"HEY STOP STOMPING OFF!!" Oz shouts behind Ruhk and walks back up to him. "You shouldn't be so angry, who knows what would have happened if he (Oz points at the unconscious man)got that staff, we'd all likely be dead, trust me when I say this, everyone is grateful that you are holding that staff rather him, if you really wish to learn magic, you must learn to be patient you cannot be so angry and I am sure those who cast you out will understand their mistake when your deeds of greatness spread, I am pretty sure Arikor atleast will be singing about this anyway once he has a few drinks! It will take time to sink in but you're the Blackstaff and what ever is in your head is now yours. Take it for what it is a gift."
With that Oz stomps off in front of Ruhk and says "See how ridiculous I look! Hahah!" STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!As he impersonates Ruhk with a huge grin on his face.
"I was cast out ber being something I wasn't, and now my only goal is to become that which I was not, to give my exile meaning...and now that I have almost reached that point...it doesn't feel any better, the taste is still as bitter!"
Imzel speaks calmly once the others have pointed out what she can only expect is a terrible burden. "Chosen or not, you now are bearer of ze staff. If magic is somethingk you wish to pursue..." The masked face turns to the Northman, "Zen I am believingk there is more than enough knowledge amongst us to be teachingk you."
She then follows the others, leaving the gear stripping for the others. She has no interest in their blades or armor.
Danate looks at others as he rubs his head. The hit from... this energy had done something else, but not sure what, but he felt little bit bad and would need to sleep to feel better. Sighing and listening talking between alchemist and warrior, Danate shake his head Oz is right about that, but I would say that in the end is your decision Ruhk. I am not the best teacher or nor even qualified yet. I am also in starting point to learn all this stuff, but I believe that at least I can teach you more than you could know at this moment or maybe... that you already know, but you need to control it. I may only offer my help. I didn't born with that body, I didn't born with other people... I always studied myself and had to look around me for danger and running away. I hope that mistake will not happen with you and I can at least fasten your learning
Arikor holds a hand to his lips as he gives a small chuckle - watching them all talk to him, tease him, and otherwise try to convince him of what he should do, and nothing further, he moves to Ruhk, and shakes his head. He puts his hand to his back, and moves to take him aside.
"Listen. Do not allow them to sway your decision. Remember that they don't have to live with it, only you have to. You make your choices, and then we'll talk about what you want to do. If you choose to learn the ways of arcane magic, then we can help you. If not, then we can figure something out, alright, Ruhk?
"But for the time being, liven up - we've slain creatures of pure darkness, and come out with only a few wounds as a result. Think of the tales you'll be able to spread! Especially when you took the staff from the man doing the ritual! Imagine how people will laugh at the irony!"
He winks firmly, a smile on his own face, and moves to gracefully walk ahead of the entire group, humming a tune.
For his part, Valen stays silent when it comes to Ruhk, though he can't help but chuckle at Oz's impersonation, as the tension in the air is broken.
The rains continue to drive down as the party makes it way through the forested paths back to the Twisted Tower of Ashaba. You can already see that the number of soldiers garbed in the green and silver of Lord Falconhand have made their way in from the woods, a number of them carrying boys and quivers of arrows. firelight glows in each of the guard towers.
The captive cleric is stripped of his gear and robed in roughspun smock, two guards take him from Ruhk and cart the unconscious villain down to the cells below. He is locked chained to a wall in one of the southern cells. The Drow prisoner is slumped against the wall of a nearby cell, still knocked out cold from his ealier battle.
Observing the two prisoners, Valen lets out a long sigh, "It looks as though you'll have to wait for your chat, Arikor." He turns and heads back towards the stairwell to upstairs, "These curs will keep for a night friends, we've them under heavy guard. Come now, Some of the servants will show you to your rooms,"
The Twisted tower rises in the darkness, the rain falling down, turning the field to a muddy mess.
Each of you are led through the halls of the Tower and to the second floor and are shown to a small but classically furnished room. A soft red carpet is lain down over the hardwood floor, an oaken bed with a feather stuffed mattress rests to one side and a small desk and chair sit in a corner.
After being led back to the tower, Arikor relaxes. He finds his room fitting, but only stay long enough to change into a different set of noble-appearing clothing, and sneaks down to the main room, where they'd waited the Lord earlier that same evening.
He brings with him his blade, tonight, and takes a moment to draw it from its sheathe, inspecting the edge, and the runes along it. He runs his hand down the edge, and brings the only one to life that he can activate, and sighs. He watches the aura of frost cover the blade, and inspects it further, after setting it back into his lap. He lays it there for a moment as he leans back in the seat, staring.
I heard you. I know I did. My mind is sharper than my ears, and if it wasn't you, it was one of my own. Speak to me, if you can - I know nothing of your silence, other than the Weave be weaker than norm. If you can, just speak.
He smiles, and deactivates the frost with a whisper, but lets the rune stay lit. If noticed, he appears to treat it as one might a friend of deepest connections, who you could trust to take a blade for you. His eyes are half-lidded, and he just stares.
Before heading to his room Ruhk displays the unholy symbol taken from the cleric.
"Anyone know what the villian was about? Who does he bend knee to?"
Imzel quietly excuses herself to her room, the small fox following closely behind. The witch knows she must rest and regain her mental acuity to prepare spells for the next day. The prisoners can wait.
"I bid you all a good rest. I shall be seeingk you in the morningk..."
And maybe then, I'll know what to do next. she thinks to herself.
"Maybe he has some sort of symbol amongst his gear, other than that I can not say." Oz ponders the day before look towards Valen "Can we get a message to Gareth to see if he can identify the dagger, it's not urgent but I think he needs, I am going to bed for now I am dog tired with all that running." Oz slides off to bed.
Valen takes the holy symbol from Ruhk at the gate to the keep, and inspected it. "The black sun with the purple circle is a symbol of Shar, but the rest of it.. I don't know. I'll pass it along to Lord Azalar." the symbol is a black circle ringed in purple, but there's solid black sword runs itself through the center, with an eye carved in the middle of it all.
Pocketing the symbol, he nods to Ozwald, "Again I will pass the request to Master Azalar, but the hour is beyond late so it may be best to wait until the morning."
As everyone retires to their rooms and bids each other goodnight, Arikor heads down to the den where they first met Lord Azalar. Holding the blade he gives it a few experimental swipes and waits for the blade to answer...
...but there is only silence.
Arikor slumps into a plush armchair, holding the blood vertically in front of him, and waits for an answer...
...but there is only silence.
as the minutes creep by his eyes go heavy, he lays the sword across his lap and leans back in the chair, hoping for an answer.
... but there is only silence.
As sleep overtakes him, just before he passes into the oblivion of dream, Arikor hears a voice, just past his perception, like that of an old and stern grandfather.
When you're ready boy, when you're ready.
and then he sleeps.
The sun crests over the eastern horizon with a startling brilliance. As bright a day as the night was dark. the larks sing and the dew and rains of the last night dry up in the morning heat.
Within the walls of the Twisted Tower, the smells of bacon, eggs and other foods waft through the halls, following the the scents would bring one to a small dining room on the Keep's second floor, where Lord Azalar sits at the head of a wooden table with trenchers of fresh bacon, eggs and potatoes set out for each of you.
Anyone who enters is greeted by Lord Azalar, who's still dressed in his nightshirt, with a smile and a wave to the table, but keen eyes will also notice that for the seven of you, the table is two plates short.
Glancing down you see the cause of Lord Azalar's limp. One of his leg's is made of solid stone.
"Mornin' m'lord, good to see food, it was a hectic night, and I've an appetite for three men, and dawnfry is just what I've been needn'."
Ruhk sits down without preamble and begins to devour everything he can get his hands on, never having been much for ceremony or decorum.
"Ha, yes so Valen told me," Azalar commented as he munched on a piece of bacon, "Help yourself, there's plenty more in the kitchen. When the others arrive, there is much to talk about."
Ruhk eats heartily, cleaning his plate as the expression goes, now and again he looks up at the lord while he munches.
After a particularly deep swallow of whatever they are serving to drink He manages to speak a little.
"Yes, dok-alfar, mad bandits, wizards, clerics of Shaar, rituals, being named Elminsters successor, seeing old men who nobody else can see, it was a full night."
At that Ruhk looks over at the blackstaff, leaning against the wall within arms reach.
"So, any reasons why there are so few seats? There's not enough room for all of us, especially not with Valen and...erm...his friend."
Arikor wakes up to memories of his passing out, and smiles to himself. He nods, as if in acceptance, and sheathes the weapon in the morn - it's here he smells a fresh meal. To those who saw him the other night, he seems happier than he had been.
He moves to the middle of the table, and proceeds to take his seat, bowing to the Lord and acknowledging Ruhk before doing so.
"Seems to me we will be excusing some others this morning. Hope your evening fared better, milord?"
Perception
Danate moves next to table and sit to one of the free chairs as he begins to gather food to his plate. Thinking through his morning study, there was something odd with the book... more pages were filled with writing which was odd.
Ignoring it though since stomach growling, he begun to eat and gathered as much as possible to his plate.
Imzel arrives, fully dressed in her traveling clothes but with a mask. Arget follows quietly at her feet. "Good morningk to you all." Her eyes gaze across the food. "My lord, you are beingk a generous host. Thank you."
Oz sit bolt up right as he sniffs the bacon on the air. "I am starving"
As he gets dressed and tidies himself he makes his way down to breakfast.
Perception:
"Hmmm a stone leg, wonder how that happened, maybe I can take a look later."
"Good morning everyone, M'lord, Madam" With all his manners spent on greetings Oz sits down and start shovelling food in to his mouth.
with a full mouth "Aneh nuwz?"
"Actually, I believe you've been named Khelben's successor." Lord Azalar remarks to Ruhk as the others start to enter the dinning room, "But I'm not expert on matter arcane."
As the others file in and start to dine, Azalar acknowledges the first of their repeated queries, "given the turn of last night's events, Young Valen and Sera decided to continue on towards Myth Drannor immediately. In fact they didn't even stay the night." he takes another bite of sausage and then dabs his mouth with the end of his handkerchief, "Still, he did take the time to secure something for you all, through Sera's magics I believe. Really I suppose its as good of a place as any to start...."
with that he draws a scroll case from the floor and pulls the cap from it, drawing out a long piece of parchment, and passes it around the table for everyone to read.
Let it be known that on this, the 11th of Tarsakh 1395 DR, by the word of his Royal Highness Azoun, 5th of his name and King of Cormyr and all her protectorates, hereby names the bearers of this charter as THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE, and grants them the right to bear arms within the territories and protectorates of Cormyr the Forest Kingdom.
This Company, THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE, are hereby expected to work within the best interests the Kingdom of Cormyr. Know that by this good and true document that the bearers of this charter are entitled by the crown of Cormyr to bear arms within the lands under our writ and hand.
Furthermore, THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE are requested to investigate and aid the protectorates of the Dalelands and the Kingdom of Cormyr, to the best of their abilities and judgement.
CHARTER MEMBERS
Arikor of Shadowdale
Ozwald D'Han of Shadowdale
Imzel Stayanoga of Rashemen
Danate of Damara
Ruhk the Blackstaff
Jack-a-Blades
signed by
KING AZOUN V, Ruler and Protector of Cormyr, Lord of Suzail, High Admiral of the Dragon Fleet and Lord High Commander of the Purple Dragon Knights
Witnessed by
LADY ELLISA CORMAERIL, War Wizard of Cormyr and Council to the Crown of Cormyr
Lord Azalar waits a moment for everyone to read the parchment and to let it sink in. "First of all, I will tell you up front. None of you need to sign this. It is an offer, nothing more. With that said. Where shall we begin?"
Ruhk reads the document with a frown that slowly turns into a scowl. As he passes it to the next person in line he turns to lord Azalar.
"No mere "scout" could have secured such a document, no mere scout could have the ear of a king to the point he could convince him that a bunch of rag-tag adventures should be chartered...I knew there was more to him than that. Also...who is this "Jack" And what happened to the dwarf?"
As always when he is irritated, Ruhk slowly runs a finger along the scar on his face, growling a little.
"I'm not signing anything until I know what is going on...that's for sure!" After speaking his mind, Ruhk sullenly turns back to eating.
Imzel purses her lips as she reads over the document, before passing it onward. She is silent and distant until the lord speaks. "It is beingk an honor my lord..but my first duty is beingk to my sisters and my homeland. To sign such a document may doom me to be breakingk from it in the future."
what happened to the dwarf?"
"Eh... the Dwarf? oh my gods. Knew we should have waited till the morn." Azalar motions for a page to bring him a quill and ink, takes the parchment and pens Glorgrim's name to the page in one of the few blank spaces.
Let it be known that on this, the 11th of Tarsakh 1395 DR, by the word of his Royal Highness Azoun, 5th of his name and King of Cormyr and all her protectorates, hereby names the bearers of this charter as THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE, and grants them the right to bear arms within the territories and protectorates of Cormyr the Forest Kingdom.
This Company, THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE, are hereby expected to work within the best interests the Kingdom of Cormyr. Know that by this good and true document that the bearers of this charter are entitled by the crown of Cormyr to bear arms within the lands under our writ and hand.
Furthermore, THE SWORDS OF SHADOWDALE are requested to investigate and aid the protectorates of the Dalelands and the Kingdom of Cormyr, to the best of their abilities and judgement.
CHARTER MEMBERS
Arikor of Shadowdale
Ozwald D'Han of Shadowdale
Imzel Stayanoga of Rashemen
Danate of Damara
Ruhk the Blackstaff
Glorgrim Aeft of Daggerdale
Jack-a-Blades
signed by
KING AZOUN V, Ruler and Protector of Cormyr, Lord of Suzail,...
Azalar smiles to Imzel first, "I understand my dear, but do not take this paper for more or less than it is. Adventurers are often chartered within Cormyr and her lands, all this charter truly does is give you the permission to bear arms within Cormyr's borders. An act that is in fact otherwise illegal unless defending oneself. Nothing requires you to stay with this group, within Cormyr or anything else that you do not desire for any longer than you wish."
On Ruhk's outburst, Azalar turns a knowing smile to the man, his tone is congenial, a little amused, but none the less it is firm. "My you are astute, perhaps there is more to your new title than mere happestance." he leans forward, steepling his hands in front of him, "None the less, you are at my table, under my roof and enjoying my hospitality. It is possible to ask questions and still act politely." He lets that hang for a moment, before letting the matter drop. "Jack-a-Blades is a pseudonym, a sort of catch all. The rights and privileges of this charter only extend to those who are named upon it and have signed it. having 'Jack-a-Blades' on the page allows you to extend those benefits to anyone who may join with you in the future, until such time as you can have the charter officially altered."
"As for securing the document... transporting a parchment through magical means is a fairly simple task, from what I understand..." he leans back in his chair, his fingers still pressed together and his smile, seems almost proud. "But you are right, no mere scout would have a King's ear to process something in the dead of night. But Valen is no scout. He also does not have the King's ear. For that matter, he is not Valen."
chuckling a little to his own confusing words, Lord Azalar clarifies. "Valen is King Azoun the fifth, ruler of Cormyr."
After being (rightfully) chastised by the lord, Ruhk manages to lose the scowl with a visible effort, turning from angry and glowering to guarded neutrality. He can't resist muttering under his breath however. "For a northman, this IS polite
He then turns back to the lord, a look of triumph in his eyes, clearly more pleased that he was right than shocked at just HOW right he was.
"The king get's around then, I guess that makes...erm...Sera was it, his royal wizard or something eh? Imagine that, a king who wants to travel the lands under a nom de guerre and all."
Eating and listening same time talking of people, Danate kept quiet, but when it calmed down little bit, he spoke I will sign. I would be fool to not take advantage of this. What I mean is that I am able to wield my sword or dagger when I need it as well use my spells. I had to keep running most of time and will still do it, but this will let me use my skills, when required
Remembering, something and looking at Imzel Ah, I remember that we had from yesterday some scrolls and a book you mentioned. May I take a look and see them? They might contain something useful. I... not wanting to sound bragging or even highty-and-mighty, but could teach them later, if others want? I am not exactly sure how it will be since... I noticed we are using different kind of approach with magic as he clearly falls to his though and thinks recent happenings
Spellcraft 2
Spellcraft 3
Spellcraft 4
Arikor pleasantly smiles at the great irony in all of this - not a night ago he'd ordered a king around as if it were nothing! He almost laughs, but chuckles lightly instead.
As he receives the document, Arikor reads it entirely. It's almost without any speaking, any hesitation, that he readily signs the document, in Elven script. It's not fancy, but it is elegant in every letter he writes, only to put the inkpen back, and pass it along.
"Let it be known, that I, Arikor of House Ghymn'Ousseannia, have signed this charter, and am bound by it. I will do all in my power to protect the people of these lands.
"I have only a few questions, some of which are of little importance, some of great depth. What was King Azoun doing in these parts on his own? Happening to come to visit you seems fair, but there is always a deeper meaning.
"Also, Lord Azalar, did they speak of Myth Drannor, or why they might send themselves there? 'Tis dangerous last I heard, what with Cormanthor being overrun. And, one more, if you'll allow it.
"What is Sera's ties to the king?" This one has a little weight to it. It's as if he suspects a possibility of darker works - not that the drow had anything to do with it.
Oz swallows what he is chewing "King?... He could have said so."Oz looks over the document briefly... and then signs it without so much as blinking "Swords of Shadowdale sounds good, catchy! and then bites into a bit of bread he had absent mindedly been dunking in something.
"What is Sera's ties to the king?"
After a chew and a swallow.
"She signed the charter too, she is LADY ELLISA CORMAERIL, War Wizard of Cormyr and Council to the Crown of Cormyr emphasis on "council", it appears King Valen's not the only one running Cormyr using a nom de guerre.
Azalar nods towards Oz in affirmation, "Sera was a fake name as well, she's one of Azoun's War Wizards, her family had ties once to the country's nobility, though they were exiled when Azoun was a babe."
He turns toward Arikor and Ruhk, "In truth I was as surprised as any to see Azoun's arrival here. In private he asked me to keep his secret and told me that he and Ellisa were travelling in secret to Myth Drannor." he does cock his head a little quizically when Arikor asks of the City of Song's safety, "The Elves reclaimed Myth Drannor almost a decade before the Spellplague, I'm sure it still poses its dangers, but its become one of the Elves stronger nations. As to why Azoun travels there...."
Azalar can only offer a shrug, "I am simply a country Lord, I'm not privy to all information."
Imzel relaxes as the charter is explained. She's not used to this form of governance. "I understand." She considers, chewing a bite of her meal. "I am willingk to join, if it is to unravel this mystery."
She turns to Danate. "I have not been beingk able to study ze book. We arrived late in ze night, and I required rest before communingk with ze land. Perhaps after we have eaten, da?" A hand motions to the scrolls, "It is a pity, but my arcana is beingk different than what you are beingk trained it. I am beingk unsure of our alchemist, but for my sake I am feelingk it may necessary to split ze scrolls between us."
"So what of us, do we follow the king or do you have something else planned for us? I am not entirely convinced tha this will end so simply."
"As for those things my grandfather said that it's easier for alchemists to learn from wizards than the other way round it has something to do with our formulas I suspect"
Ruhk chews thoughtfully for a moment before asking outloud. "This "Khelben" man, what was his family name?"
Arikor pauses as Ruhk asks, and gives a smile.
"That man was named Khelben 'Blackstaff' Arunsun, and he is one of many great magi in our time. His power was augmented by his icon, the Blackstaff, which is a good guess to what you now hold.
"So! Sera is the Lady. Some things are not so apparent, and could be hidden in the obvious! I say we should probably find out why they're heading to Myth Drannor, but these recent attacks on Shadowdale speak of future hits. Might it be suggested that we search for a path to the Underdark nearby? If we could undo it, we could stop future attacks on this place, and the Dalelands in general - and if there's nothing to be found, we simply find another action to take.
"It is good to recall that we reclaimed Myth Drannor in the past years. It makes me yearn to see it, though it may not be time. But! These are my suggestions, so in the meantime - I say we eat and relax."
With this said, Arikor does indeed appear to do as such, leaning back.
"One more thing, milord - might I peruse your library? I might find such tales to speak of to further inspire our cause..."
Ruhk nods at Arikor when he answers his question, then he takes the chapter and makes an addition so that it now reads Ruhk the Blackstaff Arunsun. After that little change he signs the charter and goes back to eating.
"Right, guess I have a family name again then."
"If King Azoun had some greater purpose in mind for you," Azalar responds after taking another bite of sausage, "He did not inform me of it. As far as I know you are free to do as you please. The King's business in Myth Drannor is surely a political one, with the Netherese to his nation's east and Sembia speaking of War in the West, as well as all the so called typical intrigue going on within their own borders."
He quietly eats his breakfast, listening to this strange group, speaking up first at Arikor's question of the Underdark, "Ha, are you kidding me lad, the lands are riddled with them, why I've one in my basement!" he laughs, "Er... sealed of course. What intrigues me more of these Drow were that they were working with humans, odd indeed."
The Lord shrugs, finishing his breakfast, "I have no actual library good Elf, but the books in my Solar are open to you, And you may wish to consult around the village for information and rumor. For now though, I will leave you to it," and with that the Lord of Shadowdale leaves this new Adventuring Party to decide upon their next path.
"Hrmmm...This isn't what I expected when I came to Shadowdale, is it always this busy here? Ah well, what I want to do now is to make some sense of all this "lore" swimming around in my thick skull..."
Ruhk shrugs and goes back to eating, waiting for someone else to make some plans that he can agree or disagree with.
Imzel finishes her meal, and nods politely as the Lord excuses himself. "Many unanswered questions there are beingk." she comments to Ruhk. "But I am certain we can be findingk the answers to some of zem, dah?" She looks to the others, waiting to hear their take.
Arikor excuses himself for a moment, bowing gently to his compatriots, and leaving the room to head towards the Solar - and makes his intent clear on his leaving the room. It's here he begins to research a great many things, and searches for very, very specific books and subjects.
Amongst them is lore of moonblades, legendary tales of the Sisters of Selune, a guide to dueling with a one-handed weapon, and, if he can find it, a book containing histories of the families in Shadowdale.
He doubts he'll find half of anything he's actually searching for, but he seats himself comfortably after pulling probably ten to fifteen books, and begins doing research.
It takes Arikor hours to comb through the various books, tomes and pamphlets, and what he finds is sparse at best.
On Moonblades, he finds almost nothing, there is however mention in a Journal written by Mourngrym, Lord of Shadowdale, of a Half-Elf named Arilyn Moonblade who passed through Shadowdale and chose to duel Florin Flaconhand for sport, the entry goes on to say that the two battled to a draw, finally collapsing in the grass from sheer exhaustion. However it reveals little of the Moonblade's origin, purpose or powers. In truth Arikor's not surprised by this, the Moonblades were one of Elven kinds greater secrets.
He finds no specific manual on dueling, but does find a manual on Swordsmanship that touches on various styles.
He finds one book that details the various Gods associated with the Nine, Selune being one of their most important deities, the Tome holds various tenets of her faith and makes reference to her ongoing battle with the Goddess Shar. Further reading tells that Selune shared this enmity of Shar with the Goddess Mystra before her death.
His search for families within Shadowdale is much more successful, though not as contained as Arikor might hope, there is however a highly organized chest containing records of Shadowdale's residents for at least a century.
Meanwhile the rest of the party enjoys their breakfast, though Ruhk's thoughts keep drifting to the Staff perched against the wall, and Imzel's mind keeps coming back to the small blue book she rescued.
Imzel finishes her meal, and once the table is cleared, reaches for her pack. The scrolls are put forth. "We should be dividing these up, dah?" she states. A finger taps one, which the others w "Zis is beingk the only one I have use or desire for. It is known as 'Identify'. Zis is Cat's Grace and zis is Mage Armor." A finger taps the other two where appropriate.
She pauses, looking in the backpack, an eyebrow raising. The blue book retrieved earlier is withdrawn, a hand running over the cover. "And zis....zis we should be taking some time to be readingk, dah?" The cover is opened, and Imzel begins to look carefully over the pages.
Ruhk furrows his brow and looks at the staff again, a true mystery, having owned it for just over a day now, yet it already feels like a part of him.
He reaches out and begins to stroke the wood, feeling the craftsmanship, admiring it, it is indeed a good weapon, but there must be more to it than that...
"What about the dagger? Should we return it to the innkeeper? He was holding it I think?"
As Imzel flips open the small blue, leatherbound book, her eyes skim across the first sentence.
This is the journal of Elminster Aumar, Sage of Shadowdale, written in the Year of the Vindicated Warrior, 1383 DR.
Again I spoke with The Blackstaff today, he traveled from his Tower in the City of Sails. He has had the same dreams as I. A tragedy is coming, and there is nothing that we may do to prevent it.[/i]
It is strange, but not all of the words make sense Imzel, Elminster seems to change languages on the fly, at times it seems gibberish, but the then passages seem to rewrite themselves, allowing you access, though how or for what purpose, you cannot say.
The 3rd day of Alturiak, in The Year of the Vindicated Warrior, 1383 DR
Khelben and I convened again, and we hid the Blackstaff underneath my Tower, now only Khelben's chosen heir can attain it, though the crotchety fool won't tell me who that is! ... Not that I can blame him, I have seen many things in my time, but I can not imagine how it must feel to know when you will die...
Continuing on Imzel finds another entry.
24th of Alturiak, in The Year of the Vindicated Warrior, 1383 DR
The plan is in motion, the Staff and Dagger have been planted, all that remains is this book. By now Khelben will have already departed Waterdeep for Cormyr, and I will leave to see Lady Ilsevele in Myth Drannor. Each of us will travel by foot and hoof, no magic for these old fools... not this time. But with any luck we'll put to motion everything that is needed to save this world. Er... make that a lot of luck."
Arikor continues to do his research late into the night. If anyone enters the Solar, they find the elf actually weary as he does his searching, seven books at a time. They all relate to magic, and Shadowdale, and he seems to be unable to find the exact nature of his search - though he expects it.
With a long sigh, he moves to the chest he'd found, and begins to search through it - here he searches for information on the few members of his group that have lived in Shadowdale, and Elminster, and perhaps his own! There he may find something of use, and not become empty-handed for all of his research.
"Maybe I'm not meant to read books for my answers..." he speaks aloud to himself - somewhat at his moonblade. "Maybe I'm supposed to go with it. But... this book seems good."
He particularly takes his time reading the article on Arilyn Moonblade, and reads it all the way through - but only after he's done with the chest, and has cleaned up his little workstation.
Imzel seems lost in the book, stopping to read some full pages only to furrow her brow and move forward by leaps and a bounds. She stops on one passage, before Ruhk inquires about the dagger. The woman frowns, closing the book.
"Dah, we must be gettingk the dagger...quickly. It is being tied to your inheritence." The witch nods toward the staff.
"Dah, we must be gettingk the dagger...quickly. It is being tied to your inheritence."
To further explain this, Imzel shows Ruhk the pages in the journal, and he to finds that only those certain passages seem legible, those same ones that Imzel herself could read.
Arikor, finding nothing in his studies but that one book, puts everything away, and stretches from his long time in the Solar. It's here he smiles, and heads back down to his companions, and approaches them both.
"Well, if you're ready, we can prepare to leave now - I think it best while we're aware of everything today, we begin anew and start moving. As we know the king of Cormyr is heading with one attendant northbound to Myth Drannor, I suggest we follow them - if our friends the drow are this desperate to find everything here, who knows what they could do to those two?"
"If you're not fond of that decision, I do recall the Blackstaff having spent time in Waterdeep, and we can prepare an expedition over that way if it so suits you. That walk is long and arduous, but it could be healthy. What do you both think?"
Here Arikor has already armed up, and appears as those spirited by some hidden cause, and his stance is more pronounced than usual. His eyes are aglitter with anxiety, but he awaits the answer of his companions.
Ruhk nods as he reads the pages Imzel indicates, and then he pulls out the dagger from his belt. He examines it carefully, trying to see if there is anything significant about it, something lodged in his head along with all the new lore.
After a little contemplation he nods again. "Listen, I'm not trying to make myself the leader here...well maybe I am a little, but I say we follow the king, Myth Drannor might hold a lot of answers to many things, amongst which maybe we can find out why the "chosen heir of the Blackstaff" turns out to be a Northman with no magic of his own yet."
With their path decided, the Swords of Shadowdale split up to make their preparations for their journey west. They spend the rest of the day, and subsequent night. That evening one last meeting is held between the party and Lord Azalar to finalize any last minute arrangements. In the end it was decided that Danate and Oz would remain in Shadowdale, to keep an eye on the village for any more strange happenings, while Glorgrim would venture to the East towards the Dwarven holdings, to seek news of any strange activity there.
The next day Ruhk, Arikor and Imzel gather in the courtyard of the Twisted Tower, when Lord Azalar approaches them, "Before you leave, my men retrieved a poor soul from the Forest, brutally beaten, near death, he was delirious at the time. He's resting now at the Old Skull. I mention this because he spoke one word last night, Drow."
"Humph, the damned Dock-alfar is everywhere, scurrying around underground like maggots in a corpse, we should cut them out I say...let's go to Old Skull, we can see what he knows, plus we can ask if the innkeeper wants the dagger back or not."
Last Night
You were relieved that it had finally stopped raining. After near a tenday of it, the sight of the sun on the Eastern Horizon this morning was a welcome one indeed. Now that same sun has crossed the sky and retreated into the star filled night. Still you walk, hoping to make it to the next village before needing to set camp again.
Allepo is pulled from his thoughts by a low groan. There, difficult to see in the moonlight, is a body. He rushes forward to see a young man, gravely wounded and delirious, a dozen cuts across his body. Acting fast the Sembian pulled the man to his shoulder, and began his walk in earnest.
The Old Skull is as it always is when Ruhk, Arikor and Imzel enter. Gareth stands behind the bar, slowly wiping down a glass.
One thing the three notice is a new face, a man in a darker cloak with tanned skin, Sembian would be your guess.
Allepo now sits in the Taproom of the Old Skull, the inn he dragged the wounded man to late last night. As he eats his breakfast, he sees three somewhat unique figures enter into the Inn's door.
The Sembian appears somewhat weary, his cloak and boots thick with dust and dried mud from his travels. Before him is a bowl of warm oatmeal, which he looks up from for a moment to nod at the newcomers in acknowledgment. He then returns to his meal without further ceremony.
Ruhk being ever impetuous simply walks up to the bar, withdraw the dagger from his belt and places it on the bar, thankfully without sticking it in point first at least.
"Here you go, one stolen dagger returned in good condition, I even wiped the thief’s blood of it first. According to the information we got it might be part of my "inheritance" however, do you need it?"
While he notices the man sitting there, he doesn't really pay him much heed, after all, it is an inn, new faces will pass through it frequently, and he himself was one not long ago.
Aleppo vaguely smirks at the Illuskan's forwardness as he finishes another spoonful of oatmeal.
"Had a problem with thieves around here of late?" he says after swallowing. "Can't say I much care for them myself, having been in their company a fair bit more than might be healthy."