CHAPTER 1
GODSDAY, 18TH OF PLANTING, (CY 581)
Jeremy walked away from the Silver Consortium, a bit disappointed on account of their refusal to allow him membership. Of course, it was pointed out that entry is quite difficult, and that even certain members of the austere Circle of 8 had been turned down. He smiled as he turned the corner, "As if they needed to preserve my ego. Oh well, I guess they don't know me. Well, someday they will."
He approached the College Lane, a simple corner bar frequented by many students from the Academy of Farsight. He'd been gone a few hours and sincerely hoped that Floyd had kept out of trouble. As he entered the doors, he could hear Harlan's lofty voice expounding on some obscure astronomical detail to the disinterested amusement of those nearby. Across the table sat Floyd, quietly sipping from a mug of ale, his eyes glued on the silver necklace of a young student a few tables away. He caught Jeremy's warning glance and smiled slightly before returning to his drink. Jeremy shook his head wondering how much more trouble the young thief would land him in.
Next to Floyd sat another whom Jeremy had never seen before, a relatively tall youth whose somewhat unkempt brown hair peaked out from under an old chapeaux. That, and the holy symbol dangling from his neck, clearly marked him as a priest of St. Cuthbert. As he approached the table, Harlan nearly jumped from his seat, excited to have an ally in his argument with the priest of St. Cuthbert whom he introduced as Kagan. Unfortunately, it seemed Jeremy's views were even more strange, and if Harlan expected an ally, he was sadly mistaken.
While the three continued their animated discussion, it was now Floyd's turn to ponder recent events. Forced to flee from the Old City, he had hooked up with Jeremy on the road to Dyvers and then Verbobonc. Granted, the two seemed to have nothing in common, and he wondered why he stuck with him. On the other hand, he had to admit that he liked the young mage's style. Unlike most dabblers in magic, Jeremy seemed much more independent, even foolishly so, and Floyd figured it was this...wildness which appealed to him. Anyway, they were together now, for better or worse. He could tell the young mage was a bit down, probably from his no doubt fruitless meeting at the Silver Consortium, and although he'd never admit it, Floyd was a bit bothered by it. With a wry smile, he passed a full mug to Jeremy who merely winked as he took it and turned back to the heated debate. Obviously not part of the conversation, Floyd’s eyes returned to his surroundings, unconsciously calculating the value of the various items so carelessly displayed by the all-too-rich students around him.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cord walked through the darkening streets, wondering what this meeting would bring. He'd heard talk of a priest of St. Cuthbert who was looking for an elven maiden. Lately, most elves had left the city, preferring their secluded woodland glades to the bustling ways of Verbobonc. He'd met a few on his way into Verbobonc and figured the old priest, "what was his name? Kagorn or something?" well, he may be willing to pay for good information. In any case, at least the meeting would be in a bar. Cord smiled at the thought and quickened his pace until he reached the College Lane. After a short rest, better to not seem too eager, he pushed his way into the bar with a flourish which was sure to attract attention.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As their caravan slowly approached Verbobonc, a strange trio rode side by side, discussing their future plans. Pol of Mitrik, priest of Pelor was being escorted to his new post in Verbobonc by the tall paladin Graeneth. As it turned out, Graeneth was a devotee of Mayaheine, and the two had endless discussions as to whether or not the Goddess was truly Pelor's servant. Although they never could come to a reasonable conclusion, the two nevertheless became fast friends. The odd addition was Kep'e, the exotic nomad from the far north. He was a guard with the caravan, but his uniqueness naturally drew the attention of Pol and Graeneth. During the short trip from Veluna, the three seemed to gravitate together, a strange trio indeed.
Pol wringed his hands anxiously, eager to reach what was to be his home for at least the next few years. The church had suffered a bit over the previous decades, giving way to the followers of St. Cuthbert. Hopefully, he would have the faith to bring the folk of Verbobonc back to the fold. In any case, he'd finally have the chance to truly help people, to put Pelor's gift to use with those who really needed it. He'd heard that the Viscounty had suffered greatly in the recent past; there must be hundreds in need of his services.
Graeneth, on the other hand, had some serious doubts as to his purpose here. Only nominally attached to the church of Pelor, he had no true position. As such, he was a bit unsure as to his future. From speaking with members of the caravan, he had learned of recent bandit troubles in the surrounding hills, particularly on the road to the Wild Coast. Perhaps he would look into that, protecting travelers and pilgrims on the dangerous journey through the Gnarley Forest.
Kep'e too, was a bit anxious. At least the others had a place to stay; he would be on his own. He'd been given the name of a Gnome merchant who conducted trade between the city and the nearby Kron Hills. Although the trading season elsewhere was coming to a close, the vigorous gnomes were known to work throughout the year. Hopefully, he could hire on as a guard with his caravans; his purse was beginning to feel a bit light.
As the caravan turned down the final stretch before Verbobonc's western wall, the three glanced at one another, their gazes clearly revealing their various thoughts. For each of them, the world was changing, as sure as the season which brought a cold wind howling from the north. They looked back at the city, looming in the fading light, and spurred their mounts on.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Cord entered the quiet corner bar with a flourish, whipping back his cape and scanning the bar. It was a rather small, square establishment, with an L-shaped bar behind which a bookish looking man poured ale for a couple of youths, obviously students of the nearby academy. The bar itself was quite clean, with none of the standard muck and filth Cord usually associated with such places. At the corner of the bar was a small stage, elevated above the bar by a few steps, from which performers likely entertained. The few patrons turned, a mixture of concern and amusement in their faces at his rash entrance, then returned to their drinks and generally animated discussions. Feeling a bit sheepish for his obviously irrelevant show, Cord stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink. As he took his ale, he noticed a priest of St. Cuthbert seated at the far right-hand table looking his way.
Floyd noticed the strange, burly elf--with that sort of entrance who wouldn’t?--thinking that perhaps the night may turn out entertaining after all. His trained eye took in every detail of the young, by elven standards at least, elf, particularly the bulge under his cloak of a concealed weapon, perhaps a small sword or axe. This must be the elf Kagan had mentioned, he thought, taking another sip. As Floyd looked back at the young priest, he saw Kagan had taken notice of the elf as well.
Kagan could barely contain his excitement when the sturdy elf burst into the bar. Obviously a bit headstrong, but if he had any useful information....The elf seemed to have noticed him as well, although he ignored his presence and ordered a drink at the bar. Well, Kagan was not one to play games, so he quickly excused himself and made his way to the bar.
Jeremy and Harlan barely noticed the priests departure, so engrossed in their discussion were they. By now they had passed through a variety of topics, finally settling on the nature of the astral plane. Although neither had any real knowledge of the various theories, this didn’t stop them from debating like a couple of academy masters. Jeremy continued to argue that the plane was a wild, chaotic dimension while Harlan envisioned it as being a bit more ordered than that. As they continued their discussion, Floyd suppressed a smile in another mug of ale and turned his eye on Kagan and the strange elf.
***********************************
As the caravan passed through Verbobonc's west gate, known locally as the Trade Gate, the three travelers prepared to part ways. Pol, anxious to begin his new position, bid his farewell to Kep’e whose attention was almost immediately drawn to the sound of revelry from a large compound to the right of the road. Sitting back from the road was a large cross-shaped structure, seemingly a church of some kind, although the boisterous sounds of music and singing were unlike any of the churches he’d seen in Veluna, with a squat compound off to the side. It was from here that the sound came, and Kep’e was eager for a bit of fun after the long, often boring trip.
Graeneth too bid his farewell to Kep’e, promising to meet up again on the morrow. For now, he was duty bound to see Pol to his destination. As Kep’e gathered his gear, Graeneth and Pol continued with the caravan. Graeneth noticed the numerous inns scattered about, and this eased his anxiety over Kep’e who should have no trouble finding a place to stay, if he could stay out of trouble that is.
For their part, Pol and Graeneth passed through the remains of an old gatehouse which was being dismantled, its worn yet still strong stones destined for new structures elsewhere in the city. Beyond the old gatehouse, the caravan passed over a rather large bridge, and in the moonlight the two could see the chill waters of a small river which emptied into the mighty Velverdyva. Looking north from the bridge, the small mercantile port could be seen, illuminated with torches and as busy as though midday. Pol asked directions of one of the other guards, a rather slim axe-wielding warrior named Terrcil, who was a native of Verbobonc, and received directions to the church of Pelor. Evidently, it was yet some ways distant, located in the Foreign Quarter to the southeast. After passing the bridge the caravan entered a large intersection. To the north was the Business Quarter and the market where the caravan was bound. At this point, Pol politely thanked the caravan master for allowing him and Graeneth to travel with them and the two continued on their way to the Foreign Quarter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harlan and Jeremy paused for a brief moment as the young elf entered the bar, and after a low chuckle as to the manner of his entrance, the two returned to their previous discourse. Kagan, however, realized that the newcomer could be his best lead yet. He excused himself and approached the elf, trying to carefully hide both, his excitement as well as his trepidation. Many times before had he allowed his hopes to soar, only to have them repeatedly dashed. Perhaps this time will be different, he thought, or perhaps this search is futile.
Kagan was about to introduce himself when Floyd's booming voice broke the silence.
"Kagan, why don't you bring your interesting friend over here and have a drink," called Floyd from his seat. "I am sure his company would be more interesting than the learned discourse that I am currently enduring."
Harlan frowned at the young thief, obviously another poor soul, ignorant to life's more important, and interesting, aspects. Jeremy noticed Harlan's displeasure, and could barely conceal a laugh. Only he understood both Floyd and Harlan, and only he could truly appreciate the humor their opposing views afforded. As if to accentuate that difference, Floyd then interrupted Harlan as he was about to continue, drawing a sharp sigh from the priest.
"Make room gentlemen," said Floyd, eyeing Harlan a bit impishly and dragging another chair over for the elf. "We have a guest."
Kagan cursed Floyd under his breath while maintaining his stoic appearance. Carefree young fool. With all their ceaseless babbling, I'll not have a chance to find the answers I seek.
Cord smiled toward Floyd, thankful for the chance to relax after his ungainly entrance. However, he noticed the annoyance on Kagan's face, and his attempt to hide it. "The name's Cord, of Carter's Meadow," said Cord, introducing himself to Kagan. Then, under his breath he continued, "If you wanna keep this private, let me know and we can talk later."
Although he was bursting with curiosity, Kagan decided it were better not to rush his best lead yet. Perhaps he could use the time to evaluate the brash elf. Besides, though he was sure the elf had no reason to lie, he just wasn't sure of the value of his information. May Cuthbert guide me, he thought, to the answers I seek. Besides, my only other option is to go through the church, and they can be rather enthusiastic for my tastes. No better to handle things my way. Making up his mind to wait, Kagan nodded to Cord before taking his seat alongside Floyd. As he pushed behind him, Kagan gave the young thief a little shove, causing him to spill a bit of ale down his chin and drawing a sharp "Hey, watch it!" from Floyd as he wiped the spilled ale from his face.
Cord let out a sharp laugh as he flipped his chair around backwards. Taking hold of a mug of ale, he took a healthy gulp before introducing himself. "Greetings, I am Cord, of Carter's Meadows."
"Well met," answered Floyd. "Perhaps now the evening shall be bit less boring," he continued, jerking his thumb towards Harlan.
"So you're looking for some excitement, huh?" replied Cord. Then, leaning in towards Floyd such that his chair was precariously balanced on its back legs, he whispered, his eyes pointing across the table, "No wonder with this bunch."
********************************
Pol and Graeneth continued through the streets of Verbobonc, pulling their cloaks tighter as a cold wind whipped through the many avenues. Although late into Flocktime, an unusually cold wind yet blew from the north. Telchur's breath they called it, or rather cursed. Graeneth thought then of Kep'e, "The young nomad would probably feel quite at home."
The two weary travelers turned to the right, away from the market plaza, and began to make their way up some broad stairs which led to the central square and the massive temple of Trithereon, its towering minarets already visible and faintly illuminated by Luna's soft glow. As they ascended the stairs, the high pitched voice of a female minstrel escaped through the high archways of another of Verbobonc's many inns. She sang in an odd dialect of Velondi which Pol recognized as coming from the region of Veluna just west of the Fals River. Her song was a common tune, bespeaking the glories of Veluna's frontiersmen and their endless battles with Kettite nomads.
Graeneth noticed Pol's interest, as well as the faint aroma of roasting pork which hung in the cool air, and turned to Pol. He was about to ask whether he wished to dine before continuing, but the eager priest had already turned his back and continued to walk up the stairs.
"Well, I must applaud his faith and determination," thought Graeneth as he watched Pol ascend the stairs. "Though he be as stiff as the flagstones, a more truer man I've rarely met."
Hurrying to catch up to him, Graeneth nearly bowled Pol over at the top of the stairs as the priest suddenly stopped in his tracks. Graeneth followed Pol's eyes, and there in the square he beheld the very sight which had dazzled countless pilgrims for decades, the Temple of Trithereon. Even at night, it's majestic minarets and soaring arches reached heavenward with a grace and elegance unmatched in the region. Even for Pol and Graeneth, who held little love for the followers of Trithereon, could not help but take a breath as they gazed upon the magnificent edifice.
"We shall have to return here later," said Pol, his eyes squinting in a vain attempt to read the writing on the temple's facade.
Before Graeneth could reply, a sharp cry rang out from across the square. The two turned quickly and gasped as they saw a billowing column of smoke rising from beyond the nearest row of buildings.
"We shall have to return here later," said Pol, his eyes squinting in a vain attempt to read the writing on the temple's facade. "Quite a vision. Have you met any of the followers of Trithereon? A stubborn lot. Very militant. Good to have on one's team for that reason, but absolutely impossible to work with."
Before Graeneth could reply, a sharp cry rang out from across the square. The two turned quickly and gasped as they saw a billowing column of smoke rising from beyond the nearest row of buildings. "I'm checking it out." Graeneth swung around very fast and loosened his sword ever so slightly from his scabbard. "Sounds like someone needs help. You coming?"
One hand slipped to his holy symbol as Pol replied, Lets go my friend. There shall definitely be those in need of our services. And God help us if the fire is too great. The two then ran across the plaza and around the corner to where the smoke had billowed from. Rounding the corner, the two saw a large wooden building, perhaps three stories high with great arched windows surrounding the upper levels from which smoke and flames erupted into the night air. A crowd had started to appear before the building, shrieks of Fire! Fire! echoing through the streets. Behind Graeneth and Pol the great bells of the temple of Trithereon began to ring, sounding the alarm to the city’s residents.
***
After wiping the spilled ale from his chin and waiting for Cord to take his seat, Floyd with a wink to Kagan asked, "What brings you to the College Lane then Cord, of Carter's Meadow?"
"Well, I'm just checking out the finer establishments of this city," Cord replied. Looking around he said, "Apparently this isn’t one of them, it's like a burial service in this place."
"I'm afraid you've missed Harlen and Jeremy discussing the firmament, continued Floyd, but I doubt that kind of thing interests you. So tell us Cord, what is it you do in Verbobonc?"
"Discussing the what?" Cord asked, looking a bit bewildered. "Yeah, too bad I missed it. Well, I haven't been up to much in Verbobonc, I'm kind of in-between things right now. As for the moment I'm lookin’ to do a little partying, what about you sorry sons-of-banshees? What's your story?" As he says this he looked around the table at all of the companions.
Listening carefully to Cords response, Floyd answered, "Well myself and Jeremy have traveled together from Greyhawk City. I suppose you could say we are looking for adventure. I would like to find enough riches to buy myself a palace in Greyhawk City and fill it with beautiful women from all over the Flanaess. Then set off on a crusade to rid the world of Orcs, vile creatures that they are".
When Floyd mentioned the Orcs Cord's face grew suddenly serious. He stared hard at the table and his knuckles grew white as he gripped his mug. "Yeah, killin's too good for 'em. I'd like to fry every porkin' last one of 'em!" Then he forced a smile and continued "The palace with all of the beautiful women doesn't sound too bad either. Throwing down the last of his drink, Cord asked the others if they could use another drink.
Jumping on the occasion (the discussion with Harlan was in a dead-end by now), Jeremy turned to Cord, "Well yes sir! I could use a drink! All this talking has dried my throat...Have we been presented? I overheard something about Carter's Meadow while I was speaking with this learned gentlemen but didn't really pay attention you know...I would like a Keoish brandy."
Harlan turned around at this. "Thank you Cord, I wouldn't mind a glass of Celene Green, myself."
Jeremy then turned to Harlan, "You are well spoken my friend, but I shall call for a break right now. We have a guest and I would really like to hear some news from outside Verbobonc. We could resume this talk later."
To this Harlan replied with a nod, "you are right my good Jeremy, there are a few items I have to review before we continue too. And news is always welcome"
Taking the order, Cord rose to his feet and went to the bar. Despite his anger at Floyd’s ruse to bring Cord to his table, Kagan had to admit he was asking intelligent enough questions of the Elf. He seemed to be quite the charming host as he bedazzled the young Elf with his wit and charm. Kagan also noted that he did this without revealing anything of his own past. He knew that he and Jeremy were in town together but wondered how much anyone really knew about this smooth talking man. Other than the fact that they were from Greyhawk City and that Floyd loved women and hated orcs, he was still a mystery.
He was glad now that Floyd had interrupted. He was in no state to interrogate the Elven lad, who may not be as brash as he had thought earlier. The whispered message that they could talk later suggested some sense of propriety, as well as the unspoken message that he may actually have news that would interest Kagan. He just hoped it was what he wanted to hear. He also hoped the damn fool of an Elf didn’t get himself killed before he could ask. Cord may have some sense but he also struck Kagan as a hothead who could get someone killed. Best be careful around young Cord of Carter’s Meadows.
As he come out of his reverie he heard Cord suggesting to Floyd that the group at the table seemed to be boring. He could not help thinking to himself that there were possibly enough unanswered stories at this table to keep one guessing for ages. No, this group was far from boring. Kagan waited to see who would be the first to let secrets fly...
While the elf walked away, Jeremy leaned toward Floyd and said to him, in an amusing tone, "So, you manage to make some publicity for your palace, didn’t you? If you continue to advertise this way, you'll be able to open a very fine establishment in Greyhawk city when you retire form adventuring." And I may be one of his best customers he thought to himself.
Looking at Kagan, Jeremy inquired, "And you, young man? Where do you hail from? Your presentation by Harlan didn’t reveal much on you?"
Before Kagan could reply, the cacophonous ringing of bells began to sound in the night. While the group looked around at the bars few other patrons, Porin the barkeep gasped, By the Gods...tis a fire!
***
Outside the strange building, Kep'e wondered what he should do. He was worried about standing out in this strange place, but laughed when he thought of making any attempt to conceal his uniqueness. Standing before the entrance, he tried to read the weather-beaten wooden sign which hung above it. THE...LAUGHING...ROGUE...HOSTLE, he read, unable to understand what it meant. Well, from the sounds, it must be some type of inn. As he was going for the door, a large man stepped up to him, offering his hand.
The man was obviously a seasoned warrior from what Kep'e could gather. He was a well-built man, about 6'2" tall, perhaps 200 pounds and late in his physical prime. He had graying temples, with short-cropped, straw colored hair and a long-jawed, a clean shaven face that showed a few old scars, a sharp nose, and dark eyes. He carried a short, wide-bladed sword and a long dagger with him, visible to Kep'e's trained eyes underneath a diamond-patterned tabard and polished armor.
"You are a stranger, I see," he said, examining Kep'e with the eye of one trained to do so. "From the northern badlands, I suppose. Chakyik by your garb."
Kep'e stared at the man, a bit dumfounded at his quick appraisal, until the stranger continued.
"Allow me to buy you a drink, and you may tell me of your travels."
Kep'e looked at the large rough hand offered him then back to the face of obviously veteran warrior. He reached out his own. "Koszonom, idegen...Thank you" he said and shook hands with the firm yet untesting grip which the nomads used. "Deal..is fair, done. He said releasing the others hand. "You buy drinks, I talk. You speak chakyazat? I speak your talk, kicsi..ah small, no, ..little. I know see, look, eat, food, watch, ride, horse,... many words, but... gyenge, ah, bad, not good."
Publius gave the nomad a crooked smile, and crow's feet wrinkled around his eyes. "I don't speak chakyazat as well as you speak common, put it that way. So we'll have to talk in common, and the name's Publius," he said as he led the way through the crowded inn.
Publious held the door open for Kep'e who walked slowly through door, a bit anxious about what he may find, yet, simultaneously excited at the novelty of the strange city. Stepping through the thick wooden door, the two found themselves in a large square courtyard, open to the sky in the middle with a small covered walk surrounding it. A few tables were scattered along the walkway, except for near the doorway, and these were nearly all taken by as diverse a group as Kep'e had ever seen. Men and women, and not a few animals, off all races and types such as made the young nomad's mind spin. However bustling the walk seemed, it was obvious that the true source of activity came from the open courtyard, crowed with singing, yelling, dancing people despite the chill evening air. On a stage in the center of the courtyard was a group of performers, costumed in outlandish attire in mockery of some noble court. They seemed to be acting, though Kep'e had no idea what the affair was about. Most of the crowd followed their performance, laughing uproariously throughout, while others sang and danced, oblivious to the actors. As Kep'e stood, drinking in the bustling scene, Publious pointed to an empty table to their left, near to another doorway through which a couple serving girls rapidly entered and left at a frantic pace. The boisterous crowd was a little unnerving to nomad, but Publius bade him to sit down and relax.
A young serving maid, recognized Publius from across the room, and hurried over. Her eyes sparkled with good humor, but she was busy. "What can I get for you, Constable?" she asked.
"The usual -- bark tea. And not too strong. The young nomad here will have... what would you like, nomad? And you haven't told me your name yet."
"Drink tej, you say Milk.New milk, they have? No, then water." Kep'e said to both Publious and the serving maid.
"I, Kep'e...Kep'e, no clan, no clan name, just apa, ah no word, little, big, when me little apa big." Kep'e held his hand over the table one low to it the other alongside but higher. " apa, he with winds. When apa die, killed, chief killed apa, orvos... your word, magic..no, yes.. magicain,no... priest yes, magician yes, orvos, you see? orvos , chief, testvar, ah, words." Kep'e clasped his hands together " orvos, chief, this" he said showing Publius his clasped hands.
"Winds take apa, winds tell me, show me, apa in winds. Tisztelet, tisztelet" he said again and thunked his right hand on the table. "Clan," he said and thumped his left hand on the table. He lay them on the table both palms up, looked from left hadn to right then back again. He clenched his right hand into a fist. "Tisztelet." he said firmly and swept away his left hand like a leaf blown by the wind."tisztelet, for apa, for Kep'e, I choose, tisztelet, kill chief, kill orvos, almost, wind come, apa in wind, help kill chief,mark, cut...take eyes, take see away from orvos. No clan, tisztelet. Leave chakyarorszag, go East, go day and day and day, go 10 and 10 and 10 and 3 day, then past chakyarorszag, into kutyarszag, ...kutya, woof, woof, know kutya, dog, dog lands. kutyaros, dogmen, far east, far into kutyarszag, kutyaros find, I fight, kill, kutyaros, kutya chase. I ride, hurt, hide, fight again. 10 and 7 day. I find caravan, kutyaros attack caravan, kutyaros not see Kep'e. I use bow, wound, kill, caravan guards attack, I attack, Kutyaros run, I chase, kill one, two, three, no Kutyaros escape. I ride with caravan, become guard, friend with northman Ragnar. We ride, and we ride, end at Veluna City. No Work, not till half year passes, then work. Raganar fight in Inn, kill townsmen, kill townguard, Ragnar run from Veluna City at night. This caravan need guard now, I take caravan maybe find work here." Kep'e finished his tale then looked Publius in the eye. "work yes, work, to live yes, but .." he held his palm to his heart" Tisztelet, always" The serving wench returned, and set down a wooden cup of water and a tin of steaming tea on the table, before hurrying off. Publius was visibly amazed at the outpouring he's just witnessed from the nomad.
"I don't understand a blasted thing you just said, Kep'e, except that your name's Kep'e," Publius said, sipping his tea. "But it sounds like you've had a hard time of it." Publius reached down to his hip, and pulled a wooden scroll tube off of a cord hanging at his belt. Twisting the bronze cap off of one end, Publius dumped out a very weathered looking piece of parchment, rolled up into a tight cylinder and tied with twine. Publius untied the twine, and spread the parchment out onto the table.
"Lucky for me, I borrowed an old map from the Church of St. Cuthbert, and I was just returning it when I ran into you." Publius pointed to various smudgy colors staining the old animal skin map; it had writing on it that Kep'e could tell was not Common. "This map is written in Velondi, one of the local dialects," Publius explained.
"Now;" Publius pointed to several smudges on the map: "Verbobonc... Veluna City... 'dog-men' -- kutyaros? [Publius points to the land of the Wolf Nomads]... and I guess where you're from the land of 'tiger-men' -- chakyaros? Now, where did you meet this Ragnar? Show me, route, from the beginning." Publius takes out two daggers and impales the parchment map to the table. "Show me."
For the next couple hours the two went over the Publious map. Kep’e explained to the constable his travels, learning the lay of the land himself as Publious would show him where each place was in relation to his homeland and Verbobonc. For his part, Publious was assiduously cataloging the information, from which he decided Kep’e was not at all the barbarian he had originally assumed. Rather, although he was ignorant to the ways of cityfolk, the nomad had a sense of honor unknown to most men Publious had met. Kep’e too was quite enjoying his first evening in Verbobonc. Though he knew his language talent was adequate at best, nevertheless, he threw himself into his tale in which the grizzled warrior across from him seemed so interested. Throughout the conversation, Publious had made only the slightest comments regarding his own past, only throwing in those tidbits which seemed to highlight Kep’e’s tale. Realizing this, and quite interested in his companions story, especially the great battles he had alluded to at times, Kep’e was about to question him when the far off ringing of great bells interrupted him, bringing the nights revelry to an abrupt halt. Publious jumped to his feet with a start and grabbed the map from the table and yelling quickly at the places other patrons to quickly for Kep’e to follow. However, the tone made it clear that something alarming had just occurred.
Turn 5 (fwd)
"Fair sirs and ladies!" Graeneth's voice boomed at the gathering crowd as he rounded the corner. "We need water, and buckets. Where's the nearest well?" He spoke in a voice seemingly experienced in roles of command, and waited for a reply from anyone, while watching the windows very carefully to see if there were people inside.
An old man, leaning on a gnarled oaken staff, pointed across the square, towards the back of the great temple. "Aye, Trabia's Well lies beyond the great temple. Look," he continued, "the priests begin to form a line already."
Glancing towards where the old man pointed, Graeneth could see many people rushing, buckets in hand, towards the rear of the temple, led by a group of priests of Trithereon and a couple priests of St. Cuthbert. A line was indeed forming, snaking its way towards the burning building. As he looked back at the building, eyeing the main door as if judging its soundness, he said, "Pol, I’m going in if there are people within." Then, he called again to the crowd, "Is there anyone trapped in the house?"
Looking back at Pol, he continued, "Do you have a prayer of protection from the fire?"
Pol glanced from the fire, to Graeneth, then back to the fire, stammering a bit. "Ah....oh, yes, indeed. But I know not if tis enough. Hopefully..."
Before he could continue, a young woman, her faced blackened by soot, ran towards Graeneth. In her hand she carried what seemed to be a theater mask, and with her other hand she grasped Graeneth's cloak. "Please sir," she begged, her eyes showing fear and hysteria, "my son, he is still inside." Pointing back towards the building, she continued, "He was in the loft, playing, when the fire broke out. Please," she implored, dropping to her knees, "Please, save him."
***************************
Kagan had expected questions concerning his travels from his new friends, and while he wouldn't lie he wanted to keep his reasons for being there as low profile as possible. He knew he was far from home, but also knew that his father had a spy ring to rival many of the lesser kingdoms. He didn't want to cause his father added grief if the beggars tip turned out to be nothing. He had wondered how much to tell people when asked of his reasons for being in Verbobonc, and had decided to merely say that he was searching for a missing person from the Hold of The Sea Princes and that any information would be rewarded according to its value. This way no lies were told and his conscience was eased.
He was waiting for the inevitable questions, but curious to see who would ask. He was expecting the smooth talking Floyd would be the one to make the first step and was relishing making the loud fellow squirm in return. He was not going to let him get by as easy as he had with Cord. He wanted some answers in return. The Order of The Billet wasn't know for their subtlety. He chuckled at the thought of Floyd trying to dodge questions with his old teacher. That old man would have Floyd begging to tell every secret he ever knew. The thought eased his mind considerably.
There came a lull in the conversation and Kagan glanced around, waiting for the questions, looking at Floyd to see if he would speak first. He was surprised when Jeremy asked, "And you young man? Where do you hail from? Your presentation by Harlan didn't reveal much on you."
Kagan opened his mouth to reply when, suddenly the cacophonous ringing of bells began to sound in the night. While the group looked around at the bars few other patrons, Porin the barkeep gasped, "By the Gods...'tis a fire!"
Kagan was quickly jumping to his feet when Floyd looked around the group then said in an excited voice "Gentlemen, if you please, I think we are needed. If I am not mistaken adventure calls". Kagan and Floyd were racing for the door when Kagan heard chairs being abandoned behind them, He was surprised to find he was glad to know that these men were at is side in a crisis. They rushed to the door to see what awaited.
Harlan and Cord immediately rose from the table when they heard the ringing. Cord hurried to catch up to Floyd and Kagan who had already reached the door, offhandedly knocking furniture out of his way. Behind him, Harlan placed some coins on the table, not wanting to stiff the barkeep who seemed otherwise preoccupied, before he followed the others. As put away his purse, Jeremy brushed past him, tripping over a chair with a loud crash.
Looking back towards the crashing sound, Floyd laughed as he saw Jeremy lurching over an overturned chair. Thinking already about how his magic may be of some help, the young mage had failed to notice a chair which Cord had knocked over, and he tripped over it, falling hard to floor. As Jeremy shook his head, Harlan reached down and helped him regain his footing; then the two stumbled to the door.
Once outside, Cord turned to Harlan saying, "C'mon,man. There's people in trouble!" Then he began to sprint towards the sounds of the fire, eager to help out anyway possible.
**********************************
Kep'e grinned with anticipation, careful not to show his teeth (a sign of aggression, suspicion or contempt among his own tribes) and laboriously dredged up the appropriate words to begin questioning this obviously veteran warrior about his own past experiences.
He had just opened his mouth when a boom such as he had never heard broke the silence. Then again and again this clamor rang out with a ringing metallic harshness. Publious jumped to his feet, grabbing the map from in front of Kep'e and yelled out a command at the startled crowd.
"To arms! To arms!" Publius yelled. He turned and gestured for Kep'e to follow as he ran out onto the street towards the sound of trouble. Once in the street, Publius drew his gladius-like short sword. He knew it was of little help in a fire, but the feel of the trusty steel blade in his hand always made him feel a bit more reassured. It also helped to punctuate his orders. Looking towards the center of town, he could see the flames rising above the rooftops. Swearing at the sight, he began to run towards the fire, very aware of the grave danger it posed, and his own impotence before such a foe.
Unaware of what the bells meant, Kep’e rushed after Publious. The journey to this pleasant place had been fairly uneventful and though the strange booming spoke of unknown and quite possibly mystic dangers Kep'e was grinning again as he followed Publius through from the Inn.
Subject: turn 6
After the woman's tearful appeal, Graeneth looked at Pol urgently, "Pol, if you have a prayer for me, bless me now." "I shall do my best," he replied, taking hold of his holy symbol, "and may Pelor protect you." He then quickly went about the invoking of his deity's power, working a protective magic around Graeneth. "Go now," said Pol, "and quickly, for I know not how long the blessing shall last." Placing a hand on Graeneth's shoulder he added, "And be careful, my friend."
Graeneth smiled at Pol, then turned to the woman and asked her, "What is his name, lady?"
"His name is Tobias," she replied, shaking, "but most call him Toby." Even as the woman replied, Graeneth turned back to Pol, "Give me your cloak, though I'm afraid I shall be unable to return it to you in the near future." With that, he grabbed the nearest bucket of water and soaked the cloak in it before emptying the rest of the water over himself until his own cloak and clothes were completely drenched. He then bundled
Pol's wet cloak into a tight ball by his side and surveyed an entrance into the building least touched by fire. The fire seemed to mostly be confined to the upper floors, although it had quickly spread down the walls. Shrugging his shoulders, Graeneth whispered softly, "Mayaheine bless me," before charging through the front doors.
The double doors burst open before him, and a blast of heat assailed him as he moved into the building. All around him, flames licked at wooden beams, and smoke billowed down from above, rapidly filling the entryway. Through a pair of open doors ahead of him, Graeneth could see a large auditorium, the stage already engulfed by the raging inferno. To his right and left were stairs, leading up to the balcony. Though the banisters were already burning, they seemed safe; however, a veritable wall of fire blocked the landing to the balcony which was clearly burning. As he debated which stairs to ascend, a great rending sound erupted from the left side of the anteroom. A large beam broke free of the ceiling, and the entire corner of the roof came crashing down over the left staircase, bring them down in tangle of wood and fire. Hearing another crack overhead, Graeneth dove to his right as another massive flaming beam broke from the ceiling with a crack and smashed into the front entrance, blocking the way completely.
*****
Seeing Publius draw his small sword/large dagger, Kep'e did the same and drew his saber. There was the mysterious booming, screaming and yelling from the people now crowding the street and the smell. Fire! The terror of the plains when the sea of grass could turn into a sea of fire. Only a fool would run into the oncoming fire, but only a coward would turn away when a friend would choose to be such a fool. Kep'e stayed by his new friend's side, keeping his Saber in his hand though he felt it would do little good against the demon fire.
Publius yelled a summons for the city guards, as well as the town militia, as he made his way in all haste to the fire. On reaching the square, he not only found that the priests have already begun organizing a line to fight the fire, but a small group of guards has also just arrived from the Constabulary. With them are a handful of citizens, weapons in hand. One of the guards, Publious' sergeant-at-arms, Jalal al-Din, quickly approached.
A short Bakluni with an oval face and hooked nose, Jalal had come to Verbobonc a couple years ago. After meeting Publious, he was offered a job as a city guard, a task he excelled at due mainly to his penchant for dealing with trouble without violence. After a year, he was promoted by Publious, and as a testimony to his skill in dealing with people, the move seems not to have created enemies among the other guards whose seniority was bypassed.
Approaching Publious, Jalal glanced curiously at Kep'e, almost as if he knew the young nomad. Publious noticed the look, but said nothing as Jalal filled him in on what was going on. Looking around, Publious could see that his men, and the priests, had everything in hand, well, as much as possible considering the circumstances. He then ordered them to keep an eye not only on the fire itself, but for the possibility of criminal activity nearby. Looting and thievery aren't uncommon activities during these sorts of disasters, Publius knew. With a nod, and another glance at Kep'e, Jalal hurried back to his men to relay Publious' orders.
Publius looked again towards the bucket-line, but realizing the priests had it organized as well as could be, he turned back to the fire, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. It was then that he spotted the woman with the theater mask, crying to a priest of Pelor. A small crowd had gathered around them, most looking anxiously at the burning building and talking about a trapped child.
***********
Once outside, Cord turned to Harlan saying, "C’mon, man. There's people in trouble!" He then took off towards the blaze.
"Yes, yes, of course," Harlan managed to say, though Cord was already running in the direction of the fire. Harlan tried his best to keep up with the others, and by now it was easy to see where the fire raged.
Rounding the great temple, they could see the building engulfed in flames. As Harlan caught up, huffing mightily from his run, he gasped, "Aw no, not the theater." The others looked at him as he continued, "And I was going to attend the next show." Shaking his head, he looked on helplessly.
On arrival they saw a woman speaking hurriedly with a priest of Pelor and what seemed to be a holy warrior, probably the priest's protector. While they were watching, the warrior, took the priest's cloak and soaked it and himself with a bucket of water. He then turned and ran into the burning building.
As the group approached the two, the priest turned and explained, "Aye, there's a young lad, this woman's child, yet in the building."
Looking up at the newcomers, she spoke in a strained, halting voice, "Yes, he was playing in the loft when...." Her words trailed off as she began to cry, and the priest continued for her.
"My companion has entered the blaze," he said, pointing towards the entrance, "in search of the child. I have given him what protection I may, by the Gods let it be enough."
Hearing of the boy trapped in the loft, Floyd asked for some help in carrying out a rescue, "Has anyone got a rope?"
Kagan looked over at Floyd, "Plenty," he replied, then pointed across town, "but it's with my gear, alas, too far to be of help."
Floyd swore; he knew he could reach the roof quite easily, but without the rope how would he get the boy down if he found him? While he was considering his options, there was a large crash from the building which drew everyone's attention. It seemed the entire left corner of the building had collapsed on itself in a shower of sparks, emitting a column of smoke and ash. This was followed quickly by the crash of another large beam which crashed through the doorway, engulfing it in flames.
Seeing the destruction of the portico, Pol grabbed hold of his holy symbol once more and prayed for the safety of his friend.
Graenth's mind was a whirl of thought and attention. That was easily decided, he thought, right staircase it is. No exit back the same way. Best to head up.
"Toby!" Graeneth bellowed with his most powerful voice. "Toby! Where are you?" Keeping his head and body low so as to inhale only the relatively fresher, less smoky air, Graeneth ran up the right staircase in triple steps. Time was of the essence. He began to look around the second story for signs of the boy, while quickly surveying the exit towards the balcony.
"Toby!" he yelled, coughing on the billowing smoke. The balcony extended about a third of the way across the main auditorium, which itself was a mess of burning wood. Far across the hall, Graeneth could see that the stage too was engulfed in flames, its once great curtain hanging in flaming tatters. Around each side of the auditorium was another balcony, extending along each wall and overlooking the stage. The flames had yet to reach down the right hand wall, and passage along its balcony was clear; however, the collapsed ceiling had taken out most of the left balcony, leaving Graeneth with little choice. As he made his way along the right side, he noticed a narrow stair leading up to a catwalk hanging from the ceiling. Although much of the catwalk was already burning, it seemed he could still cross to the loft above the stage, if he hurried.
***********
Kep'e followed Publius as he waded through the crowd. The panic and disorder calmed wherever Publius went. As they approached the fire, Kep'e saw that it was one of the great wooden wagons which never moved, "houses" Kep'e said to himself silently adjusting his thinking to these new words and concepts, which burned. And this 'house' burned with a vigor and intensity which he had never before seen.
As they neared the building a line of men passed buckets filled with water from one to another and flung their meager contents onto the burning wood. Kep'e watched this ritual with interest while wondering at its purpose ,since it seemed to do nothing to abate the fire, but as he watched a tingling as if a ghostly hand passed across the back of his neck caused him to turn aside.
A swarthy warrior had approached Publius and as they spoke Kep'e caught the steady, yet not unfriendly glance of the warrior. Publius gave the warrior a command and Kep'e turned away toward the sounds of a woman cries.
She was crying amongst a crowd of onlookers, one of whom Kep’e immediately noticed as Pol of Mitrik, the priest with whom he had traveled for the past few weeks. As he watched, one of the onlookers broke from the group and ran around the side of the burning building.
****************************
Floyd swore; he knew he could reach the roof quite easily, but without the rope how would he get the boy down if he found him? While he was considering his options, there was a large crash from the building which drew everyone's attention. It seemed the entire left corner of the building had collapsed on itself in a shower of sparks, emitting a column of smoke and ash. This was followed quickly by the crack of another large beam which crashed through the doorway, engulfing it in flames.
"Iuz's bollocks", Floyd swore as he saw the devastation created so quickly by the fire. Standing there feeling helpless Floyd felt a touch on his arm and an odd sensation run down his arm.
Kagan had seen Floyd's thoughts clearly in his eyes, and he grabbed Floyd by the arm. As he felt the tingling go through the rest of his body, Floyd turned with a question on his tongue.
"There is no time Floyd! If you can climb that," he said, pointing emphatically to the burning theater, "and I think you can, then go! I don't know how but I swear to you that we will catch that child." Kagan looked him dead in the eye and smiled, "Mayhaps we can work a miracle here today, Friend. Now hurry, and may St. Cuthbert be with you."
Without another glance at Floyd, Kagan turned to Jeremy. "I don't suppose you have a spell to lighten the weight of a person, or a flying spell perhaps?"
Jeremy looks over at Kagan, spreading his hands futilely. I doubt there is anything I can do, my friend, my powers, alas, can be a bit haphazard. Then, looking at Floyd who had begun to climb the side wall of the theater, he continued, "perhaps we can find some other way."
As Jeremy said this, a young female voice made him turn. A well-built young woman, leading a riding horse, approached from across the square. Eager to help, the woman introduced herself as Darenna. "Did I hear someone ask for a rope?" she asked, as she reached into her saddle bag and produced a 50' silk rope. Stepping up to Kagan, she offered it to the young man, asking "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Looking back towards where Floyd had gone, Jeremy replied, "not unless you can get your rope to the roof before it goes up in flames."
Going to the part of the building damaged least by the fire Floyd started to climb. Hoping his ability didn't desert him now of all times. He made his way up the right wall, scrambling from one window ledge to another, until he was able to grab onto the edge of the theaters roof. Pulling himself up, he looked back down at his friends and wondered how safe the hands gathering below him were. Trusting in his companions, Floyd turned and ran across the roof, avoiding the flames and searching for an entrance.
Turn 8
Harlan concentrated on the words to the feather fall spell while Floyd scaled the wall of the theater. He hoped that either he or Graeneth would return safely with the boy Toby, though it was hardly likely that Floyd would be able to descend without a rope if the boy was with him. If the worst was to happen, Harlan hoped he could save at least one of them from a fatal fall. With a prayer to Celestian, he looked for movement on the roof and concentrated on his magic.
While Harlan concentrated on the roof, watching closely for Floyd, Graeneth or the boy, Kep'e grabbed Publius by the upper arm to attract his attention. "There," he said, "Holy Man," he pointed with the tip of his Saber at Pol. "Maybe he help fire". Without waiting for a reply, Kep'e jogged over to Pol.
For his part, Publious had already noticed the odd group, especially the young man who took off into the alley beside the theater. As Kep’e ran over to the Holy Man, who Publious could clearly see was a priest of Pelor, Publious himself took off after the running youth. Flames crackled above him as he turned into the alley, his street-trained eyes scanning for the kid. He could see clear to the other end, where the alley opened into Silver Street, and the kid was nowhere in sight. Scratching his head, knowing the youth could not have covered the distance already, Publious carefully walked down the alley, his sword in hand.
As he made his way down the alley, glancing continuously up at the burning building to make sure he was safe, he spotted the youth, scaling the side. He had already cleared the second floor, avoiding the windows which belched smoke like chimneys from a dwarven forge. Publious tried to yell to him, but it was obvious that he kid could not hear him over the roar of the fire. As he watched helplessly, the kid scrambled over the rooftop and was gone from sight. Shaking his head and swearing to the Gods, Publious walked back into the square.
He spotted Jalal, shouting orders to the few guards still there, and he approached him, scowling at his inability to catch the agile youth. "Some kid just climbed up top," he said, pointing. "Don’t reckon why, maybe he thinks ta loot something. Keep and eye out for him."
Jalal smiled, "Sure thing Pub." He knew Publious hated that nickname, especially considering the old warrior rarely drank a drop anymore, but he enjoyed saying it all the same, aware that only he could get away with it. "Anything else?" he added.
Publious frowned, but Jalal’s carefree look quickly forced a smile on the constables face. "Yeah. Don't let anyone else get close to the burning building," he told him, looking at the other guards as well. "I think it's about to collapse!" As Jalal and the guards spread out to see to the orders, Publious turned and headed back to Kep’e and the others, intent on finding out just what in the Nine Hells was going on.
As Publious walked up to him, Kep’e was bowing his head respectfully but keeping his eyes on the priest. Kep'e spoke loud enough to be heard over the din. "Holy Man, Priest, help fire?"
Pol look back at Kep’e with the sad look of one who can merely stand by while others suffer. "No, Kep’e," he said, shaking his head slowly. "There is nothing I can do about the blaze." He then hung his head, bringing a pang of sadness to the noble heart of the barbarian.
Kep’e knew all too well the self-wounding brought about by inaction, even when such inaction was unavoidable. He opened his mouth to speak, to soothe the ache of his friend, but could find no words to help, even had he the ability to express the feelings of his soul. Rather, he placed his strong hand on Pol’s shoulder, holding it firmly, expressing with the simple gesture the emotions locked behind his linguistic barriers.
Pol looked up at Kep’e, straightening his frame, and smiled warmly. "Thank you, my friend." Turning back towards the blaze, Pol looked around, "Perhaps there is yet something I can do to help."
Just then, a couple of men appeared from around the left side of the building, dragging between them another injured man. Without pausing, Pol immediately ran across the square towards the trio. Kep’e watched as Pol knelt down over the injured man, struck somehow by the demon fire. He smiled, knowing his friend had so quickly found that which he seemed on the verge of loosing.
In the corner of his peripheral vision, acute and perceptive from years of riding the open plains, Kep’e then caught the sight of a figure running along the rooftop. He watched, engrossed, as the demon fire reached out its flaming tendrils, only to be constantly thwarted by the agile mans deft movements. Only a crazy man would test the fire so, he thought in wonder as the dark figure disappeared behind a column of smoke.
But Kep’e was not the only one watching the rooftop spectacle. Around him, Floyd’s friends were also captivated by the nimble thief’s movements. They gasped in unison each time the flames erupted around him and sighed with relief as he leaped quickly to safety. Publious just shook his head, muttering, "adventurers."
Moving carefully across the roof, avoiding any obvious fire damaged areas and looking out for an entrance Floyd cried out, "Toby, were are you son, shout out if you can hear me". Hoping to hear a response from Toby or to find an entrance Floyd made his way around the roof.
He quickly realized, however, that his cries would never be heard through the din of the fire; he could barely hear his own footfalls on the fragile tiles. He would have to get through the roof somehow, but great gusts of smoke and fire blew through each hole he could see.
Determined to gain access to the loft, Floyd thought of forcing an entrance if he had to. As he danced across the roof, avoiding the areas burning most heavily, he finally spotted what he was looking for. Next to a small belltower was a wooden trapdoor. Smoke poured through the belltower, obscuring the interior and making passage impossible, so Floyd made his way to the trap door.
Kneeling next to it, he reached out his hand and felt the wood. Although it was warm to the touch, it was not overly warm. Grabbing his short sword, he thrust it through the metal handle and flipped the door over. As he did so, an incredible wave of heat rushed up at him, followed by a flash of smoke and fire. The explosion knocked Floyd backwards, and he lost his grip on his sword as he fell over the ledge of the belltower and tumbled into the smokefilled shaft. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed hold of the hanging rope, bringing a load toll from the previously silent bell.
The rope tore through his hands as he desperately gripped it, trying to stop his descent. As quickly as it happened, he then slammed into something solid, his pained hands releasing their hold on the rope. The rope seemed to have slowed his fall somewhat and angled him to the opposite side where he crashed into a wall. Looking around, he found himself on a small landing inside the belltower, a stair winding its way down along the outer wall. Smoke flowed up past him, obscuring his view down the tower, and he coughed mightily, blinking back the pain as he tried to determine his next move.
Without another glance at Floyd, Kagan turned to Jeremy. "I don’t suppose you have a spell to lighten the weight of a person, or a flying spell perhaps?"
Jeremy respond, his eyes never leaving the rooftop, "Nope, sorry. I don't even have my components with me!"
Looking back towards the rooftop, Kagan noticed Floyd disappear behind a cloud of smoke, followed quickly by the single, muted toll of a small bell. As the strong wind blew the smoke away in dissipating wisps, the companions saw that Floyd had disappeared.
"I pray he found an entrance, remarked Harlan."
Jeremy looked at the priest and forced a smile. "It'll take more than a burning roof to topple that agile rogue," he said. "After such deft acrobatics, he couldn’t have fallen." Looking back up at the building he repeated, "no, he couldn’t have fallen."
At the mention of Floyd falling, Harlan suddenly looked over at Jeremy. Of course, he thought. All we have to do is catch the boy. He quickly began to get everyone’s attention, explaining his developing plan to make a circle and join hands in the center, thus creating a makeshift net to catch the youth (and possibly Floyd).
Rapidly understanding what Kagan was thinking to do, Jeremy looked around and asked if someone could bring back a sturdy blanket that could help in catching Floyd and the youth.
Darenna heard Jeremy’s appeal as she was looking up at the roof, searching for any protrusions that she could throw her rope over. Seeing none and fearing that the fire would likely burn her rope in any case, she told the others that she did have a blanket. Moving to her horse, she untied her thick winter blanket from her saddle and returned.
"Here," she said, tossing an end of her rope to Jeremy. "We can use the rope as a net, with the blanket as a cushion."
Harlan agreed with the suggestion, and the group began to cross the rope back and forth amongst themselves, forming a crude, semi-circular net. As they did so, Kep’e reached out and grabbed a loop, flashing a grin at the strangers. Shaking his head, Publious too reached for the rope, sheathing his sword. He may as well help them out; at least then he'd catch the kid. He laughed at his silent pun, bring questioning glances from the group around him, but just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
When they finished forming their irregular net, Darenna tossed her blanket upon it, everyone spreading it around until it covered the rope completely. They then moved over towards the building, to wait.
Meanwhile, his throat beginning to feel raw and his breath labored from the smoke, Graeneth continued across the catwalk. He carried his body low, trying vainly to keep out of the ever-increasing smoke, as he dashed across the shuddering catwalk towards the loft, pausing at moments to call for the lost child.
"Toby!" he screamed, but he heard no answer but the roaring flames. Racing across the catwalk, he approached the loft. This side of it was completely ablaze, the fire having risen on the great curtain, catching the loft and ceiling above on fire.
The catwalk was also burning, as well as a half open door which opened into the loft beyond, but there being no other way, Graeneth decided to risk it. Chanting a prayer quietly to himself, he ran across the fiery boards. They cracked beneath him, and he launched himself into the doorway as the last bit of catwalk broke free from the ceiling and plummeted to the stage below.
Graeneth hit the door with a jolt, tearing it from its weakened hinges, and tumbled to the floor. The water was mostly evaporated now, and some of his clothes had caught fire so he rolled over, patting the flames with the still wet blanket. Having smothered the flames, he noticed that not only was he not burned, but he realized that he did not feel the heat which was clearly intense, igniting most of the flammable materials in the area, even his own clothes. He would have to thank Pol and his God afterwards, if he got out alive that is.
Turn 9
First they reached out and joined hands, then a rope was brought out and stretched back and forth between them. A woman Kep'e had not seen before shouted to the one leading the ceremony and threw a blanket over the stretched out rope. What a strange ritual he thought. Publious shouldered his way into the circle and stood next to him. Kep'e turned to look up and smile at the warrior chief, pleased to be a part of the ceremony.
"Publious, This magic stop firedemon?"
Publius seemed surprised and confused by Kep'e's question. But then he smiled, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes appearing with it, as he remembered how different the nomad's way of thinking was from his own.
"Hold on tight, Kep'e -- we're making a net to catch anyone who may jump out of the upper stories of the burning building."
Publius then glanced up at the second story of the building, still holding onto the "net" with both hands.
"Get ready for someone to leap out of there," he said, nodding towards the roof. "We will try to catch them if they do! We are not using magic, Kep'e, but if this works out all right, we might call it a miracle!"
Kep'e looked up at the burning building and thought of the figure he'd seen. On the plains he remembered using the net as an animal and man catcher. Before such a hunt he would examine the net carefully looking for wear or cuts among the entwined links of rope. He remembered the time and skill which the woman of the tribe took to weave these nets and the strength needed for them to hold a man or frantic beast snared on the run. If the net was worn the prey would simply tear through the net.
"Rope no magic? " Kep'e said to Publious " Rope no net, need net to catch" he said looking up at the roof of the building ", rope need links and links and links, then be net."
Kep'e shook the blanket and pulled on its edge. "Blanket is net, links and links, see, too small no see, but blanket have links, we use blanket for net, then we catch."
"You got it now, Kep'e, and I think you're right" Publius said, a bit nervously, keeping his eyes on the upper stories of the building. Turning to the rest of the group he explained Kep'e's idea. "We're going to use the blanket as a net. We might as well just forget about the rope. Get ready!"
While anxiously awaiting the developments above, Darenna introduced herself to the group of people who had formed the circle. She explained that she had just traveled from Narwell, her home, seeking adventure and excitement. "I didn't think I would find excitement so fast!" Darenna exclaimed.
A seemingly ancient man, leaning on a gnarled staff which somehow looked even older, approached from behind her. He smiled, his wide toothless grin highlighting the deep wrinkles in a face long weathered by a life outdoors. He laughed in a voice that sounded more like the croaking of a giant frog and waved his cane over his head, the tip barely missing Harlan who had to duck quickly to avoid being smacked in the temple.
"Please be careful with that stick, old man," Harlan exclaimed, wondering what this was all about.
Ignoring the comment, he looked curiously into Darenna's questioning eyes. "In Verbonc, excitement find you." Tilting his head to one side, he tapped his cane against Darenna's head, "Just remember, you sometimes catch, sometimes get caught yourself." As the others stood, slackjawed at his cryptic and seemingly senile ways, the old man laughed again, turned, and walked away.
Harlan glanced at the man as he walked away, his face revealing the confusion felt by the rest of the circle. Looking back at Darenna, he smiled and introduced himself. "Well met, I think. I am pleased to meet you Darenna; my name is Harlan. Do you know that person?"
Darenna was clearly stunned, speechless for a moment. "Well, what the in the name of Pelor was that all about?" she exclaimed aloud. " I have never met this old one! Very strange indeed and nice to meet you, too, Harlan."
Nodding at the greeting, Harlan suddenly remembered Floyd and Graeneth up on the roof and shifted his gaze up to the burning top floor of the theater.
Kagan was watching the roof of the building and almost missed the bizarre episode with the old man. His thoughts and prayers were with the ones trapped inside. Making room for the others gathering around the makeshift net, he prayed that Saint Cuthbert was taking notice of the events occurring and would lend his strength and blessing to the attempt.
Darenna's head then snapped back to the roof as well, believing she heard a shout from the roof above. Squinting into the blaze, she could see nothing but the flames and smoke, no pouring from nearly every window.
********************
Without a moments hesitation, Floyd left the landing using the stairs winding its way down along the outer wall of the tower. Calling out constantly, "Toby, were are you son, shout out if you can hear me". Moving as fast as he could down the stairs began to wonder if he would find the boy in time.
Running down the stairs, Floyd passed by a half-dozen openings, all of which were filled with smoke. Ignoring them, he continued quickly to the bottom of the belltower where he found a hallway leading into the building. Although smoke clung tenaciously to the ceiling, the hall was not aflame. Ducking below the smoke, Floyd ran down the hallway until he reached the end, sturdy wooden doors to either side. Looking at the right-hand door, Floyd noticed two large spikes protruding through the crack between the door and the wall, sealing it shut from this side.
Putting his hand to the doors, he tried to feel the heat of flames behind each one. Even though the blessing placed upon him made it difficult to feel the heat, he quickly determined that there was no fire beyond the spiked door. Realizing he could not pry the spikes out, or at least that there was no time, he turned to the left-hand door and pulled it open.
The door opened with another blast of heat and smoke, but this time Floyd was prepared, stepping quickly to the side. As the initial burst subsided, he ducked low and rushed through the doorway. Looking around, he could hardly see anything in the dark room, for even though the flames were greater than anywhere else, an incredibly thick black smoke obscured his vision beyond more than a dozen paces. Breathing through his tunic, he could clearly recognize the sickly stench of burning flesh.
Hoping for the first time that he had not found the boy, Floyd tentatively stepped into the room. As he did so, he suddenly stumbled over small keg, lying on the floor. Reaching out, he kept his balance, landing with catlike softness. Swearing to Ralishaz, he pushed the keg out his way, but when he withdrew his hand, he found it smeared with a sheen of lamp oil. "What in the Nine Hells," he said aloud, wiping the oil as best he could.
Keeping low, almost on his belly, to avoid the thick smoke, he could see from the furniture, which was snapping mightily as fire hungrily consumed the dry wood, that he was in an office of some type. As he carefully made his way into the room, his trained eyes spotted a pair of legs sticking out from behind the desk. Raging flames surrounded the desk and the body, and it was clear to Floyd that, if he were to reach it, he would have to go straight into the inferno.
****************
With a quick mumbled prayer to his god and Pol's, Graeneth righted himself and scanned the room very quickly, looking for the boy, hoping for the best but fearing the worst in view of the flames that were rapidly consuming the entire place.
"Toby! Are you here boy? Don't be afraid, Toby!" Graeneth's mind raced ahead of his search, anxiously looking for some means of exit to the sides or upwards, knowing that he could not go back the way he came.
Hearing no reply, Graeneth continued into the loft. Trusting in his protections, he scrambled through the room with little thought to the flames which were devouring the theater's brittle wood. Though his clothes were smoking, he was relieved to see they were not catching fire again.
Kicking the assorted junk out of his way, he forced himself along. The costumes and collections of a thousand plays burned all around him, but he cared little about the destruction, his mind intent on finding the child. He called again and again, but still heard nothing. Pushing further into the loft, he thrust aside a large bookshelf full of fragile pottery. Through the roar of the blaze, he could barely hear the shattering crash. As a growing sense of despair began to urge him to leave the flaming deathtrap, he looked around for an exit, and noticed the thick smoke pouring through the loft towards a ladder which must exit through the roof.
The loft was ablaze behind him, and snapping timbers brought the fear of another collapse to his mind, impelling him towards what seemed his only possible exit. As he shouldered his way through the back of the loft, yet untouched by the raging conflagration, his heart nearly leapt from his chest when he spotted a young boy, curled up in a corner between two massive trunks.
Turn 10
"Toby!" Graeneth leapt straight towards the boy, "are you all right boy?" Quickly assessing the boy's physical condition for injuries or burns, Graeneth could see he was all right, though probably scared to death. Graeneth began to speak to him in a calm voice which belied his inner anxiety regarding the fire raging around him.
"Toby, do not be afraid. I will take care of you and will get you out of here safely. I want you to do exactly as I say. Do not be scared." Graeneth spoke in a soothing voice even as his hands ripped a small piece of cloth for Toby to tie around his nose and mouth. Bundling Toby in the spare cloak, he directed the boy urgently towards and up the ladder at the back of the loft as quickly as he could, all the while speaking words of reassurance to the young boy, and mentally preparing himself to grab and carry the boy and make a last-gasp dash for the roof if things were to get even more precarious.
The boy didn't respond at all; rather, he stared blankly ahead, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. After Graeneth stood him up and directed him to the ladder, Toby just stood still, almost as if magically beguiled in some manner, leaving Graeneth little choice but to pick him up and carry him. As he lifted the boy up, Graeneth began to cough again. His protections had made him safe from the fire, but the smoke was something else. He had not drawn a clean breath in what seemed forever and could feel his strength diminishing. In Graeneth's weakened state, the small boy seemed as heavy as an ox.
Grunting with the effort, Graeneth hoisted the child over his shoulder and moved to the ladder. Through the smoke, which poured out the hole as if drawn by some supernatural force, Graeneth could see a trapdoor opening to the rooftop. Fire had been drawn to the hole as well, and already it began to lick at the dry wood of the ladder.
Making sure Toby was bundled tight, Graeneth grabbed hold of the ladder and began his ascent. Flames wrapped around his hands as he scrambled quickly through the smoke-filled hole, but they did little more than singe his hairs as he crawled through. Unfortunately, it was not the fire which was his enemy, but rather the billowing smoke which engulfed him in its suffocating blanket. His eyes were nearly blinded by its stinging wisps, and his lungs felt as if they were made of iron. He tried to draw a breath, but could only make the faintest wheeze before coughing uncontrollably.
As he made the roof, the smoke finally overcame him, and he stumbled, dropping hard to the tiled roof. Toby fell from his grasp and rolled across the roof where he lay still. Graeneth placed a hand beneath himself, attempting to stand, but his arm buckled beneath him and he slumped to the floor again, rolling over onto his back.
With eyes nearly swollen shut and a painful rasping breath, Graeneth was dimly aware of the threatening conflagration. With great effort, trying hard not to lose consciousness, Graeneth began to inch himself towards the boy. With every effort in agonizing slowness, Graeneth knew that there was dimly aware of other activity stirring around him. Again attempting to clear his head, Graeneth continued to move towards the boy.
*********
Plunging into the fire, Floyd noticed that although his clothes quickly began to smoke, miraculously, the heat was still bearable. Grabbing the body by the ankles, he could now recognize it as that of a woman, Floyd tried to drag it clear; however, on his first tug, both boots, themselves aflame, slipped off the woman's feet, bringing with them a layer of black, blistered skin.
Floyd closed his eyes tightly against the sight, wondering why he had chosen to be the hero this night. The young thief had seen many difficult things in his early years, but nothing, not even the mutilated corpses of his parents which he had tried so hard to forget, could prepare him for the burning horror he was looking upon.
Swallowing hard, he pushed his memories back down, back into the dark recesses of his mind where they had lain for so long. He then grabbed hold of the burning body once more, and without looking at it, he pulled it out into the hall where he patted out the smoldering flames. Once there, he thought quickly of his options, knowing that he could neither get back to the roof through the belltower, nor could he exit through the burning office. He realized there remained only the spiked door or the half-dozen smoke filled openings he had passed on the way down the stairs.
As it is the nearest of his options, Floyd decided to try and force the door. Looking at it, Floyd could tell that it swing inward, thus, no amount of forcing would open it from this side. The hinges could be worked out, but that seemed an even more arduous task than removing the spikes; thus, Floyd pulled his dagger from its sheath and began to pry out the first spike. Being wedged so tightly, it took a good deal of work, but he eventually worked out enough of the spike that he was able to grab it by the head and pull it out completely.
Tossing it aside, he began to work on the second spike. Using the same technique, he eventually pulled this one out as well; however, as he was about to toss it aside, he noticed a faint discoloration on the spike. Looking more closely, he could see dried bloodstains covering it from tip to head. Placing the spike in his pocket, he sheathed his dagger and shoved open the door.
Beyond the door was a long hallway, clear of smoke and fire. Taking up the body once again, Floyd ran down the hall, following it as it turned to the right. He passed a couple doors, eventually reaching a dead end with a barred double door. Shifting the body on his shoulders, he flipped the bar with his left hand and pushed through the doorway, finding himself in the alley beside the burning theater, not far from where he scaled the wall earlier.
Letting out a great sigh of relief, Floyd thanked the stars for his luck. Looks like Norebo was smiling on me this day, he thought, as he took in a great lung-full of fresh clean air. Adjusting the body into a more comfortable position Floyd rushed over to his friends.
"Quickly some assistance here, I found this person but there was no sign of Toby. I will have to go straight back in to find him".
Kagan was preparing a spell when he and Jeremy saw Floyd staggering forward with a body over his shoulders, and they quickly left the circle to assist him. As Floyd lowered the body to the ground, Kagan yelled back to the others, "Can anyone help the ones up above?". Seeing the crisis on the roof top and sensing their helplessness, Darenna asked for a boost up onto the roof. When nobody replied, she let go of the blanket and moved over to the building, thinking to climb it herself. Without looking to see if anyone responded, Kagan began working with the victim before him. He checked for signs of life, and what he could do for the poor woman; however he couldn't see how anyone this burned could still live. He leaned over her and breathed a prayer, hoping someone was listening to it.
As Floyd turned to reenter the building, Jeremy put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "No Floyd, this time you wont go inside again. You are pushing your luck a bit too far," said Jeremy, really worried about his friend safety. "You've done all you could do. It will get us nowhere if you die in this fire."
The street was lit as bright as day by the burning building, and the heat was greater than that of the hottest summer on the plains. Kep'e gripped the edge of the blanket and peered up at the roof of the building. At first the billowing smoke obscured his view but then a change in the wind shifted the dark clouds and he saw the form of a man and a small boy.
Kep'e could feel the blanket going slack beneath his finger; several others were letting go of the blanket.
"No, No!" Kep'e shouted "No let go, catch, Catch! " he shouted looking up at the roof of the building.
"Well, damn" Darenna said, half to herself, as she realized that it was impossible to reach the roof, even from her horse. Looking back at Kep'e, she threw her hands in the air helplessly. "Can anybody get up there? Those two need help, before the whole roof caves in!" Looking back to the rooftop, she wished she could fly or jump or something, anything to help the two.
As the woman shouted out first for help then in despair, Kep'e felt a sympathetic pang. The pair on the roof appeared to have collapsed and the demon fire would soon devour them. He was no climber himself but an idea came to him.
"Rope!" he shouted to her, "use rope!"
Hearing Darenna ask if anybody can get up to the roof, Floyd looked up and Noticed the two figures, seemingly unconscious. Turning back to Kagan, he said, "Do what you can for this lady, it seems my work is not yet finished". With a shrug and a smile directed towards Jeremy, he then began to run back to the building.
Seeing that Floyd would not pay attention to his words of caution, Jeremy had to admit to himself that the young thief was probably the best man to help those two on the roof. He bit his lips and returned to the circle, deciding to hold the blanked even more firmly. He could not help but think that, perhaps he should have studied real skills that were meaningful in this kind of situation. Instead of just waiting and doing not much, he could have had some USEFUL spells to help. Sighing, he looked back at the roof...
As the drama on the roof of the theater unfolded, Harlan said to the others, "I don't think there is much we can do now, except try to catch them if they fall." Preparing to call on Celestian, he continued, "I will try to slow the fall for one of them at least."
Meanwhile, Darenna ran back to the circle and grabbed the rope which Kep'e had convinced them to discard. By the time she got back, Floyd was already climbing up to the roof for the second time. As he did so, he said another quick prayer to Norebo for his luck to hold just a bit longer.
By the time he reached the two, the man had crawled over to the boy and was trying with his last bit of strength to drag him over to the side. Looking up at Floyd, Graeneth tried to speak, only to fall into another choking fit. It was all he could do to point to Toby.
Nodding his understanding, Floyd picked up Toby and carried him carefully to the edge of the roof. Looking below, he could see his friends waiting with the makeshift net. With a final prayer, he dropped Toby over the edge where he landed with a safe bounce in the stretched out blanket.
Floyd doubted he could repeat the process with Graeneth, the man's bulk just too much for him to throw accurately enough. Taking the rope, he secured it as good as he could under Graeneth's shoulders and lowered him over the side. Although he would doubtless show a bruise or two from bouncing off the side of the theater, he would at least live to complain about them.
As soon as Graeneth had reached the ground and been helped by the others, Floyd tossed the rest of the rope down. He stood back and prepared to jump into the net when he suddenly remember his sword. While the others stood, waiting for him to jump, he turned and ran back to the trapdoor. Flipping it closed, he saw his sword, right where he had left it when it was torn from his grasp. He quickly snatched it up before running back to the edge of the building, where, with a triumphant yell, he leapt into the waiting hands of his friends.
TURN 11
Kep'e blinked his eyes to clear them. Tears had built up at their corners from the smoke. A form appeared from above and fell like a sack cast from the building top. A small boy landed within the outstretched blanket, he bounced once then lay like a puppet with its strings cut. Kep'e lets his edge slant down and the boy slid toward him.
"Publious, take boy, quick" he said, and he handed the child into the constables waiting arms.
Luckily the boy had fallen with a slack form, as Kep'e had learned to do long years ago on the plains. A stiff form, with muscles tense was a sure way to receive break a or sprain.
Publious led the boy aside, away from the fire. As he did so, the child’s mother came rushing over. Crying the boys name, she cradled him in her arms, sobbing unrepentantly. With a smile, Publious turned around and went back to the net.
When the boy was lifted from the blanket, a voice cried out "Get ready, here comes another one" so Kep'e quickly tightened his grip and watched the roof once more.
As they waited for the next one to jump, the group saw Floyd reappear at the edge. He had tied the rope around Graeneth and was lowering him to the ground as gently as possible. As soon as Graeneth was lowered to the ground, Pol ran over to administer to his friend and companion.
The young warrior was nearly unconscious, barely able to look through his swollen eyes, and his voice cracked with a rasp as he unsuccessfully tried to speak. Pol placed a hand on his head and began a prayer to Pelor, and those nearby thought he may even have mentioned the Goddess Mayaheine. When he finished the prayer, a relaxing calm seemed to spread over Graeneth's pained visage, and the man slipped into a well-earned and peaceful sleep.
Meanwhile, the rest of the group stood in rapt attention as Floyd disappeared once again. Anxiety gripped Jeremy as his mind created a hundred reasons for Floyd to reenter the building, when he suddenly reappeared at the roof's edge.
Publious, Kep'e, Jeremy, Harlan, and Darenna held the net tightly once more as Floyd leapt from the rooftop with a shout. Doing a flip in mid-air, Floyd's triumphant yell quickly turned to into a surprised yelp as he tumbled too far, landing on his face with a sharp slap, knocking the wind out of him as well. As the others released their hold on the net, dropping Floyd gently to the ground, Jeremy moved over to him, laughing.
Floyd sat up on his knees and tried to say something, but no sound issued forth. His look of concern then changed into one of forced calm as he closed his mouth and began to suck in air through his nose.
Waiting for the pain and the embarrassment to wear off Floyd finally rose to his feet. Looking around, he noticed for the first time how many people are gathered around, which only served to increase his embarrassment.
Seeing that the immediate situation was under control, Darenna got an apple from her backpack and offered it to the little boy who just stood there, staring blankly.
Its all right, Toby, said the boys mother, but he didn’t respond. His mother ran her fingers lovingly through his hair, speaking calmly to him and trying to get the boy to answer her, but he said nothing, continuing to stare ahead with vacant eyes.
When they were sure no one else would be making the leap to safety, the blanket was let go. Kep'e retrieved it and offered it to the woman who had been holding an edge.
"This yours, yes?" he said
Darenna replied, turning away from the troubled scene. "Why, yes, thank you. What is your name?"
"Kep'e" he said gesturing to himself then pointed at her and said "You?" but as he said this he could hear footsteps approaching from behind. Kep'e turned quickly but with an economy of motion. He was relieved to see that it was Publious.
Preparing to stow her blanket and rope away, Darenna was about to answer when she overheard somebody say something about the fire being deliberately set and a woman being murdered.
Realizing that there must be a city official in the crowd, and wanting to report his suspicions of a murder being committed, Floyd looked at Jeremy, "If you’re finished laughing, could you get a member of the City Watch. I think the women was murdered and the fire deliberately set".
"I'm the constable." Publius said, handing Floyd a rag to wipe himself with. "I've seen exceptional bravery in my life, but none of it was any greater than what I've seen today."
While the rest of the group was paying attention to Floyd and his rooftop rescue, Kagan knelt over the body of the burned woman. She was sprawled there, on her back, and Kagan could quickly see she was beyond help. Her clothes were blackened and frayed from the fire, and anywhere her skin had been bare, the flesh had been severely burned. But the burning was the least of the horror; what shocked Kagan most was her face.
It too had been burned, with the same boiled and blackened look as the rest of her skin. Perhaps it was the damage from the fire which had kept Floyd from noticing the rest. Kagan put a hand to his mouth as he looked at that face, a sight he would remember for many years.
Her face, what was left of it, seemed more like the pulp of beaten vegetables. Her whole head was misshapen, having been beaten by some blunt object. Then he noticed her eyes, or rather, where her eyes should have been. Through the smashed bones and burnt skin, Kagan could see the woman's eyes had been gouged out, violently, hatefully, the black sockets, crying sightlessly, seemed somehow to bore into his soul.
Without even being aware of it, Kagan suddenly turned around, dropping to all fours. His body convulsed as a wave of nausea flooded through him, and he threw up on the cobblestones. As the rest of the group turned back to him, he threw up again, then slumped back into a sitting positions, his hands dropping limply to his sides.
Harlan, who has lead a fairly sheltered life, was shocked by the gruesome scene that unfolded before his eyes. An innocent woman, so horribly mutilated... Harlan kept staring, unable to speak, unable even to fathom the evil and cruelty which must have been behind such a heinous crime. Taking refuge in the teachings of Celestian, he turned away, letting his mind wander.
As Kagan sat there a rage began to build in his heart. He could not believe that someone could do this to another human being. He began clenching and unclenching his hands, wishing the person responsible was in his grip. Turning back to the battered corpse he tried to calm himself to commend the woman's soul upon its journey.
As he went through the familiar ritual, he could feel himself calming. As always he was amazed that the rituals always had that effect upon him. Soon he was once again in control of his rage. Taking off his cloak, he placed it over the body. He then turned back to the rest of the group and went to check on Floyd and the boy.
Despite what he had seen he knew that he still had work to do. He moved first to check on Floyd, seeing the boy standing with Darenna. He was back in control of his emotions, but this was far from over. Sooner or later he would find the person responsible for such butchery and make them pay.
Kagan was relieved as he walked up to see Floyd stand shakily to his feet. He heard Floyd telling Jeremy to hail someone to report his suspicions too. Kagan grasped Floyd by the arm and motioned him to walk over to the corpse.
"I think that will take care of any proof you need, he said, pulling back the blanket and pointing at the mangled face. As Floyd blanched at the face Kagan quickly covered it back up. "Someone has to pay for that, Floyd".
Seeing Floyd's dejected look Kagan grabbed Floyd by the shoulders and directed his gaze at Toby. "Floyd you saved his life. No matter what, don’t forget that." You did something in there that the rest of us would have never been able to do. You should be very proud. I know that I am proud of what you did here today. I underestimated you, and for that I am sorry. Now lets see how Toby is. Maybe he can tell us more".
Getting over the initial shock of seeing the women's mangled face for the first time Floyd raises his head to look at Kagan then back at Publious. "Thank you for your praise, but I think it is mostly misplaced. It is that brave fellow Graeneth laying there that got Toby to the roof. I failed to save that women, though I suspect she was already dead before I got there. But there is one thing I can still do for her and that is to find her killer".
Looking at the face of the women once again, Floyd remembered the spike he placed in his pocket. Retrieving it and looking at it's blood stained length Floyd wondered out loud if it was used to gouge the women's eyes out.
At the identification of Publius as the constable, Floyd handed over the spike and took the offered rag in exchange, wiping his hands vigorously as he spoke.
"I don't think anybody else is going to be found alive in there, so you may as well start your murder investigation straight away. If it's possible I would like to help in any way I can, and I'm sure that goes for all my companions".
Floyd's hitting the cobblestones had registered only in the back of his mind, but when the young acrobat approached Publious and told him his findings, Harlan finally reacted. "Constable, I am truly shocked by what I have seen, and if there is any way I may assist you during the investigation, I will gladly do so. I fear I may not be of much use though."
Ignoring the priests word, Publious turned to the body. "Now," Publius continued, looking at the poor woman's remains, "Gouged-out eyes suggest ritual murder. I don't want the masses to see this right now; it will only cause a panic."
Looking at Darenna, Publius asked for her blanket again, offering to pay her for it.
When the official looking man offered to purchase her blanket, Darenna became very curious. "There's no need to purchase it. What is this talk of a murder? Is there anything further I can do to help?"
Taking the blanket, Publious put it over the corpse, leaving Kagan’s cloak since he doubted the priest would want it back. Turning away, he called over some guards, instructing them to see to the body. He then told them to maintain a patrol in a perimeter around the theater, and to keep an eye out for thieves and looters, who may attempt to use the fire to their advantage.
Publious then looked back at the theater, wondering what had transpired this night. Glancing at the water lines, he could see they were having little success putting out the blaze; however, they did seem to be preventing it from spreading.
While he stood there surveying the scene, a blast of cool air whipped by him. Spinning around, he saw a foppishly dressed man pointing a small wand at the theater. A stream of snow and ice poured from the wand and spread out over the front of the theater. Publious stepped back as the man waved the device back and forth, the cold stream quickly putting out the fire where ever they met. As hissing steam escaped into the night sky, a great crash resounded through the plaza. With an incredible show of force, the entire central section of the theater collapsed in on itself with a thunderous roar.
While everyone stood in rapt attention, Graeneth began to stir a little, having no idea of how much time had passed. He became slowly aware of a commotion, not over him, but around the vicinity.
"Toby!" Graeneth raised his head with a start. Seeing Pol nearby, and finding himself out of the building, Graeneth's anxiety evaporated. Now noticing Kep'e at a distance, and finally the boy as well, Graeneth allowed himself to relax to a comfortable position, not trusting himself to get up quite yet.
Suddenly remembering, he called out, "Has someone checked on the boy? He seemed strange, almost in a trance."
TURN 12
Kep'e followed Publius over to the body of the slain woman. He glanced at her face and noticed that her killer had removed her eyes. He whispered a small prayer to the winds under his breath. Such trophies were cruel since they left the spirit of the dead blind among the winds. Such spirits became the cruel biting and howling winds out of the east. They would deflect the true aim of an arrow, throw grit into the eyes of the living (a favorite trick of theirs, being blind themselves), mask the scent of prey, or send your own sent out to reach the noses of your enemies, and they would stir a spark and raise it into a torrent of flames among the waves of dry grass during the summer. Publius gathered the blanket from the young woman who he had just given it back to, and they exchanged a few words. But Kep'e's eyes were drawn to the side and the sight of his traveling companions Graeneth, laying propped up several feet away, and Pol attending to him.
Kep'e started to approach the pair, but a crashing roar startled him as the nearby building collapsed in upon itself. Then he heard Graeneth cry out, and he quickly turned back.
"Graeneth, you not dead," he said leaning down and placing a hand on Graeneth's shoulder.
"No, I am not my foreign friend," Graeneth rose to his feet with an awkward attempt to find his footing, a hand heavy on Kep'e outstretched arm. "Praise be to Mayaheine for that."
Turning his gaze on Pol, Graeneth bowed his head deeply and reverently, "Thank you Pol, I see that you have attended to me very carefully. I owe you my gratitude. The last I remember I had reached the roof and had let go of the boy as the smoke overcame me. Someone got to me and lowered me down. "
Graeneth searched the faces of Kep'e and Pol, "to whom do I owe my life? I have a bond of honor I must fulfill to him. And the boy, where is he? I must check on him." He waited for their reply before proceeding to look for Toby. He put his arm out and with a heave Kep'e helped him to his feet.
"There," Kep'e said pointing at a young looking man with jet-black hair. " He took fall well, He, hmm, ah, alacsonyabb, how you say," Kep'e gestured holding out his hands horizontally palms up as if bearing an outstretched form then slowly lowering it down, "bring down, you."
Then he turned to where the boy was being held by his mother. "Fiu over there," he said then saw the look of question in Graeneth's eyes. "Fiu," he said again. "Toe-Bee," he said loudly and pointed at Toby and his mother.
"Thank you, I'll make sure you master the Common tongue if I can help it." Graeneth grinned broadly at the northerner. "Fiu...," Graeneth muttered to himself, "that must mean 'boy' in his language", and mentally stored another piece of information for future use.
Floyd watched the fire being put out so effectively, a look of admiration on his face. If only the foppishly dressed man with the wand had come along sooner, the theater could have been saved. As it was totally collapsed, there was not much hope of finding any evidence which might lead to the murderer.
Turning to Publius, Floyd said, "It looks like the fire is in hand, who's the man with the wand?"
Shaking his head at Floyd's casual demeanor, Publius answered, "That wizard with the wand is Fosgodderly of Crockport, or something like that." Scratching his chin he continued, "I can't remember for sure if that's his proper name; I recognize him, though. I've seen him in the city before, in the company of silver wizards."
While the wizard with wand continued to blast away at the dying fire, Publius shouted his way, "Quite a show!" Putting away his normal disdain of wizards in the face of one who was offering help to the city, he hollered again, "Thank you, for the help!"
With merely a glance his way, the wizard tipped his brightly colored, feather-adorned hat Publius's way, before turning back to the theater. With a few more carefully placed shots, he seemed to have brought the fire completely under control.
After listening to the reply, Floyd raises his voice for everyone to hear, "I don't know about anyone else, but I think I deserve a drink, and as the fire is now out I think we should all retire to somewhere more comfortable".
Approaching Graeneth, Floyd held out his hand, "You are a brave man it would be an honor if you would share a drink with me". Looking around at Toby, Floyd added, "It looks like the boy could do with something to wake him from his malaise. Bring him along, I'm sure if a medicinal drink doesn't work, Kagan or Harlan will be able to do something for him".
Graeneth took Floyd's hand and shook it with a firm conviction. "I understand that you were the one who retrieved me from the roof. I am Graeneth of Caronis." Graeneth bowed before the man. "Let it be said in front of the rest of you and before my god, that I owe this man a debt of honor for having saved my life. It will be my charge and pleasure to defend or protect you if you so desire, or to stand for you in a trial of arms. This duty I will discharge to the best of my ability."
Hearing this, Jeremy chuckled to himself. "A paladin defending and protecting a thief," he thought, " really?"
Graeneth's serious demeanor then broke into a smile. "But for now, I'd be more than happy to buy you a drink. We should also have a priest look at the boy, he seems magically entranced or held. He may provide vital clues connected to the fire."
Glancing around, Graeneth began to take in the happenings and activities that were going on around him. "What else has transpired?"
Taken aback slightly by Graeneth's show of gratitude Floyd is slow to respond. "Well thank you Graeneth of Caronis. I don't know what to say, your gratitude is overwhelming. I will gladly accept your offer of a drink though, back to the College Lane then where we can see to the boy in comfort".
Darenna approached Graeneth & Floyd with an outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you," she said. "That was a very courageous and honorable deed you just accomplished. If you're up to it, I'd like to buy the first round! Is there a tavern close by?"
Looking over at Toby, she said, "I'm not an expert in this area, but I'd guess that Toby is in shock or under a spell. We should have a cleric look at him. He'll not give much in the way of information until he comes around, and it appears he may be the only witness."
Seeing Publius inspecting the ruins, Darenna approached him. As he turned towards her, she extended a hand, which he quickly shook. "Mr. Publius, I'd like to offer my services. You're sure to need an extra hand with this, and I am willing to help in any way. Oh, by the way," she continued, looking back around the plaza, "do you know who that ancient, cryptic man was, the one who tapped my head with his cane? I'd sure like to talk to him!"
"I didn't get a good look at him, but I guess that old man who aggravated you was Iberoas. He's an old beggar who lives in Verbobonc--he's lived here a long time. Some people think he has the gift of prophesy. I, for one, wish he would forgo telling prophesies and just grab a bucket, when a fire's blazing."
"I thank you for that piece of information," Darenna replied, thinking to herself that she'd like to find that old man and ask him a question or two.
At the approach of Darenna, Floyd took his time looking her up and down. "Well lass, thank you for your kind offer, but Graeneth here seems to be buying the first drink". Then, with his most charming smile Floyd continued, "But there is nothing to stop you buying the Heroes of the Harvester Theater their second". Speaking in a more subdued voice so that only those directly involved in the rescue can hear Floyd adds, "Although I don't consider myself a hero, knowing there is someone or something out there capable of a despicable murder that I could do nothing about".
With the fire seemingly under control, the bucket line began to break up. Some stayed to watch the strange wizard blast away at the theater with his wand, enjoying the battle of fire and ice being waged in the burning ruins. Most, however, began to return to their homes. Relieved that the danger had passed, the late hour quickly began to tell on them, and the straggled back through the city streets, anxious to get a few hours sleep before the next dawn.
Graeneth seemed steady enough on his own feet. Kep'e watched him walk away for a few yards toward the boy then turned his attention to the burning building. A strange shaman sent blasts of winter air and streams of snow and ice out across the fire. They would strike the beams and collapsing walls spreading white ice fingers across the surface. When they reached a section where the fire demon danced there would be a howl of pain from the demon and a cloud of steam and smoke. Half burnt beams cracked in splinters of ash. A great center beam, merely the trunk of some great tree with its sides squared, burned across most of its length. An icy blast from the shaman crawled across its surface, snuffing out the tendrils of the fire demon. As the white ice spread its way to the center and hottest portion of the fire a great crack shot out like the thunder of a summer storm and, the trunk split in a shower of steam and sparks. Kep'e let out a whoop of appreciation at the spectacle. He wondered how the shaman would top this last strike against the fire demon and watched with anticipation.
At the mention of taking Toby with them, his mother steps forward, looking at the group with kind and determined eyes.
"I thank all of you," she said, "especially you two," looking at Graeneth and Floyd. Tears streamed down her face as she continued. "Without you, I would have lost my dear, precious boy." Wiping her eyes, she reached down and held Toby tight to her.
"He has been through much, and so have I. I shall take him home and look after him." Looking at Publius she went on, "The Constable hear can find us later, if necessary. Until then, I bid you goodnight, and thank you, thank you all."
With a weary smile, she turned and led Toby across the plaza.
"Dear lady," Graeneth extended his voice to her as she made to leave, "far be it for us to keep you from your son. I, and my companions, are concerned for his well-being, and would like to ascertain the cause of his shock. Nevertheless, we shall not keep you from your rest," Graeneth promised, with a meaningful nod at the rest, "and I hope to personally call upon you again to inquire on his well-being."
As she began to walk away, Harlan hurried up behind her, not hearing Graeneth, or perhaps ignoring him. "Excuse me, my lady," he stammered uncertainly as she turned to look at him. "Your son seems to be suffering from some sort of melancholia. I might be able to find some clue as to what ails him, with your permission of course?"
Toby's mother, obviously tired, forced a smile as she replied to Harlan's offer. "Tomorrow, let us see what the dawn shall bring." With a look which showed she would accept no argument, she turned and continued across the plaza.
Harlan takes a look at the boy as his mother led him away. At least he didn't seem to have any visible injuries. He turned away and walked slowly back to the rest of the group, speaking softly to himself, "I wish I could have helped him, but I am not sure what ails him." Turning to the others, he said, "Ah, well, time for a pint of bitter then."
Suddenly, Harlan snapped his fingers sharply, attracting the others' attention. "On second thought," he said, continuing his line of thought, this time so other may hear, " I might be able to acquire some clues as to the purpose of the killing, if the unfortunate woman was indeed the victim of a criminal act. I am not sure how safe it is to visit the theater now, as the midsection just collapsed. Floyd, do you think it is possible to reach the area where you found the woman? I would like to try a few divinations, but I need to be on the site of the crime for the best results." Harlan looked both to Floyd and Publius, curious to find out if it is at all possible to venture into the theater after the collapse.
After the woman had left, Graeneth turned to Floyd. "What's this about a murder? Have we figured out the cause of the fire?" and listened to anyone who filled him in on the details. "The heroes of Harvester Theater... hmmm," Graeneth mused, and looked around the remaining group of people, assessing their contribution to the night's happenings.
Listening to Harlan's idea for casting a few divinations on the spot the murder took place encouraged, Floyd. "If Publius doesn't mind us taking a look tomorrow, I'm sure I will be able to find the spot. It might be covered in rubble though, does that matter?
"I hope not. I should think that the vile thoughts of the perpetrator would have made impressions strong enough to last a while. If it turns out to be a ritual killing, my guess is that the impressions will stay in the area a long time, even if the theater is torn down completely."
In a softer voice he continued, "I can't say that I look forward to this, it is never pleasant to deal with evil. I hope my divinations will yield useful results."
Nodding his head, Floyd replied, "And maybe after that we can go to question Toby."
"A good idea, let us hope he has come around again on the morrow. The vacant look in his eyes was rather unsettling, almost as if his soul had been stolen..."
Listening to the conversation, Publius had taken the spike that Floyd gave to him and carefully placed it in his leather satchel as he surveyed the building. He then turned back to the assembled group.
"Thank you, everybody, for your offers to help," Publius said. "I'm afraid most of the work that remains to be done is of the heavy and tedious sort, the job of cleaning up.
Looking at Kep'e, he smiled. "I hope this event doesn't send you bounding back to the northern plains. You performed admirably, for someone who can barely speak a copper's worth of Common." Publius then offered Kep'e room and board in the soldiers' barracks for as long as he is in the city, finishing with a shrug, "It's the least I can do."
"No, no, do much before go home," Kep'e said seriously "hold blanket, good, tiszetelet yes, need do more." Kep'e turned and looked at the departing wizard, "shaman very powerful, like shaman-vezeto, uh, boss, at osszejovetel."
Unsure of what he said, Publius understood the no, or at least thought he did. With another glance at the theater he continued, "I suppose whatever evidence has survived the fire will survive until morning. I'll post a guard around the ruins; in the morning I'll ask his lordship to appoint some laborers to begin cleaning up what remains of the theater. If you would all like to meet me here at dawn, I and the city of Verbobonc will happily accept any help you might offer."
"Ahem...Sir!" interjected Floyd, "I don't want to interfere with your work but may I suggest you post a guard in front of the house of the young boy? He is the only possible witness and could be the target of a second murder tonight, don't you think so?"
After the night watch is assigned, Publius bid everyone a good night. Walking beside him, Kep'e gave a huge toothy yawn, "soldier barracks where?"
"Right this way, friend," Publius said, as he walked along the dimly lit cobblestones. Publius seemed to have aged in the past few hours, and he looked tired and weary to those who knew him.
As Publius and Kep'e walked away, Darenna called to Publius, "Goodnight, I will see you at dawn." Turning back to the others, she grinned and said, "Are the rest of you up to a drink or is everyone going to turn in? Oh, can anyone recommend a respectable inn?"
"Enough talking! Let's get those drinks. If I remember correctly, there is a Keoish brandy, offered by Cord and awaiting for me at the College Lane! There will be plenty of time there to congratulates each others and for Floyd and Graeneth to tell us what they've been through."
Leading Graeneth and Darenna to the College Lane, Floyd related his tale to everyone, making sure to tell them about the wounds inflicted on the woman, the lamp oil spread around the room, and the blood stained spikes in the door.
While everybody start to walk toward the bar, Jeremy stood before the smoldering ruins of the Theater, casting a detect magic spell in hope to discover any clue of magical nature left behind or any magical aura still lingering.
At this point, the companions noticed Cord was missing. He arrived in the plaza with them, but in all the excitement, nobody noticed he was gone.
After everybody settled down in the College Lane with their favorite drink in front of them, Floyd called for silence. "I think we can all be proud of what we achieved tonight. But I feel disappointed we could do nothing for the murdered women. With your help I hope to change that. My parents were murdered when I was a young boy, and there was nothing I could do then. But now I'm a man and I intend finding the evil responsible for such a vile crime. Anybody who saw that poor woman's face will realize that evil walks free amongst us in Verbobonc tonight capable of destroying life without a second thought. So until dawn tomorrow, when I hope to see you all at the theater a toast to the Heroes of the Harvester Theater."
Darenna joined in the toast. "To the Heroes of the Harvester Theater!" she exclaimed. After quickly finishing her ale, Darenna sought out suitable lodging for the night. Speaking with Jeremy and Floyd, she found the two had secured lodging at Jylee's Inn. Though a bit on the expensive side, it had excellent rooms and service, and was just down the block.
As the three stood up to leave, they bid farewell to Harlan, Graeneth and Kagan. Harlan had only recently returned to Verbobonc, having studied elsewhere with the priesthood of Celestian. For now, he was staying with his one-time teacher and mentor, the sage Mornyst. He bid them farewell as he collected his belongings, promising to meet them at the Harvester Theater the next morning.
As the four of them left, Graeneth and Kagan sat eyeing each other across the table. Neither had much to say, nor, by their expressions, a desire for conversation. The conflicts between the priesthoods of St. Cuthbert and Pelor were well known, and though Graeneth's heart was turned to Mayaheine, nonetheless, old prejudices died hard. Of course, they had both been there, at the theater, following the callings of their hearts in pursuit of the common good. They each saw that and accepted the other with respect, however grudgingly it was felt. With a quick goodbye, more a formality than a salute, the two followed the rest of the company out the door. With a final glance, Kagan turned down a side alley, on his way to the Church of St. Cuthbert, while Graeneth, with a nod, walked back to the Civic Center, wondering how in the world he'd ever find the Temple of Pelor.