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Bastard Son of the great-grandchild of the sister's gibbon's friend of the nephew of the Campaign that Would Not Die, now in 3.75e
Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster
Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster
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Bastard Son of the great-grandchild of the sister's gibbon's friend of the nephew of the Campaign that Would Not Die, now in 3.75e Møøse Trained By: Hugh Foster |
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After six days, the High Priestess of Belisama arrived at the fist. Egolian was surprisingly young, with clear blue eyes and red hair, rather earthy as priestesses of Belisama tend to be and distinctly good looking. Greeting Brasshelm warmly, she walked across the snow-covered courtyard to regard the three unfortunate soldiers. Invoking her Goddess with sweeping gestures, she invoked her magic and reversed the petrification that had been wrought. All three slumped to the ground, steaming gently as their body temperatures rose; but as their comrades reached them, it was discovered that Sir Kein and the scout Girwon had not survived the process. Sir Eowend, despite being attached to two-thirds of his horse, had pulled through, however.
Spirits were low after that, as the expedition's loot was brought out for distribution.
While the value of most things had been confirmed, that of the magical paintings remained in contention. In the end, Brasshelm put it to the members of the expedition. "Friends, we can do one of two things," he said. "We can settle on the low estimate, and add fifty thousand to the pool. Or we can send them to the capital for sale - which may take a while, but may make substantially more. I will accept a majority vote." Hands were raised, and the second option chosen. The monetary value was then split among the survivors by shares, as agreed. The Tanks had done quite well out of it, and Calvis, Meepo and Calcryx now had significant actual money of their own, which pleased them all.
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Next, lots were drawn for choice of the magical items. Borax had his eye on the Ring of Invisibility, but was pipped to it by Sir Mazbardil, one of the two knights who had descended into Proudstone with the Baron. Borax tried to persuade him to exchange it for the Wand of Mineral and Metal Detection that he had taken, and seemed to be making headway when he pointed out that invisibility was a thief's tool. However, Mazbardil also wanted the balance between the items' values in gold and Borax was unwilling to pay it. His constant jibes of "thief" and carving of a small wooden billet with the word on inflamed the knight, who thereafter would have nothing to do with him. Borax quietly hung up a "Thief Wanted" poster later to further annoy the man.
Ruby ended up with the light mace, as she had no enchanted bludgeoning weapon, as well as the gemcutter's tools, and Meepo - to his squeaky delight - with the Wand of Scorching Ray. He already had the spell, which he regarded as his best spell, but this would allow him to use it a lot more. The pile of spell scrolls didn't interrest the warriors of the Fist much, and only a few of them seemed to consider selling them worth the effort; as a result, the Tanks cleaned up on most of them.
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Nobody was to be in a hurry to claim the golem, which had not been listed with the loot; in fact, everyone bar the Tanks seemed more than a little nervous of it, worried it might suddenly wake up and start killing people. Brasshelm confessed he’d be relieved to see it removed from the Fist. After a little wiggling, they managed to fit it into their Bag of Holding at the expense of transferring most of the contents onto Terence the mule.
Brasshelm declared a banquet that night in the Great Hall of the Fist. Asking around, the party discovered that this was his standard practice after a trip. Everyone was gathered at the tables and an excellent meal was served with plenty to drink, and everyone practiced their exaggerations ready for trips to town and so on. Words were said in honour of the fallen, who were cheered on their way to the Halls of the Triad. Priestess Egolian turned out to be a definite party animal and quite flirtatious, wrapping the knights around her fingers.
Ruby asked Brasshelm whether he had any more expeditions planned, and he said that he was, probably in another month, and that he'd be glad of their participation. Borax commented that they'd not really had much trouble with the last one, to which the Baron nodded and commented that they'd been fortunate; Proudstone had been sealed since being abandoned and - apart from some nasty surprises - had been largely empty. Sites where creatures of the Desolation had moved in and taken up residence tended to be a stiffer challenge.
As they emerged from the Rowdy Rider after a breakfast that rather paled in comparison to the previous night's feast, Ruby's eye was caught by a couple of riders heading across the courtyard and out through the main gate. On plain horses and dressed in very plain travelling clothes, she none the less recognized Baron Brasshelm and Captain Stormont as they disappeared from view.
Gathering their gear, the party set off for Utkinton.
As twilight fell, they came in sight of Utkinton, and as they passed the gates could not mistake the slight smell of smoke. Passing along the streets, they passed a couple of shop premises that were radically changed from their previous visit. Not just burned down; utterly destroyed, and the ground actually fused in the centre of the site.
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Looking around, they realized that the people in the streets seemed subdued and a little afraid. After some false starts they found someone to bring them up to date on recent events. Apparently the Sleeping Helm, a tavern of which the Mageguild was especially fond, was burned down in the Guild War. The Mageguild, according to their informant, "lost their shit and glassed every cobbler’s premises in town", as well as the Guild headquarters. All four cobblers, their families and staff were killed, their Guild was outlawed and the trade was banned in the town. Shoes were to be imported from now on. They could almost hear the local merchants licking their lips already. All of a sudden, the population had been brought face-to-face by what being ruled by a thaumocracy actually meant... Wizards were no longer slightly funny beardy men in dresses; they were an authority not to be crossed.
They headed across town to the Market district and Rowla's forge, from which warm light and smoke emanated, and pushed in through the heavy double doors. Looking up, Rowla broke into a broad smile as she realized who it was, greeting them all and especially Calcryx, with whom she had a burgeoning friendship.
They chatted about recent events as the kettle heated on the forge. Rowla had had a couple of orders, including some rather peculiar items for the Cobblers – which she turned down politely, and was now really, really glad she did. Business was picking up, and she was becoming self-sufficient. She told Ruby rather proudly that she had started saving some away, to pay her benefactress back; Ruby waved this away but was gratified to find things were going well.
The whole group camped at the forge that night, rather than at an inn, and they unpacked the golem for her to look at. Her awed reaction shifted into deep interest as she fetched a board and began sketching some of the design and decoration for use in future works.
The idea of having a base of their own had begun to appeal, though they could do with a bit more room for Borax' glasscrafting, and ideally a roof that didn't leak.
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The next morning, Ruby had a thought, and asked Rowla to whom she paid rent. Unsurprisingly, it was the same Adabul that she had unwisely taken a loan from. The workshop next door was empty, and Ruby and Borax set out to have a word with the landlord.
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The dodgy businessman had a new door guard, now that Lug had defected to work for Rowla, and this time it was a lizardman even taller than Ruby, leaning on a very large cudgel. He eyed the arrivals with rather bovine calm, and assured them that "If there's any trouble ... there'll be trouble," pointing to three crude stick figures scratched onto the wall. "Only three?" queried Borax. "Only three stupid enough."
They were waved through, to the dawning horror of the man within. Trying to back up through the wall, he gabbled assurances that he'd been nowhere near Rowla since they last talked. Ruby explained that that was not why they had come, but rather to arrange the sale of the lady's premises. At the prospect of business, Adabul's terror warred with and ultimately lost to his greed, and they fell to haggling. After some fairly creative numbers were thrown back and forth, a price was settled, and the deeds and keys to both properties exchanged for a reasonable number of marks.
"Your doorman's a bit dim," commented Ruby. "Hey, he's a thug," said Adabul; "You need a thug, you don't hire a poet."
Back at the forge, Ruby indulged herself and wound Rowla up with reports that her lease had been sold, and then reduced her to tears for real by handing her the deeds. "This is now our home as well," she said, "pardon us while we bust a hole in the wall." They opened up into the next door premises and began planning improvements.
Later, the pair headed up to the Magic district, and turned down the street towards the Mageguild. The street was nearly empty, and what passers-by there were gazed at them in horror and disbelief as they headed for the wizards' tower. Unsurprisingly, the shop-front was empty of customers, and only a young apprentice was in evidence. After jokingly offering to sell him some shoes, they asked for Astowyr, who arrived after a few minutes. "Ah, yes, I was expecting you two," he said, and placed the cold steel sword on the table with a regretful shake of the head. “I had hopes for this,” he said. “It took the basic enchantment all right, but just that. I was rather hoping for something more. Well, there you are, a perfectly good +1 sword.” However, when Ruby picked it up, it felt cold; colder than ambient to the touch. For her, there was clearly more to it.
When they unpacked the golem, Astowyr blinked in surprise for a few moments, and then sent the apprentice to fetch someone else; Harabert and Bowman, specialists in constructs, who became very agitated by it. When Borax asked them to “get it going” they examined it, cast some exploratory spells, poked and pondered. While they did this, the pair explained in detail where it was found. This chimed with their investigations, and they replied that as far as its magical and mechanical state went, it was fine; there was nothing wrong with it. What had been removed was control. This, they explained appeared to be by the means of powerful divine magic as opposed to arcane, and was not something they can do anything with. It would most likely require a senior priest of whatever religion it had been consecrated to adjust its' instructions.
Astowyr chimed in, to add that regardless of that, its' value was considerably beyond anything the Utkinton Mageguild could afford to pay.
They discussed the shoes issue, and Astowyr was very firm that the destruction of the Sleeping Helm was a line crossed; "it was a very good inn!" he said. Things would probably ease up down once Archmage Mundfeldt calmed down, but for the moment, everyone was treading softly.
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On returning to the workshop, Rowla told Borax that he had a visitor. Puzzled, the dwarf looked inside the forge, to see a young man in rather threadbare but mended townsman’s clothes, actually twisting his cap in both hands. When asked what he wanted, he asked hesitantly whether Borax was looking for an apprentice, as he would very much like to learn glasscrafting, having spoken to people who have bought Borax’ wares after his spell in the marketplace last November. His name was Transen.
Borax was a little nonplussed at first, as he'd not expected this, but asked about the lad's circumstances, and gave him a few tests. While they'd been out, Rowla had put him to some basic domestic tasks, sweeping up and moving up to very simple forgehand stuff, which he'd coped with pretty well. Borax unpacked his portable gear and set it up in the new workshop, walking the lad through the basics of his craft. After a few minutes, red-faced and pop-eyed, Transen had blown a reasonable sphere, and Borax was fairly sure he could be trained.
Giving him some money, he explained the terms of the apprenticeship - which were quite generous compared to some - and sent him to buy some working clothes and a leather apron. He laid out his original tools - as opposed to the masterworks Ruby had made - for the boy, and began work on laying stone for a full-sized furnace.
Transen, it seemed, had no close relatives, but was "walking out" with a young lady called Lyni.
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A thought came to the Tanks, and they handed the Eye of Insight to him, wrapped in a sack, and directed him in asking it a question. "Where, and who, is the nearest priest of Mithlendel who can adjust the magic on the golem to get it working?" His eyes nearly fell out when it answered in ancient elvish, and though he didn't understand the answer, Ruby did. "His name is Gathien, Archpriest of Mithlendel, and he can be found in the city of Lomegor." They blinked. Lomegor, last bastion of the besieged Loyalist Elves, was on the north-western edge of Belamir, at least a thousand miles away. A long-term project, but at least they knew where to go.
Over the next several days, the pair studied and experimented in their workshops, Ruby trying different approaches to the cold metal and helping Rowla build her business, Borax training his apprentice, experimenting with different glass mixes of sand and tinct, and embedding silver filligree, copper and gold in glass; and building stock as well as refurbishing the workshop and building the furnace.
Calcryx had taken his share of the expedition payout and made a heap in one corner of the workshop, on which he reclined smugly. His collection also included a few gems he'd purloined along the way and, on his scale, made a reasonable hoard.
It was discovered that the sword, when Identified by Meepo, was indeed a simple +1 sword, but when Ruby was holding it and the spell was cast, it registered as Frost Sword +2. Astowyr, when told this, was almost alarmed at the variability of a spell considered reliable, and opined that Ruby had somehow bonded the sword to herself.
Borax tabled the question of whether the mages could artificially age Calcryx to mature him early. This interested Astowyr who retired to the Library to consider the problem.
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One day, Borax started pondering the idea of glass as a preservative, sparked by the Barrels of Refreshing Liquids found at Proudstone. These had been sold, and an attempt to buy them back from one of the three local brewers came to nothing. Borax continued to plan this, with Calcryx' breath as a vital component.
During these weeks, Neithar the Bard had heard of their return, and came to see them. The exiled Scorpion elf seemed far more relaxed, and the strange change to his eyes had progressed, leaving his irises clearly visible against his still-black sclerae. He reported that Zalia was settled with a kind family with broad minds, and his gigs at various taverns had gone well. However, he was ready for another adventure were they Tanks planning on embarking on one.
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Session Date: 8th September 2026 |
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