Journal #10 - The Battle of the Bards

On our long journey down the coast, I trained with Ghiravont. We seemed to have bonded after our match. I taught him the ways of unleashing his emotions in battle, and he taught me of the spirits that fuel his magic. I learned much, and also kept an eye out for any wolf-ish behavior, ready to hold him down should it be required. If he were to turn in these confined quarters, it could be gruesome.
 
Nothing so untoward happened, luckily. The days passed calmly. The training and calm evenings were good for me, and I felt I was recovering from my ordeals in the Applewood. A day from Almstead Castle, the moon was large and low in the sky. Orlando approached me bearing a heavy package; he seemed vague and would say only that he had found it and it was addressed to me. He said it came with a message. It was from the mysterious Dwarven monk-craftsman who I had encountered with Ghiravont.
 
His message stated “When you are ready for your trials to begin, seek the dwarf out where the only flame burns in Vapriss [the continent of the Worldra Mountains].” This was very intriguing.
 
Contained in ordinary packaging of tattered straw and wood was an extraordinary pair of heavy stone and brass fingerless gauntlets. The craftsmanship was remarkable, nothing short of legendary. The Twin Drum Gauntlets almost trembled with kinetic energy. The tops of each gauntlet contained steel plates which ran down the arm, and reacted as cymbals. The back of each palm had a hollow pocket inlaid with an oak drum shell to amplify the impact of strikes, and potentially serve as a Bard’s arcane focus. One could almost play them like an instrument.
 
With the dawn, we sailed into Noswald Yard, with the capitol in the distance. It is busy, busier than any place I had ever seen, and busier than it itself had ever been, per the accounts of my companions.
 
A guide, known to my companions, led us up to a grand castle in carriages, though we had to wait for more to carry our entire company. He liked my hat. It is quite a city we moved through, an outpost of Nothric, the castle, many fortifications and military training areas. We were in the Tower of Proper within the Bastion of Hope and Finance, whose leader was a councilman and treasurer of the city, a member of the banking clan. In the distance, we see the living neighborhoods for the upper class of Noswald, it could contain the entirety of Tamalir six times over.
 
Some servants were tasked with scrubbing the stink off of us, and I had to protect them and Lug himself, when he changed himself into a crocodile in some sick joke. I worry he wasn’t right in the head, and would come to have that fear perhaps proven. He was kind of cute when he was scrubbed with brushes on his scales though.
 
We set about planning our route, and then we dined with some important councilman. Kellas Orval; he expressed regret at a lack of an heir, but said ending the empire and instilling democracy in Noswald would be his legacy instead. The state of the empire was discussed at length.
 
We decide to explore town a little bit; Ghiravont and Domino went to the royal library, but I asked Tybeerian if he wanted to find a lively inn out on the town, and so we left. I heard on the street that Crown Hall had the best music in town. As we arrived, I saw it was quite large, with a three story bar in a circular tavern arrangement. It was entirely underground, and dwarven owned.
 
Arlo was trying to tag along, and a bouncer stopped him. While I convinced them to let him in, he took matters into his own hands all too soon, and disguised himself magically as Tybeerian, and proceeded to get himself plastered.
 
I joined a group of performers, with me we numbered 10, and had a little playoff. I tested out these new gauntlets in a percussion setup. One of their number was quite skilled, and we dueled. He was a fur-coated handsome half-elf playing a lute which shot fireworks, Firefly was his name. He played slow and romantic, “a tale of the thunder drake that carved out The Bay.” I played fast and furious, and the crowd loved it. I told of wrestling Ghiravont with illusory copies of myself in the ring of fire. After I soundly beat him, we encored together to thunderous applause. Firefly suggested we could tour together, as he plays his way through the empire.
 
I heard from Firefly that the best instruments around were used by the Mantic Orchestra in the Inner Ring, but they aren’t made here in Almstead. I would have to search for them elsewhere. I also gleaned some information about Commandant Posh, an orc who we were to meet early the next morning, Hand of the Emperor. Rumor had it he was born on the Golden Coast in the Noswald Guard, but that is not true. He was most likely enslaved to Noswlad from elsewhere, and gained favor with his owner to earn his freedom. His mannerisms were indistinguishable from Noswaldian high society.
 
Firefly asked me to continue our performance elsewhere, with some “hot elves in a late night spot” (after he ridiculed my friends). I decided to go with the flow, and see where the night took me. It took me where most things do in the end; after leaving that next place with a lady on my arm, I wound up scandalizing the locals with our drunken toons, and I wound up in a fighting pit for besmirching someone's honor. I was offered coin to throw my match for gambling purposes, but I am no loser. I fought, and won two matches, but lost the third. I took a hundred silver with me, and stumbled my way back to the keep.
 
At some point in the night, Ghiravont had caught up with us, and spent the rest of the night with Tybeerian, Hanz (the captain of the guard, and an old friend of theirs apparently), Orlando, and Arlo. Or so they say. When I awoke, Arlo was nowhere to be seen and the others were counting piles of silver trying to piece together how they’d earned it. Someone said Arlo had slipped out earlier in the morning, and Red had went after him. I was impressed the lad was able to walk still. We had no time to find him, our meeting with the Hand was imminent, and we were a mess. Tybeerian went after him anyway, feeling responsible. I cleaned myself up magically, and we met the ladies who had spent the night in other quarters, who were quite presentable. Posh was there on the ramparts, with two guards, and a few others - Orval, Captain Quendelin clad in whites, blacks, and gold; and a woman with a circlet in her regal hair, middle aged with a cane, stoically demeanored. Her name was Madam Farosia, from a long line of Noswaldian nobility.
 
It was a very disturbing morning. Posh took us to a secure tower with only one entrance, and revealed a specially built prison to house victims off a strange plague, or dark magics. Two dwarves, like zombies, devouring an animal carcass. One was Captain Gourt, and the other was Dolan, a cousin of Tybeerian’s. A purple vine grows over the walls with tiny buds. The flowering plant was from Kurama Swamp, which has infected the outer rings’ water supply; it infected, changed, and then killed these dwarves. Their stomachs are missing. Then something returned them to a false-life. I thought Lug would be a good source of knowledge on this, but none of us had seen him since we left to explore the night before.
 
Posh spoke in a charming manner, but I was distracted. He tried to convince us to go to war with the east against this plague I think. I trusted Ghiravont to choose what is right, I don’t know these people well. There seems to be something involving Lycanthropy, I think Ghiravont’s infection is involved.
 
Ghiravont gave them a vial of our troll antitoxin, and vials of his own blood. Posh suggested we keep this secret from Tybeerian (his kin being imprisoned), and we have to go help him with his people but will return to assist later. Posh agreed to give us transport to Gyjiro; we would resolve our mission in the south prior to assisting here.
 
We noticed as we were leaving, that Lug, Red, Arlo, and Tybeerian were all still unaccounted for. While Ghiravont did his Lycanthropic treatment, the rest of us went after Tybeerian, who was presumably on the trail of Arlo and Red. We learned that Arlo had actually been kidnapped along with Red; Tybeerian got us word. In his own pursuit, Tybeerian was also held. We followed the trail, and saw a pair of deep elves and a dwarf.
 
There was apparently some dangerous political power struggles within the Quikhand clan. Tybeerian had been caught up in it; Arlo and Red were captured as leverage against him. We found him when we saw smoke in the distance, a giant explosion. He was trapped under the rubble, surviving only because of his Liondrake Feather. Arlo was kept elsewhere, but magically leveraged to snare Tybeerian here. We did our best to extract him alive.