Adventure Log, Session 25 Lennerd's Lab, Part 2, and the Search for JC
General Summary
Lifesday, Harvest 6, 879AFE
Elitheris had never, ever, felt so miserable. She’d been sick before, in her 289 years of life, but nothing like what she was currently feeling. Her guts clenched, seemingly around wads of cacti, she was wracked by dizziness that made her struggle to stay upright, even with her Elven sense of balance and her training in gymnastics. Nausea in constant waves made her stomach heave, spewing out bile because everything else that had been in there now lay near her boots. Her eyes watered so bad even when she could open them the tears made everything seem distorted and abstracted in the twilit dimness. Wait, she thought in the midst of her pain, did a cloud cover the sun? Why is it so dark? And what did the fucking necromancer do to me?
Mr. Wiggles was barking and sniffing at Elitheris, occasionally whining, knowing that something was seriously wrong but unable to figure out what it was, besides illness.
Almë rubbed his head. He had hit something, and reaching out, could feel something in the darkness. He couldn’t see the figures in the shed any longer, it had gotten too dark for that. There was a smooth, cool wall, where one hadn’t been before. He looked quickly back over his shoulder. It was dim, like late twilight. His Elven eyes were good at seeing in the dark, and he could see Elitheris, dimly, puking, her dog nearby. He seemed to be in a dome of dimness.
Taid stood near the shed, looking at a dome that appeared black in the bright afternoon sunlight. Somewhere in that four meter diameter dome were Elitheris and Almë, plus Mr. Wiggles. As soon as the dome formed, all sound was cut off from within the dome. “Oh shit,” he muttered. He knew what it was: it was a Force Dome. No nonmagical item could penetrate it, including air and sound. Light itself had a hard time; inside it would be like dim twilight, but no light escaped it at the moment. He couldn’t tell what was happening inside it.
Eykit had leapt out of the forming dome in the other direction, and he stared blankly at the black dome that trapped his friends. “El! Almë!” he yelled, trying to get their attention. There was no response. Mr. Wiggles no longer barked, his last bark cut off in mid yelp as the dome formed and closed off.
Somewhere in the shed was Lennerd Fountainsmith, necromancer, and his undead niece, stolen from her grave and given a mockery of life. And he was likely pissed off, desperate, and cornered.
Before he had jumped out of whatever that dome thing was, he had seen Elitheris get hit in the stomach, and immediately double over and get sick. It hadn’t even looked like a powerful hit; she barely even flinched when the staff hit her stomach. What kinds of spells does a death mage have in his arsenal?
A voice came from the shed. Lennerd’s voice, triumphant with the knowledge that he held the upper hand. “Here’s what you are going to do, boys. You are both going to go stand next to that dome, side by side. If you don’t, I will fill that dome with a stench cloud and they will all suffocate painfully.” He laughed.
Taid thought it over; he knew about that spell, being a student of the Protection and Warning college of spell casting. The Force Dome spell included the effects of Weather Dome spell, from what he remembered. The Weather Dome aspect would keep the air in the dome fresh, so a Stench spell wouldn’t work. So that specific thing was an empty threat. But perhaps the necromancer had something that would work…. He couldn’t take the chance.
Taid was pissed, muttering “Fuck this” repeatedly under his breath, but he and Eykit complied. For his part, Eykit had no clue that the Stench spell wouldn’t work, so all he knew was that if they did anything to piss off the necromancer, he was likely to kill their friends, even if he died himself. He’d been around spell casters enough lately that he understood that spells lasted a particular length of time, unless the mage worked very hard to turn them off early. And this guy had no reason to turn anything off early.
The pair of them were soon enveloped by a second Force Dome. It took Taid some willpower to let the enveloping globe of force form around Eykit and him. It wasn’t really a globe; it was narrow and tall, like a capsule. Just big enough for the two of them.
The cramping illness and nausea that Elitheris had been feeling stopped immediately, and she spit, clearing her mouth as best she could. At least the dying feeling was gone. Almë, risking the wrath of the mage, cast a Pollen Cloud that enveloped the inside of the shed. You fool, Elitheris thought. You trying to get us killed? But she was too busy clearing her mouth to actually speak the words aloud.
Lucia, being dead, wasn’t affected. But Lennerd started sneezing, although no one but Lucia could hear him.
They could see, dimly through the twilit dome, the boards at the side of the shed being kicked off. Lennerd was making his own exit out of the shed, the doorway being blocked by the original force dome that he had put around Elitheris, Almë, and the dog.
He and Lucia exited, then ran northward, back towards town. They crested the hill, then dropped down beyond it. Thirty minutes later, the domes dropped as Lennerd stopped maintaining them. Taid mentioned that they normally last only about ten minutes, so he had maintained them for two full cycles, which must have been taxing to his mana reserve. Meaning that maybe, just maybe, he was fatigued, and that they might be able to catch up to him.
Elitheris started tracking their footprints. They weren’t hard to follow. She had been able to watch where they went, at least until the passed over the ridge. The tracks led up the slope, then dropped down on the other side. Where they simply stopped. It was as if the mage and his niece had simply disappeared.
Taid swung his halberd in huge arcs; he didn’t expect to find them, but he wanted to cover even the unlikely possibility of them being invisible. He didn’t find anything unseen hiding in the area. Elitheris started spiraling out, trying to pick up the trail, in case they had done something to obscure a part of it. While there were plenty of footprints in the harvested rye field, left by the myriad farmhands, none matched the set she was looking for. She eventually had to admit defeat.
They were all angry and frustrated. The mage was out there, somewhere. And it was very likely he was angry at them, too, and would likely do something about it the first chance he had. They went back to the town. It was getting dark, so they called it a night and stayed at the inn.
Spiritsday, Harvest 7, 879AFE
“We’ve got to tell Lucia’s parents about Lennerd,” Taid said, when they had awoke the next morning.
“You mean Daryl and Renora?” Eykit asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Taid had to think about it for a moment; he had forgotten their names. “Yeah, them.”
“Almë,” Eykit said, giving him a look. “You stay in the back. Quietly.”
Almë simply nodded.
Eykit knocked on the door to Daryl and Renora’s house. Daryl opened the door. He didn’t look happy to see them. “Oh. It’s you. What do you want this time?” He didn’t sound happy to see them, either.
“We have some news about Lucia,” Eykit said.
“What? Did you find her body?”
“Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.”
Daryl just gave the small Goblin a look.
“She’s a zombie now. Lennerd is a necromancer who raised her from the dead. She’s with him now, somewhere.”
During this little speech, Daryl had gone white, anger at these slanderous upstarts boiling out of him. “Bullshit!” he countered, “No way! Get away from here! Don’t come here ever again!” He slammed the door in their faces.
“That went about as well as could be expected,” Eykit said, turning away from the door.
“We did our due diligence,” Elitheris added. “We’d better tell the authorities.”
“Who is that, here, anyway?” Almë asked.
Taid frowned, in thought. “We could tell the high priest. He seems to be the closest thing to a mayor this town has. Then he can tell whomever he thinks best.”
They headed to the town’s chapel, and told the head priest the news, filling him in on all of the details: what was found at Lennerd’s house, what they found at his lab in the fields, and the fact that he escaped with his zombified niece.
The head priest looked thoughtful. “That is some grim news. I will alert the people of the town, and tell the Rural Watch.” He scratched at his beard. “To think that Lennerd Fountainsmith is a necromancer! All of that magical potential, wasted. He could have really been a help to the community, had he made better life choices.”
“Instead,” Taid said, “he made death choices.” He grinned. He got an “I am not amused” look from the head priest, who didn’t think the situation was at all funny. A necromancer had been living in town for decades, and no one had known. It boggled his mind. On the other hand, he had kept low-key enough that any damage he caused the town was below notice. Still, it would have likely only been a matter of time before he had done something to attract the attention of the town’s authorities. And by then, it would have been too late. So it was better that it—whatever it was—had been stopped before it became an actual problem.
Lennerd would have a hard time if he ever was seen in town again. He would at least be brought in for questioning, which would likely lead to all kinds of problems for him, given that his house and lab had some damning evidence in them.
On their way out of town, they stopped to replenish their traveling supplies, and to get some fresh nectarines, since they had been picked just that morning, and their fragrance was irresistable. Almë got his jars filled with pickles, which he packed up on Wilbur. Then they headed northwest, to Hearavgizan, on their way to track down “JC”. The letters they had found strongly implied he lived in or near Isleton, a small town situated on an island in the river delta north of Hearavgizan.
It didn’t take too long to find a boat crew willing to get them to Isleton. The boat wasn’t large, just a simple, single masted skiff with a lateen sail, and rowed by four oarsmen. It looked like it had been on the river for a while, likely owned by the current captain’s father. The sail was patched, and the wood of the railings notched. Almë would have sworn he saw what could only be toothmarks on one side of the bow. It was a seven meter long boat, with a crew of five, plus the four passengers and their dog.
Mr. Wiggles, his tail wagging, leapt onto the boat and took up residence at the bow, enjoying the breeze off the river. The easy way he adjusted to the rocking motion of the boat seemed to indicate that he had been on one before they had found him in the jungle all those weeks ago.
The day was bright, the leftovers of the small drizzling rain from the morning getting blown into the distance by the freshening breeze. On the river it didn’t seem so hot, despite the late summer day. Seagulls, along with the occasional heron, flew around the islands formed by the river’s meandering pathways through the delta. Parrots and other colorful birds could be seen flitting from tree to tree. The oarsmen set up a good rhythm, and the boat moved away from the wharf. They were aided, slightly, by the sail, although the wind wasn’t quite blowing in the right direction.
“Sure,” the captain replied, nodding his head towards the bow, where a covered bucket was wedged. “There’s bait in that bucket.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Elitheris spent the trip fishing, the line trailing behind the boat. She managed to catch a river eel a meter and a half long, which would be good eating for the night’s meal. Assuming they could find someone to cook it up for them.
The boat wove its way through the channels between the islands. The islands all looked the same: relatively flat and covered with jungle all the way down their muddy banks. After a couple hours, the southern docks of Isleton became visible. The docks weren’t in the city itself; they were about a half mile south of the town proper. The docks were a small collection of warehouses, storerooms, offices, and small-boat dry dock. The captain called them “Isleton Cove”, and mentioned that there was another set of docks nestled at the end of some place called “Long Bay”. If there were any residences, they were very well concealed or disguised, because nothing but commercial buildings could be seen from the water. And upon debarkation, they discovered that there weren’t any residences there at all.
There were a couple of food carts, mostly for the convenience of the dock workers and fishermen. The prices would likely be lower in town, however.
Isleton was built on the high point of the island, and was surrounded by farms. There was a five meter palisade wall, less for defense and more to keep any wild animals out. Being a small town, off the beaten path, there were some services: a single inn, one tavern, a general store, and a barber. There was also a town hall and a temple. Even the market was simply an open area that filled with stalls two days an eightday. If there were any other services, such as a smithy, it was likely a hobby or done only part time, as needed.
Elitheris held the eel in a burlap bag scavenged from the boat they sailed in on. Her first goal was to find someone who could prepare it for dinner that night, so they went to the tavern first. It was before the dinner rush, and most of the townsfolk were still out in the fields, working. There was an old man drinking at one of the tables, and an older woman and a pair of children at a second table. The two children were each playing with a wooden articulated horse, posing it and pretending it was prancing across the tabletop. Both were stained; one was white, the other black.
There was a barkeep cleaning a mug with an only slightly cleaner rag. He looked up when they entered, watching them come in. “What can I get you?” he asked, setting the mug on the bar. He was an older Human, the hair at his temples and muttonchops greying, although he looked hale and fit.
Elitheris held up the bag. “I was wondering if you could cook this up for our dinner tonight?” She opened the bag at the barman’s request.
“An eel, huh?”
“Just caught it earlier today.”
“Sure, I can cook it up, for a small fee. Any particular fashion, or will grilling it be fine?”
“That sounds lovely. We’ll be back in a while.”
Eykit spoke up. “The Elf means around seven.” He was hungry, and didn’t want the tavern keeper to assume that midnight was a good time for dinner. Elves were notorious for not understanding how time worked. Getting Elitheris to pin down a specific time was next to impossible. Her mind just didn’t work that way. Goblins, on the other hand, were very aware of the time. Their much shorter lifespans didn’t leave time for the lackadaisical attitude that Elves had towards the passage of time.
The barman glanced at the Goblin, a twinkle in his eye. “Thanks for the clarification. I’ll have it ready shortly after that, then.”
Dinner taken care of, Elitheris strode over to the table with the children. She was fascinated by their toys. Once she was closer, she could see them better. They were properly proportioned, and the hair of the mane, tail, and fetlocks carved to show the wind blowing the hair. One was a stallion, the other a mare.
“Hi,” she said to the two children and the older woman. “I’m Elitheris, and I like your horses. These are amazing. Where did you get them?” The younger child, a girl, smiled and held out the horse so Elitheris could hold it. They were of exquisite quality, with pins at the joints that allowed the children to pose them. The pins were tight enough that the joint held the position it was placed in. They were of varnished, carved wood, the grain aligned in such a way as to imply a coat of fur. She posed it into a rearing stance, and placed it on the table, where it stood some 20 centimeters high, balanced on its tail and hind legs. It was an impressive piece of articulated sculpture.
Eykit figured that each horse would be worth something like $50 in the City. And each of the kids had one. That was a lot of money to spend on a kid’s toy.
The older child, a boy, answered Elitheris’ question. “Nathan gave them to us for the Winter Festival.”
“He gives toys to kids all the time,” the girl stated. “He’s nice.”
“My friend Eadgar got a soldier with a spear and shield! And his older brother got a nutcracker in the shape of a turtle. You press his tail, and he bites the nut. They have a walnut tree.”
With some further questions, the kids (and their grandmother) told them that Nathan didn’t live in town, but in a house somewhere else on the island. He was a hermit, and kept to himself, only rarely coming into town. He didn’t like visitors.
The inn was two doors down from the tavern, separated by the barbershop. It was a building made of wood planks on a mortared river rock foundation and a lapped plank roof. The inn was a one story building, with a common room, four guest rooms, and a section where the innkeeper and his family lived. The common room was large enough to accommodate three tables, each with four chairs. A few other chairs were pushed up against one wall, ready if anyone needed another chair or two at a table.
They needed to arrange for a room for the night, so Taid arranged it with the innkeeper while the other three went over to the one other person in the room. He sat at a table, sipping a glass of ale. He had a lute laying across his lap.
Seeing the glass of ale and realizing he was in the mood for a drink, Almë went to the innkeeper, waited for Taid to finish getting them a room, and asked what kinds of drinks were available.
“We have a dark ale, a light ale, and some whiskey, distilled by Farmer Bob. It’s drinkable, and locally popular, but I couldn’t tell you what kind of grains were used or in what proportion. We grow rye, wheat, barley, and two varieties of rice here, and Bob uses all of them. I don’t think he has a specific recipe he follows.”
“Farmer Bob?” The innkeeper nodded. “He’s called that to distinguish him from Bob the Stabler.”
Almë nodded. “The whiskey…it’s good?”
The innkeeper waggled his hands. “It’s all right. A few steps above backyard moonshine. People seem to like it well enough.”
“I’ll take a glass of it.” He slid some coins to the innkeeper, who poured Almë a small glass of the amber liquid from a pottery jug. After a sip, the Elf nodded, then downed the glass in a single gulp. “Excuse me, but we’re looking for someone…my uncle. He was always pretty reclusive. Possibly a hermit, living out by himself somewhere.”
“Who’s your uncle?”
“I don’t remember his name. I last saw him as a kid.”
“Well, there’s Nathan. He’s the only hermit we’ve got around here.”
“That must be him, then!” Almë said excitedly.
“I doubt it,” the barkeeper said, with a smirk. “Nathan is Human, Elf.”
“Yeah, probably not. Would certainly turn heads if he was, though! I’ll take another whiskey, please”, Almë said.
The innkeeper nodded and poured him another. It too vanished in a single gulp.
Almë belched, thanked the man, then asked for a dark ale. After some more coins changed hands, a pint glass full of a dark, frothy liquid was placed on the bar. Almë took it, and rejoined his friends, who had sat at the musician’s table, and had gotten into a conversation with him.
His name was Johann Amherst, and he was a traveling musician, and had just arrived the day before. “I like traveling,” he said. “I go from town to town, village to village, and play until the folks stop coming to listen. Then I move on.” He took a sip of his ale. “How about you guys? Why are you here?”
Elitheris asked, “Have you seen anything strange since you’ve been here? Anything out of the ordinary?”
He frowned, going through his memories of the last day or so. He shook his head slowly. “Nope. Just the usual small town stuff. Nothing abnormal at all. What kinds of things are you looking for? If you give me a hint, I might remember something that didn’t stick out at the time.”
The others looked at each other, none of them willing to be the first to give anything away.
They were reluctant to give away too much information, so they didn’t answer Johann’s questions about their motives and reasons for being in town. He gave up trying to get their story out of them, despite having the feeling that there were some good stories there. Maybe he could ask them later, when their guard was down, or they became more comfortable with him.
But he was happy to talk, and liked exchanging stories. And he was really disappointed they didn’t share them with him. He just knew there was an epic song in there somewhere. Eykit asked him to play some tunes, which he did. The Goblin was complimentary and even gave him some coins as thanks for the music.
With all of the alcohol that he had drunk, and being a lightweight when it came to drinking, Almë was getting tipsy. He stood, a little unsteady on his feet, and went to put his stuff in the room they had rented. But that wasn’t the only reason he left the table. While away from the common room, he also snuck into Johann’s room.
Johann’s room was much like their own: a pair of wide beds that could sleep four easily. At the foot on one bed was a traveler’s pack, with a rolled up sleeping fur strapped to it.
Almë opened the pack and looked through his things, finding only the usual traveling gear. He didn’t steal anything, and went back to the group and Johann. He started making an ass of himself, and Taid was forced to drag him off to their room. Almë struggled, but Taid was too strong, and shoved him into bed and sat on him to keep him there. Soon Almë stopped struggling, and passed out. Taid left him sleeping there and rejoined the others.
They went back to the tavern, as it was time for dinner, and they wanted their fresh eel. The tavern keeper was a good cook, and the fire-roasted eel dish was spectacular. The tavern was full, and they listened to the local rumors. Their questions about odd things happening weren’t terribly fruitful.
They also asked about the wooden horses, getting a bit of info about “the Old Hermit” who lived somewhere outside of town who regularly gave wooden toys to the town’s children. He also did commissioned works of carved wood, one of which graced the wall behind the bar, next to the mirror. A few more questions revealed that he would come to town every so often, through the western gate.
After a time, they went to bed, and had a good night’s sleep.
Skysday, Harvest 8, 879 AFE
Almë’s headache, brought on by his drinking the night before, woke him at dawn. Trying not to wake Taid, whom he knew would likely say either “I told you so, lightweight!” or “The best cure for a hangover is a good mead!” He knew that neither would make him feel better, so he carefully got out of bed, dressed, and went down the hall to the common room.
The innkeeper was up, getting the inn ready for his guests. He glanced up, saw Almë making his way into the room, and said, “Good morning, sir.”
“Nope,” Almë said, holding his head. “It’s not. Do you have any tea?”
“I do. Let me get you a cup.”
“And some pickles? I’d really like some pickles.”
“Pickles, sir? Well, I suppose I have some around here somewhere. Just be a moment.”
The innkeeper went back into his private rooms, and soon came back out holding a cup of tea and a bowl with some pickles in it. Almë had seated himself at a table, his head held in his hands. The innkeeper set both the cup and bowl down in front of Almë.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Almë said. Almë’s alcohol tolerance was never very high. It didn’t take much to make him regret having any at all. He nursed his tea and munched on his pickles. These weren’t bad, not as spicy as others, but garlicky and floral under the bright acidic vinegar flavors.
“The whiskey didn’t agree with you?”
“No. I really should know better. Mistakes were made.”
“Just let me know if you want more tea,” the innkeeper said, and he went about his business.
It wasn’t long until the others woke as well, but Almë had some greatly appreciated quiet time alone. They headed out into the marketplace to talk to people, hopefully to get some kind of lead on where this Nathan person lived. It seemed that he was a very private individual, who wasn’t keen on sharing his home’s location. Or, perhaps, the townsfolk were being considerate about his privacy, and not giving out his house’s location to some random, armed strangers with unknown motives.
There were a few people on the streets, mostly heading towards the gates to work in the fields outside of the city. Some they were able to talk to, others seemed reluctant to speak to strangers. But they did manage, with some effort (and not a little of Eykit’s smooth talking) to get out of a farmhand that he had seen the toymaker come to town with his cart, emerging from the forest from a trail to the west, near the chili pepper field.
They went hiking, following that trail a couple of miles until they got to a log cabin and two other buildings. An older man was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, carving something out of wood. He stood, slightly worried that four heavily armed and armored strangers were on his property.
With a look of wary concern, he asked, “Can I help you?” The look on his face showed that he wasn’t at all pleased that there were people trespassing on his property. He was used to his privacy, and he valued it. And here were people interrupting his morning. “You will clean up anything that dog leaves behind,” he said, sternly.
“I saw some of your toys in town,” Elitheris said, “and I thought that they were wondrous.”
The man cocked his head. “Thanks,” he said, not sure where this was going. He didn’t trust any of them, even the Elven woman who seemed genuinely interested in his work.
“Do you have any that I could take a look at?”
Without a word, the man nodded his bearded head towards the building next to the log cabin. He stepped off the porch, and walked over to the other building. He took a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and opened it, gesturing for them to enter. It was a workshop, with rows of tools on racks, and several wood toys and wood sculptures in various stages of completion on just about every flat surface. The floor was covered in sawdust. He pointed to a set of shelves that held a collection of toys, beautifully carved, painted, and varnished. There were animals, people of various professions, including soldiers, bakers, fishermen, and boatmen, a couple of wagons, a few sailboats, and a galley with movable oars that must have been connected because they rowed in unison when a lever was pushed.
“These are gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
“You are Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“I think it’s great that you share your gifts with the children of the town. They really seem to love them.”
He cracked a smile for the first time. “I like to think so. I am glad I can contribute to their happiness in even a small way.”
Eykit joined in the conversation. “Why are you living way out here?”
“It’s quiet. I’m not a fan of having people around. You’ll notice I don’t have extra furniture for guests.” His tone of voice made it clear he didn’t like guests much.
It was true; his porch had just the single rocking chair and some side tables. There was no where else to sit. The workshop had a single stool at one of the worktables.
“Aren’t there dangerous animals out here?”
“A few. Nothing too big, though. The strix can be a problem, but so far they haven’t attacked me.”
“Strix?” Eykit asked. He had grown up in the city, and was unfamiliar with the term.
“Vampiric bird-bat things. Strige is the singular term.” Nathan held his hands out, about half a meter apart. “About this long, a bit longer wingspan, sort of a cross between a mosquito and a bat. They suck out your blood. Although they mostly attack smaller prey, like rabbits. There is a nest of them not too far from here, I think.”
Elitheris had dealt with strix before. She didn’t like them, especially since they tended to attack in flocks. Fortunately she knew enough to avoid them, for the most part. Having a dozen of the bloodsucking fiends attack a lone traveler would be a death sentence. Taid had seen them too, in his travels. But they tended to avoid large groups of animals or people.
“Have you ever heard of anyone with the initials ‘JC’, or the name ‘Razor’?”
“Can’t say as I have. Why are you looking for them?”
Trying to steer the conversation away from those kinds of questions about their motivations, Elitheris asked, “Who are your customers? Surely you don’t just give everything you make away? And I notice that not everything you make is a toy.”
“I sometimes do piece work and commissions for clients. Have you been in town? I have many pieces on display.”
“No, I haven’t really had a chance to see much of town. Although we saw a wall decoration in the tavern. Much like that one over there.” She indicated a diamond-shaped wood sculpture utilizing a geometric motif.
Nathan nodded.
Almë spoke up. “What other kinds of work have you done?”
“Various things. One was rather intimate.” He smiled, shyly.
“Oh? What kind of ‘intimate object’?”
Nathan seemed to withdraw. “I’ve said too much.”
“No, tell me. What was it?”
Nathan shook his head. Why were these people so interested in other people’s private lives? It’s unseemly.
Almë was getting agitated. “Who did you make it for?”
“That’s none of your business.” A hard look came into his eyes. These personal questions about his customers were very rude.
“It is. And you will tell me who you made it for.” He started moving his staff like a pendulum, building up speed.
“I’m sorry, it really is none of your business. I have said too much.”
Almë knocked a toy off of a shelf with his staff. It tumbled to the floor of the shop, where one of its arms broke off.
Nathan looked incensed, his lips whitening into a thin line. These thugs were getting belligerent and dangerous. So far, it was only the male Elf. But the rest looked like they could cause some harm. It was highly likely that they were going to kill him, and steal his life’s work. He tried to deescalate the situation. “Look, it was for Maribel. Happy now?”
“This Maribel. Where does she live?” He was swinging his staff around, and in his mind’s eye Nathan could see an entire shelf of sculptures and toys tumbling to the ground and breaking. There was a manic light in the Elf’s eyes, like he enjoyed wantonly destroying things.
Not wanting his hard work destroyed, he gave them an address. “Third left after the tavern, fourth house on the left.” He regretted giving out the address immediately. If Maribel came to harm from these ruffians….
Almë smiled, satisfied, and picked up the toy he had busted. He cast a spell of plant shaping, the wood body of the toy becoming like clay, and he reformed the arm so it had a hand again. The limb was thinner, and the hand nearly skeletal, but at least it was whole. More or less. “There,” Almë said, placing the toy on back on the shelf. “Good as new.”
Nathan looked, dismayed, at the mangled toy with the emaciated-looking arm. “It’s time you all left. We’re done here.” He noted that at least the male Elf was a mage of some skill. They were also bristling with weapons and enchanted items. These people were very dangerous.
Taid, silent up until this point, cast a spell under his breath. It was a spell of foe detection, which came up positive. Nathan certainly seemed like a foe. But Taid could tell, even without a spell, that Nathan was very upset with them. So it wasn’t surprising that his spell would detect him. The woodcrafter was angry, mostly at Almë, he suspected, but likely at the rest of them as well.
Elitheris, Eykit, Taid, and Almë left, along with Mr. Wiggles, who lifted a leg on his way out and peed on the corner of the house. Embarrassed, Elitheris scolded him. She could feel Nathan’s annoyed gaze upon her.
They made their way back along the trail that led from Nathan’s house to the town. “He lied,” Eykit said. “About the strix, I think.”
“That’s odd,” Elitheris mentioned. “I don’t hear any birds.”
Everyone stopped moving, listening. “You’re right,” Eykit said. “Is that a problem?”
Elitheris looked down at the Goblin, a frown on her face. “Not necessarily, but it certainly is odd. Especially in a jungle such as this. You normally hear all kinds of tropical birds.”
“Maybe it’s those strix,” Almë suggested.
“Yeah,” Elitheris said, halfheartedly. “Maybe.”
Almë, a little worried, cast a spell of plant vision, and much of the forest around him turned transparent to his eyes. Nothing was hiding in the undergrowth nearby. “I don’t see anything within several dozen meters. Not counting the family of rabbits that way, and the quail in that log over there. So the strix haven’t killed off everything in the area yet.”
Besides the lack of birdsong, bird squawks, and bird calls, the walk back to the town was uneventful, and they strode on the dirt path between the farm fields to the western gate. It sat open, as it did every day, allowing entrance through the five meter high palisade wall.
As they walked towards the house indicated by Nathan, they discussed their approach. Eykit thought it might be a good idea to make Mr. Wiggles look cute and cuddly, since normally he looked pretty intimidating in his armor. From somewhere Eykit pulled out a colorful handkerchief which he tied around the dog’s neck. Mr. Wiggles took their attention with good grace, and relished the attention. Once they were done, he did indeed look about as cuddly as he could get.
There were a couple of kids playing in the street, both too young to be any help in the fields, and as soon as they saw the dog came running over to pet him. They giggled as they petted the dog, who licked their faces, causing even more laughter. Soon the children left the dog to go back to playing their game.
Maribel’s house was constructed like the other houses in the town: wattle and daub, with a thatched roof. Smoke trailed from the chimney; so they knew someone was home. They knocked on the door.
A woman opened it, wiping her hands on a rag, the smell of fresh baked bread in the air. She looked at the four people and the dog on her doorstep. She looked alarmed; here were four—what, mercenaries?—who wanted to talk with her. She’d heard stories of mercenaries, tough, vicious folk who killed people for money. She hoped she could get rid of them without getting killed…or worse.
“What do you want?” she asked. She eyed the dog, who sat quietly by the side of the Elven woman, its tongue lolling as it panted in the day’s heat. The dog, at least, didn’t look threatening…although it was wearing armor, so….
Taid spoke. “We’re just here to ask some questions, ma’am.” He smiled.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“You know Nathan? The toymaker?”
She blushed a little, barely noticeable in the shadow of the doorway. “Of course. Everyone in town knows him, or knows of him.”
“Well, we are looking for someone with the initials ‘JC’, and he pointed us at you.”
She got a confused look on her face. “Me? Why me?”
Taid shrugged. "Your name came up while we were talking to him. We were hoping you might know someone with those initials.”
“The only person I know of with those initials is Jenna.”
Eykit asked, “Jenna? Who’s that?”
Maribel turned her attention to the short Goblin. “Jenna Constantin. She makes soaps.”
“And where can we find Jenna?”
“Next street over,” she replied, pointing across the street.
The burly Dwarf spoke up again. “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He turned his attention to his companions. “Let’s go.” He pointedly didn’t let Almë ask her about her sex life.
They didn’t see Maribel lean shakily against the door after she had closed and locked it, trying to get her fear under control. It took her a few minutes before her heart stopped beating wildly in her chest. She hoped they didn’t come back.
They went around the block to the next street over. They didn’t know what house they were looking for, but they figured they could ask a passersby which house was Jenna’s. But it wasn’t necessary; her house was obvious. Her house had a sign in the yard, made out of inlaid wood that said “Jenna’s Soaps”, along with what looked like two bars of soap beneath the words. The workmanship of the sign looked familiar. And even without the sign, the herbal scent that permeated the yard made the soap maker hard to miss.
They went up to the door and knocked. When the middle aged lady opened the door, a complex floral/herbal scent wafted out.
Eykit asked about soaps, turning on his usual charm and winning smile.
Jenna stepped back, inviting the four into her home. She gave Mr. Wiggles some scratches behind his ears, which he enjoyed. Her home was a bit larger than Maribel’s, made up of a common room and kitchen, a privy, and a pair of bedrooms. She had a small workshop in the back yard, visible through the back window.
She had a case with a hinged lid along the back wall. She opened the lid, revealing a compartmentalized tray filled with various shaped and colored soaps. A rich herbal smell flooded the room, strengthening the already almost-overwhelming odors. Inside the case were soaps in the shape of leaves, flowers, trees, rabbits, squirrels, and fish. In addition, there were some that were shaped like bones, bats, and skulls. The cakes of soap came in several colors: cream, white, yellow, pale red, pale blue, green, and brown. Some had flecks of herbs in them. There were several compartments that had no soap at all, apparently those had been sold out.
Jenna explained that each compartment was a different kind of soap, organized by scent. There were several colors of each soap, with the exception of the fish. There were only red fish soaps left, the yellow and blue ones had sold out the last time she was at the market.
When asked about the death symbols, she mentioned that she makes soaps for most of the main holidays, one of which was an Ancestor Remembrance Day, which was a day that celebrated one’s ancestors. It was originally an Orcish celebration, but, like most ethnic holidays, got absorbed into the Empire’s list of celebrations. It had been only a few months before, and she was trying to get rid of some extra leftover stock.
Eykit bought two skulls, thinking they were appropriate for a New Square Skulls member to have. Elitheris purchased some unscented soap with deodorant properties, at least according to Jenna.
He wandered back in, and asked if she had any pickles he could buy off of her. She looked at him funny, then shrugged and said, “Sure”. He gave her $2, she gave him two pickles and the soap he had taken from the bowl.
Despite not finding anything suspicious in the other rooms of the house, Almë was certain that Jenna was the JC they were looking for. She probably had a cellar under the floor that was filled with undead, and she used the smell of the soaps to hide the stench of the dead things.
No one else seemed to think that, however. While she had the initials, that didn’t really mean anything. It was likely just a coincidence.
They went back to the tavern, where they had another chat with the barkeeper. He told them about some colored lights that had been seen on the neighboring islands. Not every night, and not on every island. Just a light here, a light there, yellow, green, or blue in color. They seemed to be pretty common, but didn’t seem threatening, so everyone just assumed it was people partying at night or something.
That night, they staked out Jenna’s place, with Elitheris up in a tree, and Eykit watching from ground level. They saw the kids come in from playing, and Jenna’s husband, Osbeorn, come in from the fields. They had a normal night, with dinner, a bit of play with the children, then they went to bed. They learned nothing from that, deciding that Jenna was a dead end.
But they had the lights on the surrounding islands that could be clues. There was no tree in town that would let them see any of the islands around them. They would have to get closer to the shore. They decided to start on the southern edge of the island, so they went towards the Southern Docks looking for a tall tree.
There was a suitable specimen not too far from the river, and Elitheris climbed up the trunk, looking for a nice comfortable perch she could spend some time in. She made herself as comfortable as she could, and watched the islands to the south, both up and down the river. After about five hours, the sky was lightening in the east, and she called it a night. It was unlikely that any lights would be seen, besides the flickering fireflies.
Kynetsday, Harvest 9, 879 AFE
The next night, they repeated the process, this time choosing a tree with a view to the east of the island. Again, after a night of watching, no strange lights were seen. They were starting to get frustrated, but Taid reasoned that if there was one guy, who was randomly choosing an island from among the ones surrounding Isleton, then it’s likely that they have just missed them so far.
Jyprasday, Harvest 10, 879 AFE
After a second day of coming up empty, they went to the northern edge, to find a tree from which to watch. Again Elitheris climbed up into the branches and got comfortable, with a good view of the northern edge of the island.
It was a little while after midnight when her attention was attracted to a flash to the northeast. This time it wasn’t just fireflies. There was a bluish light flickering over in that direction. “I see one of the lights,” she called down to the rest of her companions, who had been waiting, milling around the base of the tree.
“Let’s go,” Almë said. “Uh, how will we get there?”
Eykit said, “We could steal a boat.”
Taid gave him a look. “That’s unnecessary. We can borrow a boat. Obviously, if it’s tied up at night, and we get it back to them before they need it tomorrow, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Eykit smiled. Taid was starting to come around. He was finding ways to rationalize the perfectly reasonable behaviors that Eykit followed.
Elitheris came down out of the tree, dropping the last several meters to the ground, landing easily. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Long Bay, or Isleton Cove?”
“Long Bay. It’s faster,” Eykit said, already moving. “Let’s go!”
The Long Bay docks were deserted, the moon was down, and it was very dark. While there were a few lanterns, they were few and far between, and didn’t do much to aid navigation. But the Dwarf, Goblin, and Elves could see reasonably well at night, so the meager starlight that illuminated the area was sufficient. They could see several boats tied up to the docks. They ran down the wooden dock to a medium sized pole boat.
Getting on board, they located the poles used to push it through the water, and cast off. Eykit managed to grab the tiller before anyone else could, so Taid and Almë started with poles. Elitheris crouched at the prow, her bow ready at hand in case some river beast decided it was hungry. The area was known to have four or five meter long river hydrae living in it, as well as crocodiles and the occasional lunefish.
They poled their way out from between the arms of the land that nestled the Long Bay, then headed around the northern coast of the island on their way to the place closest to where Elitheris saw the blue lights.
Beaching the boat on the muddy shore, they headed inland. The jungle was dense, the ground rich in nutrients from the constant flow of the river. Several times they had to hack their way through the undergrowth. At one point they found a small stream, and followed that until they got to a pool fed by a three meter tall waterfall. It was likely fed by some artesian spring.
Moving on, they find a stone altar/shrine only a hundred meters farther into the jungle. Taid cast a spell of continual light on his halberd’s spike to use as a torch.
The stone shrine was crude, and old. There were markings carved into it, but they were so worn that they were unintelligible. It wasn’t large, only about three meters tall, and maybe a meter in depth. There were a pair of blocks, flanking it, and the burned out remains of a fire between them. It was likely that there once had been a menhir laid across the two blocks, forming a sort of altar, but if there had been such a stone, it disappeared long ago.
Between the fire and the shrine were more markings. These were a bit more ambiguous. It looked like someone had laid a ball of snakes on the ground, where they left short, curved markings all piled on top of each other. Intermixed with these marks were some round marks that almost looked like someone had placed the butt of a staff here and there.
As they were moving around, searching the area for any clues, Elitheris and Almë realized that the area immediately around the altar was a high mana zone. The transition area was large, and the change in mana levels gradual, and they almost missed it. Taid hadn’t been looking for it, and missed it completely. The other two noticed it by accident. From what he knew of thaumatology, Taid said that it was likely that the high mana was the reason the shrine had been placed here, rather than the other way around. High mana zones didn’t really help mages very much, except indirectly. They did help non-mages, however, and non-mages that knew spells could actually cast them in a high mana zone, whereas in a normal mana zone, they couldn’t.
But they had footprints to follow. They followed the tracks to the northern coast of the island, where they discovered signs that a lightweight canoe had been there, beached in the mud. But it was gone now, back to wherever it had come from.
“Well, I suppose we couldn’t have expected to find anyone here,” Taid said, “considering how long it took us to get here. But I still wish we would have found whoever it was.”
Almë nodded. “We’ll have to be faster next time.”
Eykit kicked a rock into the river, where it splashed noisily. “I wonder if there are any other shrines on this island.” He hadn’t directed the comment at anyone in particular, but it gave them a goal.
They explored down the length of the long, thin island, looking for more altars. Halfway down the length of the island, Taid stepped in something squishy. Oh crap, he thought, fighting rising panic, another damned reek! He swung Maggie down, the halberd axe blade digging deep into the soft earth between his feet. This reek wasn’t going to dissolve his boot and swallow his foot!
It wasn’t a reek, at least, not the kind he feared it was. It was just the scat of some large carnivorous animal, likely a panther. But it did stink, and he tried his best to wipe the crap off of his boots on some nearby tree roots.
They emerged from the jungle at the end of the island; there had been no other altars on this island. Realizing that dawn was going to happen shortly, they got back to the boat, poled it back to the dock where they found it, and managed to get off it just in time.
Five people, three Humans and two Orcs, walked down the docks, heading towards their fishing boat. They carried various pieces of fishing tackle, and two carried crab pots.
“Good morning,” Almë said, as he passed them. They nodded in return, continuing towards the end of the dock, and the boat that had only recently been moored there.
“Well,” Eykit said, “that was close!” He glanced at the fishermen as they boarded their boat and stowed their gear. They didn’t seem to notice that the boat had taken an unscheduled trip that night.
They were tired, and went back to the inn for some sleep.
Veliday, Harvest 11, 879 AFE
They awoke shortly after midday, and went to the town hall building. They were hoping to get some idea of the local history, and the town hall seemed to be the best place to start. It wasn’t large; just a simple clapboard building of a single story, and about the same size as a residence. The front room was dominated by a desk, behind which sat a clerk who was busy looking through a ledger.
Behind him, on the wall, was a half meter diameter wooden sculpture, carved into the shape of river grasses and fish, stained with various colors of stain. The workmanship was Nathan’s.
Eykit greeted the clerk cheerily. “Hi!” he said.
“Hello,” the clerk replied. “What brings you to Isleton?”
“Looking for someone. But that’s not important right now. I want to know what you know about any altars or shrines in the area.”
“Do you mean the one next door?”
“No. The older ones, on the islands nearby. What are they, and who made them?”
“They’ve been there forever. Old Orc shrines, from before the Empire, I think.”
“Oh yeah? Cool. How many of them are there? Are they dedicated to any particular gods? If we visit, should we bring offerings?”
The clerk shook his head. “You know, I don’t know how many there are. I know of five or six, I think. As far as I know, you don’t have to offer anything. Although if you are asking the gods for anything, it’s often wise to offer them something first.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t do to ask for things without placating them first. They might give you what you asked for, in ways you didn’t ask for.” He chuckled.
He continued. “You know, if you are truly interested, you should ask our local pastor, Grisha. She knows more about them than I do.”
“Thanks,” Eykit said. Then he waved, and he and his companions left.
They went next door, to the town’s shrine and talked to Grisha Moonaxe, the local pastor. She preferred the title “shaman” however, as they found out when they met her. She was Orcish, and was a tall, burly, visually stunning woman with dark skin the color of rich cacao. She wore a saffron colored robe with a mantle of colorful feathers. On her bald head was a feathered headdress that matched her mantle.
Her voice was deep, almost masculine. “What can I do for you today?” She had the slight lisp that Orcs often had due to their tusks.
Taid spoke this time, instead of Eykit. He was more versed with religious figures, having spent many years as part of a religious order before joining the Tondene Imperial Army. “We were wondering about the Orcish shrines that seem to be on many of the surrounding islands, and we were told you knew something about them.”
“I do,” she replied.
“What can you tell us about them?”
“How long do you have?” She smiled. She proceeded to tell them about the history of the local area, starting with pre-Empire times. Some of the information she presented they already knew, having learned some if it a couple of months previously when they were tracking down some slaves who were being sacrificed to free an abomination. So they had some idea about the Orcish settlements that had later been conquered by the army of Araterre, which later became the Tondene Empire.
The Altasirya River Delta had originally been settled by Orcs. They had been organized in clans and tribes, some as city states, but all in a loose confederation that would support each other if there were any outside threats. Unlike a single, large polity however, that mutual support wasn’t very strong, at least compared to the well disciplined and well trained soldiers from Araterre. Many places were sacred to their various gods, many of which were on the islands in the delta. Eight shrines still stood, the others having been washed away when the arms of the river changed their courses, erasing the islands where those shrines had been. The delta was always changing, although many of the larger islands had built up enough vegetation to protect them from getting washed away or eroded.
In the present day, few used them as shrines. Most used them as convenient meeting places and excuses to have parties out in the jungle. They were relatively easy to get to, but private enough so people usually didn’t get bothered when they were out there. They made convenient picnic spots for young lovers, as well.
Shaman Grisha saw the glaze appearing over her visitors’ eyes. She smiled, and said, “If you want more background, let me know. There aren’t many that like to listen to me prattle on. Was there anything specific you wanted to know?”
Taid said, “As a matter of fact, yes. Do you have a map of where these shrines are?”
“No, but I could sketch one out for you. It won’t be perfectly accurate, but it will get you close enough to find them, with a little effort.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
She hurriedly sketched out a rough map of the eight remaining shrines and where they were located. It didn’t take very long; it was simply the outlines of the nearby islands with some “X’s” on them showing the approximate locations of the shrines.
Their next step was to rent a boat. A local farmer was willing to let them use his canoe for a few coins per day. It was just large enough for the four of them and their dog, as long as they didn’t get too rowdy while on board.
That night they went to a shrine that was to the southeast of Isleton. The map, while only an approximation, got them close enough that it only took a half hour to find its precise location. The site didn’t have any recent tracks, so they decided to stake it out and wait until their quarry came to use it.
“Hey, Elitheris, I’d like your opinion about how effective this will be to hide us.”
The outdoorswoman peered at the blind, from several angles. “Okay. You’ll need to change a bunch of things.” She went on to tell him that he would need to alter the growth patterns to make them more natural looking, to remove some of the branches because the plants didn’t really grow that close together, and to add several other plant types to disguise the slightly more regular outline of the whole construction. Then there were the other things that should be altered and thickened in order to hide the gaps that were inevitably made due to the more natural-looking configuration.
Eykit and Taid looked at each other, amused as Elitheris just kept going and going. It was a very long list of modifications, filtered through decades of Elitheris’ hermitage in the wilds.
With the extra hoops Elitheris made Almë jump through, the blind looked nearly invisible from most directions. The whole process took over an hour, and Almë was exhausted and utterly tapped out due to mana use. But he pushed himself, knowing that it had to work very well, or their plan wouldn’t work at all.
No one showed that first night. They slept, then awoke around midday. Eykit practiced some acrobatics with Elitheris. Taid read through his spell books, in order to increase his knowledge in the spells of the College of Water.
Ralsday, Harvest 12, 879 AFE
The same thing happened the second night. Elitheris was having trouble staying awake. Taid had cast a Watchdog spell around the shrine, in order to be alerted if someone stepped across the spell boundary. But no one with hostile intent crossed it. And if the mysterious user of the shrine didn’t know they were there, it was unlikely that they would be considered hostile anyway.
Starsday, Harvest 13, 879 AFE
The third night it was again quiet. Relatively, anyway; there was some noise when some nocturnal animal got into a fight with some other animal. The end result was that the watchers were more awake. At least they had time to do some training during the day. It wasn’t mandatory, and none of them needed it, but it was a nice diversion to use up the time they had on their hands. It was actually the first time they had had any time to do anything educational. They had been too busy going from one crisis to the next to just sit back and assess what they wanted to do. For the hours between midday and night, they had that time.
Lifesday, Harvest 14, 879 AFE
On night four, Eykit heard some footsteps in the distance, coming closer. He moved stealthily towards the altar to get a better vantage point. The blind was about 20 meters away to prevent discovery, but that wasn’t ideal for spying. He heard some conversation, but only one voice, either talking to themself, or to someone who didn’t reply. Eykit must have made some kind of noise, because the figure said “Hold up, what was that?”, and turned around and left. Eykit saw some flying thing fluttering about his head. Perhaps a strige; it seemed too large to be a bat.
Elitheris, Almë, and Taid followed, as stealthily as they could. Eykit was in the front, followed by Taid and Almë, who were less stealthy, but were farther behind. Elitheris had been up in the trees, above the canopy level, watching for a boat. She never saw it, which filled her with frustration. It mustn’t have been a very big boat. She ran along the branches, quietly, and almost at full speed. She was a ghost, and the branches of the trees didn’t betray her.
Taid cast a spell of Icy Weapon on his halberd, Maggie. Vapor slid down the metal, pouring from it almost like a liquid.
Then Elitheris slipped, or the branch broke, and she fell. Her Elven reflexes saved her, though, and she caught a branch on the way down which flexed in an arc before springing back up again. She used that momentum to flip up onto the branch. But their prey had heard the noise, and started running.
Stealth was no longer going to work; it had turned into a running race. Everyone broke cover and started sprinting after the fleeing figure. He was trying to get back to his boat, and the crew was chasing him in an attempt to keep him from it. They could see the canoe, pulled up onto the muddy shore.
They were getting close to their quarry, and now they could see that it was indeed Nathan. And something else, flying over his shoulder. He was moving pretty fast for an older man, adrenaline fueling his legs.
Mr. Wiggles, faster than anyone else, was rapidly gaining on the fleeing woodcrafter. The winged creature turned towards the running dog, and something glinted in the waning moonlight. It was as big as the tiny creature’s arm, shining like metal. The winged beast swiped the folding razor blade down at the dog, but Mr. Wiggles was too quick, and managed to avoid the slicing strike.
But the attack slowed the canine, whose target priority changed to the winged thing that had attacked him. He jumped, growling, trying to bite the flapping creature.
Everyone else was still running, trying to catch up to Nathan. Elitheris managed to pull an arrow out of the hip quiver bouncing at her side, without spilling the arrows.
Nathan, meanwhile, finally got to his canoe. Elitheris nocked the arrow, drew it back, and loosed, the arrow zinging past Nathan’s shoulder. He didn’t let that stop him as he started pushing the boat into the river, his boots slipping on the muddy bank.
The flying creature dove at Eykit, who was the foe closest to Nathan. Obviously, the creature was some kind of protector, and the razor blade flashed in the moonlight as it swung at the Goblin’s face. Eykit dove and rolled out of the way, coming back up to his feet, continuing towards Nathan.
Nathan was starting to splash in the river, the water up to his ankles. The dog came barreling in, latching his strong jaws onto Nathan’s leg. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan could see the four people running at him, death in their eyes. He kept trying to get the canoe into water deep enough for him to jump into it and paddle away. The dog clamped onto his leg was slowing him down though, and those four marauders were getting very close. He’d had no idea he was interrupting some kind of shady pirate deal, and he was just hoping to get away with his life.
The flying creature was headed back towards Nathan, its tiny face scrunched up in anger, the razor blade ready to strike at the attacking dog.
Almë sprinted and lunged at Nathan, swinging his staff at the woodworker’s leg. Unable to support weight, the leg collapsed, and Nathan managed to stay on his feet only because he was holding onto the canoe.
Mr. Wiggles worried at the leg he had in his jaws, splashing and growling in the shallow water.
Eykit ran up to the boat, his eyes on the flying thing as it attacked not the dog, but Almë. Fortunately, Almë ducked, the razor blade sweeping over his head.
Taking a couple of steps into the river, Almë swung his staff around to get it around Nathan’s neck in a choke hold, but just as he tried to do so, Nathan disappeared. He was no longer there. Almë’s staff whistled through empty space.
Eykit saw him vanish. He looked around, and found him a few meters to the his left. His canoe continued floating into the river. Nathan had used a Blink spell. It didn’t really help him much, because Taid ran him through the gut with the spike of his halberd. The woodworker folded around the shaft of the halberd, blood spattering onto the muddy ground as he collapsed, half in and half out of the water. “Aw crap,” Taid said to no one in particular, “I didn’t want to kill him!”
Elitheris, another arrow ready, loosed it at the flying thing, but it was small and nimble, and dodged out of the way. It flew at Taid’s face, swinging the razor and trying to cut off the Dwarf’s nose. Taid managed to turn his head, and the blade scraped across the cheekpiece of his helmet.
Almë, seeing Nathan laying in the water, moaning and bleeding out, turned towards the flying creature and swung his staff at its diminutive arm. The razor blade went flying into the bushes. The creature screeched in pain and anger, its tiny face twisted in hate as it cradled the wounded limb with its good arm.
Eykit made a pair of slashing attacks, but the creature managed to mostly avoid the two swipes; one of the knife points pierced the wing membrane, causing a tear. Mr. Wiggles tried to jump up and bite the pesky damn thing, but missed. Taid, swinging his halberd at the wildly fluttering beast, clipped it, drawing a bit of blood. Elitheris drew a bead on it, loosed, and the arrow sliced through he muscles of its thigh.
Again, it screeched in pain, then flew upwards, retreating into the tree canopy. They could hear it for a few moments more, hissing and screaming, before it either stopped making racket or it flew far enough away to not be heard.
The flying threat gone, Taid ran over to Nathan. The man was clutching at his gut, blood pulsing out from between his fingers, a red stain spreading downstream. It didn’t smell good, either. Taid grabbed his hands, moving them away from the wound so he could examine it. Nathan was too delirious to stop him.
“Damn it all,” Taid muttered, as he began casting the spell of major healing. Subliminal motes of magenta light flowed from the air around him to his arms, then down through his hands into the wound. The hole seemed to glow with a light only he could see as the magic knitted Nathan’s intestine back together. Taid sat back on his heels, a little surprised that he didn’t feel at all fatigued from what should have been a pretty large use of mana.
Nathan was unconscious, and Taid slapped at his cheeks in an attempt to wake him up. “Wakey wakey,” he said, as he pulled the limp figure out of the river and onto the shore.
The older man opened his eyes slowly, surprised he was still alive. He could still feel the ache in his leg, and the abdominal stab wound. And he was still a bit woozy from being unconscious. Perhaps the pirates wanted him as a hostage? His eyes focused, and despite the darkness, though he recognized them. They were the armed thugs that had broken the toy in his workshop, and strong-armed him into giving them confidential information about his clientele. He was likely going to be killed; he figured they healed him just to keep him alive long enough for questioning.
Almë came over to stand by Taid, his staff ready. He looked unhappy, belligerent, and threatening. Just like when he had maliciously busted that toy.
Taid asked, “Who is JC?”
“What?” Nathan replied, confused. His mind still wasn’t up to his usual standards of clarity and sharpness.
“The necromancer JC. Who is he?”
“I suppose you could call him a necromancer. Technically.”
“So you do know him!”
“Yes. Calling him a necromancer is kind of a stretch, though. The results are unsatisfactory.”
“Who is JC?” Taid asked again.
“Jenden Carter.”
“Who is that?”
“Why, he’s me.”
“So you’ve been raising the undead!” Almë said. “I knew it!”
Taid looked at Almë momentarily before turning his attention back to Nathan. Or Jenden. “You were sure it was Jenna the Soap Lady.”
“I haven’t been raising any zombies,” Nathan said.
“But you are involved in a cabal of necromancers!” Almë accused.
“Why did you attack me?” His left hand was pinned under his back, a result of Taid pulling him out of the water. He moved his fingers in very precise ways.
“Because you are a necromancer!” Almë said.
“Ugh. Not really—“ and he disappeared.
“Wait, where did he go?” Taid asked.
Everyone looked around, trying to find him. He had blinked before, but that was a relatively short ranged spell, and if he did it again, he should be around somewhere. But he wasn’t.
“He might have portaled out of here,” Taid mused. “It’s likely he’s been trying to pull things in from other branes.”
“Well, we’d better find him,” Elitheris said.
“He’d probably go to someplace he knows,” Eykit said. “His house, maybe?”
“As good a place as any.” Elitheris looked at the canoe as it floated away downriver. “Shit. We’ll have to go back to our own boat. Come on!”
They started running back to their boat, on the other side of the narrow island. As they ran, they could hear Taid cursing with every step. “First Lennerd, now Nathan. Bastards!” He was pissed another necromancer had gotten away.
They kept looking over their shoulders, looking for that flying creature. They thought they could hear it flapping above their heads, hidden in the jungle canopy. Their canoe was where they had left it, pulled up onto the bank. They quickly launched it into the river, and rowed towards Nathan’s house. Fortunately, his house was near the river’s edge, only a dozen meters from the water. He even had a small dock, with a rowboat tied up to it.
They beached the canoe, the prow digging into the soft mud of the bank. They hopped out almost before it stopped moving, and almost lost it when the last person out kicked it loose in their hurry to get out. They ran up the bank, following the trail that led between the log house and the workshop.
Almë turned right, taking the three steps up to the porch in a single bound. The others turned left, making for the workshop. Almë opened the front door, but sprang back as something glowing dropped inches away from his face, like an ember from the tip of a cigar. He could smell a sharp, acidic smell, and backpedaled as a dark grayish smoke erupted in the doorway, rapidly filling a large area. Whatever it was, Almë wanted nothing to do with it.
“Fine,” he said to himself, “I’ll go around.” He went around to the side of the building, and peeked in the window. He didn’t see anyone, so he pried it open, then hopped up to the sill and slid gracefully inside.
It was a bedroom, with a well-made, solidly built bed, an end table, and a dresser. While not particularly decorative, the furniture was all well-made, the lines precise. The door to the rest of the house was closed, and Almë went over to it, listened to make sure no one else was in the house, then opened it. It opened inward, and Almë could see the living room and kitchen/dining area, rapidly filling with that grayish smoke. A small wooden contraption was above the door, likely the booby trap that caused the smoke.
He closed the door, and went through the drawers of the end table and the dresser. There was nothing of value. If Nathan had anything of value, it wasn’t in the bedroom.
During Almë’s bedroom excursion, the others had gone into the workshop. It looked different; many of the tools were gone, and many of the toys were, too. What toys were left were unfinished, broken, or unassembled. Several of the sculptures were gone as well.
The floor was covered in sawdust, which wasn’t something that had registered before because they had been focused on the toys and Nathan. But without him taking her attention, Elitheris noted that it would be odd for a skilled woodworker to have that much sawdust lying around. It had a tendency to get into the everything, including glued joints, potentially ruining the work.
Then she noticed some scuff marks in the sawdust, where it had be brushed aside by shoes. And there were some silvery lines on the floor. They brushed away the sawdust, exposing a silvery inlaid pentagram about two meters in diameter, centered on the workbench. The workbench itself was on clever, lockable casters.
Taid knew a little about pentagrams; it had been part of his thaumatology training. They were used to prevent magical spells or creatures from crossing from one side to the other. It was much like Force Dome, but in reverse. Non magical things could pass right through it.
“He must have used this to summon things from other branes,” Taid said.
“What kinds of things?” Eykit wondered aloud.
Taid shrugged. “I have no clue, besides magical things.”
“Things like those water snakes in the water brane we visited?”
“Maybe. Maybe something else. Something worse.”
Almë climbed back out the window. Eykit will be disappointed, he thought. No loot in there. He went around the back of the house to the third structure. Its large door implied it was a carriage house or stable, possibly both.
There was a latch on the large barn door, which Almë lifted. The door swung open, revealing a two wheeled cart, and what appeared to be a stall at the back. He shut the door, and turned as he heard his companions walk out of the workshop.
They stood in the clearing in front of Nathan’s house, at a loss at what to do. The necromancer was gone, somewhere. And no one knew where.
Eykit heard a noise, like rustling leaves. “What was that?” he wondered.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Almë said.
Almost as he said it, the sound reached him. It was now more than just rustling, it was more of a rushing noise as if something was moving through the bushes, approaching from the north.
“OOOooooOOOoooOOOOOOoooooooOoooOOOOOOooooo!” came a ululating, hooting cry.
“What was that?!” Eykit yelped. His ears swiveled like a cat’s, trying to pinpoint the new sound’s location. Best as he could tell, it came from the west.
It wasn’t like anything Elitheris had ever heard. “Whatever it is, it isn’t natural!”
The rustling bushes began to sound more like crashing footsteps, and they were coming closer.
Rewards Granted
4 CP
No loot, though, much to Eykit's chagrin.
Character(s) interacted with
Nathan Verges
High Razor, Nathan's Imp Familiar
Maribel
Jenna Constantin, maker of soaps
Shaman Grisha Moonaxe
Report Date
08 Apr 2023
Primary Location
Secondary Location
Related Characters
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