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Oh, come on Amanorn, let's take the job, elf, it's not like it'll kill us. . Yep, and now the scroll of invisibility has worn off, and that stupid giant tore his friends to bits, he just knew it. You idiots, I told you we shouldn't split up! I told you we should have waited for the other team from the Order to rendezvous...even if we had no idea when they were coming. Ugh, but man, I have been feeling sick as a dog since we went through that stupid door. By Cali's stinger, I am so tired of being the only one with common sense out of this lot, and...wait, what the hell was that?! It sounded like an explosion.
Amanorn slips into the shadows and pulls out his bow, keeping a careful eye out for further trouble. He only has one invisibility spell left, and doesn't want to waste it if he's not entirely sure yet, but it doesn't mean he should stand right out in the open.
Amadorn sneaks around the corner silently, and pauses, staring at the group for a second. Huh, they don't look like villagers...or priests. And all those priests in the temple were dead. Strange...waitaminute...I recognize those two half elves, I think. The one with the whip looks an awful lot like....hmm...and the one with the hat...is that...
"Jones?! Jones She'lac? From the Nex School of Divination?"
He steps out of the shadows for a minute, bow lowered.
"Huh, and you must be the Ral'Algul I'm supposed to meet up with. The Order told me there'd be one of your family here, but I can't believe how much you look like Esmeralda."
He nods at all of you. "Thank god I've found all of you. I'm Amadorn Preyedan. The Order told us some backup would be here to help investigate this strange place, but...Well, the rest of the group sent me back to check a dead end while they went after those priests, and I'm guessing you can figure out what happened to them, since you seemed to have taken out the priests."
He steadies himself, shaking his head and placing one hand on a wall for support. He really wasn't feeling good lately.
"Can't say as I recognize your friends. Holy crap, that's the biggest damn dwarf I've ever seen!"
Amanorn? What's *he* doing here?
"The introductions will have to wait, Amanorn. We're in the middle of a fight here."
Nodding, he grins, raises his bow and gives a wink.
Feeling like a bit of an idiot for pointedly stumbling into the situation like this, he hopes to make amends. With a whisper he replies.
Amanorn flashes his signature smart@ss grin.
"Anyway, wait until you see the trick I learned with this bow."
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Amanorn castes Haste on the party.
The Lupine man snorts, " This isnt the time to reminisce.. You are not the only fools who speak Elven "
His harsh voice rises as he points towards the area, " Zin, burn it again, it still hasnt learned, after that I'll punish the creature some more. "
Once she had Darius rushes forward to give the wayward Giant a fine whipping across the chest. His movement noticeably buoyed by some magic his is sure the new elf had given in their wait.
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Sledge springs from the sub-dimension he had vanished to for mortal combat with the dreaded El'bac Ren-raw e'Mit to punch the giant in the schnozzer.
Jones waits for Zin to do her usual thing before moving forward. Assuming the giant is even there, he stebs it.
Amanorn rolls his eyes at Darius.
"Huh...a whip...no symbolism there. Nope. None at all."
Darius twitches, his mind rushing back to the baser instincts the come forward.
" Changing Languages doesnt make you any better. You can question my weaponry when you prove yours, assuming I trust you. " he quipped.
"Darius, newelf, don't be childish."
"That all depends on your definition of better, my good sir. It certainly makes me more of a cunning linguist, or so I've been told... Don't let it fret your furry little head, I'm sure you're quite the master debater."
At his word play, Amadorn's grin is nearly wide enough to take his head off. He gives a nod to Sledge, whom he still has no idea is a human, because I mean, look at that beard!
"My apologies, Sir Dwarf, I was merely exchanging in a fun spar of verbal intercourse with the good man. By the sound of the tone of his voice, the dear boy was just aching for some form or another. I will, as you request, play nice."
Jones just silently rolls his eyes.
Between Jones' stab and Darius' whip, the Brineborn falls.
"Yib killed by home invasion? Is cruel world we live in." she contemplates, and expires.
"Well, that was anticlimactic."
He reaches into his spell component pouch and starts making a small roll up cigarette, because why wouldn't tobacco be a spell component?
"Oh, damn, and me without tindertwigs. I could sure use a light. Oh, yes, and some damn demon slug thing is burrowing it's way through my insides, so I could probably use a drink as well, because, yes, that hurts like hell, and may be the cause of my snark of late. My apologies, um...furry...man-elf friend of Jones...Darius, I believe the other called you? I get a little bit nettled when horrific parasites are eating my inside."
Jones is somewhat taken aback.
"Did you not think to tell us about that sooner? Though, I suppose it wouldn't have changed anything. Slugspawn cannot be passed on to other hosts until they have...transformed their original host and started reproducing, and that takes a few days after infection. I can prepare a remedy first thing tomorrow morning."
"I was getting to that when somebody told me to be silent. I appreciate that Jones. Just like old days, only instead of you brewing me hangover cures, it's preventing an inevitable death. I suppose I can thank you with a perusal of my spellbook, old bean, if you think you can concoct any potions out of that in the future."
The day had started out so well, what with the giant octopus attack and all. But between the peasants, disappointing cultists, and now a friend of Jones making their arrival, the town had quickly descended into some sort of quasi-hell.
Z sighed as she approached the giant before torching it in fire.
"I don't appreciate sardonic giants."
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"Before we continue, I think I promised you some introductions."
"This is Darius Ral'algul, our expert monster hunter. Samuel Sledge is a human hand-to-hand combat specialist and, er, self-titled "professional hobo". Zin'Retatarianna Mor, who usually goes by Zin or "Z", is...well, she's a very talented divine caster."
He turns to his friends. "Amanorn Preynedan was a colleague of mine at the Nex School of Divination. I don't know what he's been up to these last few years, but his talent with the bow is quite impressive, especially when combined with his arcane spellcasting."
"We can catch up more later. For now, I think we should conclude our investigation as quickly as possible so we can get some well-deserved rest."
In the room proper is a large tank filled with liquid. Inside is the corpse of a man, recognizable as Cassius Undiomede, founder of Illmarsh. Beside the tank is a sharkskin bound journal.
Detect that magic, just in case.
No magycks.
"Wait, that's a human? Damn, seriously, I can't tell the males between the two of those apart, with all that disgusting fur. No offense. I have human friends. Like...three of them. Three and a a half if you count Jones. Okay, so Stephanus is more like a business contact, but he sends me a card for the holidays, and I've met his wife, so, that counts, right? And...okay, maybe Tianara isn't so much 'friends' as 'she's seen me naked, because charm person is a hell of a spell', but I mean, she hits me with a sending spell when I'm in the area, and we, you know, enjoy a meal, and...stuff. The point is I'm not a racist s against humans. Or dwarves. Or murderously large hobos that need to stop staring at me like that - hey look a book!"
Amanorn decides to casually peruse the journal, since nobody else has.
This is Cassius Undiomede's journal, starting from before he became a Lord, up until near his death.
Two centuries ago, when the smuggler captain Cassius Undiomede proved too much of a thorn in the side of the Count of Versex to ignore, yet remained too difficult to pin down and bring to justice, the count did the only thing that he could to bring the rogue to heel—he granted him a lordship. Lord Undiomede was given the stretch of coastline from the Detstach River to the northern edge of the Soddentimbers with the rights and duties to all incomes derived therein. Captain Undiomede’s cargoes were now legitimate and therefore subject to taxation by the county. The smuggler’s camp used by Undiomede became the settlement of Baytown (eventually renamed Illmarsh), and the count’s own customs office was placed prominently in the center of town.
Now a legitimate trader, Lord Undiomede built up Baytown as a fishing and trading community and relocated his residence, known as Undiomede House, beyond the edge of town to the site of an old ring of stone menhirs, erected thousands of years earlier by a savage druid cult that occupied the area before waves of settlers drove them out. Lord Undiomede quickly became a successful merchant—his trading ventures always proved lucrative, with nary a ship lost to the merciless storms of Lake Encarthan. Baytown’s fishing fleet always seemed to come in with the most bountiful of catches, and even long-lost sunken treasures turned up in the fishing nets of the townsfolk with astonishing regularity. Tax revenue flowed from Baytown into Versex’s coffers—in amounts far greater than expected from the tiny town—causing no end of speculation in Thrushmoor as to the source of Undiomede’s ungodly luck.
The count and his councilors assumed that Undiomede was continuing to smuggle lucrative contraband to reap these huge profits, using the supposed bounty of Baytown to hide his trafficking, but neither the count’s customs officers nor secretly hired investigators ever uncovered any trace of such wrongdoing.
In truth, his methods were far more sinister.
The real source of Undiomede’s success was a secret to everyone save himself. In his early days of smuggling off the Tern Rocks, Captain Undiomede had encountered and made common cause with a tribe of strange, inhuman creatures (which he refers to only as the Neighbors even here) dwelling in underwater tunnels below the lake. To avoid discovery and escape capture at the hands of the count’s customs agents, Undiomede struck a devil’s bargain with them—he provided them with kidnapped young women in exchange for their secret aid and intervention. After gaining his lordship, Undiomede continued his arrangement with his aquatic benefactors, who ensured that the nets of the Illmarshers were ever full of fish and that any interesting trinkets unearthed on the lake bottom by the Neighbors made their way into Undiomede’s hands. In return, Undiomede instituted the Fostering Pact, offering the Neighbors the daughters of the new settlement he was forming as "wives" to the creatures.
Sadness tinges his words here, though not regret. In his own words:
“I can only ensure the health and prosperity of Baytown and my own line by giving the Neighbors what they require, even if that means giving up my own daughters, and those of my heirs and my people. Regardless of my personal feelings, it is a small price to pay for such security.”
As Amanorn finishes reading the journal (either aloud or to himself is up to his discretion) an alarm begins to sound to the east.
"Please don't tell me this means we have to enter into the lake."
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Amanorn raises an eyebrow at Zin's question. "What's wrong with getting a little we... by Calistria's stinger, what in the Maelstrom happened to your arms...ahem...that is to say...wow...yeah, um, we don't want to get you wet, m'lady, no, that would probably be bad."
He stops and scratches his chin, thinking.
"Perhaps some rudimentary transmutation magic could temporarily aleviate your obvious physical necessitstion to avoid such a scenario? We could get an alter self spell, and I could scribe everyone a few scrolls, if any of have the training to use such items...Or maybe an air bubble spell to avoid contact with the water altogether?"
The flames in Z's arms flicker angrily.
"You didn't particularly care for this man did you Jones?"
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Darius had watched patiently once more evaluating the individual and the situation, once again having to step in when a certain person became volatile. He placed his hands on Z's shoulders... firmly. " No, Zin this man as... flamboyant as his is, has caused no issue outside of cursory annoyance. One which you have shown on other such occasions. "
The wolf-man sighed. " He was trying to help, Amanorn... Z here is cursed. Especially so, painfully so. Water and her arms do not get along. "
"Yes, I was trying to help. I was a bit...startled...by it. But in either case, transmutory magic, while not permanent, may cause temporary alleviation. The air bubble spell puts a bubble of protection around the swimmer, preventing actual physical contact with the water itself. It is a staple of those who use alchemical concoctions and the firearms that are becoming so popular of late, as many of their components are ruined by water contact. The former can only be used on the caster themselves, which is why I suggested scrolls, but the later...well, I don't have it in my spellbook, but with a copy I could cast it on any of you, given sufficient preparation."
He gives a small bow to Zin. "My dear woman, it was never my intent to cause further suffering to someone so lovely...and easily pissed, apparently."
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"You didn't particularly care for this man did you Jones?"
A wry grin crosses Jones's face.
"Hm, that's a good question. I would prefer that you refrain from incinerating him, if that's what you mean."
"By the way, is anyone else curious about that alarm?"