"Well, I'm very glad you won't be cutting my throat," says Bokehn sarcastically, having moved up silently to the door of the cargo compartment where the discussion is taking place. He leans on the doorframe and takes another bite of his sausage. "Of course," he continues, mouth half-full, "I've no doubt you could take control of the ship if you really wanted to. Although maybe not the elemental, which would make your lives interesting, I guess. But you aren't the wet-behind-the-ears wannabes who I went upriver with anymore, that's for sure."
He swallows and fixes Rehil in particular with a look. "But this isn't just about you anymore, either. Or any particular nation in Khorvaire. What happened to you, I think, is a far bigger deal than that. And people - things - will have taken notice of it. And you. This is something you don't want to do alone, trust me.
"So I suggest you calm down. I'm taking you to people who can help, and who will stand behind you. You can run off if you really want to, but I wouldn't fancy your chances." He looks introspective for a moment. "There are things in this world people shouldn't have to look at, or face. Sadly, I don't think you have a choice about that anymore."
He turns to walk away but before he goes he adds. "Anyway, we should be there before sundown. If you plan to do any coshing before then, let me know. I don't want to be wearing my best hat and getting it ruined."
He strolls back on deck.
Nalverren is first shocked by Bokehn's appearance, then is inwardly amused. After the man leaves, he turns to the others.
"These are probably the Endworld Mountains. Opposite them from Q'Barra is the Blade Desert and then Talenta Plains."
Rehil stares back at the half-orc, then shrugs and drops his eyes.
"Well, just shy of Thrane at this pace and bearing. However, the slightest turn, or purposeful steering to put wind at our backs, would change that."
The sun climbs throughout the day as the ship moves between the peaks, the helmsman gently nudging the course to follow the valleys and passes. Most of the landscape is spectacular but barren, icy mountains with glaciers descending their slopes. The glaciers turn into raging rivers that plunge and disappear into deep gorges over high, bright falls. It feels particularly chilly after having spent the last few months, or years, in the jungle heat, and the air is thin. The lizardfolk suffer the most, born to the humid warmth of the lowlands. The captain finds them several layers of blankets to keep them warm.
Most of the time there is little sign of habitation. In some of the lower valleys alpine pastures of bright green grass sprout among the scree and boulders, and small herds of wild highland sheep can be seen grazing. On one occasion humanoid figures, tiny in the distance, give chase, the sheep scattering before them. "Orc hunters," grunts Bokehn. "There's a few tribes in the high mountains. Must be a hard life."
"Life's better in the Marches," comments one of the half-orc soldiers, and the others laugh.
"There's others have lived here, back in the day. For anyone interested in history, you've a treat coming in a few minutes."
The ship rises as it crosses a saddle between two mountains. Ahead is a wide bowl, several miles across and covered in grass, surrounded by peaks to form a naturally sheltered sanctuary. The ground below shows evidence of deliberate terracing, and piles of stones are suggestive of ruined buildings. But most dramatic is the mountain-top ahead. It has been carved in the shape of a dwarven warrior, holding a hammer and shield and dressed in armour, his beard spilling over his chest. Underneath him, the cliffs show further signs of having been worked, with numerous entrances leading into the dark.
"It's an old dwarven city. No one knows much about the place - predates the clans in the Mror Holds, they think, since they have no definite records of it. Gods know what lurks in those tunnels."
The ship turns slightly as it flies across the plateau and to one side the guardian statue. Time has take its toll - its features are eroded, assailed by frost and wind over millennia. The ship swoops within a few hundred feet of its right ear, then over the peak. The helmsman pitches the ship into a moderate descent. Ahead, the mountains abruptly begin to fall away towards jagged hills. Behind, the steep slopes of the high mountains form a forbidding wall of snow and rock, stretching north and south until it disappears in the distance.
"It's why they call them the Endworld Mountains," says Bokehn "The rivers all flow east into the sea, and there are very few reliable passes. To the local tribes a barrier like that, it felt like there was nowhere else to go. The end of the world, literally."
The horizon to the west is a yellow smudge - the Blade Desert. The ship continues in this direction.
Tal looks at the ancient ruins, and gives a soft huff of laughter. "Ancient by your world... yet it hadn't even been conceived in mine..."
Rehil's ill humor slowly evaporates as the trip goes on, because plainly, he enjoys the trip. He spends as much time as possible at the rails, sometimes rushing from one side of the ship to the other and back again to look at interesting sights from multiple angles. The cold doesn't bother him much. He seems to keep warm through nearly constant motion.
At the giant stone dwarf, he stays glued to the near rail, walking his way down it's length and tarrying long near the stern as the statue falls further behind.
"Yet it seems Tal has stood the test of time for even longer than the monolith."
Rehil shrugs.
Tal nods. "Stone is only stone. The whims of the gods are far more powerful by far."
Cole takes mute interest in everything they pass, though he displays little of Rehil's energy. He stomps here and there, asking questions of the crew about what they have seen and what they know. Little of it is likely to be useful to their newly-given quest, but the warforged can't help himself.
"Time will tell if the gods outlast the stones ... or vise versa." He shrugs, not sure if his own contribution is helpful or not.
He does perk up at Wultram's question to the captain, and he decides instead to go question Bokehn. When he finds the Tharashk agent, he opens without preamble. "You were right. We are not the group you sent north in the jungle." His deep, rumbling voice is neutral. Not aggressive,but firm, "It seems we are grunts in a much bigger engagement now. I'd rather fight this fight with you as an ally, but that will mean being more forthcoming with us. Who do you take us to talk to? And why should we delay our search for information to talk to them?"
Captain Moss folds her bony arms and gives Wultram a wry smile. "See, even if I wanted to tell you, I can't. Part of the agreement. You'll find out soon enough - we arrive in a few hours."
Meanwhile, Bokehn rolls his eyes at Cole's question. "You as well? Look, the people you are going to see value their privacy. And for good reason. Hence the secrecy and the out-of-the way location. I work for them, but that doesn't entitle me to tell you their secrets. That's up to them, when they see you.
"Anyway, as for 'delaying your search', it seems to me if it wasn't for this ship lifting you out of the jungle your search would be a lot more delayed just getting anywhere near civilization. I think your search for answers probably just got speeded up, not slowed down."
Grinding sounds accompany Cole's shrug in response to Bokehn. "Don't mistake me. I am grateful for the opportunities you have given me personally, and the support you have given my squad. But things are changing. I ask that you not treat us as raw recruits."
He looks out over the land rushing beneath them. "Is there anything you can tell us of this group you're bringing us to? Anything we should expect or prepare for? Forwarned is forearmed."
... He is clearly unhappy with this, once he retuns to the others he mentions. "Captain has agreed to secrecy, presumably as part of employment. We are being played, I do not like it. Unless we get an offer to rival promises of divinity, I say we take a dump on the board before flipping the table."
Rehil snorts faintly. His hand drifts to the knife at his belt. And his attention slowly returns to the passing scenery.
"Secrecy is the name of the game." Nalverren says simply.
Ashshar, having heard Wultram's words, once again turns to Vaard. The other lizardfolk he could comprehend as he was one of his kin.
The humans and derivatives? Not even partially.
Shrugging, the hunter only said "I don't like thiss... may the ancesstorss provide inssight, but I fear they wouldn't undersstand thiss either."
"You've smacked some lizardfolk about. Doesn't make you generals."
Bokehn puffs out his cheeks and exhales slowly before adding to Cole in a more thoughtful tone, "Look, you've learnt not to trust too much. That's a good thing, on balance, and will stand you in good stead for what's to come. But it cuts both ways. Some things you just have to see for yourself. And some things you have to hear from the organ-grinder, not his monkey. You get me? This is above everyone's pay grade."
The ship continues its descent as the dusty foothills turn gradually into the broken badlands of the Blade Desert. Scattered spike-leafed trees dot the landscape of twisting wadis, razor-sharp ridges and scree. A few giant pterosaurs, much larger than those in the jungle, turn lazily in the thermals.
"Carrion feeders," mutters one of the crew, "You don't have to worry about them."
Heat haze makes the distant views disappear in the shimmering noonday sun. The temperature, in contrast to the mountains, is now pitiless. The landscape below flattens out to gently undulating scrubland. Small herds of sauropod dinosaurs tramp wearily in search of food, long necks and tails bobbing in rhythm. Packs of large raptors shadow them at a distance. As time passes, the vegetation gets gradually lusher as the ship pushes westwards. The grass becomes less patchy, and turns from dry brown to green.
A few hours after midday the lookout yells, "Port-ho!" Ahead is a wide, low mound. It is covered with irregular shapes which resolve into the grass-covered ruins of a large, city-sized settlement as the ship draws near. The line of a city wall can be traced, and even some of the wider streets. But it is clear that this place was abandoned centuries ago and reclaimed by the grassland.
In the centre of the city, where perhaps a castle or a palace might be expected, there yawns a huge open void into the earth. About a hundred yards across, it is as if the ground abruptly subsided under the buildings here hundreds of years ago. The helmsman expertly nudges the elemental so the ship manoeuvres carefully into position directly over it. Looking down there seems to be only darkness. Then he sends the elemental back to its dragonshard and the containment ring falls silent. The ship begins to descend vertically, as gently as thistledown, into the gulf.
The captain calls, "Prepare lines!" and the crew begin grabbing ropes. The walls of the opening reach up and swallow the sinking vessel. It disturbs small birds nesting in the rocks around the lip and they swoop acrobatically, shrieking all the while in outrage. Then the dark of the cave envelops the deck.
Underground is a wide shaft, heading down. In contrast to outside the air is cool and moist, and ferns cling to the walls. The sky is a gradually diminishing blue patch directly above. Below, about four hundred feet below the entrance, is the rocky floor of the cave. And to one side, under an overhang to conceal it from prying eyes above, is a stone-built docking tower about fifty feet high, its top lit by softly glowing lanterns. The pilot briefly recalls the elemental to waft the ship towards the dock. The captain gives the order, the lines are cast, and the crew begin securing the ship.
Atop the tower stand two figures - tall, erect and slim, dressed in colourful robes. As the gangway is laid Bokehn crosses it and drops to one knee before them, addressing them hissing Draconic.
"You've smacked some lizardfolk about. Doesn't make you generals."
Tal looks up. "I believe, if I understand your modern ranks... my rank does make me a Ltn. General." He says, dryly.
During the descent Rehil returns to the hold to retrieve his pack and other gear. He returns to deck, bow in hand, his other gear ready for a march.
He looks at Cole. "Last time I left my pack on Bokehn's boat it sank."
As they dock, just for amusement, or perhaps paranoia, Rehil estimates firing angles to Bokehn's masters and probable crew response time.
....
Nalverren likewise grabs his gear while they descend. He had thoroughly enjoyed the airship ride, and seemed sad to leave it. In his spare time he had studied the ship as best he could, harboring desire to perhaps be able to craft one or pilot it. His book was now home to over a dozen sketches of the vessel with notes and measurements.
Tal, being rather out of time, in a figurative sense, if overburdened with it in a realistic sense, seems to shrug and begin to haul his equipment onto his shoulders. He nods his head at the ship captain, and then pauses. He turns to the man. "In the future, I shall be dis-inclined to trust your word on any matter. To be forthright about this situation. I suspect the rest will be worse. While there is a time for secrets, directly lying to people you wish to have as allies is a foolhardy endeavor. It does not reflect well on your employers, nor upon your own common sense. Were I you, I would reflect on this in the future. Additionally, unlike myself, some might slit your throat in your sleep, or feed you your own reproductive organs for such a tactic. You were fortunate that calmer heads prevailed... this time."
He then continues on off the boat, calmly as before...
"Please forgive us," says one of the robed figures in Common, "We find that these elaborate precautions are necessary. You have little reason to trust us, especially since we arranged for your kidnap from the jungle. However, please do not blame Bokehn, he was simply acting at out behest."
Drawing closer, the robed ones can be made out more clearly. Their clothing is in vibrant multicoloured hues, zigzag stripes of pink red, blue and more. But under their hoods they are more remarkable. Their faces are serpentine, with flickering tongues. But instead of scales, their skin is covered with bright feathers.
Tal tilts his head at the creature, and then shrugs. "There is no forgiveness nor lack thereof. I simply state fact. Courting potential allies via lies inherently weakens your position. This is a statement of fact. You should consider this in the future. A better approach would have been to agree to take us to our desired destination, but use ones skill with words to request us to come to a different destination first. For example, offering the use of the airship for a period of time, say several months, in return for this side trip first, would have had the same effect, without sowing mistrust amongst those you wish something from."
He pauses, then continues. "Times are different now, but I am old fashioned... very much so. I do not feel comfortable talking with those who I do not know at least their names. I am Tal'Va'Nocht, of Orzaxes 1st Healer's Brigaide, of The Army. Ltn. General Nocht, in your modern terms. What dragon do you defend? Or have you too lost your charges?"
Rehil stares at the odd creatures, hard, with furrowed brow.
I am Tal'Va'Nocht, of Orzaxes 1st Healer's Brigaide, of The Army. Ltn. General Nocht, in your modern terms."
The creature stares at Tal. "Sadly, the luxury of time is one which is not given us. And the facts of the situation are very different, I suspect, from what you think them to be. Naturally it sows distrust to act under a cloak of subterfuge. But then again, do we know that we can trust you? What have you done to earn the free use of an airship for several months? And would you even survive those months? You have been touched by a power beyond your understanding, and there are immortal evils of immense power that would want to exploit or destroy you as a result. Blundering about in innocent ignorance could lead to your doom. If you were rescuing a baby from the den of a wolf, would you ask its opinion first?"
The other being interrupts. "Brother, if I may?" He turns to face the adventurers. "My name is Kar. This is my brother Naginti. We are shulassakar, and this is our home, the city of Krezent. I know that you have many questions - not least, why you have been brought to this place, largely against your will. Please understand that while my brother is perhaps overly forthright - he is not so practiced in dealing with your kind - what he says is true. You were not kidnapped, so much as rescued, from a danger of which you were unaware."
Ka continues, "But I appreciate that this is perhaps slightly overwhelming. I request that you accept our hospitality, and when you have had a chance to refresh yourselves we will answer your questions as well as we can."
"I am aware of what you are. I will forebear for now, but please do not equate rescuing a cub from a wolf with spending days at a time concealing your purpose. One requires immediate action, the other requires, with all due respect, weeks if not months of planning to carry out." Tal then grasps his hands, crossing the arms as he does so, so that the upper left hand clasps his lower right hand, and vice versa, and bows over the doubly clasped fists. "I accept your hospitality, for now. I do not consider myself to be a guest." He warns them. Modern folks don't seem to have much honor, but he at least will follow the old ways.
Tal is not angry per se, but he quite obviously is not well disposed toward the Shulassakar due to their deceptions. Continued justifications simply reinforce his opinion that they are 'means to an end' types, which is not something he approves of, and can't trust. Basically, they are in the same group as Wultram.
Because he's accepting hospitality, but not admitting to being a guest, he's not agreeing to stay neutral or adhere to the customs of being a guest, meaning he can work against his hosts wishes if he feels it's necessary, without formal warning. Basically, he's not agreeing to be bound by host/guest restrictions on activities.
Rehil watches Tal's display and listens to his words. He leans near Nalverren to whisper, "Why would he warn them?"
Nalverren replies to Rehil, "I dunno. Must not have had courtiers or politics back in the day."
To the feathered serpents, Nalverren replies, "I'm pretty refreshed, not every day a guy gets to ride an airship and being tied to the back of a sweaty hog beats the jungle. All I need is some food and an explanation."
"Our enemies do not act honourably," says Naginti flatly, "This is not a war fought in the open field with massed armies, but in back alleys, taverns, embassies and palaces, where death comes with warm words and plants a dagger in the back of the unwary. You will need to lose your habit of plain speaking if you wish to survive."
"As indeed should you, brother," interrupts Kar, giving his brother a serpentine glare before turning to the others. "Please, this way."
The two shulassakar turn and begin to descend the tower. A walkway leads from the base of the tower into a cleft in the cavern wall.
Rehil nods his head. Apparently he understands this philosophy.
With a glance at Bokehn and the ship, he shrugs his pack higher on his shoulder and follows the others.
Tal shakes his head. "I have never been counciled to give up honor by anyone I have trusted as an ally." The lizard mutters under his breath in ancient draconic, a nearly incomprehensible mush of hissing that it's likely only those who've heard him speak his ancient dialect repeatedly can make sense of. He follows along though.
Rehil amuses himself by falling in behind Bokehn. "I thought you were a Tharashk trader. How did you meet these schossel locks?"
...
Bokehn's face is sphinx-like. "There's quite a few people think I work for them."
"Doesn't Tharask work for everybody?" Nalverren says with a mock-quizzical face.
"Bokehn, do the schloss acres think you work for them too? Do you think you're fighting for right?"
Cole just stomps along, following Rehil’s example of carrying everything he owns with him. All things considered, waiting a few more hours to hear what this is all about doesn’t seem too bad. The shift from the arid heat to the cool moisture of this … cave thing … registers on the sense receptors under his armor.
“At least the weather’s nice down here,” he says to no one in particular.
The group head down the tower, leaving the airship and its crew behind. As they walk, Bokehn replies to Rehil, "There's some things - most things - which are shades of grey. Where there's right on both sides and it's a question of balancing things out."
He turns and fixes Rehil with a look from under his bushy eyebrows. "Then there's things which are just completely black, things that you can't deal with, things that will never balance out, things have to be defeated and destroyed. That's what I'm fighting. So yeah, I think that's right." Then he gives a derisive snort of laughter. "I'm a Gatekeeper. I guess that's who I work for."
They enter a tunnel. The walls seem natural, but the floor is carefully smoothed and polished. They follow it for a few minutes. Ahead the tunnel is light, and they emerge on a balcony looking over a chasm. Ahead and below, built into the vertical walls and hanging over the drop, is a city. The entire cavern is underground but roof glows softly, lighting the whole settlement. Elegant porticos are linked by slender stone bridges and multiple small gardens with bright flowers and trees spill over the walls. More shulassakar can be seen going about their business, dressed in their bright robes, their hissing voices echoing.
"Welcome to Krezent," says Kar formally. "Please follow me."