Indranil, Lorindel and Gar find no more rioters visible, but there are at least three other burning buildings on Tanglefoot Lane. In one of them, a couple can be seen calling for help from a third story window. The bottom of their shop and home is in flames and they are choking from the smoke. The woman carries a crying baby in her arms.

Seeing this, Indranil shouts to the others, “Lorindel!  Father Gar!  Hurry let’s go rescue these citizens. Father Gar can you fly up and catch the baby first while Lorindel and I figure out how to get the adults down safely?”

Gar looks up at the family on the third floor a little worried, “Fly? That would be nice, but no, I can’t fly. I can help put out the flames though.” With that, Gar moves a little closer to the building while touching the Green Man around his neck. He lifts his right arm and water gushes out of his mouth toward the base of the flames.

“Outstanding work Father Gar! I would hate to think what would happen if you ate a bad meal! Hah!” replies Indranil.

“Thanks,” smiles Gar, “but it’s especially dangerous for others when I belch after a meal. Talk about a friendship going up in flames!”

Gar’s Storm Blast is indeed helpful in beating back the fires on the shop level and what is left of the awning in front of the shop. Indranil, however, sees that it will take some time for Gar to completely put out the fire if he is not overcome by fatigue first. In that time, the smoke will have overcome the couple and their baby on the third floor unless they can find a way to get them safely down.

Indranil quickly scans the area looking for any way to reach the family
trapped on the third floor. He sees nothing obvious to use from the ground level and then he realizes that the roofs can offer access! He calls Father Gar, “Father Gar, please make a quick check up and down the block to see if there is a ladder in one of these alleys in between buildings we can use. While you are doing that Lorindel and I will each attempt to gain access to the roof of this burning shop from each side to access the family and see if we can get them out across the rooftops. Lorindel, I will take the building on the east side if you can take the one on the west side. We can meet at the top.” With that he and Lorindel each run into a building and race to the roofs.

Lorindel makes haste to get to the roof of the adjacent building on the west side. He finds that the building on the west side is locked up tight, so he bangs on the door shouting for someone to open it.

“Go away! We’re armed and we’ll fight you to the death we will!” a man shouts from inside.

“Look, I’m with the king’s guard. I need to get to your roof!” pleads Lorindel. “Your neighbors home is on fire. I’m trying to save them. That fire is moving quickly and I fear it will spread this way. I’m only trying to help. Look down from a window. You’ll see I’m no common thug.”

A shutter opens up above, and since the awning of this shop doesn’t cover the door the person inside is able to get a good look at Lorindel. The shutter closes and a woman’s voice inside can be heard shouting down to the shop. The door opens and a worried looking man in fine clothing opens it up. “Sorry good sir, I didn’t realize you were with the King. The stair is up that way,” he points. Lorindel quickly vaults up the stairs.

Gar runs up and down the street as instructed looking for a ladder in any alley or anything that could be used as a ladder. However he continues to also watch the house to see if the family or the Marinus brothers need more help in squelching the flames. Gar finds no ladders, just a lot of those pesky cloth awnings stretched on poles over the outside display areas of many shops to prevent rain or ordure from above striking the heads of those beneath.

Indranil races up the back staircase and quickly gains access to the top. Indranil looks around for Lorindel but does not see him. He decides time is of the essence and decides to proceed on his own. After securing his shield, he jumps the ten foot gap over to the burning building and looks over the roof edge to the balcony below and calls out to the family to gain their attention, “Good Sir! Up here! Help me with your wife first! I will grab her arm and hoist up while you push from below! Once I have her up then hand up the baby! Then we will hoist you up last!”

With that Indranil hoists the mother up, followed by the baby. Then Lorindel is there, having jumped over from the building on the other side. Indranil hands the baby to the mother and then he and Lorindel help lift the man up and over as well. 

Gar feels a little nervous in the street by himself and so says a little prayer for protection. Then he again Storm Blasts the house to make sure the fire does not spread into the adjacent buildings. Gar nervously watches up and down the street while spouting off, especially noting anything further of those in front of Master Parwyn’s shop.

With the family safely up on the roof Indranil calls out, “Hurry follow me.” He, his brother and the rescued family then head down the stairs and back out to the street.

Looking at Gar he says, “Father Gar, please look this good family over for injury. I fear the baby may have suffered from breathing the smoke and need your green friend’s skills!”

Looking at Lorindel he says, “Brother my heart is heavy. Inside the building are the bloody corpses of the shopkeeper and his family – slaughtered for no reason by the rioters. My blood is boiling. Let’s continue to sweep the rest of the block for families and remaining rioters who may be hiding.”

Gar checks out the family. “You should be fine now,” he says to the couple and the baby, “just a little smoke inhalation, though my healing powers can’t help that. Perhaps your neighbors will let you stay inside their place while we try to make the streets safe again?”

Gar says to the Marinus brothers, “I’m ready when you are!”

Indranil responds, ”Let’s continue searching the block looking for trapped citizens and hidden rioters.”

“You bet!” exclaims Gar as he looks up and down the street.

Just then, a couple of knights from the keep ride down the street. One of them stops before Gar and the others. He flips back his visor and asks, “Are you Father Gar and the Marinus brothers?”

“Yes, we are,” smiles Gar as he openly admires the handsome knight.

“The Prince wants you all back safely in the palace. It’s not safe out here. We need everyone who’s not in one of our units off the streets. Things are confusing enough as it is, though we appreciate the help you may have given so far.” He says this last with a glance at the rescued family who are heading into their neighbor’s house – the same neighbors that allowed Lorindel to use their roof. Then he looks over towards Parwyn’s shop. “Is that Sir Fingol over there? Good, I’ll go tell him. Please head back now.”

After patting the soot off his clothes, Lorindel looks at the others and shrugs. “Anything would be better than these streets.”

“Indeed. Let’s head back,” adds Indranil.

As the knight approaches Sir Fingol and Rain, Aramek finally reappears from Parwyn’s shop fully equipped and dressed in the red tabard of the Guard.

“Sir Fingol,” says the knight. “I just told Father Gar and the Marinus brothers that Prince Prospero wishes you all to return to the palace. If you’re not with one of our units, we need you off the streets. It should be safe enough if you all head directly up the Processional. The rioters are Riverside and being pushed downriver along the dock-levees.” The knight looks, at the two Olman prisoners and sighs. “Sir Fingol, please take these back to the keep with you if you could. You can hand them over to the jailers there.”

“Thank you, sir, I’ll be happy to be rid of them,” responds Fingol. “Have all our friends gotten through this fight safely thus far? What of Sir Godric and Sir Jankin?”

“I saw Sir Jankin saddling up just as I was riding out. I do not know how Sir Godric is doing. He rode out early this morning before the riots had started. He’s probably down at the dock-levees helping the watch restore control to the city.”

The knight then looks over at Rain and Aramek. “You two, why aren’t you with your unit?”

Rain answers, “We were separated and kept busy by the Olman here. We intend to join them at the dock-levees presently.”

“Alright, follow alongside us,” the knight indicates himself and his companion. “You’ll have to jog a bit, but you should be doing that anyway, and it will be safer for you if we’re with you. We’re headed down that way ourselves.”

Aramek’s sense of what’s right requires him, at least, to try to help Dion and Cole, even though he doesn’t particularly like them. He prepares to let loose another magic missile at one of the Olman attacking Cole, in hopes of evening the odds.

Suddenly Rain appears, sprinting up behind the Olman that is on Dion, dropping the stupid padded spear and drawing sword and dagger in the process. She thinks to herself, Crap, I hope they weren’t robbing Parwyn. This may get messy. She throws her dagger from 9 feet away but the Olman shifts to the right and the dagger flies past him. 

Rain yells, “Aramek, help Dion and Cole!”

Aramek completes his spell and another arcane bolt shoots forth from his hands and fortunately hits one of the Olman fighting with enough force to take him out of the fight, leaving Cole facing a single rioter. Cole batters this last opponent into a broken heap, though suffering a few bruises himself in the process from the Olman’s club. Cole kicks him a few times for good measure once he’s down. 

Dion, his foe distracted by the daggers and magic missiles hurtling past him, takes advantage and slashes open the Olman’s jaw with his dagger. Then Cyrus leaps up to bite and scratch at the man’s face. The Olman knocks Cyrus away with his club, but it’s too late for him as he feels Rain’s shortsword enter his kidneys.

Dion finally has a moment to get a good look at his savior. His eyes go wide as he takes in the fully armed and armored Rain in the red tabard of the Guard. “Rain! Oh gods! You saved my life, but… but… You’re with them!” he steps back eyes darting all around and dagger out before him as if he fears the other members of the Guard are going to pounce on him at any moment.

Cole steps towards them and now recognizes her as well. “Rain? Is it really you? What’s going on?”

Rain addresses Aramek, “The Olman are rioting, hurry and get your things… we have to catch up with the squad.” She then turns to Cole and lightly smiles, “Cole, hi.” Next, she turns to Dion with a stern face. “Dion, cool it. It is still me and now is not the time. We will meet later and talk.”

Rain then asks Aramek, Dion, and Cole, “What happened here?” as she retrieves her thrown dagger.

Aramek watches the exchange between Dion, Cole, and Rain with growing confusion. He runs up to Rain and says, with a hint of confused anger in his voice, “Yes. What’s going on? You know these thugs? They were just threatening my master?! And what’s this rioting about and why are you all here at the shop? And …” Aramek stops, confusion finally taking over again. He waits for an explanation from Rain.

Dion is indignant, “We did not threaten anyone. We just came to collect Fergus’ fee for installing your new lock yesterday.” He turns to Aramek, “In fact, you were just serving us tea, when these bozos started throwing torches in your shop and we were helping you defend your shop. How could you lie about us like that?” Cole nods his head vigorously in agreement.

Rain turns to the confused sorcerer, “Aramek, Dion and Cole are my brothers. Thugs… yah maybe, but they are only acting on Fergus’ request I am sure. Let’s leave it at that and I will explain more later.” 

She then turns to Dion and Cole, “Dion, Cole, don’t pull this shit with me. Know this – Aramek is our friend. Period. Tell Fergus he now deals with me regarding any feel collection from Parwyn. I have other business to discuss with him anyways. I’ll come find him at the usual place when all this crap blows over. Got it?” Rain, angry at this situation, is showing it. She repeats to both of them, “Got it?”

At just that moment, one of the burning alchemy shops down the street behind Rain blows up spectacularly in a burst of flame and burning debris, sending a huge mushrooming cloud of smoke over the city. Aramek recognizes the shop as the one belonging to his master’s friendly rival, Argraine. Further up the street and closer to Parwyn’s shop, a group of six rioters are dragging a woman out of her house by her hair. Aramek sees that the woman is his kindly neighbor Imayna. Other rioters are still looting, attacking anyone in the streets, and torching buildings.

“Rain!” Aramek shouts. ”I can’t leave while Imayna is being attacked.”

At that point he yells, “Magia raketo!” and unleashes his last magic missile at the Olman dragging the screaming Imayna by her hair. This hits him square in the chest and he drops Imayna into the muddy street and the Olman all turn to Aramek.

Then immediately turning to Dion and Cole, while stooping to pick up a dropped club, Aramek says, “That was my last! Your sister is my friend and if you’re going to be my friends as well, you better start helping us now!”

Cole, already quite worked up and not particularly picky about whom he gets to pummel, charges the would-be-gang-rapists, scooping up a fallen club on the way. With a bestial roar he wields the club two-handed and cracks it across the head of the Olman just hit by the magic missile. He drops like a log, but the other five Olman have backed away from the fallen sobbing Imayna and go for the clubs tucked in their belts.

As Cyrus cavorts around him, occasionally stopping to pick up rocks or ordure to throw, Dion charges the Olman with a dagger.

Rain also runs towards them, hurling her dagger as she closes the distance, but this time she misses the throw. Fortunately, she has already shifted her shortsword into her right hand.

Aramek also runs towards the Olman yelling, ”frost-radio” at one of the two Olman near Cole. Unfortunately the bluish ray of energy misses his target.

As Fingol, Gar, Indranil, and Lorindel run towards Tanglefoot Lane they see the explosion and then the fight unfolding on the street next to Parwyn’s shop.

“Cole!  Dion!” shouts Lorindel, recognizing the two men battling the Olman as members of Fergus’ crew.

As Lorindel and the others close the distance, they see that Cole is unable to hit either of his opponents, but the two Olman manage to strike him again and again with their clubs with bone crushing force. Cole is soon down. Aramek finally manages to hit one of them. The Olman raises his left hand to cover his face and Aramek’s blue ray of arcane energy leaves his hand frosted over. The Olman shakes off the ice with a curse and turns towards the young sorcerer with a snarl as does the other Olman.

Rain, meanwhile, has ducked under her foe’s club swing and stabbed him in the right foot in return. He collapses in shock and a pool of blood forms around him. Rain leaps over him and engages one of the two who had been trying to hit Dion. This other Olman, however, is able to land a club blow to Rain’s right leg, and she lurches in obvious pain. Another blow like that one and Rain will be finished.

Dion seems very quick but also too small to be truly a threat with just his dagger against the club wielding Olman warrior. Fortunately, his black studded leather armor seems to be protecting him from the clubs blows, but it seems only a matter of time before the warrior gets a solid enough blow to take him out.

Rain withdraws, backing up 5′ saying, “Guys, withdraw. Let the Guard do their jobs.” As she does so she draws her other dagger with her left hand. Dion also begins backing away, in a defensive stance.

A bugle sounds from the direction of the keep signaling that mounted knights and paladins are riding out of the keep down the Processional to restore order to the streets.

Suddenly Lorindel is there, running up beside Aramek letting fly his arrow. It pierces the neck of one of the two Olman about to come after the sorcerer and he is down. Then Fingol is there also, throwing a javelin that hits the other Olman right in the forehead, and he too is down.

The last two Olman, the ones fighting Rain and Dion break and run, seeing that the odds are no longer in their favor and that four of their comrades are already dead or dying.

Gar and Indranil are soon at Aramek’s side as well.

“Run cowards!” yells Fingol as his excitement overcomes him, then he remembers the fallen Cole and Rain’s wounds and his face grows more concerned. He scans the area for any other threats, then dashes over to Cole and checks his condition.

Rain immediately goes to Cole as well. She finds that his right hand has been pulped and his right leg has a compound fracture. He is dying of shock and blood loss.

Seeing that the Olman are fleeing, Lorindel and Indranil also run up to Rain and her friends to check on the extent of their injuries.

Fingol kneels next to Cole and attempts to tie off his upper leg with strips of cloth to slow his blood loss. He then sets the broken bone as best he can. Looking around he calls out, “Father Gar, can you rub out a little potency from your little Green Man, and help this man? You’ve had it in hand quite a bit today! I hope it’s not spent.”

“Sure, I still have some life in me left.” Gar joins Rain, Cole, and the others. Fingering the Green Man around his neck, he loudly intones, “Om!” Healing energies radiate in all directions from the Flan priest, and Cole’s bleeding stops, though the wound looks no better and he is still pale and sweaty. Rain’s right leg begins to feel a little better, as does Indranil’s hand, though both are still painfully bruised. Even Cyrus, Dion’s monkey seems to be chattering happily, though he is still limping.

Rain is visibly relieved that Cole is not dead. After Gar invokes his healing aura she says to him in a soft voice, “Thank you for healing my brother.”

“Brother huh?” Lorindel asks. “Once we’ve cleared up this mess, I can’t wait to hear about the rest of your family. Seriously though,” Lorindel continues, “how’s Cole?”

Dion, biting his lower lip, looks at Rain and then Lorindel in confusion but keeps silent for the moment.

At the same time, affected by Gar’s healing aura two of the downed Olman begin to stir. The one who had been taken out by the combination of Aramek’s magic missile and Cole’s first swing of the club starts to climb to his feet, while the one with Lorindel’s arrow in his neck sits up with a gasp, and begins clutching at the arrow to pull it out, but it is too painful. Even the one Rain stabbed and the one with Fingol’s javelin in his eye look as though they are breathing more easily, though both are still unconscious.

Aramek looks around with gratitude, nods to Gar and smiling at Rain says, “Thank you all for your timely arrival and help,” then he notices the Olman, “but these thugs seem to be stirring and I think we need to restrain them and make sure at least some of them are fit enough to be questioned.

Fingol spins around looking at the reviving Olman warriors… “Shi…  We need some rope, or more manacles or something!  Quick!” 

Rain spins to catch what is happening. Her face turns to hard stone of anger as she stabs one of the rising Olman in the heart with her dagger, making sure to look him in the eyes as he dies. ”Fuckers,” she mutters under her breath.

Gar grunts his agreement with Rain. Fingering his little Green Man, he breathes fire on the Olman that Rain just stabbed, burning the corpse to cinders.

As Rain and Gar are finishing off the one, Fingol moves over to the one with Lorindel’s arrow in his neck. He grabs the end of the arrow, and start pushing him to the ground with it. ”Lay down and I can get this thing out without killing you…”

Indranil says, ”Fingol, why bother trying to heal that Olman? We have enough prisoners already and having more prisoners to lock away and feed will be trouble later. Let him die.”

Indranil turns to Gar, “That sure is a pesky side effect from Father Gar’s healing spell.  Father Gar!  Perhaps you can work on your aim?”

Aramek says, “I do not feel comfortable with you all offhandedly killing people when they are already down. I also need to know what is going on here that set off these riots.”

Dion starts kicking the other Olman, “Who cares! These swine deserve to die for what they’ve done! Burn them all why don’t you?” he says to Father Gar.

“He’s not going to die!” Fingol declares. “He’s just going to suffer. Maybe that’s what he deserves, but it’s not for me to decide. At least, I don’t want that kind of responsibility. I’d rather leave it to the executioner.”

Lorindel stands ready with his bow trained on the dying Olman, just in case.

With a smirk for Indranil, Gar fondles his little Green Man and says to Dion with a wink, ”You’re cute. This one’s for you,” then he belches fire at one of the unconscious Olmans.

Rain moves over to Dion, puts her arm around his shoulder and gently guides him a few yards away from the rest of the group. While gently stroking Cyrus she says quietly, “I know you have questions, Dion. I know this is confusing, but I know what I am doing, and it is not what it looks like. Lets you and I meet when this crap with the Olman is over so we can talk and I can explain. Okay?”

Dion looks at Rain uncertainly, he looks back at the others, and then back at Rain. “Well, what it looks like is that you left us to join the High and Mighties. But you’ve never steered me wrong before, so I’ll hear you out. Besides, I know Lorindel over there is okay. Fergus seems to like him anyway. And that priest…” Dion catches Gar’s eye and then winks at him. “He’s definitely okay with me. He saved Cole’s life and has the power to fry our enemies.” A wicked grin crosses Dion’s face. Gar raises his eyebrows at this and his body language clearly shows his desire to get lucky with Dion.

“Thanks for your trust, Dion. I’ll find you after we make it thru the next few days.” Still with her arm around Dion, she makes her way back to the group, speaking low to him still, “So Gar, huh. I guess I should have seen that one”, and smiles.

Indranil then says to Lorindel, Fingol, Gar, and Aramek, “This city has turned out to be more dangerous than several weeks in the Hool. I must say I am looking forward to getting back into the field. Friends, shouldn’t we get back to the fray and assist in the quelling of the riots?”

Fingol concentrates on getting the arrow out of the injured Olman writing in his arms without harming the man any further.

Lorindel holds his position and continues to keep watch.

Spent after the needless killing though not remorseful, Gar positions himself in the middle of everyone present and loudly intones, “Om!” twice more to heal the surviving Olman.

Indranil looks around and surveys the scene. Seeing that the war party is mostly healed and the remaining Olman warriors are secured he calls out, “Friends, let us send these rascals back to the palace for detention and questioning by the Prince’s inquisitors and then continue to seek out the remnants of the uprising.”

Aramek says, “I can’t head out without my things. I’m going upstairs to get them and make sure my master knows what’s going on. However, when I get back, I still want an explanation from someone,” at which he looks at Rain briefly, “because I’ve been here dealing with other issues and the riot managed to come and find me.” He then goes back into Parwyn’s shop and up to his room to get his equipment.

Dion goes over to Cole, “Cole, I thought that was it for you,” he says solemnly. Then he frowns and punches Cole on the arm, “You bastard, don’t keep charging into fights we can’t win!”

“Ow! Cut it out. My arm still hurts you know!” Cole says. He turns to Gar, “Thank you, whoever you are. You saved my life.”

The two Olman remain quite still watching their healers and captors in grim silence.

Fingol, still cleaning the arrow wound, looks over at Cole, “I am glad to see you up and about, but I suppose the brave don’t die easily. Father Gar does more than fix up arms, though. He also flies! The sight of that is something I won’t quickly forget!” He says this with a smile.

Fingol turns to Indranil and suggests, “While you all are waiting for Aramek to get back and I am trying to deal with this guy’s bleeding, perhaps you could gather a few of our party to do a sweep of the neighborhood. Even a single raider could do some harm, if we leave the people here unprotected. I can watch these two. They don’t look like they are in any shape to make a run for it.” 

Gar nods at Indranil and says, “I’m ready to roast some more Olmans too. We can leave Sir Fingol here to explain everything to Aramek since it was his bright idea that sparked the riot in the first place.” Gar shoots a sharp smile at Fingol. “See what happens when one tries to protect the gods? All hell breaks loose!” Gar laughs heartily and then pointing at the conscious Olman, belches a bolt of fire at the ground and says, “Behave or die.”

Rain turns to Dion and Cole, “You two should get going, tell Fergus I will come find him after a few days and that he had better leave Master Parwyn alone. Fergus is to deal with me regarding any debt he believes owed. Remember Dion, keep the family safe.” She smiles warmly to both of them then turns to Fingol’s misfits. Heh, Fin’s Misfits… I like that, she thinks to herself.

“I’ll stay with Fin,” Rain says. “After all, it’s me Aramek wants answers from. Why don’t the rest of you do the sweep and then meet back with us here. Then we can all go back to the palace together.”

“Okay we can do that,” Indranil says. “Brother and Father Gar let’s do a quick building check up and down this block to make sure they are clear and free from more troublemakers. Sir Fingol, we will return as soon as we can. Please wait for us.”

As Dion and Cole head out, Dion says to Rain, “I’ll tell Fergus that you’ll pay the 180 gold that Parwyn owes him for the new lock and other expenses. Find me when all this,” Dion waves his hand at the burning buildings, “is over.”

Once all the others have taken their leave, Fingol says to Rain, “Nice friends you have there, Rain,” while carefully watching her reaction. He also makes sure that the Olman prisoners are between them as he is now very wary of Rain.

Rain eyes Fingol, but the corners of her mouth form a slight smile despite her attempts to stop it. “Yah, funny thing when the cards start spilling out from inside your sleeves… then is when you’re usually being watched most. Norebo’s humor is my affliction today it seems.” 

She pauses then drops the smile, “Same rules apply by the way. I don’t mind lending my background and skills to…” she laughs slightly, “Fin’s Misfits… but what is known about me stays with us. I can’t be as effective if I have to watch my back from all of you. I’m counting on you, as the leader, to back me on this.” Rain holds his eyes with her gaze, waiting for affirmation.

Fingol shakes his head, “Good people may follow many paths. The only thing I see you and your friends being guilty of is in loving Westkeep more than Prospero or its laws. It’s my hope that in time, you will see less and less divergence between those roads. Of course, that means Prospero will have to earn your respect and trust, just as I have to earn yours. I am a hunter and a defender, not a sheriff. Let the Cudgels chase the lawless. I like people who aren’t afraid to wander off the narrow path – so long as the goal is for the good.”

“Heh, well I have seen a few paths in my life so far. We should get along just fine.” At that Rain produces a small flute from one of her pockets and begins playing what seems like a random assortment of soft tones but which quickly becomes a cohesive haunting melody.

Though Fingol is not sophisticated enough to appreciate the soulfulness or the complexity of Rain’s tune, he does find that the sound has an openness and ethereal quality that gives it a strong appeal. He had started off suspicious of Rain, but now does not know what to think.

Aramek, Godsday, Fireseek 4, 591 Common Year

In the morning Aramek pulls Parwyn aside and tells his tale of the evening before, starting with his guard duty at the palace, the attack by the assassins of the Scarlet Brotherhood and the attempt to abduct the prince, and finally the discovery of Parwn’s son Reece’s journal and the map and statue.

Parwyn is at once shocked and fearful, fully realizing that the break-in was more than just petty thieves looking for potions. “This is worse than I had feared,” he says.

“Master,” says Aramek, “Prince Prospero has asked for your indulgence so that, for the time being, he be allowed to keep the items until this mystery is solved. He asks this for the sake of the security of Westkeep and all of us law-abiding citizens.”

Parwn sighs heavily, “Even in death, Reece will blacken the name of our family it seems. If you speak to Prince Prospero again, you tell him that I have disowned Reece, or I would if he were alive.”

Aramek adds, “He seems a kindly man truly, dedicated to the safety of Westkeep and someone who wants to bring peace to this city and the surrounding region.”

“All the more reason why I did not want them to know about Reece or his journal; I should have destroyed it when I had the chance,” Parwyn says.

“Master,” the Prince has requested that my Guard squad accompany a delegation he is putting together to go into the Hool Marshes, in order to work out some kind of agreement or treaty with the lizardfolk and it sounds as if it will be leaving fairly soon. The Prince has asked that none of this be discussed with anyone. I ask your permission to participate in this endeavor. Perhaps, letting people know that I am on an herb expedition into the marshes will be a perfect front for what we will actually be doing. I can assure you that while I am gone I shall be on the look-out for any unusual plants, herbs or other useful flora.”

Parwyn gets a worried and somewhat resigned look on his face and then, with a fatherly tone says, “Aramek, my boy, you’ve really become like part of my family. Your Master Estaldir chose you well, and I promised him I would look after you. But I also know I cannot follow you everywhere and I realize that you must make your own way. You also don’t need my permission or any excuses from me to go into the marshes when you’ve been ordered to do so by Prince. If they need a cover I am sure they will provide one.”

Parwyn thinks for a moment, “I wish my son had been more like you. For that reason I don’t wish to lose you. Come with me. I think I know of a way to put the odds in your favor.”

Master Parwyn leads Aramek up to the loft and he opens the storage room. He then picks two vials and hands them to Aramek. “Take these with you into the marshes. They are potions of invisibility. Each dose will last about five minutes. I hope these are enough to keep you safe from harm. Take them with my blessings, and see if you can find some useful herbs to bring back with you.” He smiles warmly at Aramek.

With a great sense of relief, Aramek thanks his master and says; “Master, thank you, and I promise I will bring you such herbs and plants as will make you, and this shop, known throughout Keoland!”

Just then, it is probably only a little after 7 am, a couple of young men walk into the shop. One is quite burly with a blond crew cut and dull blue eyes. He is wearing a rough tunic with short sleeves to show off the colorful and grotesque tattoos adorning his huge biceps. Beside him is a scrawny looking youth in studded black leather with only a strip of spiky black hair down the center of his head. He is a beautiful young man with the olive complexion of the Oeridians, but piercing baby blue eyes. He smiles, but there is a hard edge to his smile. A little monkey follows the latter into the shop and jumps up onto a table beside him.

“Be good Cyrus,” says the scrawny young man in black leather with the spiky ridge of hair. “Hello, I’m Dion. My associate here is Cole. Are you Parwyn?” His tone is insolent, and he looks over Parwyn and Aramek appraisingly. His larger friend stands behind him cracking his knuckles and grinning evilly. The monkey Cyrus has begun relieving himself into one of the bowls on the table.

Parwyn pales, but he steps forward in front of Aramek, “I am Parwyn. How can I help you?”

Aramek immediately whispers, “Vestigu sorch-kiraso,” and he is cloaked in the shimmering light of his Mage Armor. He then smiles tightly and says, as he steps back in front of Master Parwyn, “It’s alright master. I can take care of these customers.” And looking at them both, with the words “Estu magia raketo” ready on his lips, he says, with a tight edge to his voice, “What business do you have here? And please control your pet.”

Dion looks at Aramek with a sneer, “I didn’t come here to talk to some mouthy apprentice. And Cyrus looks like he’s doing alright.” He glances over at the monkey and snickers.

Cole moves up to Dion’s side and glares at Aramek. “Yeah, piss off apprentice!” Though he was obviously trying to scare Aramek into backing down, there is something about this young thug that strikes Aramek as ridiculous. He is like a little boy pretending to be a scary grown up. At the same time, Aramek realizes that Cole does have the size and muscle to back up his threats.

Dion looks past Aramek and addresses Parwyn, “We’re here to collect Fergus’ fee. You forgot to pay him for the lock.” With a nasty grin Dion adds, “So in accord with the policies of the Locksmiths Guild, we’re going to have to ask for a late fee and hazard pay since Fergus was harassed and forced to leave before he could be paid. So that will be 180 gold admirals, but we’ll take Keoland lions too if that’s all you’ve got.”

Parwyn steps forward and pushes Aramek back with a stern look. “This is my shop and my responsibility Aramek. This man Fergus is owed his fair wages.” Parwyn turns back to Dion. “How do I know you’re really from Fergus or the Locksmiths?”

“Fair question. Here.” Dion presents to Parwyn a paper, apparently a notarized bill, complete with a seal bearing Fergus’ mark.

Cyrus finishes his business in the now not-so-empty bowl and jumps up on Dion’s shoulder, chattering gleefully. 

Parwyn sighs and says, “Very well then, please wait a moment. Aramek, why don’t you get some tea for our guests? I’ll be back down in a minute. Charl, Latih, come upstairs with me.”

Aramek responds to his master with, “Yes, Master Parwyn, as you wish.”

Aramek realizes that there are two of them but also knows that, should push come to shove, he can, and will, cause damage to at least one of them, should any violence be necessary and he is not about to show any fear. If he has learned anything from his time on the night watch, it is that whether one is facing a belligerent drunk or a common thief, one never shows fear – regardless of what is going on inside oneself.

He turns first to Cole and then to Dion, looking them each in turn directly in the eyes, as if to say, ‘Don’t underestimate me.’ All the while, he is ready to unleash his magic missile directly at Cole.

“Since Master Parwyn has instructed me to do so, allow me to offer you tea. Be seated. The master will return shortly.”

Surprisingly, Dion and Cole seat themselves quietly on a bench. Cyrus doesn’t cause any further mischief, but stays by Dion. As Aramek serves them tea, Dion smiles at him sweetly and asks, “So, you’re the sorcerer’s apprentice huh? You have any of those walking broomsticks like in the old stories?” Cole chuckles at this, but Aramek can tell that part of this question is a gibe and part of it is genuine curiosity.

Deadpan, Aramek says, “I lent my animated broom to Sgt. Apone at the barracks, but I’ve got some very accurate flying daggers upstairs that can hit a living target at 20 yards away if you’d like to see them.”

Cole’s eyes go wide at this. Dion’s eyes narrows and he says, “Is that a…” before he can finish however a flaming torch is hurtled through the open window and lands in the middle of the shop, “Norebo’s dice bag!” yelps Dion.

Quick as a flash, Aramek yells, “Sorch-mano!” The bowl of monkey piddle lifts itself up into the air and douses the torch with its contents.

Outside they hear screams and shouting. Dion whips out his dagger and moves to the entrance. “It’s a riot!” he shouts excitedly back to Cole. Cyrus jumps up and down gleefully at his side. Cole, however, is moving away from Aramek slowly, more uneasy about the young sorcerer than unnerved or excited by the violence outside. 

Aramek looks outside over Dion’s shoulder and sees that running up and down the street are enraged Olman, the dark haired, reddish-brown tribal people from the Amedi Jungle who had been kept as slaves by the Sea Princes and then the Scarlet Brotherhood and who currently languish free but in dire poverty in Westkeep, many of them refugees from other parts of the Hold of the Sea Princes. Most are in rags, but a few of the young men are wearing boiled hides and wielding clubs and torches. They are shouting in their own language, looting, tossing torches into shops and houses, and attacking anyone out in the streets. A haze of smoke covers the sky, and the terrified screams of the townspeople fills the air along with the chanting and wild war cries of the Olman.

One Olman rioter is about to hurl another torch at Parwyn’s shop, but this time Aramek stops him with the Magic Missile that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since Dion and Cole had entered the shop. The arcane bolt zooms past Dion’s shoulder, causing the young punk to shout and duck away, and then it smacks the torch right out of the hand of the Olman who screams in shock and surprise, but then bends down to grab it up again.

“The hell he will!” cries Cole, who then launches himself at the rioter and clocks him in the jaw with a vicious uppercut. The would-be-arsonist falls to the ground and does not rise, but three of his friends shout and charge at Cole.

“Cole you dolt! Look out!” Dion yells. “Ah shit!” Dion steps away from the doorway and pulls out a slingshot from his leather jacket and then fires off a stone at one of the attackers, but the shot goes wild. One of the three Olman, however, veers off towards Dion. Before he gets there, Dion’s monkey, Cyrus, jumps down into the gutter and begins hurling the odious muck at the Olman. This doesn’t stop him, but neither does it improve his temper. Then the Olman are upon the two young punks, who are hard put to duck and weave away from the rioter’s clubs.

Hearing the commotion, Indranil, with Gar right on his heels, runs outside and sees the howling mob.

“Damn it all! What now?!” shouts Lorindel angrily. “We’ve got to do something with these three prisoners; if not, they’ll just run out and we’ll have to take them again.”

Fingol runs up the stairs of the mission, “Gentlemen! The Olman are rioting. Secure the prisoners and get to the docks!”

“I’ll join you, Sir Fingol!” Gar shouts.

Godric quickly surveys the scene and then calls for his squires. He turns to Fingol, “Sir Fingol, please take care of the prisoners and look after the mission!”

Godric then whistles and seemingly from out of nowhere a magnificent white warhorse trots over to him, saddled and ready to go. The squires quickly help him up onto it and he rides off after Commander Gorman.

Absent mindedly, Gar responds to no one in particular, “My taste in men is like a fine wine, well aged.” Then he begins praying for everyone’s protection, first for himself and then he respectfully touches the shoulders of those around him for their protection as well.

Fingol runs out, “Sirs we need some manacles – four sets in all.”

Commander Gorman and Godric are now riding side-by-side. Commander Gorman looks back and shouts, “Sgt. Apone, send four of your men over to put manacles on Sir Fingol’s prisoners.”

Within moments Sgt. Apone has sent Rain, Noch, Vaskez, and Hex over to accompany Fingol. The squires have already ushered the wounded Olman into the mission as instructed by Godric.

“Thank you sirs,” Fingol calls after the departing knights, he then runs back into the mission with the watch members following. They begin putting manacles on the four captive Olman.

To everyone inside the mission, Fingol says, “I think we need to fortify this place as best we can. What do you say? What can we use for barricades? And where do we set them?” Fingol looks around for barricade materials, old pews, timbers anything the Olmans may have left behind. 

Indranil walks over to Fingol and says quietly to him, “Sir Fingol, may I suggest that you send the squires, the four secured Olman and the statue back to the palace for safe keeping with a guard? Who knows if the riot will overwhelm us here and what horrors can further happen to the statue. I will volunteer to lead them back safely and then return on horseback to assist with securing the riot.”

Jankin, who has come back in as well replies, “Actually Sir Godric told the squires to take the cart and get back to the keep until things have settled. They have the head of Heironeous with them. They’re not going that fast though, so I can take these four Olman back and then report to my own unit back at the palace. Then you can stay here with your brother, Sir Fingol, and Father Gar. You should be able to hold things for awhile with these watch members.”

Gar starts to pull some of the pews over to barricade the entrance of the mission.

Hex speaks up, “Sorry milords, but I believe that Sgt. Apone wanted the four of us to return to our squad once these prisoners were secured. Do you have any further need of us here?”

Fingol offers his hand to Hex, and with a big grin he says, “The gods watch over you in the fight and keep it away from us, for I don’t think there will be much to keep it out!” 

The watch members leave. Rain says to Fingol and the others, “Good luck, milords.”

To Lorindel and Indranil he says, “Gar’s got the right idea. Let’s build up as much of a barricade as we can.” Fingol also grabs a supply of the javelins and brings them to the front door. 

Indranil says, “It’s a bad idea to hole up here. We’re no better than rats in a cage. The Olman mob can easily surround us and burn us out. I say we join Rain with her squad and assist Sgt Apone. I am in need of a good stand up fight!”

“I agree Indranil.” Fingol replies, “but Sir Godric charged us with keeping the mission. Undefended it will surely burn.”

Indranil says, “We can’t hold it with only four of us. We will die and still lose the mission. Our best chance of honoring Sir Godric’s order is out there where we have freedom to maneuver and muster our troops to mass an attack.”

Jankin, herding the prisoners out adds, “Sir Indranil has a point. I don’t think Sir Godric wants you to lose your lives trying to save a jumble of stones and a beheaded metal idol. We can always build new temples and consecrate new statues. To be honest, I think he just wanted you to stay back here where it might be safer than down the street. If the fight does come this way, well, better to get out while you can. Anyway, I’ve had my say. I’m taking these three back to the keep where they’ll be safe and out of the way until their day in court.” With that, Jankin leads the Olman out of the mission and up the Processional to catch up with the cart.

Indranil says, ”Come on Sir Fingol let’s go bash some heads and make sure they don’t get this far.”

Fingol rejoins, “If we can’t hold it, we can escape out the window. If we stay and hold the door for a few minutes, it may give the guard enough time to break siege. If more is needed, than the town may indeed be lost and this mission would be the least of our worries. In any case, these are our orders. I have no authority to hold you to them. Do as you must.”

“Whether we stay and fight or join the guard, I agree we’ll stand a better chance out in the open,” adds Lorindel. “I’m only as good as my surrounds. If I can’t stay mobile in battle, I’d be of more use escorting the pages than trying to hold ground in here.”

Considering all that was said, Fingol picks up the javelins. “Fair enough. Gar, are you with me?”

“Oh crap,” responds Gar, “I’m in.” Rubbing his little Green Man he says another prayer for protection.

“Oh crap is right. Let’s follow Sir Indranil out into the fight.”

When Rain returns to the squad she mentions to Sgt. Apone, “Sergeant, if Sir Fingol’s men stay in there and are overrun, they will die with nowhere to escape. I suggest pulling them into our unit or dispatching a few of us to help them defend.”

Sgt. Apone scoffs. “Those headstrong nobles! Wasting their lives defending an abandoned mission when that mob down there is about to burn down shops and homes where innocent people are actually living. If they want to stay in there then let them! We have serious work to do. Speaking of which, Tanglefoot Lane is just over there. Why don’t you run and get Aramek. Bring him back here on the double.”

Just then Godric spurs his warhorse and charges down the Processional into the mob, for the Olman there had begun breaking shutters, throwing rocks at those who had not gotten out of the streets, and torching the buildings on either side of the Processional. The Olman scream and scramble out of the way, many start running away off into the side streets, but there are plenty of others roaring with rage. They close in on the knight and try to drag him from his horse as he lays about him with the flat of his blade. Rain now sees that smoke is already covering the city from the docks and other locations downriver.

“Quickly Rain, get our sorcerer!” yells Sgt. Apone over the clamor.

Rain instantly replies, “Will do!” and begins sprinting towards Tanglefoot lane to retrieve Aramek.

In the meantime, Godric has continued whacking people with the flat of his blade as his horse rears and lunges amidst the mob to scatter them. Unfortunately, Godric overreaches and is pulled from his horse with a loud crash on the cobblestones. His warhorse, Ardent, however, stays over him, kicking at all those who try to come at Godric. The crowd soon disperses, but it is evident that rioters are still all over Westkeep, burning and looting.

“Where did Gorman send Rain?” wonders Fingol aloud, ”To Master Parwyn’s shop?” Looking to Indranil he asks, “What do you think? Do we chase Rain or help Sir Godric to his horse?”

Indranil replies, “Aye where indeed! I trust Commander Gorman would not send her to her demise just yet and Sir Godric is in more immediate danger of being overwhelmed again. Let’s go help him recover his seat and then go bash those heads. I won’t be using the flat of my blade either!” 

 With that Indranil draws his sword and readies his shield and charges down the street to Sir Godric’s side shouting, “For the King!”

Fingol charges after him, “Please do use the flat of your blade. Prince Prospero hopes to rule this town not bury it.”

Fingol transfers the javelins to his shield hand, and pulls out his hammer.

“I’ll do my best Sir Fingol, but unfortunately my arrows do not have a flat side,” shouts Lorindel as he nocks an arrow and prepares to dash into position. “I will draw blood, but I will try not to kill,” he adds. 

As they are running towards Sir Godric, Indranil shouts over his shoulder with a wide smile, “My old sword master once said ‘don’t pull your sword unless you intend to finish what you started!’”

Not waiting, Gar springs toward Godric with the others, “Milord!”

Commander Gorman shouts to his sergeants to maintain their formations and follow him to clear the Processional. Then he rides to the assistance of Godric. Not having to maintain formation, Fingol, Gar, Indranil and Lorindel are able to catch up to him just as he stoops down to help the shaken Godric to his feet. Unfortunately, that is when a new wave of Olman warriors come storming out of the side streets, clubs and torches raised. They attempt to take down Commander Gorman and keep Godric from remounting his horse.

Lorindel is the first to react, firing a shot that takes his foe right between the eyes. Lorindel quickly moves back up the Processional towards the oncoming watch and then turns around to line up another shot.

Several Olman try to rush Godric, but Ardent interposes itself before him, lashing out with its hooves and splitting the heads of two of them wide open and biting another one so severely that he runs off cradling his mangled right arm. One does get through but his blow goes wide and then Godric is upon him and he is no more. Godric moves on to strike down another with his longsword. The other Olman soon give a wide berth to this invincible silver plated killing machine and his vicious warhorse.

Fingol swings his light hammer at a crazed Olman who leaps at him from a darkened alley and succeeds in almost breaking his arm, the Olman howls in agony and scuttles back into the shadows.

Gar, pulls the seed head of a dandelion out of his pocket and just before an Olman can reach him he waves it and intones a short spell. A wind suddenly lifts him up into the air. He spits a ball of flame from his mouth as he floats down upon a nearby second story balcony. The flames engulf the Olman who dared to attack him, sending the unfortunate human torch racing back down the Processional towards the river until he collapses into a twitching pile of burning flesh.  

One Olman manages to catch Indranil on his sword hand with his club, but fortunately does not break his hand though it certainly feels like it. Indranil steels himself against the pain and disembowels the Olman for his pains.

Commander Gorman’s expertise in guiding his horse is a wonder to behold as he cuts off any Olman warriors trying to move up the Processional towards Godric and the others. At least five are either cut down by his sword or trampled into the cobblestones by his warhorse.

The Olman rioters soon learn to keep their distance from Godric and his friends. Godric is soon remounted. At that point, Commander Gorman’s platoon has reached them. They are spread out across the street with their spears still held lengthwise in both hands so they can push away any lingering Olman. Only on occasion do the back ranks have to lower their padded spears to poke at those who try to push back.

Commander Gorman turns to Godric, flips up his visor, and asks, “Are you all right Sir Godric?” When Godric nods in the affirmative, he asks, “Could you then take one of my squads and secure the marketplace? I’ll take the other two and continue clearing the Processional and then we’ll sweep the docks.”

Commander Gorman turns to Fingol and the others, “Several Olman headed down Tanglefoot Lane and may cause havoc among the upriver shops and homes. Others have gone downriver along Rum Road and have already been burning and looting in that direction. If you want to stay out here, those are two areas where I’m sure your help would be appreciated.” He then flips his visor back down and returns to the lead of his troops as they relentlessly make their way down the Processional.

While all of this is going on, the bard known as Maynard the Keen climbs up onto the balcony of his inn and with the accompaniment of his fellow musicians looks down upon the burning city and the fighting in the streets and begins singing a melancholy and sardonic commentary:

 Angels on the sideline,

Puzzled and amused.

Why did Father give these humans free will?

Now they’re all confused.

Don’t these talking monkeys know that

Eden has enough to go around?

Plenty in this holy garden, silly monkeys,

Where there’s one you’re bound to divide it.

Right in two.

Angels on the sideline,

Baffled and confused.

Father blessed them all with reason.

And this is what they choose.

And this is what they choose…

Monkey killing monkey killing monkey

Over pieces of the ground.

Silly monkeys give them thumbs,

They forge a blade,

And where there’s one

they’re bound to divide it,

Right in two.

Right in two.

Monkey killing monkey killing monkey.

Over pieces of the ground.

Silly monkeys give them thumbs.

They make a club.

And beat their brother, down.

How they survive so misguided is a mystery.

Repugnant is a creature who would squander the ability to lift an eye to heaven

conscious of his fleeting time here.

Cut it all right in two [x4]

Fight over the clouds, over wind, over sky

Fight over life, over blood, over prayer,

overhead and light

Fight over love, over sun,

over another, Fight…

Angels on the sideline again.

Benched along with patience and reason.

Angels on the sideline again

Wondering when this tug of war will end.

Cut it all right in two [x3]

RIGHT IN TWO!

Right in two…

“I always say, ‘Never split up the party,’ so whatever we decide, we should go together,” suggests Lorindel. “I’m sure much of the watch will move to protect Tanglefoot and I’d hate to see Rum Road destroy itself. So which way?” asks Lorindel.

Fingol shouts over the roaring chaos, “I think we should check on Master Pawyn’s shop. There are secrets there that we can’t even guess at, and whatever they are we should keep them from Nauyotl.”

Indranil replies, “Agreed. We should stick together. Let’s head up to Master Pawyn’s shop. Sir Fingol’s right, there are secrets there that we can’t let Nauyotl get access to and we can yet lend Rain a hand.”

“Good,” shouts down Gar. “Let’s go check on our friends! Just give me a moment to get down from here.” Gar hastens inside from the balcony he landed on, goes down the stairs and out the front door, while casting another Resistance spell on himself.

Godsday, Fireseek 4, 591 Common Year

Waking up before dawn, Gar pulls a blanket around his shoulder and sits in the chair by the window overlooking the castle garden. In a mood for something a little different this morning, Gar closes his eyes and begins his meditation by following his breath in and out, listening to the wind within him. As he sinks into a deeper trance, he listens to the blood rushing through his veins like water, nourishing the earth of his flesh and bones, and firing off a warm glow as the divine spark kindles within. As the minutes rush by in a quick hour, Gar prays for the divine power to meet the day’s needs.

At the end of his contemplations, Gar puts on his regular clothes over his light chainmail shirt since he is hoping to check out some of the seedier sides of town today and does not want to be viewed as a noble. Just as he is about to leave there Fingol knocks on his door saying, “Wake up, we have to recover the Heironean Statue before the town wakes up. We can’t have it be a spectacle.”

Gar opens the door to find Fingol in his traveler’s clothing. Fingol’s hammer and dagger are strapped to his belt but he wears no other weapons or armor besides a cloak to keep out the early morning chill. 

“Sure, I’m ready for you!” smiles Gar. “You want to carry it? Perhaps we should post a guard there so the Heironeans can simply take over the mission again and consecrate it in place?”

“I was thinking that if we can get a cart we can bring it back to the keep. Otherwise, we’ll just move it out of the doorway.”

Fingol and Gar walk softly over to the room where the half elves are staying. Fingol knocks and says, “Gentlemen, Sir Gar and I are headed to the Heironean mission. We were going to do something about that statue before the town wakes up. We’ll need your help to move it out of the doorway.”

From inside, Indranil replies, “Aye, I will come. Give me a moment to get dressed.” Indranil then dons his armor and grabs all his weapons and gear.

“I too will need a moment,” adds Lorindel. “If I’m going out looking for trouble, I want to be prepared.” He too dons his armor and gathers up his weapons.

Indranil looks over at Lorindel and asks, “Brother please help me fasten this buckle, then I can help you.”

“Of course,” replies Lorindel as he begins assisting Indranil.

Fingol then returns to his room to put on his armor and strap his longsword on to his belt as well, though he leaves his bow behind.

Indranil looks over at Fingol when he returns having donned his armor and says, “Wise choice wearing your armor. With what we have faced in the last few days I think prudence is the better part of valor right now. Sir Fingol, any chance we can get some backup from the local paladins on this mission?”

Fingol turns to Gar, “Would you want to ask Sir Godric where to find Sir Jankin? I think we owe it to Jankin to ask him along.”

“Sure!” Gar coughs into his hand. “I’ll bang on Sir Godric’s door, and then we can go knock up Sir Jankin for his assistance.”

As they walk into the cleric’s area, Gar first glances about as if looking for ghosts in the furniture. He then casts his eyes toward the green door for a moment and bows his head gently with a smile on his face and then quietly knocks on Godric’s door.

Godric answers the door in his silken blue night-robe, matched by a striped blue nightcap. In his left hand is a cup of chicory coffee and he stifles a yawn with his right. He blinks for a moment and seeing Gar says brightly, “Oh, Father Gar…” but then he trails off once his bleary eyes have taken stock of the others behind Gar. A little deflated he continues, “…and company? How can I be of service to you this fine morning? No more assassins in the halls I hope.” He stops rambling for a moment and peers at everyone more closely and then a bit more seriously says, “You do seem to be very well equipped for a morning stroll. What’s going on?”

“Sir Godric,” Fingol starts in quickly to cut off any more of Father Gar’s innuendos, “We’re just tying up some loose ends from last night. The Olman refugees appear to have abandoned the mission. In doing so they left some mischief behind. The head of the statue of Heironieus which was left there was in the doorway and vandalized. We were going to secure it. We thought we owed it to Sir Jankin to accompany us, since he was with us when visited the refugees there. Can you point out his room?”

As Fingol finishes his speech, Gar bows deeply to Godric, “Good morning, milord. Perhaps you would like to join us?”

“What! This is terrible!” exclaims Godric. “Sir Jankin’s room is over there,” Godric points it out. “Please wait for me a moment, I will put on my clothes and armor and accompany you. We must also inform Paragon Muire. Squires! To me!” In a moment a door opens down the hall and a couple of squires rush over to help Godric into his armaments.

Crap! Fingol thinks, I knew this would happen. Now it’s a biiiiig deal.

Gar bows deeply, “Thank you milord,” as he enjoys the sight of handsome young men in servitude.

Fingol notes the hungry look on Father Gar’s face as the adolescent squires run about and feels a bit unsettled.

After one last lingering look, Gar walks over to Jankin’s room and knocks on the door.

“Yes, who is it” answers Jankin opening the door. He is already in his court clothes and is wiping his freshly shaved face with a cloth.

“Sorry to disturb you so early, Sir Jankin,” says Gar. “Last night after midnight we found the head of Heironeous in the doorway of the old mission. It seemed like the Olman refugees had abandoned it. With your leave, Sir Jankin, we would like to go back to move the head or maybe retrieve it. Would you like to join us as well?”

“What? Oh, yes, we must do something! Of course, I’m not in charge, I’m just one of the…” he looks across the hall and sees the squires scurrying to get Godric suited up. “Sir Godric, is the one to ask as the highest ranking paladin in the Palace Guard, and I see he’s already been informed.” Jankin calls over to Godric, “Sir Godric, would you mind if I came along?”

“Yes, please do,” Godric calls back. “The two of us and our friends here should be sufficient to see what’s going on. I also don’t want too many paladins drawn away from the keep for this.”

“Just a moment,” Jankin says to Gar and the others, “I’ll get my breastplate and other armor on. It won’t take me long. I don’t have all the gear that the senior paladins have.”

In just about five minutes, Godric is fully accoutered in his full plate mail and heavy steel shield, with his longsword at his side. “Let’s go boys.”

Jankin also comes along in his breastplate, helmet, and greaves and with his longsword at his side. Two squires, in their mid-teens, trail the group as well, ready to assist the two paladins at a moment’s notice.

Once they reach the courtyard it is a simple thing to commandeer a cart from the stables. A donkey is hitched up and the squires lead it behind the group. Led by Godric the party exits the keep and heads down the Processional. The sun is now well up though it is probably not much later than 7 am. As they make their way down the Processional it is still quite dark as the sun is not yet high enough to disperse the shadows from the buildings that overhang the street. There is not much street traffic yet, though servants are emptying slop buckets into the drainage ditches, herds of pigs are beginning to move through the streets, stalls are being set up and shutters opened, and the smell of baking bread fills the air. Finally they reach the abandoned Heironean mission. In the dim light they can see the guano begrimed head of the statue on the top steps leading to the entrance. Beyond the broken doors is darkness and silence.

Fingol is a little surprised to see Sir Godric move forward without organizing the party. In a hoarse whisper he says to Gar, “Stay with the cart and guard the squires.” He then uses hand signals to indicate that Lorindel should cover the party with his bow while Indranil stays with Sir Godric. 

Fingol falls in behind Sir Jankin, drawing his hammer. He is ready to either engage in melee or throw the hammer at any threat. He is a little distracted by the thought that no one has warned the paladins about the giant demon bat from hell. Ah, but why ruin the fun for them?

Gar salutes his compliance and moves to the back. Watching the group move into position, Gar rubs his little Green Man and quietly confers divine protection upon the squires with a light touch. Gar then pulls his dagger out of his sleeve while approaching the mission.

Lorindel acknowledges Fingol’s instructions with a nod. He moves off to flank while drawing an arrow. Lorindel motions to a point up ahead and signals that he can move up to scout. He maintains formation awaiting Fingol’s response.

Indranil nods his head to acknowledge the plan, draws his longsword and walks with a sword’s length of turning between himself and Godric so that he is covering his back and side approaches.

Godric motions for Lorindel to stay behind him. He touches his head and sweeps the area in front of him, indicating that he is trying to sense if there is any evil before them. Warily he moves forward up the steps of the abandoned mission towards the defiled head. He holds his hand up to stop the others and makes the two-horned sign so that they know that there is indeed evil within.

Godric begins backing away just as three javelins come hurtling out of the mission. One misses but two others bounce off his breastplate. “Ha! I have nothing to fear from the likes of you!” he cries. “Sir Jankin, quick, to the sides and rear, make sure no one gets away!” Godric draws his sword and heads into the darkness of the mission with his shield held out before him. He is met by a new volley of javelins, one of which hits him square on his helm with a loud clang, causing him to reel back shaking his head.

Hearing the sound of feet running from around the corner of the temple, Lorindel rushes over to the side and sees a number of Olman in the shadows moving up along the left side of the building. He takes a shot and hits one in the left foot causing him to stumble against the wall in agony. The others swarm past their wounded comrade and he sees that they are wearing thick hides and wielding javelins. As they boil out of the alley they hurl their javelins at Indranil and Lorindel, and one javelin hits Lorindel in the side, penetrating his leather armor and hanging there until Lorindel jerks the bloody tip out and hurls it away from him.

Gar rushes over to get a view of the right side of the building from the middle of the street.

Fingol dashes past Gar and heads down the right side of the mission.

Godric, having cleared his head, moves cautiously into the shadowy interior of the mission, his shield held up before him. Indranil moves in at his side with his shield up and ready as well.

Jankin rushes two Olman who had run past Lorindel and moved up the steps leading to the main entrance of the temple before they can attack Godric or Indranil from behind. With a swipe of his longsword he lays one of them low.

Lorindel looses another arrow that strikes the chest of the other Olman on the steps. The Olman goes down. Of the last two who emerged from the alley, the one Lorindel previously hit in the foot collapses from pain and blood loss. The other runs, but before doing so he hurls his club at Jankin though it simply bounces off his shield.

Lorindel staggers over to Gar. “Good Father,” shouts Lorindel. “You’ve made quite a bit of references to holes and plugging them. Perhaps you could see fit to do something about this!” exclaims Lorindel as he points to his bleeding wound.

Gar laughs out loud as he reaches out to steady Lorindel with one hand and he fingers his little Green Man with the other. “May the blessings of Obad-Hai heal you my good friend.” As Gar puts his hand over the wound, Lorindel can feel it closing and the flesh knitting itself back together. The wound is still a bit painful, but the bleeding stops and Lorindel finds he can breathe easily again. “There you go, Sir Lorindel, all plugged,” Gar smiles and slaps him on the butt.

“Much better, Father. Thanks for the patchwork,” says Lorindel. “Now let’s see if I can do anything about that one.” Lorindel springs after the last Olman warrior and from about 40 paces away fires off a shot that strikes the warrior in the right foot. The Olman stumbles and falls, and then he drags himself off into an alley out of sight.

Inside Godric sees the shadows of the Olman near the altar and moves in on them. Indranil, with the enhanced night vision of a half-elf, can see quite clearly in the gloom. The paladin and ranger engage the Olman, of which there seem to be three now armed with clubs. One of the seasoned warriors jumps up on a nearby pew and begins hammering blows down on Indranil’s shield. Then he slips the club under Indranil’s defense. Indranil has the wind knocked out of him as the club slams into his belly, armored though it is. To Indranil’s right, the other two Olman futilely hammer away with their clubs on the shield and plate armor of Godric. Godric makes short work of them with his longsword. There is only one Olman warrior left. Having backed away from the pew to catch his breath, Indranil moves in again and hacks him nearly in twain with his next strike. Looking around, Godric and Indranil see that the temple is now clear.

While Godric and Indranil battle the Olman in the temple, Fingol races around the corner, skirts the back of the mission and then peeks around the next corner to see if anyone remains on the side where Lorindel had fired his arrows. He sees that there is one broken stained glass window about 10’ from the corner. Climbing over the windowsill is the Olman shaman Nauyotl. He sees Fingol and smiles, casting a shard of broken glass at Fingol’s feet. Suddenly all is darkness, as though someone had blown out the sun like a candle. Fingol can hear Nauyotl’s mocking laughter echoing all around him. Then he hears Jankin calling out to him, “Sir Fingol, follow my voice! Keep your left hand on the church to steady yourself and move forward towards me. Come forth into the light!”

Yeah, thinks Fingol, I don’t think I am going to walk toward any voices today. Fingol throws his hammer at the voice and draws his sword while yelling, “Nautotl is down here! He’s trying to escape through the window into the alley.”

Jankin, ducking away from Fingol’s wildly thrown hammer cries back, “Sir Fingol, it’s me. It’s just a spell of darkness, move out of it!”

Meanwhile, an absent look crosses Gar’s face, and then he remembers Sir Godric running into the mission with Indranil. He looks about to see if anyone needs his services and seeing that none do, he runs into the mission, dagger in hand and shield before him. The mission is dark but as his eyes adjust he sees that Godric and Indranil are standing over the corpses of three Olman warriors. The early morning light filters through most of the stained glass windows of the mission, except for the last two windows on the left where only a supernaturally thick inky blackness can be seen. Then they hear Nauyotl’s laughter and Fingol and Jankin yelling.

Godric realizes what has happened and cries out, “The darkness! Nauyotl must have summoned it to hide his escape!” Godric moves towards the broken window. Indranil remains with Sir Godric and follows him, sword and shield held at the ready. Lorindel also comes into the mission to join the others.

Fingol listens for anyone coming his way. To maximize his shot in the dark, he spreads out his shield arm hoping that whoever does come his way is just as blind as he is and may bump into him. His sword is ready for a sweeping blow, parallel to the ground. He begins to shuffle forward, slightly to the center of the alley. He slides his left foot out, keeping most of his weight on his back foot. That way, he is less likely to trip or be knocked over if someone does run into him. In moments he clears the darkness and sees that indeed it was Jankin calling to him out on the Processional. Nauyotl is nowhere in sight, and the only Olman warriors left on the Processional are dead ones. Jankin hands Fingol back his hammer without comment.

Fingol sees two dead Olman warriors in the street. One was hit in the foot by one of Lorindel’s arrows and had trailed all his blood from the alley to the point where he finally passed out in a pool of his own blood. The other has an arrow in his heart.

One Olman is still alive but moaning on the ground by the stairs of the mission. A sword wound across his chest.

“Sir Jankin, try to stabilize as many of the refugees as you can, some may yet cling to life.”

“Certainly, Sir Fingol.”  

“Oh, and Sir Jankin, send the squires back to the keep for large cart and guards so these men can be arrested.”

 ”Sure, but they should take the head of Heironeous with them,” replies Jankin. “I’ll see what I can do for this one,” he indicates the one he had cut with his sword. “I think the others are beyond any help I can give them.”

Inside, looking around the mission, Gar becomes curious. Rubbing his little Green Man, he mutters his magic mantra to see if he can feel the presence of magic or poison. He senses neither. He then notices that both Godric and Indranil seem a bit battered. Gar calls out to them, “Gentlemen, are the Olmans dead? Please watch them just in case!”

Godric and Indranil are by the still broken window. Indranil looks over and sees that Lorindel can cover the three Olman with his bow. 

Gar touches the little Green Man hanging around his neck with one hand and raises his right hand high fingers spread wide and loudly intones, “Om!” to bathe all around in healing energy. Godric and Indranil immediately feel the pain of their wounds ease, but the three dying Olman that they had laid low are also healed.

The three Olman get up and shake their heads in wonder at Gar and then start to run for the front exit but they are deterred by Lorindel who stands before the exit with his bow pointed at them. They stop and raise their hands.

“Good work, Sir Lorindel,” says Gar who walks over to Godric and Indranil.

“Not necessary,” replies Lorindel, “Just doing my part. Besides, I don’t take very kindly to a spear to the gut.”

“Thank you, milords, for your bravery and skill to win back the mission this merry morning! I do hope Sir Fingol and Sir Jankin are okay out there?” Gar walks up and stands perhaps a bit too close to Sir Godric, peering through the broken stained glass window.

Looking over the toppled guano begrimed statue of Heironeous, Lorindel says, “I guess we should get that cleaned off and set upright.”

Fingol walks in and surveys the mission. He sees Godric, Indranil, and Gar are peering at the darkness Nauyotl summoned through the broken stained glass window on the far left. It fades finally as he comes in. Lorindel has his bow drawn on three captive Olman, who look like they were bloodied up but then healed. They are on their knees with their hands on their heads. 

Indranil begins cleaning his sword then puts it away and slings his shield across his back. He turns to Sir Godric and says, “My lord, are you well?”

“I’m fine,” replies Godric, “though my ears are still ringing just a bit from that blow. Father Gar’s helped that considerably though.” He smiles at Gar.

Indranil then turns and bows to Father Gar, “Father Gar, again I am at your service. My thanks for the healing it was timely and welcome. I took quite a hit from the Olman warrior’s club.

“I would like to secure the statue and transport it back to the palace for cleaning and safe keeping and then secure the mission until the priests can return to clean and restore it lest it be further defaced and used my nefarious forces.”

“Ewww, that looks nasty,” responds Gar. “Sir Godric, how about we clean the statue with a little Storm Blast, instead of touching the bat guano?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” says Godric. “But even clean, we should leave it until those priests who know what they are doing can dismantle the statue and cart it away for restoration. We’d just damage it further I fear.”

“I am happy to be of service milords,” Gar bows to Indranil and Godric, and then walks over to the statue on the floor positioning his back to the altar to avoid any desecrating splash. He rubs his little Green Man with one hand and uses his right hand to project blasts of wind and water to scrub the holy head of Heironeous clean.

Indranil replies, “Well I for one think it sacrilegious to leave it unguarded clean or not. I don’t need a priest to tell me to do the right thing to protect a consecrated image of Heironeous! I swore an oath to protect and ally with the Good. I will not leave Heironeous’ statue behind unguarded. If the group doesn’t want to take it back then I suggest we send a fleet-footed messenger back to the Temple requesting immediate assistance while the rest of us wait here guarding the statue and making an effort to clean up and secure the mission while waiting to be relieved by the Heironeans.”

“By the Seven Heavens!” exclaims Godric. “I certainly didn’t mean to leave either the statue or the mission unguarded again, not at all. I concur that we should send the squires back at least to bring more help.”

Fingol speaks up, “I already asked Sir Jankin to send the squires back to the keep for guards and a wagon to take back the captured Olmans. Let’s keep them here until the guards come. Otherwise they might well escape.”

Gar walks over to the head. “Can someone please hold the godhead while I storm blast him clean?”

Indranil whispers to Sir Godric, “By the Gods! How can someone be so irritating and valuable at the same time!? I may never understand Father Gar, but I am glad he is with us.”

Godric laughs. “Yes, he’s a funny little punster he is. Not like the other stuffed suits in the palace. I guess that’s why I like him.”

One of the squires comes up to help Gar with the head. “Sir Jankin asked me to put it in the cart after its clean, good priest.”

“Well, I think we should do something with this lot,” says Lorindel as he motions towards the Olman with his bow. “I’ve got some rope in my pack if anyone wants to retrieve it.”

Fingol walks over and helps the squire take the head back to the cart now that it is clean. Jankin has already bound up the wounded Olman’s ribs using some rags and put him on the cart.

That is when Fingol and Jankin notice that from the direction of the keep a whole platoon of the Guard are heading down the Processional led by Commander Gorman in full plate armor and shield and mounted on his warhorse. The Guard is fully armed and armored in their standard gear but at the moment they are all holding spears with padded tips, and they each have a club and manacles thrust into their belts. Among their ranks Fingol sees Rain.

“What are you all doing out here?” shouts Commander Gorman. “Didn’t the messengers tell you that the Olman are gathering at the docks! There may be a riot on our hands any moment.”

Just then, down the Processional towards Riverside, they all hear loud chanting and the sound of drums. When Fingol looks that way he sees a mob of Olman, mostly young men. They are waving clubs, throwing rocks, and brandishing torches. The shaman Nauyotl is in front screaming, “Onward my Olman Brothers! Annihilate these High and Mighties and we shall have this city to ourselves – in the name of Camazotz!”

Introduction

In Book I Prince Prospero, Keoland’s military governor of the town of Westkeep, learned that the Malarat tribe of lizardfolk were on the verge of declaring war against the citizens of Westkeep if their fishermen continued to overfish and block the bayous with their nets. Through the work of his mistress of spies, Lady Sedara, he also learned that two young men named Reece (son of the alchemist Parwyn) and Relikez (an artist)  had gone into the marshes some years before hunting for the ruins of an ancient city named Thracia in order to rouse the Thracian death god named Thanatos against the Scarlet Brotherhood who had invaded the Hold of the Sea Princes including Westkeep.  

Prince Prospero had already requested that Fingol, one of the King’s Rangers, and Gar, a Flan priest of Obad-Hai, help to negotiate a settlement with the Malarat. To help them, he summoned Fingol’s father Ragnbjorn, a senior ranger and friend of Chief Rhodophylax (aka Rahk) of the Malarat, and the Marinus brothers. The Marinus brothers are two half-elves from the Dreadwood. The senior, Indranil, is a member of the King’s Rangers. The junior, Lorindel, is a member of the Scout Corp. Prince Propsero also intended to order a squadron of the Guard to go with them and provide security. Among the brave members of the Guard is Aramek, a young half-elf sorcerer from Keoland; Rain, a young woman of Westkeep who had been secretly recruited and trained as a spy by Lady Sedara and then assigned to work with the Guard; and Noch, a mysterious mercenary who rouses the supicions of Gar and Fingol when he displays a skill and ruthelessness surpassing all the other Guard members but then seems to throw a fight to Rain during a practice bout.

Before the mission could even be properly planned and organized, however, Scarlet Brotherhood assassins attacked the palace and attempted to kidnap Prince Prospero. Their plan is foiled by Ragnbjorn, Rain, and Sedara, though Aramek, Noch, Fingol, Gar, and the Marinus brothers were also involved in fighting off the assassins.

Taking Aramek back to the home of Master Parwyn the alchemist where he is staying, the new fellowship of heroes discovered that the Olman refugees led by the evil shaman Nauyotl have left the abandoned Heironean Mission where they had been squatting. In doing so, they desecrated the statue of Heironeous. A giant bat is also seen flying away from the abandoned mission. One thing is certain, Nauyotl’s cult is is certain to be planning something against the forces of Keoland who currently rule the city.

It is at this point that book two begins.

Rain, Godsday, Fireseek 4, 591 Common Year

Early in the morning, but long before the servants begin setting up the great hall for dinner, a servant comes and hands Rain spices for the gumbo. “Compliments of Lady Sedara in recognition of the good work you and Noch did guarding the prince last night,” says the servant girl. Rain recognizes this, of course, as the signal to check the drop point.  

Having had such a long night, Rain is tired, but still excited to talk with Lady Sedara after last night’s events. Rain dresses and equips for practice later that day then heads off to check the drop point. Decoding the message she finds that it is an instruction to meet Lady Sedara in the empty wing of the palace. Rain heads over there carefully so as not to be seen.

When she gets to the empty hall, Lady Sedara is there waiting with a package in her hands. She beckons Rain to follow her into one of the empty rooms, and there she turns and says, “Once again I must tell you how pleased I am. You defended the Prince with your life, and your skill at arms was greater than I would have believed. Prince Prospero is very impressed with you, as is Sir Ragnbjorn, who is a hard man to please. Later this day you, Aramek, and Noch will be recognized in court by the Prince for your deeds. For now, I wish to give you these. They are from the assassins you vanquished.”

Lady Sedara puts the bundle of cloth down on a table and opens it. Inside are a set of masterwork thieves’ tools, one of the black bodysuits in Rain’s size, a black crowbar, 10 trail bars, a 14 lb bag of caltrops, a padded and blackened grappling hook with a dark silk rope, and 6 flash pellets.

Rain is slightly overwhelmed at this personal package and Lady Sedara’s message. She knows she did well, but did not realize till now how good of an impression was delivered to Prince Prospero and Ragnbjorn, as well as making Lady Sedara look good in the process. It was a good evening – one to remember when the going gets tough in the future and during the times when her luck turns sour.

“Lady Sedara, I am touched. This package is very thoughtful and more than I expected. Sincerely, thank you.” 

Lady Sedara then spends some time with Rain training her to use the flash pellets using some other ones that she carries with her. She also warns Rain not to try to eat more than one trail bar a day or else she will suffer indigestion, and in any case to stash them away until they are needed. “Of course, I know I don’t need to tell you that you should keep these things out of sight.”

“I think there may be great things in store for you Rain. Now, get back to your squad. You will be rewarded later publicly by the Prince.” Lady Sedara dismisses Rain with a thoughtful smile.

After Rain is dismissed she takes the package and heads back to the barracks. She replaces her old thieves’ tools with the new, and then spends careful time redoing her pack. Black bodysuit on the bottom (out of site), crowbar vertically on the side (easy to get to), caltrops on top of the body suit, rope and grappling hook on top of that, then all else hiding what lies below. All but one of the flash pellets are stored in the pack as well, with one placed in the pouch she keeps on her.

After Rain has put her gear away Commander Gorman comes into the barracks, fully armed and armored. He shouts for the sergeants to get their troops ready and form up on the parade grounds. This is done in short order, and Commander Gorman says, “There is trouble down by the docks. The Olman are gathering there and getting rowdier by the minute according to the night watch. We are to go there and break it up before things get ugly.” Everyone is handed a padded spear, clubs, and manacles.

Commander Gorman continues, “Use the spears as you have been trained, holding them lengthwise to push the crowd back. Give anyone who resists a poke or a whack if they need it to move along. The clubs are only if a real riot breaks out and they get past the spears. Crack a few heads and they should start running. We’ll have some clerics with us to treat any wounded on both sides. Do not use swords or bows unless they use lethal force first. Listen to your sergeants. Okay, let’s move out.”

Rain thinks to herself, Spears? Clubs? Is he kidding? She finds the practice weapons cabinet and grabs a couple of padded daggers. I can at least scare them first. If they get close enough I’ll pull the real thing. Crap, I sure hope I don’t run into anybody I know down there.

As they begin marching out of the keep Rain’s mind suddenly takes her back to another day, or rather evening, at the docks. It was shortly after Prince Skotti had taken Westkeep and the Scarlet Brotherhood with their Amedi warriors, orcs, and goblinoids had long since fled into the marsh. She was with Dion, Cole, and Ian. They were heading back to their downriver hovel with a bag full of purloined crabs they had swiped from the fishmongers when suddenly from out of the shadows of the nearby warehouses stepped several lean Olman boys. Rain judged that there might be at least a half dozen of them in the shadows around them. Cyrus, Dion’s monkey, began screeching at them. The four of them only had their daggers to ward off the Olman, but the Olman seemed to have clubs and at least a couple had spears.

The largest of them stepped up to Rain and her crew and spoke in a deep menacing voice. “Caught you red handed we have. The fishmongers will see that you lose your hands for being thieves. We get the reward!” He lets out a nasty laugh, as do the others. “Of course, you could just hand that over to us. We’ll see that it’s returned to those who should have it, and we’ll forget we saw you.” He extends his hand to take the bag of crabs from Rain.

Rain looks him in the eyes and responds in a level but threatening voice, “These crabs are ours, take back your hand or lose it.”

The leader backs off, shaken by Rain’s ferocity. He looks quickly around to his men who are watching him intently for any sign of weakness on his part or the part of Rain and her crew and he shouts, “Very well, die for it!”

Cole roars in fury, launching himself at one of the spearman before he can bring his weapon into position. The spearman is soon down with a broken jaw and Cole rears over him, like a tiger over a fresh kill, and looks for someone else to take down.

At the same moment Ian tried to do the same but is nowhere near the vicious street brawler that the more thuggish Cole is. The spearman skewers him through the heart and contemptuously kicks his lifeless corpse off the shaft. He then casts his spear at Cole. The spear sinks into the tattooed bicep of Cole’s left arm. Cole howls in rage and leaps for the now weaponless thug. But before he reaches him one of the other Olman thugs intercepts him and then the spearman joins in kicking and punching at Cole with odd dancelike movements that bring them in and out of range of the infuriated brawler.

The leader, though a bit reluctantly, pulls a knife on Rain and Dion, who have already drawn their own, as the last two Olman move in to support him. Suddenly, with a terrifying shriek, Cyrus launches himself from Dion’s shoulder and begins gouging and tearing at the leader’s face with his teeth and claws. The other Olman are quite unnerved by this and flee back into the shadows. The leader hurls Cyrus from him and with sobs of fear, rage, and pain he follows after his men. Cyrus returns bloody and seemingly very pleased to Dion’s shoulder.

“Good monkey,” says Dion as he strokes Cyrus with great love and affection.

Cole, in the meantime, dusts himself off and except for his bleeding left arm and a black eye doesn’t look too bad. “Aw shit!” he says looking at Ian whose eyes stare emptily into the darkening sky.

In the distance, they hear the tin whistles of the Guard and the tramp of boots heading their way. Rain’s reverie ends in the present tramping of the boots of the Guard – her own and those of her new comrades.

Introduction

Just over one thousand years ago, two ancient western empires, the Suel and the Baklunish, were enmeshed in titanic conflict. The root of animosity between them is lost, but the result of their final war haunts even the modern historian.

After sixty-three years of conflict, the Suloise Mages of Power called down the Invoked Devastation on the Baklunish, resulting in an apocalypse so complete that its true form remains unknown. Entire cities, nations, and millions of people were purged from the Oerth, leaving no sign of the great civilization that once thrived north of the Sulhaut Mountains.

In retaliation, a cadre of Baklunish Mage-Priests brought the Rain of Colorless Fire on their hated enemies. The skies above the Suloise Empire opened, and all beneath were burned to ash.

These catastrophes came to be called the Twin Cataclysms, and the Dry Steppes and the Sea of Dust are geographical reminders of their unbridled power.

Thousands survived the Twin Cataclysms by fleeing east over the Crystalmists in the early years of the conflict. The Oeridians, a confederation of tribes nestled between the empires, took the wars as a sign from their gods to continue migrating far to the east. They were the first to enter the lands they called the Flanaess.

Soon, Suloise refugees followed, sometimes working with the Oeridians, but more often warring with them. For more than two centuries, Suel and Oeridians battled for conquest of the Flanaess. The Suel often lost, and they found themselves pushed to the periphery of the Flanaess.

Though some Baklunish folk migrated east, many more fled north to the mountains, or to the shores of the Dramidj Ocean, where their ancient cultures flourish to this day in the lands of Ket, Zeif, and Tusmit.

The most successful union of Suel and Oerid was the Kingdom of Keoland, founded some eighty years after the Twin Cataclysms, Suel Houses joined with Oeridian tribes on the banks of the Sheldomar River and pledged themselves to mutual protection and dominion of the western Flanaess. Of all the kingdoms formed during those tumultuous days, only Keoland remains.

Far to the east, the greatest Oeridian tribe, the Aerdie, conquered indigenous people and migrants alike. In time, their kingdom, Aerdy, conquered the whole eastern Flanaess. The Aerdy leader was crowned Overking and decreed that his land should henceforth be known as the Great Kingdom. The Great Kingdom declared the birth of a new calendar, and with the declaration of Universal Peace, the sun arose in the east on the first day of the first Common Year.

(D&D Gazetteer, p. 3)

It is beginning of Fireseek, the first month of the New Year, in the 591^st year since the Declaration of Universal Peace according to the reckoning of the now fallen and unmourned Great Kingdom, the weeklong midwinter festival of Needfest having just ended. Not that there is any winter worth speaking of in the Hool Marshes, only the warm humid days of what passes for winter. Winding through the marshes and swamps is the River Javan, though really it is not so much a river as a series of sloughs meandering down to the mangrove choked estuary that empties into the pirate infested Azure Sea. In the midst of the sloughs and bayous the garrison city of Westkeep slowly sinks into the marsh. 

The inhabitants would like to claim that Westkeep was once a proud citadel against the chaos and monstrosities of the marsh, first for the Kingdom of Keoland and later, after it had won independence from said kingdom in order to become a nation of pirates and slavers, the Hold of the Sea Princes. But really it has always been nothing more than an overgrown garrison and a last stop for every scalawag, rascal, bandit, rogue, sell-sword, practitioner of the dark arts, or down on his luck pirate or slaver desperate enough to leave more civilized lands and take their chances in the muck and mire of the Hool Marshes.

Seven years ago, the Hold of Sea Princes fell to the machinations of the Scarlet Brotherhood, a mysterious religious or semi-religious order from the far-off Tilvanot Peninsula across the Azure Sea who assassinated all those sea princes who were not amenable to their cult of Suloise superiority. The Suloise peoples of the Flanaess continent are the remnants of a great empire that once lay far to the west over the volcanic mountain range known as the Hellfurnaces over a thousand years ago. Many of the peoples and especially noble houses of the Sheldomar Valley, in which nestles the Kingdom of Keoland, and of the southern swamps and plantations of the Sea Princes can trace their lineage back to the Suel Imperium. Most gave no thought to this, but less than a score of years past the monkish emissaries of a “Kingdom of Shar” appeared in courts throughout the land offering their services as advisors. It turned out that “shar” means “pure” in the forgotten language of the lost Suel Imperium and that these pale, flaxen haired, blue-eyed ambassadors intended to reestablish a new Suel Imperium through guile, subterfuge, terror, assassination, and occasionally outright invasion using forces of orcs, goblinoids, and savage tribes from the remote jungles of the south. After the assassinations in the Hold, an invasion force, under the Scarlet Sign of the Kingdom of Shar, attempted to land and establish a foothold at the Keoish coastal city of Gradsul; but were defeated, as much by the sudden onset of a summer hurricane as by the bravery of Duke Luschan and his fleet. Two years ago, a vast uprising against the current rulers and their “advisors” swept through the Hold of the Sea Princes, apparently led by renegade monks, a rumored Black Brotherhood dedicated to the dark god Tharizdun. The entire Hold has since dissolved into a chaos of warring cults, factions, and warlords. Last year, afraid that all of this would spill over into his own kingdom, King Skotti of Keoland led an army across the Hool Marshes in what some in the court of the royal capital Niole Dra claim is a futile and misguided attempt to control the situation. Westkeep was taken but the king withdrew after leaving a garrison there under the control of a military governor – Prince Prospero of the House of Ilshar. 

So far, neither the Scarlet Brotherhood led by Elder Brother Hammandaturian, the Shepherd of the Sea Princes, ensconced 120 miles away in Monmurg on the coast, nor the rumored Black Brotherhood, nor any of the other factions or warlords has attempted to take back Westkeep. They may not need to. Many fear that Scarlet Brotherhood agents already have their run of the city and can strike at any time. Disease runs rampant through the city and the clerics are unable to keep up with it (even if they were inclined to try – and not all are of such goodwill as to provide cures for free), and this too is laid at the door of the Scarlet Brotherhood though one need only look over the crumbling walls of the city into the festering pestiferous bogs and mires that surround it to find the cause. The outlying plantations grow what they can, and the local fishermen, crabbers, and shrimpers catch what they can but it is never enough, and it is difficult to send supplies through the monster and lizardfolk infested marshes from Keoland or up the Javan River past the Scarlet Brotherhood’s fleet. Only the black market seems to be thriving. Morale among the garrison could not be lower, and there is a sense that they will die to a man of starvation, plague, or a hidden blade if they stay, or that they will be torn apart by swamp creatures, speared by lizardfolk, or drowned in a quagmire if they try to leave. It would seem that only the Scarlet Brotherhood, or perhaps the even worse fiends of the Black Brotherhood, stands to gain anything from this ill-fated venture of King Skotti. 

It is in such a place and time that the story begins…

Moonday Around Midnight, Fireseek 3, 591 Common Year

After searching the whole palace, no more assassins are found. It turns out that their bodysuits were not black but a burgundy so deep as to almost appear black in dim light. They were armed with blackened shortswords designed for slashing, not like the stabbing swords the Guard uses. They are also armed with short sickles and many blackened throwing stars, some of which were coated with poison. They also had bags containing caltrops, flash pellets, tools for breaking and entering, collapsible padded grappling hooks with silk rope, and trail bars. When their facemasks are pulled away it can be seen that they are all pure Suloise, with short blond hair and blue eyes. “These are almost certainly Scarlet Brotherhood assassins,” says one of the clerics.

Four dead assassins are found on the second floor. Two are found in the garderobe, where one was pierced in the chest with two of Noch’s arrows. The other two are in the hallway.

While everyone is occupied, Fingol picks up one of the grapples and winds up the silk rope. He also pockets some of the trail bars. He tastes one of them and finds that it has the flavor of bananas and nuts. Fingol makes a sour face. I love bananas! Why do people always try to do stuff to them?

Lorindel, Gar, and Aramek notice that Noch seems nervous around the paladins, and while they are investigating he does his best to stay to their rear. Gar wonders, Is he trying to hide something or is he simply a Chaotic kind of guy who is uncomfortable around these Lawful paladins? As the moments pass, Gar continues to be uneasy about Noch. Should I say someting to the Prince? Gar watches and ponders.

Lorindel holds back a bit as well and casually approaches Noch. “I saw the scoundrel with two shafts piercing his chest. Pretty fancy handiwork,” exclaims Lorindel. “I’m not one for the confines of court, but for now I guess we’ll need to make do.”

Noch just nods. “I’m a professional. I just do what needs to be done in the most efficient manner I can. Whether in a palace or out in the wilds, I make sure that I’m not the one on the receiving end.” He turns and walks away. 

Wakelin, the paladin in charge of the night security details interviews them all in their room to get the full story, while other paladins and clerics search the rest of the palace and the grounds for more assassins or else evidence of them. Once the interviews are complete, Wakelin asks them to wait for a while as he gives his report upstairs. A few minutes later, Sir Bodwyn comes down and asks Aramek, Noch, Fingol, Gar, Indranil, and Lorindel to come up to the salon on the third floor. When they get there, they see that all the everburning torches have been recovered and restored to their brackets, so it is well lit once again. Prince Prospero, Ragnbjorn, Sedara, and also Rain await them there amidst the bloody carnage. Throughout the room, but especially on the balcony, are dead assassins, pools of bloods, and broken furniture.

Before the others arrive, Rain retrieved her dagger from the assassin who had been holding it for her, wiping the blood on her victim’s clothing. She looks over their shortswords, but they don’t seem to be of particularly high quality, though blackened and made for slashing rather than stabbing.

With a faint smile Sedara said to her, “Wait until later, then we can distribute souvenirs. You’ve certainly earned them.”

Once Aramak, Noch, Fingol, Indranil, and Lorindel have entered the solar, Prince Prospero gives them all a brief smile but solemnity soon returns to his face. “I have all of you to thank for saving my life. The assassins below were probably hoping to cut off any reinforcement from the lower floors. Thankfully the poison was only a sleeping toxin, like those made by the Drow. Paragon Muire was able to counteract it. As you can see, Rain and I have fully recovered. You will all be richly rewarded for this – even you members of the watch who I feel showed exemplary courage in facing this threat.”

Gar responds, “Thank you, Your Highness. I am just happy that you are fully recovered.”

Indranil bows low to the Prince and says, “I am also relieved you are recovered.” Turning to Gar he says, “Father Gar, thank you for your healing powers. I am deeply grateful.”

Prince Prospero smiles graciously at them, and then he turns to Aramek and says, “There is one other thing however. I understand that you, Aramek, were the victim of a robbery last night, and that the rest of you were trying to find the culprit. Lady Sedara has found something of interest. Aramek, if you would do the honors, please open that assassin’s pack.”

Aramek does so, and in addition to the assassins standard equipment he finds a journal and an object wrapped in parchment. It is indeed the missing journal and statue. Aramek gasps in surprise as he beholds the objects stolen from his room.

Rain openly smiles, to most looking like she is pleased that the items are being returned to the rightful owner, but in fact she is thinking, Nice, very nicely done my Lord, by whom she means Prince Prospero. Well wrapped up and nobody will be the wiser.

Aramek opens the parchment wrapping to inspect the statue, even though he’s already sure it’s the one stolen from his room. He then turns to the Prince and Lady Sedara and says, “My lord, my lady, my master will be very relieved to have recovered these items. They belonged to his son, who disappeared during the Brotherhood’s occupation. His journal here says that he would not rest until he found a way to strike out against them. I suspected there was more to last night’s break in than simple robbery.”

Gar gasps as the others instantly recognize the statue as the dreaded Nerull, the ancient Flan god of death and destruction.

Prince Prospero says, “Let us move to one of the spare rooms. Sir Bodwyn will make sure no one else enters here until the rest of the bodies have been searched. We need to talk, and this is no longer a secure or pleasant place to do it.” He then leads them down the hall into an unoccupied bedroom.

Once everyone is settled the prince continues, “What I am about to say should not be spread beyond those in this room. First of all, let us make sure that everyone is known to each other. Now I know that everyone here knows who I am.” He turns to indicate Sedara, “This is Lady Sedara, my aunt who is here to assist me. She is a member of the Order of the Lightning Fists, a Heironean monastic order based in Niole Dra. This is not really a secret, but it is also not widely known. We would greatly appreciate it if you all kept this to yourselves.”

The Prince indicates Ragnbjorn, “This is Sir Ragnbjorn, a senior member of the King’s Rangers, who has most recently been conducting a survey of the marshes. His companions are the two brothers Sir Indranil also of the King’s Rangers,” he indicates the taller half-elf with emerald eyes, “and Sir Lorindel of the Scout Corps,” here he indicates the shorter dark-eyed brother, “and finally Rangbjorn’s son Sir Fingol of the King’s Rangers.”

The prince indicates Gar, “This is Father Gar, a priest of Obad-Hai, sent here as an emissary by the Great Druidess of the Sheldomar Valley who resides within the Dreadwood.”

Sedara then speaks up, “Allow me to introduce to the rest of you three members of Sir Bodwyn’s troops.” She indicates the guardsman with dark blond hair and dark blue eyes who used his longbow so effectively against the assassins.”This is Noch, a veteran mercenary, who has served with Sir Bodwyn since just before the liberation of Westkeep.” She next indicates the green-eyed light blond half-elf sorcerer with the ferret dressed in the watch tabard. “This is Aramek who recently joined the Guard.” Finally she indicates the dark blond young woman with pale blue eyes, attired like Noch in the armor and red tabard of the watch. “This is Rain, also a recent recruit, who truly outdid herself in our defense against these assassins.” She smiles especially warmly at Rain. At Sedara’s introduction, Rain inclines her head slightly to everyone.

Prince Prospero then says, “Both Sir Fingol and Father Gar arrived in court two days ago, on Fireseek the first to warn us of the restiveness of the lizardfolk. We took this as a sign that something must be done to secure the peace with them. That is when I had Paragon Muire send for Sir Ragnbjorn. I have decided to send a delegation to the lizardfolk to negotiate a treaty with them. I have asked Sir Fingol and Father Gar, in his capacity as a representative of the Great Druidess, to act as go betweens. I will also be sending representatives from our fishermen and the Fishmonger Guild, those most directly affected by any agreements made with the lizardfolk. Sir Ragnbjorn will act as both guide and translator, and Sir Indranil and Sir Lorindel will assist him. Now Sgt. Apone’s squad, of which you three, Noch, Rain, and Aramek, are members, will be reassigned to provide security for this delegation.

The Prince pauses and then continues, “But there seems to be much more involved. Now ordinarily, I would not involve members of the Guard in this. It appears, however, that you are already involved. At least two of you are.” He looks to Rain and Aramek. “I will include you as well Noch, since you have so ably defended us from this attack and are a proven veteran.”

“We have long known that Amedi warriors, orcs, and goblinoids from the scattered forces of the Scarlet Brotherhood are lurking in the Hool Marshes. Sir Ragnbjorn came across some of them yesterday. But last night he and his companions were attacked by ghouls who came from a mass grave left by the Scarlet Brotherhood not a day’s journey from this city. And now we find that Scarlet Brotherhood assassins are operating here in Westkeep itself. The final piece of the puzzle may be this statue that was stolen from Aramek’s room. It is a statue of either Nerull or of some other quite like him. If they are searching for a way to gain power from this god to use against us, then we may be in greater danger than we knew. Of course things were perilous to begin with.”

Sedara speaks again, “Aramek, we need to learn more about what this statue may be and what you all need to look out for once you go out into the marshes. We also need to know what this son of your master’s was doing with it and what he knew. If you come across more signs of this death god’s power or servants, living or undead, you will need to be prepared. Could you please tell your master that the items have been recovered, but that for the time being the Prince has asked him to allow us to keep them until this mystery is solved. This is a ‘request’ from the Prince, and his cooperation will be greatly appreciated. We ask this for the sake of the security of Westkeep and perhaps all goodly folk.”

Prince Prospero adds, “Yes he would have my gratitude. Also, do not speak of this journal or statue to anyone else. Not even other members of the Guard. They have caused enough trouble already. We shall examine these things and gather you all together once more before you set out to discuss what we find.”

Gar tentatively raises his hand. When acknowledged, Gar drops to one knee. “Your Highnesses,” Gar begins haltingly, “I may be way off track here, but today’s events all bare the earmark of the presence of a cell of the Horned Society working in tandem with the Scarlet Brotherhood in Westkeep. It may or may not be so, but I do believe you should take such a possibility into account in your examinations.” Gar remains in this position with his head gently bowed in respect, awaiting their response.

The Prince raises his eyebrows in surprise. “The Horned Society! They were those among them who worshipped Nerull, but they were destroyed eight years ago when Iuz annexed their lands. I suppose it is possible that their agents may still be around. All the worse for us, and that makes it even more important that we follow up on any clues this statue or this journal may give us as to what is going on.”

To Gar’s interaction with Prospero, Rain listens but her mind wanders for just a bit. Hmm… I sure hope I never feel so subservient to another that I have to drop on one knee. How humiliating…

“You probably won’t find them in the city,” Fingol mumbles, “or else they wouldn’t have needed to bring food with them.”

Rain quietly responds, “Good point.”

The Prince says, “Well, these are all possibilities to keep in mind, and all things to be wary of when you go out into the marsh. Any of these factions may also be trying to stir up trouble with the lizardfolk as well. It is late now. I think we should try to get some rest. We’ll have the solar cleaned and secured by tomorrow night. I would like to ask all of you to please meet me there at noon the day after tomorrow. By that time, we may have more information to share. I will also ask Sgt. Apone to join us. So for now, I thank you all for your great courage and bid you goodnight.”

On the way back downstairs, Fingol returns Indranil his bow and quiver, “Thank you for your patience. I would not have taken these without great need and if lives were not at stake. I am so sorry I was not able to prevent your injuries.” 

Indranil takes back his bow and quiver and replies, ”Fingol, no apology necessary! When in the heat of battle, please consider whatever weapons, defenses and tools I own that are accessible to you yours to use without asking. Your kind thoughts are well regarded and graciously accepted. I consider myself lucky to be alive to talk with you!” 

“I am afraid using the garderobe again will not be done without some fear of what is under the seat! It gives new meaning to the old expression, ‘it scared the crap right out of me!’” Indranil laughs loudly.

Gar laughs as well.

Aramek goes over to Rain and says, “Gods that was scary. And you – I was so worried. So tell me what happened up here and I’ll tell you what we went through?”

“Thanks, Aramek, I am glad we all made it through that one alive. We fought multiple assassins as they poured over the balcony into the room, Fingol’s father was quick enough to get the Prince out of the room quickly then the three of us continued to take them out. Somewhere in that I managed to be hit by one of those stars. I didn’t really notice till we were approaching the remaining assassins holding the Prince down the hallway. I guess I passed out at that point, and then woke up several hours later safe in bed, thanks to the clerics.”

Noch says, “Well Aramek and I were just guarding the stairs up to the solar and the third floor. That’s when we saw Sir Indranil here head to the garderobe. The next thing we knew he was on the floor trying to get out of there with Scarlet Brotherhood assassin all but on top of him. Aramek and I took out a couple of them but two more came out after us. Sir Fingol was good enough to make an attempt to toss Sir Indranil his sword, and Aramek took out another with his sorcery. That’s when we heard the prince was in trouble and at Aramek’s urging I headed upstairs.”

Then Aramek says, “I really knew there was more going on than some random robbery. I need to get back to Master Parwyn and let him know what the Prince said. I can’t tell him everything, but at least he’ll know that I have an assignment that will take me away for a while. And he’ll also be able to rest easy about any repeat of last night. Oh, and I guess I better make sure I’m outfitted for the swamps.” Aramek starts to leave for the shop.

Fingol adds, “I think a few of us should check on Master Parwyn. His safety should not be forgotten in the joy of knowing our Prince’s person is secured. Let us muster up in haste.”

Indranil says, “I would like to help escort Aramek if you have need of me.”

“As will I,” offers Lorindel, ”safety in numbers. Unless you think it prudent I remain at the keep.”

After a slight pause, Lorindel adds, “In light of the night’s events brother, I think my bow will remain strung for the duration of our stay on Westkeep.”

Indranil clasps Lorindel on the back, “Brother you have that right. Here I thought we could enjoy a bit of peace and rest while inside the palace! And come to find out it is more dangerous here than in the Hool. I would like your company while escorting Aramek.”

Gar says, “Who needs sleep? I’ll join you too. I could use some fresh air about now.”

With a rueful smile, Noch adds, “I suppose I should come along with you all. I’ll feel bad if I skip out on all of you now after all that we’ve just been through.

Rain moves up close to Fingol and says, “Hey, maybe your group here in the palace and Aramek, Noch, and I can meet somewhere tomorrow to talk, maybe the same place we met for a drink the other day?”

Fighting the temptation to slip his arm around her, Fingol says to Rain, “Absolutely, this time I buy the good beer! I would like to practice with the Guard again in the morning. How about after that?” He musters a friendly smile.

Rain responds by holding out her arm in the warrior fashion of shaking by clasping forearms and says, “We will see you in the morning then at practice – and you are on about the beer.” At this Rain smiles back.

Fingol takes her arm firmly. “Then, and now, I suppose. It sounds as though all of us are bound to check on Master Parwyn. I pray we will be unneeded. For if we are, it will already be too late! Come let me arm myself and we will go!”

Rain turns to the two brothers, “Indranil, Lorindel, we were introduced upstairs but let me offer my arm in meeting” Rain offers her arm to each. “I look forward to getting to know you both better when we head out into the marshes,” and gives them a curt smile.

Indranil returns Rain’s clasp in kind and nods back with a smile. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

Lorindel also responds with a hearty shake.

As they walk out of the castle, Gar moves away from Noch and instead walks next to Lorindel and in not a quiet voice says, “Good Sir Lorindel, perhaps you and I should visit the Street of Red Lanterns tomorrow  to, uh, wet our whistle before our next excursion? Please excuse me Lady Rain, though we might have similar taste…”

Rain responds, “No excuses needed. You do as you will and I will as I.”

“That would not entirely be unwarranted,” replies Lorindel to Gar. “I could possibly accomplish two goals. The exploits of the Red Lanterns being one, the other would be to seek our Fergus. I’m sure news of the assault has already hit the street. Perhaps he might be able to supply some additional information.”

Rain raises an eyebrow at this comment. Ah crap, here we go, she thinks. In reply she asks, “Interesting, what business do you have with Fergus?”

“I’ve been thinking about your friends.” Fingol says, with the distracted air of someone thinking aloud, “I think tonight further exonerates our maligned locksmith. He may be guilty of other crimes – or not – but the little band claims to be a resistance group, first against the Scarlet Brotherhood and now against Prince Prospero – whom they perceive to be no more than the latest conqueror of their homeland. 

It’s apparent that the same group of Scarlet Brotherhood assassins that attacked our Prince did the break-in at the shop. The journal and the statue were found on an assassin matching the height and weight of the thief at Master Parwyn’s. Assuming that all this can be taken at face value that would say to me, that the gang you met up with would no more assist the Scarlet Brotherhood than would any of us.

“I would imagine Prince Prospero would like to know more about this group; but I hope that he would bear them out with patience and the hope of winning over their loyalty. Coming down hard on them would seem to be, well, something Brother Burne would recommend. So let’s keep all this to ourselves for now. Until we have something to say to the Prince that would protect them from zeal borne of fear – or our own fears overwhelm our hopes. 

“I may not have much chance of winning them over myself, but I do admire their independence and love of country. If we arrest them for that, then what we would say is a tragic misstep would be proven true. We would in fact be no more than the latest conqueror of this land. I hope, and have some cause to hope, that the Heironeans are much more than that.”

He mutters after that, mostly to himself, “When lenience and cruelty play at dice for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner.”

Seemingly out of nothing but casual interest, Rain responds “Well put. So who is this band you mention?”

Fingol answers, “Fergus and the men that Lorindel found in his company.” Fingol flushes a bit, though no one notices in the dark and thinks to himself, I thought I was, if not clear, long winded enough to let people figure it all out by the pedantic end.

“I have no business with him yet,” responds Lorindel. “I made his acquaintance, and those of his friends Dion and Cole, by chance at the Murky Archer. He is a man of the streets with access to people and information someone like me would have trouble getting close to.”

Hearing this arouses a great storm within Rain, Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap – did Dion and the gang join with Fergus? Is that a good thing? Did my leaving start this? 

“I’m not so foolish as to trust this man blindly, Rain,” continues Lorindel, “but if he believes I have something to offer him, I don’t think he’ll steer me wrong. He’s a businessman after all. Knowledge is power to a man like Fergus. Perhaps, though, you can give me some insight to strengthen my hand.”

Rain smiles slightly, with just a hint of the devil in it, and then responds, “Sure, how about I come along with you tomorrow to meet with him.”

“So, Rain,” Gar butts in, “how do you know Fergus?”

“Old friend – won’t be good to see him again.”

Chuckling, Gar responds, “Then would your lovely presence be helpful in extracting information from him?”

Rain responds, “Heh, lovely presence, eh? Well, I’m not exactly sure, but at least I may be able to see through any bullshit he’s trying to spread. I think I’ll go hooded at first though, just to check things out.”

Aramek, who is walking next to Rain says, “So, what’s with this Fergus guy?”

Just then, as they are passing the Heironean mission on the Processional, they notice that it is very dark and still inside. There are no guards to be seen near the open doors. There are no fires inside. It is possible that they are all sleeping, but it seems truly abandoned now. The lanterns in the temple district are almost completely burned out, but there is still enough light to see what appears to be a head resting between the broken doors of the temple. Suddenly they hear a hideous screech from overhead. A bat with a body the size of a horse swoops down from the top of the temple past their heads and then flies off out of the city and into the marsh.

“Whaddafukwhazzat?” stammers Fingol looking up at the bat-horse-demon thing.

Upon seeing the giant bat, Lorindel readies his bow. ”This night becomes fouler by the hour.”

A dagger appears in Rain’s hand as she responds, “Too true, Lorindel, I wonder what we will find inside?”

Gar ducks away from the giant bat, then stops walking and says a little prayer as he looks toward the mission and he rubs his little Green Man. “Sir Fingol, it looks like it’s gone now. What’s in the doorway? I’m dying to know.” With that, he cocks his head with a smile and slowly slinks toward the door, dagger tucked up his sleeve in case he needs it, keeping all of his senses in heightened alert.

“Gar! Wait!” Fingol whispers harshly, ”What can you see with your elven sight, Lorindel? Can you say what is in the doorway?”

Gar pauses, hunched over, and looks back at the group, first toward Fingol then Lorindel.

“It’s the head of a statue,” Lorindel whispers to Fingol.

Indranil peers into the darkness and exclaims, “It is indeed the head of Heironeous covered in bat dung. The vile beast has desecrated the statue. Whatever evil is descending upon Westkeep, it is closing in on us!”

Having been raised in isolation, Aramek is quietly observing both of the half-elves to see what they will do. He is naively fascinated by their presence.

Gar wrinkles his nose at the revelation and quietly exclaims, “Ew! Should we take it? Anyone want head?” Gar giggles like a girl in the night as he walks back to the group.

Fingol slaps the back of Gar’s head, “That’s not an appropriate thing to say.”

“Yes, Sir!” Gar tries unsuccessfully to wipe the smirk off his face.

Indranil grimaces to himself finding Gar’s humor distasteful. He then moves to the rear of the party where Lorindel had already moved back alongside Noch to keep watch on their trail and whispers, “Father Gar is… irritating.”

Welcome to my world, Fingol thinks to himself upon overhearing Indranil.

“He’s a bit unrefined I must admit,” chuckles Lorindel. “Still, he seems to do well in a fight.”

Fingol says to the others, “There will be plenty of people rightly offended by the desecration of the statue. I wish the best for the Olman refugees, but I think the best thing would be to get them away from Nauyotl. I am confident that beast is eating other souls than the Olman’s.”

Gar says, “I do hope those nice people are okay and not bat dung themselves by now. On the other hand, if they come back in the morning, it would lend credence, Sir Fingol, to your idea that Master Nauyotl is raising the dead out in the marsh at night. Either way, I am not so inclined to walk into that mission at night, as I would in the daylight. Perhaps we should pop by here tomorrow as a courtesy call to see what may be seen?”

Fingol responds, “I don’t remember who came up with the idea that Nauyotl is raising the dead out in the swamp, but it wasn’t me. I was more inclined to think that if he left his mission-turned flop house he would be discovered by the paladins of the town. It didn’t take long for Sir Jankin to see his nature,” replies Fingol, ”but it does raise questions why, on this night, so much is happening at once. The Prince was nearly abducted, and the mission abandoned. I am inclined to think this is not happenstance. For now, let’s plan on coming back at first light. And we’d best bring Sir Jankin with us. I think he may be useful. He certainly has a strong stake in the matter.”

They finally arrive at Master Parwyn’s shop, where all is safe and sound. The family is asleep and so Aramek bids Rain and the others goodnight.

While walking back to the castle, Gar turns to Rain and asks out of the midnight blue, “Did you last see Fergus when you left the Thieves Guild?”

Rain doesn’t even flinch at the question. She is becoming used to Gar’s lack of tact, and responds casually, continuing to look forward as they walk, “I was never officially a member of Fergus’ organization. He did me a favor once and I spent the next couple of years paying him back. It will be interesting to see him again now… things being different.”

“But,” Rain says with emphasis, and then pauses for a few seconds, “there is no need to let anybody else know of my past dealings with him or his. I am willing to help discussions for the sake of our current situation, but I would appreciate a modest amount of discretion on this from all of you. Agreed?” At this she stops and turns to catch everyone’s eyes with her own, the question not exactly being a
command, but certainly with more authority than one would expect coming from a girl or a common member of the Guard.

Fingol stops, “Rain, I hope that each of us can keep all the matters discussed here discrete. I certainly, will not break any trusts.”

“Nor will I,” says Noch. “You’re with the Guard now, and as long as you do your duty and look out for the rest of us, we’ll be looking out for you. Your past is not our concern unless it interferes with duty.”

Fingol stops, “Rain, I hope that each of us can keep all the matters discussed here discrete. I certainly, will not break any trusts.”

“Your secret is safe with me as well,” joins Gar, “And yes, I do believe you will be helpful with Fergus. At the least, it will be entertaining.”