"The natural state of man?" Verik scoffs, "Neither is it found hiding in caves and trees, communing with bugs and the direction the wind blows. The history of man is known in the rise of great civilizations, not in whatever you call...this."
He looks to the others with eyebrows raised impatiently. "Founders of Newhaven, let us do our duty and relieve Goodman Gregary from whatever trouble he has placed himself in. Then we put a stop to this slaver Vesket who would so recklessly send his son to his death attacking innocents. After that, we put the bill paid to this Hargulka." He makes a motion for Jabber to get back to his pony, and stalks off to take the reins of Virtue and check his saddle straps.
Zander looks up at Verik's words, and even gives a rare smile at Berrin's protests and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving it a grateful squeeze. "Thank you friends. Yes, I have a home now. But it is more an acceptance and respect I have in Newhaven rather than the love the people have for their true leaders."
He turns back and looks upon the Druid as he continues. As a response, "All I have is my work. I am not ready to rest or reflect till these lands are safe for my men and those we are charged to protect. In some sense, my work started the day I was burned. ...
His voice goes softer, "But to your question, of course I would save that child again. The dreams I still have of that day, never have me not running into that fire...only different outcomes...or reactions. So yes, I hope that child has grown strong and happy. And I hope, I truly hope, that he does not know the price I paid to save his life...It was, in a sense, my gift to him. So that, of all those who have turned their back on me, all I can hope is he never had to make that choice."
"But for now...I do have my work. And until Gregary is safe and these trolls dealt with, there can be no balance for me. I can not afford such luxury. The future?...well I suspect you can see that better than me, but I will remember your words and the friendship you offered Gregary."
The druid nods sagely at Zander, keeping his eyes focused. "Good. You've made the first steps towards wholeness. You have your work for now, which will be enough to mask your pain. It will not always be enough." He turns to the others, setting his sight upon them. "I will aid you in finding Gregary. Wait here." He walks to a nearby tree and places his hand upon it, closing his eyes and communing with nature. The tree, a smaller oak than his home, starts to bend to his will. The branches crack as the tree's limbs start dropping softly to the ground. A few moments later, the once-lush tree is now bare of its limbs, which are scattered around the floor of the wetlands. The druid gathers the limbs and arranges them in a line, then closes his eyes again and touches them. The foliage of the limbs starts growing, lashing the pieces of wood into a single piece, making a raft that looks surprisingly sturdy. When it is created, he looks back towards them. "This is the bounty of nature. Do not exploit it. When you have completed your journey, plant it to grow into a new tree. Thus the cycle will continue." He walks back to his oak tree, giving them one final look before walking into the tree itself and becoming one with the oak's thick bark.
Jemini listens raptly to the interchange between the druid and Zander. Time had passed. A lot of time. Since she had stormed at Zander demanding explanations. Now...? Is it too late or too soon?
When they are ready to depart, Jemini takes a moment to stand next to Zander. With his illusioned mask restored, there's but hints of the true ravage beneath. Still, Jemini puts her hand on the side of his face, her fingers trace the outlines of his worst marks from memory. She looks at him an odd mixture of sadness and encouragement. Before words can fall between them she lets go and finds herself a spot on the raft.
The illusion hides most of it, but Zander blushes at the attention. He gruffly concludes with, "Enough about me, we are here for Gregary now."
He moves to join the others on the raft, but does pause to touch his own cheek were Jemini had touched it. His fingers bump along the scared skin and he lowers his hand in disappointment. That must have turned her stomach. But he appreciated the effort.
'And so a fight to the death this is truly meant to be. So be it then. But I swear by all that is in me hag, it shall not be me that falls first this day.' Far too injured and spent for words, needing every iota of strength remaining in his ruined body simply to swing his sword, the nearly dead General speaks not, allowing his internal reply to flow only through his burning gaze. Eyes locked in a death grip on the focus of his fury, Akiros swings his sword in one final strike. With all he has left in him, he brings the blade to bear down upon the beast. And misses!
Or, at least he would have. For Fate is nothing if not fickle, and so at the very last possible moment, a stray sound upon the staircase, perhaps the boot heel of one of his approaching soldiers as it strikes the stone, causes the hag to turn at the sound, thereby placing herself perfectly in line to be hit by the slash which would have otherwise missed her. As it is, the blade bites deep and perfect, as powerful a blow as the general has ever dealt. Cleaving in through the side of her neck and blasting out through the bottom of her rib cage, the entire upper left torso of the evil coven leader simply slides off of her, no longer being attached to her flesh. For a moment more her prodigious strength allows her to remain standing, shock and hatred mingling in her acrid gaze at the general. Yet finally, as a fountain of blood erupts out of her, she falls like a felled tree, dead before she crashes to the floor.
At the same time, as if a link between them had been severed, down goes the general as well. Dropping to one knee, blood pouring freely from his many grievous wounds, only his iron will, and his death grip on the hilt of his blade, point buried deep in the ground, prevent him from falling over completely.
As the soldiers storm into the basement, despite themselves pausing for a moment at the horror scene before them, the man they seek gasps out to them "Women. Witches. Three. Not let them Escape!"
With no more words available to him at the moment, Akiros finally turns a baleful gaze upon Tandlara. A great evil had been defeated here this day, it was true, yet a possibly even greater one had perhaps been unleashed. Much had already passed between these two, yet much more, it seems, was fated to do so. For now a dark and dire secret bound the only two founders remaining in Sanctuary. And for the time being at least, it is a secret that must remain shared between them.
Attack w/HP:
Damage:
Studying his saddlebags and girth strap for another time even though he knows they are fundamentally sound, Verik senses the druid's departure as well as the interaction between Jemini and Zander. His eyes eventually move to look at the druid's gift to their party.
Yes how profound and showy Gozran that you make a boat out of tree limbs. Cogs and Keys I've never seen that before...oh wait YES I have because the Master SHOWED us eons ago how to BUILD blasted boats and ships for ourselves! Why I can count four families in Sanctuary off the top of my head that can build a proper vessel! Still...I suppose despite his rudeness to me that he did make his decision to aid us and not hinder us. I will not display a lack of etiquette then and give him the satisfaction of it..."
"A fair gift I suppose as well as a decision made of sorts to aid us, so I will find no further fault." Under his breath he mutters sourly, "Might be polite next time if he actually proffered up a name to call him by..."
Berrin stares dumbfounded as the druid works his magics of nature to produce the boat, his face an open feature of awe and disbelief, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. Somehow he didn't think he'd ever get used to such diplays of divine power as Verik and the druid produced, let alone Tandlara's arcane talent. Blinking at the display of power he walks around the thing and barely manages to nodd in assent to the druids wishes of planting the thing after they'd used it.
Coming up by Verik he nudges the cleric in the ribs with an elbow to gain his ear. "Hey Verik! Why can't you do stuff like that? You know, something so flashy and tangible?" he asks him. Pointedly forgetting about Verik's awesome display of healing energies and his manifestation of the crossbow back at the river crossing.
When Verik look into Berrin's face he can see a twinkle in Berrin's eye and barely contained mirth on the fighters face.
"Now you know perfectly well that I..." Verik turns towards Berrin with a finger raised in protest and his face starting to flush in anticipation of an argumentative retort, only to see the look on Berrin's face. He closes his mouth abruptly, trying to give him a cool stare, but it's impossible to maintain for more than a few moments before he begins to chuckle. "Sunk my teeth on that hook didn't I? I see my reading jibe didn't fall on deaf ears after all - good man!"
He chuckles a bit more, though it fades a bit as he eyes the boat and the next part of their journey, as well as the amount of light they have left in the day. Confiding in Berrin, he whispers, "Cogs and Keys Berrin, between corpse candles and haunted islands where kobolds and Gregarys alike do not return, I'm not sure what to think. I have some power to harm the undead if it comes to it, but I am no sun-bringer of Sarenrae. Without Tandlara we have steel but not much magic, and most of mine needs foreknowledge to be truly potent."
"Weeell... I need to find something to jibe about since I can't use the tatzlwyrm pit anymore. You'r not exactly making it easy nowadays." Berrin answers. "Arcane might aside, I guess we'll just have to hit hard enough then, and keep hitting till the monster stops moving." Berrin shrugs, not really seeing another way. "Though the cash of alchemy fire and acid will go a long way."
Jemini smirks and elbows Verik playfully in the ribs, "What you mean Berrin? It's only a matter of time before Verik will do us proud again. Why I can just feel his brimming energy to lay low the next monster twice his size."
"Ouch! If by 'lay low' you mean stand behind my raised shield so that I don't get gutted, then yes I'm ready," says Verik dryly. "I've learned my lesson, well lessons in this case, and will try to stand between your wall of blades and Zander unless you need my shield to guard your flank. Just try to stand together a bit so I can get to you without having to run halfway across the Stolen Lands, alright?"
"You're probably right Jem. Verik will probably charge the first troll we meet or follow a will-o'-wisp out into a bog if we don't watch him." he says in strangely resigned tones. "We should consider roping him to Virtue." he adds, brightening up at that flash of genius before cracking a laugh.
"We should rope the boat to the horses anyway. I eh.. seem to have mis-places mine. Anyone got rope?"
You lot stand by the shiledbearer. I will charge the flank. And yes, I have rope. The erstwhile Stag fetches a length of silk chord from one of his bags.
"I lent mine to Master Narthropple in assistance for securing the prisoners to Sanctuary," answers Verik absently as he stares at Nikolai for a moment.
"Tactical discussions aside, your bold charge may work well enough for lizardfolk braves and men untrained in battle, Nikolai of Rogarvia, but against a troll or wraith you would do well to be nearer to the rest...just...well at least be where you can withdraw to Jemini if she needs to heal you." He finishes that last sentence with a slightly sour note to his voice. Yes THAT shouldn't be too hard for you to have an excuse to stay near your savior, should it? Like a puppy to a fistful of venison from its master...
Nikolai tensed. His complexion darkens and his stance shifts. He lightens one massive leg, prepared to advance on the smaller man. But he doesn't.
The Stag's eyes flit from Verik to Jemimi, over to Zander, then to Jemini again.
Credit our lady friend, Verik. Last year I would have killed you just for your tone. Now, rest assured I will slayghter any creature standing over you for her sake, without regard to whether you would do the same.
He looks to the group and appears to suppress his rage. I am sure the old man has been entertained. Lwt's not waste any more time.
The Founders continue to jibe and bicker as they carry the raft to Candlemere Lake, several miles to the northeast. With the raft strung between four of the horses, it takes several hours slowly walking over the marshy ground. They have to stop several times to make sure they are headed the right direction, though there is no canopy blocking their view of the sky this close to the lakeshore. They arrive around the late evening, with the sun already setting to the west. The island that Gregary supposedly went to sits in the water, low and somewhat foreboding despite the distance. The tower that dominates the small island is barely visible in the quickly-darkening light.
They unload the raft and place it on the shore, where the waters are utterly, eerily still. The horses mill about, seemingly unsettled. Even without being spooked, it would be nearly impossible to try to balance them on the natural raft. The distance is too great to attempt to make the horses swim, something even their kobold guide realizes. Jabber stares at the lake with a fearful look on his face. "Lake cursed! Jabber stays with horses. Jabber feeds horses good, waits for masters come back. Jabber no want to go to place where Sootscales get soul taken off."
In a tired and exasperated tone that Verik takes considerable effort to mellow out to one of patience, he says,"Jabber, tell me everything that you know about why you think this about souls being taken and such. Beyond the fact that Sootscales have gone to the island and never returned, tell us anything that you have heard, as it could be important to us. Has anything been observed coming to shore from the island for example?"
To the rest of the Founders he says, "We are somewhat exposed here, but certainly this is better than risking the waters in the dark wouldn't you say?"
It only takes a single night for Sanctuary to descend into a paranoid anarchy on the word of a loose-tongued guard who told a pretty girl in a tavern that a shapeshifting witch had killed the captain of the Guard and slipped away. The word of the doppelganger spreads quickly throughout the city, with the citizens eyeing each other in fear and doubt. A number of fights break into a near-riot in the night, with at least one house burned down and a strange Varisian man caught by a crazed, fearful mob and hanged from a tree. While the Guardsmen try to mourn the death of their respected leader, they try valiantly to control the city's reaction. An interrogation of each of the guardsmen at the scene of Corwin's death demonstrates that it was none of them who let loose the rumor. When the girl who first heard and spread the rumor was brought in for questioning, she said that it was none of the guards that they showed to her.
As dawn creeps up on the city, now ready to tear itself apart, General Akiros Ismort sits at a table with a map of the city on it, directing the Guardsmen and his own soldiers to crisis after crisis. Tandlara enters the Founders' Hall with something in her hand, walking in her strange, graceful way up to Akiros. He looks up at her with weary eyes, clearly exhausted and badly injured from their battle with Malgorzata's coven. While Jhod had healed the worst of his injuries with prayers to Erastil, the priest had gone into the city to help tend to the needs of the community. Several of the half-healed cuts and slashes were tended to by Kesten with hastily-applied field bandages. Tandlara strides straight up and throws a heart, freshly removed from whatever the witch had taken it from, onto the map. It lands directly over the castle, splattering blood in all directions. She looks at him with her eerie eyes. "Akiros, we must stop this before the city bleeds itself to death. I have seen the auguries. The city will fall in a fortnight if you do not do what is necessary."
Jemini nods to Verik's words - but she secretly winks at Berrin, "Flashy magic wouldn't be stopped by a little dark." Before Verik can rouse too much she holds up both hands and metaphorically stems it against his retort, "I'm kidding, enough has happened today - things will look fresher in the morning."
"Indeed." Looking to Berrin and then to Jemini, Verik utters a brief prayer and claps his hands, bringing forth a ball of light upon his breastplate. "There you see? Flashy, but also serviceable."
He dismisses the light and then looks critically at Berrin's own armor, somewhat punctured and dented. "Less overt is my ability to mend crafted objects, but I might as well keep idleness at bay. Let me work on that a bit from last eve's battle while we make camp."
"Lake Curse or not, haunted towers tend to look mundane in the morning light. Saving the need for chest lights. I agree Verick, a camp here tonight and exploration tomorrow. Let's see what fish this lake has for us tonight."
The night is long and full of terrors. As they awaken, nightmares fade from their memories, slower for some than others. The dawn shines upon them, banishing some of the dark thoughts, but others cannot disappear so easily.
Nikolai dreams of Choral leaning over him, experimenting on him with fire and acid and magic and healing. He recalls every minute of Choral's sick torture, with the healing touch that kept him from death and the fiery touch that melted his skin. He lives it day after day after day in his dreams until it is all he remembers again. Finally, after years of torture while begging for death, Choral comes to him. He wears the face of a dragon instead of a man, red scales beaming with fire underneath. He laughs at the bloody mess that was once Nikolai Rogarvia, grabbing his face by the claw and looking at him. "Foolish boy, you think you escaped me? You think you could ever be free?" Behind him, one on each side, two figures emerge. The first is the fey queen who freed him, her blue-green hair and icy breath just as vivid as the first dream he ever had of her. The second is Jemini, as beautiful and graceful as when they spent years together in his redemption. The two women laugh at him in his pathetic pain, joined by Choral. "You will never, ever be free. Even when you think that you are, know that you will always be my plaything to do with as I will." They all howl in cruel laughter as Choral opens his draconic mouth and bathes him in searing fire.
None of this bothers him in the least, just as if he was watching it happen to someone else or reading about it in a book.
Verik wakes with a start, his eyes wild with fear and face contorted into a silent scream. His breathing heavy, he looks around for a moment as if not understanding where he truly is. Shifting in his bedroll, straining to see where Taisper is, he stares at his cousin for a long moment. Finally, his breathing becomes more settled and he runs a hand through his bedraggled hair, quietly muttering to himself, "Will never happen. Order your mind Jarrow...keys and locks, locks and portals, portals and vaults…"
His muttering fading to just what dwells inside his mind, he gets up with a hand to his holy symbol and belt of keys, and makes his way towards the lake where he kneels and begins to pray.
Jemini's pulse is racing as she opens her eyes. The dream had a vivid clarity - as much a dream as a prediction. What set this apart was that she felt no confusion or disorientation as she woke up. The dream becoming message in her head rather than a half-forgotten tuft of subconscious imagery.
She sees the dawn in the east and is strengthened by it. Praise Sarenrae, drive away this unpleasant chill in my body.
She lifts herself off her bedstead and closes her eyes again. She allows the warmth of the first early rays of the morning to caress her cheeks. In her mind's eye she projects her will into a physical shape, slowly and controlled, until she forges a sword of her will. She grasps it firmly and wields it effortlessly. She nods. Then she opens her eyes and gets up.
The searing fire forces a primal scream from the Stag. As he leaps from his yhin furs, he pats at his body and covers his head in his hands. Thick sweat reflects the morning light of sun, but is them covered in dirt as he rolls frantically on the ground. When Nikolai finally can no longer muster more than a hoarse cry, he huddles in the grass, still naked and dirty and sweating, clutching at his arms and sobbing vulgar curses.
Gasping for air Berrin's arms and feet flail into the morning air with the first rays of the rising sun. Grasping and kicking, gasping for a breath and his eyes still closed, he trows off his furs and rolls over to his hands and knees and desperately fills his starved lungs with air. Rising at a lumbering gate on shaky feet he takes in his surroundings, a look of terror on his face and sweat covering his bloodless features.
'Emma!' he looks from face to face, a look of confusion creasing his features. 'Tandlara!' closing his eyes he rubs his temples with his palms. 'Jem!' His eyes snap open and focus on Jemini's calm features and a look of confusion returns. "..Whaat..?"
Looking at his surroundings realization dawns on him and recognition comes creeping back as he looks again at the party. '.... Zander .... Verik .... Nicholai .... Taisper .... Jabber ....' Calming down as he recognizes his companions Berrin sags visibly, deflating even. Slumping down he sits on the ground and hugs his knees, alternately staring at his feet and forgetting to breath and closing his eyes and breathing to futilely try and calm his nerves.
"What has gotten in to you two?" With worry Jemini gathers herself next to Nikolai and Berrin. "You two are my big warriors! Keep you need to be the first example to everybody." With concern she adds, "Both of you look like you didn't manage to sleep at all. What happened?"
It only takes a single night for Sanctuary to descend into a paranoid anarchy on the word of a loose-tongued guard who told a pretty girl in a tavern that a shapeshifting witch had killed the captain of the Guard and slipped away. The word of the doppelganger spreads quickly throughout the city, with the citizens eyeing each other in fear and doubt. A number of fights break into a near-riot in the night, with at least one house burned down and a strange Varisian man caught by a crazed, fearful mob and hanged from a tree. While the Guardsmen try to mourn the death of their respected leader, they try valiantly to control the city's reaction. An interrogation of each of the guardsmen at the scene of Corwin's death demonstrates that it was none of them who let loose the rumor. When the girl who first heard and spread the rumor was brought in for questioning, she said that it was none of the guards that they showed to her.
As dawn creeps up on the city, now ready to tear itself apart, General Akiros Ismort sits at a table with a map of the city on it, directing the Guardsmen and his own soldiers to crisis after crisis. Tandlara enters the Founders' Hall with something in her hand, walking in her strange, graceful way up to Akiros. He looks up at her with weary eyes, clearly exhausted and badly injured from their battle with Malgorzata's coven. While Jhod had healed the worst of his injuries with prayers to Erastil, the priest had gone into the city to help tend to the needs of the community. Several of the half-healed cuts and slashes were tended to by Kesten with hastily-applied field bandages. Tandlara strides straight up and throws a heart, freshly removed from whatever the witch had taken it from, onto the map. It lands directly over the castle, splattering blood in all directions. She looks at him with her eerie eyes. "Akiros, we must stop this before the city bleeds itself to death. I have seen the auguries. The city will fall in a fortnight if you do not do what is necessary."
As the heart thumps down on the table, as if throbbing it's last beat, an absoloute silence decends upon the room like the interior of a coffin after the lid slams shut. Every single one of the soldiers and guards stares at their commander, while the General himself stares at the heart and his ruined map. His only visble reaction is the clenching of his jaw muscles. To those watching, his jaw looks so tight it is a surprise he is not crushing his own teeth.
Finally he turns his head back up to look at the Elven witch, his voice as sharp and deadly as a sword edge as he says in clipped tones "Get. That. Off. My. Map. NOW!
The silence lengethens and if anything increases as the two remaining founders glare at each other, their antipathy clear to all. Finally, he voice just as cold and sharp as his, yet also dripping with scorn and derision she answers "I shall never understand why the decision was made to place one so foolish, and, so blind as you, Akiros Ismort, in a position of command. I come to give you a dire warning and you ignore it! We are doomed unless you open your eyes and see!" she nearly spits out the last words. At the same time though, there is an unmistakable glint of pleased malice in her eyes as she emapahzises certain words which she knows will remind her rival of what she had done to him, and what he had lost.
I have to kill her, I must kill her! She is vile! Her very presence corrupts everything around her! Sanctuary will be all the safer without her twisted darkness polluting it.' These thoughts and many more spin through the weary, wounded general's head as her glares at her, utilizing every ounce of his will not to whip out his sword and end her menace once and for all concerned. Yet for all his desire to do so, despite the feeling deep inside him that it would, in truth, be the best for all, he does not. He cannot. For he knows, with all certainty, that no matter what he knows to be true himself, he would never be able to explain his actions to Jemini and the other founders. And perhaps worst of all, he is fairly certain Jemeni would never forgive him. So instead, his inner fury stoked for the moment, he sighs, more exhausted than he can ever recall being before and says simply "As you wish then, explain yourself."
Smiling smugly with even this small victory she saunters closer [b]"Perhaps you can be trained properly yet, general" she purrs. She then points to various points on the map "For you see, where the blood settles, more blood will spill."
Staring at her a moment more, his expression unreadable, he finaly turns and looks at the map. After a few seconds, he begins to notice that the blood spatter does not seem so random as it at first appeared. In fact, most of the drops appear to have fallen on specific areas of the city, and from what he can tell, many of them seem to be vital ones. Knowing the guardsmen are even more familiar with the city than he is, he calls several of them over to tell him exactly what areas the blood drops have fallen on.
From down near the lake, Verik replies in an odd voice back towards Jemini, his hands clutching the symbols of his faith as if hanging onto the side of a cliff. "It...it's nightmares that have them this way I should say, same as me apparently. This...this place is wrong somehow, tainted with a malevolence that afflicts us so. Can you not feel its taint? It covers me and I cannot shed it from my mind! I...I've heard of stories in Absalom of old places that are haunted, of haunts that linger on a place and do not rest, only to cause misery and woe to the living."
He looks out across the lake to where the island lies beyond. "Can it be that its reach extends out this far, to this place? Or...or are we on some foul ruins that we did not see when we came here last night? I doubt the words of Jabber on the cursed nature of this place no longer!"
Upon being being healed back into functionality by Jhod, one of General Akiros' first orders of business was to order his Captain, Steffan, to gather together three teams of two to serve as messengers. If any of Zander's rangers remain in town, he is to gather at least three of them. If none remain, he is then to find the three most talented trackers and woodsmen in the army. As well he is to find three of the best fighters who also sit a horse well and can travel stealthily when need be.
Then he has a letter letters dictated, addressed to Jemini or any of the founders with her. In these letters he details everything that has transpired of late. He leaves out of the letter though the incident regarding Tandlara's seeming acceptance of a dark alliance.
My dear Jemini and honoured Founders:
With the dire nature of the events of late and the very real threat of losing all you have worked so hard to build here, I urge you return to Sanctuary with all due haste. I am a soldier, a warrior, and I know of battle, and tactics and the command of men and the defence of the innocent. These matters of magic and the dark twisting of men's minds and souls may, I fear, be beyond my meagre abilities to overcome.
In addition, regarding a matter perhaps just as dire and disturbing,the loss Captain Corwin was a major blow to us. Sanctuary has lost one of it's most capable and noble protectors and I have lost one of the very few I did name friend. Even more important though, I have me some grave concerns over my only remaining supposed ally in these matters. More of this though I will not commit to paper.
As always, I shall do my utmost best to honour the trust and responsibility you have put in me. I believe you know that I shall never give up and shall fight to my dying breath if need be to protect and serve Sanctuary and all her citizens. Yet we face a foe I cannot cut with my sword, nor send our army directly against. If Sanctuary is to survive, it is my heartfelt belief that she may need all her protectors standing by her.
I have not put my faith in the Divine for many years now, yet I ask that you pray to the Gods you hold dear that by the time you return home, there shall indeed be a home to return to.
I remain, in honour and duty,
General Akiros Ismort
Once the three teams are gathered, they are each given a copy of the letter and are ordered to seek out the founders with all due haste and deliver them. They are each given a pair of some of the fastest and most durable mounts available. The three teams are to travel separately, and in different directions, having been given all the intelligence we have at present on the possible routes and location of Sanctuary's Founders.
The guards look over the blood-stained map, with one of them pushing the heart (which looks to belong to a small animal, perhaps a cat or a dog) slightly aside. They identify the small noble villa recently completed as one flashpoint, with the City Guard quarters and the baker's shop on the north side of town as others. Akiros swiftly sends a half-dozen men to each to try to avoid any bloodshed.
Kesten returns to the Founder's Hall just as the Guardsmen leave with Jhod just behind him. They are arguing as they enter, with Kesten speaking. "Look, I don't like it either. It's necessary, though. If we don't bring in the military and check person-by-person, we're going to have a full-blown riot!"
Jhod, for his part, seems to be taking the side of the people. "All we need to do is to calm everyone down. It's fear and paranoia that's fueling these flames, not an actual threat. If we come down harshly upon them, we're no better than Cheliax or the Hellknights. We came to this place to make a better nation. Our principles must stand for something, Kesten!"
As they arrive at the table, Tandlara weighs in on the debate. "It is a choice we must make. The city will bleed and burn until Malgorzata pays for her crimes. We must do whatever it takes, regardless of the cost."
Jhod and Kesten begin arguing again, with Tandlara standing eerily quiet between them. The remaining guards stand with shocked looks upon their faces. Kesten holds up his hand to Jhod and turns to Akiros. "They're your men, Akiros. It's your decision to make without Berrin... Without Jemini here. This city needs the soldiers and guards to find the doppelganger. I wish it weren't so, but it has to be done."
Jhod tries one last appeal to the General. "This isn't the Stag Lord's camp, Akiros. This is the nation that we founded on principles of fairness, equality, and goodness. What would the others say if they were here?"
The island looms large as they take the druid's raft and make towards it over the still waters. Jabber waves from the shore with the horses as they slowly paddle away, dropping from their sight after half an hour. It takes several hours, especially considering that several of their number seem quite tired, to make it to Candlemere Island. Its foreboding aura only grows as they pull the raft up onto the shore. The island is actually quite small, likely no more than a half-mile across at its widest point, and quite low. The few trees that dot the rocky island look twisted and malnourished, while the island itself is covered with thick brambles and stinging nettles. The stillness of the air is deafening. There are no birds flying overhead, no animals in the brush, no rustle of the wind. The island is as quiet as a crypt.
The tower on the center of the island is hardly more than a ruin, though much of it remains extant. Forty feet high, it looks ancient and ominous with weathered black stones. A few of the stones have faint carvings of strange symbols in an ancient-looking script. A good portion of the tower looks caved-in, though it still stands. At its widest point in the base, it is at least forty feet from wall to wall, and tapers towards the top. Based on the rubble surrounding the tower, it likely used to be part of a much larger structure with the tower being the only surviving portion.
Akiros suddenly roars in the face of the gentle Magister, shocking the entire room. The only exception being Tandlara, who's malicious smile only widens slightly.
Almost instantly though Akiros puts a hand to his face and slumps back in his chair. Removing his hand after a moment he looks directly at Jhod and says, exhaustion plain in his voice "Ah, my friend, I am so sorry. You, of all people, are least deserving of such rough treatment. I am weary beyond words, yet that is no excuse. Will you please forgive me?"
If the priest does so, Akiros continues "As I see it, you are all correct. The doppelgänger must be found, but at the same time we cannot push the populace much further without breaking them. And you are right Jhod, for I know if Jemini were here, she would never let her people be abused. I...I am not sure what..." leaning back in his chair again, the General closes his eyes and puts a hand over them, massaging his temples. The others can barely hear him as he mumbles "Just give me a moment to think...to rest..."
A few moments pass, until some begin to suspect the weary, wounded founder has passed out. But suddenly though, he sits forward, dropping his hand. A light of inspiration dances in his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, the hints of a smile cross his features. Looking up at the others standing around him he says "Well, why can't we do both? Malgorzata must be found, and the public needs to see a sign of strength, and that we are acting to disarm the threat and protect them. Yet at the same time they need something to take their minds off their fear and worry. So this is what we shall do." he stands then, but stumbles and needs to put his hand on the table for support. Ignoring this momentary weakness though, he continues.
"Kesten, it shall be as you suggest, however, all guards and soldiers shall be ordered to conduct themselves with the utmost respect and courtesy to the citizens, on pain of punishment. Every ingress and egress to the city shall be manned by armed guards or soldiers and each unit shall only be comprised of men who are well known to each other. Same goes for the roving patrols. All new recruits shall be placed on temporary inactive duty and kept in reserve. No one leaves the city with out being able to answer a series of questions proving that they know well the town, their neighbours or otherwise have legitimate business here. Anyone they are unsure of shall be sent to me and I shall make the final decision. As well, All our guards and soldiers shall use passwords to identify each other, and, they are free to question anyone, even if they should appear to be of the ruling council, including myself." and at this he stares at Tandlara, daring her to object to this. After a few beats he continues.
He then turns to the Magister "Jhod, I believe those Gnomes who came into town recently are all still here, yes? Well, let's have them put on a show! Added to them we shall put out a call about the city for all artisans and performers to gather. We'll make a grand event indeed! Just the thing to cheer the people and take their minds off of their fears. Spare no reasonable expense but I want things organized within 2 days. If necessary I offer my own purse to help and you may tell Oleg to suspend my wages until this crises is averted, for I shall have little need of wealth if I let this city burn down around my ears."
He looks around the room and then finishes "And I think that should do it. Do any of you have any suggestions or objections to add? If not, then let's begin! For we have work to do if we are to save our Sanctuary!"
Nikolai speaks very little. As eerie silence overtakes the long boat ride, he finally answers Jemini's question.
THe nightmares are more than dream and haunts. I dreamed the three great influences on my soul, Khoral, the fey queen, and you, lady paladin, all laughed as I burned and ached and chafed. It's enough tomake me want to throw off the three of you and go back to killing for sport.
He meets Jemini's gaze steadily. Though weary, he maintains his resolve. As he turns to look back onthe water, he mumbles,
But I won't.
Zander awakes from his dreams as he always does, drenched in sweat. He moves to the lake shore to splash some water in his face. Coming back into the camp, he hears the discussion of troubling dreams.
As he collects his gear, he feels no desire to share. The dream never changes much. So while troubling and robbing him of a full rest, he did not want to dwell on last night's new twist....
Zander pulls on Nikolai's old helm, perhaps with more force than necessary.
The helm turns and stares at Nikolai's back as the former Stag Lord readies himself. The white stag helm hides Zander's expression while he belts on his weapons.
Sitting behind Nikolai, Zander misses a stoke in his paddling at Nikolai's admission. Recovering his rhythm, Zander resumes paddling with a firm set to his jaw.
With the raft reaching the shore, "Let's pull this raft well ashore, as we won't dare get stranded here." Looking across the bleak landscape and the ruined tower, "At least it looks like there is little to keep us here long. Let's find Gregary and be gone...although what could keep him here is troubling to dwell on." Zander unslings his bow and tests its pull.
Jemini points to the ancient tower, "So this has a sinister hold on both the lands, and apparently our minds? Perhaps it is well that we seek it out then. Verik -" she calls to the cleric, "can you call on any lore or history about this place? Or perhaps what kind of dark presence could hold itself here for... well it looks like a really long time."
A pained expression crosses Berrin's face as he looks up at Jemini opening his mouth as if to speak but snapping it shut and turning away, his face hardening, as Verik pipes in. 'They wouldn't understand.'
Standing up he shakes his himself, trying to get the chill out of his bones. "It's nothing. Just a dream. A nightmare." he mutters and goes to get ready for travel as if nothing of note just happened.
You see that his hands are shaking as he works to get ready, his feat are wobbly and he seems distracted in everything he does.
Berrin sits quiet at his oar as they paddle across the lake, staring at the ominous tower as it grows on the horizon he wonders that the thing still stands he spares Nikolai a look at his confessions about his dream and, wondering briefly weather he should do the same, decides to hold his peace and keep paddling. 'It'll pass. It has too.' The image of his friends faces as he strangles them float in his mind, his own rage distorted one predominant in his minds eye as he paddles quietly.
Making shore Berrin wades ashore, pulling the boat in. Waiting for the party to disembark he pulls the empty boat further in land and secures it by rope to a rock.
Joining the group he goes over his equipment one more time, fastening straps on his armor and pack, securing pouches and loosening his weapons in their sheaths, as he surveys the area. "Bleak." he states. "If it's haunted it certainly fits the profile."
"We should look for tracks." He says and follows words with action. "We could spend days searching this island for clues, I'd rather just find Gregory and get out of here. Place gives me the creeps." Shrugging he gives an involuntary shudder and starts looking around for signs of Zander's man.
Verik fiddles with his belt of keys as he straps on his shield, looking at the tower with an absent-minded stare. After a time he just continues to stare, his hand drifting down to his side, shaking slightly. It is only after Jemini calls him by name that he seems to somewhat snap out of it, though his voice is distant and slack. "Hmmm? Oh. No...no I do not recognize its maker or anything that would suggest a particular civilization..."
He clears his throat and speaks in a bolder, more normal tone. "Bleak indeed. I see nothing that identifies a dark faith or power here, but I shall keep alert for it. As far as a haunting goes, I do not have much experience with such things, but most undead spirits are susceptible to Abadar's divine energy which I can channel, as well as healing magic such as what Jemini and I can harness. Weapons with an enchantment can work too...and I have the blessing of the Master this day to enchant Zander's bow or Jemini's blade for a short time, as well as other empowerments and wardings against anarchy and evil."
Seemingly avoiding the ruined tower in the center of the island, the Founders slowly make their way around the edge of the shoreline. The craggy rocks and stinging nettles slow them considerably, though Zander and Berrin both note that there are a few signs of (relatively) recent forays between the shore and the tower. Several ruined ships in various states of disrepair dot the shore, devoid of supplies and crews. One of the more recent ones has little sign of wear, with a somewhat fresh-looking trail through the nettles. They trek over this recent path towards the tower, which looms ever-ominously over the island.
As they walk towards the ruined tower, Verik picks up a piece of the stone rubble to examine. He finds that it is affixed with runes from an ancient script that he cannot identify. He shows it to the others, but none of them can place the runes. He pockets it for later examination. As they come closer to the tower, they notice that faded etchings of similar runes adorn the exterior of the tower. Verik pulls the rubble out to make a quick comparison, causing the others to slow to a stop with him.
While they stand huddled together trying to ensure that they are not walking into some foul religion's temple, a faint sound pierces the silence of the island. The beautiful singing comes from the tower itself, echoing through the interior and emerging to call to them. They each feel the pull of the beautiful, haunting song as it pulls them towards the tower. Jemini, Taisper, Verik, and Nikolai stand firm despite the captivating call to investigate, though only the scion of Lebeda takes not a single step. Zander and Berrin, though, start walking towards the source of the music. Wonder and awe fill Berrin's face, with a single-minded ignorance of all else. Zander likely has the same look upon his own face under the Staghelm.
The gnomes are game to distract the people, quickly bursting into an impromptu performance in the castle's courtyard. It attracts dozens at first, then a hundred or more huddled together. Their ribald jokes and eager slapstick do a good job of providing a diversion. Bokken appears out of nowhere with an entire wagon full of ale, handing it out to the visitors before joining in the gnomes' performance. For their part, they gladly accept the dwarf in an improvised ceremony. The festival-like atmosphere has an undercurrent of fear, but the performance keeps at least this portion of the populace under control.
Outside the castle, however, tensions continue to build. The patrols move through the city, checking people as they pass. While the town is still small, it is large enough that a single person can slip through the tightest of patrols easily - especially when that person can change her face easier than others can change clothes. The hours pass without any news of success, though there is no news of more violence and bloodshed.
Akiros sleeps as a soldier does, getting what rest he can until he is called upon again. His dreams are dark and twisted, with the sight of Corwin's ruined throat dripping blood and acid. He gets a few hours of sleep in his quarters before he hears an interruption. "Halt! Lady Tandlara, what is the password?"
A moment passes before he hears the answer. "Tatzlwyrm." Being the correct answer, the elven witch enters his without knocking. The general sits up, grabbing a shirt (bloody and torn, he notices) from a chair that he dropped it on. She looks over his muscular, scarred chest with her strange, unreadable eyes. "I have been reading the auspices and conferring with my patron. I fear that your plan cannot succeed. Malgorzata is a doppelganger, a natural shapechanger. It seems that those of her kind can read the thoughts of another as easily as you and I hear the spoken words. A simple password will be insufficient." To prove her point, she takes a dagger hidden in her shirt and holds it pointing straight at him. "Had I been our quarry, I would have slit the guard's throat after walking past him and come in here. In your current state, you are no match for her. More drastic, more magical measures must be taken."
Throwing the near useless shirt aside, Akiros looks for another and answers her simply "And so what is it, exactly, that you suggest?"
The Stag considers the irony of Jemini's companion wearing his helmet. As the song takes hold of the two, he looks to the paladin and whispers If we follow, we may ambush the culprits who invited us so. Or we constrain these two and avoid the fight. You know which I prefer.
"This won't be so bad...listen to the nice music....got to see who is singing...so lovely..."
With a choked cry, Verik wrenches back his leg as he fights to keep himself from the call in the tower. "EAAAHHHHYAA! What is this devilry that conspires to take hold now? A siren's call such as can be found in the Inner Sea to dash ships against the rocks? But there is no ocean here!"
Struggling to control himself and his own resolve, he suddenly realizes that Zander has been taken by the song with his own words, and swivels his head around to see Berrin move forward as well. "Here now, none of that you two! Someone...get...him!" Verik tries to grab at Zander but he deftly ducks around and away from his hand.
Jemini quickly follows after Berrin, attempting to tackle him to the ground, "What is this? Is their mind addled by the music? Come Nikolai, help me restrain these two. We'll go after the culprits - but I think it will help if we have these two with us without being compelled to follow their doom."