Geoffrey's Finest (Inactive)

Game Master CampinCarl9127

The proud and respectable priestess nods approvingly at Bjorkus.

"My name is Verna Dibh Muileata, a daughter of Magrim. Just as Magrim taught the first dwarves who lived upon this world to call upon the gods and channel their grace, so too will I teach you the secrets of Trudd's faith.

Repeat the prayer and the resolution (or feat of strength) everyday. Someday you will feel the power of Trudd inside of you. You will know when it occurs."

Also known as, take the feat.

Bjorkus nods in understanding and greets the dwarven priestess with a firm handshake. The woman was friendly enough but not nearly as easy on the eyes as Ianna. ”Good to meet ya Verna Dibh Muileat.”

Following Verna’s instruction, the bull stands square with the shrine and pounds a huge fist to his chest. ”I am Bjorkus, captain of the Raging Storm. My greatest fear is that I’m too weak to protect those that count on me and overcome the obstacles on my path and my greatest failing is my pride. It gives me strength but sometimes it blinds me from what has to be done. 'Mighty Trudd, bless me with your strength. Fill me with your courage. Walk with me as I overcome the greatest challenge, myself.'”

He nods his horned head to the shrine and then looks to Verna.

After Bjorkus recites the traditional prayer, Verna favors him with a small but approving smile.

Taking some holy oil, she runs a finger from the spot above his eyes down the bridge of his nose.

"Blessed are you, Bjorkus, son of Trudd. Your body may break, but your strength will never fail for the Mighty is with you."

Bjorkus and Ianna enjoy the sights of the city. Everything from living trees to burrowing creatures to magical water sources makes for a very entertaining mini-vacation.

With a few questions Bjorkus finds a fortune teller. A female changeling, tall and lithe, with dark hair and mismatched blue and gold eyes. Bjorkus learns from her that she is powerful enough to cast Legend Lore and is willing to cast it for the normal price (850gp).

Bjorkus releases Tyrantbreaker from its harness so that the changeling can get a good look.

"It's been reshaped by magic recently but I need to know about this weapon's past. You think your magic can do that?" he asks.

"Ah, the item is present. That is the best way to learn about it. Yes I can certainly do that, but the spell will take forty minutes to cast."

Time: 1d4 ⇒ 4

The bull flashes a 'Is that okay with you?' glance at Ianna and then grunts and gives the fortune teller a nod. "Okay, let's do it."

He then carefully, and slowly, counts out the sum of coins asked for. "You mind givin' me a hand? Math's not really my strength."

"Of course. It is the easiest if you do it in stacks of ten," Ianna explains patiently.

She swiftly helps him count out the coins. Unlike her brother, Ianna had never shied away the fiscal responsibilities of being a member of a central family. After all, Ianna had spent some time learning from her great aunt. Though she was was no priestess of the Debt Minder, she could do sums.

The changeling takes the impressive stack of gold and stows it away in a chest, then gestures Bjorkus and Ianna to the back. You walk past crystal balls, harrow cards, ouija boards, star charts, and a bunch of over impressive looking fortune items. Then she steps into the back, leading them into a fairly average looking room as she starts pulling things out of chests. Four pieces of ivory, each carved to look like one of the four key elements. She draws a circle and spaces them evenly out among it, then creates a complex mixture of ingredients to create an incense that makes the room hazy and muggy. She sprinkles it in the circle, then takes Tyrantbreaker and drops it in the circle, except that it floats and gently comes to rest in the air in the center of the circle. She rolls her neck and stretches out her arms, giving a smile. "I haven't gotten to do this in a long time. Let us begin."

The next forty minutes are surprisingly anticlimactic. She continues talking nonstop, chanting arcane words endlessly. The four statues start gently glowing the color of the elements they represent and the incense starts slowly evaporating and filling up the room. The smell almost sweet. This process goes on for over half an hour, the changeling chanting nonstop the entire time, even after her voice starts getting hoarse.

As the final minute comes to an end the room suddenly comes alive. The statues flare blindingly bright and the last of the incense explodes up in a smoky flash. The changeling cries out as she falls to the ground, cold sweat pouring down her face. Tyrantbreaker drops and sticks point first into the dirt as the dust clears.

She shakily gets up and sits for a moment, gathering herself together. After a few minutes to calm down and drink some tea, she clears her hoarse throat and speaks softly. "You call it Tyranbreaker, but it was named long ago, before it was reshaped by Liamsho the Unliving. It's name was Iejir di wer Inik. In the dragon's tongue that means Blood of the Sand." She shakes and takes another drink of tea. "During the dragon wars, Yenrick was ruled by a great and terrible blue dragon. He ruled with an iron fist and cruelty as all the chromatics did. Yenrick used to be a healthy and fertile land until he slowly turned it all to rock and sand, for no reason other than to make himself more comfortable and make it easier to control his slaves." She looks at the weapon. "When he took human guise, that was his weapon. A bastard sword of massive size, forged in his own blood. The death of thousands was caused by that blade..." She wipes the sweat from her brow. "Mostly innocent lives. It has a long and evil past."

She pauses as she takes another drink of tea. "However there is one last thing. Something is calling it. I tried to learn what it was, but that's when...all of this happened." She gestures around the circle. "There is something of immense power calling to this weapon. All I could get before I was cut off...was coldness, and darkness."

Another piece of the puzzle. There are so many things that Toramin, Bjorkus, and the rest are not telling me.

Ianna waits for the woman to finish and collect herself.

"Thank for your help. I would like to ask a few questions.

Was the sword once more potently enchanted? Does it possess an arcane resonance to any other magical items? What kind of elemental connection did blue dragons possess?"

"Yes, it was very potent. The answer to both is electricity." She gestures at the air statue, which still seems to be smoking a little, unlike the others. "It may be a powerful blade now, but centuries ago it was much more."

BTW, all knowledge checks about dragons or anything related to them take a -10 penalty since nobody has seen one for hundreds of years.

Bjorkus snorts and mulls thoughtfully over the new information. The story kept getting bigger and bigger but the bull had found himself tapped out of disbelief a while ago.

”Iejir di wer Inik must be rollin’ in his grave to see what his weapon’s bein’ used for now”, he finally adds with a rumbling laugh. ”Did your ritual show you what happened to him? And how this weapon ended up in Akropash in a slave-prince’s hands?”

She shakes her head. "That was the name of the blade, not the dragon. I don't know the name of the dragon, or what happened to him. As for how it ended up in Targ's hands, I have no guess beyond Yenrick being the territory the dragon used to rule over."

Dissatisfied with the information, Bjorkus frowns. ”Do you have any spells more powerful than that one? One that could give us a name maybe? Or clues toward renewing the sword’s magic?”

"If you could find the resting place of the dragon or something else that was close to him in life, the same spell may give me the information. As for the potential of the weapon, I know very little about how to do that, if it is even possible. Perhaps only the dragon could use it to its full potential. Perhaps time or Liamsho's rework has altered it forever."

”That’s gunna be tough without more to go on. Did your vision show you anything more about this dragon? Any allies? What did his lair look like? You mentioned he used this sword when he was wearin’ the form of a man. What did it look like?”

"I have told you everything the spell revealed to me. You don't get to ask it questions, it just reveals what it may. However..." She points to the ivory statues. While the air one is still smoking, the water one is a darker color then it was before, and seems to be absorbing light.

”What’s it mean?” Bjorkus asks while studying the altered implements.

She shrugs. "Blue dragons, ironically, are not normally affiliated with water. With it dark and absorbing light like that, plus the feeling I got of coldness and darkness...perhaps the bottom of the ocean?"

"If lightning were to be used to bind something elemental, is there a particular element that it would be particularly good at caging?

Also, we could the sword be used like a dowsing rod to lead us to such places? Have you heard of such a spell?"

"The opposite element, so earth."

"It seems like the sword is being called, not calling out, but beyond that I am unfamiliar with what is happening. Perhaps Find the Path could help, but it is beyond my abilities."

”Under the ocean…”

Hearing Ianna’s question and the fortune teller’s suggestion, Bjorkus grunts and shakes his head. ”I don’t have any more coin to spend fishin’ for information but thanks.”

Ianna gives the changeling bard a small, polite bow.

"Thank you for your help. Can you think of any other tidbit that might help us? Do you know anyone who might better understand the nature of this call or other detail like statues?"

"This Liamsho the Unliving, whoever he is, seems to have a fair amount of power, although I know nothing else about him. The resident magical smith Malan knows much about magical weapons. There are the elves residing in their forests, if you can find them and convince them to help, for they have great magical abilities. I know of one great caster who has left their forests. Tiasar Auvrelth, he does something or other for the Andril government."

"I've met him before", Bjorkus admits. "I'll have to ask him to take a look next time I'm in Andril."

I've heard all those names before, and it doesn't seem like they were much help. But she has tried her best.

Ianna smiles at the woman again, keeping her faces clear of the disappointment she felt.

Her friends needed answers -- really any answers. There were so many things that were mysterious, beyond their control, and seemingly relentless in their opposition towards the small group. These unknown, unfriendly forces seemed to know a lot more about them, than their her friends knew about these forces. The more they tugged on the loose threads, the more it seemed that the tapestry was much tighter than expected.

"Well, thank you again, I know you have tried your best. Bjorkus, I'm a little tired would you mind escorting me back to the inn?"

"Of course", the bull answers. "It's about time to check in with the others anyway."

It's late evening and the party is in the Twisted Otter, enjoying an exotic dinner that the kitsunes call fish salad. It's a mix of at least four different kinds of fish from the nearby river and a dozen vegetables, only three of which are easily identified. It's a marvelous combination that compliments itself very well.

As the party is catching up and discussing things, the door opens, and they can practically feel the smugness from Dalton as Malan walks in. He approaches the bar and says something to the kitsune there, who points a finger at your table. A half minute later Malan is standing next to the table with a resigned look on his face. "I have to apologize for my rudeness earlier. I let my emotions control my actions. Let's go talk somewhere private. Do you have a room?" He turns to Toramin. "And of course we can do business, if you still wish to."

Bjorkus eyes the smith warily as he enters and offers his apology. He leaves the talking to Dalton.

Sense Motive: 10 + 13 = 23

"It happens to the best of us. Personally, I think it speaks well to your character that you are willing to admit a mistake. We have rooms on the third floor if you would like to speak there."

Toramin is quick to smooth feathers, especially since acknowledging one's errors was a great virtue in his book.

The dwarf leads them upstairs.

Bjorkus snorts and gives Dalton a nod of approval.

Ianna nods at the older elf's words encouragingly.

Dalton nodded briskly to the smith. "Accepted. Nobody's perfect. If we were, we'd become one of the ascended - Nethys, Irori or the like."

Some of us have learned to control our impulses though. Separates man from the animals. Yet you failed to do so. Perhaps my father was the same...

"One of the rooms at the end if you don't mind, Toramin. Privacy in such a loosely-ruled realm is only prudent."

"Before you head upstairs, would you like a meal? We have a surplus of credit at this establishment. Though I'm new to it, I must say the fare is quite pleasing."

Malan refuses the meal offer with a shake of his head. "No, let's get this over with." He follows the party upstairs.

Once everybody is in the farthest room and the door is closed, Malan clears his throat. "Aleanneldth. The noble line of the arcane. The Aleanneldth line holds immense power and influence due to their mastery of arcane magic." He looks at Dalton. "Koriat Aleanneldth, your father, the mage of black fire. A century ago he was banished and his titles stripped from him when he was discovered to be consorting with rune giants in the west." He sits down. "He was also my friend. I have no noble blood, but they come to me for all sorts of armor and weapons, and I know many of them closely. Your father has always had a temper on him, but I had never he would stoop so low." His brows furrow. "And then 65 years ago I caught him in my shop trying to steal one of my most potent weapons. I'm surprised we both left that fight alive. I still have burn scars from that night."

Though giants usually do not worry me, rune giants are beyond my current abilities. Only our mightiest heroes, like Vorn, could defeat one.

Trying to give Dalton time to gather his thoughts, Toramin asks "What is 'black fire'?"

"Koriat specializes in fire magic and has spent so much time researching it that his spells burn black instead of any natural color. He even burns those resistant to fire."

"That is a handy trick. No need to diversify. Just burn everything. Do you know the nature of his congress with the rune giants?"

Malan folds his arms. "He had congress with them, he's lucky he was banished instead of executed. We can even tolerate dealing with fire giants under exceptional circumstances, but the rune giants are hybrid-bred monstrosities that need to be exterminated for their actions. We have no tolerance for them or anybody who deals with them."

"Yes, I know of rune giants, which is why it is concerning."

For most children, the words spoken by Malan would have come as a shock. For most, they would have been offensive.

Koriat Aleanneldth. Mage. Thief. My father.

A spell passed while the middle-aged half-elf considered the nature of these revelations. Their implications begged more questions than they yielded answers, but a few main points were answered.

Nodding, Dalton looked to the others' reactions before continuing.

"Koriat. Aleanneldth." Dalton let the words ring to memory. "This is the first time I've known or spoken my father's name." He swallowed, the suspense having made his throat dry. "I am nearly seventy."

Fits right in with running-out on mother and I. Why clean up a mess when you can walk away from it? He set his rising anger aside after a few moments. He exhaled, taking a breath slowly.

"I appreciate your earnest account, but I must be particular about a small point that may not at all be small for both of us; you said the Aleanneldth line holds immense power and influence. From what I've heard, the line is all but depleted. With Koriat out of the picture, there is no influence or power to be wielded. Is this the case? In the vacancy of such a line, what occurs in elven noble society to fill the gap?"

Know(Nobility(to the above question)): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

"I am Koriat's child with a human woman from the north, a common-blooded, sweet-hearted woman. She has no magical capability which I ever noticed. She always kept to few words about Koriat, but the impressions she gave were always positive. I do not mean this to contradict your account, but more to the point he was not so caustic to everyone. Nor was she merely a passing opportunity: I am one of two children Koriat had with her, and we weren't twins. Do you know why he would have ongoing relations with someone so far beneath his status?"

Mother and I need to have a few words...

"You say he was your friend, but his actions at the end of your association would seem out-of-character for him. Was he himself? What would drive him to attempt to steal a weapon - and what weapon in particular?"

Dalton gestured towards Toramin. "It is a rather bland solution to the problem of enemy defenses, this "black fire" or what have you. It speaks to his ability with the evocation and transmutation schools to be able to weave such power though." He looked back at Malan. "Not that you seemed at all worried, but care not about my ability in that regard: While I am an apt transmuter, my friends here can assure you I am no pyromancer. I haven't even the writings for a basic ball of flame in my book."

Still absorbing the new information, the wizard chuckled - more to himself, than to anything else. "I apologize, Toramin, for it seems I cannot return the favor of meeting a grand noble lineage which you so graciously provided. Instead, I have us searching for clues about a thief."

"All families have their unfortunate members. I do not believe that Alavar, the Master Maker, is much of a catch as a father. Peerless craft and cunning pale before a good heart. Besides, I've always found you to be a man nobility, Master Dalton."

Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Ianna silently considers what she knows of elven nobility, which isn't much.

"Tell us 'bout this weapon he stole? It must have been somethin' special for him to break into your shop like a thief."

"All but are the key words. They were brought close to the brink of extinction. But the Aleanneldth's are still alive, rare as they are now, as are the rest of the noble lines. Many had to be brought back with magic to ensure the line survived, but they are much rarer than they were. The elves would never let a line go extinct, no matter the cost."

"I said he had a temper, not uncontrollable fits of rage. His anger was rarely unjustified. He is a passionate man." He exhales sharply. "He was caustic to me after I swung a sword at him for stealing. I don't believe he had murder on the mind that night." He cocks his head slightly. "I knew of some of his romantic interests, but none that I heard of were humans. Judging by your age, it all happened after he was banished and I stopped speaking to him."

"Oh he was still the same hot-headed bastard I've known all those years ago. Any enchantments or illusions wouldn't have worked against me, it was him acting of his own free will." He closes his eyes for a moment and leans back. "I know your father, as it happens, before you were born. I spent time among the dwarves learning metal-shaping. I worked with Alavar and together we forged a weapon that took years to complete and is still one of my greatest creations." He reaches out and moves his hand as if pulling something out of a bag. Out of thin air appears an elven curve blade of exquisite quality. "A vorpal adamantine elven curve blade." He motions as if putting it away, and it vanishes again.

"Yes, Koriat often approached things the direct route by burning it away. Whatever your interpretation, it's hard to argue with his results. Not only could you watch them burn alive and smell their flesh burning, you could hear their bones crack from the heat, and nothing left but ashes. It is truly something else."

He sighs. "Others of that line are alive and well, and not banished. You would need to go to one of their cities to find them, but without an invitation I doubt your chances of success. They like their privacy."

He has a backbone. Good.

Harmony was beginning to silence in the armorer's account. "What did he need the weapon for? Why not just ask you for it?"

Malan sighs and shrugs. "He wouldn't say, he just said he needed it and that it was doing no good rotting away with me. I wouldn't have lent it to him anyways, even if he weren't a traitor."

Ianna lets out something between a gasp and a sigh at the sight of Malan's blade. She leans over and whispers to Bjorkus.

"You should ask him your questions, Bjorkus. Our father is many things, but he is not patient with people or their failings. Malan must be an incredible spell smith to keep his attention for several years. He may know how to plumb the secrets of Iejir di wer Inik and unlike our father is willing to speak with you."

Toramin just looks embarrassed. It had taken months for the dwarf to think let alone verbalize his antipathy for his father, but Malan knowing him filled the dwarf with hot shame.

Bjorkus nods at Ianna's suggestion and grunts in the elf's direction.

"I was talkin' to a changeling earlier today and she told me a bit about Tyrantbreaker. She tells me it was forged in a blue dragon's blood and went by the name Iejir di wer Inik ages ago. Since we're sharing and I get the feelin' you know a bit more about it, why don't you tell me more."