02/08/746 A.E. Alodar
A slight wind swept northward through the crowed city of Alodar, though it had no particular destination in mind when it set out on its thermally induced journey, and no one in particular was it planning to meet. Yet, it did greet the band of adventurers as they emerged from the Ferryman Inn. Yesterday's meeting with Baler, the Sage, had gone well so their mode was relatively good, and with a hearty breakfast under their belts, they happily set out to make last minute arrangements for the ship bound journey to Pedas. And so the wind passed by, with not a concern in the world, though it did carry a hint of their plans northward. Knowing how to detect and read such things on the wind was not a wide spread talent, however, and no one gave it a second thought. At least, no one here.
Of greatest concern was the fate of Ekibar. Gillmesh pondered deeply what he should do with it. Others also wished to remain close by to help assure the sword might fall into "worthy" hands should Gill decide to part with it. But such decisions were tentative, and information needed to be acquired. And that lay in Pedas, capital city of the dwarven kingdom to the north. Baler's suggestion that Fenrick of Pedas or Corris of Pedas might be interested took root, and Lytha knew of an elven accountant, a woman named Ember Wilder with whom she had once met long ago. She worked for the family of Pedas. As plans go, this was as good as any and they arranged for passage on the A.I.V. Minneapolis, am imperial ship of the line, and therefore an elemental driven war galleon. But a few hours could still be spared while waiting in town.
Isabelle spent time with Becker, her new friend, a seaman assigned to the Minneapolis. Though his ideas along romantic lines were obvious, Bell made it clear she could only afford to be friends just then. Becker, a rough man in many ways, knew being rough and forceful here would do no good with Bell. Only time might change her mind, and that he would give her. And if she never did change her mind, there were worse things than having a powerful friend such as she. Besides, he liked her.
Gill's excursions at a magic shop proved lengthy and virtually fruitless (as they often do, since those damn shops never seem to have anything you want, at least for a price you can afford). But he perhaps began to acquire a better grasp of the true value of magic, and that's never a waste of time.
Ryosielle found the Vistantie fortuneteller again and sought her future. "I see a trip, yes, an ocean voyage, dangerous, but profitable. Do not look to the eyes, for I see danger there, so do not look I say, or the bell may toll for thee," warned the old crone. Ryo wasn't sure what to make of it, but she was glad to have her little fun. The woman did seem to have some insight, but how valuable it would be, only time would tell.
Other concerns in town soon passed by and the tide would wait for no man.
NOTE: Curious thing, the tides. With two moons, predicting them was a skill in and of itself. A decent mathematician could make a modest living just doing that in a harbor town. Needless to say, when high or low tide might be often appeared random to most people, like cosmic dice were being rolled to see when they would occur, though they were anything but. Of course, science is not so shoddy as that, and there is a pattern to such things, but why go into it here, as if anybody reading this cared?
Boarding the great ship, the party set out on what they expected to be a quick, 4 to 5 day, and hopefully uneventful journey. Alas, this group almost seemed cursed when it came to ocean voyages. Even Tagard had mentioned it, but he quickly left the party, gnomes not being overly brave to begin with, and the thought of traveling with cursed people bothered him a great deal. They last saw him in Pedas, come to think of it. Perhaps they'd find him again on this excursion.
02/10/746 A.E. The Imperial Sea.
Two days passed as uneventfully as desired. Games of skill or chance and other forms or merriment filled their time, but this was not to last. Come evening, an unnatural gray fog engulfed the Minneapolis. Immediately they notice the usual sounds of the crashing waves against the hull could no longer be heard, though they still felt the ship rocking as normal. A blanket of silence? And the air grew deathly cold as well, all of it screaming of unnatural occurrences, and the normally warm fog that hung in the air became like icy mist.
Bell looked about, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for any enemy, when her own gaze fell upon two tiny emerald green points of light, like eyes, which glaring back at her. Afraid or concerned, no one that watched her could tell, but she chanted briefly and then she vanished without a trace. Bell had disappeared. From her spell's cloak of Invisibility, Bell noticed yet another pair of green eyes also staring right through her. She screamed into the night for others to come running, calling, "Fire, fire!". It broke the silence, or did it? The waves could still not be heard. The silence apparently clung to the waterline. What was down there? But the watch was alerted and the crew scurried about as the officers began to bark orders.
Party members heard her call, some even wondering where she was or what the shouts of fire, fire were for since apparently no flames licked the ship. But such a cry did quickly bring many upon deck, which was perhaps her actual reason for such a call. Fire is such a danger to pitched wood and canvas that no one dared ignore such a call. And so they came, but they saw no fire. But Jarmain and Aarkon did see the ghastly eyes of green staring down from the riggings, perched high above and well out of their reach.
"Where tha hell's Bell?!?" shouted Gill, never really feeling secure without knowing exactly what 'that one' was up to. But other matters took precedence as streaks of little lights, balls of gold they were, tiny but rapid, slammed into Jarmain. His screams of pain were not exaggerated and Jarmain was knocked back with considerable force, slamming his body into the mast. Anyone below deck that hadn't already been alerted was now fully aware something was amiss, and they headed toward the upper decks of the Minneapolis. There they were greeted, not with one, nor two, but now three sets of eerie green eyes from above.
Ryo saw the eyes but looked away, suddenly mindful of and fearful about the Vistantie's warning. Spells were being cast, she could hear them, no doubt healing here and the powerful attacks of Magic Missiles there. A fluttering of feathers? The familiar caw of ravens? No one could be sure, but Ryo listened as the battle began to unfold. She readied her bow while searching for a vantage point where perhaps only one set of green eyes might fall upon her. Finding it behind the mast, but at such an odd position her shot would be difficult, she fired her bow anyway. A clean miss.
Other arrows flew out, and in the moment, success with their deadly piercing attacks was their owner's highest aspirations. Some were even fulfilled. Three black feathers fell to the deck. Such victories sometimes have a price, however. A wave of death? An unnatural spell of harm? Whatever it was it rolled across the decks as if in response to and payment for their successful attacks. Men fell, unconscious, while others fought off the effect entirely, though many others bore some damage, too, while managing to remain upright. It was as if life energy was drawn from them by the fog itself, but whatever it was, most everyone feared it was likely to happen again.
Another flurry of frantic activity, all trying to reach out and kill at a distance (which is often the safest method, if you can manage it). Another wooden shaft found purchase in its intend mark, "Awk awk awkkk!" it cried three times, but spiraled into the sea and was gone. The fog reached out like vengeance would be its own reward, and that icy wave of death washed over many of men one more time. They fell by the score, almost dead, but stubbornly still clinging to life. How many of the crew remained standing? Less than half? If a third such attack should come, those already down would surly die, while most of those who were still upright would just as likely fall.
"Caw Caw Caw!" came a sound of gloating victory, the three cries of the last dark bird from above mocked those below. Mocking bird? Naw.
Darts, arrows, missiles of magic, they did not hold back their power, these adventurers. Even daggers were thrown, and belaying pins, and bottles, too, if their owners weren't too drunk.
"SQUAWK!" came a cry from above. Flap flap flap, three thrusts of its wings bore it upwards and towards the ship's bow where it broke into a smooth glide. Were its wings getting larger? Cyris followed it with his eyes, chanting while he did so, and the flash and crackle of energy would not allow the creature to cleanly escape. The Lightning Bolt shot jaggedly through the air and engulfed the bird as the mage had prayed it would. Bird of prey? Naw. Yet, it did not fall, almost unnaturally immune to such attacks. It seemed to shift its shape as it disappeared into the night well beyond the reach of their little lights. Or did it? It was too hard to tell, but at least it was gone.
The ship lurched violently then. "Soul Overboard!!!" came the cry (the sea has always been an equal opportunity employer, caring not for one's gender or even one's race, so the phrase 'man overboard' never made it on this planet).
Ryo had been tossed over the side, and now crewmen scrambled to throw her a line, but first they had to find one. But other cries went out just then. "WE BE TAKIN' ON WATER CAPTAIN!!!" Whatever rocked the ship had punched a sizable hole in its hull. The chill had lifted, the fog rolled back as suddenly as it had rolled in, though it truth the ship just sailed out of it and into more normal conditions. But they were still sinking. Fast.
Lytha continued to heal Jarmain and tended to others, and her holy light could be seen moving about the ship where many took great comfort she was there. "No way will Corellon let us sink with her on board," she heard some crewman say, but she did not have time to correct such dubious beliefs. Ordinarily such a vessel would have plenty of men to plug the hole with sailcloth, but scant few remained unscathed, or even conscious. She worked quickly.
Cyris jumped into the drink, thinking to save Ryo, though it was a perplexing thing he did since he didn't know how to swim. What was he thinking? He didn't make an ideal flotation device, did he? Maybe he just didn't want to leave her behind, and the Minneapolis didn't exactly stop for battle. No, it continued at its normal 6 knots, leaving them behind a further 500 feet or so every minute. And at night, alone in the water, in the dark, so all that could be more than a little disconcerting. Ah, but Cyris had a magic light, and so they both stood out against the black sea. Perhaps that was it.
Orders were given to strike the sails and bring the ship's forward course to a stop. Jarmain seemed better, thanks to Lytha and Aarkon, and he also began to tend to the injured, his feelings of guilt misplaced since he wasn't very helpful during the battle. No one blamed him though.
Thankfully, it's harder to sink an elemental driven war galleon than that. In a pinch, the two water elementals could usually hold the entire ship up, and that's exactly what was preoccupying the captain's efforts while the other officers directed the sea born repairs, as well as the launch of the dinghy to rescue the lost souls overboard. As amusing as it may have been, the details of Ryo's and Cyris' rescue were not all that surprising, and when the two were once again on board, orders were given to head for Winter Black, a nearby coastal village near Handor. Winter Black was a small hamlet few people ever went to (unless they had business there). Soon, they were underway, and the Minneapolis limped for port.
When his healing spells were exhausted, Jarmain used his ability to warp wood, partially repairing the gapping hole in the hull. But he felt badly about being injured, and swore to himself to remain with the crew until they were all healed.
Hours later they managed port where two fang-like jutting peninsula-like rocks helped shelter the small anchorage there. But there was little doubt in the captain's mind that they wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for his passengers. Paul Saint, the captain, was far more concerned about his men, and continually impressed with the care given to his men by the priest of Zeus. What a lord, this Zeus be, to care so much for those not in his charge. I must remember to offer a sacrifice, he thought. Jarmain wanted to offer his own thanks after employing the orison Alleviate. The sickening rocking of the ship that had been bothering him greatly quite suddenly seemed of no importance.
Two days, they were told; two day for repairs. They would be here at least that long, and it was suggested in order to lighten the load, they might seek accommodations on shore. All but Jarmain went ashore, and thus did see what Winter Black held in store. Even Lytha left the men for she knew she could do no more for them; besides, Jarmain was staying. He'd heal them all.
Just as they came ashore, they heard the town's bell tower toll three times. Odd, as it was around 9 in the morning, but they didn't think much of it as they looked the small village over.
Soon they stumble into the local tavern, a small pub called The Lazy Flower. The men and woman they had passed stared and whispered as they went. The two patrons in the tavern did the same. The town folk seemed worried or nervous for some reason. Something was bothering them all right, but what, they could not tell.
"Strangers in town? Did a ship come in or what?" asked the barkeep. Aarkon, always helpful and ready with information, replied simply, "Yes, but not under any usual conditions however. We ran into trouble on the sea and put in for repairs." The barkeep did not inquiry further about special circumstances but instead began taking their orders. After serving up their drinks, the barkeep continued. "Perhaps your ship be cursed too, just as our town be." More than a hint of sea jargon colored his words, showing he had spent some years at sea himself.
"Cursed? This town is cursed?" they asked. Less reluctant than most others to speak with strangers, the bartender willingly answered their questions. "Aye. The murders and all the strange happenings; it's wicked evil it is, I say."
Further inquires proved useful as they learned the town's bell mysteriously tolled three times, and shortly after, another grisly murder was always discovered. To date, in the last few scepters since this started, twelve town's people had met horrible fates, each body found with three uncharacteristic items on or near the body. "We dinna know who does this. Tis evil; devils, or something. We be cursed," is all they further discovered. Learning this, they went forth and searched for the new victim the barkeep claimed must now exist. No regular towns folk went with them, however, as most were apparently just relieved who ever it might be, it wasn't them.
Seeking divine help, of sorts, they sought the local church and found only a small temple to Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture. There were other more generic shrines around town, particularly to Poseidon, not unusual for any coast town, but they wished to confer with living flesh since the spiritual types often weren't very talkative. At least, not without employing powerful magics.
Lorianne, cleric of Demeter, greeted them and started telling them part of the dark tale of Winter Black while they looked for the most recent murder victim.
They didn't look long before a blood-curdling scream gripped them and had their full attention. Running over, they found a sobbing woman on her porch, the front door open, the through way clear all the way back to the open back door where one could see the back yard if they looked. The town constable was already questioning the sobbing woman. Jessica, her daughter, a beautiful child of only 12 years, was in the back yard, dead. Murdered. Impaled.
Three wooden rods impaled her small body, the blood still dripping along the wooden shafts. Ryo searched for tracks but a few town's people had already been trampling the scene. Still, she found scant tracks leading out of the fenced region where Jessica had apparently loosened some boards to gain access to the nearby woods. Sadly, Ryo lost the trail; she might try again later, deeper in the woods, she thought, but for now she returned to the others.
Renann Goldenleaf, traveling bard, made his appearance. He had come to see the famous lovely Black Orchids of Winter Black only to find the town caught up in this macabre mystery of murder. In the two days he had been here, he had discovered nothing of importance. Still, he offered his aid. Apart from Reman and Lorianne, no one in town any longer sported any real power or skill, as adventurers might know it. Some had, they learned, but they were dead.
Friendly and sympathetic neighbors soothed the wailing woman as best they could, and they removed Jessica's body to the temple. There, Lorianne continued the story. A complete record of the victims was made available, and in the order they were discovered, and the three objects found on or near their bodies were also listed.
01.) Milar Snipe (Mayor's son), Three daggers in the heart.
02.) Janmor Argus (woodcutter), Three logs on chest, head bashed in.
03.) Hellen Frile (Orchid hunter), Three dead sparrows in her bag, she had been strangled.
04.) Thomas Grout (Orchid hunter), Three rough branches laid parallel to him.
05.) Rensi Eletip (hunter), Three large rocks at his feat, his head was bashed in.
06.) Thisor Amethist (Druid), Three gold coins on charred, skeletal forehead, burned to death.
07.) Lawrence Damshot (Town Guard, died guarding the tower bell) Three pieces of string tied to his hand, knifed in the back.
08.) Joe Brown (Farmer) Three tools (hoe, pitch fork, shovel) by his body, pitch forked to death.
09.) Sally Brown (Farmer's wife) Three wooden spoons in her hand, drowned in wash tub.
10.) Mannie Tentis (Orchid hunter) Three apples in his pockets, cause of death, unknown.
11.) Tasha Wick (Herbalist) Three empty vials by her body, poisoned?
12.) Duke Kingston (wood worker) chopped into three major pieces, axed to death with his own axe.
13.) Jessie Winthrop (little girl, picker of flowers) Impaled by three wooden poles, impaled to death.
Many hours were fruitlessly spent in various endeavors, but nothing promising appeared. They all decided to call it a night.
02/11/746 A.E. Winter Black.
In the morning, the party members started with the mayor's son. He had been a man of 30, and this was about 3 months ago now that he had died. The mayor reluctantly spoke of it to them. His son's armor stood by his portrait, which was almost an amusing sight. Milar had been 6' 6" tall and rather portly. They had simply assumed Milar, somewhat known as a bully, had been killed for more, ah, typical reasons, like maybe somebody who had taken all he was going to from a bully, and decided to take drastic action. They buried Milar and never did discover who had committed murder, but they had no idea more were about to occur either.
Alas, the mayor was little help and they soon left, including Bell who had been sneaking around and walking "through" locked doors in the mayor's house. She didn't find any clues to speak of though, and so she also left.
They went down the list only to discover none of these people had much in common, other than one thing. They spent a good deal of time in the forest, or near it, and not so much in town. But Milar was an exception. He spent his time drinking and gambling and bullying. The others, including little Jessica, often spent time in the woods, many of them looking for Black Orchids since those flowers were rather valuable.
Thisor Amethist, the druid, they learned, had been trying to discover the mystery of the Winter Black, but he failed. For three years he tried, and he ended up being the 6th victim, with 3 gold coins upon the forehead of his ample body, and burned almost to charcoal blackness in the ruins of his log cabin.
Cyris tried to learn what he could from another angle. He discovered that 10 years ago a sage had lived in town and Mrs. Hundson, his landlady, still had his professional library. He went to do some research. He discovered the sage's old notes. They told him several things, which he relayed to the others.
The black orchid started growing thus over 600 years ago. A druid named Brembly Bramblegoody had apparently been the start of it. The sage felt that the druid may have done something to cause these orchids to grow here, but there were no details. Bramblegoody died 600 years ago and took any secrets with him, but for 600 years now, Winter Black (now so called but back then it was called Fang Port for the two fang-like jutting peninsula-like rocks that helped shelter this anchorage), has dealt in trade of the Winter Black Orchid.
Meanwhile, Ryo and others picked up a trail, and after many hours in the forest, they follow it back to a burned out log cabin.
The fire seemed to have started away from the fireplace, and she smelled the remnants of oil, so she suspected it might have been set deliberately. Ryo could see where the druid's body was found, the floor beneath being cleaner and not burnt, but the body had, they knew, been buried in the small cemetery of the town many weeks ago. It had been a simple cabin, obviously older than the three years the druid had lived there, and he must have adopted it rather than built it. They later learn from the constable that it had been Gingus McFarlen's place 15 years before when he died (old age). He had been a trapper.
Since the tower's bell and why it tolled three times was a mystery, and despite the fact the last one to think to guard it ended up dead, they decide upon a similar plan. Getting into position, they waited the night.
SESSION ENDS: © September of 2000End Of Chapter 37
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096