|
Finding a nearby inn, they secured breakfast from its' sleepy-eyed landlord, and brought it back to the Debtors' tower. As they ate, Hansen the Bard scribbled furiously, noting down anything and everything they had to say about the night's endeavours. Sack gave the minstrel his enchanted cooking knives, while making it abundantly clear that a) they were strictly on loan, and b) Hansen would be expected to do the majority of the cooking while he was with them. Seeing this as further guarantee of being allowed to chronicle the travellers' deeds, Hansen was only too glad to agree. Towards five am, the first of the Day Watch turned up for work, among them the grizzled sergeant they'd watched lock up the previous evening. Leaning against the slumped doorframe, the adventurers had a clear view of the moment when the sight registered for the approaching guards; their tower, grotesquely altered, roofless, windows silted up with solid stone, the door hanging off, a thin dribble of smoke seeping out across the top of the doorway, and four disreputable individuals lounging around the entrance waiting for them. He stopped dead, staring, and finally asked the group what had happened. Without explicitly admitting to personal involvement, they told him that the Night Watch were no more, and pressed him as to how he could bear such an arrangement. He defended himself stoutly, pointing at the Watch crest moulded into his breastplate, and saying that he was employed by the Castle (they were to find that the word, Castle, with audible capital letter and a directional nod of the head, was universal shorthand for Vane and his authorities), to keep order in the city by day; he and his men did this, they did a good job, and then they went home. End of involvement. "But you do know they're - were - vampires?" insisted Surya. The Sergeant blenched, glancing around and making hushing gestures. "Nobody talks about that!" he hissed low. "People who talk about things like that too much don't wake up in the morning!" He pressed for details in his turn. "Are you trying to say that you," he glanced around the group, "have slain everyone in there?" he hooked a thumb back into the dark tower. "Yes, they're all dead.. well, deader," responded the heroes, rather pleased with themselves. The Sergeant shook his head. "My advice to you is to leave," he said earnestly, "leave the city before the sun goes down. You've touched the tip of a claw, and wakened a huge, angry beast." "You mean there are more?" The Sergeant nodded. "Where do they sleep?" asked several voices at once. The Sergeant flinched again; "I don't know!" he snapped, "No-one asks questions like that." "Are you arresting us?" asked Hildraft dryly. The Sergeant looked shrewdly at their worn armour, clearly magical weapons, many scars, and shook his head. "I wouldn't waste my men, unless I was ordered. I should; you've murdered officers of the Governer in the course of their duty." He sighed; "Go. Just go away, and leave me to my tower; I see I have a lot of clearing up to do." Leaving him to it, they wandered through the streets, and found themselves at the southernmost of the three towers left stranded in the middle of the city when its' walls expanded outwards in the 450s. This tower was part ruined, abandoned, with a stub of wall crumbling down from it to the street they stood in. The heroes looked at each other. This place had potential. A secure base in Reital, and a massive thumbed nose to Vane the Mace, and - with luck - a chance for Hildraft to establish a temple of Kord. Hansen was despatched into the city to procure workmen, food, furniture and other neccessities. Hildraft set to work with Stone Shapes, moulding the stone of the ruined wall into replacements for the missing pieces of the tower itself. Largely, he followed the design of Debtors' Tower, although he didn't bother with windows at this point, and made a solid roof. Again, he shaped the stone to seal the walls, right down to the cellars. While this was happening, Sack and Surya explored the cellars. The first level down was coated with vile slime; all that remained of the food stores that had been left there. The bottom level, though, was absolutely clean - no dust, not bits of rubble on the floor, nothing - and had dozens of rat-holes in the walls. Hildraft made sure these were blocked; he planned his temple to be located here. Once the upper cellar was cleared, Sack arranged that for Billy's den. They replaced the door, added some furniture, and stashed some of Sack's patent vampire-napalm bombs in handy places. Finally, Hildraft wove Warding magic over the whole tower to protect it against vampire assault. Enquiries had revealed that the last of the three towers, up near the Plains Gate, was the home of the city's Mageguild, and the companions set off for there before the day ended, intending to get some of their recent loot identified. As they walked through the streets, Sack became aware that they were being followed, and not in a familiar way. Hovering 30' above them and 50' behind was some sort of round ball, very quick-moving, ducking and dodging around the upper storeys of the buildings, tracking them carefully as they went. He waited until they rounded a corner, then suddenly ducked into a dark alley; to his companions, he seemed simply to vanish. Swiftly stringing his bow, he watched as the ball zipped around the corner and back onto the track of the dwarf and the Tellaran. Before it could have time to register that he himself wasn't there any more, he drew and loosed. Asildur's bow sang, and a three-foot arrow slammed into ball the size of an orange and released an electrical blast that could (and had) kill a Fae Mhor witch. Instantly, the ball dropped, straight down, burning horribly, and landed dead with a splat! to lie smoking in the street. Sack picked it up cautiously by the arrow and carried on. The Mageguild tower was physically very similar to the other two, but painted a pure white colour, and so painfully clean that it seemed to glow. Not a speck of dust or dirt tarnished its' splendid exterior. The door was open, so they wandered in. Inside, rather than a counter like the Guild in Narthal, they found a spacious salon, fitted out with large, comfortable armchairs and low, handy tables. Everything was made of gold, silver or other precious metals, and glittered and gleamed. Niches and shelves held small jewelled ornaments, and Surya saw Sack's hands twitch. Sitting in one of the chairs was a wizard, well-dressed in splendid robes and with an open, friendly face. He stood to greet the group, and invited them to make themselves at home. Surya glaread around at the luxurious furnishings. Something didn't ring true... he concentrated and squinted. Just for a moment, everything shimmered, and he was sitting in a plain stone chamber, board-floored, in a plain wood chair, talking to a rather chubby mage in slightly worn mouse-coloured robes. It was an enormous effort, and as soon as he relaxed, the magnificent surroundings of what he now knew was an illusion sprang up around him once more. Carefully, they enquired of the Guild's relationship with the Castle. Readily enough, the Guild Mage admitted that the Guild was careful to make itself useful to the Castle, on a business basis, and not to cause trouble or rock the boat. Explaining that they wanted some enchantments identified, the group bargained for a price, both for the simple stuff and for extra divination required to investigate more powerful items. The Guild Mage rattled through most of the items in quick order (click here for a list!). Then he moved on to the bigger stuff. Sack handed him the sceptre that Gozan had so wanted retrieved from Vorsand, along with the 1,000gp the wizard had asked for deeper investigation. A straightforward Identify had already revealed it to be the Sceptre of the Dragon Lords; now more powerful magic was brought to bear. The wizard gestured, and the energies of the spell washed visibly around the sceptre - and then, suddenly, died away and vanished. Before anyone else could react, the Guild Mage pushed the bag of gold and the sceptre back across the table. "I'm sorry," he said, "this item is beyond my powers. My advice - for which I do not charge - is that you be very careful with it. " Next Surya asked him to look at his armour, divesting a couple of pieces for him to examine. The mage worked his divination again, more successfully this time, and correctly discerned that the armour was a product of Elverandil's forge, and that something powerful had modified it since its' manufacture. He also told the warrior that the armour had some sort of spirit bound within it. "A demon?" asked Hildraft. "Could be. Could be." replied the mage, "but it won't talk to me. The spells I've cast here should allow me to communicate with it, but it appears not to want to do so. Again, I'd advise you to be most careful with this, especially if it starts talking to you." Surya strapped back the pieces he'd removed. "Is there no way to force it to speak?" he asked. "Oh, yes," said the Guild Mage, "I could unbind it, which would destroy the armour and unleash ... whatever it is ... amongst us here whether we could control it or not. I will not do that." Surya didn't argue. Lastly, Surya drew Tormentor, intending to ask the Guild Mage to look at that. Both the mage and Hildraft backed away, affected by the miasma of dread that the weapon shed. The mage's hand flickered, casting a spell without obvious effects, and in a shaking voice he asked, "Where did you get that? Unless I miss my guess, Fae Mhor make, and very very old." "We got it from a Dragon's hoard," said Hildraft proudly. "The Dragon's, in fact. We're the Dragonslayers." The mage paled. "You're telling the truth," he stammered as if that was the worst thing in the world. Surya sheathed the sword with a click. "I'm the last pure-blood Tellaran," he explained, "I'm back." A look of fear gradually overwhelmed all the other expressions on the Guild Mage's face. "Well, if you want to keep your pure blood inside you, my advice is that you leave this city," he answered. "You're a danger to all around you, and I must ask you to leave, please, now." Not without courtesy, but in obvious fear, he bustled them out of the tower, bade them farewell, and closed the door. Standing outside, they glanced at each other, rather surprised. Then Sack cursed. He'd completely forgotten to ask the Guild Mage about the still slightly smoking sphere he'd downed. Standing outside, he hammered on the door until finally a window opened high up. "What now?" came the mage's voice. Sack hurled the ball, arrow and all, through the window, and Hildraft called up for him, "what's that then?" There was a pause. "It's a roasted eyeball on a stick," came the answer. "Who sent it? You got any enemies?" The eyeball came back out of the window to fall at Sack's feet, and the window shut with a slam!, ending the conversation. Sack tried to stick the arrow in the door, but the dweomer on the tower defeated his efforts and it fell off again. Enough was enough; they left. For their last stop, they returned to the Dark Blade for their horses. The innkeeper seemed rather surprised to see them back, and also rather glad. It appeared that it was a standard assumption that anyone going out after curfew wouldn't be coming back, and that Ariella and her two followers had indeed failed to return. Their own return, therefore, revived his hopes of getting the bill paid. Finally, they returned to their new tower, and barred the door. Hildraft activated his Wards, and Sack set some Alarm spells from his Ranger's repertoire. Hansen was then given the dinner to cook, a large cheerful fire was set, and they settled in to spend the night. Not, however, without setting a watch. As expected, at midnight, the temperature suddenly started to drop. A sound of whistling, moaning wind grew up outside the tower, though it was a clear, still, warm summer night. This grew until a howling gyre of wind surrounded the tower, and then the voices started. Whispering, calling, taunting, voices on the wind. Voices of the Undead. |