Aldrūan 4-5, 653 DR: Pointed greetings from the dark. Dammon’s familiar reports strange goings-on. The long climb up. More dogs. An open-minded greeter. Inside the Eyes of Illûwyr lodge. Ultimatums and gambles lost. The death of Zêla ma Ler. Shyrd’s failed escape. Fyrgol’s appearance. The amateur chirurgeon begins his work. Dammon dispels the master’s ward. A venomous pet. Paltry rewards. Nedo’s bargain and revelations. Plans for Barádas and the coming winter.

Continued from The Descent.

Amdor, 4 Aldrūan 653

Arrows rained from the darkness, fell short, and skittered harmlessly across the skeleton-strewn cavern floor. The group retreated several paces. “We are but travelers,” Dammon announced across the yawning chasm. There was no response except for a few furtive movements within the distant honeycombed wall. As the group prepared for another volley, Dammon was interrupted by a sending from his Conscience, “That is interesting.” The magician turned his attention to the village far above them. “Where are you?” he asked across their mental tether. “Inside a building.” Dammon asked if it was pertinent to their situation below. The familiar did not know. “In one of the larger buildings,” the thing responded. “We couldn’t get back into the other one. There was a change in plans. The woman was taking the child-man to the building but there were people waiting. I followed them inside another building. There were five with weapons and dogs. They’re dragging the woman. The child-man was carried. They were waiting for them. They have the child-man on the ground. The woman is begging them to let her help him.” Dammon asked for specifics but his Conscience seemed unsure and unwilling to act alone. The magician turned his attention back to his companions. “We have to head back up. Zêla is in trouble.” The group turned to go, leaving Callain bewildered. “Are you psychic?” “He knows many things,” Tressta tried explaining, “We don’t ask questions.” “You’re weird,” the archer added. No one argued. “We should leave now,” Dammon urged.

The group left the cavern, stepped around the remains of Arsod Salðas, and returned to the debris mound at the center of the ring of pools. The plan was made for Dammon to levitate himself and Ērēus up to the basin complex and to hoist others up by rope. Dammon weaved the spell, grabbed the Taládan’s hand, and both were lifted into the darkness above. Soon, neither could be seen. Ērēus remained silent during the ascent, his skin crawling with disgust. It was not the magician’s inhuman chalk-like hand that disturbed him, but the thought of being enveloped by the magician’s unholy magics. After a long and dark journey, they reached the basin’s bottom and climbed onto the supporting beams. Ērēus shook the rope to signal their arrival and waited for the first passenger to climb into the bottom loop. Jak secured the rope around him and was soon being lifted in slow but steady jerks. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall,” Callain joked, taking several cautious steps out-of-the-way. Fyrgol’s blood still stained the pools nearest the stony mound. Soon Jak was also lifted into the dark, braced for a long and anxious journey upward. Though the sight of Fyrgol’s broken body was fresh in his mind, his thoughts drifted toward Zêla and faraway Dadra, whose face seemed harder and harder to conjure. They had left Oð in Maran, eight months ago; if they wintered in Nyl it will have been one year since he last saw his wife, and yet there were no imminent plans to return. After dreaming for some unknown time of things he’d seen, a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed his shoulder. Soon he was back atop the basin with his companions. Ērēus sat against one of the doors and rubbed his throbbing arms. It was Jak’s turn to lift the next person. Jak could tell by the weight that Callain was next. This made sense; the archer would be able to lift Tressta while he and Ērēus recovered. Jak pulled the man up hand-over-hand for what seemed like an eternity. Unable to see into the darkness below, he could not tell how far or how close Callain had been lifted. All he could sense was that his muscles were sore and his hands were cramped with fatigue. As he switched hands, his grip failed and the rope sped through his hands. “No! Not like this!” came a cry below. Jak seized the rope once more and winced as the rope burned to a stop within his fists. Having stopped Callain’s fall, he pulled out the Rod and set it into the air before him. Ērēus and Dammon moved forward to assist him. As he began pulling the rope again, they looped the rope around the stationary rod, creating a pulley. Callain reached the top and assisted in pulling Tressta up behind him.

Wōdìndor, 5 Aldrūan 653

After some discussion, Dammon wove another Annoch’s Rising and carried Jak to the well’s top. As they reached the lip, Dammon spied a spectacled figure standing in the courtyard. Two large hounds stood nearby growling clouds of steam into the cold night. They strained against their double-leashes as Jak jumped to the well’s far side, readying his spear for a fight. Dammon continued upward, the freezing winds buffeting his garments and stinging his eyes. As Jak raced around the well, Dammon prepared a Lāllan’s Lightning. The wrapped figure released the dogs and drew a short sword. He glancing nervously between the charging spear-man and the magician above, specifically the crackling globe of light that had appeared in Dammon’s hands. The first dog jumped back from Jak’s spear-point while the other was skewered through the chest. Both animals snarled and snapped at Jak who parried their attacks and stabbed the injured dog in the mouth. Pulling his spear from the collapsed dog’s head, Jak turned to the second beast. Across the courtyard, the anonymous swordsman jumped up the lodge steps and began knocking furiously at the door. Above, the globe of crackling light grew between Dammon’s hands. Jak stabbed at the dog’s belly, drawing dark blood from between its scales. As he finished the prone beast, the injured dog limped away. Light flashed across the courtyard as Dammon unleashed a ball of lightning at the swordsman. The door cracked open and then slammed closed as the spell missed the man but exploded against the door. Jak ignored the wounded dog and charged the swordsman. After dodging a clumsy swing, Jak stabbed the man in the gut, pushing him back as the door opened inward. A confused figure stumbled awkwardly out from the interior as the swordsman, clutching his stomach, retreated through the door. The unprotected man stood unsteadily in the dark and the wind, teetering with each billow of wind. Jak examined the unarmed man at spear length, but the figure seemed oblivious to him. Stepping cautiously around him, Jak slipped the Rod of Andjàr Belor into the door’s handle and clicked it into place. “Get on the ground!” he commanded. In response the man shifted, jerked, and collapsed atop the stairs. The man’s body wriggled and then was still. Dammon, watching from above, heard a familiar voice announce “I’m out.” Jak prodded the body with his spear and found a massive hole in the back of the man’s head revealing a gory cavity.

The lodge door secured, Dammon and Jak returned to the well, opened some crates, and tossed down the bucket ropes. Soon Callain, Ērēus, and Tressta were hoisted up into the windy courtyard. As the group made plans to enter the Eye of Illûwyr lodge, Dammon asked his Conscience what he’d seen inside. The familiar answered that the child-man was unresponsive and that the woman was being questioned, but her captors did not like her answers. It also explained that there were at least dozen people in the building and another dog-beast. As the group prepared themselves for the fight ahead, Dammon shared his Conscience’s observations. While Tressta listened, she felt movement between her wrap and her clothes. Moving away from the others, she opened her wrap and saw that the dagger’s pommel swiveled as she moved. She pulled the strange stone dagger from her belt and isolated it in a pouch before following the others up the stairs of the lodge. Jak was already at the door disengaging the immobility rod. Ērēus stepped forward and kicked the door inward with his shield braced before him. The door slammed against the wall of a long hallway of doors and faded paintings. The group filed into the hall and closed the door behind them. The group waited as Tressta began searching the hall for traps. Ērēus tried kicking in the first door, but it didn’t open. Jak moved up and on a count of three, the door burst inward.

Inside, Zêla lay restrained on a long table with a knife at her throat. In the room’s fitful candlelight, Jak and Ērēus could see that the bardess was bruised and beaten. The study was crowded with armchairs, end tables, candlesticks, a wall of bookshelves. Two swordsmen flanked the table while a well-dressed man stood at the table’s far end with a point pressed against the throat of Jak’s companion. “Drop the knife and I’ll spare you,” Jak offered. The evil-looking blade trembled in the man’s hand. “Leave this house,” the man answered in Trade, “or you will never leave this village alive.” Callain attempted to translate the Tradespeak, but the absurd conversation continued without his help. “Step away from her or you won’t leave this room alive,” Jak threatened. “You have had your last warning,” the man said gravely, plunging the dagger into the woman’s throat. Blood gushed from Zêla’s neck. Jak leapt forward and stabbed at the first swordsman, but dropped his spear on the floor. Ērēus rushed around the table and ran his sword through the second guard’s arm. Jak dodged a sword swing as Callain stepped into the doorway and loosed an arrow into the man’s face. The man screamed obscenities, dropping to the floor as he scrambled toward the far door. Callain nocked a second arrow yelling “I want that arrow back!” Ērēus stabbed his opponent in the side, pushing him back against bookshelves. Jak grabbed for his spear, dodging the swordsman’s swing. The well-dressed man grabbed the bottom of the door, opened it and yelled for help. Jak stabbed his opponent in the gut, dropping the man across an armchair. Callain loosed another arrow into the retreating man, sinking its point into his left arm. The man screamed more obscenities as he crawled through the open door. Jak pursued the crawling man into the far hallway. Ērēus gave the remaining guard a hard look. The man was breathing heavily and covered in his own blood. His eyes pleaded surrender, so Ērēus spared him and followed Jak. They found the man in hall, an arrow still sticking out from below his left eye, another hanging from the muscle in his arm. He cursed and spat blood, complaining about unreliable help. Jak stood over him and ran his spear through the man’s abdomen. The man shuddered and gasped, looking at his wounds in disbelief. Returning his eyes to Jak, he weakly uttered something neither Jak or Ērēus could understand. Callain soon entered the hall, hearing the man’s blood-gargling pleas. Bending over the man, he ripped the arrows from his face and arm, choosing not to translate the man’s offers. Disgusted, Jak finished the man.

Inside the study, Tressta rushed to Zêla’s side and shoved mushrooms into her mouth but the bardess did not respond. Dammon explained how he helped Fyrgol only an hour or so before. Tressta then removed the mushrooms, chewed them into a paste, and spit them back into Zêla’s mouth. There was still no response. As Tressta attempted to revive Zêla, Dammnon asked his Conscience where Fyrgol was last seen. The familiar responded that the man-child had been in the study. Callain looked around and spied the motionless form of Fyrgol under the table where Zêla lay. His still form had been obscured by a hanging tablecloth. Tressta climbed under the table to examine the Feyri and found that he was still breathing, but in no better shape than when he’d been carried out of the well. His leg was still shattered and his clothes were damp with cold blood. The injured bodyguard remained pressed against the bookcase, watching the group move back and forth between the rooms. Callain turned to him, “We were watching her going back and forth to the well,” the man confessed, looking at Zêla’s corpse. “When she left with child, we grabbed her.” The archer stepped closer, “Why?” “It looked important,” the man answered. “The master interrogated her. She said that it was very important that the child get attention. We gathered that she had the means to heal him. She wanted to return to the other lodge so that she could tend to him.” Callain kicked the man’s sword aside. “How many of you are there?” “There’s lots of us,” the man responded. “Where have they gone?” The man looked unsure, “I imagine they’ve fled.” Dammon suggested that they ransack the lodge and set the interior ablaze. Jak grabbed their new prisoner and pushed him forward, commanding him at spear-point to lead them through the lodge. After exploring the evacuated building Jak and Callain asked the prisoner, “Where do you keep your gold.” The man looked about dazedly, weak from blood-loss. “A good question. I have no idea. You’d have to ask the man with all the arrows in him.” The group returned to the fallen master and inspected him. They found a necklace and a ring of value, in addition to the elaborate dagger used to kill Zêla. Next, he led them to the master’s chamber door. Dammon examined the door. He immediately spied a number of Vorbid phlōgòstrū magics embedded in its lock and hinges. Ērēus impressed that they needed to find help for Fyrgol, suggesting apothecaries, doctors, anyone with a chance of helping. The two companions were wrapped and carried from the lodge.

In the wind and chill of Nightsdeep, they returned to the apothecary’s shop. After a few minutes the door opened. Laágar the apothecary stood in the doorway in thin night-clothes. Seeing the wrapped bodies he ushered the group inside. “Open them up,” Laágar commanded, clearing table space for the bundles. “What happened to them?” Callain translated simply, “One fell. One was stabbed.” Laágar examined the Feyri, lifting his eyelids and listening to his chest. “I may be able to help this one,” he said, dropping Fyrgol’s hand to the table. Laágar pulled the wraps from around Zêla’s head and neck. He stepped back, looking away from her opened neck. “She is beyond my help,” Laágar said without further inspection. He hurried around the room, setting up a censer on Fyrgol’s table and lighting it with a long taper. He then untied a leather roll-up pouch of silver tools. Before beginning, Laágar looked-up at the group and explained through the thickening incense smoke, “This is going to take a while. A long while. Is this woman a friend of yours? Because, I don’t want her left here. You can pitch her over the wall if you want.” Callain exclaimed, “That’s so cruel… Okay.” As the group decided what to do with Zêla’s body, the burning incense made everyone light-headed.

The group return to Dursòr Grân. Jak knocked on the door and the old man began the long process of undoing all the locks. “Something has happened! Something has happened,” clamored Sadàys. “Your friend was here but something happened outside and she never made it in.” Jak explained what transpired and how the group had invaded the Eyes of Illûwyr lodge and killed their master. “That explains things,” Sadàys said, wrestling with the last lock and opening the door. “There have been knocks on this door all night. Strange ones.” Callain asked what he meant. “Like they were trying to break our code,” the old man said. The group turned to their prisoner who explained that Zêla was apparently giving them bad information. After a number of attempts to access the Old Guard Lodge, they grew tired of the woman’s lies and began beating her. “In time she would have been broken, they all do, but you arrived before that could happen.” The prisoner was left at the Old Guard lodge, bound and helpless at the feet of the elder ðard.

The group returned to the Eyes of Illûwyr lodge. As they neared the building they glimpsed a man exiting the building, jumping down some stairs, and racing off into the night. Crossing the well courtyard, Jak veered toward the kennel. Opening the door, he speared the remaining fur and scaled beasts. The rest of group stood back as the sounds of whimpering, yipping, and stabbing issued from the kennel door. Jak emerged and joined the rest of the party on their way into the lodge. After securing the lowest doors and windows, they climbed the stairs, and returned to the master’s door. While everyone waited at the hall’s end, Dammon weaved a mūátra Pyràdra counter-spell. The door briefly burst into flame leaving charring around the lock, handle, and hinges. Tressta moved forward to work the lock. A moment later there was a satisfying click and the door opened inward. Inside, the party found an unremarkable chamber with exception of a live coiled snake on the bed. The snake had black and purplish scales and was of indeterminate length. Dammon moved into the room and looked at the creature. Although unsure where he’d learned of such things, the magician determined it was Tassèri, from an area known as the Vast Untamed, and deadly poisonous. While Tressta searched the room, Dammon returned to the study to look at the books. Tressta found a collection of small bottles in a chest, each with a date, all written in the same hand. Beneath the tray, Tressta discovered a small medallion and chain wrapped in cloth. Next, she searched the walls and floors for hidden compartments, but found nothing. Finally, attention returned to the snake on the bed. Jak turned to Ērēus. “Leaving this snake alive will bring no good to anyone.” Jak skewered the animal, pinning it to the bed until it stopped moving. Tressta then found a small coin pouch under the pillow containing four Talán Nor and 32 Auran. The group seemed disappointed with the master’s treasure. They soon rejoined Dammon downstairs, who busy taking a mental inventory of the lodge’s book collection and taking a few for his own.

After determining that the lodge building was too large and its holdings too extensive to secure, the group decided to involve the Burning Hand. Dammon not only endorsed this idea but was also the one to step behind the canvased facade of their lodge and knock on the door. Despite the early pre-dawn hour, an attendant quickly answered. Dammon asked to speak with Maggon, the gentleman they’d met at the Illûwyr Inn. A short time later the door reopened and the man appeared. Dammon explained that the group had been attacked by the Eyes of Illûwyr, that the group had killed their leader and scattered their numbers. Dammon offered the lodge a cut of whatever could be removed from the lodge. Maggon seemed pleased with this and assured them “We will talk on this in the morning.” Afterward, the tired and weary group returned to the apothecary.

Inside, they found the room filled with dense aromatic smoke. The apothecary steadied himself against the operating table. He didn’t seem to notice the group entering his shop at first, seeming more intent on keeping himself upright. On the table before him, bathed in candlelight and drifting vapors, lay bare the body of Fyrgol, stitched like a rag-doll from foot to waist. The table and surrounding floor was covered in piles of bloodied rags, spools of heavy thread, and discarded tools. Tressta questioned the apothecary. The man blinked slowly, trying to focus on her face. “He’ll survive,” he answered slowly. “He needs food… water.” Tressta asked about the mushrooms they found below, but the apothecary claimed he’d never seen them before. Despite this, he was willing to try one. “It doesn’t taste very good,” he spat. The man looked down at his patient, “I didn’t want him to wake-up so I used more incense than I usual. He should rest. He shouldn’t move around for a while.” The man considered Fyrgol further. “He was pretty messed-up.” He explained that there were salves and ointments that should be applied, but that and payment could be dealt with in the morning. “I had to… He’s a mess,” the apothecary stammered. “I’m not sure everything was there, so I just sort-of put things back together the best I could. He may not walk right,” he added. “But he should be fine… eventually. He had broken bones in both legs. Shattered. Had to fish shards from many places. He might be a little shorter now. I think he should be able to walk straight, but one knee is a little lower now. I think I did a pretty good job.” After much head-shaking, they gathered their companion and carried him back to the Old Guard lodge. It was nearly dawn when they knocked on the door.

Crawling into their bedrolls, the group slept the rest of the morning. At some point, Tressta took Dammon aside and showed him the red dagger. As she withdrew the strange artifact from her pouch, the insect-like head began slowly pivoting again. Dammon asked her to step aside and the Narzùrem eyes tracked to compensate for her movement, staring lidlessly across the room. Dammon followed its gaze across the room, and although he could not see anything he knew at once that it was watching his Conscience. The magician inspected the dagger more closely and found a mélange of auras playing across its surface. “I would keep it packed away for now,” the magician told her, wondering about the weapon’s implications. Tressta agreed, wrapping the blade and stowing it away. Dammon examined the lodge master’s dagger and discovered a Vīsìktrū aura. After some study he determined that the dagger did more than simple damage. After some discussion, the old ðard interrupted to say that a Burning Hand member was at the door. The old man refused to completely open the door to the foreigner, but they managed to talk through the crack. The man explained that the Burning Hand would not have the numbers to secure the Illûwyr lodge until the spring, but they planned to empty the building and remove the doors so others would not seek to stay there. They were also receiving reports from around the village that members of the lodge had been spotted skulking about, making belated preparations for winter. “This is a large weight off our shoulders,” the man admitted. They talked a short while longer and the man bid them farewell.

They discussed setting traps and ambushes for the remaining Eyes of Illûwyr members. Ērēus agreed that it would be better than worrying about being ambushed in return, especially if the group intended to spend the winter in Nyl. As this talk progressed, another voice spoke-up. The prisoner interjected, “Ummm… What happens to me?” Dammon and Callain walked over to bound prisoner, laying on the cold lodge stones. “Could I perhaps make a bid for my own freedom,” he asked. Callain translated. Jak drew near. “Help us capture your comrades.” The man didn’t seem confident he could. Instead he offered, “How about an exchange of information? I was one of the master’s guards.” Jak prodded further. “I want to know: if what I have to say is valuable, you’ll let me go?” Jak and Dammon suggested that he could only be freed if his lodge-mates were destroyed and the group was ready to leave as well. “Are you good people? Are your words good?” Dammon stated, to many a raised eyebrow, “Jak is our leader, he speaks for the group.” Callain translated, mostly. Jak agreed to the man’s terms but elicited an oath that the prisoner would never act against them. The man agreed to this and added “I will take the first opportunity to leave this wretched place.” That settled, the man grew more and more nervous. Finally, he said “The master was not the master. The Eyes of Illûwyr are run by the head of the inn.” The group looked at each other. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” the prisoner sighed. “Shyrd didn’t make any of the calls. He often went to the inn for instruction. The innkeeper knows everyone that comes into town and needs scouts for the Waste.” “How do we prove your claim,” Callain asked. “I imagine he’s wealthy,” the prisoner suggested. “I don’t know that for sure. I also wouldn’t say that the lodge is disbanded, they’ve all just gone into hiding, waiting for further instruction.” Jak recalled the old man’s mention that the inn was unsafe and riddled with secret passages. Dammon reminded everyone that the innkeeper, Barádas, controlled all food and supplies coming into the village. He also surmised that the revelation could be valuable to the Burning Hand, possibly useful enough to gain their help getting out of the village. “Everyone has told us not to trust the Burning Hand,” Jak reminded them. Callain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think we should also consider that he not only controls the food, but also the alcohol which is equally as important.” “But no one would poison alcohol,” Jak assured him. “If you wanted to kill me you would,” the archer answered. While the group discussed this, Sadàys wandered back to his office and settled wearily into his chair. Jak and others followed him into the room to get his opinion. “I’m not sure. It’s possible. As I mentioned the inn walls are very porous. People die there. There is some level of compromise and yet nothing ever happens to the inn. I don’t know if that makes it true. It could just be the claim of a desperate man trying to pit you against… I don’t know what to believe.” The old man reflected a bit longer and added, “I guess if you were the boss or master of a bunch of thieves and murderers, you wouldn’t want to live with them either.” Discussion then turned to whether the lodge master was a magician. Dammon assured the group he was not. “You ever done your crazy-eyes on the innkeeper?” Callain asked. Dammon thought on this but couldn’t be sure. As the group discussed their options, Sadàys offered more. “There was also the swordsman incident before you arrived. He killed a large number of their men. He did not retire to the inn afterward but left the village directly. Days later, horsemen were sent after him but they haven’t returned. Perhaps there is snow in the pass; perhaps they met similar fates. We may not know until Spring.”

Continued in The Razing of Nyl.

Characters

• Callain = 2+1 CPs (158)
• Dammon Shroudson = 2 CPs (252)
• Fyrgol = 0 CPs (184)
• Jak of Cænden = 2 CPs (249)
• Tressta Drynsval = 2 CPs (242)
• Arsod Salðas: dead
• Barádas (Innkeeper)
• Donden (Lodgeman): pithed
• Ērēus of Amra = 2 CPs (323)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Jandda (Lodgeman): escaped
• Laágar (Apothecary)
• Maggon Gadoo (Lodge Representative)
• Nedo (Bodyguard, Prisoner)
• Sadàys Màldii (Lodge Master)
• Shyrd Zygyrm (Lodge Master): killed
• Telàgo (Bodyguard): killed
• Zêla ma Ler: killed

Played: 15 Sep 2012