it out. The creature look as if something had struck it and then went completely still, as if paralyzed, giving Nurgg the chance to reach down and tear out a number of its eyes. Chucking aside the dangling bits of gore, he reached in through one of the empty sockets and pulled out brain matter from inside. It was done. The beast collapsed, letting out a series of short bellows until its body broke up into wisps and then nothingness. Eylee turned back to Kruzz. The troll had stopped panicking long enough to pull the sword from his foot and was busy retreating into the brush.
"Where are you going?" she called, but Kruzz vanished into some bushes. She shook her head and turned back to the fighting.
Bayle had seemed to decide Asharae was safe enough on her own, and had moved on toward what appeared to be the leader of their attackers. This particular goblin had been the source of the commands shrieked in Goblish and wore an elaborate headdress from which feathers and beads dangled, and he fought with a scythe-like sword that, even at a distance, Eylee could tell was stained with blood. Though Bayle's claymore was swift, the chieftain managed to dodge nimbly around every one of his swings. The goblin leader cackled every time Bayle's claymore fell to the side harmlessly.
Eylee watched as Bayle's strategy shifted. Instead of hacking at the goblin, he drew back, sword at the ready. The goblin glared at him and danced around, shouting, "Why you not attack?! Afraid of little goblin, are you?" The goblin bared his teeth and swung his sword around, trying to menace Bayle. Bayle didn't respond though, he simply circled.
Finally, the goblin screamed and charged at Bayle. The plainsman stepped out of the path of the sword and brought the claymore around, cutting deeply into the goblin's calves. He must not have severed the muscles, as the goblin raged through the pain, crying out and launching himself at Bayle, managing to slice deeply into his arm. Eylee's breath caught in her throat as blood welled up through the plainsman's torn shirt and Bayle stumbled back, one hand releasing the claymore and moving to cover the blood. Suddenly Kaltuk was by his side. The dwarf called out to the heavens, "Brell, you had best do this lad a fair turn!" The blood suddenly stopped flowing, and the dwarf smiled in satisfaction. The goblin cried out in frustration, charging at Kaltuk. As he passed by Bayle, though, the young man brought the claymore around, driving it through the goblin's torn leather jerkin, into his chest, and all the way out the other side. The chieftain hit the ground in two distinct halves, leaving behind the same dark cloud as all the others.
With that, the battle seemed to be well under control. The remaining goblins had moved to place themselves between the group and the Void portal, which the party had long since grown close enough to fully observe. Asharae threw orb after orb of orange light at the wall of goblins, eyes fixed toward the portal intently, and with every goblin that fell, Scryona fed further, sucking in that energy. Eylee looked at the portal more closely. A circle of inky black, it was surrounded by a concentration of the purple and blue storms they had seen in Innothule. Within its proximity, there was a gradually intensifying acrid smell that burned the thin membranes of the nose when one breathed in too deeply. From within its heart, the sounds of more of those beasts could be made out, and it was evident that they were getting closer.
Bayle seemed to have noticed this as well. "We need to close it, quickly!" he shouted.
Eylee ran forward with the others as they moved in, lending their physical attacks to Asharae's onslaught of magic. They grew closer and closer and just as Bayle managed to stand in front of the portal, more beasts became visible inside of the Void. The plainsman dropped his claymore and ripped the staff of Theer from the cords binding it to his back. Illisia stepped in beside him and brought down the few remaining goblins that tried to rush him, dispatching them with practiced blows.
Bayle rubbed the runes of the staff furiously until they began to glow and the staff leapt from his hands. It began to spin in front of the rift, and as it did, the edges of the portal seemed to become elastic, turning and curving and collapsing in on themselves. There were bellows of frustration from within the Void. One of the beasts managed to stick its arm through but Illisia quickly hacked it off. The edges of the portal continued collapsing inward until, with a rushing of air that had the quality of an inverted wind gust, the whole thing vanished.
Bayle bent down to retrieve the staff, and they all turned to Asharae. The orange glow vanished from her eyes, then from Scryona, and as if released from a marionette's strings, she went limp and collapsed. Kaltuk rushed to her side and began tracing sigils over her. In a moment, she opened her eyes again.
"Water," she whispered.
"Ale," said the dwarf, with no hint of apology, as he opened his skein and dumped it down her throat.
She coughed and sputtered, sitting up and wiping liquid from her face. "Water does not equal ale," she said sharply.
Kaltuk chuckled as he rose. "She'll be alright," he said.
"What happened?" asked Bayle. "What did you feel?"
Asharae seemed to consider her words before saying, "It was as if... Scryona had spoken to me, and asked for permission to feed. I let it, and then I did exactly as I was told." She shook her head. "I have so much to ask Baron and Baroness V'Nol." Her eyes gleamed in a way that worried Eylee.
"I see," said Bayle. His voice was impassive but his forehead creased with worry. He shook his head and said, "I wish we could have nothing to do with corrupt Teir'dal tinkering."
Asharae fixed her gaze on him and smiled almost sweetly. "But you must, mustn't you?" Her voice rang with a note of something like triumph.
Kaltuk looked at Asharae uneasily. "You may like to think you had the power there, lass," he said, "but it was the thing that did, not you. The more we know about it, and the less we have to use it, the better."
Illisia stepped up and glanced around, asking, "Where's Kruzz?"
"Hiding," said Nurgg, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. With that, there was a rustle in the brush as Kruzz appeared and limped toward them.
"Wounded," said the troll, voice full of pain. Not a single gaze, however, softened with pity at the sight of the troll's wounded foot.
"I could have fixed that," said Kaltuk, eyes narrowed at him, "but as you were too worried about your own hide to help the rest of us fight a few puny goblins, I believe you'll be stuck with the facilities of healing that the gods gave ya. You trolls patch up quickly, it shouldn't be too long." The troll glowered and limped back.
"Don't give me another reason to question why you're with us," said Bayle sharply. "I'm tempted to leave you here."
"Please do not," said Kruzz, falling on his knees in front of Bayle, "please do not. I promise to fight."
Bayle turned away, disgusted. "Very well," he said, shaking his head, "but this is your last chance."
"One more than you deserve," muttered Kaltuk.
"Illisia, would you...?" Bayle motioned to the staff and then to his back. The barbarian woman nodded and then reached out to touch the staff, brushing his hand. The two held eyes for a moment, and something washed through Eylee that was a mix of jealousy and wistfulness. It was doubtful anyone else had caught it; only the most curious observers, such as Eylee, would make as much of it as she had, but there was no question in her mind that something was growing there. It lasted only a moment, though, and then the barbarian woman glanced away and took the staff, strapping it onto the man's back and smoothing away the bunched cloth of his shirt. Bayle wiped his claymore in a patch of scrub and then sheathed it over top of the staff. "We'll send out a signal for the others," he said. "I doubt they have gotten far. Illisia, come with me. The rest of you, search them for anything that might be relevant."
"Or valuable," said Asharae with a smile.
Bayle stared at the young woman for a moment and then said, "Loot the bodies if you like. I won't stop you. But though they may only have been goblins, I will not be defiling their bodies that way."
The pair of warriors vanished into the thicket. Eylee found herself watching the paths of their hands, imagining that one might quietly take hold of the other. A voice interrupted her thoughts. "What are you staring at so dopey eyed?" asked Asharae, narrowing her eyes at the young woman.
"Nothing," said Eylee, doing her best to sound flippant.
Asharae followed her gaze, seeming to consider the implications. "Ah," she said. "I see. Well, I am sure they will make ugly, stubborn babies together one day. If they live. Which is doubtful."
Eylee glared at the Teir'dal. "Why do you have to say those kinds of things?" she asked. "Do you really not care if we live or die? If you live or die?"
Asharae seemed to consider her words. "No," she said, "not really," and turned to continue her work.
Eylee gazed at the Teir'dal, anger raging. Spinning away, she tried to drive off her anger by focusing on the task at hand: finding anything that might shed light on the nature of their battles and where they should go to next.
* * *
As night fell, they found themselves back on the Cloudskipper. With more time to settle in, they made themselves permanent bedding in corners of the ship, laying out bedrolls and fashioning pillows of burlap sacks below deck. Twiddy and Fiddlewiz had finally organized the contents of the messy cargo hold well enough to accommodate individuals larger than themselves. Nurgg made his spot above deck, preferring not to be cramped, as did Kruzz, because the rest of the party had yet to stop glaring at him. Asharae set up a place within the hold but very separate from the others, using her cloak to fashion a sort of tent between stacks of crates.
Eylee curled up on her bedroll, exhaustion consuming her. When sleep didn't come, she turned, finding herself staring at Kaltuk's back.
"Kaltuk?" she asked. "Have you managed to sleep yet?"
The dwarf grunted in response.
"You've done this many times... fought battles...?" she asked.
After a moment, he responded, sighing heavily, "Yes, I have, lass. I was a member of the Storm Guard of Kaladim, once."
"How do you shake away the looks... the looks your opponents give you when they die?"
He turned so that he was facing her, studying her with his pale blue eyes. Reaching, he swept a lock of hair out of her face. "You remember," he said, "that what you were doing was right." She considered his words and then nodded to him. "Sleep well, young one." He turned back the other way and within minutes, he was snoring loudly.
Eylee tried to do as he said, but a thousand thoughts weighed on her mind. Finally, she fell asleep, but her dreams were of beasts from a place outside of time, and she tossed all night in fear for Norrath.
On the Plains of Karana Part I
From the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell --
We knew that we had a hard road ahead of us, and that the only way to succeed would be to gain allies. Our search, however, met with few results. The men and women of the northlands were too embroiled in their own conflicts, and my own people, as well as the Koada'dal, had too much on their hands with the great migration that consumed them. The Teir'dal could possibly have lent might, if we trusted to work with them, or if Asharae were not considered a criminal and we her accomplices.
So it was, then, that we came then to the dwarves of Kaladim...
On the Plains of Karana - Part I
The Cloudskipper swayed back and forth in the light wind, tugging lightly at the ropes that tethered it to the upper branches of a very great old oak tree that reached into the sky with its gnarled branches. Professor Fiddlewiz waved to the departing group from his comfortable perch in a broadcloth hammock that had been strung up on deck. For his part, Twiddy had already managed to suspend himself within a small harness that dangled him at the side of the deck, where he sanded down a few uneven spots and spread resin where it had grown thin between boards. He managed a quick wave to his departing passengers before turning to his work as they took to the rocky trail that wound through the Butcherblock Mountains toward Kaladim. Kruzz also watched them go from the deck, insisting his staying behind on the boat would mean a piping hot dinner, or breakfast, or lunch he would be ready for anything on their return. The unspoken truth of it was that Kruzz was just as well off taking a bath in a river full of saber toothed piranha as he was walking into the heart of the dwarven kingdom; too many of the mountain men and women had lost loved ones in spars with the trolls.
Eylee adjusted the straps on her satchel, which had begun to bite into her neck already. It hung heavy with parchments upon which she had recorded the details of the companions' adventures -- crossing the plains of Karana with Illisia and Bayle, rousting void-touched trolls in the swamps of Innothule, spurring goblins in the Misty Thicket, fighting off the soldiers of Neriak as they made off with the struggling V'Nols, their trek to the northlands, and the subsequent flight from the warpaths of the bloodthirsty barbarians that had resulted. It was all there, on paper, in great detail, as well as a complete recording of the visions she'd been having. In all practicality, she should have long since unloaded some of the pages into a safe corner of the Cloudskipper, but something inside her said she should keep them close even closer than the locked boxes Twiddy and Fiddlewiz kept in their cabin. It wasn't, she hoped, vanity that motivated her; no, it was not simply a matter of this being her tale to tell, but rather a sense of great importance to the details of their journey. She even curled up with the bag at night, resting it snugly in the crook of her arm like a treasured doll. But it had grown cumbersome as their adventures increased in number, as they glimpsed new corners of the world every day from perspectives none but those born with wings had ever taken in.
The evergreen trees of Butcherblock rose around her, tall and imposing, with thick trunks made stout with burls and age, their limbs hanging heavy with bunchy green needles. They were scattered sparsely across the generally rocky face of the mountains, standing like lone sentinels keeping watch on behalf of the great dwarven city. Now and then, Eylee would catch the sound of bleating and glance to see a ram dash up the hillside spraying pebbles in its path and butting aside scrub with its great curled horns. Birds circled above their heads, the wide expanses of their wings casting shadows upon the party, and snakes wound through boulders to vanish into dark holes below their feet.
Eylee glanced from face to face. Bayle and Illisia walked close to one another at the head of the group, now and then speaking in hushed tones. She remembered with a slight smile that they had one time insisted on taking front and rear, but had gradually both drifted to the front of the marching order; whether that was from an increased desire to stand next to one another, or a decreased distrust of the rest of the group -- or possibly both -- Eylee wasn't certain. Now it seemed Nurgg had positioned himself solidly at the rear, and his heavy steps defined the end of their column. Asharae drifted in the center of the party, her cloak draped over the soft curves of her body and Scryona's pouch bouncing against her knee. Roadyle drifted a step or two behind her, speaking to her when he could manage to attract her attention about magical theory or some sight or the other on the horizon. Eylee peered in his direction, wondering whether the mage's interest was merely academic, or if his impulses had taken a turn for the unnatural-bordering-on-abominable. Asharae was beautiful, but hardly the elf a Koada'dal brought back to his austere mother and father.
Finally, her attention fell on Kaltuk, and she was drawn immediately to his side by the struggle she could see in his eyes. She didn't really need to see his expression to know that something was wrong. His complete silence during their trek had already told the tale. She cleared her throat and smiled at him, saying, It can't be all that bad, can it? I mean, you miss your home, don't you?"
Surprise washed over Kaltuk's face and then vanished. He glowered and said, "What makes you think it's all so bad as that, missy?"
"Well," she said, "when the one who normally keeps the rest of us chuckling hasn't even cracked a smile... It must be dire."
Kaltuk scoffed but smiled. "I assure you, I'm not about ready to curl up and sob under a rock," he said, inclining his head to the side. "It is not an easy thing to return to a place that did not want you... no matter how you might have missed it."
Eylee nodded and said, I'm sure they're ready to welcome you back. They must have forgiven you by now."
The dwarf barked a short, quick laugh. "Oh ho! I would not count on that, young one. A dwarf's about as stubborn and quick to forgive as a stone, and we've the whole of the council of Kaladim to contend with."
***
They had just begun to glimpse the facade of Kaladim, carved straight from the great face of the mountainside in a series of towering columns, when they were met with an escort. A pair of dwarves -- male and female, wearing earth toned leathers that helped them blend into their surroundings -- stepped from behind a copse of trees with axes and bows at the ready.
"What's your business, stranger?" asked the male, eying Bayle.
Bayle opened his mouth to speak, but Kaltuk stepped in front of him. The sentries reacted to the sight, the male taking one step back and the female grunting from behind a leather mask that covered most of her face.
"Prior Kaltuk Ironstein," said Kaltuk, "once member of the Stormguard, and high priest of the Church of Ale, has found his way back to Kaladim, and he's brought some friends along with him. Perhaps I could trouble you to run on ahead and announce my visit to the council, to whom I'll be needing to speak to immediately on matters important to all the dwarves of Norrath. Dark creatures have come to Norrath. They might be at your very step already. We've come to speak about fighting them back."
The sentries glanced at one another and the male stepped forward again and said, "One of us will go on ahead, but the other will be sticking close. I remember your name, Kaltuk Ironstein, but you're no Prior of Kaladim. Not anymore. Not for some time."
Kaltuk examined the sentry closely with a look so sharp that it seemed it could strip bark from a tree, and the younger dwarf shrank back a little again. I was a Prior for more years than you've been on Norrath, sonny," said Kaltuk, and I'll not be taking any guff from the likes of --"
"Father," said the female sentry. She removed her helm and a pair of blond braids fell down her back. Though homely, she was pleasant enough looking for a dwarf, with eyes the same robin shell blue as her father's.
"Cora," said Kaltuk, his voice ringing with a sharp note of pain.
She nodded to him and her expression was impassive. "Listen to Braldan," she said."He may be your junior in years, but he's still senior to you in Kaladim." She nodded to the other sentry, who seemed to straighten up under her praise. "Go on ahead, Braldan. I'll keep a close eye on our visitors."
Don't you think --" began Braldan.
"That's an order." Her voice cut him off and provoked him to begin jogging immediately in the direction of the mountain face. Kaltuk straightened a little, beaming with an obvious pride. The glance Cora shot her father next caused the pride wither away. Asharae must have noticed, because she laughed softly to herself. Kaltuk scowled at the Teir'dal.
Cora swept her gaze along the whole of the group. "You've a time ahead of you explaining why such a band as this has been brought to Kaladim," she said, "but as a once citizen, you've the right to try. The ogre..." She looked Nurgg up and down with a distrustful gaze. "... should probably stay behind."
Nurgg grunted, planted himself beside Kaltuk, and leveled his gaze at her.
Cora raised an eyebrow with curiosity. "Well then, he'll at least need to be bound."
Kaltuk glanced to Nurgg with a raised eyebrow. The ogre paused only for a moment and then nodded. Cora came forward and wrapped his hands in a series of intricate knots.
"No weapons?" she asked Nurgg as she finished. He smiled and raised his fists. "Ah, well, then I'm glad I used a good knot." She swept a hand toward the other adventurers and gestured them forward.
Kaltuk nodded and began to follow in his daughter's shadow, the rest of the party falling into step some distance behind. It's good to see you, lass," he said in a low voice, which Eylee only caught because she followed him as near as she dare. "You've done quite well for yourself. Makes an old dwarf proud to see it."
Cora stared ahead and made a low noise in the back of her throat. "You should spend your time thinking about what you're going to say to the council and not waste your breath with empty compliments."
Eylee felt a stab of sadness in her heart as Kaltuk's face fell, but the dwarf nodded and followed his daughter quietly toward the entrance to the vast network of mines that formed the veins of dwarven civilization: Kaladim, the city in the mountain.
***
She could see her friend's eyes searching the crowds, intent upon finding someone specific. As they had obviously already found at least one of Kaltuk's children -- or perhaps only, Kaltuk had never spoken much about his past -- she had to assume he was most likely on the look out for his wife. There was a look of strain, perhaps even pain, as he did so. Though it did not seem he had found who he was searching for by the time they came to a stop outside of the great stone doors of the meeting hall, his face had met with a number of startled recognitions, and where he walked, a chorus of hushed whispers followed. He had been famous as one of the most recognizable clerics of the Stormguard, but he had been infamous as the dwarf who turned his back on Brell. His expression was unreadable as the group stood and awaited their audience with King Aldus Stormhammer and the great council of Kaladim, but Eylee reached out and touched his shoulder gently. He glanced back at her with a look of surprise, and pain flooded the corners of his eyes, but then as he saw who it was and the look of gentle assurance on her face, his expression melted to a smile and he nodded to her, reaching over to pat the wood elf's hand with one of his own.
There was a scraping of stone against stone as a pair of burly dwarven guards, arms roped with muscles, drew them open and gestured the group forward. Braldan fell into step beside the group, making a point of keeping close. Bayle stepped forward to take point on reflex, then paused, smiled, and with a half-bow, let Kaltuk trundle in front of him. The dwarf raised an eyebrow and pointed beside him, so that the plainsmen stuck close to his side, and the pair entered the room at the same time. Illisia shadowed Bayle, and then the rest followed. Eylee was a bit surprised Nurgg did not follow closely behind Kaltuk, and her expression must have said so, for as she glanced at the ogre, he responded with:
"This is not the place for my friendship."
Eylee nodded, knowing the statement was two fold. It would neither help Kaltuk's acceptance by his one time people to advertise his friendship with an ogre, nor would it benefit Kaltuk as an individual to be supported by his giant friend when everything he needed for this would have to be found in his very own self.
When they entered the room, it had been like jumping into a sea of voices. The chamber was full of great stone benches for spectators in a bowl shape that stretched up from around the central table at which the council sat before the throne of the ruler of the dwarven people. She imagined these benches were not often full, but it seemed the whole the mountain had turned out to see their curious visitors and the returned exile. A ring of dwarven men and women sat at the central table, some dressed in well-polished armor, others in finely spun linen and wool clothing, and still others in robes affixed with the symbol of Brell. Behind them, a proud looking dwarven man sat in the throne, head leaning against one hand, elbow propped against the arm of the chair. She took this to be Aldus Stormhammer, king of the dwarves and a son in the long Stormhammer line. His dark brown hair was braided into a single long braid that fell across his shoulders, and his beard was similarly fashioned into a thick central braid and four smaller braids fanning out two at each side, with gold and silver rings, as well as blue and green gems, woven in.
The band of adventurers was led to a slightly raised platform in the back center of the room, and Braldan took a position near them. As Kaltuk came to stand before the council with Bayle at his side, that cacophony of voices quieted, and all eyes were fixed on them intently.
"Speak, Kaltuk Ironstein," said King Stormhammer. "I'm curious to know what has brought you back, and why you've arrived with such an assembly of companions." His voice was rough and echoed like boots on gravel in the massive hall.
"My thanks, King Stormhammer," said Kaltuk, bowing stiffly to the dwarven ruler. "I once knew you as prince, and am sad to hear your father has passed on, but I am sure you are as great a ruler as your father was." The king did not seem to react to the flattery, but he nodded in acknowledgment of it. Kaltuk turned so as to address more of the crowd. "Most of you know me, but for those who don't, I'm Kaltuk Ironstein, once a Prior of the Stormguard."
"Cast out for unrelenting blasphemy to Brell's name," interjected one of the councilmen. "And a refusal to rehabilitate." He wore the robes of a priest and had a long white hair that fell freely down his back. Though he did not have a beard, he did sport a thick white mustache that curled on either side.
Kaltuk did not attempt to hide a look of contempt and anger as he glanced at the priest. "As High Prior Graniteaxe has made clear, I have not been welcome here for some time, but our purpose here is far more important than your grievance with me. I will let my friend Bayle speak, and hopefully you can listen to him without being clouded by the same prejudice you would me."
Kaltuk gestured Bayle forward, who smiled to him and took his place before the assembly. Graniteaxe settled back against his throne, looking completely unconvinced; however, he was one of few in the room who did not at least look curious as to their purpose. Eylee glanced from side to side, noting she had come to settle between Nurgg and Roadyle. The moment her eyes hit Roadyle, he glanced at her, and smiled. She found herself wondering if there were any spell in his arsenal that could help their purpose, but then dismissed it, knowing their mission could not be shrouded by something so unethical.
Bayle cleared his throat and opened his arms toward the dwarves. "We've come to speak with you about a threat to all of Norrath," he began. He gestured Illisia over, and she stepped in behind him, unstrapping the Staff of Theer and laying it in his hands. He smiled to her, and she at him, as she stepped back behind him, casting a critical eye on the crowd. "Portals have been opening to a place beyond our own the Void. The creatures that come from there are twisted visions of darkness, and they seem to be capable of filling individuals from Norrath with the same dark energy and corrupting them. This staff is linked to those portals, and it lets us close them, cutting off their passageways to our world. The longer this goes on, however, the more of those monsters there seem to be. We are a capable band of individuals, but not able to take them on by ourselves. We need allies. Our journey has taken us here, because dwarves are known to be capable and valiant fighters." There was a general murmur of approval from the crowd. "We would rest easier knowing you were in this fight with us."
Bayle's voice fell to a hush and when it was clear he had made his case, conversation sprang up around the room. The members of the council all huddled together; some with bright, encouraging eyes, but just as many others looked dark and suspicious toward the group. Chief amongst the dissenters was Graniteaxe, who shook his head as a female dwarf whispered to him from his left, eyes locked on Kaltuk.
"What exactly are you asking for?" asked another dwarf, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him. He wore shining plate armor that was dressed with medals and had a look of keen authority. Eylee noted that when he spoke, Kaltuk's expression softened, and something like a smile passed between the two of them.
Bayle nodded to the dwarf, acknowledging the question. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. "Of course, we would expect you to focus most of your energy here on Faydwer, but we would also ask that you focus not only within your own borders. Send patrols to scour the continent and fight off whatever of these creatures you might find. If you come across a portal, fortify the position, do not let the creatures spread, and send word to us of its location. In time, if there is a true front established, we might call on you to send legions to help us in the fight. Unfortunately, we only have one small ship to travel by, so you would have to move yourselves."
The dwarf who had asked the question nodded and settled back, then the discussions began anew between the council members. Finally, the well-decorated, armored dwarf stood, as did Graniteaxe, and they walked up to the dais on which King Aldus sat. Eylee's eyes were fixed on the King, who thus far showed no bias either way. His expression was impassive. He had, however, sat up straight and leaned in while Bayle had spoken, listening intently. At least their case had not bored him.
Braldan leaned back toward them and whispered, "I believe you have an enemy and an ally heading up there. General Basaltheart was once a friend of Kaltuk's, and one of his few supporters during his trial. During your leader's speech, he was rapt in attention. The High Prior was against you from the start, though."
"I imagine he was a rival," said Roadyle. "They are of the same profession."
Braldan nodded. "Your friend's smart," he said. "Ironstein might have been High Prior if not for... well, what happened. He and Graniteaxe had been rivals since they were young." Braldan glanced to the audience. Eylee searched the crowd in that direction, and her eyes landed on where Cora Ironstein sat beside an older dwarven woman with gray hair spun with white strands. The matron had an uncommon beauty for a dwarf, striking even next to the much younger Cora. "When Ironstein was dismissed, his marriage was made void, and after that, Graniteaxe married his wife, Meen. I don't believe Graniteaxe married her for any reason but to have everything that had been Kaltuk's. He always envied Ironstein's popularity." Braldan chuckled. "Some of us still sing his song, 'Raise a glass for him, boys!', though not within earshot of Graniteaxe."
Eylee nodded to him and said, "Poor Kaltuk..."
Eylee did her best to disguise her reaction to the dogma, but Nurgg did not. He grunted and peered down at the dwarf, who shrank slightly beneath the ogre's gaze. "Your Duke was not there for him. Why should he give him praises?"
Braldan shrugged and examined the ground silently. At that moment, Graniteaxe and the general came back to the table. Aldus watched them go and then fixed his gaze on Kaltuk with a look of mild curiosity - or what might have been considered extreme curiosity for a dwarf. Everyone in the room waited, with bated breath, to hear what the King's representatives had to say.
On the Plains of Karana Part II
On the Plains of Karana - Part II
"King Stormhammer has decreed that we will consider your proposal on one condition," said Graniteaxe, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his barrel chest. "We need to know your friend Ironstein has made right his relationship with Brell. We cannot go forward on this without his blessing. Kaltuk needs to admit what happened on that battlefield was due to his own failing, and no fault of the Duke of Below."
The room went quiet, so quiet Eylee thought she could hear the heavy beating of Kaltuk's heart. She watched a bleak desperation wash over the dwarf's face, but he stepped in front of Bayle with surprising composure. The entire group watched him, on edge; even Illisia, normally so austere, seemed to be entreating him with her eyes.
He cleared his throat and swept his eyes over the room. "I was the only one on that battlefield so many years ago," he said, "and I was the only one who saw what it was that happened there. I have stuck by... a particular interpretation of what happened there, for many years." He paused, and his eyes searched the ground. Eylee noted him glance to the side, and followed his gaze to where his daughter and former wife sat. Meen wore and expression of clear disapproval. Cora, however, looked noncommittal, but Eylee hoped for her father's sake, she might crack a smile.
Graniteaxe seemed to notice Kaltuk's gaze as well and cleared his throat, saying, "Focus on the subject, Ironstein, and not my wife. She's no concern of yours."
The crowd went completely silent. Kaltuk's eyes and nostrils flared. Eylee felt her breath catch in her throat and she whispered, "Oh no."
Kaltuk lowered his head and then raised it again, eyes fixed on Graniteaxe. "I have stuck by it because I can see no other explanation. Maybe Brell didn't abandon us all. Maybe he only abandoned me, but he wasn't there. By my beard, I swear it. None of you can say you know the whole tale, none of you can say what exactly happened, because I'm the only one left of the second company of the Stormguard." The crowd began to mutter and murmur, at first softly but at a steadily increasing volume. "As they died one by one, I called to Brell, but Brell didn't seem to think it was worth his time." The murmurs had risen to angry shouts.
"So I'll admit no fault - Brell failed me that day, perhaps Cazic Thule had him by the beard somewhere - and it will be up to you to decide whether to put aside your grievance with me." Bayle's head dropped to his chest, as Kaltuk's words were drowned out by the angry roar of the crowd. The council was on their feet, arguing both with each other and shouting at Kaltuk, who, for his part, was on the offensive, shouting back at the lot of them as if it weren't him versus the whole of Kaladim. Only General Basaltheart remained seated, but he looked at the ground, sighing and shaking his head. Eylee saw her own disappointment mirrored on the faces of the other adventurers. Even Asharae didn't seem to be taking any joy in Kaltuk's failure. The Teir'dal's expression was as sour as any other as she stood and began reacting to the hubbub.
"I believe we are very close to outstaying our welcome," she said, striding back behind Bayle and then looking back toward Nurgg. "Perhaps it best you hoist our stony faced friend over your shoulder and forcibly remove him."
Bayle only nodded. Eylee felt Nurgg's hands on her shoulders. "Cut them," he said, glancing at Braldan with a look that warned him of all the great pain that would come to him if he interfered. The wood elf fumbled with the small knife she kept tucked in her boot and began sawing at the ropes. She glanced up at the ogre and noted a curious expression on the ogre's face. It seemed the hurt that now lay hidden beneath Kaltuk's anger was reflected in Nurgg's eyes. He squeezed her shoulder once the bonds had been loosened and then pushed his way through the rest of the party, unceremoniously lifting Kaltuk to his shoulder, though the dwarf shouted and kicked against him. Asharae hurried after them as they went, shooting glares at the dwarves that she had no doubt been suppressing since the moment they entered Kaladim, and then followed Bayle and, at his heels, Illisia, until finally Eylee glanced up at Roadyle, who smiled at her and shrugged.
"Never trust the future of the world to the temper of a dwarf, I suppose," said Roadyle, and then gestured her forward. Eylee sighed and nodded, hurrying after him. As she stole a final glance back, she noticed Cora standing quietly within the crowd, watching the direction her father had gone. Eylee wished she could capture the image somehow and record it, showing it later to Kaltuk, for there was a genuine sadness to the dwarf's daughter's expression that said perhaps the woman was not so cold to her father as she would have had him believe. There may have only been one dwarf in Kaladim who cared for him, but at least there was the one.
That did not, unfortunately, improve their current situation.
~~~
Eylee lifted her spoon and watched as thick globules of porridge clung to the tip of the utensil. She'd had thick porridge before, but what was far more unsettling was the chunk of gamy meat sticking from the cornmeal. She glanced up at Kruzz, who watched her nervously, chewing on his fingertips. The elf managed a weak smile before putting it in her mouth and closing her lips around the food nervously. The odd mixture of sweet and salty dissolved on her tongue and she chewed the chunk of meat - which she hoped, with all her might, was deer or boar, and not possum, or rat, or anything else she feared would give her as much in the way of disease as sustenance.
"Is good?" asked Kruzz. Eylee sat for a moment, trying to decide what she thought of it. It was not unpleasant, but she had a hard time getting over the strangeness of it. Still, considering the first meal that the troll cook had ever served them involved the various intestinal bits of vermin served in a soup with nothing for flavor but a root that when boiled smelled of rotten eggs, it was a vast improvement.
"It's... good," she said, nodding. The troll leaped up from his crouched position and danced around the deck of the ship, hissing with glee. She smiled despite herself, and then noted where Kruzz had the lock of her hair he'd taken braided and bound to a lucky stone suspended from a leather thong. Uneasiness washed over her. She couldn't shake the terror she'd felt when she'd woken up to see the troll crouched above her with a knife, but it had been all but dulled by the sympathy she felt when Nurgg knocked him across a clearing, and they had then found a lock of her hair clasped between his fingers. It seemed that in the troll's profound superstition, he'd taken her visions as evidence that she was blessed and hoped a token of it would ward off his own ill fortunes. Since then, she'd tried to be kinder to him than she had been previously, and part of that involved taste testing his attempts at making food that anyone in the party but he and Nurgg could stand to ingest; the ogre's tolerance owing only to his long imprisonment at the hands of the trolls of Guk.
She sat cross-legged on the side of the Cloudskipper, cradling the wooden bowl full of meaty porridge in her lap and surveying their surroundings. She had chosen the spot to sit and work at a canto that had been writing itself in her brain all night when she should have been sleeping. As soon as the sun came up, she'd emerged to take advantage of the light and scratched out the verses that had been cycling through her head until she had been recruited as a taste tester.
The ship was tethered above a vast grassland outside of a plainsman village on the Plains of Karana. The sun had emerged from over the hills probably an hour before, and now rose steadily into the sky, light creeping further across the land as it did. It had rained the previous night, so they had spread rucksacks from below on the slick wood where they decided to sit. Illisia moved through the deep grass below them, returning from an early morning scouting mission. The others had begun stirring about on the deck. Nurgg had been awake for as long as Eylee had, and Illisia up even earlier than the ogre. Kruzz had woken up reluctantly when the ogre shoved his foot into the troll's side and said one word: "Breakfast."
Kruzz now echoed that as he cried, "BREAKFAST!" in his high, screechy voice, attempting to rouse the remaining crew.
Eylee looked over as Kaltuk clambered up from below. The further they had flown from Kaladim, the more the dwarf had seemed to regain his usual disposition. Still, everyone was disappointed in what had happened with the dwarves, and it wore on him. They had only retreated just outside of the council room, and waited there as the anger inside the room died down. Eventually, General Basaltheart emerged and spoke to the group, telling them that though Kaladim would defend Faydwer against the threat of the monsters, they would not be dealing directly with the group, nor leaving their own continent. The High Prior thought it would cast a shadow of ill-luck upon them to deal with Ironstein and had convinced the King that it was the case. His tone had been apologetic, and as he delivered the news that they would need to leave Kaladim immediately, he turned to Kaltuk and without any inhibition, embraced him.
"I'm sorry, my friend," he'd said in closing, "I wish it could have been different."
Ironstein nodded to him and asked, "Is it true? Meen? Did she...?"
Basaltheart bowed his head and then said, "Married Graniteaxe after he gave her half the wealth of his clan in gifts. It was hard for her, but she had to close her heart to you."
Kaltuk nodded to him, eyes blank.
"Cora has never called him father," said Basaltheart, a smile playing on his lips, "though he wants her to. You'd be proud to see the time she's been giving him."
Kaltuk had smiled with a genuine look of happiness and clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thank you, you're as true a brother as I ever had."
"Good luck to you and your friends on your mission," said Basaltheart with a nod, disappearing back into the hall.
Kruzz met the dwarf at the top of the ladder, shoving a bowl of porridge in his face excitedly. Kaltuk eyed it with suspicion and then looked up at Kruzz and said, "That almost doesn't look terrible. What've you done to it?"
Kruzz grinned with a mouth full of sharp, discolored teeth and said, "Filled it full of die-licious meat stuffs."
"I didn't think porridge called for meat," said Kaltuk, dubiously.
"It's not so bad a combination," interjected Eylee, "at least, not so bad as you might think."
"I'll believe it when I don't vomit it up," said Asharae, emerging from below Kaltuk, accepting a bowl from Kruzz. "Remind me why the troll was chosen to be the cook?"
"He had the experience," said Twiddy, stretching as he emerged from his cabin at the bow of the ship. "And he actually wanted the job." Fiddlewiz was at his heels, surprisingly free of the cap and scarf that usually covered his head. His wire thin hair stuck out at odd angles, and his purple veins were difficult to tear one's eyes from. Though Eylee felt terrible admitting it to herself, she understood why he made the decision to disguise himself. The gnome caught her watching him and nodded with a thin smile, grabbing a bowl from Kruzz before vanishing back into his cabin.
Asharae stirred her spoon in the bowl and shook her head saying, "Even a slave in Neriak eats better than this. On feast days, it was even better. We would drink the remains of the bloodwyne and steal legs of candied boar."
"That we could all reminisce on our lovely days in servitude," said Roadyle, who had recently emerged from below. Asharae shot him a venomous look. Their relationship had soured completely on the journey between Kaladim and the Plains of Karana. Previously, Asharae had tolerated his working with her on studying the Scryona at Bayle's insistence.
"Two minds are better than one," Bayle had argued, "and you may be a talented mage, but Roadyle has studied much more broadly than you."
Though her surrender had not been conducted with anything that could be called grace, Asharae had tolerated him analyzing its magic with her, but then something had happened. They both told it differently. Asharae claimed that he had somehow magically reached within it and begun drawing its power out; coaxing it with whispers in a language she didn't understand. At first she had tolerated it, but then a hunger had come into his eyes and she had cut him off, snapping the Scryona from his line of sight.
She swore that in the moment she made the decision, the artifact had seemed to cry out in pain to her. Roadyle's account of it was that he had simply been using his own power to pick apart the subtleties of it, and that he believed she simply didn't want him to be privy to its secrets. He lodged the accusation that there were things the Teir'dal was obviously keeping from the group about the device and advised Bayle that she be watched closely. Her expression had smoldered with hatred as he spoke, building as he went, until finally she let out an angry cry, extending a finger toward him and releasing a white bolt of electricity in his direction. He'd taken it in the chest, and his eyes flared with anger. He shouted, and she was struck in the face with rainbow colored energies. She fell to the ground, whimpering that she was blind.
By then, the others had stepped in, holding the pair of them back from each other. There was no way to say who had been telling the truth, so it had ended at an impasse. The pair of them had kept a careful distance from one another from then on.
"Roadyle," said Illisia, pulling herself onto the deck from the ladder, "quiet your mouth. We don't need that." The barbarian woman took a bowl from Kruzz and, with only a slightly curious glance at the chunks of meat, immediately began to dig in.
The high elf shrugged and took his food to the stern of the ship, leaning on his elbows and eating his food quietly. Bayle emerged from below deck after a couple of minutes more. Eylee noted curiously that his eyes were rimmed with dark circles.
"Well?" asked Kaltuk, mouth full of food. "We where we need to be?"
Bayle nodded to him and accepted a bowl from Kruzz, looking at it without a hint of hunger. "We're a few miles walk from the village of Oceangreen. You can probably see their fires in the distance there. I thought it best we stopped here. They're simple people, and we wouldn't want to scare them with our... transportation."
Asharae made a snorting noise. "A show of our power cannot possibly hurt," she said. "Walking into town like any other dirty pack of travelers is hardly 'an entrance'."
Kaltuk shrugged, inclining his head to the side, "The dark elf has a point, as much as I may hate to admit it. We will make more of an impression jumping from a flying ship than pulling ourselves in by our boots."
There were general mutterings of assent. Even Fiddlewiz emerged, now wearing his cap and scarf, and chirped, "More than happy to take her back out."
Twiddy mused over the thought happily. "We've avoided it before now," he said, "but I can't say I wouldn't love to pull her over the awed masses." There was some chuckling and grinning as the assembled party pictured the reaction. Only Bayle seemed unmoved.
"So it's a matter of showing off?" snapped Bayle. He shook his head. "We should go on foot. We shouldn't play like we're gods descending from the heavens. We're not gods..." His voice wavered.
Glances were exchanged. From her perch on the handrail, Eylee drew her legs in to her chest, worrying at how personally Bayle was taking it, and how much against him everyone was. "A number of good points have been raised, lad," said Kaltuk, looking to him. "And we've not exactly been successful in our other approaches. Perhaps a change is needed."
"If I remember right," said Bayle, "Kaladim was lost because of your temper, Kaltuk, not because we didn't wow them with a flying boat."
Kaltuk drew back, looking as though he had been struck, and then glowered.
Roadyle stepped forward and said, "I believe we all agree with what the dwarf is saying. You can't dismiss the rest of us so easily. You may act as leader, but nothing gives you the right to make decisions that go against everyone's wishes but your own."
Bayle glanced from person to person, eyes lingering on Illisia. "Do you agree with them?"
Illisia looked down, and then back up at Bayle. "I think they make a good point," she said. "There is no worrying about whether people are afraid of what is going on here. People are afraid. They should be afraid. Knowing we have resources one can fear puts us on more of a level with our enemies."
"So everyone is against me on this," said Bayle. Those who had spoken didn't feel the need to reiterate, but he looked to Nurgg, who only nodded a single time, and then to Kruzz, who nodded vigorously. Finally, he looked to Eylee.
She swallowed heavily. "I think they're right," she said. "We're in this. We can't hide."
Bayle nodded in defeat and said, with a mild hint of sarcasm, "You're right. I'm sure you all are seeing something that I'm not. Very well. Let's pull off. Fiddlewiz, Twiddy, take us in slow and steady. If we're going to do this, let's make sure we do it well."
Twiddy nodded excitedly and said, "I have just the sail for the occasion."
Fiddlewiz let out a high laugh. Kaltuk glanced at him suspiciously. The gnome just shook his head and vanished inside of the stern, saying, "You'll see."
On the Plains of Karana Part III
On the Plains of Karana - Part III
The denizens of Oceangreen had just begun their day when all preparation came to a stop. The villagers streamed into the streets, peering into the sky where a boat drifted through the clouds, sporting a bright yellow sail with the image of a creature that looked to some like a half dragon, half halfling, and to others, a halfling wearing a costume that made it look as though he was a dragon. Either way, it glared at them, impossible to notice and unlikely to be forgotten, disturbing their peaceful moment.
Bayle stood at the bow, watching the village approach with heavy eyes. Eylee stood nearby, everyone else having kept their distance, even Illisia - or particularly Illisia, since he'd taken her dissent the hardest.
"It was nothing to do with you," she said softly.
Bayle smiled weakly and said, "But it does have to do with my ability to lead. I guess none of you ever asked me to lead you, and maybe I shouldn't."
"No one ever asked you to," said Eylee, "but you have because you're best suited for it."
There was a sound of someone clearing their throat. Kaltuk stepped between the two of them, coming to rest against the side of the boat. For a moment, they sat in silence, watching the assembly of plainsfolk below as Fiddlewiz eased the ship down close enough that they could drop the ladders and descend.
"It's a funny thing, coming home, isn't it?" said Kaltuk. Eylee started and glanced at Bayle. The plainsman looked at him in surprise. "Ahh, don't think it wasn't obvious, lad. You've the look of someone needing to face something they've avoided. I have every reason to recognize that easily." He chuckled, and then glanced at Eylee. "I imagine we all know how it is. If we didn't, we wouldn't be out here together. We'd be at home, snug in our beds, surrounded by folks who didn't want us to leave." Eylee flushed and lowered her head, aware of the fact that she was one of the few, or perhaps the only, member of their band who left for no better reason than wanting to go.
"My situation is a little different," said Bayle, gazing ahead of him. "I didn't leave because I had a righteous rivalry with a god who'd abandoned me, or because I saved a Prince and Princess from being executed for no greater crime than loving each other, or because I was tortured by my own parents." His eyes shifted down, studying the deck of the boat. "I left because innocent people died as the result of my foolishness, and my arrogance. My own mentor, the only man who believed in me, died because I ignored his warning to be careful with an ancient, powerful artifact I didn't understand."
"Ahh," said Kaltuk, nodding, "well that is a mighty heavy load, no doubt crushing for one so young as you."
Bayle scoffed. "So it's a part of getting old, huh? Making decisions that leads to the slaughter of innocent people?"
"For a great many people, yes," said Kaltuk. "A great many good people, mind you. We don't always know what our decisions can mean, and sometimes we do, but we know do it anyway because it's what has to happen. Any king who has led his people to war has brought about the slaughter of innocent people."
"That's different," said Bayle.
"Maybe," said Kaltuk, "but then maybe not. This is a war. I don't have to tell you that. And if you'd never seen what that staff could do, maybe many more innocent people would have died."
Bayle was quiet then. Eylee smiled despite the seriousness of the conversation, because it was almost as if she could see a great dark cloud in the young man's spirit thin just a little. "Thank you Kaltuk," he said.
The dwarf shrugged and patted the plainsman on the arm. "From one outcast to the other," he said.
Bayle straightened up as the dwarf walked off, and then glanced to Eylee. She noted a new gleam to his eye and couldn't help but perk up herself.
"Let's head down there," he said.
***
They tied off the boat in the center of the village and made the decision that for once, they would all go down. Twiddy was slightly nervous about leaving the boat, but Fizzlewiz reasoned with him, pointing out that it was highly doubtful anyone in the village could understand how to work the boat well enough to make off with it. The halfling was assuaged and followed the rest of the crew down the ladder and into the gathered throng.
Bayle had, naturally, been the first down the ladder, and so Eylee, as the last, lost him in the crowd. She came to a stop near Twiddy and Fiddlewiz, attempting to stand on her tip toes and look over the heads of the plainsfolk. Even with the little extra height it offered her, she was still to low to see anything. She glanced down at the gnome and the halfling.
Twiddy chuckled and said, "Well, at least you had a hope of seeing something. Fiddlewiz and I would need to stand atop one another's shoulders to even try." The gnome nodded his head, a muffled sound of agreement issuing from behind his scarf.
Eylee grinned. "Where's Bayle?" she asked.
Fiddlewiz pointed into a patch of crowd where a mess of voices obscured the particulars of the conversation happening there. "Seems he knew a few people here," said Twiddy.
"Apparently this is his home," said Eylee, eyebrows laced together with concern.
"Oh really?" said Twiddy. "Well, that's good then, isn't it?" Eylee didn't respond except to let out a long sigh. "Or not," said Twiddy, tugging at his collar.
"There he is," chirped Fiddlewiz.
The crowd parted and Bayle returned, a very large man with a coppery-red hair that had begun to go white on the temples walking beside him. The new plainsman nodded stiffly to the group, and Bayle gestured toward him saying, "This is Urth, once of the Iceaxe clan, an elder of Oceangreen. He has generously agreed to hear our case."
Urth nodded to them and said, "We know the threat you fight against." The plainsman glanced at Bayle. "You were lucky to have landed here first. We believe the men of shadows you seek have already come to the Plains. We've fought against people we once knew as friends. While this wasn't anything to raise an eyebrow at in the northlands, as you may or may not know, we who migrated here came to find peace." Urth glanced around, squinting so that the wrinkles at his eyes deepened and he suddenly looked much older than he had before. "I've sent my boy to gather the rest of the elders. We will meet in the elders' chambers at the midday hour. Bayle can show you. He knows the place." The older man's eyes swept down Bayle, who visibly straightened. Urth nodded to him and said, "We'll speak privately. Come to the chambers a little earlier than your friends. Your crime hasn't been forgotten." Bayle lowered his head and nodded. "You've changed, though. I'm not blind to that." Urth gestured in farewell and vanished into the crowd.
Bayle stood before the group and said, "We've a couple of hours to do as we please. These are good people. I think it's safe to say we can put down our guard and enjoy ourselves until then." Bayle began to turn to go, alone. Eylee glanced toward Illisia, who seemed to deliberately be avoiding watching him go.
"Enjoy ourselves doing what?" asked Roadyle. "I believe I'll wait on board." He waved his hand and began levitating toward the Cloudskipper. That might have been a cue for others to do the same, but only the high elf seemed to think there wasn't something to be found below. Even Kruzz, as nervous as he looked, only glanced toward the ladder once and instead stayed on the ground.
Eylee looked up to see Illisia beside her. The barbarian woman returned the glance and said, "Perhaps you would walk with me."
Eylee smiled and nodded vigorously. It was a rare moment when Illisia took any company but Bayle's. Other groups had begun to form and break off. Nurgg and Kaltuk began walking in one direction. Twiddy and Fiddlewiz made in another, chatting in hushed tones about improvements they wished to make to the boat. Kruzz, oddly enough, had been surrounded by a group of children, who peered up at him in curiosity. The troll looked much more frightened of them than they were of him, but they gestured him to follow, and when the group of youngsters ran off, they pulled him along with them, Kruzz offering little resistance. Asharae was left alone and Eylee gestured toward her, looking up at Illisia. The barbarian woman made a bit of a face but then shrugged.
Eylee jogged up to the dark elf and said, "Perhaps you would like to join us?"
Asharae arched an eyebrow and said, "You're too kind."
Eylee smiled bashfully and said, "Well, you looked lonely."
"I meant that literally," said Asharae, narrowing her eyes. "You're too kind. Stop it. It's annoying."
Illisia stepped in behind Eylee and said, "If the Teir'dal wishes to be miserable, let her."
Asharae lowered her head and swept back a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face. "No, I'll come," said Asharae softly. She smirked, full lips twisting playfully. "If Eylee will accept my apology."
Eylee nodded and said, "Accepted. But coming from you Asharae, I'll take it for the irony it almost certainly is, and not hold you to it."
Asharae tossed her head back and laughed, "Oh my dear, perhaps there is promise for you yet."
As the trio of women drifted out of the square, Eylee caught sight of Bayle exchanging words with a woman in her middle years. "So the Baker Caldman moved on? And his daughter...?"
"Went with him," said the woman, smiling apologetically, "not long after you... went. Perhaps a month or two."
"Thank you," said Bayle, nodding to her.
"Most welcome, young Bayle," said the woman, her tone was courteous but uncertain. "It's good to see you... in such good health."
Bayle smiled weakly and nodded to her, pacing away. Eylee looked back to Asharae and Illisia. Neither of them seemed to have noticed, though the wood elf highly doubted that Illisia ever missed much at all. If the barbarian had caught the exchange, and taken it to mean what Eylee had, she probably would not want to comment on it. Any other woman, maybe, but the hardened scout was a person who kept every facet of her emotions bound up deeply inside of her, and was not likely to let it show.
Illisia glanced down at the younger woman and her face creased with a half smile. "I thought perhaps we could see the horses," she said. "That is the one thing about riding in a ship. I miss the horses."
Asharae snorted and gestured as she spoke, saying, "Well, I certainly don't. Saddle sores! Spending every morning rubbing away the stink just to smell of them all over by nightfall!" She glanced at the other two and shrugged, saying, "I suppose they are pretty beasts, though, if you don't have to ride them. I'll go."
"I've no objections," said Eylee.
Illisia nodded and the three very different women walked together to the horse stables of Oceangreen.
***
When they came together once again to stand before the assemblage of elders, they seemed ready for whatever would come. It had been good to see life in its most ordinary movements continuing, with no agenda except to enjoy it; the sights, smells, and sounds of the village reminded the travelers that the world had not been turned so sincerely on its head as it might have seemed from the deck of the Cloudskipper. However, there was a touch of something in it all that led Eylee to believe things were not quite right in the town of Oceangreen. Though hardly dressed for war, men and women wore weapons at their hips -- strange for a group who professed to be searching for peace -- and outside of town, she thought she saw signs that there had been a battle in their fields. It was obviously a couple of months old, as grass had grown over the scars left by whatever skirmish had happened there, but the gouges were still visible beneath that layer of veneer. The signs were not so much that they ruined her afternoon, but it did linger at the back of her mind, coloring the taste of the homemade bread they bought from a good wife and causing her voice to tremble just slightly when she appeased the request for a song from a group of children. It was the same children who had stolen away with Kruzz, and the troll sat with a child on either side of him, listening raptly to Eylee's song -- identical expression on both the monster's and the children's faces. None of these comforting moments could clear out the sense that there had been violence here, and the thought still hung over her as she assembled with the others in the elders' hall.
They had lined up in a straight line, and Eylee stood near one end between Twiddy and Kruzz. A group of seven plainsfolk sat before them, all wearing the rich dressings of the well respected. Urth sat in their center, arms folded in his lap.
"Please sit," said Urth.
Bayle nodded to him and took a seat on a pile of animal skins. The rest followed, stretching out or folding up in a way that was comfortable to them. "Have you become leader then, Urth?" asked Bayle.
Urth smiled and shrugged. "When we came here, it was with the intention of keeping a simple council. Naively, we believed the council would have no more important duties than supervising planting seasons and solving land disputes. Maybe we never truly believed it, only hoped. When it was clear that though we ran from warfare, it had followed us, the need for a leader became stronger. I can't say I will stay in this position, but it seemed to have chosen me for now."
"You are a wise man, Urth," said Bayle. "I'm certain you are well suited. Now, tell me, what has the fighting been?"
The elders exchanged glances. Urth cleared his throat and said, "At first, it was a simple matter of travelers not returning. We passed it off as ill luck, as the attacks of beasts, but then it happened more and more, until finally one man did not disappear, but stumbled into the village, bloodied and battered. Once he had rested long enough, he was able to tell us what had happened. He'd stopped into a settlement to the north to spend the night, but was set upon in his sleep. The man was dragged to a dark portal, similar in description to the one that opened here, and a shadow slipped from it, traveling across the ground slowly toward him. Fueled by terror, he fought his way free, and though injured, made his way here. Two days later we were attacked by a band of fellow humans from the north; humans with double shadows who fought alongside beasts similar to that which tore apart our own town. We were ready, though, and had prepared for the attack. A number of them fell into pits we had dug out on the perimeter of town, and others dropped after volleys of arrows and spears that our best fighters had at the ready. We lost a few of our people, but not nearly so many as they did." He was silent for a moment, studying ground. "The strangest, and most terrible, thing of all was that it wasn't just strong men and women who attacked us. There were children, and old folk, and they all fought with the same ferocity. It was like they had no mind left in them."
There were collective sounds of dismay from the travelers. Eylee felt herself gasp at the thought of cutting down a child.
"Bayle, you brought something terrible to this town," said Urth, "and many people died. But we believe now it was coming anyway. Do you still have that staff?"
Bayle nodded and unstrapped it, setting it on the ground before him. Everyone's eyes locked on it. "I've coaxed it to do what it did here many more times," said Bayle. "With just one difference, I've been using it to close portals, rather than open them. We have another artifact that helps us find the portals. Asharae?"
Asharae glanced at him, startled, and narrowed her eyes slightly. She untied the pouch and opened it slowly, removing the Scryona. Urth held out his hand, but Asharae smiled. It was a smile not without cruelty but, Eylee doubted, intentionally malicious. "You don't want to do that, elder," she said. "It stings. The dwarf can tell you. It's powerful, though, trust that." Kaltuk ruffled at the mention of his folly, no doubt recalling the excruciating pain he'd felt when simply touching it with a fingertip.
Urth nodded to her and said, "For all you can say about the Teir'dal, they do have powerful magic at their command. I trust you, lady elf, at least in this."
Asharae slipped the Scryona back into her pouch with a look of satisfaction and tied the lavender strings around it tightly, settling back against her hands, legs stretched out in front of her.
The elder stroked at his beard. "What do you want from us, Bayle?" he said. "You came here to enlist our aid, but what can we do for you? You have your strange ship, and what seems to be a capable band of fighters. I recognize you, Illisia Iceheart, Hound of Zek." He nodded his head to Illisia.
She colored slightly and said, "I'm not the Hound of Zek any more, Urth Iceaxe. I'm Illisia Marrsheart now, servant of Erollisi Marr. I left Princess Unna and Prince Erasmus in a village not far from here, but only after mending any wrong I had done to them."
Urth chuckled and said, "And I'm not Urth Iceaxe any longer, child. I didn't mean to accuse you, just to point out your reputation. Hound of Zek, or Daughter of Marr, having you by his side means Bayle has a great ally. And I'm sure the rest of you, though I don't know you, are just as capable. I'm just wanting to know how it is we would fit in to all of this."
Bayle seemed to pause and consider his answer, but not for long. After a few moments, he said, "I didn't know what I was going to find here. We had an idea of how far this was spreading, but couldn't know any specifics. I would hate to ask you for more than you are already doing, especially when you came here to stop fighting."
Urth let out a low sound and said, in a deep voice that rose and fell at just the right moments, "We may have come here seeking an end to the constant, petty bloodshed of the north, but we are still the children of those icy peaks, hardened by a life of fighting against ice and snow. Maybe our children, or our children's children, and those who come after, will forget it, and be tamed by these gentle plains, and their lives will be the better for it. But we are still those warriors, and we can still fight. And I hope that no matter what, our children's children's children will still have it in them to raise swords against their enemies in righteousness anger, for the sake of defending home and family; just not for anything less than that, not simply to prove that they are 'better' than their neighbor, nor fill their halls with trophies and empty plunders. So we are ready to do what we can against this enemy, for our homes, and for our families, and for the promise of a future where our descendants will find better ways to face their troubles."
Bayle was stunned, looking at Urth. This reverence was mirrored throughout the room. Eylee realized she had been holding her breath, wrapped up in the powerful man's even more powerful words.
"Truly, the gods chose you to lead, Urth," said Bayle. "I'm humbled."
A smile played on Urth's lips. "Don't be so humble that you can't tell me what there is to do next, boy."
Bayle rose and opened his hands, saying, "This will be our united front. This is where the war must truly begin..."
***
And there it did begin. A turning point. Urth Iceaxe lead the united plainsfolk alongside us to establish a territory the Void would no longer touch, and bands of warriors - human, as they had begun calling themselves, warriors - traveled to us when we called for them.
There was talk for a time that he might become the first king of those united humans, but Urth Iceaxe fell in a battle against the Void, slaughtering dozens of them before he went down. He was mourned by many, and in his wake, there was once again no united leader. I have no doubt some day another will rise. In fact, I know it. Following the end of our discussions, I finished the canto that had been plaguing me. When it was complete, I performed it for Urth and left the only copy with him, for it described that future he had so animatedly described for us in the elders' chambers that day. It told of a great leader who would lead the humans to an age of enlightenment. When I was finished, I noticed that he had begun weeping, and I apologized profusely, but he assured me that it was out of joy, not sorrow, and embraced me. I like to think that maybe it will be our example, the unity of many different races working toward one goal, that will help lead these humans to their future.
Those days were touched by something magic, and we rode high on the success, but we always knew it would turn again, as things have a way of doing.
- Eylee Zephyrswell.
The Worst Cook in Grobb Part 1
By the pen of Eylee Zephyrswell A troll paralyzed by fear and superstition, Kruzz thrust himself upon our little band of adventurers. Easily one of the most curious of our companions, he acted as our cook, introducing us to a variety of food we would have never thought or wanted to think of eating. But I cannot claim that didn't keep us from starvation at least once. No one might have ever said they were happy to have him, but I doubt any, except perhaps Kaltuk, would have gone back and removed him from our party. I can say he saved my life, and I'm not the only one.
Kruzz dumped the bucket of viscera into the bubbling cauldron, watching as the long coil of an intestine floated to the surface and was tossed around by the bubbling of the stew. He snickered to himself slightly, and then turned, colliding with Ttzork, the head cook of Grobb. He rebounded off the mound of her belly and landed back against the cast iron of the pot, wincing as it singed his skin. His hand immediately went to the item at his neck a dried monkey tail, harvested when the animal ran in front of him and was crushed by a falling boulder. He'd always regarded it as the luckiest moment of his life, and had refused to part with the charm since. "Why don't you watch where yer goin, worm," she said to him, sneering. The other cooks all paused to peer over their cook pots or carving knives and snicker at the confrontation. Kruzz wrung his hands and turned away, muttering, "Be a bit easier if you didn't take up quite so much space."
There was a moment of silence as all the cooks exchanged anticipatory glances, and then Kruzz felt a vicious hook knock him straight up into the air. His rise up was followed by a quick plummet into the very bubbling pot of water he had dumped the viscera in only moments before. He screamed in pain and scrambled toward the nearest rim of the pot, where Ttzork was waiting. "Are you saying it was my fault?" she roared. "Trying to pass it off on me, eh?" She shoved him down deep into the water, and the heat of it made his skin rise and pop in bubbles. He flailed in the water, struggling against letting the pain overwhelm him as he attempted to beat at her hands. Finally, she pulled him out and threw him to the ground. Every inch of him stung as dirt and grass stuck to the skin of his burns, and he wheezed in and out as she stalked up to him. Standing nearly a head taller than Kruzz, and extending at least twice as wide in all directions, Ttzork had a hooked nose, sunken eyes, and scars running all directions along her face. Her hands and arms were almost always burned because of her profession. She was uncommonly particular about her appearance. Her hair was almost always done up with the bones of a freshly killed beast, and she tended to each wound she acquired carefully, opening and reopening it, so it would leave the most vicious scar possible. She was, to all eyes but his, considered an exceptionally lovely troll and had been sought by many as a mate. When he looked at her, he could feel nothing but a loathing unadulterated by one bit of desire.
"You just going to sit there all curled up like a snail?" she asked. He peered up at her, but all that churned inside were words that were probably going to send him back into the pot, and though they begged to come out, he kept his mouth shut. The result left something like a twisted sneer on his face, and it earned him a kick in his ribs. "Just finish filling the pot," she muttered in disgust. Ttzork turned and lumbered away, leaving Kruzz breathing deeply and trying to ignore the stares of those around him. His hands gripped the charm at his neck. He stood slowly, his flesh ripping where it had begun to cling to the ground. Though he tried to suppress it, he yelped in pain, and the other cooks exploded with laughter. Kruzz glared at each one of them but said nothing. He went to the nearest cracked wooden meat bucket and stared down into it, but after a few moments, he looked away, frustrated. Not even the sight of fleshy pink organs all piled atop one another and dressed in blood, a sight which normally calmed him, was helping. She had humiliated him daily since he made the decision to join the cooks and prepare victuals for the trolls of Grobb, and the other cooks found her abuse funnier by the day. He hated each of them intensely, but none with such fervor as Ttzork. Reaching into the bucket, his hands slid around the gullet of an alligator. His fingers clenched around it tightly, and as he thought of Ttzork, he squeezed harder and harder and harder, until the organ exploded, showering the bucket walls with bits of gore. "Ttzork," he hissed, "foul, loathsome, puss-filled Ttzork. You'll regret this some day, oh yes you will."
~~~
Kruzz had never had much in the way of good relations with his fellow trolls. Even as a young troll, he had been taunted and teased the butt of every joke. That had continued into adulthood, and it didn't show any signs of stopping soon. It was no mystery why they hated him: he was a coward. Kruzz stank of fear. He carried charms and refused to walk upstream and had to lay certain plant leaves on his door step at night. He'd never had any illusions about his condition in life, but that didn't absolve the others. And as they hated him, he hated them in return; so, Kruzz Skullcleaver drew further and further inward, until all that was left on the outside was a scowl and a snide remark.
~~~
A clashing sound awoke Kruzz from a dream that he fuzzily remembered involving a carving knife and a hunk of spider thigh that he somehow got the sense was not a spider thigh but rather the thigh of one of his many enemies. It was a pleasant dream, and so he decided to glare at the troll responsible for the racket. The small stone building was shared by a number of the younger cooks without homes of their own. Though most of the rest of its occupants only muttered and turned, Kruzz sat up and turned towards the sound of a shield banging against a wall. "Rekec?" he asked, blinking as he looked over. In the early morning light that crept through the single window of the room, Rekec was illuminated. She was a small, gaunt thing with stringy hair and large hands. Kruzz had few acquaintances that didn't want to slaughter him, she was one of the few, and not known for an uneven temper. In fact, she was belittled daily for her meekness. Kruzz glanced between her and the wall. Sure enough, a large wood shield was rocking back and forth from an apparent spin out. Further, she held a bloody knife. She looked at him wide eyed for a moment. "What've you been doing?" asked Kruzz, peering at her. "I..." she began, "was out skinning meat for morning meal." "Why come back here then?" he grunted. She turned away, shrugging, and said, "I forgot something." "I see," he said, quickly losing interest. His eyes were heavy, and he thought that if he got back to sleep quickly enough, he might catch back up to the dream. Falling back against his pillow, he began turning away. Just as he did, he caught a glimpse of something strange. Where Rekec stood, there had for a moment seemed to be a second figure, as if her shadow had leaped off the wall and stood just in front of her. But it was only a moment, and Kruzz was not one for curiosity, so in a moment, he had fallen back to sleep and forgotten all about it.
~~~
The mood at the cooking fires was peculiar that day. It was surprisingly jovial, and no one had so much as called him a name or given him a dirty look. Kruzz didn't trust it not one bit. He glanced suspiciously at each passer and hunched over the pickled fungus caps he was cutting into thin strips. Suddenly, he felt his hackles rising as he smelled an all too familiar stench. He glanced up to find Ttzork staring down at him. He squinted up at her. "What?" he asked, his lips curling back from his teeth. "We got a special request," she said, pausing to glance back at the rest of the cooks, who all laughed knowingly, "monkey tail." Kruzz narrowed his eyes and as she reached for him, he suddenly realized what was happening. Two other cooks grabbed him by the arms, and as he screamed, Ttzork ripped the charm from around his neck. He wriggled against the ground, lashing against those who held him, and watched as Ttzork cut the monkey tail to pieces with the knife he had been working with. Then, one by one, she swallowed them. "Tasty," she said with a grin, hair sticking from the side of her mouth.
When she had finally finished the whole thing, the cooks released him. By that time, he had managed to exhaust himself with the screaming and thrashing, so he seemed still enough. But the moment they let him free, something in him clicked. He looked at Ttzork straight in the eye and then sprang to his feet. Though her nostrils flared and her mouth made an O of surprise as she stumbled back, it didn't stop what was coming. No one moved quickly enough to block him as he lunged at the stone cutting table, retrieving the knife from its surface and then tumbled on straight into Ttzork. By the time they had pulled him off of her, she had long since stopped breathing, and the ground was soaked with blood. As the rest of the cooks gazed at him, he laughed, at first softly and then more loudly until the whole area rang with his laughter. He was still laughing as they dragged him to the prisoner's pens on the other side of Grobb. He knew he could laugh no longer as they slammed the gate on the pen shut. His breaths came in small gasps and the whole of his chest hurt. The guards looked at him and muttered, "Nutter." Kruzz lay down in the corner of the pen and curled up tightly. His hand went to his neck, but there was nothing there. A sense of dread washed through him, but then he remembered that Ttzork was dead, and no amount of cruel jokes played on cowardly cooks would bring her back. He chuckled softly, a chuckle all he could manage at that point, and watched as evening came to Grobb, and the sun set over the Serpent's Spine Mountains -- not noticing the alien storms that gradually filled the horizon and the massive beasts silhouetted by the cracks of sheet lightning originating from within.
The Worst Cook in Grobb Part 2
On a recent expedition into the lair of Trakanon, a team of adventurers uncovered a satchel of ancient parchments. On those parchments were a series of writings by an otherwise unknown bard by the name of Eylee Zephyrswell. Gnomeish scolars have dated the documents to some time within the heart of the Lost Age. This, the third story to be pulled from those documents, tells the tale of the group's troll companion and the descent of dark forces down upon the village of Grobb.
Once again, Kruzz was awoken from his dreams. This time, however, there was more than just a single crash. He opened his eyes and rose, sliding up the side of the pen to a sitting position. In front of the pen, his guards lay prone. Most strange of all, he noted that the sky was awash with violent storms. In the dawn, the sky was filled with inky blackness and charges of blue and purple energy swirled powerfully. Kruzz didn't know what was happening, but he knew he had to get out of the pen. He crept along the ground and inspected the bodies of the guards. They were both dead.
"Good riddance," he muttered to himself, a giggle rising in his throat. He stuck his arms through the bars of the pen and pulled one of the bodies close. Groping across blood stained clothing, his hands finally clamped around a key. It was only once he was out of the pen that it truly struck him that in the distance, he could hear sounds of fighting. Kruzz felt every muscle in his body freeze up. He quickly scurried across the ground, tripping and falling in his panic, and made his way as quickly as he could to the shelter of a cluster of boulders. He shimmied into a gap between two of them and glowered, the muscles of his hands tensing and releasing, as he watched the scene before him. Not long after he had hidden, he watched as two trolls locked in combat knocked each other onto the ground in front of him. He shrank back further into the rocks, but also narrowed his eyes to see what was going on.
Rekec was tearing into another of their clan members, a male named Brazzt, fiercely. Though he fought back, Kruzz watched and marveled as it seemed that a second individual was fighting with her that shadowy figure he'd seen before. Despite that, Brazzt nearly overpowered her, but then there was a hideous cry and a creature rushed toward them. His jaw dropped when it came fully into sight. Rekec stepped neatly aside as a massive black beast with pincers for arms rushed at them and snapped Brazzt in half. His torso landed against Kruzz's rock, and he had to bite his knuckle to keep from letting out a scream.
The female troll walked up to the beast, and for a moment, Kruzz was certain she would be taken out similarly, but then the two conversed in a language unlike anything he had ever heard before. Rekec's voice sounded nothing like her own. Finally, the two of them wandered off.
Kruzz was paralyzed. He didn't know whether to move or stay. There would only be so long that he could stay there without anyone finding him, but running meant very certainly passing one at some point. Fortunately, the prisoner's pens were on the outskirts of the village, and he would have a clear path away.
Finally the decision was made, since he was experiencing so many muscles spasms that he was forced to move to settle them down. Kruzz slipped from the relative safety of the rocks and broke into a full out run away from Grobb.
~~~
He was not sure at first where he was going, but instinct drove him to Guk. He skipped through the soggy earth of Innothule Swamp in its direction. It was a well fortified location, and if there was anywhere to go to be safe, it would be there. Voices in his mind screamed other directions for him, but the loudest said Guk, and so he ran to Guk.
Suddenly, Kruzz went sprawling over a fallen log and landed face first into the mucky water of the swamp floor. Though he might have at first cursed ill fortune, it quickly proved to save his life, as shortly after he had fallen down, he heard voices behind him. Panicking, he dove deeper down and under a patch of bogweed. He held his breath as long as he was able and then drifted up slowly so that his head only emerged very slightly from those marshy reeds. He watched as a group passed a distance in front of him. If he had any question as to whether he should come out which was questionable either way, as he was a criminal among his own people it was cleared up when he noticed two of those large beasts stalking beside the group of trolls. Fortunately, they did not head in the direction of Guk, so when they had long since vanished from sight, he clambered out of the water and continued on toward the city, certain to thank what was no doubt the residual good luck of the monkey tail for saving his life.
Just as he paused to think how lucky he was, he heard a vicious noise behind him. One of those storms had descended down into the swamp, and it uprooted trees and grass and anything else in its path within a terrifying vortex. Even the foliage just outside of it did not go untouched. The currents of oddly colored power slashed burn lines into the trunks of trees that were lucky enough to remain rooted to the muck and charred leaves with a touch. Kruzz looked no longer. Screaming, he tore on through the swamp as quickly as he could away from the storm.
As he broke a tree line and entered the final stretch to Guk, he stopped and stared in front of him. Before the city, piles of bodies were scattered, and the ground was gored and scarred with the marks of battle. Still, it was quiet, and he had come this far. He ran to the city's entrance and ducked inside.
The halls were silent. He called out, "Hello?" There was no response. Fire in his nerves spurred him to run down the moss-covered stone hallways. When he reached one of the large open rooms, he finally stopped. Where exactly did he think he was going? What did he expect to find? Since he began running, he had held Guk before him as a goal, and the goal kept him going. Now he was here, and there was nowhere else to go, and he certainly didn't feel safe yet, something else had to be done. He scowled at himself and settled in a broken chair to consider his options.
He had only a moment to rest and begin the process of puzzling out his situation when an ear-shattering wail erupted in the room, and one of the beasts tore its way through a side entrance, scattering stone throughout the room. Kruzz jumped to his feet and immediately began screaming and scrambling away. It was only when he reached the wall and realized there was nowhere left to go that the futile desperation of his actions hit him. Where had he thought he was going? What was there left to do but die?
The beast approached him, waving its massive pincer arms around, and he shrank further back against the wall and then ducked below a nearby stone table just as it approached. As the creature veered to follow him, it crashed into the table, smashing it to pieces. Kruzz's screams grew hollow as rubble fell all around him, and the sound of the wailing beast grew muffled and distant as the world faded to black.
~~~
Kruzz awoke as a sensation of warm energy passed through him. He gasped, inhaling air deeply as the world spun around him. Through the haze of his confusion, he heard voices, dimly. "And now tell me why I bothered to heal this garbage?" asked a gruff voice. "He has the best idea of what happened here," explained a calm, even voice. "You and Nurgg may have seen some of it, but he looks as though he was right in the thick of it." "I wouldn't trust a single word that came out of a troll's mouth," said the first voice, thick with disgust, "but if that's the only way you'll have it." "It is."
Kruzz felt himself picked up, carried, and then laid out gently. As his vision cleared, he saw a host of individuals around him, all gazing at him intently. He scowled and looked past what appeared to be a dwarf frowning deeply at him to the face of a barbarian of Halas? He'd seen these Halas men with their curiously pale and soft appearances only once before, and they had all been dead. Barbarians, thus, had always existed in his mind as being dead in their ideal state; while this one stood above him, quite alive, and carrying a very big sword. Kruzz disliked him immediately. In fact, he disliked all of them, and it occurred to him he should be thrashing. He cried out and whipped his arms and legs around.
"See!" said the dwarf. "I told you it was a bad idea. He's going to get us discovered!" The barbarian quieted the dwarf and narrowed his eyes at Kruzz, staring directly into the troll's gaze. "Quiet," he said, "unless you want us all to die."
"You could go ahead and die," muttered Kruzz in the trollish language. "That would make me very happy, but I would not be so happy to die myself, so I'll be quiet." He noted as he said it that the ogre reacted, fists tightening to balls as his eyebrows darted up. Kruzz shrank back and said in his best attempt at Common, "I no want to die. I be quiet." Grudgingly, he calmed himself, and once again scanned the crowd. He saw among them a barbarian woman, an ogre man who looked very familiar, somehow a girl of some variety of elf, the dwarf, and finally his gaze was back to the leader. He disliked them all, though particularly the dwarf because it was obvious he hated him as well.
"What happened here?" asked the barbarian woman, brusque and to the point. "Who is you? You tell first," said Kruzz, glaring at her, "and why you is here." They exchanged glances and then the barbarian man once again spoke, "My name is Bayle, and these are my companions. We've come here following the storms, and the beasts. I believe you know what I am talking about."
What sarcastic confidence Kruzz had mustered drained away, and he began shaking. At the end of the table, the elven girl put a hand on his ankle. He blinked at her and hissed, but then lay back, continuing to shake fiercely.
"I take that as a yes?" asked the barbarian. Kruzz stared at each of them in turn again. The man sighed and said, "I suppose if you have nothing for us... then we will just move on." He began to turn away. Kruzz, without thinking, spat out, "No!" He almost clamped a hand over his mouth, not believing he'd just said it. The man raised an eyebrow and said, "You will cooperate then?" "Yes," said Kruzz, and all of the sudden, he was overcome, thinking of the beasts and the storms, "Tell you what you want. Just save me. Please." The barbarian glanced at each of his companions, who one by one shrugged or nodded. The dwarf looked at him with an expression of extreme exasperation, but finally muttered and nodded.
"Very well," said the man, "start in the beginning."
And so Kruzz, reluctantly, started in the beginning.
And so began the time of Kruzz Skullcleaver with the Ethernauts. Can I honestly say we made the best decision that day? I believe it. Though Kruzz was neither the most heroic, nor the best intentioned of us, he did his part, and I, for one, thought of him as a redeemable character. How would our course have been different if we had never brought him into our fold? Who can say... but I'm not one to question fate --
even the fate of saving Norrath at the side of a troll.
Books
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 1 This item can be placed on the floor in any house type.
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 1 By: Historian Belpik
Thurgadin: May She Stand Colin Dain and the founding of Froststone By: Historian Belpik
Thurgadin. The coldain dwarves have called this fair city their home for generations. We built it with our own hands, crafted from the rock around us, molded from the very velium that makes up so much of our homeland of Velious. We have defended it over and over again, and no enemy has managed to break this city or those of us that call it home. The strength of the city is reflected in the strength of the coldain, and we are forever tied to one another. But how did we come to this city, How did it get to be here? The story of the founding of Thurgadin is no less incredible than the city itself.
In ages past, when the dwarves of old were expanding their kingdoms, the king sent out many expeditionary parties to seek out and gather riches from others corners of Norrath. The brave dwarves that returned brought back fantastic riches, items of precious value that were unknown within their mountainous home. Thus, the expeditionary groups went farther and father in their attempt to find more exquisite gems and crystals.
One of these expeditions was lead by Colin Dain, a dwarf noted for his exceptional mining capabilities. His sense for mining was legendary even at that time, matched only by his nearly reckless bravery. Nothing could shake Colin, and he was a logical choice to make a long distance journey to find crystals in a place no dwarf had ever been. Unfortunately, the ships were blown off course and scattered by a terrible storm, and when it was over, the expedition was lost.
However, this is what Colin was brought on for. Undaunted, Colin directed the dwarves to sail in one direction until they found land. Within weeks, the dwarves came upon land, although it was far different from the more temperate climates they were used to. This was a snow tundra, covered with strange ice, and crawling with creatures they had never seen before. Still, it was dry land, and Colin had his orders. They disembarked, set up camp, and set to planning out their mining operations.
They searched the land, following Colin's lead, until he stopped them at an unassuming set of rocks. He declared that the spot they were at would be the spot of their operation, and drove his pick into the ground. Although many of his followers were likely dubious, he was not challenged in his decision, and the dwarves went about their digging. Within days, the expedition discovered that Colin's senses were accurate - the dwarves came upon a massive mine of gleaming crystals. It was here that they built their first settlement, named Froststone.
Unknown to the dwarves of Froststone, there were other inhabitants of the land in which they settled, and those inhabitants did not care for outsiders. The Kromrif clan of frost giants also called this area home, and they were not welcoming to the dwarves when Froststone was discovered. The dwarves were surprised when a band of giants showed up outside their walls, and immediately began assaulting the city and the dwarves within it. Colin was not intimidated - he grabbed his pick and charged into battle, with many other dwarves joining him in the counterattack. Even though they were caught off-guard, the dwarves turned back the Kromrif attack.
They knew, however, that this battle was not over. Colin ordered scouts to be on the lookout for more giant parties, and the dwarves fortified their defenses for another fight. Within days, the scouts returned, and their news was not good - the giants were returning, and their numbers were far greater. Froststone was doomed. Colin made a decision at that point. He knew this area better than the giants did, and he could use that knowledge to give himself an advantage. However, there would be no victory - the best he could hope for would be to slow down the giants long enough for others to escape.
He asked for volunteers to remain behind with him. Not a single dwarf wanted to flee - all volunteered to remain and make a final stand. Colin refused to allow them all to fall to the giant attacks, so he chose a few brave dwarves to remain with him, and ordered the others to leave immediately. They reluctantly agreed, and he chose a dwarf of Glight Snowchipper to lead them to safety. Thus, the survivors fled, and left Colin and his group, called the Frostreavers, to their final fate. No one knows exactly how the battle .folded, but what is known is that the Frostreavers sacrifice was not in vain. The group was able to completely stop the giant war band, even though it cost them all their very lives. But without that sacrifice, Thurgadin and the coldain would never have existed.
Books
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 2 This item can be placed on the floor in any house type.
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 2 By: Historian Belpik
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 2 The Tale of Glight Snowchipper By: Historian Belpik
Glight Snowchipper and the dwarves that escaped from Froststone went deeper into what became known as the Great Divide. The giants, although initially stopped in their pursuit, were not too far behind, and the dwarves knew they would be overrun if they did not seek shelter. The dwarves managed to find caverns within the Great Divide, which were obscured from the vision of the pursuing giants. Here, the dwarves could plan their next move.
The dwarves made a pact in this cavern, in which they honored the sacrifice made by Colin and his group of Frostreavers which allowed them to survive. They took to calling themselves the coldain, in memory of Colin. They were to make Glight the new leader of the coldain, an honor which he refused - he did not feel that he could live up to Colin and his memory, and instead suggested that Colin's son, Relin, become the new leader. Relin accepted, feeling that it was his responsibility to continue the legacy began by his father. They chose the title of Dain for their leader, and he adopted the last name of Frostreaver to honor those that stood with his father. Thus, Dain Frostreaver the First took leadership of the coldain.
Now, with their new leadership in place, the coldain looked to establish a home someplace here in the frigid tundra. Many ideas were proposed, but the coldain were still being pursued by the Kromrif hunting parties. Many of the coldain were tired of hiding out, and were resolved to simply meet the giants head on. This might have been the fate of the coldain, had it not been for the intervention of Brell Serilis himself, and once again, Glight Snowchipper.
Glight received a vision from Brell to build within the very caverns in which they were presently in. Glight saw a massive labyrinthian network of caverns carved out by the coldain themselves, made to confuse any enemies who might attempt to enter the maze. He revealed the details of his vision to the Dain, who then ordered the coldain to begin construction of the new series of caverns. The coldain, now given a purpose and direction, took eagerly to the project, and began working immediately. Within mere months, they had carved out numerous caverns, bridges, and dwellings. Named the Crystal Caverns, after the vast quantities of crystal shards found though the construction, it quickly became a haven for the coldain.
For some time, the coldain were able to live peacefully within the Crystal Caverns, away from the Kromrif and the dangers of the surface. For a while, they remained under the surface, able to find all they needed within their new home. After a time, though, they began to make forays up to the surface to collect materials such as wood and furs. This was safe for a while, as the coldain were careful to avoid Kromrif patrols. However, eventually their luck ran out, and they were spotted by Slagd Frozentoe, and a group of his scouts. Slagd followed the coldain back to their hidden home, then went to retrieve reinforcements.
Slagd Frozentoe returned to the Crystal Caverns with a force of two hundred and fifty Kromrif warriors. Although the labyrinth of the Crystal Caverns slowed them down, the Kromrif were steadily making progress through them. Although the Caverns were built just for this possibility, the sheer number of the Kromrif in their army proved to be too much for the defense of the Caverns. Even though the giants suffered staggering losses, the coldain would be overrun.
This is when Glight Snowchipper showed what both Colin Dain and Brell Serilis saw within him. Glight himself downed several giants, not only with his pick, which he called Snowchipper, but also with elaborate trips which he himself devised. The traps were small, able to take out one or two giants at a time, but Glight had a different plan. He knew that there was a place where the dwarves stored tons of ice and stone they had dug out from the caverns. His plan was to lead the remainder of the giants to the stored rubble, and collapse it upon them.
The giants took the bait. They chased Glight and a few volunteers through the Cavems, crushing any that fell behind or stood to fight. The Kromrif, and Slagd himself, cornered the coldain, looking to crush the final resistance, and finally wipe out the coldain once and for all. Knowing that there was no way out, Glight waited for the Kromrif to draw in close, and then, sprung his final trap. To their surprise and horror, the massive rubble fell upon what remained of the Kromrif invasion, burying them where they stood. However, as Colin Dain before him, Glight Snowchipper stayed to ensure the demise of the giant army, and also perished when the trap was sprung.
The coldain were victorious and were able to remain within the Crystal Caverns safely for years following Glight's sacrifice. The Kromrif made no more assaults against the coldain in Crystal Cavems. It would be some time before the coldain would face another enemy which would ultimately force them to search for a new home.
Books
Why the Grump Hated Frostfell This item can be placed on the floor in any house type.
There would be no story worth telling without you!
Every goblin in Gibberville liked Frostfell time a lot
BUT...
Grimagus
Grabblerouser
Gigglegibber
did NOT.
Grimagus hated Gifting Day! That whole Frostfell time! When gifting and gabbing and giggling gave cheer.
It could be he thought his own gifts weren't quite right. It could be, mayhaps, that his funds were too tight.
But the reason most likely -- and let us be blunt -- Was the horrible youth he had spent as a runt.
He thought of the times when he was quite so small That other Gigglegibbers called him a Goofball.
Grimagus moped in the corner or they tossed him around And he peeped not a word; he would not make a sound.
His lunch coin would fall from his pockets with ease As the other Gigglegibbers taunted and teased.
Though now he is rich and owns the whole town Those were sad times when they called him a clown.
Grimagus grew into a mischievous teener And wider and richer and quite a lot meaner.
Over time, Grimagus outgrew being a chump. In fact, all the Gigglegibbers now called him the Grump.
He was grumpy and snarly and bossy most days Especially during the goblins' few holidays.
Holiday time always made the Grump bleak. He remembered those days when he was young and weak.
And the festive time he hated, hated most of all Was Frostfell time, when folks tall and small When folks young and old, and folks far and near Would exchange little presents and be of good cheer.
"They're buying their presents," he said now with a growl. "Gifting Day is tomorrow! "That day, oh, most foul!"
He pounded his fist and he cried with a sneer, "There will be NO Gifting Day! "Not no-how, this year!"
He thought of the elves, with their boxes and bows. He thought of them singing and twinkling their toes.
The thought of those elves made him quite sneery. They were chipper and sparkly and impossibly cheery.
"They've never been sad, "never gone without gifts..." "And that is something " I simply must fix."
"I'll stop Frostfell time!" His eyes glinted with glee. "I'll start in the cities! I'll make them all flee!"
The Grump plotted how he could bag up the goods That were sure to bring Frostfell time cheer to the 'hoods.
"I'll take all the feasts " and baubles and toys "That were meant for all "the good girls and boys!"
The Grump found himself empty boxes and bags. He then bundled up in some tatters and rags.
And he raced through the villages. He raced through the 'hoods. He swiped and he stole and he took what he could.
He took the wrapped presents. He took the cooked feasts. The Grump even took the pies of minced meats!
And as he was leaving, his sack bulging with stuff, The adventurers shouted, "Enough is enough!" "We know you're unhappy "because of the past "When the other Gigglegibbers "made you an outcast."
They gathered around him and he braced for a fight. "Don't be mad!" said one. "We will put the past right."
"Though you were put down "and all your presents got broke, "Is that a reason to take "from innocent folk?"
Snarled the Grump, "Do not judge "my sad childhood." "But," said one tiny elf, "You used to be good."
And deep down inside, the Grump felt himself sway He had once been good; what had made him this way?
The Grump stared at the small group and realized at last That they weren't being mean; they were all just downcast.
And he knew deep inside he was no Frostfell-hater! He'd hidden his heart like a prestidigitator!
He'd give back the presents. He'd give back the feasts.
He'd even return all the pies of minced meats!
The littlest elf extended her hand And invited the goblin to visit her land. "Come stay with us!" said the elf, "We'll help you stay true!"
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Frogloks
Shard of Love
Plague
Griffon Towers
Return of the Gods
Spires
Kunark Rising
A Prophet Returns
Shard of Hate
Gathering Tempest (Void Storms Chapter 1)
Storm Break (Void Storms Chapter 2)
Breaking Ground (Void Storms Chapter 3)
Raising the Banner (Void Storms Chapter 4)
Void Storms
Quellithulian Spires
Attack on the Crowns
Halas Reborn
Druid Rings
Destiny of Velious Prelude
Velious Transportation Event
Beastlord Prelude
A Goddess Risen
Malicious Threat
Panda, Panda, Panda! (Days of Summer)
Against the Elements
Mythic Passage
Dragon Attack!
Haven Bound
Beyond the Shattered Sea
Secrets of the Sands
Fractured Skies
Year of Darkpaw
Frostfell: 
Erollisi Day: 
Brewday: 
Chronoportals: 
Beast'r Eggstravaganza: 
Bristlebane Day: 
Oceansfull Festival: 
Scorched Sky Celebration: 
Summer Fireworks Festival: 
Tinkerfest: 
Nights of the Dead: 
Heroes' Festival: 
Gorowyn City Festival: 
Kelethin City Festival: 
Neriak City Festival: 
Qeynos City Festival: 
Freeport City Festival: 
New Halas City Festival: 
Moonlight Enchantments: 
A Frostfell Carol
Ancient Cyclops & Terrorantula
Book of the Dead
The Collected Tales of the Ethernauts
There was another moment of quiet before the deck exploded with angry voices. Only Twiddy's parents remained silent and still, staring at the clamor around them. Twiddy scrambled away from the surge of angry elders as Rothbur Tagglefoot tried to grab him by the ear and Brombo Stoutloam tried to kick him in the pants and all the other elders went at him in their own way.
The Drafling blew a plume of sweet smelling smoke into the boy's face, and Twiddy faded into dreams, barely remembering the encounter until many years later when it would come for him to make that journey, though in those brief moments when he would remember it, he always stopped to wonder, "How did the Drafling know my name?"
"Auuuuugggghhhh!" screamed Twiddy. "Auuuuuughhh!" He dropped to the ground and began tearing at the grass and pulling up clumps of dirt and throwing them every which way. "Auuuugggghhh!" He screamed again and again as he pounded furiously at the ground. Behind him, Fiddlewiz watched without comment or gesture, pulling a now cracked pipe from inside his jacket and setting to light it. For his part, Twiddy tore at his hair as he watched so many years of work burn before him. "I'm done!" he shouted. "I've had it! So much wasted time! So much wasted effort! I won't do it anymore! I won't be laughed at for nothing! Nothing! Why did they tell me I could when it could not be done?! Why!"
Erollisi day approached, at first, swiftly, and then fell straight into his life with a crash of flower petals and strong perfume. Rhinehart Nasin knew that in order to capture Finella's heart, drastic measures were necessary. He'd heard rumor of a musty apothecary shop in East Freeport that all spurned lovers regarded as their truest of friends, but he'd never considered visiting it - until today. He'd awoken to find the bundle of graveblooms he had sent her through a beggar boy crushed on his front step; their delicate petals ground to a paste beneath, no doubt, the fine heel of her boot.
Thurgadin: May She Stand vol. 1
