…continues from Book #01, Chapter #01, Scene #06

Synopsis

The 10th Day of Ches in the Year of the Sudden Journey

After accepting Blackengorge Town Council’s request to find their two missing sons the party headed to the mausoleum on a hill to the north of town, where they found the entrance to an old crypt being used for some form of ritual by an elf and his guardians. Tested to their limits in power the group prevailed, and set off to return for Blackengorge.

On the road they were waylaid by a band of kobold and goblin brigands, but managed to defeat them. They now return to Blackengorge as victorious heroes with the two missing children in tow.

Scene Length

This scene starts on Friday 12th November 2010 and is expected to be completed by the end of Tuesday 16th November 2010.

Players are expected to be able to post at least twice a day.

The group arrived back at the west gate of Blackengorge as dusk turned to night. Clouds had dissipated and the night sky, littered with stars, illuminated their journey.

The gates were closed and the drawbridge over the moat raised, but soft yellow flames could be seen in the wooden guard towers to either side of the gate.

‘Ho, there!’ shouted Tradden, trying to attract the attention of a guard. ‘We’ve returned with your sons!’

Shadowy figures could be seen moving about in the tower platforms, and Zero’s fingers twitched above his crossbow.

Then, to the relief of Zero’s fingers, a guard’s face popped over the side of the tower, and after a moment of study he shouted out to his comrades, ‘It’s them, they’re back! Get Robert and Aldous, and find the Council, the sons are back.’

A great creaking rang out in the still night air and the drawbridge started lowering on braided ropes.

Blackengorge At Night - IMAGE

The drawbridge hit the earthen side of the moat nearest the party with a thud and the wooden palisade gates opened outwards with a guard on either side. Even in the dim

light their faces could be seen to be bright, with great smiles on them.

As the group slowly marched over the drawbridge the guards’ smiles turned to looks of worry and concern, though. The party were bedraggled, bloodstained, and weary, and although the two boys were all beams and joy, they too had scars and wealds upon them. The sight of a number of redundant weapons being carried amongst the group was also not a good sign.

Sounds of the drawbridge being raised behind them comforted the group. A certain tiredness started to seep its way into their bodies.

One of the guards stepped forward. He looked more military than the others, dressed in well-kept, but obviously used, scale mail and carrying a large halberd. He looked for the largest in the group, focusing on Tradden.

‘What happened here?’ he asked abruptly, noting the weapons the boys were carrying.

The guard stood stoically taking in Tradden’s words and distilling them minus the hysteria. The boys looked physically injured, but not badly, and seemed to be fit mentally as they rushed across the guard compound towards their families.

‘The short greenskins will be ‘goblins’,’ he stated mechanically. ‘We’ve had a few of them before in small numbers, twos and threes. Can be vicious little buggers with spears and little slicer knives, but tend to flee when threatened with numbers.’

‘Judging by the weapons you’ve returned with, this wasn’t a band of two or three.’

The guard knelt down and started to inspect the weapon pile that the boys had left as they had headed off.

From across the compound through the night came a familiar figure towards the group. One of the members of the Town Council, Barghest the Guard Captain, came hurrying across, puffing slightly.

‘Valino, what news?’ huffed Barghest.

The guard continued to inspect the weapons, turning them over and judging their potency in the torchlight. Without turning he responded to Barghest, ‘It seems our adventurers have quite a tale to tell, sir. Not only have they managed to bring back Offa and Bailey relatively unharmed, they seem to have run into an organised band of goblins. May be worse.’

Barghest looked somewhat surprised. ‘What do you mean organised?’ he asked.

The guard, Valino, stood up carefully, not taking his eyes off of the weapon pile. ‘These are better weapons than we’ve seen the goblins use before. More of them too. How many were there?’ he asked Tradden.

‘Erm, I’m not quite sure,’ replied Tradden, not quite ready to meet eye contact with Valino just yet. ‘About half a dozen of the goblins, and a similar amount of the demon lizard things.’

There was a barely impercetible flinch on Valino’s face as he turned towards Barghest. ’We’d better double the guard tonight, sir. This was an organised group.’

Barghest nodded at Valino and one of the other guards headed off towards quarters to rouse some of the others.

‘The ’demon lizards’?’ enquired Barghest of Valino.

‘Kobolds,’ spoke a voice from the darkness. His Radiant Servant, Tremak, appeared from the gloom. ‘Lizard creatures, short with scaly hides. Crocodile-like heads, cold-blooded. What do we intend to do about this Barghest?’

A scowl crossed Valino’s face, hidden from Tremak.

Barghest stuttered, and Valino spoke up. ’The guard is doubled tonight, Your Radiance. These men,’ he waved at the group, ‘have need of rest. We can discuss our next actions in the morning.’

Tremak took his time to reply, seemingly not addressing Valino. ‘Very well, Barghest. You and your men should alert me if any thing else untoward happens tonight.’ He then disappeared back into the gloom.

Barghest addressed the party. ‘We thank you for your efforts today with all our hearts. I’m sure you could do with refreshment at the inn. I will see to it that Skillet gets off his lazy arse to supply you with hot water to tend your wounds and food to fill your stomachs. We shall talk more on the morrow.’

With that the guards parted, allowing the group to slowly trudge back to the inn for rest, Kireth leading the way.

The evening at The Bronze Lion passed quite uneventfully in comparison to the day’s trials. As Barghest had promised, hot water had already been prepared by the little halfling proprieter, Skillet, and rooms had been made available.

The Bronze Lion was a fairly simple affair compared to the inns and taverns around Deepingwald, but for a hamlet outpost like Blackengorge it was quite substantial. The bottom floor had a large bar area with a roaring fire, a stuffed head of a giant boar hanging over the mantlepiece staring in silence at any visitors. To the side of the bar area were some larger tables, evidently set aside for people to have grander meals.

As the group entered the inn was relatively quiet, just Skillet hurrying about behind the bar and disappearing into the kitchens beyond and a couple of girls — the ones that had so energetically waved the group off to the mausoleum — sweeping and cleaning. One of these two, introducing herself as Juliet with a blush, showed the party to their rooms.

Celestia had a small room to herself much to her relief and immediately set to the task of removing and cleaning her armour from the grime it had accumulated over the past week. The hot water in a small, but serviceable, tub was a blessed relief.

The rest of the party were a little dismayed to find they were sharing rooms — two twins had been set aside.

Much to Kireth’s relief Tradden cheerily slapped Khalin on the back and extolled the virtues of sharing bunks, pushing the dwarf into the first of the rooms, leaving the wizard to share with Zero.

With the nod to meet downstairs for a meal in an hour or so, the adventurers set themselves to wash and remove the foul stench of the mausoleum from their clothing, and to clean and service their weapons and armour as best they could.

Khalin was the first downstairs. Although he took hygiene seriously, he wasn’t one for preening and constantly changing shirts like the young fighter he’d left in the room. A good wash, some simple cotton clothing and the temptation of a warm frothy beer were enough to get the dwarf downstairs and before the fire.

He was joined not long after by Zero who had come downstairs in frustration after trying to strike up several conversations with Kireth and failing miserably to get more than a few syllables in answer. The wizard seemed to have a lot on his mind, and had kept looking at some dusty old books rather than listening to Zero’s engaging and witty remarks.

The pair were brough beers and some fresh bread by Juliet, who blushed every time she came near the table. Khalin dove into the bread and beer like a dwarf possessed, leaving Zero to pick around the edges and sip slowly at the beer as he looked about.

The furniture and fittings within The Bronze Lion were, of course, fairly new, but were already showing signs of being smoothed out around their edges — well used. Most, if not all, were wooden, preseumably from timbers cut down close to the village. Zero admired the craftsmanship, energy and committment that must have gone into all the buildings and pieces of the village in such a short space of time.

The bar itself was a fairly long affair with a smooth well-polished top. It seemed that the halfling behind the bar had a favourite occupation of constantly polishing the woodwork. Above the bar, at a jaunty angle, was a large portrait of another halfling, closely resembling the owner, but older.

The aroma of cooking floated across the inn causing Khalin to look up from his foaming ale and sniff the air.

‘Boar, if I’m not mistaken, Master Zero,’ he spluttered, wide-eyed, breadcrumbs flying across the table. ‘Hmm, wish they’d hurry up, this bread’s nearly done.’

Almost if on cue, at the smell of roasting boar, the door to the inn opened and townsfolk started to drip in. Shaking the chill night air off by the fire they gathered in the bar area near Khalin and Zero, eyeing them nervously and whispering amongst themselves. When Juliet came over to take their orders there were a few hushed questions and a couple of pointed fingers towards the pair, before one of the villagers came over to their table.

The man introduced himself as Kimbel Drax, one of the woodcutters. He thanked the pair heartily for what they had done during the day and passed a couple of coppers across the bar to Skillet, whereupon drinks were hurried to the table by Juliet. Not wishing to offend, Zero raised his newly arrived foaming mug of ale to match the townsfolk and took a small sip. Khalin finished his before Zero had set his down on the table.

Tradden, finally happy with what he was wearing, headed out onto the landing. He knocked at Kireth’s and Zero’s door and asked if they were coming down, but with no

answer assumed they were already downstairs. He passed Celestia’s door, and thought better of knocking at the last minute, just in case it was taken the wrong way. He padded softly into the bar area, pushing back his hair as he went.

The bar was warm and filled with the aroma of cooking boar and pipeweed. A hubbub surrounded one of the tables, and Tradden tried pushed in to see.

Around ten villagers, men mostly, surrounded the table, Zero off slightly to one side slowly shaking his head. Sat at the table were a rosy-nosed Khalin and one of the villagers engaging in an arm-wrestling match. It was fairly obvious that Khalin was both winning and slightly drunk.

When Khalin eventually — after what seemed like a little teasing — pushed the villager’s arm down to the table he stood and roared and another foaming mug was pushed towards him. With a toast to Moradin, the ale disappeared down Khalin’s throat, and another villager sat down at the table.

Tradden eased his way over to Zero and asked the rogue how long this had been going on for.

‘About six ales, so far,’ replied Zero. ‘It’ll be interesting to see how long he lasts. He’s certainly making a lot of friends, though.’

Tradden looked over at the ever-growing group — all seemed to be laughing and having much merriment, perhaps some at relief at the return of two of their brethren, and perhaps some at the mere fact that there were new vistors from the mainland.

Celestia arrived in the bar area just as Khalin won another round and large platters of sweet-smelling boar were carried into the room by Juliet and the other serving girl. Celestia wore a simple gown which accentuated her shape and elven features, causing the general commotion in the room to die down as she crossed the room. However, although she carried the exotic elven maiden tag well, there was something in her eyes that stopped any of the townsfolk from approaching and commenting on her beauty.

As the platters were unloaded onto the tables, the group were left to eat in peace, only the occasional muttered apologies from Khalin as he paused from wolfing down the boar to belch.

Tradden commented on Khalin’s ale intake and the size of their small room for the night. Khalin merely winked.

‘You think this halfling’s brew matches the strength of a good dwarven ale?’ Khalin retorted. ‘By Moradin’s beard, it’s like water. I could be here all night without effect, Master Tradden.’

With that the other serving girl — known as Calanthe according to Zero’s ’sources’ — appeared laden with more foaming jugs of ale and set them before the group.

‘Where’s Kireth?’ asked Tradden. ‘I knocked at his door, but there was no answer — has he gone out?’

‘I left him sat upstairs embroiled in his books,’ said Zero, tucking into the food with considerable manners. ‘I’m not even sure we’ll see him tonight, he was that engrossed.’

Kireth didn’t even notice the knock at his door. He’d washed and changed quickly and gotten out of Zero’s way as fast as he could. Although he was hungry and thirsty,

food could wait, he was hungry for something else — knowldge.

When Zero had left the room with a cheery comment, Kireth mumbled back something — he wasn’t even sure what, he had been too engrossed in the first of the two tomes that he had found in the elf’s ritual chamber.

Kireth learnt much from the first book. Its previous owner, the elf, Helvec the mage had discovered his name to be, had created the book, adding rituals over what appeared to be many years. Some of the rituals were known to Kireth — he had heard of them during his schooling, but he had never been given the authority to study them in detail, and now, here in his hands were some of the very rituals he had sought.

There were more, however — some he had trouble in deciphering, some were completely unknown, and many had annotations and comments in the margins of the tome.

From notes and passages towards the rear of the book Kireth pieced together some of Helvec’s actions. The elf was thirsty for power, using what ever methods that he could find. He had travelled over the course of penning the tome and Kireth hissed that there was no map to judge where the places he mentioned were.

Scribbled notes of places such as Bael Turath, Hammerfast, and Vor Rukoth intrigued the wizard, but without a map, directions, or scale he was lost to their location. Something, he decided, that he could put aside just now, but must be investigated later.

The rituals and actions within the tome led Kireth to believe that the elf was trying to use the blood of innocent victims to open some sort of portal, though to where and why Kireth could not fathom.

In frustration he laid the first tome aside, cursing his tutors for not allowing him access to some of the greater volumes of knowledge.

The second tome was also very intruiging. It was bound with two copper plates and contained a small lock to prevent prying eyes. The key was clipped into the lock as Kireth had found it and he spent some time examining and carefully looking at the lock.

With a nervous hand betraying him, Kireth turned the key and opened the lock. There was an ominous click and a jet of flame raced up Kireth’s arm, burning his sleeve and almost setting the bedding alight. Kireth dropped the book and cursed himself, patting out the flames and grimacing against the pain. However, the book lay open on the bed.

Almost instantly forgetting the pain he scoured the tome, drinking in the notes and diagrams within. This certainly wasn’t Helvec’s tome, the writing was more ordered and thoughtfully set out, rather than the scribblings and reworkings of a madman.

Knowledge flooded into Kireth, his appetite satiated for the moment. But with that knowledge came a price, as Kireth felt a small amount of despair and frustration as he realised how much there was yet to learn, and how little amount of time to learn it in.

Wrapping his robes around him, he thoughtfully paced downstairs to satiate his other, less important, hunger.

The re-joined group ate heartily and drank well that night. In the main, the group were tired, so with the exception of Khalin did not over-indulge.

Many of the villagers thanked the party well and toasted their health, telling them to visit tomorrow where they would ‘see what they could do’ to help the party with provisions.

When they were finally left alone thoughts on the party’s table turned to their next steps. Zero, seemingly reluctantly, indicated that they had found a number of gold and silver coins, perhaps over a couple of hundred, but not stamped as the Deepingwald ones, so was not sure of their value. Tradden had picked up the ornate dagger from the elf’s ritual chamber which might be worth something — at least enough to get some provisions.

The group resolved to have the gold pieces valued the next day and distribute them equally, and ask around in the village for what was about in the local environs. Although many of the party had thought of the thrill of exploring the Old Continent, they hadn’t really any firm plans on how to go about it. For now they had no means of travel except by foot, and no real means of sustenance or shelter on the road, let alone a direction of travel.

With full bellies, and at least a simple plan for now, the group resolved to meet on the morrow. They rose as one, with a final toast to themselves. With a clang of their mugs and a cheer, they all sipped at their ale, Khalin downing his in one.

As they turned to leave the table they noticed Khalin swaying somewhat, but before anyone could react the dwarf fell backwards onto the floor of the inn, unconscious.

From behind the bar a small halfling could be heard chuckling, ‘My brew’s not that strong, eh? Think again.’

‘Two copper!’ she shouted.

That was very pricey for what they were, but on the basis that they were not the worst flowers in the world and that it would get him away as quickly as possible, he fumbled around to find the payment, eventually offering her a silver coin as it was the smallest he had.

A gnarled hand with a vice-like grip grabbed hold of Tradden’s palm as he offered the coin, and two piercing black eyes held his gaze. In a low croaking voice, out of earshot of any onlookers, she spoke to the young fighter.

‘With doors open and dark behind
The one who ruled lost their mind
At midnight began the terrible slaughter
Wife and son, brother and daughter
Cannot be forced into defeat
Driven back and down into defeat
Above the ’fell yet stuck therein
Wails of anguish fill the ruin’

Kireth left some two hours later, some more answers, but yet more questions to ask.

It seem that the Town Council were fully aware of the threat from the kobolds and goblins, and had been for some weeks. The tracker, Gilmorril, had located their lair some time ago, a pitiful cave behind a waterfall in the cliffs of the gorge to the south, but there had only been a small and weak tribe of goblins. Lately, though, Gilmorril had reported a growth in numbers, added to by kobolds muscling their way into the tribe somehow. The full extent kept from the townsfolk so as not to create panic, whilst the Town Council planned their actions.

The tracker had wanted to let people know so that they could prepare in case of an assault, but the Town Council had sent him away on an errand to the east with the dwarf Rindall to investigate some far-flung fancy of a dragon’s graveyard.

Kireth also learnt of the futility of using scrying magics — all attempts by Lucius had failed so far to either contact The Islands or to remote view across the Old Continent.

Deep in his own thoughts, Kireth returned to the inn. Retiring to his room he once more picked up his quill and began scribbling notes furiously in his book.

As he reached the door of the inn he was accosted by an elf female. Well, he assumed it was a female — it was hard to tell under all the soot and grime and the well-built frame. He looked again, but couldn’t make up his mind.

‘Yes, can I help you?’ he boomed, suddenly irritated that she had grabbed his arm at the door.

‘You are friends with the tall fighter, yes?’ she asked. It was definitely a she, the voice gave that away.

‘Indeed, he is a good friend and good warrior,’ stated the dwarf plainly.

‘I have a proposition for him,’ she continued. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘I imagine he’s in here, if you’d let me in!’ retorted Khalin, looking at the hand on his arm, trying not to wince at the vice-like grip of the smith.

The elf let go of Khalin’s arm and stood to the side as the dwarf opened the door and entered the inn.

Tradden was sat at one of the tables in The Bronze Lion, casually leaning back in his chair thinking on how he should use the new crossbow he had ordered and whether going back to the smithy in the afternoon to see how far Caldring had got on with it would be too soon. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice Khalin approach with the object of his desire behind him until they were at the table.

Snapping out of his reverie he tipped all of the way back and fell to the wooden floor w ith a crash.

Red with embarrasment, he picked himself up, trying to explain how he was testing his reflexes against being bowled over by eight-foot hobgoblins, and how he intended to recover with a roll and sweep at their hamstrings.

Khalin remained impassive — letting Tradden talk until he ran out of things to say — before he indicated that the lady had a proposition. Tradden was all ears.

To the east, some couple of leagues beyond the lake was a swamp. Gilmorril, the elf tracker in the town, had skirted around it on one of his excursions and had seemingly gone that way with Rindall three or four days ago. Gilmorril had brought back a worked band of iron from the swamp, indicating that he’d seen more there. She enquired whether Tradden and Khalin would accompany her to the swamp to bring back some of the iron, perhaps finding Gilmorril and Rindall at the same time.

Tradden was keen to agree — spending time with Caldring, and getting the opportunity to explore at the same time was high on his agenda. Khalin seemed to agree that finding the missing dwarf would be a good use of his time. With Zero firmly ensconsed with the ladies around town and the inn, Kireth devoted to his books, and Celestia spending time at the temple, the pair would be on their own.

‘Then it is sealed. We set off at first moon — no sense in travelling during the day when we will be spotted by wandering goblins or kobolds or worse! We shall meet at the east gate. I shall bring your crossbow and armour, Tradden.’

As she left the inn, all that could be heard was the sound of a fist punching the air, and a cry of ‘Yes!’