Jayse nods in general agreement, "Yah, I agree that we should assume that's the case until we can prove otherwise." He begins to unload the purchases he and Jofram made for the group, handing each item to its new owner. He smiles as he pulls out head-pieces for himself and one other member, "Sorry, the lady didn't have these in matching colors."
He thinks for a few minutes about the news about the lack of Naladoria information. "To be thorough, did you search for records of ships that began with Nala or ended with -doria? It seems like an equally slim chance that you'll find something given the strange things we know about our circumstances, but I'd prefer to search every angle before we assume that we didn't actually get here on one shared boat."
He looks around, making sure no one is listening. Even then, he pitches his voice low, "Also, did you get a chance to look into our... benefactor?"
"HA!" Straehan exclaims before giving the monk a friendly whack on the arm punctuated by a smile. "I'm a manipulative bastard and a cold-blooded liar but I'm also a scholar, Jayse. Do you imagine, I'd leave any avenue unexplored?"
"We looked up every iteration of Nala and Doria, together and separately. There is no passenger vessel plying these waters legally, that bears that name. There are some smaller vessels that have elements of those names but they are fishing boats. Could a large passenger vessel of that name be built and not registered? Maybe. But why? The ruling body in the Isles is draconic about shipping. Every ship built has to be registered and recorded; even our Mako is on the rolls now. And the dockmasters at the major ports are charged with watching every arriving vessel. Unregistered vessels are impounded at a minimum."
"It is even less likely that the 'Nala-' came from the Mainland. Mainland vessels are only allowed to approach Landfall Isle and dock at Portal. Any Mainland vessel found elsewhere is confiscated or destroyed and its crew executed. It's stated in the treaty. Apparently, the Isles folks are only willing to trade with the Mainland if they can be assured that the Mainlanders are strictly controlled and limited. A swift scout frigate or small spy craft might try to slip through that net but I can't imagine a passenger vessel would or could. As soon as it made port, it's questionable origins would likely be discovered."
He looks around, making sure no one is listening. Even then, he pitches his voice low, "Also, did you get a chance to look into our... benefactor?"
The gnome gives a slight shake of his head. "Tomorrow - I'm going to look into our mystery ship's namesake and the Dweller. They may be a bit more difficult to find."
"Still, there was a shipwreck out there Straehan, treaty or no. Since the chances of a ship from the Mainland making it that far without being detected are slim ad none, the most likely explanation of that ship's appearance is either transportation magic or..." Ushari lowes her voice here, "a gate to another world or plane."
He nods, "Absolutely. So a boat named after our benefactress was spirited here one way or another... but it didn't travel from the Mainland in a conventional sense. And somehow, she placed us on it or we were on it and then she had it whisked here - something like that. And then someone, presumable the Aboleth sank the whole thing and shanghai'd us for our memories. And then we escaped or were let go."
"I'd love to get more answers about that last bit... but I'm at a loss for figuring out how we do that."
"As am I. I would not have the slightest idea where to start to find where these Aboleth hide themselves. Miir is a vast place and I don't want to spend the rest of my life combing the oceans looking for them either." She turns to Jayse, "I think you have the best plan here: Find out as much as we can about our missing memories and then more pieces of the puzzle will fit together. Then we can figure how what happened to us."
She takes another drink and adds, "Also, Jofram may have answers for us as well, should we figure out what city he was abducted from."
"That's on our research list as well though it could be a hard find."
Straehan ends his evening early, anticipating a long day of research on the morrow...
Early the next morning the blonde slip of a girl and the little gnome head out to the libraries. They return after sundown, footsore and worn out from visting no less than a half dozen public and private libraries. Once again they join Jofram and Jayse at their private table in the Old Fish.
Straehan idly rubs a blister on his foot while conveying their findings.
Naladoria - the Exiled Goddess?
"Well, we struck out on finding any reference to her by name or even a description of an old Goddess that fits her description. I guess that really shouldn't be a surprise if we consider that she claims to be a fallen deity from before the time of the Shaudran who preceded the Elves who preceded the rule of Man. BUT, we found some interesting myths and legends about someone who could be her. In several texts we found fisherman superstitions related to a person they called Nadorana. They claimed she was some sort of powerful aquatic spirit. She controlled winds, fog, current, and to some extent, weather. The fisherfolk would, and some still do, give offerings of food to her by chucking them in the sea and asking her to ensure calm seas and gentle winds. Some tales ascribe other powers to her and call her Mother of Mermaids and Queen of Sirens. There doesn't seem to be any practical tie between those titles and her power over winds, fogs, and currents save that Sirens and Mermaids are sea-creatures. It seems a bit of a hodge-podge so maybe it is a blending of myths related to multiple individuals. In any case, that's all we could reasonably find on her. So maybe she is for real... a Fallen fog Goddess, reduced to fanciful myth and looking for a way back into some semblance of her former power. At any rate, none of the stories suggest this Nadorana was evil."
The Dweller in Darkness
Straehan's brow furrows with concern as his quill idly taps the name on his sheet of vellum. "Now we come to the bad news. We haven't figured out WHO the Dweller is... but we are pretty damn sure WHAT he is. We believe he is a Nightshade, most likely a variant creature called a Nightwalker - a being that is both a powerful undead and a resident of the Plane of Shadow. We've compiled a dossier on it." He slides a sheaf of notes over to you that paint an alarming picture of the opposition.
"In the diary of a mad wizard, we found a couple of drawings of what it is supposed to look like. Given the lethality of the creature, you can imagine that eye witnesses are few." He tosses a couple of rumpled drawings on top of the dossier.
The little gnome and the woman watch your faces speculatively.
Jayse sighs at the news of the grey lady. And by the time the descriptions of the Dweller is finished, his face is completely passive.
His voice absolutely drips with sarcasm as his eyes switch between Ushari and Straehan. "This just gets better and better. I can't wait to hear whatever else you seem to be holding back!"
The gnome gives a grim acknowledgment, "As ferocious as a Nightwalker is... it doesn't possess the power to suck the life out of a world, a claim that the Dweller has made. Was it hyperbole? Maybe. Nor is there any evidence that a 'common' Nightwalker can command undead by will alone from a great, possibly trans-planar, distance - a power we have witnessed the Dweller use.
The only reasonable conclusion to reach is the Dweller is some sort of greater or royal Nightwalker... or possibly THE Nightwalker, the very first of his species, if such a creature exists. Whatever he truly is... we have to prepare ourselves for the likelihood that the dossier falls short of adequately measuring his capabilities."
Jayse can't help but let out a barking laugh, "I gotta say, Straehan, that when you tell me we have to fight something that can pretty much kill us in seconds, and then tell me that actually we're fighting something badder that can kill us quicker... I can't see all that much of a difference. I'll try to keep it in perspective, though."
"By the way, I haven't heard back from that stable-boy yet. Which means it's a waiting game for the time being. Unless you have something else we can be doing."
Straehan smiles. "The Herald's 'leave this plane now' message is sounding more and more like a good suggestion, eh? Bitiborium managed to get Fin home... maybe he can give us a ride to a sunnier spot in the multiverse FAR away from here. What do you say? After today's research - I'm willing to call it done."
Straehan considers Jayse's question about things to do. "I'm afraid we're out of tasks for the moment. The last two things we have to research are you gentlemen. And for obvious reasons, you wouldn't be the best research assistants on that."
At mention of learning more about his past, his mood visibly darkens. "Oh boy... more excellent stories from my past. I can't wait to find out what there is to know." He rubs at one of the lines Strae's claws scratched into the table-top the day before, "Though I guess I really am interested."
The gnome briefly reflects on what he unearthed from his own past; a twinge of sympathy rolls through him. "Well, hopefully we won't dig up any skeletons you'd have preferred to leave buried."
Ushari nods in sympathy. "Well, as one who has learned much she wishes she had NOT, I can tell you the thruth will set you free, if nothing else."
He casts a sidelong glance at the cleric. "You think so? I think the truth can liberate or imprison you... depending on how you put that knowledge to use."
Jayse gets a doubtful look, "I thought that was something you said to someone who didn't want to acknowledge the truth… anyway, good or bad i don't really think I can ignore who I was before. If you're not prepared, your past can rear its head at the worst times.. or so I've heard."
He shakes his head, "well, it sounds like you two have another day of work cut out for you. Anything I can do to help?"
Strae shrugs, "Not that I can think of. Hopefully, prying into the workings of some sort of assassin's training school won't draw much legal scrutiny or the wrath of your former colleagues. I'm a bit paranoid of having ninjas leaping out of stacks of books at me."
Jak shrugs with a casual smile, "Then I'll shadow you. As a trained assassin and ninja, I'm sure I can manage to stay out of sight and guard you against any of my brethren."
"I'm a bit paranoid of having ninjas leaping out of stacks of books at me."
"Ninjas would be a refreshing change from giant acid-spitting worms... Still, maybe we should be wary of book piles."
Strae laughs, "Maybe so. I might get some vicious paper-cuts if nothing else."
He casts a sidelong glance at the cleric. "You think so? I think the truth can liberate or imprison you... depending on how you put that knowledge to use."
Ushari shakes her head, "I am not saying it will be pleasant by any stretch, but at least you know what you are dealing with." She gives the monk a reassuring smile, "And you don't have to deal with it on your own, you have friends who will help you."
"We are talking about different things. Knowing that I used to have a facility with poisons, is interesting. Should I study Alchemy now knowing that I clearly have some skill in it? Or should my concern about how I put that skill to use before cause me to not study Alchemy for fear that I will walk the same path again? That is how truth can imprison - it can prompt us to shy away from things for fear that we will repeat aspects of our history we'd rather not."
He gives the monk a devilish grin and a wink, "As for Jayse's sordid past... he's on his own. I intend to run away at full speed if his past rears its ugly head."
He gives the monk a devilish grin and a wink, "As for Jayse's sordid past... he's on his own. I intend to run away at full speed if his past rears its ugly head."
Jofram stares blankly for a moment, then shakes his head, blinking away his reverie. "Strange - I just had a fleeting memory of stalking through the night, hunting down Gnomes and Halflings to sate my murderous hatred of small folk..."
"Or maybe that was from a book I read - who knows?"
The gnome chuckles. "Clearly that was from a book. No one could possibly hate the small folk. We are so cute, charming, and wonderful."
"We are talking about different things. Knowing that I used to have a facility with poisons, is interesting. Should I study Alchemy now knowing that I clearly have some skill in it? Or should my concern about how I put that skill to use before cause me to not study Alchemy for fear that I will walk the same path again? That is how truth can imprison - it can prompt us to shy away from things for fear that we will repeat aspects of our history we'd rather not."
Ushari nods slowly, although her tone conveys the doubt in her voice. "I am not saying we should let the truth imprison us by any means, all I was saying is we need to know where we have been before to know whether we are walking the same path or not. That would be the same as being imprisoned, would it not?"
"No. Knowing your past is one thing; letting it overtly influence your choices now is another matter. But that's really beside the point. You said before that the truth shall set you free. I was simply pointing out that I disagree with that statement. Truth can be liberating or confining."
"I suppose it depends on the truth that is discovered and also by who it affects. Anyway, this world is a big place and there are many truths out there." She sighs, "I hope whatever truth we discover won't be deadly to us."
"We can only hope." Straehan heads to bed early, anticipating another long day of research ahead.
It is another long day of research for Strae and Ushari. Jayse, having little else to do, decides to play Ninja-Bodyguard to the duo. If he was hoping for killers to jump out of the library stacks, he is sorely disappointed. He notes, with minor twinges of concern rippling across his zen calm, that as the research mounts, Straehan and Ushari get quieter and nearly grim.
It is almost with a sense of relief that they sit down at the Fish one last time and the little gnome finally shares whatever news they have gleaned.
Jayse's Story
"There were two other items on our list of things to research: Jayse's assassin school and Jofram's vague recollections of a city with a red and black gate. We have found details on both - due to some highly publicized events that reached all the way to the Isles..."
He turns to regard the monk formally, "Jayse, the Dehanté ké Hath, was a school renowned for turning out this world's best assassins. It existed for hundreds of years, refining its training regimes - forging men and women into weapons. It is gone now... destroyed by one of its greatest pupils. He was called Blackstone - for the strange gem he always wore on his forehead as a warning to all who would see him."
The facts click together with ruthless precision in the monk's mind. He slips back to his very first memory, while he was drowning. He ...recalls snow falling and piling on a windswept beach, its perfect white stained with blood... But the memory doesn't end there.
- Blackstone watches the blood-drenched snow speculatively and notes the blood dripping from his hands that is adding to it. He turns around. Despite it being deep night in these northern latitudes, and the whipping snowfall, the night is bright - lit by the burning and collapsed monastery. One of the junior-most students struggles from the wreckage of the dormitory, a spar of wood sticking through his abdomen. Blackstone assesses the damage and weighs the variables with the cold precision he has in place of morals and emotions. Between the wound and the weather, the boy will be dead in two hours. He is of no consequence. His implacable blue-eyed gaze returns to the buildings - assessing his performance. Competent It is the highest praise he can give himself.
A sense almost like vertigo grips Jayse as he sees the past through his own perceptions as well as through Blackstone's - someone who is both familiar and totally foreign. Trapped inside the head of this cold-blooded, amoral, and relentless killer, Jayse sees the chilling logic. Blackstone is a highly skilled and methodical butcher - even his teachers recognized that, while technically proficient, the 'subtle art' of assassination escapes his grasp. Expediency ruled his methods.
- Blackstone dropped onto the roof of the house. His target, an informant, was inside. Blackstone slides his mindblade through the window's latch, severing it soundlessly, and letting himself in. He ghosts down the hall - the family is asleep. Unfortunately, Blackstone hadn't been able to determine which family member is the informant. Logic suggested the target would have to be the mother or the father... but in theory even an 8 year old boy could provide information. For efficiency's sake, Blackstone dispatches all six members of the family.
Jayse can see the germ of logic that propelled Blackstone to destroy the school. It was survival of the fittest. One of the guild's members rose to supremacy becoming the Master Assassin. But age always caught up with them and sooner or later a younger, more able, assassin would seek the title and dispatch the previous Master. The only way to ensure you held the title was to ensure that your rivals were dead and no one could benefit from the same, unequaled, training.
- Blackstone felt himself a true Bollini, the blood of the Shaudran ran strongly in his veins, giving him more mental reserves than even his teachers knew. His plan had been a year in formulating and execution - joining select work details that would give him access to the monastery's cornerstone and foundation, secreting and replacing materials, transporting barrels of caustic liquids and explosive agents in place of more commonplace barrels, becoming the temple logician to make sure his supplies remained untouched. There were only two risks - he had to kill the guards quickly to keep them from waking the instructors. And then he had to gamble that his mental strength was enough to carry the weight of the cornerstone, drop it correctly to cause a general collapse and set off the chemicals, and then escape as the building came down. On the whole - a calculated risk. If all that worked, he'd have to disappear for a time - to hone his skills. Blackstone knew he wasn't the greatest assassin alive - yet. There were others roaming the world that were his match and the destruction of the monastery would draw them back. He needed to grow into his skills before hunting them down and taking his rightful place as Master.
In a blink, the memory and otherness of Blackstone is gone, leaving only Jayse.
Jofram's Story
The little gnome turns to the tall Ranger. Not knowing the half-elf's humors, he can only deliver the information without preamble. "The gate you recall - red on the inside and black on the outside - is from the walled city of Ad Astur on the border of two demenses: Yvor and Mylhaven. The city is Yvorian and blocks a narrow pass through some rugged mountains. It has kept the considerable forces of Mylhaven at bay for a generation. Apparently, the walls and gate bear some ancient magic that prevents them from being breached. There is speculation that the magic had an exception built in... some prophesy that would cause the magic to fail."
He takes a breath and continues, "About six months ago, the city of Ad Astur fell. Someone either figured out how to disable the magic or opened the gates to the invaders. The Mylhaven force, giants from the mountainous Demense, swept through the city and devoured the entire populace."
The gnome's words unlock a door in Jofram's memory.
- The rough bag of large platinum ingots thuds in his hand - heavy with value - dropped from the giant's scarred fist. Jofram hears the shrieks of the city dwellers but pays them no mind. While opening the city to its enemies was largely a financial decision, there were other reasons to be sure. The animosity between the elves and other races, particularly humans, virtually guaranteed that Jofram spent his childhood as a pariah, an outcast, and an object of mistrust and scorn. He was accepted by neither society and the rejection angered him. So when an opportunity came to make a load of money by betraying a city chock full of humans to their enemies, he took it.
He didn't anticipate they'd cannibalize the city-folk but, well, everyone has to eat, right?
Jofram only has a moment to consider this when the flow of memory deposits him elsewhere.
- Jofram, along with several other who appear as little more than silhouettes floating nearby, is carried by a controlled current through the alien, inhuman, architecture of the glowing undersea city. The huge, strange, tentacled Aboleth are all around him. They don't know he understands Aklo so he catches bits of conversation not meant for his ears. He learns of an old debt. Once this debt was called for repayment, the ancient and arrogant Aboleth were compelled to snatch a group of travelers from the surface and strip their memories. Having enslaved most terrestrial species at one point or another, the Aboleth found this an easy task. But something in Jofram's make-up proved more difficult. While trying to look vacant-headed for his captors, he considers that his mixed heritage may be a blessing here. Perhaps having a mind organized a bit like a human's and a bit like an elf's is too difficult for them to handle? It isn't clear if the Aboleth realise that he retains more of his memories and more of his will than the others. He isn't the blank slate they think he is. He listens intently as the Aboleth growl about the Debt, speaking with a combination of irritation and hope. They are taking their captives to the Debtkeeper now for inspection.
- The current moves faster now, sweeping Jofram and his fellow prisoners through the bizarre alien city-scape of fragile spires and cycloptic, organic tunnels. It is so foreign, the sight of it causes Jofram's mind to revolt. They approach a vast audience chamber. Ahead, the Debtkeeper awaits. Jofram can only see it vaguely, the water and pressure obscuring his vision. The angular yet flowing figure is big, far larger than the Aboleth. Jofram can almost make out the features...
Jofram is slung quickly back into the Old Fish, where he is regarded by three sets of curious eyes as opposed to a single set of three glowing eyes of an Aboleth.
Jofram arrests the motion of drawing his sword, as the vision fades and he once again recognizes his comrades.
"They took us - the Aboleths; they are indeed the ones responsible for the loss of our memories. But there is someone - something else behind it. They are the servants of another power."
Ushari stares at Jofram without speaking for a few moments. When she speaks her voice cracks slightly, "Can you say anything of this...this other POWER?"
Straehan notes the checked violence of the half-elf's movement. Clearly something rang a bell for him...
"I should like to hear the full tale, if you're of a mind to tell it. But, for the moment, do you have any idea of the who behind it? Or the why?"
"Something they call the Debtkeeper compelled the Aboleth to snatch a group of travelers from the surface and strip their memories. It was large and angular, with three glowing eyes. That's all I can remember."
Ushari shakes her head in confusion, "But why would this being, this Debtkeeper need us to begin with?" She rubs her temple, clearly tired from the long hours of research. "Yet another mystery to unravel, wonderful! I wonder if the Dweller is allied with the Debtkeeper in some way. It seems that way, don't you think?"
Strae looks quickly between Jofram and Ushari, trying to figure out whom to address first. He settles on the cleric.
"You lost me there, 'Shari. Jofram's new information points to the Debtkeeper and the Dweller NOT being allied in my opinion."
"So, Strae, you are saying the Dweller is NOT the being who called in the debt from the Aboleths?"
"The evidence seems to point that way - yes. The Debtkeeper is opposed to our Benefactress... She brought us here and 'He' had us abducted and our memories stolen. The Dweller has nothing to do with either one or, at least, he and the Debtkeeper have entirely different motives and objectives. That's how I read it."
"The player does not trouble himself with the worries of the pawn. To think either has our interests at heart could prove to be a fatal mistake."
Strae gives the ranger a grin. "YOU are a philosopher AND handy fellow to have around." He chuckles, "The Aboleth were a big missing part of the puzzle and you just handed us the piece. Hmm... the Debtkeeper you say? It's not ringing a bell with me but the Aboleth aren't my field of expertise. Still it's a solid clue and we can check it out. Nice work."
"Debtkeeper is the best translation... It seems to be the Aklo word a person to whom a debt is owed, but something else, about that specific being. Almost as if they feared to name it. My memory of it is hazy, and Aklo is not a simple tongue, even in the best of circumstances."
The little gnome claps the half-elf's arm. "You are just full of surprises, aren't you? Aklo - that narrows our search. We may actually figure out who is in this game before they kill us. You give me hope, Jofram."
Ushari sighs, "What I do not understand is why he stole our memories to begin with. The only reason I can think of is this Debtkeeper wanted to use us in some way..."
The conversation is cut off sharply as Jayse slams his palm down on the table, his eyes clenched tight. When he opens them, he realizes the outburst he's made, and his eyes become uncertain. He slides his hand back towards himself, leaving a slight smear of red blood back to where the stone he's been wearing on his forehead now sit half-embedded in the soft wood of the table-top.
He clenches his fist, a small drop of blood squeezing out into his wrist. "Um… sorry. Why is it that I regret every new piece of information we find out about myself?" He doesn't give anyone a chance to answer before continuing, his voice firmer, "While we're figuring out what to make of Jofram's memories, be thiknign if you've ever heard the name 'Blackstone'."
Straehan looks down for a moment before answering. "Jayse, I've told you what we found on Blackstone. We didn't put too much effort into finding out what, hm, jobs he may have... accomplished before vanishing. At the time, it seemed like a poor idea to inquire too closely. He worked on the Mainland, so any accounts may be hard to find out here. It might be better that way, eh?"