Chapter 7: Scouting the Spire
Encounters:
The Cannibal Bandits:
*BAD LUTE NOISES*
"Oi! We gots all this new meat. No need, Farkhar. We'll stay another week. See what else we can dig up or drag of the fool's backs!"
"We 'avent been back to fence this shit in two bloody months, idiot! 'Ow long do you plan on keepin' us 'ere? - DAEGWYN CUT THAT FUCKEN RACKET - you don't know what the fuck your bloody doing!"
"My godsdamn lute, Farkhar. And it's my bloody crew, and this is MY BLOODY SWAMP. We've got all we need here. We leave when I say so. If we do. The dead give to life, Farkhar."
"Daeg-"
"THE DEAD GIVE TO LIFE."
----
The players root out the bandits, acquiring their lost treasure, as well as a sphere of blue crystal laced through with silver, and a small spherical orichalcum astrolabe covered in runes.
Following: They meet the Great Bruceini, travel to ruined Trent, and have an encounter in the Brynwynn meadery. they manage to save everyone from a small family of survivors from Larrwyn. (one is a master Farmer, and the ex-husband of Gaelan).
Bruecini relates this nursery rhyme he heard amongst the elves:
The Gardener has come to tend
The trees of bone and blood
The wet-nurse to the roots would lend
The teeming brood she loved
The Widow waits in branch’s bend
And plucks the apples bright
The Lady sits upon the crown
And curses at the night
The Gardener has come to town
And plants the gleaming seed
The Gardener has come around
And all the world shall bleed
The party fights the Brood Nurse at the base of the tree- her parasitic spawn infest the roots. They are victorious after a lengthy battle.
If the players rest nearby:
The veil is torn, here, so dreams spill out and time and space have little meaning. Dreams include:
*Elahad at a desk in a castle chamber. A red circle is drawn on the ground, and he's speaking to an image of Clem, who looks otherworldly and unnaturally radiant.
"You're a fool, Iefan. You have your fucking stones, now. Well, the ones I gave you, at least. You will not short me on this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to come by that many shards?"
"Spare me your grievances! I'll not have demands made of me from a half-person."
She snorts. "Hah! Funny, coming from you. You lost yourself long ago- and by more than "half", as you say. You have no idea what your doing, Iefan. I know what its like to bargain with things beyond kenning, and you've gone and put yourself all-in. You're a puppet, Ela-"
"EVERYTHING I've done, I've done for MY PEOPLE, halfling. Something you and your degenerate kind could never understand!"
"HAHAH! For your PEOPLE?! Iefan, you've done nothing save in service to yourself and your own ambitions. You're literally feeding your people to demons. You can't possibly believe you've got any kind of moral high ground, here."
"I do not relish what must be done. It was a necessary sacrifice. Palthear will be mighty once again. I.... I do not have to explain myself to you, rat! Your platinum will be on it's way to you shortly. Now begone."
"Ah-ah, not so fast, manling. My favor?"
"My men are searching for her even now."
"That's a good boy. Pray that they find her before I do. I'd hate to have you indebted to more powers you don't understand. "(she looks at the viewer, and winks, smiling.)
*A creature, their head wrapped entirely in cloth inscribed with runes. They do not breathe, but move through a dark and dense city, full of docks and canals, with unnatural and familiar grace, two chained daggers at their hips. . A moment later, they are gone. Behind where they came from lies a massacre of guards and civilians.
*The face of a beautiful being, her skin made of moonlight, with many arms and many forms. She is flanked by a similar being made of stars, and one of darkest night. "rememberance is creation" she says. "remember, then, and create anew."
*An extravagant and massive chamber, with an extravagant and massive throne. Upon it sits a man in flowing robes of gold and emerald. He is young and beautiful, clean shaven, with long hair tied up in to a massive headdress- but he is pale and sallow. The chamber smells of death.
An attendant comes up to him in the chamber, shaking and nervous. He kowtows deeply before him. He shakingly speaks what seems like a very formal report. The man on the throne does not move even a little. The shaking servant finishes his report in a language you do not know. He kowtows again, now weeping silently.
The man on the throne finally sits up. His eyes fall on the servant, and he half-heartedly waves a hand.
The servant explodes in to a mess of blood and viscera. After seeming to regard the gore before him, considering for a time, he speaks a word over his shoulder. Out of the shadows, a being appears, her head wrapped in white cloths covered in calligraphy. The emperor speaks a few words, she bows, and is gone again.
*In stark white stone walls, a man with grey hair and beard walks purposefully. He wears a plain but very fine doublet, but a crown adorns his head. A small man with a wicked scar over his lip walks beside him, wearing an equally simple outfit of near-black burgundy.
"My liege, you cannot go to Palthear. We don't yet know who the players are here, let alone what the play is."
"Last I checked," says the king, regarding the smaller man with kind eyes "I can do whatever I fucking well want."
"Odie, please." the small man stands in front of the king "as your friend. Listen to me. Please. Wait until we know what's happening. For all we know, this may be a plot to get you involved. Or even to kill you."
"Better me than her."
"Damnit, Odie! You're smarter than this. Think! I have my man with her unit. He's trying to assess the situation, figure out what's really going on. The Dwarven lady who invoked the Rite of Stone did so out of necessity, and she and her companions saved the populace of two towns in doing so. We just don't know why the barony is acting in the way it is. Please wait until I have word- and please, at the very least, wait until we can get at least some word from King Cledwyn. Or even the Duchess. Just.... I know your worried. I am too. But she's safe, for now, with the Dwarfhold. This is a powderkeg, and you, my dear king, are a godsdamned walking bonfire."
The King sighs. "Alright, Nechten. I hear you. But I need to make sure the godsdamned confederation isn't imploding. I need to show up."
"Odi-"
"You have ten days, Nechten."
The smaller man sighs, deflates slightly, realizing he's gotten as much as he could out of the stubborn old bastard.
"My liege" he says, somewhat ironically, with a flourishing bow.
"Oh, piss off, Nick."
Parent Plot
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