Episode 31 – Graveyard Shift
| The Assassins |
Azareth - Wizard 2nd Level LE (PC) Creighton - Fighter 2nd Level LE (PC) Craven - Fighter / Rogue 2nd / 2nd LE (CE emerging) (PC) Keldirk - Rogue 3rd level NE (PC) |
| Locale | City of Del Mord, Prelacy of Almor, The Flanaess |
| Date | 23rd Coldeven 582 CY (Common Year) |
| Time | Before Dawn |
After the assassination of Angelle Kurios, Azareth made contact with Saradock, collected the payment for her death and arranged training for the group. Azareth proceeded to the Del Mord Academy of Magic for a week of study, while Creighton ventured to the local Fighters' Guild to train. Craven's more unique fighting style meant that he required individual instruction and Saradock had arranged for this at an estate out of town.
Keldirk spent his afternoons in the training halls of the Foreign Quarter Thieves Guild and his nights prowling the streets of Del Mord. He felt his recent injuries had cost him his edge and he reasoned that a week of nightly excursions would help restore it. During these sojourns he conversed with beggars and information merchants, robbed the careless, drunk or foolish and generally honed his skills. He hid in mere slivers of shadow and watched as people passed by without giving him a sideways glance. He crept up silently behind wayfarers, brushed past them and took perverse delight in their startled yelps. He broke into several houses, hostels and warehouses, stole little but gained invaluable experience. But most of all Keldirk enjoyed himself; being able to work alone was the one thing Keldirk missed most of all.
Just before dawn during one of his expeditions, Keldirk chanced upon a work-gang as it emerged from a sewer outlet just south of the Del Mord docks. He stopped to watch as the six dejected workers ambled past, chained at the waist and lead by a fat man carrying a lantern. As the workers passed, Keldirk spied a familiar face among the line. It took the young assassin several moments to recall the face and, when it came to him, the memory chilled him to the bone. The worker was the snitch that he had murdered the night he followed Sergeant Dunne, Keldirk was sure of it.
His course of action decided, Keldirk caught up to the work gang and trailed close behind as they shuffled along the cobbled streets. He followed them to a warehouse located on the outskirts of the Poor Quarter. Once the group had entered, Keldirk circled the building, approached the doors and read the sign hanging above: Sewermen's and Streetcleaner's Union, Depot 3. Desperate to learn more, but not so desperate as to confront seven alert men, Keldirk moved into the shadows of a nearby alley and waited. After ten or so minutes the main doors opened and the fat man stepped out, locked the door and headed west toward The Strip. Keldirk's curiosity was piqued and, moving from the shadows, he approached the side door. The poor quality lock proved no obstacle and Keldirk was inside just as the sun broke the horizon.
The young assassin silently navigated through the warehouse and searched for any sign of the workers. The dawn light that filtered through a series of skylight windows offered scant illumination and Keldirk's progress was slow. He was careful to avoid bumping into the broken crates that littered the otherwise empty space as he made his way to an office door at the rear of the building.
| Keldirk | (stops, brushes his hair aside and listens intently at the office door) Curious, no sign of the workers. Surely they cannot already be asleep? |
Despite ten minutes of intense work the lock on the office door refused to yield to Keldirk's talent and, frustrated, he sat back on his haunches. The office window was covered in black tar that only served to heighten Keldirk's curiosity. He sat and stared at the office door for several minutes, his mind feverishly forming and discarding ideas. Then, suddenly, he had the answer.
| Keldirk | (chuckles quietly as he sees his opportunity) Fools. If you go to the trouble of installing a good lock at least protect the hinges. |
Keldirk removed his hinge removing set from his backpack and set to work. Even though he used his cloak to muffle the sounds of his work, each strike of the hammer brought Keldirk's paranoia to the fore; he felt sure his efforts were making enough noise to wake the dead. Before long he had the hinges off and the door set aside, still attached to the architrave by the sturdy lock. After listening for signs of life, Keldirk moved inside.
The office was pitch black and the young assassin was forced to return to the warehouse to strike his hand-lamp. Once lit, Keldirk stepped back into the office and began to look around. To his immediate right hung a series of foul smelling cloaks, beneath which sat three pairs of leather, thigh-high boots. Upon a table in the centre of the room were various books, an inkwell and a cup of quills. Three chairs surrounded the table and a large wooden cabinet stood against the left wall. Behind the table, against the far wall, was a row of shelves atop of which sat several tins, a hat and more books. A heavy rug covered most of the floor beneath the desk.
Moving silently, Keldirk examined the contents of the room desperate to find any clue as to the whereabouts of the workers and, in particular, the man he thought he had killed. After several minutes he discovered that only one pair of boots were damp, the rest caked in dry, pungent mud. The books appeared to be journals that contained routine scheduling information - most of which Keldirk didn't care to understand. The cabinet held a large, iron-bound box that sported an oversized lock, the key to which he found at the rear of the desk drawer. After a cursory check for traps, Keldirk carefully unlocked the box and raised the lid, using the cabinet door as a makeshift shield. Within the strongbox were a multitude of sundry mud-caked items most of which were ruined or of little value. Probably treasures recovered from the sewer, mused Keldirk.
| Keldirk | (whispering to himself) Damn. Where are they? What have I missed? |
Keldirk went back to the doorway and surveyed the office a second time. As he scanned the room his gaze became locked on the rug and he smiled despite himself. Moving to the floor covering and examining it closely Keldirk spied a frayed edge. He rolled back the rug to reveal the recessed handle of a trap door.
| Keldirk | Aha! |
The young Oeridian set his hand lamp down and listened at the trapdoor for several minutes. Hearing nothing he removed his lockpicks and set to work. Before long the lock clicked open with a triumphant twist of Keldirk's pick. He drew a knife, slid back the lock-bolt and quickly lifted the trapdoor prepared for possible danger.
| Keldirk | (coughs, sways back on his heels and covers his mouth with his sleave - repulsed by the pestilential odour that rose from the opening) |
A wooden stair descended into darkness and Keldirk lit his hooded-lantern before climbing down. The fetid stench grew stronger with every step and Keldirk had to force himself to continue, each yard a struggle. At the foot of the stairs a stone tunnel lead some twenty feet to an archway, beyond which Keldirk could see the shadowy figures of the six members of the work-gang.
| Keldirk | (prepares to throw his knife, but holds off when the six figures fail to react to his presence) What the? (places his lantern on the floor, draws his short sword and moves closer) |
Keldirk approached the archway and stood to one side and allowed his lantern light to flood the room.
| Keldirk | (unable to hold his tongue) Undead! |
Six zombies, dressed in coats and boots identical to those hanging in the office above, stood unmoving, dead eyes staring into space. Each figure was in a varied state of decay; some oozed gore from facial orifices while others, including the man Keldirk recognised, appeared more complete.
Keldirk placed a foot into the room and, satisfied that the zombies were inert, nervously moved inside the disgusting charnel-house. Each zombie was caked in mud and chained around the waist to its neighbour. Keldirk followed the chain along the line until he found it locked to an eye-bolt embedded in the wall. The zombies each held various tools in their hands ranging from spades to rakes to buckets.
| Keldirk | Well, well, well. (approaches the man he killed and, with just hint of apprehension, opens the zombie's coat to examine its back) Those are my knife wounds all right. |
Without wasting any time, Keldirk retrieved his lantern and left the warehouse, leaving everything (even the office door) as he had found it. He returned to The River Snag Hostel and, finding the room empty, went to sleep. He was woken several hours later by Azareth.
| Azareth | Where are the others? |
| Keldirk | (yawns and rubs his eyes) What time is it? |
| Azareth | Just after midday. |
| Keldirk | (pulls the sheets over his head) Piss off, mage. I'm tired. |
| Azareth | Keldirk, where are the others? |
| Keldirk | (no response) |
| Azareth | I have uncovered some information pertaining to our nemesis Darvon the Flame, and I had hoped to share it with you all. |
| Keldirk | (rolls over and props himself up on his elbow) Can't it wait 'til the others are here? |
| Azareth | I had planned to return to the Academy this afternoon. |
| Keldirk | (unenthused) Okay then, what've you learned? |
| Azareth | During the past few days I have been fortunate enough to make a great many- |
| Keldirk | Spare me your verbiage, mage, just give me the facts. |
| Azareth | (rolls his eyes) As you wish. Darvon was once a tutor at the Del Mord Academy of Magic. During his tenure he dabbled in the forbidden art of thaumaturgy. |
| Keldirk | What's that? |
| Azareth | The practice of summoning and binding creatures from any of the nether planes, Baatezu, Tanar'ri and Yugoloth. |
| Keldirk | Oh. Like the thing that you summoned with the orb? Demons and stuff? |
| Azareth | (nods) Correct. When the masters learned of Darvon's indiscretions, they issued a stern warning and forbade him from any further experimentation in that field. Apparently Darvon did not heed their warning and hid his work from view. Things were going smoothly until he overstepped his ability and summoned a creature far beyond his power to contain. Darvon was lucky to survive the ordeal and only managed to do so with the timely assistance of the masters at the Academy. The creature was banished and Darvon suffered a similar fate. |
| Keldirk | (wide eyed) The masters sent Darvon to hell? |
| Azareth | No. He was banished from Del Mord and ordered never to return. |
| Keldirk | How boring. |
| Azareth | To you perhaps, but to Darvon it meant he was unable to continue his research. His study was dismantled and his implements of summoning were destroyed. In addition Darvon was branded an enemy of the Academy. |
| Keldirk | What does that mean? |
| Azareth | Should Darvon set foot inside the walls of Del Mord, those at the Academy will know, and he will be executed. Located on the topmost level of the pyramid is the Eye of Scarius - a crystal ball of sorts that shows the image of any who have been branded outcast should they break the terms of their judgement. |
| Keldirk | (genuinely surprised) How do you know all this? |
| Azareth | Each student is required to spend time standing vigil over the Eye of Scarius and, this morning, I was given this duty. |
| Keldirk | (sits upright, excited) So did you see him? Did you see Darvon? |
| Azareth | No. He will only appear if he enters Del Mord. |
| Keldirk | (slumps) Damn! (thinks) It would be ugly if the masters branded us, wouldn't it? |
| Azareth | Indubitably. I imagine our usefulness in Del Mord would become negligible if we were to gain that degree of infamy. |
| Keldirk | Well at least we'll know if Darvon comes into town. |
| Azareth | Assuming I periodically return to the Academy, yes. |
| Keldirk | (thinks and clicks his fingers) So that's why he used Tish to capture me; he's not able to come into town himself. |
| Azareth | (nods) Anyway I just came back to let you all know what I discovered. I will speak to you again in few days. |
| Keldirk | Hang on, I'll tell you what I discovered. |
| Azareth | Go on. |
| Keldirk | The Sewermen's and Streetcleaner's Union are making use of zombies. |
| Azareth | (intrigued) Really? |
| Keldirk | Yep. And I was thinking that the people who provided the zombies to the Union could be the same as those who created the Argos-Zombie. |
| Azareth | (shrugs) Perhaps. Vesper did tell me that bodies go missing from the paupers' graveyard from time to time. That's where Argos was buried, was it not? |
| Keldirk | (nods) Yeah, it was. Maybe someone steals the bodies and. and? |
| Azareth | And a necromancer animates them and sells them to the highest bidder. (looks at Keldirk questioningly) |
| Keldirk | Sounds feasible. |
| Azareth | It strikes me as strange that a town ruled by the doctrines of Pelor would abide such a reprehensible practice. |
| Keldirk | Maybe the priests don't know about it. The guild, or guilds, might keep it under wraps. Cheap labour would definitely result in higher profits. |
| Azareth | Indeed, the zombies would not require food or rest nor complain about their working environment. |
| Keldirk | (nods) Which makes them ideal sewer workers. Or guards. Or labourers. |
| Azareth | I imagine they would be suitable for anything that requires minimal thought. |
| Keldirk | It also explains why they were working in the middle of the night; can't have zombies mingling with the general populace during the day. |
| Azareth | Of course not, especially in a town as pious as Del Mord. An interesting discovery Keldirk. (turns to leave) I shall see you soon. |
| Keldirk | Wait. |
| Azareth | (pauses) What? |
| Keldirk | Shutup, I'm thinking. (taps his thigh thoughtfully) |
| Azareth | (waits a moment) Is this going to be a long wait? |
| Keldirk | I said shutup. |
| Azareth | (sits down on his bed and smooths his robes) |
| Keldirk | What do you have planned for tonight? |
| Azareth | Further study, why? |
| Keldirk | I'm going to visit the paupers' graveyard and I could use another pair of eyes. |
| Azareth | (surprised) What of the others? Surely you'd prefer their company to mine? |
| Keldirk | I don't know when Craven's due back and Creighton has been sleeping at the Fighters' Guild. You're my only choice. |
| Azareth | even if the graveyard turns out to be a waste of time it would be a good opportunity to score a few points with Keldirk In that case, it would be my pleasure. |
Creighton's training was not going well.
After a series of particularly acute migraines, Creighton finally acknowledged the seriousness of his headaches and, at the behest of his swordmaster, sought a professional healer. The apothecary, unable to provide Creighton with an explanation for his ailment, offered him several leeches and a foul smelling ointment both of which were to be applied daily. Dissatisfied by the healer's ridiculous solution, the warrior threw the package into the nearest sewer and stormed off no closer to a cure. He walked for what seemed like hours before the pain behind his blind eye subsided.
| Creighton | (rubs his temples wearily) That healer was a complete waste of time. What I really need is a drink. Or two. (looks around but is unable to see a familiar landmark) Hmm. (approaches a group of men loading a cart) Oi! |
| Worker #1 | (heaves a sack into the cart) Whatcha want? |
| Creighton | Where's the nearest tavern? |
| Worker #2 | (pops his head out of the cart and wipes the sweat from his brow) The Oak-n-Maple's down that-a-way. (nods in the direction Creighton was walking) |
| Creighton | How far? |
| Worker #1 | Aww, not very. 'Bout two blocks. |
| Worker #2 | I'da said nearer three. |
| Worker #1 | Nah, less than three. |
| Worker #2 | Yer off ya rocker. It's easy three blocks, p'rhaps four. |
| Worker #1 | (incredulous) Four! (looks to Creighton) Don't listen to him. It's no more'n two blocks down 'at-a-way. |
| Worker #2 | (to Worker #1) Get stuffed. |
| Worker #3 | (emerges from behind the cart) The Horse's Breath is closer than the Oak. (looks to Creighton) Just turn right at the alley and follow it all the way down. (points) You can't miss it. |
| Worker #2 | (to Worker #3) Get stuffed. |
| Worker #3 | (to Worker #2) You get stuffed! |
| Worker #1 | The Oak is way closer than the Horse. Besides the Horse's brew tastes like horse's piss. |
| Worker #3 | (to Worker #1) You wouldn't know a good beer if it painted itself purple and danced naked on the table in front of you singing "good beers are here again." |
| Worker #1 | (scoffs) What do you know? |
| Worker #3 | More'n you. That's fer damn sure. |
| Creighton | (leaves rubbing his head) |
Creighton found the Oak-n-Maple (two blocks away) and settled himself in for a long stay at a table near the bar. The sun had just set and the tavern was beginning to fill. At one end of the common room was a short wooden platform upon which danced two plump women, their breasts and hips swaying to the undulating sound of a brass-handled hurdy-gurdy. The men at the nearby tables concentrated on their games of chance and liquor and largely ignored these women. A prostitute, her hair an impossible red, eyed Creighton and swayed toward him, her pendulous breasts barely contained by a film of sheer blue silk. She licked her lips suggestively then stopped with a disappointed frown as Creighton waved her away. He was not here for pleasures of the flesh.
| Creighton | (waves over a serving wench) Two jugs of ale. (hands over a silver piece) And keep them coming. |
| Wench | (smiles half-heartedly) Yes sir. (wiggles away) |
Creighton had consumed enough ale to lay low the crew of a small ship when a lone figure approached his table. From what was more a mass of rags than a man, a boney hand reached out to pluck at Creighton's sleave. A filthy rag covered the man's eyes above hollow pockmarked cheeks and a wispy, grey beard. A thin rusty voice emerged from an aged, toothless mouth.
| Old Man | Hail slayer. You've travelled far only to end up here, head-sore and confused. |
| Creighton | What do you know of me, blind man? |
| Old Man | (gestures to the rags that cover his eyes) When the gods took these they gifted me with other ways of seeing, even as you have been gifted. |
| Creighton | What do you want? |
| Old Man | To answer the unanswerable and a little coin. |
| Creighton | (scoffs) What can you tell me that I do not already know? |
| Old Man | I can tell you much for I am a seer. |
| Creighton | (laughs) If you were any good you'd be performing for the rich not begging for coins among the common folk. |
| Old Man | The rich seldom care for the truth, for truth can be a cold mistress. Often there is little comfort in fact so the rich surround themselves with the comfort of lies. |
| Creighton | (nods) Sit. Tell me what you see? |
| Old Man | (holds out his hand) |
| Creighton | (places five copper pieces in the mans skeletal hand) Speak on. |
| Old Man | Lay your palms on the table. |
| Creighton | (looks around the immediate area for signs of trouble before placing both hands on the table) |
| Old Man | (moves his skeletal fingers across the lines of Creighton's palms, tracing the scars and calluses) I see an awakening, a power unlocked and an affliction cured. Beware your unseeing sight - for one will come to reclaim his legacy. Beware the cursed wind of despair, for it shall carry you to the domain of Death. I see no more. It is as if a veil has fallen over my divining-sight. |
| Creighton | Ah, you speak hogwash. Get away from me twig, before I feed you to the fire. |
| Old Man | (scuttles away) |
| Creighton | (at the top of his voice) More ale! |
Rather than confront his sword-master with a hangover, Creighton decided to return to the River Snag Hostel to recover. It took him two hours to locate the hostel and as Creighton stumbled into bed he knew that, with the morning, would come the pain.
Creighton, alone in the room, woke with a massive hangover and blurred vision. He swallowed the contents of two waterskins before he managed to raise himself out of bed. His head swam as he stood and the young warrior was forced to lean heavily against the wall to keep from falling down. Creighton rubbed his eyes and blinked furiously but his vision remained clouded. Sitting down on his bed, his head in his hands, Creighton tried to clear his thoughts.
It wasn't so much that his vision was blurred, he reasoned after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, rather there was too much information for his eyes to handle. Creighton's head shot up. It wasn't that there was too much information just different information; he could clearly see words (little more than confusing spidery lines but words nonetheless) inside his head. What's more, when he closed his good eye he could see them, but when he closed his blind eye they disappeared. It was his blind eye that saw the words!
The old man's words rang in his ears: "I see an awakening, a power unlocked and an affliction cured". Creighton had never been so excited in all his life. He moved to the door and slid the bolt across; he did not want to be interrupted. The words in his mind's-eye were not in any language he recognised yet, somehow, he knew how to pronounce them. Instinctively he locked his thumbs together and, his heart beating madly, fanned out his fingers and uttered the words.
| Creighton | Kisath fae'ere |
Golden flames erupted from Creighton's fingertips and engulfed Keldirk's bed. The warrior shielded his eyes from the sudden light and heat and backed away.
| Creighton | Holy crap. (laughs somewhat hysterically) |
Realising that the entire hostel was in danger of burning to the ground, Creighton removed his linen pants and leapt upon the flames. Impervious to the fire, he managed to smother the flames before it could spread to other combustibles.
| Creighton | (stands and surveys Keldirk's ruined bed) Oops, Keldirk is going to be pissed. (smiles) Oh well, back to bed. |
| Normal Text | Character's words or descriptive text if part of a paragraph |
| Italic Text | Character's thoughts or actions if surrounded by parenthesis |
| Bold Text | Character is shouting. |