Flald 15 – Eren 2, 653 DR: An inn for Jak and Saldus. A changed Dammon is found on the waterside by the piers of east Boronon. Farewell to Valus. The Widower takes to the sea. Dammon finds a strange friend on board. Shalvàsal, a city preparing for war. The luring whispers of the Sornràldar. The great port of Taldàna. Audience with High Priestess Elésea the Ninth. A journey done.

Continued from The Dragul Box.

Alídor, 15 Flald 653

Kzar Boron behind them, Jak and Saldus walked down the castle mount and found an inn. After a good common meal, and some drinks, the warriors gave their wounds a rest.

Kændor, 16 Flald 653

Taryur, captain of the Widower, explained to Jak that his friend Tressta had been checking in lately, and was in the city. He had seen nothing of fifth passenger, Dammon. Relieved that she had escaped the castle, Jak told the captain where he and Salduswere staying. Taryur explained that fare or not, the ship would leave the next morning. Almost all the goods were lashed under the deck and losing a day, would be lost profit. Jak returned to the inn, to find Saldus and his son waiting in the common room. Valus had some luck the last few days working in taverns, biding his time until his ship left for Oð. He was still unhappy about returning before the quest was done, but had come to terms with his father’s request. Over the day’s course, Tressta and Ezíkus arrived with a stranger in tow. They introduced her as Zildara of Kændal, and retold the story of how she’d helped them escape from Kzar Boron. Reunited, everyone ate and drank well into the evening.

Late that night, a wharf man entered the pub and started telling stories of a stranger found under the piers. “White as ghost,” the man explained between ales. He had told the story before in other taverns that night, stretching the news as far as he could until the drinks stopped coming. “Queerest thing,” the man explained. “Never seen a thing like it.” Jak grabbed his things and headed toward the docks with Saldus close behind him. After walking along the wharf, they saw a crowd gathered around the tenth pier. Climbing into the muddy slope beneath, they found a white man laying face down in the slime, the brackish waters lapping at his legs. Turning the man over, Jak recognized him as Dammon. His companion looked bad however, and his skin was like chalk white paper. Lifting him from the mud, Jak carried the unconscious magician from the water’s edge. As he tossed the body up onto the wharf planks a familiar clawed weight and landed on Jak’s back and voice whispered “Take him away. Get him out of here!” The crowd parted as Jak and Saldus carried the bone white figure through the streets of Boronon. Back at the inn, the festivities came to a stop as they moved through the proceeded up to their rooms, depositing the magician on a bed. Zildara examined the man’s body but could find no wounds to heal. Returning downstairs, they rejoined the farewell party for Valus.

Malídor, 17 Flald 653

The next morning, Dammon awoke without any memory of how he’d come to the inn. Saldus sat nearby, watching him suspiciously. Using a bowl to wash the mud from himself, the magician was startled to find the flaky texture of his colorless skin. Saldus only shrugged and explained that his things had appeared during the night. “I’ll tell the others you’re awake. The ship leaves in a watch or two.” Alone, Dammon scratched at his skin and watched with fascination as flakes of it drifted to the ground. Beneath the old was new. Finding a mirror, he also found that his eyes had become a clear gray. He touched his face but could not feel it, as if his skin was dead to all sensation. Dammon tried to ask his Conscience about his condition, but the creature either wasn’t near or didn’t answer. Soon, Jak was in the room asking questions about where he had been the last few days. The magician thought of this, but couldn’t remember them clearly. After washing, Dammon rejoined the others. Jak gathered Dammon’s things and ushered everyone down to the docks, where the Widower’s last preparations were underway.

Aboard the ship, the group found that most of the crew was Sharan black. The captain later explained that he had hired the crew in Kændal and that they were expert sailors. Their ship had been lost rounding the horn from Panæð and they had traveled North on foot, for several months before reaching the Fertile Coast. A tall man led the group to their room below deck. A series of hammocks were slung between the walls and a large chest was bolted into the center of the floor. Shortly after they settled in to their cabin, they could hear orders being shouted from above, and feel the ship moving away from the pier. Saldus and others climbed to the deck to watch the City of Boronon grow more distant, but by the time they reached the railing it was already hard to distinguish between the people on the docks. Saldus returned to the cabin, wondering if he’d ever see his son again.

That evening, Agga the cook invited the five to eat dinner with Captain Taryur. At dinner, the captain told them some about his career but was much more interested in hearing the group’s stories. After the meal, the group retired to their cabin. Before going to sleep, Dammon Weaved an Undying Vorbid into Jak’s ring.

Amdor, 18 Flald 653

A day at sea. Again the captain invited the group to dinner. After hearing their tales the previous night, he was more willing to share his own stories. Between stuffing food into his mouth, he explained that he’d been hired to captain the Widower about four years ago in Kændal. The ship was old then and came at a good price. The owner, a man named Kryhs Ardakhyr, had found the ship adrift at sea. The ship was abandoned and her sails were shredded. His ships brought it into dock where they spent a good deal of effort getting her back into working shape. During the clean-up, they discovered the ship was named the Widower. Registry ledgers from Kændal to Taldàna were checked, but there was no record. After a year of searching, Ardakhyr became the legal owner and hired Taryur as its captain. The captain went onto explain that he hired the cook at a northern port, though he didn’t remember which one. Agga was standing on the pier when they docked, crying because she didn’t know where her husband was. They tried to help her, but she couldn’t remember his name, or anything about him. “But,” the captain added, “she’s a good cook. So we kept her.” As Taryur laughed, eyes turned to find Agga standing in the back of the cabin. She didn’t seem bothered by the captain’s mirth, or anything else.

After dinner, Dammon Shroudson wandered onto the desk of the ship to look at the dark rolling sea, and the stars above. His second day aboard the Widower, the magician was able to stand on the deck without feeling like he would be pitched into the sea with every roll. Weaving an Orádra, he scanned the ship and night crew as they went about their duties. To his surprise, one sailor showed a bright dweomer over his entire form. Dammon Shroudson walked over to the sailor and tried to start a conversation, but the black man did not respond. Looking around, the magician noticed that others were watching. Dammon pressed the sailor to answer him. The sailor stopped at looked at the pale white magician. Finally, in a strangled voice, the crewman said his name was Urmba The captain waved Dammon over and explained to him, “He’s different than the others. He used to be fine. The others really liked him, as much as one can tell. That changed a while back when he fell overboard. We thought he was dead. These Sharans don’t swim real well. But Urmba, he came back. He hasn’t spoken much since the accident and no one trusts him anymore.”
Dammon thanked the captain for the information and returned to the sailor. Urmba hadn’t moved. He stood still, returning nervous glances at those that glared at him from the deck and rigging. Dammon tried to get him to ignore the others. After a muted exchange, Urmba repeated the word “Darum”. Dammon pointed at Urmba and repeated the word. The sailor acknowledged it and struck Dammon Shroudson with a casual slap of his hand. “Darum”, he repeated. Urmba then motioned toward the other crew members and used a different word. Dammon determined that somehow both he and Umbra were “Darum”, but the others were not. Figuring the word meant “magic”, Dammon wondered what the nature of his Mūátra dweomer might be. Based on the captain’s story, Dammon assumed that Urmba was not the sailor everyone had known, but instead an impostor who had taken his form when the sailor had fallen overboard. The magician didn’t care; there was nothing else interesting happening on this voyage.

Wōdìndor, 19 Flald 653

During their next days at sea, Jak tried to learn some Kændàlic from Zildara. When evening came, Dammon would visit with Urmba and try to learn words from the sailor’s “native” tongue. Dammon’s Conscience had no guesses about the nature of the language, and didn’t understand why the magician cared. The crewmen were growing excited by the discovery of eviscerated rats in the lower decks, and rumors were circulating that a predator of some kind was on board.

Iyldor, 20 Flald 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Irídor, 21 Flald 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Roydor, 22 Flald 653

Well into the night, Urmba roused Dammon from his sleeping and led him onto the deck. Sitting along the railing of the ship’s prow stood six fish-like creatures, standing in pale green light of Mamra’s half-face. As they greeted each other in the language of Urmba, the sailor’s magic faded and his shape changed into a likeness of the creatures. After much hushed conversation between the awful looking things, Urmba changed back into his Yrūn form and addressed Dammon, as best he could. “Gift Dammon” he said as one of the creatures produced a beautifully carved bone scroll tube. Inside, the magician found a rolled piece of gray parchment inscribed with a strange script he couldn’t read. Urmba explained, “Friend Zultàya. Important. Paper. Dammon keep gift?” The magician nodded, and put the tube into his belt. Each of the Zultàya nodded at this, the green moon reflecting eerily in their wide lidless eyes. One by one, the creatures climbed back over the ship’s side and disappeared beneath the dark sea waves. Unsure of what had just transpired, Dammon returned to his hammock.

While the others went about their daily routines, Dammon remained in his hammock, studying the strange parchment.

Sūdìdor, 23 Flald 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Talídor, 24 Flald 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Padídor, 25 Flald 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Bærídor, 26 Flald 653

After a rainy day at sea, the Widower approached a heavy fog. Taryur explained that they were near to their first port, the City of Shalvàsal in southern Taldàna. There would be a quick exchange of goods and then they would be heading north around the Horn of Caldàeð. As they pushed through the fog, the sun set and the lights of the coastal lit the fog like hundreds of Elōdāe Fel. Tressta explained to the others that she knew of the city, but had never visited. Captain Taryur explained that the City of Shalvàsal lay near the southern border of Taldàna. The Kingdom of Saranð laying only a day or more to the south.

By nightfall, the Widower was moored to a Shalvàsal pier and the Sharan crewmen were rolling barrels toward the waiting customs officer on the wharf. Zildara gathered her few possessions and entered the city to make some money. Dammon disembarked to find a temple to Amra, but found only a shrine with scented candles. Eager to spend a night or two off the ship, he found a nearby inn and bought a room.

Virídor, 27 Flald 653

In the morning, the rest of group entered the city to explore the strange port. As they walked the length of the pier they noticed that the wharf was filled with soldiers, sitting in small circles, resting against their packs. An army had moved into the city overnight. As Jak and Saldus maneuvered through the troops, the ex-soldier made a number of comments regarding their poor uniforms, and unprofessional manner. Saldus had wondered what to expect of Taládan soldiers, and was not impressed with what he saw. Stopping near a sergeant’s group, Saldus asked Tressta to translate. They learned that the soldiers were staging for a march to Kry Norand, a keep on the Saránði border, two days south of the city. Once all their numbers were accounted for, and their provisions filled, they would be leaving for the front. Saldus thanked the sergeant for his help, exchanged the proper respects, and the group continued onward. Saldus complained about what he’d seen for the rest of the day.

Within the city, the group learned that the troops were mobilizing to meet a building threat across the border. Saránði forces had been seen amassing troops along the southern range. Their purpose was unclear and there had been no communication between the two kingdoms since before anyone could remember. When asked what the outcome would be, an innkeeper seemed unconcerned, “You’ve seen how many soldiers are here. What do we have to fear?”

Elsewhere, the pale-skinned Dammon wandered deeper into the city, looking for books. He found a number of small bookstores and settled on a book entitled Tales of the Feyri. While conversing with the owner of the store, he learned that the woman was a Geographer. Happy to regale a paying customer with her prodigious knowledge of geography, she spent the next couple watches telling Dammon about the ten and eleven cities that used to comprise the Dekàli Empire. Furthermore, she talked some about the Second Acèntyri-Dekàli War and the legend that Acèntyran Ðardram still roamed the Old Empire, to ensure it never rise again. When asked about the soldiers gathering on the wharf, the bookseller explained that Saranð too was once part of the Old Empire, and that the Saránðyr and Taldànyr were more closely related than most cared to believe. Thanking her for her time and insight, Dammon took his book and returned to the Widower. On that night, Agga made a tasty dinner, but the captain was not to be found.

Palídor, 28 Flald 653

In the morning, Dammon handed Jak the book he’d purchased in Shalvàsal. The captain stormed through the ship, cursing and beating his fists on anything in his way. It seemed that with the army encamped inside the city, the costs of everything had ballooned overnight, and they would be unable to pick-up cargo for the leg to Taldàna for anything approaching a respectable price. Seething, Taryur ordered his crew into action, and the ship was soon under sail along the Shalvàsal Coast.

That evening, Dammon asked Tressta aside to talk about a “problem” he’d been having since leaving the City of Boronon. It seemed that the numbness resulting from his strange peeling skin, had not only deadened his sense of touch. While they talked there was a splash off the boat’s side, and they could hear the crew growing agitated on the deck above. Running up top from their windowless cabin, the group spied three winged red anthropoids hovering in the air. The things had the rudimentary aspects of an Yrūn female, but had shriveled red skin and eyes. Bat wings flapped slowly at their backs, as they beckoned the sailors forward with clawed fingers. Before the group could react, another crewman was caught in their unholy enchantment and walked off the ship’s edge into the sea. Zildara prayed for Blessing while Jak grabbed a bow and began firing at the monsters. Dammon was the next to answer the creatures’ “calls”, stepping from the boat’s railing and dropping to the water below. Unlike the sailors that flailed to stay afloat, Dammon stood within the water, not sinking passed his knees. Jak and Saldus continued firing from the boat. One by one the Sornràldar fell. As the entranced Dammon crossed the water, the thing hissed and lashed out with its talons. The claws ripped through his skin, tearing sheets of white tissue from his bones, but the magician felt nothing. Raising his jeweled staff, he struck at the winged monster. Seeing her charm broken, the thing turned and fled into the night. Dammon looked down at his feet in disbelief for a minute. His boots had let him walk through the water! Turning, he trudged back through the waves to catch the ship. Back onboard, he Dammon examined his wounds. Cuts that should have wounded him deeply, were barely visible. His staff however, had lost a stone.

Alídor, 1 Eren 653

An uneventful day of sailing.

Kændor, 2 Eren 653

As the Widower circled the ruined Colossus of Amra, they entered the still waters of the Nyr Alùrin. Here, a hundred ships sat at anchor, pennants snapping in the wind. Thousands of longboats and barges darted between the ships and the long stone wharfs, carrying people, cargo, and livestock to and fro. Everywhere there was motion. Everywhere there were people. The City of Taldàna itself was spread across the entire coast, unrestrained by a towering city wall, or encroaching forest. The rolling coast was lined with warehouses, taverns, shops, and custom houses, each with their white stone walls, and steep slate-blue roofs. Behind these, ranged hillsides covered with half-stone houses, intertwined with the ruins of ancient colonnades and crumbled manors and temples that must have been majestic in their day. Everywhere, there was color, from the blossoming vines and gardens to the colorful cloth banners that hung from every window. Brick and cobble avenues wound through this forest of pitched roofs, and white chimneys, converging on garden circles where statues of stone and bronze were elevated upon gleaming plinths. And above everything stood the high hill, Albùmor. Here stood the Kyrm Or’Amra and its network of domes connected by soaring bridges and filigree staircases. There, hidden behind a labyrinth of gardens, fountains, galleries, and waterfalls waited the High Lady of the Golden Goddess.

Tressta changed into her best clothes as the others cleaned themselves. After the ship creaked to a stop, the capstan turned, and the anchor dropped. Soon, the Widower was beset with rowing ships and offers to take passengers to shore. The group met with the captain, paid the remainder of their fares, and climbed into a waiting boat. Taryur bid them well and then was gone. In time, their boat was moored to the wharf and the group were on firm land again. As they gathered themselves a contingent of guards appeared, asking about their weapons and armor. Jak, who had been preparing for this, informed them that the group were ambassadors from the High Lord of Oð. The guards seemed confused at first, until Tressta explained their purpose in more detail. Again, Saldus was unimpressed, and made it known as they were escorted to Kyrm Or’Amra.

At the front of the High Temple, an attendant promptly disappeared into the shadowed galleries beyond the gate. It was not long before an older woman in white and gold robes appeared, and the gate was opened. As they stepped in and the gates closed behind she informed them that weapons would not be allowed within. After depositing their possessions in a side chamber, they were escorted through many ornate halls and gardens before arriving at a courtyard lit by thousands of candles hanging from wires above a series of tranquil pools. Sitting at the edge of one pool sat a lovely woman in beautiful white robes. Beside her sat a gold scepter, encrusted with gems that sparkled like stars in the candlelight. Greeting her visitors, she accepted the wrapped box and examined the Dragul medallions with some interest. Before they could warn her of the ward, she opened the box and withdrew a rolled paper which she took some minutes to read. The more she read, the more her disposition soured until she dropped the paper and turned to her guests. “Edgur is starting a war. Foolish, foolish man. A High Crown will need to be chosen. Everything will be lost. Thousands will die. Why must kings bring such destruction on their people? The Eylfāe are no threat. It has been hundreds of years since they were of consequence. Lanàdus and Ummon will answer of course. They have long thirsted for Immortal blood. Here is their call, the voice they have waited to hear. There are no Councils. One cannot create all this from nothing. There is no Empire, but there are many enemies. This is disastrous. We shall pay the price of this; every one of us.”

After composing herself, the High Lady turned back to the pool. “You have traveled far, Ambassadors of the Iron Crown. Stay here and enjoy rest for a time. The Temple and the City have much to offer. I must think on this delivery. I must respond. Somehow, I must respond.”

Continued in The Rape of Taldàna.

Characters

• Dammon Shroudson
• Jak of Cænden
• Tressta Drynsval
• Zildara of Zalan
• Agga
• High Priestess Elésea the Ninth of Amra
• Ezíkus of Roð
• Familiar
• Kryhs Ardakhyr
• Saldus Greymane
• Taryur
• Urmba
• Valus ur Saldus: departed

Played: 15 Jun 2002