Well, the return wasn’t in a sack, though not without a hearty attempt to arrange that on behalf of several players in the last week or so. Hard to believe it has only been just short of two weeks for us, it feels as though months have gone by since we set forth to find our way through the Faywild. The Lady of Thorns and Leaves seems so very long ago. Even Rain of Tears’ raid on Al’Veydra feels like history now.
Of course, it helps that while we were gone, the funny curvature of time in the Faywild raced two months passage in our absence. Summer is in full swing here, and things were already warm on our return. I suppose I’ll have to wait until next year to see the months of Desht (rain) and Kvety (blossoms).
We’ve been back now for just a bit more than a month – at least I was able to spend Slunce (Sun) in a stable manner. I was thoroughly surprised to find that Mahar had already made arrangements to build a stronghold practically next door to our keep in Al’Veydra…given the nature of the coming conflicts though, I should not have been. A mercenary company makes cash by working in conflict zones. This isn’t terribly reassuring about how the coming wars may or may not turn out, but I am glad he’s here. He’s hired a fellow named Saimos to act as a cadre officer with Althas, and between the two of them they seem to have a good regimen set up for the guard divisions. Although their drills are a bit ambitious, the soldiers they have here to work with are certainly strong enough to adapt to the methods they teach.
During our month off, I took some of my share from our takings and finally started a business here in Al’Veydra – a distillery. I missed my Brevare, and makers of good-quality alcohol never seem to go out of business, no matter the nature of the times. So, I have begun the Death’s Head Distillery.
It’s going to take a while before the first wine grapes come in, but until then I can begin brewing beers from the local barley and also practicing some distilling. Probably be late autumn before the first and harshest of the spirits is ready. At least there will be plenty of beer here. Al’Veydra sees all four seasons, and the people have a good sense of the festive to them, so I’ll definitely be able to produce good seasonals. The effect of the place is already starting to show – the salaries I’m paying have made it possible for several of the workers to bolster their homes against next winter, both in their larders and the construction of their homes. Barnaby, the town cooper, is hiring new apprentices already in anticipation of the output of the place.
We also discovered that a …hmm. I almost said “strange fellow” there, but given the nature of our membership, perhaps “strange” is inappropriate. We discovered this fellow had arrived in town, asking after us – he was big, very big. A goliath, his race is apparently called. I’ve never seen such a species, and to my knowledge the Empire never encountered such a thing. Did I mention he was big? His name is J’Tiel, and he is a priest of the Black Queen, though a priest of a sort I have also never encountered. He was…carved, for lack of a better term, with all manner of runes and sigils. Apparently did them himself, as there weren’t any on the parts of him I could see where his vision or reach would have been obstructed.
He approached us a few days after our arrival with a request to join our ranks. After a little period of conversation, I was satisfied that he was on the level, and within a few days he’d had a chance to meet everyone else as well. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed with Xirago, which won him big points with me in any case.
- * *
Sybarron and I came to an understanding along this time as well. My discussions with Mahar had already pointed out a few things to me, and Sybarron’sobservations were quite true, if oddly self-serving. Over the course of several days, we continued to discuss matters, and it introduced me to several of its…I don’t know how to say it, perhaps “associates” would be best. No stranger to exchanges of power, I chose one at its recommendation, and Sybarron assisted me in brokering the deal. In exchange for occasional bites of my collected experiences – memories, sensations, seven drops of blood, and five breaths as an ‘up front’ payment, I arranged a contract with the Winter Court.
Sybarron knew of my respect for the Black Queen, and had discarded an alliance with the Summer Court as too fraught with potential conflict of interest. The arrangement we were making would label me as an agent of Winter, but this would not deny me entrance into Summer. It would oblige me to pay heed to the courtesy due when visiting, though.
The mortal world knows most commonly the Pale Prince, whose legendary heartbreak turned him from a Summer noble to his current form – a cold, seemingly heartless warrior whose sole purpose seems bent on bringing winter to the face of the world forever. What many of the mortal world do not know is that he is but a prince of the court, and the court is ruled by three Queens. Just as the fatum represents itself often as a man in robes or three many-aged women (the crone, the matron, and the daughter), the Winter and Summer courts of the Fay each have three Queens. The youngest of them has more dealings with the mortal world than the others, while the middle Queen possesses more of what we would consider royal responsibility on her shoulders. The matron Queen is the repository of all knowledge of the respective courts, and does not bother herself with such trivial concerns as who manages what.
The courts of Autumn and Spring are unaligned between Summer and Winter, and contain a great many beings who owe no allegiance to either. They are the ‘in betweens’ of the courts, and often share territory and purview with one another.
Sybarron told me the chants, the measures, the circle around myself to hem me in. Without warning, I was thrust into a vision that was entirely real to me.
It was to a noble of the Winter Court that Sybarron took me. After a long exchange between them, she led us to a mist-draped courtyard of white marble run through with veins of silver. She bade us wait, which we did, though not for long. She returned shortly, preceding a vision so lovely and fierce I cannot easily bring it to words. I was presented to the youngest Queen of Winter. I cannot remember her voice, and she seemed almost human when I think back – albeit with the beauty characteristic of the Fay. Looking upon the Queen was irresistable pain, and for the barest moment I thought I caught a glimpse of what she was behind the facade of flesh – a great river of white power, rimed with ice and shivering crystals. The sight was like catching a glimpse of a magnificent mountain range – enormous, startling, and riveting.
I cannot tell you the exact words we exchanged. Perhaps there were none, simply intent and counter in our exchange. When it came time to present the initial offer, Sybarron, who took the form of a tall man, made of shadow, did speak to her. This petitioner brings you offer of a piece of his soul in exchange for your favor, my Queen.
But that is not his to give, was the reply. Confused, I looked to my hands and my heart – transparent, in this vision. I saw no sign of the bids of my ancestors.The claim upon my family was stipulated quite clearly that only those who entered willingly were obligated, Highness, I do not understand how what you say can be.
She regarded me with an interesting expression. If I were not so entranced with her terrible beauty, even then I don’t think I could read her inscrutable features. Silly boy, you owe nothing to the Legion of your forebears. It is not them to whom I refer. She looked to Sybarron. Know you of whom I speak, my knight?
He shook his head. I sense no binding upon this one, my Lady. Knight? He was a knight? Her knight?
It is no binding, Sybarron, but it is ownership nonetheless. It is drawn upon him with gossamer thread and dark wings. We shall not bargain for this one’s soul, as it is destined for another fate. She looked back to me, as did Sybarron. I felt his gaze was a bit more intense, searching now. He seemed…perhaps ashamed to have been found missing something. Young one, I would have a piece of you in exchange for the boons you seek of me. I will grant you your request, on the promise that you shall provide me information on occasion, blood in advance, and that you will allow me to see with your eyes from time to time.
So long as that information is not to be used against me or those for whom I care or am bound to protect, so long as you take only enough blood to pen the deal and not enough to permanently harm me, and so long as my eyes remain where they are, usable by me, and unimpaired while you view through them, I find those terms agreeable.
She smiled broadly, and a shivering wind blew across me. So, you are familiar with the bindings, are you?
Ma’am, I am Shadrim. I am defined by bindings.
Sybarron smiled at that. We’d have words later. Knight, huh?
One more thing, she continued. In the future – a distant future – I sense your thread is…different, somehow. As I shall grant you a boon here, I wish one in that future.
Highness, I know not what I might have in any stage of my life that I could provide you which you cannot already obtain with greater ease.
My, how he flatters! You’ve chosen a good one this time, Sybarron. Perhaps well enough this time to earn your reward after all. She rested an arm on his shadowy shoulders.
If that be your will, my Lady, it is mine as well. I have my doubts, but I see potential here.
She returned to me. Think what you will, Azrael of Macreane. I do not refer to you in your mortal flesh, I refer to you as you are beneath it. I believe that at some point in the future you will be in a position to…grant me a favor. I would ask that that favor be not overly expensive when it comes time that I ask for it.
As I cannot now know what it might be, I shall agree to the terms you set forth – and I shall not take advantage when the time comes to negotiate that favor, Highness.
She slid forward, crossing the space between us without seeming to step. Then I agree to your terms, if you agree to mine. Take my boon, Azrael of Macreane, in fair trade that it is given. I felt an onset of headache, as though I had bit into ice after chewing upon a burning ember. In a flash, the headache was gone, and the ice felt comfortable, as if it had belonged in my fingers and veins forever.
And take this, too, that it might remind you of what I speak when that particular time arrives. She handed me a small silk scarf, wrapped around something. As she withdrew into the mists of the court, I unwrapped the light package. Sybarron stood before me, curious as well.
Inside the scarf was a single feather, black as coal. Its tip was lined with a tiny smear of frozen blood. I looked up at Sybarron, but the vague shadows that made up his face betrayed no knowledge.
You have your boon, Azrael. You may now wield me properly.
“Indeed, and now it’s my turn to say – we should have a little talk. What was all that about being her knight?”
We talked long into the night about that, but that is for a different story.
But when we were done talking, I realized I still had the feather.
- * *
We got word a week or two ago from Zur Nav – apparently he has somehow finagled his way into lordship of Ihnbharan, and defeated his entire range of siblings. His emissary (apparently a former resident here) arrived with a gift of a sheaf of angel feathers, Hak’s helmet (stuffed with silver, no less), Flay’s wig, a charred puppet-sized skeleton, and a golden statue of Zur himself, with a diamond inset where his damaged eye would be. I was quite pleased to see this, and look forward to establishing a highway of trade with them here. Although Al’Veydra has little of a unique nature, just the fact that Ihnbharan’s goods pass through our area will attract traders. If we help the town leadership structure the tariffs correctly, the town can benefit greatly from this interface with the Faywild and the Faydark.
Mahar also sent us a gift, as a thanks for accepting his presence here – an enchanted banner made up with Fellbane’s sigil. This loaned to me a further bit of disquiet, as he has always been excellent at anticipating battles. That he should go to the lengths of creating a banner for us tells me war is brooding on the horizon. What was an additional surprise was that wrapped in the banner was a petrified, severed head.
Natha’s. It was with some sadness I realized it was her, but I understand that her death was mandated by her abandonment of the fight in the arena. I took claim of the head and have since mounted it on the mantle above the fireplace in the Death’s Head Inn, adjacent to the distillery.
To all good things must come change, and it now looks as though we will be saddling up for another venture.
It began when we received an invitation to dinner by the leaders of the Bleak House, the followers of Acererak who had set up some form of shrine here. They still have a confusing element of worshipfulness towards us, towards Fellbane. Our meeting with Acererak (my own being less than pleasant) many centuries ago has apparently granted us favored status among these followers of the crusty old corpse. Ebon and the others assisted Acererak in the planning of his tomb, apparently bargaining for their lives. I was unconscious at the time, otherwise I would have known more.
For the most part we accepted – Althea deferred, but the rest of us attended. Sered was caught up in some form of meditation, the closest anyone could get to an explanation was a mumbling about “removing the stain of the Fomorians” from himself.
The evening was a bit…tense, for me. I was truly expecting an ambush, but happily none was forthcoming. Servant girls escorted us into a dining area (they were uniformly pallid, stoic, and had chain tattoos around their wrists with small skull-markers on the inside), where we were introduced to the Adepthis, who went by the name Thoad. Apt name. He was misshapen almost to the form of deformity – an extremely small human, with pudgy fingers and larger-than-expected teeth.
He was very gracious…and very, I don’t know, creepy. Whether I felt this way because of my past experience with their patron, or simply because he was creepy, I have to leave the possibility open that I was prejudiced against him.
But I don’t think so. This fellow was simply creepy.
He gave us a good bit of information about ghouls, which I found a bit strange, until he explained why he was relating this information to us. The former drow outpost, Cozule, now home to Casava (a creature I had not met previously, but who apparently was a long-term nemesis of Fellbane), had become a breeding ground for a variety of ghouls. Thoad’s motivation was that he and his fellow members of the Bleak Academy saw Fellbane as the most likely group to succeed in penetrating the secrets of Acererak’s tomb. If Cozule overran Al’Veydra, obviously we would have issues in succeeding with that.
So Thoad relayed to us information regarding two rare versions of ghoul that had made themselves numerous in Cozule – one variety of which apparently could infiltrate and pass as human with ease. This news was…disturbing. The point he made – in spite of his creepiness – held fast: we could not continue ignoring the threat of Cozule much longer. Ghouls without meat range further afield to find their food, and Al’Veydra was only two days distance from Cozule. Once the ranging bands reached Al’Veydra, the innocents there would be rich meals for the invading horde of undead.
In the end, the meal wasn’t poisoned, and it didn’t devolve into the fight I had been expecting. Thoad intimated that at some point in the future, the Bleak House might approach us to propose our participation in the infiltration of that Tomb. I have doubts about any such decision, as venturing into well-designed and heavily-trapped tombs has little real attraction to me. A little payback against Acererak would be welcome, but not if it comes at the cost of my tenure among the living.
As we left that night, Thoad offered us each a small bone ring – each one a repository for a Ritual of Retrieval, a little insurance against an untimely demise in unfriendly territory, I suppose. The ritual would retrieve a body deceased while wearing the ring – but retrieve it to the Bleak House, where the rituals were attuned.
I was not tempted. Leaving my body for the entertainment of the members of the Bleak House seemed…counter-productive.
And so, we set forth to deal with the growing threat of Cozule. After a quick bargain with Vizrith to acquire a guide from among his people (Vizrith, as usual, seemed to be operating on less than a full bag of dice), we were on our way. Our guide – a strangeness even among his people, for he was one-armed – led us with skillful expertise through a series of caverns and tunnels towards Cozule. He revealed himself to be quite able with his tracking and scouting ability, and also had a terribly interesting set of pets – a great mass of tiny spiders which he carried about in a box of wood and iron. (At least, it looked like wood – it could have been mushroom tissue, I suppose.)
He released them after several hours, sending them scuttling forward with some sort of trained whistle. He spent a lot of time listening and sniffing the air – not sure how much of that was for show and how much was actually functional, but he seemed a very businesslike fellow, so I have to assume most of it was purposeful. Over the course of the rest of our ‘day’ we moved forward at a cautious pace, in fits and starts.
Six or so hours in, our scout raised a hand in warning a little bit before what looked to be a four-way junction. The high, smooth walls told us all of a river that must have flowed through here ages ago, carving away a deep gully that resulted in the floor we were standing on. He began to back down the corridor towards us…very slowly, very quietly. We all took cover along the sides of the tunnel we were in while waiting for him to get to us.
He reached Rhogar just as we’d crouched, and leaned over to whisper something to him. I heard a faint whickering sound, like reeds in a soft breeze.
The drow stopped for a second, looking confused – he glanced back to the rest of us for a second, then back to Rhogar, and opened his mouth to speak.
His head slipped off.
In the ensuing fountain of bluish-black blood, Rhogar recoiled quickly, trying to avoid being drenched in the sudden flow. He wiped frantically at his eyes as a roar of many shrill voices erupted from all around us – we were surrounded on all sides by throngs of slavering ghouls.
Above us, I saw now, two skeletal bats clung to the walls, having come to rest there for a moment after passing their first attack. They were mounts, the riders being skeletal as well, and bearing weapons of dark-elven manufacture. It was one of these who had killed our associate, I could see the fresh blood spattered on the bones of his mount’s wing.
I reached within to my chill and uttered a foul curse whose tremor of imbalance caused Arn to glance at me with concern. I shook my head and preceeded to ignite the air around my head with a cold radiance that flared out at the group approaching from the fore. “Everyone! Aid Rhogar – hold off the others and take them one at a…grk!” I had to cut short my call, as a claw raked across my back, scoring the flesh beneath my skull and rendering my legs numb. They collapsed worthlessly beneath me, pins and needles shooting into my nerves as if they’d been asleep for hours and were only just now waking up.
As I struggled to my feet, several large flashes in Rhogar’s direction occurred, and the aggressive screeching of the ghouls were quickly changed in tempo to shouts of outrage and screams of agony. The smell of rot and burnt flesh assaulted me in a wave from that direction, and I saw now that Rhogar had unleashed a great blast of flame from his gullet, while someone else had draped a starry area of lights over the tunnel junction.
I looked up just in time to see J’Tiel grabbed by one of the bats, which then took him up and above the crowd of ghouls behind me, and tried to drop him into them. He clung desperately to a foot of the thing, stabbing at it with a spear. I could see he was already injured heavily, and so whipped off a short arcane healing his way.
A part of my mind wondered how it was that skeletal bats can fly. Filing that away as a non-essential point of curiosity, I proceeded to run between one of the skeleton riders who had dismounted to attack Rhogar and the front-line of a pack of ghouls, then spoke “Metsas, flindia!” With a crack of air being displaced I vanished with an explosion of chill and reappeared among the burning bodies up front.
I could see the skeleton and the pack of ghouls standing back there where I’d been, desperately trying to free themselves from the new-formed ice caked to the floor and solidified around their ankles.
And then Rhogar hit them like a tidal wave. His first swipe tore the skeleton to pieces, and the follow-on decapitated no less than three of the tightly-packed ghouls. Only a very few remained, and I drew my longbow to start picking targets off.
Down at the other end things were going fairly well, J’Tiel had made it to the ground without a broken spine, and although I saw several of us knocked down, the tide of ghouls seemed unable to press the advantage. It was clear we had the upper hand there.
Then bingo shot the one remaining ghoul from the pack in front of me, and the one behind it ran off into the dark of the tunnel.
Prepping an arrow to fell it, I charged forward hoping to get a shot – and realized I’d gone straight into the dark. I know I had only taken a few seconds’ worth of steps, but I found myself suddenly without light. I could see the flickering glow of our lights back in the cavern behind me, and Sybarron pulsing in my hand, but I didn’t want this one ghoul to escape and warn the others of our presence.
But it was gone, there was nothing I could do.
And in that moment, a feeling of foreboding, as of something else approaching, some ill wind blowing our way…
