... 3)Catcher has a new book to read about the spear.[/ooc]
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Comes the morning, if nothing out of ordinary has happened, she helps Aersensi to clean herself, get breakfast and change her clothes to the same robes provided. She eats thinking of the events of the day and then asks Rik once more ”So, do you know anyone that would be able to rent me a workshop, it would be better if it was an private one, since what I want to work with might cause some commotion…”
Rik assures the young mage that accommodations can certainly be made to facilitate the usage of a smithy or workshop.
It has been quite a while since they have some proper rest, still taking precautions but at least they were inside something like a house.
Roland shakes his head at the wizard. "We're outsiders. That will not be easy, I believe. But there's still a bigger problem. If the champion was killed, maybe the dragon took the spear with her. Now that would be a problem. Can we make sure that's not the case? Cause otherwise we should depart immediately to seek her."
In the morning, Gromff is stuck looking back and forth between his armor and the robes Rik laid out. He wanted to talk to whoever was in charge in this city while staying protected himself while also didn't want to have to go through the hassle being an armed outsider was likely to cause. Eventually he grabs the robes but calls some different spells for the day. One in particular that would summon armor made of force. Once dressed he joins the conversation. "So current Champions dead. Terrible lose but our chances may have just gone up. Unless the lad is right and the durned thing is stuck in the queen's belly. Either way, we gotta come clean that we snuck in and we aim ta earn the right ta wield the spear so we can go kill a demon god maybe. Ye got, like passes ur somethin for visitors? Some kind of test?" he directs the last part at Rik. He felt a little bad being so blunt but with the spear finally within reach he was feeling impatient.
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" (...) Either way, we gotta come clean that we snuck in and we aim ta earn the right ta wield the spear so we can go kill a demon god maybe."
"Oh well, one night of sleep and we are in the ‘spilling all of our secrets mood?’" she asks the dwarf while grinning at his most likely blunder, then since he already told the man, she completes ”There you have it. We want to kill god, and for that we are gathering legends and legendary weapons.”
"Lad's asked everyone along the way where it is. And it ain't just a god. It's an evil one. A demon. There is a difference."
Roland also shakes his head at the dwarf, agreeing with the wizard. Yes, that can happen. "You are no fun Gromff..."
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"Gods! I hate you!" she says looking at Roland and his most likely last attempt to tease the wizard.
==//==
After dealing with the workshop owner and possible parting with a good sum of money, the wizard contemplates the not-anymore devil-possessed armor they acquired after defeating Darnoq, wait, was that the ghost name? The wizard didn’t recall but that doesn’t really matter to her. Besides the armor lay as well the scythe that was the arm of such creature. For a moment she thinks if it’s a good idea working on such items, but then she remembers that at least the armor should be safe, unless the angels failed at their cleaning and lied about it.
She takes one of the several tools available and starts to mold and shape the partial armor in front of her.
By the time the companions had awoken the next morning, it became apparent that their new benefactor was nowhere to be found. Just when sufficient time to become concerned had passed, Rik arrived at the library's front doors, pushing them open with his hind-end due to his hands being full. He carried a glass jug filled with what looked like juice and a plate stacked high with buns of some kind.
"Good morning friends. I was out for my morning walk and the irresistible aroma of meat pies assaulted my sensibilities. I brought a variety for your benefit. Eat your fill, I already have on the way here! There are sausage rolls, shepherd's pie, steak and mushroom, spiced minced meats, lemon duck, and orange marmalade chicken!"
He set the tray down and began pouring fresh apple cider for those who joined the tableside.
"I have news. I was able to confirm the rumors; it is true that Griff was slain in yesterday's attack and the Spear has no current custodian. We haven't had a slain champion for many, many years and so it came as a surprise that the law states that the Spear shall be awarded to the winner of the Great Hunt. The Hunt lasts for a week, giving adequate time for those seeking the Spear to hunt and kill the most dangerous foe possible - and to be able to provide proof of its demise. The week ends with a holiday-like celebration in the city where the hunters boast of their heroic deeds and showcase their trophies. An assembly of citizenry votes on which seems the most dangerous, awarding the winners with the Spear itself. I did some checking and there does not seem to be any verbiage in the law restricting the hunt to citizens, so it would seem that you are eligible for participation."
"These wilds we live in are home to many dangerous beasts, and so I'm certain that hunting groups are already forming to prepare for the worst. It is up to the group to decide who becomes the Champion."
"I imagine the Hunt will not begin for at least a week or two. Preparations must be made by the by the hunters, by the legislators, and for the celebration itself. Not to mention the gaping breech in the wall that needs tending to."
"That will give you time to work on your projects in the workshop. Oh yes, did I mention that I found you a shop this morning as well? The owner owed me a favor and so he is loaning me the use of his secondary smithy for the next few weeks. I have the keys here."
He dangled a pair of bronze keys in the air as he smiled at Catcher.
"One more thing. I have registered you as visitors to our city under my supervision. Please understand that your actions now reflect directly upon me. You have free rein to explore, shop, and interact with the people here, but you must wear these robes at all times when you're not here in this library."
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As the days passed by several neighbors began to recognize the companions during their comings and goings from the Sages Guild library.
A glassblower shopkeeper named Timmok, a bearded angry-looking man, never failed to make a show of it by stopping whatever he was doing to stare at the outlanders as they walked by. His staring bordered on scowling, and he never replied to any attempts to 'hello'.
The very-plump baker who so adeptly filled her dough with meats and sweets, a halfling woman called Bornla, was always polite but never offered more courtesy than what was required of her.
Rik's armor smith friend whom he'd arranged to borrow the workshop from, was a different story than many of the other townsfolk, however. A man of dark brown skin (reminiscent of the foreigner priest of Battleborn, Littledragon) and cheery demeanor named Sessro, he made it a point to yell kind words as he saw any of the companions in the streets, though he paid particular close attention to the young attractive spellsword who occupied his old workshop. He often managed to find excuses to drop by with lunch, or to offer help with the project she was working on that day.
In addition to a recurring theme of 'crystal' that seemed to dominate much of the architecture and artistic spirit of Crystallus, a notable cleanliness and order were apparent on nearly every avenue. The citizenry, flawed as their social awareness might be, were fiercely patriotic and vigilant about the city's upkeep. Public parks were not uncommon, covered in sprawling green grass and filled with hedgerows and benches. Fountains and amphitheaters for public forums seemed to be on every other street. Street performers acted out silly scenes and sang songs of melancholy.
Construction teams worked day and night on the sundered wall. Artisans, stonemasons, and simple laborers climbed scaffolding like spiders on a massive web. A complex system of pulleys, block and tackle, and winches served as a means to transport building materials and personnel to and from the ground level.
City guards meandered down the streets wearing sky-blue tabards and gaudy helmets, though their presence was apparently unneeded. These were a people who respected each other and the societal law that bound them together.
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Situated at near the main street in the city, the Warm Welcome Inn does exactly what it says on the sign hanging outside. Smoke comes from the chimney of the thatched building, and a warm glow from the fire can be seen through the windows. Patrons are typically weary workers and local farming folk.
Stepping into the taproom, visitors are greeted by the friendly smiles of the landlord and his wife (now kinda conflicted by the fact the players are strangers). The bar is cosy with simple wooden tables and chairs arranged around the roaring fire which usually has a hog roasting on a spit over it. Well‐polished horse brasses and a few ancient, rusty weapons provide most of the decoration, although it’s the magnificent display of huge, prize‐winning vegetables that usually catches the eye of first‐time visitors.
STAFF
The Warm Welcome Inn has the following notable staff members:
- Denrys Drinkpenny (NG female human commoner 2) is Gullenn’s homely‐looking wife. She dotes over her two sons, Frans and Jooris.
- Frans Drinkpenny (LG male human commoner 1) is as much of a yokel as his parents. His shock of unkempt red hair makes him easy to spot.
- Gullenn Drinkpenny (LG male human commoner 2) is the affable landlord of the Warm Welcome. Red‐faced and big nosed, with bushy eyebrows and mutton chop sideburns, Gullenn knows how to make sure his guests enjoy their stay.
- Jooris Drinkpenny (CG male human commoner 1) is tall and lanky. He is getting restless and yearns to leave and seek his fortune in the another city.
FOOD & DRINKS
Denrys’ cooking is both tasty and filling. Specialities of the house include:
PRICE
- Cider (local), pint 4 cp
- Gullenn’s Own (beer), pint 2 cp
- Ham and beetroot soup served with warm sourdough rolls smothered in butter 1 sp
- Meal, common 2 sp
- Slices of roast hog served with buttered parsnips and red cabbage 2 sp
ACCOMMODATION
There are four comfy private rooms available for 4 sp per night.
==//==
After eating her share in the morning and making sure Aersensi and Walker are well cared for and fed, the wizard leaves the old man in Gromff’s care while she goes out the elf girl exploring the city and searching for a place to stay, since she didn’t plan to spend another night abusing of Rik’s good will.
They are both dressed with guild acolyte robes, but it’s clear the clothes are too big for the elf girl, and the pair couldn’t attack more attention, being strangers in a xenophobic city. ”Don’t mind the stares and the scowls.” she says to the elf girl ”They see how cute you are and they are afraid to fall in love.” the wizard jokes with Aersensi.
After searching for a bit, she settles with the Warm Welcome Inn, the warm glow of fire winning her over. Hopping that they would be true to their name and don’t discriminate the party for being strangers and foreigners, she steps into taproom they are greeted by a distracted owner.
”Welcome to the Warm…” he starts then stops, surprised by his costumers. The bar until now filled with conversation suddenly is very quiet as no one talks and everyone else of the customers stares or scowls, most of them waiting the owner’s reaction.
Catcher don’t wait the man regain his composure and quickly explain her business. ”We are Guest of Rik, from the Sage’s Guild. Do you have any available room for rent?”
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”Rik, you say?” the man asks somewhat regaining his composure and friendly face ”We’ve room, yes…”
Catcher don’t wait the man finish and she comments ”Great!” stepping inside with the girl. ”How much is the fee? And I can you prepare a hot bath right away?” she asks expectantly looking at the plump man. She wanted to rent a single room for each, but since they had only four available, she rented all of it, paying for a month stay in advance. She calculated that Aersensi could sleep with her, while Gromff could take care of the old man and keep an eye on his condition as well.
An hour long hot bath later, she and Aersensi are clean and tidy, finally washing away all the accumulated dirt from the travel and undergroup trip. By the time they are finished, it’s already lunch time and the bar is bursting with customers talking with their friends and waiting for their meal. She led the girl to one of the most isolated tables and the tall and lanky Jooris approach with an expectant face. ”Are you really from outside?” he asks discretely trying now to draw his father attention.
How old is he? Catcher wonders while she answers ”I guess I am.” she says smiling and then asks for food before the other can ask anything else. She notices his disappointment and finally adds ”If you are interested, I can tell you some histories later about my travels, just make sure your father won’t be angry with me or you because of that.” she says looking at the owner’s direction.
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Lunch done, clean and refreshed, it’s time inspect the rented workshop. Following Rik’s direction she went looking for the owner. Altho she had the keys, the mage thought best to confirm the renting price and workshop location from the owner himself. She didn’t want her project cause suspicion or even having the man thinking she was up to no good. With the biased behavior from the entire city, she wanted not to worry about her benefactor.
She ends up in front of a simple armor smith shop, and from outside she could see several pieces on display as well the distinct hammering sound coming from the back of the shop.
As she pushed the door open, a small bell ringed, notifying the owner he had costumers and a smiling dark brown skinned man, breathing heavy from his work in the forge greets the customer. ”Hello young ladies.” he says greeting both not as if they were long lost friends ” Can I interest you in something? We have pieces that would fit you both, leaving you protected and comfortable at the same time.” he says should a fine piece of leather armor.
”Thanks for the offer.” the mage says digging into her bag and picking up the keys ”but I have other business, you see.” she shows the keys to the older workshop and introduce herself. ”I’m Catcher and this beautiful young lady here is Aersensi, we are guest of Rik from the Sage’s guild and on my behalf, and he arranged with you the workshop to be rented.”
”Oh yes! He asked me for my old workshop…” he says appraising the young woman in front of him, most likely wondering what could the young woman in front of him be wanting a workshop for. ”… let me just close the doors and I’ll lead you there right away.” he says cheerfully.
Shop, closed, a short walk and they arrive at an old building, with signs of being closed and unused from a long time. The man introduced himself as Sessro, and helped the mage with organizing the tools and igniting the forge fire once more and once everything was ready he looked expectantly to see what the other would do.
Ignoring the man’s strange glances from time to time, Catcher starts to rearrange things to her liking and select the tools she’ll be using. After everything is done, she says without looking at Sessro. ”I’m going to adapt, change a piece of armor so I can use it…” she says digging once more into the magical bag and pulling out the wicked looking shape that will become a full suit of armor.
The man gasps in surprise behind her and without turning she continues ”It’s a long history, but we defeated an angry ghost possessing a devil-made suit of armor, and after a long and arduous ritual, a pack of angelic beings helped me to cleanse it from evil essence and despite the wicked look, it is safe to use.”
==//==
It took some more talking to convince Sessro the armor wasn’t anything bad, but the man didn’t stay long, returning to his own shop after helping Catcher to settle in. After the man left, she took out her companion, the little viper and set him on the to search for food around, it might be able to find rats and other rodents on the closed and unused shop, but she instructs it not to leave the premises and stay hidden from others to avoid trouble.
==//==
Time to complete: 4 days
Time to complete: 4 days
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Later that day, Catcher searches the group and tells them about the inn and the room she rented. She also notifies Rik where they are staying in case the man needs to find them. ”So, I’ve found this inn and I rented room for us. There were only four rooms available, which means someone will have to share a room with Walker.” she looks at Gromff when saying that.
Later that same night, she tells Jooris some “made up” tales about her travels, since she doesn’t really feel comfortable telling him about what really happened, about dragons and devils, slavers and traitors, angels and monsters. She also tell him about the other members of the party. The selfless healer (leaving out the bloody and disturbing self-mutilation), the valiant and wise crusader of Moradin (making in her tales Gromff be more friendly and less grumpy) and the coward barbarian, the one that runs away from every combat but is a good friend nonetheless. She don’t say anything about Aersensi and walker, and the boy avid for more tales don’t even notice the girl grinning at the tales Catcher is waving.
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... She also notifies Rik where they are staying in case the man needs to find them.
"So you've found Gullenn's place, eh? I was hoping you'd stay here with me, but I'm sure the featherbeds of the Warm Welcome are better suited for sleeping than the floor of my library. Did he tell you that his is the only inn in our entire city? Yes, indeed, we so seldom get visitors that being the proprietor of an inn is not particularly lucrative! He is lucky that Denrys' cooking brings in locals on a regular basis."
"Well, please come visit to keep me apprised of your status or if you need my assistance. I am an accomplished alchemist and can make potions if you need them for your upcoming Hunt."
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At some point, during the following weeks, the wizard stands near the workbench, the armor finally finished; the matching pair of mithril swords displayed just besides it. No matter how much she tried, altho to tell the truth she didn’t try too hard, the armor the complete armor had this dread feeling and wasn’t pleasant to the eyes, or so Sessro had told her some minutes ago.
The man was there as well standing just a few steps behind her observing the wizard observing the armor; his visits being frequent and she actually didn’t mind it. His expertise helped a lot while shaping and molding the devilhide armor, and while it was clear he didn’t feel comfortable working on it, he insisted on visiting and offering help. She suspected the man was interested because her female charms, but since he didn’t press the subjected, she pretended not to notice as well.
The scythe that once was the arm and weapon of Darnoq now discarded and wasted on some corner, its magical properties being transferred to the new sword. The blade from the greatsword gleaned with deadly magic energy, and the blade was exceptionally sharp and deadly. Sessro had tried to wield the weapon and accidentally cut himself, forcing Catcher to make use of several potions to heal the man injuries.
A last glance towards the armor and Catcher starts to remove her acolyte robes, which causes the Sessro to panic for a moment. ”Wait! Wait! What are you doi…ng?” he asks surprised when he notices then the traveling garb the robes were hiding as well the finely woven suit of mithril armor. It’s fabric crafted on a way it offered protection and flexibility.
Without giving the man attention, she removes the mithril chainmail as well and asks Sessro ”Can you help me don the armor?” she says pointing to the devilhide plate.
Sessro seems reluctant to help and finally says ”I don’t think it’s a good idea you wear such thing Catcher. I have a bad feeling about this…”
”Don’t be silly Sessro.” she says smiling and then proceeds to explain why he feels like that. ”This armor once was attuned to forces of evil which would cause anyone that had a good and caring heart to be sick and weak while holding or touching it, but that isn’t so anymore.” she fails to tell him that she was never subject to such thing, since she didn’t cared for good or evil, and altho she is fighting to stop this madness, her motives had nothing to do with ‘being good’. ”It has already been cleansed, but it’s impossible to remove all of its effect from the armor, because it was made from the body or hide of some demonic creature. So yes, you might feel uncomfortable holding it, but that’s the only thing that might happen.”
The tall man help her with the straps and parts and with a final click, the last piece of the armor was placed on the mage’s body.
A black, writhing wave rolled onto the workshop. Catcher buffeted to her knees saw, the place around her blighted as the abyssal power rolled down from the armor, engulfing everything nearby; Arsensi, Sessro and everything around the workshop. She watched as a midnight flash swallowed the hapless place, followed by a thump that thundered through the City. When the flash dissipated, the workshop room lay in rotting heaps, mown down like stalks of grain, everyone around turned into blackened corpses.
Abyssal sorcery. Cursed magic, the Breath of Chaos.
Her breaths coming fast and tight in her chest, Catcher was trapped by the armor and the magic flowing out of it. Despite all the screaming and dying around, the only thing she could hear was the horrific and arrogant laughter inside her head.
No, no, no, that is impossible! It shouldn’t be like this!
Her hands reach for the straps of the armor trying to break it free and remove it. All around her lay dead and dying, but the only thing that mattered in that moment was to remove the cursed armor.
No matter how much she tried, the straps wouldn’t break free, she couldn’t remove the armor.
The wizard has no time to think about what that could possible mean when something akin to demonic spider legs grow out of the chestpiece of the armor and shoot straight to Catcher’s chest.
The chestpiece opened as if commanded and the spider legs reached catcher chest, the legs pry open her ribcage breaking bones and ripping flesh, exposing the wizard’s heart, still beating in her chest. Paralyzed by the pain and now magic influence, Catcher can do nothing but stare in terror as the blackened armor tears Catcher’s heart out of his body and a darkened shriveled and rooting heart appear in the mage’s chest. Her late heart, falls into the ground, still beating and the armor closes once more.
Catcher’s world turns into a single thing: Pain.
Not being able to withstand the pain and nausea, Catcher yells and falls to one knee…
Thud!
…and the impact and pain in her legs brings her back to her senses: around her, Sessro looking at her with scared eyes and wild eyes, Aersensi holding Catcher's gauntleted hand sobbing and pointing to the mage's head.
”Catcher, your hair…” the girl says and starts to cry in earnest
Ripping open the armor, there’s no indication her chest was pried open and hes heart ripped apart, nor any sign of the magic did she witness. With her gauntleted hands, she pulls her hair and were it once was golden like the shinning sun, now it was bleak and discolored a greyish color that didn’t resemble anything natural.
Everyone sees the world through their own lens, and those devoted to a religious code often find others' religions to be telling about what kind of people they are. Despite Crystallus being almost racially homogeneous, their society apparently had an array of different religious points of view, ranging from zealotry to outright hatred of the gods.
The most common religion seemed to be the doctrine of Oghma, god of knowledge. His symbol - a blank scroll - was hoisted upon the largest temple Gromff could find, and a handful of smaller shrines. As it turns out, Rik prays to Oghma.
Other smaller chapels were found dedicated to Abadar, Erastil, and Ilmater - the latter being a pleasant surprise for Veronica. Ilmater's chapel was a humble affair, being little more than room filled with benches, a central altar, and paintings depicting scene after scene of hardship, pious bloodletting, and hands bound at the wrist by a red cord. A lone female priest named Roslin looked after the structure, offering blessings and prayers to passersby.
While Catcher does her thing, Gromff wanders the aisles and shelves of books, looking for a particular subject. He wasn't sure what Walker had done to make himself a vessel for a demon but its cage was breaking. He was pretty sure it was arcane, so maybe he could layer something over it or heal the cage as he healed wounds. But he knew of no such spell off the top of his hairy head. It was probably custom anyway.
Unfortunately, Rik didn't carry those kinds of spells. "You might try the temple. I know, some temples are known for burning books but the temple of Oghma is the exact opposite. He is the god knowledge, thus nothing is more sacred than a book. I hold their collection of alchemical knowledge. If you want divine you need them." So Gromff leaves with Walker in tow. He hated not having a weapon and armor but Rik insisted. He didn't want to break any rules and get the man in trouble.
For a while, as he walked down the street, he got so caught up in the strange architecture that he didn't realize he was being scrutinized. It wasn't until a child ran across his path and stopped completely to look at him wide eyed. That's when he noticed all the other eyes. "What? Ain't never seen a dwarf afore?" he says to the crowd. Well that was a stupid question. Course they haven't.
"What's a dwarf?" The child asked. Gromff looked down at the lad, hands still on his hips.
"I am."
"So a short person?" the kid asked again.
Gromff sighed and smacked his face. "Aye, we are a short race compared to you lanky lot. Its more than that though. Dwarf, you know? Beard, strong, reliable, loyal, good with our hands, like to live underground."
"Like a potato? You smell like a potato." From behind the dwarf Walker laughed until he started wheezing. Gromff looked highly offended and felt a little stupid for trying to argue with a child.
"Don't ye die at my expense ye old goat. Let's just go," he says to Walker. At least laughter was a good sign.
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He arrives at the temple of Oghma and is greeted warmly if a little too enthusiastically. "Welcome to the Temple of Oghma, the Great Scholar. How can we be of service good dwarf?" The man shook his hand a little too long and stood a little too close. He kept looking over Gromff, like he was trying to figure him out.
"I be lookin fer tomes on fightin and sealin demons. Ye have somethin like that?" he says, leaning away as the man leans in.
"Of course. Right this way," he says, leading the duo into the temple. "I am father Mathias, head priest of the temple and of Oghma. So whose faith do you belong to? What. Let me guess. Clangaddin, right?"
"Moradin actually."
"Oh, right. The Soul Forger as he's called by some. We haven't had a dwarf here in a long and he was fond of battle." The priest continues to ramble on and ask questions even after they had arrived at the section Gromff was looking for. Even after Gromff thanks him, the man hovers nearby, looking over every so often. Dwarves were usually very patient but this man was an annoyance on the level of beard ticks. He takes a solid booked aimed at his head to finally drive the man off so he could study.
He hoped to find something here that might help reinforce the spell that bound the demon or heal the vessel. Hopefully he lasted long enough for them to at least attain the spear in case the worst scenario arrived.
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At some point, during the preparation for the great hunt, Gromff approached the wizard, and without any kind of sweet talk poured down his request: ”Ta make a helm.” the dwarf had said.
So a helm we will make.
That same night, she approached Rik, which now had become somewhat a walking encyclopedia to Catcher, and explained to the old man the troubles she was facing with such item. ”I’m not strong enough, I don’t know all of the necessary magic…” she said at some point (another interesting history is that Rik was surprised to learn the young woman was a mage of sorts).
His experience and expertise helped Catcher to see she could still make it work, as long Gromff was willing to help as well, and talking about Gromff, he wasn’t happy to be locked up three full days inside a workshop while Catcher worked at the magic he requested, but since it was something he wanted, he had no choice but to help.
As the days went by, the impatient dwarf pacing all around while Aersensi would keep pestering him, and Catcher working her magic, the item was finally complete. At some point, Catcher thought she would fail crafting it, so she was extra careful and didn’t try to rush the process as she’d done with the armor and the sword.
”There you have it.” she says to Gromff handing him the piece he’d asked.
A few days after their first arrival, and apparently still not enough time for people to stop pestering him and starring, Gromff decided it was time to put their valuables to good use. And Catcher was the only one that could accurately gauge the value so she had to come. That meant Walker and Aersensi too. But neither of them proved too much trouble. Walker was his usal self and the girl apparently liked shopping.
After trading in the goods and getting several large and expensive gems in exchange, they hit every shop with magic items they could. It was pleasant for the most part, until they looked at armor. Specifically helmets. There was one he had his eye on. It's magic slightly twisted luck in his favor during battle. But the damn thing didn't fit. None of them did. And before anyone could say anything he admitted, "Yes, dwarves heads are different. No, it ain't a defect o any kind."
So Gromff did the only thing he could think of, ask Catcher. Shameful as it was that a human was a better crafter, he was damn lucky she was around.
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During their stay on the Warn Welcome Inn, Catcher out of boredom, would always entertain Jooris with fantastic made up tales of their adventures. The histories were becoming more and more exaggerated. Aersensi would laugh with delight at the plot twists and the not so real portrait of the traveling heroes, which in turn only motivated Catcher to continue her tales, Jooris on the other hand, took a liking to the wise, noble and just crusader of Modarin, the mighty Gromff, and why not? When Catcher noticed this, she made a point to exalt the dwarf good points, and skip the bad ones.
Catcher days were filled with crafting, modeling and magic enchanting efforts on the rented workshop, such as that, even the kinda somewhat annoying insistence of Jooris was a welcoming change to things. She’d considered inviting Roland out any of these nights, since she had sensitive things she wanted to discuss with the man, things that were best not being heard by Gromff or Veronica, but the man was strangely silent and brooding the last few days which was enough to put a hold to Catcher’s evil plans.
It was one night as any other in particular in this strange city, the same old customers, the drinking, the staring and suddenly Gullen’s wife, Denrys , rushes into the common room and through floods of tears begs the you to “ Not take my dear boy away.”
Of course, you have no idea of what’s going on.
The truth is: Jooris takes a shine to you, the most confident wise and valiant hero in Catcher’s tales and decides to join the group. He informs his mother, who takes the news very badly. Of course, at this juncture, Jooris has not actually asked the you if he can join the party but you might have an inkling to what’s happening based on fascination of the boy with the tales Catcher was been weaving every night to him.
”Catcher, your hair…” the girl says and starts to cry in earnest
Ripping open the armor, there’s no indication her chest was pried open and hes heart ripped apart, nor any sign of the magic did she witness. With her gauntleted hands, she pulls her hair and were it once was golden like the shinning sun, now it was bleak and discolored a greyish color that didn’t resemble anything natural.
He hoped to find something here that might help reinforce the spell that bound the demon or heal the vessel. Hopefully he lasted long enough for them to at least attain the spear in case the worst scenario arrived.
The search went on for many hours over multiple days. The dwarf's search for a way to shore up the Walker's defenses became a temporary obsession, as he was certain there must be some bit of knowledge in some temple in this city. Was it his faith that pushed him forward? Was it just a strong hunch? Was it his own dwarfish pride, too stubborn to admit defeat?
Whatever it was, it paid off several days into the search. The great temple of Oghma had a large library, nearly as large as Rik's though many times more dusty. An old leather scroll caught Gromff's eye, one with a faded imprint of a dwarfish rune that stood for "demon/devil" (one that made no distinction between the two). Carefully lifting it from the rack, he unfurled it and found an old scholar's account of an ancient war with wicked outsiders, detailing multiple circumstances of imprisonment and aura reinforcement via the use of goodly cleric's positive energy.
Over the last few days, Gromff had narrowed down the location of the malevolent creature in Walker to his mind. Though his aura was completely saturated, the flow of evil eventually lead him his head. Being a wizard, it was his strongest weapon so it made for the best cage. But it was under constant assault. He found no spells to help but he did find a rune. How this temple, who hadn't seen a dwarf in a long time, had come by such an artifact, he wasn't sure. But he was thankful he did. It's effect was similar to meta-magic. It changed a spells effect, specifically, positive energy spells. Normally, they healed the body by providing the energy necessary to accelerate the healing process. This, he could not heal with simple positive energy infusion. It had to be altered in a way he wasn't certain he understood but felt was right.
Gromff hires the best scribe in the temple to copy the rune on his hand. He always channeled his cure spells through touch. So with the rune between them, it should alter the spell's nature to heal in a different way. Once it dried, he took Walker's hand and give his finger a tiny prick with a quill. A drop of blood appeared. He then placed his hand on the man's head and focused. His hand tingled a bit as he cast the spell. He looked down at Walker's hand saw the wound still bled. Good. That meant the rune was altering the magic. But was it working in the right way? He had no idea. So he used all of it. Every drop of magic had that day. He then looked into Walker's eyes, hoping to finally see some light of comprehension.
As Gromff sat with Walker, the old man seemed not to notice the dwarf's presence, as was the usual status quo of late. The ever-distant look in his eyes had been elevated by adding a layer of strain bordering on agony. His bloodshot eyes were sunken and dark around the rim, and his wispy hair had dwindled to almost nothing.
The quill prick to draw blood did not elicit a reflex, nor did any of the positive flow of energy that was channeled into him...at first. After a second, third, and further infusions of warm holy energy, the Walker's eyes turned and locked gazes with the warpriest of Moradin. The weariness behind his gaze had faded away in mere moments. The redness in his eyes cleared up, leaving his sparkling green eyes clear of the exhaustion they had conveyed in recent weeks. A healthier color overcame the pale skin, his breathing came easier, and he closed his eyes in obvious relief.
Walker suddenly swayed and began to fall from his chair when Gromff caught him and carried him to the featherbed nearby, gently laying him down for a well-earned respite. The dwarf watched over the old man while he slept, relieved to see a steady rise and fall of his chest, taking in the soothing breaths of deep, restful sleep.
Roland was kinda impressed with Rik's capabilities. Not because the man was great, but because he could be trying to look great, helping them all he could so he could have something in return. He wasted a second thinking about what could he really want from them, but he would probably know when the time was right. Or maybe he was just a nice guy, like Roland.
Anyway, the city seemed great! Roland thought it was an awesome place to live, except it was weird not to have contact with the outside world. How could no one know about this place? Holy Battleborn, how were they even here to begin with? The barbarian knew that they got here through divine interference, but wondered if they had made the right choice by not killing the lava queen when they had the chance. After all, it would be a prize ready for the taking of the spear. This great hunt could pose a problem for them, or maybe they would get away with the spear without even having to kill anything else. After all, the white beast was slaughtered and just a few days away from them. Maybe - just maybe - crossing the dragon's lair once again was not a good idea, but who knows? He just made a mental observation to talk to the others about it later.
Wandering around, Roland notices the fat halfling baker, and realizes they hadn't seen a halfling for quite a while now, or had they? Last one was Miro, as far as he could remember. But certainly he had never seen one so plump. He didn't even had in mind halflings could get fat since they never stop messing around! But this little fat princess drew his attention, definitely. Other people, like Timmok, he completely ignored, minding better things and not even greeting the shopkeeper. Two could play this game, after all.
He didn't have anything to say to the Inn chosen by the wizard, although he really felt welcome at that place.
Anyway, Catcher was busy doing her girly stuff, Gromff was looking for some gods he could ask favors from, and Veronica was still roaming around and tended for the wounded. He had a Hunt to get ready for and s freaking ton of mysteries to solve. And the gods knew he was not a good detective. He was strong, and tough. So maybe he should use that to his advantage. After all, they had a wall to rebuild. So the large human left his armor and weapons at the Inn, put his old traveler clothes under the Sage's robes, and went to the now in turmoil construction site. It wasn't long after he found the person in charge, Mike, a man with gray hair and sunk dark eyes who had several workers under his command. The man found it pretty weird to see someone from the Sage's guild so strong, and even more, offering to help. He told Roland the pay was not that high, and the barbarian altogether refused that. "You don't need to pay me, but I'll only be here when I can."
He removed the Robe and started working right away, helping where he could. The exercise would be great for his muscles and the hunt to come, but he wanted to get to know people and to observe the militia on the wall. He was never one to spread gossip, but hearing was one of Roland's fortes. And well, people like to share the news, didn't they. The barbarian's demeanor helped a little for that, being skeptic for most information, he asked a simple skeptical question like "of really?" or "is that so?" and people would try to convince him of what they just said. He learned a little about some of the contestants for the hunt, but none drove his attention too much. The best one seemed to be one of the high officers or the like from the militia, Shorliak, who people said had been to a lot of places outside the walls, always scouting and hunting.
He was not too worried with the contestants, tough. The problem was what to hunt. They had the queen and the prince, but could they take them on? What if one helped the other? Then their doom was certain. Thinking about, he wondered when would the dragon return for some payback, and then he tried to get to know more about what had happened from the workers and the soldiers. Specially, he aimed to find out who was in charge of the attack on the queen. He would be the one who dealt with the Prince.
He recalled the Prince talking about his allies in the city and wondered if there was some hidden organization within the city, but he could not approach anyone about the subject, so that remained a mystery, for now. He was suspecting someone, tough.
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Sessro had left, or a better term was: had fled the mage. The fear in the man’s eyes were clear and Catcher didn’t think he would return, or of he did, he might not be so forthcoming. Pity, she kinda enjoyed the man’s company, sort of.
After talking with the elf girl, she learned what had happened or what they had seen: After the armor was placed, Catcher stopped moving for some moments and then her hair started turning while, and that’s when the wizard started to scream as if in great pain, until she finally fell into her knees and waked up from whatever was happening. Sessro had tried to move the mage, but she wouldn’t budge and at the yelling and hair occurrence, the man started to pray, for whatever god he believed in.
Well, it was just an illusion. the mage tries her best to believe.
==//==
Being unable to continue working, her mind racing at several possibilities, Catcher decides to take a stroll around the city, to clear her head and breathe some fresh air. She was back on her acolyte robes, with Aersensi trailing just behind. The girl would say something from time to time, but Catcher was distracted, and ended up not paying too much attention to what was being said, only occasionally agreeing with the girl.
Their walking takes then near the wall, the one destroyed by the dragoness and to Catcher’s surprise, Roland was playing the working brute at the construction site.
A smile finally comes to her face as she called out the man ”So, you gave up on killing things to start carrying things?” she says half smiling ”Good to know, you can carry my stuff from now on as well.”
He was not too worried with the contestants, tough. The problem was what to hunt. They had the queen and the prince, but could they take them on? What if one helped the other? Then their doom was certain. Thinking about, he wondered when would the dragon return for some payback, and then he tried to get to know more about what had happened from the workers and the soldiers. Specially, he aimed to find out who was in charge of the attack on the queen. He would be the one who dealt with the Prince.
Diplomacy Gather Info: 1d20 ⇒ 19
In spite of the warrior's valiant attempts to gather information regarding the dragons, he gleaned little more than the attack on the Queen came as a surprise to the populace. Baskets of tribute in the form of gold coins, crafts, and food were ready to be handed over when the hero Griff so suddenly and unexpectedly thrust the Spear of Destiny into the Queen's flank. Suddenly more Wardens and unnamed rogues joined the fray, trying to end the Queen's villainy then and there. With them being no match for the wyrm but having dealt a decisive blow to her sense of security, she retreated with promises of impending doom upon her scaled lips. In her wake she left dead the city's Champion Griff, a number of his fellow Wardens, and dozens of others who may or may have joined the melee against her.
Any mentioning of the "Prince" was met with confusion; no one seemed to know of this other player. Clearly the Prince had done a fine job of fostering subterfuge and skullduggery toward his own ends.
@Gray haired Girl
Roland knew the voice, but he was impressed by the coincidence or annoyed by the perseverance that brought her here. Without letting go of the rope and system of levers he was pulling, he answered to her. "But I've already been carrying you for quite a while now... So what, are you done with your little toy? Or did you come here to tell me you couldn't do it?" He actually thought the later didn't make much sense, so he turned to face her and the mini-her who's always by her side.
Suddenly he noticed it was not her, or maybe it was her, but she was completely different. He had seen illusions like that before, but he didn't understand why was she doing that. He gave the end of the rope to the nearby worker - "Hold this" - and went after the wizard, neverminding the look of confusion and hatred in the now overloaded worker's face. "What?" He grabbed her by the arm and started walking towards there weren't people overhearing. "Why are you under disguise?"
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She opens her mouth to answer when the brutebarian walks down and start dragging her around. At first, she do not understand his question, she had momentarily forgotten about it. She blinks three times in rapid succession, then a quivering sigh as she remembered the illusion. She decides not to pick a fight, and tells him the truth.
”I’m almost finished with the items you and Gromff requested. I’ve finished the sword and the armor today…” she almost dodge the subject but then comes clean ”… it is not a disguise, but magic gone wrong. It happened when I was trying the armor after remodeling it.” and that was it, time to move on and change the subject ”but why are you helping with the construction? Shouldn’t you be preparing for the hunt? Training maybe?”
Gromff pays the scholars well to watch Walker for the night. They seemed harmless if a little over bearing and the building itself, a place of knowledge seemed pull at Walker. He noticed the old man looking at books rather than an aimless direction. He seemed less tense all the time. Must have felt comfortable around books. He'd come back in the morning the next day.
He probably wasn't going to do much better than that after a week of studying so off to the source of all this weirdness. A week of walking back and forth from the temple/library had done wonders on people's reactions. They was less gawking. He goes straight to the Sage's guildhall for the specifics.
"Halt," said a guard at the front gate. He gawks a moment before remembering his practiced lines. "Um. What business do you have with the Sages Guild...uh."
"Dwarf," Gromff finishes. "I'm a dwarf. My name is Gromff Hammerhand and I am a guest o Rik's o that guild behind ye," He says pointing at the structure beyond the gate. The guard is caught off ...well guard enough to look. "Hear there's a Hunt claim the Spear o Destiny. Hope outsiders r welcome ta join cause I'm pretty sure we it more than ye. And I got some info on yer dragon problem."
The priest-scholars of Oghma refuse to accept payment in the form of coin or treasure. They instead request that if the warpriest insists on offering payment, he may write a scroll with lore to be kept at their library; it could be anything ranging from a history of the dwarf's clan/lineage to an account of his life's journey, or maybe ritual and dogma associated with the religion of Moradin. Knowledge from the outside world is more valuable to them than a handful of gold coins.
When Gromff arrived the next day, he found the Walker upon the marble steps in front of the temple, smiling with merriment as a group of children ran by. The morning sunlight warmed his face, not far from the warmth in his eyes that the dwarf had not seen in many weeks. A lingering tension was visible there, though it was a far cry from the man wracked with inner turmoil who had been his traveling companion of late.
Walker turned and gave a thin, gentle smile at the dwarf's approach. He spoke then, one of only a handful of times that Gromff's had ever heard,
"Blessed morning, Gromff. You...you're a good man. Help an old man to his feet and let us find some breakfast. I feel like I could eat a roc."
"Hear there's a Hunt claim the Spear o Destiny. Hope outsiders r welcome ta join cause I'm pretty sure we it more than ye."
The guard looked to his partner who scoffed openly. Turning back to Gromff he looked taken aback.
"That'll be the day. Outsiders take the Spear? Unlikely. We have the finest warriors in the realm. You outsiders don't have to live in the Wilds, and so you'll never be a match for our fighters."" And I got some info on yer dragon problem."
Both of the guards' eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Do you? What do you know?"| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
After reading through just about all of the scriptures and tomes on the goodly gods, he was sure they were up to date. Even more than he was on his own deity. So he decided to pen their adventures so far and the cause for such a journey. If they were lucky, they'd win. If not, then this hidden city would at least know of the dangers of Ultruu.
Gromff avoids the argument about strength. After everything they had accomplished and defeated, he didn't need to justify it to these xenophobic fools. How could they call themselves strong if they rarely left to test that. Truthfully they had skipped most of the wilds so he didn't know what was out there. But they'd killed a dragon. What could the Wild's possibly throw at them.
"That yer champion likely ain't at fault. Now, if'n ye'd let me through, I could tell ye me story and hopefully learn a little return." He looks up at them, hands on his hips and his chest puffed out, just daring them to deny that wasn't worthy of their sage's time.
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What’s up with him? Catcher things as Roland strangely goes silent again, looking lost in thoughts. Well, at least he isn’t bothering me with an “I told you so” because of the armor.
”And, well, sorry about not saying it before but your boots just won’t do.” she says believing the man was aware she was talking about the magic he wants added to his boots ”A cape would be better, easier and cheaper, and we could also use this opportunity to reinforce your armor as well, to give a little bit more of protection. Well, that’s what I did anyway so even if you didn’t like, there’s no turning back now.”
Roland was certain that magic gone wrong was related to the armor and that Scythe. Apparently there was nothing actually bad about her hair, except for the part in which she went from a 16 year old girl to a thirty something woman in that white hair. It was weird, to say the least. He was thinking about the problems that may rise, but the wizard interrupted him. "I am preparing. I'm gathering a lot of information here. There's not much to train against in this city, and we would be better hiding our strength. Otherwise these guys are gonna go all in against us. Do what you can with that money."
"And have you heard anything that might help us? We need to see what Gromff and Veronica learned as well. Let's go." He started walking towards the Inn and Sage's guild, where Gromff should be. "I still don't have a good target on the wilds, aside from the Queen. No one knows about the Prince, and the other dangers of the wild are uncertain. So either we try our luck with the Queen, which by the way was getting tribute from the city until they decided to end her, or we march the untamed lands for all good that might bring us."
The spring winds and rains had been more irregular this season than in years past, at least according to the residents of Crystallus whom the party had come to know over these last few weeks. Most of the populace kept them at arm’s length, but the handful of folk who had become acquaintances-bordering-on-friends were happy to share tales of days gone by, which inevitably included tales of weather.
Crystallus grew its own crops within its perimeter wall due to the dangerous nature of the lands beyond, and so having adequate rain in the sowing season affected the entire year’s crop yield – and by extension, the ability of the populace to eat. Some blamed the recently-thwarted Queen dragon for the weak rains, others chalked it up as “just one of those things” that happened in life.
Whether the weather was being manipulated or was a result of the simple chaos of the skies, it made as strong a comeback as anyone had seen in living memory (at least those of human life expectancy). The kickoff festival of the Great Hunt threatened to be cancelled by the gushing downpour, violent wind gusts, and ever-present lightning. Vendor after vendor began wheeling their carts away from the main square, carrying away a wonderful variety of meats, treats, and crafts to safer places. Protective parents covered their children’s heads from the rain while retreating to nearby businesses or sturdy awnings. Beastmasters and team leaders worked in vain to calm the oxen, mules, and giant lizard beasts-of-burden tied to various wagons filled with supplies for the assembled Hunt teams. Minus those who had opted to recoil from the tempest, many hundreds of people remained clustered in the square, insisting on being present at the historic event.
All in all a day that promised to be a boon of glory and excitement turned out to be one of soaking discomfort, aggravation, though the optimism of people of Crystallus shined through in the end. They needed their Champion, their custodian of the Spear, their icon. Seeing the dozen teams of hardened warriors and magic-users assembled in defiance of the storm was a sight to behold, in spite of the literal dark cloud hanging over the sky.
A magically-enhanced voice cut through the din of the storm, booming out from a wooden dais, from an old woman in full platemail armor surrounded by a dozen guards wearing sky-blue tabards. This was the hero Ardencia Wildmane, local legend, retired Far Ranger, and former Champion of the Spear. Her ‘mane’ had long ago turned to gray but it remained full and wild, whipping in the morning’s wind.
”Citizens! Hunters! Everyone!! This is a day to remember, a day to tell stories of and sing songs about. For the first time in an age, the Spear of Destiny’s Champion will be determined by contest instead of democracy. Our ancestors passed down their traditions and law, and though there has been much debate about the wisdom of this Great Hunt, we will respect the law and go forward with our chins raised high.”
“One week from today our hunters will have returned with their trophies, ready to be perused and examined by all. On that day there can only be one custodian, only one Champion. On that day we will vote for the most fearsome felled foe, and those who defeated the monster shall rejoice. One among their number will be our next Champion of the Spear!”
She paused for dramatic effect. The crowd cheered dutifully and expectedly. A dozen robed men and women emerged from behind the dais, wearing the brown robes of the Sage’s Guild, each holding a translucent blue crystal mounted on a silver base. The foot-high crystals were carefully carried to the assembled hunting parties, leaving one with each group.
”Hunters! These are your beacons. Call upon their magic when you have defeated your chosen foe. The beacons will call forth a party from the city to help you transport the beast back to the city. Be wise in your decision! Ensure that your foe is mighty, and ensure that you have adequate time to carry the foe all the way back to Crystallus.”
“Say your farewells, partake in whatever foods are left here in the market…”, the crowd laughed at this due to the majority of vendors having already fled the storm’s wrath, ”and wish your favorite hunter luck.”
“The hunt begins in one hour!”
Crystallius Mor'drathal wore a iron-clad smile on his rain-wet face, booming with confidence and excitement. He and his friends had dreamt of the glories that the next week offered, but not until recent events did they fathom their chance would come so soon.
The charismatic warrior wasn't all that concerned with the other competitors, knowing that he and his friends were capable of great deeds if put to the test. Hardly deigning to give any group more than a glance, his eyes were somehow drawn to the now-famous outlanders - the smallest group of hunters here assembled. Mighty as some of them appeared, their small number - a child, an venerable old man, a dwarf, and two humans warriors - certainly meant they had no chance, didn't it?
Giving them a last once-over to size them up, something caught his eye that was unsettling - something that struck him to his core -
The massive barbarian warrior wore a ring with the exact same symbol of his own magic ring, handed down by his late mother. Further scrutiny revealed that the gray-haired warrior woman at his side also had the same ring, as did the hearty dwarf!
Something very strange was going on.
After entering the borders of this enigmatic swathe of country called the Untamed Wilds, it quickly became apparent that the name was well-earned. Towering monsters that stood taller than an inn roamed the grasslands, able to devour a man in a single bite. Swarms of hellish biting insects reduced an animal to bones in mere minutes. Tribes of wicked giants made war with drake-riding wild-haired halfings, who appeared to be cannibals if the bone remains at their camps were any indication.
Rugged badlands of redstone offered not a drink or bite to eat for many miles on end, forcing the shaman to use the last of his rations just to stay alive. Sandstorms, wretched swamps, craggy mountain foothills - all have come and gone along the dwarf's path, putting the unfavorable terrain between him and his pursuers.
After putting the "tamed" lands many days behind him, Chiro finally claimed a small cave for himself, one that he had battled and evicted a mighty dire bear for. Having spent a week here he was pleased to discover a nearby river with plentiful fish, likely able to provide both food and drink for the anticipated future.
Just when the dwarf shaman had relaxed himself, somewhat able to believe that he could finally be free of pursuit, a fanfare of distant horns blew in succession. Something was going on, and it was within a relatively close distance.
The days passed and the sound of hammer or magic whispers became routine inside the old workshop. The woman was always busy with something, always pretending not notice things. Once she wouldn’t really notice, but those past days she started to pay attention to others around her, their body language and could already understand and know their most basic intentions.
From day zero, she’d released It to hunt for its own food, not that they were in abundance around, and any mice to be found, fled and scattered after the first couple of days. It would love to think it was due to its might hunting prowess, but the real culprit was the thing the mage was working on.
She worked oblivious to the armor's influence on her surroundings, but It could feel it, as could every other rodent, mice, cat or dog around, and because of that, It was forced to expand its hunting territory. Most of the time, it would just spend the day lazing about around the workshop, while the mage worked on her pet project, well, several other projects, since even the prideful dwarf resorted to asking her for things to be made this time. The strange thing was, the wizard was happy to comply.
And she was distracted enough that It could read through her emotions as well. Deep down, making things with her own hands made the wizard feel useful, and less powerless against everything around her. There wasn't much the woman thought she could do, other than keep moving forward, hoping something would change, and the manual magic work accomplished in the old workshop had the effect of lessening her dullness and indifference. Somehow, she could realize, even if just a bit, that she could change things.
Of course It knew this because he was an outsider looking at her state of mind, the woman was unaware of any of this herself.
But back to hunting habits: The workshop region was a wasteland when it came to hunting game, and It found the surrounding of the Inn in which they resided a better hunting ground. There was the cats as competitors, but It was smarter than any mere mortal cat.
Ever since It had been stripped of its divine spark by the mage unscrupulous and unknowing ritual, many weeks ago, its mind was dull and unfocused. It didn’t knew who, what or where.
Slowly, as the wizard’s control over matters arcane got stronger, and so It recover as well a small portion of its own former glory and power, but it was nowhere enough or close to what It once was.
Once the God of Reptiles, now a simple pet for a mortal woman.
I could get used to this.
This last week had been his most enjoyable in months. The dwarf had been sorely tested. And not just by the zealots that wanted to fan the flame inside of him, literally, but by the terrain itself.
Animals seemed to want him for dinner. Wild halflings wanted to make him the main course. The environment itself wanted to either suffocate him in unbearable heat or sink him in bottomless bogs.
But he survived it all. Driven by the incessant spirit that wanted to make up for his past sins. He had to survive for Chiro knew full well that dying down would only condemn him to Hell, where He would be waiting.
He shook his head to drive away that awful thought while he finished the broiled fish.
No, he had to revert his life so that the Lady view him favorably and give him rest after he passed on.
Finding this cave had been a blessing. Shelter, food, what else could he want? So he rested for some time but he was now restless again. There were no good deeds to be done here. No one to heal. No one to listen to and alleviate their suffering. Chiro would soon set out to look for civilization.
His musing were cut short by the cacophony of sound coming from close by. Strange, he hadn't heard that before but he hadn't explored that part of the forest yet.
He gathered his meager belongings and set out to find out what the raucous was about.
"That yer champion likely ain't at fault. Now, if'n ye'd let me through, I could tell ye me story and hopefully learn a little return." He looks up at them, hands on his hips and his chest puffed out, just daring them to deny that wasn't worthy of their sage's time.
The guards looked at one another, screwing up their eyebrows in concern, finally ending with a look of aggravated defeat.
"Very well then, carry on."|
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Once again, the barbarian ignored anything she said and she didn’t press with her request. If he didn’t want, he didn’t want. They were running out of time anyway.
Back the at the inn, the first thing she notice is Walker change, the man seemed more alive than they’d ever seen him before. ”Hey, what happened to him?” she asks everyone and no one in particular and then finishes ”Well, whatever it was, he seems a lot better than before.”
The last days of preparations passes without any event other than the mage confining herself to the workshop, working late hours and training to her best abilities to get familiar with the armor she modified.
On the event day, she laughs bitterly at the downpour, and take that as signal everything would go their favor, since even the heavens seems to be against them. She is oblivions to the other participants, to tell the truth she doesn’t really care about any of them. To win this great hunt, they could only depend on themselves, so getting worried about what could the others contestants could do was pointless.
Maybe, just to contradict the Barbarian, today, of all days, she isn’t hiding anything. She is clad on the full suit of armor, made from a strange material. At fist glance, it might pass as metal, but closer inspection reveals it is made of something else, but from what, that’s a mystery. She is carrying a infernal looking glaive strapped to her back, and if one have already fought the armies of sin, the weapon one commonly used by the bearded devils. She carries as well a shinning, opulent and matching set of sword and greatsword.
She turn to the others and ask ”Did you find us a good target? I think the Queen and Prince are good choices, but if you have any other in mind.”
Rain was one of things he never could get used to on the surface. Falling water out of thin air? So weird. It was a reminder that there was nothing above him and thus made him paranoid. He stayed firmly under the roof of the inn, somewhere in the middle of the building. "Nay. Queen's the best move. Parrently no one's so much as stood up ta her until their Champion tried ta. Kilt folk just to show off her strength. Bled them dry o resources. She's evil and likely the strongest thing round. Problem is, we gotta find her. And I'd rather not deal wit her son ta do that. So, can we track her somehow? Divine her location? I saw a spell in the temple that might work but I can't cast it meself. Have ta get a scroll."
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”You can give me ta maney if ye want.” She says trying to copy the dwarf accent ”But remember that mindflyer which the other mindflyer killed couple of days back? Well, he was a wizard as well, well, both of them were wizards, but the wizard one that killed the other wizard, and the wizard that was killed left a grimoire, and that grimoire have two very interesting spells…” she stops just to build some tension ”Locate creatures and Scrying!”
”And if we can get some of the Queen’s blood from Rik, it would be very hard for her to resist my spell.”
"Then as soon as ye find her we'll head out," Gromff says, ignoring the jab at his accent. He'd like to see them try and speak dwarven. "Gotta pick up our shiny friends too. They should be good guards for the two o them," he says pointing at Walker and Aersensai.
"...yer hair always white?"
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”White?” she says thinking ”What about silvery grey? That’s a better color, don’t you agree?” I don’t even know if this color exists. she thinks but answers, ”No, happened a couple of days ago, some magic experiment gone wrong, I think.”
”And about finding her, might not be that easy, I don’t have those spells prepared, I can only cast it tomorrow, at earliest. In addition, Scrolls won’t do. They are too easy to resist.”