[Email the Game Master]
by Artemus Buttwyler, scribe of Chatwin, [this being the text of the Femmes Fatales second adventure, or at least the beginning of it]
The Week of Brewfest [between Harvester & Patchwall] 582, Moonday [Tuesday]
The beer and ale had flowed freely for a couple of days, as the village of Chatwin, as were most towns on Oerth, celebrated Brewfest, that fall week when, most harvesting being completed, people kicked back and relaxed, and warmed their inners for the coming winter.
There was a minor crowd at the Silver Cloud Tavern, the establishment owned by Gideon Trueflight, the village's favorite rogue. It was he after all, who, as a member of what would become the Chatwin Heroes, walked through the mouth of the red dragon, and found the hidden shaft which led to the underground hideout, where the lost treasure of the village was then found by he and his comrades, winning them much fame and admiration. And it was he who, years later admitted that the dragon was about forty years dead when he had done so, winning him more admiration, and causing a rift between himself and the establishment known as the Inn of the Shadows, so he opened this place. And, as if his accomplishments were not enough, it was he who, after his drunken fit at the Inn, had finally spurred the remaining Heroes, Max, Hadrian, and Quintos, to get off their duffs and head to the City of Greyhawk in search of adventure, which, reports have it, they have found in abundance, [but I digress].
The Silver Cloud was named after an adventure during which Gideon had gained his magic lions and an ample supply of fine wine. The interior of the establishment was dark wood, log style, with a long, dark wood bar. The bar had tall and short stools, and two log type railings, one for feet and the other for hands. The bar itself stood only three feet high, for the demi-human barkeeps to be able to see over. Humans sitting at the bar looked like giants. Most, therefore, choose the more standard size tables.
Among the minor crowd were the halfling know as Penrose, supposedly Gideon's partner in more than just business, who managed the Silver Cloud in his mentor's absence, Clyde the server, a couple of local farmers, a lone and solitary female, and the table occupied by those known as the Femmes Fatales. Those fabulous females who had gone to Lowick, then to Narwell, then back to Lowick, then back to Narwell, then, after spending some time in Narwell at the Baron's expense, returned triumphant to Chatwin.
Seated at the table were the mage Serena, and her black cat familiar Chisim. Serena had studied with Lacy Signal, owner of the Golden Wand in Narwell; Daltonne the fighter, who had trained with the Chatwin militia; Jessa the blonde-haired wood elf, and her friend Black Blade, the albino half elf. both had spent time with the Baron's forces in Narwell. Each had time for personal reflection- Jessa over lover's lost, and Black Blade over `treasures' found.
They had been invited here on this day by their pseudo member, O'Dwyer, cleric of Trithereon the Summoner. He had spent some time improving upon his wayside shrine which he had built on the Old North Road after a generous contribution from Wes of Ulek got it started some months before. He had ended up involved in the affair in Lowick, but knew he could never pass the physical for full membership. Still .... . He insisted on everyone sampling the latest shipment of Proverb's Brown, that fine ale brewed in Enstad, by Proverb the Dwarf, friend of Gideon Trueflight, who was the village's favorite rogue, who. ... [oops, caught myself before I digressed].
Proverb shared a tower with the mage Raela in the city of Enstad, a tower striking similar in appearance to the one shared by Hadrian and Gideon. As the story went, the Heroes had been accompanied by the mage Raela, and the fighter Proverb, when they visited Prism Keep, the floating or flying castle home of the legendary mage Alarius. It was there that the brave Trueflight had saved the entire multitude by polymorphing into a dragon and using his new found size to allow for a well-needed retreat. It was also there that the mage Raela had cast Evard's tentacles upon some denizen of darkness, a denizen upon which Gideon was sneaking up invisibly from the rear. It was all the wily rogue could do to avoid the deadly constrictors whilst still bravely stabbing the aforementioned denizen. Yes, there was something heroic about the Silver Cloud. The stories these wall could tell. Considering how many times Gideon had told them to these walls. [OK, the last digression]
The Femmes had first sampled this fine ale in Narwell. When O'Dwyer had learned that the Silver Cloud had a fresh and ample supply, he set about doing his utmost to dent it. "I know this fine brrrew had been suumond `errre for me ta sample. It's a sign, seys I, a sign!" He had been following this `summons' for the better part of three days. It was only on this day that the Femmes were alerted to the presence of the ale. "Din't want you Lassies ta be disappointed. I figurrred I best make surre that is was `o the best quality `aforrre I inforrrme yee," he said with his usual twinkle.
After a number of servings, O'Dwyer put down his mug, ran his fingers through his hair, scratched his beard, and said, "Now, I suppose yer all woondering why I call this meeting?" When no one paid him any mind, he continued anyway. "I've `ad lots `o time to think about what went through back in Lowick, and all of what we saw. One thing that sticks in my mind is what our friend here, Black Blade told us back in Narwell about that blade `o hers. Let's see if I can recall, hmmm, seems like only yesterday when she said, ...
`About Fear...I was hired onto a quest to find twelve runeswords. However, I just so happened to stumble across a black runesword. I had no clue of its power, so I snatched it up before anyone could warn me. Little did I know, it was cursed. At least I didn't get Fear's sister sword, Death. Now I can't go anywhere without her nearby. She also feeds bloodlust into me if she isn't drawn after a certain time. I want to get rid of Fear, but then I don't. Anyway, every time I draw her, she...changes me...I don't know if it's the sword herself, but people...fear me...that's why I gave you blokes a warning back at the windmill.'
... or words that that effect." He took a break for a breath of air. All were opened mouthed at the cleric's powers of recall.
After a thirst quenching mugfull, he continued, "Now I think we all witnessed what you meant when you said it `changes' you. On two occasions Jessa here, was quite shaken, and I meself, had doubts about the situation. I think it's time we addressed the issue. "
Daltonne turned to Black Blade, and reiterated what she had said when she first heard the story, "Still find it interesting, though that blade didn't effect me much." For it was true that twice Daltonne had stood next to Black Blade, and barely noticed the changes in the albino. "But fer the sake of all of us, iffin you want to be gittin' rid that 'Fear' mayhap we could help you find someone to remove that there curse, only iffin you want of course. I have heard that there are clerics who kin do that."
O'Dwyer leaned back in reflection. "Hmm, interesting, verrry interrresting. Yes, I considered that meself. But, I think it is the blade itself, and not our frrriend here, which is cursed. I suspect it is the blade which we must find a currre for, and then, maybe, Black Blade will be frrree. Courrrse, we `ave ta keep her frrrom scarrrin' tha wits oot a us till we do so!" His apparent solution was to dull his senses with ale, as he downed another mug. "Now, therre must be be someone, orrr ones, in this fine village `o ourrrs who could help us. You know, find a clue or too, about that sworrrd `a yourrrs. It has some very interrresting markings upon it, lots `a rrrunes and symbols and the like, at least from what I've seen of it. Now, let's see, who could we ask? Wherrre should we starrrt? Who can help us?"
"I could check at my bookstore. It's unlikely that I'll find anything but it's a place to start," Serena offered. "And if any of you need a place to stay while we're in Chatwin, we've got a spare room or two. My companion Ero, and myself, purchased the place with the intention of establishing a house of learning. So far we've not had many visitors."
O'Dwyer said, "Yes, Serrrena, books arre often a good source of information. Maybe they'll be something there on swords."
They finished their drinks. O'Dwyer settled the bill and nodded to the lone female who had been sipping an ale and absently playing with a dagger...spinning it with some dexterity. "Nice touch with that knife," he said in passing. Turning back to his friends he noted, "She seemed ta be intrigued by us. Maybe not."
He opened the door, and the Femmes headed over to Bittle's Books and Study [#35 on the Chatwin map] where they were greeted mildly by Ero Bittlefinder, a white haired, green eyed gnome. Serena broached the subject of looking through some of the texts.
"Looking? You mean you haven't come to buy anything. Think this is a library or something?"
But, she soon teased and calmed her acquaintance into allowing some perusal. There were a few texts on swords, but they ran towards the `manufacture and care' rather than a magical nature. And, alas, there was no single text titled "Fear the Sword, Care and Feeding."
"What did you expect," countered Ero when he saw the disappointment. "I'll tell you one thing. There is someone I this berg who might be of some help. That there sword of yours has some fancy embodiments upon it. Now, I'm no expert in runes and such, but I'd say that some of them are like coats of arms. Look here." The nimble gnome pointed to the downward facing half moon on a purple blot which appeared near the top of the hilt. "and there," indicating what looked like a tree with thick green foliage on a solid brown trunk, also on a purple blot, slightly below the moon.
He let this sink in. "There's a young girl who comes in here from time to time to buy any book I might turn up on heraldry. That's why I don't have any here. Now she lives with her uncle, and he is a specialist on shields and the like. He's probably worthy of a visit."
"Of course!" O'Dwyer slapped his forehead. "Herrraldrrry. Some of those must be symbols of some houses. Maybe the herrralder can help us identify them. May not be able to identify the sword. We'll need someone well versed in legends for that, but at least it could give us a start.
And so, the Femmes made their way to Bekra's Heraldry Shop. The sign in the window read, "No Orcs Allowed."
"Guess we'rrre OK," said O'Dwyer, as he opened the door. Once inside they were greeted by a man where they put the problem to the proprietor Vaddyn Bekra. At 5'7", 155lbs., with dark brown hair and brown eyes, he had weathered skin and looked more like an adventurer than a shop keeper. It was apparent to Jessa and Black Blade that he had some elven blood.
The problem was presented to Vaddyn, who was soon joined by a twentyish girl, 5'6", 142 lbs, with black hair and violet eyes. "My niece Morague Rheras," he said as he looked at the symbols that Ero had pointed out earlier.
O'Dwyer's attention was drawn from the sword to Morague; specifically to the sunburst symbol she wore round her neck. "Sorry ta starre, Missy, but lest I miss me guess, that be a holy symbol. Now I know it's not mine," producing his own `Z' on blue, "which I'm sure you can recognize, but I do think it's a good one. Tell me lass what it is?"
I'm proud to be in the service of Pelor. I see you follow Trithereon, interesting choice, a little on the "wild" side for me, though! My name is Morague, pleased to meet you.
Vaddyn paid no attention to the distraction. "Yes, I know one of them, and I think I can make sense of the other." He turned to his niece. "Morague, here's a good test for you. What do you make of these two?"
The young girl said to the visitors, "Hi!, um, Ladies? My name is Morague, nice of you to stop by."
Black Blade had gone to the Heraldry shop more out of curiousity to the actual origin of the sword. Cursed or not, she was wary about losing it; or was it wary of losing her?
Once there, however, her curiosity took over. She began to look about the place, hoping to find some similarities between the symbols on her sword, and with those on Vaddyn's walls. She managed a connection. "There. Look there. I found the tree to be the display on a purple shield, signifiying Celene."
"Very good," complimented Vaddyn. "Yes. That was the one I was sure of. But for someone like yourself, not experienced in he field. To pick one out is quite good indeed."
Black Blade continued, "I see that the Pale shield has a cresant moon on the sinister side on a purple field as well. Maybe there is a connection between the two..."
"Yes," said Vaddyn, "no doubt there is a connection," emphasising the last word. "Now look closely at the moon shape. It is a quarter cresent with the opening facing downward, also on a purple background. And note the diagonal cut, upper left to lower right, as if it is part of a coat of arms." He looked to his neice. "Any ideas, Morague?"
His niece confirmed. "The one of the tree is very familiar & all who have Eleven blood will recognize it as the symbol for the Kingdom of Celene, the crescent moon is included on the Crest of the Theocracy of the Pale. This may represent a connection to the Pale, then again...... Uncle, what do you think? " She added, "I do love a mystery! I'm sure it is part of someone's Coat of Arms, I think I've seen it before, but I'm not sure."
"Could it be a birth rank? I know of a cresant, as Jessa and I are familiar with a rose being that of a seventh son," suggested Black Blade.
While she waited for a response, Jessa said, "Once we know who's crests these are, is it possible that someone related to them might still be alive and know something about the sword?" Jessa looked at the curious symbols. Jessa looks thoughtful. "Yes, isn't the cresent the fifth son? Or is it the sixth...." She wandered off for a moment, absently looking through one of the books.
"Yes, it is possible," answered Vaddyn, "but with one crest clearly representing Celene, a very large area which stretches west from the Welkwood to the Lortimals, I doubt `one' person of the thousnads who reside there is the answer."
Jessa turned to Vaddyn. "Forgive me, I am unfamiliar with the area that far south and west. Is Celene another kingdom or duchy?"
Vaddyn corrected. "Celene is not far. In fact, it is right next door. Celene is a kingdom just to the west of us. Er, we are part of what is known as the Wild Coast, as you know. Our area is governed by important cities. Chatwin is under the auspices of Narwell."
Jessa smiled, "Oh we are very familiar with Narwell."
The others nodded in agreement.
Vaddyn continued, "Celene is different, then. It claims the territory from the eastern Welkwood, though no clear boundary can be established, westward across the plains, and into the Lortimal Mountains. It also straches north into the Krom Hills. It is a peacefull kingdom ruled by a Queen, Lady Rhalta, an elf. Many of Celen's inhabitants are elves. The major city is Enstad, where I here, there is no crime. The area prides itself on its freedom. Celene seldom interferes with its neighbors, neither in offence, nor in help. This does not win it much trust from the others, though it is an essentially good place."
"Sounds like my kind of place," added O'Dwyer.
"Yes, someone of your following would fit right in." Vaddyn's finger when to the cresent. "Now, two of you have interpreted the cresent as being part of the Pale, and I was leaning that way at first. But, with the symbol of Celen being so clear, there is an altenative interpretation of the cresent." He pulled out a large volume, and open to a prominent page. There he indicated another cresent, this one with the open end facing downward. And the purple area was cut by a diagonal, as it represented the upper half of the crest. The page read, "Kingdom of Furyondy." There was much more to the crest as pictured. Three crowns on a red background completed the shield portion, and there was a helm to the top. "See, I think this cresent represents part of the coat of arms of Furyondy. After all, it is one of Celene's neighbor to the north, Veluna being the other. The Theocracy of the Pale is far west from here, and from Celene."
He let this sink in, while he pondered the issue. "So, I suggest that this blade has something to do with some connection between Celene and Furyondy. Of course, I could be wrong."
Daltonne said, "Well nice to meet you Morague and welcome." Then she addressed the problem. "Well I don't know much about crests and such, but maybe Hawke or some sage in this town has heard about a cursed sword like yours, Black Blade. How about that Artemus guy? He seems to know alot 'bout thins."
O'Dwyer agreed. "Yes, once we finish here, we should be sure to speak with that Bard."
Morague seized the moment, "Did you say cursed sword? This is interesting, I've heard that some Clerics can remove curses, of course I can not as I've just really started my career, but I'd be truly interested in helping you, it's a trifle boring around here, at times, no offense Uncle Vaddyn!"
The pale blonde elf nods in agreement with Daltonne's and O'Dwyer suggestion. "Yes, perhaps Artemus will know something."
"Agreed," Black Blade nodded in agreement.
O'Dwyer suggested that they all reconvene at the Silver Cloud Tavern on the morrow. By then, he would arraigned for a meeting with Artemus Buttwyler, the Scribe of Chatwin. "I know `e's in town. I'm surrre he'll pay ous a visit." And, before leaving he added, "That includes you, too, Morrrague. I'm sure yer lawful ways will well compliment me own, errr, not so strrrctured ones," and he winked.
Deep in thought, BB slighted-of-hands her emerald and began toying with it.
Morague asked her uncle, "Uncle Vaddyn, I remember where I saw that coat of arms before - it was when I was in Dyvers. Do you have any more information that we might find useful, before I head over to the Silver Cloud to meet with the others?"
He looked at that particular part of the coat of arms. "My wonder is, why is the rest of it missing? Can't recall ever seeing just part of Furondy's crest like that. What happened to the three crowns? Why are they cut off like that?"
Jessa noticed the elven cast to Vaddyn's feature's. "Are you yourself from Celene? Do they have a history of such enchantments?"
He answered, "While I'm not from Celene, I know enough of the area to suggest that anything is possible. The area of Celene is very head strong. Prides itself on taking orders from no one. SO, if someone made a pronouncement against a sword such as that one, they'd be the first to mass produce them." He smiled at this thought.
The Femmes thanked Vaddyn for his help. They all agreed to meet at the Silver Cloud on the morrow where, O'Dwyer assured them, he would have Artemus Buttwyler meet them.
The Week of Brewfest [between Harvester & Patchwall] 582, Godsday, [Wed]
[It was at this point that I, your narrator, Artemus Buttwyler, actually entered the story. Though my contribution may have been significant, modesty requires that I stay in the third person. My thoughts and observations on the proceedings do follow.]
As timing is said to be everything, as the Femmes made their ways to the Silver Cloud, they pretty much arrived at the same time. Only Morague was missing from the little group. O'Dwyer was standing at the door waiting for them. "Aye Lassies, `e's `ere. Artemus is here!" The cleric seemed awfully excited about the presence of the scribe. [Moi! But for the sake of modesty, I will assume the third person] The Femmes were curious, to say the least.
O'Dwyer opened the doors and led them in. "Over there, tis `imslef." There were two patrons in the tavern. The same lone female, still flipping a dagger deftly cross her fingers, sat along near the door. A simply dressed, shaggy haired, slightly paunchy male, sat idly at a long table further in. "Come on, mustn't keep him waiting." O'Dwyer hurried the women along.
As the adventurers walked past the lone female, she extended her arm and stopped O'Dwyer. "Forgive me, friend, may I speak with you?"
He looked back and forth. "Er, Lassies, don't start till I get there." Then he sat for a moment. "OK, Lass, what ken I do fer yee?"
The woman poured him ale, Proverb's Brown Ale. She had his full attention as she spoke. "I am Solace. I've been looking for a group such as yours, for a little while now. Now that I have found you, I have a proposition ....will you hear it?"
"If yer pouring, I be listening."
"I'm not from these parts" Solace began and then took a long breath. "My situation is one where I cannot go backwards, nor am I ready to go forwards yet." she continued. "I know little of combat," she glanced at the armed and armored Daltonne, Black Blade and Jessa, "and nothing of magic" she looked towards Serena. "The strength of a group is what I need to survive and grow stronger before I continue with my quest. The skills I offer in return will hopefully fill a gap in your party and make this exchange a fair one."
"Please consider this offer with your companions. I do not come to you under pretense of wanting to be your friend. You help me, I help you.....strictly business like." Solace waited for some response.
O'Dwyer looked over to the long table. He pondered the situation. His friends were there. A curious problem, too. And Artemus was there. Now here was a woman who seemed in need, and she had ale. *Hmmm, can't be in two places at once, so ...* He quickly stood up, pitcher of Brown in one hand, mug in the other. "Tell you what, why don't we join me frrriends, and we can drink, er, discuss it. There's someone therrre yee might as well meet. Specially if yer want ta `continue yer quest."
Before Solace had time to chose, O'Dwyer was on his way, her ale in hands. She followed.
"This young lady `ere be Solace. She says she can fill in our gaps. Seeing as how she was nice enough ta buy sum ale, I figurred I'd be nice anough ta treat her to Artemus' tales. Sit down why don't yee?"
Solace sat at the table, yet still seemed alone.
Jessa began by asking Artemus, about the kingdoms mentioned, and about of any alliances with them.
Up close, the scribe was even less impressive looking, more like an upright sheep dog, than a knower of anything. Artemus pushed his mop of brown hair from his forehead. His soft brown eyes feel upon Jessa. His voice was soft and reassuring. "Alliances? No, Celene allies with no one. Never. Still some bad feeling with the areas to the north, Veluna and Furyondy because of it. See, some years back, 569 actually, great wars took place, great battles fought, and Celene took no official active role. Now many from Celene went north to help the fighting, and eventually the forces of evil were defeated, the Temple sealed, and all was well. Er, seemingly well. But the bad feelings over Celene's lack of commitment, especially on the part of her queen, well, I'm surprised to see both crests on the same sword."
Jessa demanded to know why in all the thirteen hells why a seemingly pleasant country like Celene would create such a sword like Fear?
Artemus reassured her, "Doubt it was made by either government, that's for sure."
"Well then, what kind of magic could possibly drive the sword? Surely nothing holy."
Again Artemus was understanding and understated. "See, Miss, not all swords are made for good. Some are made for evil. You seem to think this is a cursed sword. I would submit, it is a sword which carries a curse. It was made for this purpose, to curse others."
Daltonne asked about cursed swords, who makes them and of any legends of swords like BBs.
"There are unlimited legends of swords, and unlimited legendary swords. Course, trick is to find them," His soft eyes twinkled. "Then, once found, to make sure it's the right blade for you. Like our famed hero Quintos Silverleaf. Now he has a fine sword, the famed long sword of Justice. A perfect match of man and blade. Not if he had found this here ~Fear~" he paused to shudder at the thought, "he'd be in the same fix your friend is."
He began to look at the visible part of the hilt. "See, from what O'Dwyer has told me, I gather this is a very special sword, probably made for a very special purpose."
Black Blade had been relatively silent, but now, "We know it's purpose. It's purpose is to scare the bejeesus outta people!"
Artemus looked at her calmly, "And it seems to be doing a good job, especially in your case. Now why would someone need a sword to scare someone. Isn't a sword scary enough?"
Serena had been sitting quietly listening, her cat Chism on her lap. She noted, "When Black Blade draws it, it renders those near her helpless. Makes them easy prey."
"As I thought. Now, why do you need your enemy to be easy prey?"
"Cause yer a ruddy coward," blurted O'Dwyer.
"That could be it. Fear is a great cover for cowardice. Who are the greatest cowards?"
The Femmes began to think this was a school lesson of some sort. Daltonne answered, "I sey it's them that won't fight fair. Those rats that'll sneaks up on yer when yer not looking, especially when yer asleep."
"Yes, when you are sleeping. And who strikes when one is sleeping?" his voice took on the tone of the knowing cleric of the church service trying to make the most basic point about god's love.
"The tooth friggin fairy," Black Blade burst. "What the heck are you talking about?"
Artemus took this in stride, "I am talking about assassins. People who kill in the dark, after hours, and need fear on their side, in case there stealth fails. That is who I mean. I submit that this blade was fashioned to kill someone, perhaps someone special, perhaps someone related to, or associated with, the house of Celene and Furyondy."
BB glared at Artemus. "I'm a bounty hunter," she reminded. "The sword is too big to be of any use to an assassin."
Filling up her mug full of ale, she took a long pull, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and slammed the mug on the table.
"So the question would now be, who designed Fear to kill who, if that question is plausible."
Artemus was still non pulsed by Black Blade's lack of faith, but is impressed by her perception. "That is a very good observation. Perhaps I mis spoke. Not necessarily by an assassin, but for assassination. And, then, that does make the killer an assassin, at least in my book. And, I think your question, or at least the answer to it, is the key to your future."
"So, in thinking like the drunken fool that I am, some twisted fate will have me kill some poor bastard in his sleep. Figures...does this have anything to do with perhaps one of Celene's enemies...? They created Fear to assassinate a threat..." She reached for the ale again, though she knows Jessa will try to keep it away from her. "Artemus, are there any enemies of Celene that we should know of?"
The Bard pushed his hair back off his forehead, attempting to stop a waterfall, "Celene's enemies? None that I know off. No one specifically hates Celene. Not everyone is fond of, or in agreement with, its policy of non-support. some from Celene left and did fight in wars outside. But enemies? No."
Jessa, like the good friend, gently pushed the ale out of Black Blade's reach, without taking her eyes off of Artemus. "Could someone have marked the sword with the crests of the two countries in hopes that they would get blamed for the murder instead of the sword's creator?"
Another push at his mop. "Certainly possible an potentially plausible."
Solace had sat quietly to this point. "Perhaps there is some clue to the sword's origin in the place and circumstances you found it?" she asked. "It may not be my place to say so, but however you think about it, powerful things seem to lie behind this weapon. You might want to think about selling it.....after all it isn't exactly your friendly family blade anyway." She then suggested.
Morague arrived at the Silver Cloud a few minutes after everyone else because today was Godsday and she had duties to attend to earlier. Morague quietly asked the bartender, Clyde, to serve her mineral water, then joined the group. Clyde looked perplexed, then filled a mug with water, tossed in a copper piece, and brought it to the table.
Morague said, "Let's recap what we know. We have the symbols for Celene & Furyondy, the sword changed Black Blade's physical appearance & when drawn those with her are helpless. I believe this sword was not crafted by anyone good, in fact it sounds darn right evil. I know of an esteemed Cleric hereabouts who has dealt with evil before, perhaps we could pay her a visit later? Her associate is named Andar. Artemus, have you heard of Andar? & wasn't the Prince of Furyondy kidnapped after that great battle in 569? Maybe this sword had something to do with that?"
Before the Bard could answer, Black Blade said, "I don't know much about yer history," BB slurred somewhat, wanting the damn ale, "and no crud. Fear's definitely evil. Jessa, lemme have the damned ale!"
Jessa grimaced, remembering her experiences with the effects of Fear. "Useful or not, I don't like that sword anymore than anyone else." Then she sighed, "COULD you sell it if you wanted to? Wouldn't the bond it has on you make it too painful to live without? Literally?"
Black Blade made a grab for the pitcher while Jessa was not looking. Or so she thought.
*I don't think so* Jessa noticed BB's hand at the last minute and gently slapped it away, giving the albino an admonishing look. "You've had enough."
"No, I couldn't sell it if I wanted to," BB retorted. "And aye, the bond would probably kill me if I was separated from it. Remember the incident at the Baron's place? And Fear was only in the other room!"
Black Blade pouted, then went to sit next to O'Dywer.
"Hey, bloke," she whispers. "Can I bum a drink off you? Jessa's playing Mommy again."
O'Dwyer was torn once again, between his love of ale, and his brotherly love for this bold albino. "Sometimes Mother knows best. How's `bout you rest yer head a bit, and yer stomach while yer at it. Tomorrow is anotherrr day, and yee best be able ta face it." He hoped this would placate Black Blade for now. "So, Arty, old man, what say yee ta all these points?"
Artemus was now pulsed. "My name is Artemus. Why even Tanner's parrot knows that. RRR TTT MUS. It's a simple name, really."
"Sorrry, me friend, guess I do get too familiarr too quickly. OK, AR TEE MUS, what say yee?"
Artemus regained his non-pulsedness. "Well, so many different idea, don't know exactly, oh, well, lets' see." His head turned round and back. "That sure is a curious weapon. Now, let's see, the Prince of Furyondy, what was his name. Oh. yes, young Prince Avras, kidnapped somewhere back around 569. No trace ever found. His father, King Belvor, the Fourth I believe, spent many golds in a valiant attempt to find him, but, alas, no. Often thought that the Scarlet Brotherhood kidnapped him, but no real evidence ever surfaced. Last I heard, magical scrying has suggested that the prince is dead."
O"Dwyer burst out, "Those fiends, that damned Scarlet Brrrotherhood, why if I had the chance, why I cut the blighters up and serve`em to sharrrks. Well, this time it will be different, that's forr sure."
Artemus wondered, "This time?"
"Yes, surrrely you've hearrd that therrre be war `a cumin?"
"Well, I've heard of them, but here in the distance. Way over in Tenth. Invaded by the barbarians of the Stonefist. But that's at least a thousand miles form here"
"That it may be," pursued O'Dwyer, "but my sources say therrre's a trouuble ta the north, Furyondy is close ta warrr."
"Sources?"
"Yes, one of me verry orrrder, Priestess Catrynn keeps me posted."
By now the others were totally dazzeled and a bit bored by the direction of this conversation.
Black Blade woke from her rest long enough to emit a drawled, "What about my sworrrrd?"
Artemus said, "Sword? Oh, yes, that is why we're here, that sword of yours. Now that you mention it, let me think ... ." And, he did so.
Serena had been sitting as her demure self, adjusting her hair, fixing a nail, somewhat distant from the activities. "Morague, you mentioned an Andar? He was in the book store maybe a two months ago. I had never met him before. Came there with another man, and there was an elf with them, and, oh, yes," the last word dropping an octave, "a woman, a veiled woman. Never once removed the veil. Never said anything, yet there was something about her which reminded me of you."
Before Morague could respond, Artemus had thought. "If a heard correctly, that war in Tenth had something to do with the Barbarians finding some legendary lost swords. Apparently, there were five special blades, and they found four of them. Why exactly four out of five made them attack Tenth I can't say, but attack they did."
O'Dwyer looked at Artemus, then at Black Blade. "You don't supposed that my friend `ere could be walking around with the fifth blade do yee?"
"Only one way to find out." Artemus turned to Black Blade, and tried to make himself understood. " Sometimes when I study things I can get a sense of their history. Er, Miss Blade, do you think you could pull out that sword so I could get a real close look at it?"
Morgue tried to prevent this. "Wait, just a minute Artemus! I don't think this is the time or place for Black Blade to draw her "Fear". Jessa, Daltonne, Serena, O'Dwyer - please help me here! What exactly happens when she draws this blade? Some of us have not had the experience!"
Daltonne, who had not to date found the sword so threatening said, "Well I thin it be best iffin BB tells you what happens or maybe Jessa. But I thin iffin you don't look you will be all right. Or maybe iffin BB doesn't draw it out completely. What say you BB?"
If Black Blade were less drunk, she probably would have said no, in fear of a riot. However, in her current state of inebriation and depression, her judgment was not as sharp as usual.
"It's a not a sight for the weak-of-heart," she muttered, drawing the sword and placing it in front of Artemus, her hand not leaving the hilt.
Daltonne now realized the potential for panic, and looked at O'Dwyer & Morague and said, "I'm no priest, but I hear tell that some can help people who are 'feared'. Maybe you two might be able to 'remove some of the fear' that BB's blade may cause, you being clerics and all. That is iffin there be a need."
Jessa and Serena were already preparing to hit the road. O'Dwyer thought about removing fear if he himself was not affected. Morague prepared for the worst. Solace sat calmly, wondering what all the fuss was about. Artemus stared in abject curiosity at the blade, a large black, bastard style, rune sword. He admired the workmanship that had gone into the blade, looked closely at the various runes with adorned the lower hilt, and at the crests which covered the top.
By now all present came to the same realization, they were not afraid, and their friend was not transforming. They sat, still somewhat uncomfortably, and looked in askance at each other. The Bard continued his visual examination. Black Blade seemed amused by all the attention.
O'Dwyer wondered, "Er, what just happened, or failed to happen? How cum none of us was fearrred?"
The others wondered the same thing.
Meanwhile Artemus let out a, "Too bad."
"What's too bad?"
"Not the one."
"What one?"
"The fifth one."
All asked, "WHAT fifth one?"
Artemus drew his attention away from the sword, "Oh, sorry," he pushed his hair out of his eyes, "the fifth sword of the North. This is not it."
O'Dwyer went on, "So, you know what the sowrrrd is not. Have yee any idee what it is?"
"Huh? Oh, er, yes, yes I do," answered the Bard as he continued to mull over the blade.
Jessa suggested, "Black Blade, why not put your friend back in its house. Then maybe this fine fellow will be able to speak more coherently."
"For a drink I will," the albino grinned.
Jessa had little choice, short of wrestling her friend. She got another pitcher of brown, and poured Black blade a mug. Black Blade took a stiff pull, and then replaced the sword.
"You were saying," Jessa reminded the Bard.
Artemus watched with sadness as the source of his fascination was sheathed. "Saying? Oh yes, I was saying." He pushed his mop up again, his brown eyes wide as saucers, gleaming. "Er, could I have a small glass of that. This thinking makes me thirsty."
His needs were seen to, and all ears fell upon him. He spoke in a fairly soft voice, like a teacher giving a lesson. "The sword is more important for what it does not say. You see here?" He pointed to the downward crescent that all had observed earlier. "This is part of the crest of Furyondy. The lower part, the three crowns, is missing. And, so is the rightful heir to the Throne of the Three Crowns." He stopped talking, pushed back his hair, took a sip from his mug, and fiddled with his clothing.
All waited, and waited. O'Dwyer brought the silence, short of breaking Artemus' neck. "Well, what thrrree crrrowns?"
"Yes," said Jessa, "what in the nine hells are your referring to?" For whatever reason, she had deducted four hells.
Artemus looked befuddled, then, "Oh, you've never heard the tale? Well then." He stood up, his hair fell perfectly parted down the middle, he pushed up his sleeves, his voice took on a robust, captivating tone, the stage was his.
"The story of the Three Crowns is over 400 years old. Some time back then, a castle, the castle Gelatin stood, somewhere along the northern border of Celene where it hit the southern border of Furyondy. The castle belonged to Godwin, First Lord of the Realm and personal retainer of the King Leefrick of the Three Crowns. It was from this Leefrick's crest that the three crowns came to be on the crest of Furyondy. At this point fact mingled with legend, and, well. It seems Leefrick had two sons, Ethelwaine and Cedric, one of whom may not have been the rightful fruit of Leefrick's own, then again, who knows? It is said that Ethelwaine was good, handsome, talented, and Cedric was not. Now, whether he was driven to his dark side by jealousy, or heredity, no one can say for sure. Some say that Cedric had connection to Godwin, and that Godwin was not the great friend to Leefrick that he purported to be. As was customary in those days, the elder son, Ethelwaine took a quest, somewhere over the seas, to prove his mettle and solidify his right to the throne. While on this journey, Leefrick died. Again, the story gets murky. Some say Ethelwaine never learned of his father's death, dying somewhere out there. Others say he returned to claim his throne, and met with a deceitful end, perhaps at the hands of Cedric.
"It is known that Cedric did indeed become king, and that he took up residence in Gelatint Castle. And during his reign, he stopped using the Three Crowns as his family symbol. The sword suggests a connection between Celene and Furyondy; I suggest it is one of geography, a hint to the location of this ancient castle. Again, as the story goes, he either became insane, was haunted by demons, or was just a lousy king. Gelatint grew less and less powerful, and less significant, as Furyondy, and its other noble houses grew in power. Cedric eventually died, and his son, Hengus, was left to rule, but there was little left to rule, as Gelatint's strategic position was replaced by other keeps which were built in the region. This could well be the sword of Cedric, one born of fear, and one to whom fear was a mixed blessing, as it is to your friend here."
The spell of Artemus' voice was momentarily broken as all looked at Black blade, who was dreaming the dreams of the not so sober.
O'Dwyer asked, "What everrr became of this Hengus, or Gelatint, fer that matterrr?"
"Little is known of Hengus, but rumors abound about the lost castle of Gelatint. The most common conclusion is that it became the home to some clerical order, naturally the story suggests one of evil, because of the evil nature of the place, and the actions that supposedly took place there. Plus, this symbol here," he pointed to a diamond shape which contained lines drawn from corner to corner, "Means evil. And here is the rune sign for skull, and another here is for the sickle. I think that it the sign for the deity of Nerull, god of death, murder, mayhem. Truly in keeping with one interpretation of Gelatint."
Artemus took his seat. His hair quickly fell in his face. He pushed it out of his yes. They had softened once again. "I say, take that sword to Gelatint and you'll get some answers. Course, you'll have to find the castle. No report of anyone being there in over two centuries."
"So what we need is a map," Black Blade suggested. "The older, the better. Of Furyondy and Celene. Compare the two, and find a place where at one time they overlap," she shrugged, making a grab of her mug, missing, making another grab, looking over at Jessa, mouthing "I can't find my glass."
"Aye, a map most certainly. Perhaps a guide, as well?" The steely-eyed elf turned to Morague, "Do you know the area or know someone who does?"
Jessa then shook her head and patted her friend on the shoulder. "I think you've had enough if your glass has decided to walk away." The elf moved the mug from its obvious place in front of the albino and put it out of her drunken grasping.
"A haunted castle" said Solace, enthused, "Alright!!!"
"All this listening to stories and drinking ale has tired me out.... So I'll be tending to my horse and hitting the sack. And unless anyone has any better ideas, I'll see you all early tommorrow morn for some castle hunting....there's no better cure for a hang-over you know" Solace winked at Black Blade, and prepared to leave.
Morague responded to Jessa, "I've only been to that region once, with my uncle, so I really don't have a lot to offer in the way of information. Maybe we could try Biddle's again or seek out the Veiled One, perhaps she has some information that will help us. Or we could always head over to Verbobonc or Dyvers to seek information there, of course, other than rumors, real information or maps will likely cost a lot of money. I have some small savings, but not much as I give most of it to the church. How are the rest of you set? We'll also need to get some equipment & supplies for such a journey."
Artemus interjected, "Yes, there's that image, er, name again. The Veiled One. Do you know her? From what I understand, she lives with that Andar you mentioned earlier, somewhere north along the western bank of the Jewel. Let me think, I think, yes, a place called the Lakeside Villa. They take in the poor and downtrodden." He mused some more. "Now, as far as a map goes, I could draw you up one. Doubt that there is an accurate one, though. The area between Celene and Furyondy, especially within the forest, has been in dispute for centuries. Never been clearly drawn." He set about sketching and soon produced a hand drawn one.
O'Dwyer asked Morague, "So lass, duz yer know this Veiled One? Do you think she can help us? And, while we'rrre at it, then, are we agreed ta be heading off once we get sum supplies?" He looked at the fighter whose thirst had still not ben quenched. "And once this one sobers up?"
Morague answered, "I have not actually met the Veiled One & her associates, but have heard a lot about her good deeds & her fight against evil. I do not know if she will be able to give us any specific help or not, but, the Lakeside Villa would be on our way. I could not hurt us to stop by and pay our respects & it may even help. I'm quite willing to head North, as soon as I gather my supplies & take care of my duties. I can be ready by tomorrow morning. What about Black Blade? I don't think I have a cure hangover spell. Do you suppose she'll be OK by the morning? "
Looking at her friend, Jessa stated, "She�ll be fine. Irritable and unpleasant to be around, but fine."
O'Dwyer was intrigue by the idea Morague had mentioned. "Meybe she will, meybe she won't. Whateverrr the case, I guess we'll go when she's rrready. Not much use in goin' without herr. Give us time ta get supplied. No tellin how long we'll be gone." Then he added with a grin to Morague, "Perhaps we can put our clerrical collarrs tagetherrr and invent such a spell. Might increase our respective followings."
"Sober?" BB scoffed. "Why, I'm as sober as Jessa there." And she took the choice time to pass out on the table. The image of the fighter being tossed in a horse trough or something passed before some eyes.
Morague said, "I'm sure such a spell would greatly increase our receptive followings; I'm just not sure that it would meet with higher approval. The suffering is supposed to remind the errant one not to partake so much the next time! If we could wipe out the effects so easily, we might cause a great increase in the cause & this would not be good. It could lead to all kinds of trouble, you know everyone getting drunk & the arguments & fighting. It's probably for the best that Black Blade suffer a little (I hope not too much!).
O'Dwyer disagreed. "Aye, that's why I thought it would be beneficial. It would allow fer the lettin' off a' the steam, without the sufferin." He grinned. "I think my order would support such a spell. The differrrence atween law and chaos," he mused.
Morague noted, "It is interesting that while in this state she did not cause anyone to be feared, though. I wonder if the sword can not `control' her when she has had too much to drink?"
O'Dwyer quickly joined this tangent. "I was wondering this meself. Guess time will tell. Course, if you're correct, then we'll have ta keep our friend in a permanent semi-coma."
Morague added the caution, "In any event, we must await Black Blade. I need to go now & start my preparations. Shall we meet here, tomorrow morning & firm up our plans? Is this agreeable to everyone?"
O'Dwyer volunteered to help BB get back to the boarding house. While he had abandoned the horse trough image, the possibility of the albino taking an accidental `slip' off the bridge as they're crossing it did give him pause.
As if this image had entered her dream, BB woke up with a snort. "I'm not as think as you drunk I am," she protested, attempting to stand up. She staggered a little, but remained standing. "Maybe a little coffee, or green tea, or something that will wake you up and leave a headache..." she trailed off, heading to the bar. There Clyde saw to fixing her some form of non-alcoholic brew.
Daltonne said, "Well I can be ready anytime. So I'll pick Jessa and BB here up nice and early and we can all enjoy a nice breakfast. I'm sur that BB will enjoy that. See you in the morn."
Morague said, "OK, it seems we all agree. I'll see all of you for breakfast tomorrow morning."
[And so they left me to my thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder what was getting under the skin of the one known as Black Blade. something was obviously troubling her, but a couldn't quite put a finger on it, not even a little one.]
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