Session 18: Dagmeron Report

The party decided to join Wilke Thealing on his warpath north to liberate Dagmar's Finger from the regime of his father and the fury of the ancestors it had invoked. Along the way they learned more about the Thealing family, such as Wilke's rebellion and the vicious campaign of assassination Wimark had launched to silence dissent. The response of the party was the mix of appalled disbelief, anger, and quiet indifference, depending on the person. Garo pointed out that along his travels he had seen tyranny in many forms. The merchant kings of Nevan were oft to hire people just like himself to crush nascent rebellions and send opponents into the embrace of Ácolitus. Flynt let the stories crush themselves upon his armor and crumble as he gave a shrug. "We've been traveling through Vestidia for months. Why should a story such as this be a surprise? People being killed off by rivals seems to be a matter of course." Wilke looked to Flynt with weary eyes, "Vestidia was nothing like this before the war, you know. Good deeds and a mind for honor were valued before any chest of gold. Now everything has changed for the worse, and I fear the old ways may never return". Over the course of the next two days, the party arrived on the outskirts of Dagmeron, the seat of Dagmar's Finger.

The city of Dagmeron was set upon a cliff, and clung to it with great stone limbs. An ancient stone wall of dark Vestidian stone lined the cliff side, meshing with the white chalk of the natural face below. Along the wall, every 20 or 30 feet, stood towers that perched themselves like crows, staring down into the city with narrow, sagging eyes by which archers could fire on unruly dissenters. The town held within the stones was crafted of thick timber houses. They were squat, one story affairs that bulged out along the walls, unless held firm by a stone casing, and sagging on the center of the roof. The better dwellings of the city towered over their one story neighbors, reaching twice the height and built of stone. Corgastorians and Etalians, Brorgal and Elivasi, and even the hated Astorians to the north may view such achievements with condescending scorn, but for such structures to exist in Vestidia at all after the war against Typhon is a feat in itself. Such faint calls to the world before are testament to the stakes set before Wimark in his fateful decision to parley with Typhon at all.

Below the city walls itself, inlaid the chalk cliffs, was what locals called the Undercity. It wasn't an area of great beauty like may be found elsewhere in Qadal, but it was an impressive feat of architecture, comparable to the great waterworks of Dorithin the party had seen in that city. Wilke explained to the party that it was a new construction, no older than five years, yet it had blossomed into a full city. It was built shortly after the war to house the large numbers of refugees flooding into Dagmar's Finger. Tunnels were carved into the chalk that led to the bare face of the cliff, dropping 60 or 70 feet to the ocean below. From these tunnels, large lengths of timber, 20 feet long in most places, were fastened into the cliff face with chiseled indents. These were places around the full distance of the cliff. Once those were in place, thick planks were laid across the distance to create a smooth surface across that wide area. It was quickly occupied by the refugees, eager to escape the miserable conditions of the makeshift camps outside of Dagmaron. They carved their homes into the cliff face to protect them from the vicious eastward winds, and within a few years built a thriving sub community. The party arrived to find it bustling like the city above it, people pressing to move without tumbling into the sea.

"What is that gaudy eye sore?" Laughed Edwyn, looking to the great tower that stood at the pinnacle of the cliff, overlooking the sea from its imposing position. "If memory serves right, that is the Tower of Dagmar, the building around which the rest of the city is built. It is odd though, since from I remember it didn't look anything like that..." The structure was an ode to opulence, gleaming in the sunlight and casting a dark shadow over the town below. It's surface was built of white marble with silver lined between the blocks. Down the length of the tower were pulses of intense gold, formed like forest vines that clasp around the trunk of a tree. Caught in the array of gold were windows, wide and tall, with glass tinted a light red. On the other side were great braziers hung before the glass, so that at all hours light bursts forth from the tower. At the top of the tower stood a small gathering of figures, who couldn't be identified with any accuracy. They all stood along the battlements and peered off toward the ocean, perhaps enthralled with the beauty of the Zolrassus, or just wanting a better view than the shabby city.

Outside of this place, Wilke, the party, and the 500 men of the prince's retinue gathered. They made camp just beyond the low hills, whether the land was calm before sloping upward to the high walls of the city. After setting up camp, they allowed the remainder of the day to pass in peace. The previous days had been turbulent at best, and entirely deadly at worst. When the night came, the party gathered with Wilke to formulate a plan. Before them were two basic methods of approach. They could attack the city with Wilke's troops and attempt to overwhelm the defenses with sheer force before the guard could organize. It was the fastest option, but obviously the most risky. If they failed to make good on their surprise, they could be locked out of the city entirely, and a siege was not an option. The winds that wore through at night were too strong for troops to remain exposed. Marcarius first, followed by Edwyn, and then others gradually shifted away from the idea. "Wimark doesn't have a clue we're here. Why waste that? It's probably the only advantage we have, in any case. Believe me, as one who deals in surprises, I could tell you in a hundred ways why it's folly to waste one. If we attack now, we'll be risking our cause on a single ill planned assault" Marcarius told them. The words were wise enough, and the walls were strong enough to reinforce his point. The question then was what style of subterfuge would serve them best? Francis and Flynt spoke against attempting an assassination or other silent plan. Only Marcarius could easily pull that off, and if he failed then all would be lost. As they debated, Garo spoke up, "You know, for all this talk it seems you have all missed the most simple solution. What is stopping us from just walking into the city as travelers? Refugees are pouring into this place by the day. Would a few more really cause much alarm"? Taken aback, the party talked about the idea. They decided that it was the one way to get everyone inside at once, barring a fight.

The next morning, the party prepared to move into the city. Kromlin and Edwyn decided to stay back with Roy, who was still recovering, rather than tag along. Wilke removed his scale armor, tabard, and other means of identification in favor of linen robes draped over his chainmail. It had been five or more years, but even the most dull of Dagmeron's beggars could recognize the prince. The rest of the group, consisting of Flynt, Marcarius, Francis, Garo, and Yanis prepared to make their way to the sloping rise of the road. As a final precaution, Wilke told his men to be on alert for any signal, being flames, flags, or otherwise, to come to the city and support them. It was time for them to depart.

They party descended from the low hilltop position and met with the road below. In a tight group they walked past the scant groups of travelers passing down the road, and the many more refugees moving up the road toward the city. The best they could do was attempt to mingle among the crowd and slip inside, past the notice of the guards. As they got closer, they could see a few soldiers lined across the road into the city, wearing tabards of gold with a red, bisected, and open hand emblazoned on it. They were doing what they could to screen the incoming people, rejecting those who had nothing to their name and accepting the small number of people who could contribute to society. Wimark had drawn a hard line on these fleeing refugees, as even the Undercity he had built for them was crowded past capacity. The party stepped up to these guards, who eyed them with suspicion. "Business in Dagmeron?" the guard asked in a lazy monotone without bothering to look up. There was silence as the party looked to Wilke, and Wilke looked to the party, put a hand over his mouth, then tucked himself under the hood of his robe. That wasn't part of the plan. Chaos reigned for a few moments as the party silently stared to each other and the guard. Finally, Marcarius spoke up and said that they were traders with business to discuss with a contact in the city. The rest of the group quickly nodded in agreement, no one more so than Wilke. The guard was still suspicious, however, and he pressed the party for a more specific answer. Flynt responded with his cold, stony glare, and the guard couldn't find it in himself to deny them.

Without further hindrance from authorities, the party slipped into Dagmeron. At that point they decided to split up into smaller groups and scour the city. Marcarius left with Yanis, Garo went off on his own to explore the city, Francis went to search for a library, and Flynt stayed with Wilke near the main gate. They chose a two story stone building near the gates to meet up that night, when Marcarius had time to properly scout the town. For the next few hours the group navigated the city of Dagmar, all on their own missions with the greater goal at hand.

Francis visits a squat, creaky floored building near the Pearl Tower that was the "library" of Dagmar's Finger. He spoke with another Astorian there, a young man who was hired by Wimark to organize the city's collection of tomes and scrolls. He told Francis about the nature of demons and other malign things, as well as where they might be found in Qadal. They spoke at length, but finally Francis left the young man to his work. The racks of ragged script suggested it would be months of work.

Marcarius and Yanis moved to the Undercity, where they believed their chances were best to find a route into the Pearl Tower. Descending through the chalk tunnels, they arrived at an iron gate blocking a side passage. They poked at the lock, found it to be rusted and shut tightly, so they passed along without further not. Emerging out onto the dark wood walkway, the pair of them could see the Sea of Zolrassus calling out in the far distance, extending outward beyond sight or comprehension. Somewhere out there lay Voryndal, and the land of Ebal'eshan. The bustling world around them drew back their attention from that sparkling sea. People were traveling up and down the way with practiced caution, stepping aside in orderly fashion to allow crates, animals, and other residents to pass without tumbling into the ocean.

Yanis bumps into a man, spilling his flour on the walkway. The man gets angry with him, and Yanis attempts to explain it was an accident. He leans down, grabs a handful of flour, and holds it out to show that the product is still usable, only to have the barrel roll to the edge of the way before plummeting into the bay below. They eventually worked out a deal where Yanis would bring back bread from the city's granary in exchange for the flour that was lost. Food was scarce in the city. The need to import food from abroad mixed with the refugees surplus made feeding people a constant dilemma. A lost barrel of flour in Dagmeron was worth much more than a barrel of flour anywhere else. After that, they continue onward along the walkway.

After speaking with the young librarian, Francis as well moved to the Undercity, as it was the most unique part of the city barring the Pearl Tower. He descended through the chalk tunnels and emerged out in the light of the sea, blasted with the smell of brine and sweat that dominated every inch of this place. He moved up along the walkway, heading to the pinnacle of the cliff above which sat the Pearl Tower of Wimark. If there was a way up from the undercity, it would be best placed there, so Francis thought.