Maran 6-9, 653. Vorén sneaks into the grounds of Kurúm Adjàdâr and is captured. Zuroolly and Ferveo meet Nassir in northern Zembra while looking for the Neveren. Sorties into the demesne find resistance from Varsti. Vorén escapes his cell and waits for an opportunity to escape the mansion. An entourage from Jædð arrives in Zembra to investigate Rallēa’s disappearance and deliver judgement to the estate chamberlain. During the execution, Vorén escapes into the pale dawn.

Continued from Voice from Beyond the Veil.

Ildor, 6 Maran 653

Vorén climbed beneath and along the underside of the arched bridge, ducking into the river reeds on the far shore. A stone’s throw away he heard guards discussing trouble coming to Kurúm Adjàdâr from Jædð. Once he distanced himself from the guards, he slipped from the bank to the woods, picking his way through the trees and gardens until he reached the central building. There, on the edge of the trees he looked for a moment at the pristine walls and large glass windows. In the softly lit interior he could see paintings, lavish furniture and tapestries, all lined with silver and gold. Before he could look closer he saw the graceful canine form of a Varst moving quietly toward him. Its expressionless eyes regarded him briefly before it bared dual-rows of razor teeth and pounced. Drawing his blade he struck at the creature, digging his point into its slick flesh. Pulling away his sword to stab again, blood poured from the monster but it did not scream or shudder as he hacked. Twice the creature bit savagely into his ivory flesh, and until the final blow neither combatant felt assured of victory. When all was finished, Vorén looked down at the twitching body and stabbed his blade into its neck. Once the thing was still, he limped back into the trees anxious to find binding for his injuries and put distance between himself and this place. On his way back toward the creek he came back to three buildings he presumed to be servants’ quarters. Presuming more Varsti might be about he approached the smallest building and knocked on the door, after a time a voice answered and an older man in rich night-clothes answered. The man look quizically at the injured Neveren. Drawing information from an earlier conversation, Vorén said that he was from Jædð. Kerōzam’s expression changed and he stepped back from the door, making arcane motions. Vorén found himself surrounded by webs choking the entryway, but managed to tumble away from the worst of them in the instant they began to form. Both men pulled their weapons and attacked. But soon Vorén saw the world around him reel and darken. Looking down he saw Kerōzam’s knife planted firmly into his side.

Ferveo and Zuroolly left the inn to search for their pale comrade, Vorén. Silda had returned to her bed overtaken by fatigue and fever. She was in no condition to move, nevertheless search, for her longtime companion. With some helpful directions from townspeople, they soon found the North Pier Road where two arched bridges spanned a wide dark creek. On the creek’s far side a trio of guards stood alert, watching the comings and goings of all along the road. Nearer the eastern bridge they found a tall brown-skinned man with a polearm sitting on the banks of the creek, staring off at the gardens and tree-lined paths on the other side of the water. The man introduced himself as Nassir, a wanderer. After some talk it was decided that he could help them recover Vorén if indeed the Neveren had ever made it onto the royal grounds. For the remains of the day, they found an inn window and watched the road for signs of people that might cross the bridges. Come evening a fishmonger’s cart was pulled forward, but the guards called for a servant who came forward, purchased some fish and left. They decided that they’d have to find a more direct path. After retrieving the delirious Silda, the four traveled further along the waterside road, testing the waters for “life”. All that was thrown into the churning black waters disappeared into a froth of activity. They would not be swimming across. Eventually they came to a swell in the creek where fishing boats with odd metal traps were pulled onto the shore for the night. Climbing into a boat they quietly rowed themselves across with their banded oars. On the far side they pulled the boat up into the undergrowth and started out through the demesne.

In time they came to a curved road lined with beautiful old trees. On the far side of the road were elaborate gardens and statues, and more trees. Heading west along the road they saw a silhouetted canine shape standing in the road before them. After regarding them a moment the dog ran forward, its teeth gleaming in the moons’ half-light. Atop the levee across the road another Varst appeared with a bowman. The canines ripped and teared at them as the bowman fired arrows into the fray. Silda let out an echoing scream as she tore herself from her delerium. Striking at the dog-creature her greatsword erupted into ruby flame, casting an eerie red glow over the battle. Soon Nassir and Silda charged the bowman but once they reached him Silda’s hand and sword fell limply to her side and she stood again, dazed and useless. Nassir, hacked at the ranger with his scimitar and soon Ferveo was beside him, a blur of fists and feet. They won the fight, but none without great injury, so they decided to leave and come back later.

Beneath the mansion, Vorén sat rubbing his joints which were terribly stiff and ached when he moved about the small cellar room. Outside a locked door, he could hear a guard talking to himself. Vorén made some noises to alert the man, but did not respond when the guard called to him. Finally, the guard opened the door and looked in to find what looked like the prisoner sleeping on a crate at the rear of the cellar room. He entered and kicked the bundle of straw asking if the prisoner was finally awake. When he discovered the ruse he yelled that the prisoner had escaped and rushed back into the hall. Meanwhile, Vorén slipped from his dark corner and found someplace else to hide in basement. Soon the hall was filled with activity as guards opened and closed many doors looking for the escaped prisoner. Though far from free, Vorén had not only escaped from the room, but from framing for Rallēa’s disappearance. In the days to come, he would hide-out in the mansion basement waiting for his chance to leave.

Īrùlor, 7 Maran 653

The next day was spent at the inn tending wounds. Nassir did his best to help, but his attentions did little good. The next evening, Zuroolly and Ferveo asked Nassir outside the inn to see if he noticed the wounded spectral guardian standing outside the door. Nassir claimed to see nothing out of the ordinary.

That night Ferveo and Zuroolly returned to the estate grounds alone, Nassir remaining too hurt to travel. Crossing the creek again in the fishing boat they returned to the circling road and continued further along its length. At the levee’s end where the road is no longer recessed, they climbed to a high place and saw a stone gazebo where the small lake ended and fine gardens spread in all directions. Crossing the gardens they caught a glimpse of the interior mansion with its domed roofs and wide glass windows. Having come close enough, still without any sign of their comrade, the two left. As they retreated through the forest, searching for that area where they’d pulled the boat to shore Ferveo became aware of another Varst tracking them through the darkness. It was decided to keep moving for neither were ready for another fight. Once they found the boat and pushed off with their banded oars they saw the Varst standing on the shore watching them leave. When they reached the far shore, it was gone.

Rodor, 8 Maran 653

In the morning the inn was buzzing with news that a great ship had arrived at the Run Sùlūð docks. Zuroolly gathered his things and walked to the great pier where a great river ship had docked with flags of the royal family snapping on the masts. A grand carriage, drawn by four horses charged down the North Pier Road. Its driver and footmen were all finely attired and a soldier at each door wore polished armor and long rich purple cloaks. When the carriage arrived at the docks a contingent of similarly appointed soldiers marched off the boat, falling into formation near the carriage. Finally, an entourage disembarked and climbed into the carriage before it circled and returned in the direction it had come from, back toward Kurum Adjàdâr. Something important was happening at the estate, but Zuroolly had no idea what it might be, so he returned to the inn and explained what he had seen to the others.

When night again arrived, they found a southern crossing to row across and once again entered the royal demesne. Approaching the estate house from the south was much different as the grounds on this side were less tended. They moved slowly through the underbrush, keep eyes and ears open for the wicked Varsti that roamed the grounds. They found and passed some servant buildings and followed a well-worn trail toward the center of the estate where the great house rose at the center of radiating gardens. From the confines of the trees, Zuroolly pulled out his toad familiar and set it hopping out beneath the moonlight, to get a closer look and to hear what was going on. Through the wide mansion windows they could see a meeting in the southern room. Many were gathered including a man in rich robes. An older man was seated in a chair between many standing, and was asked questions. The toad reported back that the windows were too tall for him to see in, and that the talk inside was muffled by the stone and glass. He did manage to hear that someone was being judged for something that had gone wrong. Zuroolly urged the familiar to look around for something more, and except for a small venture up and into the open kitchen door (where he met a rat), the toad found nothing but grew very, very tired and hungry. Unable to learn more, the three left.

Sūdor, 9 Maran 653

The morning’s light did not filter into the cellar hall, but there was movement in the mansion and Vorén knew something was happening. The evening before the old man from the small servant’s house had been brought to a lower room and guards had been posted for the night. Now, a group was coming down the stairs and stopping before the cell door of the chamberlain. The guards entered the cell and carried the man out and up the stairs, the stationed guards followed. After hearing the footsteps move toward the west end of the house, the Neveren moved from his hiding place and silently moved up the stairs into the mansion. The opulent chambers he found above were empty. The constant guard that had stymied his escape from the basement was absent. Servants called out to him as he slipped through the kitchen but he did not stop, and was soon crossing swiftly through the gardens under the dawn’s pale light. Once he reached the trees he saw a gathering in the western gardens; the chamberlain brought to the feet of a statue where an executioner stood waiting. More concerned with the brightening of day, Vorén raced into the shadows of the trees, leaving behind him the gardens and the servants’ quarters. He ran and ran, though his limbs grew stiff and and his body ached. Racing through the underbrush he became acutely aware that he was running slower and that his breath was growing more shallow and strained. Somewhere out here, there must be shelter, someplace to hide from the cursed sun. Finally, he burst into a clearing, and was nearly blinded by the daylight. He found some storage buildings near where the creek fed into the Run Sùlūð. Pushing passed those that stood there, the Neveren found an open door and slipped into the comfort of the shadows within. Vorén did not know what would befall him if he did not find shelter, but his fear of daylight had kept him alive this long, there was no sense in exploring it further. Pushing back into a recess between some barrels, he folded himself up as tightly as he could manage with his stiff joints, and waited for the day to pass.

“The Great and Majestic High Lady of Jadth commands you be returned to the Dream of Sudul, to be there remade by the great shaper in the image of good people, and that your wicked and dishonorable soul be consumed by Daggon’s thousands, so that you may no longer soil the land of the great Suluth, and bring evil to its people. Here then we commit your body and your spirit to the world beyond the Sleeping veil, your wickedness is ended– It is done. Sudul forgive us ending this Dream divinely crafted. We remain insects in your great design but strive faithfully in your eternal name to become worthy servants. We pray you take this spirit and reshape it into a form that may serve you better, and teach us your great will.” Malediction of Treason, Spoken Maran 9, 653, Kurum Adjàdâr

Continued in Dangerous Turns.

• Ferveo Cælestis
• Talôr Dal-Vorenen
• Silda of Wurm
• Zuroolly Hicubaba
• Rallēa Adjàdâr
• Kerōzam (Sorcerer)
• Nassir

Played: 20 Jul 2001. Note: The malediction once included mention of the Fisherman’s shore, asking that Drāūn not pull the condemned’s body from the River of the Dead. This passage was removed around 356 DR when it was decided that those to be “re-made” were accepted directly into Dream and never fell into the claws of Kyrçul.