Monthly Archives: May 2011

Aftermath of Raven’s Rescue

by

0

The friends made their way, limping and shaken, from the cave complex, supporting the still-dazed Raven. Devrik was silently furious that Kirdik Hanol had escaped him… he understood the nature of Nitaran Vortices, of course, but it just seemed so damn… unfair!

Cris, Marik and the horses were where they had left them, and the party wasted no time in saddling up. It was late afternoon, and would be dark before they could make Elidar Manor, but no one was inclined to camp in the wilderness with a psychotic Korönian cantor on the loose, and possibly more Gülvini running wild.

Raven insisted she was strong enough to ride upright behind Devrik, rather than across his lap, as he’d been prepared to do. “We’ll make better time, love,” she pointed out. “And after the last several days, I really want a nice pile of furs and a day of sleep – soon!”

The ride was uneventful, thankfully, though everyone kept a wary eye out for the Gülvini who had fled after their failed ambush at the cave mouth. It was two hours after sunset when the exhausted companions arrived at the gates of Vulk’s ancestral estate and called for entrance. His aunt and uncle, as always, were warm and welcoming hosts, and the extended family listened with amazement as the group related the events of the last several days over a very welcome hot meal.

Raven got a down bed, rather than a pile of furs, but did indeed sleep most of the next day away, Devrik seldom far from her side. When she finally woke, ravenous once again, Devrik fed her and finally had the full story of her imprisonment from her.

“Those foul beastmen took care not to harm me, despite the injuries I managed to cause them before they could bind me,” she said between bites of stew and warm bread. “It was obvious they wanted to hurt me, but their fear of… something… was greater than their lust.

“I guess it must have been that mad cantor, of course… he also took care not to cause me any physical injury, though he seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting my mind. He kept telling me how he would bend you to “our” will or see you die a horrible death – which he described in great detail.” She shuddered at this memory, but waved off his comforting hand.

“He also told me how I’d be kept alive only until my son was born, and how “they” would raise him to be a mighty warrior of flame and death for the Chained God.

“He kept referring to others, as though he was just acting on orders, but other times it seemed as if it was all personal, between the two of you… he told me how you continually rejected his offers of training and your “calling,” and how this time, he wouldn’t have to take no for an answer – if he couldn’t have you, he’d have your son.

“He seemed very sure that our son would have your way with fire…”

Devrik grimaced at this, and shook his head. “I pray to the Immortals that he doesn’t… it’s brought me little enough joy in this life, and a great deal of pain.

“But true or not, Kirdik Hanol will never lay a hand on him, nor his mysterious masters. I swear I will keep both him and you safe, no matter what it takes!”

Raven smiled and pulled him close for a long, deep kiss…

After a second night at Elidar Manor the group set off early the next morning, arriving back in Devok Town a few hours later. They settled in once again at the Sign of the Cloven Shield, and Mariala and Devrik took Raven, over her half-hearted objections, to see Korus Jerathin, the best physician in the town.

He gave her a clean bill of health, recommending a few more days of rest before resuming “your usual daily routine.” Mariala also asked Master Vetaris to come by the inn, ostensibly to meet Raven, but actually to check for any arcane residue of her recent imprisonment. He too gave the Rethmani woman a clean bill of health, much to Mariala’s relief.

The second day after their return to town the companions received an invitation from Helain Alvar, the Mercantyler’s Guildmistress for Devok, to join her for lunch at the Guild Hall. Assuming this was reciprocation for the Double Full Moons party Mariala had held two months ago, they gladly accepted.

But in fact the Guildmistress had business on her mind.

“Twice each year we send two ships to Oessa Island,” she explained once the pleasantries had been observed and the food was served. “That is the surface portion of the Tritani Princedom of Hesima, that lays but 12 leagues south of us.

“The Tritani are an insular people, but we have long enjoyed trading privileges with them, on this strict timetable – once in the spring and once in the fall our ships dock in Port Kethim, and the merfolk arrive to trade the fruits of the sea for the artifice of the land.

“This has gone on for over fifty years, without fail… until this spring. Our ships have returned without the usual cargoes, and with no explanation from Sha Hesima. The communication stone used by our Port Master to speak with the sea folk remains dark.

“You four have gained quite a reputation for dramatic problem solving recently, and I am prepared to commission you and your ship to sail to Port Kethim and seek out the trouble that threatens to cost my Guild so much money. If you discover the why of it all, you will receive a just payment,” and she named a pleasant sum.

“But if you manage to resolve the problem, whatever it may be, and start trade flowing again, then your compensation will be far more… significant. Say, trading rights as one of the two ships that sail to Oessa for the Spring Sea Fair?”

After further discussion of details and logistics, the friends agreed to think on the matter, speak to their captain, and give Mistress Alvar an answer by morning. Returning to the inn they were surprised to see Ser Owain, sitting at a table by himself in the common room. He rose to greet them.

“I trust your meeting with the Guildmistress went well,” he said, smiling. “Indeed, I hope you plan to take up her generous offer.”

At their surprised looks he just nodded, and motioned towards the hallway that lead to the stairs. “I think it’s time I took you all more fully into my confidence… you’ve proven yourselves both competent and discreet. And now I have need of both those qualities, more than ever.

“But this is not a story for the common room of an inn. May we retire to your rooms upstairs? I think you’ll find what I have to say most illuminating.”

As they took the stairs to the third floor, Mariala, knowing the state of Vulk and Drake’s room, and that Raven was no doubt at rest in Devrik’s, suggested her room for their meeting. She was startled, therefore, when she unlocked the door to find Magister Vetaris seated in one of her armchairs next to the fireplace.

“I apologise for thsi ill-mannered intrusion, my dear,” he said as she stared at him in surprise, “and hope you’ll forgive me. But it is best Ser Owain and I not be seen together in public, for reasons which we will soon make clear to you all.”

Ser Owain took the other armchair, while the companions settled themselves in various spots around the room. Once the door was again shut, he began without preamble.

“I’m sure that you have all heard rumours and stories of the fabled Star Council,” he said. “ The group of powerful men and women who are said to secretly pull the strings behind the scenes of the world?”

They nodded, and Drake laughed, saying “A common enough story on the tongues of men who like to blame the world for their own shortcomings – it’s not my fault my busines failed, the Star Council wished it so!”

“Indeed,” agreed Ser Owain with a dry smile. “And amongst the better educated it is smiled upon as a myth, a fable – at most an allegory to explain the vagracies of Fate.

“And yet the very best informed people know that it is no fable. There is a Star Council, and while it does not “run” the world by any stretch, it is concerned that order… or perhaps stability is the better word… be maintained in the West.

“To that end, the Council maintains associates in various positions of influence, both amongst the powerful and the not-so-powerful, from the courts of kings to the Beggar’s Guild. In turn these associates maintain agents to gather the most detailed intelligence possible, and occasionally to act in support of the goals of the Council.

“Most agents of the Star Council are unaware of the Council’s existence, of course, or their own conncection to it – this is the position you have occupied since I first met most of you several months ago and allowed you to leave Eldora Abbey with your heads full of secret knowledge.”

Vulk, Drake and Mariala suddenly looked illuminated, putting the pieces together concerning the secret negotiations Ser Owain had been carrying out with a restive Darikazi faction… apparently at the behest of this fabled Star Council.

“But some agents work better with a fuller knoweldge of what they do and why,” continued the bobleman, “and the Council has given me permission to bring you up to this level of knowledge, and offer you the choice of acting now as agents with full knowledge of for whom we work.”

“Are you a member of the Council,” asked Vulk. “You and the Magister?”

“No, we are not ourselves members of the Council – both Magister Vetaris and I are associate members. We report directly to the Council, and receive instructions and requests from them, which we then attempt to carry out via our separate networks of agents.

“It is a bit unusual to have an overlap in agents, as we have with you, but in a way that’s been lucky… the Council was swayed by the testimony of us both as to your competence and trustworthiness, which is why we are having this conversation now, unusually early in your “careers.”

“But not altogether unheard of,” interjected Magister Vetaris.

Ser Owain nodded in agreement, then turned his piercing gaze on each of the four friends in turn, and after a moment each nodded their acceptance of their new position as official agents of the Star Council.

“I assume we remain free to decline any… assignments, if we have any doubts or conflicts,” Vulk asked, before giving his assent, last of all.

“You remain free agents,” Vetaris agreed. “It is mainly intelligence gayhering we usually seek; and if you ever have qualms about anything we ask of you, please feel free to talk to either of us.”

The two older men then rose, and Ser Owain held out his hand toward Vulk and Drake. When they extended their own hands, he dropped a ring into each. Magister Vetaris did the same with Mariala and Devrik. Each ring was unique, but contained within was a hidden sigil of the Star Council.

“Use these to establsih your identity with other agents of the Council, should you need to,” Ser Owain said, demonstrating the cunning release that revealed the sigil in his own ring.

“The Council are even more concerned than Guildmistress Alvar over the failure of the Tritani to appear for the annual spring trading fair. They have expressed that concern to both Vetaris and myself, quite forcefully… but not very specifically.”

Ser Owain sounded slightly annoyed at not being fully informed by the Council, although Vetaris just looked rather bland.

“We wish you to undertake the mission offered by the Guild, but we also want you to find a particular person in Sha Hesima, and identify yourselves to him as agents of the Council, and express their… concern. You are then at his disposal – if he indicates that all is well, continue on as you see fit to resolve the Guild’s problem.

“But if he indicates that all is not well, then help him in any way possible… I’m sorry we can’t be more specific, but presumably you’ll be told more should the need arise in Sha Hesima.”

“I’ve not seen the Council so… agitated” says Magister Vetaris. “ Not since then-Crown Prince Gil-Garon and Lord Kavyn exposed and dismantled the plot to free the Chained God almost twenty years ago…”

“The person you are to find is the High Priest of Kanius, Azador Silverfin,” continued Ser Owain. “He is of middle years, with a silvery white tail and silver hair. He will also wear a disticnctive manta shaped medallion around his neck, and a tourqouise bracelet on his right wrist.”

Magister Vetaris then reached into a satchel next to his chair hands, pulling out a collection of white wide-bottomed clay jars, each sealed with blue-green wax and stamped with a trident sigil. He handed two jars to each of the companions.

“These are Yorinth’s Elixer – it will allow you to breathe underwater. But it is a tricky potion, my young friends, and also the last that we have available locally… take care with it!”

“How do we use this elixer,” asked Drake. “I’m not familiar with it…”

“Should your investigation take you beneath the waves,” Vetarir replied, “as I expect it will, give yourselves several minutes to prepare. You must mix several drops of your own blood into the elixer – as quickly as possible. Once the seal is broken the syrup loses potency quickly – within an hour it would be usless.

“When you add your blood the potion will quickly begin to fizz and expand as it reaches full potency – within three or four minutes usually. When the fizzing begins to subside, down the concoction – quickly is my advice, as it’s taste is rather unpleasant.

“Within approximately five minutes you’ll begin to find it difficult to breathe, and you should immediately enter the water. This transition is where it gets tricky… your bodies will instinctively resist trying to breathe in water, but you must be strong, and force yourselves to the effort! If you don’t, you will suffocate in the air…

“ The effects of a single dose will last for 10-14 hours if you stay above 150 feet or so – as long as you can still distinguish some colors in natural light, you’re at a safe depth. Below that depth, you’ll lose about an hour of effectiveness per 50 feet, and in no case go below 300 feet! As Sha Hesima is at a depth of 80 to 120 feet, this shouldn’t be an issue, but be aware!

“When you begin to feel a tightness in your chest and have trouble breathing, the elixer is fading – you’ll have about a turn of the glass, not more than two, to reach air. If you need the second dose you must either surface or find an air pocket within Sha Hesima – opening the jar underwater makes it impossible to activate properly!

“And that reminds me… when ascending, you must do so slowly… no faster than about 10 feet per minute. Faster than that and you risk painful cramps and possible death!”

After a few more minutes of discussion and instruction Ser Owain and Magister Vetaris rose to take their leave. After they had gone, the companions fell into a contemplative silence as they pondered all that they had just learned. At last Vulk stirred and stood up.

“I suppose I should go and see what Captain Levtor has to say about a change in his sailing plans… I don’t imagine he’ll be thrilled.”

Drake left to make various arrangements of his own, and Devrik returned to his own room and Raven, leaving Mariala alone to stare pensively at her ring and contemplate the uses of a water elemental under the sea…

 

Treachery Beneath the Waves, Part I

by

0

Sailing

It took a day for the Fortune’s Favor to be made ready, and for the cargo already loaded to be moved back into the bonding house. As predicted, Captain Levtor was not happy at the overturning of his carefully planned trading schedule, but his opinion of the venture changed when he learned of the possibility of gaining a foothold in the trade with the Sea Folk.

“A lucrative trade,” he smiled when Vulk wold him what the Guildmistress had offered. “One I had dreamed of getting into in my younger days, and well worth a brief delay… yes, possibly well worth it!”

With preparations made and the ship ready to sail on the morning tide, Devrik suddenly announced to his friends that he would not be going.

“I’m sorry,” he said as they sat to breakfast, “but I cannot leave Raven and our unborn son alone and unguarded, not with that madman still loose.”

“But Devrik,” said Mariala in dismay, “we need you! And Black Hawk is here – he can surely keep his sister safe.”

“Not notably so far,” Devrik snorted. “And in any case, he is not yet fully healed from his injuries… nor does he really understand the dangers of a town, even a small one like Devok. No, I am decided – my place is with my woman, at least for now.”

“Are you turning down the… Their… offer then?” Vulk asked quietly.

“No, not at all… but they did make clear our participation was voluntary, did they not? Once my son is born and Kirdik Hanol is safely in his grave, then I will be happy to undertake any tasks the… They… might have for me.”

No amount of argument could sway him, and there was little time for it in any case. The three remaining companions grabbed their packs and headed for the docks and their waiting ship, as Devrik watched them go from the window in his room. He turned as Raven came up behind him.

“Devrik…”

♦

The day was a fine one for sailing, and in just a few hours Oessa Island appeared before their prow. A lush, green island, it’s interior rose from often rocky shores to a ridge of broken peaks from which numerous waterfalls could be seen plunging into the foothills. They rounded the northernmost point of the island and sailed down its eastern coast toward the sheltered harbor of Port Kethim. They rounded the headland of Stingray Point in the early afternoon and sailed into Keth Bay.

This was a broad sweep of blue water enclosed by rugged arms of granite, at the head of with lay the small town of Port Kethim. Gray-green peaks rose breathtakingly behind the blue and green tiled roofs clustered near the water. Trees dotted the cliff tops of the bay’s arms, and thick forests lay on either side of the town.

The town itself was rather overwhelmed by its magnifient quay – a crescent of white stone and pink coral whose arms stretched into the bay and emcompassed a span some 150 meters across. At the end of each arm were towers of the same white stone, each 20 meters tall and set with a beacon of brass and crystal. At the center of the great arc of the quay was a circular pier of stone, perhaps 30 meters across, within which lay a pool 12 meters in diameter.

Pillars of white marble, veined with seafoam green, surrounded the Trading Pool, as it was called, and supported a great dome of pale green coral. Atop this dome was a tremendous beacon, again of brass and crystal, that shone out more than 40 meters above the waters. The whole structure was amazingly beautiful.

Beyond the white stone of the Great Quay stood a series of low warehouses, and beyond them rose the rooftops of the town proper, consisting of maybe twenty buildings. Between the town and the begining of the forested hills rising up to the inland peaks could be seen cultivated fields and several fine orchards.

But as they neared the quay, watching eagerly from the rails, the town seemed stangely empty. If not for the smoke from numerous chimneys they might have thougt the place desserted. Eventually a handful of men appeared from within the town and, under the direction of a well-dressed portly man of middle years, grabbed the ropes the crew threw out and made fast the ship to the quay.

Once of the ship the companions and Captain Levtor approached the Port Master (for such the portly gentleman proved to be) and introduced themselves. At first oddly frosty and discouraging, he turned first pale and then nervously polite once they presented their credentials from Guildmistress Alvar and made plain their writ to investigate the Tritani matter.

“The docks are no place for such discussions,” he said, glancing about nervously. “Let me offer you the comfort of my home and office.”

Again with nervous glances all around he sheparded the three friends away from their ship, while Captain Levtor frowned and returned to her.

The Port Master’s home and office were in a tall four-story building of white stone directly behind the pillared dome of the Trading Pool. It had a roof of teal green tiles, and as they approached they could see that a graceful arch of stone connected the roof to the base of the dome – no doubt to give access to the great beacon.

Inside the Port Master’s home they were escorted to his private quarters, where he offered them refreshment and a history of the town and generally seemed to try to avoid the purpose of their visit. Drake noted the toys scattered about the place, and yet neither saw nor heard any other sign of children…

“Enough, Master Edigar!” said Vulk at last. “It’s time we got down to the business that brings us to your no doubt fascinating and historical town. What do you know about the failure of the Tritani to arrive for the Spring Sea Fair?”

Erol Doritar, Legionaire, Gladiator, Adventurer

by

0

Erol DoritarErol Doritar is the second son of a scholarly Kildoran family who pursued a military career against his fathers wishes, and as a result of a disastrous, unauthorized misadventure has spent the last several years as a POW, a slave/gladiator and, more recently, a pirate. Born 16 Vento 2994, in Delfarin, the great capital city of the Kildoran Republic, the 24-year-old has become a skilled fighter. Very good with a gladius and battleaxe, his greatest expertise is with the spear and trident; he also wields a mean net, and knows how to fight dirty.

Standing 5′ 4″ tall, he has a slender but well-muscled build, black hair and hazel eyes, and weighs a solid 140 pounds. He has a wiry strength and sharp reflexes, as well as an above average intellect. His years in the Darikazi arena and the Taruthani Games has left him with a firm grasp of combat medicine, and his months at sea with Darikazi pirates has given him rudimentary sea-faring skills. On horseback, however, he has been compared, unfavorably, to a sack of potatoes.

When Erol was 12 his father, Belin Doritar, a well-respected scholar and teacher, moved the family from the capital to the castle town of Medälk to take up a position as touter to the children of the powerful Senator Aric Kenorda. His mother, Norina Doritar (née Velmin), an artist and poet of some repute in the Republic, was less than thrilled with the move, as was Erol.

Norina’s works of art were much sought after in Patrician homes in Delfarin, and she had been asked to read her poetry at the Opening of the Senate twice – an honor that she has twice declined at her husband’s insistence. Erol believed he was jealous of her success, and disdainful of her poetry, especially. He always saw the move to Medälk as a way for his father to distance his wife from the centers of Kildoran culture and influence.

From that point on, conflict with his father grew stinger and more frequent. Belin expected him, like his older brother, to follow in the family tradition, and become a man of letters and knowledge. But Erol was always more physical and extroverted than cerebral and introspective. He always felt that Evol, his older brother, more than made up for his own scholarly deficiencies – tall, slender, bookish and quiet, he was everything their father wanted and expected in a son. Despite their lack of common ground, or perhaps because of it, the brothers always got on fairly well.

It was the same year that the family moved to Medälk that a Korönian fighting order out of Darikaz, The Red Hand of Pain, seized the Republican keep of Bremkin. This was a shocking blow to the Republic, and full out war was avoided only because the Republic was still reeling from the devastating floods of the previous year, which had severely damaged the capital city and much of the fertile farmland of the Molisan Valley.

Erol were as incensed as anyone at this outrage, and furious at his father when he took a longer view of the event, talking about “the inevitable ebb and flow of the tides of history,” and not taking it seriously (or so it appeared to the young Erol). This was when he first began to rebel against his father’s rule, by taking up the worship of Cael, the Immortal Paladin, rather than Shala, Lady of Wisdom and Knowledge.

When, four years later, the Arushali Earl of Somkari sent armed knights to seize disputed manors along the border, Erol rejoiced when the Republican forces not only repulsed him, but seized the castle of Somkari and the keep at Urdol, gaining a whole new province for the People and Senate of Kildora. It also seemed to put the legions in a position to take back Bremkin Keep with luck and bold leadership.

It was then that he decided to join the Legions, although his first impulsive attempt, at age 16, was rejected – the recruiter didn’t believe the boy was really 20, the legal age to join without parental consent. But two years later he had filled out and bulked up enough to fool them. Running away from home that spring, he was soon a raw recruit in the Topaz Legion based in the fortress town of Olyron, on the Darikazi border.

Near the end of his first year in the legion he was part of an unauthorized attempt to retake Bremkin Keep. An ambitious captain, wishing to show up the great Marshal Satirnus, took two cohorts out on a “training mission,” only to turn aside and invade Darikaz.

He did manage to take the Korönian fighting order by surprise, but unexpected reinforcements from Tovasir doomed the expedition. Most of the legionnaires were killed, and many of the survivors were captured. Since no one knew of any family connections Legionnaire Erol might possess, he was one of the few not eventually ransomed.

After several months in the dungeons of Bremkin he was dragged in chains to the slave market in Tovasir, and there sold by The Red Hand of Pain to the masters of the Taruthani Games. For the next four years he was trained and forced to fight for his life as a gladiator in the bloodthirsty arenas of Darikaz.

In the autumn of 3017 he managed to seize an unexpected chance and escape from the great arena in Izmirk, capital of Darikaz. Hiding in the low, deadly dives of the waterfront, he made the acquaintance of a “freebooter” captain, who was looking for a few good men to fill out his crew. Claiming a bit more knowledge of the sea than he actually possessed (which was none), and bolstered by his demonstrated facility with violence, he was accepted into the crew of the Silverfish.

Unfortunately, life at sea was not all that Erol had hoped for, particularly with a band of pirates. He more than pulled his weight, learning the ways of the ship quickly enough, and his fighting skills made him popular with many of his crew mates. But his unwillingness to kill innocent prisoners did not endear him to the captain or first mate.

When it was Darikazi shipping the pirates preyed on, he managed to quell his scruples – four years of listening to the bloodthirsty crowds at the Games had not made him love the Darikazi any better than he had before. But when they captured and butchered the small crew of an Arushali fishing boat, he drew the line.

Having no desire to return to Darikaz, he eventually decided that being the captain of his own ship might be the best solution to his problems. And there were more than a few members of the crew who agreed that Erol would make a better captain than the one who currently held that post. They began to plot a mutiny.

Unfortunately, not all of Erol’s supporters were entirely trustworthy, and his plans were betrayed to the captain and first officer. Fortunately, the captain’s camp was also possessed of those sympathetic to Erol, and he received warning of the plan to seize him.

It was night and the Silverfish was anchored off the coast of a large island, east of Darikaz. No lights could be seen, and it was a fair swim in unknown waters, but really there was no other choice, cut off as he was from his unready supporters.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped onto the starboard rail, then knifed silently into the dark waters, little knowing that that leap had plunged him into a future that would rock the world…