"I should be able to manage it, even if multiple teleports are required."
Koriat twirls his hand in another formal greeting. "Greetings, speaker of the Lady of Graves. I am Koriat Aleanneldth."
Liamsho returns an equally formal greeting. "I know not of you personally but I know of your line. Liamsho the Unliving." If he seems at all surprised that Dalton found his father and that he is noble no less, he doesn't show it.
"Hello Ianna Trealamhgabha." Liamsho pronounces the difficult dwarven word flawlessly.
Dalton cocked his head in a bit of surprise. He turned to the others.
"Most of us will be returning with you, but I would prefer my father recover before departing on his own." He looked into Koriat's face. "It is entirely possible that spell allows you to be tracked, and I would rather not leave a trail. I hope you understand. Do you know how long your recovery may take until you can port yourself once more?"
"Liamsho, after that time has elapsed, I imagine we would be happy to return to you. There is much to discuss."
The mage took his silence again, trying his best to allow others a chance to speak. I know Bjorkus has his crew and Ianna will be wondering what this is about, but I doubt they will be delayed much longer politely.
"I guess I should see Malan and get my sword back", Bjorkus says when mention of Liamsho coming for them is brought up.
Bjorkus makes his way back up the blistering hot tree and into Malan's shop. After Malan handles two customers (one of them swearing on her way out), he waves Bjorkus into the back, and takes him to a high-security room that looks reinforced as hell. "I've tried a few dozen tests on it, and most of them have failed. But watch this." He points at the sword. "Yrev mitne!" A bolt of lightning cracks across the room, through the sword and into the far wall where it leaves a scorch mark amongst several others. The weapon appears completely unharmed and is giving off small sparks every few seconds with a visible current running through it, dissipating after a few moments. "Small surprise since Shockraos was a lightning dragon. I haven't noticed the weapon change any properties beyond that, but it's a remarkable quality to conduct electricity like that, even for a metal weapon."
The physics were lost on Bjorkus but the lightning was impressive all the same.
"You think it could shield me from lightning or something?", he explains as he picks the weapon up by the grip and gives it a test swing.
"I'd love to leave it with you a bit longer but it's soundin' like it's time for us to leave Wasco."
"More likely it has the power to inflict lightning in your enemies. It is rare for a weapon to protect its wielder, although few exceptions do exist. Yes, I doubt I would make much more progress without months of work and consulting with a few contacts anyways. Remember, my offer to buy it is always on the table."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the information at least", Bjorkus says as he offers the smith a parting handshake after strapping Tryantbreaker in its harness.
Rilka exclaims, ”Wow!” as the sword shoots lightning. ”Your weapon is even scarier now.”
Dalton marvels at the weapon's conductivity. "It is good there are armorers with your skill if weapons like that exist."
While waiting for the appropriate time for Tiasar to contact them, Dalton browsed the local fruit vendors. Fresh tropical fruit will be a delicacy I'd like to prolong!
As his father recovered, the idea was in Dalton's mind he would have to bid Koriat farewell. Yet even though he knew the time was coming, it was upon him too soon.
When the moment came, his heart beat faster than was comfortable - or able to be passed-off as comfortable. His hands shook a little, and his throat was dry. This man who is supposed to be my father, this man who left my mother and I, this man I have not seen for over half a century ... why does he affect me so?
"Koriat ... father," the mage began slowly, the good-bye harder for him than any spell, "It seems the forces that be will pull us apart again. Though the time we spent together was short, it did give me some ... closure. I feel better now, more complete. Thank you."
Dalton held him at the forearm, questioning what the appropriate language would be. Formalities be damned. He pulled the more youthful-looking man in and gave him a hug. They embraced for a moment before separating.
He fished a small, warped band of copper out of his pocket. "Though it is nothing enchanted or of value to other jewelsmiths, this ring I made should allow you to make contact with me easier. Keep it, so that contact is a simple scry away." Dalton waited for the man to reciprocate. He is smart enough to realize it's more necessary for me than him.
"Though she is old, mother still lives. She would love to see you once more; I cannot imagine being a widow all these years is easy on her. Though I can ease her want for material needs, I cannot remedy that emotional gap. Only you have that power."
Still jittery, Dalton tried in futility to keep as composed a face as possible.
"Until next we meet, father."
Koriat gives a sad sort of smile to Dalton. "You have no idea the kind of gap this has filled in my heart." He looks surprised for a moment at the hug, but then fully embraces Dalton. As they pull away, Koriat's eyes look on the verge of tears.
He gingerly takes the plain copper band, with a smile putting it on. He nods and thinks for a moment, then takes off a blue and gold ring, handing it to Dalton. "This has served me well over the years, but I am far less busy than I was, and with how it sounds you need it more than I. It's saved my life a half a dozen times. At the very least I hope it helps us keep in touch." He hands the ring over.
At the mention of Wendellia he chokes up again. After a pause, he gives a small nod. "Yes. I believe you're right." He gives Dalton a final wave. "Farewell for now, my son."
~Farewell, vacation~
At last the party is ready to go, and Dalton signals Liamsho. Within a few minutes the eerily gaunt and tattooed cleric appears at their side. His unnatural eyes scan over the party, then rest on Ianna. "Ianna Trealamhgabha. You are about to learn secrets that are privy to few. Now is the time to keep your eyes and ears open, for your world is about to change." He gestures for everybody to join hands, holding Dalton and Ianna's hands himself. His hands feel like they have the bones of a frail bird, like any pressure would crush them. And then a scroll floats out from his robes and with an incantation, the world around them is sucked away in a blend of light.
~A dozen radishes~
The surrounding environment is rather anticlimactic. Liamsho leads the party out from inside an old, musty tool shed, and into the streets of the poor district of Taryin. Barefooted children and hard working laborers move about, wrapped up against the late autumn bite that is settling in over the city. Liamsho is in the guise of a rather common looking human with messy brown hair as he leads the party to a small home with a wooden gate in the back. He knocks on the gate and a familiar woman's voice floats over. "What?" Liamsho calls back. "I want to buy a dozen radishes. We're celebrating my nephew's fifth birthday." There's a pause, and then 'Helen' opens the gate to scan the people there. Her eyes stay on Ianna and narrow, but Liamsho shakes his head. "New recruit, Heff's orders." She nods and lets the party in.
The party goes through the same awe-inspiring entrance that they did the first time, the effects only slightly lessened on the rest of the party compared to Ianna. The place seems a little busier than it was last time, and there are definitely a lot more civilians in the underground housing part. They stare wide-eyed at the party as they pass on their boat. Unlike Heff, Liamsho is a silent guide who only speaks when necessary to get through a checkpoint and to direct the party. However he answers questions if asked. He leads the party to a massive vault guarded by a dozen colorful figures. After a few words and giving them three rolled up scrolls which they closely examine, the party is let inside. The treasure trove inside is neatly categorized into sections with all kinds of mundane and magical equipment. "The council wants you to be greater equipped for your upcoming mission. You have a budget and I'll help you with the numbers. Pick out whatever you would like."
After the party is newly equipped, Liamsho bids his farewells and a dour-looking half-orc leads them into the meeting place of the Council. Älia and Jasper and Heff are missing, but Krokar and Drosil are seated at the table and looking at a map together.
Krokar points to a place on the map. "I still don't think that's a good entry point. The guard there is ready for invisible foes, and..." He notices the party and looks up, giving a wide grin. He looks back at Drosil. "We can finish this later." After a nod from Drosil, he rolls up the map and Drosil stows it away. He walks over the party and greets each one with a handshake. They can again feel the immense but controlled strength in those green, scarred hands. "Damn good to have you back. How was the vacation?" He greets Ianna last with a firm but gentle handshake. "And greetings to you, Ianna Trealamhgabha. I'm sure this is all a lot to take in for you. Right now we're very time constrained, but I promise everything will be explained. What you need to know in a nutshell is that you are in the secret base of the Aestherics. We are a group that acts outside the power or influence of any government to best keep safe and help all the good races of Erandor. Our organization used to be completely democratic, but as we grew in size we decided to have a council of representatives so we could make decisions in a timely manor. I am Krokar, Weaponmaster of the Aestherics." He gestures to Drosil. "This is Drosil, Shade of the Aestherics. You will be meeting the rest of the council shortly."
As if on cue, Älia appears in a whirl of blue energy. She sits with her usual stoic behavior. A moment later, a transparent and shadowy image of Jasper appears where his chair is, his usual smirk replaced by a scowl floating across the party. They each make their own introductions and explain their roles for the benefit of Ianna, while Jasper remains silent and glowering. The party can't help but notice the crushing absence of Gabriel.
After everybody is seated, Älia speaks. "Heff will be in soon, but I called for us to meet early to address two issues. The first ties into the second and must be addressed immediately. When the present group were made special members of the Aestherics and advanced quickly throughout the ranks with little training, Jasper and Drosil opposed them. The rest of the council approved it, so we went forward with your initiation. However there are two main concerns with this. Your lack of training in our ways has had you act recklessly. Drawing unnecessary attention to yourselves. Attacking Targ during a reconnaissance mission. Blatantly ignoring the objectives of your mission." The council stares on in silence for a moment. Then Älia continues. "However, results do not lie. Everything you did was with good intentions and overall had good results. In the end, that is what truly matters. After much deliberation on the matter, we have decided that you must go through full Aestheric training before continuing to be field agents." It's clear from Jasper's face that he disapproves of the decision. "Your virtues and effectiveness show that you are good Aestheric agents and we want you to continue to do good in the world. If you find that acceptable, we will begin your official training tomorrow." The council (save Heff) looks at the party expectantly.
Bjorkus takes a moment to admire the natural fortress as the party enters the hidden Aestheric compound but the bull's a lot less wide-eyed than his first time inside.
He rumbles thoughtfully as he considers the party's next assignment. "I hope this trainin' doesn't include too many books. Readin's never been my strength."
Ianna whispers to her brother, "Why are they trying to give me gold?
"I imagine that they will offer you a job much like they did me."
I have never worked for a living before. How bourgeoisie.
"Hmmm. Well if they do, then I will learn whatever mysterious things you haven't been telling me. I recommend that you take yours as gold and enchantment reagants. I can improve your wards and charms at a fraction of the market price. There is no good fiscal reason to pay market value."
"Liamsho, I think my sister is right. I will take my salary in gold."
Liamsho nods. "If you want it in gold, that is fine."
Yes, they objected, but their objections are a breeze against your and Heff's will. The rest of the council is better seen as operating in an advisory capacity. There is no true consensus as there is among the Voices of the Stone.
"Training would be welcome. We are not good spies. I would evaluate our spycraft as poor. But there is one missing from our number. Where is Gabe? Where is the boy?"
Where her brother is direct, Ianna is more circumspect.
"I am honored by your confidence, but I must admit that I have never heard of your organization before. Can you tell me a little more of your organization's history, purpose, and methods? Also why are you interested in recruiting me? I am no warrior."
"I am honored by your confidence, but I must admit that I have never heard of your organization before. Can you tell me a little more of your organization's history, purpose, and methods? Also why are you interested in recruiting me? I'm am no warrior."
Älia answers Ianna. "I would be surprised if you have heard of us. We act with the utmost secrecy. The best protection is your enemies being unaware of you. Our history, purpose, and methods will be explained in full during your training if you accept. To be short, we are a secret organization of exceptional individuals who act for the good of all. We have grown from a size small enough to fit in a house to large enough that we have hundreds of active members. Our methods are numerous and varied, everything from stealth to subterfuge to magic to violence and everything in between. Warriors are not the only thing needed to protect Erandor. You have been chosen partially for the connection to your brother, but mostly because of your character. Your motives, your goals, your ideals, your actions; they have all shown you to be a compassionate person who wants to help those in need. At our most basic level, that is what we do. Help people who need it. Because of that, we want you to be an Aestheric."
"Training would be welcome. We are not good spies. I would evaluate our spycraft as poor."
Jasper barks a sarcastic laugh. "Poor? Nonexistent. Not to mention your utter lack of respect for how we operate. When I get back I'm going to whip your asses into shape." Drosil gives a small nod.
Krokar nods. "As a point of consensus, Jasper and Drosil will be overseeing your training. You must meet up to their standards by the time you are done." He gives a grin. "I wish you the best of luck."
"Where is Gabe?"
At the mention of Gabriel, the council falls silent. Krokar shifts uncomfortably while Älia looks sad. Even Jasper's scowl lessens.
"Dead." Heff's voice rings from the back. He walks out from the back room, wearing his usual red cloak and large hat, although his easy-going grin is gone. He takes the last open spot between Drosil and the image of Jasper, standing with his hands on the table. "The deaths of those prisoners in Acera's lair gnawed at him. He went out on his own to find answers and recompense." Heff breathes out slowly. "Calios found him first. This time Gabriel's luck ran out against the fallen angel."
"Respect is based on recognition. One cannot respect what one does not know. Heff got exactly what he was looking for when he 'convinced' you to recruit us. I will own my failings, but I will not accept responsibility for that man's intentions."
Toramin does not roll his eyes at Jasper, but he also wasn't going to be browbeaten either. He graciously does not bring up the fact that things were promised to them that they had not yet received. The stonelord wasn't in it for the rewards, but he was proud enough not to appreciate being inspected like a rotten-toothed nag on market day by someone who was trying to drive down the price.
He loses his breath at Heff's entrance.
Not the boy! He wasn't ready to be out on his own yet. He felt guilty because you wanted him to feel guilty. His blood stains your hands, Heff.
And Lindale?"
Though his grief threatened to overwhelm him, he tried to maintain a stoic facade.
Jasper raises a brow and surprisingly stops scowling. "I suppose that's fair enough."
Heff continues to look down about Gabriel. "Lindale simply vanished. I haven't heard anything about him. I hope he's not dead as well."
Bjorkus's swagger falters at the mention of Gabe's death. "That's a shame. The boy had a good heart. He'll be remembered for it."
"I do not trust him, but I cannot say I want him dead either."
Who are these people -- Gabe and Lindale? Toramin and his friends are so closed lipped.
Unlike many of the others, Dalton did not take the news of Gabriel harshly. It was a reality the zealous often faced. Attempting to settle scores when the numbers aren't in your favor often ends poorly.
He was, however, more concerned with this focus of spycraft with, apparently, the two who might be responsible for it seeming to dislike them.
"I would be willing to venture out on another mission, and by extension, I suppose, the training. May I inquire as to the particular focus on espionage though? During our hiatus, I must say the chief difficulties we encountered were not a knife in the back, but rather brute force."
He looked at the pair adjacent to Heff. "I am not discounting the import of soft steps and soft words. In fact, I believe Toramin would agree there is a malicious presence or two tailing us. Yet concealment of the sort that would guard against it is beyond my knowledge, if not my ken." Looking somewhat ashamed for a moment, as an acolyte who'd not studied his prayers the previous night, he added: "Illusion is not one of my fields of study, so I am ill-equipped in that area."
"I agree with Master Dalton on both counts. I welcome training, but it seems wiser to play to our strengths rather than our weaknesses when it comes to future missions. Also there is someone, or someones, stalking us."
"Someone with shapeshiftin' monsters and giant undead sea beasts at his command", Bjorkus adds.
"Yeah, and you guys were lucky we were prepared for a battle that size. Without our arrival you would have been butchered by the white cloaks. We will be teaching you leverage. How to properly apply your power for the maximum effectiveness."
Heff shrugs. "We're not expecting you to become a master illusionist. You've already proven your worth not only magically between your transmuation and divination, but also through your merchant side, which is something far more valuable than a spellcaster. In fact, you're the new recruit that Jasper and Drosil have the least issue with."
Heff's cheek twitches. "We will discuss your stalker momentarily."
Drosil breaks his silence, speaking in his quiet and hoarse voice, blunt and strait to the point as always. "There is reading. Not excessively."
Allusion to comparative judgments to which we are not privy. A classic divide and conquer strategy. But, I think we will not be so easily thrown in disarray.
Toramin just looks at Heff waiting for him to say his piece.
Bjorkus tries to ignore the hissing dhampir in favor of hearing out the lying snake.
Dalton responded to Heff flatly and quickly.
"If subtlety is a concern, I believe we all stick-out in our own ways. There are few of my kind as portly as I, dwarven nobility is a rather uncommon sight, and a minotaur will draw the eyes of everyone." He glanced to Rilka. "Truly, Miss Featherfeet is the most inconspicuous of us, but she was part of your organization for a long while, and such stealth is her specialty."
He frowned at the comparison being made. "Not everyone will be an excellent spy. That is not their fault. Everyone has their strengths. I recall there being different ranks in various branches of the Aestherics. One would imagine specialization is incumbent one which branches one chooses." The mage looked to the pair. "Not one which others opine, yes?"
"If we were an organization of nothing but spies, we would hardly be effective. As Jasper says, we teach you how to best use your own abilities. For instance, through information gathering we could have learned that Bjorkus giving a speech in front of Targ would end in his torture. That's something that could have been avoided. Raul could have been turned on Targ and Acera far earlier. A neighboring rival Prince could have been brought into the fold. Ideally, we would have killed Targ, captured Acera, turned the white cloaks to a more beneficial group, all without them even catching a whiff of our existence. Less deaths, less exposure, less costs."
Heff appears to want to talk about the stalker later, after this is all sorted out.
"All that might have required us being different people. It was Gabe who brought Raul to our side, and only when Raul's world and his authority were crumbling around him. Extremity often expands one's worldview. Gabe was the most inspiring amongst our number and now he is dead. We made mistakes, but I would not count your examples among them. I think our biggest failing was the puppet witch and letting it have any access to the Egg of Lloth. We made friends of the masked healers, overturned an coercive legal regime, freed slaves, and worked the ruin of an unkillable woman.
What is more is that I doubt you, Heff, wanted things to turn out differently. You wanted us to be agents of chaos, and you got your wish. It is not as if you were not watching through the acorn. It is not as if you did not specifically send a message to rile Bjorkus before he went into the arena. It is not as if you did not try to use the tragic deaths of innocents to manipulate Gabe. I tried a longer approach -- partnering with the healers, but I fear you did not want a long term project. You wanted field surgery.
Jasper's open scorn is less poisonous than your manipulations."
Toramin says this in his even tones, before bowing his head to Alia. "My apologies if my words seem overly harsh, honored elder, but the Aestherics value truth, yes? My truth is that I want to help you make the world better. Educating a nation, ending a genocide, revealing the great lie of slavery -- these are worthy ends. I am proud to have served my part in achieving them. But I would ask that we be treated with more honesty and respect: we are not your betters, but I believe we merit more than this 'man's' lies and half truths that would make us puppets or slaves."
Toramin was a better wordsmith than Dalton with these kinds of confrontations. Though he disagreed on a particular or two, the vast majority of the speech found purchase in his own mind.
He nodded his soft features slowly to himself as the dwarf finished.
The paladin's focus on Alia at the end brought a question to his mind. Dalton let the council respond to Toramin before speaking.
"Alia, how fares The Fourth Room? It has been a point of concern in the back of my mind."
Bjorkus opens his mouth to speak but stops immediately when Toramin begins his scathing rant. The dwarf captured the bulk of the distrust he had for Heff's machinations (minus the profound expletives he owed him). Instead he simply snorts and nods in agreement while trying not to think overmuch about Akropash.