Vulūne 18-20, 653 DR: A stop in the central square. Explosions rattle the Carved City. The rampaging of monstrous insects. Dammon’s vision. Alley of the Neðérim. The fiery barge. Keepers of the Golden Square. The coming of Yar Zàkgrūdzek. A few well-placed arrows. Disruption of the inner pattern. The unknowable fate of Zildara of Zalan. A shark in Lærena’s Bay. The weakest link. The collapse of the Great Diagram. Escape into the southern lands. A night in the company of Riders. The village of Ðarm and the awaiting ship.
Continued from An Old Friend, No More.
Amdor, 18 Vulūne 653
Everyone in the marketplace place stopped and looked to the south. The sound of an explosion rang in their ears. As hundreds craned their heads to see passed the tents and carved rooftops, a column of smoke drifted up and into view. The marketplace was soon filled with agitated whispers and then screaming as a second explosion rang from somewhere to the north. A third explosion sounded was closer, sending crockery and trinkets crashing to the worn cobblestones. Soon, explosions could be heard from all directions. Even atop the inanimate Graiç, there was little Fyrgol could see except at first except tendrils of smoke rising throughout the City of Nōyn Dag. Then something changed. The Feyri noticed shimmering walls growing around the marketplace. He grabbed Zildara and yelled to the others. As the companions grouped around the wagon, shrill screams rose from the crowds. It was Zêla who first saw the monsters charging through the crowds, throwing people aside like straw dolls. They appeared to be giant insects outlined with glowing patterns of dark design. The creatures stood on powerful hind-legs and leaped toward their prey with small buzzing wings, and ripping at their targets with savage claws and mandibles. Fyrgol warned his companions about the shimmering walls that now criss-crossed the marketplace. As he watched, people fled into the invisible curtains. As they entered there was a twisting image as another insect monster emerged in exchange. While the insect gained its bearings, Fyrgol could see the silent image of victim being dragged into the Nether. Being one of the only ones able to see the curtains, Fyrgol jumped from the wagon to join Baggar in guiding the group toward an empty alley.
As they neared the alley, one of the monsters stopped and leaped toward them. Tressta met the thing with her saber. Dodging away from most of its bulk, the Taládan was still slammed against the cobblestones as the thing charged through. Jak turned and buried his Carámic spear into the monster to half-haft. The giant monster shuddered and collapsed to the cobbles, the tracings of the light etched designs that covered its carapace flickered and faded. As they took a second to examine the creature, which was half again as tall as an Yrūn, another appeared in the alley entrance. Fyrgol fired an arrow at the thing, which lodged between its chitinous plates. Fixing its attention on the group, it launched its great bulk forward. Jak stepped in front of Fyrgol and punched the spear through its shimmering exoskeleton. The thing’s mandibles and claws flailed as it too crumbled to the ground. Unconvinced that the thing was dead, Jak jerked his spear free and stabbed the monster again until the strange tracings of light faded. Fyrgol ducked into the alley and reported that there was another shimmering wall around the corner. He suggested that the alley should be safe so long as no one goes through the curtain.
Regrouping inside the alley, Tressta noticed an odd sight toward the center of the marketplace. A group of three people were upsetting a pole tent, overturning tables in a circle, and climbing under the collapsed tent. It looked like people were climbing under the tent and disappearing. While they watched this strange event, Jak pointed to a long figure sitting on an elaborately carved eave high above the marketplace. The man knelt at the roof’s edge, holding a tall pole with both hands. Ērēus volunteered to stay in the alley and protect the monks while the others inspected the tent closer. Jak led the others toward the collapsed tent, to find a small hole in the middle of the marketplace cobbles. The people had escaped underground. From the vantage of the marketplace center, Fyrgol took another look at the rooftop figure with a pole. As he turned, he saw others on similar rooftops. Peering into the invisible, it all became clear to him. The magical curtains that were producing the insect monsters, emanated from these poles. The marketplace was surrounded by them, making escape impossible. As he watched, Baggar motioned for the Feyri to look up. Standing above them stood a massive insectoid shape, that towered over the city’s queer rooftops. The image flickered and faded before growing stronger and more clear. Something was trying to manifest! Jak and Fyrgol both pulled their bows and began shooting at the nearest pole-holder. Fyrgol’s first arrow struck the man and the pole dipped forward. Baggar warned that there could be more curtains than they realized, and that disrupting the pattern could re-write the design, imperiling them all! Jak fired again and missed. Fyrgol loosed a second arrow, and watched as the shaft buried itself into the man’s leg. The man toppled from his perch, the pole falling forward. Both Fyrgol and Baggar watched as the shimmering curtain swept across the marketplace. Fyrgol and Baggar dove to one side as the invisible curtain slashed between them. Zildara turned to look as the wall sailed through her body. All watched helplessly as she was sucked into thin air and a monster stepped out to take her place. The thing turned on Zêla and ripped at the woman with its claws. Jak stepped between them and made short work of the giant bug, stabbing it repeatedly until the lights died. As Jak killed the insect, Baggar watched in horror as he saw a silent and screaming image of Zildara being pulled further and further into the Nether. The two drew their bows again and soon shot another pole-holder from the roof. Fyrgol and Baggar shouted directions to the group, as a second curtain swept between them, carving the martketplace into eight sections. The archers turned their attentions to a third rooftop, hoping to break the ritual and keep the giant image above them from becoming real.
Elsewhere, Dammon parted company with Gezen of Tahl. Stepping onto the deck of the Drūn Ilar ship, the magician heard a distant explosion to the south of the city. Dammon searched around but his Conscience was nowhere near. As he looked up and down the wharf a series of additional explosions rocked the city. Before he could shift into bird form, the magician’s world reeled away from him and he was entombed in darkness. From the impenetrable dark, four eyes shone forth with a silvery light that burned into his soul. “Tathan”, issued a terrible voice, “Do you know why I have summoned you to this deep place?” After a long silence, something massive shifted its coils in the dark. “These are dangerous matters my Mortal Friend. Much that has been done may be undone by these actions.” Again, the words were followed by the silence of an unheard response. “If you should fail, I will have no recourse but to close the way. You will be lost forever.” Again the mass shifted in the darkness. “Then so be it. It will never cease to intrigue me how Mortals can be so cavalier with their few days afforded them. Take care of the Staff of Echoes, and may your gods carry you upon their shoulders.” With that, Dammon found himself on the deck of the ship, his jeweled staff lying nearby. Picking himself up he looked again at the city and saw several columns of smoke rising from varying points throughout. The screams of people from unseen streets and buildings reached his ears. Peering into the invisible, he saw a pattern of curtains criss-crossing the city. The magician immediately recognized the pattern as a diagram, drawn across the entire city! There were great magics work in Nōyn Dag and Dammon would find out who and what was behind this! Following the nearest curtain to its focus, the magician spied a strange burning barge in the bay. It was a sizable square platform with a single spike rising from its center. Green flames rose around the spike, feeding on what appeared to be skewered bodies, curled and blackened. Recalling the image of the sharks of Ularyalok, Dammon fashioned a spell to transform himself into one of the great fish and dove into the waters of Lærena’s Bay. Swimming toward the heavy barge, the shark-shaped Dammon wrestled with the platform, but could not upset it. Pulling and tugging the anchored raft with his rows of teeth however, the magician was able to pull the flaming spike out of alignment with the rest of the magical pattern. As the spike moved from its carefully planned position, the eastern corner of the diagram failed and with it the shimmering curtains. Pleased with his effort, Dammon swum back to the departing ship and climbed onto its deck as an Yrūn. Gezen greeted him aboard and congratulated him for interrupting what appeared to be Vereçi efforts. The wizard offered to take Dammon to Tahl, but agreed instead to drop him off along the shore south of Nōyn Dag.
Within the city, both Fyrgol and Baggar watched with amazement as the curtains fell one-by-one. Ērēus yelled for the monks to grab the wagon and start leaving. Jak pushed through the remaining crowd to the body of one of the fallen cultists. Dragging the man back to Baggar, they heaved the body onto the wagon. Tressta grabbed the man’s pole and was surprised to see an eye inset into the pole’s top. As she examined the eye, it appeared to scrutinize her in return. With a quick motion, Tressta undid her cloak and wrapped it around the pole’s end. Running across the marketplace, she soon caught up with the group as they moved back into the city streets. Fyrgol watched the passing crowds as the group pushed toward the southern edge of the city. Spirit horses moved invisibly through the crowds, seeking any remaining Urvardar. The dead lay throughout the city, savagely clawed and torn into pieces. The monks of Drāūn, dressed in peasant clothes, kept their eyes forward. These were heathen dead and not their concern.
Within a watch, the group exited the city onto a country road with wound south through dense farmland. At the base of the southern-most column of smoke stood a shattered black barn engulfed in green flames. Through the holes in its blasted sides, the group could clearly see a tall metal spike sheathed in a dozen Feyri bodies. As the road turned toward the bay, the group saw a familiar chalk-skinned passenger stepping from a rowboat. Dammon thanked his escorts, which headed back out to a large sailing ship anchored off the shore. As the reunited group walked south, they exchanged stories about their experiences in Nōyn Dag. As the day grew dark, they came to an inn and decided it was safe to spend one night in comfort before reaching the ship that waited for them. Zêla accompanied Tressta to her room, to see to her wounds. Dammon and Jak accompanied Baggar behind the stables, where the wagon had been parked. There the Riverwalker channeled a spell to speak with the dead cultist. They first asked why the ritual was performed now. The cultist’s spirit, sitting upright within its lifeless body, responded that they had been “waiting for the messenger and the messenger had come.” Baggar and the others were perplexed by this, and so asked what messenger had come. The spirit responded, explaining “the messenger who lived within two worlds”. Before Baggar could ask another question, the spirit seemed to become frightened and started yelling such that people in the inn might hear its pleas! Though most of its words seemed nonsensical, its final words were clear. “We failed. The Dark Age will continue. Yar Zakgrudzek promised to return the magic. We have failed.” All that witnessed the spirit’s answers exchanged glances and then abandoned the wagon.
Wōdìndor, 19 Vulūne 653
In the morning, the group reluctantly gathered their things and left the comfortable inn. They moved quickly along the country road so that they could reach the Village of Tharm by nightfall. At one point, when the road was empty except for them, they deposited the cultist’s body over an embankment. That evening, they passed through a number of farming hamlets until they reached the bay-side village they sought. They moved slowly through the rutted village streets until they reached a small harbor. At the end of a long pier waited a merchant ship. Sailors emerged to meet the group upon the pier and were pleased to see the monks among them, but disappointed that their numbers were so few. After brief introductions, the wagon’s cargo was brought onto the ship. After everyone was onboard the dockmaster and his crew were summoned from a local tavern, fees were settled, and the ship was pulled into the bay. Once free of the harbor, the pilots oared themselves clear, the sails were opened, and the group moved out toward the sea. Once clear of the shore, the sailors hoisted the sails and dropped anchor. They did not have enough crew to sail through the night and felt safer on the waves than in Tharm.
Iyldor, 20 Vulūne 653
The group awoke to the sounds of straining timbers and the ship lurching with the wind. The sailors were awake early and the ship was underway again before dawn. Most of the first day was spent between decks, staying out of the way of the sailors, testing their knowledge of Tradespeak, and teaching Fyrgol (the quickest learner among them) the basics of Oðic. Barring unforeseen circumstances, Ælyri Ildûn lay behind them. According to the monks of Ealyma, their next stop would be in civilized lands. Tressta watched as the distant shore passed by, trying to remember a time when a voyage had gone as planned.
Continued in The Damnation of Garvyd.
Characters
- Dammon Shroudson = 4 CPs (238)
- Fyrgol = 4+2 CPs (164)
- Jak of Cænden = 4 CPs (231)
- Tressta Drynsval = 4 CPs (224)
- Baggar of Ealyma (Monk)
- Calyedin of Moreun
- Ērēus of Amra = 2 CPs (312)
- Familiar = Unkn.
- Gezen of Tahl (Wizard)
- Graiç of Mazzam = 0 CPs
- Kalvan of Ealyma (Monk)
- Seúra of Ealyma (Monk)
- Teléek of Ealyma (Monk)
- Yar Zakgrudzek (Neðérim)
- Zêla ma Ler = 2 CPs (174)
- Zildara of Zalan = 2 CPs (205): lost
Played: 08 Mar 2008