Erolith openly states, “Travelers…it would do me some good to continue this conversation outside. Perhaps we could continue on to the rooftop garden? Would that be acceptable, Mr. Leewamba?”
Tarton takes stiff steps following Mr. Leewamba to the roof as he remembers his most significant memory of being a child, his face like a mask with an almost frozen half smile.
Mr. Leewamba takes a final deep breath and seems to shake himself back to the present. "Yes, let me show you the view of Llandovion and its environs by starlight from the best vantage point to see it. It's quite an impressive vista, and some of it will probably be pertinent to the discussion before the evening is over." He leads you up the stairs, down which a mixture of moonlight and deep blue twilight is shining. You feel a brief tug of mingled regret and relief as you climb above the cloud of smoke drifting through the lower common room; the admixture of the kenders' smoke was beginning to stir emotions within you with an intensity you hadn't felt since the earliest days of your youth, and you weren't sure if you found the experience more nostalgic or more disconcerting.
You come out in a spacious rooftop garden, with round tables seating four, six or eight scattered comfortably among an array of flowering shrubs and raised garden beds held in by pebble-stuccoed low retaining walls. The mingled scents of lilac and lavender compete with less familiar flowers in your nostrils as the breezes of late evening swirl around you. They stir anew with Mr. Leewamba's sweeping gesture inviting you to gaze around you. You do so, as Myrine brngs up another tray of drinks and sets it down at a table for eight. It is in a commanding position among the rough concentric circles of the garden beds, allowing you to easily turn your heads to see downriver to the south, the Bay of Spirits, Bonefire Island and the Haunted Lands between this far-flung outpost and the rest of the colonized lands. Then you turn and gaze upriver towards Cricket Tor and the northern wilderness, your gaze passing northwest as you turn over Ulvnesshjolm and the formally ceded Feywilde lands. Mr. Leewamba speaks as you gaze.
"A truly beautiful land. A land of opportunity...and danger. So many come to be part of a frontier land, and so many forget what a truly frontier land this is. Under Cricket Tor, there is more darkness than just the shadows now descending as night falls; and between there and the far coasts of the Okjahlid loom the northern mountains. And it is there my concern truly begins. So many love the excitement and the beauty of a frontier land, and they forget the dangers. The wild forces over the edge of the wild. There are tribes even of our own kinds, or our wild ancestors, who still prefer the savage ways of war. And there are many beings who have always looked upon us as foes, or usurpers and thieves, or as prey." He pauses to take a healthy swig of metheglyn, adding the scent of distilled honey and spices to the cool night scents around you.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
"I have heard rumours of diplomatic maneuverings among the giants. Supposedly there are preliminary talks to straighten out differences related to an obscure and archaic interpretation of the ordning which one party or the other is insisting on. All this is part of a delicate dance of both tradition and climate with regards to a coming meeting between the frost giant Jarl Rojkkni Aelfsbane and an envoy from some group of fire giants far to the south of whom none of my sources seems willing to speak save in the most guarded of whispers. Given the legendary forging skills of fire giants, I fear that the Jarl plans to amass a store of superior weapons and armor for some coming raid, or worse, a full scale vikking. I need not explain to the Aberstwythi among you who Jarl Aelfsbane is, or what this news might entail; you can fill the rest of your companions in around the first night's watchfire of your journey. If you want a more ... direct ... explanation, ask her." He points at Sae, who has come up and is again dancing alone in the center of the garden, under the newly flowering stars, and once again you are briefly and clinically dissected by her eyes of burning ice.
"I have tried arranging for measures to combat this threat. No one I spoke to seemed to take me seriously. This is not unusual, but when I tried to resume the conversations a few days later no one seemed to remember speaking to me, and seemed unusually anxious that I not press the subject. I even managed to hire a group to investigate previous to yourselves, but advertising for them openly? Six of the seven seemed to vanish into the mists of Llandovion or various trading marts in Aberstwyth on various errands to procure equipment or information; the seventh professed herself deeply concerned by the disappearance of her colleagues as she boarded a skiff headed north upriver where the most recent of them vanished. Two days later Myrtea saw her on the docks of Axbleford, across the Bay of Spirits to the SOUTH, boarding a ship that was bound across the ocean to Al Salijha and rumoured to be sailing from there in search of the legendary other hemisphere those strange dragon-men are fabled to inhabit." He lights a polished maple pipe and takes a deep draw; then goes on, letting little trickles of smoke curl up from his lips as he speaks
"These facts lead me to believe that there is more going on here than meets the eye, and in this area, whenever anything of the kind occurs, you immediately begin to look over not only your own but everyone else's shoulder because you immediately begin to fear the interest ... or vengeance ... or gods alone know, it might just be the pure incomprehensible and vicious whimsy of ... " He says no name, simply slipping a folded piece of parchment to the nearest character while tilting his other hand so that the silver-ringed pinky points out through the gap between a potted laurel and a bank of moss roses, out to where the dark bulk of Cricket Tor is hidden in the larger darkness that has enveloped the world as night advanced. Then he breathes out the rest of the cloud of smoke, which swirls around him for a moment in a sweet-scented blur, and rises.
"This is why I have chosen to employ this method of employing you. Miss Ivui has assured me our observers of tonight will be not be reporting back to their employers ... I believe they are destined to be overtaken by a tragic misunderstanding between them which will cause them to assassinate each other in a regrettable quarrel ... and as you can see, no one else is taking any interest in our doings." In fact, there are only a few other patrons in the garden, and they are far enough from you and clearly enough engrossed in their own conversations that you feel safe taking Mr. Leewamba's statement as fact. "But it is as well to be careful in any case. The rest of what you need to know, should you accept my offer of employment, is written on that parchment, as are the terms of that offer. Read them over at some point this evening, and speak to Myrtea in the morning if you are still interested. She will have further details and your first fortnight's stipend. Rest assured, I will NOT be expecting you to go out and slay giants first thing. Such direct action would be foolish anyway, because of the possible interest of ... ." he says no name, but simply nods in the direction of Cricket Tor once more, and descends the stairs by which you came.
As he leaves, Artifex turns to the rest of the group, already half done with their third cup of wine. "Clandestine meetings in a tavern, a brewing war, and an investigation that got six people vanished and caused the seventh to flee the continent..." It takes another sip, mischief sparking in their eyes. "This is going to be *fun*"
"Yes in deed, this is going to get very fun. I am definitely taking this offer. With how quickly the other group vanished, I suggest we start making code words to hide sensitive information, starting with our host. Though earlier Mr. Leewamba made it sound like he was not the actual host for this. Second would be for where we all met tonight and my third thought would be for our mission. As to what those words or phrases will be or anything else we should hide, what are your suggestions?" He looks around the group and though he said all this calmly you can see the excitement in his eyes and notice his grin.
In Infernal he very softly mutters, "I'm finally coming to get you." He says it so softly some may think he is just making a soft noise.
"He could simply be The Patron. Innocuous enough, and gives no detail or hint of identity. The location..." They think for a moment. "I quite like Cállambëa. As for our mission..." It picks up the piece of paper, not yet unfolding it, examining it with the excitement and curiosity of a scientist discovering something unexpected. "I suspect we should read this before we decide on a Name"
"I agree that we need to be careful when discussing Mr. Lee... The Patrons' mission," The Black Rose nodded approvingly.
"But he assures us that at least this place is a safe environment for conversation." he stated as he took a deep sip of his Dwarven ale.
"If I am unable to read it, could someone please explain the content to me? Perhaps whisper it if needed?" he concluded as his gaze shifting across the group.
"I agree that we need to be careful when discussing Mr. Lee... The Patrons' mission," The Black Rose nodded approvingly.
"But he assures us that at least this place is a safe environment for conversation." he stated as he took a deep sip of his Dwarven ale.
"If I am unable to read it, could someone please explain the content to me? Perhaps whisper it if needed?" he concluded as his gaze shifting across the group.
Shortly after The Black Rose finishes speaking, Myrine comes back up the stairs with a scroll of tooled leather bound with string, and an extra glass of elven wine. The scroll she gives to The Black Rose, saying, 'It took us a little longer to prepare this, but Mr. Leewamba assures me it is an exact copy of his message, and I was able to feel the characters we tooled in myself as I rolled it up." The wine she hands to Artifex with a giggle. "In tribute to beauty beyond all ... ," then becomes confused and runs off in a blush.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
To Myrine, Tarton starts to say, "Please let Myrtea know....", then she's gone. To the group he says, "While I truly appreciate the drinks, I can't finish them as fast as they bring them."
To The Black Rose, he says, "I too feel safe to speak here. So the best place to come up with code words would be here where it is less likely to be overheard. However, even Cállambëa felt he could not mention certain names even here. I don't think we can be too careful if that is the case."
He then turns to Artifex and asks, "What does Cállambëa mean, or is it a name itself?"
Then looking a bit embarrassed and not waiting for an answer to his first question he says, "The Black Rose, I overheard Myrtea downstairs say something about you having 'other sight'. Please forgive my curiosity, and if it's too personal don't feel you have to answer, but what is it that you can see?"
“Travelers, I am glad to be away from the intoxicating smoke below and the prying eyes and ears that surrounded us. It would be wise that we heed Mr. Leewamba’s advice and strive for discretion about this expedition.”
Erolith takes a deep breath of the twilight air and exclaims “Ahh, the outside air does me good.” He looks towards the surrounding lands and lingers his gaze on the forest.
"The night is short..." Artifex says wistfully, gazing after Myrine with a grin before turning once more to the group.
They can't help but giggle a little at Tarton's question. "You misunderstand. I meant we should call this place Cállambëa, not our Patron. And yes, there is meaning. In elvish, it means Place of Heros. Seemed rather fitting, though I can't quite say why."
The Black Rose turned his blank eyes to Tarton and spoke with enthusiasm as a teacher passionately explaining their favorite subject. "I was born blind, but I have learned to perceive the world through my other senses. Just as a bat effortlessly navigates a dark cave, I can do the same on a smaller scale. It's a remarkable but natural ability, a weak form of echolocation if you're familiar with the term."
He then shifted his gaze to the scroll in his hands and couldn't contain his excitement, "But the suspense is unbearable. I simply cannot wait any longer to read this. May I suggest that we take a look?"
The piece of parchment Zanexi handed to Artifex has the following words written upon it in his florid script. All are carefully penned in violet ink unless otherwise noted. The leather scroll The Black Rose received contains an exact copy in characters that have been pressed into the leather with a sharp tool deeply enough to be traced with his fingers:
"...No. I will not even WRITE her name. But suffice it to say, direct action is futile at this point. I do NOT want you to move against the giants themselves; I do not want you, unless it becomes absolutely necessary for the completion of the task I DO want you to do, anywhere within seven leagues of Cricket Tor itself. Although I do not THINK the giants are there in person or indeed, that SHE would have revealed her presence or involvement to them at all. She regards them as ...
Never mind. This is not to the point, I do not want you moving against the giants. At this point. There may come a time in the future when I can take direct action and in that case, I would certainly prefer to employ those who have already been involved and know the situation without the necessity for tedious explanations. At the moment, however, I need you to find the Puzzle Box of Bria'rkzot Gling.
Yes. That Bria'rkzot Gling. Not to worry, I am not casting you from the frying pan into Avernus. While it is true that Bria'rkzot Gling is in fact a lich, what most people are not aware of is that he is more specifically a ... *snrk* ... GOBLIN lich.
Yes. That's right. I have no idea how the silly little creature managed to do it, their shamans generally get eaten by Mablugiyet before they even begin to approach the level of power to master the first cantrip necessary in the lichification process and most of them ... aren't all that bright anyway. I mean, far be it from me, a ***** gnome, to cast aspersions on the spiritual leaders of any other race, but I've seen some of these guys operate. Couldn't think their way out of a three-door paradoxical dilemma if you made the doors of completely transparent glass for 'em, for all the gods sake. Mmmm ... anyway. excuse me ... but really ...
In any case, I don't anticipate that the quest for the Puzzle Box of Gling should prove a challenge beyond your capabilities. From what little I have been able to learn, it is very unlikely that the box even remains in Gling's possession. He tends to ... lose track of ... his lairs from time to time, and certain indications I have recently discovered indicate that the box may have been left in one of the forgotten ones somewhere in the mountains north of the Reykhlot Dolmen. Once I have that box, I can use it to make certain ... adjustments. Inconspicuously. The giants are VERY familiar with goblin slaves, and they will not expect any serious threat from energies bearing the fingerprint of goblin shamanic magic. They may even be so confident there will be no threat from that direction that they won't even bother to scry for it. At worst, one of their own shamans will detect the initial tendril and believe he has cut off the whole tentacle ...
I am sure those rumours that the box itself may be intelligent are simply the street babblings of untrained minds who have nothing better to do than hatch idle speculations based on wild ignorance ...
I will pay you a stipend of 2 cyfreith per day for traveling expenses while you are employed on your quest. If you need to replace or purchase any equipment before you depart, go to the shop of Tiquisi Nienatho and mention my name; tell her I will cover half the expense of your purchases up to a limit of 20 cyfreith. If you require arms or armor, my friend Glynogan has a smithy in Little Twyrch Tywyth Street, and the limit there is 100 cyfreith.
When the box is found, I will present each of you with your choice of a jewel, a figurine wrought of silver and gold, or a magical weapon or armor. For those of you who do not follow the arts of war I will substitute a magical item suited to the arts you do practice. In all cases the value of the reward will be equivalent to 1000 cyfreith.
If you choose to accept my offer, order one more round of drinks for yourselves of whatever nature you choose; then have a round of sinsir metheglyn and ask to rent rooms facing the garden for the duration of your stay..
At the bottom of The Black Rose's copy is written, "Apologes. We found no way to copy the map accurately enough in time. It is enclosed in your colleague's copy." And indeed, folded up inside Artifex' parchment is the following map:
"Oh wonderful!" Artifex says, visibly brightening. "We get to go to the Feywild Lands! If we're lucky, we may even get to visit Durmista!"
They scan the text again. "A woman who's Name is best left unspoken..." It laughs "I should be terrified, but I'm not gonna lie, that just makes me even more intrigued. A possibly sentient box, two gold a day with discounts on supplies and a significant reward upon completion... Not to mention the boost a Faerahrn Mormhaor's knowledge could provide to my research, even if it's from a creature so simple as a goblin"
They look at the others. "There's a few additional points I'd add if this were the Üthermarket. Faerie take their deals very seriously after all, so it's extremely risky to leave any room for interpretation. Luckily my experience in this realm has been a bit more... Forgiving I suppose, so such trickery is unlikely, though not impossible. Any thoughts?"
"I'll not back out now. Yes, lets order that round." Tarton replies to Erolith.
To The Black Rose he asks, "So, I am guessing that you can't perceive colors with this echo thing since you can't see with your eyes. And that is why they brought you your own scroll explaining all this, right?"
To Artifax he says, "I'm sure we all want to be thought of as heroes eventually, though I don't know if I want the fame that usually comes with being recognized as such. It would be tough to be in my line of work if everyone recognized me on sight. No, I would rather no-one recognized me at all." He says the last sentence sadly.
When it is time to order he says, "I'll have another ceirios juice and a round of... sinsir metheglyn. And may I have a room facing the garden?"
"A chance to shield the realm from an unseen threat, and one that will be very well rewarded." The Black Rose nodded to himself.
"Yes, this is a chance I cannot let pass me by! Let's order that round of drinks!"
Then he turned to Tarton and said, "Yes, indeed, colors have always eluded me, and they will continue to do so. Also, I cannot feel writing." He elaborated, "You see, this scroll is textured so that I can feel the writing with my fingers."
As he heard Tartons sad remark he smiled and continued "I believe it is not the circumstances of your birth that define who you are. I believe it is what we do with the gift of life that determines our true selves." "Our story has not been concluded yet, and we are all writers of our own tale." "The man you become does not have to be the man you are now."
Artifex chuckles. "You're cute. Do you truly believe it best to leave no trace of yourself on the world?" They shake its head. "All who breath leave their mark on the lives of others Tarton. Footprints if you will. The only thing one can truly control is what shape that mark takes"
Erolith openly states, “Travelers…it would do me some good to continue this conversation outside. Perhaps we could continue on to the rooftop garden? Would that be acceptable, Mr. Leewamba?”
Tarton takes stiff steps following Mr. Leewamba to the roof as he remembers his most significant memory of being a child, his face like a mask with an almost frozen half smile.
Mr. Leewamba takes a final deep breath and seems to shake himself back to the present. "Yes, let me show you the view of Llandovion and its environs by starlight from the best vantage point to see it. It's quite an impressive vista, and some of it will probably be pertinent to the discussion before the evening is over." He leads you up the stairs, down which a mixture of moonlight and deep blue twilight is shining. You feel a brief tug of mingled regret and relief as you climb above the cloud of smoke drifting through the lower common room; the admixture of the kenders' smoke was beginning to stir emotions within you with an intensity you hadn't felt since the earliest days of your youth, and you weren't sure if you found the experience more nostalgic or more disconcerting.
You come out in a spacious rooftop garden, with round tables seating four, six or eight scattered comfortably among an array of flowering shrubs and raised garden beds held in by pebble-stuccoed low retaining walls. The mingled scents of lilac and lavender compete with less familiar flowers in your nostrils as the breezes of late evening swirl around you. They stir anew with Mr. Leewamba's sweeping gesture inviting you to gaze around you. You do so, as Myrine brngs up another tray of drinks and sets it down at a table for eight. It is in a commanding position among the rough concentric circles of the garden beds, allowing you to easily turn your heads to see downriver to the south, the Bay of Spirits, Bonefire Island and the Haunted Lands between this far-flung outpost and the rest of the colonized lands. Then you turn and gaze upriver towards Cricket Tor and the northern wilderness, your gaze passing northwest as you turn over Ulvnesshjolm and the formally ceded Feywilde lands. Mr. Leewamba speaks as you gaze.
"A truly beautiful land. A land of opportunity...and danger. So many come to be part of a frontier land, and so many forget what a truly frontier land this is. Under Cricket Tor, there is more darkness than just the shadows now descending as night falls; and between there and the far coasts of the Okjahlid loom the northern mountains. And it is there my concern truly begins. So many love the excitement and the beauty of a frontier land, and they forget the dangers. The wild forces over the edge of the wild. There are tribes even of our own kinds, or our wild ancestors, who still prefer the savage ways of war. And there are many beings who have always looked upon us as foes, or usurpers and thieves, or as prey." He pauses to take a healthy swig of metheglyn, adding the scent of distilled honey and spices to the cool night scents around you.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
"I have heard rumours of diplomatic maneuverings among the giants. Supposedly there are preliminary talks to straighten out differences related to an obscure and archaic interpretation of the ordning which one party or the other is insisting on. All this is part of a delicate dance of both tradition and climate with regards to a coming meeting between the frost giant Jarl Rojkkni Aelfsbane and an envoy from some group of fire giants far to the south of whom none of my sources seems willing to speak save in the most guarded of whispers. Given the legendary forging skills of fire giants, I fear that the Jarl plans to amass a store of superior weapons and armor for some coming raid, or worse, a full scale vikking. I need not explain to the Aberstwythi among you who Jarl Aelfsbane is, or what this news might entail; you can fill the rest of your companions in around the first night's watchfire of your journey. If you want a more ... direct ... explanation, ask her." He points at Sae, who has come up and is again dancing alone in the center of the garden, under the newly flowering stars, and once again you are briefly and clinically dissected by her eyes of burning ice.
"I have tried arranging for measures to combat this threat. No one I spoke to seemed to take me seriously. This is not unusual, but when I tried to resume the conversations a few days later no one seemed to remember speaking to me, and seemed unusually anxious that I not press the subject. I even managed to hire a group to investigate previous to yourselves, but advertising for them openly? Six of the seven seemed to vanish into the mists of Llandovion or various trading marts in Aberstwyth on various errands to procure equipment or information; the seventh professed herself deeply concerned by the disappearance of her colleagues as she boarded a skiff headed north upriver where the most recent of them vanished. Two days later Myrtea saw her on the docks of Axbleford, across the Bay of Spirits to the SOUTH, boarding a ship that was bound across the ocean to Al Salijha and rumoured to be sailing from there in search of the legendary other hemisphere those strange dragon-men are fabled to inhabit." He lights a polished maple pipe and takes a deep draw; then goes on, letting little trickles of smoke curl up from his lips as he speaks
"These facts lead me to believe that there is more going on here than meets the eye, and in this area, whenever anything of the kind occurs, you immediately begin to look over not only your own but everyone else's shoulder because you immediately begin to fear the interest ... or vengeance ... or gods alone know, it might just be the pure incomprehensible and vicious whimsy of ... " He says no name, simply slipping a folded piece of parchment to the nearest character while tilting his other hand so that the silver-ringed pinky points out through the gap between a potted laurel and a bank of moss roses, out to where the dark bulk of Cricket Tor is hidden in the larger darkness that has enveloped the world as night advanced. Then he breathes out the rest of the cloud of smoke, which swirls around him for a moment in a sweet-scented blur, and rises.
"This is why I have chosen to employ this method of employing you. Miss Ivui has assured me our observers of tonight will be not be reporting back to their employers ... I believe they are destined to be overtaken by a tragic misunderstanding between them which will cause them to assassinate each other in a regrettable quarrel ... and as you can see, no one else is taking any interest in our doings." In fact, there are only a few other patrons in the garden, and they are far enough from you and clearly enough engrossed in their own conversations that you feel safe taking Mr. Leewamba's statement as fact. "But it is as well to be careful in any case. The rest of what you need to know, should you accept my offer of employment, is written on that parchment, as are the terms of that offer. Read them over at some point this evening, and speak to Myrtea in the morning if you are still interested. She will have further details and your first fortnight's stipend. Rest assured, I will NOT be expecting you to go out and slay giants first thing. Such direct action would be foolish anyway, because of the possible interest of ... ." he says no name, but simply nods in the direction of Cricket Tor once more, and descends the stairs by which you came.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
As he leaves, Artifex turns to the rest of the group, already half done with their third cup of wine. "Clandestine meetings in a tavern, a brewing war, and an investigation that got six people vanished and caused the seventh to flee the continent..." It takes another sip, mischief sparking in their eyes. "This is going to be *fun*"
"Yes in deed, this is going to get very fun. I am definitely taking this offer. With how quickly the other group vanished, I suggest we start making code words to hide sensitive information, starting with our host. Though earlier Mr. Leewamba made it sound like he was not the actual host for this. Second would be for where we all met tonight and my third thought would be for our mission. As to what those words or phrases will be or anything else we should hide, what are your suggestions?" He looks around the group and though he said all this calmly you can see the excitement in his eyes and notice his grin.
In Infernal he very softly mutters, "I'm finally coming to get you." He says it so softly some may think he is just making a soft noise.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Who wants to be closest to Leewamba to take the paper first? Perhaps the first person to respond should get it? That would make it Artifex.
So happy it is finally starting!!
"He could simply be The Patron. Innocuous enough, and gives no detail or hint of identity. The location..." They think for a moment. "I quite like Cállambëa. As for our mission..." It picks up the piece of paper, not yet unfolding it, examining it with the excitement and curiosity of a scientist discovering something unexpected. "I suspect we should read this before we decide on a Name"
"I agree that we need to be careful when discussing Mr. Lee... The Patrons' mission," The Black Rose nodded approvingly.
"But he assures us that at least this place is a safe environment for conversation." he stated as he took a deep sip of his Dwarven ale.
"If I am unable to read it, could someone please explain the content to me? Perhaps whisper it if needed?" he concluded as his gaze shifting across the group.
Shortly after The Black Rose finishes speaking, Myrine comes back up the stairs with a scroll of tooled leather bound with string, and an extra glass of elven wine. The scroll she gives to The Black Rose, saying, 'It took us a little longer to prepare this, but Mr. Leewamba assures me it is an exact copy of his message, and I was able to feel the characters we tooled in myself as I rolled it up." The wine she hands to Artifex with a giggle. "In tribute to beauty beyond all ... ," then becomes confused and runs off in a blush.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
To Myrine, Tarton starts to say, "Please let Myrtea know....", then she's gone. To the group he says, "While I truly appreciate the drinks, I can't finish them as fast as they bring them."
To The Black Rose, he says, "I too feel safe to speak here. So the best place to come up with code words would be here where it is less likely to be overheard. However, even Cállambëa felt he could not mention certain names even here. I don't think we can be too careful if that is the case."
He then turns to Artifex and asks, "What does Cállambëa mean, or is it a name itself?"
Then looking a bit embarrassed and not waiting for an answer to his first question he says, "The Black Rose, I overheard Myrtea downstairs say something about you having 'other sight'. Please forgive my curiosity, and if it's too personal don't feel you have to answer, but what is it that you can see?"
“Travelers, I am glad to be away from the intoxicating smoke below and the prying eyes and ears that surrounded us. It would be wise that we heed Mr. Leewamba’s advice and strive for discretion about this expedition.”
Erolith takes a deep breath of the twilight air and exclaims “Ahh, the outside air does me good.” He looks towards the surrounding lands and lingers his gaze on the forest.
"The night is short..." Artifex says wistfully, gazing after Myrine with a grin before turning once more to the group.
They can't help but giggle a little at Tarton's question. "You misunderstand. I meant we should call this place Cállambëa, not our Patron. And yes, there is meaning. In elvish, it means Place of Heros. Seemed rather fitting, though I can't quite say why."
The Black Rose turned his blank eyes to Tarton and spoke with enthusiasm as a teacher passionately explaining their favorite subject. "I was born blind, but I have learned to perceive the world through my other senses. Just as a bat effortlessly navigates a dark cave, I can do the same on a smaller scale. It's a remarkable but natural ability, a weak form of echolocation if you're familiar with the term."
He then shifted his gaze to the scroll in his hands and couldn't contain his excitement, "But the suspense is unbearable. I simply cannot wait any longer to read this. May I suggest that we take a look?"
"Indeed." Artifex says as they lay the paper down, open for all at the table to see.
The piece of parchment Zanexi handed to Artifex has the following words written upon it in his florid script. All are carefully penned in violet ink unless otherwise noted. The leather scroll The Black Rose received contains an exact copy in characters that have been pressed into the leather with a sharp tool deeply enough to be traced with his fingers:
"...No. I will not even WRITE her name. But suffice it to say, direct action is futile at this point. I do NOT want you to move against the giants themselves; I do not want you, unless it becomes absolutely necessary for the completion of the task I DO want you to do, anywhere within seven leagues of Cricket Tor itself. Although I do not THINK the giants are there in person or indeed, that SHE would have revealed her presence or involvement to them at all. She regards them as ...
Never mind. This is not to the point, I do not want you moving against the giants. At this point. There may come a time in the future when I can take direct action and in that case, I would certainly prefer to employ those who have already been involved and know the situation without the necessity for tedious explanations. At the moment, however, I need you to find the Puzzle Box of Bria'rkzot Gling.
Yes. That Bria'rkzot Gling. Not to worry, I am not casting you from the frying pan into Avernus. While it is true that Bria'rkzot Gling is in fact a lich, what most people are not aware of is that he is more specifically a ... *snrk* ... GOBLIN lich.
Yes. That's right. I have no idea how the silly little creature managed to do it, their shamans generally get eaten by Mablugiyet before they even begin to approach the level of power to master the first cantrip necessary in the lichification process and most of them ... aren't all that bright anyway. I mean, far be it from me, a ***** gnome, to cast aspersions on the spiritual leaders of any other race, but I've seen some of these guys operate. Couldn't think their way out of a three-door paradoxical dilemma if you made the doors of completely transparent glass for 'em, for all the gods sake. Mmmm ... anyway. excuse me ... but really ...
In any case, I don't anticipate that the quest for the Puzzle Box of Gling should prove a challenge beyond your capabilities. From what little I have been able to learn, it is very unlikely that the box even remains in Gling's possession. He tends to ... lose track of ... his lairs from time to time, and certain indications I have recently discovered indicate that the box may have been left in one of the forgotten ones somewhere in the mountains north of the Reykhlot Dolmen. Once I have that box, I can use it to make certain ... adjustments. Inconspicuously. The giants are VERY familiar with goblin slaves, and they will not expect any serious threat from energies bearing the fingerprint of goblin shamanic magic. They may even be so confident there will be no threat from that direction that they won't even bother to scry for it. At worst, one of their own shamans will detect the initial tendril and believe he has cut off the whole tentacle ...
I am sure those rumours that the box itself may be intelligent are simply the street babblings of untrained minds who have nothing better to do than hatch idle speculations based on wild ignorance ...
I will pay you a stipend of 2 cyfreith per day for traveling expenses while you are employed on your quest. If you need to replace or purchase any equipment before you depart, go to the shop of Tiquisi Nienatho and mention my name; tell her I will cover half the expense of your purchases up to a limit of 20 cyfreith. If you require arms or armor, my friend Glynogan has a smithy in Little Twyrch Tywyth Street, and the limit there is 100 cyfreith.
When the box is found, I will present each of you with your choice of a jewel, a figurine wrought of silver and gold, or a magical weapon or armor. For those of you who do not follow the arts of war I will substitute a magical item suited to the arts you do practice. In all cases the value of the reward will be equivalent to 1000 cyfreith.
If you choose to accept my offer, order one more round of drinks for yourselves of whatever nature you choose; then have a round of sinsir metheglyn and ask to rent rooms facing the garden for the duration of your stay..
At the bottom of The Black Rose's copy is written, "Apologes. We found no way to copy the map accurately enough in time. It is enclosed in your colleague's copy." And indeed, folded up inside Artifex' parchment is the following map:
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
"Oh wonderful!" Artifex says, visibly brightening. "We get to go to the Feywild Lands! If we're lucky, we may even get to visit Durmista!"
They scan the text again. "A woman who's Name is best left unspoken..." It laughs "I should be terrified, but I'm not gonna lie, that just makes me even more intrigued. A possibly sentient box, two gold a day with discounts on supplies and a significant reward upon completion... Not to mention the boost a Faerahrn Mormhaor's knowledge could provide to my research, even if it's from a creature so simple as a goblin"
They look at the others. "There's a few additional points I'd add if this were the Üthermarket. Faerie take their deals very seriously after all, so it's extremely risky to leave any room for interpretation. Luckily my experience in this realm has been a bit more... Forgiving I suppose, so such trickery is unlikely, though not impossible. Any thoughts?"
“Adventure beckons and I dare not answer its call. Consider me onboard to see where this tale traverses,” says Erolith.
”Shall we order that round?”
"I'll not back out now. Yes, lets order that round." Tarton replies to Erolith.
To The Black Rose he asks, "So, I am guessing that you can't perceive colors with this echo thing since you can't see with your eyes. And that is why they brought you your own scroll explaining all this, right?"
To Artifax he says, "I'm sure we all want to be thought of as heroes eventually, though I don't know if I want the fame that usually comes with being recognized as such. It would be tough to be in my line of work if everyone recognized me on sight. No, I would rather no-one recognized me at all." He says the last sentence sadly.
When it is time to order he says, "I'll have another ceirios juice and a round of... sinsir metheglyn. And may I have a room facing the garden?"
"A chance to shield the realm from an unseen threat, and one that will be very well rewarded." The Black Rose nodded to himself.
"Yes, this is a chance I cannot let pass me by! Let's order that round of drinks!"
Then he turned to Tarton and said, "Yes, indeed, colors have always eluded me, and they will continue to do so. Also, I cannot feel writing." He elaborated, "You see, this scroll is textured so that I can feel the writing with my fingers."
As he heard Tartons sad remark he smiled and continued "I believe it is not the circumstances of your birth that define who you are. I believe it is what we do with the gift of life that determines our true selves." "Our story has not been concluded yet, and we are all writers of our own tale." "The man you become does not have to be the man you are now."
Artifex chuckles. "You're cute. Do you truly believe it best to leave no trace of yourself on the world?" They shake its head. "All who breath leave their mark on the lives of others Tarton. Footprints if you will. The only thing one can truly control is what shape that mark takes"