Dara- Elf- Druid
Aramil- Eladrin - Warlord
Sonea- Human - Wizard
Shadow Dancer- Eladrin - Avenger
Torthen- Dwarf – Paladin
Adahan (Boomer)- Human- Swordmage
Torrent- Human- Cleric
Following the near-death experience of fighting off the wyvern rider from the house he’d crashed into, everyone was keen to make their way to the nearby safe house of the temple. Taking the now orphaned child with them, Aramil, Shadow Dancer and Dara follow Torrent through the cold dark streets. The cobbles are slick with muddied snow and frosted in untrodden parts. The hours aren’t far into the (so far) bleak New Year.
Not far away they come into an open square between the houses where they find the Temple of the Aquiline Heart (a Pantheon temple to the healing gods) in the form of an old broch hill fort sitting atop a man-made mound. It seems the priests remained throughout the attacks to care for those seeking healing, protection and sanctuary, as there always will be in times such as these.
Entering the building they are met with the sight of almost a hundred nervous citizens of Gate Pass- women and children- the young, the old and the infirm- covering all available space including the floors, makeshift bunks and squeezed into side rooms. The walls emanate a blue magical glow, illuminating the white habits of the few priests bustling among their charges. It’s clear that the night’s activities have drained the holy men; their faces are drawn and tired. Even with their healing powers at a low ebb they continue to heal and console those in their care as best they can.
Torrent speaks to a priest nearby, arranging for Badger to be taken to the infirmary with his suspected pneumonia where he’ll be settled into a makeshift bunkroom. Before departing the priest spies the little boy clinging to Torrents’ tabard. He recognises him and makes enquiries. Gratefully for the little one the priest shepherds him off to some relatives who are sheltering in the Temple.
Work done, Torrent takes this moment to lead on through the crowds and beds to an old oak door by the altar area. Just inside are two half-orc guards and a well-worn spiral staircase of stone leading down to a series of cellars. The party are invited to bed down for the night in as private a quarters as the priests can manage.
The cellars are found to be lit by torches and tallow candles lending a thick fragrance to the dark. It is quite clear that one of the cellars is a weapons store.
___________________oOo___________________
No sounds of battle ahead or at the western wall, even the trebuchets have fallen silent. A welcome sound of silence rings perceptibly in the air.
The stout armoured figure of a dwarf makes his way through the cold, dark streets. Torthen finds Sonea lying in a red cloaked heap on the cobbles. She’s dazed and bloodied from the crush of people at the gate earlier on. Helping her to her feet they make their way towards the gates where the guard on duty follows Torrents’ instructions and directs them to go to the depositary tower. More empty chilled streets and they find at the tower a dwarf who informs them their friend is at the Temple of the Aquiline Heart.
Soon they find their destination as being on a small hill, and being a fort of sorts, it’s quite a feature. Upon entering they are met by two men who are clearly expecting them, as well as a hall crammed with people.
The large portly priest in the white habit of the Order of Aquiline Heart steps forward. The magical blue light catches the embroidery on his habit showing the heart embraced by a protective eagle. Possibly this is the gentleman in charge?
Next to him is an unusual looking stranger. Very tall and slim with a fairly toned physique and skin with the permanent deep tan and leathery texture you would expect of a blacksmith. His hair is long and black but very unusual, not quite like hair at all. He also sports deep scars on his face, with many intricate scars exposed on his arm and chest of his unguarded left-side. Armed with two swords; one at either side, and wearing a suit of light brown hide armour he doesn’t look like a blacksmith.
'Ah there you are! No place to talk. Follow me to the priestly vestment area where you can rejoin your companions. I am Buron, proctor of this temple.' The priest seems personable but certainly a man of intent as he quickly leads the way through the bodies, stopping to pat the odd hand or give some kind words to those in need.
Sonea leans towards to the unnamed stranger on the way through and asks his name.
'Call me Boomer.' He says with a smile.
Arriving at the altar Buron gives the door a cautionary knock before stepping in. Ushering in those that follow, he bars it quickly behind them.
Quickly they are led down the spiral staircase past the guards to the cellars where Aramil, Shadow Dancer and Torrent are settling in.
'Do you have the box?' Buron bustles in and looks at Torrent urgently without a glance at anyone else.
Torrent looks sheepish.
Before she can answer Shadow Dancer turns to Sonea and Torthen, 'We don’t have the box. Had you arrived at the tower with us we could have forestalled its’ theft.'
Torthen grunts, defending his actions, 'For all your speed you did not prevail. There were wounded for me to attend to.'
'Theft? Theft from where and by whom?' Buron steps forward.
Shadow Dancer speaks to nobody in particular. 'I think I have an idea and I may have fostered the seeds of an alliance with them that took the box. Agents of Zama I believe.'
Buron sputters 'That’s nearly as bad as the Imperium having the box!'
'Why?' asks Shadow.
With a sigh Buron explains 'The box was potential leverage against them. We in the resistance know better than to trust any of our neighbours, Doldovan, Imperial or Zaman. For all their protestations of neutrality, the Zaman Queens have always manipulated regional events through clandestine means as much as by mercantilism.
Isn’t it bad enough that they have their own enclave in this, our city, an entire district ruled in accordance with their own laws and by their soldiers?'
Shadow Dancer looks bored at petty human concerns. Looking at Sonea he adds 'We do have one lead, the wizard’s college.'
'You mean Gabal’s? Most of the Guard officers in the city trained there as well.' replies Buron.
'Do you know of one named Shealis?' Shadow continues.
Sonea sounds disgusted, 'Shealis! That wench! She’s Gabal’s latest slut. She’s nothing more than a Harlot and a strumpet.'
Making a delicate noise of disgust she goes on to explain that Shealis is a recent addition to the faculty at Gabal’s School of War, a Zaman wench whose rapid rise to assistant head of the faculty in Evocation studies has almost certainly been acquired through means of sexual favours.
Buron almost asks the obvious, 'And you are familiar with this person?'
'Yes.' she indicates her red robes with a brush of her hand. 'I only recently graduated from the school myself.'
'Then we have some inroads. I suggest you all rest here and we will explore these new avenues that have opened up before us in the morning. Which it nearly is!' Buron seems pleased that though they do not have the box, they do have some avenues of enquiry.
Turning to leave he stops for a moment, clearly remembering something. 'Ah. Before I leave, with Badger ill, Boomer here will be his replacement within the cell.'
Shadow raises an elegant eyebrow, '...and he is who?'
With a quick wave of his hand Buron indicates the human stranger standing beside him then leaves, a proctor has much to do on days like these.
The fatigue is beginning to show with everyone as, almost as if he didn’t exist, the newcomer Boomer is left to his own devices.
With one eye on this ‘Boomer’ and the other firmly on the stock in the weapons store, Shadow Dancer takes note of what’s available and refreshes his crossbow bolt supply.
Sitting on some of the makeshift beds placed in the cellars for them Aramil, Sonea and Dara take the time to sort through the items they’d gathered. They pay special attention to the more unusual artefacts such as the black runic plate mail armour.
The inspection reveals that the plate mail armour (seemingly sized for someone with the breadth of shoulders of an Ogre) is specifically black iron plate mail providing protection against magical attacks dealing in the likes of necrotic energy and fire.
The hide armour, also acquired in the depository tower, is specially designed for Druids and their kin. Those who deal and dabble in transformation would find it particularly useful as it morphs with the wearer and enhances their agility and control while in another form.
After a pretty quick discussion it’s decided that Torthen should take the plate and that Dara would make best use of the hide.
'This is all well and good but what rewards are there for the rest of us?' Shadow Dancer interjects obviously feeling hard done by in the loot stakes.
Torrent is having none of it at this time of the morning. 'I should think that serving your city would be reward enough. But if you need additional equipment I am sure our quartermaster will be able to fulfil your needs – for a token sum of course.'
Eager to ready themselves for the day ahead Torrent leads Shadow Dancer and Torthen down the hall to visit the quartermaster. Seemingly rousing him from his bed the man has in fact been awake all night with the uproar of the attacks. He is in much demand at a time like this.
Torthen no longer needs his old scale mail now that he has black iron to protect his back so he sells it on for a reasonable price. Shadow also sells a shortsword he had in his possession and trades the crossbows he’d captured from the attackers at the Poison Apple pub for one of a better calibre.
The quartermaster is happy to add more armour and weapons to his supply and goes back to bed content.
When they get back to their quarters they find that Aramil, Sonea and Dara have bunked down for the night already and the stranger Boomer is asleep in a corner of his own.
Tallow candles don’t last forever and the torches seem reluctant to give much light to the dark. The dark starts to move with sound. Quietly there begins what sounds like scratching and digging noises. These are, however, sporadic. Those who do wake to the noise drift off again in their fatigued slumber.
No more than an hour of sleep under her belt and Dara is woken by one of the white-robed priests holding a small candle for light. With quick and quiet words she gathers her belongings and leaves with the brother. She looks alarmed.
Shadow Dancer never sleeps easy and within moments of the candle’s orb of light leaving the cellar he’s up and ghosting after them, advising Torrent on the way.
True to his name he soundlessly follows Dara, unbeknownst to her. Out on the streets nearby the air tears with the ungodly screaming of a wounded gryphon. Its’ rider lies dead on a stretcher beside its mount. Dara calls to the gryphon in a soothing, calming voice and sets about tending to its wounds.
Shadow is content with what he sees and returns to the temple to catch some form of rest.
By what must be about 5am a strange crashing sound fills the cellar and reverberates off the close stone walls.
Torthen, who has been lying awake and listening to scratching noises that he believed to be the sound of digging, looks around to see if anyone else noticed the crash. No one moves. Quickly putting his armour on he rouses the others. Realising Shadow Dancer is already awake and that Dara is no longer with them.
'Make something of the noise?' asks Shadow.
'Yes, Digging.'
At such an obvious and simple answer Shadow Dancer pokes some sarcastic fun at Torthen. 'Not rats in the sewers?'
'Not unless 6ft tall!' laughs Torthen as he leaves the cellar to alert the half-orc guards.
Shadow Dancer loads his crossbows in anticipation.
Torthen tells the guards to tell whoever is in charge of the temple defences that he has heard tunnelling coming closer to the temple cellars and that they should expect that a diversionary attack could be coming from below as well as aboveground.
One of them grunts something about how dwarves would know about that kind of stuff and runs off. Torthen returns to the cellars and quickly behind him arrives Buron looking dishevelled.
'What’s all this about attacks from below?'
'I hear burrowing from below.' Informs Torthen.
Considering for a moment Buron thinks out loud. 'We aren’t near sewers the only thing near is…' he pauses a moment as the thought hits 'the old crypt. Oh, not good.'
The dwarf agrees with the priest.
'This temple wasn’t always here. Before Myceneans came to this land the temple used to be an old Doldovan hill fort. The only thing beneath these cellars are the old crypts.' the proctor explains.
Shadow Dancer steps forward. 'Call in your priests.' he instructs flatly.
'Our Priests are healers, not warrior-clerics. They are ritual casters, not soldiers. Our Temple Guards are not yet ordained paladins.'
Almost amazed at this Shadow asks 'You don’t have priests who can fight the undead?'
'Only lay priests, not clerics.'
'Why would Imperials attack a hospital?' Shadow sounds confused.
Buron explains 'During the occupation, when the Imperials tried to close all the temples and exile the priests, a miracle occurred. No Imperial could remove this temples sole attendant; a priest. If they tried to kill him their swords would break, if they tried to move him they could not lift him. Eventually the priest challenged the Imperials who attempted to evict him- if he could stay within the temple for a year and a day, not eating and not drinking, then his order would be allowed to remain in the city and the temple itself would become a safe haven that no Imperial could enter. The priest miraculously survived, bathed in light for the whole year and a day, only to die shortly after winning his challenge. The temple became a symbol of defiance for the City and it was here, in its very precincts, protected from the roving eye of the Arcanum, that the resistance was born.'
'So if they were to choose a target, this would be it?' Shadow Dancer sighs at how obvious it seems.
'This temple stood as a symbol of Gate Pass’s resistance 40 years ago.'
Shadow rolls his eyes. 'And you STILL use this place as a ‘safe house’?'
'It was 40 years ago!' Buron says in his Orders defence.
By now Aramil, Sonea and Torrent are fully awake and ready, having listened to the exchange.
'Didn’t we block up the crypt? We’d better go down and take a look.' Torrent looks concerned as she pulls her breastplate, signalling for the others to follow her to the crypt.
Buron pulls Aramil aside and asks that, as an experienced war-leader, could he take charge of the temple defences above ground. He agrees that it would be a sound plan and that he will be back in a moment once his curiosity is sated.
A short flight of steps down from the cellar they’d been in they find a wine cellar and a door blocked with loose stone. Dust and small fragments of rock are shaking lose.
At the top of the pile of debris a face sized hole appears and a brief glimpse of hand pulling matter away is seen. From the other side seeps the chattering of strange voices, vaguely Doldovan, accompanied by an eerie glowing light. Without warning there is a scurrying noise and the glow and voices fade away.
Boomer steps forward from the gloom whispering 'All stay behind me and watch out.'
He places his sword in a gap in the stones, as though about to use his sword as a lever.
Shocked, Torrent hisses 'Don’t do that, you’ll wreck the sword! I have a hammer.'
Boomer sneers and mutters an incantation over his weapon. The sword makes a noise like a thunderbolt striking home and lumps of stone fly from doorway showing darkness beyond the opening. Soon the doorway is clear for passage.
Torrent lights a lantern she finds nearby and the others follow Boomer and her. Inside they find a long passageway and a spiral staircase leading down into the darkness. No sign of those doing the clearing, just an eerie green glow that recedes before the light of the lantern.
'Some sort of undead perhaps?' Whispers Torthen.
Boomer answers back. 'Someone’s raised the dead!'
'On Holy ground?' Shadow sounds surprised.
'Holy ground is the temple itself. Do you think they bothered to consecrate the storage areas?' Snorts Torrent.
Shadow Dancer sounds disgusted. 'We of the feywild do things differently. We would not make such a basic error as to assume any area was safe. Nor do we need to protect ourselves from being risen from the dead. We do not die.'
Torrent sighs. 'From what I am told, you’re mortal enough to die. You just have to have a sword through you.'
'You have to put a stake through their heart first. The hard part is having to find it!', jokes Torthen in a show of dwarven humour.
'Touché.' Shadow smiles in the dark.
It is now obvious to those who are not so perceptive, or do not know him, that the masked figure of Shadow Dancer is infact Eladrin.
Ahead, Boomer starts making his way down the spiral staircase while the banter continues.
Descending a good 20ft before green glow becomes visible again.
'Shall we follow or brick it up again?' Shadow whispers to the dark with a smirk.
It’s Aramil who answers. 'We should follow him, but there’s a chance of an attack upstairs. I had better go look after things.' He sheaths his sword and walks away in measured strides, noting that he now understands what is different about this 'Shadow'.
The rest follow Torrent’s lantern down, hearing metal against metal and sounds of discussion, as though from all around them. At the bottom of the stairs is another passage way with a door to the side. Boomer is already at the door.
Torrent strides confidently to the other side of the door, placing the lantern on the floor and readying herself.
Boomer (being Doldovan) knows ancient Doldovans hated fighting unfairly and using traps, so has no fear that such things will be used against them. He pushes at door but it doesn’t move.
'Dwarf!' In a moment Torthen is scrutinising the door closely. He thinks to himself- 'pivots both ways, fresh grooves in the floor (so recently been turned), hmmm, indicates someone should stand on the other side'. Without a word the dwarf moves in and grabs door, wrenching it right open.
The old crypt is surprisingly illuminated. A hanging lantern floats by itself in the middle of room, dispensing blue light. Some of the ceiling has fallen-in on coffins in one corner and several other coffins stand empty. An ornate and large sarcophagus dominates the far end of crypt. Above it hangs a banner, seemingly as new as the day it was woven, bearing a Black Lion Rampant on a field of white.
Inside are four skeletal archers standing ready to fire in two ranks. Four more axe-wielding skeletal figures stand in near ruined chainmail, their eyes produce a gleaming green glow, surrounding a lager armoured figure bearing a mighty two handed hammer.
Crown atop his forehead, he is a huge hulking green skinned wreck of a man. In death even pallid flesh clings to his yellowed bones. That same eerie green glow emanates from the torn cavities that should be his eyes, nose and mouth. The two handed hammer grasped in his bony hands radiates darkness.
'Tuathan Wight.' Boomer whispers in awe.
A bowstring snaps and three withered arrows snap against the door frame closest to Torthen. With that everyone is snapped back into the situation at hand.
Sonea leaps into action using her academic training well. A magic missile screams at one of the archers and through a rotten gap in its ribs.
'Take it’s not a friendly welcome.' Shadow moves to a firing position at the doorway.
Boomer is already in the room, spinning his sword to crash it down on the closest rikkle of bones he can reach. Bone flies in all directions. Pity skeletons don’t need all their limbs and bones. He quickly swings his sword to point at the Wight casting an Aegis of Ensnarement.
The old Doldovan king turns his attention on the intruder, silently swinging his great hammer round in an arc just missing Boomer by the breadth of a hair. Unfortunately for the human the nearby axe wielding skeletons round on him and don’t miss.
Torrent steps into the fray lending magical help. Sweeping her hammer above her head the deafening clap of a thunder shield surrounds her allies.
Torthen charges the figures attacking Boomer. Missing them with his axe he does manage to knock Boomer back a bit.
More arrows fly through the air as Sonea replies with a trade mark of her education as three Gabal’s Superior magic missiles scream through narrowly missing the Wight but reducing a skeleton to a barely upright ribcage.
From the doorway, Shadow Dancer lets fly with a crossbow bolt. It explodes in one of the dead archers chests sending it flying across the crypt and against the sarcophagus. Shadow holsters his new trusty weapon and draws his sword for his next victim.
Boomer whirls from the impact of Torthen and smacks an incoming axe blade to the ground with his sword. Swinging his blade up into the air he calls forth a thunderblast around him, unfortunately it seems to have no effect on the assailants. Undeterred he skips further back from the Doldovan Wight yelling 'Focus on the Wight!'
The King turns on Boomer but lacks the agility of his living foe. The hammer smashes a sizeable hole in the flagstones as the axe wielding skeletons crowd in to bloody the foolhardy human.
Torrent sees the man in need and calls on Martha’s tide to help regenerate Boomers’ health.
The dwarf however is still tied up with the archers. Dodging between them he misses arrows but fails to bring down any of the walking corpses either.
More screaming Gabal’s Superior magic missiles whizz in exploding an armoured skeleton, in mid swing with its axe, to smithereens. Another strikes home on the Wight, seeming to rile him more.
At this Shadow Dancer ensures he has a gap and strides out of the doorway, raising his blade to point at the main enemy in the fray. Calling an Oath of Enmity, his words are lost in the melee, he continues and swiftly dashes behind the rotting form waiting for the backlash.
Boomer is still in the thick of it with axes coming from all directions. His only saving grace is the healing spell Torrent cast.
The Wight rounds on Shadow with a huge blow sending the eladrin flying backwards. Continuing on, the king moves towards Torrent who’s standing too close for her own good.
She holds her ground regardless, singing out healing words that envelope Boomer. Lucky for him the skeletons are missing so many vital parts that they lack the coherence to do any real damage if they strike home at all. Torrent doesn’t miss the Wight either as she cracks her hammer straight into his oncoming jaw with a crushing wave making him roar and stagger back.
The dwarf is in his element and totally crushes an archer to bits with a single well-planted valiant strike of his weapon. Another archer comes at him, bouncing off his shield. More missiles fill the air managing to blow up another archer, only one shamble of a bow wielding skeleton remains.
Shadow Dancer flashes the undead a grim smile, flashing his cloak to hide Torthen’s charge. 'I’ve not done with this one yet.' He swings his sword with a renewed strike just missing the Wight.
He takes this point to draw on a healing surge.
Boomer shifts into a luring strike which just misses the ribcage of the intended. 'Focus on me you mess of bones!' he is determined to get the axe wielders attention.
Another axe wielder just misses Shadow but hits home on Torthen. Ripping a shard of bone from its arm it tries to drive it between the dwarves’ shoulder blades. Fortunately the black iron runic plate mail absorbs a lot of the damage.
One of the other skeletons engages Shadow Dancer with a pristine greataxe which manages to open a wound on his shoulder and almost knock him to the ground. Shocked he notices the other two only have old rusted axes.
More healing words ring out between the fighting from Torrent to envelope Shadow.
Torthen turns on the skeleton trying to stab him to death and cracks him with a bolstering strike. Taking the time to shift back to give himself a clear shot at it.
Still staggering from the hit from the greataxe, Shadow glares at the Wight 'I’ll deal with you now!'. Dealing with the skeleton standing in his way, his sword almost rips through the old tarnished bronze mail with an avenging echo strike also ripping off a limb and some ribs in the process.
Boomer points his sword at the Wight, 'I’m fed up with you Wight!' He’s taken a lot of damage and has clearly had enough of it. Quickly he dashes round the king’s back to flank. Shadow sees this and shouts 'May the spirit of the feywild fight with you!' giving divine guidance. Boomer’s khopesh strikes across the Wight’s back gouging deep.
The Wight’s attention is on Sonea as he smacks Torrent out of the way with his hammer and gets a few footsteps towards the read robed magic caster before being teleported back by the Aegis of Ensnarement.
The skeleton with the bone shard manages to slice into Torthen again, angering the dwarf to the point of rage. 'Bloody coffin dodgers!'
Shadow is impressed the skeleton is still standing as it swings its greataxe again. With a smile the eladrin uses an illusion to create two of himself as the axe swings through the illusion and the other rips apart more of the skeleton. More bones and mail fall to the floor.
The last standing archer lets loose an arrow that snaps home through Torrents’ breastplate and into her shoulder. She forces out a harsh song of healing words for herself and casts tidal force on Torthen allowing him the speed to smite his foe, throwing the blasted form into the air.
In the corridor Sonea hears footsteps running quickly down the stairwell. Dara appears at a run, looking tired and alarmed, having been told by Aramil of the attack below.
'Sonea I’m glad to see you here!' Dara takes up a position beside her, readying her longbow.
The Tuathan Wight turns to attack Shadow Dancer but he is ready and darts out of the way of the blow.
Sonea tries a different tactic of throwing out empowering lightning on the Wight but it shoots off into the ceiling missing him.
Using the momentum of moving out of the way of the Wight, Shadow slams the skeleton with all his strength with his sword. As the greataxe hits the floor with the corpse, he uses his foot to slide the weapon to Torthen. Pointing his sword dead on the Wight he grits his teeth saying, 'I make you mine.'
Boomer marks the final archer, swinging to hit with a luring strike. An arrow flies loose, dropping Torrent unconscious and bleeding to the floor. The archer still stands.
Seeing Torrent drop, Shadows attention is compromised for a moment. The Doldovan king’s great hammer cracks into him as an arrow from Dara just misses its crown.
As Shadow lands at his feet, Torthen kneels to try laying on of hands but finds he cannot concentrate with the attacks going on around him and the eladrin shoving him out of the way as he struggles to his feet.
Determined, Sonea uses her wand of accuracy, enhanced by empowering lightning, to try and bring down the Wight but he swings out of the way to confront Shadow Dancer who is already running at him.
Boomer swings back again with luring strike at the archer once more, just missing him as he’s seen the Eladrin's position. He tries yelling at the Wight 'Come here!' Trying to divert its attention.
As the king turns slightly at the voice he misses the figure of Shadow Dancer flying at him.
Shadow growls and lets loose a symbol of faerie as he manages to strike the Wight with his sword.
Attention back on Shadow the Tuathan King’s mouth moves in what must have been a smile. Instead an echoing voice fills the room above the din of weapons clashing 'dhk lthi lenkc' (challenge me, you fool?).
Dara drops her longbow beside Sonea and draws her quarterstaff as she runs into the room casting fire seed at the Wight. It just misses and a fiery purple burst of flame explodes around his feet.
The remaining skeletons are in no shape to be hitting those they attack. Torthen hits the axe wielder with a bolstering strike scattering it across the floor and a bolt from Shadow Dancer’s hand crossbow finishes the final archer off.
Boomer swings his sword overhead and smacks the ground in front of the Wight. A pulse of force rips through the Tuathan King, splitting his skin to shreds. An inhuman cry screams from the sarcophagus and a blast of green light flashes the room, receding into a vanishing eerie glow.
Everyone pauses for a moment to take in what has just happened. Enemies gone, Dara uses her skills as a combat medic to bring Torrent round and stay the bleeding with some of her wounds. Soon she is conscious enough to murmur some healing words for herself.
It offends Boomers sensibilities to leave the dead in such an undignified state in the crypt. He gets to work moving the intact skeletons and what bones he can find to the coffins nearby.
The dwarf picks up the greataxe Shadow Dancer had slid him during the fight. On closer inspection he reckons it wouldn’t be all that useful to himself but may be to Aramil.
Fighting done, some of the others attention slips to what could be of value in the crypt. This offends some of the others in the party, including Boomer. He points out to the others that the banner of the Black Lion Rampant on a field of white with a surround of golden embroidery is actually a Tuathan Pennant of the Lost Tribe of the Black Lion- a magical item enchanted to aid against enemies.
'Long ago, before the Myceneans took over Gate Pass, Gate Pass was a small town held by the Black Lions of Doldova. The last chieftain at the time, a man called Culann, was so powerful a warrior he managed to defeat and seduce the goddess Nudd- a chaste goddess of skills at arms who dips her hair in the blood of defeated foes.
The legend goes that he bragged of this deed once too often. One night when he was holding a feast the doors to the broch were thrown open to admit the fiery tempered goddess herself; naked with her modesty only covered by her long red hair. She slew Culann there and then in his own hall as easily as a grown man would slay a child and pronounced a curse that the dead chieftain would never pass to the summer lands and that his house would fall within a year. It’s said that it was only a year to the day that Gate Pass fell to the Myceneans.'
Pointing a finger at the sarcophagus he continues. 'If you look towards the sepulchre the words engraved are a curse. The curse is this- "Here lies one cursed by Nudd, let his folly serve as a warning to all others.” '
Shadow Dancer shrugs and turns his attention to the lamp floating all by itself just below the ceiling. Throwing a rope up to haul it down does nothing, the rope just slips off. Torthen tries with a rope with a hook, a little luckier the hook catches on an oil ring and he pulls with all his strength but it doesn’t move anywhere either.
Boomer watches the attempts and wonders out loud who is good at climbing. Shadow Dancer looks taken aback when Boomer offers him a boost up. Jumping up Shadow manages to grab the lantern. It comes loose but stays in the air as he holds on. Gently he wills it to move down towards the floor and the lantern complies.
Loot safely underarm and Boomer’s history lesson still hanging in the air they decide not to explore anymore of the crypt. Considering the state of the ceiling it would be unwise to disturb anymore of the now unstable structure. Everyone returns upstairs to their quarters.
Shadow Dancer seeks out Aramil in the temple above to fill him in on what had been happening.
He allays his fears that it may have been an Imperial attack, instead explaining it was more of an attack from within, now resolved. Aramil decides to have some resistance members keep guard downstairs for a while till the crypt can be safely sealed and re-consecrated.
Downstairs the dwarf Torthen is surprising gentle for a thick fingered being and helps Torrent into bed to help her heal and rest. Forever the dutiful, Torrent tells Torthen that she will teach everyone the ritual of ‘Stand the Heat’ to help them when they get to the burning forest, but for now she must rest.
___________________oOo___________________
Dawn creeps over the mountains only lending illumination to the howling blizzard which has risen in the small hours of the New Year. It’s early morning and it seems safe that considering the conditions there will be no further attacks coming presently. Freezing, poorly armed and unsuitably clothed men huddle around braziers and fires on the ramparts of the walls. Because most of the resistance members are still defending the walls this leaves very few available to go out and gather intelligence on Shealis.
With all that has happened in the night and the weather conditions it is taken for granted that the Festival of Dreams is cancelled for this year. A pity as it's an event which normally brings the whole city together, temples and peoples, to travel along the main thoroughfare of Emelk way through the rooftops to Summer's Bluff where the grand square sits.
Torrent wakes and prepares herself for what she must do. She explains that she will try and detect the box magically but first she must find a wizard she knows to help. While away she will try and find some supplies she needs for ritual casting, including Residiuum, needed for when they finally leave Gate Pass. She also suggests that no-one does anything conspicuous before nightfall, explaining that there is a blizzard outside putting out any fires still burning from the attack, making further attacks unlikely for now and providing good cover for scouting as well as making it highly unlikely that the box will leave the city just now.
As she leaves Sonea announces she will travel to of Gabal’s School of War to find out what Shealis has been up to. Shadow Dancer, Aramil, Torthen and Boomer are keen to accompany her. Dara explains that the task doesn’t need them all to accompany Sonea and that she would do best to stay behind at the temple and treat the injured.
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As they arrive at the school they find that it is as Sonea said- an imposing collection of towers connected by covered bridges, surrounded by a moat and impressively high wooden fence. It does appear to be castle-like as the joke name goes. It sits imposingly in the middle of town, several of its towers in ruin from the attacks last night. Many red robed figures flit in between the flurries of snow. The high walls protect the courtyard from the blast of the blizzard.
Just inside the main gates they find a man leaning against one of the gateposts, he’s well built and appears to be in his late thirties. Blue smoke hangs in the air around him and his pipe glows bright and fierce when he inhales, his small paunch expanding to draw in the fragrant tobacco smoke.
Diogeanese smiles as they approach and greets Sonea. 'Welcome daughter. I did not see you last night. I had expected you to report here for defensive duty.'
Sonea nods and smiles in return. 'Dad.'
He quickly leads them into one of the ruined towers. They have to duck to walk under the lintel of the doorway since it has collapsed on one side. The furniture is a shamble and the room looks like it had the blizzard blow through it for good measure. Despite the mess the furniture is that of an influential mage.
After small talk Sonea and the others fill in the mage regarding the events and the role Shealis had in them. Boomer (another of the schools former students) butts in and is rapidly made to look like an idiot by an acid-tongued Diogeanese who does not appreciate interruption in while he talks to his daughter.
'Adahann, leave the conversation to adults and proper spell-casters, if you please.'
'Da!' Sonea looks shocked.
Her father cuts to the chase. 'I’m Knackered daughter. Gabal and I had to bring down that bloody red dragon all by ourselves last night and some bastard wyvern rider killed my gryphon. What do you want from me? I know you’re not here just for a cup of tea and to bitch about Gabals new piece of meat.'
Shadow Dancer excuses himself. 'Mind if I look around?'
'Sure but watch out for areas protected by red-robed wizards, the boys are a little security conscious right now.' Advises Diogeanese.
Boomer leaves with him, lifting some of the tension in the air.
Aramil and Torthen remain at a polite distance in the room.
Sonea asks for her father’s help in matters and also for some Residiuum if he can spare it.
'Take a few pinches from cookie jar.' He watches her. 'No! That was your mum’s urn, the other jar.'
Sonea bites her cheek in embarrassment.
Outside in the relative calm of the school Shadow Dancer wanders for a bit. His senses prickle under the gaze of someone unseen, he’s being watched but it’s someone other than the obvious men in red robes with glowing swords or glowing wands.
Boomer grows bored. 'What are we looking for?'
'I just want a look around.'
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The air in the temple is warm from the number of people crammed in, but melancholy- there are many wounded. The blue light glows dimly.
A half-orc female mournfully plays a flute as she sits beside the bed of an injured half-orc boy, possibly her son. Nearby a group of young human men sit (too young for fighting but too old to be children). They are eyeing up the female resentfully. Tension builds silently like an undercurrent to the music.
Priests continue with their duties but are beginning to look harassed.
Dara asks Buron what she can do to help. She has already been eyeing the situation. She suggests she could sing, 'If you must sing, sing something cheerful! That flautist is driving me insane!' Buron snaps uncharacteristically.
Dara observes the situation and takes the time to move towards the half-orcs, asking her if she knows anything else as Dara would like to sing.
'All my music burned down with my house!' Snaps the female. 'Besides I don’t feel like anything cheerful!'
Not to be put off Dara asks that if she began to sing could she find the thread and play along. She grumbles but it’s not an outright no.
Dara starts low and begins to weave a soothing melody in a beautiful language. The female begins to accompany Dara, noticing two of the guys glaring at her. As the music shifts from being so melancholy they stop glaring and soon their attention is elsewhere. The mood of the room lifts and eases.
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Shadow Dancer and Boomer continue to walk through the snow, careful to stay visible but out of the way of the red robes. They find three of the towers guarded- two very securely with the other lightly so, only Diogeanese’s is unguarded by any but him.
Shadow tries to slip away as he is beginning to find Boomer’s company tedious, the human has been very eager to share his knowledge of his old school. Slipping into a bush, Boomer continues to rabbit on about fountains and gardens totally unaware his companion is gone. Waiting till he is out of sight Shadow Dancer finally exhales and sighs. 'Thank the throne!'
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One of the temple’s side doors flies open as a dwarf runs in and heads straight for Buron. He is out of breath and looking very alarmed. Quick words are exchanged before they both come over to find Dara, who recognises the dwarf as one from the depositary tower. Buron fills her in. 'We have trouble. There is an Arcanis cell already in the city and they are planning to assassinate someone!'
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