Grit, who is mostly unwounded spends some time tending to his wounded friends, including his Tigone before searching the old runes looking for valuable artifacts. He will cast detect magic to aid his search and will loot all the elves.
The black tree slowly crumbles as you rest and bind your wounds. The gnarled roots filling the grotto collapse into dead black dust and the trunk - split open by your assault - folds in on itself before falling into a pile of rotting debris. Limping over to it, Durwadala pokes around for a moment, as if searching for something. Pulling a scrap of hide from his satchel, he reaches into the refuse and pulls forth a dagger-length splinter of blackened wood.
"A cutting from the Black Tree. Even now it thirsts, but perhaps I can find a better place to lock it away," he says, careful not to touch the sliver as he wraps it in the hide and places it in his pack. "Gather what you will, then let us return above to inform the tari, as the giantess suggested."
Searching within the ash of the dead tree turns up only refuse, although some of it - a handful of iron arrowheads, a six-inch piece of an iron sword blade and a dozen semi-precious stones - is of value.
The elves carry greater spoils. In addition to their finely made swords and bows, each carried a handful of silver and ceramic coins. You also recover a number of empty but intact waterskins.
The chieftain also carries a pouch of silver coins. A medallion around his neck is strung with a punched gold coin and three polished garnets. A finely-made iron dagger is sheathed at his side. His cloak is plain canvas, but on closer inspection you see that dozens of leather strips have been stitched inside. Arcane sigils have been burned into the strips, which apparently served as the elf's spell book.
Leaving the elves' bones to rot in the ash of the grotto, you pack up and return to the library, where Durwadala gathers the notes left by Dote Mal Payne and stuffs them into his satchel with the tree shard.
"Better that no one else finds these and follows in the necromancer's steps," he says. Gesturing toward the other books and priceless scrolls, he adds: "After so many centuries, I do not think these would survive beyond protective field. But perhaps the tari can glean something of the ancients' wisdom."
The petrified roots blocking the stairway have not disintegrated like the others, so you trek south through the old halls to the trapdoor leading from the Seeker's tomb. Using the iron key to open the series of doors, you make your way back to the first door where you last saw the tari.
A pair of tari guards are waiting outside and immediately take you to see the chieftain. As you pass through the sandstone halls you see the tari already are clearing out the former gith lair in order to expand their own warren.
Chech-Ka, the tari chieftain, greets you as returning heroes.
“My friends! Truth be told, I did not expect to see you again,” the wizened tari says, the third eye mounted on his diadem glowing with emotion. “Never have I been so glad to be proven a pessimist.”
The chieftain listens intently as you tell him of the battle with the elves and the defiler's tree, and of the library of the ancients sealed below. “Truly the Split-Tooth clan has been given a great purpose by your actions. We will do everything in our power to guard these treasures and learn the Founder's words. But come, we can talk more of the future tomorrow – you must eat and rest to regather your strength.”
You are again led to the spare chamber strewn with mats, fed and allowed to rest. Anticipating your desire to return to Kled, the tari have water and moss-flour bread waiting when you awake. Bidding farewell, you make the climb up out of the ruins to lip of the canyon, where two Stone Children scouts await.
“Return with these men and tell Cradokk what you have done,” Durwadala says, checking the straps of his satchel and stretching his four arms. “My strength is returned and I intend to take a more direct route back to the oasis – I am anxious to cleanse the sorcerer-king's taint from its waters. I will wait for you there.”
With that, the thri-kreen's form shrinks into the sleek shape of a kes'trekel. With a screech, the bird launches itself into the air, rising on the hot wind as it disappears to the east.
The rest of you spend the day retracing your steps to the Stone Children's hidden cliff-side camp, where you again recount the tale of your battle in the grotto.
“Kled is lucky to have champions as dedicated as you,” the old wise man, Cradokk, says. “The very stones sigh in relief to have that sickness cleansed. Rest now, and we will do what we can to help you on your way.”
Always on the hunt for fine weapons, several of the clan's warriors offer to trade rough-cut topaz and sapphire mined from the surrounding ravines for any of the elves' weapons you don't think you'll need.
ON the way back to Cradokk's Grit tests his new druidic abilities, changing into a bird and scouting the path for the group. He revels in this new ability and is able to continue to communicate through the mind link.
"There," Cradokk says, as he carves a final rune into the head of Raun's earthbreaker. Standing, he hands you the iron lonsword and once-broken bastard sword, which have been similarly blessed. "Now you may carry the strength of these hills with you as you return to the lowlands, along with our thanks."
With the sun rising behind you, the Stone's Children scouts lead your group out of the canyons and into the foothills of the Ringing Mountains. You have decided to make the journey during the day - with Durwadala free, water should be easier to replace, and you hope to make better time and avoid predators by traveling in the light.
The scouts accompany you a short way into the sligs' territory, where they set fire to a patch of shimmerweed in an attempt to attract the attention of any nearby sligs. The ploy works, as you are able to pass unmolested through the sligs' territory and into the badlands beyond by the time the moons rise that night.
The rest of the journey passes uneventfully, other than a brief encounter with some zhackals and Raun stumbling into a patch of sand cactus. As the bloody sun sets on the last day, you spot the walls of Kled in the distance. Soon you arrive at the gates and are ushered inside among the roofless adobe buildings favored by the dwarves.
Sending a runner to alert Durwadala at the oasis, the gate guards lead you to the dwelling of the dwarven uhrnomus, Lyanius. The elder emerges looking considerably better rested than the last time you saw him.
"Our saviors have returned! The continued existence of this town and its inhabitants owes all to you my friends, and for that you have my eternal thanks. But my thanks is not all that you are owed. Come, we will have food and drink prepared."
Lyanius leads the way through the common hall and into the sun-shaped meeting chamber where he first set you on your quest. Reaching into a stone chest, he pulls forth a heavy leather pouch clinking with coins. He upends the pouch and a stream of gold coins spill out onto the stone table. He scoops the coins - 25 in all - back into the pouch and passes it to you.
"A pitiful sum for the life of a town, but I hope it will suffice," Lyanius says. "Again, you have my undying thanks."
He leads you back to the common hall, where other dwarves are setting up a small feast of roasted z'tal, erdlu eggs and flatbread. Among them you spot two unfamiliar faces - a slim half-elf woman and a sweating human man whose embroidered sleeves identify him as a merchant from Urik.
"Ah, yes, we do have some visitors," Lyanius says, catching your eye. "They arrived at the gates two days ago with a string of pack kanks. Apparently their guards were devoured by a sand worm in the dunes to the north. Worry not, they appear as eager as any to avoid the sorcerer-king's patrols, although I know not why. The merchant, Fen, seems eager to move on to Tyr, but the woman, Daina, has tried to talk him into hiring new guards. So far none of the town warriors have agreed to make the journey."
"Durwadala should be here in the morning," Lyanius says. "For now, eat and celebrate. The sun shall cast its heat on us again before long."
"Is your water free of poison now?"
"It is. Durwadala returned several days ago and immediately began unraveling the Lion King's spell. My son, Caelum, helped him, focusing the sun's fire into a ray that brought the oasis to a boil. It took all of that day and part of the next, but the waters run clear again."
The old dwarf retrieves a stone flagon of broy, a thick alcoholic beverage made of fermented kank honey, and begins pouring it into mugs. "And what of your quest in the mountains? The druid said only that you were successful, but not what that entailed."
Däina is an attractive half elf with dirty blonde hair and a lean build. Her build appears more elven and her facial features more human, with the exception of her ears which remain about what you would expect for a half elf. She has bright blue eyes and a small nose, and just next to her left eye is a faint scar that runs down to her cheek. She has her chair against the wall so she can see the entire interior of the hall, and she speaks in a soft whisper to Fen. "We cannot make this journey alone. Nobody mourns the death of those men more than me, but next time it might be elves, halflings, or some other evil that running won't solve. An old man and a young girl traveling alone? I can't even imagine prey that looked more defenseless, even if the opposite is true." She glances around, quickly breaking eye contact with the new visitors, keeping her head down and sipping her drink.
This is a homecoming to Grit and he treats it as such, embracing old friends and checking on loved ones. When Durwadala returned he was strong then? when he left us he has expended a great amount of his power to help us defeat the vial undead tree. I would speak to my old master at length. Is he coming back here? If not I must travel to the oasis.
Grit humbly accepts the gift from the town, thanking Lyanius and assuring him the the funds will be put to good use. We will likely spend some of it here in the town in fact. We need to supply ourselves and prepare for our next journey.
When Grit learns of the visitors he nods saying Perhaps this Fen will have wares that will interest us then. And I believe our next step may take us to Tyr so it may be that we can serve as his guard for the right payment. What wares to they carry?
Safia was delighted to see the Dwarves. These were men and women more or less pulled free from an early depart into the Grey. No one should go there early. "Have there been any deaths because of the poison since our departure?" She would have to meditate on them if there were. These people deserved a clean transfer.
When the gold was shown and Grit talked about getting things in town Safia nodded vigorously. "You have good tailors here don't you? I want some things made from the bolt of silk I've been carrying around. I need descent clothes instead of the rags I have now." How she yearned for clothing like back in the good days, back home with her father.
"Durwadala seemed hale and healthy when he arrived, albeit in the shape of a kes'trekel," Lyanius says. "Caelum said nothing of any infirmity, so I assume he remains well. The druid sent word for you to visit him at the oasis in the morning, so you may celebrate tonight."
"As for the merchant, I doubt you'll find much he's willing to part with. The gate guards said his kanks are loaded with perfumes and spice, expensive silks and wine, but he refuses to sell any of it. Says it's all promised to some noble buyer in Tyr. It makes sense - the only caravans running to Tyr in recent months have carried slaves bound for Kalak's ziggurat. I expect the nobles are running short on their luxuries."
The old dwarf turns to Safia. "Our craftsmen, on the other hand, will be more than willing to trade. I'm sure they can help you with whatever tailoring you need. And no, there have been no more deaths, thank the blazing sun."
~~~~~()~~~~~
Across the room, Fen leaned in conspiratorially to Daina, before speaking loudly enough to wake children sleeping two buildings away. The broy the dwarves passed around was making him more agitated, not less.
"If these warriors will make the journey we will take them. But we cannot tarry here any longer," Fen says. "If I don't get this shipment to House Tsalaxa I'll be ruined. House Stel is gobbling up every minor house with an office in Urik, and I need Tsalaxa's protection to survive, especially after that damned Raamish partner of mine ran off to Yaramuke on his fool's journey. I can't believe I let that black-haired bastard convince me he'd found a way into the ruins."
"Bah, enough of this foul slop. I'm going to bed," Fen says as he rises and walks unsteadily to the door. "Two days, Daina. Two days and we must be on the road to Tyr, or else go ahead and stake ourselves out in the desert for the kes'trekels."
Däina nods, biting her lip as she glances around the hall again. For the second time her eyes land on the newcomers and their weapons. Perhaps they're willing to help us for a reasonable price. She begins subtly listening in on them, trying to get a judge of their characters.
"I would like a cloak or some kind of clothes. It is interesting, wearing clothes."
Raun looks up from finishing the large mug of broy, the second she has emptied already. Her appetite seems to hold steady with her drinking for now however, so the giantess seems, at worst a little tipsy.
"What work dwarves have for Raun?" she asks, a little too loudly.
If he will not sell, perhaps he might buy. We have a number of things to sell, and we will give you first option at anything that interests the dwarves Lyanius, but we have a few things that would only be of value to a preserver and I do not recall that any live with you here. Grit says this in a normal voice that might be overheard…
Däina sips her drink, then nearly spits it out. No...could they have something for my research? She nibbles on her lip one last time, then makes up her mind and walks over to the newcomers.
The half elf approaches, arms crossed and glancing around as if she's not used to these kind of situations. "Hello, I'm Däina, and well...I think we can do a good bit of business together. Do you happen to be heading towards Tyr at all?"
Grit considers the half elf. He knew well what life was like for a half breed so he chose to give her the benefit of the doubt and not challenge her about letting her guards be devoured and instead greets her neutrally. He stands and offers his hand. I go by Grit. My team has discussed the possibility of traveling in that direction, yes. I must consult with my master before final plans are drawn but it is our likely course.
"Well, I'm sure we could find work for someone of your size and strength, but it would be mostly of the fetch and carry variety, I’m afraid," Lyanius says, responding to Raun’s inquiry about work. ”It likely would hold little interest compared to your recent exploits. Perhaps your friends can help you find more exciting or lucrative opportunities for adventure?”
The dwarven elder finishes his broy with a gulp before rising to leave.
”I must retire if am to rise and greet the sun as is our habit here. I will have one of the village tailors visit the guest house in the morning to take measurements and discuss your orders. I’m sure our craftsmen can make adjustments to accommodate a thri-kreen frame, and can use fabric we have on hand or that you provide.”
The celebration winds down shortly thereafter and a pair of dwarves lead you to a roofless adobe hut divided down the center by a hide partition. Daina and Fen are shown to one side while your group is given the other. Several large hides have been hung stretched across the top of the building to create shade, but you don’t expect you’ll be sleeping much once the sun rises …
~~~~~()~~~~~
A hairless dwarf tailor arrives with the sunrise to take your orders. Her heavy brows rise skeptically when Safia hands over the bolt of blood-stained silk, but she agrees to do the work as requested and promises to return the next day.
That done, Grit and Nnn’tkklik’l make the hour-long trek to the oasis. The signs of death and decay are gone, but the oasis pool and surrounding mud flats are eerily quiet.
”The water is clear but it will be some time before Hamanu’s actions are undone and life returns to this place,” Durwadala says, emerging silently from a stand of pagafa trees. ”Death comes swiftly, but life takes time to return.”
The thri-kreen appears stronger than when you last saw him, his cracked carapace healed but still sporting the scars of the fight with the Black Tree.
”Ah, such morbid thoughts have no place at a homecoming. A druid’s task is always thus – trying to hold back landslide or dig a well in a sand dune. You have accomplished much and for once can see the proof in this clear water and the faces of the dwarves of Kled.”
”As reward, I fear, I have only another request. A messenger came three days ago, sent by an old friend in Tyr seeking aid. I would ask you to deliver a package for me. It is an important task, but also a dangerous one – the package must go to the Veiled Alliance. As you know, the preservers of the alliance are hunted wherever the sorcerer-kings rule. Tyr is no exception, despite Kalak’s preoccupation with the construction of his ziggurat.”
”I ask you this not as a master asks a pupil, but as one friend asks another. You are ready to choose your own path through this dying land. With this task you would be saving lives, but it must be something you do of your own free will.”
The thri-kreen removes a wooden box wrapped with faded black ribbon and sealed with wax and holds it out questioningly.
Grit accepts the package. I have always wanted to see Tyr. I think I will go and look upon this ziggurat myself. He says with a smile. And since I am going that way I suppose I could drop off your package. Its the least I can do for a friend. How might I find the person who should receive the box in such a large city? And do I need to know what is in the box in case I am questioned about it?
"In the city's Warrens, under the shadow of Kalak's ziggurat, you will find a place called Shadow Square. There is a wine-shop there called the Drunken Giant. Tell the bartender you are in town selling faro blossoms and would like to buy three kanks. Tell him where you are staying and someone will come to you. Your contact will be wearing a jade pendant in the shape of a half moon and will claim to have met you when your aunt died."
"As for what the box contains, it is better you do not know, for now. The alliance may choose to tell you or not, but it is up to them. Do not open it - the box's contents are warded and could bring you unwelcome and fatal attention if exposed."
The thri-kreen reaches again for his pack, drawing forth a hide thong strung with the claws and teeth of various beasts.
"There is one other thing I would give you, Grit, as our time as teacher and student comes to an end. As you know, many of the land's creatures have been twisted by their years beneath the dark sun. The great klar has grown a carapace where once it had only fur. The tigone has developed psionic powers, the kirre has grown horns. These changes have made them more feral but also stronger - as you learn to take on their forms, this charm will pass on some of that strength to you."
At the interruption Däina's brows lower in annoyance. "Meet her afterwards?" she asks.
Nnn'tkklik'l stands for his measurements, fascinated by the process of measuring his body as it is somewhat foreign to the dwarves of Kled. He asks for simple clothes, nothing particularly fancy (thinking adventurer's clothes at best) and with no footwear.
===================================================
"While the path of the druid was not mine to walk, I heal in my own way. I will help Grit deliver this package."
Accepting the gift Grit is almost speechless. This is more than I could have ever hoped for Durwadala. He studies the talisman for a long moment before responding I will try to be worthy of this gift.
"Yes, friend," Durwadala says to Nnn'tkklik'l. "You are the glue that binds this fledgling group together. They will need your wisdom in the days ahead, I have no doubt."
"Before i forget," Nnn'tkklik'l starts, and gestures to the crystal in his head, "Do you know any of this? It is a crystal that houses someone known as The Warden who claims to exist since an ancient time."
"I have heard of such things, as well as spirits claiming to be from Athas's past, but never encountered one myself," Durwadala says. Perhaps the adepts at the School of the Mind in Tyr would know more."
I know little of Tyr, and I suspect half of what I have heard of the city is false. Can you tell us of this place. How may people live there? What resources might we find there? What dangers? Grit prepares to sit for a lesson if Durwadala is inclined to talk some.
“It has been many years since I traveled to any of the city-states, and my memories are not kind," Durwadala says. "Slaves and freemen of every race live shoulder to shoulder, packed within walls as tall as a giant. I’d guess 15,000 live within the city, with an equal number spread across the noble estates and client villages that fill the Tyr Valley.
“The city is divided into two great rings. From one, Kalak’s Golden Tower rises to survey the valley. Lavish residences for his templars surround the tower and a connected observation spire. The other, larger ring contains his subjects. It is dominated by the great ziggurat Kalak has been building for the past several generations. Around it are the slave pits, slums, markets – legal and illegal - and districts where the nobility and merchants live.
“Connecting the two districts is the arena, where slaves, beasts and professional gladiators die to amuse the masses. You will find Tyr is no stranger to bloody conflict – the city itself is built upon the bones of several earlier settlements, remnants of which can still be found beneath the cellars and passages linking various buildings.”
"You will find many enemies there and few friends. Perhaps the alliance can be one. Some of the adepts at the School of the Mind may be, as well, but many have grown used to the feel of Kalak's yoke. The king's templars constantly watch for dissidence and have a way of setting the citizenry against itself. Trust no one, even the alliance, and you will improve your odds of survival immensely."
The druid spreads his arms. "Still, I do not wish to poison you against the place altogether. Even the salt flats have a beauty about them, and venom can sometimes be used to heal. Now, let me not be the cause for further delay - I am sure you have preparations to make in Kled. Step lightly and travel well, my friends."
Raun awakens feeling somewhat the worse for wear for her excess the previous night. She instantly dismisses accompanying Grit and simply lays quietly sipping water until their departure. She takes her turn with the tailors then, seeking only some proper garments for her lower half to replace the bloodied and stained silk she had wrapped around herself. She continues to forgo shoes or any other garments besides her armor and protective accoutrements.
After she simply wanders, somewhat listlessly through the streets. The dwarves had no work for her... she no longer had her master to protect, so what should she do now? Eventually she returns to the meager shade of their room and pulls out her tools and some of the leather and furs purchased from Craddock, starting to mark out pieces and measure herself.
Grit thanks his friend and mentor for the information and embraces him as he takes his leave. Traveling back to the dwarves he discusses the "mission" with Nnn. Seems strait forward enough if we can stay out of trouble while in Tyr. Any concerns?
Däina waits at the table, and seeing the others come in she jumps up and makes her way over. Däina is trying to be charming, but she knows she lacks some social norms. "So have you thought over my proposal at all?"
(To Grit only, as i have strayed more than 100ft from the others so the link has been broken) <<The cities of man are strange places. Interesting but very dangerous. I wonder how many of my kind are there and free.>>
Safia very elaborately explains what it is that she wants from the tailor., explaining things multiple times if she thinks it is not entirely clear.
Having nothing to do for the entire day Safia spends some of her time "playing" with the scythe she found, trying to figure out the best angle to swing it at. The rest is mostly spent either in meditation or simply wandering around town.
Lost in thought while wandering she eventually literally bumps into the Half Elven Wizard that came to town yesterday, "Hello." She tilts her head sideways, looking the woman in the eye under a strange angle, "I'm Safia, I don't think we have been properly introduced." As she speaks an eerie, grey scorpion comes crawling out of her hair. "Oh, and this is Svogtt't." The scorpion waves it's pincers at her, though whether it's a kind gesture or a sign of aggression isn't quite clear.
Däina raises a brow, but it is in interest, not fear. She smiles and offers a finger to the scorpion, then whistles. After a moment a colorful Sitak lands on her shoulder. "Play nice you two." She looks back up at the group. "So. Willing to help us get to Tyr? You'll be paid, of course."
Gorkhan enters the area and looks around, moving towards the others once he spots them. "What's this about being paid? Those are words I like to hear. I apologize, I have been out running since we have returned. My... companion and I like to keep moving." He cocks his head to the side as if listening to something before rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the others.
Interesting, this group is more than meets the eye...
"Yes, we are bringing wares to Tyr and have found ourselves in need of some muscle. I overheard you were heading the same way and thought we could arrange a deal."
Grit returns to the group and joins the conversation.
We are pleased that you would like to hire us Däina. Your master seems less inclined last night. It is true we travel towards Tyr, but my plan for us was to move faster that a caravan would. That plan could be changed, for the right fee.
Däina mulls it over. "How much do you have in mind?" I'll add my own money if I have to, I need to see that book...
Gorkhan seems to listen to something again before snorting. "The happy medium would depend on how much you have, and how much you can sever from the caravan to keep up some kind of speed. My 'friend' dislikes meandering, even if we weren't in a rush, but a larger sum of coin can help stop it from nattering at me," he says before rolling his eyes at an unheard message.
So they were going to Tyr? Why did they break out of their cages then? That caravan was going to Tyr. Oh yes, the Elves. Elves had been nothing but trouble lately, though she guessed she couldn't really blame the last batch, being insane and all.
"It's a dangerous trip there, isn't it? Roving beasts and the such? 5 silver per day I'd say, for each of us. I won't go till tomorrow though. Tailor isn't done yet." They needed the money, she thought. She at least did, needed to secure passage back to her father at some point. "Svogtt't likes the silver coins."
" I will go where the clutch goes."
Däina bites her lip. Fen will never agree to that. "Well we're working with kanks so we won't have a slow pace. Fen won't be too thrilled about waiting another day either." She looks between the party members. "We could do 3 silver per day, but no higher. You're heading that direction anyways, so the only risk you're taking is defending two people who aren't quite as good at fighting."
Kanks are quite quick. Grit agrees. But also draw a lot of unwanted attention. What about 2 silver a day plus an extra 2 silver a day If we have to fight to defend the caravan.
After some more thoughts, Däina nods. "We can probably do that. I'll have to double check with Fen, but I think we might have a deal." She gives a shy smile, shaking hands. "So where did you all just come from? Your group seemed to have quite the adventure."
There was a problem with the local water. We had to retrieve a old friend from a troublesome situation in order to have him come and help us with the water. Grit summarizes. That is now done and we are resting are equipping here with our friends. And you, what is your tale. are you the property of this Fen, the caravan master?
Daina relays Grit's offer to Fen, who immediately agrees to the deal.
"Two silvers a day, each, four on any day that involves combat. You bring your own food and water, and your own mounts - I'm not going to wait, so you'd better be able to keep up. I'll pay you once we reach Tyr and the cargo is safely stored in my warehouse off Caravan Way," Fen says. The sweating merchant spits in his palm and holds it out to Grit or anyone else willing to shake.
Fen is anxious to leave, but agrees to wait until the next morning, when the clothes you ordered will be finished. He insists on traveling during the day to make better time, but you should be able to carry plenty of water now that the oasis has been cleansed. Anyone riding will count as resting for water consumption purposes, offsetting the increased water need for daytime travel.
Lyanius pays a visit to the guest quarters at noon.
"I hear the merchant has recruited you for his trip to Tyr. You'll be needing mounts, but I think I can help with that," the old dwarf says. "Our hunters have been picking up loose kanks and crodlu lost by the elves and Hamanu's soldiers. We can't sell them and we must feed them if we keep them here. We have harnesses and saddles, as well, that you are welcome to take. I'm afraid we don't have anything large enough for your half-giantess ride, but she could take one to carry her baggage."