Chapter I, Part 7
General Summary
The Lady of the Keep & New Faces
5th-6th of Summer, 117 YA
After the past week, it was no surprise that all of the Companions slept in the morning of the 5th. Snug in their beds in the Traveler’s Inn, it was Prospit who first crawled out of bed to make his prayers and the others soon followed. A hearty breakfast was soon enjoyed and the priest indicated that he would be heading to the Keep to speak to Essara regarding their finds. Eldin decided to go with him to help with the recitation of facts. Grimbould had already begun drinking and looked like nothing was likely to move him from the bench although he demanded to be present when they went to try to sell the goods they had brought back. Assurances were made such that Grimbold went back to drinking and enjoying Wilf Bailey’s attempts to hear about their adventures that the Duergar was refusing to relate to him. It passed the time.
When Brother Prospit and Edlin appeared at the Keep, it was under ten minutes before a senior guardsman brought them through the front doors of the keep proper and to the hallway outside Steward Essara’s offices. They talked briefly and were surprised to find the door opened by the lady herself. She smiled tiredly and requested that they join her inside. The two learned men followed her into the office and observed the customary daily detritus of parchment that the Steward dealt with on a regular day. She sank into her chair and looked at them, brightening a bit, before asking of their business and travels.
It was here that Brother Prospit was most nervous as he related to her the destruction of the Old Raven Tower. After having just reported it to her the week before, he swore on his honor that it had been as he told it then. As he spoke, the entire tale began to come out and soon he was telling her of the presumed second entrance and their discoveries within. Clearly, the cleric argued, it was an entrance for individuals who traveled there and needed to stable their horses out of view. Steward Essara did not seem to judge them or their information in a harsh light. Although she did fret when she related that dispatches were sent to the Crown and the Church regarding the structure. Brother Prospit assured her that it was worth investigating by those worthies and they would be willing to lead the arrivals out there personally.
The Steward simply nodded and gestured for them to continue. Soon it was all there… the scorpions, the corpse, and sadly, the remnant of the Bright Spear’s banner. Brother Prospit somberly unfolded the ripped cloth and laid it upon her desk and saw that this did shake her. She looked at it for a long time and sighed.
‘The Bright Spear Company was a ray of hope for many folks over the past year,’ she admitted. ‘Granted, we have you and your friends and I am encouraged by your actions but the Company was well-known and well-liked.’ She shook her head. ‘This will not go over well… not at all.’ She folded the banner remnant and inquired about any further sign but learned that none was found. Finally, her face grew more authoritative and she ordered them and the others to complete silence about this development. There was no way to know their fate from a tattered flag, she said unconvincingly, but if the people in town were to hear of such it could really bring spirits down. At least for a little while, she stated, the secret of the Company’s fate must remain just so. The priest and mage agreed quickly as it did not affect them… until Edlin groaned as he remembered Grimbould slugging down ales at the Traveler’s Inn at that very moment.
The corpse and his identity were another topic as it was clear that mortal hands had done him in. The back wounds, Prospit pointed out, were likely delivered by a blade. But whether he was a cultist that was punished or a sacrifice, he shrugged, we may never know. Essara indicated that the initials meant nothing to her but she would inquire about a man with the facial scar as that may prove more useful.
Last but not least, Brother Prospit reached down into the bag for the Ogre head and grunted in order to get it above the desk surface. It had stopped leaking the day before but now, out of the pack, it began to fill the room with a cloying reek of bodily filth and death. Essara recoiled at first but then she grew enthused and congratulated them. Prospit related the tale of Grimbould’s heroism and combat prowess and was gratified to see even her with an impressed look. Cool and unperturbed had always been her watchword but it seemed that a little good news went a long ways to brighten everyone’s day.
It took only a little nudging to get the Steward around to the business of bounties. She admitted that no one had actually brought in an ogre head before but she was impressed enough to count fifty pieces of silver out on the desk. When she was informed of the cartographic efforts of Prospit and Edlin who had begun to take a liking to it; she thanked them and drew out three golden Auredani crowns ‘for their services.’ After that, she asked a number of questions to clarify the events and information they had brought her before taking their coin and their leave.
Later that night, Prospit put the final touches on the maps he and Edlin had been working on. He checked the copies to ensure accuracy as Edlin twirled around the room. He had received his ‘new robes’ back from being laundered and was whipping the hem around in a mysterious fashion. While it had made the cleric laugh, he could not help but note that robes were a bit more sinister-looking than Edlin’s old clothes. Knowing that even clothing so saturated with darkness could be a threat, the priest resolved to keep a close eye on the mage and his robes.
The following morning, on the 6th of Summer, Edlin and Grimbould dug at gossip from Wilf Bailey as Prospit checked his lists again before heading out for supplies. With the new coin in their pocket and much to sell, the priest was looking forward to put some coin towards proper provisioning for the group. As such their first stop was the Provisioner’s Store for goods and crafted items. They messed around with the wedge individual tents and the larger group ones; eventually they purchased two four-man tents for the group.
The next stop was the Mercator’s Guild Station and the companions were pleased to see Terius and Vurlan still behind the counter. They quickly filled the two merchants in on their recent events and receiving news from them in return. It seemed that the rumors of an ogre-led warband over near Northweyr were shaping up to be accurate. Terius indicated that the warband had hit two more caravans in the past month. The problem, Terius said unbidden, was the colonists pushing Northweyr into the wilds. The expansion is so aggressive that Lord Northweyr has not secured the land yet. None of the companions were familiar with Northweyr although it lay southeast of Dyramar it was still the far north-east of the Kingdom of Auredain. A true frontier domain, the merchants agreed, and there had been a call for more settlers and land for those who took up the offer. All part of the Reconquest—the aim of Auredain, supported by the Church, to retake their lands of old inch by inch from the beastmen who had snatched it from them.
Brother Prospit’s eyes shined a bit as such was what called him to the north and away from his altar service in the first place. With that raising alarm bells amongst the others, the clergyman was hauled out of the shop and back to the inn to prepare for their departure in the morning. On a side note, they nudged the companions, the Mercators Guild, has offered 100 gold pieces for anyone taking out the warband and ogre. Just send Grimbould, joked Terius as he admired the chalice and its heft.
While the markings were oddly disturbing, Terius indicated he was likely to sand it down or melt it down before selling. Even so, it was a hefty chunk of silver and old at that. He offered the companions 13gp for it and they took the deal quickly. While they discussed some other items, the companions inquired about restoratives and first aid enchantments. The two merchants shook their heads as the Station was fairly new and just now attracting trade. But, pronounced Vurlan, as he slid a tin across the counter, we do have ‘Laria’s Pomade.’ His tone was so self-satisfied that he was crestfallen when they did not seem interested. The pomade, a thick paste that could be applied to wounds and healing injuries, it sped up healing, reduced scarring, improved usage… all without arcana, stated Balorn. Some questions were asked and the two merchants seemed reluctant to give out any information but eventually admitted that they knew the traveler that brought the pomade to Dyramar.
Laria, they indicated, was an independent peddler who plied the roads and discovered all manner of odd things of value. Balorn swore that the pomade was a godsend and nearly pushed them into buying it. The limited supply was the problem, Balorn said as he handed over the only two tins they had in stock, as Laria would not divulge her source nor up the production of more pomade. That made it special, indicated Balorn, and Prospit certainly hoped so as he paid for the tins.
Later that afternoon, after storing the tents in the stall, they returned to the Traveler’s Inn for dinner and drinks. It was during this evening’s relaxation that the group were met by Nammaton, a dwarven worthy, and Cyryl, a fez-wearing hillman with a crooked smile and dubious stories. Nammaton, as Grimbould learned, had been raised among the hill tribes. His family had fled the destruction of their Vault over a hundred years ago and it was there that he was born, raised and befriended Cyryl. The two of them were late of Heraldsport where it seemed that they had gotten into their share of trouble. By the end of the evening, the two were easily convinced to seek out coin and excitement along with the others.
Encouraged by the new blood, Brother Prospit decided to embark on something that had been on his mind for some time. He made his excuses and headed out of the Inn. Alone in the dark, he retrieved the Bone Comb and carried it, sealed away, to the Sentinel’s Chapel. The comb had been on his mind overmuch and he hoped for guidance from the Virtues on the proper disposition of it. The door was not locked but Prospit knocked anyways given the time. Sister Karia smiled at seeing him and quickly ushered him. When he indicated the need to pray, she laughed and said the chapel was his for as long as he wished. She bade him goodnight and headed back towards her chambers where a small reading candlelight could be seen under the door crease.
The Sentinel’s Chapel was cool and protected from the growing warm days of Summer. Even now, it retained a coolness and quiet that instantly made Brother Prospit relax and seek within himself. The cleric’s faith was strong and vibrant, laying just below his skin as he imagined it suffusing him at times. It was in search of that comfort and security that his breathing became slow and regular, his body leaned into a prayer stance that was second-nature to him. As he felt that inner glow blossom, it almost seemed that the altar in the chapel answered it with a luminescence of its own. Brother Prospit dipped his head in prayer and then, ever so carefully removed the Bone Comb from the small box and centered his thoughts on it.
Back at the Traveler’s Inn, the two new members and Grimbould were getting on like bosom buddies. The wiry hillman, Cyryl, was a non-stop fount of amusing anecdotes and wry comments. Even the Duergar was hard-pressed to ignore the little man’s zest for life and charisma. Drinks led to more drinks and fairly soon the hillsman-acrobat was doing flips off the tops of tables to the cheers of everyone but Wilf Bailey. Soon the crowd was clapping and cheering as the acrobat bowed out and returned with a round of drinks.
Prospit held the Bone Comb in his hands as his prayers and meditation brought him closer to it. There was the familiar sense of peace and the snap of cold about his fingers as the comb plunged to near-freezing. His mind’s eye shot out, through the walls of the chapel and the keep itself.
A tugging to the north and the center of the Approach. He could see and smell a vast wetness and feel of rot in the air as if he stood upon a great swamp. There was an edifice there; hidden all these years. He could almost see the columns, hear the scuff of sandal on stone floors. It was the Great Temple of Vorkys which was written of in old books from before the cult was prohibited. He could feel its location and he could feel that the Bone Comb could guide him right to its very doorstep.
Of Beauty & Beasts
7th-8th of Summer, 117 YA
By midday they had reached the slow rise that led to the Grove of the Six Sisters. Brother Prospit had lectured Nammaton and Cyryl the entire way there about the need to remain polite, not to accept invitations into the Sisters homes, and to be patient with them. They were incredible resources, Brother Prospit indicated, with a trove of old knowledge that we will need someday. In fact, that was why he was bringing them the Bone Comb. While it disturbed him, especially his vision in the chapel which was still so clear and vivid that he found himself looking unconsciously in the direction where he knew the place was… he shook it off. The Bone Comb was concerning but it was also clearly enchanted and he felt that the Sisters would appreciate this gift of arcana from them. They had been quite explicit about their enjoyment of gifts and the cleric was determined not to let them down.
The two newcomers exclaimed as the serenity washed over them after passing through the towering oaks and seeing the frolicking wildlife and bright spots of luminescence that were fairies flitting about the grove. They settled themselves in to wait as the Sisters were often reluctant to show themselves during the bright light of the day and Prospit noted that Cyryl and Nammaton were new to them. Even so, it did not take long before the familiar auras coalesced into the curious eyes of a few of the Sisters and all of them grew quiet as the noble bearing of Endellion took shape before them.
The eldest of the Sisters greeted them all warmly and even ran a curious hand over Cyryl as her sisters whispered in the background. Prospit struggled to regain her attention as the hillman’s headwear and beard were clearly a novelty. When her attention was returned, the clergyman greeted her with distinct formality and humility as he sought to make a good impression on the eternal young women.
It is good to look upon you again, Man of the Robe. You and your friends should linger… Your man, Tomas, did do so for some nights.
Prospit and the others tried to hide their smiles at Tomas leaving them only to return to the Grove to spend time with a particular Dryad but eventually the clergyman regained his composure. Digging around in his pack, he retrieved the Comb wrapped in soft cloth, and presented it to Endellion as a token of their esteem. The reaction, immediate and shrill, was not what anyone was expecting!
The elder sister hissed such that the birds flew from the trees and the other younger Dryads disappeared from sight instantly. Prospit quickly back-pedaled as the gift, which came from good intentions, was met with such vitriol. Endellion seemed almost weakened in the sight of the Bone Comb and Prospit quickly rewrapped it and shoved it deep within his pack while apologizing profusely. Endellion snarled that the ‘foolish mortals’ and knew not what they had done as she demanded that they take it from the grove instantly. Its very presence, she moaned, brought darkness into their sanctuary and the shudder of falling leaves—out of season even—put the truth to that statement.
It was some time after the Comb had been removed from the Grove that Endellion regained her composure enough to continue their conversation and accept the companions apologies. She tsked them for being fools but realized it was an error of ignorance and not any sign of malice. But Brother Prospit was intrigued and he related the vision that he had concerning the Comb and asked her, in her ageless wisdom, what she knew of such a thing. She closed her eyes for some time and then began speaking, reluctantly, but with the intention of convincing these mortals of the dangers of such a relic.
The Bone Comb had all of the signs of Vorkys and all of his taint seeping from it. Even now, untold ages later, the crimes of the Rape-King and the taint in his soul was enough to gather dark influences. It was clearly saturated in his unholy presence, she noted, as would have been likely since it was clearly a ritual piece of some type. The burial shrine that the companions had uncovered was one of many hidden locations throughout the region, she indicated. The worship of Vorkys was tolerated for awhile amongst the Aendorians but was eventually outlawed for their participation in foul rituals and some other darker crime. The Grand Temple of Vorkys was buried and shut with great incantations and bonds both mystical and divine. As a sure sign of their wickedness, the normally just Aendorians had his higher clergy entombed within the Temple before it was cursed to be swallowed by the earth. His followers, those not beyond saving, were driven from the kingdom. It was a dark time, Endellion stated with surety, and that Comb feels as if it belongs there.
It calls to the Grand Temple, sealed and buried so many centuries, Endellion warned Prospit. That is what he saw in his vision, she concluded, it must be the location or a way to return the Comb to the Temple. It would be a dark thing, she needlessly pointed out, and should not be done. There would be those who seek to do just such a thing, she warned. Taking the Comb from beyond the ritual seals of the burial shrine may even have already brought its existence to the attention of those who might seek just such a thing. Brother Prospit swore to ensure that the Comb would not fall into the wrong hands and be stored safely.
With that, the companions enjoyed a relaxing night under the leaves and stars. Fresh nuts and greens appeared near them as they talked amongst themselves or simply enjoyed, as Cyryl seemed to be doing, the vista for the first time. As the sun fell lower, Brother Prospit was beckoned away by Endellion and the two of them spoke quietly in the shadow of her oak for some time. He returned quiet and uncommunicative. In time, even this worry was put to rest by slumber aided by the soft songs of the Sisters; like songful wind through the leaves.
The companions woke up to birds singing and a robust presentation of nuts gathered on fresh leaves before each of their bedrolls. The gesture made Prospit breathe a little easier as he feared that Endellion would not forgive him for the Comb. They enjoyed the light breakfast despite their preference for something more hearty. Well, most of them enjoyed the nuts… Grimbould grumped and glowed but, catching sight of one of the Sisters flitting through the leaves, even he had to admit the place was ‘okay.’ As they began packing up, one of the youngest Sisters, Aerion, watched them intently from a branch above them. Finally, she spoke and bade them to watch well and guard better beyond the grove for foul things were about...
A foul folk march the lands this past eve. The Squamma, they came close last night. Following you is the reason I’m sure. Do be careful for there were more than you of their sick smiles in the darkness. Any intruders? Of course not, their marching feet were less numerous as they wake this morning after so much running…
It was with some disappointment that they left the Grove later that morning. Brother Prospit was bothered by his mistake and could not seem to shake a gloom despite Cyryl’s best efforts to cheer him up. It was only a quarter hour later that Geller pointed out the tracks marching east to west towards the Auran River. Definitely Squamma, Geller smiled using the Dryad term for goblins and orcs, but not headed our way. With that, Geller took them straight across the tracks and then pushed a bit harder to clear some distance between them and it.
They crouched on a small rise and looked at the outcropping of stone that jutted out from the plains. They had seen it several times, on the way to the Grove and Viper Rock, and now they had decided to check it for themselves. The closer they got, the bigger the rockform grew. Soon they were beside it and observed that it rose sharply about twenty feet in the air and sloped down into a shrubbed hill on its opposite side. Volunteering, Geller scouted the place out and was assisted by Cyryl. They circled a bit and then they discovered a crack in the stone that was not visible unless straight on. They waved the others to follow them into a stone passage that ended in a rock wall.
The sight of the blocked passage was so incongruous that all of them spent some time looking at the wall from different angles and heights. It was a solid rock wall. Slowly, one of them decided to approach it but they watched as their hands hit the wall and, again, it was a solid rock wall. A quarter-hour of attempts led to success finally. Cyryl had walked forward with his eyes closed when he encountered the wall and slipped right through the now-obvious illusion. He took a quick look around and retreated back through it to inform the others of how to bypass the trick. Even so, some of them had to be led through it.
Once through the wall, they found themselves in a narrow hallway that led to a large wooden door. One look at the dimensions, nearly nine feet high and four feet wide, gave them a bit of pause but Cyryl pointed out that the door was open. Sure enough, the door was already open a crack and they slipped as quietly as possible through it. Doing so they gazed around at what was clearly a constructed hollow room of decent volume within the rock outcropping. The chamber smelled and the floor was covered with twigs, leaves and rat droppings. Set in the center of the room was a winding stone staircase, at least it appeared to be under all of the refuse, that delved below the chamber they were in. A quick look down the staircase showed an unlit void as there were no light sources and the stairs turned out of sight.
The companions had a quick huddle to ferret out their next move. The dwarves were all for heading down the stairs but some of the others worried about the implied size of their unknowing ‘host’. The door being left open also was a sign that maybe Galmarrag was not at home. This encouraged some but they all knew that the beast would be returning home eventually. The thought of being trapped down in the dark was not something that any of them sought to experience. So, with wise counsel, once again the companions took the better part of valor and made their way quietly out of the structure. Once outside, they decided to continue on their way to Keep Dyramar and make the Market-Day.
Before they left, to satisfy some concerns, Geller and Cyryl scouted out the base of the hill and around it but found no tracks or other secret entrances. Satisfied and realizing they were pushing the absence of this Galmaragg creature a bit too far and so quickly spent the afternoon gaining distance between them and the stone mound.
This was accomplished by traveling north by north-east towards the hills where they suspected the brigands may lay their heads. Bracing them in the bastards in their home seemed a solid plan and so the companions moved briskly across the barren scrub and rocky ground of the flats between them and the hills.
Guests Upon Midnight
8th of Summer, 117 YA
It was after midnight, with most of the companions abed, when the ruckus began. They had camped at the base of a steep rise with hilly woods on their other side. The elevated landscape allowed them a fire throughout the evening and their first night sleeping in full tents was darn near luxurious. The warm summer air also aided their slumber. But the clatter of someone stumbling in the woods had alerted the watch just after midnight and it was their hue and cry that sent the companions stumbling from their bedrolls.
The fight was complicated by the dark night with only a sliver of the moon. Geller and Prospit quickly realized that being illuminated by the fire made them prime targets for the bow-wielding blackhearts along the ridge over them. It was only Geller’s sharp eyes that sent a few shafts back into their own hides to dissuade them. While in the wooded hills to the east, the Duergar and Dwarf were peeling away brigands with each swing of their weapons. Aided by spellcasting and Cyryl’s daggers which flew out of the night to strike soft flesh it was only a matter of time before the cowards fled back into the darkness.
One was not so lucky though as Nammaton pierced his back and pinned him to the rocky soil below. This poor fellow was to answer a few questions, Nammaton observed while Grimbould smiled grimly in his direction. When the questioning was to begin, it was Geller who, searching among the bodies, recognized one of them as familiar. The brigand had been a part of the initial raid that had caught them flat-footed in the scrub plains so many weeks ago. So it was they turned their attentions to the still-living brigand before them.
His name, they learned, was Melius and he was quickly convinced of the need to give up information on his compatriots. With the death of Aghon at the companions hands back in that fateful attack, another blackheart had taken over the gang. Temo the Mad Bastard, the new leader was, according to their captive. And, it seemed, that Temo was a bit touched and overly cruel from the way he was described by Melius. The brigand indicated that they were operating out of a ruined hold that lay on the eastern foothills of the Sallow Hills. There was about twenty of them with a few Shaelovanni and half-Shaelovanni serving as night watchers. It was, as the group suspected, their travel across the plains that had tipped the brigands off. They had vantage points all along the edge of the plains looking for travelers and caravans to raid or extort for valuables.
The brigands preyed on the goblins that sometimes passed through but avoided the Orcs and other foul folk. Melius indicated that the band paid tribute to the King of Stone from time to time to keep their place. Whenever it was asked for, he coughed and clarified, since the King’s agent did not come around on a regular schedule. Who was the Stone King, he just laughed and shook his head, someone or something that rules the wild lands west of the Hills and central Approach. There are all sorts of rumors about him but no one in the gang knew for sure only that you did not cross him.
The other shocking piece of information was that there was a slaver, by the name of Cantos, who occasionally bought captives from the gang. He was a man, Melius indicated, but did not know where he was from originally. Nor did the brigand know if Cantus had any connection to the Chainers Guild. He simply did not know that or much more. News that the Chainers Guild, which dealt in slaves but was not allowed to conduct business in Auredain, might be taking slaves from the beastmen and selling them elsewhere was of great interest. Also, Melius had indicated that they often met Cantus at a location in the Sallow Hills where he conducted business with the beastmen tribes living in there.
And so the night ended with Melius dying of his wounds and prayers being said over his cooling body. The conversation was muted as the companions headed back to their beds but a decision had already been made. The brigands were too many and too fortified for an assault by the group. It was decided that they would return to Keep Dyramar and consider their next course of action.
It was a quiet end to a Spring of adventure and, as the Companions headed south to Keep Dyramar it was hoped that the Summer would prove even more eventful.
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