City of Lor

Jorrell: “My order’s temple is in the castle ward, though that would be the worse possible place I would ever consider of taking these youngsters. Perhaps you haven’t been paying heed to what I’ve been trying to convey, but there are very bad men pursuing these children. Not some two bit sellswords and mercs, but intelligent and capable men. They’ve priests and wizards who direct their efforts and the Imperials do not tire, they do not question their orders but carry it out to the end, and they’re fearless. The Imperials would have already set traps in all possible hiding places, they’d have to their leaders do not accept failure”

Storm: “Worry not, I’ve a trusted friend who can mind after them. He’s honorable and sharp of wit, and he’d be more than happy to house them for a while. In fact, I suggest we venture there first thing in the morning”

Morga: “Who is this friend you speak of?”

Storm: “My house smith, Mace Strom. He’s the one responsible for my joining Kryillia’s band. He’s always been like a father, and he was my real father’s right hand in life. He’s a great man, and no better smith you’ll find in these lands”

Daggia: “Don’t tell that to the Duke, his own smith Rook is a dwarven master”

Storm: “Aye, but I meant amongst men. Dwarves are another thing entirely”

As the party ate its full and drank, the children slept fitfully and rose early, working out and meditating.

Daggia gave the children some biscuits and gravy, and fed the party poached quail eggs, bread and mutton for breakfast. Storm leads you out of her apartment down a flight of stairs and exiting into the streets below and through shortcuts, twists and turns, narrow alleys he guided the group towards Skull Street a main throughway studded with charming little shoppes, taverns, pubs, and businesses. Then, as you all took a turn up a sloped street a cart came into view at the top of the street full of large barrels. You saw as cloaked hooded figure there who slit the restraints of these barrels and gave it a harsh kick, the barrels came rolling down towards the party! You also made out six armed men in the overlaying shadows nearby each brandishing crossbows.



Whisper had been quiet when in the presence of the Duke's men, Septul had indeed noticed and rightly said something.  Perhaps his emotions, fears and jumbled thoughts had thwarted her ability to read his mind at the time?  The turmoil of emotions of being hunted and caught did not sit well with him given his past.  Images of his flight and winding up in the circus flashed across his mind.  The guidance from Septul was sound as always but, it also hinted that she had gleaned some impulses or thoughts from Daynar's men that had not been shared with him.  Were they sincere at offering open arms or was there a double cross in the plans?  He had assumed that the unrest in Lor after Lord Kraybor's murder followed promptly by the jailings of innocents would only get the pot closer to boiling over.  Should word get out that the duke was harboring Kraybor's killers or having them "detained and questioned" he worried that the pot would indeed boil over.  From there it wouldn't be long before there were some very public executions.  His companions seemed to be at ease and unsuspecting that they had potentially been served up to curry favor for Lady Kyrillia's wooing of this duke.  It wouldn't be the first time that someone advanced someone else's career in return for future considerations or affections.  While it was true that Lady Kyrillia's dealings had not been underhanded in the past when dealing with this group.  Whisper realized that she'd likely had many opportunities to undermine them for personal gain and so far hadn't.  Perhaps, he was just being too paranoid given the recent happenings, surrounded now by his companions he decided to try and let the concerns go.  

Whisper nodded his confirmation at Lady Kyrillia's presumption that he would have key knowledge of the dragon's lair.  He asked Septul what could be learned from the dragon's spirit and what the Lorian archives might hold on the beast's lair, allies, and the dragon's history.  It was time to be more sociable, perhaps they would find it more difficult to hang a man with a smile on his face?

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The monk said nothing, he was too absorbed with talking to the children.

Septul: I believe the handsome devil is Garosh Graycloak, a master of swords and also skilled in the thieving arts, somewhat, though not intimately trained. He’s the duke’s weaponmaster.

The archer is Rackhir the Red, he is half elfin and also one of the best archers in all the thirteen kingdoms. It’s said that his archery unit has decimated entire armies, stopped naval attacks and fended off dragons before. The hooded woman is Morganne Du’Laq, a dhampir priestess of Wrath.

The thief and wizard didn’t seem at all concerned about your lack of conversational skills, though Storm spoke with them with great fondness in his tone and near reverence, and he gave you perplexed inquiring looks time to time wondering why you were being silent.

Septul: master, your snobbery is a bit peculiar, the duke could potentially be a powerful ally. It is putting uncessary friction betwixt both parties. It would be...unwise to be needlessly rude to others, even if you dislike them or like them. Never let an enemy know what your thoughts are, but never ever let a friend know what plays on your mind, especially if it bodes ill. Just some...basic common sense. You will need to make new friends and procure fresh allies if you’re to survive future ordeals. Don’t let your pride destroy you. I’ve had many masters who’ve thought themselves above such counsel, so heed mine”

Aronis went into the throughs of another spell, a more complex and advanced one than you were familiar with when, the entire party was teleported into the luxurious loft of the west wing of the Duke’s fortress in Lor. Outside the window you could see the harbor littered with many ships of all types: frigates, warships, galleons, merchant vessels.

The servants of Daynar left the chamber and you were seen to guest quarters and provided a personal attendant who was also something of an escort. As you were all gathered in your room, together again the projected image of Kyrillia materialized before you. She said “greetings my young friends, I bid you well. I see you’ve just destroyed that vile monstrosity, keep whatever you find but you needn’t seek it out so fast if it is not in your will to do so, for it is heavily guarded. Only Whisper knows the means of gaining the dragons lair.

I’ve a task at hand for you. The Duke will directly charge you with two tasks that may or may not be of much challenge. I need you to perform these tasks to the best of your ability, for I need him for my future plans in the north. The Lord Duke is a powerful ally, and possibly a potential lifemate to myself, if it is the will of the God’s.



Whisper let the reigns drop of the few horses he'd managed to gather up before they were surrounded by the duke's forces.  "What do you forsee of these partially woven strands in the grand tapestry of life, Master Koth?"  Ignoring the taunts and attempts to engage him in conversation by the mage and master thief, he instead silently prayed that the choice would be to wait and find a better situation to depart.  Fighting their way out of the current situation looked to be awfully long odds against their favor.  Whisper's eyes wandered past this trio of the Duke's agents that Septul had already imparted knowledge about to him.  He focused on the as yet to be identified trio who had remained silent.  'The pretty boy, the hooded woman, and the archer.  Septul, do you have any idea who those three are?  I'd wager that they must be at least equal in rank to the wizard, thief, and knight.'  It didn't hurt to know more about their captors, information might prove valuable should he have to mimic someone with his potions or spells.  (Non Weapon Prof: Plans within plans?)

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SEPTUL gleaned a iota of bemusement at your nervous thought processes, ‘Valtor is merely curious, it’s not every day a lowly thief manages to steal the soul of a full adult dragon’ she chuckled, and you sensed his surface thoughts were, for Valtor, benign.

The party was quickly surrounded by Succundus house troops, and out of the woods came forth a fancifully clad warrior with dirte blonde hair, a rogish smile and a chiseled jawline, and he checked himself in a mirror then addressed the party. There was the wizard and thief nearby, with the silver haired woman and several others, and a hooded girl with oxblood colored hair, and next to her an archer clad in red cloak and hood.

Aronis said “You! You’re the one the duke has dragged us out scouring the countryside for your sorry hide. Well don’t think to escape us that easily you little worm. We’re not amatuers you think you can give us the slip so easily!’ he laughed, chuckling at his own words, ‘Lord Duke Daynar, is the queens hand. That means to you people he speaks on behalf of the queen while her affairs in Impiltur keep her away. He’s to see you at once, and you’re welcome for our interdicton of the Black Empire on your behalf. I’m not sure exactly how you destroyed the green worm but you’ve my thanks, and the thanks. As I stated the duke has want of word with your band, and your lady Kyrillia would not deny him this small request. Her majesty has expressed her deepest gratitude in your recent efforts against Kraybor’s treachery. I suspect there will be a very generous reward for your valiancy for the realm. She wishes to have an audience with you personally when she returns. Now, would you come along or do we need to insist?”

Morga laughed obnoxiously, ‘You’re well mannered for a mage, and far too pretty! Morga goes where she deigns, and she does not require fanciful prattling to explain her works. How we destroyed the dragon? It’s no concern of yours, but thank the God’s we rid the world of it! I am Morga of Nyriddia!’

Orath smirked, and he smiled at her proclamation. He strode forward, eying Storm in a familiar light, ‘Well, nice friends you’ve brought back home, kid. Now, what my friend’s said is true, and you know Daynar. Don’t make things more tricksy, you know how the boss gets. I never had to chase someone in order for em to get a pocket full of coin n’ whores’ he laughed, eying you closely, ‘so, yer the kid who kilt Kraybor? You look like a scrawny little thing. Name’s Orath, lets be friends you look like a interesting bastard, bit of a footpad gone magic-user eh? Heh heh. Yeah I heard all sorts of shit concerning you, ‘mi’lord’ heh heh”

‘Enough!’ Sable interceded, she greeted Storm and said ‘Come back to Lor, you’ll be our guests. My liege has specially requested it”

Storm nodded, clasping Orath on the shoulder in comraderie, “It’s good to see you once again, I see your throwing dags are as deadly as they’ve ever been” he smiled, then spoke “I’ve won again” he murmured.

“WE’VE won again” Valtor corrected.

“Aye” Kessa confirmed, and she turned toward Storm “This wrym’s lair must be somewhere in the bowels of the Direwood, and the treasure is ours for the taking. I don’t want any of the Duke’s men trying to make a grab for it, either! Let’s move swiftly before every charlatan and shitheel in the realm decides to try a hand at true adventuring”

Ash nodded, “You spoke my mind, girl. We’d be perfect fools not to”

Jorrell said emphatically “We can’t take these young one’s to a dragon’s lair! It wouldn’t be practical nor the wisest choice”

Sable: “They will remain guests of House Succundus, the Duke wishes to meet with them as well” she placed a firm grip on the monk’s shoulder “You needn’t fret about them any longer, master Jorrell. You shant find better protectors than the Duke’s agents in all the thirteen kingdoms, present company non included. I must say I haven’t seen another band of adventurer’s possessing the wit and stones of heroes of the olden times, when such beings were born more frequently!”

Jorrell: "This is good news if the Duke is truly interested, but I am their protector and always shall be"


"Let us be off to somewhere before the duke's men detain us!  The knight and rogue there had their men hunt us through the city after Lord Kraybor's first death.  I have no wish to spend the next several years of my life locked within the bowels of Lor answering questions."  Whisper commented while he moved quickly to secure mounts for the party among the horses scattered amongst the dead and dying on the battlefield.  As he moved past Ash, he nudged the cleric and brought the man's attention to the nasty wound Storm bore from his uncle's blade.  He'd be willing to wager a good amount of coin that they would find it mighty tough to gain audience with the Queen if Storm was bedridden or in the ground.

Septul had warned him of Valtor's greedy nature and of his past on more than one occasion and once again Valtor's greed had risen to the surface.  Whisper had hoped that the bribes he'd provided to Valtor in the past would have satiated the man's hunger.  Perhaps, they had just emboldened the greedy wizard into thinking he could cow the young rogue into handing over whatever he managed to acquire?  He needed Septul's guidance on how to disarm the trap that was Valtor before it blew up in the faces of the party and those he now considered family...

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As your practiced digits quickly retrieved the components for the magic missile spell, Kraybor’s dreaded morning star tore into you, sending you crashing into the bark of an ancient oak tree, several ribs cracked (-18 hp blunt damage), simutaneously he cleaved into Storm with his longsword, injuring the warrior with a fell strike.

Kraybor: “did you really think killing me would end the plans I’ve put into motion?” he chided, laughing in a raspy echo, “even your tawdry triumphs will all be for naught ere long. As you’ve toiled to disrupt my counsel and investigate into matters not your own, my master has been acruing an army of death of epic porportion, and there will be no heroics to curb the encroaching dark!”

‘Back to the beyond with you, vile abomination!’ Ash roared. and the form of Kraybor was limned in engulfing blazing white light and he shuttered, convulsed and then the inky black essence of is form was devoured by the pure white-yellow radiance. Ash smiled, and as he stood you up you felt the cracked ribs eerily mending themselves, and the pain was rapidly fading.

The defeat of the green dragon bolstered the Duke’s house forces, and the black cloaks were routed and being hunted down, some taken prisoner to be executed later, and others died where they stood in blind defiance. One black cloak was singlehandedly fending off a cloister of elite troops with superior swordplay, until Sable put him out of his misery with her two handed gleaming blade. Jorrell sauntered over to the wagon the monk had a terrified look on his face but was quickly replaced by one of thankfulness when he noted the condition of the six children he’d tirelessly worked in protecting. With a few slick moves and effortless agility he dispatched several black guard skirmishers who were straggling behind to cover the retreat of their higher ranking officers.

Kessa smiled and said, 'well done, wrym slayer!' she laughed, and Valtor eyed you through narrowing suspicious slits, tweaking his mustache 'how in the nine hells did you do it, boy? You've some secret power then? Got your filthy thieving hands on some artifact then? Out with it, you wretched swindler, or the mighty Valtor will crush you like a puny insect!'

Ash "Does it even matter? At least the horrid thing is no more. By all rights we should all be dead by now, and would have hadn't that precious child's magic thwarted our sealed doom!"

Jorrell: "we must go to the queen at once, she will know what to do. Her wisdom is not of this world, but transcends the ken of mortal men"

Morga: "Oh certainly, crazy man! Just walk into the royal palisades and knock on her front door!"

Storm: "She will see me" he checked Morga's sarcasm.


Whisper is now a 3rd level magic-user.


Whisper's eyes and nose watered from the pain and smell of his own burning flesh wafting from beneath his elvish hauberk.  Thank the gods that the amulet turned branding iron had stopped trying to burn its way through his diminutive frame!  Whisper did not wait around for the healing surge that Septul usually imparted to him after she had fed, his companions were all too hard pressed to savor the moment.  Instead, he turned from the remains of the once mighty green dragon and began running as quickly as he could towards the terrifying undead spirit of Lord Kraybor.  His attempt to kill Kraybor a day earlier had turned out as he had feared!  Whisper knew that he and Storm would need aid in putting Kraybor to rest for good.  "Valtor and Ash!"  he yelled as he ran towards the family members now locked in mortal combat.  "Storm and I need your aid in destroying the foul specter that Lord Kraybor has become!"  

OC: Whisper will use his magic missile spell on Lord Kraybor before closing into melee range.  Unsure if Septul could consume the foul spirit that Kraybor has become he will attempt that as a last resort or if she guides him to do so.

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The Green Dragon emitted a fierce roar, and many of the ground forces were unnerved as the enemy combatants morale was bolstered by the Green Dragon friendly, and it thrashed its tail, flapped its wings and used its mighty maw to knock asside several units of Succundus house troops.

The mage Aronis leveled his quarterstaff at the dragon, where you saw with your enhanced vision the mouth of the dragonheaded staff opened unleashing a conical stream of acid that flew towards the fierce wrym, melting its armor-like scales and causing its delicate flesh beneath to be ravaged.

As you completed the mount spell a steed rose up and you leaped onto its back, it was bereft of any saddle and you bowled past several guard units until you arrived in close proximity to the caged wagon.


By the time you bridged the distance, you felt a stinging bite strike you square in the face as the flat side of a two handed spear dismounted you, a pair of black guardsman came out of the action to confront you. You fell off the horse, landing like a cat where any other would have fallen face first in mud. Behind them, emerging from behind an ancient oak tree crept a hooded wraith with burning red eyes that pulsated with the flames of hell, and it brought forth a ginormous morning star in one taloned hand and a longsword in the other, laughing a raspy inhuman laugh ‘well well well, I told you, foolish mortal! That I’d be back for my revenge!’ it shrieked in a vague semblance of Lord Kraybor’s voice, hurling an impossibly large morning star that tore a  head sized hole into the tree just behind you as you evaded the death blow.

As the battle enchewed, you utilized another acid globule cantrip to dissolve the lock of the wagon where Storm, Morga and the children were incarcerated. Lord Kraybor hissed to the Dragon ‘destroy these fools!’ and it lurched its head back and unleashed a torrent of poisonous gaseous vapors at you, Morga, Storm and the children. But then, one of the children the youngest boy closed his eyes and had been channeling raw power from within, when the dragons breath weapon struck it was rebuffed by an invisible innertia barrier that enveloped you in its protective force.

‘ELSMYEREEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ caused all of the skirmishers engaged in bloodied battle to give pause, some of the Succundus soldiers seized the opportunity to finish their worthier advesaries thankful for the timely distractions.  It was the familiar battle call of Kessa, riding on two warhorses came out from a cloister of trees to the north, a new visored warhelm on her head and a fierce half scowl, half smile on her face. Valtor was directly above her, flying, and Ash struggled to match pace with the warrior maiden, ‘Kessa would you slow down!’ he was shouting behind her. She ran over and trampled a black guard officer, by then Storm and Morga cheered her with elation, even though they were weaponless and bereft of any armor.

The mage Aronis casted another spell, which instantly slaughtered a fresh batch of black guard elites who came to swell their ranks. They collapsed as immediate death stole their lives as the deadly magic took its toll. His thief companion was preoccupied with enjoying the slaughtering of any of the black guards who neared the wizard. He bore deadly accuracy with his dags, able to flick two at a time in any circular radius in stunning precision. He took down two soldiers from the far rear that were attempting to crowd them both, and he too brandished a lengthy whip like Morga, in disturbing similarity of style you suspect might be more than mere coincidence.

As the wrym once again tried to unleash its fell doom, it was foiled once as the inertia barrier rebuffs the poison cloud, and you withdrew the dwarven blade you released a stream of dragon fire at it and it was scalded and it roared in agony, meanwhile Kessa hurled Storm and Morga’s weapons to them and they caught it with radiant grins and Storm leaped at Kraybor, locking blades against the black wraith, ‘So uncle, this new form suits you far better! My friend stole the pleasure of killing you myself! But now, I'll destroy you this second time!’

Lord Kraybor laughed, 'fool thou art, my naive little Storm, on par with your mother and father before I killed them both, just as I will end you!'

You tapped into the dweomer of the amulet and outstretched a clenched claw like hand, feeling Septul guide your motions to effect the dweomer  a claw shaped red light shot out and tore into the wrym, and it shrieked incredulously, ‘YOU CANNOT!!’ it bellowed then its essence was siphoned into the amulet which became searing hot for a nanosecond, burning an imprint on your chest. As its soul was siphoned into your body all of the flesh and skin was absorbed and you felt its incredible power flooding the insatiable Shadus plane.

"How in blazes?!" Valtor cried out, and Ash did too, their jaws had dropped as they stared at certain death they knew the dragon represented.


Whisper quickly knelt down next to the man he'd killed and retrieved his dagger, pausing to clean it on the man's corpse while looking over the ever changing battlefield.  His vision sought out the prison wagon to verify if his companions were still alive, how heavily guarded it might still be, and if its team of horses were still alive and attached to it.  Next the young rogue looked for pockets of black cloak resistance and what might be an advantageous route to take towards the wagon, his free companions, as well as the dragon.  The acid spell he had cast and the awesome sight of the dragon got him to thinking or perhaps it was Septul's subtle nudging in his mind.  One of his short swords and the acid spewing staff within his cousin's bag of holding both dealt the same types of attacks as dragons.  Using the attacks of this dragon's kin against it should prove more formidable then the tiny daggers at his wrists or his paltry collection of spells.  Of course he'd have to get within range to use either of them against the monstrous foe that commanded the battlefield presently, but what a mighty gift the dragon's spirit would be for Septul!  He smiled and shook his head as he rose to his feet, never would he have imagined risking his life in such a manner for a non family member!  Whisper spoke the words to his mount spell and prepared himself to accomplish what he judged to be his best course of action ...

OC: choice 1 would be to obtain security/freedom for his imprisoned companions if they are still alive by whatever he judges to be the option that would put the fewest of their lives in danger.  IE: No picking the lock on the wagon with a squad of sword wielding black cloaks charging the wagon.  So I would guess at options such as drive the wagon towards his other companions, send the prisoners to the shadus plane as guests and get the heck away from the battle to release them in a safer spot, pick the lock and hand over whatever weapons he carries (keeping his +2 shortsword of backstabbing/namesake weapon and a few daggers) to his friends and then make a stand with them.  choice 2 - aid Valtor/Ash/Kessa with any pockets of resistance they were dealing with.  choice 3 - get to an advantageous spot and start using acid/dragon flame/Septul's drain on the dragon that would minimize the risk of those attacks injuring his companions.

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*critical* you hurl the dagger at the man’s groin, it sunk hilt deep and he collapsed to both knee’s and began howling, his face turned beet red as he died.

Guardsman #2 cried out ‘you foul bastard!’ he swung his longsword clumsily and you dodged easily, ‘hold still you rotten wanker!’

You hurtled a acid globule (cantrip) at the guardsman who deflected it with his shield, the cantrip devoured a hole in his protective device which he flung to the ground as it hissed and corroded. He quickly withdrew a dagger with his now empty left hand, came at you swinging wildly, ‘where’s Kraybor’s journal you filth!’ his blade hacked at the tree that was just behind you.

‘Stop playing with the help, you fool’ Valtor hissed from afar, his voice magically amplified by windspeech. He sends four emerald green magic missiles blasting away at the guardsman who fell hard to the ground as the missiles tore his flesh assunder.

The black guard were being routed, and they knew it. Quickly they began receding deeper into the woods, several of their crossbowmen and archery units were laying down supressing fire and their skirmishers gave the House Succundus units a run for their money. The fire elemental continued to decimate all in its path, and it withstood a impressive amount of damage that glanced off of its flaming bulk.

Then, a horrendous monstrous roar bellowed from the east of the Direwood, and out it came. It was a ginormous Dragon with forest green scales, one of the evil chromatic dragons you’d only heard legends of in your earliest youth, its cat-like hourglass eyes yellow and monstrous and drinking in all it surveyed. As it advanced fearlessly it swept any who stood in its path without notice, and many fled from it in terror while some of the black guardsmen followed it from a close distance, renewed by the fury of the thing and its awesome aspect.

The dragon took a deep inhalation of air as it unleashed a conical stream of chlorine into the midst of friendles and one by one they fell and died, their lungs filled with poison gas. Aronis lifted his cloak and a gust of strong wind blew the offensive breath weapon’s cloud of killing toward the dragon, dropping the black guads who lurked behind it.

‘So you must be the duke’s creature, I’m amused mage. You think quickly for a mere mortal, I’m going to enjoy watching you die’ the Dragon bellowed.

Orath flung a dagger that sunk into the wrym’s left eye, and it was completely taken off guard not expecting to be hurt in the slightest. It quickly removed the offensive dagger with its own tongue, and emitted the most horrendous wailing you’ve ever heard before.



Whisper sent a dagger from his wrist sheath flying point first at the juggling guard's groin.  He then followed that dagger up with all of his natural and unnatural speed to close quickly on the pair.  There would be no bartering for his life with either of these men, no he knew that it was his life or those of these foes.  Perhaps, he could raise the ire of one of them and then use his cantrip to send them into a rage.  Septul would finally get a meal...

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A battle unfolded...

One of the black guard officer’s ordered several of his men toward the wagon, each ready to gouge their swords through the bars and into the children as well as Storm and Morga. With Septul’s vision enhancements she laid yellow circles and squares over the enemy combatants.

These guardsmen drew near the wagon but were tore down with a volley of sheaf arrows from the newly revealed guards. Orath and Sable were tag teaming a huge force of black guards and Hobgoblins, uncaring about the sheer number of enemies that squared against them. You saw a Hobgoblin knock a flaming arrow into his bow and loose it into the air toward the east. Just then, in response a huge horn blew in that direction as if to summon reinforcements.

‘Hey you’re not supposed to be here!’ two black guardsmen leaped out from behind a nearby tree, the first drew his longsword and ran toward you wearily, ‘so you’re him, huh? The trickster!’

It was then that a familiar keening song errupted from the northwest, and riding from that direction was Kessa, Valtor, Ash, and Zor. Kessa announced herself with a spear toss that impaled three black guard through the neck with brutal effect. Meanwhile, Zor and Valtor flung a weighted net on seven black guards, ensnaring them in its mesh. When some of the black guard beheld Zor their faces visibly blanched.

One of the soldiers who’d fallen, studded with arrows managed to get up and picked up his longsword. He moved toward the wagon and sneered, ‘you troublesome brats are going to pay for this!’ be he was violently grabbed by the fire elemental and tossed into the air where he disappeared somewhere in the east.

Black Guardsman #1 and #2 swung at you and you lurched out of the reach of their longswords. #1 was trying to circle you and #2 drew a dagger in his offhand, smirking as he tossed sword and dagger to either hand, ‘listen boy, give us Kraybor’s journal and we’ll give you a thousand gold and you can walk away. Don’t be a fool!"


Whisper drew Agonastor’s Razor, he wanted badly to charge towards the prison wagon to free his companions under the cover of the chaos of the ambush.  He decided against it upon witnessing the death of the black cloak's mage and the arrival of a new mage who had the ability to summon elementals.  In the end his skills might be needed to spring his friends from this latest set of assailants or should these troops fail he'd have to free them from whatever remained of the black guards.  

'Where are Valtor, Ash, and Kessa?  They are not among those in the wagon, perhaps there are some prisoners in shackles that I've missed!'  Whisper thought to himself as he tried every visual trick he'd learned about Septul's powers to scrutinize the battle more closely.  If he could not spot his overlooked companions or springing them seemed too much of a gamble Whisper planned to refocus his scrutiny to studying the rogue, Orath.  Galdere's shapechange potions along with his own skills in the black arts would prove valuable if he'd have to pose as the duke's rogue to free his companions.

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As you got to the window, you realized the alleyway was teaming with alert soldiers. Quickly you gained the rooftop and traveled rooftop to rooftop til you made it to the cities northern gate. With some simple shadowing you used a passing wagon to mask your movements based on simple rythmic timing. You come to understand that you could sense the basic surface thoughts of most intelligent beings in your close proximity. It wasn’t direct mindreading, it was more along the lines of emotional intent reading.

It took an hour to reach Nulg by foot..

As you stole into the outerlying burb undetected, you came upon a grizzly scene littered with freshly slain troops, black guardsmen all of them, 22 in count. Some were torn to pieces, several decapitated or dismembered, and many had their skulls cleaved, or were shot with tiny dart sized bolts. There were four horses teethered to a nearby tree. A warm summer rain begain to fall just now.

With Septul’s imparted awareness you were able to tell from grasping one of the slain soldier’s daggers what had transpired here. Storm and Morga fought their way mightily out of a trap and were being overwhelmed when Valtor, Ash, and Kessa turned the tide of a esculating melee. They fled into the nearby Direwood, with more black imperials swarming into the area. A veritable army dogged them now. Black imperial guardsmen and disguised hobgoblin shock troops swelled their sheer numbers.

You procured a horse and ran it hard through the Direwood, when you snagged a tripwire neck high and were dismounted. Besides this, there was no other effect or trap. Someone placed it there however, for some obscure reason.

Pursuing the army and your friends you navigated as steathily as you could, striding along by way of foot. Six miles trudging through the forest when you spotted Imperial forces a half mile ahead. The army had Storm, Morga, Jorrell and the children as prisoners, and they were inside of a caged wagon. There were 50 of the black guard, 25 hobgoblins, and they were all lead by a black cloaked magic-user, Villhor was his name. He was an apprentice of Kraybor, you sensed, who sought to inherit Kraybor’s dark legacy. With these brats in our custody, I’ll absorb more power than my foolish master ever dreamt you read from Vihor’s mind through Septul’s extensive perception.

As the army continued along, you shadowed them for a mile when, directly in front of them appeared the same man and woman who had sought you earlier outside of the citadel. The black haired thief, and the silver haired she-knight defiantly obstacled the forest road. The thief arrogantly strode forward, waving a lazy hand toward Vilhor. Orath was his name, one of the Duke’s chief operatives, ‘Hold it right there, you pathetic black cloaks. We’ll take those prisoners of yours and then allow you to leave with your lives. Otherwise’ he made a throat slit gesture with his finger.

Vilhor laughed mockingly, so did his men, and the mage said ‘just the two of you? Are you drunk or just have a death wish? Stand asside and I won’t have to embarass you in front of your fair lady friend, little scrag!’

Orath answered with a flash of two throwing daggers that Vilhor wove and dodged, barely, but another two by the rogue sunk deep into his leg. Orath’s fair companion, Sable  made a gesture with her greatsword, leveling it towards the black guard and their Hobgoblin shock troops. From behind trees emerged the Duke’s men, who rained arrows and crossbow bolts into the evil guardsmen. Sable advanced and beheaded Vilhor with a single damning stroke, spun then severed the legs from the ankles of two of his bodyguards, ‘Black scum, you’re not welcome here. The duke sends his love!’

When, another figure appeared as he was chanting fell words of arcane power, causing a being of scorching elemental fire to materialize in the midst of the black guard, and it began engulfing the wagon-prison guardsmen with flames.


Whisper made his way as silently as he could to exit the apartment out of the window he had discovered.  Why would a blind old woman be stockpiling such wares?  Perhaps she paid her bills by storing stolen goods?  Whisper kept the words for his cantrips on his mouth as he pushed onward to make good his escape.

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When you released your first cantrip, for the first time it wasn’t as difficult as you initially thought. Septul’s subtle guidance walked you through the somantic gestures and arcane syllables. As it was cast, the shadows in the alley animated and danced, and they took on hideous shapes and monstrous demoniac aspect. The watchmen were terrified and cowed, some crouched to their knee’s and brought their hands over their heads and one ran further ahead of the alley screaming in fright. As the diversionary cantrip did its work splendidly you sauntered away undetected, stealing through the ajar window of a first floor tenement. The inviting smell of freshly baked cherry pie stabbed at your nose.

You slipped through the innards of the apartment, slipping as an unseen shadow as an old elderly woman was querying ‘whose there?’ and you realized she was blind. You stepped into a hall and the front door burst open, in poured several cloaked men clad as fighters and one who was a thief perhaps, “the one who slew Kraybor is in this dwelling, spread out and search! Thousand gold to the one who finds him first!’

Before you could react, ten men were in the hallway and you had quietly slipped back into the woman's apartment, they came bursting in and tossing/upturning furniture, ransacking the place. The woman was crying in a fearful fury and she had ten cats that were hissing fiercely in protest. You were hid behind a door in one of the rooms, which was unremarkable and filled with various boxes, crates, and sacks. One of these stacks was hiding a window to the alleyway.


Whisper didn't like how things had just transpired one bit.  Not wanting to become trapped in the band's hideout with potentially even more members being present he prepared himself to strike or to make a get away using the element of surprise.  Whisper waited a few heartbeats to determine which it was going to be ...

OC: Cantrips - create shadows, dancing lights, soul darkness
    1st level - Grease, Burning Hands, Mount  (this option only if the Grease spell is flammable)
              - Shield, Magic Missle, Mount   (this option otherwise)
I'll leave it up to the DM to use either spells if they are memorized or the PC's former profession for what action is best to take.
Question - The PC dropped off his tattered set of black dragon hide armor with metal rivets that prevented grappling to be repaired.  I'm happy to go with a trade with the smith for an elven hauberk and cross off the armor.

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The smith had given you your elven coat back and it was properly restored to its former Elvish magnificence, and the daggers you requested of him all for 35 gold pieces after some haggling. Galdere provided a quick but hearty meal of liver and onions, some grog and Halfling cheese.

Septul: the elf hauberk will suit you splendidly. It is one of the few worthy pieces of armor a magic-user could wear and still bind spells in. More coveted than even a pair of bracers of defense or rings of protection.

The ride toward Nulg was uneventful. The driver rode without pause through the whore filled backalleys, backstreets and ghettos of Lor. You half napped in the back, concealed by the cargo of the wagon. It was when he turned on the corner of Swords and Cheap street when a gang of miscreants intercepted the wagon, two of which stopped the horses and another two threatning the driver with loaded crossbows.

Thug #1 stepped forth, ‘Eh you filth, what’ n hells name are you doing out here in the wee o’ the night? Are you daft or just plum mental? There’s dangerous beasts out here looking for dumbshits to pick apart like warm bread, for laughs’

Thug #2: “Heh heh, looks like he’s got some goodies in back. Whaddya say we lighten the load and you mosey on along without any protest, whaddya say to that friend? And if you’re lucky in one piece. Usually take a few digits for memory sake, case you be knowing a bit o’ the black stuff, that magic crap.

Thug #1: “Yer too much of a nice guy, Skank. Just put a dag in the bugger’s eye’

Before you knew it the driver was dead from a few dagger stabbings, and the one named Skank was laughing like a hyena as he did the killing.

Thug #2 said “Well, this isn’t the stupid wanker we were looking for but doesn’t matter one bit. This bugger’s got quite a sizable haul to enjoy, eh lads? Get this wagon back to the hideout quickly’

Suddenly, several city watch emerged from a nearbly alleyway. When they drew close the thugs stiffened visibly, but then it was clear both the guardsmen and the thugs were on the same side. Thug #1 said ‘Get the wagon back to the hideout, fore anyone comes looking for it’ the watch, themselves thieves resumed escorting the wagon you were in. There were six of them in total, all of them were two bit mercs who turned to the easy life of being a member of the city watch.


"The Tyranthros cult has been busy with many schemes it would seem."  Whisper remarked looking up from the book.  He silently offered up a prayer of gratitude that he had not been compelled to steal from an elder vampire.  He had enough foes that wanted to remove his head from his shoulders at present without having to worry about one that had all of eternity to hunt him down.  He left the book upon the table for his new teacher to study in more details for surely there was much yet to be mined from its pages.  Whisper trusted that Galdere would uncover them and spread the information as necessary.  

Whisper hadn't been too sure on how long the enchantment would last upon the evil man outside and that was why he'd made plans to dispose of him so quickly.  He also didn't quite know how hungry Septul was, it had been quite some time since she'd last consumed a victim.  Perhaps the next time he was in the Shadus plane with her he would seek instruction on how often she would like to eat and what she cared to accomplish now that she was freed from her cave.  After all, they were partners currently and it seemed to him looking back on everything that had transpired that the partnership had been very one sided so far.  Looking about he supposed that it was time to acquire his repaired armor and throwing daggers from the blacksmith and then set out as quickly as possible with his new best friend in the world for Nulg...

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Galdere chuckled lightly, ‘My lad, yer not using your noggin. That amulet you wear is no minor item of light enchantment. It is a mighty relic. You ask what you can already know, and do. Even if you do not readily know, just will yourself to know it and you shall. It is a permanent connection to the greatest library in all of the thirteen kingdoms. This is power kings and queens would salivate after. It is reputed to also enhance your vision, your mental faculties, and your awareness perception, the powers of a vampire and enhanced longevity, regeneration, your speed will increase greatly. And to answer your query from before you can be my apt pupil in the arcane if you so wish it though that you can also draw from the amulet’ he drank deeply from a wooden cup of some mint smelling tea.

After the journal was thoroughly analyzed by you and the mage, he dispelled a rune of warding that was invisible on the cover, and an explosive rune on the inside of the cover.
“There, some illusionary script, it would compell you to destroy this book if its power swayed you” he also removed the spell.

Galdere said “hence forth you are a mage, lad. I’ve psionically enabled you to know how to read and write magic. You have a retinue of offensive and defensive spells to choose to memorize:

chromatic orb
burning hands
cantrip x3/day

‘Do not underestimate cantrips, they are extremely useful and utilitarian in nature, though some can effect reality much as a real spell. Even killing small pests and creatures. With your amulet you will have the capacity to cast 3 spells of the first power per day as it augments your intellect exponentially (int increases to 17). Utilize your thieving skills to enhance your craft. You will find the mindset of a rogue increases your abilities as a magic-user’

Sensing your thoughts, Galdere interjected ‘don’t kill the driver so hastily, he’ll be under your power for an entire month. Use him as an asset, he knows this land quite well. But he is an evil little cur, so dispose of him when his usefulness has ended, as I imagine you might. But do not absorb his essence the dweomer should be used against those who are strong of will. It will...nourish you more succinctly”

Perusing the journal of Kraybor, you uncovered a variety of plans and maps. Some caught your eye:

Day 1: I’ve solidified a pact with my new master, Tyranthros. His power is of epic porportion. I believe he is a demon or devil whose possessed the form of a gold dragon, who are all but extinct. I must learn more of his true nature before I steal his power.

Day 5: My nephew Storm has gone to the southlands on some stupid adventure. I’ve sent him to that worthless Dreygar to preoccupy his meddling in my plans. He grows more strong and wise than I would have anticipated. If he only knew I murdered his mother and father, the perfect fool. No matter, I will confess him my little secret once I’ve plunged my dagger into his trusting heart.

Day 12: I’ve hatched a plan to weaken Southern Cross’s military power in the south. My new apprentice has prepared to taint the Snake River and poison Dreygar’s troops. Once that has been rendered, my sahaugin will slaughter the entire city and feast on the people living therein.

Day 15: Tyranthros has become aware of a band of would be meddlers, who my impudent nephew has joined forces with. An Elsmyrian whore, a Nyriddian bitch, a fat pig of an Elf, a cleric of a worthless Goddess, a Jez’zurian swine, and a drow derelict. The dark elf might be convinced to betray them all, and I suspect the rotund elf will as well.

Day 22: my plans are nearing fruition. Once the other imbecilles vote me as the new supreme chancellor, I will nullify the queen’s power under the edict of an ancient law of no confidence, blaming her for the economic crisis in the city. I’ve bribed all my political enemies into voting correctly, it is only a matter of time before I ascend to my rightful place.

Day 30: I dispatched the Nine to scour the Nyrian countryside in search of that cave, where the first of the 333 gems are said to lie. It is guarded by a rare demon, whom I pray will be strong enough to destroy the nine and hopefully eachother. Either way, they will be slain as they know far too much of my secret designs.

Day 35: Master Tyranthros, we’ve transported all of our operations to castle Kaneloon in the Tomb Hills. The Dark Moon Sun’s are conducting their experiments on the drunks, harlots, and madmen we’ve procurred there. Day by day our army of death grows stronger. Soon, they will by mine to command.

Day 42: I’ve made contact with an ancient vampire master that dwells in Valhygian cemetary. The fiend from the old world was more poweful than I could have conceived. Like a dragon his treasure trove must be mighty, kingly in aspect. Once the foolish thief, Whisper brings me the amulet of Septul safely into my custody, I will enslave him to steal that vile monster’s hoard!’

Day 50: ‘All continues well ahead of schedule. While our advesaries are engrossed with debunking what they think is our real work, our forces have begun searching anew for the gems of Tharizdun. Once they are united, we will finally achieve our objective: all the Theorparts will be fully assembled to release our vile God from captivity in Limbo. And then, all shall perish as is in accordance to my God’s blessed black heresy. None shall escape his coming doom!”

Day 53: My nephew and his band of fools have breached our secret pyramid, and slain that worthless apprentice of mine. They’ll be too late to reach the summit, and soon the queen too will die”

Day 60: Latherin Dark, you’ve come highly recommended and at great cost of coin. I’ve a band of meddlesome fools that requires one of your supreme skills. One is a knight ser Storm Telemvor, be weary his swordsmanship may give you some sport. He travels with other upstarts: an Elsmyrian bitch who fancies the spear, and a Nyriddian cunt named Morga whose all but slaughtered the mercenaries I’ve dispatched to rape and torture her. Their mage is a big bellied mustached Elf with a love of fire and destruction, and their thief is but a young boy but a sharp eyed trickster, and two others: a renegade dark elf and a cleric named Ash. Be certain none of them escape alive.


Whisper looked over the valuable potions upon the table, and retrieved Kraybor's tome from his bag of holding.  He attempted to sense anything about the previous owner of the book.  After a brief pause, "Galdere, it is true that I cut Kraybor down.  Spilled his blood upon the floor of the summit.  However, when I knelt to scoop his corpse into my bag of holding it transformed into this book instead.  Stories of Kraybor's demise may be premature, everyone should remain on alert.  Especially the queen!"  Setting the book in its closed state onto the table and placing the 4 potions into his sack with no pause.  He looked to the generous man, "I know not what wards, spells, or traps have been laced upon the book.  The Lady of Southern Cross would be willing to lend you aid if you deem it prudent when examining the book, she's a mage of no small skill.  Both of our ladies would be well served by the knowledge contained in those pages, would you be willing to undertake this dangerous task?"

OC: Whisper will look to set out for Nulg with his new friend after a stop at the blacksmith.  If at some point the wagon driver and him are alone he will look to cut down the man and allow Septul to consume him.  Trusting in her ability to sense his evilness Whisper's unwilling to let the man sell his knowledge of who he has carted around and where they stopped.

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‘Oh for the love of hell!’ Galdere said emphatically, ‘I’d nearly forgotten! Her majesty sends word that you’re to be commended and compensated for your selfless valour in thwarting Kraybor’s schemes. But let me not sully her eloquence, let her thank you for herself’

As he waved hands and went into the somantic gesticulating of a spell, the beautiful image of a radiant, gorgeous woman perhaps 23-24 in years materialized. She was clad in simple but elegant dress, and had brown elaborately braided hair that reached long behind her back. Her eyes were very feminine, vulnerable but strong, and she bore a rare and strange beauty about her. She spoke to you in a melodius accented style of common and it was firm and strong as it was impactful.

Queen Everanteska: “I understand I have you to thank for this recent assassination of Lord Kraybor, and for securing the realm from what would have been a coup de'tat that would have stripped me of my crown and placed a usurper on the throne. For this, you’ve my eternal gratitude, though you must keep aware I cannot pubically thank you for your heroics today. Scandal would stir. However, my faithful servant Galdere will reward you sufficiently until you can visit the capital in person. I’ve been well informed of your other exploits, such as the destruction of the black pyramid and the cleansing of Sodograth isle, know you now have the full support of the Nyrian throne in your endeavors hence forth. From what my spies have told me you’re also something of a Lord of stature, you’ve the blood of kings in your lineage according to my sagely counselors. Be that as it may, which makes this all fascinating and most peculiar, I’ve beseeched your mistress Kyrillia for a personal audience with you when you have completed your affairs in Lor. Be well, and once again my blessings upon you!’ she gestures in blowing a kiss towards you.

Galdere placed several containers, four in all before you on the table:

These two vials are different. The first is a vial of change self, the second is a polymorph self. These other two are potions of mimicry, they will allow you to instantaneously sound like anyone convincingly. However, they’re far more powerful than just that. They will enable you to mimick any special attack or defense that you witness. Whether a deft special attack by a swordfighter or even a spell cast against you. One of my own craft, its like does not exist any longer” he paused, 'As for the smith, you needn't concern yourself over him he's a hell of a man, and not a bastard as you were perhaps implying"

The driver is in the wagon you didn't kill him yet. He's patiently minding the wagon and tending the steeds fully under your control.


Whisper thought long and hard about handing over the book he'd taken from Kraybor's vanished corpse.  Surely, it had magical traps and wards upon it that no common cutpurse could hope to overcome!  Galdere and Lady Kyrillia likely had enough power between the two of them to overcome the wards and to glean whatever secrets were contained within.  If he was captured by Kraybor's men the knowledge it contained would be lost.  'Septul, do you believe you can overcome Kraybor's traps upon his book to learn whatever is within?  I'd rather you have its secrets to share with your former brothers and sisters in the clergy of Lor.'

"Galdere, you wouldn't have a way of magically altering appearances would you?  The black cloak's, Kraybor's men, and the city watch have fairly accurate descriptions of those they now hunt.  Potions you can spare would likely be blessings as well.  I've seven healing potions to mend the wounds the group has earned along their flight."  Whisper then pointed in the direction of the smith's workshop across from Galdere's home.  "My armor and an order of much needed throwing dags were being repaired by the smith across the street, can he be trusted to keep his mouth shut or should I just press on to Nulg?"

OC: Did the pc choke out/slit the throat of the wagon driver and feed him to Septul as was sort of planned?  He'd have a change of clothes(perhaps they'd be a bit long) then at least to try and work out a disguise with.  The PC won't linger too long at Galdere's, long enough to perhaps hand off the book if appropriate and perhaps gather a few bits for disguises.  His companions that were quickly becoming like family to him needed his help.

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The driver was now fully under your power, and he made his way to Rorig relatively unimpeded. Two patrols briefly queried him about his business, “I gots to git this haul of Impilturian brandy to Lord Dranos’s country villa for his summertime harvest feast or I’m out my twenty percent delivery bonus!” the patrols nodded, not caring to check for errors in the allibi. Had they, you knew, they woud have known there was no Lord Dranos or a summertime harvest feast in Rorig. But the lull of finding the fugitive overrode their judgement or suspicions.

Entire patrols were scouring the vast countryside, canvassing with door to door searches and harshly interrogating shopkeepers, tavern owners, craftsmen and farmers. However, the numbers of searchers were thinning, and it seemed they were acting with pretense more than sincerity.

When you arrived at Galdere’s, he bade you enter inside hurriedly, ‘come quickly! I see you’ve succeeded where others would have failed my young friend, this is splendid work!’ he hissed excitedly, a light ignited in his eyes. He sat you down and poured you an ale that was magnificently cold, ‘There are black cloaks scouring under every nook and cranny looking for the youngsters you smuggled into the city. The monk bore them into the sewers, and Storm and Morga are therein heavily engaged against enemy forces. Black Imperial spies are on the hunt preparing their snares, but I’ve lead them out since. I fear the imperials may be onto the fact someone is guiding them. This monk is quite clever. I’ve since been sabotaging their efforts and leading them astray with trickery, but they aren’t easily beguiled even by my powers. I hired two mercenary bands to harrangue these agents when and where they can, a bit of added muscle certainly can’t hurt, aye?

He bade you over to a table nearby, and waved a hand over it. A glowing blue detailed map of the sewer system beneath Lor materialized, with orange silhouttes of Storm, Morga, Jorrell, the children depicted in one passageway. There were also many pockets of wandering bands of black imperial forces scattered across the map, colored in a light green hue.

Galdere was able to zoom in and magnify various details of the map by way of gesticulating, pinching, and waving furiously. He said “I’ve navigated Storm here, to the central hub of the entire sewer system. There’s a baby red dragon there that’s been chained to in order to incinerate the cities wastes. I’ve laid a spell of protection against fire on his entire party, if he leads his current pursuers there they’ll be conveniently disposed of. However, this here is the escape route. It deposits into the Direwood northeast of Lor, past the farthest outerlying suburb of Nulg. I think the black cloaks will have a ambush prepared for them, so you should go there at once and disrupt their plans”


Whisper's back and arms were sore and tingling as blood flowed back into them from clinging to the underside of the wagon during the bulk of the escape.  It had been a close call to get out of the citadel, almost too close!  Without Septul's guidance and intervention he shuddered to think where he might currently be.  Images of "answering" to the baron the wizard, rogue, and thief were employed by flashed across his mind's eye sending an involuntary shudder up his spine.  

From the spot he'd squeezed himself into amongst the contents in the back of the wagon he was able to observe some of his surroundings and the man that drove the wagon.  He waited silently as the wagon made its way towards the suburbs of Lor while he kept an alert vigil for any sign he'd been noticed or of the wagon stopping to be searched.  Removing Ash's mask he placed it into the bag of holding, changing his appearance and soon was going to be important.  

'Septul, when and if the hustle and bustle of Lor thins out can you use your last charm of the day on the evil man driving the wagon?  Should he elude your charms I'll have to move to end him and would rather not kill the evil man with crowds to witness the act.  If you are able to ensnare him, have him drive us to the suburb of Rorig.  Either way his evil soul shall be yours to savor before long.'  Whisper promised his mental companion as he thought about his next steps.  The roads out of Lor would likely be covered with patrols for the next few days at least.  Storm's mentor Galdere in the suburb of Rorig had housed the trio from Southern Cross before and had even offered suggestions on dealing with Kraybor.  Laying low with the former spy and powerful wizard, possibly even learning the arcane arts at the feet of the man if he'd have him as a pupil seemed a good way to let the hornets nest he'd riled up calm down.  

OoC: can the PC dual to a Wizard with an Int:14 ?

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NEW: you hear approaching guards...

A contingent of 20 guards come pouring down Skull street, bowling past pimps and their prostitutes, beggars and rakes wisely scatter, you hear a officer say 'split up, we think they might've split apart. The Elsmyrian and Knight were last seen in the sewers, they're being aided by a renegade monk and some whelps. There's a thief who was also behind the mischief, he's the one whose with the fattest coin on his head'

One unit of 10 continue along, and another breaks off down an alleyway.

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You quaffed the contents of the invisibility potion and made for the wagon, slithered beneath it and clung to it tightly lifting your cloak and wrapping it around yourself.

The black haired man and his silvery haired female knight continued surveying the garden grounds, the thief looked disinterested and bored, the silvery haired woman was talking: “Whoever he or she, or ‘they’ might be the duke demands they be found. Come, let’s head back to the manor. No use skulking about it’s apparent they’ve long escaped”

As the driver-teamster passed the main gate the guardsmen gave a slight prod of his sword into the haystack then cleared the driver who set off in a growl. You could sense he was a ugly, treacherous man with a love of cruelty and treacherous scheming. ‘Evil doer’s are the tastiest morsels’ Septul’s thoughts resonated in your mind. When you cleared the citadel grounds you noticed the entire city was hunting for the elusive assassin. Patrols were out canvassing the city alley’s and establishments, with promises of gold and gems. You heard a voice bellow from behind ‘HALTTTT!!!’ it carried with it the magnifying influence of a strong enchantment.  A cowled magic-user approached, he was the resident wizard posted to the citadel of the citylords you read from his surface thoughts, and he was furious. He placed a contingent of twelve guards around the wagon. The mage was speaking casually to another beside him, ‘When I find this audacious assassin, I’ll have him flogged, then flayed, then tossed into the deepest, darkest hole in all the thirteen kingdoms. Even if by some miraculous divine intervention he should escape he will wish he’d found one deeper than the one I find him or her.

The mage knelt to a knee and peered beneath the wagon, his eyes widened in alarm as they perceived you. Your eyes flashed yellow briefly, then his eyes did as well and you could sense he was fully under your power. He unleashed a burning hands spell and incinerated six of the guardsmen near him, and they turned against him. The wagon driver drove off and you were in the back of the wagon. Behind you a arrow shot away, all twelve guards were laid low, the other six were frozen statues of ice, while the first six were charred husks of black ash.

Septul: ‘you’d better set a few traps in certain places to dissuade the brave, and stupid’

unknown voice: ‘Some crazy asshole slew Lord Kraybor!’

‘What’s this city coming to!’

‘Kraybor!? He was a turd. I actually have great admiration for whoever did this. The balls on the guy must weigh that of an ogre’

Guards were everywhere, shoving and intimidating the onlookers and noisey folks strutting about in reaction to the recent discovery. People were dragged off and arrested for resistance and open defiance.

‘Good riddance to that loathsome bastard, Kraybor was a swine’ one of the mob cried out.


Overhearing earlier that Morga and Storm had taken to the sewers eliminated the planned escape route of a hay wagon.  The enhanced vision granted by Septul allowed him to witness a disembodied eye floating about the streets in addition to the city guard and what he guessed were two of Kraybor's former employees.  Whisper would wager a good amount of coin that the wandering eyeball belonged to the wizard atop the citadel's wall that, unfortunately it would ssem that Morga hadn't gotten a chance to deal with them.  That spell and the two dangerous looking foes canvasing the square for a rumored third time were his largest concerns as he quickly made his plans to escape the citadel on that leaving wagon somehow.  He imbibed the potion of invisibility and took the briefest of moments to look about and memorize the locations of patrols, people, and the three main foes in his way.  With little time to dilly dally and the protection of the potion Whisper made his way as quickly and silently as possible towards the wagon.  'Septul, get ready to charm someone should I be spotted.  This could turn to shit fast!'  His thoughts hurriedly requested of his mental companion as his eyes looked for obstacles and tried to determine a place to hide within or underneath the wagon as he approached it...

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“Assassin!!!!!!” one of the men roared, an Elf with an indignant scowl, ‘you worms dare to protect this loathsome insect!?’ then, two of the throng of important people slit the elf’s throat, and none seemed to lament the loss of life. ‘Elves and their higher than thou morality!’ one of the Elf ambassador’s slayers spouted.

When you knelt to recover Kraybor’s corpse, it vanished into thin air. Left in its place was a small leatherbound journal, unremarkable in aspect.

wrist bolts: you don’t know until you try.

Several of the men were pleased with your handiwork, they ushered you and praised you saying ‘we were about to grant that snake power over all the realm!’ one man spoke. Another said ‘who are you? whoever you are you’re a true Nyrian hero, though the sad scribes everywhere will pen it otherwise. If you ever need an employer, seek me out at castle Graywand in northern Nyr! Just outside the royal capitol’ one lady handed you a silken laced hankerchief that was subtly scented with exprensive perfume, and she was beautiful though advancing in years. Somewhere on the cusp between youth and middle aged, ‘and seek me as well’ she said with evident lust in her flirtatious tone.

‘Go now, quickly boy!’ they ushered you to a secret passage and you descended mid-way when you detected a pair of guardsmen approaching swiftly up the steps, with a attack dog guiding them, ‘the intruder’s somewhere on the upper levels, conduct security sweep of all servant passageways we think he’s using them to move around’

You leaped up and clung to the wall then stood motionless, the two guards were oblivious to your presence but the dog paused to sniff in your direction. Giving one more sniff it ceased its curiosity and continued guiding the pair of guards right along. You slip past, dodging perimeter checks and several emptied guardrooms. Four guards when running past the door at the base of the stairwell, ‘The Nyriddian and fighter have escaped into the sewers, get an attache down there at once!’

As you navigated undetected you seemed to be in the courtyard and it was full of stupified servants too rattled to go along their chores. Some were talking hyserically, ‘who would have the stones to kill the supreme chancellor?! It’s positively maddening!’

You saw a hay filled wagon driven by mules exiting the courtyard, full of barrels, caged animals, and sacks of rice. Men in 2x2 formation were scowering the grounds with large mastiffs when you saw what appeared to be a creepy eye come around the corner towards you, hovering in the air.

Then, two beings emerged. You clung to the shadows and hid. One was a man who was clad in black leather and had dark features, olive tinged skin and strode with a cockiness characteristic with thieves and hired killers, behind him a silver haired woman clad in fanciful silver field platemail that was a word of art. The silver haired woman said 'sweep the area, Aronis said to check here carefully'

The black haired thief said 'well, I have thrice now. Such pains won't unveil new clues, he's halfway out of the city by now. Maybe headed for the coast, I would'



Whisper moved quickly to put away his two weapons and then knelt briefly to shove Kraybor's corpse into his cousin's magical bag of holding.  He had landed a blow with his poison filled dagger and feared that in his current rush to get out alive that he had misjudged the evil man's death.  After all, Whisper did not want to have to return a few days from now and finish what he had started here.  Besides, if the man was truly dead Storm had just as much say as any would with what should be done with his uncle's remains.  Whisper rose and rushed to find a way to gain access to the roof.  His voice was not much louder then a whisper as he spoke from behind Ash's mask, it had aided him greatly in sneaking up through the servant's passage.  "Kraybor and the cult of Tharizdul had plans to kill and replace any who did not vote for Kraybor's plan to overthrow the queen with face changers and then hold another such vote at a later date.  Be wary for his agents may still try to carry out his plans!"  With that half-truth warning to the members of the summit in the city of Lor meant to keep them focused on something besides himself, Whisper looked to make his escape and gain access to the roof.  His backside was not out of the fire yet, not by a long shot...

OC: the wrist bolts with grappling hooks and rope, does the PC have to climb that rope or does it "retract" and pull the PC towards where it is anchored?

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Guards stormed into the secret annex as you clung to the ceiling, undetected. Ash’s cloak making you little more than a indiscernable shadow. There were four guardsmen of the citadel, one approached the incinerated doppelganger of Kraybor, “What in bloody hell! The damned thing’s burnt to a crisp. Inform Lord Kraybor his decoy’s been slain, and alert all guardrooms there’s someone possibly about the premesis. Damn it heads will roll for this. Who could’ve breached our defenses and did such a thing?”

Septul: I’ve located Kraybor master, he’s on the level directly above in the meeting chamber of the overlord. I recommend taking a secret passage just a few paces east of here, it’s a servant quarter where his secret agents come to and fro, mercenaries and assassins. Go now, forces are searching for you on the lower levels.

When you gained the secret servants passageway, you were invisible to several lowly servants, porters and chambermaids who trafficked the narrow stairwell. One woman came within a hair’s breadth of you and still was unable to detect your presence. You nearly gained the top landing of the stairwell when, you heard a pair of men approaching swiftly from below. Both were clad in ink black garb and moving in casual strides, and seemed preoccupied in deep conversation:

“Trust me, Kraybor will pay you handsomely for services rendered. By this time tomorrow he’ll be the new Lord of all Nyr. He needs talented men, Jargan. Men he can trust. You won’t find better coin working for the beggar’s union, my friend”

Man #2: “Hah, this task sounds too good to be true. You’re saying all I need to do is kill this thief-heir apparent of some Jez’zur Lord? Sounds like I’m getting paid for doing something like taking a shit!”

When you struck, you grabbed the man from behind cupping his mouth and slitting his throat ear to ear with a dagger. The lead man was continuing to walk and didn’t hear so much as a single thing during the kill. With deadly precision you threw two daggers into the unsuspecting man’s back. The first penetrated hilt deep through his neck, and the second into the small of his back, and he died and went rolling down the stairwell bowling over a approaching chambermaid. The chambermaid falling crashed at the base of the steps and her neck was broken.

Septul: master, you really are a natural born killer!

Continuing on, you came to the double doors that marked the real entrance to the council chambers. It was abandoned, except one single green recruit who stood taut and alert. He bade you inside as you used Septul’s influence to manipulate him. Once you entered the chamber you saw Kraybor, and you knew he was Kraybor by his words:

“The queen has proven herself unfit for rule. Grant me the power to restore sanity to the realm and all will be as it ought, and peace will be aright with the kingdom once more!” Kraybor intoned.

AS you entered the chamber you came upon him and plunged your shortsword and dagger into Kraybor, and he dies when you ripped out the dwarf blade and the other citylords looked on in horrific silence, then as one began cheering you on, ‘flee you fool! We’ll hold them off!’ one of the citylords cried out. What sounded like the rich baritone of a Lordly man turned out to be a beautiful visage of a gorgeous woman of exquisite beauty and she smiled. The other Lords and Ladies looked flabbergasted, ‘Cerene, what in the nine hells are you doing!?”

The woman was half elven and said “What I’ve always wanted to do, I tire of this secrecy and cloak and dagger crap. Finally, a hero of the people steps up to depose of Kraybor while all of our monies went to waste in two bit killers who couldn’t see the job done”

What do you do?


'It had been too easy!  Where could the real Kraybor be?'  Whisper thought to himself as he moved to quickly escape the guards or to seek out where Kraybor might be.  If the opportunity to presented itself he'd run the face changer through with his dwarven blade on the way out, perhaps giving Septul the opportunity to feed on the beast and learn some of Kraybor's plans...

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When you leveled the dwarven blade, it gleamed as pure scorching fire shot out and bathed Kraybor in a fiery inferno, the heat melting some of the surrounding gold coins. He was still walking about, despite the flames that were consuming him. He laughed maniacally, 'You imbecille! Dotard! You naively thought you would succeed in disrupting schemes with audacity and theatrics?!' his face melted away, revealing a featureless smooth face that was vaguely humanoid but lacking in any quality, no emotion. A face changer Septul chimned in.

As the flames ebbed, the still animated black charred husk laughed mockingly, 'while you tarry here, my fell master's council continues unabated elsewhere. Those other city-lords are naught but paid actors! Hahahaah!' just then, you heard the sounds of approaching guardsmen from the council chambers 'catch the intruder!' one of them cried out.


Whisper did not bother with listening to Kraybor's pleas and offers in order to get him to switch his allegiance.  It was expected that the man would try to barter for his life when cornered.  He leveled the dwarven shortsword he had just used in the previous room and uttered the command to send dragon flame forth at Kraybor while drawing the poison filled dagger he bore.  The flame was meant as a distraction to allow him to advance and connect with the dagger bearing the poison that would put Kraybor into a coma.  Whisper hoped to strike at an area where hidden armor might not be such as a leg but in the end if the flame proved to be too effective he supposed that he could live with those consequences as well...

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As whisper stole into the alley behind the Rusted Dag, he rattled a pair of thugs who were shaking down several beggars and prostitutes for anything of worth. 'Bloody hell!' the first man cried out, a unsavory uninteresting looking man with dirty blonde hair and yellow stained teeth, 'bugger off, you tit fore I gut ya here n'spill yer entrails' his friend, a taller man tried to give you a stare down. Then, they seemed to recoil as if afraid when they caught sight of your black ebon cloak, and your easy stride and ran into the night.

"Tear this alley apart til you find that scum, I don't give two shits and a hot fart if you have to burn Dagger's row down to an ashen husk!" you heard one of the city guardsman cry out from somewhere behind the Rusted Dagger. 

As you got to the end of the seemingly endless alley, you were cut off from escape by the city guard's wizard and cleric. The magic-user cupped his hands and channeled a bolt of lightening that he unleashed into you. The bolt of lightening struck the Septul amulet straight in the center and was absorbed by it, then shot straight back into the mage and electrocuted him where he died along with the cleric while in the throughs of setting a spell upon you. 

More guards were converging on your location, but you managed to give the noose the slip and escaped through a ramshackle apartment and down several flights of stairs. Before you knew it you were already at the citadel of the citylords. When you arrived, you heard a thunderous rumble and blast from the guts of the keep, and like a veritable bee hive the whole tower came alive. You were on, and your friends were inside probably watching for your approach. 

The plan was transpiring as smooth as silk, and every guardsman, yeoman, scribe, porter, maid, and advisor was emptying out of the place, causing panic and bottlenecks in all major exits out of the tower. When you breached the chamber of the citylords, who cowering in a corner they spun as one, their hideous face masks looked evil and cruel and one screamed 'who the hell are you! You dare disrupt this mighty counsel!? You filth you'll be flogged and flayed within the hour!' You spotted Kraybor trying to cower behind the throng of his peers, and he wormed his way out of the huddle and headed through a revolving secret door set in the wall! By the reactions of his fellows they were just as stunned by this as you were.

Several of the citylords moved to block you, but were disastrously ill equipped and you had knocked out three of them who had fight in them without much effort, and took the hand of a fourth from the wrist with a reactionary execution of your dwarf sword. You easily converged on Kraybor, in the bowels of a secret annex. He cowered in a room chock full of stored treasures, and he looked like sinister old man with keen cunning in his eyes, and he removed his mask to regard you, 'So, you're the one, aye? Come to kill me? Do you think you've even the slightest notion of doing that!?" he smiled triumphantly at you, 'come help me carry some of this treasure, and you'll live long enough to inherit great wealth. Become my fledgling, my thrall and you will rise"


(19* healing max hp with magic damage 28)
Whisper guessed that he would be unable to infiltrate the group of city watch that pursued him, and what good would it do him if he did?  Was the city guard even assigned to the summit?  Better to lick his wounds and head to the temple of Wrath to give a donation in exchange for that silence spell he needed...

graphalfkor moderator

Septul: sorry master, but are you mad? In front of all these onlookers such magic would invite the wrath of all the powers of law against you, you would have to go into hiding for a year just to shake that off. There are tons of city watch here having their supper!

The dandy's face contorted with rage and he sliced at you with a dagger, missing you entirely. It took one swift stroke of your sword to cut the fop down with a clean blow. Just then you noted movement in the throng of patrons, several men with the glint of hidden mail beneath their seemingly ordinary garb ran towards you and drew broadswords, 'halt! seize that swine!' one watchman roared. Six of them came as one, and you repeatedly wove out of their paths as they struggled to incapacitate you. The last flung his club in desperation and it struck you from behind (-3 blunt damage), while a magic-user in the crowd flung two emerald green magic missiles that detonated unerringly into you (-7 hp's sustained) the projectiles ate holes into your armor and scorched the delicate flesh layer beneath it. A beautiful female clad in silvery field plate got up from her seat and bashed you square in the face with the flat of her sword (-6 temporary damage). 

Before you knew it all hell broke loose and a barfight ensued over the commotion stirred, you were crawling on hands and feet across a room of angry patrons, had a bottle broken over your head and a barrel of strong ale poured over you as you made it to the alley entrance, the dying flames from the mage's magic missiles still smoldering on the shadowy cloak. You regained your feet and ran into the alley that reeked of decay and urine, finding refuge in the overlaying shadows. 

Behind you ten city watchmen came chasing after you a mere minute behind. What do you do?



"The Wraith will do no such thing."  Whisper stated flatly, coming up with a fake name for himself based upon Ash's enchanted cloak.  He hardly glanced in the man's direction making a show of shaking his dripping wet arms which had the benefit of readying the daggers in his wrist sheathes.  He kept vigilant to thwart any pick pocket attempts by the man while his thought's seethed to Septul, 'Have this one as your prisoner in the Shadus plane, Septul.  His timing is suspicious and we should know what he knows.  Should our attempt to capture him fail I'll slit his throat ear to ear and be gone from this place.'

graphalfkor moderator

 Septul: a thieving hero, afraid of a den of wolves when you’re the black wolf? These sheep are nothing to be feared. They’re all flashy, but even six or ten knife-men and swordsmen would be ill equipped to contend with your supreme skills, master. I advise tarrying here and absorbing this rich fat pig of information, bleed it dry like a parasite inside a golden calf’s intestines.

The fortune teller gave you a disapproving scowl, then shooed you away ‘be gone then, you cheap bastard. I’ve no time for the likes of you’ she beckoned for a mercenary to seat himself. The mercenary was asking her silly questions, like whether his third wife was really on her period or just lying because he got drunk every night.

The Elf and the Dwarf were merchants, it would seem judging by the adjacent table of dwarven and elven soldiers who eyed the game with disinterest, and were glaring at one another in intense disdain, some cracking racial jokes against the other even, trying to get under eachother's skin.

Just as you got up and were about to leave, a brightly dressed dandy bumped into you and spilled the contents of his drink all over you. He was a lean, angular faced man and gave a disdainful sneer, ‘you insipid little scrag, that was vintage port from Impiltur!’ he poked you hard in the chest ‘apologize for your stupidity, worm!’


After placing a few silvers for the steaks into the hand of the barmaid and securing the meat within his bag of holding Whisper looked up to the woman beckoning to him.  He paused with a smile on his face and tried to divert his gaze elsewhere while he pleaded silently for Septul to help him determine what sort of trap he had wandered or been drawn into.  'Who is the woman?  How close are the odd pair playing chess and who might they be?  Do I have some way of making a quick escape and not allowing these bastards to sink a blade between my shoulders?'  "Five coppers?  Surely, if any of the 'men' in this establishment learned of such a pittance they would be lined up a mile long to merely be in the presence of such exotic beauty for a few moments regardless of what fortunes you told them.  You might wish to reconsider your going rate my dear, else you might never escape the Rusted Dagger."  Whisper carefully joked with as much charm as he could muster all the while he tensed to make a run for it, he didn't have time for fortunes or to get mugged.

graphalfkor moderator

Septul: master, since you've augmented your life force and gained more spirit power you've fashioned a new dweomer from the shadus plane. Now, when you handle objects of any sort you will be enabled to read the psychic prints left behind by previous possessors of such items. These will come in the form of brief visions, but these visions will be events from the past. For instance someone hiding a key in a secret niche, or setting of a trap, or simply the uses of certain items.  

You already knew where Old City lied as if you’d always known, even though you really knew Septul had given you an intimate all encompassing knowledge of the city and its layout. You felt eyes on you time to time, some penetrating and intense, others subdued and disinterested. In the back alley on whore and skull street, 'Dagger Alley' a pimp was punishing his fat prostitute with his belt, 'go and find some richer customers, yer cunts too expensive on the upkeep darling!' he roared harshly. Numerous clothes-lines connected between most of the ghettos and tenements of Old City's residential sector, and dirty boys and girls played bandits and rangers up and down the narrow avenues.

After navigating the streets you became aware of several gangs who controlled it, and they were subservient to the local guild ‘the black scorpions’. They skirted and watched you from a safe distance, as if admiring you secretly and if you so much as looked in their general direction they'd scatter and retreat further away. Surprisingly there was only one of the black scorps representative agents in the neighborhood, a fat loanshark named ‘Fat Bastard’, less of an actual rogue and more of a financier. Despite his ill begotten position, he was said from scraps of eavesdrop you gathered to have an actual heart and lend many widows and broken families a good deal of coin.

The Rusted Dagger was what you’d envisioned it to be, full of rucous laughter, a good flowing stream of delightful music, riotous dancing, wenching, plenty of whores and even some nobles rubbing shoulders with the underground. You immediately spotted several pirates, swordsmen, drunks, pimps, city watch, a slave merchant, some halflings, all relaxing and having deep conversations, conducting business deals, gambling wages, or planning something, yet most were reveling and basking in the cheery vibe of the establishment. You blended seamlessly into the crowd, looking like an animated wraith with Ash’s black cloak flowing behind you like a living creature. Two swordsmen at the bar respectfully gave you a wide berth and eyed you wearily.

And as Morga had advised the alchemist greeted you in his eerie apartment below the tavern, where a cluster of similar rooms and apartments lied on the cheap. He was an old withered man with wrinkly skin, cunning calculating eyes and a constant scowl on his face, ‘Eh boy, come hither’ he listened passively but seemed to have his mind involved in constant business and he was mixing regeants as if it gave him great pleasure, ‘So Morga sends you, aye? Strange, I wouldn’t have thought that crazy lass befriending an obvious thief. I always told her if she hunted such prey she would become the prey herself, in a manner of speaking” he handed you a leather bandolier containing six vials, ‘careful with this one here (indicates a vial with black liquid) a mere drop can kill an ogre, two can kill a stone giant. These others are various stengthed venoms, sufficient to kill a dog and make it look like a natural death. This one here is not lethal, it will put a man into a coma and make it seem like he’s dead, but he will come around in two days time. However it doesn’t work well against heavy drinkers I found”

When you offered coin, he waved dismissively, "If Morga sent you to me, which I strangely believe she had for some reason blame it on old age for trusting in thieves words, there's good cause. She's one o' me best customers, saved my bacon more countless times than I can think of. How do you think I've funded this operation? She's procured and tracked down all of my special tools and supplies. You might be a bit touched in the noggin for having such friends, but she's golden aye?"

When you returned to the commonroom, a barmaid brought you several slabs of raw salted fillets of beef, when a mesmerizing woman with an alluring accent beckoned you to her table: “For five coppers, I will tell you your fortunes on this evening my handsome young friend”

 The table next to yours, a Dwarf and an Elf were engaged in a heated game of chess.


Whisper leaned in close to Morga and softly spoke into her ear, "The lorians have obtained the staffing roster for this summit.  Double the usual guards on the walls, gardens and rooftops, a mage of some skill is also to be posted on a rooftop, and finally a cleric of Wrath will be patrolling the grounds.  Take great care."  And with that he was off, either borrowing a horse from Mace or if Septul deemed it impossible to navigate on horseback through Old City then on foot.  He guessed it made the most sense to go to the Old City and the Rusted Dagger first to pick up poisons and meats, stop by the temple of Wrath on the way to the Castle Ward area that is if he was pressed for time otherwise he would try for the sea cave.

OC: Mace's silence spell, is it on a scroll or will he cast it on the PC later on?  It would do no good presently.

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Morga scowled, “Enough of your foolery, boy, this isn’t a game. You’d better make certain this arch fiend of a devil doesn’t get away. And if he does, you’d better hope to high hell there’s a place far enough from here we can all hide. If Alcar was a master of mischief, no telling who or what Kraybor is capable of. He was able to deceive Storm for so long about his secret activities, who knows what other treachery might be afoot! Stay sharp witted”

aye master, here is a visual: (see map).

The city is broken up into several districts:

Castle Ward: this is primarily the governmental district. This is where the Lord Duke’s fortress lies, and the tower of the overlord where the city-lords hold council. I’ve gotten the duty roster for the summit, double wall guards stationed mostly in the gardens and the rooftops, a magic-user on the roof of mid rank, and a acolyte of Wrath on the grounds. However, there is a secret entryway via a seacave a mile west along a beachead that leads to a mile long passageway beneath the tower. It is fitted with a traps and wards, it might take you longer but it is less guarded.

Old City
: this is the more ancient part of the city, the architecture unsullied by construction, and it can be considered a city within a city with its own shadow government. It is full of miscreants, shady characters, swordsmen, whores, knife-men, thugs, killers, and pirates.

Demihuman district: a community of halflings, some elves and dwarves, and a gnome or two reside herein. Most are gardeners, farmers, craftsmen, and miners who work the salt mines along the coast, or the copper mines east of the city.

Garden District: mostly residential, also where the market plaza lies. You can buy almost anything here, even griffon eggs or a full sized Nyrian warship.

Noble District: all of the noble houses exist in this area, and the area is off limits to commoners and strangers without an invitation. It is also wall enclosed and heavily guarded by a sizable force of soldiers.

Temple Ward:
Temple of Lor, Wrath and a few lesser deities can be found here.


Whisper replaced all his items and nodded to those who had enhanced his plan, "Right then, a better play.  You've all keen minds for skull duggery and I fear I'll have to watch my coinpurse around the lot of you from now on."  Whisper smiled and silently asked Septul for how to get a rough map to the Rusted Dagger, to a temple of Wrath, and where the summit will be held.  He marveled at what kind of hive of activity this Rusted Dagger seemed to be!  So far he knew of Hedge, Kordaz, and someone Septul had mentioned that knew how to permanently kill folks all operating out of there.  It sounded intriguing to say the least, and a place he wished he could spend more time in...

graphalfkor moderator

Storm handed the sovereign glue back to you, 'I've no patience or talent for such, but you may need it more than I. I'd simply break the door handle with a mace than squander this"

 Morga: "Aye, the only place that I know of is the Rusted Dagger in Old City. There's a alchemist that rents a room in the lower level beneath the tavern, goes by the name of Hedge. He'll gladly deprive you of some excess coinage for his wares"

The smith, Mace said "I can provide you with the silence spell you were asking for, but it'll take a small donation to the temple of Wrath in recompense. It will only last for an hour, though. It's a spell meant for combating enemy spellcasters, not for thieves work"

Storm: "Kraybor's a deceptively kindly looking white haired man, seemingly with a very trusting air about him and despite his age he seems possessed of deep vigor that defies naturalness"

Mace said to you: "I'd not vest faith in hiding in a pocket plane, lad. If you're going to kill Kraybor, one of the citylords will find you, as one is a powerful diviner and another a proficient wizard who will track you, maybe even force you out of your planar hiding place."

Morga handed you one of her two wrist-bows, "Take this" and she gave you a quiver full of tiny dart sized bolts, 'and this, they're grapple headed harpoon bolts. Each has a strong chord that reaches up to sixty feet the twine is thin but strong enough to carry half a ton. Use this to escape from the roof of the tower, I'll clear it of any guards. There will be a wagon full of hay that will be waiting for you at the base of the adjacent building, leap into it you'll find me driving it"


Whisper set the potions of invisibility and hiding onto the porch rail, as well as drawing his shortsword of backstabbing.  "Here is the plot I've concocted, your input, assistance, and aid is needed to pull it off.  These two potions should allow me to get in close, one is a potion of invisibility the other a potion of hiding.  He will have security that needs to be busied elsewhere, an explosion to draw focus away would be ideal I will need your aid in accomplishing that.  Morga, Storm if you can wear disguises like the city guard and sew confusion that would keep security tied up that would be appreciated."  He tossed the potion of soverign glue to Storm, "Sovereign glue, use it to seal locks and the like."  Looking at Morga for Storm probably had no knowledge of the shady underworld of Lor.  She on the other hand had likely hunted down a few bandits within its bowels in her earlier days.  "My dear, would you have any idea where I can obtain venoms or toxins in short order?  Perhaps also something that bears a cleric's silence spell?"  Whisper looked to Storm now, for the man knew their target's appearance.  "I will also need an accurate description of Kraybor, to pick him out of the whole of the masked city lord's will be quite the task without knowing his appearance.  Rumor has it that he even employs a decoy, how would I know the real Kraybor?  After I strike and he is either felled by poison or his spirit consumed I will not need to make a getaway through the city.  I'll travel the planes with my blade's power for a time, using the time away to let my trail here grow cold.  Sometime down the road I'll pay a visit to the Isle of the Dead."  Sheathing the blade Whisper smiled at his companions, "Kraybor's heir would do well to remember the risks that a certain Jez’zurian family bears in this endeavor."

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Storm thought about what you said, his brow furrowed in thought, "Nay my friend, the Lord Duke's spies have undoubtedly informed him of Kraybor's plans. We have to vest a modicum of faith he's also doing something to check Lord Kraybor's power plays. I'm afraid our only likely alternative lies in your area of expertise my wily friend, shadow games. I think our only viable option is to eliminate Kraybor once and for all. The duke to publicly oppose Kraybor would be a sign of weakness and invite swift political assassination. Kraybor's generated a subversive mindset against the throne and Daynar would earn the scorn of the people"

Mace spoke: "My boy, as I consider you as dear as any son I've ever had, yer no assassin. That sort of business is for the lowborn, no offense intended to any gathered here in my home. However, that's not to say your friend there suffers from such annoyances as codes of honor and chivalry. If Kraybor manages to vote the queen from her throne, he will gain absolute power over the entire kingdom and the queen's life will be as good as shit. The people themselves will storm the royal palace and hang her from the walls, not even the queensguard will be able to curb that riot"


Whisper directed his eyes skyward and waved an open hand across the sky in front of his field of vision while he gathered his thoughts.  "The reason for our coming to this city will slip through our fingers in but a few hours time, back into hiding or behind more heavily guarded walls.  Fate has diverted us, hopefully for the better.  Perhaps, Daggia's duke lord will make a stand in public against what your uncle is rumored to have planned?"  Whisper asked Storm the last question for he knew very little of the political landscape in the city state of Lor and the man had apparently lived within it his entire life.

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A contingent of cloaked fighters ran past you as you became one with the wall, Ashe’s former cloak was a portable curtain of darkness. As you sped after the group you overheard them talking:

Cloaked fighter: “Hurry! We almost have them!’
Cloaked fighter #2: “Aye, keep formation load your crossbows!’

The group of cloaked warriors sped down a long hallway that cut through an elegant looking building, and the passage broke right and you saw through your spectral vision it deposited into a chamber where Morga and Storm were hiding. As the cloaked band poured into the room both Nyriddian and knight fell into their midst and took them totally by surprise. Storm shield bashed the leader hard in the face and plunged his sword into another cloaked fighter’s shoulder. Morga’s mace-headed chainwhip cracked two men’s skulls wide open in a devastating blow, and she round house kicked a third hard in the jaw sending him sprawling back into his buddy.

As you made it to the rear flank of the bunch, Aganastor’s razor shot out a tongue of scorching fire that engulfed six of the cloaked men immediately killing them, their horrid wailing echoing throughout the interior of the structure. “Quarter quarter!” one of the men cried out, and Storm plunged his gleaming longsword through two men at the same time, skewering them. Morga flung her glaive and scalped a man who had turned to regard the firey theat to their rear.

“I’ll kill you you foul bastard!” one of the soldiers broke off and ran at you with his longsword readied to cleave you in half. He came in with a predictable downward chopping blow, and you sidestepped at the last moment and ran him through with the new dwarven sword (critical) using your leg to free the blade he fell face foward and died (-23 hp dmg inflicted).

You heard more men approaching from a distance behind, and Morga heard them too and she flung two flasks of something into the hallway and hissed ‘fly, this is wildfire, it might destroy this building!’

Storm: “Are you mad!? Wait I already figured that one out, this building’s old as Lor itself we’ll be in deep troubles with the authority if we cause it harm”

“Too late for that nonsense!” Morga fired a incendiary bolt into the hall you came from and filled it with a blazing inferno, the flaming blast knocked you and Storm to the ground. She laughed triumphantly and hoisted you and Storm to your feet, 'let's go boys, nuff of the fun for a bit. Morga grows weary!"

Storm guided the party the rest of the way, through a series of interconnected hallways, ready rooms, lounges, and gardens then through a public bathouse where fat plump merchant’s wives and old worn and tired seamen and soldiers were gathered. Finally, he brought the party to a quiet neighborhood that looked decent and well maintained, into a sizable homestead with a large garden area and an outdoor smithy.

Out of the interior of the house came a barking shepard dog, and a man emerged out of it clutching a warhammer who looks like a veteran of many adventures, war, and secret melancholies. His was white haired and noble eyed, full of discernment and hard honed reflexes. He came up to the party unafraid as he saw Storm, ‘Ah, you’ve returned mi’lord!’ he knelt respectfully before Storm who commanded him to rise, ‘Nuff with that!’ the fighter hissed, ‘that’s only for the highborn to do,  and I’ve no love for such’ he said, ‘These are my friends. We’ll need to hole up in your home for some time my old friend. Mace Strom, this is Morga the huntress, ware her beauty it is matched by her ferocity. This young bastard here is a master of cunning, and now I’ve just learned a Jez’zurian Highlord of some significance. Still, despite that fact treat him like a lowborn honorless thieving outlaw for now he seems to relish it” he said with a chuckle.

Jorrell: “My gratitude to the three of you, you came swiftly in my hour of need. The Lorian order will offer my wards asylum, and ample protection. These younglings are indeed destined for some greatness I cannot yet correctly perceive”

Morga frowned, and Jorrell read it, “What? You disagree with this course?”

Morga: “I do. You underestimate the resilience and cunning of the Black Imperium, even the bookworms and their scholarly ilk are insufficient to protect the ones who require it. I think at times, one needs protecting from the measures they use to protect their charges!’

Jorrell: “The Lorian’s are cunning, and they wield immense power. In fact, my own order were once acolytes of Lor but decided to branch off and come into our own pursuit of righteousness. Where would you suggest? The Bandit Kingdoms? The Dwarves? They only care for mining of ore and crafting metals. Or the Elves? They disdain humans, it will take them a few centuries to warm to us. The priesthood will know what to do, and I will seek their advices”

Morga shrugged, “My mistress Kyrillia would have some sagely counsel to offer you. She is both wise and powerful, a Harkonian sorceress”

Jorrell: “And I would welcome her words gladly”

Storm: "Elsmyere, I would take them there. They would become properly trained, and schooled. Who better to protect them than a bunch of beautiful, deadly warrior maidens and horse masters?"


(27*) + Poisoned
Whisper nodded, and drew Agonastor’s Razor from its scabbard.  He willed the blade to remain dark as he tried to find somewhere to squeeze into and remain undetected to allow their pursuers to pass.  The blade's ability to send forth a torrent of fire would likely prove devastating when used at the rear of their enemies.  

The next time he was in the Shadus plane with Septul he would have to try and learn how to use the staff he picked up from the fallen Walkers.  The fact that it had mended the damage it had sustained much like its wielders were able to was remarkable and worrisome at the same time.  Did that mean that its original bearer too had risen and might be using its link to the staff to track them?  He hoped that Septul might know the answer ...