DM Note: Only Allan was able to make this session, but Derek and Gordon had requested their characters to be run 'unbubbled', so Lynien and Eloy appear as normal. Whatever normal is.| DM Note: Only Allan was able to make this session, but Derek and Gordon had requested their characters to be run 'unbubbled', so Lynien and Eloy appear as normal. Whatever normal is. |
Over the next two days, Gorfang visited Gadûhvrás once more. Word of the new orc city was spreading, and more warriors had come to join. All told, the population was now more than three hundred orcs, and rather fewer lizardmen than initially.
Interviewing the best of these, Gorfang selected a dozen or so, 
and swapped them for the local orcs he'd recruited as additional guards for Southwold early in his ownership. Dressed in similar armour, he hoped the new guards would look enough like the originals that the difference wouldn't be noticed. What would be different, though, would be the chances of any intruders or oddities being noticed by his guards.
Of the dozen, one in particular - Lurkhaz - showed officer potential, and Gorfang noted him for the future.
Two days later, Lynien came to Gorfang with some news, red-eyed and literally snarling with anger. Krissa and four of the Balancers had actually tracked 'Currund' down and cornered him. In the resulting fight, two of the followers of Nebekheshut had been killed and the assassin had escaped. Gorfang's reaction was rather more pleased than she really expected. "Ask Krissa if she fancies taking a little trip," he asked.
An hour later, the three were standing in the Scrying Hall with Krissa, and Myrasian's resonant, level voice had just completed his usual greeting; "I am Myrasian. Gaze into my depths - if you dare!" This hadn't increased Krissa's confidence any, and she was perceptibly nervous. Overcoming her trepidation, she stared into the swirling mists of the vast crystal ball, and gradually an image swam into view.
It began with the face of a man, matching the descriptions of 'Currund' that they'd heard, and Krissa nodded fiercely, recognizing the man she'd fought the night before. The scene widened, and showed the man in more detail; rather surprisingly, chained to a wall in a small cell. They exchanged glances, but one wasn't as puzzled as the rest. Eloy nodded to himself. "That's a cell at the Guild," he commented. "The assassins must have caught him."
The image faded, and Krissa drew a deep, shuddering breath. Her face was beaded with sweat, and her eyes were wide. "That was... different," she said shakily, "it kept trying to pull my gaze away somewhere else - and I don't think it was anywhere nice."
It was time to move rapidly. Lynien donned Gozan's Helm and, after dropping Krissa back off at the Thieves' Guild, Teleported the party into the tiny cell next to the startled Currund.
The man was so shocked at their sudden arrival that he actually passed out. Gorfang glanced around, and picking up the slop bucket next to the door, poured the contents over the man's head. The fastidious Eloy and Lynien stepped smartly back. Being November, the bucket's contents were chilly, and the prisoner woke suddenly. "Hi there," said Gorfang, "recognize me?" The man shook his head vigorously. "No, I've never seen you before," he said. "How did you get in here - you don't look like a wizard?" Gorfang drew a blade, and the man's eyes were drawn to it as if by magic. "I won't ask again," he said threateningly. The prisoner looked at him, then past him at the other two. Somthing in their expressions convinced him that Gorfang meant business, and he slumped. "Yes," he said dully, "you're the ex-governor of this rotten little burg." Gorfang nodded. "And what's our professional relationship?" he asked archly. "I was hired to kill you - all of you," replied the prisoner. "I'm a Taker from Nasirolan, and I was hired for a free-lance job in the Weeping Wife by a dwarf called Ghanim." All three nodded to themselves; here we go again. Gorfang moved a hand in a go on then gesture, and the assassin continued.
"He hired me to kill you three plus the white-eye and the scrag. He gave me some poison, the Corvaine, but we both knew it wasn't going to cut it. I was supposed to meet him back there in two weeks to pick up some better stuff, but I guess I won't need it any more." Three jaws dropped. "I would like to attend this meeting," said Gorfang tautly. Currund perked up a little. "You want me to identify him? Maybe I can negotiate my way out of this?" he said hopefully, "you want to counter-hire me?" Gorfang glanced at Eloy. "Put in a better offer for him to off his employer," he said, "we don't work that way."
"Do you know where you are?" asked Lynien casually. Currund shook his head. "You're in the Lossal Assassins' guild," she said. His face paled, and he sat up straighter, his attitude urgent. "Whatever it is you want me to do," he said rapidly, "I'll do it! Just don't leave me here!" "Very well," said Gorfang, then leaned over to Eloy. "He has white hair over his temples," he murmured, "he may not have long to live. Get a good look at him in case you need to disguise yourself as him - in case he doesn't make it to the meeting." Eloy nodded. Currund piped up again, pushing his luck. "If I'm going to be convincing," he said hopefully, "I'll need my equipment back - those guys out there have it. If you're on good terms with them, can you arrange that?"
From the far side of the room, Lynien clicked her fingers. The sound was answered by a soft snick from the cell lock, and the door swung quietly open. Eloy lifted an eyebrow, impressed.
Half an hour later, the four walked from the Guild headquarters, Currund sheathing his weapons and checking his shoulderbag. "Got it all?" asked Gorfang. "Pretty much," said Currund, "except the money, and some of the potions." He looked sideways at the orc. "Of course, for me to look completely as if all went well, I shouldn't be injured," he said as he pointed at his battered face, "any chance?" Gorfang chuckled nastily. "You've got two weeks to heal," he said unconcernedly.
Slightly less than two weeks later, the four Slow Teleported across to the capital of Dalaghendor. The city was markedly different to Lossal, with its' mix of older pre-Dragon era Orwinian buildings, newer work by the Dalaghendans with its' heavy lizardman influence, the occasional elvish structure from the days of the Invasion and soaring over all, the unique glass towers of Nasirolan, one of the great mysteries of Alair.
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Currund returned home to his normal haunts. Over the next few days, the others, disguised now with the aid of magic, established themselves in the city, getting familiar with the Weeping Wife. A tavern rather than an inn, and located in the redlight district of Nasirolan, it had rooms upstairs which hosted one of the facilities - half-a-dozen whores. Eloy eyed them for a moment, considering, but this was serious business and he was still newly-wed enough to pass the opportunity up. The name of the tavern seemed like an omen...
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On the day appointed, Eloy and Gorfang were settled comfortably at a table in the dimmest corner of the bar; Eloy was invisible to boot. Lynien, disdaining disguise, was somewhere in the room, but even wearing his Robe of Eyes Gorfang couldn't spot her; it was a safe bet no-one else could either. Currund was perched on a stool at the bar, waiting for his contact which had been arranged for sunset. Other than themselves the bar was around half-full.
Sure enough, as the sun sank, the door opened and in walked a dwarf, by his dress a reasonably well-to-do merchant, an impression marred only by the small black pendant around his neck bearing the disquieting script of the dark elves. Although there wasn't anything exceptional about his appearance, he did attract a degree of interest; dwarves weren't common this far west, so far from the mountains and near to the swamp.
Gorfang, however, wearing the Robe of Eyes, saw things a little differently. Superimposed over the form of 'Ghanim the Dwarf' was a taller, slimmer shape... the real form of their quarry, revealed by the True Seeing of the Robe. A Fae Mhor, as Gorfang had expected, though a male, which was something of a surprise. He glanced around, wondering if there was a female somewhere to tell him what to do, but he seemed to be alone. Currund called to the barkeep for two ales, and as he unpouched his money to pay for it he dropped several coins - the agreed signal indicating the identitty of the dwarf. Eloy readied his wand of Dispel Magic, and Lynien ghosted unnoticed through the crowd to come up behind their target. As she did so, she could hear him talking to Currund.
Currund was clearly becoming agitated, and Ghanim was showing signs of growing suspicious. Gorfang chose that moment to walk up 'returning the empties' and to try and walk between them. Currund looked up, seeing the disguised orc (whose identity he knew, of course) and some part of his reaction gave a hint away to Ghanim. The orc looked the dwarf right in the eye and said, "He's right, you know, it is aging him." Ghanim started backwards a step, and his fingers began to move in the
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gestures of magic. "Can we talk before you-" began Gorfang, breaking off as Ghanim finished his spell, still backing away from him. The orc blinked. Nothing seemed to have happened; then he registered curses, shouts and occasional screams coming from behind him, and Currund blinking and cursing as he glanced wildly around. He nodded, remembering; Fae Mhor darkness. Turning his head to make it absolutely clear he could still see the 'dwarf', he drew his khopeshoi. "Are you going to talk to me?" he demanded again. He noticed Ghanim shoot a glare at the asssassin. "Not his fault; he'll be dead soon anyway - won't he? What do you want from us?"
Ghanim held his arms out to the sides, ready. "You know what we want," he said levelly. "Vengeance - and our property." Gorfang raised an eyebrow. "Vengeance?" he said innocently. "We know," said Ghanim flatly. "We know who engineered the deaths of the High Priestesses of the Expedition, we know who plundered the tomb under Hightower, and we know where the Veldrin Sk'aal is!" Gorfang laughed. "Most of your 'high priestesses' killed each other," he scoffed. Ghanim drew himself up slightly (more impressive in his translucent true form than his assumed dwarf one). "They were fools, chosen by a fool," he said loftily, "but for a Fae Mhor priestess to be slain or brought to her death by a member of a lesser race is unacceptable." Gorfang sneered. "It would be - if there were a lesser race than yours," he taunted. Ghanim blinked in outrage - and at that moment, Gorfang attacked.
His khopeshoi hammered down, striking blow after mighty blow at the Fae Mhor before him, whom Gorfang alone could see was unarmoured. Not unprotected, however. Where the blades struck, a shower of arcane sparks was struck and the weapons skated across an invisible surface and off. Snarling, Gorfang struck again and again, but none of his strikes went home. He paused, frustrated, and Ghanim reached an arm out to point at Currund, readying a spell. Changing tactics, Gorfang dropped his swords and wrapped his arms around the slender Fae Mhor, pinning him. The Suggestion Ghanim had intended to use to set Currund to attack the orc fizzled and died as the dark elf was siezed. His intentions left unchanged, the assassin drove blindly with a dagger, missing Gorfang by inches, and striking another shower of sparks from Ghanim's shield. Freeing one fist, Gorfang punched with his poisoner's ring to no more effect, though he did notice that the sparks were more intense, and that Ghanim's head rocked slightly from the impact for the first time.
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Eloy triggered his wand, and light suddenly flooded the bar again as the Darkness was Dispelled. Able to see their foe again, he sprang up and began to run towards the bar as Lynien Quick Drew her two rapiers and struck a devastating sneak attack from behind Ghanim. Both swords drove into the Fae Mhor's back level with his kidneys and right through the other side; Gorfang saw the bloodied points appear as they emerged. Ghanim's back arched in agony as the mortal wound was delivered, and on his breast the black amulet exploded into fragments. A loud, resonating chime sounded as a Contingency was triggered, and with a flash a Teleport spell cast itself and Ghanim, Gorfang and Lynien - all touching - vanished from the bar.
Eloy pulled to a halt, almost on top of Gorfang's khopeshoi where they lay on the floor, his wand in his hand, and stared in shock at the empty space where his comrades had been...
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