"If you want to live, and not meet your evil gods here and now - today - you'll answer my questions."
"Thank you, Eli."
"You're welcome, Serra." Eli turns his full attention on the dwarf.
"Your next words had better help us understand where the Sword of Valor is, our battle standard, stolen by Staunton. If you can't tell us where it is, and what stands between us and it, we're done here."
Eli grips his hammer, uneasily.
Serra looks as his squire, still trying to catch his breath and calm his mind.
"I know, Kastor. It just scares me when you risk your life. You have important things to do, Kastor. Don't lose your life trying to rescue me. You follow Cole if anything ever happens to me, do you hear? Do you understand, Kastor?" Serra kneels before his squire, looking into his eyes. "You make sure you follow Cole. Follow him like you're his shadow. Stay close to him if I fall again and don't get back up."
When Serra is sure his squire understands, he goes back to looting the dead.
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Jurin sits up as Serra's chubby fingers reach him for looting.
"I'm not dead yet!"
He looks about.
"Hey...I'm not dead yet."
Standing up and retrieving his sword he shakes his head in confusion.
"I had the strangest dream, I was a half-orc priest of some god called String or Cable or Rope or something, and every time we got into a fight I passed out."
He grins at the dwarf being interrogated by Cole.
"Hey, you should tell him what he wants. He's unstable, never know what he's going to do."
"The Sword of Valor? It's below, in the demon's dungeon prison. It's terrible!" He shudders, then realizes how that may have sounded. "Uh, the dungeon, that is, I'm sure the Sword of Valor is very nice. I've always meant to have a look at it, but never found the time. Too much work."
Serra continues to sort through the belongings in the room. He lets Cole and others continue the inquisition as he feels pretty bummed about his performance in the fight.
"Too much work."
"Doing what? Conspiring with your Evil brother to do even more Evil things at a higher level of Evil?" There is a chilly quality to Mathilda's voice as she tries to address Joran. "What would your mother say?"
Her tone changes to one of praise as she addresses the party.
"Oh, Neff. I like your team! Did you see what Jurin did? He made copies of himself and decimated them! There was a lot of shine! We must remember to invite him to our Spring Festival."
"And Ya -" She abruptly cuts herself off to correct herself."Eli -- that hammer of yours is really impressive. May I see it sometime?"
"And of course, there's us. But, I'm not sure what happened to poor Rusty. He kind of guarded the floor there nicely..."
She tries to drop her voice to a whisper. "Cole -- why does Rusty appear to be talking to thin air? Did he get hit in the head?"
After a brief pause, a sound as refreshing as a cool breeze on a hot day undulates through the room as Mathilda coos, "Oh, look at these walls -- all of these maps -- do they mean anything to any of you?"
Spring festival? Cole wonders.
Cole lets one eye drift to the maps while the other continues to study Joran. "Yes Mathilda, I suspect these are the raiding parties of the demons and their kin. Hopefully we've stopped that for now - at least from here. But we'll take them with us and investigate carefully to be sure."
He turns back to Joran, "Tell us about the dungeon. What guards it?" he looks at his team, "And will they wait until tomorrow?" he almost laughs at the thought of delay.
I'm going to need a new bow sheath. One outside the quiver... he ponders, his mind wandering everywhere.
Eli pats Jurin on the back as the man comes around, then snorts as Cole's ghost speaks up again.
"Eli -- that hammer of yours is really impressive. May I see it sometime?"
"It has become something quite nice, I agree. I suppose when you become visible and we can see you, you can see the hammer. Seems only fair." He finds time to chuckle, then investigates the maps for any useful information.
Serra looks around for Rusty, but not seeing him, continues to loot. He intends to get to the maps shortly. He continues to try to collect himself.
The babau leave only their longspears.
The minotaurs leave their great axes
Staunton leaves:
skeleton key,
68 gp
Spellcraft -wand
Spellcraft -armor
Spellcraft -axe
Spellcraft -glaive
Spellcraft -amulet
Spellcraft -belt
Spellcraft -headband
Serra quickly unravels the magics of the items, stowing some and offering others around. He offers the headband to Ely.
"Ely, this might make you more agreeable," Serra says helpfully. "Not sure that you'll want this wand."
With the loot divvy'd and stowed, Serra is ready to move on.
"Which way, Cole? Do we clear out the top first? Or head straight down?"
"Which way, Cole? Do we clear out the top first? Or head straight down?"
Cole scowls. "That's a good question."
He looks at the group a while. "We go down. Let's root this nest out at the source while we still have the resources to do so. If we scatter these upper floors, we'll have nothing left for the demons."
Eli pats Jurin on the back as the man comes around, then snorts as Cole's ghost speaks up again.
"Eli -- that hammer of yours is really impressive. May I see it sometime?""It has become something quite nice, I agree. I suppose when you become visible and we can see you, you can see the hammer. Seems only fair."
Cole isn't carrying anything new I think. Some good stuff in there though!
Eli declines to take anything at present. He waits until Serra is done harvesting what he can, then looks to Cole to proceed.
"What do we do with the dwarf?"
Damnit
"Well, he really hasn't helped much. I still don't know what lies below us any more than I did when we came in here."
He knocks an arrow and walks up to the dwarf.
"Have anything more to say, or are you satisfied with this defense of your life?"
As no one has expressed interest, Serra stuffs everything but the plate mail into his haversack. "I do not have room for that. We could leave it for now if no one can manage it."
Serra watches Cole, waiting for resolution on the dwarf's life.
Eli looks at the spiked full plate. "No. That won't do. We should take it. I'll wear it, I suppose." The old man starts to divest himself of his breastplate, and begins to equip the full plate. "Sorry. This is going to take a while."
He tries to listen to the dwarf's answer, over his grunts and deep breathing.
Serra helps Ely into the plate.
"Kastor, lad, see if you can polish this armor whilst I help put it on Ely here. A good squire always makes sure the armor is well tended," Serra instructs his squire while he goes to help Ely.
Will save +2 more if evil
"Kastor, lad, see if you can polish this armor whilst I help put it on Ely here."
"Look, Cole! It's self cleaning armor! Either that or ..."
There's a silence as -- presumably -- Mathilda is thinking.
"... but you can hear ghosts, usually, can't you? What is it if you can't see or hear it? Is that coming out of Rusty somehow?"
She falls silent again.
Eli finishes donning the armor, while tucking his breastplate over his backpack.
"What is it if you can't see or hear it?"
"Well, when you figure it out, take care not to share it with Serra. He won't understand." Eli turns to the poor man.
"Thank you for your help, Serra. The armor is uncomfortable, but it should serve. I don't consider you a squire. You're your own soldier."
Damnit
"Well, he really hasn't helped much. I still don't know what lies below us any more than I did when we came in here."
He knocks an arrow and walks up to the dwarf.
"Have anything more to say, or are you satisfied with this defense of your life?"
"I... no." The dwarf hangs his weary head. "All I wanted was to create things. My work...but Staunton wanted more and more. I heard Drosker's call. I knew it was wrong, but he helped me keep up with the demand. But still my brother wanted more. It got so I had to use half of Drosker's blessing just to get through the day. I know he thought I would fall, eventually, and take to his Demon lord." He blinks then and shakes his head.. "He was very nearly right. But I've had enough of all of 'em."
"I don't consider you a squire."
Serra nods grimly.
"That's good because I don't consider you to be a knight."
Serra goes to gather his stuff and be ready to press on.
"Of course not. You'd be a fool to mistake me for a knight, despite the full plate. You were kind to help with the armor, despite your talk of squires." Eli pats Serra on the shoulder, and moves past the man.
He walks up to the maps on the walls. If they look retrievable, he pulls them off the walls, and finds some place to tuck them.
The maps on the walls are retrievable and will be a great thing to take back to Queen Galfrey.
Cole measures his options.
"You must pay for your crimes, at least in some fashion, and we cannot have you wandering around up here while we're below. For one thing it's not safe. You'll have to be tied up."
He sighs, "And if you attempt to break your bonds and flee, I will hunt you. Maybe not today, but there will come a time when I arrive at you doorstep and slay you outright. So take this indignation as atonement, and wait for us here."
He takes out some rope, and ties the dwarf up solidly, then ties the rope to something in this room, or one nearby, so he can't wander off without real effort.
"Do not fear. We'll be back shortly to free you and then you can rest."
He turns to the others, "Let us proceed."
The dwarf blanches, "What? Please don't leave me here helpless. They'll come and kill me, or worse! I can be helpful. I can tell you about the dungeon."
Serra stares and thinks as Cole ties up the dwarf, his mind thinking about the castle and what else might be laying below.
"Let us proceed."
Serra's eyes dart to the prisoner, then to the stairs down.
"Cole, wait. This ain't right. We're...we're not doing it right. We shouldn't go down there yet. We..." Serra looks around at the all the castle around him. "We can't risk being ambushed from behind, we'll be caught without a way to escape. We don't need a few minotaurs behind us when we have demons in front of us. Won't do."
Serra looks at Ely's clean and shiny mail, remembering something. He shakes his head, grasping his ranseur.
"My military advice would be for us to clean out this level, then bring in our forces to hold it while we delve below. We not only need to think about what lies below, but our men outside. With them holding this castle, the danger to them decreases."
Serra looks again at the stairs down.
"I can't think of a good reason to hasten below."
"Let the others clear out this level, wouldn't want some dark ritual to happen down below while we shuffle around up here would we?"
"Well, when you figure it out, take care not to share it with Serra. He won't understand. [ ...]"
Like fine snow crystals a gentle voice softly decends upon the room. "But Eli! Your armor!" breathes Mathilda, barely above a whisper. "It's just been polished!"
~~
"I... no." The dwarf hangs his weary head. "All I wanted was to create things. My work... [ ... ] Please don't leave me here helpless. They'll come and kill me, or worse! I can be helpful. I can tell you about the dungeon."
The quality of Mathilda's voice changes from softly falling snow flakes suddenly to that of a sledgehammer made of solid ice. It is directed at Joran.
"Yes, tell us about the dungeon, if these fine warriors are willing to tolerate your pathetic excuse for a voice. Also tell us about your 'work...'? Work?! What work exactly was that?!"
"Yes, tell us about the dungeon, if these fine warriors are willing to tolerate your pathetic excuse for a voice. Also tell us about your 'work...'? Work?! What work exactly was that?!"
The dwarf jumps, looking around, before his gaze settles on the bow in Cole's hand. "Aren't you a pretty thing!" His gaze, previiously almost dulled to death, gains a sparkle as he continues to address the bow.
"I am a smith, as our forefather's were. I make weapons, fine ones, though none quite so fine as you, M'Lady." He sketches a bow to the bow, then addresses Cole and the others once again.
"T'would be better if you took me with you and allowed me to tell you of the horrors I know about down stairs, the specters and vampires and other things. But if you cannot, may I just, touch... no, that is too much to ask, even as a last wish... might I just gaze upon her for awhile longer, before you leave me to the carrion that will come in your wake?"
"I make weapons, fine ones, though none quite so fine as you, M'Lady."
A sound like pair of doves taking flight gently echos through the room then gradually fades.
"Ah, see Cole? Joran was busy minding his own business making stunning weapons when -- bad stuff happened and before he knew it, he was dragged under. By his own kin no less... Poor thing. I'm sure that's all it was."
Directing her voice at the Dwarf, she very gently but firmly adds, "I don't call the shots here, I just direct them from time to time -- it's up to Cole and his friends if we bring you with. Cole is the best Guide ever, but he doesn't know this place -- you do."
Her tone shifts to a pleading one as she re-addresses Cole, "Oh, please. Consider taking him with. It'll be easier to have a Guide than to try and remember it all as he describes it. Maybe he can even fight with us for his Penance."
"But Eli! Your armor!" breathes Mathilda, barely above a whisper. "It's just been polished!"
Serra looks at Cole, not yet deigning to argue with an inanimate object.
"That voice of yours seems to deaf, but not blind. I just explained that my squire cleaned the armor," Serra says, wondering how to avoid the strident voice in the future.
"Tell me, Cole. Can you temper that voice? If we need silence or to keep secret? How much do you trust it? We might need keep our own council."
* * *
"Let the others clear out this level, wouldn't want some dark ritual to happen down below while we shuffle around up here would we?"
Serra shakes his knightly head.
"Jurin, leave this for the soldiers. We should at least clear our way back to the front doors so the others can enter. I'd hate to have to fight through them to escape this place."
Eli rubs his beard, then slaps his thigh.
"My mind will rest easier now. Your Bow is named Mathilda? How unusual can you get? That is all sorts of amusing!!" Eli chuckles, late, so late, to the realization.
"A shame, really. If it was male, you'd have Bo, Beau, Beauregard, Bowser..."
"Cole, listen to your Bow. We should take him along, if only for intelligence regarding our descent. And we should descend now. We've slain Staunton. That should filter through their ranks, quickly, I hope. We need to listen to Jurin, as well. Won't do to give them time to abscond with the Sword."
Eli looks at his hammer, his quiet hammer, and feels a new gratitude.
Eli rubs his beard, then slaps his thigh.
Serra *smacks* his hand against his forehead, resulting in a loud clang as his hand smacks helmet.
OF COURSE!
"Yes, it makes sense now! Your bloody bow has willed sentience into itself," Serra agrees while shaking his head at his own failure to see that.
Jurin shakes his head.
"So Serra is a soldier now? Very well, let's kill more up here. Don't say I didn't waaarn you."
He cracks a surprised smile as everyone figures out what he suspected for some time now - well, ever since the last fight anyway.
"Actually Serra, I must admit it was Kastor who had something to do with it, though I can't imagine what. We will speak of it later."
Cole rubs the stubble of his beard as he thinks.
"Let us fight our way out so that our troops may enter unimpeded. Then we'll see about descending. It may be that we rest a while so as to gather our strength. Our lack of healing concerns me, but yes Jurin, I do think our army can help to clear and hold this complex, though we must be careful - they are not as strong as we."
Serra looks at Kastor, wondering what the boy had done.
"Yes, later," Serra agrees and is ready to move on.
My mind will rest easier now. Your Bow is named Mathilda? How unusual can you get? That is all sorts of amusing!!"
"Eli, your powers of induction are impressive," says Mathilda, not bothering to conceal the boredom in her tone. "'Mathilda'? Unusual? Amusing? It means 'Strength in Battle', I'd like you to know and remember. And always in plain sight, I might add, unlike some..." She trails off. You get the sense she might be admiring the polished armor again.
"Actually Serra, I must admit it was Kastor who had something to do with it,"
Serra *smacks* his hand against his forehead, resulting in a loud clang as his hand smacks helmet.
"Oh! Does he do that a lot? Is that why Rusty seems -- a little loose upstairs sometimes? Frankly, I think he's more likely to blow our cover than anyone else with all that racket. Can we lose him and keep Kasper?" warbles Mathilda quietly.
Eli snorts as the bow speaks more. "You may not understand the history in our group, so I'll endure your chiding. When we have invisible voices, let alone invisible squires, about, we tend to become very paranoid about its source. Demonic forces are around every corner. For all we know about you, you could be a malevolent spirit, come to possess Cole's bow. We can't have Cole fighting with his primary weapon of choice, you understand. He seems to endure you, so shall we." Eli beckons the others towards the stairs leading down.
"Mathilda, before you realized you were a bow, were you something else, somewhere else? Are you content with your bearer? Do you two need to speak out loud with each other, or can you read each other's mind?"
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Jurin stares at his sword and shakes it.
"Hey, anybody in there? Hello? Heeeellloooo."
*harumph*
"Mathilda, before you realized you were a bow, were you something else, somewhere else? Are you content with your bearer? Do you two need to speak out loud with each other, or can you read each other's mind?"
There is a long pause, before Mathilda responds, her tone full of fond sentiment as though lost in a daydream.
"I didn't realize things were so... Dark. I remember a grove -- my home. my family. Katherine, my sister -- Cole's Grandmother. Morten, my dear husband... He may not know it, but Cole comes from a long line of Rangers, many of whom -- including me -- took up the bow as their primary weapons..."She continues after a briefer pause, "Being in the state I'm currently in, it's taken some time to adjust and for me to remember that much. It's very -- smooth -- in here at least. I can see, but I'm not sure how. I can't say where I was before becoming a bow. That's probably good, right? If I was in a bad place, I'd probably remember that, right?"
"I love working with Cole. I don't think we can read each other's mind, but I do know how he's feeling, and I think he knows what I'm feeling too."
After another brief pause, Mathilda apparently comes to a decision. Her voice, now directed at Cole, warbles with a hint of dejection.
"You do know how I feel, don't you Cole? If you must confer in private with your friends, you can place me into the Place With No Doors."
"OK, enough about Mathilda. Mathilda quiet down - we can talk philosophy later."
"Oh, and I don't want you talking in front of the troops or you get put away. Your speech needs to stay between us." he gestures to the party.
He eyes the dwarf, Got it?
"Now, let's clear this level for the troops and then perhaps we'll rest, perhaps we'll descend. We'll see how it goes..."
"OK, enough about Mathilda."
A chortling sound echos through the room.
"Mathilda quiet down - we can talk philosophy later. Oh, and I don't want you talking in front of the troops or you get put away. Your speech needs to stay between us."
"O.K.!" she chirps, cheerfully.
The dwarf bobs his head emphatically. "Of course, Sir. The Lady Mathilda is not for the entertainment of the masses."
F-20
Rich appointments of fine furniture and plush carpet decorate this oddly shaped chamber. A mahogany desk with several bookshelves occupies the southeast corner, while expansive liquor cabinets follow the curving northern wall. Three doors lead south and west.
F-21
This spacious bedroom is immaculate to the point of spotlessness. The bed sheets are tight against the mattress, and no splinters mar the floor near the well-used sparring dummy in one corner, despite its obvious heavy use. An inkwell, a blotter, and a black quill sit atop an otherwise bare desk, with a three-legged stool pushed out of the way underneath. A single large chest sits at the foot of the bed.