Session Twenty-Eight, July 28, 2005

[Matt]

Agrazhar 16, 730 TR

The party gathered in the common room of the inn, for their usual breakfast discussion. They discussed the odd comment the beggar made the night before, about how Ewen reminded him of someone.

“Ewen might not be the natural child of the family” Imarë said delicately.

“Are you implying I am a bastard?” Ewen said icily. “Watch what you say about my mother!”

“Let’s say your mother fell in with someone,” the elf suggested. “She got pregnant with you, and when he left, she married the man who you know as your father ... that could be why you don’t look like the rest of your family,” she finished.

“That makes sense” said Bevan.

“Maybe the beggar saw your father” Imarë said.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table; the only sounds the chewing of food and the clanking of utensils.

“We’re trying to learn about the Morgathian presence, though they seem to be very quiet” said Bevan, changing the subject.

“Except the guy who smells of the grave” said Imarë.

“No, that’s not what he said; he said he smells like death” said Dascomb.

“I think more immediately, the issue of cashing in on Imarë’s sacrifice, with Tanaar – we have a definite in there. He said he would owe me any favor, seeing if I hooked him up with Imarë” the bard said.

“Is there much we can do today?” Baris interrupted.

“We never went back to the fishing ship.”

“We learned the skinny kid’s name” said Bevan. “We could follow up on that.”

“What do you think Ewen?” Baris asked.

“I think I will head over to the merchants guild, and speak with Tanaar, seeing as I have an ‘in’ with him.” the bard replied, winking.

“How does the beggar already know Ferjan doesn’t have a brother?” Bevan asked, trying to change the subject again.

“Because he isn’t really looking hard,” Imarë replied. “Most people think the search for the brother is a front,” she added.

“The fishwife said as much,” said Ewen.

“Our cover story isn’t much better!” Dascomb said, and the party shared some jokes about this. “Hopefully the townsfolk won’t talk to each other” Baris stated. They imagined a town meeting about themselves and Ferjan, and laughed.

Finally, it was decided. Ewen was going to head over to the merchant guild hall, and Baris (as Karl once again) would join him, to watch the harper’s back. The two headed out into the rain, trudging down the muddy streets towards the merchant’s hall.

The women decided to stay behind in the inn and relax. Or maybe they just wanted to stay out of the rain. Imarë thought that she needed “quiet time” after her interlude with Tanaar, in any case.

Presently, Ewen and Karl arrived at the merchant guildhall. They stood before a large oaken door. Standing before the door was a guard, outfitted as a light foot. “State your business,” the man said.

“I will call upon Master Tanaar if he is available, tell him Ewen of Ravinargh is here” the bard replied.

“Wait here” said the guard. He entered the hall, and came back after a short while. “Master Tanaar is not in, however he may be at home,” the guard said, gesturing to the large building to the left of the guildhall.

Karl and Ewen strolled over to what was apparently Tanaar’s home, a little quickly, perhaps hoping to get out of the rain. A tall elderly lady answered the door. “What be ya wantin’?”

“Is Master Tanaar in? Ewen of Ravinargh is here to see him” said Ewen.

“He’s asleep, but he left word for you last night.”

“Oh?”

“You’re to come this evening – bring your friends. Especially the slinky one – he said you’d know what that means.”

Ewen bowed, Karl stifled a laugh. “Thank you my good lady.”

“I am Brigyne” the old lady said.

The two returned to the inn, and told the others what had happened. They all decided that the party would begin their training today. There was not much more they wanted to do, and it had stopped raining around noon, though there were still a few clouds – nice weather for training, not too hot or cold. You may not be able to choose the weather during battle, but it is nice to do so during training. The party went off to a field to practice their various arts, and to teach those to their companions.

Evening came, and it was time to go to the merchant’s guildhall. “Do you have anything nice to wear Imarë?” Ewen asked the elf. She smirked.

The whole party went on to the Mercantylers’ Hall, which was rather well appointed. There was a beautiful fireplace, fine wooden tables, and even glass windows. One of the tables had been moved away, nearer to the fireplace. When the party arrived there was already a large crowd, they were already eating. The party recognized Daerga of Ekimon, and another merchant, whose name they did not catch, though he had been sitting with Tanaar the night before. Though the party had never met him, they saw that the man called Ferjan was there as well. The large scar on the man left little doubt as to his identity. He sat at a table alone.

At this point Brigyne came bustling from behind a curtain, carrying a tray of food, which she put on one of the tables. Tanaar came over to greet the party. “Ah, Master Harper, master whelp, master procurer, how are you this evening?”

“I am well, how are you?”

“Slept like a baby!” the old merchant said, waving at Imarë. “You’re all welcome to the hall. Normally we don’t allow non-merchants, but you are welcome. We’ve prepared you a space harper, do you need food first or do you want to jump right in with the music?”

“I’ll jump right in” said Ewen, and Tanaar sat down.

Ewen played some vaguely bawdy folk songs before taking a break for food. There was some bored clapping. Ewen played the lute well, but his singing was awful. Tanaar came over “No backup singer?” “It’s an off night for me” said Ewen. “But you still haven’t played my song about our little friend!” Tanaar said. “I’m looking forward to that one!” he added. He invited Imarë over to his table, and she batted her eyes.

Food, consisting of roast goose and, of course, ale, was brought for the harper and the rest of the party. Brigyne tapped the harper on the shoulder and said “You’re very good.”

After dinner, Ewen played much better, and Imarë was introduced to Valenar of Emyn, another merchant who was sitting at the table with Tanaar. Imarë noticed he smelled a little sweet, as if he used a lot of perfume. From the conversation he was having with the guildmaster, the elf got the impression that his business involved a wide variety of goods. Though it was apparent that Tanaar’s interest in business had long since waned. He did not seem to be very interested in being guildmaster. In fact, Tanaar tried to convince Valenar to take over the post, but Valenar complained of a busy time. “It’s always a busy time with you.” Tanaar said, though not angrily.

After Ewen’s second set, he returned to the table, and Ferjan came over. The smell of strong perfume preceded the large man, but Ewen could not detect a noticeable odor beneath it, beyond what a man would smell like if he had not bathed in awhile, which Ferjan clearly had not.

“Good harper,” the man said. Ewen nodded to him. “Perhaps I could join you?”

The bard motioned for the man to sit down. “I am called Ewen of Ravinargh.”

“I’ve been told,” Ferjan said. “The guildmaster recommended you to all of us, said it would be a wonderful evening!” Ewen laughed at this.

“Who are you?” asked Ewen.

“I am Ferjan of Senza,” the man said, confirming Ewen’s suspicions. “I can’t help but notice you have a large group of helpers with you.”

“My ladies, and my sidekick Karl.”

“You’re big to be a sidekick,” Ferjan said to Karl, who shrugged. “I wonder if I might impose on you,” he said, turning back to the harper.

“Impose away my good man,” Ewen replied.

“You might notice I sell perfume,” Ferjan said, making a choking sound that was apparently his way of laughing. “I came her a few days ago, not to sell perfume, but on the whim of my brother, who I might add is a bit crazy. Maybe not for real, but he acts like it, which he did this time. He had a map, convinced, he was, of buried treasure from the old Corani empire. Thought it might be out at the old naval station, over on the inner island, or in the hills. He would not be deterred, and so we came to Selvos. And the very first night, he slipped out, and I haven’t seen him since. I think he went digging, looking for that treasure. I’m worried, and he’s not the only one who has disappeared.”

“We heard that too,” said Bevan.

“My brother is skinny,” said Ferjan.

Bevan said, “There was another gentleman who disappeared, a local.”

“Four!” Ferjan interrupted. “A street thug, my brother, a local sailor, and a thirteen year old boy, who some say was beaten, which he was, some say he ran away. Some of the locals think Wihtrig, some sort of local sea monster, got him, but I don’t believe in that. I looked as far and wide as I could – but I don’t like water.” The big man pointed to his scar. “I got this scar after I fell off a ship.”

Imarë asked “Did you get an idea of what your brother’s target would be?”

“Target?” Ferjan asked.

“Where he would look,” Imarë clarified.

“Ah!” the man said in understanding. “The map said it was the old naval station where the treasure was. I can pay well for you to go look around.”

“My good Ferjan, perhaps you could give us time to discuss this, before we agree to take up your offer, or not agree, as the case may be,” Karl said. Ferjan agreed to this and went back to his table, leaving the party alone to discuss his offer.

The party began to talk, when all of a sudden there was a loud shouting and commotion coming from the direction of Victory square! Looking out the windows, they saw that a huge mob had been raised, the pitchforks were out!

Tanaar ran over and asked Ewen “Master Harper, can you tell what’s going on?”

“I’ll need to get closer,” Ewen said.

From the shouts the party soon gathered that the butcher’s young daughter, a girl of only three, had disappeared. Some men said that they thought they saw a suspicious looking character by the embalmer’s, and the mob headed in the direction, screaming and waving their pitchforks and torches. It was a frightful site.

Ewen and Baris allowed themselves to be swept along with the crowd to the embalmer’s home. Though the crowd grilled him, the frightened man said did not know anything, but said he would join them to find out what had happened! One townsman said that they had seen something by the graveyard, and the crowd headed that way.

Back at the guildhall, Ferjan suggested to Bevan that they should look down at the water, since that was where all the disappearances have occurred. Baris and Ewen, having decided the crowd was not likely to make any progress left them and managed to make their way back to Victory square. They met up with Bevan and Imarë, who were headed down to the water.

Although it was around eleven o’clock, the full moon reflecting off the water provided plenty of light. Baris grabbed a torch anyway, and the party left Ferjan and headed down to the beach. Though the sand was a bit mucky, as the tide was going out, it was otherwise not dangerous.

The party began searching the area. While most of the party stared dumbly at the moon, Bevan found a set of slightly worn away tracks of someone walking barefoot. The tracks moderate sized, definitely not the tracks of a three year old girl. Karl asked Bevan if she could tell if the person was carrying anything. She could not. The trail lead out into the water, more or less in the direction of the bridge. The party followed the trail, which quickly turned, so that now the footprints pointed parallel to the bridge, and led into the water in the direction of the island. “Let’s go check the underpinnings of the bridge” said Imarë.

Holding his torch high, Sir Baris waded into the water and led the party in the direction the tracks had indicated. For a short distance, the water was only three feet deep. By the middle of the first span of the bridge, it went down about another foot. Tall Baris was not affected, though Ewen was forced to lift his lute above his head, and Bevan was walking on her tiptoes attempting to keep her head above water. The party trudged on, and Baris thought to himself ‘Why didn’t we take the bridge?’ The water became about six or seven more inches deeper, though never became deeper than four and a half feet. Bevan barely made it. At some point, the water became shallower, and eventually the party made it to the other side. They found themselves dripping wet, standing on the beach north of the bridge, just below the escarpment.

Bevan and the elf started looking about for tracks as Ewen and Karl began emptying about their boots. Unfortunately, no tracks were found. Baris looked around the beach to the south, hoping to find a cave or some other sort of opening, but he found nothing of the sort.

The elf looked around by the bridge, and did not find anything there. Passing beyond the bridge, she saw what appeared to be an odd sort of shrubbery. There was something strange about it. Imarë wasn’t sure, given the poor light, but she thought she saw the stump sticking into the air. The elf moved closer, and discovered that the shrubbery was covering a small cave.

The party gathered around the cave, and discussed what to do. Eventually, it was decided Baris would enter first. Stooping low, the brave knight entered the cave, torch in one hand, axe in the other. He was followed by Ewen, then Bevan, Imarë, with Dascomb taking up the rear. The group crawled through a small tunnel, and came out into a larger area, where they stood up and saw a small stone door, made to look like the surrounding rock. The door was ajar, which was why they saw it so easily. There was a locking mechanism in the side, which appeared to be broken. There were no carvings or markings of any kind, at least, not on this side.

Baris went through the door, axe first. Once through, in the flickering torchlight, Baris saw a long, five foot wide tunnel stretching far ahead, the knight could just barely see the end. The party proceeded about fifty feet, spying a pile of rubble, about twenty feet in front of which was a pit. The rubble did not seem to totally block the passage. The pit was about twelve feet deep, with rusted spikes and a skeleton on the bottom. Thankfully, the floor was not fully retracted – there was a part of the floor we could cross to get over the pit.

Bevan saw that there were footprints and tracks going in both directions on the other side of the pit. Imarë suggested that the children might be used to dig out the rubble.

Looking down at the spikes, and worried about more traps, Baris indicated reluctance to cross the pit. Imarë said that “If one of us goes across at a time, only one of us will die.” “Thanks,” Baris said, and crossed. He made it across without any mishap, and he silently thanked his god.

Now that he was on the other side of the pit, the knight noticed a small peephole on the left wall. He peered in and saw an empty room. From his angle he could see no door or other opening. By the time Baris was done peering in the whole, the rest of the party had successfully crossed the pit. They climbed over the rubble, squeezing through a hole in the top. It was a bit difficult, but he made it.

The corridor beyond the rubble went down about thirty feet, ending in a set of closed metal double doors. The room Baris had seen through the peephole earlier was off to the left. Inside was a broken mechanism, possibly the release for the pit trap. There were also some doors on the side of the corridor. The elf pointed out a set of tracks wandering side to side down the corridor. Was their quarry wounded, or was the child struggling?

With renewed urgency, the party hurried down the corridor, coming upon a locked wooden door. Baris attempted to ‘unlock’ the door. When a strong kick did not do the trick, the knight took his axe to the lock, striking it with a resounding blow. The lock was much the worse for wear after its meeting with the axe. “They will have to find out about us at some point,” he remarked about the noise. Then the knight kicked at the door, bursting into what appeared to be a jail. There were eight cells and another door in this room. The cells did not appear occupied, except for some skeletons. The open door opened to an ‘inquiry’ room – the usual rack, torture implements being evident, though it was unoccupied at the moment. Suddenly, Baris heard a sound coming from the cells! He ran over, axe held high, ready for anything! However, upon further inspection, he discovered the noise was nothing more than a rat. He laughed a little embarrassedly, and pretended to check the other cells. They were all locked, and the skeletons all appeared to be in various positions of collapse. One group entwined in a violent embrace, as if they had killed each other in their madness or hunger.

The party left the jail room and proceeded down the corridor towards the double doors. Bevan and Imarë inspected the tracks, noting that they did not lead towards the double doors, but instead to a door on the left.

Baris opened the door (unlocked, thankfully) and burst in! In the torchlight, the knight was about to make out directly in front to of him a pile of five bodies in various states of decomposition. All of them were of slight, small people. On top was the body of what could be a three year old girl. It was not moving, and did not appear to be alive. Staring in horror, he dimly noted that the room was about twenty five to thirty feet deep, and there were two stone pillars in the middle. There was a rack on the side of the room, with a spread eagled skeleton of small stature chained to it. Near the rack there was a black orb twelve or so inches in diameter on an iron stand. On the far side of the room, there was an anvil with smithy tools on a table. The smell in the room was terrible, and Ewen began to feel a sense of dread. Baris looked closer at the bodies, hoping against hope the child was still alive, but she was indeed dead. She seemed to have died in complete terror – her face was twisted, almost a death mask. “She didn’t make it” Baris said quietly, his voice quivering. “Someone will pay for this,” he stated with conviction.

Bevan was clearly upset. To distract herself, she began searching the room, looking around the walls, trying to find a secret door. Suddenly, Imarë was struck by a dart, which was coated in some foul substance, but it did not affect the elf.

Ewen began looking around, and drew too close to the black orb. He went to examine it, but realized he should not. A blackness came over him – he felt a contest of wills was taking place, and had a sense of profound blackness and dread and evil. Drawing from a power deep within himself, the bard mustered his strength and pushed it off! For a moment, he realized he was no longer afraid. “Get out!” he yelled, and headed towards the orb, which he thought was the source of the evil. As he got closer, however, he realized the evil feeling had come from somewhere else. The slab of stone? He headed towards the slab, and suddenly a strange creature leaped from behind the stone and attacked him!

Though it looked like a man, there was just something wrong with the way the thing moved, its small, gray body terrible to look upon. The thing screeched in some unknown language, and lunged at the harper! No stranger to combat, Ewen’s blade was already out, and the edge of his sword connected with the creature’s neck! A solid blow was struck, but there was no blood, nor did the hit seem to slow the creature. It attacked, swinging at Ewen with its arms, attempting to claw his eyes out. The bard blocked, counterstruck and knocked the creature down. It rolled into a corner and drew a dagger.

“Suffer!” Baris yelled, and charged the creature. At about six feet away, the knight was repelled by the Shadow. Fear enveloped him, but in his rage he was able to beat it back, and felt free of fear.

Meanwhile, Ewen kept up the offensive. “Nooo!” the creature cried out pitifully as Ewen reversed his grip and stabbed downwards with both hands. The blade entered the creatures shoulder. Briefly the arm came away from the body, but then the creature crumbled into dust.

The victory was short lived, however. From behind the party came the sound of a slow clapping. “Well done! And now ...” a familiar voice said. The party turned and saw Ferjan standing in the doorway. “Now you will see what real power can be! You may have been able to defeat him, but you won’t be able to defeat me!” He cried out victoriously and dove for the orb. However, something had gone wrong for him, terribly wrong. As soon as he touched the orb his body began to rip apart, the pieces flying into the orb. His victory cry became a scream of terror, pain and madness as the man was consumed by the evil within the orb. The last of him entered the orb, and as the cry faded away, it fell to the ground, cracking into two pieces.

Silence reigned for a few moments. The party could no longer feel the presence of evil; they were most aware of the smell of rotting corpses.

“Well done, Ewen,” Baris said, breaking the silence, letting out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Truth be told, he was a little disappointed he was not able to take a piece out of the creature.

The party stood there, panting. After a bit, Ewen said “Perhaps the creature took children because it was so small, and that was all it could carry.” Imarë, Bevan, and Baris nodded their agreement.

The knight went over and investigated the orb. He peered into it, attempting to find some clue if the evil that had been within it was still present. It seemed to be completely inert, however.

After some talk, the party decided to investigate the complex further, by going through the double doors. Before they left, Baris put the bodies (those he could stomach touching, at least) in a more dignified position, and closed their eyes. “Poor souls,” he muttered. At least their killer has been slain, he thought.

As they left the room, Bevan noticed a key lying on the floor near the door. From the scuff marks, it was clear that someone had been looking for it, but was unable to find it in the darkness. It must have been a terrible way to die, knowing that the literal key to your salvation was close at hand, but unable to find it. They key worked in the door. The party exited the room, and locked it. Ewen pocketed the key.

The party stepped out into the hallway, and went through the double doors. They saw a stairway that led down into a crypt. They were standing on a balcony that looked down into this crypt, the door flanked by two evil looking statues. Down in the crypt were thirteen sarcophagi, some of which had been smashed open.

Scritch, Scritch!

There were scratching noises coming from inside several of the sarcophagi. At this point the party wisely decided that discretion was the better part of valor and retreated.

Somberly the group retraced their steps and exited the caves. Though they had slain an evil creature, they were not fast enough to save the girl. Each member of the party kept playing the events of the evening over and over again in their minds, wondering if there was anything they could have done. ‘If only I hadn’t hesitated at the pit!’ Baris thought, kicking himself. ‘If only they had not followed the crowd,’ Ewen berated himself. ‘If only we had not spent so much time deciding how to go into the cave!’ Imarë thought. ‘Would the girl still be alive if we had taken the bridge, instead of trudging through the water?’ thought Bevan.

The group decided to head back to the inn, and inform the authorities about the location of body and the evil temple on the morrow. Though Baris wished to return the body of the child to her father, the rest of the group convinced him it would not be wise to approach a mob carrying the broken body of a three year old child.

Agrazhar 17, 730 TR

When the party finally got to the inn, it was nearly one in the morning. Agrazhar 17 had come during the insanity of the previous few hours. They entered the common room. Baris was hoping for a drink to drive away his sorrows, but the room was empty.

As the party made their way up the stairs, two soldiers of the Order of the Checkered Shield, the fighting order of the Laranians, blocked the way, swords drawn. The Serolan, the high priest of the Laranians appeared. “You may consider yourselves under arrest,” he said.

“Fuck off! For what?” yelled Baris, and was promptly slapped. “I am a knight!” he protested.

“I don’t care if you’re the bloody King, drop your weapons” one of the swordsmen, obviously a leader, said. Baris looked around at the swordsmen who filled the common room. “Well, I guess there are few more than I could take,” he said and he dropped his weapons.

The guards gathered all the weapons, and the party was arrested. They were marched back through town, at sword point, to the temple of Larani. ‘Well, at least I am in my “Karl” guise, Baris thought.

The party was brought to an ‘inquiry room’ where they were ordered to strip. “I didn’t know you were into that” Baris said dryly, still angry and a bit overconfident. “Strip” the guard repeated. Looking around the company of enemy soldiers, the party stripped. After this they were then taken to a jail. The women were thrown into one cell, the men into a slightly larger one.

The door was closed, and blackness suddenly filled the room.

For a time, the party complained about their situation. The full magnitude of what was happening had not yet sunk in. Baris attempted to bend the bars, but he was not successful. “I can say one thing, the Laranians are never getting any of my money,” he said.

After an indeterminate time (it was impossible to tell if was day or night in the darkness), the party slept.

Screech! The sound of hinges not greased in many ears woke the party from their fitful sleep. In a haze, they observed three men enter the room. One of these men placed burning torch on a sconce in the wall. They shut their eyes, trying to protect them from the terrible light. Soon their eyes adjusted, in time to see a man bring in two trays of bread, which were passed through a small opening at the bottom of each of the cells. Flasks of water were also given to the prisoners. Then, without a word, the men left and closed the door. Thankfully, they left the single torch.

Over breakfast, Ewen asked Baris about his faith. “Are you a Laranian?”

“No,” the knight replied.

“What faith are you?” the bard pressed.

“It is a private faith.”

“What god do you worship?” Bevan asked.

“It is a private faith” Baris repeated.

Silence reigned for a time, each member of the party lost in their own thoughts. Baris thought about escape, and enjoyed fantasies of the various ways he could kill the head Laranian priest. Imarë thought very fondly of the woods and the open sky, not enjoying being cooped up in this dark, dank and smelly place. Bevan thought fondly of her home, and the freedom she had enjoyed as a child. Ewen thought about the mystery of Baris’s faith, and of how he could integrate this episode into a new song.

Slowly, the torch burned lower and lower. Slowly the cells became darker and darker, until finally blackness enveloped the party once more.

After a long time, perhaps until the next day, more food and another torch was brought. The party tried to speak to their guards, to find out why they were being imprisoned, and to hopefully find a way of getting out of this situation. They were met with silence.

Baris and Ewen whiled away the time practicing hand to hand combat. Baris tried bending the bars again until he was blue in the face, but they did not budge. Whatever is wrong with their faith, Baris thought, the Laranians can make a decent cell. Agrazhar 18 came, and perhaps even Agrazhar 19, and the routine of food, drink, and a burning torch that eventually gives way to darkness was repeated. At this point the party was very hungry and thirsty. One small loaf of bread and a pint of water a day are simply not sufficient. The torch burned down again.

A fifth and sixth time the food and torch were brought. Seven, eight, and nine times, the pattern was repeated. One day, no one was sure what day it was, the routine was broken. The Serolan came into the small cell. He informed the party that one of them was to be “questioned.” Imarë volunteered.

The elf was taken into the inquiry room. Her lithe, starving body was strapped to the chair. The torturer was already present, and the Serolan sat at a chair that had been brought into the room, opposite the elf. He pointed to one of the Laranians, who took out a tablet and prepared to write.

“Your name,” the man asked.

“Imarë Taërsi,” the elf replied.

“Place of birth,” the Serolan continued.

“Shava forest,” Imarë stated.

“Place of BIRTH!” the Serolan asked again, angry, clearly not believing the elf’s answer.

“Shava forest!”

“Don’t lie!” the man said, angrily. Then he continued to the next question. “Which religion do you profess” he asked, but quickly added “Or rather, what is your cover story.”

“I am an advocate of Siem” the elf said truthfully.

“Don’t lie!” the priest said again. Clearly he already had his own idea of what the correct answers to his questions were. At this point, he turned to what he felt those correct answers were. “When did you embrace Morgath?”

“I have never embraced Morgath.”

Clearly the priest did not believe her, but he continued. “When did you embrace Klyss?”

“I have never embraced Klyss.”

“When did you first embrace the Shadow?” the man continued.

Imarë denied having ever embraced the shadow. Things went like this went on for some time, and after awhile the priest apparently decided that the elf needed some more persuasion so that she might come to see his version of the truth.

Imarë was placed on the rack. The torturer, a look of determination, with perhaps a hint of sick glee, tightened it taught. Again the Serolan asked all the same questions, and he received the same answers. When this was done, Imarë was returned to her cell.

The elf related to the party what happened to her. She asked Bevan if the party should relate who that the party was working for the Crown. Bevan decided she would say if asked, but it was unlikely the priest would believe her. From his behavior so far, he was clearly not concerned about the lawful authorities.

The next morning, the women had to split a single loaf, and there was only one pint of water for the three men. The humans of the group were beginning to suffer the effects of starvation and dehydration; dehydrated and weak, they began snapping at each other. The privy corner of the cell was getting incredibly rank.

This time the party worked together to try and bend the bars, but they were simply not strong enough, either because of the effects of their starvation or to superior quality of the bars.

The eleventh meal was brought. “I’m ready to talk to the Serolan, tell him I’m ready to talk,” Ewen said. The guards ignored him, and left. Before the torch burned down, the Serolan and his associates entered the cell. “Which of you was,” he paused, “ready?” he finished with an evil smile. “I am,” said Ewen. The head priest turned his stare to the bard. “Then by all means, take him” the man said.

The guards took the harper directly to the rack. He was strapped down, the winch was turned. Ewen could feel his joints being pulled out of their sockets, and did his best to keep from screaming out in pain. The Serolan sat down in his comfortable chair.

“So, before we begin, name?”

“Ewen of Ravinargh,” the bard stated.

“And what is it that you have to tell you tell me?”

“I and Bevan Palliser are agents of Sir Aurum Graver. We came to investigate Morgathian activity in this town, and we found it.”

“Of course you did!” the priest said victoriously. Finally, he thought, they admit their heresy!

“You seem to be mistaken; we are not agents of this evil, that was the man called Ferjan.” Ewen took a breath. “I can prove my story, and given my connection to Sir Aurum, I think you should investigate.”

“We have been to the temple. On your own person we found a key that opened a door, and we saw the bodies in there! We have the proof we need; there will be no need for any further investigation.”

“We found the key inside that room,” Ewen protested.

It appeared the priest was not listening, however, because he went on as if he had not heard the bard. “How long have you been a Morgathian?”

“I am not, I am a Halean!”

“When did you first embrace Morgathianism?” the priest continued.

“I never have.”

The Serolan made a motion to the torturer, and the screws on the rack turned. Pain like he had never experienced shot through the bard’s body. His willpower failed, and Ewen moaned in pain.

“Now, when did you first embrace Morgathianism?” the priest repeated with force.

“When did you go against the King’s law?” Ewen grunted through his pain.

The Serolan whipped the harper. “You will not address me in that manner, dog!”

“There is nothing of the shadow about me!” Ewen pleaded.

“That only means that you are still alive, and have not yet fully embraced the shadow,” the priest said. He was already convinced of his conclusions; nothing the party could say seemed able to sway him. “You have no hope,” he said. “The authorities have already been informed of your arrest; you have no hope of rescue from them. I would have turned you over to them, for the murder of the child, but you are Morgathians, and therefore must confess your evil.”

The Serolan motioned to the torturer once again, and the screws were pulled even tighter. Ewen passed out. They returned his battered body to the cell, and not gently.

“Who’s next?” the head priest asked. Bevan and Baris volunteered; they took Bevan.

‘If I could only get my hands around his fat throat,” Baris thought to himself.

They took Bevan into the torture room, put her on the rack, and, for good measure, stripped her. “Your father would be so disappointed in you,” the Serolan stated sadly.

The torturer pulled the rack taught.

“We are already acquainted, and so we will skip the pleasantries. When did you first embrace Morgathianism?”

Bevan was silent.

“Rack her!” the priest said angrily.

The torturer laughed a little laugh and, smiling, pulled the rack tighter.

“It can get much more painful,” the priest informed the woman. To demonstrate this, a new torturer opened her mouth while another brought over a hot poker.

“Now, when did you first embrace Morgathianism?!”

Bevan said “Never!” as best she could.

“That’s a start,” the priest said, clearly pleased she was speaking. “I should tell you, your companion confessed to being in the temple, to having the key to the room where the bodies were found, and to consorting with an amorvrin.”

“No.”

“Rack her!” the priest ordered again.

Bevan was in incredible pain; her arms were being pulled out of her sockets, but she remained conscious.

“When did you embrace Morgathianism?”

“I follow the King!”

“Rack her!”

The screws were turned, and the world went white. Bevan fell into the painless world of unconsciousness.

She was brought back to the cell. “Not having much success, are you?” Baris said; though starving he still had some bravado.

“No, we’ll have to wait,” the priest replied.

“Oh, I was so looking forward to it,” Baris said weakly.

When she awoke, Ewen donated his linens to Bevan, but his only covered one portion of her body.

The party fell asleep once again. After some time, they awoke, but there was no light, no squeaking of unoiled hinges. No food, no water was brought.

After awhile, the party noticed that Dascomb had fallen unconscious. Soon after, the rest of the party fell asleep. When they awoke, they again asked Baris his religion. It was pretty clear he was not going to answer; perhaps they were already beginning to lose their sanity. “It is private” he said, very weakly. They lost track of time, most of the party remained unconscious. Baris alone remained awake, fighting to stay alive. He spent his time, at least the time he could think clearly, thinking of tactics, and various ways to kill the priest. Eventually he too succumbed, and closed his eyes and did not open them for a long time.

Azura 6, 730 TR

Imarë was the first to reawaken. She opened her eyes and saw a kindly, aged female face looking down upon her. The elf looked around, and found herself in a large room, though definitely not the jail cell. She was in a bed. Looking over, she saw Bevan, Baris, and Dascomb, though Ewen was not present. There was a curtained off area in one corner of the room.

Her body felt different. The elf looked down, and found herself dressed in a comfortable robe. The kindly looking woman was trying to feed her some broth. “Where am I?” she asked in the voice of someone who has not spoken for many days.

“You are in Caer Selvos, and you will be all right.”

One by one the party awakened.

“Where is the priest?” were the first words out of the knight’s mouth.

“He is in his temple,” he was informed.

“Dead I hope.”

“No, now be quiet and rest – you need to get your strength back,” the woman said comfortingly, though these words did not appear to comfort the knight.

“Where is Ewen?” Bevan and Imarë asked simultaneously.

“He is elsewhere in the castle, he is fine, don’t worry,” the old woman said soothingly.

“What day is it?” Baris asked.

“It is Azura the 6th.”

“What happened?”

“We will tell you that later, for now you need to get your strength back. You nearly died; that poor man Dascomb was near death. The castle physician has been by to see you every day.”

“Who can we thank for saving our lives?” Baris asked, curious.

“The Lady Rahel of Aerth.”

The party blanched, clearly surprised. “I’m going to have to buy her a drink or twenty” Baris rasped.

Over the next couple of days the party rested, beginning to slowly recover their strength. They were finally able to walk around on their own, and Ewen paid the rest of the party a visit. Also, all of the party’s goods were returned.

[GM: This is the GM version of activity that took place extra-session.]

When Ewen first awoke, he did not know where he was, but he quickly realized that Rahel was nearby. In this, despite his weakened state, he realized he felt as much as saw her in the room. He quickly learned what had transpired, that she had sensed his danger, and come to his rescue.

She had been staying in the same room in another bed, although now that he was awake, she shared his bed, and when he had regained more of his strength, more.

He asked her for more detail, but she hushed him, saying that when he was better, all would be revealed. As the days passed, and Ewen felt stronger, he found that he seemed to recover more in her presense than not.

Still, one day he awoke from a nap and was surprised to find that Harth of Hurlis sat nearby in a chair, watching him. "How do you feel," asked the knight.

"I'm recovering. Better," said Ewen warily. "I didn't know you were here."

"I convinced my mistress that she needed to take a walk in the bailey. I wanted to talk to you myself."

"Is that so?" responded Ewen.

Sir Harth steepled his fingers together. "I don't know what to make of you Master Ewen. I don't care for you."

"You would seem to have a problem."

"More than you realize. I know your paternity you see, as I know hers. My lord set me to protect her when she was but a baby. I will discharge that duty to my last breath. And yet, I never thought that I would see danger from the likes of you."

"The lady is in no danger from me."

"So you say. But I see an irresponsible, frivolous narcissist. She is in love with you, but I say you're unworthy despite your blood." He held up a hand. "Before you say it, I'm not jealous. I love her too, but as the daughter I shall never have. There is nothing I can do to stop her from this folly, but I tell you plainly – if she comes to harm because of you, I shall make you pay."

Sir Harth stood, and crossed the room. He looked out the small window. Then he turned back to the bed. "She was something you know. Came to me in Golotha and announced we were going to Selvos. Told me to choose four men to accompany us, and then we went to the castle. Sir Tovar Delwen gave her a letter on her word, and the next thing we were riding to Selvos. No sooner had we arrived than she demanded and audience with Sir Ellis. Presenting him with Sir Tovar's letter, and demanding his attention, we soon found a company of troops marching to the temple. That wily Barald Palgren tried to deny everything – claimed he hadn't seen you all in weeks – but the Lady Rahel simply walked up to him and calmly told him he was a liar. She called the Serolan of a major Laranian temple a liar to his face!" He laughed. "What a family you are," he said as he shook his head. "From there, it didn't take long to find you. Two of you were near death, and this, this I shall wonder at. Rahel turned to the Serolan and told him that while she could not control what you his prisoners might do, if one of you died, she herself would encompass his demise. I smiled when he took a step back from her, clearly afraid."

Sir Harth moved over to the door, his hand on the knob. "Know this, Ewen of Ravinargh. I shall do the same if I need to." And with that, he exited the chamber.

Later, Ewen and Rahel confer.

The topic of religion occupies much of Ewen’s musing while recuperating in Caer Selvos, and he shares his thoughts with Rahel. “Our friend the Serolan’s traducing of the King our brother’s will in the matter of religious tolerance seems, perhaps, not propitious to the interest of certain entrenched elements of that creed. Certain bees in Coranan have been abuzz with talk of Royal discontent with the Laranians as established here in the west: a new fighting order to eclipse the Checkered Shield, in particular, is said to be afoot. It occurs that, in deft hands, a well-placed scandal or two amongst Laranians of the old guard would make a broader royal intervention very timely indeed.”

Rahel's pretty face narrows in annoyance. “The Serolan in Selvos is a fool to so challenge the dynasty and I cannot imagine that the Laranian powers that be would countenance such action. The King no doubt wishes to found a new order with loyalty to him and this might not be greeted with glee by the existing orders. However, it is clear they would do better to curry Royal faovr. In my view, Serolan Barald was a loose cannon, and the Order of the Checkered Shield should be doing their best to distance themselves from him.”

Ewen laughs. "An order loyal to him, of course, and presumably comprised of enthusiasts for his policy of the Agrikans operating within the law. I wonder that our King aims at a transformation of the church itself, right under the goddess's nose. Which isn't to say that using the balance of the Concordat itself to facilitate his need for rapid consolidation of the west wasn't a shrewd Royal policy ..."

She nods. "Yes, the very suppression of the Agrikans by our father was intended to throw the Laranians in Kanday off-balance. Arren II needs balance more. A second order would no doubt provide a counter-balance to the Checkered Shield and lead both groups to curry the King's favor. Not that it hurts to slap the Agrikans down every now and then ..."

“No, indeed. The fact that Sir Auram believes that a man like Sir Peten Valgari has cast his lot with the Agrikans is interesting in its own way.”

Ewen shifts himself awkwardly upon the bed, thoughtful for a few moments. “Other creeds bring their own contributions to the balance of things, of course ... You know of my embassy to your cousin the Aramia in Golotha. She would perhaps be a trifle displeased, I think, to learn, as you naturally have divined, the nature of my employment of her creed these past years. Which is beginning, I think, to bear some promising fruit …”

Rahel smiles, and dropping the sheet, gracefully allows herself to be enfolded in Ewen's arms ...

[GM: Here we return to the official notes.]

Azura 8, 730 TR

In the evening, the party was taken to the great hall of the castle. “The physician says it’s time for you to have solid food, and so Sir Ellis has put on a great feast,” their caretaker informed them.

In the hall the party found Rahel, and Sir Ellis Hawkwood waiting for them. Some guards were with Rahel. One the party recognized as Harth of Hurlis, and there were two others they party did not recognize.

“I am pleased to see you all up and about,” the lord said in a deep voice.

“We are glad to be up and about,” Bevan stated.

“You have my deepest apologies for this tragedy.”

“We thank you.”

“You have Rahel of Aerth to thank; she came to me, and had me investigate the temple. I was rebuffed, and curious I brought back some men. Armed men. We searched the building, and found the dungeon, and you. I freed you. My jurisdiction does not go beyond freeing you; however I have sent a report to the archbishop about this vile, illegal and barbaric act.”

Now that he was feeling better, the Baris started thinking once more about revenge. “Let’s say I killed the priest, and he was out of the temple, would you be opposed?” the knight asked.

“While I share your anger, and wish this could be done, we must follow the law,” Sir Ellis stated.

Over dinner, the party was informed of what Ellis had discovered about the reasons behind their incarceration. The priest had had the party followed for several days, and when it was seen they were heading to the Morgathian temple (which the Laranians were already aware of) the Serolan got ready to arrest the group.

“Have you investigated the property of Ferjan?” Imarë asked.

“Ferjan was a Shek Pvar of some skill. I have had the artifacts sent to Coranan, where I believe Bevan’s father will inspect them,” Sir Ellis said.

The man continued his explanation. “We found a diary in a secret room off the laboratory. It was a diary of the Morgathian high priest. This priest had some weird ideas about immortality. A heretic among the Morgathians, he must have been deeply disturbed. He used the orb to extend his life. Apparently the priest was using the orb to steal the life force of others. Ferjan found out about this orb, and wanted the powers for himself. Somehow, a boy was trapped inside this orb, and went insane. Unknowingly, he must have lashed out at the first person he saw.”

Then the conversation turned to the rescue. Rahel said that she had wondered about the party after she had not seen them for a time. She inquired after the group at Palliser house, and learned where they had gone. She went to Selvos, and there spoke to the innkeeper, learned what had happened, and then went to Sir Ellis. “I was only too happy to bring this to your attention,” she finished.

“I should say the lady can ask us to do anything to help her,” Ewen said.

“I will consider that an invitation.” Rahel said, and curtsied. Ewen bowed.

Baris and Imarë discussed the situation. The knight knew that priest would not be excommunicated or anything. More likely he would simply be shuffled to another temple, and perhaps dropped in rank. This only fueled his rage, and desire to extract great vengeance from the man’s priestly hide. In between bites of the magnificent feast, he and Imarë quietly plotted revenge.

Azura 11, 730 TR

Two more days went, and the party was more or less fully recovered. Rahel planned to return to Golotha soon with her retinue.

Baris spoke with Ellis one day as the two passed each other in the hall. He asked what the man thought would happen to the Serolan. Ellis stated that he expected the church would bury the matter, and it would go to the Royal court. Ellis informed the knight that his own brother was chancellor, and so he could try to see to it that the man was punished. “Of course, if any commoner performed these terrible crimes, they would be executed immediately. This, priest, however, will probably be stripped in rank and possibly branded or mutilated. As you know, some people, ourselves included, are treated differently from the common folk.”

“Some people need to carry out justice on their own” Baris said coldly.

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that” said Sir Ellis, and he walked off down the hall.

The party decided to return to Golotha, and then perhaps continue on to Coranan. Some of them had business in the capital. Before they left, the embalmer came to visit Bevan at the castle at her request.

“My lady Palliser, I am so pleased to see that you are not injured from your recent experience” the man said happily.

“I am pleased as well, and I understand you played a role?” Bevan asked.

“I was a small cog in the machine lady. I had no idea the temple was still there, that it had not been completely filled in.”

“But your knowledge and curiosity allowed what happened to be explained,” Bevan stated. “I would like to see you compensated for what you have done to help.”

“I have already been compensated by the castle, lady, but perhaps, if I could have an introduction, to a meeting with your father…” the man said hopefully.

“I could arrange that. I do need to see him. I need to go to Coranan; perhaps you could travel with us? Or perhaps I could write a letter of introduction.”

“I am more than capable of traveling to Coranan, and with such a letter I would be your servant.”

The two spoke of pleasant things for a time, and eventually the embalmer left the castle.

Ewen remembered that he was supposed to give a message from the high priestess of Halea in Selvos to the high priestess of Halea in Golotha. The priestess wrote a letter of introduction, and gave it to Ewen.

“I understand you were incarcerated for a time,” the priestess said to the bard.

“Indeed, I was mishandled by the Laranians,” Ewen said.

“You should know the Serolan had been respected, but now his respect is waning in town. Apparently a small force from the castle, led by Sir Ellis and accompanied by a strange woman went up to the temple. They entered the temple and apparently took control of it for a brief time. That must be when they rescued you. The Serolan says that Ellis is no longer welcome at his services, and that he’s going to get revenge on ‘that bitch,’” the woman said, apparently referring to Rahel.

“Justice of its own kind will come,” said Ewen.

The woman laughed. “We need more adherents like you.”

“It will be hard to cultivate people like me!” the bard said, half-jokingly.

Back at the castle, Imarë and Baris continued their conversation of revenge on the priest. Baris had had a brainstorm in the night. “We have so much to do, what we should do is hire an assassin! That would be a great use for our money!”

That night Ellis prepared a farewell feast, and informed the party that the innkeeper had conveyed his apologies. Ewen had a letter sent to him that essentially said that “We expect free accommodations from now on.”

During the feast Ewen played a song, Hugh of Brynd, a song about Laranians overstepping their bounds. The party drank the night away. Imarë and Baris made multiple idle threats at the priest.

In the morning the knight had one hell of a hangover. He had ridden drunk before, however.

Azura 12, 730 TR

Nearly a month having passed since their incarceration, the party prepared to depart Selvos. Rahel, wearing riding leathers, was prepared to depart as well. They met in the bailey of the castle.

“To Victory square!” Rahel yelled, and the accomplished horsewoman galloped out the gate. The party noticed that one of her men was leading an extra horse. The party rode across the bridge, over the inner island, over the sealed temple of Morgath, through town, down the hill into the town square. When they arrived at Victory Square, they pulled up.

“Master Harper” Rahel said with a sardonic grin, and gestured toward the obelisk. There stood the beggar Ewen had spoken to almost a month ago.

“I thought you dead master. You are harder to kill than a sewer rat.”

“Will you join us?” Ewen asked, to the surprise of the rest of the party. The beggar, a man called Arnys, was strapped to a horse, as he could not ride. Now that they had a better look at him, the party noticed that he was missing two fingers (the forefinger and middle finger on his right hand).

“I have recruited him” Ewen said to the astonished party.

“And have I no say?” Bevan complained.

“I was going to talk about accommodations at the house with you.”

“There is room in your room, I think,” Bevan interrupted.

“He is going to make a place for himself on the streets of Golotha” Ewen stated, revealing at least part of his plans for the man. “He might be able to get information we cannot.”

Bevan complained awhile about being left out of Ewen’s plan, especially since Rahel apparently already knew.

“I was originally imagining we would go by boat” Ewen said, turning to the beggar.

The beggar said “You did not expect to fight evil and be jailed for doing so, did you?”

“Do you use a clan name?” Ewen asked the man, changing the subject.

“I have forgotten my clan name, as they have forgotten me,” the beggar replied.

The party traveled and arrived in the small keep town of Hyen. Rahel was familiar with the place, having traveled through there once or twice. The horses were ostled, and the party went to the “Bloody Hook” inn.

There was an Agrikan symbol on the inn. Baris blanched at this, and suffered some indecision. He debated with himself whether he should enter an Agrikan building. One Vardrin of Soras, the innkeeper and an Agrikan overheard. Apparently he thought Baris was badmouthing the Laranians. “All should be put to the sword in my humble opinion,” the innkeeper said. “Come, have some ale on me!” The rest of the party went in with no problem. Baris hesitated once more, but quickly followed the rest.

Bevan asked the knight “Why do you hate Laranians?”

“I don’t hate the Laranians, just one. Although I am not too pleased with the rest of the church, seeing as they will not be punishing that damned Seloran.”

Ewen played a song, but he did badly. In his defense, he had been in prison for a couple of weeks.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

Azura 13, 730 TR

Morning found the party on the road again. They traveled throughout the day. As the light began to wane, the group caught sight of Caer Chakta and the walls of Golotha. Rahel insisted on escorting the party to the front door of Palliser house. When they arrived, the woman said her goodbyes.

“We are at your service, Rahel,” Ewen said.

“Good evening,” she said, and rode off.

Imarë closeted herself in her room. Ewen and Baris sat in the dining room drinking for most of the night. Bevan fell asleep happily on her comfortable bed. Dascomb slept on his own bed, happy to be alive. Although the poor man spent some time tossing and turning, wondering if he could have done anything more to have kept his lady out of prison and safe from the harm that had befallen her.

Azura 14, 730 TR

Bevan and Imarë awoke to a hot breakfast. Imarë decided she would go to see the jeweler, since her work should have been completed. Bevan intended to visit Parqu in order to look after her interests.

Ewen spoke with his new retainer. “You need to familiarize yourself with the town.”

“I will do that on my own,” the beggar said, but asked where Ewen wanted him to set up his bowl. The harper suggested Arren square, and the party concurred. Ewen gave Arnys descriptions of various people, including those of his brother, Stavron, and Sir Peten Valgari. The bard did not give the beggar these names, however. The beggar said it would take a few days to find the proper place to set up his bowl.

The old man thought for a time, looking around the fine home. “This place is a little swanky for me to come back to every night – it could blow my cover and cost me my life,” he beggar said. It was suggested that the party allow the beggar to stay at one of the homes they owned.

As the servants brought some breakfast, the party began speaking of their favorite subject, the undead. “We should find out about the evil feeling you felt in the square,” Imarë said to Ewen. “We should try and learn whether it was a Morgathian priest or an undead creature that you sensed.”

After breakfast, Bevan went to speak with Parqu. There she learned how the renovations of their properties were going. Jeremiz’s place was ready, although Slakka’s place would need a bit more work. Jeremiz’s place had been divided into a tenement. Slakka’s place was in the process of being turned into one household.

Meanwhile, Imarë went over to the shop of Avarin Cusith. “Oh, there you are!” he said when the elf entered. “I was wondering what happened to you. I have finished your necklace.” The jeweler fished out the beautiful piece of jewelry. “I hope it meets with your standards.

“How much?” the elf asked, her eyes glittering over the bauble.

“For most, my prices would be exorbitant, but for you it will be 1200d.”

The elf handed the man the required coins.

“I sense a disturbance in your soul.” the jeweler said as he got her change.

“Yes, I am unhappy with the Laranians just now.”

The two spoke for a time, and eventually Imarë and the jeweler agreed to meditate together.

Meanwhile, Ewen and Baris headed off to the Halean temple. Baris was taken off to be initiated into some of the lesser mysteries. Ewen went to see the high priestess, Elessa of Aerth. “I come to you as an ambassador from a fellow Halean.”

“Oh, indeed, I have heard she was ambitious,” the high priestess said.

“She spoke of great respect of you, and hoped I would present you with her letter and greetings,” the bard stated.

“I understand you are acquainted with my cousin and other members of my family,” the high priestess said to the bard.

“I owe a great debt to the Lady Rahel, and have great respect for her family.”

“Oh, so you call her Lady? That would please her.”

“She has the bearing of one, lady.”

“I have not seen her in many months, I trust she is well?”

“She was when I saw her but a day ago.”

The woman suddenly seemed to remember the business at hand. “You have a letter for me?”

Ewen handed her the letter respectfully. Elessa read the letter, chuckled. “Ah, she is ambitious. I see her eyes set upon Shiran.”

“She may overreach” said Ewen.

“But that is the point. I understand you are a very pious adherent, despite your brief association with my temple.”

“I am better known at the temple of Coranan.”

“I know of the temple, you knew someone special there, I understand.”

“Xandia” Ewen said.

“I must consider what I have read and heard. I am pleased to have met you Ewen of Ravinargh.”

“I am honored.”

“If you return to the temple, I think you need a more seasoned spiritual advisor. Next time you should ask for the Desilea. She should be the right advisor for you.”

“Thank you, my lady. I should say, that I have been asked to return to the temple of Selvos, and if you want me to bring word to the temple …”

“If I have word to return to the Aramia of Selvos, I will consider you my messenger.”

Ewen bowed out, and found Sir Baris ensconced with some of the acolytes. They were exchanging techniques. The bard left the knight to his pleasures, chuckling. Eventually Sir Baris staggered back to the inn, a much happier man. In fact, he had not thought about revenge for several hours.

The evening, Imarë showed Bevan her new trinket. “I like!” said Bevan. “It will go nicely with my green dress” said the elf. “You’ll turn a lot of heads” said Bevan. Dinner was served in the great hall of Palliser house, and eventually the party retired. Thus ended Azura 14.