Absalom in Shadow (Duo): Part II - Dead Seas

Game Master Song of Chiroptera

"When you get this Kukri what are you going to do with it?"

Karthan watched Mal ride off. He had a new found respect for the half elf. He had an interesting past, not as powerfully intoxifying as the Rooks, but the journey of the dark rogue turning towards the light should prove to be an interesting tale to pry from him over the years. . . There I go again, I am beginning to think long term when thinking of him . . . If only he had been full blooded, what would his story have been? These humans all seemed to know and respect him, he had saved some of their lives, maybe the exterior Mal projected was a shell for the real person he now was inside, but wasn't yet comfortable with. hummmmmmm . . . Karthan would need to continue to watch and consider that one.

Bringing back his focus to Sacredos, Karthan lets his eyes wander over his features, here again was a half elf, but so much different from Mal in almost every way. For starters Sacredos could pass as human except for the slightly upswept ears and the rounded nub of cartilage at the tips. Karthan supposed that with his cloak pulled he would be mistaken for human by most casual onlookers. He exuded the very essence that Zandra had described of half elves, his righteous furver that of a human, but paired with the gifts of his elven parent. Sacredos was a fine warrior and his sword a mighty weapon indeed. His drive and faith were powerful, but Karthan could see it would probably lead him to an early grave. He actually was serious about taking out the Rook at their very mention that it was their wish.

Karthan had asked for a readers digest version of what Sacredos wanted with the Kukri after he found it. The inquisitors answer had surprised him, irritated his independent side, and started to gel his rational side.

"Yet another confluence of fate Sacredos, there is more to this than you know, I believe your gods hand is heavy in this. You have taken a leap of faith in dealing with and confiding in us. Now I will ask you for more."

Karthan opened his satchel It's a European hand bag and it was a gift, he wasn't holding Zandras purse! and pressed the wrapped soul blade into his hands and said, "I took this trophy, it is mine to give, but I want you to take it to the temple now and without delay, wait for me there. It so happens that The Grey is known to a member of my family, I won't say more here. When we meet again I want the long version of what you need to do with it, there are matters we must discuss then I will give it to you. You may meet my sister there she is the other elf you saw me with, tell her . . . Tell her there is a matter I need to address, but I will be coming back."

"However, should I not. . . then the blade is yours, but you must act as my sister's protector for I believe your gods mission for you runs parallel with her."

Karthan has Sacredos smite the wicked great club of the wicked dwarf into pieces, he gathers the weapons of the bouncers and barbers alike and wrapped them in a waxed canvas. Hauling them up with him on his horse he turned his steeds head anxious to be on his way.

" I will see you soon, I shouldn't be long."

There was a conflict of emotion and duty in the Inquisitor's mind. He held the wrapped weapon, feeling the weight of the steel and the shape of it beneath the cloth. In his heart, deep within the core of him, he knew this was the weapon for which he'd hunted for nearly two years. Lord Ragathiel truly shined down upon him, he could feel the sheltering glory of His mighty wing upon his holy endeavour.

The elf rode away into the growing mists of the early morning. Sacerdos' conflict lay within the young fey-kin's words, tearing at his duty to his order and the sense of propriety to honor the elf's request to reside in the Temple of Iomedae until his return. The measure of his decision was slowed in the face of time. He had a few days yet until the ship from Magnimar arrived. Once it did, and the litters bearing the clerics of his order were brought ashore, Sacerdos would have no choice but to side with this duty. He would have to take the kukri, make contact with the Arcanamarium and this Tabir the Grey.

For now he could wait, learn more of what Lord Ragathiel had to show him. Sacerdos slipped the cursed blade into a satchel, whispering a blessing to keep it secure and unsullied. Then he hopped into the saddle of his trusted horse and spurred him towards the temple to Iomedae. "Come Grihmla, Great Lord Ragathiel guides our steps this night."

For Zandra...

Beleg saw to the sustainance of Zandra and her companion, happy to provide a story of Zandra's mother and father so the young druid would have an ever growing picture of who they'd been. They spoke for a good hour when the door to the council chamber opened, admitting Aegius' porter and Chaplain-Protector Duneheim.

"My apologies, my lord, but I was preparing to depart for the Merchant's Quarter. I intend to stay the night at Lord Caleb's establishment, perhaps get in some research before sleeping." Olivia had changed out of her scale mail and donned soft leathers and a white tunic emblazened with the starburst and longsword sigil of her goddess and station. Her sword was at her hip, the only weapon on her person at the moment. "I thought I'd see if Zandra was ready to depart."

Olivia had a pair of scroll cases over her shoulder, what looked like research materials she'd be bringing with her.

"Come, Chaplain-Protector," Beleg motioned to a chair near where they were already seated. "Share in a meal before you depart."

She nodded appreciation. "Many thanks, my lord. Gladly." She placed the scroll cases on the table and grabbed an open plate to begin filling it with some of the roast pheasant and spiced vegetables. Olivia put aside the conversation she'd just had with Liberios and smiled towards Zandra with a touch of sympathy. "I saw Karthan leave with Mal'undil. If it helps, my reaction was very much the same when I was in his shoes."

At the presence of the young paladin, Zandra feels comfort and a sense of wellness in her being. Likewise, even Thor's instincts towards Olivia are that of a welcoming spot in the meadow where he can find a nice afternoon of basking in the sun.

Karthan rode quickly through the sprawling city towards his destination, beads of water ran down his outer clothing. It wasn't raining, but the moisture of the gathering marine layer stuck to him as he pushed his horse as fast as he dared down the twisted streets. He was brokering no delays, rats and quite possibly brigands scurried deeper into alleys as he trotted past, sparks flying as the steel shod hooves of his horse rang off the odd cobblestone, debris and broken slate tiles fallen from dilapidated rooftops.

The buildings that passed by had windows and doors barred or shuttered with scant light coming out to the street. The gathering fog held in the smells of he place, few of them pleasant. He guessed that the people inside were much like the buildings they dwelled in shabby, dirty, and decrepit. The Rook might rule over an empire, but it was one of shit.

The Toiling Gent loomed before him a black shadow in the mist that blocked out the light of its surrounding buildings. Mal's warnings replayed in his head, he would be cautious as he could, but this was something he must do. His actions before may have led to Lau's death. They had thought him weak . . . They had thought wrong.

He turned up the street and towards the front doors. The outer ones were open, laid back against the building on rusted loops and pins. The Toiling Gent never closed, in fact The Innkeeper here preferred the late hours of night and early morning in contrast to the other establishments in the area. There were no bouncers outside either, the danger was inside the batwing doors, not without.

Karthan rode his horse right to the bat wings and dismounted with a flourish. It was, and felt, different from the first time he entered. For one thing that miserable bunch of minstrels wouldn't be holding anymore gigs here and the dancer had twerked her last, and last but not least that sour faced runt would no longer be smearing a grease caked rag over a filthy mug behind the bar any longer.

The doors split open and lightly flung outward, "Move definitively, purposefully, confidently, not over aggressively, be understatedly menacing, but reserved. All eyes will be on you. As such, do as the Rook does, speak loud enough so that all can hear you, but softly enough that all will listen, and hear. the doors rapped into the walls with just enough umph to announce someone had arrived and was letting it be known.

The patrons baleful, debased, deaparate or dejected eyes all turned towards him. Karthan's cloak was carefully open exposing his long knives, but hiding what else might be attached to his belt or hidden in the one hand left concealed beneath it. In his other hand he had his bundle shouldered. He strode boots clicking to the top of the short stairs leading down into the pit that was the sunken floored common room. He let the bundle roll forward off his shoulder but kept one corner of the canvas held firm in his leather gauntleted hand.

The bundle unfurled spilling its contents down the stairway as his assailants sundered weapons clattered and thunked their way to the bottom. Obvious among them were the ruined remains of Kreig and Harole's favored weapons, well known by any who had parted the doors to this dive. The sight caused a wave of understanding to sweep through those gathered. The dwarf and his crew were all dead.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24Intimidate and diplomacy to be commanding and fierce, but wants his message to be clear.

He let it sink in, but not for too long, because he needed to leave this place before he overstayed his entrance, his timing needed to be right. "Earlier tonight you heard someone call for my blood. These came looking for it. . . . This is what befalls those who call for and then seek out my blood. I have no quarrel with the Rook, nor the Barbers, whom also sought blood from me tonight. . . and I seek none with anyone else in this room that doesn't cross me. I come here with respect, but know this . . . People with weaknesses get killed by people who lack them . . . notice both The Rook and I are still very much alive. I am no one's tool."

After a quick scan of the crowd, Karthan turned and walked the few steps to his waiting horse, hoping that his timing was true and that he would be gone before the Rook could either respond from his chambers, or returned from the hunt.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28Sense motive, how did he do?
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18percption, what did he observe?

Karthan kicks up dust to return to the temple, he knows he has flirted with danger quite enough for one day.

The elven ranger’s words rolled and thundered along the stained and fouled wooden floors of the common room. His eyes took in nearly the whole of it; a table of 6 Halflings located close to the stairs going up, they stopped their card and dice game to study the broken implements and then the elf. One of them looked ready to ask questions but was quickly silenced by one seated to his left who along with this fellows appeared wide-eyed and nervous.

Next to that table, a game of stones was paused, the competitors a pair of humans with a half-orc trying to keep up with the action on the table. The former watched the elf with keen interest and no small measure of fear, studying the ranger’s bearing and accoutrements while the half-orc still stared dumbly down at the stones board trying to plague out the last player’s move.

Nestled underneath the overhang of the stair case, the same table of older men Karthan had seen on his first visit to the tavern. These were the ones looked at with resentment by others in the tavern. Three humans, a dwarf more ancient than unearthed ruins, and a Tiefling, tail flicking to and fro as he openly studied Karthan. Karthan gets a sense that the Tiefling is measuring the varied ways to lay him out simply because of the sudden threat the elf posed when he entered the establishment. After completing his observation, the Tiefling leaned over to a human garbed in nobleman’s attire to his right, spoke a few words then returned his attention to the cards in his hand. One of the other humans at the table, also dressed in fineries pulls a card from the grouping in his hand and passes it to the dwarf. Then he draws a small pouch from his coat and wears a smirk of disappointment as he hands it to the human at his left.

There is another Tiefling in the Toiling Gent. There was another behind the bar. This one, dressed in a black tunic with a well-cut coat buttoned up to just below his throat and the cuff-style collar. His horns were like a ram’s horns, but with only a slight curving beneath long black hair with the occasional red highlights caught in the torches and sconces throughout the room. At Karthan’s pronouncement of Kreig’s demise, the Tiefling behind the bar nods appreciation and goes back to filling the drinks of a trio of humans seated at the bar. Karthan received the impression of a gratitude for an unspoken promotion.

Above the common room, watching it all was one of the Rook’s guards, Bodin. His hands were steady on the banister, taking in the scene as Karthan spoke. The guardsman grinned broadly with a fulfilled expectation and turned away from his overwatch once Karthan finished his speech. Karthan can just make out Bodin shaking his head and speaking three words to another figure out of Karthan’s line of sight.

“He called it,” Bodin said.

General observation is that your speech struck a chord in those who recognized you, seeing them impressed by turns but also a feeling of a page turning in a book. But there were several in the room who obviously had no idea of your identity, just that an elf entered the tavern and thru down the shattered weapons of Kreig and Harole. Impressive in and of itself but raising more questions regarding a larger picture out of your reach. Your legend will grow, yes, but at what cost? Will it grow too fast? Only time will tell.

Outside, Karthan climbed into the saddle and wheeled his horse about to leave. As he trotted away, he glanced over his shoulder briefly, the sense of being watched inescapable. There, disappearing in the night mist and the scattered street-torch light as Karthan rode away, the vague outline of a humanoid stood in the middle of the road, watching the elf depart.

Roll a new perception check to see if you make out any details, let me know if you do anything other than continue riding.

Dont look back, never look back---Shit! Karthan looked back over his shoulder the sense of being watched inescapable. There, disappearing in the night mist and the scattered street-torch light as Karthan rode away, the vague outline of a humanoid stood in the middle of the road, watching the elf depart. Is it the Rook? Or is it someone else? Turn away, keep going, don't go back---oh you can't be serious!

Karthan abruptly pulled up on the reigns and turned about to see who it was that stood in the mists. His pride not wanting to be seen fleeing by the Rook getting the best if him. Just a quick look nothing more.

Karthan brought his horse about, hooves clacking on the cobblestone and hardpack as he steadied the mount. His elvish eyes adjusted to the shifting patterns of the mist, the figure in the distance coalescing into a humanoid garbed in a long cloak that reached the stones at the figure's feet. It stood taller and leaner than what would be normal for a human or an elf. There was something odd about it, unsettling...

Roll a willpower check - DC 13 to not be shaken. If you fail, you can still take action, but there is a dread sense of foreboding suffusing your body and flowing in your blood. If you succeed, you shake off the feeling, but still feel slightly nervous.

The flickering sconce light and lamps lining the road hinted at deepest crimsons in the weave of the cloak. The visage of the figure dwelt within the shadow of his hood.

A hand emerged from the cloak, a reflection along the arm as though it wore a form of lacquered armor. To fingers gestured to the figures face, then pointed downwards; subtle woodland speak indicating to the recipient to look down lest one miss something important. The hand disappeared back into the shelter of the cloak and the figure stood still.

Do you look down? Be sure to roll your willpower save and describe your reaction.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Willpower
Turn around don't look---oh forget it unable to resist Karthan looks down.

Wedged into the small seam between the horn and lip of Karthan's saddle was a playing card. Pulling it up so he could view it, the elf noted the picture of a cyclone on the face of the card. It swirled before his eyes, grey and silver winds twisting in on themselves against a backdrop of crimson sky.

Karthan blinked at the image, that sickly sweet agitation in his stomach bubbling over, gooseflesh raising on his forearms. The image wasn't moving, no it must have been a trick of the mist and the flickering torch light on the streets. On the reverse side of the card, the stenciled image of a woman seated at a table, her eyes cast downwards to a picture only she could see.

Looking back up from the card Karthan saw that the figure was gone. Beneath him, his horse stamped at the cobblestone, eager to depart.

The card looked like one of those Mal'undil referred to as part of a Harrow deck.

Sacerdos arrived at the temple to Iomedae, glad for the feeling of friendly territory. It was an unnerving concept to have so many gods in so close quarters. Too much tolerance in his experience was a breading ground for inept and shady morals.

Then again, this was a city whose populace dubbed it the "center of the world".

"Who arrives at the door step of Iomedae?" A guardsmen at the temple's front gate stepped forward armed with a halberd.

Sacerdos retrieved a writ of passage from his satchel. On it, he could barter lodgings at this temple and request cooperation from Iomedae's servants. If half of what he'd heard about this Arcanamarium was true, he'd need more contacts in the city to gain access to this wizard Tabir.

"I am Sarcerdos e'Niihl of Magnimar, servant and Inquisitor of His Empyreal Lord Ragathiel. I am about my duties and am in need of assistance. I am also to await within for an elven ranger by the name of Karthan Dawnsetter."

The card . . . the Tiefling leaned over to a human garbed in nobleman’s attire to his right, spoke a few words then returned his attention to the cards in his hand. One of the other humans at the table, also dressed in fineries pulls a card from the grouping in his hand and passes it to the dwarf. Then he draws a small pouch from his coat and wears a smirk of disappointment as he hands it to the human at his left. . . . Is this the same one, has someone else crossed me now.

"So this city seeks to test me further . . . Good thing I have no idea of what this card means or it might be more unsettling."

Karthan reared his stallion up in challenge and then headed for the nearest gate.

Zandra smiled warmly back at Olivia as they moved towards the stables having finished a most enjoyable evening supping with Beleg , "You know after all these months of travel it sure is nice to have a bit of female companionship. Don't get me wrong, the sailors and officers behaved themselves and everyone here has been quite nice, but . . . Well, you know what I am talking about."

"And you know my cousin Fir'umil well I would assume. <sigh> I will share a secret between us, I am somewhat glad my brother doesn't share his ability for magic. Oh, I know how that must sound, but let me complete the thought why. For as long as I can remember Fir has struggled with his gift, where Karthan struggled to unlock his magic talents, Fir sought ever greater and quicker ways to increase his power . . . To the point I feared that he might take paths to get the power he craved, but at what costs, but that is a converstation for another time. Karthan might be too impulsive if he had magic, he would use his power for good, but I have no doubt he would have burnt and razed that house to the ground with fireballs tonight, if for no other reason than to make sure none of his companions got hurt. He is a consummate archer, but would use his magic like arrows."

"Ah, Karthan, things will be fine between us, but I won't lie and say my feelings weren't hurt by him tonight. I guess we girls can't be surprised when the men in our lives act like boys now can we? At least Mal'undil was with him, he seems to be of the good sort and I think he could help get through to my brother. Not to excuse him entirely, but he has been through a lot and the rigid part of him that gives him his character doesn't make it any easier. I think we women are just more resilient than men, more accepting of things that are and things that will come, and thank the gods we are more forgiving, for all mens' sake."

"You took me by suprise earlier, I would have thought you would have been pleased to be asked to join this group."

Olivia smiled at the elf's candor. "I understand what you say regarding men's attitudes, but I am a part of their world because of Iomedae's chosen path for me."

On her left hand, she thumbed a ring bearing the seal of her father's house; an eagle clutching a sword and a scroll set against a flame. "As for my current path, well that was not my choice at first. It took prayers to the goddess and words from my father to convince me that me place was not in the Holy Crusades in the north. My entire purpose, at least I'd thought, was to train here in the temple and earn my right to fight in the north, to take the fight to the Worldwound bearing the righteous symbol of Iomedae on my right forearm, and the great eagle of my father's house on my left."

"But the paths we would like are not always the ones that find us." Olivia glanced towards the southern entrance to the grounds. There was a figure astride a horse, clad in armor and the obvious lance and furled banner fixed to his saddle. Something behind Olivia's eyes caused her to take pause and focus on his features. His bearing was that of singular focus, but there was conflict settled upon his shoulders.

"Olivia?" Zandra drew back the paladin's attention. There was a knowing grin on the elf maiden's face.

"Sorry, my friend." She felt embrassed and drew a hand towards the stables where her mount was waiting. "As I was saying, I anticipated to fight alongside my father in the north. But then Lord Liberios approached me to join the Chaplain-Protector's in the city."

They continued walking, but she spared a quick glance back as the newcomer dismounted his horse, handing the reigns to one of the squires after he unbuckled his saddlebags.

"Many letters upon the black wings of ravens passed back and forth between my father and me. I continued to ask for the opportunity to join him in the north, but father insisted I stay. I soon saw the honor in it and chose to accept the appointment. It wasn't long after that I discovered Lord Liberios had sought permission directly from my father to bring me into these ranks. The more I learned about what they were doing...more importantly, the more I cast my faith upon my goddess, the clearer it became that I'd made the right choice."

They arrived at the stall where Olivia's axebeak was held. The creature flexed its feathers, snapping its beak at the presence of the tiger. Olivia cooed and clucked, commanding the animal to remain calm. "Fierce in a fight, but I'd enjoy a post where having a horse was more accessible. No offense, Mala."

A squire entered the stable area, leading the newcomer's horse. "Ahem, pardon the intrusion, Chaplain-Protector, but there's an inquisitor outdoors what says he's waitin' for that elf ranger who was here earlier."

"Oh Karthan, I hope he didn't do something to get himself in trouble with an inquisitor of your order Olivia. The only time he wasn't with the group is when he went back to . . . See the Rook. Perhaps we should see what this Inquisitor is about."

"Did this man give you his name stable boy?"

"Begging your pardon, milady," the squire put in, rubbing the nose of the newcomer's horse. The animal was steady, stomping a warning foot towards the tiger. A war trained mount by all accounts. "The inquisitor is for Ragathiel and he comes from Magnimar, he's not one of ours."

He looked up to the horse and stroked its neck. "This here is Grihmla," The animal bobbed its head as if in answer to its name. "The inquisitor outside's name is Sacerdos."

With that, he walked the horse into an open stall and saw to grabbing up a feed bag with fresh oats. He began the process of unbuckling the animal's saddle, seeing first to untying the lance and furled banner so he could lean them to the wall.

"If it helps, in seminary we read about the Empyreal Lord Ragathiel a few months back. He's a fiery leader, always spoiling for a chance to clear out demons and the like." He bit his tongue and thought for a moment, rechecking the fitting of the horse's feedbag. Then he recited a bit of what he remembered from class. "Chivalry, duty and vengeance; the call of my brothers is the eternal battle, my wings will ever shelter the faithful, my sword shall ever cut into the impure."

Outside the stable, they could see the inquisitor speaking with a trio of men; a cleric, a paladin and a guardsmen. They're speaking in affable tones and even sharing a laugh.

"Easy now noble Grihmla, the cat won't harm you." Zandra soothed as she moved towards the warhorse without any fear or malice in her heart before gently placing one hand under its chin while stroking the chargers neck where it met the shoulder. "There now, that's better."

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17 perception

"Well now you look well cared for, what kind of man is your master Grihmla? You are a long way from Magnimar, and my brother and I have never been to that place, so why does your master come looking for him? You would tell me if I could but understand what you had to tell me so we will have to do this another way."

Zandra places her hands on the horse and lays her head against him trying to read its life force to see what it might reveal.

Must I stand here and watch this? First she forbids me this zesty meat, then she proceeds to make me lounge here while she plays with the food right in front of me. Ah well I have eaten quite enough already, that man of many smells definately knows how to properly dine a feline of my pedigree and was fine company to boot.

The deep drum of the animal’s heart ripples through Zandra’s mind. His breathing is steady and confident beneath the appaloosa patterning of his coat. There is no fear in the animal, only his shod hooves, the call of the battlefield and his master’s will. Grihmla shakes his head a bit, he doesn’t like the place to which his master has brought him. Too many stone stables, too many narrow fields covered in the same stone, not enough room to truly run openly. And the place stinks of darkness, stinks of evil. An evil that was invited into its midst and allowed to fester like an infected wound. Grihmla would have trampled many here had his master but wished it, but he’s not had the opportunity.

Thoughts of battle, thoughts of his master, there is a deep devotion and love for him; the one he calls Eyes That Have Been Opened. It was this man that had saved him from certain death on the battlefield, restored him when no one else would have, and brought Grihmla glory. Memories drift back to an open plain, a place unnaturally warm when it should have been cold. Grihmla’s forbearers remember a time when it was frozen. But Grihmla only knows the land as a call to glory…the thunder of his hooves, the clanking of the metal skin his master had gifted him, his muscles singing the pain cries of exertion. Over his right shoulder, his master’s lance plunges into the flesh of vile creatures borne of the lands where horses never go…not willingly.

Grihmla’s mind returns to the present, the urge to trample his master’s enemies under growing in his heart. Zandra can feel the blood beneath the horse’s skin warm and quicken then calm once more. No, that is not why they are in this place that stinks of evil. This forest of overbearing stone. No, they are here for the crooked blade…the one that holds the running spirits of his master’s herdsmen.

At the least, they have the weapon…a useless thing in the midst of battle, at least in the horse’s mind. But it is a foul weapon, made worse for it binds and tortures.

Grihmla snorts, bobbing his head and stamping the straw-covered ground of the stable. Perhaps soon, they would leave behind this filthy stone forest. Perhaps soon, Grihmla will get his way and they will head back to the places of his forbearers and trample their enemies.

Olivia steps into the stall alongside Zandra and rests a hand on the horse’s neck opposite the elf. The warhorse’s blood quickens briefly, he tosses his head and casts an eye towards Olivia. Zandra can tell that her smell is familiar to him. Familiar in a sense that Grihmla knows her kind, has seen them in battle alongside his master. Images and sounds of battle flood into Zandra’s mind. Visceral joy and the rush of blood and the clang of battle as Grihmla charges across the killing field, his master astride him, lance and sword bathing in the blood of their enemies…then the images of other combatants, creatures wreathed in a purifying flame, swords burning across the sky as they did battle with writhing unholy enemies.

Grihmla does enjoy the contact of the elf, acknowledging one of the fey who in turn acknowledges his power and intelligence. But Olivia’s presence is a welcome smell of glory remembered while being stranded in this rotting corpse of a land.

Zandra releases contact and gives the horse a few more pats and rubs. "This Sacredos seems to be of the good sort and is allied with your order. I still don't know why he would be looking for my brother though, unless it was because of his visiting the Rook on the way back here. Perhaps you could introduce me to this Inquisitor. Does he hold any rank within your organization?"

Olivia shook her head. “No, he would not hold a rank. Ragathiel is an Empyreal Lord. One who serves at the pleasure of Kingdom of Heaven. His was a sordid history, from which he spent centuries fighting his way out from under. Ragathiel is wrathful and delights in battle. The Empyreal Lord is a beacon of hope to the wronged and down-trodden, for he symbolizes that anyone can stand against the forces of Hell and bring glory to Heaven.”

“Add to it he is an Inquisitor. Amongst the followers of Iomedae, they are hard sort. As servants of Ragathiel…” Olivia had been stroking the horse’s neck, but she paused and looked under it so she could meet Zandra’s eyes. The Chaplain-Protector was concerned all over again about allowing Karthan to visit so long with the crime lord without raising a voice of dissent to the plan. “I do not think Karthan would enlist more than information from the Rook. But I have only known him two days. I pray your brother has not gone further for he does not want the Inquisition of Ragathiel over his shoulder.”

The look in Zandra’s eyes, a mixture of fear but more offense within their deep pools was all the answer Olivia needed. “Of course not, Olivia offered. Of course Karthan wouldn’t invite their attentions in this way.”

“Calomet,” she called the squire back over. “Finish your work here with Grihmla. Mistress Zandra and I will go and meet this newcomer.”

“Let’s go, my friend,” she paused when she saw Thor and amended her words. “Let’s go, my friends and see what this Sacerdos is all about.”

The two women and the tiger moved out into the courtyard. Sacerdos noted their approach and began gripping the forearms of the men around him, a sign that the conversation was over. Oddly enough, there was familiarity in the man’s eyes at the sight of Olivia and Zandra; he’d seen them before.

“Greetings, Inquisitor,” Olivia offered, fist to heart.

“Greetings,” He paused a brief moment as he saw the badge of her office on the chain around her neck. “Chaplain-Protector, I am Sacerdos e’Niihl of Magnimar, servant of His Empyreal Lord Ragathiel may His righteous blade cleave the unholy.” He bowed respectfully in return, hand to his breast where his fingers splayed out in the pattern of a wing. Olivia noted that his clothing was varying degrees of grays and silvers with slashes of red throughout. The hilt of his bastard sword was prominent, the pummel and hilt looking as though they’d seen a lot of wear.

“I am Chaplain-Protector Olivia Duneheim,” She waved towards her companions. “This is Zandra and her companion Thorendel. I understand you are here awaiting someone?”

At closer inspection, she saw that he was a half-elf, though his ears and facial features leaned more heavily upon his human ancestry. Also, as he looked from the paladin and then to the elf, there was a degree of regret and empathy in his eyes.

Sacerdos was uncertain of how to proceed. He’d hoped to remain out of the way until he was certain if the ranger was returning or not. But seeing Karthan’s companions before him…and the other elf…he would have to unfold the events of the evening. It was only proper. But he did not want to invite conflict over the possession of the kukri, not when he had come so far afield to retrieve it.

In answer to the paladin’s question, he simply nodded affirmative. He would let them guide the conversation.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 sense motive

Zandra looked at the half elf and saw the look of regret and empathy there. Oh no, not Karthan, what might he have done? Though I do not see the signs or wrath and fury there.

"Well met Inquisitor Sacredos, I had a chance to communicate with your charger. You share quite a bond with him. Some day I would like to hear the word speak version of how you saved him. You and he have been through quite a lot."

If I may be direct without offending you, the person you are here to meet, the elven ranger, must be Karthan. May I ask you what business you have with him? We only just arrived from the Elven lands and court."

There is no pretention in the man, none. What you see is what you get. You’ve been exposed to more types of races and their proclivities since staying in Greengold and now in Absalom, so you’ve seen those who tend towards a public versus a private face. You’ve already seen the difference in Mal’undil, how he hides his potential as a leader and hero behind a veneer of bravado and prickly bearing. With Olivia, she is honesty born, but there is a part of her that she keeps sheltered either by instinct or intention.

With Sacerdos, there is none of that. His words and bearing are a clear picture of his intention. Right now, there is nothing aggressive, but his entire presence is bent towards his mission. Right now, that mission only involves awaiting Karthan’s return, he would deal with the next steps as they arrived.

Sacerdos frowned down at the diminutive elf. “If you are worried about my intentions towards Karthan Dawnsetter, don’t. I am not on mission here to purge – at least not yet - but to deliver salvation and peace to three clerics of my order.”

He would need to be more delicate, but no less forth coming with his delivery of events. Perhaps he would await to tell the news of their fallen comrade until the return of Karthan or his companion Mal’undil.

“I come from Magnimar in Varisia, seeking a weapon of vile taint and purpose. The blade is a soul prison used by a group of cultist in my city to hold the spirits of three venerated clerics. In doing so, my brothers are aware of their prison, even as the filth who committed this atrocity went about committing further evil with the weapon. My brothers felt every evil act as though they committed it. I must see them freed. The weapon is a thousand-fold kukri, one forged by the hands of an Osirion weaponsmith, designed by a nobleman from Taldor who’d sold his soul to Andirifkhu …” he paused and spat upon the ground, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “This weapon, the evil magics woven into it are based upon the notes of a wizard located here in the Arcanamarium. My order does not believe this wizard is at fault since the Taldoran noble twisted his writings to suit his own purposes, but the wizard, a man named Tabir, may be the only one who can undo what was done.”

He hooked his thumbs under his belt and licked his lips. “Your fellow fey-kin indicated that one of his relatives is familiar with the wizard. I am here to await his help in making that connection. Also, the very blade I’d been in search of for the past 2 years was in his possession. Lord Ragathiel has shined down his providence in bringing me to this cesspool. I will see His will done, and His ministers restored. That is my vow, that is my duty.”

This man was like a glacier, cold, hard and unforgiving in his press to move forward, but in nature this was part of the balance. A glacier carved its way through valleys, grinding and polishing, ever moving forward, constantly, unrelentingly on its course. In its wake it brought lakes, gentle slopes and pressed before it the soil it had made by its forces. The life giving water and soil would sprout fertile attracting creatures big and small. The glacier was a destroyer that brought life and diversity from its singularity of cold ice.

"Magnimar is known to me, but it is a place that I have not been. One wonders what it might have looked like in its glory. You have travelled far to seek out this blade and it would seem the blade must have travelled even further and in darker places to get here. It is sad that men would expend so much effort and energy to forge something like that when it serves no constructive purpose in this world."

"The blade is known to me, Karthan took it from evil cultists and brought it back here. I know it bears a rune that was recently placed on it and we were trying to discover its meaning. I am sure if you make the nature of the blade known to Karthan, he would give it to you. We have no love of the soul twisting patron gods of the fallen elves."

"Your being here cannot be a coincidence, you have arrived in the wake of something much larger than this blade, which has played only a small part of a larger game. Like a pawn in the first move of a game of Chess. I can see that Lord Ragathiel brought your journey to an end here before your greater journey. Just as the Green Man has brought me here. I believe you will bring my brother and others with us as well. You are a glacier, which I know may not seem to be a compliment at first glance, but I mean it in the highest sense Sacredos. You shall be a counter weight to the chaos that stalks us."

"We can indeed help you, we know people who can help you contact Tabir."

"Can we expect my brother to return soon?"

"An appropriate metaphor, mistress." He searched them both, reaching into the insight granted him by his master. The elf maiden spoke well of the Green Man, but such faith was one of adaptability and evolution. A neutral-gray posture in world that mandated a black and white if you were to see yourself on the right side of Heaven. Too often he saw the good-natured beings of a centrist benefactor simply plowed under because they chose malleable points of view instead of standing firm in their convictions.

Was not his life before Lord Ragathiel saved him leading down that very path?

He saw the essence of the elf and saw the youth of her. But there was definitely more. Perhaps this cause she spoke of would be just the right push towards salvation she needed.

As for the paladin, she was bound to her goddess and adhered to her path appropriately. There was the aspect and aura of order in her life mandated to be effective in her calling.

At will ability to detect alignment for the inquisitor.

He refocused on the elf, hand moving from the hilt of his sword to the satchel at his side. "So there is no misunderstanding between us, the kukri I sought, it is already in my possession and will remain so. As for Karthan, assuming he survives his visit to Copperwood and the den of this Rook, he will return here this evening. His sense of events and self, I'm afraid, is influenced by his youth. He will benefit from grounding, perhaps something you can provide, mistress."

Olivia held her council. An Inquisitor was a different class of dedication than what she was used to in the field. They were usually trusted with far more autonomy than paladins...and that was in the ranks of Iomedae's servants. She'd heard stories of the ferocity of those dedicated to Lord Ragathiel. Most she admired, some of those stories Olivia feared.

"Well then it seems there must be a series of events I am not aware of, but as I guessed as soon as he was made aware of the nature of the blade he gave it to you didn't he? I am also sure no one here will be looking to get it back, unless you can somehow free the souls from it and remove its vile taint while leaving it intact, Karthan does have a proclivity for trophies."

"Why did he return to the Rook, Inquisitor Sacredos? Do you have any idea what he plans to do there? Karthan, is many things, his mind is active, it thinks at different angles and refuses to be chained. Much like your lord, Inquisitor Sacredos, he fights against his circumstances seeking to prove his worth to take his place where he feels he wants to be."

Karthan's steed cantered through the streets nearing the temple district. Soon he would have to make his choice, ride to the temple or ride for the Scroll and Mal. The elf was wracking his brain about the men at the table that everyone else in the common room seemed to hold in disdain. Who were they, what was their relation with the Rook, what did they represent?

He tried to pull together their images and sear them into his mind, how were the seated and next to whom, when they reacted and to what. They played Harrow, but as a front for what? Was it them who handed him the Cyclone? Who was the stalker in the mist? Karthan felt sure that it was the rook, the Rook wasn't that tall right?. Who then?

Karthan wanted to speak with Mal who was sure to have some of the answers, but he should be left to grieve. The Scroll also had information he wanted, but that should wait as well. Besides, Mal was going to get some of the answers he assumed and was more likely to get full truthful ones.

No he should ride to the temple as he said he would, his own curiosity was not exigency enough to change his course. He knickered and then pointed his horse in the direction of the Temple gates. He had his most urgent business there.

The gruff one was like a paladin, but far less concerned about his appearance and his status amongst his peers. He was more like a snow leopard, deadly, swift to attack, and stayed on his prey until it was downed once it was selected, very catlike. Thor concluded.

For Karthan...

The image of the figure in the mist drifts across Karthan's mind once more. It had been much taller than the Rook, thinner too. It was unnatural, that much was for sure. More of that Dischordia the paladin mentioned perhaps. Just thinking and focusing on the image causes your goosebumps to rise along with the hairs on your neck. Perhaps it's better to think the cloaked figure was involved somehow with those men at the table in the tavern...yeah, that feels much better.

"Impressive, my lady." Sacerdos closed his eyes and nodded respectfully. "There are not many outside the north or the service of Iomedae who know even the smallest scraps of information regarding my Empyreal Lord. But keep in mind, it was not his actions that earned him the path of Heaven, it was grace given by the almighty Lord of Heaven that granted him his path."

Sacerdos patted his sword with reverence. "Much the same way I reached a turning point in my life and Lord Ragathiel redeemed my wayward soul for service in the War."

"As for the Chaos-tainted kukri, if indeed the blade can be purged without destroying it utterly, then of course Karthan is welcome to his trophy."

"And his visit to the Rook?" The Paladin put in.

"It is not my place to disclose this, but I am honor-bound to answer your questions." Sacerdos took a deep breath exhaled. Had it been men, he would have simply delivered the information. But with women...he was at times uncertain on how to guide the horse of his conversation around their delicate patches of sensitivities. Mostly, he just didn't have patience for it. In the end he avoided the snares of the opposite sex by simply avoiding them as much as possible. Lord, help guard my tongue with propriety...

"As I said earlier, my investigation brought me here to Absalom, pursuing the owner of the kukri - a growing criminal figure named Sebastian who had bested the previous owner of the blade. Lord Ragathiel was kind in my swift locating of Sebastian, the one you call the Rook, at his base of operations in Copperwood. Over the course of a month I discovered that another person, a Varisian dancer named Claire was also at the location. She was part of the cult in Magnimar, in fact she was part of the reason the original Taldori noble who designed the kukri was killed.”

Minimize, Sacerdos. Women are not as invested in the details as they are on the impressions…

“I was patient, being new to Absalom meant I had to learn the lay of the land. This provided fruit when I saw that the Rook had gifted the cursed blade to the dancer. Not long after that, you and Karthan and Mal’undil and the monk Lau arrived at the Toiling Gent following up with your own investigation.” There was a twinge of regret again as he mentioned the monk’s name. Sacerdos felt responsible, honor binding him to a debt to the monk’s companions…

“You were in Copperwood when we were there?” the Paladin questioned. “Why didn’t you make yourself known to us? Why the secrecy?”

“I do not answer to you or your church, Chaplain-Protector. My life is to my Lord, my duty is to the three clerics whose souls remain incarcerated.” He calmed himself before he became too prickly. Sacerdos had spent so much time working independently, he bristled at questions. “I continued observing, curious if you were somehow connected to my own mission. At first, I thought not. But then you gave chase to the troupe of musicians… My plan had been to extricate myself from the tavern and join you in pursuit, but it proved impossible. Your elven companion returned to the tavern, had an altercation with the dwarf there and conferred at length with the Rook. I know not the words spoken in the latter encounter.”

“So I followed you here, waiting down the road from here to decide my next steps. I’d been patient thus far, a lesson for my soul through which my Lord Ragathiel had been long-suffering for results. But again, my patience resolved in the monk, Lau emerging first from this Temple area. I resolved to follow and make contact with him.” Sacerdos kept his gaze firm, exchanging equal focus between the Paladin and the elf. “I was not in time in my decision. Lau was waylaid by the dwarf, Kreig, and numerous henchmen. I battled my way into their filthy ranks, but was not in time to save the monk. Your companion Karthan and Mal’undil joined the battle, a valiant effort and a gift from Lord Ragathiel. But my failure had not altered. If I had made contact with the monk Lau, I may have altered the outcome.”

“The outcome saw the retribution of Lau’s soul in the death of all those who participated in his murder. Mal’undil has seen to the monk’s remains, ferrying the body to the Erastil temple. Your companion Karthan journeys to the Rook’s lair to deliver the broken and purged weapons of Kreig and his ilk.”

Sacerdos held a hand with splayed fingers over his heart and bowed his head. “I am in your debt, honor-bound for not saving the life of your comrade. His name was Lau Fu Shan, servant of Erastil, and I shall not forget his blood. If it pleases you, at the conclusion of my service to the priests of my order, I will gladly offer my services to you and your companions.”

He’d managed to leave his friend’s body in the care of the Erastil temple priests. Even wrote a letter to Lau’s brother in Tian Xia, a servant to a lord somewhere in the north of the country. Lau hadn’t mentioned him much, just a name and a location and that they didn’t always see eye to eye. But Mal figured the brother deserved to know.

Fei La Shan,

I’m writing this to inform you that you’re brother has fallen in battle. He lived honorably and humbly. He fought with all his heart, leaving nothing back.

My name is Mal’undil Ternogolus Illuvianet bo’Cruciuo and Lau Fu Shan was my best friend and I will miss him greatly. Should you have the desire to speak of you brother, you can find me through the Erastil temple in Absalom. The priests and monks there will know how to contact me.

Mal’undil

The letter went into the hands of the head cleric who promised him it would be delivered by raven within the week. Mal had nodded and left the temple grounds, goading Gertrude to take him to the Scroll’s shop. It was better than the destination he’d had in mind first. At least at Caleb’s, the drink was free.

Mal’undil felt anger. He’d known Caleb for so many years, yet the old Bard hadn’t thought to tell him of this grand plan. A plan that had been purchased soul and all by Olivia and Fir’umil…none of them had told him or Lau, Hal’dorel or Kheegan. But Lau hadn’t been killed for something as glorious as a plot to save the world. No, his best friend had been murdered because a tub of fodder dwarf saw fit to exact revenge any way he could…in the most painful way he could.

Anger. Lau’s death may have had nothing to do with Kreig wanting back on the elf. No, Kreig was the kind of bastard that saved things up, stewing and crocking his revenge until it was perfect. How many times since Mal had shown up at the Rook’s door had Kreig been overlooked, passed over. Lots of time to build on some vengeance. Lots of time to prep.

Anger. Maybe Mal’undil had played at leader one time too often. All the close calls they’d experienced; nearly dying on the slopes of some unnamed mountain in Isger because Mal hadn’t made the right call. Then the thing with Lamech, Mal getting suckered in and dosed with a nightmare dagger… Maybe if he’d lived, he’d not have let Lau go off on his own, kept the group together until they’d found out what in the 7 hells was going on. Maybe things would’ve gone differently. Maybe Lau would still be alive. Maybe Mal’s luck would’ve seen him be the first one out of the temple and onto the butcher’s table.

Too many maybes… He kicked over the flap of one of his saddle bags and withdrew a flask of Andoran whiskey. He could get started on the way to Caleb’s, maybe tuck into the Scroll’s secret stash later. Mal took a long swig and coughed a bit, his eyes blurring against the tears welling in them.

Gertrude plodded into the night, heading for the Merchant’s District and home.

I can see it in his eyes, he believes me to be as neutral in this fight as the flagstones blood had been spilled upon in the street. Why can people not see that the very nature of the world is in fact good when left alone. It's true that I won't try to deny a mountain cat his dinner of a newborn fawn for that is the cycle of life, but I will not stand while evil corruptive forces seek to destroy wantonly. The followers of the other gods always seem to ignore the fact that all of these things play out in the realm of the Green Man. For without our Earth there would be no stage for these struggles. We are more like Inn keepers trying to keep our customers fed and retained while seeing our business through bench busting bar brawls and seedy tax collectors. We can't chose sides because we are too busy trying to survive and keep the others from burning the place down.

"Well thank you Sacredos, we shall have to discuss that with our peers. In the meantime even a glacier needs sustinence, can we offer you any food or drink?"

Olivia was dumbfounded. She held up a hand, tears welling up in her eyes. "By the sword of Iomedae, do you speak truly? Lau Fu Shan is dead?"

Sacerdos nodded solemnly.

Olivia turned away from the other two and stepped away. Her tears were flowing of there own accord. "Mal'undil...is he able-bodied?" Please, blessed goddess, tye loss of one friend is enough!

"Yes, Chaplain-Protector, he is well enough to see to the monk's remains."

A small relief. Olivia sank to her knees and allowed herself to mourn Lau's passing.

"Interesting that the Rook's doorman would slay Lau then afterwards Karthan would go seek out the Rook's lair. Is that boy foolish or brave or both. There is a line between revenge and retribution, I hope he hasn't discarded himself. The Rook seems to hold his organization with an iron fist like a queen bee, profiting from his drones, relying on his warriors, and purging those from the hive that upset the balance. Was Kreig cast out or acting on orders or has the Rook lost control?"

"Sacredos you were in that inn for a month what are your observations of the workings of the place?"

Sacerdos sniffed derisively. “Workings? It is organized scum in that place with this Rook at the head. It should be burned out and those involved purged. Perhaps Karthan is the tip of the spear through which we can speed their ends.”

He leaned down, offering a hand to the Paladin of Iomedae. “Stand, Chaplain-Protector Olivia Duneheim. For that is what your friend did. You honor him by doing nothing less.”

“Well said, Inquisitor…” she stood, taking his offered hand as she wiped away tears.

“This Rook is a part of a larger infection. There are others of similar status who use the Toiling Gent as their operation center. They carve up the different areas of this city into districts they would control.” He folded his arms and spat upon the ground. “You can remove them, but there will always be others to take their place. Better to find who controls all of them, create instability and let them destroy themselves as evil is so wont to do. Karthan, well he has an untrustworthy ally in the Rook. And with Kreig dead, he will be safer at the Toiling Gent than most.”

Tip of the spear, I fear that Karthan would like that notion. Sacredos is extreme in his devotions, to the point that it may blur the true intentions of heaven. There is always redemption and salvation to the higher powers of those realms, but Sacredos only seemed to see the retributive nature of his patron. Karthan is no doubt be drawn to Sacredos in his current state of mind. We shall see how it all plays out."

"Yes well said, we shall all miss the monk, Mal worst of all. I don't think any of us could have seen this end coming in this way, but is has happened and cannot be undone. We must honor him and continue in his stead. We can try to take comfort in knowing that he is with his patron now and living amongst the tress of his great realm."

"Indeed." Sacerdos leaned down and hefted his saddlebags. Over the shoulder of the elf maiden a squire signaled to him. Earlier he'd requested a room in which he could bed down for a few hours. "I'll see to my own needs now, mistress. If you'll be so kind, when Karthan Dawnsetter arrives, and you've put to bed what lay between you two, let me know what you can do to aid me in seeking an audience with the wizard Tabir. The ship bearing the men of my order will be arriving in a few days, I'd like to have already spoken with him."

With that, the Inquisitor strode past the the individuals; the paladin, the druid (for that was his best guess of the elf) and the tiger. The squire turned and beckoned him to follow towards one of the trainee barracks. Sacerdos didn't care. He'd acquire his rest and then hopefully be about his business on the morrow.

The Inquisitor of Ragathiel disappeared around the corner, silvery-gray cloak swirling in his wake. Over towards the gates to the temple, the doors were being opened to allow entrance to a figure on horseback.

Karthan had returned.

Karthan waited somewhat impatiently atop his horse. The gates were opening and beyond them he would have to face his sister and other waiting confrontations. The Silent Hunter would not conduct himself like this, but the events of the past few days had worn on the ranger. He needed to wash and rest, he was nearing the end of a long long day. Friends had been lost, new players met and unknown enemies made.

He rode through the gate and found Olivia, Thor and his sister already waiting for him.

1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21 Perception

Olivia stood proudly, but her feminine weaknesses betrayed her, she had been crying. Looking about the courtyard he saw that Sacredos was missing. He must have told them, good that would spare him having to deliver the message himself. Though he was not nearly as callous as that, he felt some relief in it. Olivia was young even in human terms she would take Lau's passing hard. Death would be something new to her. Elves had long lives. Elves who survived lost friends and loved ones had to live with that loss for hundreds of years. . . That wasn't easy either.

Zandra and Thor looked upon him. Not wanting to make things anymore uncomfortable than they already were, Karthan took the initiative and spoke first.

"Today was a sore day, I am sorry for pouring salt in our already bleeding wounds. As you know our pain is only just beginning. I can see that both discordia and confluence are at work here. It seems powers beyond reckoning are convening in this city most foul and most holy. Lau fell and was further mutilated by Kreig. That wretch ate his heart from his chest and swallowed the flesh so that Lau's spirit could never be returned to his body."

"He didn't even try to flee though he had an avenue to escape into the sewers. Drokscar has many faults, but cannibalism is not one of his tennants. Something possessed that dwarf."

"Kreig and his men were supported by hired blades from the Barbers. When I returned the cures blades to the Gent. I saw a creature in the mists outside the bar. It didn't look like it belonged to this world, Discordia."

"I ramble, where is Mal and Sacredos?"

At the sounds of the evil befallen Lau's body, Olivia was glad to have heard the news within the confines of the temple grounds. "If I know Mal, he'll have returned home to the Scroll's house. As for the Inquisitor, he has sought his rest for the evening. Perhaps it best we do the same."

She whistled for her mount, the axebeak responding promptly. "Shall we?" A large part of her wanted the simple comforts of Caleb's fire place, another part just wanted to he sure Mal'undil was okay.

"I do not seek to question you Olivia, but do you think it would be more wise to allow Mal an evening with Caleb? I believe he has some questions for him about he and Lau's involvement with certain colleagues of yours."

"However you decide, I think we should remain together. If you want to go now we will go with you."

"Too many secrets..." She shook her head and grabbed the reins of her axebeak. "No, we should be together now. If for anything, alone we tend to do foolish things."

The group departed the Temple of Iomedae, the bell for the 3rd watch tolled as they passed through the gates. Behind them, the newest wrinkle in the adventure was preparing to find a swift way of cleaning his attire and armor and weaponry as to be presentable on the morrow. Ahead of them, the Absalom nighttime stretched like an inviting tomb. A thick marine layer had descended upon the city streets to the point it almost felt like the group was swimming rather than being on dry land. Clothing and gear and fur dampened in the mist as they traveled in silence.

Others were awake in the city too; Grey Cloaks patrolled the streets, those whose worship in the Ascendant Court led to the early morning hours were about their business. But there was somberness to the hour, maybe the City at the Center of the World mourned the loss of one of her citizens…maybe she groaned under the pressure of some new and evil weight. In a city the size of Absalom one thing was always certain, you never went to bed the same person. Absalom changed people.

The paladin kept her eyes sharp looking for potential threats within the mist. Anything to keep her mind off the death of her friend…anything to keep her mind off what might have been had her benefactors decided that Lau or Mal’undil or even Caleb could handle the full truth of what they were doing. Would things have been different? Would they have been any better off knowing? Olivia wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t doubt her benefactors, just as much as she couldn’t doubt the will of her goddess.

Onward they rode, hoof and claw and padding paw, through the City at the Center of the World. They headed eastward, around the Coins if for anything but to avoid any cutpurses that may be lurking in the more destitute of the districts. They were able to pass through Green Ridge, at the least the elven druid would find some comfort in passing through the district dedicated to those of her faith. They all felt a measure of comfort in the organic feel of the district as opposed to the organized constructs of civilization. A strange irony of druids…how they seemed so keen to bring back into harmony the nature around them, trying to counter what was done by the general populace who sought to drive back the wild and exotic elements to carve a civilized life for themselves.

They continued their journey, Olivia looking to Zandra and promising they’d return to the district once things were straightened out and they’d had a night’s rest. What the paladin didn’t say was that even in the midst of all that magical nature, there was still the pall of danger about all those who now shared the knowledge of the Pattern. Olivia felt they needed the safety of each other’s company this evening. Too much had happened in the past 20 hours…

They arrived nearly an hour after they’d set out. Caleb’s shop was only one of a few on the street where there was a bit of light coming from the windows. Hindre, the Scroll’s assistant was waiting at the alley to the side of the shop to wave them into the back and the stables. The old porter said nothing, but the deep lines of his face showed a not-so-well hidden trove of grief. It would seem that Mal’undil had indeed chosen to go to the Scroll’s home.

“Go,” Hindre instructed, pointing towards the shop and taking the reins of Karthan’s horse and Olivia’s axebeak. “I will see to their needs.” He didn’t bother to look after the tiger, having already seen to the warming up of the creature’s steam-powered apparatus.

They entered the house, the soft fire light in the hearth and a set of candles on the main table to welcome them. Lying asleep in Caleb’s comfortable chair was Mal’undil, an open book across his stomach and an empty flask on the chair arm. Caleb himself sat at the main table looking through a collection of scrolls and books. As the group entered the room, he rubbed at red-rimmed eyes and stood to greet them.

“Hello, my friends. Make yourself at home…” his kindly voice was cut off as Olivia stepped forward and embraced the portly bard. She wept quietly on his shoulder.

“He’s gone, Caleb…I can’t believe it…all the things we’ve been through. To meet his end, all alone…”

“There, there child.” Caleb soothed, but his own sadness was deep within his shoulders and back. Like a heavy burden that he was only just beginning to fully recognize. He looked to the elves and then the table. “Take your sustenance as you need, my friends.” There was food upon the table. Some new items and also leftovers from the morning’s meal. The smells of mulled wine and spiced cider came from to pewter pitchers.

He stroked the cascading raven’s feathers of Olivia’s hair, comforting her with the rich tones of his voice. “Please child, do not mourn with regret, but with the celebrations of Lau Fu Shan’s life. The monk lived with no regrets. We should remember his existence with none of our own. Mourn the loss of his smile, his peaceful nature and his beautiful wit.”

As the elven siblings look upon the scene, something stirs in both of them. For Karthan, there is the slowly growing realization that for all the speed of the lives of these humans, there was a deep passion to their existence that was so often not part of the elvish world. Such passion, while romantic, did not have its place amongst the nigh eternal years of the fey-kin. But there was a tug at the elven ranger’s core, something that sought to bond his normally hardened nature to the deeper connections these people shared. There was honor in the bond these humans shared, honor and loyalty and strength. Even in the sadness they shared, was there not a strength to be seen?

For Zandra, she already sensed the connection. It was one so akin to her own connection with the natural world that it was all too familiar. These humans, for only knowing each other for such a short time, they as tight as the family units back home…even tighter and more deeply connected than most. They shared a bond that surpassed blood relation… Zandra allowed herself to drift along the energies in the room to take in the scene more deeply. She closed her eyes, slowing her breathing and calming her body from the rigors of the day.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Caleb walking Olivia over to another comfortable chair near Mal’undil’s. For the briefest of moments, she saw something about the paladin…something she’d noticed before in the chapel of Father Aegius…there was a glow about the woman. It suffused her skin, her eyes and lent a nearly metallic sheen to her hair…a beauty that could break the heart. Then it was gone, the vibrancy seemed to be subdued somehow…masked. No one else in the room seemed to notice it, not even Thorandel. But in the wake of the vision, there was a comfort that washed outward from the Chaplain-Protector. Zandra felt it…even the slumbering Mal’undil seemed to breathe a bit easier.

As though from a distance, Zandra heard Caleb speaking. “…I have discovered some things based on what Mal’undil was able to tell me. Some of what you were told this evening by Liberios and the others…I’ve been able to plague out from my own deductions…but I’d not known the true extent until now. And that is only from Mal’s impressions. I would like to know more so that I’ll be of service. But I think it best you sleep this evening and awake in the morning with fresh eyes. I slept for a few hours earlier this evening, I will be happy stay awake through the next few hours.”

I’ll leave it to your two characters to decide what to do. If you want to go ahead and discuss the situation with the Scroll, feel free. If you want to go ahead and call it an evening, go ahead and move your characters to 3rd Level and update your stats on the profile page. Also, if you do sleep, I have a couple of dream sequences for you.

Is Olivia a celestial blooded human? If so that would explain her dedication in her chosen path.

Thor caught her eye and an unspoken dialogue occurred between them. Afterwards the big cat padded his way back to his temple.

"I shall need my sleep to have my spells renewed. I bid you all goodnight, it has been quite a long day."

"I will join you shortly, but first I must share a bit more with the Scroll. I have more information that he can use to piece together this puzzle that we all now face willingly or no."

Thor's heavily lidded eyes were almost closed in rapture. He had thought that the run through the city was most unwelcome after he had properly gorged himself, but now he was full, excercised and properly enshrined. After a long day this contraption felt even more heavenly. Now if it only had a nail buffing wheel. . .

"As you will, Good night scroll, we may need your help arraigning a meeting with the Grey, but that can wait til the morrow."

Karthan watched Zandra retreat upstairs. Once she was gone he poured himself a night cap and smiled at the old bard. "It seems you are both a master of song and secrets."

He took a sip from his glass then removed the Harrow Card from the leather gauntlet of his glove and tossed it so that it would rotate thrice in the air as it moved towards the hard before landing on the table and skittered to a slow rotating stop face up and oriented so that the aged man would not have to move the card to view it. Karthans eyes watched it his mind calculating its trajectory and the resistance of the air at sea level and noted the affects of the humidity that he had calculated correctly.

"I received that outside the Toiling Gent from a most haunting looking character. The cyclone I believe it is. Good thing that I don't like being controlled by outside powers let alone printed inks on card stock."

"I am guessing you subscribe to the saying knowledge is power guard it well, but the other part of the saying is an open mind is like a gate unguarded with its doors unlocked and unable to be barred from within once the enemy is at your threshold."