SESSION 24C: THE FIRST HOUND OF GHUL

June 21st, 2008
The 12th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE NEXT MORNING

But when Tee woke up the next morning, she discovered that the Dreaming Apothecary had finally delivered the items she had purchased. They were laying, neatly displayed, on her bedside table.

There were two small, golden discs designed to be affixed to the temples. Tapping either of the discs caused a scintillating field of golden energy to cover Tee’s eye sockets. Although this effect prevented others from seeing her eyes, it enhanced her own vision.

There was an armband of black silk with Tee’s dragon sigil embroidered upon it in silver thread – thread that was not merely silver-dyed cloth, but actual woven silver.

And, at first, Tee felt there had been some mistake because there was no sign of the glamoured lockpicks she had requested. Instead, there was a large ring set with a faceted ruby. Closer inspection, however, revealed a tiny trigger near the base of the stone. Pressing the trigger revealed a set of tiny prongs, wires, and other small devices crafted from mithril. Slipping the ring on, Tee found that she could control the minute motions of these precision tools with a mere thought.

Since Tee had received her tools, it was decided that the entire group would first return to Ghul’s Labyrinth and finish their explorations there. (As a result, Ranthir’s researches into the golden key were delayed.)

Returning to the tunnels beneath Greyson House, they proceeded carefully past the point where the pit of chaos now lay entombed. The stone above it was now visibly warping and buckling, making it clear that the effort to seal away the pool would not last for more than a few more days at most.

But, soon after, their fears regarding the unknown intruders were laid to rest: Drawing near to the former bloodwight nests, Tee could easily distinguish the distinctive sound of elvish voices. Stepping into the open, she confirmed that this was a party of workers and scholars from House Erthuo.

The leader of the Erthuo expedition stepped forward and introduced himself as Faeliel. He grew quite excited when Ranthir introduced himself, shaking his hand vigorously. “Cordelia told me that you might pass this way. I’m most pleased to meet you. Would you like to see what we’ve accomplished with the orrery?”

Ranthir smiled with delighted surprise and eagerly followed Faeliel. With only a glance he could see that the orrery had already been partially restored.

“That’s right,” Faeliel said. “We’re trying to restore the orrery before moving it so that we can preserve as much of it as possible. The mechanisms are badly damaged, but we’re learning a lot by observing it in a relatively unchanged state. This damage over here seems quite extensive and recent, unfortunately.”

Ranthir explained about the bloodwight which had burst its way out of the orrery shortly after they discovered it.

“Oh!” Faeliel gasped. “Well… I’m glad we weren’t the first ones here, then!”

They both laughed, and then fell into a spirited conversation. Ranthir was able to offer several insights into the workings of the orrery before the others pulled him towards the bluesteel door.

THE FIRST HOUND OF GHUL

They were careful not to let any of the workers from House Erthuo overhear the password as they passed through the bluesteel door.

Tee had been intermittently obsessing for weeks now over the cryptic mysteries hidden behind the locked secret doors near the alchemical laboratory. Now, with her new tools, she was eagerly looking forward to trying her luck with those locks once again.

But before she did that, as they passed through the first antechamber (where the four colossal statues of Ghul looked down upon them), Tee swung open the double doors leading into the strange and tainted temple of obsidian. Through those doors she hurled every artifact of tainted chaositech she carried, feeling her very soul lightened by the loss of their burden. With a deep satisfaction, she swung the doors shut behind her and then turned aside towards the laboratories.

One of the secret doors lay in the chamber with four alchemical pits, where the fetid fungus had threatened to overwhelm them in a living, undulating wave. While Agnarr and Tor moved cautiously towards the pits to ensure that no new dangers were breeding in their depths, Tee moved toward the section of the wall where she had discovered the concealed keyhole. Removing the ruby on her new ring, she slid the delicate mechanisms into the keyhole.

With a satisfying click, a section of the wall popped open with a burst of stale air. Sliding the wall panel to one side, Tee revealed the hidden chamber. To one side, a small wooden desk was half-rotten through. To the other, what appeared to have once been large crates had been stacked in the corner, but many of these had collapsed under the weight of many years.

And the sound of deep, laborious breathing echoed through the chamber…

Tee motioned for the others to keep silent and then moved quietly into the room.

She discovered the source of the breathing behind the desk: A large, gracile creature with chocolate-brown fur lay sleeping. Its neck and hind legs were curiously elongated, but it was clearly a hound.

Tee backed her way out of the room and told the others what she had seen. Then she moved back into the room, searching it while being careful not to disturb the dog. Agnarr followed her in to keep an eye on the creature and watch her back.

But as soon as Agnarr laid his eyes on the creature, a huge smile spread across his face. It was his dog! He had spent so much time looking for a faithful hound to rear and train, and now he had found it in the most unexpected of places!

Most of the room’s contents had decayed to dust and ruin, but among the shattered boxes Tee found three spears of solid steel and high craftsmanship that she felt might fetch a fair price in the city above. But her persistence paid off particularly when she found a secret compartment hidden inside the ruined remnants of the desk… and, inside the compartment, a half-rotted purse containing several dozen blood-red rubies.

As Tee stood up, slipping the gem purse into her bag of holding, Agnarr gestured towards the dog. “Try to wake it up.”

Tee gave the barbarian a skeptical look, her thoughts returning to the vicious, yapping, porcelain puppy that Agnarr had last fixated on in his quixotic search for a faithful companion. But she could tell that he wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded, so she gave the slumbering dog a half-hearted prod. It didn’t stir.

Tee shrugged. “No such luck! Let’s go.”

She headed towards the door, but Agnarr didn’t follow. Instead he sheathed his sword and gave the dog a more powerful prodding with his foot. There was still no response.

With a thoughtful look on his face, Agnarr reached into his own bag of holding and pulled out a raw steak. (Tee: “Why do you have raw steak in your bag?” Agnarr: “For the goblins.” Tee: “Well… that explains absolutely nothing.”) Agnarr waved the steak under the dog’s nose.

The dog didn’t stir.

But Agnarr was not to be easily dissuaded: Laying the steak down, he grabbed the dog with both his hands and gave it a mighty shake.

The dogs eyes popped open! It lunged at Agnarr’s face!  Tee, cursing, whipped our her rapier—

… and the dog began ecstatically licking Agnarr’s cheek.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: TBD – Campaign Journal: Session 24D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 24B: THE MEETING OF ALL THINGS

June 21st, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Having returned from the Pale Tower and the Brotherhood of Redemption, Tee pulled Ranthir aside and spoke with him regarding the golden key they had recovered from Pythoness House. It was the only direct connection they had to their missing memories, and Tee felt strongly that they should pursue it as rigorously as possible. She wanted Ranthir to research it at the Delver’s Guild Library as soon as possible.

But as they discussed it, they realized that they had a wider need to take stock of what they had accomplished, analyze what remained to be done, and make some hard decisions – as a group – regarding what their immediate and long-term goals should be.

As the others returned to the inn, therefore, they gathered them together in Elestra’s room.

Tee asked the most important question: What are our immediate goals?

IRON MAGE & THE HAMMERSONG VAULTS

Ranthir pointed out that they had only two firm commitments: The Iron Mage had asked them to collect a crate from the Freeport’s Sword on the 21^st. And, on the 27^th, they would gain access to their Hammersong Vaults.

Elestra, looking at the calendar, realized it was her own birthday. She had completely lost track of time.

Tee grinned, “My birthday is on the 14^th.”

THE GOLDEN KEY

Tee again raised the issue of the golden key, and the others agreed that Ranthir should research it as soon as possible.

“Should we use the key to open the Vaults?” Elestra asked.

Tee shook her head emphatically. “It’s too dangerous. It felt like it was draining the very life out of me. It could almost certainly kill any of us. Since we’re going to be able to access the vaults without using it, I think it’s better if we just wait.”

GHUL’S LABYRINTH

Dominic mentioned Ghul’s Labyrinth. “Should we finish exploring down there?”

“And there was still a lot of treasure we needed to recover,” Tee pointed out.

Ranthir pulled out the carefully executed map he had been drawing during their explorations. He pointed out the areas they hadn’t fully explored yet, including the sealed vault door they hadn’t been able to get past. “We could also get rid of the tainted items Mistress Tee is carrying.”

Tee emphatically agreed with that idea. And she was also in favor of taking the time to loot the more cumbersome treasures: Her own funds, in particular, were once again beginning to dwindle.

At this point Agnarr mentioned that he had just gotten back from the tunnels beneath Greyson House.

Tee was shocked. “What were you doing down there? Why did you go down there alone?!”

Agnarr quickly explained what his plan had been.

“You don’t speak goblin!”

Agnarr shrugged. “But I wasn’t the only one down there.” And he quickly explained what he had seen.

Ranthir pointed out that they had sold the location of the orrery, and that it was probably just workers from House Erthuo retrieving it. Tee agreed that it was likely, but they all agreed that they should confirm that sooner rather than later.

THE NIGHT OF DISSOLUTION

Then began the bulk of the evening’s work: The reading, sorting, and analyzing of the mass of paperwork – letters, notes, maps, books, and the like – that they had accumulated over the past several weeks.

Tee called their particular attention to the Night of Dissolution.

The first reference had been found among Helmut’s astronomical predictions: “The key is found. The lost shall be found. The night of dissolution comes when the barbarians arrive.”

Then a reference in Maquent’s journal from Pythoness House: “Radanna and her friends have become obsessed with the ‘Night of Dissolution’. They will speak of almost nothing else. They are convinced that the ‘coming changes have arrived’.” And later in the same journal: “The cultists say the hidden weapons will strike down their enemies on the Night of Dissolution. I no longer care. Their true future is too entwined with chaos to foretell with any accuracy. Perhaps what they say is true. I do sense great changes in the next few years.”

One of the minotaurs beneath Pythoness House had also said: “Ah, the Night of Dissolution is come at last!” As if they had expected to be awakened only when that night had come.

And in The Truth of the Hidden God, one of the chaos lorebooks they had discovered, the last few pages were a prophetic rambling of sorts, beginning with the words: “In the days before the Night of Dissolution shall come, our pretenses shall drop like rotted flies. In those days the Church shall be broken, and we shall call our true god by an open name.” The book went on to describe the faux religious practices for a fanciful “Rat God”, with the apparent intent that a church could be openly established for this “god”. Eventually, the prophecies say, even this “last pretense” would be abolished and “Abhoth shall be worshipped by all who are not blooded by the knife.”

“I’m worried that we’re somehow responsible for bringing about this ‘Night of Dissolution’… whatever it is,” Tee said. “We found the key. And the ‘Church shall be broken’, isn’t that Rehobath has done?”

“It sounds like an apocalypse,” Elestra said. “How can we be responsible for the apocalypse?”

“Well… Are we causing it? Or are we supposed to stop it?” Dominic asked. “Is that what we were trying to do?”

“Maybe the golden key is an essential part of whatever brings the Night of Dissolution about,” Tor suggested. “Maybe we were looking for the key in order to stop the cultists from doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

“If that’s the case,” Tee said, “Then Wuntad is going to come looking for it. And for us.”

“All the more reason we should get out of the Ghostly Minstrel,” Tor said. “Everyone knows we’re here. We should get a house. Try to find some place private.”

“We could move into Pythoness House,” Agnarr suggested.

“It would certainly give me room to study,” Ranthir agreed.

THE GALCHUTT

Studying the Truth of the Hidden God drew Ranthir’s attention to the Galchutt. The Brotherhood of the Blooded Knife, to which the cult manual was dedicated, practiced blasphemous rituals of human sacrifice. These sacrifices were dedicated to a Galchutt named Abhoth, who the cult venerated as the “Source of All Filth” and the “Lord of the Zaug”.

But the first time they had encountered the name Galchutt was in the final, fragmented pages of Morbion’s journal: “JUIBLEX. HE IS OF THE GALCHUTT. THEY ARE—“

And “Blades of the Galchutt” had also been inscribed on one of the chests beneath Pythoness House. Specifically, the chest containing two matched longswords of blackened steel with hilts carved in the shape of demons’ heads.

This discussion of the Galchutt made Tee remember something: The Book of Faceless Hate, the queer volume she’d discovered in Pythoness House and then forgotten about in the chaos which had followed. Ranthir set to work deciphering the hard-to-read text…

THE BOOK OF FACELESS HATE

No title marks the tattered, dark brown cover of this book. Its contents are written in a nearly illegible scrawl that could only have been born of hopeless madness. The first several pages of the book are covered in repetitions and variations of a single phrase: FACELESS HATE. (They wait in faceless hate. We shall burn in their faceless hate. The faceless hate has consumed me. And so forth…)

CHAOS: True chaos, or “deep chaos”, is a religion based on the fundamental aspects of hate, destruction, death, and dissolution. The philosophy of chaos is one of constant and endless change. It teaches that the current world is a creation of order and structure, but that it was flawed from the dawn of time due to the lack of foresight into what living sentience truly wants and need. The gods of creation – the gods of order – are untouchable and unknowable. They are aloof and uncaring, says the teaching of true chaos.

THE LORDS OF CHAOS: According to the book, the Lords of Chaos – or “Galchutt” – are gods of unimaginable power. But they are “mere servants of the true gods of change, the Demon Princes”. It is written that the Galchutt came to serve the Princes during the “War of Demons”, but while the Princes have “left this world behind”, the Galchutt still “whisper the words of chaos”.

VESTED OF THE GALCHUTT: Although they sleep, the Galchutt still exert some influence upon the world. This influence can be felt by the faithful through the “touch of chaos” and the “mark of madness”, but it can also be made manifest in one of the “Vested of the Galchutt” – powerful avatars of their dark demi-gods’ strength.

CHAOS CULTS: The book goes on to describe (but only in the vaguest of terms) many historical and/or fanciful “cults of chaos” which have risen up in veneration of either the Galchutt, the Vested of the Galchutt, or both. These cults seem to share nothing in common except, perhaps, the search for the “true path for the awakening of chaos”. The book would leave one with the impression that the history of the world has been spotted with the continual and never-ending presence of these cults – always operating in the shadows, save when bloody massacres and destruction bring them into the open.

All of this material suggested a connection between Morbion, the gods worshipped in Ghul’s Labyrinth, and the modern chaos cults.

DREAMING & CHAOS

Speaking of the worship of chaos, was there a connection between the Dreaming and Chaos?

When they had first awoken in their rooms, both Ranthir and Tee had in their possession copies of a work known as The Dreaming Arts. There were also their common experiences with the Dreaming Apothecary.

None of them were entirely sure what the Dreaming was, but they had also seen references to it in the Notes on the Corruption of Wa’tuel from the research material they had recovered from Shilukar’s laboratories. The exact nature of the “corruption” remained unclear, but there were references to a “theft of Dreams” and a “severing of the Dreaming” which would “result in an utterly alien character”.

Similarly, Shilukar’s Notes on the Blood of Ravvan had contained references to the Dreaming: Those suffering the “dreamless corruption” and “trapped in the Dreaming stasis” appeared to be “more receptive to the whispers of the Beast”.

This discussion reminded Tee and Agnarr of a notebook they had recovered from a reptilian sorcerer named Serrek Tarn in the adventures they remembered immediately prior to their amnesia. Amidst a mad scramble of mathematical notations and geometric enigmas, there had been several legible fragments, including:

“Lessons from the tainted dreaming” (written in a large bold hand near the top of the notes)

“Sessural is the depth and the circumference”

“The bastion of purity is not untouched. If it could be destroyed—then victory.”

“The shard has not been found.”

“The inner eye sees all, but all there is it does not see.”

“To see the blackness, one must look into their own soul. The blackness is of the body and the bone and the blood.”

“The dreaming must be made one with reality. The key is the sanctuary; the sanctuary is the key; and the apprentice of the One Who Speaks in Dreams shall be the master’s voice within the world. When he is made whole, the endtimes of the beginning shall renew.”

There seemed to be a connection between the chaos and taint of chaositech and the chaos and taint of the Galchutt. Was there also a connection between chaositech, the Galchutt, and the “tainted Dreaming”? None of them could guess.

SILION

Another name that they had multiple references to was “Silion”. They had first found this name in a letter recovered from Linech Cran’s office: Silion had written to Cran demanding delivery of a shipment (presumably of shivvel). The name Urnest, an associate of Silion’s, had also been mentioned in this letter.

The name had been mentioned again in papers recovered from Shilukar’s lair. A report from Shilukar’s minions had read: “We have been contacted through intermediaries by Silion. They have apparently obtained a bone of iron that requires repair. They inquire as to whether your services might be available?”

Who were Silion and Urnest? And had there been, as Elestra now suggested, some sort of connection between Shilukar and Cran?

This discussion also stirred Dominic’s memory: While discussing the results of their mission to Cran’s with Mand Scheben, Dominic had mentioned the name Silion. Scheben had noted that the name belonged to a lascivious and rather unkempt priestess who ran a small and disreputable temple somewhere down on the Street of the Gods. He had meant to follow up on it, but then Phon had disappeared and it had simply slipped his mind.

RAVVAN

Sifting through the papers from Shilukar’s lair brought Tee’s thoughts back to the Idol of Ravvan. She considered it to be a major threat, in no small part because the mention of it had clearly given Lord Zavere himself considerable worry.

“We should make it a priority to find the Eyes of Ravvan and the Idol of Ravvan.”

Everyone agreed… but they had no leads.

“Wait a minute,” Tor said. “Could it have been Wuntad who took the idol? The gardener we rescued said that a litorian was among those who had taken it.” And there was litorian among those following Wuntad when he had ambushed them at Pythoness House.

“It’s possible,” Tee nodded. But since they didn’t know where Wuntad was, either, it didn’t help much. Besides, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to find Wuntad. Their first meeting had ended poorly.

HELMUT’S PROPHECIES

They had found Shilukar by using the prophecies they had discovered at Helmut’s house. That alone made it clear that the prophecies had at least some validity to them. In the hope of finding similar insight, they turned their attention to the rest of these prophecies and collated the following commentaries on them: 

Sitting alone at night. H upon the scope of the sky. A slight flame comes out of the void and makes true that which should not be believed in vain.

H could be Helmut, the astronomer who “sits upon the scope of the sky”.

When the crowd gathers upon the hill in the oldest town, the new republic shall be troubled by its people. At this time the lord shall be weak.

This seemed like a clear description of the Riot in Oldtown. It had led them to the conclusion that Helmut was not just interpreting the prophecies, but working to bring them about or use them to his advantage.

In the world there will be made a king who will have little peace and a short life. At this time the ship of the Novarch will be lost, governed to its greatest detriment.

They theorized that “the ship of the Novarch will be lost” could refer to Rehobath declaring himself Novarch-in-Exile – although whether that referred to Rehobath or the Novarch in Seyrun was unclear. If “the ship” referred to the Church, then it could be assumed that Rehobath’s actions would not be to its favor.

Could “the king who will have little peace and a short life” refer to Dominic’s role in Rehobath’s ascension?

S shall find the golden statue while it still breathes. But the Idol of Ravvan brings doom. His lair lies beneath a vacant lot of brandywine.

This was the prophecy which had led them to Shilukar’s lair. The “golden statue” most likely referred to Lord Abbercombe.

They will be driven away for a long, drawn out fight. The countryside will be most grievously troubled. Town and country will have greater struggle. Salesia and Corinthia will have their hearts tried.

Salesia was the capital of Arathia and Corinthia lay on the eastern edge of the Southern Pass (a city-state jointly held by Arathia, Barund, and Seyrun).

The wands must be selected before the swords.

Ranthir had found a set of notes jammed into a book at Helmut’s house. These notes included the phrases “What are the staves of Ghul?” and “Asche shall deliver the Swords of the City”. Ranthir wondered whether this meant that the staves of Ghul needed to be selected before the Swords of Ptolus… whatever that meant.

The eye of Ravvan will be forsaken, when his wings will fail at his feet. The two of Ptolus will have made a constitution for Amsyr and Duvei, which the goblins will trample underfoot.

Duvei was an Arathian city-state. Amsyr was a Vennocan city-state. The identity of the “two of Ptolus” was unclear.

The Eye of Ravvan had been mentioned among Shilukar’s papers and associated with the Idol of Ravvan.

Ranthir raised the possibility that the goblins might “trample underfoot” simply by walking under their feet… in other words, to live underground. So this might be a reference to the Clan of the Torn Ear.

Arrived too late, the act has been done. The wind was against them, letters intercepted on their way. The conspirators were fourteen of a party. By the street of kings shall these enterprises be undertaken.

A reference to “brandywine” had led them to Brandywine Street. It was possible that the “street of kings” could refer to the King’s Road in the Nobles’ Quarter.

How often will you be captured, O city of the sun? Changing laws that are barbaric and vain. Bad times approach you. No longer will you be enslaved.  Great H will revive your veins.

The mimics have seen the lance. Doom.

When Tee had been struck by madness in Ghul’s Labyrinth, she had been left with two sentences burning in her mind: “The lance is being built. The runebearers will not come in time.”

The knights out of time shall move again. Their oath shall not be broken, though their dreams lie shattered like their city.

Tee wondered whether this might refer to the strangely armored figure they had seen on the street outside of Greyson House.

A coffin is put into the vault of iron, where seven children of the king are held. The ancestors and forebears will come forth from the depths of hell, lamenting to see thus dead the fruit of their line.

After combat and naval battle, the great ??? in his highest belfry: Red adversary will become pale with fear, Putting the great Ocean in dread.

The elves shall quarrel. Dark out of the depths. Blood shed under silver moonlight

Vehthyl and Itor, and the silver joined together. Beyond the depths of the Deeps, one will say the ether trembles.

Could the first sentence somehow be a reference to Dominic and Urlenius?

Ranthir knew that the Deeps were the mid-point of the Southern Pass. The city of Deeptown lay near their center.

The rune born of crime (DB???) will walk the clouds.

This prophecy had led them, inadvertently, to Dullin Balacazar and the unknown catastrophe which had beset the Cloud Theater. (“And let’s not do that again,” Tee said.)

When they will be close the lunar ones will fail, from one another not greatly distant. Cold, dryness, danger towards the frontiers, Even where the oracle has had its beginning.

The key is found. The lost shall be found. The night of dissolution comes when the barbarians arrive.

Could the key refer to the key they had found in Pythoness House? Could “the lost shall be found” refer to their memories?

“And is Agnarr the barbarian?” Dominic said.

“Well, he’s large,” Tee said. “But I don’t think he’s large enough to count as multiple barbarians.”

“Then perhaps the night hasn’t quite started yet if we aren’t the barbarians this refers to,” Ranthir said.

The warrens are opened. Great evil pours forth. No seal may be found while the heart remains untouched.

Could this be a reference to the Banewarrens? There had been two references to them before: The schematics for a “Drill of the Banewarrens” that they had discovered in Ghul’s Labytinth. And the Prophecy they had found scrawled on the wall of Pythoness House: “The Saint of Chaos shall return and the Banewarrens shall ope their maw. And the name of doom shall be Tavan Zith.”

Within the closed temple the lightning will enter, the citizens within their fort injured. Horses, cattle, men, the wave will touch the wall, through famine, drought, under the weakest armed.

THE SEALED BOX

Although they had identified the golden key from Pythoness House as their only connection to their lost memories, they realized that there was another: The sealed box that Ranthir had found in his room after waking up with amnesia.

It was an enigma. And like any lock she couldn’t open, it seemed to be taunting Tee.

But Ranthir hadn’t entirely forgotten it, either. He had been preparing more powerful spells that could be used to unlock the chest… but they didn’t work, either.

They decided on two courses of action for the next day. First, Ranthir would go to the Delver’s Guild Library and research the golden key.

The rest of them would go down into Ghul’s Labyrinth and check on whoever was down there. After Tee’s equipment from the Dreaming Apothecary arrived, they would return to Ghul’s Labyrinth and open the doors that had previously eluded her skill.

“And if nothing else, we’ll have finished something,” Agnarr said.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Lore Book Meetings– Campaign Journal: Session 24C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 24A: THE SQUIRE OF DAWN

June 21st, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Tor left the Ghostly Minstrel and turned north towards the Temple District, heading towards the Outer Cathedral. In the three weeks since he had come to Ptolus, he had felt a deep frustration growing in his heart. He had left his home and his family to become a knight and follow the path of honor. But he had found little of the certainty he had hoped for traveling with these strange companions that the mage Ritharius had sent him to. They were good people – of that he was certain, although there had been times when he had doubted – but they seemed lost in a time when he desperately needed direction.

And so he was intent in seeking out Sir Kabel Dathim, the leader of the Order of the Dawn. He had seen Sir Kabel’s cold reaction to the proclamations of Rehobath and this had, for whatever reason, created some sense of trust in him.

When he arrived at the Cathedral, Tor spoke with one of the lesser priests and was led to Sir Kabel’s quarters. The priest knocked on the door, entered, and returned only moments later to usher Tor forward and shut the door behind him.

Sir Kabel’s quarters were small, but well-furnished. An inner door led to what was most likely a bedroom, and the main chamber into which Tor stepped served as both an office and a lounge of sorts. Sir Kabel was sitting at his desk, but as Tor entered he closed a thin ledger, rose, and crossed towards the couch.

“Sir Kabel.” Tor bowed deeply. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

Sir Kabel returned the bow with a nod and then sat down on the couch, motioning Tor to a nearby chair. “Sir Torland of Barund, if I remember correctly? We spoke of horses at Harvestime, did we not?”

“Yes, but I am no knight, sir.”

“Truly?” Sir Kabel raised his eyesbrows. “Yet you bear a sword at your side and you carry yourself like a warrior.”

“I am trained in the blade,” Tor said. “But I belong to no order.”

“Would you like to?”

Tor couldn’t contain the grin which erupted across his face. “That’s why I’ve come to you!”

But now Kabel’s face, which had been drawn in thought and consideration, became clouded with suspicion. “You’re in league with the Chosen of Vehthyl, aren’t you?”

Tor’s grin dropped away and he chose his next words carefully. “He has recently been my companion.”

“How recently?”

“A few weeks.”

“And what do you think of the Novarch-in-Exile?” Kabel couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice.

“I think he’s dangerous,” Tor said plainly. “And I don’t trust him. I don’t think Dominic trusts him, either.”

“And yet he stood at Rehobath’s side.”

“He didn’t know what Rehobath was planning. None of us did.”

Kabel nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think Dominic is truly the Chosen of Vehthyl?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he knows.” Tor shrugged. “But he bears the signs. That’s no trick.”

Kabel grunted and then stood up. He circled behind the couch and began pacing, his words coming thoughtfully. “I don’t trust Rehobath. He claims to speak with the voices of the Gods, but the Gods speak through the Church and he would raise himself against it. I serve the Church. Not him.” He turned to Tor. “I’m not sure what to make of your friend, either. I would squire you into the Order of the Dawn, but as part of that I must ask you to keep a wary eye on Dominic.”

Tor frowned. “I won’t betray my friends.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Kabel said. “Are not two of my men – men who are more loyal to Rehobath than me – already standing guard at the Ghostly Minstrel? And you can be sure that those are not the only eyes that Rehobath has on him. I am only interested in making sure that Dominic himself does not turn against the Church.”

Tor had to think deeply, but in the end he believed that what Sir Kabel said was true. Or, at least, true enough. “I can agree to that.”

“Then come with me.”

Sir Kabel led Tor out of the Cathedral and into the large complex of Church-owned buildings just to the north.

This complex was capped by the Godskeep, which housed the Order of the Dawn. At first, Tor thought he was being taken there, but instead Sir Kabel stopped in the small practice field just outside the keep’s southern gate.

A handful of knights were scattered here and there, practicing or skirmishing. Sir Kabel went over to the racks of practice weapons and pulled down two wooden swords. He tossed one of them to Tor. Tor caught it out of the air.

“I’ll rest on little ceremony here,” Kabel said. “This is your First Trial of Arms. We’ll begin with the Test of the Blade. Strike me. If you can.”

Tor attacked… and Kabel easily parried the thrust. “Good form. Controlled, yet fierce.”

Tor feinted to the left and then slashed to the right. Kabel almost completely ignored the feint and easily parried the slash, but Tor deflected his blow and plunged the point of his blade toward’s Kabel’s chest. Kabel was forced to twist his own sword in order to parry the follow-thru. “Excellent!”

Tor backed off half a pace and then quickly brought a strong blow down directly towards Kabel’s head, but Kabel was quick enough to shift his footwork, right his form, and block the blow.

“Enough!” Kabel cried, disengaging. “Now for the Test of the Shield. Defend yourself!”

Tor loosed the shield from his back and lowered himself into a defensive posture. Sir Kabel unleashed a withering flurry of attacks, and although Tor blocked many of them, Kabel’s sword seemed to constantly find the weak points in his defense.

After several exchanges, Kabel stepped back again. “I’m impressed. It’s clear you have had little formal training, but your instincts are strong and you have clearly been tested by the true heat of battle. The Order would be honored to have you serve as its squire.”

Kabel drew out a ring marked with the sigil of the Order of the Dawn and gave it to Tor.

Tor’s heart leapt. It was the dream he had sought, but scarcely hoped for. He quickly made arrangements with Sir Kabel to return once every other day for his training, and then made his way back towards the Ghostly Minstrel.

AGNARR’S ABORTED MISSION

Agnarr headed across Delver’s Square to Ebbert’s and purchased a variety of supplies, particularly a large bulk of raw meat and other food supplies. Loading all of it into his bag of holding, he set out for Greyson House: His intention was to travel down to the caverns of the Clan of the Torn Ear, gift them with the food supplies, and then practice sparring with them. The fact that he spoke none of their tongue dissuaded him not at all.

Once he made his way into the tunnels beneath Greyson House, however, he found them unexpectedly disturbed: The pit of chaos had been covered over with a thick layer of stone… albeit a layer of stone which now seemed to be slowly bubbling and boiling away as a result of the powerful forces of primal chaos trapped beneath it.

Agnarr doused his flaming sword and proceeded carefully down the hallway. As he approached the complex where the bloodwights had nested, he heard many voices and the muffled sounds of some activity.

Toying with the idea of brazenly entering the complex and confronting the intruders, Agnarr instead decided for prudence. He retreated silently back to Greyson House and returned to the Ghostly Minstrel.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Player-Facing Mechanics – Campaign Journal: Session 24B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 23F: THE PALE TOWER

June 7th, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

BROTHERHOOD OF REDEMPTION

Elestra led Dominic down to the Guildsman District. They found the public house of the Brotherhood of Redemption to be a rather small and unimpressive affair. When they knocked on the door, it was answered by a meek-looking man.

“Welcome. Can the Brotherhood be of some assistance to you?”

“I think so,” Elestra said.

“You have captured some bestial creature in need of the gods’ redemption?”

“Not exactly,” Dominic said.

“We met someone in need of help. He’s gentle. And kind. But a little lost and confused.”

“We are no common charity,” the man said. “If this creature is civilized, then he is beyond our purlieu.”

“Well, half of him is,” Dominic said.

“What do you mean?”

“He has two heads,” Elestra explained. “One of them is civilized, I guess. But the other definitely isn’t.”

“An ettin-like divided consciousness?” The man was not only intrigued, but excited. “With one turned against the other? Well, if you can bring him here we would certainly give him any help that we can.”

Taking their leave, Elestra and Dominic – primarily at Elestra’s prompting – decided to return to Pythoness House, by themselves, and try to find the Cobbledman.

They got no further than the courtyard, however, before they realized – given the possibility that a demon was still wandering about the place – that this might have been a good idea. Elestra called for the Cobbledman a couple of times and, when he did not come down into the courtyard, they left.

SHOPPING

They reconvened at the Ghostly Minstrel. Agnarr took the many rat tails they had collected and turned them into the proper officials for the bounty, feeling a great sense of fulfillment at finally managing to accomplish one of the first things he had vowed to do upon awaking in Ptolus.

Tee gathered up the items they were going to sell and led the rest of the group on a shopping trip. Ranthir chose not to go with them, instead remaining behind to continue his studies (while trying to find some useful way for Iltumar to contribute beyond petting little Erin), but did ask Tee if she could try to find for him an item with a particular enchantment laid upon it.

Ranthir described the enchantment in detail. Tee glossed over most of the technical details, but captured the gist of it: The item would attune itself to the rhythms of Ranthir’s own body. Once it had done so, it would be capable of nourishing him, intensifying the refreshment of mind and body during periods of sleep.

“Instead of needing to sleep for eight hours every night,” Ranthir explained, “I would only need two hours of sleep. And in the extra hours of the night I could be copying my scrolls or studying the many books we have discovered or anything of the like.”

Tee knew that Ranthir was frustrated by how little time he was able to devote to his studies and preparations, and she herself had worried that they weren’t spending enough time studying the various books of lore they were discovering. So she was quite happy to discover that Myraeth had recently received a ring with just such an enchantment laid upon it. Ranthir did not have quite enough money to afford it, but Tee talked it over with the others and they decided it would be in their best interests to pool their resources and help him buy it.

“After all,” Tee said. “The best wizard is a well rested wizard.”

THE PALE TOWER

They went back to the inn. Ranthir excused himself from Iltumar and joined them in Elestra’s room for a conference. They decided to follow-up on the offer that Edlari had made and go to the Pale Tower to speak with him.

Ranthir poked his head back into his room and spoke with Ilutmar, who was more than willing to wait for him to return. Ranthir smiled, nodded, and then ran to catch up with the others.

Standing in the northern reaches of Oldtown, not that far from Pythoness House, the Pale Tower stood in stark contrast to the structures around it, rising up from the midst of a perfumed garden more like a marble monument than a building. The windowless round tower was faultlessly white and seemed to shine as if newly built, and yet there was an air of great age that hung unmistakably about it.

There were two great knockers of gold upon the double doors of godwood at the front of the tower. Tee reached up and clapped one of them loudly.

The doors parted without visible hand, revealing an antechamber of marble. The rune-carved Graven One stepped forward to greet them.

“What business brings you to the Pale Tower?”

“Edlari asked us to seek him here.”

“I see.” The Graven One’s solemn face seemed to smile. “I shall seek him and return.”

At his gesture, they stepped into the antechamber and the outer doors of the tower swung shut behind them. The Graven One turned and went through an inner door. They caught a glimpse of a long hallway beyond it, making it clear that the Pale Tower’s interior was vastly larger than its exterior.

A few minutes passed, and then the Graven One returned, leading Aoska through the inner doors.

Aoska smiled. “The Graven One has told me that you seek Edlari.” Her voice was like honeyed silk.

“He asked us to seek him here,” Tee said.

“He did return here,” Aoska stood. “And told us of what you did for him. We thank you for freeing him from so foul an imprisonment. But he has left us again, and stepped through the Jewels so that he might stand once more before the Nine Gods and cleanse his soul of the taint that has been left upon it. He may not return, and Sephranos himself counseled that he should feel no need… but Edlari could not bear the touch of it.”

“We know something of the Taint,” Tee said. “We have suffered its touch in attempting to cleanse the evil from that place where Edlari was imprisoned.”

“I can sense it in you,” Aoska said. She seemed to think carefully for a moment. “Come. It is the least that we might do to see that such accounts are set to rights.”

She turned and led them through the inner doors, which parted at her approach. They passed in silence through many pillared halls and open gardens, each seemingly more beautiful than the last.

At last, Aoska brought them before great valves of silvered adamantine. She turned to them then and said, “You shall have audience with Sephranos, the First Among the Chosen.”

At her touch the doors parted and opened, revealing a hall of ivory and gold. Atop a dais at the far end, upon a throne of mithril, sat a gold-skinned man with white-feathered wings. His eyes were pits of pale blue fire shining out from a face both regal and welcoming.

Aoska approached him and whispered into his ears, and then his eyes were turned upon them. And, most particularly upon Dominic.

“We are honored to give audience to the Chosen of Vehthyl.” Sephranos smiled and turned his gaze to all of them. “We thank you all on the behalf of Edlari. We were saddened to see him leave us once again, but glad that he is now free to find his own path again. What boon would you ask of us?”

“When we freed him, Edlari healed us of the dark wounds we had sustained in the place where he had been imprisoned,” Tee said humbly. “After he had left to return here, we faced greater dangers and suffered similar wounds. We had hoped that we might find healing here.”

“This shall I do for you.”

Sephranos raised his hand and a golden light shone forth from it. For a moment it seemed as if they had had lost consciousness – but rather than darkness, it felt as if a bright white light had embraced them.

Then their eyes opened once more and all was as it had been – Sephranos upon his throne and Aoska at his right hand upon the dais. But their wounds had been healed without any lingering trace or ache – and even the soul-hung weariness which had afflicted Tee since using the golden key had passed from her.

Aoska stepped forward and led them out of the hall. As the valves of silvered adamantine swung shut behind them and Aoska led them back towards the entrance, Tee turned to her. “Aoska, we have in our possession many artifacts that bear the taint. We know that there are many people seeking them for dark purposes, and we can’t carry them safely. We know that a hallowed place would serve to hold them and even to cleanse them, but the churches we have approached have turned us away. Is there such a place here in the Pale Tower where they might be kept?”

“We could not bear to have these objects mar the purity of such a place as the Tower,” Aoska said.

Tee nodded sadly. “Yes, we’ve been hearing that a lot.”

Aoska smiled. “But there is a place in the Temple District. A hallowed vault and sanctuary where such items may be kept.”

They couldn’t help but notice, as Aoska gave Tee the directions to this vault, that their path back through the Pale Tower was not the same path by which they had come.

“There’s something else,” Tee said, hesitantly.

“What is it?” Aoska smiled encouragingly.

“We… lost some of the tainted artifacts,” Tee struggled to find the words and then, like a pent-up river bursting its dam, babbled the rest of it. “We were ambushed by chaos cultists. They were led by someone named Wuntad.”

“I know the name,” Aoska said. “A minor cultist of some recent years. We had thought he had long since fled the city.”

“He’s back,” Agnarr said gruffly.

“Is there anything you can do?” Tee asked.

“Perhaps,” Aoska said. “But there are many things of greater import to concern the powers of the Pale Tower. There are many such cultists, and their danger is not to be dismissed. But there are also larger dangers in this world.”

The thought of that didn’t sit comfortably with Tee, and she found herself changing the topic. “I was also wondering if you knew Eida Laevantha. I have met her and she once mentioned that she had affairs with the Pale Tower.”

“Yes, I know her,” Aoska said. “Our paths have crossed often in the Dreaming.”

And then they were back at the entrance of the Tower and saying their farewells to both Aoska and the Graven One (who waited there still).

REDEMPTION FOR THE COBBLEDMAN

It seemed quite strange to emerge out of the marbled wonders of the Pale Tower onto the common streets of Ptolus, but after taking a moment to orient themselves they decided that – since they were in Oldtown in any case – they should return to Pythoness House together and try to bring the Cobbledman to the Brotherhood of Redemption.

They found the Cobbledman sleeping in his tower again. Tee gently waked him (from a safe distance) and explained that they had found people who could help him. “You don’t have to live like this any more.”

The Cobbledman seemed trepidatious, but also hopeful. He followed them down to the Guildsman District, and there they placed him in the Brotherhood’s care. Ranthir gave him one last iron ration and, as they left, he was munching it contentedly.

THE FATE OF PHON

They headed back to the Ghostly Minstrel and then split up again: Ranthir returned to his room (where Iltumar was still reading). Agnarr decided that he was going to return to the caverns of the Clan of the Torn Ear. Dominic retired to his room to study the Book of Vehthyl.

Elestra went out into the streets. Most of the city was still captivated by the story of what Rehobath had done the day before. The newssheets had dubbed him the Novarch-in-Exile and public opinion seemed evenly split on whether Rehobath’s actions were weal or woe.

But Elestra also discovered that the day before Rehobath’s pronouncement, there had been another Flayed Man killing in the Warrens… and there were many whispers of worry coursing through the city.

There had been another atrocity that day, too: A house in the Temple District had burned down. Three dead bodies had been found inside and the rumor of the street was that the Balacazars were responsible.

A sickening suspicion entered into Elestra’s head, and asking further she confirmed it: The house had been Helmut’s. It appeared that Phon was dead.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Detritus of the Dungeon – Campaign Journal: Session 24A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 23E: WITH NOUGHT BUT THEIR LIVES

June 7th, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

BATTLE OF THE MINOTAURS

Tee gathered up the items, put them into her bag of holding, and then headed back towards the underwater tunnel.

“Wait,” Elestra said. “What about they key we came for?”

Tee looked at her quizzically. “I think it was the key from the chest.”

“The one that hurt you? But that doesn’t make any sense. And we’ve found lots of keys here. Maybe there’s another one. Why would we want a key that hurts you to use it?”

“We don’t know why we wanted the key,” Tee said. “We don’t know what it’s for.”

“We should open the door,” Elestra said. “See if there’s another key back there.”

“The door the minotaurs were afraid of?” Tee said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe they were just pretending to be afraid.”

The argument continued for several minutes, but eventually it was decided that they would at least look through the door. Tee picked the lock and edged the door open, peeking through it.

There was another icy cavern, this one larger than the rest. A multi-headed construct of frost-rimed brass and levianthan proportions lay in a heap in the center of the floor. But even as Tee’s eye fell upon it, the construct stirred – one of its heads slowly rearing up with the rasping sound of metal upon metal.

Tee slammed the door shut.

“We need to go. Now.”

WHAM!

The cavern rocked with the bone-shaking impact of the construct on the far side of the door.

“What is it?”

WHAM!

“Go! Now!”

They fled back through the underwater tunnel and up through the fleshy membrane… and found the minotaurs waiting for them.

“Segginal tells us that Wuntad sent you on a mission. Give us the weapons of chaos.”

Tee was bleary-eyed and exhausted, still suffering from the ill effects of using the key. She didn’t want to do it, but they didn’t seem to have any other choice. With a heavy sigh she reached into her bag, pulled out the spear, and handed it to the nearest minotaur.

Agnarr attacked.

“Agnarr! No!” Tee was perhaps even more surprised than the minotaurs. Her hand was still half in her bag of holding, reaching for the next item. She quickly changed her aim and withdrew the modified dragon rifle. But she was too weak to fight, and simply stumbled back towards the nearest corner.

The minotaurs roared. The claws of one smashed into Agnarr’s side, sending him spinning towards the other who caught him with a similarly devastating blow. Agnarr dropped to one knee. He swung his sword feebly towards them, but then a third blow crashed down on his head and he slumped into unconsciousness.

Tor hesitated, his sword half-drawn from its sheath, waiting to see what would happen. With Agnarr down, would Tee begin negotiating again?

Perhaps she might have, but even as Agnarr thudded heavily to the ground, Dominic extended his hand and murmured a prayer. A bolt of silvery energy emerged from his fingertips and struck one of the minotaurs. The energy flowed about the creature as if it were liquid mercury, and the motions of the minotaur slowed… and stopped. It had become frozen in time.

Tor finished drawing his sword and charged the other minotaur. He nimbly weaved his way through the flurrying claws of the creature, turning the closer blows with his shield. His sword, crackling with electricity, struck here and there – opening painful wounds in the creature’s thick hide.

As Tor kept the creature occupied, Elestra and Dominic darted forward and laid their hands on Agnarr. Their joint strength flowed into the barbarian, healing his wounds.

As Agnarr groggily regained his consciousness he quickly focused on the battle being waged almost directly above him between Tor and minotaur. He grabbed up his sword and stabbed up… straight through the minotaur’s groin. The creature gave a bellowing roar of unimaginable pain and collapsed in a pool of its own blood and viscera.

As Agnarr stood up, shaking off some of that same blood and viscera, Tee weakly stepped forward, lowered the modified dragon rifle, and immolated the surviving minotaur (who was still trapped by Dominic’s spell).

LEAVING WITH THEIR LIVES

“Wuntad is very angry with you.”

It was the voice of Segginal – the statue-bound chaos spirit.

“I don’t care, Segginal.” Tee shouted. “Open up!”

After a moment, the statue above them slid aside. They climbed up and then moved away from the statue before discussing their options.

“We could still try to escape,” Agnarr said.

Tee shook her head. “We couldn’t beat them before and now I’m less than useless in a fight.”

“They might have left.”

“I doubt it,” Tee said. “But we can check.

They climbed up to the second floor, hoping to look down through one of the tower windows. As they reached the tower, Elestra asked the question that was weighing on everyone’s mind: “Do you think the Segginal guy is telling Wuntad where we are?”

Tee looked out through the window. “Yeah… I think he is.”

Wuntad was standing on the path before the gate, staring straight up at her. He was now accompanied by more than a dozen of the cultists. Now he shouted, his voice loud enough to be heard through the lead-framed window.

“The minotaurs don’t matter to me! They were foul, primitive creatures. Unworthy servants. All I want are the weapons! Give them to me and you can still leave here with your lives!”

“Damn it.” Tee sighed heavily and turned away from the window.

“We’re not going to give them to him, are we?” Elestra asked.

Tee looked at her. “I’ll say it again: Do we have any other choice?”

“But we can’t! We don’t know what he’ll do with them if he gets them!”

“But we do know what he’ll do if he doesn’t get them.”

“We could always try going out the back way,” Dominic suggested.

“With Segginal telling him everything we’re doing?” Tee said.

“If we do give them to him,” Tor said. “I don’t want to go out there. I’m sure he’ll betray us.”

“Maybe we could get the Cobbledman to give him the items? I don’t think he can actually come into the keep. Otherwise he would have just killed us and gotten the weapons himself. Or done it years ago.”

A shadow fell across them. Wuntad had flown up to the window and was looking in at them. “This is your last chance.”

“Will you agree to free the Cobbledman?” Tee asked.

Wuntad’s eyes narrowed. “He lives?”

“He does. And he misses you.”

Wuntad seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Very well. If you give me the weapons, I will free the Cobbledman.”

“Fine,” Tee said. “We’ll have him bring the items to you.”

They found the Cobbledman, once again, sleeping in his tower. Tee carefully woke him.

“Cobbledman? Wuntad is here.”

“Wuntad’s here?”

“He is. He’d like to see you. He wants to free you. But I need to ask you a favor.” Tee quickly explained what they needed the Cobbledman to do.

They went down to the courtyard. Wuntad and the cultists were waiting just outside the gate. Tee loaded the Cobbledman’s arms full with the various weapons… but she deliberately held back three items: The journal, the ironwood box inscribed with Lithuin runes (and the crystals it held), and the golden key. She hoped that Wuntad might not notice the missing items, and if he did then—

“Where is the box of ironwood?” There was great anger in Wuntad’s voice.

“It’s right here,” Tee said, pulling it from her bag. “But his arms were full. Send him back and he can bring it out to you.”

And, as she had hoped, Wuntad had noticed the missing item most precious to him… but not the key. Nor did he open the ironwood box and notice that the journal was missing.

“Cobbledman,” Wuntad said. “You are free to leave Pythoness House.”

Wuntad then turned to them. “I am glad that you saw… reason. But pray that our paths do not cross again.”

The cultists turned and left. The Cobbledman came back towards them, a wide grin on his kind face. “Did you hear?”

“We did,” Tee smiled. “I’m very happy for you.”

“Do you have any more food?”

Ranthir laughed and handed him another bar of rations. The Cobbledman, munching contentedly, headed back towards his tower.

“We should do something for him,” Tor said. “He shouldn’t have to stay here.”

“What about those people that Urlenius was talking about?” Tee suggested.

“The Brotherhood of Redemption?” Dominic said.

“Right. They might be willing to help him.” She looked around. The cultists were gone. “Well, shall we go?”

“Not yet,” Agnarr said. “There’s one more thing I want to do.”

Agnarr returned to the statue of Segginal… and smashed it to pieces. As the last of his destructive work was done, a mournful wind howled through the keep and, with a malevolent laugh, Segginal’s voice echoed through the halls: “You will bear my curse forever.”

Agnarr grunted. “Nice guy.”

A PEACEFUL AFTERNOON

As they emerged from Pythoness House, the aeroship of House Shever passed above them – heading out towards the Southern Sea. They followed in its wake, heading down into Midtown and returning to the Ghostly Minstrel.

Tee had an appointment to keep, so she only stopped in long enough to drop off her bag of holding (with its tainted items and, most importantly, the soul draining key) and then left again.

Tor, too, only went to his room long enough to pick up a fresh set of clothes before heading over to the bathhouse on Tavern Row. (Where he sat quietly in a corner, speaking to no one.)

Agnarr headed to the common room and ordered a meal of feast-like proportions.

Elestra and Dominic, meanwhile, talked things over and decided to spend the afternoon trying to find help for the Cobbledman. Elestra knew that the Brotherhood of Redemption maintained a small chapterhouse in the Guildsman District (although there were rumors that they also maintained a large underground fortress somewhere beneath the city).

As Elestra and Dominic headed back out through the front hall, however, a cry came from the common room. “Mistress Elestra! Mistress Elestra!”

Before she even turned to look, Elestra knew that it was Iltumar. She suppressed a groan.

Iltumar was sitting at a table with an elven woman with dark brown hair. The glint of mithril chain could be seen under the woman’s clothes.

“Elestra, this is Lavis,” Iltumar said. “I’ve solved Tee’s riddle! The answer is ‘t’! T for Tee!”

“Very good, Iltumar!” Elestra smiled, exchanging a look with Dominic.

“I’ve got a new one for you, too: ‘My house is not quiet, but I am not loud. I am the swifter, at times the stronger. My house more enduring, longer to last. At times I will rest, but my house rushes on. Within it I lodge as long as I live. Should we two be severed, my death becomes sure.’”

Elestra leaned over towards Dominic. “Do you think it’s a snail? I think it might be a snail.”

Dominic shrugged.

“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Iltumar asked eagerly.

Elestra turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Iltumar. But Dominic and I have something we need to do. In fact, we were just heading out.”

Iltumar’s smile fell away.

“But I’ll let Tee know about your new riddle. I know she’ll be excited to hear it.”

“It’s okay,” Iltumar said. “I know you probably have much more important people to see.”

Elestra awkwardly tried to figure out how to make her farewells. Lavis exchanged a sympathetic look with her. But, at that moment, Ranthir was passing by on his way to fetch his customary bowl of soup for the evening. Overhearing her distress, he tapped Iltumar on the shoulder.

“Iltumar, I have some studies to attend to this evening. Would you, perchance, be interested in assisting me?”

Iltumar’s smile returned, even larger than before. “Really?”

“Yes,” Ranthir smiled. “I have to fetch some food, but then we could begin immediately… if you like.”

FOURTH LESSON OF THE DREAMING

Tee – weakened by the draining effects of the golden key and distracted by the myriad thoughts racing through her mind – had difficulty focusing upon her training. She had difficulty even achieving the dreaming trance, and could do little of consequence.

When the frustrating trance work was completed, Tee began gathering up her things to leave. But Doraedian stopped her.

“The dreaming trance requires a difficult art of balance. It shall never be without effort, although you will find that it becomes easier in time. However, there is another matter that we must discuss today. There are many paths through the arts of the Dreaming, and from this day forward your training will be of your choosing.”

“Choosing?” Tee said.

“Yes, while your lessons with me will continue, you will also be trained in one of three specialties.

“First, there is the Dreamsight. The Dreaming is the wellspring from which all reality is born and the grave to which all living memory returns. As such, those who can see the Dreaming with unclouded eyes can perceive deep truths of the world around them.

“Second, there are the Dream Pacts. The Lords of the Dreaming are powerful and fey. Those skilled enough in the dreaming arts can turn their souls into conduits through which the Spirit Lords can be made manifest in the world around us. But following such a path requires supreme self-control, for the Lords of the Dreaming are capable of reshaping your very soul.

“Finally, there is the art of Dreamspeaking. Those practiced in the dreaming arts can reshape the Dreaming around them. Those who are masters of the Dreaming, however, can reshape the world around them by reshaping the dreams from which the world is born. These arts have been perfected into the dreaming tongue – a primal language which not only describes the most fundamental aspects of reality, but can be used to transform it.”

“I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“It is not a decision to be rushed. Take your time. Explore your thoughts. Write me by letter before your next lesson on the 18^th and let me know your choice.”

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Diegetic Mechanics – Campaign Journal: Session 23F
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index