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It's amazing how adventurers can come up with a name for themselves. Take the Company of the Copper Coin as an example. Currently comprised of the following: Torrek Spellmason (dwarven fighter played by yours truly), Ander Aslaxin (human wizard), Gwydion (human holy warrior), Penelope Littlesprout (halfling rogue), Dagmar Anvilheart (dwarven cleric of Clangeddin Silverbeard), and Sorin (changeling ranger/barbarian).
One piece of advice about gnome-built dungeons: avoid them! Stupid gnomes...What appeared to be little more than a throne room in Jzadirune turned out to be some big joke on foolhardy adventurers. As we came in, a gnomish face, carved into the wall, magically spoke out, "Place your finest coin into my mouth if you wish to speak to the king." We could see a sleeping gnome on the throne and our friend Damien, a warlock (he died later but that's another story), tells us is an illusion. So I think, "Sweet. I'll just place a platinum piece in the mouth and we'll get rewarded with valuable information or perhaps a gnomish song or something." In goes the platinum, which then promptly vanishes. Hmmm, that seemed wasteful. Let's try a gold piece! Again, same thing happens. Here I am, short 11 GP (which is a lot at level 2), and you know how much dwarves hate to waste good coins, unless its on alcohol, weapons, armour, women, potions, etc. So the warlock, ever so helpful, suggests that perhaps putting in a copper coin will have the desired effect. Sounded logical in an illogical kind of way, knowing how gnomes think. In goes the copper and blam! Voice speaks out, "Miser! What a paltry tribute! I curse you with clumsiness!" One failed will save later and Torrek's dexterity goes from 11 to 5. Wow. That sucks. Sure, everyone else thought it was funny (even the warlock who was apoligising but I could tell he didn't mean it). At least I got the coins back (they were teleported to a hidden compartment in the throne). At first I thought it was temporary damage. You should've seen my face when my grinning DM told me it was permanent. I already had the worst stats in the group. Luckily, the guys chipped in to have Jenya, the local priestess of St. Cuthbert, cast a restoration spell on Torrek.
Later on when we were asked the name of our adventuring party, someone suggested Company of the Copper Coin, and it stuck. To this day, Torrek has never had any other copper coin on his person except for that particular copper coin which he keeps as a reminder to never trust gnomish magicks.
Gwydion's Journal
First Entry - Journeying to Cauldron
This journal’s purpose is twofold. One, that I can jot down whatever important information I come across, so that lest I fall in battle, in pursuit of one quest of another, that the information shall not perish with me. Two, that I may sort out my own thoughts by writing then down and forcing myself to come to terms with what has happened to me in the recent past, and what I may yet face in the future.
Let me first start by penning down the events which have led me to Cauldron. Both of the people I have called my parents for the past twenty-one years have died. Tessa died of some disease from which even the priests could not save her. Nather was killed when a follower of Hextor, a redhead named Triel, and a lycanthrope called Tongueater, led an attack that destroyed my home, The Lucky Monkey, burning the inn verily to the ground in their attempt to intercept eight wands being brought to Cauldron by Sarcen, then the high priest of the Church of St-Cuthbert. Tongueater now lies dead, felled by my arrow, though Triel still eludes me. Though our group, the Company of the Copper Coin, captured her, she managed to escape through the treachery that lies at the heart of vile people like her.
I came to Cauldron on the advice of a friend, after he told me the truth of my parentage, at least what he knew of it. Tessa and Nather we not my real parents. I had been apparently, and almost literally, left at the door of the inn, the woman who gave birth to me disappearing into the Midwinter night in a chariot back to wherever she’d come from. I later confirmed Roark’s tale of a carriage whose side was adorned with a silver and black shield, a rampant griffin holding a chisel in one talon and a bough in the other, the symbol of a powerful noble family in the city of Cauldron.
Upon further investigation, I tracked down various members of my birth family. I have laid eyes on those I presume to be my birth parents but once, at a... (the rest of this page has been torn off, as well as several of the next pages)
Gwydion's Journal
Second Entry - The Striders
Along my travels and adventures, I have acquired some new allies, the Striders of Fharlanghn. Though I’d met some of them as they traveled through the region and stopped at The Lucky Monkey, and the small chapel dedicated to their god. Shensen Tesseril, the latest caretaker of the chapel, was my first introduction to the group. We rescued her from the cellar of The Lucky Monkey, as she was trapped there after Triel and Tongueater attacked. She had barricaded herself in the well room, and was near death when we rescued her from that room and the brown mold that guarded the entrance.
Her silver hair and dusky skin tone betray a drow heritage, but her dedication to Fharlanghn and the help she tried to provide Nather, Sarcem and the others at The Lucky Monkey when it was attacked, have brought her into my good graces.
I have also met with others of their group, two half-elves named Fario and Fellian, who also provided us with some help during our search for the wands stolen from Sarcem.
All three have pointed me to their contact in Cauldron, a merchant named Tyro Amberhelm, though I have yet to meet with him.
In the few months since the events at The Lucky Monkey, in trying to secure the funds needed to refurbish the inn, I have approached and talked with Shensen a number of times, promising her that I would rebuild The Lucky Monkey as it once stood, and have a new shrine to Fharlanghn erected. She seemed to appreciate my efforts, though I doubt that she and the other Striders can spare much in the way of funding for this operation.
Shensen and I’s time together has been enjoyable. We’ve talked on a variety of subjects during some of my visits. She appreciates mine and Ander’s efforts to rebuild the inn, and my commitment that the shrine to Fharlanghn be restored. We talked often, sharing stories of our pasts. I’m still hesitant about telling her the truth of what I’ve found out about my parentage.
Our conversations inevitably led to matters of a divine nature. Though I received quite a bit of knowledge on the teachings of Fharlanghn from Harkin while he was the chapel’s caretaker and whilst we traveled together, Shensen’s talks provided a sort of insight into my own plight with my relationship with the church of Wee Jas. My dealings with Embryl have been naught, but I have dealt with her second, Ike Iverson, on a number of occasions. In none of those dealings has he particularly impressed me, nor has his church’s stance on the events that occurred during the Flood Festival.
His church? Has my belief in Wee Jas been shaken so much that I no longer see Ike and the other faithful of Wee Jas as brothers and sisters of the faith? Is my faith in Her misplaced, somehow? These are questions I find myself asking myself more and more these days. My conversations with Shensen may have spurred on this internal debate, but something else must have rocked my faith beside a simple disagreement with Ike.
Gwydion's Journal
Third Entry - Near Death Experience
I awoke as if from a nightmare. I looked down to find that four arrows still protruded through my body in various places, Dagmar kneeling over me, hands aglow with the healing power of his god. I screamed out an arrow was pushed through my left shoulder.
I drifted in and out of consciousness over the course of the next few hours. Vague memories came to me, unbidden, during that time. Peneloppe and Ander in trouble. A winged woman with a flaming bow. Dagmar may have healed my body, but at the moment, it was my soul that needed mending. The devil woman had precipitated a crisis of faith that had begun during the Flood Festival.
I have always been at odds with the faithful of Wee Jas. The woman I had thought of as my mother died, I believed that only through Wee Jas could I find comfort in her death. When the Lady came to me in a vision as I lay close to death – much as she did today – I believed her to be Wee Jas, guiding me from beyond the mortal realms into finding my place within those of her faith.
Now I am unsure. Ike’s firm refusal to help the other churches of Cauldron during the Time of the Floods was perhaps the first step towards my realization that I may have been mistaken, that the faithful of Wee Jas did not follow the same tenets to which I adhered to. The second, and perhaps the most striking incident came upon me as I attempted to destroy several undead beings, to no avail. I had not simply failed in my attempt, my power seemed somehow perverted. Instead of destroying the foul unlife before me, they seemed rebuked, as if in awe of my power, almost as if I could command them to do my bidding.
Shock does not begin to describe my reaction at that moment. I had always thought of the undead as an abomination, a perversion of life. My faith in Wee Jas was based upon the fact that she somehow held sway over the unloving. A faith that was obviously misplaced, or at the very least, misguided.
Yet my faith survives. Though it may have been misplaced in my apparent devotion to the followers of Wee Jas, the Lady has never forsaken her faith in my abilities. When time permits, I shall endeavor to puzzle out this apparent duality in my faith.
Gwydion's Journal
Fourth Entry - Life as a Toad
We met with Lord Vhalantru at the Cusp of Sunrise, Zenith in tow. Vhalantru told us that the Splintershield elder had fallen on bad health, and been taken back to Splintershield Hold, a two-day journey south of the city. Our Company decided to keep Zenith under close guard while we awaited Lord Vhalantru’s caravan, which was to depart the next morning. Peneloppe and I were watching Zenith when a mad cackle echoed through the halls, originating from Zenith’s cell. Peneloppe opened the door to investigate while I surveyed the corridor. Zenith’s shackles mysteriously disintegrated, the cackle still being overheard. I called out for help to our companions in the next room. I endeavored to locate the source of the cackle, but my inaction only led to Peneloppe being struck by some invisible assailant. I called out to Ander once more, knowing his magical prowess would be able to detect the intruder.
With no apparent help from our companions forthcoming, I quickly threw Zenith’s limp form over my shoulders and made a run for the outer doors of the Malachite fortress. Zenith was still as unresponsive as he had been since our capture of him. As I ran through the next room and into the adjoining corridor, I was struck by the magic of our mysterious attacker. Suddenly, the world had turned dark, as I found myself turned into a toad, nestled within my own, now overgrown, clothing. Not knowing exactly what to make of my situation, but knowing that I should follow wherever Zenith went, I wormed my way into Zenith’s clothing and his there. Hopefully, I thought, I would be able to follow their footsteps, and – maybe, somehow – send a message back to the other members of the Company of the Copper Coin.
When I next regained my senses, it was to the familiar smell of incense burning. When I managed to peek out of Zenith’s clothing, it was to find him dead, beheaded, though I know not how or why. A look around placed me within the familiar grounds of the Temple of Wee Jas, although the specific room was not one which I’d visited often. Hung in the room were two silver-grey cages of unusual design. Also in the room were Embryl and Ike, the two ranking priests of Wee Jas, as well as a beholder named Orbius, and Kravichak, the mad derro who’d stolen Zenith’s body and transformed me into my then current state. I listened to the conversation that took place. The group works for, or calls themselves, the Cagewrights, and are apparently looking for the last of the Shackleborn. Zenith was apparently one of the Shackleborn, and as Ander later told me, also carries the Carcerian sign that Peneloppe also bears. Neither Embryl nor the beholder seemed pleased to see Zenith returned to them, dead and missing his head.
Taking Zenith’s body to the basement, I jumped out of his clothes before they laid him onto the altar and hid in the nearby shadows. They resurrected the fallen dwarf, an eerie sight to behold when one is missing his head. Embryl cast the lengthy spell with the aid of a scroll. Once Zenith was brought back to the living, the beholder and his slave Celeste left the temple by magical means. Though I cannot say for certain, I believe it to be an arcane teleportation spell. The fact that Celeste was helping these individuals was disturbing, but the blank look in her eyes and the comments made by the beholder leaves me to believe that she was under his influence, some sort of mind control. Ike and another of the hooded acolytes took Zenith back up to the room with the cages. I decided to try to follow them, though I knew it would be difficult to do so as a toad.
I had managed to reach the stairs leading back up when I was intercepted by the crazy derro, who cackled madly at the sight of me. I know not whether he recognized me, or if he was simply ecstatic at having found himself a potential familiar. He wanted to make me his familiar!! I cannot begin to imagine what being bonded so to that crazed derro would do to my own state of mental health.
Thankfully, I was never offered the opportunity to find out. Kravichak had caged me beneath an overturned urn while he ran to gather the components needed for the process of binding me to him. Before he returned, a strangely deformed man overturned the urn and released me from my prisons. Telling me to remain still, he spoke some enchantment which returned me to my human self, albeit I now found myself without clothing. The man, Kauphron, quickly recounted that he was a member of the group which had taken Zenith, though he seemed disgruntled and disillusioned with his group’s current state. He thought them all insane, although I’m not sure how sane he was, given that he was speaking to a toad for some of his conversation. Kauphron handed me a set of acolyte robes, and told me that I should escape now while I would not be discovered. I was tempted to climb to the top of the Church and see what they had done with Zenith, but the information I had gleaned about Zenith and these Cagewrights seemed too important to die with me should I not be able to rejoin the Copper Coin.
I rushed back towards Ghelve’s Locks, which contains an entrance to the Malachite Fortress, and ran into my companions. I quickly explained my situation as we headed to the Church of St-Cuthbert and inquire as to Jenya’s ability to dispel the magic which had turned Ander into a monkey, the same enchantment which had afflicted me with the body of a toad. Torrek seemed worried about a boy, Terrem, one of the children who’d been abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage. He apparently also carried the Carcerian sign, and could be the last Shackleborn the Cagewrights sought.
Though he is safe and sound, I do not know if Terram will remain so for long. A thought occurs to me as I write this. Do any of the other people who were abducted carry the Carcerian sign? How many of those we did not find bore the strange symbol? Further investigation should be pursued, as this may lead us to some clues about the activities of these Cagewrights.
Gwydion's Journal
Fifth Entry
I have approached Shensen and recounted all of my recent activities to her. Should the Company of the Copper Coin fail in its endeavor to thwart this latest plot against the people of Cauldron, then at least another group shall be able to carry on the fight. My next plan of attack is to try to infiltrate the temple of my former brothers and find out what is going on with the followers Wee Jas. Shensen seemed troubled by some of what I had to say to her, but she wouldn’t speak of it further, asking instead that I prepare to gather the rest of the Company of the Copper Coin for a meeting with Tyro Amberhelm, the leader of the Striders in the vicinity of Cauldron. She said she would get back to me with the time and place of this meet.
Gwydion's Journal
Sixth Entry
As matters stand, I can no longer associate myself with the followers of Wee Jas. Though not all members may be taking part in these dealings with the beholder and the Cagewrights, the upper echelons of the church are at least a part of the group’s leadership. Embryl and Orbius, the beholder, seemed to be speaking to each other as equals. Ike Iverson has even enlisted the help of several of the acolytes into their plans, as was evidenced by the robes worn by those I saw while I was in the temple. They may be innocent of any wrong doings and simply following the orders of their superiors, but I would have hoped, should that indeed be the case, that my brothers would have stood up against the wrong doings of their brethren. But can I really call it wrong doings?
None of it seems real to me. If my faith in the Stern Lady had not been shaken prior to this incident, I am unsure whether I would have simply accepted these events as part of the greater happenings to further the glory of Wee Jas, or if my moral standards would have prevailed upon me to seek out help, or at the very least, cease my association with Her church. These events seem to explain Ike’s outright rejection when I came to him for help in controlling the flooding of Crater Lake during the Flood Festival.
I think I will visit with Jenya and Shensen to ponder these matters
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For those interested, Torrek Spellmason's background:
Unbeknownst to most of Cauldron’s inhabitants, there exists beneath its streets a peculiar clan of dwarves, the Spellmasons. Descended from Surabar Spellmason, a dwarven wizard of great power who founded the City of Cauldron and aided in the defeat of a great demonic army, the Spellmasons are made up almost entirely of wizards, quite a rarity for dwarves. Masters of powerful dwarven magicks, the Spellmasons have quietly continued Surabar’s mission since his passing, protecting Cauldron and its people from any sort of threat. Years ago, the clan elders decided that this task would be better served by staying in the shadows and avoiding the power that would eventually lead to distraction and corruption. Now, centuries later, common knowledge holds that Surabar was a human! The Spellmasons have done nothing to disclaim these allegations, letting the common folk believe what they will, so long as Cauldron remains safe. Until now.
Enter Torrek Spellmason, newest member to Surabar’s legacy. Unlike the rest of his clan, Torrek showed little patience and no magical skills whatsoever during his youth. Eventually the clan elders decided it would be best to teach Torrek more traditional dwarven crafts. Dagmar Anvilheart, an Axe-Brother of Clangeddin Silverbeard, the Father of Battle, was summoned to tutor the young Spellmason. Inspired by Dagmar’s dwarven histories, Torrek soon learnt the fighting techniques that his people have always used to fight their ancient enemies: orcs, goblins, and giants. Inspired by tales of heroism and sacrifice, Torrek yearned to make his clan proud, regardless of his magical shortcomings. This newfound pride in his heritage has also manifested a desire to reveal the truth about Surabar. Strangely enough, his clan has remained silent on the matter, perhaps realising that the time has finally come for the truth to be known. However, they seem somewhat worried that Torrek’s newfound passion for adventure and trouble might lead him in over his head.
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Memoirs of the Monkey Mage: Ander Aslaxin
Many would have you believe that being born with blue blood running through your veins ensures a life of comfort and having everything that your heart desires presented to you on a silver platter. Allow your humble narrator to assure you that, while being of noble birth does have its perks, one must still work hard to survive in the cut throat arena of courtiers and gentry that would give even the legendary drow a run for their money.
Being born the second son to lord Zachary Aslaxin the first does not provide for a very good start. Living in the shadow of my older brother Zachary the second, has long driven me to out do him in every possible way (which I have, if I may say so myself). So when Zach II decided to run off with that Taskerhill bird and create the Stormblades, I decided that I would not allow him to steal the spotlight away from me further. Thus, I began my quest to locate my missing friend and associate Peron Alos, from the Bluecrater Academy. That was when I met up with some like-minded individuals also seeking some missing city folk. Later, in the ruins of Jzadirune we came upon the name for our adventuring company, which was dubbed the Company of the Copper Coin. That’s a story I’ll leave to Torrek Spellmason though. While the name isn’t as cool as the Stormblades, (Score one point there brother) at least it has meaning to it.
Later on I find love at the Demonskar ball that my family hosted. This was a great night not only did Torrek give my brother a walloping (Score 1 Ander), but also Lady Thifrane Rhiavaldi and I begin our courtship (score 2 Ander). One word of advice when one is in a relationship. Scrying on someone, even ones you love can have disastrous consequences (don’t ask, just trust me on that).
After rescuing Zenith Splitter Shield from that awful Koa Toan Shrine deep in the under-oerth a number of interesting events occurred. The first was when we unfortunately had Zenith held prisoner-awaiting transport back to his father in the Malachite fortress (which is now being converted by Dagmar Anvilheart into a fabulous church to Clangaddin). In the middle of the night we where attacked by a crazy Derro sorcerer named Kravichak who turned both Gwydion into a toad and myself into a monkey. It was after that upon reflecting about how monkeys kept appearing (the Lucky Monkey, which I now partly own with Gwydion, Tongue Eater, ect.) as if some sort of omen that I decided to take the moniker of Monkey mage. The second event was quite funny. Penelope Little sprout, company rouge, was taking a little walk through Cauldron (or so she claims) and came upon the Stormblades discussing their plans. After when Zach II and which ever girlfriend he was with at the time (he gets around I’ll tell you) where er, busy Penelope made off with his pants and some other items, and then took his pants and ran them up the town squares flag pole (score 3 Ander, 1 Zach II).
Today, after spending much time trying to rescue Sir Alex Tercival, and prevent a massacre at Redgorge we are now lost gods nowhere in the blasted Sea of Dust. I can’t say that I like what the Suloise have done to the place.
Not all of Gwydion’s encounters in his short time in Cauldron have been positive ones. When Gwydion first came to Cauldron, he had a run in with the city’s guards, was subsequently arrested on false charges, and detained in the city’s dank dungeons without food or water, forgotten in the paperwork.
Excerpts from Terseon Skellerang's daily reports
Brewfest 1st, CY 592
Yet another year has passed. The city seems crazier around this time of year. Public revelry at this time is encouraged by the government. What is the Lord Mayor thinking in allowing such activities to take place? Too many citizens take this fall celebration of the last harvest completely to heart, and public intoxication has been all too common. The city has taken on a circus atmosphere, and the streets are filled with actors, jugglers, acrobats, animal and monster trainers (with their best “pets”), and grinning adventurers showing off their latest trophies.
Brewfest 4th, CY 592
Already, I’ve had to deal with a few thieves from the Last Laugh. They’ve melded into the crowds, and petty theft reports have gone up these last few days. We caught two of them three nights ago. Found him in an alley, bending over another member of their guild. He didn’t have his face painted like the other one did. Thought it was unusual, but my guess is he was undercover, recovering a fallen comrade before we got to him.
They’re both rotting in some cell. We’ll break them yet, find out who their leaders are. The conscious one, calls himself Gwydion, insists that he’s innocent. They all say that! We’ll get what we need from him yet!
Brewfest 5th, CY 592
The one called Gwydion fell into some sort of feverish state overnight. He kept moving and mumbling incoherently. Sometimes, some sense could be made of his ranting, something about the Lantern Street orphanage. I removed all guards from his cell and watched this one myself, all day. His mumblings about a family crest are interesting, if there is truth in them.
In any case, I’ve determined that he is not a member of the Last Laugh and have dispatched some of my men to bring him back to the Orphanage.
Gwydion remembers his “stay” with Terseon, and it is not something he has forgiven the captain of the city guard.
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Later on I found love at the Demonskar ball that my family hosted. This was a great night not only did Torrek give my brother a walloping...
Yarr! Now that's what I call a party! Next time they get someone to come in dressed up like a demon and expect him to lose in a mock battle, they better forget about asking a dwarf to do it. A shame about Zachary though. Twas not my intention to skewer the lad. I even offered him a drink afterwards, but he wanted nothing to do with me. Humans can be a bit sensitive sometimes...
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It would be nice if the DM could throw his own spin on events in the campaign. Even if he can only post every two weeks.Perhaps we need to give our DM an incentive to get the campign rolling at a decent pase again.
On another note,it would appear that the people on these boards think our campaign journal is boring.Maybe we should start a thread about the merits of Greyhawk vs. Ebberon so we can get that psycho Takasi to show up. One almost wonders if hes paid by wizards or Keith Baker to promote the setting.
Let the flame war begin!
Torrek's Tall Tavern Tales: The Fury of Vaprak's Voice (Part One)
Nothing really gets the blood flowing like being surrounded by a dozen giants. On the trail of Alek Tercival, a paladin of St. Cuthbert having gone missing, we came upon an ancient dwelling near on the edges of the Demonskar. The ancient tablet we had come upon led us to believe that Tercival had come this way. Twas slightly before nightfall when we first approached "Vaprak's Voice". Expecting hosts of demons to inhabit the area, imagine my surprise to find the place was host to giants! Ahh...twas a fine fight. Blessed we were by the favour of Silverbeard as m'self and m'companions took on dozens of giants. As the bumps on m'noggin can confess, these giants were of the hard-hitting kind. Tis a good thing to have a fellow dwarf heal ye wounds as fast as ye get 'em. M'axe sang beautifully, inspired no doubt by the fair Nidrama, an angel who had come upon us the night before to show us the path. The same angel who had gifted m'ancestor, Surabar Spellmason, with a weapon to defeat the demonic hordes of the Demonskar years ago. Boy, but this beardless lass could make m'heart pound like a Tarrasque with hiccups. One of these days I shall win that fair maiden's heart and the gods will wake from their slumber from the sounds of our... carousing.
Aye, so where was I? Oh right, the giants. So, no sooner had we dispatched the giants that we set about exploring the godsforsaken place. Coming upon a strange metal door, we were somewhat surprised to see the door open by itself as if by magic. 'Sprout, standing at the doorway, was probably even more surprised as she found herself on the receiving end of a flying flaming anvil. That's right, ye all heard me. A flying flaming anvil! Standing by one heluva of a flaming forge, was a flame giant, wielding the biggest hammer I had yet to lay m'eyes upon. Not one to let some overgrown blacksmith pick on m'friends, I yelled out a battlecry and engaged the bastard. Father always said I should think with m'head and not with m'axe. Most fights I get in don't usually last more than a minute before I wipe the blood of m'foes from m'axe. This time the battle lasted all but twelve seconds before yours truly was knocked down like a kobold nanny.
Next thing I know, I'm on the battlements of Ysgard, side by side with Dagmar, taking on a host of orcs along with a host of dwarves. Good times indeed, but apparently this only happens when you're dead! Tis hard to remember things when you’re dead, much like the befuddlement I usually feel after a nightful of dwarven spirits. But I do remember a few things. I saw m’ancestor Surabar, in the flesh, more or less. He said to me, “Torrek, your mission on Oerth is far from over. You still have great things to accomplish. Tis the will of the gods for ye (and Dagmar) to go back and defend Cauldron. And you can start by kicking that giant’s arse. After that, follow the sign of the Smoking Eye. Your destiny awaits.” Nidrama was there too, the sweet lass. I’m afraid she couldn’t say much, with Surabar being there and all, but this dwarf could see the fire in her eyes when she looked upon me. Alas that was the last that I remembered of the time I spent being dead. Tis good being dead, sometimes. But tis even better to live and enact vengeance upon the one who kills ye…
Torrek's Tall Tavern Tales: The Fury of Vaprak's Voice (Part Two)
Turns out lots happened while I was dead. M'companions retreated from the fire giant, named Dugobras as we later found out, after meself and Dagmar fell. After a few hours to catch their breaths, they sneaked back into Vaprak's Voice to rescue our bodies. Avoiding Dugobras, they came upon a trio of old women attempting to animate m'corpse and slew the old hags. (This dwarf doesn't quite understand how three old women posed much of a problem to seasoned adventurers. Ah well, tis probably best not to ask, I be grateful to not be one of the place's more permanent guardians.) Sneaking back outside, they began the journey back to the town of Redgorge to get the two of us raised proper.
Twas a day's travel away from Vaprak's Voice when Dagmar and meself miraculously came back to life. And just in time for breakfast too! Dying really works up an appetite, trust me. Most people would be grateful to have their lives back and probably use the opportunity to retire from the adventuring trade and call themselves lucky. Not I! That overgrown blacksmith still had m'waraxe, armour, and shield! Hell have no fury like an angry robbed dwarf. (Me greatuncle, Cluggen Spellmason, was fond of that saying. He once had his purse lifted in town by some thieves and nearly burned a whole city block trying to take out them cutpurses.) Anyways, back to Vaprak's Voice we went. Besides, we still had to find Tercival!
Upon our arrival, that fool of a giant was kind enough to leave m’shield by the main gate with a note telling us he wanted to talk. When we found ‘im, he didn’t have much to say (giants sure are grumpy when they wake up), but was willing to give us our arms back if we left him alone. Twice the fool this Dugobras was, but I sure was happy to get m’hands on m’waraxe again. Now, let it not be said that the Company of the Copper Coin doesn’t finish what it begins. Needing to find Tercival, the giant was the only lead we had and Ander was determined to milk this one for all its worth. As for meself, I was more than willing to help ‘im do it. Now, I couldn’t hear what was being said, Ander and Dagmar having cast spells of invisibility and silence on me, but when I saw the giant try to grab Ander, I grabbed m’axe and stuck it in the giant’s arse. Hah! Wish the lot of you could’ve seen the look on his face. This time Dugobras didn’t stand a chance. Thanks to a bit of protective magic from m’friend Gwydion, this dwarf hardly got hurt at all.
Yarr, but the story doesn’t end here m’friends. Making our way deeper into the Vaprak’s Voice, we finally found Tercival in the most unlikely of places: a mirror! Ander would tell you it was actually a portal, but it looked like a freakin’ mirror to me. Ander’s usually right about that sort of thing. Anyways, when I walked into the mirror, I found meself in a room with another five portals. Stepping through one of those brought me into another room, exactly the same except a different colour. A good thing Gwydion was nearby or I would still be walking around in them chambers. Finally, thanks to Gwydion’s directions, we walked into a ruined cell with none other than Alek Tercival as its sole occupant. Strangely enough, Tercival seemed a bit under the weather, almost as if he had drank himself into a stupor. It took a bit of convincing to take him out of it, but we finally got ‘im to agree to follow us back to Redgorge. Big problem though. Turns out we couldn’t go back the way we came. Opening the only other door brought us to another chamber. Lo and behold, an opening to the outdoors showed us that we were somewhere within the Sea of Dust! For those of you who don’t know where that is, know that it’s a long walk back to Cauldron.
Just as I’m wondering how Ander was gonna get us out of this mess (when in doubt, ask the wizard), flames suddenly sprang out of the ground and a four-armed demon appeared as if from nowhere. Now, I might not be as magically inclined as some of m’cousins, but I know a glabrezu when I see one. But this unholy fiend was none other than Nabthatoron, Lord of the Demonskar and arch-foe of m’ancestor, Surabar Spellmason. Finally, a chance to prove m’worth to Surabar, Nidrama, and m’clan. M’waraxe, hammered in the cold forges of Clan Splintershield and blessed by the Forge-Father and Silverbeard, thirsted for the fiend’s blood. The moment I had been preparing for m’whole life had finally come. And then it passed. As if often the case in battle, everything happened so fast. One second I’m face to face with m'foe, trying to land a blow, the next I’m standing over his body, dead from a single arrow to the head, shot by Gwydion’s bow. Twas most probably the most impressive shot I have ever laid m’eyes upon. Oh well, I’m sure m’time will come. Lots of other demons in the Demonskar, or so I hear.
So how did we finally get back to Redgorge? That story, m’friends, will require another round of drinks…
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Things Torrek learned from adventuring:
It’s always polite to knock before entering.
Don’t send companions to investigate evil organisations unless you really dislike them.
If someone asks for your finest coins, don’t give them a copper.
Sneaking around in full plate is impractical, but not impossible.
Training isn’t required for everyday adventuring needs such as appraising, drinking, and playing a harpsichord.
Don’t let the wizard explore by himself, even if he’s invisible.
Fireballs are very effective against wooden buildings.
Just because an elevator looks sturdy doesn’t mean the rope that’s holding it is.
Learn how to swim. Some lakes actually don’t have bottoms.
Always assume something ISN’T an illusion until proven otherwise.
Expect trouble when entering places with names like the “Pit of Seven Jaws.”
Earth elementals make for unreliable companions.
Dwarves make great villains, especially if you get their stuff.
Captured villains will usually find ways to escape, even if bound tightly. Keeping them unconscious won’t prevent their rescue at the hands of another.
Wear a tight belt when around halflings, for fear of losing more than just your belt pouch.
Never underestimate a blacksmith’s ability to wield a hammer, especially if he’s a giant.
Things can go from bad to worse in about 6 seconds.
Since m'birthrite is coming up, I prepared a list of all m'friends and allies to invite. Let it not be said that this dwarf passed up a chance to celebrate and get drunk!
Torrek Spellmason's Birthrite Invitation List:
M'friends in the Company of the Copper Coin:
- Dagmar Anvilheart, Axe-Brother of Clangeddin Silverbeard
- Ander Aslaxin, the Monkey Mage
- Penelope Littlesprout, Mistress of Occipitus
- Brother Gwydion of the Lucky Monkey
- Sorin of Rainhaven
- Ishara of Sasserine, Priestess of Istus
M'family, Clan Spellmason:
- Grandsire Morgrim, Patriarch of Clan Spellmason
- Grandsire Grennel, Matriarch of Clan Spellmason
- Dorag Spellmason, Master Brewer, Father of Torrek
- Tyrra Spellmason, Mistress of Fire, Wife of Dorag
- Balmek Spellmason, Apprentice of Dorag
- Algar Spellmason, Apprentice of Tyrra
- Snaevar Spellmason, Master of Earth, Priest of Moradin
- Jormun Spellmason, Apprentice of Snaevar
- Amakar Spellmason, Master of Tomes
- Sarras Spellmason, Daughter of Amakar
- Prellis Spellmason, Apprentice of Amakar
- Dorn Spellmason, Forge Master
- Beyla Spellmason, Mistress of Crafts, Wife of Dorn
- Gofnyr Spellmason, Son of Dorn
- Rostenoc Spellmason, Son of Dorn
- Vorgrim Spellmason, Apprentice of Dorn
- Batava Spellmason, Apprentice of Beyla
- Cluggin Spellmason, Master Alchemist
- Toffa Spellmason, Feast Mistress, Wife of Cluggin
- Heth Spellmason, Daughter of Cluggin
- Asgrim Spellmason, Son of Cluggin
- Hoff Spellmason, Apprentice of Toffa
- Gulnyr Spellmason, Master of Arms
- Narbeth Spellmason, Mistress of Artefacts, Wife of Gulnyr
- Nartach Spellmason, Son of Gulnyr
- Thendora Spellmason, Daughter of Gulnyr
- Jaer Spellmason, Demonhunter
- Foriel Spellmason, Demonhunter
Allies from the City of Cauldron:
- Lord Arius Vhalantru
- Lord Zachary Aslaxin I
- Lady Thifrane Rhiavadi
- Jenya Urikas, High-Priestess of Saint Cuthbert
- Sir Alek Tercival, Paladin of Saint Cuthbert
- Ruphus Laro, Priest of Saint Cuthbert
- Skylar Krewis, Sergeant of the City Watch
- Shensen Tesseril, Strider of Fharlanghn
- Skie Aldersun, Proprietress of Skie's Treasury
- Gretchyn Tashykk, Mistress of the Lantern Street Orphanage
- Zachary Aslaxin II, Stormblade
- Cora Lathenmire, Stormblade
- Annah Taskerhill, Stormblade
- Todd Vanderboren, Stormblade
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Well, after much cajoling from my players, I've decided to begin posting to this thread. Specficially, I thought I would provide a glimpse into how the Company of the Copper Coin has impacted the people in the city of Cauldron.
Over the next little while (I make no scheduling promises) we will see how individuals such as High Priestess Jenya, acolyte Ruphus Laro, Lieutenant Skylar Krewis, the nobles and merchants of Cauldron see the Company of the Copper Coin.
In addition we will visit with Dagmar Anvilheart, reserve member of the Company of the Copper Coin and current master of the Malachite Hold. And finally, we will take a look into the life of the long-missing Ehran, former friend of Torrek Spellmason who has been missing for over a year since attempting to infiltrate the Last Laugh.
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First Encounters
Ruphus Laro
It was a cold and wet night when Brother Ruphus Laro of the Cudgel first met Torrek and Ehran. The thugs had cornered him in an alley on his way back from the Lantern Street Orphanage and were about to do a lot worse than threaten him when a voice called out from the street.
“Lay yer hands off him lads,” the voice called. It was deep, and Ruphus could almost hear the ale on his breath.
The dwarf stepped forward, an axe in his hands. Even as he did so, a flash of dazzling light blinded the thugs as an elf emerged from the shadows. The pair made short work of the three thugs, and in a moment the alley was quiet.
“You have my thanks friends,” Ruphus said. He said a prayer to St-Cuthbert to thank him for delivering these agents of justice, and healed the dwarves minor wounds.
“Aye, not a problem. Although it’s a good thing them thugs had nothing more than these needles,” the dwarf replied, kicking a short sword. “Me name’s Torrek, and this here is my friend Ehran.” The elf nodded.
“And I am Ruphus, brother in the order of the cudgel.”
“A cleric of St-Cuthbert? And what would a cleric be doing out on a night like this?” Torrek asked, wiping a splatter of blood off the blade of his axe.
“Well, you’ve no doubt heard of the kidnappings in the city?”
“Aye.”
“Well I was just on my way back from one such scene, the Lantern Street Orphanage. Several children were taken the night before last.”
‘They’ve kidnapped children now!?”
“Four. In any case, I am on my way back to the temple to speak to the priestess about this. Would you care to join me? It’s not far, and we could provide you with some food and drink, as thanks for your help.”
“Drink?” Torrek smiled, “Aye, perhaps we can join you.”
Ruphus lead the pair back to the temple, stopping long enough to hand the 3 unconscious thugs over to the city watch. Perhaps, he thought to himself, these two might be the types that Jenya has been looking for. He knew that the priestess had been growing ever more concerned about the disappearances. Unfortunately, with Sarcem away in Sasserine, she had little time to look into the matter herself. Ruphus had done his own investigation, but he was running into dead ends.
The trio reached the temple in a few moments and Ruphus lead them inside. From the doors of the temple he could see the dim lights of the city reflecting off Crater Lake, although the clouds obscured any moonlight. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of movement from a nearby rooftop. Jumping at shadows, he thought and closed the door.
“Let me get you something to eat, and I will bring you to see Jenya. She is acting high priestess while Father Saracem Delesharn is away in Sasserine.” Ruphus left the pair and made his way to the kitchens. He stopped a young acolyte, Armis, and asked him to find out if Jenya was still awake. In the kitchens Ruphus picked out some bread and sausage, as well as two tankards. He filled them from a small keg and brought the meal out to his rescuers. Ruphus saw Armis open a side door and nod.
“If you’ll excuse me, I will speak to Jenya. I’ll be back in but a moment.” Ruphus left the pair and made his way to Jenya’s office. It was Sarcem’s office actually, but she was using it at the moment. Inside Jenya was waiting, a prayer book lay open in her lap and she seemed lost in thought.
“Excuse me, but I have some people here that you might wish to see.”
Jenya looked up, “Ah Ruphus, you look a little worn. I didn’t think the orphanage was so far away?”
Ruphus smiled, “I was attacked on my way back. Three thugs jumped me in an alley. But a pair of locals were kind enough to help. In fact, they are the people I think you need to talk to.”
“And why is that?”
“I think they might be the perfect people to look into these kidnappings. They seem honest, and they were more than willing to help a complete stranger, even when outnumbered.”
“But they are strangers. We know nothing of them.”
“I agree, but with Sarcem away and Alek out on one of his quests, we have so few people who can look into this matter. We need to have some faith. I’m sure they’re aid is a sign that they can bring justice to whoever has been committing these crimes.”
“Very well, show them in, but I hope you are right about this.”
Ruphus nodded and returned to the hall. The dwarf had finished both tankards, while his elven friend was sitting on the side, “You know you’re disgusting.”
“Aye, so ye’ve said, but why let such perfectly good ale go to waste?”
“My friends,” Ruphus said, stepping into the main hall. “Jenya will see you now.”
He watched as the pair made their way to see the priestess. They looked unruly, and unkempt. Not exactly the sort that the church would normally employ, but for some reason, Ruphus had a good feeling about the pair.
Yarrr, good times indeed. Twas a memorable night. I got m'first kill!
Ah yes, good times. Now, the next post will, I believe be of particular interest to Torrek, as we finally delve into the mysterious whereabouts of his long missing friend and companion, Ehran.
Oooo! I know I've got a lot on my plate to figure out for Gwydion, but I'd love to flesh some of ths out, unless there are some deep and secret goings-on.
Torrek's Tall Tavern Tales: The Cathedral of Wee Jas[br/]
Twas on the 15th of Wealsun when m'companions and I finally decided to pay a visit to the Cathedral of Wee Jas. Why, you ask? Let's just say we weren't going to ask for the high- priest's blessing. We did have a few scores to settle with the folks at the cathedral for certain offences:
- Turning m'friend Ander into a monkey (though if you ask me, I think he enjoyed his time spent as a primate).
- Turning m'other friend Gwydion into a toad.
- Rescuing our prisoner, Zenith Splintershield, from our custody (at least we managed to keep the head).
- Consorting with beholders.
- Attacking the Church of St. Cuthbert, kidnapping the boy, Terrem, killing the boy's step-parents, as well as Jenya Urikas, high-priestess of St. Cuthbert.
- Performing dark rituals on Alek Tercival, Paladin of St. Cuthbert.
- Sending assassins to kill the Company of the Copper Coin (that's us).
-Trashing m'favourite watering-hole, the Tipped Tankard. This was the final straw![br/]
Some of you might have heard of a little ruckus before the cathedral’s very steps. Aye, that one of m’companions was overly anxious to deliver the city’s justice is true enough, but those guards were given fair warning and declined our offer to leave in peace. Upon entering, lo and behold! Giants and half-orcs! And I can tell ye right now that these weren’t the penitent kind. A fierce battle ensued with yours truly caught in the middle of it. I was a bit worried when one of them giants got past me and smashed a door over m’friend Ander’s noggin. But the Monkey Mage is a sly one, I tell ye, for a moment after the door came down crashing down upon him, Ander appeared a hundred feet away with hardly a scratch on him. While m’friend, Sorin, engaged the giants, a whirlwind of claws and fury, yours truly took on some of them half-orcs. The nerve of them, wielding waraxes. Tis a powerful weapon, deserving of respect, not to be wielded by common half-orcs! Well, sure enough, by the time I was through with them, they learned proper respect. So this gang of ruffians was led by some priest named Calmus. A coward, he was, for no sooner had we dispatched his dogs that he decided to flee up the tower. We thought it best to let him sweat it out a bit, so we explored the rest the temple. Nothing of interest did we find, except for some books and some dead naked guy.
Aye, so up the tower we went! Now listen carefully, for ye are about to hear our most tragic tale yet. We finally made it to the top of the tower only to find that our enemies were well prepared for us. Father Ike Iverson, although we couldn’t see him at first since he was flying near the top of the ceiling, had a bunch of monstrous zombies and a skeletal devil waiting for us, as well as Calmus and those two assassins that had trashed the Tipped Tankard. Twas a good thing, or so I thought at the time, since here was proof that the Church of Wee Jas was consorting with the forces of Evil. The battle did not start well for us. Unbeknownst to us at first, a dread wraith, a spirit born of evil and darkness (or so Ishara tells me), came out of the floor and attacked us. I tried to defeat the foul thing, but m’axe just went through it, more often than not. While Sorin was engaged against the zombies, the devil summoned a wall of ice and Penelope and Sorin were cut off from the rest of us. Father Ike was busy using his unholy magicks from a distance, and things looked grim indeed as it appeared the wraith would soon kill Ander and Ishara. Lucky for us that we had Gwydion with us. Calling upon his nameless patron, he smote the wraith and sent it back to the hell it came from. Finally, things were starting to look better for the Company of the Copper Coin. Unfortunately, my newfound hopes were soon destroyed, as Father Ike, enraged at the destruction of his wraith, descended upon Gwydion, calling him traitor. Gwydion, already weary from his fight against the wraith, stood little chance against the insane priest and was soon killed. Busy I was fighting against the devil, which I promptly slew, but I could not arrive in time to save m’friend. A strange thing happened after that. It appeared that Father Ike’s magicks failed him after Gwydion’s death. One second he was standing nearly 9 feet tall, filled with unholy powers. The next second he changed back to good old regular Ike Iverson. Perhaps Wee Jas hadn’t given up on Gwydion after all, and abandoned Ike in his moment of need. The rest of us, barely alive thanks to Ishara’s magicks, rallied to defeat the evil priest. None of our enemies in the temple survived our fury, save for one of the assassins who again escaped our wrath using a spell of invisibility. But I doubt we’ll be seeing that one again, for surely he must have learned by now that it’s probably best not to anger the Company of the Copper Coin.
After the battle, the city watch finally had the decency to show up. We let them clean up the mess. It’s the least they could do after all the trouble we saved them. We picked up our brave companion (and a few spoils of war), and departed. I, for one, was more than willing to drown m’sorrow in a pint of ale, seeing as Gwydion had already mentioned that were he ever to die, no magick would be able to bring him back to the world of the living. M'friends, let us raise our mugs to Holy Brother Gwydion. May he find his goddess and finally know peace.
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Ok, the long promised fate of Ehran, Torrek's long missing friend and companion from the early days of the Shackled City Adventure Path...
Ehran's Fate
Ehran screamed.
The fingers were like ice, molding to his body and gripping him like iron. He hung upside down, sweat pouring down in rivulets. Once he had struggled against the chains, only once. When his captors saw him trying to slip through the metal, they quickly smeared his body with the poison from a purple worm, sapping his strength.
For three days he hung there, in the dark, with only the cold hands of his mysterious captors as company. They brought no light, and made no noise. Not even the sound of their breathing.
Finally the hands released him, and in a few minutes he could feel the warmth return, slowly, to his skin. He almost craved the numbing cold as the pain returned. He tried to turn his mind from the agony, tried to remember what had brought him here in the first place.
It was a little over a week ago when he and his good friend Torrek Spellmason had been exploring gnomish and dwarven ruins under Cauldron, looking for several kidnapped children at the behest of the church of St-Cuthbert. They had figured that the Last Laugh, a guild of thieves in the city, was somehow involved in the kidnappings. As such, Ehran had decided to try and contact the guild, to see what they’re involvement would be.
He had made his way towards the lakefront. From what he knew of the city’s underworld, the Last Laugh was said to operate out of the area. He made his way through the crowd, watching for the tell-tale signs of pick-pockets. He spotted a few, rank amateurs however, and not the kind that the guild would use. Had he been paying more attention to the rest of the people and less on the petty thieves, he might have noticed her approach.
“Looking for someone?” she whispered in his ear, as the blade of her dagger slid against his skin. She was good, probably better than he was.
“Someone,” he nodded, “Yes I am, although I think I may have found who I was looking for.”
Ehran slowly turned, feeling the dagger slide along his throat. The woman standing beside him was slim and had a delicate build, with long black hair. She was also surprisingly young. His eyes were drawn to the golden medallion around her neck, a symbol showing Oldimmara. The jester god’s face was a mixture of silver and gold. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Possibly a friend. Depends on you. I hear you’ve been asking some questions lately.” She slid an arm around his waist and started to walk, pulling him along side her. The dagger at his throat dropped, but he could still feel it pushed against his side.
“About the missing children? Yes, and I take it you have the answers.”
She laughed, “I have some, but I’m warning you. You’re biting off more than you can chew. Just leave the situation alone. I promise you, the kidnappings are going to stop.”
“I’m sorry, that won’t be good enough. We made a promise to find the children and bring them home.” While walking and talking, Ehran was slowly thinking over the spells he knew. He wasn’t a powerful sorcerer, but he had some talent. He could try dazzling her, that had worked on the gnome, or even stun her and give him enough time to escape.
Even as he considered the spells, she guided him towards a nearby alley. She released his waist, and let him take a few steps forward. He turned, his hands raising to cast a spell when he saw a crossbow pointed at his throat. The girl was good.
Three men stepped from the shadows. A fourth, a Halfling with a scar running down the left side of his face emerged from behind some crates. All bore signs of Oldimmara. “No need for spells,” the Halfling said, almost lyrically. “You let lady Jill talk and maybe you go on your way with your entrails intact.”
“No need for threats Flint,” Jill said as she lowered the crossbow. “We’re just here to talk.”
Ehran looked at the five of them. One or two he might be able to handle, but all five? He really wished Torrek was here right now. “Then talk!”
“It’s simple, really. You and your friend mind your business and we leave you alone.”
“We?”
“The Last Laugh. Don’t be ignorant. You’re lucky you get a polite warning. That priest was making the same mistake you are.”
“Why warn then? Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill me and be done with it?”
The Halfling, Flint, looked up, a smile creeping along his face. “It would be, wouldn’t it.” His hand reached into his shirt, emerging with a long, slightly curved dagger.
“No killing, the Jester doesn’t want more attention than necessary,” Jill cautioned. She turned back to Ehran, “Do we have a deal?”
Ehran considered it for a moment. If the Last Laugh was involved, these kidnappings were obviously more organized than they originally had thought. And he had heard of the Last Laugh before, and this seemed out of their normal pattern. Something wasn’t sitting right with him. “Who’s making this deal? You or your boss?”
“Me, on behalf of my boss.”
“Then let me hear it from him.”
“Are you sure?” Jill asked.
“Of course,” Ehran nodded. If he could find out more about the people behind the kidnappings, maybe he could bring the entire group down.
“Ok, if you want.” Jill also nodded, but it was only too late that Ehran realized it wasn’t in his direction. Two of the three men rushed forward and grabbed his arms, while the third slammed something heavy onto the back of his skull. Everything went black.
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Ehran's Fate part II
He awoke hours or days later, it was hard to tell. He was sitting in a chair, his arms bound behind his back, and a table in front of him. Lanterns bathed the room in a harsh yellow light. Behind him he heard movement and a young woman stepped forward. She was plain to look at, with simple homespun clothes and brown hair. She carried a tray with cups and a jug.
“You’re awake.”
Ehran nodded, finding himself unable to speak due to a cloth pulled tight around his mouth. The woman poured water into the two cups, and set one of them in front of the elf. “You’ve caused quite a bit of a stir amongst the Last Laugh, quite a bit.”
Ehran struggled against the ropes, but they were too tight. They were cutting into the skin around his wrists, and he could feel something warm run down his hand.
“Please don’t struggle, it’s not going to do you any good. After all…” suddenly the woman’s skin seemed to pulse and shift, darkening to a sickly red. She gained nearly a foot in height and her body thickened. A pair of bat-like wings emerged, and instead of a woman, there stood a cruel looking man. His fiendish nature was apparent even to Ehran.
“… even if you were free, you wouldn’t be a match for me.”
The creature stepped forward, and pulled the cloth from Ehran’s mouth. “Better?”
“Who..?”
“Velior Thazo, at your service, Jester of the Last Laugh.”
“Jester…?”
“That’s right, Jill said you wanted to meet… of course, I doubt you would have ever asked that had you known about the mark.”
Ehran wasn’t sure what Thazo meant. What mark? Velior was looking at him with an almost amused grin. “What are you talking about?”
“You really don’t know. A pity. Orbius was so sure you’d be aware of your own lineage.”
“What lineage, what are you talking about?”
Velior eased in closer to Ehran. The elf could smell the sulfuric odor off of the half-fiend. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Velior turned and left the room, leaving the cups and water behind, out of Ehran’s reach. He waited there for minutes, and then hours. He struggled against the rope, but it only grew tighter and tighter. He could feel the skin of his wrists rubbed completely raw.
Finally, as time slipped away from him, Ehran heard another sound. The door behind him opened and he heard footsteps.
“Oh yesss…. Here he is… hehehehe…. Just like you promised…. Oh joy of joys!” The voice was high-pitched, touched with cackling madness.
“As promised,” the second voice replied, it was Thazo. “I hope your masters will find him of use?”
“Of course, of course, of course….” Ehran felt the ropes loosen around his arms and legs, but still he remained tied at the wrist. “We have just the perfect place for him too!” The creature cooed with madness as Ehran was jerked to his feet. He was turned roughly and a heavy bag pulled tight around his head. In the instant before everything went dark, he did have time to see the new arrival. The creature stood barely 3 feet in height with dark, sooty grey skin and gleaming white hair. His eyes were wide, luminous and definitely those of belonging to a deranged mind.
“Take him Kravichak. But I expect to be well paid,” Thazo said.
“And the other? The other of course, we must have the other one.”
“The boy? Don’t worry, I’ve already sent one of my best agents to ensure his return. That mongrel half-dwarf was never supposed to take him, I assure you.”
“Goodey, goodey, goodey,” Kravichak cackled. Ehran could here the dwarf chanting a spell, one he wasn’t familiar with. Suddenly he felt the temperature of the room change, growing hot.
“Welcome, welcome! Oh yes, you’ll love it here. Welcome to your last home, hahaha…”
The next few hours were a blur. Always blindfolded, Ehran was lead through corridors and tunnels, up stairs and through doors. All the while he could feel the heat surrounding him. He was finally brought into a large room, the echoes of his footsteps reverberated off the walls.
“Here he is, I’ve brought him to you! Just as I said I would!”
Ehran heard movement, something large. “Of course Kravichak,” a voice said, deep and gravely. “Excellent work. You have your uses after all.”
“Told you! Heh heh heh, I told you we would be a great team!”
Ehran was shoved forward. Suddenly he could feel hands pressed against his face, and he could feel slime left behind. “Perfect. We are only missing two more and the tree will be complete!”
“Take him away!” a new voice cried, this one lighter, like that of a child. Hands grabbed Ehran and dragged him from the room. “Prepare him like the others,” the second voice said.
From there he was dragged some unknown distance. Brought to a room where the bag on his head was finally removed. It was a small room, with shackles on one wall. He was thrown forward, his arms and legs bound and he was hung upside down. A balding man and a cruel looking woman stripped him of his clothes. For the nearly a week he hung there, hunger and thirst driving him to near madness. Occasional morsels of food were given to him, but it was never enough.
He almost welcomed the torture as his captors would “prepare” him. They carved strange sigils into his skin, doused him strange alchemical recipes. He burned, he froze. Sleep was a luxury he measured in minutes, and even then, nightmares of a twisted, ruined landscape dominated by immense skull with a burning eye were all that greeted him.
Days slipped now into weeks, and weeks into months. Each day he would pray that Torrek would find him, free him. Each day he was met with only the bitter realization that help was not coming. His friend had abandoned him.
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Gasp!!! You should change your name from Frozen DM to Mean DM! As if Torrek didn't feel guilty enough already. Ehran, Terrem, Terrem's step-parents, Damien, Mr. Splintershield, those 2 guys from the Kuo-Toan shrine, Gwydion, etc. All those people Torrek failed to protect. No wonder he's drunk half the time.