He also kept a watch out for evidence of Zahiransplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigZahira
by Diane Hutton and the DM
The Common View
Zahira is seen as a dangerous cult that welcomes the Zioth and embraces death. It is led by mysterious druid-like entities known as “True Zahirans.” There is quite a bit of legend surrounding these druids, such as their ability to appear out of nowhere, or the fact that they all look alike. in Huerten. This was a reasonably large city, so there were almost definitely two or three of them here, posing as Andrithansplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigAndrithanism
Based on original ideas from Karl Schinke (Ardith). Symbols for aspects other than the Mother, along with the artwork, were contributed by Myron Wyles (Halaren).
Andrithanism and its variants are the dominant religion in Rang and the surrounding kingdoms. Within the boundaries of for safety. A Zahiranplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigZahira
by Diane Hutton and the DM
The Common View
Zahira is seen as a dangerous cult that welcomes the Zioth and embraces death. It is led by mysterious druid-like entities known as “True Zahirans.” There is quite a bit of legend surrounding these druids, such as their ability to appear out of nowhere, or the fact that they all look alike., any Zahiranplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigZahira
by Diane Hutton and the DM
The Common View
Zahira is seen as a dangerous cult that welcomes the Zioth and embraces death. It is led by mysterious druid-like entities known as “True Zahirans.” There is quite a bit of legend surrounding these druids, such as their ability to appear out of nowhere, or the fact that they all look alike., could be trusted to help him more than the innumerable Andrithansplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigAndrithanism
Based on original ideas from Karl Schinke (Ardith). Symbols for aspects other than the Mother, along with the artwork, were contributed by Myron Wyles (Halaren).
Andrithanism and its variants are the dominant religion in Rang and the surrounding kingdoms. Within the boundaries of around him.
The first part of Kreemon's plan involved a smithy, and that he soon found. It took a minute or so for the blacksmith to notice him over the noise of his own hammering. When he finally looked up, Kreemon offered him a few golden attles for a moment at the forge to heat up his knife, and a clean place to work for a few minutes. Whether the blacksmith suspected Kreemon's motives or not, the glitter of gold was enough to keep him from asking questions.
The cleanest place in the smithy was a wooden table which blackened Kreemon's fingertips when he touched its surface. Nevertheless, he rested the scroll on the table and slipped open the seal with his heated knife. Although the seal curled a bit, and some wax remained on the letter, it came off reasonably intact.
He unrolled the scroll and read it:
Baron Ferne Huerten, wise ruler of the lands and people of Huerten, As you no doubt know, I have successfully united the southern towns of your barony, commonly known as the Circle of Five. These include Grenzig and Dmerzig, which have for so many years remained independent of any feudal lord. I offer you now an opportunity to change that. This spring, in the third week of Aed, the one thousand second year of the Zioth, I plan to arrive personally in your great city to discuss terms of tribute and taxation. There is no doubt that my activities in the south will be a boon to the baronial treasury. If you decide, as is your right, that we must meet sooner than Aed of next year, or that, when we do meet, that it must be under unfavorable circumstances, bear in mind that three hundred knights can do little more than murder and massacre, while ten thousand loyalists can change the course of history. I will bear no responsibility for what my people may do in their fervor, should an army arrive at their gates. I send with this message four able adventurers, whom I have deputized to answer any questions you may have. These are Sahlman el Musafir, an able warrior from the southern desert, Ardith, a revered priestess of Andritha, Kay Wanderwit, a master archer and fletcher from a land where women engage in such pursuits, and Ziedon, their sage and advisor. If you do not trust my intentions, you may hold these four as a token of my good will until we meet in the spring. May there forever be peace in the great realm of Huerten. Your humble servant, Balban
The seal was much more difficult to reapply than it had been to remove. Kreemon tried several times to flatten the wax and melt it to the parchment, but each time, it lifted off and would not stick. By the time he managed to attach it, his tampering was obvious. Assuming he'd be able to think up a cover later, he sliced his sword through both seal and scroll. Then he kicked the scroll around on the soot-covered floor, and made a small cut on his arm to splatter a bit of blood. Satisfied with his work, he took the scroll in hand and left the smithy. The smith may have been curious about the damaged parchment, but he showed no sign.
Lost in thought, Kreemon wandered the streets, letting his feet take him where they would. “It is a threat,” he thought, “well-written and flowery, but nonetheless a threat. This Balban wants his own fiefdom, to carve it from the Baron's own lands. He also gives up the bearers of the scroll. Definitely not a good thing…” Kreemon continued to formulate a plan and a cover story as he wandered through the streets.
Finally deciding on a course of action, Kreemon wiped his hands, clothing and boots of any soot that would tie him to the scroll, and turned back towards the baron's keep. By this point, he was near the edge of town, in one of the poorer neighborhoods, where houses were packed so close together that they nearly touched, and the alleys between them were rank with discarded garbage. On his way out, a particular house caught his eye. It was nothing spectacular – nearly identical to the houses on either side – but, a few inches from the upper right corner of the door was an interesting scratch. When he examined it in detail, he knew why it had caught his eye. It was a rough circle, divided in half with one side recessed into the wood. In the center was a star. The engraving was subtle, and surrounded by other, less organized scratches. It had clearly been made such that a casual observer would gloss over it, thinking it a dent or a sign of wear. The engraving was the symbol of Zahiraplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigZahira
by Diane Hutton and the DM
The Common View
Zahira is seen as a dangerous cult that welcomes the Zioth and embraces death. It is led by mysterious druid-like entities known as “True Zahirans.” There is quite a bit of legend surrounding these druids, such as their ability to appear out of nowhere, or the fact that they all look alike..
Marveling at his good luck, Kreemon knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so he fixed the location of the house in his mind, and continued on toward the Baron's keep.
The castle was not difficult to find. Its towers, which rose nearly as high as the spires of the Temples of Andrithaplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigAndrithanism
Based on original ideas from Karl Schinke (Ardith). Symbols for aspects other than the Mother, along with the artwork, were contributed by Myron Wyles (Halaren).
Andrithanism and its variants are the dominant religion in Rang and the surrounding kingdoms. Within the boundaries of, could be seen from almost anywhere in town, even in the moonlight. From a distance, the castle was quite impressive, but when Kreemon approached the outer walls, he was disappointed. The castle was far larger than Baron Wently's – no, Baron Velhelm's – in Elgony, and at some point in the past it had no doubt been a great fortress, capable of housing hundreds of townspeople against a siege. Now, however, the outer wall was in a pitiful state of disrepair. The huge stones out of which it had been constructed were broken up, making the wall easy to scale. Out of the cracks grew moss, grasses, weeds and even small shrubs. What had once been a wide moat was filled in, though it dipped slightly downward, and a drawbridge was permanently lowered over it. One of its chains was rusted through, and the broken red metal swayed gently back and forth in the breeze, while more of the chain lay in a pool on the ground.
Kreemon approached the guard on duty. “Good day ser. I bear a missive for the Baron. I wonder if I might talk with his seneschal?”
The guard looked up and down at Kreemon's travel-worn clothes, and at the damaged and dirty scroll in his hand. “What's this message about?”
Kreemon replied simply, “It was given to me to carry to the Baron by the same people that your patrols are out looking for. I imagine, good ser, that the seneschal would want to talk with me before allowing me an audience with the baron.”
“That does change things some.” The guard took two steps inside the gate, and pulled on a rope. A high-pitched bell rang, and a few seconds later, the sound was echoed from another position within the walls in a slightly lower pitch. Soon, a dozen guardsmen and a mounted knight in mail were outside the gate and surrounding Kreemon. “He claims to be the target of Manilock's patrols. Take him to the Second Clerk.”
“No good ser. I said the message was from those that your patrols seek.”
The soldiers ignored Kreemon's clarification, and organized into a symmetrical formation around him. The knight led the party through the gates and toward the castle.
Kreemon walked calmly and easily in the hurricane's eye, conscious of the layout of the castle defenses. He only saw two or three common soldiers on his way through the courtyard, besides those who surrounded him, but at least half a dozen knights practiced in a large jousting yard around the corner, and there was no telling how many more were hidden by the castle itself.
Although the castle proper was in far better repair than the outer wall, it too showed signs of neglect. Trees grew far too close to the walls for security, some stones were missing, and tunnels under the wall, clearly meant to be hidden, were in clear view. Each of four guard towers was occupied by a soldier or two.
Although the outside was slowly falling to ruin, the inside of the castle was another story. The feeling of vast emptiness and utilitarianism that was present in Baron Velhelm's castle was totally absent from Huerten's. Tapestries, albeit old and faded tapestries, hung from every wall. Polished suits of armor stood proudly along the sides of rooms and hallways, and flags embroidered with various shield patterns alternated with beautifully carved sconces, a few yards off the floor. The walls, though aging, were for the most part well maintained.
Kreemon only saw four soldiers inside the castle, two guarding the main gates, and two guarding a large door at the end of the entrance chamber. Kreemon was led through three long, deserted hallways and finally to a door. The knight stepped to the rear and let one of the soldiers open it. Past the door was a room cluttered with scrolls, books and papers, and a long desk, behind which sat a middle-aged man with a sharp nose and a narrow, beardless chin. He paid no heed to his crowded doorway, but continued to write in a fine, flowing script on a sheet of parchment which was already two-thirds full.
“The Second Clerk,” the soldier who opened the door said to Kreemon. From the rear, the knight added to the clerk, “this man claims to be the target of the patrols,” but the clerk still did not seem to notice.
Kreemon let out an audible sigh and said, “Good scribe, not to correct the fine knight –” Kreemon knuckled his forehead “– but what I _actually_ told them was that I _bear_ a message scroll for the Baron _from_ the ones that your patrols seek.”
“Scribe?” the man asked in an even, nasal voice, without looking up from his papers. “There is a good deal of difference between a _clerk_ and a _scribe_.” He then fell silent again and continued to work.
Kreemon sighed. “I am sure there is, good clerk, but I wouldn't know. I can't read.” Kreemon held up the battered scroll and asked, “are you the one that is going to pay me for delivering the message?”
The clerk was silent until, with a flourish, he placed the dot at the end of his sentence and returned the quill to the ink-jar. Finally, he looked at Kreemon, then at Bork, then at the guards at the door. “Who allowed that animal in here?” Not waiting for an answer, he looked back at Kreemon. “Pay you? No one is going to pay you for anything. I will see the message now.”
As the guard approached, Kreemon took a step to the side and said in a stoic voice, “I gave an oath to place the scroll in the baron's hands.”
“The _baron's_ hands?” asked the clerk. He almost laughed, but it was more like a halting cough. “Until _I_ ensure the validity of that scroll, it will go no further than this room. Take it from him.”
The guard approached again.
Kreemon took a defensive step back, his stance changing to one of a warrior prepared to fight. Emotions warred across Kreemon's face before he decided. “Fine, this is your decision. You are responsible for forcing me to break my oath.” With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, Kreemon sent the scroll forward across the space between the two. It sent three or four papers from the top of a stack flying, and knocked over the vial of ink, before rolling into the clerk's lap.
The clerk pretended calm, though he was clearly annoyed. The soldier who had been approaching Kreemon picked up the ink vial and cleaned up while the clerk looked at the scroll. “The seal is broken,” the clerk said factually.
Kreemon snorted and replied, “And two men are dead too. If it wasn't for the promise of gold, I would never have agreed to carry this damned thing.”
“You must realize that with the seal broken and damaged, there is no way to positively identify the message. You could have written it yourself.”
Kreemon snorted again. “Like I can read.”
The clerk started to read the scroll, but then his eyes shot up at Kreemon. “What two men? Where?”
“Well, one man and one woman, though she was certainly mannish. I never met the first man, he died before I met the group. They called him Shalmahn or Salmahn or something like that. Some foreign name. He was killed by some brigands or something, they weren't too clear.
“In Maelbourgplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigMaelbourg
[This map is obviously missing a lot. There aren't huge open spaces in Maelbourg.]
Maelbourg is a walled town in the Barony of Huerten, with a population of approximately six thousand. Its primary exports are textiles, wool and coal, the last of which it acquires from deposits in the nearby hills. The land on which the town sits was added to maelbourg index I met up with three travelers. One man and two women. They gave me some names, but it could have been false. The man's name was Nillor, he was dressed in a black robe. The first woman was Jedda, they all usually called her 'Priestess', but I didn't see any symbol on her. The second woman was a little mannish, her name was Matilda. There was a riot in Maelbourgplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigMaelbourg
[This map is obviously missing a lot. There aren't huge open spaces in Maelbourg.]
Maelbourg is a walled town in the Barony of Huerten, with a population of approximately six thousand. Its primary exports are textiles, wool and coal, the last of which it acquires from deposits in the nearby hills. The land on which the town sits was added to maelbourg index and Matilda was killed. She was the one carrying the scroll, it got damaged in the attack.
“Jedda gave me scroll and hired me to deliver it to the Baron. She and Nillor said something about this not being what they were hired for and that they were going to lay low for a while. Jedda had fixed up my friend here,” indicating his canine companion, “so I felt like I owed them. That and she said that the Baron would pay me for delivering the message.”
“Humph,” was all the clerk responded, and he continued to read the scroll. When he was done, he laid it down on his desk and picked up his pen, neglecting to look at Kreemon. “This is the most piddling attempt at a forgery that I've seen in years. Take him away, and let's keep such ruffians _and_ their pets out of the baron's castle from now on, shall we?”
Kreemon bristled. “I go through all the trouble to bring this scroll here and you try to turn me away so you get all of the glory and gold yourself when you take it to the Baron? I don't think so. BARON!” Kreemon bellowed, “BARON!”
The clerk stood suddenly, letting his chair fall back to the floor. “Enough of that! This is a place of dignity! I said enough! Oh, silence him!”
Two soldiers immediately approached, and seeing them, Kreemon took two steps, jumped, and slid over the clerk's desk feet first, filling the air with a cloud of papers and scrolls. He missed the clerk and landed clumsily on the floor, but in the confusion, he was able to get up quickly and grab him from behind. Kreemon drew a nasty knife, and pushed the point lightly into the clerk's neck, so the skin dimpled but was not pierced. The soldiers froze when they saw what Kreemon had done.
Talking softly into the clerk's ear, Kreemon said, “I'd advise you to send someone for the Baron. I've carried this scroll this far. I will not be stopped by the likes of you. Either the Baron comes, or you don't live to see another dawn. If the guards rush me, I will make sure you die first.” Kreemon called, “Here, boy,” to bring his wolfhound Bork over to him. The canine growled menacingly at the guards.
“You heard him,” the clerk said, though most likely, they had not. “Go fetch the Baron.” The knight left the room.
“Let's hope the Baron values you,” Kreemon said.
After some minutes of waiting, the room had largely quieted down. The soldiers and the knight stood in their places, the knight blocking the door, and the Second Clerk made no move to escape. In fact, he was calmer than Kreemon would expect of a man with a dagger at his throat. Another minute passed, and Kreemon noticed Bork looking curiously at the door. When he let his eyes scan that area, he saw someone standing behind the knight, looking into the room.
Kreemon narrowed his eyes and tried to see who was behind the knight. “Milord?” he said. The knight and some of the soldiers turned around, and Kreemon realized too late that it was Kayplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigKay Wanderwit
Kay is an attractive, eighteen year old girl. She has dark brown hair, tanned skin and hazel eyes. The bow she carries is of a very fine quality. Kay wears brown calfskin breeches, and a green wool vest. When traveling, she wears brown deerskin breeches and a red linen vest. Her old cloak is black, and made of fine but worn wool. She has become a close friend of who was peeking into the room.
This was Kreemon's story. The story of Ardithplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigArdith
Ardith's long hair is tied in a bun with cords dyed with berry juice, two each of red, blue and black. She wears an unbleached linen shift and bodice, a deerskin jerkin, and low brown boots. Ardith always wears the Sign of Andritha on a chain around her neck. The Sign is a three inch circle of copper with a large onyx in the center, obviously quite heavy, but and Kayplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigKay Wanderwit
Kay is an attractive, eighteen year old girl. She has dark brown hair, tanned skin and hazel eyes. The bow she carries is of a very fine quality. Kay wears brown calfskin breeches, and a green wool vest. When traveling, she wears brown deerskin breeches and a red linen vest. Her old cloak is black, and made of fine but worn wool. She has become a close friend of, and how Kayplugin-autotooltip__default plugin-autotooltip_bigKay Wanderwit
Kay is an attractive, eighteen year old girl. She has dark brown hair, tanned skin and hazel eyes. The bow she carries is of a very fine quality. Kay wears brown calfskin breeches, and a green wool vest. When traveling, she wears brown deerskin breeches and a red linen vest. Her old cloak is black, and made of fine but worn wool. She has become a close friend of came to be looking into the door, will appear in the next turn, which should come out within the next couple days.
Kreemon has enough experience to rise to level 3, but, for reasons I'm sure Chris can figure out, he does not yet gain a level. :)
Your Bill, Sir: 3at for the blacksmith.