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Player 1
-Me(Lyriana, Kyle/Aurora, Natalya)
*Gwentithlanthwen “Gwen” Orelwen – Half Elf Spellslinger(going Eldritch Knight) Trunau native. Father died in the invasion of the Witch Queen of Irrisen, mother died in an orcish raid. House burned down. Had to move into the barracks with her cousins, but got a magic rifle out of the deal.
Special Item: Magitech Wand Rifle
Gwen carries a prototype rifle that can use either regular metal cartridges or wand charges as ammunition.
*Valbrand Jarlson – Half Orc Skald. Son of an Ulfen chieftain and a half orc bard who happened to strike the man’s fancy. Sought out the great warrior Lenn to learn how to fight giants. Joined the Adventurer’s Guild, meeting up with his now comrades-in-arms: Rodd Rigez and Kermit and got into years of hijinks with them, eventually finding himself in Trunau guarding a caravan alongside Kermit. Teller of tales that tend to be highly embellished and lover of drink, women and song.
Special Item: Armband of the Frozen North
Valbrand wears a bracer crafted by the shaman of his father’s hold, granting him the power of the wizard elemental school power, Freezing Shards.
Player 2
-Player of Gregor, GM of Carrion Crown and Runelords
*Jazier Alhazred – Human Blood Arcanist(Draconic) Blaster focused on lightning. Searching for his brother, Hashkaan, who seeks power at any cost, even going to the extent of trading a piece of Jazier’s soul to a demon in a dark bargain for more power.
Special Item: Beads of Thunderstrikes
Jazier carries a string of beads that confer on him the ability to use the 1st level power of the Stormborn sorcerer bloodline, with one alteration. He can use it at a range of 30ft.
*Kermit T. Guyver – Grippli Synthesist Summoner. If his name and class don’t tell you what he does, I don’t know what to tell you. Member of the Adventurer’s Guild trio who we goofed around with during our PFS scenario trial run for this campaign’s GM. Intimidating, despite his tiny size.
Special Item: Badge of the Defender
Kermit wears a metal badge, under or over his clothes, that grants him access to a limited arcanist’s Arcane Reservoir and a particular Arcanist Exploit(Arcane Barrier) to use with it.
Player 3
-Player of Burin, Lenn/Geo, Heimish
*Lucky Days – Horse Girl Barbarian. A speed demon, highly mobile fighter wielding a naginata. Sent to find Valbrand and Kermit by Rodd Rigez.
Special Item: Boots of Derring-Do
Lucky Days wears a pair of special shoes with two functions: They have mounts on the bottom for horseshoes, as well as giving her access to a pool of panache and a particular swashbuckler deed, Derring-Do, which can only be used in a specific way.
*Qumeel – Samsarran Cleric of Ragathiel. Visits Trunau regularly to remind himself that there are more mundane forms of evil, beyond those of the evil planes. Helps fight when the orcs raid, so is a welcome visitor when he arrives.
Special Item: Shirt of Incandescence
Qumeel wears a shirt made of spun silk beneath his clothing that confers the ability to use the Life Oracle mystery power, Energy Body.
*Special Mention: Rodd Rigez – The ultimate skill monkey. Player 3’s character when we were goofing around with PFS scenarios. High Int rogue. Kleptomaniac. Coach. May show up later in the campaign as an NPC or perhaps a cohort. Carries a goblin skull. Don’t ask. It’s a sore spot for the GM.
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In truth, people there are like any other. They laugh, they live, they love. And they cry when their family dies. This is no more true than when a child loses both parents, whether to the orcs who constantly threaten the village or to the armies of a mad witch who was trying to dominate the world.
A case in point, Gwethlantithwen Orelwen – Gwen, to non-elves – a young girl of only ten when her father went off to join in trying to fend off the advancing army of the Witch of Irrisen, against the objections of Trunau’s council, who felt their place was with the village, helping to defend it against any orcs that came.
But her father, a one-time elven messenger from Alkenstar who had fallen in love with a human woman and stayed to be with her despite the danger, had never been one to allow others to dictate his actions. The witch would not spare Trunau, so he felt she had to be stopped just as much as the orcs did. Indeed, many orcs of Belkzen had thrown in their lot with the witch’s armies, so fighting the witch was little more than another extension of the fight with the orcs, and in his mind, by enlisting against the witch, he upheld the Standing Vow to protect Trunau against all who would threaten it, even if he wasn’t fighting on the town’s walls.
In the end, he lost his life in the fighting, and the witch’s armies never even neared Trunau’s walls, since outside forces stopped her. Of course, there is still argument over what ended her assault. Some say that a group of heroes stood up, five or six against the armies of Irrisen, cutting through the army like a scythe through wheat. Others say that the Lord of Xin’Shalast came down from his mountain and summoned great metal birds, which rained fire and destruction upon the army, reducing a hundred thousand soldiers to ash within a matter of moments.
It is hard to tell which is true, without asking the Lord of Xin’Shalast or the new rulers of Irrisen. What is certain is that Xin’Shalast’s metal birds are real, as they were used in a punitive expedition against a pair of orc fortresses within Belkzen for the actions of the warlords during the war. Where once great fortresses stood now lays only ash and rubble, so great was his rage at their actions.
As though the death of her father wasn’t a hard enough blow, Gwen’s mother died to an arrow from an orcish hornbow during a raid less than a year later. Many in the town considered her death punishment for refusing to stop her husband from deserting his post, as they put it. And Gwen was a bright girl. She heard their whispers as she passed. But she still had her home, and she had the money her parents had saved, so she would be fine for a time, especially after supplementing her income with siege fees – a price paid to rent a room only to be used if the orcs arrived in force, a common custom in Trunau.
She continued to pass her time, studying her mother’s spell book with the aid of the dwarven woman Agrit Staginsdar and training with the musket her father had left for her under the tutelage of her mother’s second cousin, Jagrin Grath, the town’s patrol leader, until one year after her own hopeknife ceremony had passed. That was when the merchant arrived and burned down her house.
In his defense, Zilvazaraat hadn’t meant to burn down her house. No, the tall, blue skinned mercane had simply fallen asleep in a chair while smoking his pipe. But what was he doing in her house? He was visiting the town to discuss the possibility of serving as a resupplier in the event of a siege, and needed a place to stay while the village council had considered it. And she needed the money and had a house tall enough – the insides were certainly taller than those of the Ramblehouse – that he could be reasonably comfortable in, if perhaps he had to crouch a bit.
Aside from her mother’s spell book, which she had forgotten at Agrit’s place by either providence or luck, she lost everything but her nightclothes and hopeknife in the fire. It had been such a nice evening to begin with, too. Zilvazaraat had regaled her with stories of his travels. Her favorites were the one about the time he was rescued from alien slavers by a group of adventurers and the tales he told of a strange world he had visited where the people lived in immense buildings that reached so far into the sky that someone standing on the roof of one could find themselves unable to see the ground due to the clouds.
But there she was, having done her best to soldier on since the loss of her family, standing there and watching everything she owned burn. A thirteen year old girl, having no idea what she would do now.
You can’t blame her for crying in that situation.
Zilvazaraat was ten feet tall, but he felt no taller than ten inches. “Please,” he begged. “Stop crying. I will make this right, I swear. I will replace everything.”
“B-But w-what do I-I do until then?” she blubbered. A crowd had begun to gather, but she was oblivious. “M-My gun was in there. I-I c-can’t protect myself if the orcs come! And where will I sleep?”
Jagrin Grath stepped out of the crowd. “You’ll be safe enough in the barracks of the Longhouse,” he said, putting a protective hand on her shoulder. “In fact, you’re old enough that you’re ready to move in there to focus more on your training anyway. But she will need a weapon. You do intend to replace it, don’t you, Mister Zilvazaraat?”
Gwen buried her face against the councilor as every bit of her buried emotions surfaced into incoherent sobbing. Zilvazaraat nodded rapidly. “I’ll get her the best gun I can find. And fine, functional clothes, enough to last her for years of growth. I know just the person to speak to for both. In fact, I will go immediately.”
“Good,” Jagrin said. “Do right by the girl, or I promise you that your deal with the village will fall through.” He then looked at the blaze. “You’re just lucky that her parents built their home far enough away from others that there’s no chance of the flames spreading.”
“Yes, quite lucky indeed,” the mercane said. “I will return as swiftly as I can. Two, maybe three days at most.”
True to his word, Zilvazaraat returned around noon on the third day, carrying a magical knapsack. He met with Jagrin and Gwen in the Longhouse to show them what he’d brought. First was several sets of clothing and boots, made of soft leather and woven plant fibers, cut in a utilitarian elven style. “I traveled to the city of Magnimar to find something appropriate. I got several sets in different sizes so you’d have new things as you grow.”
“Very thoughtful,” Jagrin said. “She’s expressed interest in helping with hunts, and that should work well.”
“I can’t take credit for thinking of multiple sizes,” Zilvazaraat admitted. “Luckily, the clothier I bought them from suggested them based on my story.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said, taking the clothes. The set appropriate for her current size was green and went well with her blue hair, so she was pretty pleased and couldn’t wait to try them on.
Zilvazaraat reached into the bag. “Now this baby I got from the world I told you about, the one with the giant buildings. On that world lives a wizard who is a genius at making magical tools and weapons. He still owed me for some mithral I sold him on credit a couple years back, so I called in the debt.”
The weapon he laid before them was sleek and beautiful, but it was different than anything either of them had seen, and they said so. “How am I supposed to pack in the powder down that narrow barrel?” Gwen asked.
“You don’t,” Zilvazaraat said, handing her a number of strange metal objects. “It fires these. You pack the powder into these cartridges and it fires the bullet inside. He gave me a set of tools and a book on how to make more of these cartridges, which are also in the bag. Oh, and from what he was saying, it should shoot further more accurately than a musket.”
“That’s incredible,” Gwen said, carefully picking up the weapon. It fit her hands perfectly. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“Oh, right, about that. There’s a book about how to do that too. Apparently the wizard’s people are really big on these kinds of books. They give out these instruction manuals with everything they make, though apparently no one ever bothers reading them.” He then handed her the bag itself. “Finally, take this. It will carry more than it appears, and I left some coins in there to help cover everything else I owe.”
“Thank you!” Gwen said, uncharacteristically chipper as she hugged the massive merchant.
“It was the least I could do,” Zilvazaraat said, perhaps a bit uncomfortable at the sudden show of affection. Gwen then excused herself to go try on her new clothes.
“You did well,” Jagrin said once the girl had left.
“Thanks. So, about our deal…”
“The council approved it pending satisfactory conclusion of the matter with Gwen, which I think we can safely say has been accomplished. So, I do believe we’re in business.”
“Excellent!” the mercane chortled, reaching out to shake the hand Jagrin had offered.
The next few years saw Gwen grow into a fine young woman and a skilled huntress, using both her marksmanship and her fine tools to bring down game to feed those within the town. During this time, she continued to live in the barracks, and continued to take her duties seriously. Her elven eyes served her well on night watch duty, so she often found herself given such shifts.
On one evening, sometime after her seventeenth birthday and a mere few days before the big event that would be the hopeknife ceremony of Ruby, Chief Defender Halgra’s youngest daughter, she went to The Killing Ground – the village’s bar – to grab some unfermented fruit juice and what passed for food at the place. There had been a market day that day due to the arrival of a trade caravan, and several of the caravan guards were sitting at one of the tables along with her cousin – Jagrin’s son Rodrik, the older of the twins.
Rodrik, who had treated Gwen almost as a sister since the time she had moved into the barracks, called her over. “Cousin, you have to listen to some of these stories,” the young man said. “They’re great.”
“That’s okay, I think I’ll pass,” she said, taking her usual table on one side of the room. She noted that the strange man – Jazier, if she recalled his name correctly – who had come to town last week was sitting in the corner by himself. She wasn’t sure what he was here for, but he claimed to be recruiting for something. It was none of her concern. She had her job, and she took it very seriously.
As she sat, she couldn’t help but overhear the rather loud man sitting with her cousin, as he told his story. “So, anyway, there I was, five, no, six flagons of mead deep. Then Rodd Rigez says to me, he says ‘Valbrand, you claim that you can bed any woman, but I bet you five gold pieces that I can think of one that’s beyond your skill.’ So I look at him, and there’s no way I’m going to take that smirk without response. ‘It’s a bet,’ I told him. ‘Name her.’”
“What did he say?” Rodrik asked.
“He got that smirk of his, looked me dead in the eye, and he said, ‘The queen.’ Now, you see, the queen of the land we were in is reputed to be a great beauty, perhaps the fairest woman in a dozen kingdoms. But I couldn’t let Rodd Rigez have the last word, so I went up to my room, grabbed my rope and hook, and went straight to the palace.”
“You didn’t!” Rodrik exclaimed.
“He did,” the strange small frog-man – a grippli, though Gwen did not know what he was – said, taking a sip of his tea. “Maybe I should have stopped him, but it wasn’t really my business.”
“I would have slugged you for trying,” Valbrand said. “Anyway, onto the story. I made my way past the palace guards, and managed to climb all the way into her window without being spotted. And you’ll never believe what I saw when I got there.”
“What? What did you see?” It was clear he had the listeners on the edge of their seats.
“Now, let me tell you first of all, the queen really is as beautiful as they say, but here’s the part that surprised me. She looks up at me from the book she’s reading, and says, ‘Valbrand, what the hell are you doing here?’”
“She knew you?”
“Very well, you see, it turns out that the queen was a wench I’d bedded years before in a tavern.”
Her cousin laughed. “Come on, you can’t expect us to believe that!”
“It’s the gods’ own truth. So anyway, I said to her, ‘Hey, sweet t#!!! I came up to bed you so I can win a bet.’”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing that I remember. Next thing I knew, I woke up to Rodd Rigez and Kermit fishing me out of the lake outside of the castle.”
Rodrik, howling with laughter, looked to the grippli for confirmation. He nodded. “I can’t say what happened for sure while he was in there, but only a few moments after going in, he suddenly came flying out of the window. He made it at least a hundred feet out from the castle before hitting the water.”
“So, did you win the bet?”
Valbrand took a swig of his drink. “No. Rodd Rigez said that even if I was telling the truth, I can’t count past conquests.”
“At least you got a story out of it. Whatever happened to Rodd Rigez, anyway?”
“Oh, he’s off scouting something. I didn’t quite understand what he meant. Said he’d come join back up with us after he finds whatever it is he’s looking for.”
“Fair enough. Valbrand, Kermit, you two are alright. I have an early patrol tomorrow, so I should turn in for the night. Cousin, shall I walk you to your post?” he asked Gwen.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m just about finished anyway.” She put her coins on the table. “Rabus,” she called over to the owner. “You really should invest in better grapes. These are terrible before they’re fermented.”
“That’s because that was plum juice.”
She considered it, taking the last sip from her cup. “Okay, fair enough. Not too bad for plums.” Outside, she chided her cousin. “Rodrik, you really shouldn’t be giving people like that the time of day.”
“Valbrand? He’s harmless and his stories are entertaining. You should have him tell you about the time when his friend Kermit stared down a rampaging aurochs.”
Gwen considered the statement. “The frog thing? The one that can’t be more than three feet tall?” she asked incredulously.
“The same.”
“Aren’t aurochs bigger and more aggressive than normal cattle?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“And you expect me to believe that the little frog man stared it down?”
“We once watched a goose bully a dozen cows out of their pasture, remember?” Rodrik asked, somehow both completely serious and amused at the same time.
Gwen laughed. “Fair enough. What’s up with that Jazier fellow? He weirds me out a bit.”
“Not sure, exactly. You might ask Kurst, though. He was chatting with him earlier today.” Kurst was Rodrik’s younger twin.
“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” Gwen agreed. “A lot of strange people in town lately. I’m not sure how many of them I trust.”
“It’ll calm down again after Ruby’s ceremony. Halgra’s going a little extravagant with it, is all. Which has drawn in a larger than normal caravan. Once it’s over, the merchants will leave and so will their guards.”
The two of them walked the rest of their way to the watchtower along the village’s lower palisade where Gwen would spend her night in silence. Gwen called out to the person she was relieving and hugged her cousin goodbye. “Go get some sleep,” she told him. “I can take it from here.”
“Be safe,” he told her.
“I will be,” she responded. “You do the same.”
Her night was mostly uneventful, at least until her watch shift was over. That night her watch was for six hours, which was a simple shift. The watch durations were changed constantly to prevent the routines from becoming predictable. She had done as long as nine hours – that shift overlapped with another person’s – and as few as four.
It was still dark, with dawn several hours off, when she parted with her relief and began making her way back to the Longhouse. As she rounded a corner, she crashed into a large drunken man. “Watch where you’re going!” she hissed, barely managing to avoid falling.
“Sorry about that,” Valbrand said. His breath reeked of mead. “Say! You’re Rodrik’s cousin. You know, I didn’t notice earlier, but you’re quite beautiful.”
Gwen didn’t know how to respond to that. “Um. Thanks?”
“What do you say, want to join me for a tumble before going to sleep?”
It took her a moment to realize what he was proposing. “Eww, no. Sorry, I’m not interested in half-orcs.”
“A challenge! I should warn you, I will win you over,” he boasted. “I’m not used to taking no as a final word.”
“Just like your brute father, I’m sure,” Gwen muttered.
“What? No! Well, okay, yes, but not how you think. My father is a human, a mighty Ulfen raider. My mother just happened to be the most beautiful half-orc he’d ever seen and had the bad luck to be in a village his longboat targeted. He fell so hard in love with her at first sight that he dragged her off to be his wife.”
“How romantic,” Gwen said sarcastically.
“My mother seems to think so,” he answered before belching.
“Valbrand, we really should return to our rooms,” a voice said. Gwen looked down and just barely noticed Kermit, who was tugging on Valbrand’s pant leg.
“Go ahead, Kermit. I’m busy talking with a pretty girl.”
“No, it’s fine, go ahead,” Gwen said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine without you.”
“And deprive you of my company? I would never.”
Gwen sighed. “Please just go.”
“I’ll leave if you want,” Valbrand said. “But not without a kiss.”
The thought of kissing someone who smelled like a brewery nearly made Gwen gag. She was trying to decide whether to threaten to shoot him or bring him in for a night in a cell when another voice spoke up.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” the voice said. Gwen turned to see a familiar face, that of Qumeel, the strange blue-skinned Samsaran cleric of Ragathiel who came to Trunau every couple months for a chance to fight savage orc raiders in the name of his god. “Drunkenness dulls your senses and will interfere in your ability to fight should this town be raided. Come along with me so I can report you to the captain of your guard.”
“What? I’m not a –“ Valbrand tried to protest.
But the cleric would have none of it. “Do not force me to repeat myself. Come along.” He pointed with the hand holding his shield, while his other hand reached over his shoulder for his bastard sword.
“We should probably go,” Kermit said.
Valbrand looked at his friend and his shoulders slumped. “Fine. Let’s go.” He began heading in the direction that the Samsaran was pointing.
Qumeel turned and gave Gwen a sly wink. Gwen, for her part, mouthed “Thank you.” Qumeel just nodded.
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And we're rolling! Now all that's missing is a devotee of Mispigie . . . or maybe Valbrand actually covers that?
You know... I can't recall who Valbrand worships.
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You know... I can't recall who Valbrand worships.
My original character sheet for him says "Orc Pantheon".
I might change that, tbh. :P
Oh, and we did our first combat in Giantslayer. This game is going to be "A Quentin Tarantino Film starring Kermit the Frog and an anime horse girl", apparently.
^Totally over the top . . . and eagerly awaited!
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Ruby, daughter of the town’s chief defender, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, would be undergoing her hopeknife ceremony, marking her passage into, if not adulthood, then something very much bordering it. The ceremony itself is oft a grim one, in which the guest of honor is taught the proper way to use their newly given blade to cut the vital arteries of those who face capture by orcish raiders, saving them from a fate worse than death. And not only were they taught how to kill others, but also how to easily kill themselves, to spare all possible from torture or slavery at the hands of the brutal orcs.
Halgra took to the stage and addressed the crowd in attendance. “Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.”
She turned to the table next to her and opened an ornamented box sitting in the center of the table. From within she withdrew a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. As she did so, several members of the town unconsciously reached up and touched the knives hanging from the chains on their own necks. Halgra noted the motions with approval.
“But tonight,” she continued, “is a special occasion. The recipient of this particular hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” She turned to the nervous child standing next to her. “Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family – even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?”
The child, Ruby, suppressed all instinct to bolt from the eyes of the crowd, swallowed, and nodded.
Halgra had hoped for a more enthusiastic response, but she was proud of her daughter for doing her best. “If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut – here, here or here,” she said, indicating several arteries close to the surface. When she was done, she sheathed the knife once more and hung the chain around her daughter’s neck before turning to address the crowd. “Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!”
“Trunau forever!” the crowd cheered in response.
Gwen sat in the audience, taking stock of the crowd as the Chief Defender spoke. There were a lot of people there, many of them outsiders. She spotted the large man from a few nights past, as well as the Samsarran cleric – who wore an approving expression as Ruby was taught what was expected of her - and even the strange man Jazier was sitting in the crowd. It was a rather large crowd, but Ruby deserved it. She was a good kid.
As Halgra finished, she addressed the crowd once more. “Now, now that we’ve dispensed with the important part, on to the fun part! Enjoy your food and merriment! But not too much of the latter for those of you who are scheduled to stand watch.”
Rodrik grabbed a drink and invited Kermit and Valbrand to join him. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asked.
“I’ve seen bigger parties,” Valbrand noted. “But any party is great as long as everyone is having fun. Needs more wenches though.”
“And you, Kermit?”
Kermit considered for a moment as he sipped the last of his tea. “Dreams are how we found out where we want to go. Life is how we get there. Come, Glenn. We’re going to grab more tea.”
An awestruck Rodrik set down his mug and began writing down what Kermit had said. “Your friend is full of profound wisdom,” he told the giant man.
Valbrand laughed. “If you think that’s something, just wait until you meet Rodd Rigez. In fact, I remember this one time…” and he continued on, telling Rodrik of the time his friend had bartered nothing more than words for the egg of a harpy queen, from the harpy queen herself. Rodrik, for his part, listened in rapt attention, taking notes as he spoke.
Having heard the tale before – indeed, having been there – Kermit refilled his tea and sought other conversation, approaching the guards. One in particular, Omast Frum, who was well into his third mug of mead, greeted the grippli warmly. “This guy is the best,” he said to a fellow guardsman as he invited Kermit to speak with him and his friends.
Kurst went to speak to the Samsarran cleric, Qumeel. “How are you, this fine evening?” he asked.
“I am doing well, thank you,” the cleric answered warmly.
“It’s always good to have you here, Qumeel. It’s rare to find one like you who is kind to everyone.”
The cleric chuckled. “Those who displease Ragathiel would disagree with your assessment of me. But it is of no matter. I do not care for their opinions, as it is not the place of those who displease Ragathiel to judge, only to be put down for their transgressions such that they may never harm others again.” He noticed something. “You appear to have a burst blister on your hand. Hard training?”
“Trying to master a new technique,” Kurst said. “I was not quick enough in parrying a blow and got a bit of a hit in the process.”
“Let me see it,” the cleric said. It was less a request than a command, and Kurst complied. “It is good I looked at it. It will fester if not treated.” He said a prayer and pricked his own finger, crystal clear blood dripping from the wound onto the blister. As the blood dripped, the blister began healing where it touched.
“That’s amazing!” Kurst exclaimed. “Trunau’s apothecary could work wonders with your blood, save a lot of people.”
Qumeel nodded. “I have been to see him already. He has taken as much as I can spare this trip.”
“You’re a good man, Qumeel,” Kurst said. “Come, let me buy you a drink.”
Meanwhile, Valbrand had finished his story. “I will miss your tales,” Rodrik said. “Do you know when you and Kermit are leaving?”
“When the caravan departs,” Valbrand said, draining his tankard. “I believe we have a few days yet.” He turned to the person in charge of the keg. “More mead!” he demanded jovially, slamming the cup on the table.
“I just noticed something,” Rodrik noted. “You’re very tall. Excuse me for asking, but do you have any giant’s blood in you?”
Valbrand laughed. “That’s right, I never told you that tale. I do not have giant’s blood. I come from Ulfen stock. My ancestors are the iron men of the north, tall and powerful. At least on my father’s side. My father is jarl, or chieftain, to your people, and leader of the combined raiding forces of three towns.”
“And your mother?”
“She is half-orc.”
“A warrior?”
“A bard. She traveled from town to town, trading song and poem for coin and lodging. They say she was the most beautiful woman in the region she traveled, and had many suitors. But none were strong enough to match her and none had the wits to woo her.”
“How did your father manage to win her heart?”
“It took some time,” Valbrand admitted. “As she tells it, it was some years after he kidnapped her.”
Rodrik spat out his mouthful of beer. “He what?”
“She was performing at an inn in a coastal town when my father’s raiding party arrived. They sacked the town, carrying off everything of value, from the gold to the grain to the beautiful wenches. He was so stricken with her beauty that he gave up his share of the rest of the spoils just to ensure that none would object to him taking her as his own.”
“He what now?”
“Mother claims that he was always a romantic like that. My elder brother was the result of their first night, taken aboard the ship while the fires of the town burned. He is even bigger than I and will make a fine jarl when my father dies.”
“That’s… disturbing,” Rodrik said, noting the parallels to orcish raids on Trunau.
Valbrand shrugged. “It’s the way things are done. Those with strength take what they can, and those with strength hold on to what they value. Your town has proven stronger than those around you, and as such, I must admit that your people have my great respect.”
From a distance, Gwen spotted Rodrik’s disturbed expression and walked over to help extract him from what was obviously an uncomfortable conversation. “Excuse me, cousin, but shouldn’t we go get Kurst so you two can start the next part?”
“Oh!” Rodrik said, glad for an out from the strange conversation. “Right. Can you show me where Kurst got off to? I really should get that started. Valbrand, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls. Perhaps we can talk later.”
Valbrand nodded. “I have many other tales to tell. But for now, more mead!” he said, slamming his tankard on the table once more.
“Thank you,” Rodrik mouthed to Gwen as she showed him over to where Kurst was chatting with Qumeel.
As the others talked, Omast spotted Rodrik writing in his journal. “Always working on his poetry, that one,” he said to the grippli. “He should be next in line to take over as patrol leader. But there’s controversy about that, since he and his father had a bit of a falling out. Well, if he doesn’t want the job, maybe they’ll have me do it, instead. You get me, Kermit?”
Kermit sipped his tea. “That’s not really any of my business,” he said.
Omast clapped him on the back. “I knew you’d understand.” As they talked for several minutes, eventually he fell asleep, collapsing on and trapping the frog-man. Glenn, the man in the pelican suit who carried Kermit’s things, did what he could, but found the armored guardsman too hard to lift.
Her cousins both took the stage and Rodrik addressed the crowd. “Alright everyone! As traditional, we’re going to begin this with a contest.” He marked the ground with some chalk while Kurst laid out a rope. “On one side will stand my brother and me. On the other, Ruby must choose champions to aid her in besting us. Do we have volunteers?”
A hand shot up from the back of the crowd and a syrupy sweet voice rang out. “OOH! ME! CHOOSE ME!” came the words of a young woman dancing back and forth from leg to leg, desperate to get noticed.
“O-Okay,” Ruby said hesitantly, indicating the young woman.
“Yay!” the woman said, making her way through the crowd, bumping into Jazier as she made her way to the stage, where she immediately hugged the girl. She was barely a scant few inches taller than the child, who, while tall for her age, wasn’t so tall herself. “Thanks, chief! You won’t regret it.” She walked over to Halgra. “Excuse me, but can you hold Sakura-chan for me for a moment?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before thrusting her naginata into the hands of the bemused Chief Defender.
“We still need others,” Rodrik said to Ruby. He scanned the crowd. “How about that one there?” he asked Ruby, pointing at Jazier, who could not have looked more disinterested.
“Sure,” Ruby nodded. “Please, mister?” she asked.
Jazier sighed. “If you insist, I can participate,” he said as he made his way to the stage.
“One more should do it,” Rodrik said. He looked to Gwen, who shook her head, telling him in no uncertain terms that it was a bad idea. She had many gifts, but strength was not one of them.
Gwen was saved from participation by Valbrand, of all people. But not because the large man wanted to join in. That would have required putting down his mead. Instead, he pushed Glenn out of the way, reached down and fished his friend out from underneath the sleeping Omast, and held up Kermit. “You need a real fighter! My friend volunteers!” he said.
Ruby, terrified of angering the large man, gulped. “O-Okay,” she said.
Kermit looked at the crowd, then at Valbrand. “You’ll need to put me down,” he noted.
“Right,” Valbrand said, setting his friend on the ground. “Make a path!” he roared, and the crowd parted.
The young woman hit her fists together. “Alright. We’ll win this for you, chief,” she said, grinning at Ruby.
“Please, introduce yourselves to everyone,” Ruby asked her teammates.
“I’m Lucky Days!” the girl said.
“And you?” she asked the grippli.
“I’m Kermit. Kermit T. Frog.”
She turned to the man. “And you?”
“I am an innocent bystander,” Jazier Alhazred responded.
“Alright, take your positions,” Rodrik said.
“Where do you want me, chief?” Lucky Days asked Ruby.
“Um… right behind me?” Ruby said uncertainly. “Then Mister Bystander and Mister Kermit in the back.”
Once they’d taken their positions, Rodrik nodded to his competition. “Okay, we’ll start at three. One. Two-“
“WAIT!” Valbrand bellowed, stopping the count. “Kermit! Do the thing!”
The grippli considered it, then nodded. He set down the rope, put his hands together and closed his eyes. Wind began blowing around him, seemingly from nowhere as a hush fell over the crowd. Then his eyes shot open, revealing bright glowing light from within, and he let out a roar. “GUYVER!” he shouted.
Bright light enveloped the grippli, temporarily blinding everyone who was looking at him, and when it faded, a being as tall as Valbrand stood there. It had no mouth or nose, only steaming eyes that burned with neon fire. And it wasn’t wearing anything, though anatomically, that did not seem necessary for modesty’s sake. Indeed, its very skin seemed armored.
“What the hell?” Gwen asked under her breath.
“Shall we begin?” the creature asked. Its voice was like Kermit’s, only deeper, and with an echo like the rush of water within a rapids.
“Um… okay,” Rodrik said. “Counting again. In three, two, one… go!”
The Grath boys started off with an early lead as Ruby’s team, if it could be called that, failed to work together initially. They pulled the larger group first five, then ten feet. “Should I maybe do something?” Jazier asked the girl in front of him as the two groups reached a standstill, mostly due to the efforts of Lucky Days harnessing her anger at the early disadvantage.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to be embarrassed in front of mom again,” Ruby answered timidly. “Go ahead, I guess?”
The crowd had begun cheering. A little more than half, Gwen included, were chanting “Grath!” and rooting for the boys. The remainder were chanting “Ruby!”, rooting for the guest of honor and her picked team. Only one man was chanting anything different, as the now somewhat awake Omast Frum was chanting “Kermit!”
Ruby’s team lost another five feet initially as Jazier focused on his trickery. But they stopped the slide as his spell went off, causing a small spark on the other side of the rope, right next to Kurst’s hands, creating a small flash and causing the rope to smolder. But even then, the team was still only holding the Grath boys from winning.
Valbrand saw that his friend’s team needed help, so he began bellowing out a battle song, infusing it with the power of his craft. It filled the group not with courage, like those of a traditional bard, but instead inspiring rage within the entire team. Buoyed by their anger, the team pulled with all of their might and began slowly regaining ground.
Kermit locked eyes with Rodrik. The man felt like those blazing orbs were boring a hole deep into his very being. He could see promises of pain and misery within the flames, and his heart quaked. “NOW!” Kermit shouted, and he and Lucky Days yanked with all of their might, pulling so hard that both Ruby and Jazier were lifted from the ground and dragged backwards. The force was so great that Rodrik and Kurst tumbled forward, falling flat on their faces.
For a moment, the crowd was stunned silent. Then the cheers began anew, now split between chants of “Ruby!” and “Kermit!”
Once it was over, there was a flash of light and a burst of steam and Kermit had resumed his normal appearance. “Glenn,” he said, “bring me my tea. All that pulling made me thirsty.” The pelican-suited man rushed to oblige.
Gwen walked over to her cousins and helped them up. “You would have won if that Jazier hadn’t cheated,” she said angrily, but softly enough to avoid causing a scene.
“It’s fine, cousin,” Rodrik answered. “I’m pretty sure the frog would have killed us if we won anyway. So it’s all for the best.”
“And Ruby looks so happy,” Kurst added. “Come, let’s go congratulate the winners.”
Ruby, elated, had dropped her rope, turned and hugged Lucky Days, who had come to congratulate her. “Thank you!” she said happily. “I never win.”
“Give thanks to Kurgess,” the young woman said. “And to Coach.”
“I will,” Ruby said. She was going to ask who Coach was, but several of her fellow children rushed up to congratulate her and took away her attention.
Instead, Lucky Days was met by her opponents. Rodrik extended his hand. “Well fought,” he said.
“It was a good contest,” Lucky Days agreed, shaking first his hand, then Kurst’s.
“What brings you to town?” Kurst asked.
“Coach told me to come here,” she answered. “Said some of his friends would be here for a few days, and I should meet up with them here. I just need to figure out where they are.”
“If they’re visitors, you should talk to Cham down at the Ramblehouse,” Rodrik suggested.
“Ooh! The Champ? I’d love to meet the Champ!”
“No, not ‘Champ’. Cham Larringfass, the owner of the town’s boarding house.”
“Cool. Now I just need to figure out where to find Champ Larringfass,” Lucky Days answered, completely missing Rodrik’s correction.
Gwen sighed. “I’ll show her to the Ramblehouse,” she said. “I need to go back to the Longhouse for a bit before my watch anyway.”
“Alright! Let’s go!” Lucky Days said, before realizing something. “I almost forgot! One moment please.” She ran to retrieve Sakura-chan from Halgra, then grabbed Ruby and dragged her back on stage to perform their mandatory post-victory song and dance number. The singing was pretty good, but the dancing left a bit to be desired and drew heckling from the crowd. Lucky Days was completely oblivious to it, but her unwilling accomplice looked mortified.
“Poor Ruby,” Kurst said. Gwen couldn’t help but agree.
Thankfully, the song ended not long after and Lucky Days let the girl go, returning to Gwen. “Okay, let’s go meet the Champ.”
Gwen shook her head. “Follow me, then.”
“Cousin, it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit less serious today,” Rodrik said. “It is a party, after all.”
Gwen gave her cousin a look. “It may be a party for you,” she said. “But I have work to do right now.”
While everyone else had been focused on the song, Halgra had approached Jazier, who was off by himself, glad to be away from the crowd. “An interesting match,” she said. “And my daughter seems happy, so I’ll overlook that little bit of mischief on your part.”
“Appreciated,” Jazier said. “I need no distractions on my search.”
“What are you looking for?” Halgra asked, her voice stern.
“My brother,” he said, his voice angry.
“Tell me more.”
“He stole something of mine, and one of his minions was persuaded to tell me that he had come this way.”
“Minions? Orcs?” Halgra asked, now in full Chief Defender mode.
Jazier shook his head. “Much worse, though he has been known to use them from time to time.”
“How long since you last saw him?”
“It has been years.”
“And you’re sure that he was coming out this way?”
“His minion was very certain, or a much better liar than he seemed to be.”
Halgra considered it. “Give me his description, and I’ll let my patrols know to keep an eye out for him.”
Jazier described his brother as Halgra took notes. “If they encounter Hashkaan, do not attempt to apprehend him. He is exceedingly dangerous.”
As they spoke, Rodrik and Kurst went to congratulate Kermit as well. They found him talking with Valbrand and Omast. “Kermit!” Rodrik said, extending his hand. “Good match. No hard feelings?”
Kermit shook his hand. “My friend here was telling me about something he calls ‘Long Island Iced Tea’.”
Rodrik looked to Omast. “Omast, are you drunk?”
“I had just a couple,” the guardsman admitted, hiccupping.
“You’ve been doing so well, too,” Rodrik said. “Come on, Omast. Let’s go get you sobered up. Kurst, please take care of the rest of the festivities?”
“Of course,” his brother answered. “Speaking of which! It’s time for the next game!”
On the road to the Ramblehouse, Lucky Days was talking Gwen’s pointed ear off. “Wasn’t my pull great?” she asked, beaming.
“You were fine, but that wizard cheated.”
Lucky Days shrugged. “You have to follow the orders of the team captain.”
Gwen stopped and turned to look Lucky Days in the eye. “That was Ruby’s idea?” she asked, incredulous.
“Well, sort of, I guess? He asked if she wanted him to do something and she decided to trust him to do the right thing and we won, so it was probably the right thing.”
“I see…” Gwen answered, relieved that Ruby hadn’t deliberately decided to cheat and had simply trusted the wrong person.
The two young women arrived at the Ramblehouse and went in the unlocked front door. Inside, they found a red-headed halfling woman passed out at her desk. She reeked of alcohol. “We should let her sleep,” Lucky Days suggested.
Gwen shook her head. “Cham,” she said, clearing her throat. “CHAM!” she said louder, startling the halfling awake.
“What?” the halfling asked, somehow managing to slur the simple word.
“You’re the Champ?!” Lucky Days asked excitedly. “Hi! I’m Lucky Days and I helped our team captain Ruby win the tug of war! I’m looking for Coach!”
The befuddled Cham Larringfass looked to Gwen for assistance. The half-elf just shrugged. “Who is Coach?” the halfling asked.
“Coach is Coach!” Lucky Days proclaimed enthusiastically. Behind her, Gwen just facepalmed.
“No, I mean, what’s his name?” Cham asked.
“OH!” Lucky Days said. “Why didn’t you ask that in the first place? Everyone else calls him Rodd Rigez.”
Cham looked through her guest register. “Sorry, no one here by that name.”
“He must not have gotten here yet,” Lucky Days said, crestfallen. Then she perked right up. “That’s okay! He’s not as fast as I am, so of course it’ll take him longer to get here.”
“Do you need a room in the meantime?” Cham asked. “I’ll give you half off the regular price for helping our little Ruby.” She sipped a bit from her cup.
“How much is that?”
Cham finished her drink. “The eff if I know,” she declared absentmindedly, grabbing her book. “Um, four silver?”
“Okay. Byyyeee!” she said sweetly, giving Gwen a hug before being led off to her room by the halfling, who was clearly not walking in a straight line.
When Cham returned, she found Gwen sniffing at her cup. “I was only going to have three,” the halfling said in her defense. “But that fourth one was just calling to me.”
“Is that so?” Gwen asked, her tone disapproving.
“‘Drink me, Cham!’ it said. ‘Drink me!’ What could I do?”
“I see…” Gwen said. “I should get going. I have to get ready for my watch.”
“Aww, I was hoping you’d have a drink with me,” Cham said.
“Thanks, but no,” Gwen answered, taking her leave.
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Whoa . . . I didn't realize just how dangerous Valbrand's origin is . . . Not that this should be actually a surprise in the Ulfen lands or in Trunau.
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Yeah, it was something I decided to do before Giantslayer was on our radar, and the whole thing where the orc(well, half orc) was the victim just seemed to juxtapose the Trunau situation far too well, so I had to keep it.
Oh, and I decided on Gorum for him. Because, come on, god of battle.
Also, after a discussion last night with the GM, there is a possibility that in addition to being the most brutal campaign we've run from a combat narrative perspective, it's also likely to be the most, ahem, "PG-13" campaign we've run as far as certain things go.
Well, at least since the time during my first campaign(I never wrote a journal for it, sorry) where I painted myself into a narrative corner with lazy monster design and the only option was a mission against a, um,
Now I want to see a situation in which Valbrand undergoes temptation to switch to some other deity (of totally different focus) . . . .
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Now I want to see a situation in which Valbrand undergoes temptation to switch to some other deity (of totally different focus) . . . .
That's not entirely out of the realm of possibilities, considering certain things the GM and I discussed. :P
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As he rounded the corner, he spotted a figure standing in front of the door to the Ramblehouse. It took him a moment to recognize the man. “Well,” he said cordially, “if it isn’t Ruby’s Magician. You’re up rather late.”
“I was speaking with members of the watch,” Jazier said.
Rodrik wondered why he would be doing that. “My father’s the leader of the patrol,” he said. “If you need help with something, perhaps I can help you?”
“I am searching for my brother,” Jazier answered.
“Me too. Though I think mine went to bed already, so I’m gonna have to wait until morning to ask him to critique my latest draft. But I guess this means I have some time to fix that error I noticed in the fourth stanza. Perhaps we can discuss your brother in the morning as well. After I speak more with Kermit. He has some great ideas.”
Sometime later, in the far end of the night, or perhaps more accurately, early in the morning, there was banging on the door to Lucky Days’ room. “Aww, I was having the best dream,” she said, starting to get up. “Just a moment,” she called out, putting on her boots.
She opened the door to find a hungover halfling and an upset looking man standing there. Before she could speak, Valbrand opened the door to the room he and Kermit shared. He took one look at the dark expression on Kurst’s face and scowled. “I do not know what is going on,” the large man said, “but I will grab my gear and I will help you slay whatever foe has raised its head.” It was the least he could do. The people of the town had been generous with their hospitality, after all.
As Valbrand returned to his room, Kurst spoke to Lucky Days. “We’re getting everyone up. We need to question everyone,” he said, his voice quavering.
“What’s wrong?” Lucky Days asked, just wanting to give the poor man a reassuring pat on the head.
“It’s my brother,” Kurst answered. “They s-say he’s killed himself.” He shook his head. “But he wouldn’t do that. Please, just, come outside in ten minutes so we can get to the bottom of this. I need to go wake everyone else.”
“I’ll be there,” Lucky Days promised.
At her post, Gwen heard footsteps on the ground behind her. “Omast, you really need to learn to walk more quietly,” she said, not even turning. “What are you doing here? Your shift isn’t for two more hours.”
“Gwen, I-” the guardsman said, his voice cracking.
Alarmed by the emotion in his voice, Gwen turned to face Omast, and spotted Qumeel there as well. “I’m so sorry to be the one to have to tell you this but-”
“What’s happened?” she asked, urgency in her voice. The last time someone had approached her like this was the day her mother had died. “Omast! TELL ME WHAT HAS HAPPENED!” she said, grabbing the front of the man’s leather armor. But the guardsman was sobbing, unable to answer.
“Calm down, child,” Qumeel said. “I am not sure precisely what has transpired, but they say that your cousin has taken his own life. The guardsman and I are here to relieve you so you can attend to affairs.”
Her cousin? Dead? Oh no. Erastil help her, this couldn’t be happening again. “Where is my uncle?” she demanded. “I have to go to him.”
“They are at the local inn,” Qumeel said. “Interrogating his fellow tenants.”
His fellow tenants? But wait, that would mean… “Rodrik?” she asked softly. That didn’t make sense. Not that it would have made sense had it been Kurst, but it made even less sense
“That is what I have been told,” Qumeel answered as Omast just sobbed again.
“I… have to go,” Gwen said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “Thank you for relieving me.” She then began running to the Ramblehouse, her half-elven eyes allowing her to see the streets just fine in the rays of the coming dawn, even despite the tears dripping from them.
When she arrived on the street outside of the Ramblehouse, she found Jagrin Grath interrogating Cham. “I do not want excuses!” he said, grabbing the front of the halfling’s shirt. “I want answers! TELL ME HOW MY SON DIED WHEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING HIM!”
“Uncle!” Gwen said, pulling his arm away from the halfling. He wasn’t actually her uncle, being her mother’s cousin, after all, but they had determined long ago that it was the most proper thing to call him.
He spun on her, a wild look in his eyes, but regained his composure upon seeing the fearful expression on Gwen’s face. “Sorry,” he said, pain in his eyes, which were barely holding back tears. “I… sorry to you too, Cham. I just want to know what happened to my son.”
Gwen hugged him. “I’ll look into it. Please, take some time. The town needs you at your best, and this isn’t helping. Please, someone needs to tend to Rodrik and make arrangements.”
He nodded. “Thanks. Please tell me if you find anything. Cham, please, she’ll need your registry.”
The halfling nodded. “She’ll have it, and any other help I can provide.”
“Thank you,” he said, leaving to go tend to the corpse of his son.
While that drama unfolded, Kurst had already begun interrogating the tenants of the Ramblehouse. “Anything you can tell me might be helpful,” he told the group. “When was the last time you saw him?” he asked.
“At the party,” Valbrand said. Kermit nodded in agreement.
“I’ve been in my room sleeping since that girl brought me here,” Lucky Days said.
“I saw him late last night, as I was returning here,” Jazier said. “Hours after the party. He said he was planning on working on his ‘masterpiece’, if that helps. Tell me, how did he die?”
“You were at the party, so you witnessed the instructional part of the ceremony, right?” Kurst asked. The others nodded. Kurst pulled a hopeknife from his coat. “They found this with my brother. His arteries had been cut, just as we’re instructed. But I know he wouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just working on his masterpiece. He was in love. They were to be married.”
“Has anyone informed his betrothed?” Kermit asked.
“Yes, though it wasn’t me,” Kurst revealed. “My father has forbidden me from speaking with Rodrik’s beloved. He thinks that she filled his head with nonsense and worries that she’d do the same to me. But he can’t forbid you from going to see her.” He wrapped up the hopeknife and handed it to the closest person, Lucky Days. “Please, speak with Brinya. She may know something. If nothing else, if that was the hopeknife he carried, she should be able to identify it, as the two of them exchanged hopeknives as is custom for betrothed around here.”
“Okay,” Lucky Days said.
“Your brother was a warrior, and a warrior deserves a full investigation into his death,” Valbrand agreed.
“We will determine the truth,” Kermit added.
“I must decline,” Jazier said. “I am cursed, and it is doubtful any good can come of my involvement in your investigation.”
“Please. I fear we will need all the help we can get.”
“Then perhaps there is another lead I can speak with? I do not wish to risk exposing one who has lost her betrothed to my curse.
Kurst nodded. “Speak to Omast Frum, then. He knew my brother well and may have more information. And thank you, to the rest of you.”
Gwen continued her investigation, first questioning Cham. “Who had a key to his room?”
“Only Rodrik,” Cham answered. “And my master key, of course.”
“Where do you keep your master key?”
“On my person at all times.”
“And you still have it?”
Cham patted her chest, feeling the key resting on the same chain that held her hopeknife. “It’s still here,” she said.
Gwen nodded. “Good. Show me to his room. I want to look around. And while I do that, I need you to make me a list of everyone in your registry.”
Up in the room, Gwen did a methodical and thorough search. One of the desk drawers contained a false bottom, but there was nothing in the secret compartment, nor indication that it had been used recently. From there, she began searching around the bed. There, she found something interesting.
“What’s this?” she asked herself as she pulled out a scrap of paper stuck between the bed and the wall. Inspecting it, she was surprised. “A receipt for a new hopeknife? Why would he need one of those? And why would it be engraved ‘To Rodrik, my love’? What’s going on here?”
Once she was sure she’d found everything of value to the investigation, she returned downstairs. “I have that list,” Cham said. “Though I’m afraid it won’t help much.”
“Why?” Gwen asked.
“Your cousin is already talking to most of my new tenants,” she said.
“Most?” Gwen asked suspiciously.
“There might be one entry with a missing name.”
“Why wouldn’t you have taken his name? Can you at least tell me what he looked like?”
“I’m sorry,” the halfling said. The look on her face told Gwen that the woman seriously regretted drinking that final drink. “If it helps, I think he’s already gone. His key is back up here.”
“Give me the list anyway. And don’t let anyone into that room. I may want to look around in there if these other leads don’t explain what happened.” She went outside and called Kurst over. “Something isn’t right here,” she said, explaining her findings to her cousin.
“I agree. But Father wants me to help him with Rodrik, so I can’t look into it. Please, cousin, I’ve asked those three to talk to Brinya. Please go with them? I think I can trust them, but I know I can trust you.”
“Of course,” she answered. “I wanted to go speak with her anyway.” She wasn’t overly fond of the half-orc – or any half-orc, for that matter – but she had done her best to respect Rodrik’s decision. “And where is the wizard going?” she asked.
“He’s gonna go speak with Omast. Any idea where to find him?”
“He relieved me this morning. He should still be there with Qumeel.”
“Good. I’ll tell Jazier where to look, then. And thanks, cousin,” he said, giving her a hug.
“We’ll find whoever did this,” she agreed, returning his embrace.
She approached the strange group and was greeted by Valbrand. “There you are, girl. Come to continue our conversation from the other day?”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “I will shoot you,” she said.
“Not a morning person, I see,” the large man said. “I will try again later. Perhaps in the evening, with a drink in your hand.”
She didn’t respond, instead turning to Lucky Days and Kermit. “Kurst asked me to help you find Brinya. Come on, the boarding house where she lives is not far from here.”
Kermit turned to the man in the pelican suit. “Glenn, you stay here.” The man nodded and went back up to their room to sleep some more.
As they walked, Lucky Days put her hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “How are you doing?” she asked sympathetically.
“I’m focusing on the investigation,” Gwen answered. It was the only thing holding her together. There would be time for grief once everything was sorted out.
Lucky Days, not to be put off of making a friend by a terse answer, decided to change the subject. “That’s a nice gun,” she said. “Does it have a name?”
“No.”
“Oh. Coach gave me this,” Lucky Days said, gesturing with her naginata. “He told me to call her Sakura-chan. I’m not sure why.”
Valbrand laughed and nudged Kermit. “Heh. That sounds like something Rodd would do.”
“OH!” Lucky Days said in realization. “That’s right! You’re obviously Mister Kermit, and you must be Mister Valbrand! I wanted to ask if you knew where Coach is. He told me to meet up with you two here and he’d come later.”
“Coach?” Valbrand asked.
“Rodd Rigez,” she said, having learned from already having this conversation.
“Oh. Yeah, I have no idea where he is. He disappears and returns from time to time. He’ll show up eventually.”
They walked the rest of the way to the boardinghouse in silence. When they arrived, they found two women sitting on the patio. One, a half orc, was crying, while the other was trying to console her. “Everything’s going to be okay,” the second woman, a human named Karna, was saying. “The militia will sort it out. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.” Her mane of striking crimson hair was pulled back in a ponytail, framing the lone lock of bright blue hair at the front. Gwen wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure the woman dyed her hair, since those colors were not normal on the head of a human.
“Why would anyone think it was Brinya’s fault?” Gwen asked.
The half-orc looked up. “Gwen… your uncle blamed me for Rodrik’s poetry. You know he’s going to say it’s my fault somehow. You know he’ll say I killed Rodrik!”
“Why would he think that?” Kermit asked.
“We’d exchanged hopeknives,” Brinya explained. “But he lost mine. I…” she sobbed. “I told him that I didn’t want to see him again until he found it! And now he’s dead. What if it was my fault? How could I live with myself?”
“Oh!” Lucky Days exclaimed. “That’s not a problem. He found your knife, so it’s all fine.” She pulled out the knife Kurst had given her. “See?”
“That’s not mine,” Brinya said, her face serious. “There’s no engraving, and this knife is obviously of poor quality, or at least unfinished. There’s no way Sara would have let something so shoddy out of her shop.”
“Sara?” Lucky Days asked.
“Sara Morninghawk,” Gwen explained. “The town’s blacksmith. Although…” she pulled the receipt from her coat. “I think he had ordered a replacement,” she said, showing Brinya the receipt. “Maybe he had picked up the unfinished knife to look at it?”
“Oh, Rodrik!” Brinya wailed, burying her face in Karna’s shoulder.
Karna hugged her friend. “I don’t think she knows anything more,” she said. “You and your friends should continue your investigation elsewhere.”
“They’re outsiders that Kurst asked to look into it,” Gwen said. She suspected that he hoped that these people weren’t involved with the crime, having had no reason to kill Rodrik. Either way, they were tasked with the investigation, and since Karna was an outsider herself – having only arrived a few weeks prior – Gwen wasn’t terribly happy with the woman in the dingy white robes trying to tell them what to do.
“Well, whoever they are, please give Brinya time to grieve. If you’re looking for more information, maybe check out the Sanctuary. Rodrik spent a lot of time there. He said he was ‘looking for his muse’.”
Lucky Days nodded approvingly. “Gods are important. Kurgess gives me strength.”
“Yes, the god of champions,” Karna said. “A fine choice.” A curiosity struck her. “Tell me, small one, what god do you and your people worship?” she asked Kermit.
“I follow the faith of Ng, the hooded one.” That surprised Karna. Ng wasn’t a god, exactly. Instead he was one of the fey Eldest, divine beings who ruled the First World.
Brinya sniffed. “You might also talk to Katrezra. If anyone knows what evils forced Rodrik’s hand, he would.”
Katrezra? Gwen knew that name and her suspicions rose. Just what was another half-orc doing involved in this?
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Omast was desperately scraping at the white paint, trying to remove what appeared to be the crude depiction of a sword. He was so focused, in fact, that he didn’t even notice Jazier’s arrival, nor did he make any indication of hearing when the wizard cleared his throat. Slightly annoyed, Jazier cast a spell, cleaning away the paint in an instant.
Omast turned. “Oh! It’s Ruby’s magician!” He clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Kurst told me how the rope caught fire during the contest. That’s a neat trick.” He belched. “Say, you wizard folk are a learned lot, right? So maybe you’d know the answer to something that’s been puzzling me.”
“It is possible,” Jazier said.
“That Kermit. Say, do you think he’s a frog that turns into a man? Or is he a man that turns into a frog?”
“He is clearly a grippli,” Jazier said, annoyed. “Though I must admit that I am unsure how he changes his form so. But that is not the topic I’ve come to speak with you about. The brother of the deceased man asked me to find out if you have any insight into what happened.”
“Oh, right,” Omast said, his face sullen. “I really don’t know much. Rodrik spent most of his time lately with Katrezra down at the Sanctuary. You might speak with him. I can point you in the direction if you need.”
“That is unnecessary. Your town’s chief told me how to find him when I mentioned that my brother might be in the area, possibly to hire orcish mercenaries. She seems to think he could help me.”
“Yeah, old Katrezra’s alright. I mean, I don’t like most half-orcs, seeing as how they’re always getting into trouble, but Katrezra’s one of the good ones. He doesn’t seem to have the bad blood that the others do.”
Jazier raised an eyebrow. “Believe me. I know a thing or two about bad blood. If my brother didn’t have bad blood, he wouldn’t have blood at all.”
“Is your brother an orc?” Omast asked.
Jazier frowned in annoyance. Why did people keep asking him that? “No. He’s a human.”
Omast didn’t seem to notice the irritation in the wizard’s voice. “Hey, since you can magic away these marks, maybe you could help me with one that’s a particular pain, over in the Hopespring?”
Jazier sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to help out the townsfolk a bit, if he was needing their help. “Show me to where it is located.”
“You’re alright. Now if we could just figure out who is painting them. I thought it was kids at first, but then there was the one way up on that building, and there ain’t no kids gonna be climbing that high for a prank.”
“Are they all like that one?” Jazier asked.
“Yep. White swords, every one. No idea why.”
“Perhaps someone in Iomedae’s faith is trying to advertise their religion?” Jazier asked, though he dismissed the notion as soon as he thought of it. After all, what faith of a god of law would allow for their faithful to vandalize the property of others?
“Maybe. Hey, Qumeel, we’re gonna go deal with the graffiti at the Hopespring. Do you want to come?”
“Someone should remain at the watch post,” the samsarran responded.
“Oh, right. Good call. Be back in a bit,” Omast said, leading the magician off towards the town’s water supply.
Back at the lodging house, Brinya sniffed, trying to get her crying under control. “Gwen, what was your uncle’s reaction to the death? Do you think I could go see the body?”
Gwen felt bad for the poor girl. “I’m… not sure. He was pretty upset,” she said apologetically. “It might be difficult. But I’ll talk to Kurst.”
“Thanks,” Brinya said.
Karna put her arm around the crying woman. “Come on, let’s get you inside and get you something to eat.”
“What now?” Valbrand asked, once the two women had gone inside.
“The Sanctuary is closer,” Gwen said quietly. “We’ll go there first.”
The group walked through town in somber silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Several minutes into the journey, the sound of growling could be heard through the quiet. “What’s that?” Valbrand asked.
“Should I get ready?” Kermit asked.
When she heard the sound of wood splintering, Lucky Days grasped Sakura-chan tighter and ran forward towards the sound. “Do it,” Valbrand told the Grippli, drawing his axe as he followed the girl, who was much faster than she looked.
Gwen chambered a round and followed as well, the sound of Kermit shouting his transformation mantra just behind her. She rounded the corner to find a trio of wolves desperately clawing at the door of a home. Lucky Days had crossed the distance and engaged one of the wolves, while Valbrand was only about halfway there, due to being slowed by his mail armor.
“Stop that!” Lucky Days shouted as her spinning attack only struck a glancing blow against her foe.
Gwen fired at the second wolf that had turned its attention to Lucky Days, but only grazed it. She was over correcting, trying to avoid hitting her allies. It was apparent to her that her training had lacked practice firing into melee combat. Usually, she focused on thinning out the ranks of orcish raiders before they could get close enough for it to matter, and the rare times she’d had to do so, the targets had been less than thirty feet away, and thus easy targets.
Valbrand reached the pair of wolves next to Lucky Days at the same time Kermit reached the third wolf, which had moved from the door to trying to break into a barricaded window. The magic-enveloped Grippli slashed with one of his claws, tearing a mortal wound into the foe and causing it to let out a yelp of pain as Valbrand began belting out a battle song. “Give me a bit of room!” Valbrand told Lucky Days before the singing began.
Two more wolves appeared from behind the home, drawn by the sound of battle. One, pitch black in contrast to its pack mates’ varied grays, charged Valbrand and the other Kermit. Valbrand’s armor and shield afforded him great protection and he held the attention of the wolves as Lucky Days slashed then dodged away.
So empowered with rage by Valbrand’s song that his eyes were glowing red, Kermit clawed and bit into the newly arrived wolf, savagely spraying blood everywhere like a humanoid wood chipper. Even the wolf’s pack mate, which appeared rabid as well as dying, seemed horrified.
With Lucky Days out of the way, Valbrand tapped his armband, weaving the word of power into his song, Icicles shot up from the ground around him, cutting into the feet of the trio of wolves before him, though not doing much damage.
Lucky Days, seeing an opening, danced in behind one of the wolves focused on Valbrand and slashed with Sakura-chan as Coach had taught her. The hit was brutal, carving a personal rune through the wolf’s body and causing blood to spray in all directions. For a moment, the flying blood seemed to hang in the air, slowly wafting in the breeze like cherry blossoms before splattering to the ground all around her, yet seemingly missing Lucky Days entirely, though covering Valbrand. Almost entranced by what she was seeing, Gwen missed her next shot.
Lucky Days’ avoidance of getting covered in blood was short-lived, as Kermit charged in and tore another wolf into jagged halves and spraying more blood than Gwen thought a wolf could have all over himself and the two others.
The final wolf, the midnight black one, ducked below Valbrand’s shield and bit into the man’s calf, dragging the large man to the ground. Gwen fired, once more grazing the target. It wasn’t a good hit, but it was enough to distract it for a second.
Long enough that it didn’t notice Valbrand’s swinging axe as it lunged forward, its jaws open wide. The axe’s sharp blade tore into the beast’s mouth and cleaved straight through the skull, sending blood and brains spattering all over the wall behind it. The force was so great that the creature’s upper jaw slammed into the door, embedding the teeth into the hard wood.
“You people…” Gwen said, not finishing the statement as a wave of nausea washed over her. It was all she could do to not throw up.
“What?” Valbrand asked as Kermit helped him to his feet. He winced as he put weight on his leg, and quickly cast a spell to heal the wound.
“Coach was right about Sakura-chan!” Lucky Days said enthusiastically. “She’s awesome!”
As the girl put her naginata carefully into the harness on her back, Valbrand frowned disapprovingly. “You have to clean your weapon before you put it away,” he said.
“Oh,” Lucky Days said. “How?”
The large warrior reached into his pack and produced a cloth. He wiped the blood, brains and viscera from the axe. “Like that,” he said, tossing the now dirty cloth to the girl.
“Oh. Okay!” she said happily, giving Sakura-chan the attention the blade deserved.
“We have a problem,” Kermit said. He had resumed his normal form and begun inspecting the wolves.
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, tearing her eyes away from the spectacle of the two others.
“I don’t think these creatures were rabid. It appears that they were poisoned.”
“Why would someone do that?” Gwen asked.
Before Kermit could answer, the door cracked open. “Is it safe now?”
“As safe as usual,” Gwen answered. “Come on out.”
Several kids, accompanied by the women Gwen recognized as the town’s midwife and her assistant, warily came out of the door. They stopped in shock at the bloody scene before them. It was several moments before the bravest of the children ventured out and walked over to Gwen. “They came from under the bridge.”
“Very interesting,” Kermit said, taking a swig from his flask of tea and making his way over to investigate. Valbrand and Lucky Days followed behind.
After several minutes, the trio returned. “There was a cart,” Kermit said. “It looks like someone brought the wolves in drugged. They woke up hungry and went after the closest prey they could find. It’s one of the rules of nature, the dance of life. The hunter and the agile prey. Quite beautiful, normally.”
“Any clue as to where they came from?”
“The tracks lead to the bridge we crossed coming here, but it’s impossible to tell after that. Too much other traffic. I suspect that the cart’s probably been there for a day at least.”
Gwen wracked her brain, looking for a pattern. And the conclusion she came to was not a good one. “I think it might be a distraction. But for what? Nothing else is happening. So did they get out early? And if so, does that mean something is coming? And does this tie into Rodrik’s death?”
“Any answers?” Lucky Days asked.
“No,” Gwen said. “Just more questions. But my uncle must be informed of the latest development.” She turned to the midwife’s assistant. “Clancy’s watch post is near here. Go tell him about the wolves and my suspicions immediately. He’ll make sure that it gets passed to my uncle.” Her tone was authoritative, and the woman immediately nodded and left to inform the town’s militia.
“And what do we do?” Valbrand asked.
“We continue our investigation,” Gwen said. “If this is somehow related to Rodrik’s death, then we can’t afford to hesitate. We have to find out what happened, and why, if we’re to have any chance at stopping whatever is going on.”
Across town, Omast was talking Jazier’s ear off. “You know, you don’t say much. People are talking about you.”
“Oh? And what are they saying?”
“You don’t sleep much, and you never visit people to make friends.”
“That is not my purpose here, and people only bring conflict.”
“You know, if you’re looking to avoid conflict, you’ve come to the wrong place. So, you’re looking for your brother, right? What’s so important about finding him?”
“When we were younger, he made a pact with a demon, offering something of mine. I will find him and make him pay for it. He is dangerous to others and will stop at nothing for power, so stopping him will satisfy not only vengeance, but will make the world safer.”
“What did he take from you?”
“I do not know. I am certain that the pact was made with the demon, but I was in a haze for the ritual. From his gloating, however, I have gathered that he gave the demon a piece of my soul as trade for a boon he received.”
“Ouch. That’s rough. Does it hurt?”
“I have felt no pain, but I do feel diminished, somehow. It as though I am living with a curse.”
“It’s not catching, is it?” Omast asked, shrinking away a bit.
“I do not believe so. It only affects me.”
“Oh, that’s good. Why does your brother seek power?”
“I believe that Hashkhan seeks to overthrow the dragon god, Dahak, and usurp his position.”
Omast let out a whistle. “Your brother doesn’t aim low, does he?”
“His thirst for power knows no limits. That is why I must find him and put an end to his machinations.”
“I wish you luck, truly, for all our sakes. Though I must admit I hope that he’s as incompetent as he is power-hungry.”
“I fear he will not prove as incompetent as you hope.”
“All the same… oh, we’re here.”
Water trickled from the rock of the Hopespring, forming a waterfall that ran over a white marking, once more depicting a sword. “What kind of paint does not succumb to this constant flow?” Jazier asked. “How did they even paint it while it was still running?”
Omast shrugged. “I dunno. But that’s why I’ve been removing the marks with a knife.”
“Give me a moment, then,” Jazier said with a nod. He approached the waterfall and began chanting his cantrip. Slowly, the image faded as the paint came off.
“I’ve got to learn how to do that,” Omast said.
“It is also handy for cleaning my clothing,” Jazier answered with a rare smile. Perhaps it was that the guard had shown more interest in his past than any in a long time or perhaps it was something else, but the wizard found he did not entirely dislike the man. The stench of alcohol that came from the man’s breath notwithstanding, of course.
“You’re alright, magician,” Omast said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Jazier turned, and standing a ways past the guard was an elderly elven man with long white hair. “Who is that?” he asked Omast.
Omast turned. “Oh, that’s Silvermane. He tends to the spring.”
“Perhaps he saw the vandals, then?” Jazier asked.
“Maybe. You can try asking him, if you want. But he doesn’t speak much. If ever. I mean, Kurst once swore he heard the old druid speak, but he was seven at the time, and I think he may have just been teasing his cousin.”
“I believe I will try. Excuse me, honored Elder,” he said, approaching the elf. “We’re trying to figure out who painted all those swords around town. Have you seen who did it?”
The elf held out his hand, palm up, inviting the wizard to reach out. Not sure what to do, Jazier did so. The elf grasped Jazier’s hand with both of his. His eyes locked on the wizard’s. Jazier could see an intense sympathy in the elf’s eyes. Could the old sage see that the wizard was missing a piece of his soul?
But in the end, the elf released his hand without speaking a word, walking away and taking a seat on a nearby rock. “Told you he wouldn’t say anything,” Omast said. “Come on. We can get almost all of these markings cleaned before the end of the day if we get going.”
The party of investigators reached the Sanctuary, a temple of Iomedae that had been constructed by clerics from Lastwall decades after Trunau’s old temple had been destroyed in a fire. There were many who distrusted the motives of the clerics, Gwen herself among them, but none could begrudge their willingness to work hard and aid the town. Gwen opened the door to the temple and led the others inside, where they were greeted by Tyari Varvatos, the raven-haired cleric of Iomedae who served as the temple’s high priestess.
“Good morrow, Gwethlantithwen,” the woman said.
“Bless you,” Lucky Days said reflexively.
Gwen rolled her eyes, but said nothing. “Not much good about it,” she answered.
The priestess nodded sympathetically. “Have you come to see the body?”
Gwen looked at the ground. “I… maybe I should. But that is not why I came here today.”
“Oh? You seek solace in the Inheritor’s teachings, follower of Erastil?”
“No. I need to speak with Katrezra. We believe there may be more to my cousin’s death than it appears, and we believe he may have information that could aid our investigation.”
Tyari frowned. “That may be a problem.” She turned to an acolyte. “Please fetch Brantos.”
“Right away, priestess,” the young man said.
“While we wait, perhaps I could interest one of your companions in a blessing? While I follow Iomedae, we understand that not all are of the same path. Tell me, who do each of you worship?”
“Kurgess is awesome,” Lucky Days said, beaming.
“Ah, the god of strength and contests. May he grant you his favor in all his endeavors.” She turned next to Kermit.
“Ng,” he said.
“One of the Fey. They are an interesting choice, and capricious. But may they grant you their favor in any trials you may face.”
She turned to Valbrand. “Save your blessings,” he said. “For I have already been granted strength through the blood of my ancestors.”
“I understand.”
“Also,” Valbrand said under his breath, “my god can beat up your god.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” the big man lied.
“No matter, here is Brantos now,” Tyari said, indicating the blond-haired paladin standing before them. He wore a suit of banded armor and his teeth seemed to white to be natural. Gwen was almost certain she saw them sparkle in the light once.
“You summoned me, priestess?” Valbrand was pretty sure from the man’s tone that he lusted after the voluptuous young cleric and half-smirked at the thought of the man’s ineffectual attempts at wooing the likely oblivious woman. He made a note of it, knowing that it would make a great tale for later.
“Yes, Brantos. It seems that our guests have come to speak to Katrezra. Please, tell them what you discovered this morning.”
The paladin turned. “He’s gone.”
“Gone how?” Gwen asked.
“He left, early in the morning. His things are gone, as is he.”
Valbrand didn’t like the man’s tone. “And no one saw him leave?”
“He’s free to come and go as he pleases. He just rarely did so, considering his infirmity.”
“Well, then he can’t be that fast,” Lucky Days said. “If you tell us where he was going, I bet we could catch him.”
“We do not know where he went,” Tyari answered. “He told no one. Perhaps his visions told him that he needed to leave, or perhaps there was another reason.”
“Then perhaps we should examine the body,” Kermit suggested. “If we cannot find Katrezra, it’s best not to waste whatever leads we have.”
“Of course,” Tyari answered. “You may return to your work, Brantos.”
“Understood, priestess,” the paladin answered before leaving.
“This way,” the priestess said. “Now, before you ask, I will not be casting any spells to wake the corpse so we can speak with him.”
Gwen hadn’t even considered the option. “But that would prove that he didn’t kill himself,” she protested.
“It was your uncle’s wish.”
Why would he do that? Did he really believe that Rodrik might have killed himself. “I… see,” Gwen acceded.
Valbrand saw his opportunity to impress the girl – which his experience told him was a good first step to bedding a girl – and motioned for Kermit to hang back. “Yes?” the grippli asked once the others were out of earshot.
“You should convince the priestess how bad it could be if we don’t speak with the dead.”
“You want me to threaten the priestess?”
“No. Nothing like that. You know, just make her think that really bad things could happen if we’re unable to stop them, and talking with the corpse might help us.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kermit said dubiously. He ran to catch up with the others. “Excuse me, priestess, but I wonder if that is the right choice.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“With everything going on, if the young man’s death has something to do with it, we must know anything he can tell us. The consequences could be dire.”
“As I said, his father – and more importantly, the town’s patrol leader – forbid it. I cannot.”
Lucky Days considered what Kermit had said. “We should honor the father’s wishes, but what about what Mister Rodrik would have wanted? Wouldn’t he have wanted to do what he could to help the town, if there was something he could do? I mean, I didn’t know him, but he seemed like that kind of guy.”
Gwen shook her head, but put her hand on Lucky Days’ shoulder appreciatively. “No, my uncle forbade it. His son is dead. Let’s honor his wishes and make do with what we can tell from the body itself.” She wasn’t sure she could handle it if it did turn out that Rodrik had killed himself, and even if not, she was certain she would break down in tears if she heard his voice right now.
They continued on, reaching the room where the body was being prepared. The wounds, in every single place where he’d seen Ruby shown the previous night, had been stitched, and Valbrand took immediate note of them. “We’re to believe one man cut himself in so many places before dying? Any one of those wounds would have been enough.”
Gwen steeled herself and began examining her cousin’s body. Something immediately stuck out to her. “The color around his lips is wrong,” she said.
“People’s color changes when they die,” Tyari answered.
Gwen shook her head. “I’ve seen my share of bodies. The lips turn blue.”
“Correct.”
“That’s why this is weird. That doesn’t look blue. It looks green.”
Tyari humored the girl, getting a closer look. “Heavens! You’re right. That’s definitely not normal.”
“What could it mean?”
Kermit cleared his throat. “Green, you say? Let me have a better look.” Valbrand grabbed a stool so Kermit could get a better look. The grippli hopped up and examined the lips. “No doubt about it. It looks like he’s taken oil of taggit.”
“What’s oil of taggit?” Lucky Days asked.
“It can be used to knock someone unconscious,” Kermit said. He turned to Valbrand. “Remember, that time in Korvosa?”
“OH!” the large man bellowed in realization. “That guy who was drugging all those wenches!”
“Then someone drugged Rodrik?” Gwen asked.
“It is possible,” Tyari said. “However, I’ve heard of it being used in lower doses to treat insomnia. The difference in medicine and poison often lies in the dosage.”
“He never told me anything about insomnia,” Gwen said. “But if he was having such a problem, there’s someone he would have told for sure.” She turned to the others, her face deadly serious. “We need to go talk to Kurst.”
I just finished penning chapter 7. I feel dirty after that.
I am apologizing now for when you guys get there.
On a plus note, definitely posting a Giantslayer and a Carrion Crown this weekend. I have enough of a lead on those to post one of each. But right now I have to eat and go get a haircut.
Ummmm . . . what kind of dirty?
Ummmm . . . what kind of dirty?
Video is a spoiler of basically what happens. Only it also involved a guy who sounds a lot like Bobcat Goldthwait and a bad imitation of Butthead from Beavis and Butthead.
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She would have been there herself, had it not been for her investigation.
As they approached, it was clear that everyone was keeping a their distance from him out of respect for his grief, though Gwen had heard that every one of the town’s watchers had stopped by throughout the day to stack a single log onto the pyre out of respect for their fallen comrade. Only Gwen had not done so yet, as far as she knew, though Omast had also been busy and had not had the time to come by.
“Kurst,” Gwen said as she approached, motioning for the others to wait.
The young man sniffed, trying to hide a sob. He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Cousin, what are you…” he stopped as he turned and spotted those with Gwen, his eyes wide with shock. “What happened? Everyone else is covered in blood!”
Valbrand looked down at himself. “Oh. Right. Maybe we should have cleaned up before going to the temple.”
Kermit checked himself out. He was clean. “I’m fine. And you’re always covered in something.”
“The meat isn’t good if its juices don’t end up on your shirt,” Valbrand said defensively.
Lucky Days looked at herself. “Oh no. I’m gonna need to get a new skirt. And a shirt. The armor’s probably okay. But I really liked this skirt.”
“I’d be happy to help you out of those,” Valbrand suggested to the girl.
“Thanks, but I can get it. It’s no problem,” she said innocently, missing his innuendo. “Though Sakura-chan usually doesn’t get me dirty like that.”
“I think that was my fault,” Kermit said apologetically.
“Oh! That’s okay then. I was just worried Sakura-chan was upset.”
Kurst listened to the strange conversation with a look of incredulity. “But what happened?” he asked.
“Oh!” Lucky Days exclaimed. “We killed some wolves.”
“What? Where would you encounter wolves?”
“They were near the bridge,” Gwen answered. “They were attacking the midwife’s house. Several kids had been chased into there.”
“It’s okay,” Lucky Days said. “Everyone’s fine. Well, not the wolves. They’re not fine. And neither is my skirt.” She puffed out her cheeks, pouting.
“How did wolves get into town?”
“Someone brought them in on a cart,” Kermit answered.
“That’s… suspicious.”
“Wolves are the best for when you really want to win a dog fight,” Valbrand answered. The others looked at him. “What?” he asked. He then grinned. “I made so much money that day,” he said wistfully. “Though he didn’t have enough to pay me. That idiot’s two daughters had to work off his debt.” Everyone was looking at him. “What? They were of age. I’m not some kind of deviant.”
Gwen ignored what he’d said. “Anyway, there’s something I need to ask you,” she said to Kurst.
“What is it?” Kurst asked.
“It’s about Rodrik. Was he having trouble sleeping?”
“Not that I know? I mean, he wasn’t sleeping much because he was so focused on his masterpiece, but when he went to bed he would fall asleep pretty quickly. I don’t think he was waking up in the middle of the night either, unless he drank too much or had some inspiration he had to write down. Why do you ask? You found something, didn’t you?”
“There are signs he had ingested oil of taggit just before he died. I’d heard that some people use it to help them sleep, but if he didn’t need it, then it’s suspicious.”
“I’d… never heard of him using it,” Kurst said.
“The dose he would have had to take for those symptoms might have been too high for him to have managed to inflict the wounds upon himself,” Kermit added.
“Then someone drugged him and faked his suicide?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Gwen said. “But we need to keep this to ourselves until we have more proof. Not sure how Uncle will react when he finds out. And I don’t want him to do something rash only to be proven wrong.”
“Yeah, good call.” He noticed someone approaching. “What’s Douglas here for? He already stopped by to drop a log on the pyre.”
“I’ll place one while it’s burning,” Gwen said softly, looking at the ground.
“Don’t worry, Cousin. I know it’s more important to find out what happened to him. Just don’t forget.”
She nodded and turned to look at the new arrival. The watchman, Douglas Bannon, was a classic narcissist. He carried a kukri that was polished to a mirror sheen, which he was constantly using to check out his flowing blonde locks. In fact, he was doing just that as he walked up. It was a miracle that he never tripped while he walked.
Gwen was embarrassed to remember that she had once had a crush on the man. He was an idiot, but he was very pretty. Douglas flipped his hair, smiling at his reflection, before looking up at the group. He was smiling at Gwen in particular.
None of the three newcomers was at all prepared for what they heard next. “Hae guise. Like, um liek da chieftess Halgra ben callin’ you. She gonna wanna talk witch you.” He brushed the hair from his face. “Like, uh, like here, this note is for you.”
Gwen cringed inwardly as she took the scrap of paper and read it. “I’ve been ordered to go make a report.” She turned to the other three. “It’s pretty late. Why don’t you all go have some dinner and get some rest. We can resume the investigation in the morning.”
“You sure you want to go alone?” Valbrand asked. “I’d be happy to go with you. It’ll probably be cold tonight. I can keep you warm.”
Gwen could taste the vomit in the back of her throat. The thought of letting a man with orc blood touch her filled her with revulsion. “If you try to follow me, I will be forced to find Qumeel,” she said angrily.
“No, no,” Valbrand answered quickly. “That’s fine. I’ll go back to the inn.”
She turned to Lucky Days. “Cham’s pretty good at doing laundry. She might be able to get your skirt clean.”
“Oh! Thanks. I’ll ask her before I do my nightly workout.”
Gwen felt bad leaving the girl with the obviously drooling predator next to her, but she had seen Lucky Days handling that naginata, so she figured she’d be fine. And she didn’t get the feeling that the grippli would allow anything untoward to happen. At least, she hoped she would be. But Gwen didn’t have time to think about it. Halgra was waiting, and she wasn’t a terribly patient woman.
Across town, Omast and Jazier arrived finally at the last of the sites of the graffiti, the town’s smithy. The place was known as Clamor by the locals, though its ostensible actual name was Morninghawk’s Fine Steel, after its owner, Sara Morninghawk. Nobody called it that, of course, except for newcomers. It was a favorite joke of some locals to direct such people to the smithy by its nickname without any hint at the real name just to see the clueless wander, sometimes for hours, in search of a place that didn’t seem to exist.
Omast knocked loudly at the door to the smithy. “Sara!” he called out. “We came about your complaint!”
The sound of hammering continued for a full minute before stopping. Jazier thought he heard the hiss of hot metal being quenched in water, then a few moments later, the door opened. A bald half-orc woman with muscles that only a few currently in town could match opened the door. “What do you want, Omast?” she asked. She noticed Jazier.
“And why do you have Ruby’s magician with you?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Omast said. “But you reported some graffiti, right? We’re here to clean it up.”
Her scowl softened. “Oh. About time.”
“Where’s the mark?” Jazier asked.
“Not one to waste time. I like that. It’s in the back. Give me a moment to get my shoes.” She disappeared back inside without waiting for a response.
“I’ve never seen a woman with muscles like that,” Jazier noted to Omast.
“She’s definitely a strong one,” Omast agreed. “I bet she’s even stronger than Kermit. But don’t tell him I said that.”
A few moments later, Sara returned. Before stepping out, she turned and hollered , “Agrit! I’m gonna go show these guys the graffiti!”
“‘Kay!” a woman’s voice called from within, that of Sara’s dwarven wife, Agrit Staginsdar, who had closed the House of Wonders – her magic shop – down early for the day out of respect for the death of Rodrik. She had been fairly close to the family, having tutored both Gwethlantithwen’s mother and later Gwen herself in the arts of magic.
As they walked to the back of the building, Sara made conversation. “Are you sure you’ll be able to remove the mark? I’ve just about given up hope that anything short of painting over it will work, and then I’d have to paint the whole building.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jazier answered.
“Good. Even with Rodrik’s death meaning I no longer have to work on that replace hopeknife he commissioned, I’m swamped with work.”
“What?” Omast asked, surprised. “Are you sure it was Rodrik you were working for? He hadn’t hired you on behalf of someone else?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Sara said. “Unless he wanted someone else to have a knife with a copy of the inscription Brinya had me carve into it for him. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s just, he was found with a hopeknife on him. They say that’s what he used to kill himself. I assumed it was his.”
Jazier worked as they talked, and was thus prepared to butt into the awkward silence that ensued. “I’m done!” he declared, satisfied that you couldn’t see any trace of the obscuring mark that had been there moments prior.
“Wow, you work fast, magician,” Sara commented, admiring his handiwork. “Do you also get stains out of laundry?” Agrit had made her an apron the year previous, and she’d managed to stain it with a spilled bottle of flux the first day she’d used it.
“It shouldn’t be a problem, though… well, what do we have here?”
“What is it?” Omast asked.
“I was using magic resonance to search for any traces of our vandals, like I’ve done at each other site, and this time I got a hit. The trail leads off that way,” the wizard pointed.
Sara stepped in front of him. “You can’t go that way,” she said hastily.
“Why not?” Omast asked.
“The magic you’re sensing is from the picnic I had with Agrit this morning. She treated me to a display of lights as we ate in the pre-dawn hour.” Jazier had a feeling that she wasn’t telling the truth, but the aura was faded enough that he couldn’t determine the exact nature of the magic to call her bluff.
“Sara, it’s me you’re talking to,” Omast said. “Are you hiding something?”
She sighed. “Do you believe Rodrik killed himself?”
“I don’t know,” Omast said. “But I don’t want to believe it’s possible.”
“And you?” she asked Jazier.
The wizard shrugged. “I am new in town. I do not know anyone well enough to say. But I did see him in the hours before his death, and he did not appear to be one who was on the verge of taking his own life.”
“And being new in town, perhaps you do not harbor the town’s prejudices.” Her eyes became determined. “Wait here a moment, both of you.” She walked back into the brush on the far side of the yard and disappeared into the hidden cellar that few knew existed.
“What’s going on?” Jazier asked.
“I don’t know,” Omast said. “But Sara’s one of the good ones. We should wait to see what she wants to show us. I just hope she hurries. I need a drink.”
“If you say so,” Jazier responded noncommittally.
A few moments later, Sara returned from the brush. Behind her walked the figure of a venerable half-orc. He appeared to have just awoken. “Katrezra,” Omast said. “What are you doing sleeping in the brush behind Clamor?”
The old half orc took a seat on a rock. “I heard everything. My visions revealed a great terror. The marks play a part.”
“Who made them?” Jazier asked.
“I do not know. But the demons will use them to determine where to search.”
“Fat chance of that,” Omast said proudly. “We cleaned them all up.”
Jazier decided not to mention that Omast had done almost none of the actual work and instead asked a more pressing question. “But isn’t that a symbol of a good deity? Why would demons use that?”
“Is it not always thus with demons?” Katrezra asked. “Do they not always seek to twist the holy into serving their profane purposes?”
Jazier closed his eyes, and for a moment thought he saw a flash of the ritual in which his brother had given away a piece of his soul. “Yes,” he said softly. “They like to twist and corrupt that which is good. I know that better than most.”
Katrezra nodded. “I can see it in your eyes. So, you have not come here seeking me? None believe me guilty of my friend’s death?”
“Why would they?” Jazier asked, puzzled.
“I’ve been aiding him. He seeks answers to a mystery, and his search takes him to dark places. Even as far as the Plague House.” Omast made a symbol against evil at the mention of the last. “I had a vision in which calamity would befall him. I tried to warn him to give up his search, but he wouldn’t listen. I fear my failure to stop him may have led to his death. So when I heard he had died, I came here. I knew young Sara would believe me.”
“I still do not understand why they would suspect you,” Jazier repeated.
“In this town, half orcs are always under suspicion.” He sighed. “Halgra does what she can to reign in the outright hatred. But Rodrik’s masterpiece was meant to bridge the divide, to help half orcs truly become members of the community, but I fear that will never happen now.” He reached into his robes and produced a book. “This belonged to Rodrik. He was documenting both his investigation and his work on his masterpiece. I do not believe any but he could complete his masterpiece, but perhaps you are the right man to finish his search.”
If demons truly were behind this, then Jazier knew his brother could not be far behind. “I will look into it.”
“The Plague House holds clues. Rodrik was certain he had missed something,” the elder said.
“I will look into it,” Jazier agreed.
“You’ll have to count me out of that,” Omast said. “Nothing could possibly get me to go near that cursed place.”
“Isn’t it your job to look into this?”
“No. I watch the wall. I drink. And sometimes I clean up graffiti.”
“Are you sure it’s not cowardice.” Jazier asked.
“I’m sure. It’s just not my job.”
“Fine,” Jazier said, annoyed. “I will go alone if I must.”
“I’d bet Kermit would help you if you asked. And I bet he could get Valbrand and that tone deaf girl to help as well.”
Sara laughed. “I’m glad someone else noticed that singing was terrible.”
Back across town, Gwen made her way to the Ivory Hall, home of Halgra and the place where she met with visitors and what dignitaries Trunau had. When she arrived, one of Halgra’s sons escorted her to the Chief Defender’s office, where she found Halgra carefully sharpening a long black knife.
That made Gwen nervous, as she knew that the Chief Defender paid special attention to her knives when she was angry. “You’ve been investigating your cousin’s death,” the woman said.
Gwen nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you’ve been working with the strangers from my daughter’s ceremony.”
“Yes, but in my defense, that was Kurst’s idea. And they proved themselves helpful when the wolves attacked. In truth, ma’am, they were terrifying.”
“Yes, the wolves. Where did they come from?”
“We found a cart with cages under the bridge. I have not had time to ask around whether someone remembered seeing it being brought in.”
“You have been busy. I can’t blame you for that. But about your fellow investigators, could they have been involved in bringing in the wolves?”
“I don’t know, but I do not get the impression that they were involved. They seemed as surprised as I was.”
“I see. And what of your talk with Brinya? What is your impression there?”
“You knew about that?”
“I knew she would be on your list of people to talk with. What did she say?”
“She seemed upset. I cannot completely rule her out, but I do not think she had anything to do with Rodrik’s death. Not unless it turns out to be a suicide, which I don’t believe to be possible. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“We went to the Sanctuary to speak with Katrezra, and while there viewed Rodrik’s body. There are signs that he was drugged. Between that and the fact that he supposedly used a hopeknife when it was clear he’d lost his, I believe the scene had to have been staged.”
“I see. And what of Katrezra? Why did you want to talk to him? What did he say?”
“Brinya said that Rodrik had been spending time with Katrezra, so we wanted to see what he knew. And I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s gone missing. He disappeared before dawn.”
“What?” Halgra asked, stabbing her knife aggressively into the table and startling Gwen. “Sorry. You have to find him. Before your uncle gets word of his potential involvement and disappearance. I fear what Jagrin will do if he gets to Katrezra before I have him safely in custody so he can face a proper hearing.”
“Understood, ma’am. I will work through the night to find him.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You haven’t rested since your last watch. You will return to the Longhouse and sleep. You may continue your investigation in the morning.”
“I have a watch shift in the morning,” Gwen protested.
“I have already taken care of it. Qumeel has agreed to cover your watch until you finish your investigation.”
“That’s appreciated, ma’am. I will thank him when I next see him. If there’s nothing else, I should get to bed then so I can get started first thing in the morning.”
Halgra turned to look out of the window. “There is one other thing.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Zilvazaraat sent word ahead that he would be coming by in a few days. Wrap this up by then and I’ll make sure he has something nice to give you.”
Gwen was startled. Uncle Zil was coming? His carefree laughter was just what Gwen needed right now. If he was coming, everything would be okay. The mercane had become part of her strange family. Where Uncle Jagrin was a stern but loving disciplinarian and a replacement father figure, Zilvazaraat was always quick to nurture Gwen’s playful side, spoiling the girl whenever he visited. In truth, he very much was like an uncle to her.
Last time he’d come, he had brought delicious honey cakes wrapped in a strange clear paper. He had promised that his next trip he would bring pies fried in oil and coated in sweet icing the likes of which she had never encountered. He even said there would be many different flavors, from apple to blueberry to even cherry! And he’d promised she could eat them along with some of that delicious tea she loved so much.
The thought brought her a moment of respite from her grief, but it was not long before she was brought back to reality. “You are dismissed,” Halgra said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, and Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“Keep an eye on the frog, the small giant and especially the strange girl. I don’t trust them.”
“Understood,” Gwen said. She didn’t exactly trust them either. But she was pretty sure that they didn’t have anything to do with Rodrik’s death, at least.
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So, I'm a nerd, and I've been trying to come up with a "theme song" for all the different characters in the different works, and I've hit a wall. I'm trying to find something good for Valbrand and something for Gwen. For the former, I'm looking for something that glorifies battle, raiding and maybe wenching if I can find it. Thus far, nothing sticks out. Something in heavy metal that's decipherable if anyone has any suggestions.
As for Gwen, I have no ideas. I may have to wait until I flesh her out a bit more before I really lock on to anything. Qumeel's definitely there.
I don't want to go too much into what I've come up with because I think Barnaby and Steve want to make that into a weekly segment for their posts, but I have to share two of them. The first is Lucky Days. Steve suggested it and Szordorl laughed his happy butt off at it.
And the other is Kyle. I struggled with his at first, but eventually, like a bolt out of the blue, the answer came to me. I don't know why I didn't see it before. There truly is only one song so simultaneously magnificent and absolutely goofy that it fits him.
It was even quoted as the first line of the adventure journal proper.
Anyway, if anyone has a suggestion, it might help. I like listening to these themes when writing things that particularly feature a character.
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^The first one admittedly wasn't my thing, but the second one is a classic and made my day (or actually I should say night . . .).
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Alone in the room with his thoughts, Valbrand immediately began thinking about women, or the lack thereof in his room at the moment. There hadn’t even been any of note in the dining room, so it wasn’t like he could do anything about that at the moment. Well, that wasn’t entirely correct. Lucky Days was attractive enough, but she wasn’t an option after the letter he’d received that night.
For some reason, Rodd Rigez had specifically sent Valbrand a letter telling him not to make a move on Lucky Days. Something about it “interfering with Rodd’s plans for the girl”. Well, if Rodd Rigez had designs on her, then Valbrand wouldn’t get in the way. He owed the man his life. Least he could do was not go after the guy’s woman.
But that still left the large man with a problem. Two, both of which were very blue at the moment. After all, you simply couldn’t have a good fight and not go wenching afterwards. That’s just how things worked.
He considered the half-elf girl, Gwen. After all, she was definitely attractive. But she was also grieving. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for Valbrand. Grieving girls needed comfort, after all, and that was a route into the girl’s good graces. But that girl was different. She looked perpetually angry, and it was clear that she didn’t like Valbrand. There was no way he was bedding her tonight. Not that the possibility wasn’t there for the future. After all, hatred was its own route to a girl’s bed.
But that wasn’t happening tonight. And the large man didn’t want to risk that samsarran cleric’s ire. He hadn’t made any threats. Not exactly. But he had lectured Valbrand and Kermit for well over an hour, and that was annoying. And he’d promised an even longer lecture if Valbrand bothered Gwen again.
So he needed another woman to go after. But who? And how would he find her? It had to be someone he could find easily. The first girl who came to mind was that girl, Brinya. She was attractive enough. But even Valbrand wouldn’t take advantage of a girl who had just lost her betrothed. Not the same day. Maybe a week later.
No, someone else. Maybe that girl who had been comforting her? Karna, he thought her name was. She was rather attractive as well. But where to find her? Would she be with Brinya, or elsewhere? If the former, she would be harder to pull away. But if the latter, she would be harder to find. No. That wouldn’t work.
Then it hit him. He remembered the priestess, and more importantly, that paladin who obviously hadn’t gotten with her despite trying. Valbrand considered just how awesome it would be to see the look on that smug paladin’s face after the woman he wanted had been moaning Valbrand’s name and that thought was even better than the thought of bedding the voluptuous priestess.
That settled it. He was going back to the Sanctuary.
First, he pulled back on his armor. He remembered well the fight with the wolves. If there were going to be more wolves, he wasn’t going out there unprepared. He was horny and very lightly drunk, not stupid.
As he made his way through the Ramblehouse’s main room, Kermit spotted him. The grippli hopped up and walked over to him. “Where are you going?” he asked the large man.
“I’m going to the Sanctuary,” Valbrand said.
Kermit sipped his tea. By the time he was finished, he had gleaned the entirety of Valbrand’s objective “Glenn, come, we’re going to the Sanctuary,” he said.
The man in the pelican suit looked over to where his master was and spotted Valbrand standing there. He sighed and put a coin on the counter to pay the hostess before drinking down his beer. It was going to be one of those long nights. He really just hoped he wouldn’t have to run from dogs. Or guards. Or guards with dogs. Again.
When they opened the door to go outside, Lucky Days was standing there, having just returned from a post-dinner run. “Hey! Where are you guys going?” she asked.
“To the Sanctuary,” Valbrand said.
“Oh, you need to pray?”
“Something like that.”
“Would you like to come along?” Kermit asked.
“Should I?” the girl asked in return. She still wasn’t sure where she stood with these two, or even why Coach had sent her to them. So, of course, she was unsure what she should do.
“Rodd Rigez probably would,” Kermit answered. “To keep Valbrand out of trouble.”
“Oh. If it’s one of Coach’s obligations, then I guess I have to take care of it in his place until he gets here,” she said in a chipper voice. “Lead the way.”
They crossed through the town with little trouble, making their way to the Sanctuary. As usual for temples of that kind, the door was unlocked to allow the faithful to enter and pray at any hour, though an acolyte stood guard at the door. He waved them inside with a nod.
Once inside, Valbrand leaned his weapon, shield and helmet against the wall next to a bench and turned to the others. “Wait here,” he said. Kermit nodded and hopped onto the bench. Glenn and Lucky Days sat down next to Kermit while Valbrand crossed the room to the door at the far end.
The door led to a hallway which led back to the temple’s quarters, where he knew he would find the priestess. He even knew which door would be her chambers. After all, Temples of Iomedae were pretty standardized, and this wasn’t his first time in the back area of one.
The last time hadn’t involved a lovely priestess. Indeed, the head of that temple had been an elderly cleric with a hump on his back. No, that last trip in the back of such a temple had been to retrieve Rodd Rigez, who had been caught trying to steal the skull of the temple’s founder from the crypt below, and thus found himself languishing in a cell. The key was, of course, to be located in the quarters of the ranking cleric on site.
Luckily, he and Kermit had avoided alerting anyone else in the back aside from the surprised holy man, who had been quickly silenced by a swift blow to the head from Valbrand’s mailed fist. They then confirmed that the cleric was not dead, grabbed the key, overpowered the guards outside of the temple’s cell, and rescued their friend.
Valbrand never asked Rodd Rigez why he kept stealing skulls. At some point he knew the curiosity would overwhelm him and he’d have to know. But that wasn’t much on his mind at the moment. No, the priestess’ door stood before him.
He knocked softly. Everything was silent for a moment, then he heard a voice at the door. “Who is it?”
“It is Valbrand, priestess,” he answered gently. “May I speak with you?”
“It is a very late hour. Can this not wait until morning?”
“I do not believe so,” Valbrand said.
“Just a moment, then,” Tyari answered back. A few moments later, the door opened just enough for the priestess to step outside. She shut it behind her. Valbrand looked at her. Her hair was disheveled and it was apparent that she had thrown on her light robes hastily. She had definitely been in bed when he arrived. “So, what is it that troubles you, good Valbrand?”
“I’ve come to apologize,” the large man said.
“For what?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.
“I was rude to you earlier. It was uncalled for and I regret doing so.”
“Oh. I see. Well, good Valbrand, consider yourself forgiven. Is that all that troubles you?” She was obviously ready to get back to bed, but did not seem too annoyed by the intrusion.
“I wanted to explain. You see, I took to the faith of Gorum when I was a boy. Our priest was careful to drill into us just how great and powerful our god was, and how all others paled in comparison. At times, when I least want it, those teachings surface at the back of my mind and I mouth off to those who mean me no harm. And while Gorum has granted me great gifts of strength, prowess and stamina, that does not excuse my lapses in civility.”
She smiled at the man. He seemed truly genuine in his contrition. “We all have our burdens, good Valbrand. As long as we struggle to overcome them, the Gods understand our intentions and will not hold them entirely against us.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.” He reached into his bag and produced a fine bottle of expensive brandy – the spoils of a raid on a corrupt nobleman’s alcohol cellar spurned on by the request of the man’s put upon servants – and held it out to the priestess. “I brought this for you as an apology gift.”
She took the bottle. She wasn’t a connoisseur of expensive alcohols, but she could easily tell that it was extremely valuable from the craftsmanship of the bottle itself. “This is an amazing gift. It is absolutely unnecessary, though.”
“I want you to have it,” Valbrand said. “But if you feel it too great of a gift, perhaps instead we can open it and share a drink while you tell me of your goddess. I can also share tales of my adventures, if you’d like.”
“Perhaps another time,” she answered. “I –“
But she didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, her door opened from the inside. “What’s taking you so long?” a woman’s voice asked. Valbrand turned to see a bemused – and very naked – Karna standing there. Her red hair seemed to glow in the soft light and the blue lock seemed to sparkle.
With a look like a panicked deer, Tyari did the only thing she could think of. She opened the bottle of alcohol and took a big gulp.
Valbrand immediately understood the situation. He smiled hungrily at the women. “I have stamina enough for both of you,” he said.
Tyari choked on the alcohol and coughed. Karna let out a laugh that chimed like a bell. “Perhaps we should not discuss this out here. Both of you, come inside quickly before someone else investigates the scene we’re making.”
Valbrand wasn’t going to argue. He immediately took a couple steps into the priestess’ chambers. Tyari had to be dragged inside by Karna, who shut the door behind them.
Valbrand took his time drinking in the scene, especially the image of the naked woman before him. He had to admit that while he had seen a number of naked women before, he had only seen a few whose bodies compared to the one before him.
“Do you like what you see?” Karna asked him playfully.
“Very much so,” he admitted.
Tyari took another drink. “He shouldn’t be in here,” she said.
Karna smiled and walked over. She pressed her naked body against Tyari. The woman looked at her and Karna leaned in and kissed the priestess, tasting the alcohol on her lips. “That is quite delicious,” she said. She stroked Tyari’s hair. “Come now, lover, I know we were having fun, but I think in this case adding another will only make things even more fun. Try to imagine the possibilities,” she breathed softly in the woman’s ear.
The feeling of Karna’s breath on her ear sent a shiver down Tyari’s spine. She felt the woman’s small hand fondling her backside tenderly, gently and suggestively pushing her towards Valbrand.
“I… am sorry,” Tyari finally said. “I cannot.”
“It’s okay,” Karna said gently. “I understand. Sorry, big guy. As much fun as I think you would have been, I want her more than I want you, so I’m gonna have to side with her this time.” Her tone told Valbrand that she wasn’t turning him down, only postponing for a potential later engagement.
Valbrand knew he wasn’t going to succeed and he wasn’t one to force the matter. “I understand,” he said. “But perhaps I might trouble each of you for a single kiss to warm me on the trip back to the Ramblehouse?” he asked, making sure to tell Karna where he was staying so she could find him for any later discussions.
“That does seem fair,” Karna said. “Are you okay with that?” she asked Tyari.
“I… guess that isn’t too much to ask,” Tyari conceded.
“Shall I go first?” Karna asked.
“It’s okay,” Tyari said. “I’ll go first.”
The priestess walked over to Valbrand, who reached out his arm and pulled her into him. He then kissed her hungrily for several moments – allowing his hand to slide up her robe and linger upon her backside while doing so – before finally letting her go. He knew holding her any longer would only upset her.
He released her and the shocked looking priestess stepped back. Then it was Karna’s turn. Her kiss was far more enthusiastic, and as she kissed him, she gently pulled his hand onto her bare breast, letting out a soft moan as his fingers gently caressed her erect nipple. While they kissed, Valbrand felt a shiver run down his spine that gave him goosebumps and his lips tingled where hers touched them.
After their lingering kiss, they released each other and Valbrand began to walk to the door. “Thank you for your time.” He grinned. “Please enjoy yourselves – and the alcohol.”
He then turned and reached out for the door.
“Wait!” Tyari whispered.
Valbrand stopped. “Yes?” he asked. He turned to see Tyari looking at him shyly as Karna held her hand.
“Maybe… it would be okay if you stayed,” she said.
Karna squeezed the woman’s hand appreciatively and gently kissed Tyari’s neck. “Go ahead and remove your robes,” she told the woman. “He’s gonna need some help removing his armor.”
Karna walked over to Valbrand and began helping him remove his mail. He took the opportunity to run his hands all over her lithe body. Once she had his mail and shirt off,
Karna ran her hands over Valbrand’s hairy and well-muscled chest, then tiptoed up to kiss his neck. Tyari couldn’t believe just how hot she found the scene, her hands wandering over her own body unbidden, as if they had a mind of their own.
“She has never lain with a man before,” Karna whispered into Valbrand’s ear. “Be gentle with her. And make sure you climax within her.” Her tone was mischievous.
Valbrand nodded slightly. The former request was easy enough, and the latter was simply what a man was supposed to do. “Do not fret,” he said. “I will have more than enough to fill both of you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Karna said hungrily as she undid his belt. “But we shouldn’t leave our poor virgin priestess waiting on us too long while we flirt.” She looked at Tyari and smiled at the woman’s awestruck reaction as Valbrand’s pants fell to the floor, then led him over to the bed where the priestess waited, looking like she might begin shaking with nervousness.
Karna climbed into bed next to the nervous woman and began kissing her to distract her as Valbrand joined them, though Valbrand’s arrival certainly did not go unnoticed for long.
Nearly an hour – a very vocal, very enthusiastic hour – later, Valbrand had finally finished with Tyari, who lay exhausted upon the bed beneath him as he turned to look at Karna.
“Give me one, no better make that two minutes, then it’ll be your turn for my full attention.”
She smiled appreciatively. “I can wait a couple minutes. Our priestess seems like she needs some cuddling, anyway.”
Valbrand got up and took a seat on a nearby stool and grabbed a drink of water from a pitcher of water. He then poured a bit of the rest in his hair and stood. As he did so, he walked over to where Karna was kissing and whispering to Tyari.
As Valbrand approached, a look of horror appeared on Tyari’s face as the euphoria faded and realization of what she had done truly set in. “Please, go!” she whispered, staring at Valbrand.
Confused, Valbrand turned to Karna. “What’s going on?”
The woman was smirking. “You should probably go. The full situation finally hit our little priestess, and she’s gonna need some time.”
“But shouldn’t I give you your turn?” Valbrand asked.
She pulled Tyari’s crying face to her breast. “Oh, you’ve given me plenty, thank you. It’s not like you completely ignored me, and your hands are as adept as they are large.
You can put your armor back on by yourself, yes?”
“I can,” Valbrand said. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but it was his first head priestess after all. Maybe they were weird. “Feel free to visit me if you want to continue this later,” he said as he got the last piece of his clothing on.
“Oh, I will definitely be visiting you,” she agreed.
Valbrand walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. In the hallway stood the paladin from earlier, Brantos. His eyes shot daggers at Valbrand. It was clear that Tyari had gotten more than sufficiently loud enough for him to hear.
Valbrand gave a smirk of his own and pushed past the man, bumping into him with his shoulder, whistling as he rejoined the others. “Did you get the blessing you were looking for?” Lucky Days asked innocently.
“I did,” Valbrand said, giving her a wide smile. “More blessing than I had planned on.”
It had been a good day.
At least, it had been a good day for Valbrand. Jazier was having an annoying day. He had watched the three leave while he was sitting down for dinner. Cham came and took his order, then promptly forgot about him. So Jazier sat in the corner of the common room waiting for dinner for over an hour before calling for Cham’s attention and being tended to. He was used to this. It was just another aspect of his curse. Things just happened in the most annoying way to inconvenience him. He did not blame the halfling.
Of course, his magnanimity was tested to its limits when the halfling returned, tripped and covered Jazier in soup. The only saving grace was that the soup had not been too hot, and thus Jazier only had to use a bit of magic to clean himself off, much like he had with all the graffiti earlier.
Cham apologized profusely, of course, and got him a new bowl of soup at no cost. But Jazier just waved off her apology. It wasn’t her fault. It was simply his luck. She was merely an instrument of his fate, and his fate was to suffer. At least until he found his brother and paid him back for his role.
After supper – bland, tepid pork soup with beans – Jazier returned to his room to continue his reading. The journal was mostly asinine, filled with poetic drivel and a hope to bridge the divide between the half orcs and the other residents of the town, but it did have interesting bits about his investigation into the Plague House.
Still, the bits of poetry far outweighed the interesting bits, and it wasn’t long before Jazier found himself dozing in his chair. He was so out of it, he didn’t notice his door open slightly and only barely caught the sight of movement right before the attack.
A red haired woman with dark skin flicked her wrist, causing a blade made of ice to harden in her hand. It was an alchemical device, a liquid blade – a favorite of assassins and any who needed a weapon that was easily smuggled past authorities.
Jazier fell out of his chair in an attempt to dodge, taking a heavy slash to his chest that only narrowly missed his heart. He stumbled over to the window, attempting to escape his assailant, but the glass was shut tight. His hands, covered with blood, would be unable to work the latch. So instead, he quickly cast a spell, causing lightning to appear in his hand.
He reached out to zap his foe, but the nimble woman dodged backwards. She prepared to attack again when the door opened, Cham standing there. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mister Jazier, but I want to apo- AHH!!” the halfling screamed as the assassin struck at her.
Down in the street below, Valbrand was returning, whistling a tune, when he happened to glance towards the Ramblehouse. He spotted Jazier standing in the window, his bloody hand leaving a smeared mark on the glass. “He’s in trouble!” Lucky Days said, having seen the same. “I’m going!” she shouted, dashing away and holding Sakura-chan ready to attack.
“Valbrand!” Kermit shouted.
“Right!” the big man said, picking the grippli up and hurling him with all his might straight at the glass.
“GUYVER!” Kermit shouted, powering up as he flew through the air.
Back in the room, Jazier reached out, making contact and zapping the assassin, who cried out in pain. She turned to face him and missed the arrival of Lucky Days, who slashed her in the back, causing her to stumble forward. Then, with an explosion of glass, Kermit crashed in through the window. He immediately took stock of what was happening and reached out a clawed hand.
The powered up grippli grabbed the head of the assassin and slammed her into one of the wall’s wooden beams. The assassin died with a sickening crunch as the back of her skull came crashing out of the front of her face.
Cham took one look at the imposing form of Kermit and let out a scream. “AAAHH!! KILL IT!”
Kermit, convinced that there were no more foes, powered down, his suit disappearing in a cloud of mist. “It’s okay. I’ve already killed the attacker,” he said.
That was the final straw, the part that broke Cham’s ability to cope. “Ababwa. Hibbe ga,” she stammered. Her eyes then rolled back in her head and she fainted.
“Champ!” Lucky Days gasped. She picked up the halfling and carried her over to the bed.
Kermit looked at the halfling. “She’ll be fine,” he said, trying to reassure Lucky Days. “What of you?” he asked Jazier.
“I’ll be fine,” the wizard said with a cough as he rubbed devil’s blood between his fingers as he cast a spell. His pupils became bright red and his sclera became black as his wounds began to heal.
Lucky Days glanced out the window and spotted movement. “There’s another one down there!” she said, pointing at the man downstairs dressed in similar garb to the assassin trying to escape. She ran over to the other side of the room, grabbed Sakura-chan and vaulted out of the shattered window.
Kermit looked at Jazier. “I’ll be fine!” the wizard said. “Go!”
The grippli nodded. “Glenn! Valbrand! We’re chasing another one outside!” he shouted as he leapt out of the window to follow the energetic girl.
In the hallway, the man in the pelican suit sighed, his shoulders drooping as he turned around and began running down the stairs. Luckily for him, Valbrand was behind where he had been, so he didn’t have to move to get out of the large man’s way. And at least there weren’t any dogs.
Lucky Days pursued the assassin down the streets. It was clear that there would be no outrunning the young woman, who was at least twice as fast as he was, so the assassin headed toward the predetermined fall back point and dashed halfway across the bridge before spinning around and readying his liquid blade.
The girl slashed him just as he turned, dropping him as a crossbow bolt from the assassin that had been hiding next to the bridge hit her in the back. She yanked the bolt out – it was a shallow but painful wound – and charged the female assassin with the crossbow. The pain caused her to miss as she winced.
Hearing the sounds of the others coming behind her, the female assassin knew she couldn’t stay to fight, but she had also seen the girl run, so she knew outright fleeing wouldn’t work either. So, thinking quickly, she dropped her crossbow and quickly reached out, yanking the girl’s skirt down around her knees before dashing past her.
Lucky Days was startled by the action and hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then she spotted Valbrand rounding the building, just behind Kermit, and reacted instinctually. “NO!” she shouted. “Don’t look!” She dropped Sakura-chan as she covered her panties with her hands as best she could.
After a few seconds, she realized that Valbrand was far enough away that she had time to pull up her skirt, so she quickly did so, grabbed Sakura-chan and chased after the fleeing assassin. But she was too late. Once the assassin was out of sight, she managed to hide and completely evade Lucky Days’ pursuit.
The girl returned to the bridge, where the others were standing over the fallen assassin. “He’s alive,” Valbrand was saying. “I’ll heal his wounds and you can help me make him talk.” Kermit just nodded.
“Oh, right,” Lucky Days said. “Um, I think I got hit,” she said, wincing in pain.
Valbrand turned to her. “Where?”
“On my back.” She turned around to show him. Luckily her shirt left her midriff bare, so the arrow had not pierced it. “Is it bad? Will it leave a scar?”
Valbrand examined the wound. “No, you will not scar if I heal it promptly. But this might hurt a bit.” He firmly but gently placed his hand upon the wound. The girl winced in pain but said nothing as he cast his spell. As the wound mended, her damaged nerves cried out in pain, causing a few tears to form in her eyes. But after a mere few seconds, the pain was gone, leaving only a dull soreness not unlike that she encountered after a good workout.
“Thank you,” she told the large man.
“Any time. Now try to look menacing. We’re going to interrogate the prisoner.”
Kermit sat on the man’s chest and carefully closed his hand around the man’s throat, applying the barest of pressure. Valbrand touched the injured man’s shoulder and cast his spell again. The man woke with a start and screamed at the sight of Kermit’s glowing eyes inches from his face.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Valbrand said. “My friend’s just mad that your accomplice escaped.”
“Asha, that b&@~&!” the assassin cursed. “Look, it’s nothing personal. It was just a job.”
“She pulled down my skirt and made it personal,” Lucky Days said angrily as she struck the man’s shoulder with the butt end of Sakura-chan.
“Just take me to jail. I don’t want to die. It was all Asha’s idea. I only met the boss once.”
“So you did meet him,” Kermit growled as he squeezed the man’s neck ever so slightly harder.
“Please!” the man gasped. “I have a wife and kids at home!”
“No,” Valbrand said with a smile. “You have a widow and orphans, unless you tell us everything you know.”
“Okay! Okay! The man who hired us was a half orc! He said his name is Katrezra!”
“What else do you know?!” Kermit growled.
“That’s it! I swear! He just wanted us to kill the wizard in the turban!”
“You’re lying!” Kermit said, squeezing hard enough to cause the man to begin to choke as fire burned in the suited grippli’s eyes.
The assassin’s eyes rolled back in his head as his brain began to suffer from lack of blood flow. “Kermit!” Lucky Days said in alarm, pulling at his shoulder. The grippli choked the man a few seconds more, until he was sure he was unconscious, then released him.
Kermit looked up and saw Glenn arrive. “There you are. Tie him up and bring him back to the inn,” he told his servant.
Glenn sighed and reached into his knapsack to find some rope. Valbrand clapped Glenn on the back and laughed. “Don’t worry, friend! I will help you carry him!”
From a nearby rooftop, a shadowy figure who had been watching the whole thing chuckled to himself as he watched Lucky Days leave. “So, they’re pink, huh? Very interesting.”
So, as promised, the funny story from our latest session I promised in the CC post. Minor spoilers ahead.
In the morning, I mentioned something about it while we were eating breakfast(pulled pork I'd had cooking for like six hours, in case you were wondering). I don't recall exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of "I wonder if anyone will catch leprosy from the thing. It'll be pretty funny if they do."
That made Steve really nervous about our upcoming visit to the Plague House in the upcoming session. So he worked out exactly why Jazier absolutely had to go buy a potion of Cure Disease before we went. He was quite insistent.
I found it hilarious, as it had nothing to do with anything he had to worry about, but he came up with enough reason in character for it, so we went along with it.
Anyway, so that's my silly story. It's pretty mundane, but there it is.
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That's also a funny story.
Let's just say he found it not nearly as disappointing as last week.
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(*)Which is in itself a shame, because I have been to numerous good Chinese restaurants, including ones that used nominally the same peppers.
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The girl took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “He was dressed like the person who had been attacking Jazz Hands.”
The two figures exchanged a glance. “And that was enough to slash him with your weapon?” Halgra asked, her tone dangerous.
“Well, no. I was just trying to catch him to find out if he was working with the bad lady. I didn’t plan on attacking him, but then he pulled out one of those icy knife things and I knew he had to be working with her, so I figured it was too dangerous to try to disarm him.”
“There were four of you. Why not surround him and force him to surrender?”
“The others were very far behind, so I didn’t know if they’d get there in time.”
“Right. That agrees with the grippli’s story. He says that you run very quickly?” Jagrin asked.
“Yes. I’ve been training all my life.”
“I see. But surely he’s mistaken when he says you run as fast a horse.”
She nodded. “Yes, he’s definitely wrong there.”
“I knew his size would cause him to mistake –“
“I’m faster than a horse.”
The two shared an incredulous look. “Step outside and send in the man in the suit.”
Glenn was unhappy with how his night was going. But at least he could sit down now, even if he was facing an inquisition. “Tell us what happened.”
Glenn moved his fingers and motioned with his hands in a pantomime. <We were having dinner when we needed to go out. I thought it was a terrible idea. But no one ever asks me. So we went out…>
Several minutes later, Glenn finished his pantomime. Jagrin pulled Halgra aside. “Did you understand any of that?” he whispered.
“No,” Halgra admitted. She turned back to the man in the pelican suit. “You may go back out. Send in the big man.”
Valbrand’s lips were pulled back in a smile. It had been a very good night. First he had bedded a beautiful woman – well, almost two, but the first one started crying and he’d only half bedded the second – and then he’d gotten into a good fight, even if he hadn’t had a chance to swing his axe.
“And what precisely were you thinking?” Jagrin asked, annoyed by the skald’s grin.
“At which point?” Valbrand asked, puzzled by the man’s tone. Were they not here to be congratulated for defeating the assassins who had entered the walls? Were they that upset because they had let the third one escape?
“When you hurled your friend through the window.”
“Oh. Yes, I figured that was the fastest way to go assist the person inside.”
“And how did you know he needed help?” Halgra asked.
“It seemed likely. It was dark, so it was possible I was wrong, but I figured if I was, worst case scenario involved us apologizing and paying for the window. And if I was right? Well, Lenn taught me that ‘When you see something that needs hitting, HIT IT! Don’t wait and let it hit you first, stupid.’”
“I see.” Halgra turned to Jagrin, who wore a pained look. “And what if someone had been injured from the shattering glass?”
Valbrand shrugged. “I still retained the ability to cast a few healing spells for the day. I doubt a little glass could have done enough harm that I couldn’t heal it.”
“And what of your friend? What if he’d been injured?” Jagrin asked aggressively.
Valbrand laughed aloud. It was a deep, amused sound that rumbled through the whole building. “You have a great sense of humor, friend.”
“I’m not joking.”
Valbrand’s brow furrowed. “You aren’t? Well, that is simply because you do not understand my friend. His magic suit protects him from all danger.”
Halgra’s eyes narrowed. “I have reports of him using some kind of suit,” she told Jagrin. “His story rings true.”
“Go back into the hall and send in the grippli,” Jagrin said.
A few moments later, Kermit was in the room. “Tell us about this suit of yours,” Halgra said to him.
“Oh, the Guyver? I got that during the Witch War.”
“You fought in the Witch War?” Jagrin asked, surprised.
“Not exactly. I was simply in the vicinity when the star fell from the sky. I was just past my tadpole stage, having gone on my great journey to see the world before returning to my people as a full adult. I had come to a place called Riddleport when I heard the witch’s army was approaching, so I decided to go back south towards Magnimar. A full day into my trip, I saw a star fall from the sky. It looked like it landed in the middle of a village, so I went to investigate.”
“What did you find?”
“There was a smoking crater in the center of the village. When I approached, I found a big black rock. When I touched the rock, which was a perfect sphere, some slime came out and engulfed me. I thought I was dead as the sphere opened and clamped over my head. But then it disappeared.
A few moments later, as I tried to make sense of what had happened, it spoke to me in my head, and told me that there was an enemy nearby and I was needed to help. So we went and looked and found a beast attacking the people. So we fought and killed it.”
“I see. And it has been with you ever since?”
“Yes. Only its creators could possibly remove it from me.”
“And it speaks to you?”
“Not very often. It lets me do what I will, though it warns me if one of its enemies is nearby.”
“You may go for now. Send in the wizard.”
Jazier was annoyed. His luck was holding out as usual. “Tell me what you want to know and I will tell you,” he said curtly.
“Good. Then let’s get to business,” Jagrin said. “Why were you attacked?”
“I do not know. It might have been my brother’s work, or perhaps these people serve the demons that intended to use the graffiti to coordinate their search. I suspect I did not make them happy by removing their handiwork.”
“Demons?” Halgra asked, startled. “Why do you think demons are involved?”
“Demons are always involved. But specifically this time, I was told that they were by an old half orc named Katrezra.”
Halgra was startled once more. “Katrezra?! You’ve seen him?”
Jazier gave her a puzzled look. “Yes. Just this afternoon.”
“Where was he?”
“He is being hidden by the blacksmith. He seems to believe that you will blame him for the death of the young man.”
“I will arrest him at once,” Jagrin said angrily.
“Jagrin,” Halgra called out. “Send someone, don’t go yourself. Tell them I want him brought in unharmed, if possible. Alive, at least, even if he resists.”
“Fine,” Jagrin growled. “I don’t think he was the mastermind anyway.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Halgra asked after Jagrin left.
“He gave me this,” Jazier said, pulling out Rodrik’s journal.
Halgra skimmed through it. “I see. And have you read it?”
“Yes. He seemed to think there was something important about the Plague House. I suspect that the demons are hiding something there. I would like to investigate.”
“I will direct Gwen to assist you. Tonight, I want you to stay at the Longhouse, so none may choose to attack you again.”
“I thank you,” Jazier said. “I will go immediately.”
“Not yet. I want to have some men escort you for safety. Here, take back the journal, you may need it. Just wait in the hallway until I can get some men here. Send back in the girl.”
Lucky Days was nervous still. “It’s okay,” Halgra tried to reassure her. “We just want to know what happened. You seem like a good kid. It’s a shame that you’ve been caught in two fights today. That’s no place for such a pretty girl.”
Lucky Days’ lip quivered. “Chief Chief!” she said, hugging the older woman as she began crying. “Both of my favorite skirts have been ruined by all that blood! And then that woman pulled down my skirt! What if Valbrand saw my panties? I’d be ruined forever and will never be able to get married!”
A confused Halgra cautiously hugged the crying girl. “Um, there, there. Maybe you can talk to Jazier about your skirts? I hear he’s really good at cleaning things. Maybe he can save them.”
“You really think so?” Lucky Days asked with a sniffle.
Halgra offered her a handkerchief. “Maybe.”
Lucky Days blew her nose. “Thanks, Chief Chief. You’re the best.”
“Tell me about Glenn, Kermit and Valbrand.”
“They’re friends of Coach. He wants me to stay with them for a bit so I can train. He says I could become the fastest woman in the world, praise Kurgess.”
“Is that so?” Halgra asked as Jagrin returned. He nodded at her unasked question, indicating that men had been sent. “And what do you think about them?”
“They’ve been very nice to me. Glenn’s very sweet, Kermit’s very kind, and I’ve never known anyone as religious as Valbrand who wasn’t a cleric.”
“Religious?”
“Yes, that’s what we were doing tonight before we got back. We had to go with Valbrand to the temple so he could pray. He spent a long time praying.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he was in the back with the clerics for a long time. I think maybe he was too embarrassed to pray in front of us.”
Halgra gave Jagrin a look that told him to immediately send someone to the Sanctuary to ask about it. He nodded and stepped back outside. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“I can’t really think of anything. Do you think that last assassin will come back? She shot me with a crossbow in the back and I want to tell her how mean that was.”
Halgra considered it. “It’s possible. I’m having Jazier stay at the Longhouse for his safety. I will arrange for you and your companions to lodge there tonight as well.”
“I won’t have to sleep in the same room as all the boys, will I?” Lucky Days asked, worried about the potential scandal if people heard about that.
“We have a women’s barracks,” she said. “Or perhaps I can have you use the spare bed in the private room used by Gwethlantithwen.”
“Bless you,” Lucky Days said reflexively.
Halgra let it pass. “Perhaps we’ll use the women’s barracks for tonight. I don’t think Gwen would appreciate being woken up after her long day.” She patted the girl’s head. “You did just fine, girl. Go back out into the hall and send in Valbrand once more.”
Lucky Days passed Jagrin as he returned and sent Valbrand back into the room.
“I hear that you’re quite religious,” Halgra said to him.
Valbrand was puzzled. “No more than most, though I do thank my god for the great strength and prowess he has gifted me.”
“Then what were you doing in the back rooms of the Sanctuary? The girl says you were back there for quite some time.”
A look of realization crossed over Valbrand’s face. “I was performing religious outreach,” he said with a hearty laugh. “The gods want us to reach out and make contact with others of many different faiths. I spent some time praising the gods with the local clergy.”
“We will check your story,” Jagrin said. “If we find that you broke any laws while you were back there, know that you will be punished harshly.”
“No laws were violated,” Valbrand answered.
“I think we’ve asked all we can for now,” Halgra said. “You and your companions will stay at the Longhouse tonight.” Jagrin appeared about to protest, but Halgra’s look silenced him. “In the morning, you will assist Jazier in his search for clues to the attack. Gwen will come with you to supervise your efforts.”
Valbrand looked at her shrewdly. “Are we being paid for this?”
“You involve yourself in mischief in our town, and now you have the gall to ask for payment?!” Jagrin roared.
“Calm yourself,” Halgra chided. “How much do you think is fair?”
“I apologize if any offense is given,” Valbrand said to Jagrin. “It is simply one of the rules of the Adventurer’s Guild. We’re not supposed to perform potentially dangerous work for free unless it crops up in the heat of the moment and we decide to help.”
“That is understandable. As I understand it, the going rate is five gold per adventurer per day with twenty gold as hazard pay any day in which you face life threatening danger?”
Valbrand nodded. “I’m glad you understand our customs. I am willing to agree to that if you are.”
“That’s fine. Jagrin, have some men escort them to the Longhouse.”
“We need to swing by the inn first,” Valbrand said. “Glenn left most of our stuff there.”
Less than an hour later, Tyari Varvatos was led into Halgra’s office. Halgra saw the proud cleric’s face and was immediately concerned. “Tyari, have you been crying?”
Tyari’s resolve immediately faded. “Oh, Iomedae! Is it obvious?” she wailed.
“Your eyes are red. What’s wrong?”
“Was this Valbrand’s doing?” Jagrin asked, reaching for his sword. “Did that monster harm you?”
“No,” Tyari said, sniffling. “Well, yes. But it’s not as you think. Oh, Iomedae! My sister is going to kill me when she finds out. How could I do this to her?”
“What did you do?” Halgra asked.
“I-I’m pregnant.”
“What?!” Jagrin – a rather conservative follower of Erastil who believed that sort of thing should not happen outside of marriage – asked.
“Jagrin, calm yourself,” Halgra – a much more cosmopolitan woman – cautioned. “What happened?”
“I- um, Valbrand came by my quarters tonight. In a moment of weakness, I agreed to lay with him.”
Halgra put her hand on the upset young woman’s shoulder. “Tyari, the gods know I’ve made that kind of mistake in the heat of the moment myself. But it only happened tonight. It’s entirely possible that nothing will come of it. At the very least, you can’t be certain that you will become pregnant so soon after your indiscretion.”
“Karna said she was sure that the child had already quickened within me.”
Jagrin’s eyes narrowed. “Who is Karna? I’ve never heard that name.”
Tyari looked down at her feet. “She- No, we are lovers. Ever since she came to town a little over a week ago, I’ve found her presence intoxicating. We’ve spent every night together for the last week,” the priestess admitted shamefully. Jagrin was aghast at the admission of his town’s holy woman, but one look from Halgra made him hold his tongue.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Halgra said. “But how could she be sure?”
“I don’t know,” Tyari admitted. “But she was certain.”
“It’s okay,” Halgra said, comforting the woman. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. Just answer me one more thing. What happened was completely consensual? Valbrand did not force himself on you? And he didn’t get you so drunk that you could not control yourself?”
Tyari shook her head. “I agreed to it, and while I did have a drink, it was only the one. The mistake was mine, and I cannot hold him to blame.”
“Okay,” Halgra said. “Don’t worry, Tyari, you’ll get through this. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“Thank you,” the young woman said before leaving to return to the temple.
Once she was gone, Halgra turned to Jagrin. “I want to talk to this Karna,” she said. “Find her.” She had never known the chaste young cleric to be anything but entirely true to her vows. For her to break them not once but twice in such a short time was concerning.
“I’ll have my people look out for her. Though I cannot spare too many, as I have to keep someone watching Brinya. She will reveal her true nature eventually.”
“Do not harass the girl, Jagrin. I agreed to let you keep tabs on her, but do not approach her.”
“Understood. But when we confirm that she was behind my son’s death, I will be the one to swing the axe.”
“As long as you do not attempt to swing it before I’ve told you to. Has Katrezra been taken into custody?”
“Yes. Sara was pretty upset, but they did not resist.”
“Good. If he and Brinya are innocent, then perhaps Gwen and the others will find something at the Plague House. If not? Well, at least we’ll have them both where we can easily get ahold of them.”
The next morning, Gwen woke up as usual and attended to her hair. It always took a bit of work to get under control. She wanted to cut it shorter so it would be easier to manage, but her mother had loved her hair, so she couldn’t bring herself to cut it shorter than shoulder-length. But the brush she had been given by Uncle Zil was excellent and made quick work of any tangles.
Once her hair was under control, she changed into her clothes and headed to the Longhouse’s dining room for breakfast. It was rarely good, but it was always hot and plentiful.
To her surprise, Gwen found strange faces seated at several of the tables. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked.
“Oh! Hi, Gwen!” Lucky Days said, her mouth still a little full of oat porridge. She swallowed with a big gulp and washed it down with some milk. “After Jazz Hands got attacked by assassins, Chief Chief told us to stay here for our safety.”
“Jazz Hands?” Jazier asked, confused.
“Well, your name is Jazier, so ‘Jazz’, and you have magic hands.” Valbrand choked on his ham at her words. Kermit hopped over and hit him on the back. Glenn just sat there, sipping his coffee.
“I see…” Jazier answered, dubiously.
“You were attacked by assassins?” Gwen asked the wizard.
“Yes. They came into my room while I was falling asleep. I nearly died.”
“Who would send assassins after you?”
“My brother might, though there is the possibility of demons being involved. Your chief defender wants me to look into a lead. I am to secure your aid.”
“I can’t,” Gwen protested. “I’ve already been tasked with locating Katrezra.”
“I believe he is already in custody. The guardsman Omast and I ran across him yesterday. When I told your leaders of this, they sent someone to collect him.”
“Oh, then I guess I can help, if that’s truly what Halgra wishes.”
“We’re coming too!” Lucky Days said happily before shoving a spoonful of porridge in her mouth.
“Really?”
“If demons are involved, I want a chance to face them,” Valbrand boasted, flexing his taut muscles in an attempt to impress the young woman.
“Right,” Gwen said with a sigh, grabbing the plate that had been prepared for her and sitting down to eat. The plate contained several of her favorites – a piece of sweet melon, some ham and a couple fried oatcakes. They had likely been chosen specifically to help her take her mind off of Rodrik’s death. “So, what’s our lead?”
Jazier pulled out the journal. “It seems that the poor dead man was interested in the Plague House. I suspect he found something he wasn’t supposed to and the demons wanted him silenced before he realized what he had found. Then, when they discovered I had stumbled upon his notes, they came after me next.”
Rodrik’s Journal?! Gwen reached out and took the book from him and began reading through it. She knew her cousin well enough to easily separate what was relevant and what wasn’t. She quickly came to the same conclusion as Jazier, more or less. There was something at the Plague House that Rodrik had been killed over.
“We’ll go just as soon as I’m done eating,” Gwen said. “We can’t wait-”
“What’s that?” Lucky Days asked, indicating the sound of a horn blowing in the distance.
Gwen shot to her feet and grabbed her gun. “That’s the sound of the alarm. We’re under attack!”
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This... well, you'll see when I post the next entry.
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“For da kween!” shouted the other goblins in response.
Yarek was pleased as he surveyed his goblin followers, a dozen in all. They were each painted red, the fierce color most loved by Kween Ekkie, as befitting her most elite troop, Da Kween’s Knuckles. “Now, are there any questions before we continue?” One goblin raised his hand. “Yes, Moug?”
“Who farted?” the goblin asked.
Yarek scowled at the question. He had been expecting a more serious question, sure folly when dealing with other goblins. Before he could answer, another of the Knuckles sniffed the air. “Smells like Iboula.”
Iboula looked offended. “It wasn’t me!” she shouted before trying to bite the one who had disrespected her.
“Calm yourselves!” Yarek shouted. “Save it for when we find the Hated One!” The others hissed at the mention of their foe, forgetting their quarrel. “Good, now we continue onward! That…” he looked around, trying to remember which direction they had been headed moments before.
As he tried to get his bearings, he heard Moug whisper to the goblin next to him. “He does not know the way!”
“Shut up!” Yarek yelled. “I know where we’re going!”
“I do not believe him,” Moug whispered to the other. “He does not know the way. Do you know the way?”
Yarek swung his stick, striking Moug upside his head. “Shut up!” he yelled again. “We go that way!” he pointed, only missing the direction they had been heading by about thirty degrees.
Back in Trunau, Qumeel arrived at the wall at dawn, as had been agreed. “Ragathiel bless the rising sun, that purges away the darkness,” he prayed solemnly as he climbed to the top of the tower. The guardsman who he would stand with was already there, as was the one he was relieving. “Joyous morning, Douglas and Brollerth!” Qumeel said with a smile on his face. These men were perhaps not the best guards, but they stood their watch nonetheless and thus had Qumeel’s respect.
“Well, ah, ah, good morning, Qumeel,” Douglas said, looking up from the reflection in his Kukri.
Brollerth Wildfire was covered in dirt but he greeted Qumeel warmly. “Like, good morning or something.” – No one knew actual last name, but everyone was pretty sure he had been kicked out of his old community for his fascination with fire, hence the name. But he had not done anything mischievous with his pyromania, instead contenting himself to think of new and inventive ways to burn orcs, which the town’s leadership approved of.
“You appear to have been busy,” Qumeel noted.
“Like, I, um, set up a minefield or something?”
“A what?” Qumeel asked.
“Well, you, ah, know,” Douglas answered. He pointed to two rocks. “If any orcs walk into that area there, they’ll step on one of the places where Brollerth buried the traps. Then they’ll ah um explode?” He sighed. “Gods my face is beautiful.”
“Right,” Qumeel said, sorry he had asked. Still, someone might want to warn the watch captain so he could warn the others not to walk over there. He would do so immediately after his turn at watch. He was sure it could wait, since it was certain that the watch captain would have his hands full after the fighting that had occurred at the halfling’s inn the previous night.
He wondered if he would be called upon to escort the strange wizard from town for starting the fight. If so, he would have to be on his guard. There was something foul in the air about that one. The taint of demons lingered on the man, as though he had been long consorting with them.
“Well, like, I’m gonna get some breakfast or something?” Brollerth said. “Have a nice life- wait, what’s that?” he asked, pointing.
Qumeel looked where he was pointing, though Douglas just continued carefully cleaning his teeth by the reflection of the blade. In the distance, Qumeel spotted a group of goblins marching towards the town. There was one – clearly the leader – riding on the back of a starved goblin dog as well as another walking next to him carrying a crudely drawn banner depicting what appeared to be a female goblin wearing a crown. Eleven others marched next to them, with no formation nor disciplined cadence to their movement. Only goblins could be so truly and utterly disorganized. And the weirdest part was that they were all painted red.
The goblins came to a halt in a jerking fashion. The banner carrier fumbled to pull out a horn which he blew. It produced a stuttering, squeaking sound. If it hadn’t been for the sharpened dogslicers and horsechoppers the goblins carried, Qumeel would have found the scene entirely comical. Even their mismatched armor crafted of various pieces of refuse added to the ridiculousness of the scene.
The goblin on the mount waited until the other finished blowing the horn, then shouted his demands at the wall. “In the name of Kween Ekkie, you will immediately turn over to us the Hated One! Any who stand in our way will face our wrath!”
Douglas and Brollerth were whispering to each other, the latter giggling as they spoke, but Qumeel did not ask the content of their conversation. Instead, he focused on the threat. “We are unaware of whom you speak,” he called back. “We will need to contact the town’s leadership so they may discuss it with you.”
“You may have one hour to bring the Hated One to us, or we will burn your town!” the goblin boasted.
“Okay, while ah ah Qumeel looks ah into it,” Douglas said. “You guys should move over there. The light is ah better and you’ll ah look more intimidating.” Brollerth did his best to suppress his giggles as his friend spoke.
Several guileless goblins immediately began doing what Douglas suggested. “What are you doing?!” Yarek howled. “Come back here!”
“But the light is better there,” said one of the goblins.
“We are going over there,” another answered. “Over here smells like Iboula.”
“I DO NOT SMELL!” Iboula screeched as she chased after the four that were leaving.
Qumeel could only watch in horror as the four goblins marched headfirst into the minefield. And then the first one stepped on a mine. After a loud explosion, Moug – or what was left of him – came falling from the sky and struck Iboula. The impact knocked her down onto a mine, causing her to explode as well. Then other two immediately began panicking, shrieking and running through the minefield. It was only a matter of seconds before they both met an explosive end as well.
Qumeel disapproved of the entire thing, but he still had to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Yarek wiped the goblin entrails from his face and shouted. “REVENGE!” he roared. “CHARGE!”
“FOR DA KWEEN!” the other goblins shouted. Several of them began firing with crude short bows while the rest charged the town’s wooden palisade, ready to begin scaling. Behind him, Qumeel heard the sound of the alarm horn blowing, likely in response to the sound of the explosions.
“They’re, ah ah, on fire!” Douglas shouted as an arrow grazed him.
“Shut up, Douglas,” Brollerth said. Qumeel deftly turned aside an arrow with his shield.
“You’ve allied yourself with Rodd Rigez!” Yarek roared. “DIE!”
“They’re, like, shooting at us or something?” Brollerth said, pulling out a flask of alchemist’s fire and debating whether to use it to cauterize his new arrow wound or throw it at the goblins.
“That almost hit my face!” Douglas wailed, nursing his own wound.
“Shut up, Douglas, gawd! Do the thing!”
Douglas immediately knew what to do, pulling out a bottle of oil and dumping it over the goblins climbing the wall below his position. He took another arrow in his shoulder for his trouble and dropped behind the wall. Qumeel cast a spell to grant his companions the blessings of Ragathiel that their attacks would strike true.
Then Brollerth chucked his flask down on the closest goblin. The oil caught fire and the goblin – now a corpse – dropped from the wall and onto the goblin below it, knocking her down. The goblin kicked the corpse and began climbing just as Brollerth and Qumeel each took a dangerous hit from an arrow and had to crouch behind the wall.
“I have to get Uncle’s skull back!” the goblin yelled as she scrambled up the wall.
“Yes, Tipi! Keep fighting!” Yarek shouted, gently nudging his goblin dog away from the wall a bit, preparing to run. No matter how he rationalized it, they weren’t going to win this fight. But he could not return to Da Kween unless they had given it their all.
On the wall, Douglas readied his Kukri. “Just try to come over that wall!” he shouted. “We’ll ah f&$~ you up!” He smiled at the reflection in his blade. “Man I’m pretty today.”
“Shut up Douglas,” Brollerth said, readying his spear.
“Don’t hate whatchu don’t got!” Douglas retorted.
“KEEP FIGHTING!” Yarek shouted, kicking his goblin dog into a full retreat.
On the other side of the wall, Clancy, Omast and Hubert arrived to assist, just in time, allowing Qumeel to focus on using his magic to heal himself and the others. It had been pretty touch and go for a moment there, but thanks to a healing potion Brollerth had, the samsarran would make it out of this alive.
From a nearby alley, a passing civilian spotted the scene. “Well, now, what have we here?” he asked. He walked up the steps, his hands still in his pockets, and approached the unconscious form of Tipi. He crouched down and inspected an object in Tipi’s belt, a crude doll constructed from a discarded wooden spoon. He considered taking it, but it wasn’t his kind of thing.
The others had finished fighting, so the man asked, “What happened here?”
“They, like, had a vendetta or something?” Brollerth said.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes,” Qumeel answered. “They seek to find one they called Rodd Rigez. From what I can gather, they’re very angry with him.”
The man let out a low whistle, then his lips parted in a wolfish grin. “You don’t say? Well, now that is interesting. Allow me to introduce myself. Rodd Rigez, at your service.”
The guards immediately pointed their weapons at the newcomer, though Qumeel did not raise his bastard sword. On the ground next to him, the unconscious Tipi growled angrily at the introduction.
“My, my. It seems I’ve gotten myself into another sticky situation,” Rodd Rigez said with a chuckle.
“Hey guys!” Douglas shouted. “My face is okay!” Qumeel alone turned and shook his head at the man.
Yeah. This was my fault. The devil on my shoulder turned this particular session into this.
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“This is a rather warm welcome,” Rodd Rigez joked, grinning at the armed men pointing their weapons at him in a generally menacing fashion. “No one’s tried to put their blade into my throat yet.”
That was the last thing Qumeel heard before sleep took him. He then awoke with a start, and everyone was gone. The sky had gone pale and everything looked washed out. The very air was hazy – less like fog, more like the haze from smoke, though he could not smell any fire. “Douglas,” he said, rising to his feet. “Wildfire?” he asked, less sure.
But no one answered. He looked up on the wall, and none were standing watch, so he climbed back up and continued his vigil. On the other side of the wall stood a number of shadowy figures. They seemed incorporeal, not entirely real. He heard them murmuring, but strained to make out what they were saying, all in vain.
“Who goes there?” he asked. The shadows turned and stared at him for a moment. They had no eyes, but he could definitely tell that they were peering right through him. After a few moments, they stopped staring and returned to their hushed conversations.
They weren’t doing anything other than talking, so he glanced into town. There were more of the shadowy figures peering up at him from windows and open doors throughout the town. He then spotted another figure, one that glowed crimson. He slapped himself, trying to awake from what he now realized was a dream thanks to the strong feeling of déjà vu that ran down his spine.
The shadows all around him chittered a strange laughter and he heard footsteps. The crimson figure was moving towards him. It was not rushing. No, its steps were deliberate and measured. It was coming, but he could sense no malice.
The shadows within the town were now watching the crimson figure, which was now clearly an immense dog – at least as tall as Qumeel himself – with smooth red fur. He wasn’t too sure about dog breeds, but Qumeel thought it looked like a mastiff. As it passed, the doors and shutters were drawn shut, the shadows hiding from its presence.
Qumeel realized what he was seeing. He knelt before the dog. “What wisdom have you for me?” he asked.
The dog’s maw opened in a toothy grin. “You did well,” he answered, though his lips did not exactly move as he spoke. Instead, Qumeel heard the voice reverberating in his chest. “That was one of the more interesting fights I’ve seen. And I’ve seen my fair share of fights.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” Qumeel admitted humbly.
“Yet you continue returning to this place, where fighting is inevitable.”
“These are good people. Even though they do not follow the same faith that I do, their gods are good and just. If I can help protect them against the chaos at their gates, then it seems like that is a worthy use of my time.”
The dog laughed. “Come, I have something to show you.”
He followed the dog through town, and they came to the town’s spring, much faster than Qumeel thought they should have, had he been walking in the waking world. They also had not needed to stop to rest, though they had stopped for a moment as they passed the golden figure of a woman. She had smiled wistfully at the mastiff and it had nodded in solemn acknowledgment of her presence before she disappeared. Qumeel did not know who she was, but he got the feeling that the two had known each other well.
At the waterfall where the spring reached the surface, the mastiff sat before the water and motioned with his head, bidding Qumeel to look more closely. The cleric did so. What he saw was terrifying. The water ran red with blood. His nostrils were filled with the smell of smoke and he saw the reflection of flames in the water. He turned and saw the town ablaze. He also heard screaming, and the shadows were running through town in terror.
The mastiff stood next to him. “A storm is coming,” the voice said. “Horrible things will happen to Trunau. But this is not the true threat. Save who you can, but you will continue from here to face the greater danger.”
Qumeel nodded respectfully. “I will do what I can.”
The dog tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I will give you what aid I can.”
Qumeel genuflected. In his hand, his blade was now wreathed in flames. He looked up and the dog was gone, replaced by a tall being with wings of crimson flame. His face was grim but determined and his eyes shone with fierce intensity.
Looking up into those eyes caused Qumeel to awaken with a start. “…these goblins,” Jagrin Grath was saying to Douglas. “They had a leader, yes?”
“Ya know, he was riding one of those, uh, big naked rat things goblins like. Then he, uh, told them to attack and ran away.”
Qumeel rose to his feet and Jagrin noticed his movement. “Ah, Qumeel, glad to see you’re okay,” he said. “Perhaps you can give me a better description of what happened.”
Qumeel noticed that Halgra was interrogating the strange man but focused on answering the question. “The goblins rode up, demanding we turn over someone they called ‘The Hated One’ or they would attack. Then the young guardsmen convinced them to walk over to where Wildfire had set up some kind of traps. There was an explosion, then there was a fight.” He smiled wryly. “I missed part of it thanks to an arrow piercing a section of my armor. I believe I owe Wildfire for reviving me.”
Jagrin nodded. “Douglas and Brollerth said that this ‘Hated One’ is a man known as Rodd Rigez?”
“I believe one of the goblins said that during the fight, now that you mention it. But I believe there is something else you need to know.”
“Great,” Jagrin said, annoyed. “Just what I need. More complications.”
“How did you get into town?” Halgra asked Rodd Rigez. “My watchmen have no record of your arrival.”
“I snuck in, of course,” Rodd Rigez answered. “There are no fewer than fourteen holes in your town’s security. I’d be happy to show you what they are and give you advice on how to close them up.” He winked and pointed his fingers at her like a pair of guns. “For a modest fee, of course.”
Halgra sighed. “And why precisely are you here?”
“I like to watch,” Rodd Rigez answered.
“…and that’s why I think it would be wise to bolster the watch,” Qumeel finished. “We should do what we can to prevent this calamity.”
“Qumeel,” Jagrin said, pained. “When you said you had more to tell me, I didn’t expect you to tell me about your weird dreams. Keep them to yourself.”
The cleric could tell that the man was too stressed to hear the truth of the vision Ragathiel had given him. He would find someone else. “Understood,” he said.
Jagrin walked over to Halgra. “Should I lock this man up?”
“Perhaps,” Halgra answered.
“First, a question. Where were you the night before last?”
“Oh, here and there,” Rodd answered noncommittally.
“Where exactly?”
“I believe this place is called Trunau,” Rodd answered as if it was the only proper answer. “I would have thought you knew that.”
Jagrin snapped and grabbed the man by his shirt. He slammed him into the wall of a nearby house. “Do you think you’re funny?! I’m going to throw you into a cell!” he snarled.
“No new holes in my flesh AND a free place to rest? This really is the most welcoming town ever,” Rodd Rigez answered with a grin.
It took Halgra and two others to keep Jagrin from wringing the man’s neck right there.
The male goblin prisoner awoke and bared its teeth at the sight of Rodd Rigez. “HATED ONE!” it shouted as it squirmed, trying to free itself from its bindings. Douglas dropped on it with his elbow, knocking it unconscious once more.
“Heh heh, that’s like, two points,” Wildfire snickered.
Halgra shook her head at the young men and turned back to Rodd Rigez, but before she could speak, she was interrupted by the cheery voice of a young woman. “COACH!” Lucky Days squealed. “You’re here!”
Halgra turned to see the young woman looking at Rodd Rigez. “You know this man?”
“I do, Chief Chief. This is Coach,” Lucky Days said, turning to address Halgra. “He’s helping me train.”
Suddenly, Halgra realized that the strange man was squatting behind the young woman, his hands groping her left thigh. She hadn’t seen him move at all. Lucky Days reacted instinctively, kicking backwards and sending him crashing into the wall with immense force. He collapsed face first onto the ground. “Even stronger than I remember,” Rodd Rigez wheezed.
Before Halgra could react, she was once more interrupted by the sound of boisterous laughter. “There you are!” Valbrand said jovially, jogging over and lifting Rodd Rigez from the ground before giving him a brotherly bear hug. Halgra thought she heard a loud popping sound as the force cracked the man’s back.
“Thanks,” Rodd Rigez said. “That kick dislocated something and that was just what I needed. Though I’m going to be seeing spots for a bit. Hey Kermit.”
“Hello, Rodd,” the grippli replied.
“You also know this man?” Halgra asked the two new arrivals.
“This is Rodd Rigez,” Kermit answered. “He’s what you call a ‘Jack of All Trades’.”
“Rodd of All Trades,” Rodd Rigez corrected him. “I hate the name Jack.”
“I see,” Halgra said. She had not gotten nearly enough sleep to be dealing with this person right now. “Keep an eye on him,” she told Jagrin.
“Better keep two eyes on me,” Rodd Rigez said. “I’m pretty good.”
Halgra shook her head and looked away in disgust. She spotted the guardsman, Omast, pressuring the wizard Jazier into helping clean up all the blood from the battle. For his part, the wizard was complaining, but started helping anyway.
Halgra spotted Gwen coming up behind the others and waved her over. As the girl approached, she heard Rodd Rigez talking to Jagrin. “You know, if you’re that worried about why the goblins are after me, you should probably ask the goblins.” He snickered. “You guys are really bad at this, you know?”
Halgra sighed. “Did you sleep?” she asked Gwen.
“Not as much as I would have liked, but enough,” the girl admitted.
“Good. Today is going to be a long day.”
Gwen took a look at the goblins and the strange man they were interrogating. “I can see that.”
“Is Coach in trouble?” Lucky Days asked Jagrin.
“He’s suspicious, and today is not the day to be suspicious.”
“Oh.” The girl considered it. “Has he been lying?”
“I have told no lies,” Rodd Rigez scoffed. “Look, sir – can I call you sir? You have bags under your eyes. You’re obviously tired. I have a potion for that, and I’d be happy to give it to you for a modest fee.”
Jagrin grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him into the wall. “My son is dead,” he growled. “I am not going to put up with your b#$~~*$% today.” Rodd Rigez just snickered at that.
Halgra noticed that the goblin who had been knocked out was awake again. “Quit your squirming,” she commanded it. It paid her no heed.
“I can show you how it’s done, if you’d like,” Kermit offered.
“Sure, why not?” Halgra said.
Kermit nodded and went into Guyver mode. He grabbed the goblin and turned it to face him. His eyes glowed fiercely and hot mist coalesced around him. “You will be still,” he said softly but dangerously.
The goblin’s eyes grew wide and it immediately messed itself. It then collapsed into the fetal position and began gibbering softly as its fear overwhelmed it. But at least it had stopped trying to wriggle free.
As this was going on, Gwen noticed that the other goblin had awoken and was squirming a bit, trying to get to what appeared to be a doll made from an old wooden spoon that was lying on the floor near her. The girl walked over and picked up the spoon-doll. “Is this what you want?” she asked in a friendly tone. “I’ll give it to you if you’ll just tell us exactly why you’re here.”
The goblin – Tipi – didn’t trust her and just growled in response. Gwen shrugged. “I tried,” she said, returning to where Halgra was thanking Kermit for his “help”. “So, what do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Continue your investigation. Take this band of weirdos with you and get them out of my hair.”
“Understood,” Gwen said. She took Kermit and went first to gather up Lucky Days and Valbrand, who were still standing around chatting with Rodd Rigez.
“I’m going to put you in a cell until we can figure out what’s going on,” Jagrin was saying.
Rodd Rigez nodded. “Of course. But first, someone should reach into my left pocket and relieve me of my dagger.” He shook his head. “You’re really bad at this, you know?”
“Someone bring me some rope,” Jagrin growled.
“You’ll probably need more than that,” Kermit – who had returned to normal – noted.
Rodd Rigez guffawed. “Yeah, they use more than that on me at the brothel.” Gwen must have been making a disgusted face, as he turned to her. “You see, I just have so much love to give, but I only want to pay for the one. So they always try to keep me in the one room I’ve paid for.” He winked. “‘Try’ being the operative word, of course.”
Valbrand let out a belly laugh at that.
“Let’s go collect Ruby’s magician,” Gwen said to Lucky Days and Valbrand, then get going on our investigation.
“Okay,” Valbrand said. “I’ll bring you a beer later, Rodd.”
“Appreciate it,” the man being led away with his hands bound said. “I knew I could count on you. And Lucky Days, before I go, your arms are still flabby. Work on that.”
“I will, Coach,” the girl promised.
“Good kid.” He stopped suddenly after a few steps, causing Jagrin to bump into him. “Oh, and Lucky Days… pink is a good color on you.”
It took her a moment to understand what he was saying, then she turned a very bright red herself as her entire body blushed. She wanted to just crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment. Gwen decided not ask what was going on and instead just headed over to Jazier. “Ready to go investigate the Plague House?” she asked.
“I have a thought on that,” he said, but first turned to Omast. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to stay out of Hell today, thank you,” the guard said, making a sign against evil.
“You have no idea what Hell truly is,” Jazier said. “This is likely not to be all that bad.”
“The cleric I trained under told me all about Hell in depth,” Qumeel interjected. “I’d be happy to tell you what I’ve been told.”
“No, that’s okay,” Omast said. “Thanks, though.”
“Of course,” Qumeel said. He then left to catch up with Halgra.
“So, what was your thought?” Gwen asked Jazier.
“Well, this place is called ‘The Plague House’, right?”
“Yes.”
“We should invest in a potion to cure ourselves of any diseases we pick up while there.”
Gwen considered it. She hated wasting time, but he had a point. “We’ll hit the bazaar before going to the Plague House, then.”
“Thanks,” Jazier said.
Qumeel caught up with Halgra. “Chief Defender, a moment of your time, if you would,” he said.
“Of course, Qumeel,” she answered. “What is it?”
“I was given a vision by Ragathiel. I believe the town is in danger.”
“The town is always in danger,” she answered. “Look, I don’t have time to deal with visions at the moment. My plate is pretty full. Tell Gwen about it and she’ll fill me in on the important parts when I have time later.”
“Understood,” the cleric answered. He jogged to catch up with the party leaving the other way. “Miss Gwen,” he said. “The Chief Defender asked me to fill you in on a vision I was granted by Ragathiel.”
She nodded. “Tell me about it while we walk.” It took him several minutes to fill her in on the details. She furrowed her brow as he talked. “I see.”
“Could this be connected to the efforts of the demons?” Jazier asked.
“Demons?” Qumeel asked, startled.
“We’re investigating strange goings on,” Gwen said. “They seem to be related to my cousin’s death, and Jazier here thinks demons were involved.”
“That is always a possibility,” Qumeel admitted. “And where do your investigations take you now?”
“We’re stopping by the market, then going to the Plague House.”
“The building that burned but is still standing?” Qumeel asked.
“That’s the one,” Gwen affirmed.
“Then I shall accompany you. That building is too similar in nature to my vision to be a coincidence. I believe that Ragathiel wishes for me to aid you.”
She nodded. “I’ll be happy to have your help.”
At the market, there was a bit of commotion when one of the traveling traders desperately tried to convince Glenn to sell him his pelican suit. The strange man responded by slapping him away, which only made the trader more desperate. Kermit ended up having to chase him off in the end. Aside from that, the market was uneventful. They grabbed what they needed and headed to the Plague House.
The building was made from charred stone and was imposing, even under the full light of early afternoon. A few of the stained glass windows were still intact, adding a gothic and slightly off putting vibe to the whole structure.
Valbrand took point as they climbed up to the doorway that had once had wooden stairs. As he entered the building, it was dark, so he cast a spell, causing his shield to glow with clear white light. “Why hasn’t this place been torn down?” Jazier asked Gwen as the girl climbed up.
“We tried rebuilding a couple times, and something keeps happening, from fires to other issues. So now everyone thinks this place is cursed and is too afraid to be involved in the demolition, afraid they’ll be cursed as well.”
Lucky Days opened the first door to the right inside and investigated what appeared to be an infirmary, though she couldn’t tell very well in the dark. “Can I get some light in here?” she asked.
Valbrand obliged her and followed her in, as did Kermit. “Well, that’s strange,” the grippli said. “There appear to be coins under the beds.” He hopped over and began picking some up.
He managed to gather three of the coins when there was a ghostly shriek and burnt corpses appeared in the beds. The ghostly sound filled first Lucky Days and then Kermit with supernatural dread, and they began running at full speed out of the room and ultimately out of the building. Valbrand resisted the shriek at first, but as he began to laugh, another filled him with the same magical dread, and he had to flee.
But he was not so terrified that he was unable to realize how that would look to the pretty young woman in the hallway. He managed to focus himself as he ran, hiding the fear in his voice as he shouted. “Come back! It’s just some ghosts!” he called to the others as he followed after them.
“At least it’s not demons,” Jazier said as he walked into the room and zapped one of the ghosts with magical lightning. Qumeel followed him in and channeled holy energy through the room, beginning to cleanse the evil spirits. Gwen switched out the bullet in her gun for a magic wand, hoping the blast of magical acid would at least be able to harm the ghosts, then charged in and attacked.
One more hit from Jazier, and the haunt had ended. “See if there’s any other magic in here,” Gwen suggested.
“One moment,” Jazier said as he lit a torch. They searched the room under torchlight as they waited for the others to return. After a few moments, the wizard held up a small object. “I think you’ll want to see this,” he said.
Gwen took the object and examined it in the firelight. It was a hopeknife. “For Rodrik, my love,” she read aloud, her voice catching as she read it. This was Rodrik’s hopeknife! He must have encountered the ghosts and dropped it as he fled. He should have told her. She would have come with him to recover it. So would Kurst! “Thank you,” she said to Jazier as she took the knife, carefully tucking it into her pack.
They gathered up several other mementos of those who had fled this place before the others began to return. “Sorry,” Valbrand said. “I wanted to make sure that my friends didn’t hurt themselves as they ran away.” He was obviously lying, but no one called him on it.
Kermit and Lucky Days were behind him. It was the first time Kermit had seen the girl really run full out. She had made it nearly halfway around the town before the fear had subsided. And Rodd Rigez believed he could make her faster? Well, if anyone could, it was Rodd.
“That scared the beKurgess out of me,” Lucky Days admitted.
They continued forward, finding their way downstairs. Qumeel stopped at one point to fix a longsword that was askew from where a statue had been holding it, and the party continued forward, eventually coming to what appeared to be a mausoleum, filled with the skulls of the honored dead. “Remind me to tell Rodd about this place,” Valbrand whispered to Kermit.
“Will do,” the grippli – who had returned to his Guyver form for safety – acknowledged.
They noticed that a statue – depicting Jingh, one of Iomedae’s celestial emissaries – had been recently moved, so they pushed it aside, revealing a hidden passage guarded by a gelatinous cube. Kermit destroyed it easily, with a small bit of help from Valbrand and Lucky Days, and they continued forward.
Beyond the passage, they found what appeared to be the building’s old furnace room, where piles of coal littered the ground all around, but that wasn’t the most notable thing in the room, and was certainly not the first thing they noticed.
As Valbrand entered the room, a small, half-starved man with blonde hair looked up at him, first in terror, then in relief. “You’re not him! Thank the gods! I’m saved!” he exclaimed excitedly at seeing the approaching adventurers.
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** spoiler omitted **
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The shivering young man sniffled. “I was looking for goods of my own to sell when I was attacked from behind by a half orc.”
Valbrand grinned. “Attacked from behind in the dead of the night? That could be an epic tale! Come friend, sit with me. I will feed you and you will tell me all about your adventure!”
Othdan took the dried meat the warrior offered. “Well, it’s not much of a story. I was upstairs and he came up behind me. I noticed him at the last second, so his hit wasn’t a clean knockout like he wanted, so we struggled for a bit. He was bigger than me, so he ended up pushing me down the hole above.” He pointed up to where there was a hole in the ceiling. “The fall knocked me out. When I came to, I was still trapped in here, with no way out. I thought he was going to kill me!” His eyes grew wide. “I hear voices! He’s come to finish me off!” He began twitching, dropping the cheese the big man was trying to hand him.
“It will be okay,” Qumeel said soothingly. “We are here, and we will get you out of this place.”
Kermit and Lucky Days were trying at the door. It was locked. “Can we not just go back the way we came?” Jazier asked, indicating the formerly secret passage.
“There could be treasure, or even a good fight beyond the door,” Valbrand suggested as he began helping. Between the three of them, they managed to open the door. Lucky Days immediately took off running. “Wait!” Valbrand called after her. “It’s not proper to try to get a share of the loot before we get there!”
“I hear rasping gurgling!” she called back as she continued rushing to investigate.
That changed everything. “A fight?!” Valbrand asked, drawing his axe and running after her. Somewhere behind him, the shoulders of a man in a pelican suit slumped as he sighed.
Lucky Days was running so quickly that the bear trap she triggered managed to miss grabbing her leg, and she sped into a room where she found a strange pair chatting. “I thought you only had one prisoner,” the troll accused. “Are you holding out on me?”
“I have no idea who that is,” the burly half orc answered as Valbrand and Kermit arrived behind Lucky Days.
“Then I can eat them,” the troll said, licking her lips as she charged.
Gwen rounded the corner and spotted the trio fighting the troll. “That’s a flood troll!” she called out. “Their skin hardens when it dries out. If you can douse her with water, she should be easier to hit!” Not sure what else to do, she conjured a magical snowball and hurled it. Once more, she found it difficult to hit the enemy since she was not used to aiming at foes that were too close to allies, and once more she over-corrected, missing. She would have to do something about that, and soon.
Kermit shredded the troll with his claws. She reacted to her grievous wounds by glaring at the half orc. “I knew Skreed shouldn’t have trusted you!” she screeched accusingly.
“It wasn’t me!” the half orc wailed as he began to flee.
“He’s getting away!” Valbrand said, bashing the troll with his shield.
“No he’s not!” Lucky Days answered. She sped off back into the room where Othdan had been trapped, then through the secret passage – hurdling over the still bubbling corpse of the gelatinous cube – and easily made it to the stairs ahead of the fleeing half orc. All this despite her path being more than twice as long as his. She was moving so quickly that her passing caused Glenn to spin in place three times.
He narrowly avoided vomiting in his pelican beak due to the dizziness.
“Stop!” the girl commanded, brandishing Sakura-chan.
“I’m just the messenger!” the troll wailed, backing into a corner to try to escape Kermit’s onslaught. He answered her by glaring. She could see her death in his glowing eyes.
Jazier walked past the fight and spotted something on the floor. It was another one of those white sword marks. Without even thinking about it, he began grumbling about the demons and started cleaning the mark. It took him several moments to notice that Qumeel – who had given chase after the fleeing – was standing just down the hall, his leg caught in a bear trap.
The wizard ducked reflexively as a bullet ricocheted past him. Gwen was still having trouble firing at enemies near her allies. Kermit didn’t even notice, tearing the troll in half and sending her entrails spraying around the room. Jazier sighed at the mess and went to go help Qumeel.
“Catch the other one alive!” Gwen told the others. “I’m sure Halgra will want to interrogate him.”
Kermit dashed past the trapped Qumeel and Valbrand charged through another passage, narrowly avoiding another bear trap. Meanwhile, the half orc desperately tried to get past Lucky Days, first poking her in the eyes then drinking a magic potion and becoming invisible just in time for Kermit and Valbrand to witness him fading from sight.
He had nowhere to go, so Valbrand activated his armband, covering the ground with ice to make it harder for the man to get past him and Lucky Days while Kermit struggled to locate and subdue him. Back in the hallway, Gwen and Jazier tried to free Qumeel. But the jaws of the trap were too strong, and Jazier ended up with nothing but cuts to his hands for their effort.
Qumeel took Jazier’s quarterstaff and tried to use it as a lever to pry open the trap, but it cracked and splintered at the effort. Jazier gave him a sympathetic look. “You better get used to living here, man,” he said, defeated.
Too stubborn to give up, Gwen pulled out some oil and began oiling the cleric’s leg while Jazier tried thinking as he contemplated the half-cleaned graffiti. “Don’t just stand there!” Gwen said to the wizard.
“I’m thinking!” He considered for a moment. “I’ve got it!” he said, turning. “I’ll use magic to create repeated sparks to heat the metal. It will expand and he’ll be better able to free himself.
“That would kill Qumeel.”
“Why?” he asked, before noticing the smell of the lantern oil. “Oh, right. Flammable.”
“Just take what’s left of the staff and pry while Qumeel and I try to pull his leg free.”
It took several moments of struggling, but eventually they managed to get the cleric free. His leg was pretty mangled by the jaws, but healing was his specialty and he was quickly able to deal with that. “I thank you,” he said. “Both of you.”
Othdan, who had watched the entire struggle, was not sure whether he should applaud their victory or console them for how long it had taken them to complete such a simple task. He could tell Gwen was pretty annoyed by it, and was already adding it to the list of inadequacies in her training that would need to be soon rectified.
From down the hall, they heard Valbrand roar in triumph. “That’s what I thought!” he shouted.
“What happened?” Gwen called out.
“We managed to knock out the bad guy,” Lucky Days called back cheerfully as Valbrand tied up the unconscious foe.
Kermit returned to where Qumeel and the others were. “Oh,” he said. “I see you’ve managed to get it. Sorry I left you here.”
“It’s fine,” Qumeel said. “I did not give up hope, though I cannot say the same for others.” He looked at Jazier as he said that, but the wizard didn’t notice, as he was once more engrossed in cleaning up graffiti.
Valbrand and Lucky Days returned, the large man holding a hog-tied unconscious half orc by his trussed up limbs. He would be waking up sore. That was for certain. “Now what?” he asked.
“There’s a door over there,” Lucky Days suggested. “Maybe there are more prisoners?”
“Or treasure,” Valbrand agreed.
They didn’t find prisoners, instead finding a small swarm of angry, shadowy rats. But Kermit tore them apart easily. They also found a rotten, sickly smell, which turned out to be emanating from the corpse of a dead half-orc dressed in strange robes.
“Those appear to be the robes of a priest of the orc blood god,” Qumeel noted.
“We should take the robes to Halgra,” Gwen said.
“And the body for burial,” Qumeel agreed.
“I’ll get a sack,” Kermit said, leaving the room to go find Glenn.
As they searched the body, they found a pouch full of gems. “That’s a lot of onyx,” Jazier noted.
“Does it mean anything?” Gwen asked.
The wizard shrugged. “Onyx is used as a component in animating corpses,” he answered.
“Perhaps they were planning on raising some corpses to do some digging for them,” Valbrand suggested. “It looks like they were doing a lot of digging in here.”
“I’m not sure if that was their plan, but you’re right about the digging, at least,” Gwen agreed. “Halgra will want to know about this.”
“Should we go back to Chief Chief then?” Lucky Days asked.
“Let’s do a quick sweep of the building to make sure no one else is hiding around here,” Gwen said. “Then we’ll go tell Halgra what we’ve found. I don’t like this. Something is going on.”
Kermit set the now full burlap sack on the ground. “Glenn, grab the sack. We’re heading out.”
The pelican suited man wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that they were leaving or disgusted that he would have to carry the decidedly rancid and squishy bag. But he made no sound, silently picking up the bag with a grimace as he followed after the others.
At least Valbrand was carrying the prisoner, so his task was just gross, not ridiculously heavy this time.
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The title could almost be a reference to the New World Hotel at 101 Bowery Street in New York. I made that mistake for 1 and only 1 night . . . Fortunately, I managed to check out, 2 nights early.
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In the windows of the building, they spotted ghostly figures in the windows – the spirits of those who had died in the building. Lucky Days shivered. “P-p-pirate ghosts!” she gasped. Qumeel looked at her, confused about the non-sequitur.
Gwen made a sign warding against evil. She wasn’t nearly as superstitious as most of the town, but she was seeing living – well, not LIVING – ghosts right there. Of course it scared her. Valbrand, noting the girl’s fear, saw another chance to try to impress her. “You cannot show fear when dealing with ghosts,” he boasted. He grinned and struck his fist to his chest in salute to the dead. The ghosts mostly dispersed, save for one, that of a child, who returned the gesture with his own grin.
Up ahead of the group, Jazier realized he was alone. He stopped and turned. “Are you guys coming?” he asked.
Lucky Days breathed a sigh of relief. “You know, I don’t think those were pirates after all,” she said to Qumeel.
“I believe you are correct,” the cleric answered with a knowing smile. “Come, let us keep moving. It is late.”
They continued on towards the town proper, and Othdan whined the entire way. He wanted to go home to see his mother. After putting up with it for what felt like an eternity, Gwen snapped. “You want to go home? FINE.” She spotted another guard, Hubert, and motioned him over.
“You look like hell,” he said.
Valbrand barked out a laugh. “You should see the guy Kermit killed,” he said.
“I think that was a girl,” Lucky Days pointed out.
“It was a troll. Male or female does not matter,” Valbrand argued. Kermit just shrugged.
Hubert ignored them. “What did you need?” he asked Gwen.
“We found Othdan trapped beneath the Plague House,” she said. “Can you see to it that he makes it home safely while we report to Halgra?”
He made a sign against evil, but nodded. “I can do that. Make sure you go wash the curse of that place off of you. Flowing water does wonders on that kind of nastiness. Maybe add some salt for good measure.”
“After I talk to Halgra,” Gwen said. “She needs to know what we found.”
“Fair enough. Come along, Othdan, let’s get you home to your mother.”
They continued on, making their way to Halgra’s home, where she and Jagrin would most likely be discussing everything that had happened within the confines of the woman’s spacious office. At the door, they found Douglas and Brollerth keeping watch. Or, at least, as close to that as the two could manage.
Douglas was busy looking at himself in the reflection of his blade while Brollerth was squishing ants between his fingers and declaring himself their “angry and vengeful god”. They barely made note of the arriving party.
“Aren’t you going to ask why we’re here?” Gwen asked.
“Like, we were told not to let anyone through unless they were with the watch. You’re a member of the watch and they’re with you, so you can go through or something,” Brollerth answered, picking up another ant. It bit futilely at his leather glove.
Gwen sighed. “Right,” she said, walking past them.
They entered the building and headed towards Halgra’s office. As they approached, they began hearing the sounds of an argument. “I’m tired of waiting!” Jagrin shouted. “We should get this over with! He’s obviously guilty. He and Katrezra used the goblins as a distraction!”
“Stand down!” Halgra barked. “I’ll make my decision once your niece returns from her investigation. We cannot allow this matter to sow discord in the town. We need evidence.”
The shouting caused Gwen to hesitate. They sounded really angry. She had never been very good at dealing with shouting people. She fretted a bit. Should they knock? Maybe go back and have Brollerth come announce their arrival?
Valbrand noticed her hesitation and decided to take matters into his own hands. He kicked the door open and walked in. “We have returned victorious!” he roared jovially, tossing the unconscious man on the table. The man groaned in pain. “Glenn, bring your sack as well!”
Gwen, mortified, followed after and found quite the sight. Halgra was standing, mouth agape, while Jagrin was backed up, sword in hand ready to attack what his sleep deprived brain considered a threat. And all around the room, paintings and decorative weapons had fallen from the walls when Valbrand had kicked the door.
“I don’t think tea is going to help fix this,” Kermit observed upon entering the room.
Glenn set the sack on the desk alongside the unconscious man. Halgra looked from one to the next, finally settling on Gwen. “Explain. Now,” she said, glaring.
“Um. Hi,” Gwen managed. “So, uh, we found some people below the Plague House plotting something. One was a troll, I think. Kermit kinda mangled that one beyond recognition. And we also found a body. I think they were digging for something. You should question the unconscious guy.”
Halgra gave her a pained look. “And you just decided to throw them on my desk?”
Gwen floundered. “I-I didn’t decide anything,” she said, gesturing to Valbrand and Glenn.
Jagrin regained his senses and lowered his sword. Then he grabbed Gwen by the ear and began chewing her out for “not controlling this pack of wild animals”. The girl was on the verge of tears as it went on.
Jazier noted the condition of the room and sighed. “They’re probably going to make me clean this up,” he said in a resigned tone as he began picking the decorations off the floor and putting them back on the wall.
Halgra pinched the bridge of her nose to fight back the headache that was rapidly coming. “That’s the last time I trust Douglas and Brollerth with anything. I’d fire them if I didn’t need every able body on the wall.”
“I’m pretty sure Mister Brollerth would like that,” Lucky Days said. “Qumeel tells me he likes fire.”
Halgra gave her blank look, then decided not to respond to that. “Lucky Days, please step into the hallway and take Kermit, Valbrand and Glenn with you.”
“Okay, Chief Chief!” Lucky Days said cheerfully.
As they left, Halgra turned to Jazier, but noticed that he was cleaning and decided against ordering him outside as well. Any work he did was work she wouldn’t have to worry about later. She turned instead to Qumeel. “Please gather Brollerth and Douglas for me?” she asked.
“Of course,” the cleric answered, leaving immediately.
Finished with his lecture, Jagrin inspected the half orc on the table. “He’s still alive,” he noted. “But he looks like he got mauled by a bear.”
“Worse,” Valbrand said from behind the cracked open door. “A frog.”
Before anyone could respond, Qumeel ushered in the two guardsmen. “Take this man and put him in a cell,” Halgra told them. “Remain there until you are given other orders.”
“Like, okay,” Brollerth said. “Douglas, put away your knife and get his feet.”
“But, I’m just so beautiful,” Douglas complained as he complied. The two moved surprisingly quickly, as if they were used to carrying things like that.
“Please shut the door,” Halgra told Qumeel. “What can you tell us about all of this?” she asked the cleric, noting that Gwen looked too upset to answer at the moment.
“The corpse appears to be wearing the robes of an orcish tribal god. We also found a lot of onyx on him, which suggests the possibility of necromancy. Valbrand suggests that perhaps they were going to raise corpses to continue their digging.”
“Were you able to hear anything before confronting the conspirators?” she asked.
The cleric shook his head. “Lucky Days heard the sound of talking and sprinted off to investigate. By the time I caught up, Kermit was already in the process of disemboweling the troll. They are a spirited bunch, when it comes to combat.”
“I see,” Halgra said.
“What of my son?” Jagrin asked, wild eyed. “Did you find any evidence of his killer?”
Gwen wiped away a tear and sniffed. “We found this,” she said, pulling the hope knife from her belt. “I’m pretty sure it was Rodrik’s. It suggests that the hope knife we found on him was planted.”
“Which means he didn’t kill himself!” Jagrin said, triumphantly. “I knew my son wasn’t a coward!” His expression went cold. “But that means his killer is still here somewhere. We will determine who did it and I will cut him into so many pieces no necromancer could animate him.”
Jazier stopped cleaning for a moment and was about to point out that a necromancer could probably animate the pieces separately, but thought better of interjecting and instead began using magic to get a wine stain out of the rug underneath the desk.
Jagrin squeezed Gwen’s shoulder. “You did good,” he said softly. “Your mother would be proud.” He then marched out of the office, ignoring Halgra’s attempts to stop him.
Halgra gave up on that and called in the people waiting in the hallway. “And that’s when I said to the shopkeeper, ‘But I don’t have any pants,’” Kermit said as they walked into the room.
Lucky Days gasped. “That makes so much sense!” she exclaimed.
Halgra decided she did not want to know what they were discussing and instead focused on what was relevant. “Lucky Days, Qumeel tells me that you were the first person into the room with the troll and half orc. Did you hear anything relevant?”
“Sorry, Chief Chief. I ran in to ask what they were talking about and they attacked me. Othdan seemed pretty scared of whoever was in there, though, so I had Sakura-chan out and was ready to defend myself.”
Halgra blinked. “Othdan? You found him?”
“Yes. He was locked in a room that we got into by killing a big blob of jelly. Well, that was mostly Kermit. But you know, it made gross squishy sounds and I didn’t want to touch it.”
“That boy’s mother has been bugging me for three days to find him.” She looked at Gwen. “You didn’t think to bring him with you in case he had relevant information?”
Gwen’s face fell. “But… he kept whining about wanting to go to his mother… and then there were the ghosts… and Rodrik…” The stress was clearly getting to the girl. Tears were actually welling up in her eyes as she spoke.
“You should have brought him with you. There are six of you.”
“Seven,” Jazier corrected quietly as he lifted Glenn’s foot to clean under it.
“But… should we have dragged him kicking and screaming with us?”
“As long as no one slammed him on my desk, yes!”
Gwen looked at the group around her. “There’s no way I can promise that wouldn’t have happened!”
“We left him with young Hubert,” Qumeel interjected, not wanting the argument to continue. “I am certain that he is safely with his mother and unharmed.”
Halgra sighed. “This is such a mess. The assassin you captured swears Katrezra hired him. Katrezra hid because he’s certain he’d be blamed, though he professes his innocence. Jagrin is certain Katrezra had a hand in it.” She was pacing as she ranted. She stopped and marched up to Valbrand. “And you! Apparently you’re going to be a father!” she shouted.
Valbrand had no idea what she was talking about. He looked over to Kermit, who just shrugged in answer.
Halgra took a breath. “And to make matters more complicated, now we have crazed goblins who seem to be obsessed with killing the most suspicious man I’ve ever met. A man who keeps trying to escape from prison, I might add.”
“Oh, he’ll definitely succeed,” Kermit said.
Valbrand laughed. “If you keep catching him, he’s trying to tell you that he’s insulted by the disrespect you’ve shown him by your lackluster prison arrangements.”
“Of course he is,” Halgra said with another sigh. She turned to Qumeel. “I’m sorry for disregarding you earlier. I’ve had a lot on my plate. You were trying to tell me something?” Qumeel explained his vision, emphasizing his belief that it was a warning from Ragathiel. “No offense, but I really hope you’re wrong and this was nothing but a dream you had while unconscious.”
“The faithful of Ng teach that one must sleep to dream,” Kermit said. “If he was unconscious, then it could not have been a dream, so it probably was a true vision.”
“Right,” Halgra said. “Okay. I have a couple more things I need you to do. I need a few of you to take this corpse to the sanctuary for me.” Valbrand immediately thought of the beautiful young cleric he had laid with and grinned as he began raising his hand to volunteer. Perhaps she had calmed down from whatever had upset her and would be amenable to spending more time with him. “NOT YOU,” Halgra snapped.
Valbrand shrugged. “That’s fine, I guess. I’ll go check in on Rodd Rigez then.”
“Ooh! I want to go check in with Coach!” Lucky Days agreed.
“Glenn and I will go to the Sanctuary,” Kermit volunteered. Glenn’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but he didn’t argue.
Jazier considered the two groups and their destinations. He would be safer at a house of worship than a prison, and if they were attacked, he definitely wanted Kermit nearby to kill whatever attacked them. “I’ll go with them,” he volunteered.
“I shall accompany them as well,” Qumeel said as Glenn picked up the corpse. Halgra nodded as the four of them left.
“I’ll go with Valbrand and Lucky Days,” Gwen said. “I’ll make sure to have someone get Othdan for you as well.”
“Thanks,” Halgra said. “And Gwen, your uncle’s right. You did a good job.”
The others left and Halgra was alone in her office. She looked around, startled. “Wait. Was the rug always that color?” she asked. It had been in her office since before she had come there, and it had always been a dingy brown. But now it was white. That caused her to look around and notice that Jazier had cleaned EVERYTHING in that short time. “He does good work,” she mused.
At the Sanctuary, they found the main temple empty, but could hear something in the room where the dead were prepared for their final rest. It sounded like a woman crying. Concerned, Qumeel knocked on the door. “Priestess, are you in there? We’ve come with a corpse we found and were hoping you could take a look at it.”
The crying stopped and there was the sound of someone sniffing to fight back tears. “Please, come in,” Tyari Varvatos said, her voice wavering slightly.
The young woman knew Qumeel, had met Jazier as well, but she was not prepared for the sight of Glenn as he walked in wearing a pelican suit and carrying a sack. She gawked at the sight, and completely missed Kermit’s arrival. In fact, the body was already laid out on a table before she noticed the grippli, and only did so after he spoke. “We are sorry for bothering you so late,” he said.
She jumped at the unexpected voice. “It’s fine,” she said. “Tragedy knows no hour. Tell me, where did you find this body? It looks to have been dead for some time.”
“In the Plague House,” Qumeel said.
“Which was devoid of any plague, by the way,” Jazier interjected, his voice sounding almost bitter at the misnomer. He seemed offended that someone would call a place that without any disease being present.
Tyari either didn’t hear him or didn’t think to respond. Instead, the thought of the Plague House caused her to think of those who had perished there. Tears welled up in her eyes. “So many people died there,” she sobbed. “Iomedae! Did you forsake them?” She whispered then, “Have you forsaken me? Please, forgive me for my indiscretions! Tell me what I can do to earn penance!”
Qumeel took in the sight of the young woman’s distress and realized something. It was a leap, but the evidence pointed to it. He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Think of this as a gift,” he said. “He seems to be a fine young man. Perhaps your goddess sent him to bestow this gift upon you, a new soul to raise in her service?”
Tyari sniffed and looked up at him. “Thank you, though I fear my sister will not see it that way.” She swallowed, trying to regain composure. “Please, tell me more about this body.”
“We found evidence that either he or someone else who was down there was a necromancer,” Qumeel said. “Do you know anything that might be relevant to that and tell us why he was down there?”
Tyari considered it. “Well, there might be one thing. Centuries ago, a giant known as Thaddius the Death Seeker lived near here. He raised armies of the dead as fodder against his enemies. But I doubt this is relevant to the dead man, as this corpse appears fresh, no more than a couple weeks old, and Thaddius has been long dead.”
“That is not always dead which can eternal lie,” Jazier said absentmindedly as he studied a fresco of the goddess Iomedae, barely paying attention to the conversation.
“Right,” Tyari said warily. “I’ll look into what I can. Perhaps there is some local lore I haven’t heard yet that might shed light. However, I fear that it will be for naught, as the people of Trunau bury the past to make it seem more like progress is being made.”
“Thank you, priestess,” Qumeel said. “We should probably get going, but let us know if you find anything. And be careful. Ragathiel warns that danger may be looming for the town.”
“I will,” she said. She then called out as they began to leave. “Wait!”
“Yes?”
“D-Did Valbrand come with you?” she asked timidly.
“I’m sorry,” Qumeel said. “He wanted to come, but Chief Defender Halgra forbade it.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, tearing up again.
Kermit smiled at her. “Buck up. If life were easy, it wouldn’t be difficult,” he said sagely. “Come along, Glenn.” Jazier just scowled at him, trying to make sense of the grippli’s words as he followed him out of the temple.
As the others approached the prison, the sound of shrieking grew louder and louder. “That sounds like it would get really annoying,” Lucky Days commented.
“Rodd probably doesn’t mind,” Valbrand commented. “He’s good at ignoring distractions.”
“That’s a lot of focus,” Lucky Days marveled. “I wonder if I’ll ever be able to focus like that. It would help me compete even better.”
“I’m sure Rodd can give you pointers.”
“I’ll ask him later,” the girl said.
They entered the jail to find almost every cell filled. The goblins – who had been put in separate cells – were shrieking and trying to get out so they could attack Rodd Rigez, who, for his part, was smiling beatifically as he hung from the ceiling. He was upside down and was wrapped from head to toe in rope, swinging gently and humming to himself.
Douglas and Brollerth were trying desperately to get the goblins to quiet down. It was so bad that Douglas couldn’t even focus at looking at himself. They looked desperately at Gwen to save them from the noise, so she obliged them. “You two go find Hubert and have him bring Othdan to Halgra,” she said. “Then come back here.”
It was a momentary reprieve, but they were grateful for even that and rushed off without argument. Valbrand walked over, past the cell holding the assassin who was nursing an obvious headache, and tossed a bottle of alcohol to the suspended Rodd Rigez.
Rodd Rigez twisted slightly, and there was a loud pop – it could be heard over the shrieking goblins – as he dislocated his shoulder and freed himself from the rope enough to catch the bottle. He opened it and took a swig – one handed and still upside down – then let it drop gently to the floor before putting his arm back into the rope and popping his joint back into place.
“Appreciate it,” the suspended man said to Valbrand. “I was getting a bit thirsty.”
Valbrand grinned. “I thought you might be.”
Lucky Days walked over towards Rodd Rigez, but as she passed the shrieking Tippi, the goblin stopped for a moment and sniffed, looking offended. Lucky Days wasn’t sure why, so she stopped to see what was going on. Meanwhile, Valbrand walked over and grabbed the male goblin by the head. He then tried to pull back and slam the creature’s skull into the bars to quiet it, but his arm got stuck.
“That’s why I don’t build my muscles up,” Rodd Rigez said with a laugh as the goblin began trying to chew on Valbrand’s mailed arm.
It began to hurt as the goblin managed to bite into the metal, so Valbrand activated his armband, freezing the goblin solid. He then yanked hard, freeing himself and simultaneously smacking the goblin’s head against the bars. Several of the creature’s teeth came out and remained in the large man’s arm as the goblin collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Valbrand pulled the teeth free and used a bit of magic to heal his wounds. “Finally,” the assassin said. “It’s finally quiet.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Rodd Rigez said. “But if it was bothering you, why didn’t you break free? This jail is laughably insecure.”
“Waiting on backup.”
“Oh? Interesting.”
“Yeah, someone will come pay my bail.”
“You’re accused of attempted murder, right? I don’t think anyone’s gonna get you out by paying a fine.”
Meanwhile, Tippi and Lucky Days were sizing each other up. “What’s your problem?” the girl asked the goblin.
“You smell like a horse,” the goblin said angrily.
“I’m a horse girl.”
“Horses are bad no good monsters and should all die.”
Angrily, Lucky Days smacked the goblin with the butt of Sakura-chan. The goblin’s eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed. Lucky Days snorted. “Don’t like horses? How rude.”
Gwen just stared in shock at the entire scene, unsure of what to do. At the very least, she decided not to chastise the two for striking the goblins. It was probably for the best. Maybe it would be better to put some kind of visual barrier between them and the suspended man.
As she contemplated it, the quiet figure in the far cell called her name. “Gwethlantithwen?” he asked. “Is that you?”
She walked over to the cell and stood before the old half-orc. “Katrezra,” she said.
“How are you?” he asked, his tone concerned. “You look like you’ve come from a long fought battle.”
“I’m okay,” she said. She wasn’t sure that was true, but she knew she would be, given time.
“That’s good to hear. I’m scared,” the old man admitted. “I’ve tried to be as compliant as possible, so that Halgra and Jagrin will realize that I’m innocent, but that man over there keeps insisting it was I who hired them. I swear to you, I’ve never seen that man in my life.”
He seemed sincere, but the girl didn’t know what to believe. “We’ll see what information we can get out of the new prisoner,” she said. “If you’re lucky, new information will prove your innocence.” She wasn’t ready to commit to believing him, but she had enough compassion to hope that the old half-orc truly was innocent. He had been a friend of Rodrik’s and she didn’t want to believe that her cousin had been foolish enough to trust someone who would betray him.
“Who is he?” the old man asked.
“We found him underneath the Plague House, meeting with a troll. There was evidence that they or someone else was digging down there.”
“What could they hope to find down there?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Jazier and Valbrand think they were planning to use undead to continue their digging though.”
“Jazier?” the old man asked, saddened at the mention. “That poor man bears a heavy burden. I hope that he finds what he seeks and can at last know peace from the dark cloud hanging over him.”
Gwen blinked at the words. He seemed absolutely genuine. He truly felt bad for the strange wizard. But that didn’t make sense. It just truly made no sense at all for him to care about Jazier. But it was clear he did. If Katrezra really was the mastermind, then why would he have hired assassins to kill Jazier?
The girl hadn’t wanted to believe that the old half-orc had been the culprit, for Rodrik’s sake, but deep down she considered it a strong possibility. He had run, after all. Now? She wasn’t so sure.
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Valbrand laughed. “Ha! I am always thirsty, my friends. I will gladly accept!”
Gwen ignored that. “Did you two find Hubert?”
Douglas didn’t look up from the reflection in his kukri, but nodded dismissively. “Chief Chief will be glad to know Othdan’s okay,” Lucky Days said. “We should head back. I want to go for a run in the morning and it’s getting late.”
Gwen nodded. “Yeah, I’m definitely tired. Let’s go rest.”
“Come on,” Lucky Days said to Valbrand.
“You two go ahead. I’m going to catch up with Rodd Rigez for a bit,” the big man said.
“Okay. Bye Coach!” Lucky Days said with a wave as Valbrand pulled a stool next to the bars.
Rodd Rigez chuckled. “You should go with the black ones tomorrow,” he said. “They won’t show up sweat and tomorrow is leg day.”
“Coach!!” Lucky Days gasped, scandalized.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Just ignore him,” she told the other girl. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”
The two girls arrived to find the others having a bite of dinner. “Hungry?” Kermit asked.
“I’m starving!” Lucky Days said, her stomach audibly growling. “Let’s eat!”
Gwen went to the Longhouse’s cook. “Just some bread and cheese for me, thanks. I’m gonna do a little target practice before it gets any later.” The older man nodded, handing her a small sack containing what she asked for, as well as a ripe apple, another favorite of hers.
She went outside and set up her targets, but this time in a new configuration. She put a smaller target overlapping a larger one, almost – but not quite – covering the center of the larger target. Then she began practicing her shots, doing her best to hit the big one in the center without hitting the small one. During the day’s fighting, she realized that she was too worried about hitting her allies and had been overcorrecting, so she needed to practice enough that she could confidently make the shots in the heat of battle. After more than an hour of practice, it was clearly paying off, but she would have to wait until the next time she fought for real before she would be able to confirm the effectiveness of the practice.
The next morning, she was awoken by a knock at her door. “Who is it?” she asked, pulling on her tunic.
“It’s Kurst,” a voice answered.
She quickly crossed the room and opened the door. She hugged her cousin. “You look better,” she said. “Did you finally sleep?” He was wearing his dress clothes and had shaved. Definitely an improvement.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. He sat down on her bed. “I… talked to father. He told me what you found at the Plague House, and how there’s no way Rodrik killed himself. Thanks, cousin. I’m glad at least one of us could keep her head.”
She nodded. “You did the same for me when Mother died.”
He nodded back. “Fair enough. How was it?”
She considered how to answer that. “There were ghosts. Also, have you ever had to get a man’s leg out of a bear trap?”
He laughed at the exasperation in her voice. “Well, not a bear trap, exactly. But there was this one time Brollerth stepped on one of his own landmines. Took us an hour to carefully get a rock heavy enough on there fast enough that it wouldn’t explode. Granted, Rodrik did most of the work.”
Gwen laughed. “That’s right. He told me about that one. Uncle chewed all three of you out for that, as I recall.”
“He made Rodrik clean out the stables for a week,” Kurst reminisced. “I got lucky and was only stuck cleaning the barracks.”
“And Brollerth got double guard duty for a month.”
“In hindsight, that might not have been the best decision Father ever made. That’s when he started hanging out with Douglas.” The two erupted in a fit of laughter at that. “It feels good to laugh.”
“It does,” Gwen agreed.
“I’ve moved the ceremony for Rodrik up to today. Around noon. I don’t think Father’s in any shape to go, but will you be there?”
“Of course,” Gwen agreed.
“Good. Now I just need to find Hubert and tell him. He and Rodrik were close, after all.”
“Last I heard, he was going to see Halgra.”
“Strange, Halgra told me that when I found him, to tell him to come see her.”
What? “But Douglas and Brollerth… those idiots never found him,” she said in disbelief. They had lied to her! “He was taking Othdan to his mother’s house.”
“That’s what Halgra said. I stopped by there and Othdan’s mother said he still hadn’t come home. I didn’t mention that he had been found. She thought I was investigating the disappearance.”
Gears began turning in Gwen’s head. “Something’s wrong,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“We missed something! There has to be another conspirator. Please, tell Halgra! I need to go find Hubert and Othdan!” she said, panic in her voice as she put on her shoes.
“Cousin! What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know!” she said. “But the town could be in danger!” They had missed something. There were more conspirators, but what they were after was unclear. What if they intended to overthrow the town? Kill the men and drag off the women to… no, the thought of it was too horrifying.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Kurst said. “If it will make you feel better. But promise me you’ll come to Rodrik’s funeral.”
“I’ll be there,” she said. “But the safety of the town comes first.” Kurst left as she finished getting ready. Gwen then hurried to the dining hall. She hoped at least one or two of her temporary companions were there. She would need help to find Othdan and Hubert.
She was in luck, as three of the others were there. Kermit and Jazier were at a table playing some kind of game involving making marks on a three by three grid while Glenn watched while he sipped his coffee. “I told you,” Jazier said. “I am cursed.”
“I’m starting to consider that a strong possibility,” Kermit agreed. “Statistically speaking, you should have at least managed to get a draw by now.”
Gwen ignored those three and went to Qumeel, who was sitting in contemplative silence as he ate his breakfast. “What is it, young Gwen?” he asked as she sat down across from him.
“Something has gone wrong,” she said. “We might all be in danger. I need help.”
“See?” Jazier commented to Kermit after overhearing that. “Cursed.”
“Indeed,” the grippli agreed.
Gwen ignored them and explained her concerns to Qumeel. “That does sound like an issue. I will go to the jail and question Douglas and Brollerth, then look into the location of Hubert. As I recall, his home is not far from the jail.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kermit said. “Valbrand is probably still over there. If things do turn bad, we’ll want him close by.”
“Thanks,” Gwen said. “I’ll go wake up Lucky Days and make sure Halgra knows we’re looking into it, then I’ll stop by Othdan’s house, just in case he arrived home sometime after Kurst’s visit.”
“She’s already up,” Kermit said. “She went for a run.”
Gwen cursed internally. As fast as the girl was, she could be anywhere at this point. Then she had an idea. “That man, Rodd Rigez, he’s her coach, right?”
“Yes,” Kermit said with a nod.
“Did you and Valbrand have a way to contact him if you got separated? Maybe he taught her your signal and she’ll come running if we use it.”
“Ah, yes,” Kermit said. “Glenn?”
The man in the pelican suit fished around his pack, producing a strange firework and offering it to Gwen. “Thanks,” she said.
“Just light it outside and aim it into the air. If he taught her about the signal, she’ll come.”
“Thanks,” Gwen said as the trio left for the jail. She went outside and was surprised that Jazier had followed her.
“I’m not staying here by myself,” the wizard said nervously. “I’ll go with the two of you.”
“Okay,” she said. “Light this, please.”
He held out his fingers and chanted. The fuse lit immediately and a small ball shot out of the end of the firework, producing almost no light and making a strange sound that Gwen was having trouble placing. Seconds later, Lucky Days appeared from around the corner, running impossibly fast. “MOO!” she shouted as she arrived, looking around frantically.
“So Rodd Rigez taught her the signal after all,” Jazier commented.
“Signal?” the girl asked, confused.
“You know, the sound of the firework?” Gwen asked.
“What firework? I came because I heard a cow! I wanted to pat its head!” That was it. That was what the sound reminded Gwen of. It sounded like the mooing of a cow. She explained the truth to Lucky Days, who looked disappointed but agreed to come along. “I was really hoping for some milk,” the athletic girl grumbled as they set off.
They reached Halgra’s home and found her oldest daughter, Pearl, teaching Ruby how to throw knives. “Good morning, Gwen. What brings you here?” Pearl asked.
“I’m afraid I need to speak to Halgra. Something’s wrong, and while we’re looking into it, I think she needs to be updated.”
“That’s… not a good idea. Mother’s in one of her moods. It’s best to steer clear until she’s had time to calm down.”
“I wish I could,” Gwen answered. “But I fear it could relate to the safety of Trunau.”
“I see. I wish you luck. You’re going to need it.”
As Gwen and Pearl talked, Ruby approached Lucky Days. “My brother said he saw you running in town. He thinks that you’re almost as fast as a horse, but I told him that couldn’t be true.”
“It’s not,” Lucky Days answered. “I’m much faster than most horses.”
“Wow!” Ruby exclaimed.
“What are you doing?” Lucky Days asked the girl.
“I’m practicing. I can almost get it in the circles every time. Want to try?”
“Sure!” Lucky Days said, taking the offered knife. She then dashed, covering the fifty foot distance in less than three seconds and stabbing the knife dead center into the target. The movement caught everyone’s attention.
“That was amazing,” Pearl said. “But you’re supposed to throw the knife.”
“OH!” Lucky Days gasped. “Sorry, she didn’t explain that part.” She pulled the knife out of the target, dashed back to where Ruby was standing, then spun and flung the knife, once more hitting the target dead center and embedding it up to the hilt in the wood.
“We could use someone like you helping defend the village,” Pearl said.
“Sorry, I’m just here because Coach said it would be good training. Once I’m done, I’m gonna go back to racing horses.”
“Oh, so you’re a horse rider?”
Lucky Days shook her head. “I don’t ride horses. I race them.”
“If you don’t ride horses, how do you… Huh.” Pearl looked amazed as the implications finally hit her.
Gwen took the opportunity to butt into the conversation. “Lucky Days, Jazier, we need to head inside.”
Jazier sighed. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, following her in, but not before watching Pearl and Ruby struggle and fail to remove the knife embedded in the target.
The atmosphere in the home was pretty tense. People were talking in hushed whispers, desperate not to be the ones to attract Halgra’s attention. Gwen felt decidedly like she was marching into the lion’s den. But it was necessary. It had to be done. And she knew that if Kurst had come here to find this situation, he would have decided to come back later, so there was a good chance Halgra still hadn’t been informed.
The approached the door to Halgra’s office and knocked. There was no answer. Gwen flagged down another of the woman’s children, confirming that she was indeed inside, and decided to make her report to the door. After about a minute of explaining, Jazier just opened the door, revealing Halgra asleep at her desk.
He then walked over and checked her pulse – assassins had tried to kill him, after all – while Lucky Days put a blanket over her. Gwen, while mission-focused, was not suicidal. She jotted down a quick note explaining her suspicions and detailing her planned course of action, and left it right in front of the sleeping woman’s face.
Then the three left, quietly shutting the door behind them. They only stopped for a bit outside to explain to Pearl what had transpired before heading off to begin their investigation proper.
As Qumeel and Kermit approached the jail, they heard the sound of screaming. It was muffled, but it was definitely angry rather than scared screaming, so they were not overly concerned. It was a jail, after all. “Sounds like they’re having fun,” Kermit said.
“This man inside, Rodd Rigez, he’s a friend of yours, right?” Kermit answered with a nod. “Is there anything I should keep in mind about him?”
“The number three,” Kermit said sagely, heading inside.
Inside they found that someone had hog-tied the goblins and suspended them from the ceiling. They had been gagged as well, and were still screaming in rage. The assassin looked pretty calm, having grown accustomed to the sound. And Katrezra looked to be attempting to meditate and put the sound from his mind.
But the half orc they’d taken as a prisoner looked terrified. He was pushed all the way back into the corner of his cell, trying to make himself appear small in apparent hopes that anyone entering the jail would overlook him. Qumeel wasn’t sure what to make of it, but, after all, the man didn’t appear to be in any worse shape than when they’d captured him, so it wasn’t likely due to mistreatment while in the jail.
They found Valbrand lazing on a stool next to the cell where Rodd Rigez was hanging upside down. The large man greeted them heartily, raising his mug in salute. “What brings you here?” he asked.
“Young Gwethlantithwen believes we have a problem,” Qumeel answered, explaining everything about the missing men and the suspicious nature of events. “By the way, where are Brollerth and Douglas?” he asked. “Weren’t they supposed to be here?”
Valbrand shrugged. “No idea. They left while I was napping.” He turned to Rodd Rigez. “You observed the town for a bit before you got caught, right? Any insight into where we might find this guardsman?”
“He seemed the punctual sort. And definitely a good fighter, well respected by the other guards. Definitely reliable. If he’s missing, that is indeed odd. My suggestion is that if you want to find him, seek out the drunk. He seemed to be trying to help the man, so if anyone knows where he is, it’ll be him.”
Valbrand and Kermit exchanged glances. “Omast?” Kermit suggested.
“Omast,” Valbrand agreed.
“Well, there you have it,” Rodd Rigez said. “I suggest you get looking. It’s my experience that if you don’t find these people within twenty four hours, it’s likely you won’t find them.”
Valbrand stood and gathered his pack, handing the heavy stuff over to Glenn, who sighed silently. Before they left, Qumeel had to know. “What’s so important about three?” he asked Rodd Rigez. The hanging man looked surprised, then turned to Kermit, who winked.
“Who can say?” Rodd Rigez answered.
“Have you found four yet?” Kermit asked.
“Not yet,” Rodd Rigez said, sounding annoyed – not at the question, but at the failure of his search.
“Okay,” Kermit said. “By the way, we used your firework. Have any more?”
“Sure. Give me a sec.” He popped his arm out of its socket again, rooted around in his pants and tossed another firework to the grippli. “There you go.”
“Thanks, Rodd,” Kermit said.
“Anytime, bud. Now you all should get going. I need a nap anyway.” But before they could leave, there was a loud but dull thud and through the prison bars, they could hear the sound of hundreds of voices as well as what sounded like the beating of drums. In his cell, the half orc whimpered in fear.
Outside, the first evidence that something was wrong was when Gwen spotted a giant boulder flying overhead. Then it hit a building and all hell broke loose. The trio looked around them, and from where they were on the bridge, they could hear screaming. “What do we do?” Lucky Days asked.
“The beacon at the Commons – Halgra’s home – needs to be lit,” Gwen said.
The other girl pulled out a torch and held it out to Jazier. “Light, please!” she said. The wizard did so with a word, and the girl sprinted off impossibly fast.
“What do we do?” Jazier asked.
“We should follow her. Halgra will know what we should do. Probably run orders and find a position to defend…” she turned as she spoke, noticing a throng of women and children running their way. “Off the bridge!” she shouted, and the two sprinted to the far side and leapt out of the way of the panicked crowd.
From that side, they scanned the area, looking to see if anyone was pursuing the group, but found no one. It was just general panic, and not an imminent threat in the inner part of the town. So they followed the crowd heading up to the commons.
Meanwhile, Lucky Days had quickly made her way up there, found the tower that contained the beacon and climbed up, which took a bit longer as she was holding the torch. From her position, she saw the crowd, and also an army of orcs surrounding the village. There were numerous orcs scaling the outer walls.
She lit the beacon and turned just in time to spot a boulder flying right at her. She jumped down from the tower and landed just in time to spot the boulder clip the tower and fly into the roof of the house. Halgra, who was standing outside the door, looked dazed and was having trouble trying to answer the panicked crowd that had surrounded her.
“Look out!” Lucky Days shouted as the boulder rolled out of the front door. But it was too late. It struck Halgra and sent her flying. The boulder continued its roll, hitting several women in the crowd who were desperately trying to protect the children. From her position, Lucky Days saw the last victim struck, a young woman with blue hair who had dived into the crowd to push aside a small child. The boulder then came to a rest against the wall of a building. Thankfully the wall was stone, so the flaming rock didn’t ignite anything.
Wait. Blue hair?
“Gwen!” Lucky Days shouted as she dashed over to help.
Back at the jail, Valbrand assessed the sound. He and Kermit nodded at each other, and the grippli summoned out the power of the Guyver once more. The large man turned to the suspended Rodd Rigez, who chuckled. “Sounds like it’s going to be a hell of a fight,” the hanging man said.
Valbrand bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin. “It does. I hear catapults. And drums. It’s time for you to stop being lazy and do your thing.”
“Just like that time with the angry Keleshite governor?” Rodd Rigez asked as he easily slipped out of his rope.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Valbrand said with a laugh as he drew his axe.
“We will be up to our ears in grateful maidens when this is over.”
“I will be. I suspect they’ll stack over your head,” the large man joked.
“It’s a good thing I can hold my breath, then,” Rodd Rigez said as he sucked in his stomach and easily squeezed out through the bars on the window.”
Kermit flexed his claws. “Let’s get moving,” he said, dashing out the door.
“Right behind you,” Valbrand said, though he stopped as he noticed the assassin and half orc. He realized that if they were involved, it would probably be a smart play to kill them now, before their allies could spring them.
Qumeel noticed his gaze. “I’m not entirely sure what you’re thinking,” the cleric said. “But I have a suspicion. Ask yourself if you have time to deal with that right now, or if your time would be better spent dealing with the more pressing threat.” Then the cleric left. It wouldn’t have been right to let the man execute the prisoners out of hand, but at the same time, he also knew that he didn’t have time to deal with it. There were more pressing matters for him as well.
“Dammit!” Valbrand cursed. He turned to the imprisoned men. “If I catch either of you outside of here, understand that I will not hesitate to end your lives,” he threatened, then charged after Qumeel.
Glenn, who had witnessed all of this, was surprised. Perhaps the cleric would be a good influence on the infuriatingly brash man. Not sure what else to do, the pelican suited man opted to wait a few minutes. They were close to the town’s inner wall. It was best to wait for Valbrand and Kermit to clear out the danger.
Outside, the three spotted a pair of guards fighting a quartet of orcs at what Qumeel knew was the town’s inner gate beacon. It needed to be lit to allow the townspeople to know where to escape to in the event that smoke clouded vision.
One of the guards was fighting like a madman, but was overpowered by his foe, taking a blade to his gut. As he fell, they recognized his face. It was Omast. The other guard saw how outnumbered he was and immediately retreated.
Kermit roared, the unearthly sound filling the air as he charged the nearest orc. Valbrand followed, shouting, “Gorum!” as he ran. Qumeel drew his blade from its now-smoking sheathe, and it burst into flame with the blessing of his god, and charged as well.
One of the orcs intercepted Kermit, slashing him and leaving a shallow wound which dripped a small amount of an unearthly pale liquid. “I hit you!” the orc said in disbelief. “That should have killed you! Why aren’t you dead? I’ll make sure you die on the next one!” As he had spoken in Orcish, Valbrand was the only one who understood him. The large man just laughed as Kermit clawed into the orc. He then charged in to help, but his blow glanced off the orc’s armor.
A second orc quickly quaffed a potion and disappeared from sight while a third aimed his short sword at the down, but still alive, Omast. “Surrender or I will kill your friend!” the orc commanded in broken Common.
Qumeel calmly strode forward, channeling healing energy, stopping the bleeding of Omast’s wounds, but also healing the injured orc a bit. “I have healed your friend. Step away from mine,” the cleric demanded.
The orc laughed. “I like you. I will enjoy killing you,” he said, pulling his sword away from Omast and pointing it at Qumeel.
“I don’t need your pity!” the injured orc shouted as he swung at Qumeel, who easily blocked the blow with his shield.
“Gorfus, you a*~+~@~,” the invisible orc said under his breath as he moved to help, but it was too late. The injured orc’s movement took his attention away from Kermit, who immediately capitalized on the inattention and tore out the orc’s kidney, dropping him, then he charged the orc nearest Omast.
The invisible orc reappeared as he struck Kermit, who weathered the blow.
“He was an idiot, but he was OUR idiot!” the now visible orc shouted in rage.
Valbrand laughed as he engaged the warrior. “Face me!” he roared in challenge.
Qumeel tossed aside his shield and held his blade high. Holy light enveloped him, and his body burst into golden flames, becoming almost incorporeal as it did so. He quickly ran past Kermit and Omast, holy energy infusing both of them as he passed and healing them.
Kermit easily downed the second orc as Valbrand fought the third. The fourth orc, who had spent his time trying to tear apart the beacon – he wasn’t sure what it was for, but it looked important – turned to the fighting and launched a javelin, which bounced off of Valbrand’s shield.
The fourth orc then pulled out a toad. “Trunau is not as undefended as believed. Tell Skreed to send in Crusher!” he said in Orcish. The toad began to hop away, but Kermit was more than familiar with the hopping movement of toads, and jumped after it.
Omast awoke and pulled the dagger from his gut, then quickly made his way towards the beacon, trying to put it right. Valbrand took enough of a blow that he knew he needed healing, so he leapt back and cast the spell quickly. The orc pursued. “Face me, coward!” he shouted.
Kermit caught the toad. “Let go of Mister Cricket!” the orc who had spoken to it demanded. But alas, he had spoken in Orcish, and Kermit did not speak that language. So the guyver’s jaws opened wide and bit the toad clean in half. The small creature disappeared in a puff of smoke.
The orc fled, leaving his companion all alone as Qumeel charged at his exposed back. “Please!” Omast wailed. “I need help lighting this!”
Kermit chased after the fleeing orc, and the sounds of his brutal death were Glenn’s signal to come outside. He made it out just in time to see Qumeel’s charge complete. It was punctuated by a swing of his blade from low to high, continuing in a circular motion over his head. He let go of the blade at just the right angle, sending it flying through the air and embedding itself into the pile of wood next to Omast.
The dry wood caught immediately and the beacon erupted in flame, providing the light of hope for the defending townspeople as the men immediately began moving to intercept more orcs on the town’s inner wall.
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And I love your description of how Gwen teaches herself Precise Shot.
** spoiler omitted **
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“You are,” a voice answered. Gwen looked in the direction it came and spotted a beautiful half-elf with golden hair standing there. “I must say, though, I am disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
“Yes. Hit by a rock? Really?”
Gwen felt offended by the remark. “I was saving a child!” she protested.
The woman’s expression turned neutral and she clapped mockingly. “I’m sure that will impress the orcs.” The woman grabbed a sheep and sheared it of its wool with a single swipe from a bastard sword. “I bet, when they find your unconscious body, Throg will turn to Brog and say ‘No, we leave this one alone. She was a good girl and got hurt saving a kid.’”
Gwen pulled herself to her feet. “So what? Don’t save anyone?! Is that what you want me to do?” she asked angrily.
The woman tilted her head, her lips pulling back in a wolfish grin, revealing impossibly white teeth. “Of course not. I’m just saying that you’re not strong enough to be Obrek. So stop acting like him.”
Gwen was confused. “Who is Obrek?” she asked.
“Oh, right. You never met him. Sometimes I forget that you people don’t know everything I know. Okay, so quick explanation. He’s a paladin, and he is constantly putting himself into danger to save others. But he is the toughest person I’ve ever met. He can take it. You can’t.”
The woman had a point, but Gwen still didn’t think her decision had been wrong. “So what do you suggest?”
“You have several options. You could choose to be faster. Get the kid out before the rock can hit either of you. Or you could choose to be smarter. You saw the rock hit the building. You might have known that it would keep falling and end up rolling down the hill. But if you cannot be that, you must be more calculating. Your town needs defenders. What if you save that kid, but the town falls because you weren’t there to help? You’ll just have consigned him to a life of slavery instead. Is that what you want?”
Gwen could not think of a worse fate. That was her greatest fear, to be captured and made a slave of the orcs. She wouldn’t wish it on her most hated enemy. “No,” she said.
“I thought not,” the woman said, smiling genuinely as she tossed more wool on the pile she was working on.
“What are you doing?” Gwen asked.
“My shepherds are still busy rebuilding their world. Someone has to attend to the sheep, lest they become naught but food for wolves.”
Gwen considered what she said. “Are we the sheep? Are you going to help us?”
“Sorry, no. My old boss asked me not to interfere. I’ve only brought you here to amuse myself at your misfortune.” She motioned over to a nearby table. Gwen walked to it. On the table was a giant, hand drawn map. It was easy to see that it depicted Trunau and the surrounding area. On the map were hundreds of small figurines, and each of them was moving on its own.
There were primarily two colors of figurines. One set was grey, and it was easy to see that those were the villagers and other defenders. The other set was green, and obviously the orcs. There were just so many green ones. Possibly hundreds. “This isn’t just a raid,” Gwen said.
“No. They’ve come for conquest.”
“What will happen if we lose?”
“I think you know. For you… well, I don’t think you’re going to die. It happens in many of the possible futures. But in most of them, you live, and wish you had died.”
Gwen gasped, fighting back tears. “No…please…”
“I didn’t say losing was inevitable, only that was what would happen if you do. If it makes you feel better, if you lose, the one behind the conquest of Trunau will become arrogant, and will draw down retribution on herself.”
“What do you mean?”
The woman’s eyes glowed with golden light as she answered, her voice reverberating with the power of prophecy. “Great silver birds will darken the skies over Belkzen. The orcs will have squandered the last chance to prove themselves redeemable, and his hand will sweep across the orcish nations. In his wake, all that will remain is death and devastation. Within a year, there will be no more than a dozen full blooded orcs remaining on all of Golarion, and those that survive will only do so because of kinship to the Silver Champion.”
“I don’t understand.”
The woman’s eyes returned to normal. “Trunau won’t be the last town to fall to orcs,” she said, smiling. “But in five hundred years, no one will even remember what orcs looked like. Of course, there will be some half orcs remaining for a time, but eventually their orc blood will dilute and their people will be nothing more than a memory. Your kids will likely be among the last generation of true half orcs, so there’s that.”
Gwen got angry again. “I will NOT be a mother to those misbegotten things!”
“Well, then you only have two choices. Either win, or…” She tossed a knife at the girl’s feet. “You can choose not to wake up. I trust you know the motions. Make the cuts, and I promise you will never awaken.”
Gwen picked up the knife and considered it. She shook her head and offered the knife back to the woman. “No. My cousin wasn’t a coward, and neither am I. I will fight.”
The golden-haired woman smiled. “Good. It’ll be more entertaining that way, no matter the outcome.”
Something on the table caught Gwen’s eye. It was a bright flash. “That’s a beacon! Someone lit another one!”
“My old boss is cheating to help your people out. Not much, but maybe you have a chance. Personally, though, I can’t wait to see what that one does,” the woman said, indicating the lone red figurine, moving from the village into the orc lines outside of town. He appeared to be heading towards one of the catapults, and none of the orcs seemed to notice him.
“Who is that?” Gwen asked.
“A wildcard,” the woman said, grinning. “No one planned on his presence. Not my old boss, not that demon wench… no one. But I saw him coming. It will be most interesting to see what he does.” She then looked at the board, touching one figure in general. “Huh. My old boss has no hold over this one. He literally couldn’t say anything if I happened to give it a nudge in the right direction. I mean, her boss might get mad, but I doubt she’ll even notice. Perhaps I can help you a little, after all.”
Pain wracked Gwen and the girl cried out. “What… What is happening to me?!”
“Ooh. Ouch. Yeah, it’s time for you to wake up. Getting healed by that spell isn’t terribly unpleasant while you’re awake, but if it hits you while you’re here… well, the pain is your incorporeal dream-self turning into a devil. You’ll be fine. It just hurts like Hell.” She giggled at her own joke. “Be careful out there,” the woman said. “And if you have to die, try to make it entertaining.”
As Gwen dreamed, Valbrand, Kermit and Qumeel joined up with Omast to continue fighting. The first order of business was the orcs on the inner wall who were securing ropes so their comrades could get inside. And Valbrand had a plan. He quickly pulled his grappling hook from his bag and handed it to Omast. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Omast asked. “We have a ladder on this side. We don’t need to scale the wall.”
“Throw it at that guy,” Valbrand said, pointing at one of the orcs. “Then we’ll pull him off the wall and you can stab him with your sword.” He then turned to Kermit. “I’m going to throw you at that guy,” he said, pointing at another orc. Kermit nodded and powered down, then hopped up onto Valbrand’s shoulders.
“And what of me?” Qumeel asked as he recovered his sword from the blazing beacon.
“Climb the ladder and start cutting ropes.”
“Understood.”
Valbrand was not a particularly stealthy individual in the best of cases, and right now he was so keyed up from battle that he wasn’t even trying. In fact, he was shouting to make sure he was heard by the others. So, of course the nearest orc – Kermit’s target – heard them. He turned, spotted the group, and grabbed his javelin. He then hurled it. Poorly. So poorly that he unbalanced himself on the narrow ledge and began windmilling his arms so he wouldn’t fall face first ten feet into the ground not far from apparent foes.
Valbrand noticed that the orc was young and mostly unscarred. This was no warrior, or at least, he was an untested warrior, likely fighting in his first real battle. He was young, callow, and no real threat. A quick glance at the two nearest orcs on the wall told him that the same was likely true of those as well.
The orc overcorrected, stumbled backwards and went tumbling over the waist high section of palisade behind him. Even through the din of battle and the wall between them, the group of defenders could hear the orc’s hard landing. Omast visibly winced.
The nearest orc heard the fall as well, turned to investigate and ran towards the ladder, shouting a battle cry. Omast forgot the plan and drew his crossbow, shooting at the orc and grazing him. Valbrand, however, didn’t forget the plan, only adapted it since Kermit’s original target was down. Thankfully, a new one had run close enough.
Valbrand hurled the grippli. “GUYVER!” Kermit shouted, transforming as he flew. He slammed into the orc, biting deeply into its shoulder. The orc shrieked in pain and surprise, and only an already empty bladder prevented it from wetting itself.
From Kermit’s vantage point, the grippli noticed one of the catapults launching a boulder. Only, the catapult’s arm snapped mid-motion and the boulder lobbed high into the air, landing directly on another catapult and destroying it as well. And that wasn’t the only siege engine that was destroyed. Most of them appeared inoperable. He’d thought the shots had become a lot less frequent, but had attributed it to a lack of ammunition.
Omast picked up the grappling hook and went to play his part in the plan. He tossed it, and it landed on the hard ground with a clang. Only, the orc he’d been aiming at didn’t notice. Not only was he oblivious to the sound of battle, he had missed an attempt on his own life. He was an idiot, and Valbrand gaped. Men like that did not last long on the battlefield.
Kermit let out a shriek as he tore his target apart. Most of its torso went flying over the wall into the crowd below and he held up the orc’s legs, one in each hand, as if to say, “Who wants to be beaten to death with the remains of your friend?”
Several of the orcs on the ground below bolted at the sight, but the ones on the rope weren’t so lucky. They hadn’t seen what Kermit had done, and the grippli yanked the entire rope up with two surprised orcs hanging on it. He then grabbed the closest orc’s skull with one of his claws and squeezed.
The orc’s head exploded with a sickening crunch, and the orc below him, now covered in blood and brain matter, let go of the rope and fell about ten feet, landing on the spear of an orc below, impaling himself and breaking the arm of the unfortunate and surprised spearman.
The sound of Kermit’s shriek – completely unlike anything else on the battlefield – finally drew the attention of the painfully oblivious orc, who turned just in time to see the grappling hook miss him by inches and then the recovered javelin Valbrand had thrown smash into the wall far below him. He took only seconds to take in the scene and immediately bolted. Omast shot at him with his crossbow as the orc fled, managing to lodge a bolt in the orc’s calf. It slowed him, but he continued his retreat.
Qumeel finally reached the top at about the same time and hurriedly moved to cut the nearest rope. The orcs on it fell hard onto the ground and one was knocked unconscious, though none died. “What now?” the cleric shouted down to Omast.
“We defend this wall until I can come up with something better to do!” the guard shouted back.
Valbrand brandished his axe. “They’ll keep coming for a time,” he said with a grin. “There will be plenty to do.” Omast stared at him in disbelief. Was it possible the big man was enjoying himself?
Back at the commons, Gwen groaned as she awoke. Jazier was standing over her. “I am sorry,” he said. “I healed you, but I must tell you that the devil’s blood I used to fuel the spell will never come out of your clothes. They are ruined.”
“I can get new clothes,” the girl answered, accepting his hand as he helped her up. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome,” he said with a nod. He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to see Ruby standing there. “Yes, child?”
“My mom’s hurt. Can you help her too?”
Jazier looked and noted Halgra’s injuries. Her leg was obviously broken, snapped at the knee and twisted at a horrifying angle. And her arm had been absolutely shattered by the impact, and was covered in terrible, black burns. The wizard hesitated. It was likely beyond his skill. “Go,” Gwen told him.
He nodded. “I will try.”
As he tended Halgra’s wounds, Pearl was doing her best to calm the crowd. It wasn’t working well, since the Commons was supposed to be their place of refuge and it was currently on fire. “Where are we supposed to go?” one woman asked. But Pearl had no answers.
Lucky Days got up and joined everyone once more. She found Jazier healing Halgra. The woman was screaming in pain as her shattered bones slowly knitted together. “Just be glad it was not a bear trap,” Jazier said seriously. “You would be as good as dead.”
“Do catapults throw bear traps?” Lucky Days asked. “Do you think we should go check on Mister Qumeel?”
Halgra, remembering the reports, laughed bitterly in spite of her pain. “Please, Halgra, tell us where to go,” a panicked woman begged.
The Chief Defender had no answer. Things had gone absolutely wrong. The enemy had known where to hit them and had hit hard. This could easily spell the end for Trunau. She was about to answer that she didn’t know, when a voice rang out from the gate in front of the Commons. “We have made a safe place at the southern barricade,” Tyari Varvatos said, her voice ringing out like a pure silver bell. The crowd turned and spotted her, along with the paladin Brantos at her side. “We’ve gathered all the supplies we could and will make our stand there. It will be as safe as anywhere in town. But getting there will be dangerous. There’s no way for us to move this many without attracting attention.”
Halgra looked and caught Gwen’s eye. The girl nodded. “We’ll get everyone there,” she said, chambering a round in her gun. “Everyone gather up. Get the kids to the center of the group. Lucky Days, you and Sakura-chan will be our vanguard. Jazier and I will stand at the outer edges. Tyari, please help Halgra and keep an eye on the rear.”
No one argued. They just prepared as best they could while Tyari tried healing Halgra’s wounds as best she could. It was clear that the woman would need serious magical healing – beyond even Tyari’s skill – if they were to ever have her walking without a limp again. But her wounds were no longer at all life threatening.
They began moving, painfully slowly, through town, and were at the bridge with no incident not long after. It was there that they saw – or perhaps better put, heard – their first orcs. From under the bridge came a voice. “Stop fighting!” it barked. “Or I’ll go get five more of my best men and I promise you they won’t be nearly as gentle!”
There was the sound of a woman weeping, which was more than enough to cause both Gwen and Lucky Days to immediately spring into action. Lucky Days was closer – and faster, obviously, and she charged under the bridge. Once there, she found a red-headed young woman pinned down by an orc. Her dress was torn, exposing her left breast which had a large bruise from where she had been grabbed roughly, and the bottom of the dress was yanked up, exposing her bare lower section.
The orc on top of her did not seem to have gotten his trousers down yet, which Lucky Days was thankful for, as that meant she wasn’t too late. And another orc was watching, a mocking sneer on his face. It was apparent that he had been the one talking. As he was the closest, Lucky Days charged him and slashed with Sakura-chan. The orc cried out in surprise and his companion leapt to his feet, releasing the poor girl, who ran in the direction Lucky Days had come from.
Gwen spotted the girl, tears streaking down her freckled face and her hand covering her exposed breast, at the same time she saw the orc Lucky Days was engaging. She knew the girl. It was Aleril, a girl a couple years younger than her who helped her parents run a stall at the market. She was such a sweet girl, and everyone liked her. And those…THINGS… had put their hands on her. The girl ran behind Gwen, cowering.
Seeing red, Gwen raised her weapon. At the same time, she heard Jazier chanting a spell and her gun began to crackle with electricity. She glanced at him. “Don’t miss,” the wizard said.
“I won’t,” Gwen replied, taking aim and hitting the orc dead in his shoulder. The wound crackled with the spark of lightning contained within the bullet.
From the back of the crowd, Tyari heard the fighting, but hesitated at leaving the flank unprotected. “I can handle it,” Brantos said.
Halgra nodded in agreement. “Go. Redeem yourself in Iomedae’s eyes.”
Tyari nodded and rushed through the crowd, getting close enough to see the girl cowering behind Gwen, and Lucky Days being flanked by a pair of orcs. The girl had been slashed, and while the wound was not fatal on its own, it did not bode well. “Iomedae, even if you hate me for my transgressions, please, grant me the power to aid these people in their time of need,” she prayed. Healing energy flowed through her and a burst of healing light erupted, healing the injuries of both Aleril and Lucky Days, but not touching the wounds suffered by the orcs.
Gwen fired again, hitting the first orc in the head. The burst of lightning exploded within his skull and blood spattered all over Lucky Days. “Eww!” the girl said, focusing on the remaining orc. Watching her, he didn’t notice as Tyari charged up behind him until it was too late to dodge her attack.
The cleric slashed him with her blade, which was polished to a silver sheen and appeared to never have seen use in combat. The wound wasn’t deep, but it got his attention, and he turned his back to Lucky Days, who moved at an impossible speed and drove Sakura-chan into the small of his back, screaming in anger as she did so. The blade sparked as it struck, having also been enchanted by Jazier as she’d fought. She then yanked the blade upward and it cut all the way up his spine before coming up out of the base of his neck, missing his skull by inches. Gore and viscera splattered all over her, but did not touch Tyari.
“Oh, Kurgess!” Lucky Days shouted, spitting. “My mouth was open! Yucky!” Tyari cleaned then sheathed her sword before moving to tend to the girl’s wounds. Jazier moved in as well, and immediately began cleaning her with magic. “Thanks, Jazz Hands,” the horse girl said.
Gwen turned to Aleril. “Are you okay?” she asked.
The sobbing girl clung to her. “He didn’t get me,” she swore. “Please believe me.”
Gwen hugged her. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” But she noticed the blood drying on the girl’s leg. They may not have completed the deed, but Aleril was definitely not unscathed. “We made these ones pay for hurting you. And I promise, we’ll keep killing them until they learn to leave us alone. And maybe a few more after that for good measure.” Her voice was filled with quiet rage.
The girl nodded, but sobbed quietly in Gwen’s arms. A few moments later, Tyari came and tended to her wounds, then one of the elderly midwives took her into the relative safety of the crowd.
After gathering the orcs’ weapons and distributing them to the crowd, they got moving again. “Should I scout ahead?” Lucky Days asked Gwen.
“Do it,” Gwen said. “But keep within sight of us so we can help you if something ambushes you.”
“Can do!” Lucky Days answered, already dashing ahead. She made it about seventy feet away and peered down the side street. There were dogs. So many dogs. And they were going systematically from building to building, as if they’d been trained to search for survivors.
One of the dogs spotted her. It bared its teeth, but then turned and ran off. Not sure what to do, Lucky Days then ran back to the group and reported what she’d seen. “Everyone get ready for combat,” Gwen said. If those dogs had been trained to find survivors, they were likely trained to go get their master. There was no telling how many they’d be facing.
It didn’t take long for them to find out. A woman’s voice spoke as a figure emerged from an alleyway. “Where do you think you’re going?” the orc asked. She was wearing a bearskin hat and several chains that matched those worn by the dogs. Dogs which had now surrounded the group of survivors. “Don’t you want to play with my dogs?”
That a woman would be involved with what was going on enraged Gwen. She knew that the orcs were rapists and murderers who took what they wanted, but part of her had believed that surely the women couldn’t be that bad. Surely they were victims of the aggression shown by the male orcs. But her last shred of hope for the orcs washed away in that instance. The whole race was irredeemable, and the world would be better if every last one of them was gone.
Lucky Days let out a battle cry and charged. The woman was not at all expecting that kind of speed – naturally, the dog had not exactly been able to explain that part – and the orc narrowly avoided an instantly fatal blow only because of the chains wrapped around her torso. Gwen spun to her right, firing and injuring one of the dogs as another on the other side of the crowd charged Jazier.
The wizard frantically cast a spell, and it went off just as he grabbed the dog’s head in a desperate attempt to keep it from biting him. Lightning arced between his hands, straight through the dog’s brain, killing it. The dog Gwen shot managed to bite her leg, but she kicked free, reloading as she stepped back and shooting it once more, felling it.
Another dog bit one of the midwives, who had put herself between the dog and the child it was charging. The wound was deep, and it was likely that the woman would lose her arm, even with magical healing. Tyari prayed, beseeching Iomedae to send her someone to help protect the children.
As this happened, Lucky Days fought with the orc woman. The woman wielded a two-headed axe of orcish design, and fighting against it wasn’t something the girl was used to. She managed to block one blow with Sakura-chan, but the other head spun past, slashing her. The wound wasn’t life threatening, but it really hurt.
Another dog attacked Gwen. She was bitten once more and she stumbled backwards. She might have fallen if one woman hadn’t caught her. One of the women in the crowd held that dog at bay with one of the orcish short swords they’d taken as Gwen reloaded and fired once more.
The dog attacking the midwife bit down harder, severing the bone of the woman’s arm and dropping the appendage to the ground. Jazier cast his spell again and rushed the dog, but it jumped back out of his reach and looked warily at his hands, which crackled with electricity.
Tyari finished her prayer, and a massive, fluffy white temple dog appeared, glowing a slight blue in the smoky haze. “You haven’t forsaken me,” Tyari breathed, thanking her goddess as the dog howled and charged the orc woman, coming up behind her.
The dog facing Jazier bit him, but that was a fatal mistake. Lightning coursed through his body, and the connection the dog made caused it to discharge, electrocuting the beast. It also caused spasms which made the dog bite down harder, which didn’t surprise Jazier much. It was a factor of his curse, was all.
The temple dog bit the orc’s calf and righteous holy judgment surged through its bite, causing a massive amount of pain. The orc spun to face him involuntarily, giving Lucky Days the opportunity she needed. She finished it with a stabbing blow to the woman’s back, severing the base of her spine and causing her to crumple lifelessly to the ground. Wisely, the girl had kept her mouth shut this time as she dealt the finishing blow.
The dog facing Gwen tried to escape once its master fell, but there would be no escape on Lucky Days’ watch. The girl caught it not far down the road and ended its existence with a heavy swipe of Sakura-chan.
Tyari knelt, praying to her goddess, offering heartfelt thanks as healing energy washed over the crowd. The midwife’s arm remained severed and would not be healable, but she was no longer in life threatening danger. As she did so, the white dog bounded over to the crowd and nuzzled one of the children as several others petted it for a few seconds before it disappeared.
Mustering their strength, the group continued forward, with Jazier tending to Lucky Days’ clothes once more as they moved. The children were obviously scared, but the presence of the capable adults and proof of Iomedae watching over them helped. It was only a matter of time before they reached the relative safety of the southern barricade.
As they moved, they passed near the jail. The doors were open and it was strangely quiet within. “I’m going to check on Coach!” Lucky Days said, already running inside.
Inside the building, she found all of the cell doors thrown open. All of the cells were empty. All save one. In the far cell, she found the body of a dead half-orc. He had been stabbed dozens, or perhaps hundreds of times, and the wounds were covered in frost. Remembering the ice blades of the assassins that had attacked Jazier, she knew that there had to be more of them in the city.
She ran back outside. “Did you find anything?” Halgra asked.
“The cells are empty,” Lucky Days said, crestfallen. “And Kat-man is dead.”
“Who?” Halgra asked.
“I think she means Katrezra,” Gwen offered. She was starting to understand the strange girl a bit.
“Then…he was innocent after all,” Tyari said, a tear welling in her eye. “We will send someone to collect his body for proper rites once everyone is safe.”
“Keep going,” Brantos said. “I’ll get him now. He was never very heavy, and he does not deserve to lie there alone for one moment longer than necessary.”
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** spoiler omitted **
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And one of the PCs has actually met a member of the family O'Halloran. Which PC and how is a revelation for much later, though.
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“The orcs appear to be regrouping,” Kermit answered, pointing off in the distance. “But Rodd Rigez is up to something.”
Valbrand looked over where the grippli was pointing. He could see his friend, painted green and dragging the unconscious body of an orc behind him as if he was trying to help his “comrade”. The warrior could only imagine what his crafty ally had planned, but he knew it would be great.
“Something’s going on inside the walls,” Qumeel said. “Look there.”
The group looked and spotted a crowd forming down the road. They couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but they recognized one of the voices in the din of the crowd.
“Commander?” Omast asked. “He sounds upset,” he said to the others.
“Then we will investigate,” Qumeel agreed.
They approached and were able to spot the form of Jagrin within the crowd. He was holding a sword and ranting as he pointed the naked blade at the form of a woman standing on a stool. Kermit pulled out a potion he had taken from one of the orcs. “He is hanging that half-orc woman,” Kermit said.
The others looked, and could see it as well. It was Brinya standing on the stool, on the tips of her toes. It was clear that this was a lynching and that Jagrin had lost himself to his grief and fear. Indeed, his hair was streaked with gray and matted with sweat and dirt. “She took my son away from me!” the commander shouted. “And now she’s brought her brothers and sisters here to take away your sons and daughters! I won’t allow it! I will end her here and now!” It was clear that his words were whipping the crowd into a frenzy. They were afraid, and desperately wanted someone to blame.
“This isn’t right,” Omast said. “I have to stop him!”
On the edge of the crowd, one of the other guards stood in his path. “I can’t let you do that, Omast,” Lazlo said, his lazy eye looking off to one side. “Captain told us not to let anyone interfere.”
“This will not be reflected well in the tales,” Valbrand said. “There are enemies out there, and your leader attacks an unarmed woman. Stand aside.” His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped his axe.
“Please,” Omast pleaded. “Get out of their way. I’ve seen them kill dozens of orcs. You will die too if you stand in their way.”
Another guard, Cuthbert, stood next to Lazlo. “Sorry, Omast, but this isn’t a good place to be. You can’t save her.” He lowered his voice. “But, maybe, if you find Halgra…”
Omast spat. “You’re nothing but cowards! He’s just a man who is letting fear rule him. You have to stand up to him!”
“Sorry, Omast,” Cuthbert said, lashing out with his shield. Omast deflected the blow with his forearm, but winced as he spotted Jagrin kicking the stool out from under Brinya’s feet.
“Someone help her!” Omast shouted, glancing back at the others. “Wait, where’s Kermit?”
The grippli was gone, but Valbrand charged. “Don’t worry about it,” the big man said as his shield crashed into Lazlo’s. “Friends!” he shouted. “This isn’t justice! Justice would be standing on the wall, facing an enemy who wields a weapon! You’re cowards, and people will DIE while you waste time here!”
The warrior’s voice carried over the crowd and caught Jagrin’s attention. Regret flashed in his eyes, but he scowled. “You will not get in the way! Men, do your duty and buy enough time for justice to be done!”
Qumeel closed his eyes and prayed. “Ragathiel, guide my blade,” he said, flinging his sword over the heads of the crowd. The burning blade flew true, slicing through the rope strangling the half orc woman and lodging into the door frame behind her. Brinya fell to the floor, motionless as the wood began smoldering.
Omast was pretty sure he heard an unearthly howl in the distance.
“That’s going in the tales!” Valbrand said in congratulations as he burst into a battle song. But Cuthbert was less impressed, and lashed out with his shield once more, striking Qumeel. A third guard, Rowan, shot an arrow, hitting Omast in the shoulder, which provided Cuthbert the distraction that had allowed him to strike the cleric. Valbrand responded by slamming into Cuthbert, knocking him to the ground with his shield.
Among the crowd, an unseen figure gently tore the rope from Brinya’s neck and poured a healing potion into her mouth. She awoke with a cough. “What?” she gasped.
“Shh,” Kermit’s voice whispered. “It’s not easy being green.” He heard footsteps behind him and turned his body to shield the woman. Jagrin’s blade bounced off the hard scales of his magic suit. “Run!” Kermit told Brinya as he rose and reappeared. He stared down Jagrin as the half orc got up and fled. “Now isn’t the time to fight among ourselves! Look, the enemy is coming over the walls!”
Jagrin’s sword fell from his hand as everything was falling apart around him. “I’m trying,” he said. “I tried so hard. But I failed you, my son.” He walked past Kermit into the building behind the grippli, which had erupted in flames. He pulled out Rodrik’s hopeknife. “I’ll see you again soon, Rodrik.” Then he cut his own throat.
Seeing their leader give up, the guards stood down. “Don’t be fools,” Omast said. “The walls need us.” He pulled the arrow from his shoulder and Qumeel healed his wound. “Thanks. Now, does anyone have any bolts?” he asked.
“I’ve got some,” Lazlo said sheepishly. “Come on, boys, let’s get those bastards.” As they began firing, Qumeel was pretty sure he heard voices, possibly those of women and children, approaching from the other side of the building.
Lucky Days saw the flames first, and ran forward to investigate. Tyari was horrified at the sight of the blaze. “That was where we were keeping our medical supplies! Commander Jagrin was supposed to be guarding it.”
As she spoke, Lucky Days reached the front of the building and spotted the sword. She tried to pull it out, but the heat coming from the blaze caused her to recoil. As she tried to consider what to do, she spotted a dead body in among the flames. Unsure what to do, she turned to run back to the others, but stopped as she nearly ran into Tyari, who had run after her.
As the priestess rounded the corner, she spotted a burst of ice as Valbrand used his magical armband, beginning to quench the flames with ice. “What’s going on here?!” she demanded of the large man.
“It is a very long tale. Perhaps, when we have time, I will tell it to you.”
“Why not now?” she asked.
“Take a look above you, consider the view. If you haven’t noticed, please do,” Kermit said, pointing at the orcs on the wall. He then powered down and hopped onto Lucky Days’ shoulder. “Shall we go?” he asked. Lucky Days didn’t answer, but sped towards battle.
Valbrand jumped forward, blocking an arrow that would have struck the priestess with his shield. His response was drowned out by the sound of gunfire as Gwen rounded the corner and immediately began shooting at orcs. She downed one as Kermit and Lucky Days crossed the distance.
At that speed, the grippli went flying over an orc as Lucky Days stopped to fight. He then powered up and tore another orc to ribbons. The orcs didn’t even wait to watch Lucky Days decapitate her foe before fleeing. Word of the terrifying monster that was Kermit in his suit had spread. The orcs weren’t staying around to face him.
Gwen watched with a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment as the orcs fled, happy that they had been repelled, but disappointed that she hadn’t managed to kill more of their foes before routing them. Then she noticed that the other members of the watch weren’t cheering. Instead, they seemed to have gathered around something she couldn’t quite see just outside of the smoldering building.
A voice was saying something. “He was doing what he thought was right. I just wish we could have stopped him.” She knew that voice. Omast noticed her and stood. He was holding something in his hand as he approached. “Commander Grath was not a bad man,” he said. “He was just a man, forced to deal with life’s traumas with no way to cope.” As he spoke, he placed the object in her hand. It was a hopeknife. Rodrik’s hopeknife. And it was smeared with blood.
Her heart nearly burst out of her chest in panic. She couldn’t breathe. “Was?” she managed to ask as terror gripped her.
The knife fell from the girl’s hand and struck the floor with loud clang as she rushed through the crowd. “Out of her way!” Lazlo called out to the others, who moved to allow Gwen to pass.
The dam holding back her emotions since the death of Rodrik broke as she looked upon the lifeless face of Jagrin Grath, her uncle, the man who had taken her in when she had nothing. Tears flowed from her eyes and the guards watched awkwardly, feeling guilty for their role in everything that had transpired as she wept over the man’s body, repeatedly asking “Why?” over and over.
Even Valbrand could think of nothing to say as he watched the scene.
A tear fell from Tyari’s eye as her heart broke for the girl, but she knew that they weren’t safe. Moreover, something was wrong. “I left you three at the barricade with the acolytes,” she said to Lazlo, Cuthbert and Rowan.
Halgra’s eyes narrowed. “We will discuss how you abandoned your post later. Get the body. We have to move.” She looked at Valbrand. “Call over your companions. We’re moving.” Valbrand whistled and Kermit turned to look at him, then the big man waved the grippli over. “Therese,” she said to one of the older women in the group as she collected the hopeknife from the ground.
The older woman nodded and went to Gwen’s side. She helped the sobbing girl up and moved her into the group with the children and they all began moving once more towards the barricade. The journey took some time, perhaps half an hour, but finally they were in sight of the barricade when Lucky Days, Valbrand and Kermit – the latter from the shoulder of the large man – noticed something strange in among the acolytes from their place in the party’s vanguard.
Sitting among the surviving townsfolk was the strange pair of guards, Douglas and Brollerth. They were surrounded by the decapitated heads of several dozen orcs. The orcs’ faces were all frozen in expressions of surprise and terror.
Douglas flipped his hair in acknowledgment of their arrival. “Ohmygod, like hey guys,” he said.
Omast looked at the duo with a combination of amazement and horror. “You two killed all of these orcs?” he asked.
“Well, uh, uh, these were just the ones we could carry,” Douglas said.
Brollerth looked up from one of the skulls as he finished packing it with explosives. “What? Like, where did you think I got all those mines from?”
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