Aurora lets out a shaky breath, "That could have been worse..."
Her gaze turns to Talathel, and Anzath's new binding, and she steps closer to eye at it, "For now, it may be best to leave it... one day, perhaps, we'll be able to take a dragon or barter her freedom from it, but that day is no day soon."
Bedlam pops the keg!
Anzath slowly gets to her feet after the dragon departs. She looks at her new bracelet, then up at Talathel, offering him the kindest smile she can muster at the moment. She knows what the 'gift' means. She is now someone's property, again. Now, she is beholden to the Church of Sarenrae by contract, and to Aragnak by means of this magical trinket.
"It iz fine," she states and then sighs, "Perhapz ve kan make use of dis. If I am hiz property, he vill not vant harm to kome to me."
She turns to Bristleback, "Show me on map vhere dragon livez."
Bristleback gives his family huge hugs before explaining to the town that without currency, everyone is just going to have to work as hard as they can for the common good. He writes a massive IOU to Rasmus and apologizes to the furious shopkeeper, but even Rasmus knows that it was this or a layer of char...
Bristleback takes Anzath to his map and pokes a thick finger at a small island off the coast. "That's where he's holed up. He never leaves his hoard alone for long, so we're likely through with him for the time being. His eye wanders to the beautifully wrought manacle on Anzath's wrist--formed from what seems to be rose gold (but is surely far tougher), it depicts a twisting wurm biting its own tail. "I owe you an apology. I don't have much to offer by way of a gift just now, but you bear the heaviest burden of this encounter with the dragon. You have any family?"
Doing her best to send the image of a massive dragons toothy maw snapping down on a tiny white but to Valrah. Clinching her jaw at the small peck she gets in retaliation.
Taking a deep steadying breath when the slaves bracelet is snapped on Anzath's wrist. Locking her fingers into white knuckled fists so she does not do anything to make the situation worse. Enslaved to a dragon is bad but being eaten by one is not exactly a good thing either.
Nodding at her attempt to be optimistic, "Is there a way to figure out what it does? I doubt it is a normal bracelet." If he can watch her from afar then we will have to be careful with such mutinous talk.
Talathel is clearly displeased with the situation. Which considering his usual reserve, may be telling.
"I agree that this item is not coming off easily or soon. I imagine that we would need to be far stronger to face such a beast in combat, but perhaps we can obtain allies or trick him into a confrontation...I digress. Regardless, we should leave soon. We have much to accomplish and time is not our ally in this matter."
"I don't believe inspecting it should be alarming to the wyrm. If it does and it returns, I will bear the responsibility."
Tragershen casts a cantrip upon the device, and concentrates. He quickly consults a tome as well.
Spellcraft
"I have heard of such items before. A dungeon ring that allows a jailer wearing a master ring to monitor those wearing the subordinate rings. It would take powerful magic to remove it, but I do believe Aurora or I will be able to master the type of spells that would do so." Tragershen shrugs. "As deadly and awesome that wyrm is, from the accounts I have read it is only part way up the power hierarchy that a dragon can obtain over the centuries."
"By concentrating, the dragon will be able to tell where you are, though only by direction and distance. And he'll be able to tell if you are hurt or otherwise imperiled."
"The device itself won't let it watch or listen to us, but it would make it exceedingly easy for it to use magic to do so. And powerful dragons can indeed use that type of magic if they are so inclined."
"I will start considering the problem. There are certain things we can do to prepare for the now inevitable confrontation. I will develop a spell that will allow me to check if we are being mystically spied upon, so that when we plan we know we can do so discreetly."
"Until then, I believe we must just carry on as we would have without that terrifying interlude."
Anzath takes Talathel by the hand, "First, dere iz vedding."
Bedlam belches beautifully.
Da rum! Why be all da rum gone!
Talathel grips back.
"Certainly."
Bristleback's gaze lingers on the handclasp of the elves. He nods, a small smile flitting across his face. "Family is wherever you find it, this I believe. That's what we're celebrating. And, unless your dwarven friend has drained us dry, I have plenty in the cellar to barter for wedding-related labor. Let's throw a party by the light of the glorious moon."
Bristleback assembles all the townsfolk from the long-timers to the newcomers. He says, "I'm gonna throw my daughter Sawen the best darn wedding Zelkor's Ferry's ever seen. And I'm gonna do it without gold, looks like. I'll trade each of you your share in said party if you can contribute whatever you can to the festivities. Anyone shirking will be left in the new Palisade neighborhood, sad and lonesome, while the rest of us whoop it up inside the stone walls." He looks critically at each of you, semi-comically acting overly stern to the folk who just saved the town. Those making a DC 3 Perception check will notice his huge stage wink. "So, I'm curious what you adventurin' folk will bring to this marriage table. Or will you end up pouting in the Palisades?"
Bedlam volunteers to make fireworks.
"Where are the best hunting grounds near here? I shall stalk game for the wedding table."
Anzath joins Talathel on the hunt. She consciously ignores any signs of boar, not wanting to offend the bride's family, and sticks to tracking down deer.
Taking Anzath's good ideas on board, Talathel also focuses on tracking deer.
Leading up to the wedding, he summons lantern archons, which invoke a permanent heatless flame on various objects which can be placed the day of the wedding to lighten the wedding space and the tavern. He also uses ropes that move of their own accord to help raise decorations up. He spends a few hours building blocks of ice to keep beverages cold and food preserved.
At the wedding itself, the bride emerges perfectly clean and with just a hint of a glow to her.
Following the wedding, Tragershen helps with the fireworks that Bedlam has developed with flashes of colors, flames and spheres of glitter. Lantern archons briefly fly amongst the fireworks, letting off bolts of light.
"If anyone knows anything about sculpting, maybe we could do some ice sculptures? My cousin had some at her wedding. I can conjure clean water for freezing." At the word 'freezing', Aurora immediately looks in whatever direction Tragershen is in. And, in general, she can conjure as much clean water as anyone needs for anything.
Otherwise, Aurora just engages in a modest spot of fishing.
-----
Now onto the spells. If it is so desired by bride and groom, Aurora can cast ceremony, ensuring that they are aware of its long, long cast time and generally underwhelming boons beforehand ("Really, it's more for the flair and the glamour of a ritual.") If they don't want the excess of the magical ceremony and are fine with her just saying pretty clerical words, Aurora will instead throw up a planetarium at the anticipated time of the bride and groom kissing, positioned to be visible by as much of the wedding party as possible.
And who can forget the sheer alcoholic ministrations available to a cleric? Ferment and tears to wine will be on tap!
Shifting on her feet, nothing in her thought she was remotely included in this but oh well. Watching others quickly the other disperse. Shrugging, "I am not a mage but I can do any heavy lifting that might be required."
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On the afternoon before the full moon, the town bustles merrily in preparation for the wedding. Vael helps to drag the heavy banqueting tables from the depths of the basement of the Boar’s Board. She rolls kegs of ale into position where it will be readily accessible for heavy celebration. Aurora, on the other hand, brings a bucket of fish (well, a few fish) to the “bar” table. Everyone stares, but she glibly explains that once the fish are grilled, she’ll turn it into mead. Anzath and Talathel are far from the bustle, bearing home one last deer from the woods, its cleaned carcass slung from a pole across their shoulders. Meanwhile, Tragershen and Bedlam concoct devious alchemo-magical fireworks the likes of which haven’t been seein since the days of Gandalf the Grey (wait, who?).
Brand and Sawen consider Aurora’s offer of a Ceremony, and ask for a planetarium instead. “The moon is really important to my family, and the stars are so beautiful, it’d be great to bring all a little closer! And you could tell people about the astronomy.”
Ippolit and his “page” can be seen wandering around, directing the old townsfolk and the new refugees. The pair of newly shorn monks are set at the heaviest labors. Rasmus moans loudly whenever he thinks of his lost wealth. Bristleback is largely everywhere, laughing, encouraging, cajoling, and generally setting the mood. Even ol’ Ulman Dark the “necromancer” has a tankard of Bristleback’s. The keelboat men sing and dance, and everyone is as happy as only a village that has just talked its way out of incineration can be.
As the evening comes, Aurora throws up the Planetarium, so everyone can see where the full moon is even though it hasn’t risen yet (there’s an app for that!). The few children (for some reason there are lots of teenagers) are given front seats, while everyone oohs and ahhs.
Then it’s time for the actual ceremony. Brand asks the party to follow him into the inn, along with a few of the long-term residents of the town like Captain Skorma of the guard. He, Bristleback, and Sawen close the shutters on all the windows, throwing the room into an eerie darkness. Then, climbing a ladder set into the main roofpole, Brand shimmies to the roof and opens a strange skylight. Bristleback grasps each of your hands in turn, saying, “You are a trusted ally of the Bristlebacks. You will speak of what you see to no one, ever.” Tragershen and Aurora get hearty grips. It’s been just a few months, but who knows if he and his family would be alive without you. He grabs one each of Tal’s and Anzath’s hands when their turn comes, and he thanks Anzath again for bearing the Dragon’s Burden. Bedlam gets a slap on the back and the promise of a drink in the morning. Vael gets a long look, and quiet thanks, “Were it not for your way with words, this celebration would be so many ashes. Thank you, holy warrior.”
Sawen and Brand follow behind him, giving thanks in turn. Then, Bristleback walks behind the bar and pulls a tapestry off of the incredible monolithic wall—the inn leans against the city’s ramparts, and it has long been both a hostel and a keep, a hotel in the old French sense, if I may. He fumbles for a moment, then opens a trapdoor. A breeze of damp forest air rushes into the room.
Bristleback asks Aurora to say her words. Aurora performs the wedding under the auspices of Nethys. Then Bristleback says, “In this family, we give an engagement ring, and we take it back for the wedding. Brand, you’ve borne the ring for a month, now. You’ve felt the change, you've wandered the wood through the magic of the ring. Will you have Sawen, as she is, the best of girls? Will you be a Bristelback?”
As the first beams of moonlight gather in the room, they illuminate Brand’s smile. His reply is clearly audible against the sounds of revelry outside. “AYE!” Sawen kisses him, hard, then bites his neck (lovingly) until she draws blood. Brand winces, but his smile never wavers.
He tosses the ring to Bristleback, who places it on the antler of a taxidermied deer head behind the bar. The moon is now on the rise. The three begin to transform. As Odo Bristleback shrinks, Brand actually expands. Sawen stays roughly the same mass, but bends over, in the most comforting lycanthropic transformation you’ve ever seen. Three majestic boars stand before you—one old tusker, covered with scars, back appropriately bristling—one yellow and brown striped, a female with big, intelligent eyes—and one frisky young male, eyes gleaming. The three pigs bow to you, then scamper through the secret passage into the deep woods of the Forest of Hope.
Aurora is the first to move—she simply swings the secret door shut. Then, someone (probably Bedlam) says something like “Time fer ‘splosions. Shame the newlyweds’ll miss it.”
And the sky is full of flames, of (figurative, this time) dragons, of cracking booms. The fell creatures of the forest turn their gimlet eyes to the heavens and shrink deeper into the shadows. Dark cultists ascend winding staircases and cup their ears to catch the distant reverberations of the thundering sound. Aragnak turns over in his golden bed, sleeping uneasily. Weird fey beings chuckle uncontrollably as the bursts of distant joy rustle through their alien consciousnesses. Elma grips the rail of the Laughing Dolphin and points to shore, amazed at the flashing just visible inland. Lovers hold hands under the sparkling sky, while a soft rain of alchemical ashes falls around them. Lost souls forget their losses for a while. The drunk raise yet another glass to their glad lips, with never a care for the consequences, full platters of venison and trout at hand. And through the woods, twelve cloven hooves gallop and gambol until the old boar retires to his own secret trails, leaving Sawen to show her bridegroom the secrets of the moonlit forest at night.
Talathel turns to the others.
"Quite the display of trust. I wish them well."
And he smiles, getting started on mead.
On the day of the wedding, Aurora prepares herself for a party. She dons her finest—which is, to say, a set of travel clothes without any obvious stains or tears—and instead of wearing her hair in her usual singular braid she leaves the majority of it loose to fall down her back and instead works in a few small braids interwoven with blue ribbons, which are pulled over her shoulders.
----
Bristleback grasps each of your hands in turn, saying, “You are a trusted ally of the Bristlebacks. You will speak of what you see to no one, ever.” Tragershen and Aurora get hearty grips.
Aurora offers a bow of her head and a murmured, "My word is my bond."
----
And, as the night lights up with explosive bursts of light and fire, Aurora watches with a smile on her lips and a cold drink in her hand, other hand cupping it against any stray detritus from the pyrotechnics. When the lights dancing against the darkness finally die out, she lifts a silent toast to the sky.
On the day of the ceremony, Anzath is nowhere to be found. When they are summoned to the Inn, she appears, her armor freshly polished, her blades keen and bright, her clothes haphazardly stitched.
She stands by Talathel's side when the totally not telegraphed at all transformation takes place.
Aurora offers a bow of her head and a murmured, "My word is my bond."
This gives Anzath a lot to think about. Her word. Her many bonds. For the rest of the night she seems distant, often seen sipping from a flask, staring off into the night sky.
The dwarf drinks, drinks, drink, and he may have been seen dancing...
Tragershen stays sober during the festivities, concerned that the noise and lights may draw unwanted attention. One day, this community won't have to fear such things, and that will be our doing.
Tragershen nods solemnly when entrusted with the family secret. In the back of his mind, however, all jokes with a porcine as the butt of the punchline and all recipes featuring pork products are carefully cataloged away as taboo in Zelkor's Ferry.
The party picks itself up off the grass the next day. Brand, Sawen, and Bristleback appear among the wreckage, happy, but tired. Everyone else tries to muster that good energy as the cleanup begins.
A sail in the river! It's Elma, a day late, but it's the town that's short the dollar. She reports that the Laughing Dolphin passed a fast naval sloop heading back to Riddleport. The deathly pale sailors onboard warned them to turn back, saying a dragon had scorched half the armada when they tried to turn a nice looking island into a base of operations.
So she's not totally surprised when you explain that the town was recently robbed by said dragon. She is pretty pissed that you let it get away with all the treasure, though. On the other hand, local inflation of the value of currency means that she's not altogether pissed. At some point you notice her striking a brutally hard bargain for the onyx from upriver.
She's still interested in the magic stuff you managed to keep from the dragon, so feel free to load her up with that and she'll bring the money next month. Or, make different plans.
Anzath introduces Vael to Elma. “Diz iz our broker from Riddleport,” she explains, “If you vant to send vord of your resurrektion.”
She shrugs, “Or perhapz not.”
Keeping quiet and as out of the way during the events leading up to the ceremony as she can. Feeling a little surprised to be pulled off to the side along with the others and accepting the thanks with a quiet mutter, "Of course. I am glad it helped."
The ceremony is a little odd but wedding are always strange. But things get a little stranger than what was expected. Biting is a little weird to be doing in public but these are strange people. There is no hiding her confusion at the transformation. That was unexpected..
Happily diving into the provided alcohol. But only enough to get a mild buzz instead of staggering around in drunken stupor. That road always leads to the same place. Passed on on the ground somewhere with a pissed off bird screaming in her ear.
The boat in the morning is a welcome distraction from the misery of cleaning. Nodding her thanks to Anzath, "I should notify them that Hurdain has died."
Turning to Elma, "Would you be able to make sure a letter gets back to my temple?"
Talathel does not overindulge, and is available to assist with the clean up. He efficiently tackles his share.
At the introduction of Vael to Elma, Tragershen adds "For as long as she likes, she is part of our expedition now. She has proven herself in the depths, and has earned an equal share of the delving team's proceeds."
Regarding the dragon's theft, he says "We shall continue to gather experience and wealth. When the time is right, we will recapture what was stolen from us, and so much more! We know where the wyrm lairs now. We will develop our weapons, prowess and tactics until the time is right."
We be back ta 'ploring soon! Des alchemical weapons don't be making demselfs!
Elma grins at Tragershen. "That's the spirit, Wizard! Slay that dragon and the Company will be the talk of all the businessfolk of the lands! Plus, imagine the investments we could make with such a hoard. I'll take what you've got back with me, and I just slew the deal for all that onyx, so we'll likely only have a small loss this month."
When you give her your green snakeskin, her eyes glisten with excitement. "WOW a fire cobra! You could make some really, really nice armor out of that. Or I could take it back and sell it. I'd consider leaving it here an investment, but I'd also be happy to liquidate it."
Elma estimates that she can bring back about 1000 GPs worth of resources and equipment each next month after selling what you have and taking out a few loans. If you keep the snakeskin, drop it to 500 GP each.
Lastly, she accepts Vael as a member of the company and agrees to bring her letter to the temple.
Anzath encourages Tragershen to make that Snakeskin Tunic for her. She throws her lot into the Fey Hunting pot.
Bedlam holds his hand out....
"Oh, we will train. That is for certain. And I think facing the fey should be next on our agenda."
"If we can befriend the fey, we may be able to learn more about the threats surrounding us. It seems like a good place to continue our quest for information. But... Do we know where to find them? Do we know anything about them?"
"An interesting notion, and if we befriend them they may simply allow us to barter for the mithril, instead of fighting our way through them and running the risk of bringing their reprisal down upon the Ferry."
The party corners the sleepy Bristleback and asks him for info on the Fey. He explains what he knows, "We call their lands the 'Fethine.' They aren't easy to handle, but I would try to parley before startin' any trouble, 'specially since you folks aren't likely to win a fight against the whole clan. The pixies run the show. Darn interesting, those people. Definitely where I'd go if I needed some mithral. Give 'em our best and try to roll with their jokes."
"Diplomacy is usually less dangerous than mortal combat.", says Talathel, completely seriously.
"An example of these pixie jokes, that we should roll with like blows?"
Bedlam puts on his best diplomatic face. The dwarf looks as if he is about to pass out.
"I would recommend that we put a time limit on this venture. When we reach the their lands, the Fethine, let's give them, say, two nights to contact us. If they don't by then, then we head back to Rappan Athuk. Fey could hide from us indefinitely if they so choose, and I doubt that we would go unnoticed by any patrols they might have. I don't want to let Yaza have the run of the place too long."
"Hmm."
Anzath takes in all the recommendations, but is likely to leave diplomatic negotiations to the others, considering how close she came to blowing things with the dragon. She hitches the horses to the wagon, packs Molotov's saddlebags, and waits outside the gates for when everyone's ready.
While Tragershen crafts his snakeskin tunic, eight days pass.
Nothing troubles the town. It's time to go. Anzath is SO ready to go.
For the first time, you head east.
But you don't get far before something interrupts your march.
As you wander down the path, eyes on the forest as usual, Anzath beckons for you all to stop. The woods are full of stealthy movement. Wolves. Dozens of wolves. Some of them are the size of Molotov.
Anzath catches a glimpse of a woman through the woods... then, she sees another. One has long, silver hair. The other looks exactly like Princess Mononoke perched on the neck of a truly enormous wolf.
Anzath communicates all she sees through Drow hand signals. She remembers Aurora speaking of some Lady of the Wolves or other in her stories. Her crossbow is locked and loaded.
Talathel readies himself to catch a charging wolf with his spear, standing next to Anzath.
Aurora silently hopes this is their good old friend Chases Moonlight... but she knows it probably isn't. The cleric sniffs and tips her chin upwards. "We've been having nice weather lately, haven't we?"