Chapter 2: A Shining Pillar of Deception

Chapter 2: A Shining Pillar of Deception

Leland-Sir, a Sesolston official, paces up and down the dark floorboards of the meeting room in the city council hall. No familiar thunks of boots on wood, but instead a quiet, uneasy shuffling. The door creaks open, and in walk a reptilian and a human, both chiseled beneath their hides and cloaks. Despite the appearance of the two figures and the obvious fact that they are armed with both weapons and experience, the official visibly relaxing. “Thank you for coming back,” he says. “Please, have a seat.”

Krytox and The Traveler do so, the former trying to find a good position that won’t prove too burdensome for his powerful tail – civilized lands simply didn’t provide for those with anatomies radically different than their own – and the latter barely sitting on the very edge of another seat, always ready to respond to danger. He would, in fact, not be very entertaining to jesters, who could remove his chair at the last second in an effort to cause him to fall back on his rear end, only to see him propping himself up with bent legs as though he were sitting on air. Preparedness was the way of his order.

“As you have no doubt heard around town,” Leland-Sir was saying, “the time is drawing near for our beloved Princess Somi’s birthday. The celebration at the end of this Midain will be truly special, truly magnificent, more than usual, as the royal daughter will be two aft double novem.” The official pauses, and allows himself a smile, revealing a few wrinkles of age around his mouth and strong jaw, as his eyes drift into the past. “I still remember the day when my own reached this age, what a joyous time of the past.” A brief pause. “Consider yourselves fortunate. Her father the Ninth King of Somi is among the greatest this land has had in a long time. At least, since the Great War not a few centi-year prior …” Leland-Sir turns to the adventurers.

“It is tradition in the Kingdom of Somi that all local towns on the official kingdom registry – that is, all towns whose names have been christened with the kingdom’s namesake – are assigned various tasks and duties by the capital of Somi-Siegard, the Soldier City, to provide for this massive celebration that will span the entire land.

“As part of the official kingdom registry, Somi-Sesolston has been assigned the task of preparing the dessert course of the main banquet feasts which will mark both the beginning and end of the week of festivities. Due to the enormous amount of ingredients and assistance required, we have often sought our elven neighbors across the Sauron’s Eye Sea, nine days’ travel west of here past the city of Somi-Quasqueton, for help. After all,” adds Leland-Sir, “the elven Kingdom of Tenamis is renowned throughtout Miderth for their masterfully-prepared ingredients and skilled culinary hands.” Then his eyes narrow slightly.

“We were expecting a large shipment of ingredients from the port off Quasqueton over a ten-day ago, but we have not received word from them. The city of Quasqueton itself also does not seem to know what has happened to the shipment. Though I imagine they have quite a busy schedule of their own to attend to, as this time they have been assigned to plan and organize the Kingdom Parade. No small feat.” Leland-Sir fixes Krytox and The Traveler with glimmering eyes.

“For the sake of our beloved Princess and the prosperity of this town who has given you refuge, please travel with all due haste to the Sauron’s Eye Sea past Quasqueton and ascertain what has happened!”

He hands Krytox and The Traveler a scroll sealed with the wax print of Mr. Agrares, the town mayor. “This will explain to the officials at Quasqueton what your business is. Upon your return, we will reimburse you for your travel expenses. May Fharlanghn grant you safe and expeditious travels!” Leland-Sir returns to his desk and thanks them, and the two are led out by one of the town council attendants.


Dorian, sit tight.

OOC: I'm assuming Gary will not be posting frequently, so I'll try to move this along for the others

Krytox concentrates intently as the officials tell their tale. His cold, dark eyes remain fixed on the speaker's lips, trying to make sure he doesn't miss anything. His Common had gotten better since coming to this shell, but there was still much he had to learn. When he hears the word "elves" his lip curls slightly as he remembers the atrocities of the Drow on his own shell. The moment quickly passes though, as his focus shifts back onto what is being asked of himself and The Traveler. While he doesn't necessarily agree with all the pomp and circumstance with the extravagant birthday celebration, though he does perk up a bit when he hears of the provisions. Led by his stomach he gives his nod of agreement at the end of the request.

After they exit the chambers, Krytox cinches down his armor and weapons before turning to The Traveler. He utters a single word as he turns from his sparring mate towards the west. "Ready?"

"Oh yes, you two will be joined by a few other people who have recently come to town..."

Krytox and The Traveler spend the next few days preparing for their week-long journey out west toward the Eye of Sauron (lake). Most notably, the blackscale replaces the strange-looking throwing axes and other weaopns he had obtained from his captors from the Seventh Shell, and acquires what he assumes are more Miderthian-standard equipment of the same kind. "Yeh, dun ye worry a bit," the blacksmith and other merchants had told the big lizard, "dey work de same! You play careful with 'em other Jinam lizards now. And don't go be eatin' none of ar' chil-ren!" The old blacksmith cracked a smile with the good-natured joke, full of similarly cracked teeth, under the withering glare of his wife, who was nearby fanning the fiery coals in the earthen furnace. Krytox and The Traveler look at each other. Didn't we just encounter hostile Jinam forces in the cave? Even the poison dusk, Skythar, commented that the visored reptilian sorcerer had been chanting 'jinam jinam jinam,' and the scrolls we found further proved it. Why did this old man just crack a joke about the Jinam Protectorate?

Puzzled, the adventurers inquire with a local commoner, who smiles and explains to the town's new allies. "Oh yes, the Jinam Protectorate and the Kingdom of Somi have always been on good terms!" she remarks. "Ever since the revival of civilization after the War of Ultimates - eight centi-year ago - the original founders of the two were good friends. And," she adds, eying The Traveler, "they too were once adventurers!" She occasionally gives Krytox a glance, but it is clear that while overall the town's disposition toward the group has sweetened in recent days, she is still very uncomfortable being near a creature that could easily devour her entire torso with one well-placed bite.

"Ah yes," she continues, a little shyly (or intimidatedly?), but with awe, "those two friends... High Queen Kahlan Amnell-Somi - husband of who would become First King Neqron Amnell, the Good-Hearted Necromancer - and Grimjaw the Civilized Fang, Great Chieftain of the honorable Jinamu-Shelaka tribe... legendary people were they, yes they were..." She smiles at them broadly. " 'Tis why the women of the royal family of Somi are so honored, especially on their eighteenth birthday, like our fair Princess Kalashe Somi! Because the first ruler - and arguably the greatest, most powerful - was High Queen Kahlan Amnell-Somi. So great was she, that in the end, First King Amnell decreed that from henceforth, the Kingdom would bear her name." The woman's eyes grow watery. "Ah, but to one day be wed to such a gentleman, one of the First King's caliber! Ah..." She suddenly snaps out of it and shakes her head vigorously. "Bah, what am I saying?! I have errands to attend to and mouths to feed! And you two certainly look like you've heard enough. Well, off with ye, and thank you for protecting our children!" With a smile and a quick wave, the commoner rushes off.

Cue Ruthven and Dorian, who both overheard this conversation though they haven't been traveling together. As a temporary resident of Sesolston, Ruthven was been sent by the town officials to assist with various town militia actions, including this one being led by Krytox and The Traveler, assigned to join them and lend his aid, in return for shelter in town. Dorian is fulfilling one of his tasks by undertaking these adventures. Otherwise, guys, feel free to fluff as much as you wish during this introductory period, within reason.

Ruthven strides up to Krytox and The Traveler as the commoner rushes off. He then addresses them, "I'm Ruthven and assume that you would be Krytox and The Traveler. Leland-Sir informed me of the situation and I have been assigned to aid you in discovering what became of the shipment from Quasqueton. The two of you seem to be rather capable, so perhaps I'll have a chance to take things easy for a change." Though Ruthven stated this in a relaxed manner, his expression is intent as he makes a serious assessment of his travelling companions to be. He wasn't lying when he said they seemed capable, the bigger question was if they were trustworthy. Ruthven ponders this a moment, remembering too many friends lost to traitors, and the expressions of shock upon the faces of those that he himself betrayed. He notably does not offer a handshake and keeps a perhaps inappropriately large distance between himself and others, though the commoners were none too willing to approach him regardless. The commoners said many things of his strange appearance, shady past, and supernatural abilities. Mostly false of course, but perhaps more accurate in their essence than they knew. They were unimportant though, foolish and weak, though Ruthven still tempered his pride when dealing with them as he knows it is important to get along in society. It would also be good to avoid lynching.

Krytox sees the stranger approaching and realizes he is not just a typical townsperson. This newcomer seems to stride to them with confidence and purpose, yet Krytox meets him with apprehension. There is an aura about the stranger that reminds the Blackscale of their previous companion, Rasa, but those thoughts pass quickly as Common begins to pour from the man's mouth.

So this is one that Leland-Sir spoke of. He seems to carry himself well, but I will be the judge of how capable and trustworthy he is if there is a battle in our future. I will miss those blue hands of Mystia... they certainly saved us back in the cave...

"Your looks are... strange. We are good company for that," Krytox blurts out to the new adventurer. He points a thumb to his own chest as he says, "Krytox. We wait for... others to join." The great lizard assumes that Ruthven knows of their mission and the fact that there will be others joining, so he does not waste time explaining this. Without thinking he asks, "What happened to hands?" His speech reverts back to his native tongue as he continues, "That seems to be a very strange battle wound, if it is such."

"My hands?" "Well, they've changed some of late. If I had to guess I would say it is probably a curse of some sort, I have many enemies in my former home. I would say that it is rather ineffective though, as these claws are actually rather useful." "You say that we need to wait for others? Are they late? If so, then there is no need to wait, those that can not even manage promptness can not be depended upon on." "My hands have suffered no battle wounds, though if I had you probably couldn't tell ,as I rarely scar. " (Note: I also speak draconic)

"Everyone has reason. Could be they watch now, act later." Krytox looks to The Traveler as he says this last part. There is much he has learned from his companion in the short time they have trained together. To become more efficient in combat, The Traveler taught him, he must master his movements. Since being defeated in one-on-one combat multiple times by the significantly smaller human, Krytox has sought to gain more combat expertise. Who better to learn from than one with the virtue of patience?

"We wait for other," Krytox says firmly, ending any doubt that may have been lingering.

* * * * *

After a period of waiting, it becomes obvious that no others are coming, despite what Leland-Sir may have said. Krytox turns to The Traveler and Ruthven and shrugs as if saying "Guess you were right".

"No others come... Leland-Sir was wrong. We go now?"

ooc: Note that some of your character races have dramatically changed. We'll pull a time warp effect and say that these changes have been implicit from the beginning. So it's not like the people around you are suddenly going to be like "whoa! you're different!" now.

The Sesolston townsfolk warily glance at the quartet of interesting characters as they proceeding down the main street. Some of them smile nervously in greeting to The Traveler, and even to Krytox, but Ruthven's presence proves rather unsettling. They pass by the central marketplace, and Krytox and Ruthven's stomachs growl painfully. Dark Star and Impetus never featured food this good! And some of the marketers seem to know this.

"Well, well, my fine young monstrous-lookin' friends!" bellows a fish vendor. "How about some fresh chops an' fish heads to give ye vitamins and strong bones on yer journeys, eh? Ye definitely don't be lookin' like yer from 'round here, or even from the Kingdom of Alcyonne, deep down south... haha. You's folks could blend in better with them, but since yer here... Anyways, I you looks to be from the lower Shells, am I right? The tough way yer built an' all that, to resist all that crushing gravity, yep! Prolly feed ya's gruel down there right? Those military boys don't know how to feed their troops right! Har!" The fish vendor raises a cleaver that looks more like the head of an orcish axe. Thwack! The body of the massive fish on the cutting board goes still as its head flies off at them! Dorian's eyes widen slightly, Ruthven licks his lips, Krytox wipes saliva from his, and The Traveler deftly catches the flying fish head out of the air and offers it back to the fish vendor. "I believe this... thing... is yours, sir." The fish vendor looks at them and roars with laughter.

"Keep it!" he bellows. "That's thanks to you and the lizard for keepin' our children safe! Ya's have a mean, harsh manner bout ye, but as long as ye use it on the brigands in our country and not us, yer just as soon my friends if I had any. Har!"

Feasting on the fish head as they leave town, the four begin their hike toward Somi-Quasqueton. After a few days without incident, suddenly on the fourth day of travel, the group hears rumbling overheard. Somewhat like the groaning of steel, accompanied by whooshes of air. The ground beneath their feet grows dark, as does the sky. Looking up, the group gawk at an object in the sky about the size of a building hurtling down toward them.

Ruthven quickly seeks cover from said object. He never particularly wished to be flat.

What is that thing!

"Look out!" Krytox bellows as he sprints to avoid be crushed. The rumble of each foot fall goes unnoticed as the group scatters, each of them seeking some sort of shelter from their impending doom. After a short time, roughly the amount the lizard estimated for the object to impact, Krytox makes a dive to put more distance between himself and ground-zero.

The shadow rapidly grows larger. And larger. And larger. An object the size of a stadium comes crashing down through the atmosphere, and impacts the ground dangerously close to where the adventurers are on the suddenly miniscule forest trail.

They are swept off their feet as a resounding boom and thunder-like rumbling shake the forest path. With the dust settled, they shake the dust (and ringing in their heads) off themselves as they gingerly climb to their feet. Through his head glyph, Krytox sees the size of the immense object - no, structure. Walking over the crater-like ridges of crushed dirt and plants, crusted with rocks and large branches, the adventurers reach out their hands and touch the object. It appears to be some piece broken off an enormous fortress of some kind. Large decorative patterns are carved elaborately into the stonework, and there are portions of metal- and marblework as well. What in Shells hells...?

"Those damn Orbitans!" snarls a nearby voice. Crashing out of the thicket nearby, off the decimated trail, is a red-faced woodsman. "Help!" he cries. "Help! Help!" The adventurers respond, and the man explains. "You mean you didn't know? Well, the 'high and mighty' (sarcastically) curs who live in the Outer Sphere are notorious to the rest of us more sensible folk down here for throwing their junk off-Shell. Normally it doesn't matter, as they're small things really, and occasionally lucky finders make a profit fixing them up - whatever they may be - and selling them as trinkets. But this, this!" he says, gesturing angrily at the massive piece of rubble, "has been happening more frequently, and you would think with three worlds 'twixt them and us, nothing like this would happen to us!" He shakes his head sadly. "My nephew Kolin injured his leg from one of the smaller pieces. Must've broken off. Anyway, some of our family is tending to him, but I'll need your help..."

Ruthven and The Traveler stay behind, and Krytox and Uncle Miron take off for Quasqueton, to fetch help.