Showing posts with label Magic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magic. Show all posts

Friday, July 22, 2011

2-13 “Recovery”

The whole point of being on standby is being ready to go on a moments notice. We're up and moving towards the front immediately. Ken grabs a light crossbow and bolt box from the equipment rack we pass leaving the training grounds. Probably a good idea considering we don't know who this wizard is or how powerful he might be. He also seems to have remembered to keep it unloaded until something is actually going down. Showing up at a heated scene with a loaded crossbow doesn't help anything.

We slow down as we near the front desks. No need to barge in and draw attention when people are arguing, we can hear them now. Assistant commander Staghorn is letting someone know that, “You can't have it back until after all pending investigations are closed or the item is proven irrelevant to any open cases.”

We slide into the foyer quietly as our armor allows. Looks like quite a few of us were called in here, that's standard procedure when dealing with spellcasters. You never know how powerful they are by looks alone, best to be prepared. Wait, we just met this guy. Harold is here and already trying to retrieve his magic rock, he seems more flustered than when we met him outside of the statuary.

“How long will that take?! I can't work without my channel stone. How am I supposed to make a living while you sit here with it in your vault?!”

“I'm sorry, but we can't give it back, and I don't know how long it will take. We've got a lot of missing people, many of which are now presumed dead. Reports are still coming in. If you want my advice on the matter, you can find Investigator Freeman. He would love to have a statement from an acquaintance of one of the recently missing, and while you're at it you can give him a full description of your rock and its abilities so we may rule out it's involvement more quickly, if that is the case.”

“I need it back quickly though, you'd better see that it has nothing to do with this! Where can I find Mr. Freeman?”

“Okay then,” the assistant commander looks around at the lot of us that assembled during the argument, “Nivar, Kenneth, you two were on this case, take mister Wordweaver to see the Investigator.” His expression wordlessly adds, “I don't think he's dangerous, but make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of the men filter back out of the room. Ken and I motion for Harold to follow us. Investigator Freeman said that he would be checking for leads in the southwestern quarter. I guess we'll see how else we can help once we get there too, just about anything is better than being on standby. Harold is grumbling under his breath again, I wonder how long Staghorn was keeping him tied up before we arrived.

Monday, June 27, 2011

2-10 “Unwilling Informant”

A quick thrust of my halberd and I tip the ladder back and over to pin the guy between it and the building on the opposite side of the alley. He wraps his knees around the ladder rungs to keep himself from dangling off.

Lanky build, red hair, scruffy clothes – it's Vinnie again. No matter how many times I try to scare this guy straight, he seems to get under the thumb of another gang leader or crime lord. He isn't so much malicious as he is amazingly unlucky, constantly pulled in to be a stooge or messenger boy. How I keep running into him, I don't know. He's never quite doing something illegal, but he's constantly running around delivering messages and the occasional piece of contraband that he 'had no idea was in that package.' Which is true, when put in a circle of truth we found that they don't even tell him what he's delivering. It's easy enough to spook him into talking and then he hides from whoever he got caught, and ends up working for another person who will tell him even less than the last boss did.

“We gotta stop meeting like this Vinnie. Breaking and entering is illegal, you know.”

“Denwatch? The 'ell are ya doing 'ere? An' I wasn't breakin' in. Why would I yell out for 'im if I was trying to bust inta 'is place? Can you let me down? This ain't a very comfy spot ya got me in.”

“You're right Vinnie, but I could probably take you in for this one anyway. Though I might let you off with a warning if you let me in on what Pete here has to do with your boss.”

“Wait, ya don't know? Why're ya even 'ere then?”

“I'm sure you've heard about the recent surge of missing persons.”

“Shit, I knew Pete was a real nutter, but I didn't think all of 'em were 'is.”

“You're still not telling me anything, and my partner will be back soon with men from the guard house.”

That got him, now he's sweating and shaking, but not enough to loosen his dead grip on that ladder.

“Hell, Pete finds ways to lure guys inta private and knocks 'em off. I hear 'e like strange clothes an steals 'em from those that don't need 'em no more in 'is free time. 'ats all I know 'bout 'im. Been tryin' to reach 'im since yesterday but 'e wasn't in 'is usual 'aunt, and so I decided I'd come 'ere. To tell the truth I don't want to be anywhere near the guy. Lot's of people that 'ave done business wit' 'im are just gone. Maybe they left,” he appends quietly, “but I don't think so.”

“Like who, where?”

“Andy Alchemist on west side. Gary Padfoot, maybe others. I wouldn't bother check for 'em though, they're just gone. Places 'ave since been cleaned of everything but dust.”

“Dust?”

“Not blue dust! All 'ats left where they used to work or live is a pile 'o dust now.”

“Well, all that's left here is a pile of dust, too. I'd say you should stay out of trouble if you don't want to end up the same. So who's your boss and what's this job? Let me know and I'll let you off for now.”

“He'd 'ave my 'ead if 'e knew I was telling ya, but 'e's gone missin' too, probly safe to give it to ya. Just say ya found it 'ere, an' I'll say I left it in 'is room, an' no one'll know any better.” He pulls out an envelope. I pull the ladder back with the hook of my halberd and he hands it to me. Once I have the letter he drops down the ladder quick as he can, folds it up impossibly small, and bolts. “I'm outta 'ere!”

Something to read until the investigator shows up.

Friday, June 17, 2011

2-9 “Crime Scene”

Inside is the shop area of the statuary. On shelves all around are small metal statues some are minimally mobile. The area is tidy, and the shelves are full. Whoever broke in either didn't come downstairs or wasn't here to rob the place. A few days worth of dust coats everything except the works that move.

Through a door in the back is a workshop area. Bars of various metals, from lead to platinum, are carefully arranged near a furnace and tool set. I assume that the bags of plaster were used to make the molds for his sculptures. On one table is a polished stone that glows softly. In one corner is a safe, still firmly closed and locked.

From the workshop leads a stairway to the second floor. A small kitchen and dining space. A store room and at the end.

The last room is the bedroom. The sheets are tossed about from the bed. A dresser and nearby wardrobe have been pushed about. The wardrobe is broken open and empty. It's also more solidly built than most I've seen, thicker doors and sides. Judging by the way the wood is splintered, it was broken out from the inside. There is a very large amount of what looks like dust on the floor near the bed. A night table is upended near the window, a candle that was probably on the table is on its side on the floor.

“What happened here?”

“Signs of a struggle, nothing seems to be missing. Except for whatever was in that wardrobe. Looks like someone broke their way out of there doesn't it?”

“Yeah, that wouldn't be an easy feat, it's very sturdily built for a wardrobe. Wonder what he was keeping in there.” He open a drawer of the dresser nearby. “Just clothes in here, looks like.”

I move toward the window, not much glass in the room. Looks like it was broken outward. A small torn piece of fine green cloth is stuck on a shard sticking out from the frame.

“Go up to the trader's guilds and find Inspector freeman, I think he'll want to look over this place before we tramp all over it any further. I'll stay here and keep an eye on things.”

“Yes, sir.” He salutes, and heads back down the stairs.

The place is very quiet once I stop moving around. There's something unsettling about that pile of dust, or maybe it's this room that doesn't feel right.

There's a sound coming from the alley below the window, someone is walking around down there. I withdraw my halberd from my magic pouch quietly. A ladder is put up toward the window.

A voice call up from below, ascend to his floor “Oi, Pete, what 'appened to ya window? Well no matter, boss 'as a choice job for ya, so you'll be able ta replace it roight quick.” I know this voice.

A face pokes over the lip of the window, surprise quickly covering it. “Aw, shit. You ain't Pete.”

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

2-8 “Moldmaker House”

Investigator Freeman takes notes while questioning the people in the tavern, no new leads are to be found though. He assigns Ken and I to check on the statuary while he looks for leads among the trader's guilds. Hopefully peter isn't one of those that have gone missing.

This town has gotten so big so fast that it's simple to believe how easy it is for someone to disappear without anyone noticing. People are constantly moving in and more houses and buildings are constructed to accommodate them all. I can't imagine that we'd be able to keep that up without the spells and magical items that the engineers use for construction. Although, those with a lot of money still hire builders for a hand crafted house. With so many new people coming in to town, why would someone target folks that have been around for a while, with contacts or schedules to keep.

It takes us a while to trek down to where Mr. Moldmaker's shop was reported to be. After asking for directions from the local patrol we find the place. It's down a dead end street, a well made sign declaring the 'Best fine metal statues, busts, and animate miniatures in the city.' There's an elderly gentleman looking into the window from the street occasionally knocking on the door and shouting for Peter. He stops when we approach.

“Excuse me, sirs. Would you happen to know if the owner of this shop has been around.” He looks around he is clearly worried about something.

“No, I'm afraid not. We were just looking for him ourselves. Do you know him?”

“Well, not exactly. I'm Harold Wordweaver, I started working with him several days ago, working minor enchantments into some of his smaller creations to let them animate into performing short repeating motions.” He gestures at the display window. One of the smaller silver sculptures depicts a warrior and a dragon each constantly attacking each other in a slow loop. The posture, and incredibly wasteful motions on the warrior's end give away the lack of experience the animator had watching men in actual combat. The warrior's shield has no straps... “But about four days ago he stopped opening up his shop. He never gave me a key, and so I've been coming here and calling for him and checking to see if he's opened up. You see I left an enchanted stone of mine in his workshop, it helps me channel my magics, and I really need it back.”

“Ken, question this fine gentleman, I'm going to see if there's any sign of breaking and entering.”

I circle around the building nothing strange in the alley to its left, but when I look around back there's a broken window and glass all over the floor. Second floor, that's a strange place for a burglar to break in from, there are certainly enough accessible windows on the ground floor here. The overall lack of security for a place dealing in fine metals is fishy. But now it looks like a crime scene, time to get in and take a look around.

“This is now a crime scene. I'm sorry Harold, but your stone might need to be held as evidence. Come by the guard house and you'll be able to learn how to get it back once it has been examined.”

“Blast it, I need that. Just hurry up will you, I can't work without that thing!” He tugs at his long white beard as he leaves, grumbling to himself.

“Door's locked, we're going to have to force our way in it looks like.”

I step back from the door and get ready to test the lock strength with a kick when Ken interrupts me.

“No, no, no, solid oak door, too thick for that sort of thing. You'll just hurt yourself.”

I raise an eyebrow, though my helmet probably makes the expression hard to read, “Really now, and what do you propose?”

Ken crouches down and withdraws something from his boot. A lockpick? Must be. He makes quick work of unlocking the door. “That was easy. Shouldn't someone making even pewter statues have a better lock?”

“Where did you pick that little skill up?”

Ken shifts uncomfortably, “Well let's just say that where I grew up, not knowing something like this was out of the ordinary.” He opens the door, and we go in to check the place out.

Monday, May 30, 2011

2-5 “Leads”

My vision comes back, I'm back in my own head. That pain still lingers a little. We should let everyone in the watch feel that, they won't complain about the gorgets being uncomfortable ever again.

I get up and look down at Inspector Freeman. He is sitting as if in deep concentration, he's still holding that notebook and his gloved hand is drawing on the page with his pen incredibly swiftly. He is just finishing a sketch of the fellow being talked to in the bar. When it's done, the page flips and he begins drawing another face, one I didn't notice as I was memorizing the streets and shops being visited.

I turn to Kristoph to ask, “Why did I get out earlier than he did?”

“Time still passes while you are having the vision, though you experience much more quickly than you would reality. You probably speed up the process further. Inspector Freeman there has done this before, he takes it slow and uses that magical glove to let him sketch things without seeing the page. I'm guessing the glove is mentally controlled, he can't move his body of his own will during the trance normally, but perhaps the glove's enchantment doesn't share that detachment.”

Suddenly Freeman's face expresses deep pain, his drawing slows down. It looks like he's trying to sketch the killer in those fading moments. He only has a vague outline when he comes to.

“Damn it! If the victim could have held out a little longer, I might have had the bastard! Denwatch, you remember his path?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” He begins copying his sketches with remarkable speed. Then he calls the rest of the men back in to the mortuary, “I want you to look for these people in that area with me. Ask if anyone saw the victim or anyone following him around. If you find any of the people that I sketched, direct them to me for questioning. I'm going to spend my time looking for them directly and questioning people at the tavern, so if you find any of them send them there to meet me. We also need to identify him and find out if he has any local family to notify.”

He hands us the copied sketches, several people drawn with meticulous detail. Standard procedure; groups of two or more, fan out, question the nearby residents, regroup at the guard house when finished. I'm still paired with Ken. The inspector takes one of the men brought to carry the coffin. Two of the remaining three are chosen to help, the last is sent back to his guard post on standby.

Following his path I manage to learn from a stall owner the man's name, Victor Sagefield, and that he had acted as an intermediary for merchants and caravans. I make note to ask around at nearby trader's guilds to find more information about him, he might have been a member and been killed by a rival or competing guild. Other than that, the search is frustratingly useless. The last place I decide to go is the tavern. I'm not officially an investigator, but I might very well know how to get more information out of the owners and regulars than Freeman would. They can be... quirky...

Friday, May 27, 2011

2-4 “Eyes of the Dead”

The world comes back into focus, I'm walking down a street. Except, it isn't me. I see hear feel and smell everything. but I have no control over movement. It's a very strange sensation.

One of the first things I notice is this man must have been out of shape for how he looks. Walking around unarmored shouldn't feel this strenuous. The second is that he is walking around the eastern market square, towards The Hero's Tavern. It's as nice a place as any to get a bite to eat, a good drink, or, in my case, local information. The owner's are retired treasure hunters and self-proclaimed heroes. They were central to our plans to depose Iztram, before he was so fortuitously removed by our Liberators. The market is full of the sounds of people gossiping and the smell of produce and fresh baked goods. I don't have much to go with from what I see here. I guess I really should just stick to the big picture, time to memorize his path for the day, we can question stall owners and shopkeeps he talked to.

I find that I can speed up the 'memory' as well as slow it down or stop it, but I can't reverse it. I increase the pace, a knack for memorizing places will let me beat the same path once I'm out of here.

He stops near several of the bakers on his way toward the tavern, smelling the wonderful baked goods but not buying anything.

In the tavern he has lunch, has a few drinks, and stares at the elven bartender's chest for a bit longer than I think she'd appreciate. He strikes up a short conversation with the man next to him, it's about a new tailor in town.

He leaves the tavern, walks up Bullhorn Way. Stops briefly to look at his reflection in the window of Traveler's Boon General Store. That outfit is more gaudy than I've seen most nobles wearing. Bright greens and blues all over. Stick to the big picture. Street is empty, no one around for quite a ways.

He stops by Eamon's Millinery. Picks up a hat that complements his already absurd get up. I notice in the mirror someone watching through the window, face obscured by a hood. It's too hot out for such attire, that's as suspicious looking a fellow as I have ever seen. The watcher rapidly moves away when the man is done checking his new hat and beginning to pay.

He continues up the way, there's a small but notable crash down an alley to the left, he looks down the alley. This is the alley where we found him. There's something shining on the ground among the forgotten and rotting barrels and crates, he's about to walk down there like an idiot and see what it is isn't he...

Yes, there he goes, it's a silver eagle coin. “How'd this get here? Well, that covers lunch today!” There's another coin further down around the corner. You're really going to fall for this?! He is...

He goes deeper into the alleyways, picking up the next coin and peeking slowly around corners, as if he knows he really ought to not be doing this. Another small crash. Turn around you idiot. “Hm, probably should get back to the street, this place is getting creepy.” No re-!!!

TWIN ECLIPSES, that hurts! That must be the neck wound, an excellent argument towards wearing a gorget right here. I can't feel anything below his head anymore. Vision begins to fade just as he's being turned over. I can't make out the face hanging above him; blurry vision, a dark alley, and a hood. Darkness...

Monday, May 23, 2011

2-3 “Spiritual Severance”

“Is there something blocking the spell?” Frustration is clear on the investigator's face.

“No, there's nothing blocking the spell but the spirit is out of contact.”

“Can you tell why?”

“I'm afraid not, there are several reasons this could happen. From simply not wanting to talk to being the victim of a soul devourer. There are two that I would say are most likely though: He may have been slain by an enchanted weapon designed to sever spiritual connections, or his spirit may have been twisted into a vengeful wraith or specter due to the circumstances of his death. Have any such ghosts been reported in the area?”

Ghosts aren't our jurisdiction, though we generally get reports of them. Those get sent ahead to one of the nearby temples, the priests carry out any necessary exorcisms or exterminations. The thought of destroying a ghost always gives me a chill.

“No, it was probably the weapon. They are easy enough to come by, their legitimate use is for dealing with the undead. Unfortunately, they also make murder harder to trace, and prevent resurrection in high profile cases where the victim can afford such treatment. Did you bring the stuff you need to cast that viewing spell?”

“Yes, of course I can give you the 'Eyes of the Dead.' The rest of you should step outside for a moment if you don't want to be caught up in the spell too, it isn't an altogether pleasant experience.”

Kristoph pulls a very grim face with that. Kenneth and the four that carried the coffin turn and leave. I'm not about to be scared off by something like that.

“I'll help however I can.”

“As you wish, sit on the floor with Mr. Freeman. It makes the experience more bearable at the end.”

Kristoph starts taking various vials, and small pouches out from his sleeves. Investigator Freeman sits down at the foot of the stone slab resting his back on it. He pulls out a pair of embroidered silk gloves and puts them on. Then he takes a pen and notebook from a pouch at his belt.

“Okay, Nivar, I bet you haven't done this before. We're going to experience some of this poor fellow's last day, and see what we can gather from his point of view. Just try to focus and remember what you can of the places you see. I'll focus on the details. Oh, and be ready for this to hurt.”

“Pain is something I'm used to, Sir.”

I sit along the wall nearest the stone pedestal, not the most comfortable thing to do in armor. Kristoph makes an outline around the body with some sort of fine red powder. He begins a chant and the world starts to get hazy.

Monday, May 16, 2011

2-2 “Spooks”

We arrive at the Temple of the Hammer's mortuary. The rancid scent of the body immediately dissipates. Always happens when we come down here, there's probably a spell of some sort responsible for that. Torches line the walls, offering a good amount of light to see by, though the lack of windows is still apparent. Whenever we have an unidentified body, we take it here. They keep the body in some sort of stasis for a few days to let us find out who they are before burial, let loved ones know. We also take the time to see if a wizard can gather any information from the body or spirit, according to them, temples amplify magics relating to spirits.

'Spooks' shows up to prepare a slab for the body to rest on. The clergy of this temple leave the mortuary to him, only coming out here when funerary rites need to be performed.

The local gravedigger and manager of the bodies awaiting burial, Lawrence Tunneler, looks so much like a corpse himself that he's earned that nickname among the watch. Add to that the way he moves, stiff, jarring motions with the least joint bending possible. If anyone could be mistaken for the walking dead, it would be Spooks. Investigator Freeman, greets him.

“Hello, Lawrence, same song and dance as usual. Has the wizard shown up yet?”

“No, sir. Was just me an' the dead until you showed up.” Even his voice rasps in a way that you could easily imagine coming from someone not quite alive.

We open the coffin, and hoist the body onto a stone platform.

“No clothes? We'll have to fix that a'fore burial. You find 'im this way?”

“Yes, I thought it was odd that someone would take the time to undress a body after killing them. Hopefully it'll help us find the killer.”

“Well, I s'ppose I'll leave you to your business then. Give me a shout when you're done. Sooner they get frozen the better.”

Spooks totters off, leaving us alone with the body, for a while. We seem to have hired a loud one.

“Hello! Your master diviner had arrived!”

He bounces his way into the room, brightly colored robes contrasting sharply with the stone walls.

“So this is the errant body? Well then, let's find out what has befallen this poor fellow!”

“You can cut the act, Kristoph, there's no-one here for you to impress...” Freeman looks annoyed, and his tone engenders familiarity.

“Cut to the chase is it, my friend? Well then I shall, first I will try to speak with the departed spirit, if that fails I will see what I can gather from the body.”

Kristoph begins his arcane chant placing a crystal ball on the deceased's chest. A slight radiance issues forth from the sphere, followed by a vulgar sound and a sizable cloud of light gray smoke bursts forth. If that smoke usually had a smell, it's deadened in the mortuary. In just a few moments the smoke rises and leaves through one of the funnels in the ceiling. I'm fairly certain the spirit world just passed gas at us, master diviner indeed...

“Well, I see this is going to get complicated...” Kristoph looks both amused and disappointed at the same time.

Friday, May 6, 2011

1-22 “Case Closed”

Stanton is dangling over a tree branch near the edge of the clearing. Did that gemtree mange to throw him over here? I spot his bow and a crumpled piece of iron a small ways away. I alert the rest of the group to his presence, as I go to pick them up. Looks like this used to be a helmet, and whatever crushed it also tore the chin strap.

Lady Isabella uses a spell to pick him off of the branch and gently lay him down on the ground. Lord Carlmon and Lady Celano examine him, he's still breathing. Large gashes on his forehead and cheek indicate he must have struck his head at some point, and his hardened leather jerkin is heavily scraped along his midsection. Both nobles channel healing magic, no scar is left behind. Stanton opens his eyes with a start.

“Look out for the thorns!”

He looks around a bit, rubs his head. “Where's my helmet? How long have I been out?”

“If you left yesterday, you've been out for a night. You'll need a new helmet, because this one is more of a plate now.”

I hold up the helmet that could still be used if your head was a sheet of paper.

“You managed not to land on your bow this time. Looks like it's learned how to get out of the way better than you have.”

I toss him his bow.

“Nivar, did they send you to look for me?”

“No, spent a while investigating. The Lords and Ladies showed up and let me know that leaving a piece of that thing in a tree was a bad move.”

“I dunno, looks like it made for a great fertilizer.”

“We came here, but had to rest for the night, we thought the thing would emit darkness like all of the other ones.”

“I had it covered, no need to hurry, huh?”

He looks around at the group, and must recognize them. He salutes as he slowly gets to his feet. He sees past the Lords and Ladies and looks somewhat confused.

“Why are all the trees knocked down?”

Lord Hawkins fills him in on the battle.

“Guess this standard issue stuff doesn't measure up to your armor at all.” Stanton looks down at his damaged jerkin. “For us it wasn't as big as when you got here. We took a look at it, I saw it start to move. It tossed Watchman Andrew into a tree nearby, I saw thorns forming above us. That's all I remember.” Sudden concern hits his face. “Did you find Watchmen Andrew or Gerald? They came here with me.”

“Guess we should go look for them.” Lord McGee is also skilled at tracking, and coordinates a search of the area for signs of the other two watchmen.

We find tracks of someone dragging something leading northward. Following them to the road, we find an activated light rod stuck into a tree. It's a watchman's signal, we're supposed to jam a light rod into the corner of a building if we go into an alleyway alone to follow someone suspicious. This lets other watchmen follow or report on the signal.

It's been here for hours, so it's almost gone out entirely. If he was heading to the city to get reinforcements, a watchman would have left this here to mark where to turn south off of the road. I remove it, we'll run into anyone sent looking for it on the way back to the city.

We find a large contingent of the castle's soldiery halfway back. They were deployed to deal with the threat. Lord Hawkins explains the situation to them, and we learn that both Watchmen Andrew and Gerald made it back alive. They weren't doing very well though. Andrew was unconscious and Gerald was stubbornly dragging him along even though his leg was broken. I'm sure that mobilization scared all of the bandits back into their holes for the day.

The lot of us make it back, The men and I take our leave of the Lords and Ladies and head back to the guard house to file our reports. I find myself glad that, if there aren't charges being placed, and no one gets killed, reports only need to be a list of items lost or spent. I unfortunately remember the bandits we had to kill yesterday, and end up writing out a full report.

I turn in the account of what happened over the last two days to Assistant Commander Staghorn, who gives me the rest of the day off for my effort and overtime. I thank him, and leave the guard house. Just as I'm leaving, I hear Stanton.

“Hold up, Nivar!” He runs out the door to catch up with me. “I'd like you to have this, as thanks for saving me out there, and finding me someone that could fix this old bow up good as new.”

He presses a long dagger in a finely made sheath into my hands. The pommel has a small emerald embedded in it.

“It's grade two enchanted, and further enchanted against plants. I'd been using it to clear paths for myself through brush. That bow is really important to me, so take it.”

“You don't...”

“I'm not taking it back!”

He runs back into the guard house with a wave before I can protest further. Something even grade one enchanted is very expensive. I draw the blade, finely honed and engraved with a vine pattern. I guess I'll replace my belt knife with this when I get home. It's such a nice gift, I should at least use it.

The trip home is peaceful, I pick up a fresh loaf of bread and some honey.

Monday, May 2, 2011

1-21 “Tree”

It was a very restful sleep, and an early awakening. We all finished breakfast before dawn. The sun must be just above the horizon now. The forest becomes quiet as we approach the place where I had encountered the amalgam. There wasn't a clearing here before.

A sky blue crystal tree at least fifty feet tall stands in the middle of a circle of uprooted and broken down trees. Its branches move regardless of the lack of wind. The area nearby the tree looks somewhat burned. As we approach the tree line, it bends its branches in one massive sweep, scratching the bark off of the trees at the border. It must still be growing if that was the first time it could reach these trees.

The Lords and Ladies start discussing what spells they should use before approaching, and who should stay back. They think those burns look like acid burns, one of them has a spell to protect against that.

Lord Hawkins calls me over, “You all have ranged weapons right?”

“Yes, sir, crossbows.”

“This thing can topple trees, I think it'd be best if you all stayed back and offered ranged support.”

“Yes, sir! You heard the lord, crossbows at the ready.”

I guess now it's time to find out if keeping my bolts in my bag instead of the belt box is a good idea. I reach in to pull out my crossbow and a bolt. It's already drawn and loaded when I withdraw my hand from the magical bag. That's... How does it do that?

Lords Hawkins, Hawklight, and Gimaim, as well as Ladies Maple and Hefthammer all advance toward the tree over the fallen trunks of trees uprooted by the corrupted one. Zilo flips up his hood, and his silhouette begins to fade as his cloak blends with the surrounding foliage, I quickly lose track of him. It's a good thing we can aim high to avoid friendly fire, though he probably knows how to avoid the line of fire if he does this frequently. Sephram stays between Lady Averdine and the tree, holding a defensive posture. Lord Mcgee starts firing arrows from an exquisite looking bow with remarkable speed.

The rest begin to cast spells. Lightning and fire burst forth, streaking toward the tree. Much of it dissipates as it contacts a hitherto unseen field around its trunk and branches. Lady Averdine finishes an incantation that leaves me feeling lighter, and it has obviously affected everyone else as we all begin moving faster.

Lord Alejandro turns out to be a spell-caster as well, I never would have guessed from the full suit of plate armor that he wears. I have heard armor interfered with one's ability to channel magical energy. The globe of fire he throws begs to differ, penetrating whatever protection surrounds the gemtree and leaving large cracks and scorch marks around the point of impact.

The tree makes reply by swinging massive branches down hammering on those that advanced with massive limbs. Those that are hit by these smashing attacks immediately receive healing magic from either Lord Carlmon or Lady Celano. A vine twists around and blasts a large gout of a greenish liquid that mostly dissipates where it contacts one of us but leaves distinct burns in the ground or trees that it contacts with. Lord Alejandro receives a volley of arrow sized splinters from the higher branches of the tree. All of them bounce off of what must be at least grade four armor. Crystalline roots also burst forth from the ground at Alejandro's feet, and are just as ineffective at penetrating his defenses.

The watchmen and I might as well not even be there, each volley of bolts we fire bounce off of the trunk. This thing has less gaps in its crystalline hide, and the gaps keep moving.

The advancing warriors make it to the trunk and begin smashing through the tree. Sword axe and hammer leaving cracks and notches with each swing. Lady Maple's punches are doing just as much as Lady Hefthammer's massive maul. Zilo's form fades back into view near the gemtree, he looks up it perhaps thinking of climbing it. He reconsiders and proceeds to stab at it with a pair of short swords.

More blasts of fire and bolts of lightning are launched. The gemtree seems to feel the warriors are a greater threat though as the root spears and branches are all focusing on them. Leaving only the occasional hail of thorns to threaten us, mostly aimed at Alejandro, whose spells seem to be doing the most damage. Only one even manages to break through the magical armor. It is quickly removed and the wound healed.

One of my bolts actually manages to hit a soft spot and stick, I wonder if that did any good.

Cracks begin to spread along the trunk of the gemtree. The constant hammering of spells and blades leaving the area near the ground looking much like the patch of cobblestone road in the city where a worker managed to spill a wheelbarrow of bricks from the second floor of a building he was working on.

Lady Averdine fires a quintet of small radiant bolts of energy at the gemtree. That was the last straw, the whole thing shatters and disintegrates. While everyone else starts congratulating each other on a good fight, I look for signs of Stanton.

I think I see him.

Friday, April 29, 2011

1-20 “Crepuscule”

We immediately head for the area where I had encountered the first amalgam with Stanton. Hopefully, if something dangerous did happen with that tree, Stanton got away safely. In the end though, it is too far for all of us to travel before it becomes dark. It is decided that if the resulting creature is likely to further the darkness, then it would be far better to camp the night and approach in the morning light.

Seeing the Lords and Ladies start to unpack their camping gear, Lady Averdine stops them and says, “Don't bother, I can do us better.”

With a few moments spent chanting and a few arcane gestures, a door appears. It stands freely, with its bottom a few inches from the forest floor. Turning the handle she, swings the door open, though there is no visible hinge that it attaches to. Behind the door, instead of the forest, is a well furnished room with several other doors leading out of it. She walks in and looks around the room for a bit, “Well, come on in.”

We all enter, the magical room. A lit fireplace sits along one wall, while almost all of the rest of the wall space is taken up by further doors leading out. What small portions of wall are left over are concealed behind statuary or paintings. Large comfortable looking chairs are arranged around a fine oaken table. Behind one door is a kitchen space, well stocked. The rest have bedrooms, too large to be next to each other in this small space. I don't think I could ever make it as a wizard, I'd spend too much time thinking about how all of these impossible things work...

Everyone in armor picks a room to unsuit in before coming back to the common room. It takes me a while to redetermine who is who now that the armor is off. Sephram offers to prepare a meal for us before we go to bed, Kenneth follows him offering to help. Hopefully the rookie knows how to cook. He quickly brings out several cups, bottles of wine and a bucket with chunks of ice inside. “This kitchen has everything,” excitement is clear on the rookie's face as he heads back into the kitchen.

Everyone else starts to drink, and after a short while Zilo starts up a tale from when he was working with a different group. I start to lose focus. I hope Stanton is doing okay, and Melanie is sure to be worried that I didn't come home this evening.

My distraction must have been apparent, even though I sat in a chair nearer to the fireplace. Lady Averdine walks over to me, “You don't seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I know everyone decided it would be safest to wait until dawn, but I feel like I should be going as fast as I can, what if Stanton is in trouble.”

“Do you know him particularly well?”

“No, but even though we just met this morning we've already saved each other's lives at least once.”

“Oh, that's too bad. I have a spell that allows you to speak with someone far away, but it only works if you know them very well.”

“Really, do you think I could talk with my wife? She's probably worried sick that I never came home today.”

“Certainly, just focus on the thought of her, while I cast the spell. You'll only have a few sentences to say, she'll be able to say a few back.”

Focusing on the thought of her isn't hard, she's already on my mind. The Lady chants a few words and taps my cheek and then my ear. A strange tingling sensation passes through my head, and suddenly I feel like I'm at home, right next to her.

“Melanie?”

*Nivar? You're home! Wait, where are you?*

Her voice sounds like I'm right there. Nothing is more calming than her voice, except for looking into her eyes.

“Sorry, I won't be able to make it home tonight. I'm camped out with some of the watchmen, and, you won't believe this, our Liberators. They had particular interest in something I was investigating. I'm talking to you through a spell. I don't know how long it will last, but I wanted you to know I was fine, and I'll be back tomorrow.”

*That's good, we were worried that something had happened. It's not like you to come home late. Be sure to tell us all about it.*

The tingling passes. The spell must have ended. “Thank you, milady.”

“It's no trouble,” a smile crosses Lady Averdine's face, “It's nice to see a man as concerned about his wife as you are.”

I follow her back toward the rest of the group just as a meal consisting of roast chicken, bread, and salad is brought in from the kitchen. Zilo is just wrapping up a story where a dragon, purported to be a vicious man slayer, scared off his companions and then proceeded to talk with him for hours on end. Turned out the beast hadn't left his cave for years upon years, and was feeling quite lonely.

When the meal ends, everyone starts heading into the bedrooms. Lady Averdine stops and counts the doors, “Oh no! I seem to have made one room to few... Sephram, I guess you'll just have to share my room tonight.”

Mischief is clearly played out on her face as Sephram straightens out and salutes. “Yes milady.”

His face is nearly as red as the wine. The watchmen that haven't left the room yet share knowing looks. We all go to bed. One skill I've learned since the city started growing, and my workload with it, is falling asleep immediately. The skill doesn't fail me now.

Monday, April 18, 2011

1-18 “Gardening”

Nothing responds to Sephram's shout. He sheaths his weapons and continues to walk around a bit before returning to where he crossed the barrier.

“It seems to be safe to travel on at the very least, though I would suggest that you stay close just in case there are more of those.” Sephram's tense posture returns as he stands near Lady Averdine.

“That was impressive. Who taught you to fight like that?” Sam follows the question with a glance around checking the bodyguard's armor, not even a scratch where the two hits connected with him.

“My mother was a Templar of The Hammer, my father was a master of unarmed combat, they taught me from earlier than I can remember.”

“That's an interesting sword you have. I haven't seen one designed like that, what is it?”

“It's a kodachi, a sword from my father's homeland. He came from far to the northeast of here.”

I've heard of some of the far off lands, but have never seen someone from that far away. I wonder what other weapons they have that are also different in style.

“Well, if it's safe to walk across, I think we should probably see if we can find any more of those plants and destroy them before they eat something that let's them move.”

We decide to do so until sunset. The sun is already low in the sky, we'll still have a decent enough amount of time, though. We can come back tomorrow, if we feel it's necessary. The lady and her bodyguard go off in one direction and we take the other side to cover more ground.

They look like they used to be pitcher plants, and they give off a deeper aura of darkness than the rest of this field. They seem to be able to sense us coming. The first one we come across turns, albeit very slowly, toward us. Though unnerving, none of us are afraid of this display. Halberds are long and these things can't move. It's obvious after destruction that there is a lot more under these plants than I would think, seeing the size of the leaves above ground. Instead of roots there is what I can only assume is a large pocket of a stomach, I guess that is why they can eat things larger than bugs now. Perhaps that stomach used to be the bulb they grew from. Luckily, we don't find anything in any of these.

For the most part, the plants are very easily dealt with. Just as I'm wondering how these things caught anything to begin with, the rookie gives me an unintentional demonstration. Whether out of boredom or just inexperience, he decides to try and stab through one in a small cluster instead of cutting. Reacting much faster than the rest we have encountered, its mouth widens and grabs on to the head of his weapon, good thing he knows enough to drop his weapon rather than allow himself to get pulled in to the group. We manage to kill the plants and let him retrieve his weapon, though it's now covered in goo.

“Way to go, rookie.” Sam probably has more against working with a rookie than the rest of us, with all of his time spent investigating solo.

“What the hell? That one was way faster than the others.” I'll give the rookie that much, it was that much faster, and he did manage to avoid being dinner. I should probably give him some pointers when we get back to the guardhouse.

“Maybe we should have gone back and gotten the gardener from up at the keep.”

“Why's that?” Gordon probably wants a real story but I'll only give him this much for now.

“I heard that when Iztram was in charge, he had the poor guy taking care of strangle vines.”

“I didn't even think those existed.”

“You should go find him, Gordon. He tells the story a lot better than I do.”

Not much of note happens along the rest of our path to clear the area. Occasionally we find one that has sprouted a pair of legs, but is still tethered in place. The darkness around the area grows faster than the lowering of the sun, we call it a day early before it becomes too dark to see. As we leave and discuss what should come next we hear a group of approaching horses.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Reminiscence-1 “Magic” =Zinto=

(He hasn't been mentioned by name in the story yet. Zinto Denwatch is Nivar Denwatch's father, an ex-mercenary. This memory takes place when Nivar was 14, one year after his mother died.)

There he goes again, working himself too hard. His mother was like that. He is getting sloppy from exhaustion now, and, with no rest, he should be. How long was he at the pell before we started our daily spar? He rushes forward, and is easily tripped and disarmed.

“Okay Nivar, that's enough sparring for today, time for a lesson.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Dutiful as usual, but I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He vastly prefers the sparring practice to any of the lessons I give him, tactical or otherwise. Sometimes I get the feeling that his mother would have done a better job of teaching him, if she was still around. She probably wouldn't approve of what I teach him either...

“Now, I know you like the craftsmanship and designs of weapons and armor more than magic...”

“Magic is cheating.”

“You feel that way now, but you'll see that even a warrior can use it to his advantage. I'm going to teach you about magical weapons and armor today.”

That got his interest, first time I've seen him look this attentive toward a lecture.

“First is weapons, general enchantments to increase the lethality of a weapon are called 'grades,' weapons are graded zero through five. Enchanting a weapon becomes more difficult as it gains more enchantments. Each grade has to be layered on top of the one before it, so the price of a magical weapon increases vastly with each grade.

“Can't you just start with the best type of magic?”

“Actually, that's a weird one. I don't know why but each grade requires all of the previous grades to be there. At least, that's what every enchanter I've talked to has told me.

“Grade Zero, refers to enchantments that don't aid in combat. These generally do things like prevent blades from dulling, or preventing steel from rusting. I never buy a weapon that isn't at least grade zero enchanted. Not many folks know this, but grade zero enchantments increase the durability of a weapon enough to let you break a non-magical weapon if you have enough strength behind your blow without risk of breaking your own.

“Grade One enchantment means that the weapon is of magically improved craftsmanship. Perhaps, for instance, the blade is sharpened beyond what even the best of smiths could manage.

“Grade Two is an increase in the power of the weapon's hits. Some of these enchantments might make the blade or head of the weapon to become heavier after the apex of a swing, adding to the force of a blow.

“Grade Three adds to the speed at which you swing the weapon, making your attacks harder to predict and more powerful.

“Grade Four makes a weapon become attuned to its wielder, letting you feel your weapon as an extension of yourself more readily. Even someone that has never had any fighting experience can defeat a skilled warrior by using a grade four weapon.

“A Grade Five weapon seeks out the gaps in an opponents defenses, almost aiming itself for you.”

“It doesn't go any higher?”

“Supposedly there have been instances of what would be called Grade Six weapons. Going beyond five brings out a personality in the weapon, almost aiming itself becomes aiming itself. Some even possess the wielder. But those are just in legends, I don't think they actually exist. There are more ways to get a more powerful weapon, this is through ungraded enchantments. These are considered separate because they direct their energy outward instead of actually residing in the weapon.

“Ungraded enchantments can be added to a weapon regardless of grade. A popular one is enveloping the blade in flames while fighting, or a blade that seeks out the vitals of a foe. One of the men in my mercenary company had a weapon that could float around and fight on its own for a few seconds if tossed into the air.”

“What about ranged weapons?”

“The same rules apply, a bow or crossbow will apply its magic to any ammunition that is fired from it. Though, if you use enchanted arrows, only the more powerful of enchantments will apply, firing a grade two arrow from a grade two bow won't help at all, since the arrow already has magical enhancements similar to those the bow is trying to add onto it.”

“How long does the arrow remain magical? And what about the ungraded enchantments?”

“It doesn't last long. It wears off very quickly after hitting something. If yours was the better magic you wouldn't want the enemy to retrieve the arrows to use against you, would you? Ungraded enchantments always seem to combine if they are different enough. Even opposed elements will stack up. You could fire an iced arrow from a bow that adds flames, and end up with an arrow flying at your enemy that would fluctuate between the intense heat of fire and the biting cold of the ice.”

“What was the best weapon you ever had?”

“Hm? I would say my best weapon is my grade three broadsword, I've never shown you how the blade can be wreathed in acid, have I?

Haven't even drawn that one since his mother died, even thinking about it reminds me of her. She was always the penultimate damsel in distress. I came to this town in the middle of an orc raid, that was the first time I saved her. I stuck around under the pretense that the little village needed guarding, but it was really she who kept me there. Bandits, ogres, trolls, goblins, everyone seemed to want to a piece of her. Every time, I'd come running. There was even a necromancer one time. I should tell Nivar that story some time, when he's old enough to appreciate how pissed the codger was when I told him his virgin sacrifice, wasn't.

“Armors are also graded zero through five. Enchanting armor is easier and therefore less expensive than weapons. I've heard this is because there is more space to work the magic on, but not one enchanter has ever been willing to share their secrets with me, so I am unsure if that is the case.

“Grade Zero is much the same as it is with weapons.

“Grade One strengthens the armor without reducing its flexibility when moving.

“Grade Two adds invisible magical plates around the armor that can only be seen while they are deflecting a weapon.”

“How am I supposed to get around armor I can't even see?”

“When you see it briefly after contact you can look for gaps, and just because the plates are magic doesn't mean they are unbreakable.

“Grade three adds further plates that only even exist when a weapon is contacting them, these plates are generally positioned at joints or other places where a permanent plate would heavily reduce mobility.

“Grade Four adds a small aura of magical energy that slightly slows incoming attacks right before they make contact.

“Lastly, Grade Five takes that magical aura and causes it to also churn, twisting attacks and deflecting them to the side.

“The ungraded enchantments do several things. Some add additional protection to vital organs. Others offer resistance to fire or lightning, which is important if your enemies are employing a wizard against you. Some emanate a small field that deadens spells before they even reach you. Another man in my company had a shield that could float about of its own accord, letting him use a two handed war axe without forgoing a shield.”

Nivar chuckles slightly, he's normally so serious.

“What's so funny?”

“What if you had five or even ten shields floating around you all at once, wouldn't that look silly?”

“Yeah and they'd probably stop you from hitting anything just as much as they'd stop you from being hit.”

I join him in laughter. He got me, now I can't get that thought out of my head.

Monday, April 11, 2011

1-17 “A duck?”

We all approach the glowing wall as Sephram walks in toward where the river still runs through the crystalline ground.

“That's odd, I guess the crystallization has stopped growing,” Lady Averdine indicates where her barrier meets the ground.  “It used to be growing right up to that spot, even climbing upward, slowly trying to overcome the wall.”

Sure enough there's about half a foot between the edge of the strange growth and the barrier’s foot.

Our attention is then grabbed by a splash. We look back toward the river and Sephram. Out of the water have climbed two more amalgamations. One shares the features of a duck and a beaver, or maybe it is just the features of a platypus. It also must have caught a crayfish.  Two large pincers extend from additional arms near its front. The other seems to have the bodily features of an otter, the head of a frog and is slightly smaller than the first.

Sephram, whose motions read of tenseness the whole time he stood near the Lady, now seems relaxed in the face of a pair of slightly more than wolf-sized enemies. His stance is wide and aggressive, each sword held toward one of two enemies.  The amount of time before any of them make a further move is long enough for the lot of us to draw our crossbows.   We begin loading as the first move is made.

The frog-otter, in a motion similar to what I've seen before, launches a spear-like tongue at Sephram. Before I even have time to give warning, he deflects it with the longsword in his right hand. Sidestepping, he slashes a portion of it off before it recedes. The other begins to approach him, its gait rather comical and clumsy-seeming as it totters along.

The frog-otter also begins to run at him, but faster and with less confusion among its limbs.  It leaps at him only to be met by what I can only describe as a whirlwind of steel. Not shifting his feet at all, Sephram brings his blades around in swift circular strokes, each making contact with either a crunch as fractured pieces of the beast’s armor fall to the ground or a softer sound as the blade meets an unprotected section. His speed is hard to follow, as pieces of the amalgam fall to the ground.

The duck-thing has made its approach in this time, despite being hit by a volley of our crossbow fire, most of which bounced harmlessly off of the hard plates covering it. Sephram turns and defends himself from a surprisingly fast barrage of punches and grabs made by the lobster-like claws of the thing. Only one makes it past his guard and contacts despite his dodges. It does nothing more than make him step back a pace with the force. His chest plate takes the blow, not even leaving a dent.

Moving around the beast so as to make it turn slowly leaving only one claw to contend with, Sephram begins his own offensive. Using the longsword  to fend off the closer claw's strikes, he brings his other foreign blade down right where the oddly placed extra arm meets the body. It falls lifelessly to the ground. The more confident of us launch a second volley at the two locked in close quarters. One, probably fired by the rookie, deflects off Sephram's vambrace, the rest either stick in the duck-thing's front or bouncing ineffectively to the ground.

With its remaining arm the creature manages to grab Sephram's leg. Before it can take advantage of this, Sephram severs the limb. He follows with a thrust that goes straight through one eye on the creature's duck-like head, and comes out the other. Spasming slightly for a second or two, it slumps over.

I hear the men exchange coins as Sephram stomps the ground twice and yells, “Any more?!”

Friday, April 8, 2011

1-16 “Crystal Delta”

I don't have much reason to trust the sorceress, yet she doesn't seem to be lying.

“Well, I guess we follow.”

The shimmering gateway floats slightly above the ground. I don't see any clue as to where it leads, only a white glow. Hesitating only slightly, I enter the portal.

Immediately, I emerge to the sound of water lapping riverbanks. The journey was dizzying despite its short length, it takes me a short while to bring everything into focus. One of the men bumps into me from behind as they begin to emerge from the portal itself.

After getting my bearings I look around, I've been here once, a long time ago. 'New Lake.' It was formed before I was born, but is so called because one of the previous owners of Midrange Keep created it when, out of some amazing miscalculation, his engineers were digging a channel to draw water to make a moat for the keep and, somehow, ended up drawing the water here, many furlongs south of the castle. The lake was created in what used to be a rather large and deep valley among the wide and hilly plains of this area. The fishing was good here until Iztram had come to power. Renaming the lake after himself and overfishing it until naught was left. Nobody has bothered coming around since, I suppose they're giving some time for the fish to come back.

Looking toward the delta that leads into the lake I see the Lady and Sephram, as well as something very odd. Several acres of the delta are completely covered in a gem-like substance. What used to be rough sand or silt, was now smooth with angular rises and falls. The variety of color is also a jarring change in the terrain. No longer just tans browns and greens, the entire spectrum must be represented now. The area is also slightly darkened even accounting for the approaching sunset, except for a faintly shimmering wall of light around the whole area.

The men look uneasy, something like this isn't natural. We don't have training to deal with magical issues of this scale, and there are only a few wizards in town that work for us.

Moving to get a closer look, I turn to the Lady and ask, “What happened here?”

“I found out about this just recently myself actually,” She responds, “I had been collecting clay from here for a while. One day I had found a sword sticking from the ground. I don't know why, but I had a bad feeling about it so I let it be. For my next several visits I found the area near the sword to be crystallizing. I decided to observe it for a few days, the last of which saw an explosion of growth. It went from about two acres to over seven in one night. That's when I placed this mana barrier around the area.”

“And you think the creature got past your wall?”

“No, I think it got out before I sealed the area off. I had noticed strange effects on some of the carnivorous plantlife, but once I saw some of them taking on frog-like or bird-like aspects I actively began destroying them, lest they grow larger or mobile and become dangerous. There might be more, if one managed to escape before my vigil on the place.”

“What about this sword, where is it?”

“I left it there in the middle, you can't really see it from here, though.” She points off into the distance.

“Is it safe to walk along this ground.”

“I wouldn't know. I prefer to levitate, it keep my shoes from getting dirty.”

It is just now that I notice that she's been floating a few inches off of the ground this whole time. Though her gem studded boots still seem to be supporting her weight on some unseen platform. I'm not sure I want to walk on this terrain, especially if this stuff has been growing.

Sephram speaks up, “Allow me to test the safety of this ground if you wish to explore it.”

“A wonderful idea, I'm sure you can handle anything unpleasant that may happen,” responds Lady Averdine.

“Two copper says something bad happens.” Mario whispers behind me. Betting, some of the watchman use it as a means to make light of something that's too serious, others use it to get better meals.

“I'll take you up on that.” Gordon this time.

“Five copper says he'll be able to handle it, if something bad happens.” Sam bets.

“He's pretty decked, sounds like a fools bet to me.” Mario responds, and then the rookie accepts the challenge.

Drawing both of his swords, each glowing with what must be layers of enchantment, Sephram steps past the magical wall. It oscillates and lets him through.

Monday, April 4, 2011

1-15 “Averdine”

“Having fun talking to Number One, I see.”

As I turn from the golem to face toward her, I see the faces of the other men with me. The older ones are better at hiding it, but I know that look. It's a look I haven't given any other woman since I met Melanie all those years ago. While the rest of the men are busy 'keeping an eye' on the sorceress, I decide to keep turning and check the armored man standing next to her.

This guy is incredibly well equipped. A full suit of plate glows of magic, made out of what I imagine must be adamant, a very rare greenish metal much stronger than steel and only slightly heavier. Two mismatched swords hang from his belt. One is a long sword with an elaborate handguard, hilt, and sheath. That one seems to be pressing the size limit of a one handed weapon. The other is of a style unfamiliar to me. The hilt is unusually long for its shorter blade and is wrapped in closely woven cord. The sheath shows it to have a smaller, slightly curved blade that reminds me of a scimitar or sabre of some kind. Yet the blade is not quite curved enough, and the handguard is a small simple flat circle of metal. A close faced sallet covers his head. He manages to stand very close to the lady without impeding her movement or bumping into her at all, his motions read of tenseness.

“I've heard of golems before, but I'd thought they were mindless. I didn't think they were capable of carrying a conversation.”

“Most aren't, this is my first design for an improved golem. One not prone to going berserk and with more mental capability. I'm Lady Averdine, and this is my bodyguard and sometimes gateman Sephram. I'm guessing by your voice that you are Watchman Nivar. What did you come to speak with me about? You, at least, didn't come to stare.”

At this, I hear the men behind all shift slightly.

“While investigating missing livestock, we followed strange tracks through the woods. At the end we found a nest and were attacked by a strange creature. It seemed to be a combination of other animals, and most likely magical in nature. Would you happen to know anything about that.”

She turns to the golem, “Number One, has anything like that been around here lately?”

“AFFIRMATIVE, A BEING SIMILAR IN TO THAT DESCRIPTION WAS SPOTTED NEAR THE PERIMETER THREE DAYS AGO AT TWILIGHT. THE LIGHT LEVEL WAS UNUSUALLY LOW AROUND SAID BEING. DESPITE TWO VERBAL ATTEMPTS AT DISSUASION, IT ATTEMPTED TO CLIMB THE WALL. I THREW IT OUT INTO THE WOODS. INJURED, IT RETREATED.”

“A crystalline creature?”

“AFFIRMATIVE, THE CREATURE ALMOST SEEMED TO BE A GOLEM ITSELF.”

“Crystalline... I think I know where it came from then. Down by New Lake, I can show you.”

If we leave now it will be after sunset before we get there.”

“Not if we take a shortcut.”

With a few motions of her hands and some unidentifiable chanting, a portal opens beside us all, Lady Averdine and her bodyguard step through before I have a chance to protest.

Friday, April 1, 2011

1-14 “Guardian”

She's able to talk through the golem? It must be convenient to be such a powerful sorceress, instead of pondering it myself I decide to ask, “Are there any other things it can do like that, things other than fighting?”

“YES WATCHMAN NIVAR, I WAS ALSO CONSTRUCTED WITH MANUAL LABOR IN MIND. I CAN MEASURE AND CUT WOOD OR STONE WITH GREAT PRECISION. I NEED TO BE FITTED WITH ACTUAL HANDS TO DO HEAVY LIFTING, THOUGH.”

It's here that I take a much closer look at its construction. The 'hands' are indeed not actual hands holding swords. They are designed to look like they are gauntlets, yet they are joined with the blades. Looking closer at the 'face' of the golem I notice that the great helm that serves as its head is comically designed, the ventilation holes (which I'm sure are just there for decoration), along with the slanting curve of the eye holes, give the impression of a smiling face. I'm still very impressed by the quality and intricacy of the armor plates.

“ADDITIONALLY I AM LINKED WITH SEVERAL GEMS POSITIONED ALONG THE WALL, I CAN SEE AS THOUGH I WAS STANDING AT ALL OF THEM.”

“You can't be able to get to them very fast can you?” The rookie again.

“I WAS DESIGNED TO LOOK DECEPTIVE IN THAT MATTER. I CAN PROBABLY OUTRUN ANY OF YOU, BARRING ANY MAGIC ITEMS YOU MIGHT BE CONCEALING.”

“Why are you telling us all of this, aren't you, or your master worried about people using such information against you?”

“YOU ARE CITY WATCHMAN, AND THE LADY HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG, I HAVE NO REASON TO WITHHOLD ANY INFORMATION FROM YOU.”

“What if we were lying?”

“I BEAR AN ENCHANTMENT THAT DETECTS LIES, WHILE I WILL NOT KNOW THE EXACT TRUTH, I WILL SEE A FALSEHOOD, BARRING MAGIC ITEMS OR OTHER EFFECTS PREVENTING SUCH DIVINATION.”

“Really? Mario, have you ever been drunk on duty?”

“No, sir.”

“YOU LIE KNAVE!” The voice that comes out this time is different in tone and inflection, Mario is visibly shaken. It also lacks the subtle reverberation in the golem's speaking voice, much like when Lady Averdine was speaking through it. Mario looks a little scared. “PARDON ME, THAT IS A RESPONSE TRIGGERED WHENEVER SOMEONE LIES IN MY PRESENCE. IT IS A RECORDING OF THE OTHER GATEMAN, AND IS COMBINED WITH A MINOR ENCHANTMENT TO SHAKE UP THE LIAR. THIS IS USUALLY FOLLOWED WITH A BEATING, DEPENDING ON THE LIE.” The cheery tone of the golem's voice... I'm unsure whether it make that last line more or less intimidating.

Mario's face flushes, “Well how about you sir, have you ever been drunk on duty?”

“No, I avoid alcoholic drinks, don't particularly enjoy the taste of them.”

Nothing out of the golem. There are very few occasions when I drink, and I haven't imbibed enough to get drunk since my teens.

The gate opens and closes as Lady Averdine and an armored man walk out to greet us.