Episode 66 – The Wolf, the Witch and the Large Wardrobe (Part V)
| The Assassins |
Azareth - Wizard 5th Level LE (PC) Craven - Fighter / Rogue 3rd / 3rd LE (PC) Creighton - Fighter 5th Level LE (PC) Keldirk - Rogue 6th level NE (PC) |
| Locale | Unknown. |
| Date | Sometime after 4th Goodmonth 582 CY |
| Time | Midday. |
Azareth applied a salve to Creighton's mangled ankle. The paste was little more than a collection of common herbs and powdered seeds but it seemed to help the warrior recover. With his ankle heavily strapped and using his scabbard as a walking stick, Creighton managed a stilted gait.
The cobbled road led through the white clouds to the base of a massive castle. The walk had taken the assassins over three hours and Creighton's limp had become more pronounced. Huddled behind a fluffy cloudbank, the assassins surveyed their surroundings.
The topmost minaret rose easily four hundred feet above the path. Scattered throughout the architecture were silvered tiles, glimmering crimson in the strange red sky. It was an expertly crafted castle on a massive, unbelievable scale.
The castle sat on a single cloud, only marginally bigger than its base. From the edge of the cobbled road where the assassins stood, a lowered drawbridge spanned the gap. Across the drawbridge the assassins spied a pair of gigantic, iron bound double doors.
| Creighton | Even if we had siege equipment and ten thousand men, we still couldn't break in. |
| Craven | So let's not break in. Let's knock. |
| Azareth | Your plan is nothing if not bold. |
| Keldirk | What you call bold, I call suicidal. Look at the size of those doors! No doubt a giant lives here, no doubt at all. |
| Craven | (staring intently at the castle, ponders) |
| Azareth | A cloud giant or a storm giant perhaps. It might be pertinent to remind you that not all giantkin are evil. Some have been known to be quite beneficent. |
| Keldirk | Bah! Remember where you are and what we're doing, mage. This giant stole all the children from the village below and had a werewolf in his service. Hell, for all we know this giant eats the damned children and would consider us dessert. No, chances are that whoever lives here isn't the charitable kind and more likely than not he'd squash us the instant he set eyes on us. |
| Craven | (points) Guys, look. Set into the base of the double doors, a smaller door. |
| Keldirk | You could be right. |
| Creighton | More our size. |
| Azareth | Maybe the giant receives deliveries from humans and that is the trade entrance. |
| Craven | Whatever it is, it's our ticket inside. Let's go. |
The assassins broke from their hiding place and scurried across the drawbridge to the massive double doors. A single, normal-sized door was set into the gigantic double doors and with the others huddled to one side Craven examined the lock. Suddenly the door opened and a man-sized figure with the head of a mouse stepped out. He wore the livery of a royal guard, bright coloured vest, wide-brimmed hat replete with peacock feather, tight-fitting doeskin breeches and highly polished black boots. About his waist hung a magnificent rapier with an intricately designed, gold-wire guard.
| Man-mouse | (whips off his hat and bows low) I am Piscatello, chief mouseketeer, head guardsmen and duellist extraordinaire. How may I be of assistance? |
| Craven | (steps back) Mouseketeer? Huh? |
| Keldirk | I hate this place. |
| Piscatello | I repeat, how may I be of assistance? |
| Creighton | We wish to speak to the master of the house. |
| Craven | No! No we don't. We just, er, want to check on the stores. We're from the delivery service. |
| Piscatello | (chuckles, whiskers flickering) You are naught but rogues intent on mischief. |
| Craven | Um, okay. |
| Piscatello | I can see as plain as the nose on my face that you are up to no good and, as chief mousketeer for this estate, I cannot permit you entry. |
| Craven | Oh, really? A simple case of mathematics shows that there are four of us and but one of you. Perhaps we should be making the rules. |
| Piscatello | 'Tis four to one now, but a call from me will see a dozen mouseketeers here in moments. Mathematics then, dear sir, would clearly be in my favour, not yours. |
| Craven | Well, don't be hasty. Perhaps there is no need to interrupt any of your colleagues after all. No doubt they are otherwise engaged. Perhaps you and I can sort this out together, man to man. |
| Piscatello | (whiskers twitching) What do you propose? |
| Craven | A duel. |
| Piscatello | (claps his hands) A wonderful idea. I have not duelled since I defeated 'Khonrad the Invincible, Sword-Master of the North'. |
| Craven | 'The Invincible', you say? |
| Piscatello | Let us discuss the terms. If I win, your friends will carry your corpse away and never return. |
| Craven | And if I win? |
| Piscatello | That won't happen. |
| Craven | Humour me. |
| Piscatello | Then you may do with my corpse as you may, and go where you will. |
| Craven | Weapons? |
| Piscatello | I favour the rapier. |
| Craven | As do I. (draws his rapier, turning the blade in his hand) It is a poorly crafted weapon, barely functional, but all I have. |
| Piscatello | (draws his rapier and looks at it with affection) This was crafted by my father, it took him a year to craft the handle alone. |
| Craven | (holds out his hand) May I? |
| Piscatello | (hands Craven the sword) |
| Craven | (looks over the weapon) I have never seen its equal. |
| Keldirk | (in thieves cant) Stab him! Kill him! |
| Craven | (in thieves cant) No, that is not how I operate |
| Keldirk | (in thieves cant) Fool! |
| Craven | It is a truly magnificent weapon. (reluctantly hands the sword back) |
| Piscatello | (whisks off his cloak) Shall we begin? |
| Craven | (waves the other assassins aside and nods) You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you. |
| Piscatello | You seem a decent fellow. (smiles) I hate to die. Engarde! |
The two combatants circled warily, their swords flicking like snakes' tongues, testing, probing. Then, with the high-pitched clang of steel on steel, the battle was joined. The mouseketeer was an excellent swordsman, light on his feet, quick of mind and superbly taught. Craven knew that this battle would not be easily won.
They danced around the entrance to the castle, neither gaining advantage. Craven's superior strength was offset by Piscatello's blistering speed. Their swords flashed in the strange red light, an exercise in continual motion. Piscatello herded Craven along the cobblestone path, ever closer to the clouds and a three thousand foot fall. The young duelist was forced to retreat up a rocky incline beside the castle.
| Craven | You're using Bonetti's offense against me, ah? |
| Piscatello | (nods and smiles, pointed mouse teeth shining) I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain. |
| Craven | Naturally, you must expect me to counter with Capo Ferro? |
Craven changed his style and in moments had the mouseketeer on the backfoot, retreating down the rocks to the path.
| Piscatello | Naturally (shifts his fighting stance and style) But I find Thibault cancels out Capo Ferro, don't you? |
Piscatello lunged forward, nicking Craven's cheek. The assassin hopped back, perilously close to the edge of the path. With nowhere to go, Craven crab-stepped and ran, directly towards the castle wall, the moustekeer in hot pursuit.
| Piscatello | I have you now! |
A heartbeat before Craven reached the wall he jumped, kicked against the mammoth stones and propelled himself upwards. Mid-flight he twisted his body and flipped, landing softly in the middle of the path, sword held defensively before him.
| Craven | You were saying? |
| Piscatello | (salutes Craven with his sword) You have studied Agrippa |
| Craven | I have. |
| Piscatello | (sighs) This could take some time. |
| Craven | I have nothing better to do. Do you? |
| Piscatello | (shakes his head) No. |
| Craven | Then let us continue. |
With Keldirk, Creighton and Azareth looking on, the two duellists resumed the battle. Back and forth, left to right they danced, swords flicking like lightning.
| Craven | You are wonderful. |
| Piscatello | Thank you, I have worked hard to become so. But I must admit; you are better than I am. |
| Craven | (forcing the mouseketeer back) They why are you smiling? |
| Piscatello | (breathing hard, but smiling widly) Because I know something you don't know. |
| Craven | And what is that? |
| Piscatello | I am not left-handed. |
The mouseketeer flipped the sword in the air with his left hand, caught it with his right, and launched into a blistering attack. It took every ounce of skill for Craven to avoid defeat.
| Craven | (breathless) You are incredible. |
| Piscatello | I should be. I studied under a Great Master for nine years. |
| Craven | You were taught well. |
| Keldirk | (frustrated) Stop jabbering goddamnit, just kill the blasted rodent! |
| Craven | It might look easy from where you're sitting, but I assure it isn't. |
Piscatello clearly had the upper hand. With almost unbelievable speed, skill and agility the mouseketeer had once more forced Craven near the precipice. As his blademaster had taught him, Craven ignored the mouseketeer's blade and instead watched his opponent's face and upper arm. Each and every attack is conceived in the mind, visualised in the eyes and initiated by the arm. To wait for the blade is to invite death and against an opponent as skilled as this, death would be swift indeed.
But something just wasn't right. With each passing moment Piscatello seemed to gain in skill. Craven's attacks and ripostes, that the mouse had barely managed to defend previously, were now being turned aside with seemingly effortless ease. Worse, Piscatello's attacks were becoming increasingly difficult to avoid.
Craven smelled a rat.
"Search for patterns in your opponent's attacks and where none exist create them". Blademaster Jean Anoir's words flashed inside Craven's mind as he struggled to keep the mouseketeer at bay. Create a pattern; that was the key. Craven settled into a rhythm of defence and riposte, cycling through a series of moves complex enough to fool a lesser opponent but subtle enough to be recognised as a repeating pattern by the amazingly well trained man-mouse. Craven watched Piscatello's face for signs of recognition and as soon as he saw it he changed his next move and scored a vicious slash across the mouseketeer's chest. The wound caused Piscatello to retreat and Craven seized the opportunity to reclaim the middle of the path.
| Piscatello | (looks down at his wound, breathing heavily) Well done. |
| Craven | (also struggling to catch his breath) Thankyou. |
| Piscatello | It is a lesson well-learned. I shall not make the same mistake again. |
| Craven | (smiles) Nor shall I. As things stand I cannot beat you, and eventually you will find an opening and kill me. |
| Piscatello | (sighs) What do you propose? Honour demands satisfaction, you cannot back out of this now. |
| Craven | Surrender is not my intent. No, I merely plan to shift the odds more in my favour. (holds out his hand toward Keldirk) Keldirk, your dagger if you please. |
| Keldirk | (grins evilly and tosses his dagger to Craven) It's about bloody time you woke up. |
| Craven | (catches the knife easily and turns to face Piscatello) Shall we continue? |
| Piscatello | This is unacceptable. How can you? A second weapon! |
| Craven | There is something odd about you and this entire situation. I do not trust you or feel I owe you any respect. It is clear to me now that not all is as it seems. And, quite simply, you are in my way. I will do whatever I must to complete my mission. |
| Piscatello | (spits) You have no honour! |
| Craven | I have honour - I'm just not a very nice person. |
With that, Craven once more went on the offensive. With a weapon in each hand he was easily able to handle anything that Piscatello threw at him but even still the fight was not easy.
Keldirk, Azareth and Creighton watched in awe as the warriors circled and struck, blades clashing and clanging. Time wore on and desperation became apparent in every move that Piscatello made. Fear crept into his heart. Though he had superior speed and skill, Craven's dual weapons meant that Piscatello had to defend himself on two fronts. Piscatello knew his fate was sealed, and it irked him greatly that a mere human could bring about his death. Launching a final savage assault, Piscatello's blade bit deeply into Craven's thigh. But the blow would be his undoing, he had over-extended. The mouseketer experienced the horror of seeing - then feeling - Craven's blade slide deep into his body. Impaled on Craven's rapier and with his own blade buried deep into Craven's thigh, Piscatello could do nothing but look on with dread as Craven's dagger sliced open his throat.
The proud Mouseketeer stared deeply into Craven's eyes as his lifeblood poured from his body. Craven stepped forward and supported the dying mouse, gently lowering his body to the ground.
| Craven | (whispering in Piscatello's ear) There is much I could have learned from you. I regret the way I had to kill you. |
Piscatello coughed once then died. Craven rose to his feet and grimly pulled Piscatello's blade from his leg. Gimacing in pain, Craven wiped the blade clean. Hefting the magnificent rapier Craven stared at it appreciatively before laying it down on Piscatello's chest.
| Keldirk | What? You're not taking it? |
| Craven | (shakes his head) No. I cheated him out of his life and I refuse to cheat him of his weapon. |
| Keldirk | You are an idiot. He's dead, he won't care. |
| Craven | But I will. |
| Keldirk | Fool! |
| Craven | Say I do take it, what then? Every time I fight I will be reminded of this day and of the dishonourable steps I took to survive. No, I will not take his sword. The last thing I want is to be constantly reminded of my shortcomings. I may be prepared to do whatever it takes to win but I don't have to like it. |
Craven knelt down and tore a strip of cloth from his shirt before tying it securely over the wound in his leg. The pain was not too bad at the moment but he knew from experience that it would soon become unbearable.
| Craven | Let's get inside the castle. |
Keldirk listened at the door-within-a-door then risked a peek inside.
| Keldirk | The way is clear. |
Creighton pushed forward then stepped inside the castle.
To say the room was of gigantic proportions would be an understatement. Creighton took three steps then stopped, dumbfounded. He craned his neck but still could not see the roof, steeped as it was in shadow. An oil lamp, the size of a cart, sat atop a table and barely illuminated the cavernous room in its yellow glow. A well-worn rug, a hundred feet long, sat beneath the table. Around the table stood four chairs, taller than any building Creighton had ever seen. Across from the table was a towering bookcase, beside that a fireplace. At each compass point was a door, the last of which seemed to lead to a staircase.
| Keldirk | Get out of the way you dolt. (shoves Creighton in the back) We haven't got all day. |
The other assassins moved in and looked on in sheer awe at the magnitude of the room.
| Azareth | Remarkable. |
| Craven | Come on, Keldirk's right we can't dawdle. Where to? |
| Keldirk | Let's find the kitchen. If the giant eats children then he probably has them stored in his pantry. |
| Creighton | (points) That way, I think. |
| Craven | Move. |
The four assassins sped across the vast expanse; thankful that whoever lived here was not present. The journey across the room took longer than they had imagined, cracks in the stone tiles genuine obstacles. Huddled together behind a massive suit of armour, Keldirk peered around the corner.
| Keldirk | (turns to his companions, whispering) Kitchen, a table, chairs, a bench, stove - the usual stuff. To our right is another door, a pantry by the looks. The door is shut, but we can probably squeeze under at a pinch. |
| Azareth | A good place to start. Let's go. |
| Keldirk | Not so fast. There is a problem. |
| Craven | A problem? |
| Creighton | I'm sick of problems. |
| Craven | What kind of problem? |
| Keldirk | There is a cat sleeping at the base of the table. There's no way to reach the pantry without getting close. |
| Azareth | I am reluctant to ask, how large is the cat? |
| Keldirk | Large. Think of it this way, we'd make a tidy snack. |
| Azareth | (swallows hard) |
| Craven | Too big to kill? |
| Keldirk | Look for yourself. |
| Craven | (peers around the corner and nods) Too big to kill. |
| Creighton | Perhaps we should look elsewhere. |
| Craven | No. We're just as likely to run into other problems in other rooms. We have to be mindful of why we're here; we need to find some children. And the best bet at the moment is the pantry. Be thankful for small mercies - at least the cat is asleep. Keldirk, do you think we can sneak past it? |
| Keldirk | Possibly, possibly not. It's a giant cat, who the Hell knows how attuned it's senses are. |
| Azareth | I have an idea. I will need some rope. |
| Creighton | (pats himself down) Well what do you know, I'm fresh out. |
| Azareth | (snarls) Try to be helpful. Sarcasm is a luxury we can ill afford at present. |
| Keldirk | The rug, beneath the table. We can cut off some threads, will that do? |
| Azareth | It might. I'll need one length, no shorter than thirty feet, no longer than eighty. |
| Keldirk | You two wait here, Craven and I will get it. We're quieter than you both. |
Craven and Keldirk scurried back across the room to the rug. Craven's leg was beginning to seize, but he clenched his jaw and pushed through the pain.
Keldirk examined the rug and shrugged.
| Keldirk | If we cut here we should be able to unravel that bit. Agreed? |
| Craven | I am no seamstress. Let's give it a try. |
Once their task was complete, Keldirk and Craven returned to the others.
| Craven | Seventy feet, give or take. |
| Azareth | Perfect. |
| Craven | It's not very strong. |
| Azareth | It doesn't need to be. |
| Craven | What are you planning to do? |
| Azareth | (uncurls four pieces of parchment) These are the four scrolls we found in the Overseer's place. They contain some utilitarian spells, none of which I've ever cast. Animate Rope, Levitate, Tenser's Floating Disk and what appears to be the reverse incarnation of Enlarge. |
| Keldirk | And? |
| Azareth | Listen, I refrain from telling you how to go about your business, please do me the same courtesy. Just be ready to run when I give the signal. |
| Keldirk | If you get us killed it will be the last thing you do! |
| Creighton | Well duh! |
| Keldirk | I wasn't talking to you. |
| Creighton | Well duh! |
| Keldirk | Shutup moron. Hurry up mage. |
| Azareth | Craven, as soon as I finish reading throw this as far as you can, in that direction. Then get out of sight. (hands Craven a small pouch, full of coins) |
| Craven | Consider it done. |
Azareth tucked three scrolls back into his belt, cleared his throat then read from the fourth. In a matter of moments the length of rope leapt to life. With alarming speed the rope snaked across the kitchen floor to the other side of the room. Craven had already thrown the pouch and, when the cat woke in startled wonder at the noise, its focus was drawn to the wiggling, tantalising rope.
| Azareth | (nods) |
The four assassins sped across the room, behind the cat, and to the pantry door. The giant cat had captured the rope and was chewing on its length by the time the last of the assassins squeezed under the door and into the pantry.
| Creighton | Nice work, little buddy. |
| Azareth | (breathless) Thank you. |
| Keldirk | Look! |
The assassins looked up and saw on a shelf high above them a human-sized birdcage inside of which was two small children. They were waving madly and screaming out, but the assassins were unable to make out their calls.
| Craven | (re-bandaging his thigh) How the Nine Hells are we going to get them down from there? |
| Creighton | (leaning against a gigantic bag of flour) Keldirk can climb. |
| Keldirk | And how do you propose I get down, genius? |
| Creighton | Not my problem. |
| Craven | It is your problem, it is our problem. Look around, perhaps we can fashion a rope or some crude ladder. |
| Azareth | (pulls out three scrolls) Leave it to me. |
The mage cast three spells from the scrolls in quick succession, each scroll disappearing in a puff of harmless magical smoke at the completion. The first summoned a disk of magical energy, three foot in diameter its surface a semi- translucent fog. The second shrunk Azareth to half his size, no larger than a child and the third spell had no outward effect.
| Azareth | Lift me into the disk, Creighton. |
| Creighton | (chuckles) You look really cute. |
| Azareth | (glares) |
| Creighton | (coughs) Okay, okay. |
Creighton lifted Azareth without effort and placed him into the magical disk. Having issued the mental command 'up' Azareth levitated the disk up to the birdcage. Stepping out and onto the shelf Azareth approached the trapped children.
| Little Boy | Help us. |
| Little Girl | Free us. |
| Azareth | Your salvation is at hand. But please be quiet. |
Azareth examined the door and discovered that it was a simple latch. Somewhat surprised that the children hadn't tried to escape already, he unlocked the door.
| Azareth | I can only take one of you at a time. So, little lady, come with me and I will take you first. |
The two children stepped out of the cage and immediately Azareth felt woozy. His knees buckled and he braced himself against the cage to stop from falling. His vision clouded and was suddenly overcome with a feeling of utter exhaustion.
| Azareth | (glares at the children) What have you done to me? |
Azareth tried to yell a warning to his companions, but the words wouldn't form. He felt himself crumple before falling helpless to the floor.
| Azareth | What have you done? Please - |
| Little Girl | Wake them up, Kerk. |
| Little Boy | Yes madam. |
| Azareth | What... ? Who... ? |
| Little Girl | I was quite impressed, especially with the leadership qualities of the one called Craven. |
The little boy replied but his words were lost to Azareth. The mage's eyelids closed and the giant pantry, the cage and the two children slid into darkness.
Suddenly Azareth awoke. He was in a bed and immediately he tried to rise. A large man, dressed in black, placed a gloved hand on Azareth's shoulder and firmly pushed him down. Beside the man a woman leaned forward.
| Woman | Rest, Azareth, you are among friends. Your companions are safe and sound, but have not yet begun to stir. |
Azareth blinked several times and tried to take in his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, a single lantern, partly shuttered, sitting on a chest of drawers against one wall. The place was familiar, but the fog in Azareth's mind denied any association. Gone were the children, the cage and the giant pantry.
Looking around the room Azareth spied three beds. Recognition finally came to him and he identified the slumbering forms of Creighton, Craven and Keldirk. Besides his friends, the woman and the large man dressed in black there were three other people in the room.
| Azareth | What is going on? Where am I? |
| Woman | Take your time, Azareth. You are safe. You are in The Whistler. |
| Azareth | Huh? |
| Woman | Your tavern, in Del Mord. |
Azareth looked around and everything finally clicked into place. There was his staff, resting against the wall beside his bed. And there were Keldirk's clothes, strewn over the floor as usual, Creighton's iron lock-box and Craven's backpack. And there, beside his pillow, Azareth felt the reassuring form of his Spell Book.
| Azareth | Who are you people? Who were those children? |
| Woman | I am Rhomesia sent by The Family. |
| Azareth | (shocked) The what? |
| Rhomesia | The Family. |
| Azareth | How? What? What are you doing here? Why are you in my room? |
| Rhomesia | Hush, I will tell you everything once you are all fully wake. But for now, try to sleep. You have had quite an ordeal. (to the darkly clad man at her side) Kerk, fetch a pitcher of water. |
The large man that had restrained Azareth nodded and left the room.
Suddenly Azareth became aware of his terrible thirst. His throat was dry and the mage licked his lips, swallowing hard.
| Azareth | I do not understand. |
| Rhomesia | Azareth, please, just rest. No more questions. |
The woman waved her hand, uttered a few quiet words and a calm washed over Azareth. The pain his throat subsided and the rising panic began to dissipate.
Rest. Yes. That was all he needed.
As Azareth's eyes closed he saw a medallion hanging around Rhomesia's neck, a small silver dagger, the blade a twin serpent tail. Recognising the dagger as a holy symbol of The Family's revered god, Vypre, Azareth felt truly safe.
| Azareth | Druag'hi. You are Druag'hi. |
| Rhomesia | Sleep. |
And he did.
| 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. |