Jerit McCaugh spent much of the next hour calling upon the
various vestiges in his circle of power; none of them could hope to bring back
Meghan Gundwynd from death. To Jerit’s surprise one of the individuals who
rushed from the keep to save the caravan was in facta pact druid.
 |
| Deloche Silvermane |
In the wake of the godsfall
Deloche Silvermane felt a shift in ethos and thus followed a shift in
profession to become a binder, but with vestiges that sympathized with
Deloche’s divine calling.
Also sitting in the keep’s chapel was Shar, who had
sustained almost as many wounds as Harsk and Cren Tosh, remained with Jerit and
the pact-druid adding his voice to the choir of prayers. The loss was palpable
to say the least with both Shar and Jerit largely impacted by the death of the
inquisitor. For Shar it was the loss of a mentor and friend, for Jerit- the
affair happened so fast he had difficulties sorting his thoughts.
The ambush also resulted in the loss of over three hundred masterwork
swords as well as the death of the Balder’s Gate merchant. As far as the crew
of the burned out Mermaid Sword, no
one seemed to know.
**************
A short time later the Lord of Aithe, Haembar Cauldyth
summoned everyone to his war-room. The hour was late but Lord Haembar was an
intelligent warden and who bears a real concern for the Moonshaes and the Ffolk
he is responsible for protecting. He longed to put these troubled time behind
them all. Lord Haembar is a stout man in his middle years whose brawn has not
yet gone to fat; he is charismatic, well-spoken and strong for his age.
Food and beverages were set out, enough for twice their
number, but no one –not even Harsk- had the stomach for food, only occasionally
would someone pick a fruit or pour a cup of port wine to wet the mouth or
removed the taste of death. Grimly Lord Haembar broke the silence.
“There are others,” Haembar said still wearing his mail. “priests
and necromancers who serve the Iron Hand, and unfortunately for the Moonshae Ffolk,
these vile men have gathered enough strength to challenge all who rule these
lands.” Haembar liked to talk with his hands which became swings and
gesticulations when he became agitated as he was now.
“It started with the Iron Ring who proved to be well
organized and informed; spies bankrolled by Iron Clerics who healed them when I,”
pounding his fist across his broad chest for emphasis, “came hunting them
down.” Lord Haembar picked up his sword fondly smiling to his reflection as he
was reminded of a particularly good hunt.
“Then Deloche informs me of druids slain around the Isles
and their moonwells despoiled. I have the word of local serfs and small Ffolk
who have seen the twisted fell magic- undead at the command of black-robed
priests who proudly call themselves The Risen Cult!” as he said this he spat at
the floor.
“I’m not going to lie to you my new friends,” Haembar said, seemingly
now composed. “the Moonshae’s need individuals like the four of you to put
things back into balance. I ask that you stand and fight for Chauntea.” Lord
Haembar looked to everyone in attendance. In fact my sword will ride with you,
if you will have it.”
“Father?” said a soft voice from a far entryway. As the
owner of the voice entered the chambers almost at once a petite woman appeared
in the radiance of the light. Immediately she seemed to command the room with a
natural comeliness that came with worldly honesty and loyalty.
“Agenlian,” Haembar said surprised. “my friends this is my
daughter Agenlian Starwand.”
“My Lords I am sorry, I… OH!” Agenlian said then saw the
drow. Her surprise was obvious in her startled tone as well as her body
language as she instinctively reached for an item. Shar did not see what the
item could have been but was not surprised at her hostile reaction.
 |
| Agenlian Starwand |
“My apologies again.” Agenlian said for her small lapse of
etiquette. “Father are you thinking of going out there again? If you are then I
will hold you to your promise.” She said in a no contradiction fashion.
Agenlian was a stunning woman in her late twenties of
average height and slim build, Jerit intuited her immediately as an alchemist-
mayhap the one Cren Tosh spoke about. Entering the chamber behind Agenlian was
an older woman, her sister Jerit correctly surmised.
**************
A short time later the companions agreed to split up and
investigate the two contacts the necromancer on the Mermaid Sword gave Meghan: a butcher named Duskerell Thimbottle and
a wood carver named Kantivel Chonn.
“I thought I saw the wood carver’s place near where they
ambushed us.” Shar said, seemingly redeemed in purpose, ready for judgments to
be served.
“Very well, Harsk and I will find Duskerell while you and
Jerit inspect the wood carvers?” Cren Tosh posed to Shar and Harsk who each
conveyed their silent agreement.
**************
The Woodcarvers shop panned out to be boat repair business
and judging from the appearance it sold small used fishing boats as well. Shar
noticed that it was shortly after midnight which made a dim glow within in the
shop dubious. Outside the streets between Shar and Jerit and the Woodcarver’s had
only an occasional passersby but no one lingered.
“Let me do the talking.” Shar said to Jerit. “Put up your cloak
so that the color of your skin will not show.” Shar naturally did this by habit
so Jerit was familiar with the deception.
Coming around the east side of the shop Shar was able to
find a privacy fence and door around the back of the shop that was off its
hinges. The door was placed back so that it looked normal under casual
inspection. Using magic the two mages were able to silently remove the gate and
proceed into the back lot where three rows of five capsized fishing boats sat
on sawhorses waiting for repair. They looked like pale coffins in the pale
moonlight. To the left of Jerit and Shar were two doors, a bay door and an
office entry; the two mages approached the office door. The door had no window,
only warped shutters to keep out vermin. All was still when without warning the
dubious light from a lamp entered the office. That was Shar’s signal to knock.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
From behind the door hands worked and the shutter opened
whereby the viewer was stunned to see what he believed were two drow.
“I thought everyone
was dead!” the nervous man said from behind the door. “I have been here alone
since the ambush; the weapons are strapped under the boats behind you ready to
go.”
“Are they now?” said Jerit revealing himself, “and just
where were they supposed to go?”
**************
Not long before midnight the companions debriefed Lord
Haembar, Deloche, and Agenlian. Jerit and Shar recovered the lost masterwork
weapons from the wood carvers and captured Kantivel Chonn, an Iron Ring spy. The
man said the swords were to be sent to Dultann on the other side of Alaron by
boat then to a place called Darkhorn Castle where the Iron Ring are.
For Cren Tosh and Harsk the ‘butcher’ proved to be an Iron
Cleric in service to Bane. Duskerell had Captain Veldyrina Flaenitarr restrained
and was preparing to move her to the nearby moonwell in the Dernall Forest and
an individual Duskerell referred to as the Dark Druid.
“Dear spirits,” Deloche said aghast, “We must hurry before this
Dark Druid defiles yet another
moonwell or I fear Chauntea will forever be severed from the realms.
**************
The Dark Druid and High Hand, Ord Gauntather floated
gracefully over the pale waters of the
moonwell; his fluidity of movement contrasted
his vile words of defilement. Ord was not a ‘druid’- was in fact a clerc who knew
by divine word that by spilling the life-blood of Chauntae’s followers into her
sacred waters would profane the waters and sever her ties to the Moonshaes. Dark
syllables issued form his blood red lips.  |
| Dashiell Clouter |
At the north point of moonwell Dashiell Clouter, and Catrina
Nesher knelt hands and legs restrained before the moonwell; magical ropes
and ties prevented anything but simple and total compliance. Behind the two cleric-rangers,
Vlakkados and Tyrostarr, the Hooded Menace and Dark Imperceptor; Vlakkados
stood with a mace ready to bat Dashiell’s head forward so that when Tyrostarr
cut open his throat, Dashiell’s blood
would flow unfettered into the moonwell staining its placid waters.
Tears streamed down Catrina’s face eventually making a ripple in the moonwell.
Proudly presiding over the affair were Halamather, Arnivon
the anti-paladin and Mack Snome; their combined presence enhanced Ord’s
ritualistic processes. Minor priests toiled about them serving their menial
needs whilst traveling, mostly Bladesemmer or Umbrusk men vying for attention. Ironically
it was one of these minor priests that alerted Arnivon of an attack when an
arrow pierced his Adam’s apple causing him to vomit blood.
**************
Floating unnoticed above the moonwell Ord Gauntather watched
with horror as his immediate plans unraveled before him. Adventurers lead by
the Lord Haembar Cauldyth penetrated the grove and joined his cultists in
battle. Outnumbered Ord closed his eyes and spoke the words of the dead, he was
descending Ord knew but kept his concentration on the magic. He could hear the
battle waged around him but still he kept his eyes shut calling out- summoning
undead to his aid.
**************
Arnivon was immediately on the defensive, weapons and magic
erupted around the anti-paladin confusing his senses. Vlakkados and Tyrostarr
were the first to fall after the unfortunate under cleric; it looked like the
same party from the Mermaid Sword! Looking
around Halamather was gone and now it was just him and Mack.
 |
| Ord Gauntather |
Closing in around the perimeter of the grove scores of dirt
and moss covered skeletons converged answering Ord’s call; slimy worms dripped
from the caked soil on their pale frames. It was just the opportunity Arnivon
needed. Calling upon the black Pegasus Arnivon mounted the creature, flew up to
retrieve Ord, to make his second narrow escape of the night.
“High Hand Gauntather Vlakkados and Tyrostarr are dead and Halamather
gone.” Arnivon advised his divine patron.
“It is unfortunate,” Ord said as he set into a comfortable
positon on the Pegasus; his undead covering their escape. “But I know where Halamather
has gone, to Callidyrr my squire and the seat of the High King where we will
strike next.”
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