Aldrūan 5-7, 653 DR: The winds increase. Hūdū spectators. Death at the gate.

Continued from Death of a Minstrel.

Wōdìndor, 5 Aldrūan 653

As dawn came to Nyl, the weakened Fyrgol heaved aside heavy curtains of pain, exhaustion, and confusion. Somewhere beyond the suffocating layers a beautiful voice called to him. It sang with a haunting urgency that demanded his attention, that drew him from the aimless depths of his suffering. Before the barest light of dawn could find his eyes, the repeating words became clear. “I am Malgâgyr the Guardian, Faithful to Belyranyl, Heed the Call of the Ancient One.” Again and again the words repeated, desperate and compelling. Fyrgol opened his eyes and found himself back in the Old Guard Lodge. High windows offered the scant light of another cloudy morning in Ilûwyr. Nearby, Fyrgol’s friends were discussing plans for dealing with the Burning Hand, the Innkeeper, and how to deal with the Eye of Illûwyr. He listened for a while before trying to move. No one else seemed to remark on the singing voice. The Feyri soon realized that only he could hear the song and the summons.

After much discussion on the Burning Hand’s motivations and how to find and stockpile food for the winter, the group decided to scavenge all they could from the abandoned Eyes of Ilûwyr Lodge. Dammon accompanied them to retrieve works from the lodge’s eclectic library. Most the day was spent ferrying books, rations, and casks from one lodge to the other. After reviewing their haul, Callain assisted in field dressing the bodies of the scaled dogs, several of which lay frozen near the central square.

That evening the group returned to the Old Lodge, prepared some cold rations, tapped a cask, and perused the piles of mismatched books. While everyone poured through the obscure titles, determining what languages and scripts were represented, Dammon leaned back against a wall with an opened book in his lap. Suddenly the lodge and his companions were gone. Instead he stood in a dark place looking around a cracked door. In the next room he could see a grotesquely scarred older man with short gray hair. The man sat at a wide desk turning the pages of a book. Entering, Dammon passed rows of candles, stacks of books, and a macabre collection of deconstructed skulls. As he neared the man, he looked up, put on his spectacles, and closed the book on the desk. The upside-down title of the book was written in an elaborate High Davar script that read “Pālàndor’s Gift”. “Master Taðan, you called for me?” Dammon asked in a voice not his own. The man stared at Dammon for confused moment, as if he did not recognize his visitor. Finally, he nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I did”, he answered, “You are the last of us. I had great hopes that I could refine my master’s work. But I have failed.” The man looked exhausted. “While our great work is incomplete. I have taken precautions.” Leaning heavily to one side the man searched through a drawer. After a long search, the man hauled himself upright and lifted a familiar amulet and chain. “Our work will not end with this death. Another vessel awaits. The next step of this journey is up to you.” As Dammon stepped closer to examine the amulet, he found himself back in the lodge, surrounded by his companions and their aimless conversation. Closing the book on his lap, he dusted off the cover and found the same elegant script and title that he had dreamed.

Later that evening, after the rations had been eaten and people were paging through their books, Tressta noticed something wet against her side. Pulling her cloak and clothing aside, she found a dark liquid pouring from the bottom of her pouch. Opening the flap, she found its contents soaked with warm blood. She emptied the pouch into a small bowl and showed the dagger to Dammon. As she turned the dagger in her hands, the insectoid head turned toward a nearby wall, not far from the magician. As Tressta cleaned her pouch, Dammon and Jak spoke about the Andjàr Belor book and its relation to the enchanted immovable rung. Elsewhere, the recovering Fyrgol grabbed Skāéldyðōel’s handle and watched as the Feyri light flickered along its length. The attentions of the group’s members were engaged elsewhere. They could not see the sword’s light nor hear the voice singing through the stones. Fyrgol called Dammon over and explained what he could see and hear. When Fyrgol explained about the voice he had been hearing all day, Dammon’s familiar privately admitted that he’d been hearing the voice too but hadn’t commented on it because he couldn’t understand it.

…

Iyldor, 6 Aldrūan 653

Continued in The Calm Before…

Characters

• Callain = 2+1 CPs (161)
• Dammon Shroudson = 2 CPs (254)
• Fyrgol = 2+1 CPs (186)
• Jak of Cænden = 2 CPs (251)
• Tressta Drynsval = 2 CPs (244)
• Arsod Salðas: dead
• Edàðydan the Nûl: missing
• Barádas (Innkeeper): missing
• Erdroo (Skallog wife)
• Ērēus of Amra = 1 CPs (324)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Nedo (Bodyguard, Prisoner)
• Sadàys Màldii (Lodge Master)

Played: 05 Jan 2013