After a few minutes the Anymore appears to stabilize and with a bit of rousing from Vrindel regains consciousness for a brief time. Its eyes seem to have a hard time focusing and it has developed and odd stammer as it tries to speak. At first, it tries to back away from the hovering trollkin but its limbs don't really respond and all it does is squirm a bit in the sand.
"N...n...n..no....mm.mm....m...more. Blgh....n...n..no w...w..want Gnnnngh....m...m.m.m.memo....memories....from...y.y.y.you." It stammers, trying to get away from the charm held in Vrindel's hand.
Ibrox and Zove fiddle with the locked chest, but they soon realize it'll take some time....or a big hammer....to get the chest open.
Trevor smiles at Aterro and says: "I think Zove means you're up."
Finnigan's chin hangs open as we watches the goings on in bewilderment.
"By the Shield Maiden's of Sif, is young Trevor the only one of us with a heart! Look at that wretched thing, it's tortured! What morbid witchcraft are you carrying in that tome ambassador!? I can scarcely imagine what could be so upsetting to a fellow who is accustomed to walking around with the memories of countless dead folks bouncing around inside his twisted noggin! " He looks at Zove with wide eyes. "Have you read that book yourself? Halfway through the second volume are you? I had hoped we could learn a thing or two about the events in the village but now the besotted creature isn't likely to remember anything! Vrindel, give up for now. But try again when it's regained it's wits, I reckon."
After one more blow from Aterro's hammer the lock and latch on the chest snap off. The lid easily flips open to reveal two scroll cases, a small forest green velvet sack heavy with coins, another large square object wrapped in blue velvet, and two small glass vials tucked in padded pockets on one end.
A quick count of the coins reveals a stash of one hundred gold from various nations and mints. The larger covered object is an intricately carved chess set of ivory and jade likely created somewhere in the far south and could be of some value to a collector or scholar.
Zove is able to sense the magical auras on the scroll cases and the two small vials.
As some of the party sort through the contents of the chest. Vrindel and Finnigan continue to try and calm the Corpse Thief enough to be able to convince it to try reading the rune-master's item.
"Well, that looks like the town's cache, then." Ibrox approaches the chest to closely and carefully inspect the scrolls looking for hidden secrets and clues to undo curses.
Zove's explanation does nothing to appease Finnigan's suspicious mind. In fact her esoteric murmurings only stoke the flames of his indignation. He grows more animated, pointing his loaded crossbow in every direction as he waves his arms to emphasize his points.
"Golden hells! She thinks this world is nothing but a play! Well that's fine for your masters of light and shadow out there in the audience but some of us are living our whole lives here on the stage! I suppose it may have been someone like your mentor who decided it would make for a nice scene in the third act to have Krakova overrun by undead lords? Golden bloody hells indeed..."
twaaaang!
A crossbow bolt flies into one of the still unexplored cave tunnels, snapping Finnigan back to attention and ending his tirade.
"Right, I was going to have a word with the memory eater. There now, how are you feeling lad? This stone won't be so hard to digest. It belonged to some sort of nature priest. I met his pet lizard, a good bloke by all accounts. Fond of children. Say, how long has this chest been here in your cave? Did you see who dropped it off?"
Trevor is drawn to the gold like a butterfly to the flame. And similarly, a sense of doom washes over him as his hand reaches for the bag to weigh it.
"Hmm... Village's stash you say... Does that mean..." he asks, unable to finish his sentence. The pain... Righteousness sucked for some more than for others.
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"No, this was not the village's stash. We already found that in the town hall. It does not seem reasoned that a small fishing village would have the whole of it's wealth in a damp cave guarded by a crab monstrosity!
No doubt 'tis lost pirate booty or some such.
Put it in your pocket Trevor so we can divide it later. Man does not live on bread and water alone."
Still slightly stunned and with a lingering stutter, Anymore starts to shake its head when Finnigan asks him to take the charm from Vrindel. But then after a few seconds its eyes lock on the item and its overwhelming desire for more emotions and memories overrides common sense.
"B-b-box has a-a-al-always b-b-been here." It stammers out before it's thin fingers grasp the rune-masters simple charm. Anymore's eyes close and he starts to breath heavily again, but the intensity is much less than while under the influence of Zove's mysterious book.
For a second it winces as if feeling pain once again and its limbs become rigid and taut as if suddenly held or bound by ropes. "I've told you, it isn't here." He says in a deeper voice that seems exhausted, beaten and weak. "None of these people know anything about the Javelins of Thor. Certainly they are not hiding one in the village."
Anymore let's out a low moan and shakes weakly as if struggling to escape. Then it's left hand writhes in pain and it lets loose another moan.
"You dhampir bastard!" Anymore shouts. "Why don't you....scurry back to your lords in Heiderbirg...and leave us in peace." It says, calmer but clearly in pain. "You can kill me....but that won't get you past my wards. I've seen to it that if you...or any undead scum so much touch the building...you'll fry. There's nothing there for you but your own death."
Suddenly breathing heavily, Anymore shakes its head back and forth then lets out another loud scream. It's right eyes closes and he seems to slump for a moment only jerk upright again. It spits on the floor, just missing Finnigan's foot.
"What?!...Ahahaha. You truly... are a fool! Hahah!" Anymore suddenly bursts out in a weak, broken laugh that quickly turns to several seconds of coughing. "Nargenstal is...is...miles north of here. You're...in...the wrong place you soulless fool! The reavers have...probably already beat...you to it. Better them...than your filthy claws....Ahahaha. Arrrgghhh!"
At the last Anymore's second eye suddenly closes and he looks around frantically but sees nothing. Fear and bewilderment roll off of the creature as it bounces around on the ground, struggling against invisible bonds. Then it flinches as if trying to shrug something off. "No...no...get them...off....noooo...."
An odd peace washes over its face and body as Anymore once again falls unconscious, the skin around it hands, face and head turning a pale grayish, white.
Did Ibrox learn anthing about the scrolls?
"Eww, Attero. Legends and tales describe how Thor often hurls mighty javelins of lightning against giants as sport. On rare occasions these wonderous items fall into the mortal realms and into mortal hands where they are considered a prize of great power and status. Maybe that Dhampir was looking for those."
"But it sounds like he was looking in the wrong place. He should have gone to Nargenstal that is evidently miles north of here." Ibrox comments.
"Vrindel, great idea with the druid's charm. But, we should leave the fellow alone now. He's changing color." Ibrox suggests.
The cheery smiling gnome sidles up next to the shadow fey elf and whispers, "So Zove, do you have a way to see backstage of our mortal theater? I too am on a quest. Maybe we can help each other in our trials."
Untrained History.
Vrindel simply nods at the situation, and sits to wait for the being to recover enough to be of help. The words of the man mean nothing to the Druid so he is grateful to hear what Ibrox knows.
"Thank you for your insights Iborx. It seems as though the Druid was able to help us even after his death".
Vrindel then retrieves the amulet, and tucks it into one of the many pockets in his heavy cloak.
"For now the bigger question is what do we do about the children left parentless? The caravan should be arriving soon, and we must help ensure their safety as well".
Vrindel doesn't seem affected one way or another about the Fey's actions. He is very familiar with their impulsiveness and chaotic actions, and realizes it is not their intention but their nature that drives the choices they make.
Finnigan squints and furrows his brow as if it's paining his head to think so hard.
"I'm confused... have we reached Nargenstal or haven't we? That is the name Old Bentknee gave us is it not? I have it here in my notes. Britta Gleamguard, Frost Maiden Inn, village of Nargenstal. So if the Dhampir from Heidenburg had the wrong place.. have we got the wrong place as well? Have we arrived or not? And if it's still a few miles North to Nargenstall should we tarry here or be on our way? Keeping in mind our prospects in Nargenstall include undead emissaries seeking a weapon of Thor, dwarves reavers or both..."
Finnigan trails off, realizing he hasn't yet turned to see the look on Aterro's face after reports of a mighty artifact of his thunderous God in the nearby vicinity.
Ibrox spends several few minutes examining the scrolls and is eventually able to decipher enough of the symbols and rituals to determine that one is a scroll of "Shadow Bite", the second is a scroll of "Unluck on That."
Ibrox examines the quality of the parchment of the scrolls before offering them to Zove. "These are a magic. Maybe, you can add them to your book. One of the titles sounds like its about a curse."
"Well, we either need to explore this cave or get back to meet Bentknee." Ibrox suggests with a big smile.
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Aterro had been deep in thought and only now comes out of his reverie to address the knowledge stated by Ibrox. "Hm, what? Ah yes! The tales of Thor and his struggles against Hrungnir or the populous of Jotunheim are all well-known amongst his faithful.:
With that he grows serious.
"I've never known of an embodiment of such strikes to fall into the hands of mortals before, but I suppose anything is possible.
And IF such a thing has happens, what I can tell is that ANY of the artifacts or dwarf-forged gifts that originate from Asgard are, O, potent things.
Indeed, Mjolnir itself was forged by dwarves on but a whim, in a bet with Loki.
Hence, in considering the destruction around us, and from what we now know, I would not council staying here, but carrying on as quick as we can.
Bentknee is no spring fouling, yet learning to walk. He will manage, and, I'd wager, has been through worse than a temporarily-swelled creek.
For the children, they are anon safe. Whether the lizard entrusts them to Bentknee or no, once Thor's Javelin is found, we can return here and make sure that Vandersthal is given proper footing for its revival.
But now? We must needs make haste. The reavers, if they are in the area, have no fore-warning of what is about to befall them, or what the dhampir is looking for, or is capable of. If they are to aid us re-taking Krakova, first they can not all be turned into insect-zombies.
We should make haste Northward."
"We could make haste Northward, but I bet Bentknee has a map and knows the best way. So, we could leave later and arrive earlier in Nargenstall." The cheery gnome negotiates.
"So, let's check the rest of this cave and then go repair the bridge, so our caravan can get to the town." Duty to Bentknee is foremost in Ibrox's mind.
"Ahh Vanderstall. Of course. So this is where Bentknee said to wait for him and finish the journey to Nargenstall with him. Sorry I was confused. I might not have my villages straight, but I have heard of that Heiderburg Castle. They say the Knights Incorporeal are headquartered there now and the have a unit of traitorous former Krakovan knights sworn now to Morgau!"
Finnigan looks back and forth between Ibrox and Aterro hearing both of their plans.
"Aterro has the right of it. This is bigger than Rook Bentknee and his cargo. If we have a chance to make an ally of the dwarves we should take it... hopefully without alerting them to the presence of an artifact?"
Ibrox heads deeper into the cave to weight his argument.
Vrindel rises to his feet, and listens to the planning session of his companions.
"I think we're misinterpreting the most important duty to perform. At this moment there are a bunch of children in a magical sleep on the other side of town, watched over by only a Forest Drake. Before we can worry about Bentknee, the dwarves or this artifact we must determine what can be done about the children. Maybe Bentknee will have some suggestions, but we can't leave them here unprotected, but for a single Forest Drake. And who knows if they can still starve to death while in this sleep.
Vrindel is now speaking more words than he has ever strung together at once.
"It does no good to save the world if the future generations aren't there to live in it".
"Any suggestions"?
”I agree Vrindel. Bentknee would know best what to do with the orphans.” Ibrox says with a smile over his shoulder from done the throat of the cave.
Ibrox and Zove follow the northern passage as it winds back into the cliff for another hundred paces or so and then ends in a small chamber. This appears to be where Anymore has holed up for several months. The chamber is strewn with fish remains,and smells like a chamber strewn with fish remains, and various trinkets likely gethered from the villagers, but there is nothing of real value or importance. A pile of dirty blankets and other cloth scraps makes his makeshift bed or nest.
”Alrighty, nothing here. Let’s leave the creature’s personal effects undisturbed. “ Ibrox suggests.
Trevor gets uncomfortable with the discussion on what to do next. His duty was clear. gave his word to Bentknee, so that came first, but Bentknee gave them leave to go this far ahead. And as long as his employer was on the road, well, he still could do some exploring. But he did not want to rescue children or find some Thor-thing. Not until he was relieved of his duty.
Seeing Zoe and Ibrox going on their own, he wakes from his inner dialogue and follows them.
"Now that I'm recollecting, Bentknee did say we should wait for him here at this village which I now understand to be Vanderstall. Pardon my earlier confusion. He clearly said we would advance in to Nargenstall together with him. So if our first duty is to out employer, the matter is clear. On the other hand, we've stumbled onto something much bigger than a few wagon carts full of supplies. This dhampir knight from Heiderburg has already wiped out one village trying to get his hands on this artifact. Bad luck for Vanderstall, but good for Krakova at large that he had the wrong location and this weapon hasn't come into his posession. He's on the right track now though, and we can scarcely afford to waste any time. I say we devise a plot to turn the dwarf reavers and Knights of Morgau against each other, while we locate the artifact and claim it for the resistance movement! As for the children, yes we can check and see if they require food but I suspect they are quite safe in the care of the forest drake, warded by powerful glyphs and comforted by magical sleep. Let them wake to a rebuilt home, free from undead overlordship! "
Finnigan waits while Zove and Ibrox probe the north tunnel. When they return though and start down another, he follows along behind, crossbow cocked loaded and trained past them into the dark.
Finnigan sticks to the shadows as he stalks behind Ibrox and Zove, hoping to get the drop on any hostiles that may appear.
The northeast cavern goes back a short distance into a larger chamber where the crab had wandered and nested for a short period. There is nothing of value.
Squeezing into the eastern tunnel, it winds on for quite some distance, but with little of interest beyond the occasional rock or crystal formation. After about a half hour the natural cavern begins a gradual decent leading deeper and deeper into the underground darkness with little end in sight.
Vrindel listens to the arguments and nods his head.
"I understand your eagerness to go forward, and would not stand in your way, however my soul would burn for eternity if something happened the children, that I could have prevented.".
"Do we truly know the state of their resting? What if ticks arrived, and drained all the small bodies? What if lightning struck the building and they all burned? What if orc's realized the town was undefended, and attacked, killed and dined on their tender flesh"?
"If you must go on then you may do so, and I'll try to catch up later, but I cannot leave innocents fate to chance".
With that Vrindel rose to his feet, and began to head back to where the children are sleeping.
When nothing immediate catches Finnigan's eye in the tunnel, he decides to follow Vrindel.
"Mate, I've nothing against looking in on them. You think I don't care about children? You can say a lot about me but you can't say I ain't got a heart. A heart of bloody gold I have. All my best mates tell me that! So let's have a look in on them and see to it they're all right. We'll have a word with that wood drake. But, I reckon the glyphs will keep the ticks away and orcs won't be coming to sack a village that's already in the sack... As for lightning, what can I say. Bloody bad weather is a menace wherever you go, can't a thing be done to mend it! "
As an afterthought he turns to call back over his shoulder down into the tunnel. "OY! You lot! Meet us at the house with the glyphs once you've tuckered yerselves out from your spelunking! We're going to chat up the wood drake about those sweet little saintly sleeping angels!"
Deep underground, the cheery gnome turns to his fey companion and asks in Sylvan, "A ddylem droi o gwmpas ac ailymuno â'r lleill?
Pan fyddwch chi'n barod, efallai y gallwn drafod sut y gallwn helpu ein gilydd i gyflawni ein treialon. Byddwn yn deall mwy o'ch un chi, fel y gallaf eich helpu'n well."
When you are ready, maybe we can discuss how we can help each other fulfill our trials. I would understand more of yours, so I can better help you."
"Wow, this tunnel goes on and on. Let's head back, yes? The others are already on their way, and I can guess going deeper would require more preparation, plus there's only the three of us now... Ok, I'm heading back. And I suggest you do too."
Once he rejoins the group: "I'll go and help with that bridge, so that Bentknee can cross. Then we can decide what's coming next, with Bentknee part of the discussion. If you don't mind..."
As Vrindel, Finnigan, and Trevor emerge from the cave and head back up the beach and toward the destroyed village, the trollkin hears a familiar shout from south. A few minutes later you see Bentknee in the lead wagon just topping the rise of the valley. He's followed a few minutes later by the other two wagons as they slowly crawl down the still muddy road into the valley.
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As was his habit, as the battle-heart left him and discussion was turned to more mundane matters, Aterro stood next to a wall, kneeled down with his hands on his hammer, and gave thanks to Lord Thor for success in battle; for death to his enemies and continued life and health for his allies.
Deep and meaningful were his benedictions, so he did not notice the others going their separate ways. Only when he again opened his eyes and came out of his reverie did he notice he was alone.
Feeling refreshed, he followed the most likely path back to the bridge, to find the arrival of Bentknee coming.
"I'll go back to the longhouse. I think there may be some few tools that we can use to widen the river, or create a kind of parallel tough next to the bridge to lower the water levels."
Aterro knew little of civil engineering, but he knew that an army was like water--that it avoided high places and sought the low, and so he thought to drain its strength at the place of importance.
Going back to the shack, he looked for anything that might stand in for a shovel.
"Aterro! Brother! Before it was piling rocks, now it's digging a channel?! Perhaps we should listen to those who actually know about these things?" comments Trevor as he's not too keen on shovelling and hopes a solution requiring less effort can be fathomed.
Finnigan heads back to the mill, hanging close to Vrindel. "We should take care not to detonate any runes when we enter this time. What do you suppose is the best way to get the drakes attention from outide?"
The receding tide aides Aterro and Trevor as they begin the arduous work of repairing the ford and bridge. After about thirty minutes Bentknee and the wagons come to a creaking stop before the bridge. The old kobolds eyes glancing between Zove's rough sign and the two big warriors digging the muddy soil.
Shading his eyes from the bright sun, he calls out to the companions. "Is that the war priest and young paladin?!" He shouts to the two as he frowns, getting a closer look at the destruction of the village beyond the stockade. "It looks like there wasn't much to save." He says with a sad shake of his head.
He turns hopefully toward the mill further up stream. "Any word from old Freoderick? Looks as though his mill still stands and the old boy was always a tough piece of work? And...where are the others?" He adds as an afterthought before signaling the other drovers to help with the repairs.
"Selang? Methu dweud fy mod i. "
"Na, dwi ddim yn credu fy mod i'n rhith.
"Ydych chi'n gyfarwydd â melltith corachod? Mae mam-gu yn ein hela ni i gyd. Rwy'n ceisio torri ein melltith." Ibrox replies to Zove.
"No, I don't believe that I'm an illusion.
"Are you familiar with the curse of gnomes? Grandmother hunts us all. I'm trying to break our curse."
"Alright, Trevor. Let's head back." Ibrox waits for Zove to turn around and follows Trevor out.