Throughout the reunion in Feldgrau, while Kazamir was quite proper with his greetings and expressions of gratitude to Vermundr and Constantin, it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. He took the barest moment to give his thanks to the restless spirit that had revealed so much, then he was fumbling out another ornately bound scroll and all but chivying his friends into a circle.
This second scroll was longer, more elaborate, more complex than the first - necessary, Kaz had mentioned, to move their whole group as one. The agitated investigator had needed to force himself to take a few slow breaths before bringing his considerable concentration onto the task. A moment later, in a blur of darkness and silver, the smell of open water washed over them, and the party stood on a low green hill that sloped down to the green waters of Lake Encarthian.
Kaz took a long breath through his nose and gave a wry smile.
"We're upwind from Caliphas proper," he said, pointing east. Past a long, curved, rocky peninsula, dotted with wooden and stone towers, the smoke and haze of the city could be clearly seen, just a couple miles away. ", and the air is MUCH clearer here. Welcome to Caliphas - or near enough."
The smile dropped away from his face as he turned away from the inland sea. A small, whitewashed, single-story cottage sat at the top of the hill, fifteen yards away, a tidy little garden fenced in beside it. Kaz strode nearer, cane in hand clutched not as a walking-stick, but a weapon. He paused ten feet from the door, magically extending his senses, then gave a sharp nod and progressed to the front door. He raised his cane, but the door flew open on its own before he could knock.
Ready for trouble and tragedy as they were, Kaz and his friends all had started and reached for weapons, seeing an ambush...where there was only a small, wiry Ustalavan woman, her iron-grey hair drawn back into a tight bun, a flour-flecked apron over her checked gray dress. Her hands had descended to her hips in the pose of scolding mothers since time immemorial.
"Kazamir Rhuul, your father just whitewashed this door last week. We'll have none of your fancy cane scratching it up because you could not be bothered to knock like a decent person!"
Kazamir's ducked head could not hide his huge smile of relief. eh took his scolding contritely, and stepped forward to catch his mother in a tight hug.
"Mother, please meet my friends," he said, half turning to beckon the party forward."
As you approach the small town of Thrushmoor, you begin to see that the lustre that your view afforded was akin to a wizard's illusion.
The austere town of Thrushmoor marks the northernmost point of the vast Lake Encarthan, and though its sheltered docks and well-used fishing dories suggest nothing more than a community of hardworking seafarers, the frequent storms and rough seas make the old town look worn and rugged.
No amount of care or paint erases the wear upon the spume-blasted docks and mossy quays. While the homes and structures upon the lake show the damage of lashing waves and frequent flooding, those on the higher ground – the territory of the town’s “quality” – posture as the homes of wealthy landowners, with pristine picket fences, sharp gables, and columned facades. While few in Thrushmoor are truly wealthy, the townsfolk go to great lengths to keep up appearances.
In truth Zed is the most comfortable he has been in weeks. But despite things seeming well, there could be something pernicious hiding inside the home. He intends to gain access as quickly as possible to scour the house.
"Oh we're well, we're well! Kazamir I hadn't expected you to visit after your letters, is anything the matter?" she says
Vala remarks at the sight of the shrouded lake, ”What a dreadful place. It’s no surprise Jonathan and his cult would seek to do their dark business here.” She draws her frayed and worn shawl tight around her shoulders and neck, as if it might do something to ward her against the involuntary chill that rolls down her back. Turning to Hazel, she shakes her head. ”I’m not sure, dear. Maybe we should just start with finding lodging and a fire. No miserable hunting lodges this time though! We want a proper inn without secret passages within the walls.”
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"You have a lovely home," the big northerner offers humbly. "You honor us by sharing it with us."
"At this point we have to assume the Way has agents everywhere. We should travel in pairs at a minimum at all times. If Vrood has a master, I dread to think what his magic must be capable of", Vermundr adds darkly.
he party rides into Thrushmoor with a slight sense of trepidation. The people here have a worn-down look but most simply ignore you as you ride by. The streets on the way into the town are busy and bustling with folk coming to and fro from the docks to the series of warehouses that sit close by.
The town sprawls along the lakeshore and upon a handful of soggy islets, it’s buildings – like it’s people – somewhat weatherworn and rugged. However, the presence of boats in the lake and the large open-air fishmarket that just seems to be packing away, leads you to believe there is at least some prosperity in the town.
A rugged group of mercenaries looks down at you from the crumbling tower of a large stone manor house atop a hill that climbs through the centre of town. Though grim-looking, you remain unchallenged. Dismounting in order to enter the town proper, you head off to the stables to secure the horses.
Your horses hooves sounded very loud on the cobbles of the quiet streets, most of the people seemingly either finishing their day’s work at the docks or else at home preparing evening meals. Tying them together and leading them by the nose, you have a chance to pass by several streets of tenement housing, most of which seem occupied and in a reasonable state of repair.
The town reminds you of Ravengro when you first arrived in many ways. The people you pass keep their heads bowed or simply nod without making conversation and a disquiet settles over them when you are in their presence.
Eventually you locate the public stables and as you approach and begin to hear soft cursing from within.
An old hay wain stands just inside the livery stable, its wooden side boards bursting with the load of straw it bears. One of it’s wheels is missing and the wagon leans heavily to one side. A bent old man kneels besides the wagon, struggling to fit a new wheel on the empty axle.
Despite her best intentions, the old man visibly jumps as Hazel speaks up and he half stumbles and half turns, an old masons hammer in one hand.
"Ah! Who- who's that? Oh..... What's wrong with you girl? Sneaking up on folk like that... Nearly gave me a a heart-stop..." he says, looking annoyed and then somewhat relieved.
He tosses the hammer down into his tool box.
"Blasted wheel. Broke on the way to town. It's Mrs Spriggot's, you know her? Old dragon. Never forgave me for breaking her heart about 50 years ago haha. Oh, she'll take pleasure in tearing strips out of me when I can't get this fixed."
Loaded with straw as it is, the hay wain is extremely heavy. Vermundr and Hazel strain against it, his tendons protruding like cords on their arms and neck but with the help of a length of wood, manage to lift the thing off the ground whilst Kazamir tries to secure the wheel. It appears as though the axle is somewhat worn and the hub of the wheel is not a perfect fit. The investigator has to jimmy it to get it in place and even then it won't turn smoothly but the hard work is done.
"My thanks, folks." he says with a thickly accented voice. "Yer after stablin' o' course. Well we can take care o' that. Where you lot frum?"
Vala, about to cut in, isn't quick enough to beat Hazel to answering the man's question, but the former historian shoots the young Desnan a subtle but approving nod.
Vermundr wipes his hands clean once the task is done. "Someplace to get a hot meal would be a good start."
Zed looms quietly, casing the area. This town had all the signs of people fallen on hard times, and he wouldn't put it past them to set up an old man in need in order to ambush newcomers for their coin purses.
"Aye, plenty o' room fer yer nags." the man replies, looking at the mostly empty stalls. "Only a coupla piebalds in atta moment. Been busier though, some strange folks around visitin."
"Hmmm... you might wanna try the Maiden's Kiss. Nice enough place, clean ya know. But friendly word of advice, I'd keep to yourself." he says, leaning into Hazel as if whispering a secret. "Thrushmore is kinda a private place ya know, folks like to keep to their own. So they might not like you... oh I dunno.... actin' like tourists, or makin' out that some places are better than others, or whatever. Ain't much here to visit truth be told."
"Well, I remember some odd fellas. Damn near scared my horses to death. Came in here a coupla days ago, shoutin' an' hissen. They never made threats but they was the kinda folks who don't need to, yer know what I mean? Anyways, they paid gold fer fresh horses and rode outta here like hell wus on their tail." he says, scratching at his forearm.
"Well, it's right over there..." the old man points back out the door and Hazel cannot help but turn her head in the direction he indicates.
The man continues to fiddle with something at his forearm and Kazamir begins to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The old man is amiable enough and seems perfectly willing to share the information he has about the dark riders. So why does Kazamir suddenly feel so disquieted.
And then he realises.
The old man wears something on his arm beneath the heavy workcoat, some kind of contraption.
He knows! the old man thinks and then, as quick as a flash, quicker than Kaz could have ever thought possible, he rips a wicked looking blade from a malfunctioning spring-loaded sheath on his wrist and, like a striking viper, lashes it toward Hazel's throat!
"It doesn't matter where it is, you'll never see it! Auren Vrood sends his regards!"
The knife is nothing more than a glint of light and though the man is fast, Kaz' instincts are just as fast.
Confirmed
The small blade lashes out and gashes Hazel across the throat before she even knows what's happening.
The cut is not as deep as it could have been as Hazel jerks to one side.
Suddenly the bales of hay on the wain topple to one side and a hidden creature reveals itself, a horrid long-limbed ghoul with a hungry look in it's eye.
Kaz's mind flashes through the tortorous sequences of thought tied to bodily motion, and he attemtps to halt the assassin in his tracks.
Kazamir narrows his eyes and overhwhelms the man's psyche, imagining weights baring down on him that affect him physically, rooting him to the spot.
Success
13
14
Fail
The wouldbe assassin struggles against Kaz' mighty mental prowess but is unable to shake off the effect.
Miss
Miss
A pair of long-limbed gangling ghouls burst out of the hay wain and snap at Hazel and Zed but both easily avoid the attacks.
What are these paltry foes. Zed pushes back the ghoul with his shoulder, then brings around his tetsubo with two quick crushing blows.
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KAzamir draws his blade and moves around the wagon, eyes studying the ghoul beside Hazel.
Cursing in surprise, Vermundr rushes forward to club the bound assassin with a huge fist.
Constantin flattens himself against the wall so that Vala can move past him if needed to assist Hazel closer to the front. He turns and unleashes a blast of etheric force, augmented by his formidable psyche, against the ghoul that's attacking Hazel.
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Vala's eyes widen in surprise as the arc of crimson leaps from Hazel's neck and she fears the worst for a moment, but her fear turns to a smirk as Hazel simply brings her free hand up to the wound and gives back as good as she got.
Shaking her head, Vala scoffs. "Auren Vrood sends his regards? You poor, wretched thing. Auren Vrood is little more than a stain on the ground now." She then floats up above the toppled wagon, her tattered shawl flapping behind her in the breeze off the lake like a pair of torn, diaphanous wings.
"No, it is you who will have the opportunity to give our greetings to him." She gestures as if to punctuate her statement, and a crackling roar and flash of lightning erupts between two of their foes.
HP: 57/57
Negative Energy Resist 5
AC: 14 (10 T / 14 FF)
CMD: 16
F/R/W: +7/+4/+13 (+2 vs death effects, energy drain, negative energy, & necromancy)
Monstrous Insight used: 0/7
Healing Hex targets:
Bone Ward targets:
Current Wandering Spirit: Bones
Prepared spells
Orisons (4) | DC 15: dancing lights, disrupt undead, identify, read magic
Level 1 spells (4+2+1*) | DC 17: inflict light wounds [ ], know the enemy* [ ], magic missile [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ], produce flame (CL7) [ ]
Level 2 spells (4+1+1*) | DC 18: bull's strength [ ], false life*[ ], spiritual weapon [ ] [ ] [ ]
Level 3 spells (3+1+1*) | DC 19: fly [ ], lightning bolt [ ] [ ], locate object* [ ], spiritual weapon (toppling) [ ]
Level 4 spells (2+1+1*) | DC 20: ball lightning [ ], fear* [ ], greater magic weapon [ ], spiritual ally [ ]
Level 5 spells (1+1+1*) | DC 21: dispel evil [ ], lightning arc [X], slay living* [ ]
Ongoing Effects
Success
Fail
Zed smashes one of the ghouls with a wicked blow while Vermundr aims a punch at the frozen man but, off balance, swings at the air. Constantin unleashes a barrage of psychic energy that rips at the ghouls while Vala's mighty lightning turns them to ash. Hazel retaliates with a slicing throw of her starknife.
The old man remains rigidly frozen in place.