fantasy epic replay

[Wraith]

I write my own senarios for the group I GM for, and after the senario is complete, I always write up a recap, to keep for posterity and for the PC's amusement.

Here is a recap of the last fantasy senario I ran for my group:

If anyone knows the stories I bastardized this adventure from , you get extra points!

Darkness weaves in many shades.

Chapter 1: The Royal Invitation.

 Our little story opens in the black Eel, an Inn and brew-pub off the main thoroughfare to the warf in the port city of Lartroxia, capital of the Lartroxian combine, the great northern empire of the eastern continent. Our heroes, friends of old, are sitting around enjoying a round of ale and a haunch of venison as they relive old times, when their friend Talon bursts into the hall with no little excitement and brandishing a letter. Now Talon cannot read, but being embarrassed by the fact, he has not divulged this to his friends, though they already know and smile to themselves about it.  They taunt him about it subtly also, much to his chagrin. After a round of drinks and much hoopla from Talon about his invite to the court of some royal, he hands the letter to Coenraad, who accepts it. The letter is in an official hand on expensive vellum and is sealed with the royal seal of Sargossa, the ruling house of the island empire of Thovnosia. After looking it over, Coenraad reads it aloud.

Efrell Sargossa, Monarch of the Middle Sea, Patron of the Isles, and Protector of the Sacred Mysteries of Thovnosia doth hereby extend her magnanimous hand of invitation to the most renowned, experienced and learned of men in the known world.
Her Majesty doth henceforth invite any who may attend to the Imperial Palace of Sargossa on the Isle of Pellin for her Majesties Grand Court.
For those who shall aspire to it, the most Resourceful, Wise and Formidable of Her Majesties esteemed guests shall be separated from those of lesser nobility to be raised to  positions of responsibility in The Imperial Court of her Majesty.

Please attend.            Efrell  Sargossa    Regina

Talon explains to his three friends that a courier from the royal  palace of Prisarte delivered the letter to him personally. They find it hard to believe, since Talon two-sword is a freebooter for hire. His ship, the Mermillion is owned by his patron, who he will not name. (Perhaps he doesn’t even know himself). Why would he receive a royal summons from Queen Efrell Sargossa? Even though they have reservations, they are staunch friends and agree to accompany their friend on his voyage,  Aiden, only after reading the letter for himself. At the mention of Sargossa, a drunken sailor from the next table, Brak by name, curses the four as fools and claims that they seek death to travel to those accursed isles. He rambles on about sea demons, stories of witches and black magic and how the princess of Sargossa was slain for dark sorcery. He is obviously drunk beyond redemption.
Talon  listens politely for a time, then turning back to his friends, he produces maps of the Archipeligo of Thovnosia and explains a bit of the voyage to his companions. With fair weather, the voyage should take less than a week, they would be out of sight of land for no more than two days…three at the most. Of course, as Brak said,  they would have to cross the Sorn Ellyn, the great sea abyss where monsters were said to dwell. But Talon insures these are but old hearth tales meant to frighten children. He has never seen a sea monster or Kracken in his many years of crossing the abyss. After no little conjecture and talk, Talon declares that his ship, the Mermillion will be stocked and ready to depart three days hence at dawn. The others agree to be there, then Talon leaves to see to the preparations for the voyage.
A few drinks later, Aiden notices that a beautiful girl, obviously a prostitute, seems to have taken an interest in Coenraad.  Aiden is repulsed by such means of employment, being of a religious sort, but brings it to his friends attention anyways. Coenraad, not so fettered by morals, looks around and eyes the doxy shamelessly. Perhaps his rich trappings have attracted her to him, and she wishes a go at his purse with her luscious little fingers. She licks her lips (oh so slowly) and runs her hands over her taunt body  suggestively, pausing  at her halter top to give Coenraad a glimpse of the letter she has stashed there. Her eyes move in such a way as to tell him that she wishes him to come over. She stands then, as if to display her wares.
Coenraad swaggers over, flirting flamboyantly and traps her to the wall next the door. “What is you name girl?”
“Lauren,,  ‘m lord” She whispers, “ but there are three men of ill repute at the back trestle that wish you ill.”
“Why would you warn me?” He asks.
“A girl could use a few coins…and I have information to sell.” She shows him the letter and the seal affixed thereon. It is the seal of his enemy and  murderer of his patron, Count Thorfinn.
He scowls and signs to his fellows about the three ruffians. They nod ever so slightly. “Follow me to the back room.” She prods. “I will sell you the letter then, and you can escape those men yonder who thirst for your blood.”
Coenraad agrees and increases his act for the benefit of the three ruffians. “Join me in the taking of pleasure my fellows”, He bellows to his two comrades as he spins Lauren around. “This wench can handle us three.”
Aiden, offended at the display, rises to his feet and walks to the door. Not wanting to leave his friends with hostiles nearby, he pauses by the door to speak of goats with a farmer and cheesemaker he knows.
Suddenly, as Coenraad approaches the storeroom door, The three at the back of the place rise to their feet and begin advancing across the hall, pulling back their filthy coats to reveal sharp steel as they come. After telling his underlings to take care of  Janos, the leader of the gang takes the main aisle, heading for the door where his mark disappeared with the doxy. “It will be easy to take Coenraad undressed, unarmed and unawares.” He mutters to himself.
Janos has been spoiling for a fight and takes advantage of the opportunity to tie one on. Leaping to his feet a little too quickly for a man of his bulk, he grabs the leg of his stool with one mighty arm and hurls it full into the chest of the approaching man. The man tries to dodge, but the stool crashes into his shoulder, the heavy oak snapping  bones and whelming him to the ground, where he lays moaning in a twisted heap. Surprised by the swiftness of Janos’s attack on his fellow, the other ruffian advances more cautiously, brandishing  his sword. The leader also turns from the main Aisle to come at Janos from the rear.
 Janos casually reaches over his shoulders, his hands finding the comfort of the well worn shortsword hilts that protrude from beneath his cloak. In one swift motion, he whisks them from their  oiled sheaths. The leader’s eyes widen for a moment, and he draws a dagger with his left hand in response, then attacks. Janos’s swords are a blur as he slices into the mans left arm and right hand with two swift blows. The man, realizing the futility of his defense,  lunges out in desparation. Janos takes him casually through the shoulder. The unfortunate villan falls to the floor trying to stem the flow of blood spurting from his shoulder wound. Janos gives the two downed men a boot in the ribs for good measure, then relieves them of their purses. One has four golds, the other three.
As the leader of the gang prepares to charge into Janos from the rear, Aiden acts, he sprints up behind the fellow and smacks him soundly on the head with his bow, but the blow is not well aimed, and in haste. The villan spins, slashing Aiden across the stomach with his shortsword. As the ruffian tries a thrust,  Aiden dodges and swings his bow two handed. The blow catches the man across the forehead and he flies to the floor, unconscious. At this point, the proprietor of the Eel has gone for the authorities. Baring steel in the city limits is against Ducal law. Moreover, he wishes to keep his establishment intact.
Back in the storeroom, Coenraad hands four golds to the girl in exchange for the letter. “Best escape through yon door!” She suggests, “Those three will be coming for ye as we speak.” Coenraad nods at the wisdom of her words and throws open the door. Unbeknownst to Coenraad,  a rival gang of ruffians await his emergence, confident that they will earn the reward for his delivery this very night. As Coenraad steps through the door, a club decends toward his head with startling speed, but he is faster still and manages to elude the decending cudgel and close with the wielder.
With a skill born of experience, he quickly sizes up the opposition as he grapples with the unbathed man who has dropped the club and is now trying to get a handhold of his own. There are two others in the darkness and the glint of steel. Coenraad thrusts his sweaty opponent into the other two, spins, then sprints around to the front of the Eel. Moments later, the three adversaries recover their wits and give chase. Coenraad makes it to the front door of the Eel and whips it open… and there stands  Lauren! Without so much as a pause, he sweeps her over his shoulder and takes a route to the groaning board where he deposites her, out of harms way.
The three bounty-hunters from the rival gang burst through the door to see Coenraad ducking behind the counter. They turn to persue. Aiden knocks an arrow and shoots the last man, who then turns and attacks him. Aiden draws his sword and parries the blow. Then, with a deft maneuver, disarms the man and holding his sword to the unprotected throat, takes him prisoner.
Back at the counter, Coenraad decides to seize the tactical advantage and heads for higher ground, leaping atop the counter. From there he skewers the first to reach him through the chest, but he misses the parry of the second fellows blow, which bites into his calf. Coenraad falls to the floor, but recovers quickly enough to parry the next blow and thrust the fellow through the groin . The fight is over!
Janos, having pillaged all the downed men, other than the two Coenraad has struck down, of their meager possessions, takes a pull from an abandoned ale flagon. “Such work brings on a powerful thirst it does!” he sputters through the foam.

Chapter 2: Preparing for the Voyage

The three friends quickly realize the wisdom of an expedient exit from  the Black Eel, in light of the recent foul play and sword work. Therefore, they take their leave from one another, but not before Aiden sets a few golds on the counter to help the innkeeper with the damages. They each hasten to their respective homes and haunts to equip themselves for the upcoming voyage to the royal court of Effrell Sargossa of Thovnosia on the isle of Pellin.
 Janos heads back to his usual haunts in the Suburra, the ghetto of Lartroxia, where he hopes to get some discounted goods from a few of his less than noble friends. At one of the shadier local hangouts, he overhears some of his reputed comrades speaking about one of their latest acquisitions. Janos strolls over to hear of it. As it turns out, the fellows, who shall remain un-named, happened upon a richly clad body that had washed ashore. The corpse, being alone and unclaimed as it were, was fair game to the lads, so they stripped it. Among the spoils, was an official looking satchel with the Sargossan sigil blazoned across the front flap. After viewing the satchel for himself, Janos surmised that the unlucky fellow had been the courier for the royal house of Pellin.
This discovery sheds more doubt in Janos’ mind of Talon’s claim that he had personally received the letter  via official courier from Queen Effrell of the royal house of Sargossa. Janos smiled to himself knowingly, for Talon had always been one for the telling of tall tales, but there was more to this tale than Talon was letting on and Janos meant to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps he could make a few golds in the process and that suited him fine…it suited him fine indeed!
After leaving the Black Eel, Aiden turns north also. blending with the crowd of the street as he heads up sellers row, cutting through the suburra to North Street then to the great North Gate and through it. He has a few stops to make at the homes of his friends  in the forests before the allotted three days that Talon has given them come to pass. With luck, he thinks, he can make it back to town a bit earlier than necessary and get a new bowstring and his worn boots resoled. Once he reaches the forest edge, Aiden breaks into a sprint, best hurry, he decides.
 Coenraad travels west along Lower Sellers Row, then north to the hill, an area in the north-western corner of the city where the affluent families of the city have their estates. Having gotten back to the estates of his patron Jos Van-Reede, Coenraad sets himself about packing his best clothes and gear for the journey. He selects his best sword and dagger, a set given him by Jos before his patron left on his campaign. Then, after deciding to set the estates bills in order before departure,  Coenraad checks Jos’s desk for any letters that had newly arrived. It is at this time that he dares to look for the first time in the top drawer of the bureau, and in it, he finds a letter addressed to himself.  The letter is from his patron Jos, and reads:


My dear Coenraad:
     If you hold this missive, then I have been betrayed while on campaign by the Van-Der Kades.  Heed my words, do not seek them out or you may find yourself sharing my fate.  
    With that unpleasantness aside, I trust this letter finds you well and the legacy I have left will keep you cared for. I have always loved you as my own son, even before you knew of it, for that fateful night I caught you with your young hand where it should never have been, I recognized you immediately. In truth I had been seeking you for over a year, for you see. I knew you from birth. Afterwards, when I took you in, and made you my heir, I never revealed to you that I had known your father and mother before their deaths.
     Hurst was your father’s name, bless his soul. He never spoke of your grandfather, even to me, for he was ashamed. But I learned of it anyway. Your grandfather was a drunkard in his last years, losing his inheritance and lands, his family reduced to manual labor. Before those dreadful days, he was a great lord of the court, a knight and ambassador for the Royal House. Those days and honors ended in a foul and evil way. No one knew why he fell to the spirits after his return from Pellin, only that he was trying to drown some unknown guilt or sorrow in the wine-cup. He must have fell afoul of an ill vapor those weeks abroad before he descended into madness.
     Your father and I were comrades during our childhood, and later, though we grew apart as our stations in life dictated. Many a time he and his sister Henrietta were to be found in my family orchards, hiding from the beatings they commonly received from your grandfather. In later, happier years she married a woodsman and moved to the forests North of Lartroxia.  After his mother Samara left, Hurst spent more time at my estates than at his own home. Your mother Mara, bless her soul, died in childbed, being delivered of your younger brother, Coen. Caring for an infant was too much for your father in his state of bereavement and your brother went to his aunt Henrietta’s house in the Northern forests.
Months before he passed, Hurst came to me with news of his eminent demise. Alas, I could do nothing, for he would accept nothing from me, only the promise to care for you after he had passed. Alas, he would never be able to redeem your brother Coen. After, when I learned of his death, I went straight away seeking you, but you were not to be found. After you father was laid to rest in the proper manner, I led no small search for you, but to no avail, little Coenraad was gone. Little could I imagine the way in which you would return to me! God be praised! I had given up all hope of your redemption when you stumbled upon me by happenstance. Now you must know the truth of your lineage. You must learn of the honorable family from which you have come, for your grandfather, your namesake; His lordship, Sir Coenraad Van-Der Keigan. Forgive me.        Your  mentor and friend,           Jos Van-Reede


3 DAYS LATER………………………………

Having broken their fast, the three friends are sitting table at the Mariner Meat and Board. They had decided that they would not be welcome back at the Black Eel, their favored hangout, for some time, given the circumstances of their last departure from there. Aiden and Coenraad are patiently waiting for Janos to finish his huge meal. The conversation is casual and as it turns to the upcoming journey, they begin to wonder on the delayed arrival of Talon. After Janos wipes the buttermilk mustachio off of his face with a dingy sleeve, he slams a huge fist down on the table. “Lets go to the ship and see if that scoundrel Talon is waiting on us.” He grumbles. The others agree and after Coenraad pays the tab, they exit eastward down the pier two alley, toward the docks.
Aiden turns at a whisper from another side alleyway to find Talon slinking in the shadows, it lookes as though he had been skulking there in wait for them. Aiden calls for the others, who stop and trot over. “We have been waiting on you, what has kept you?” Aiden questions.
“I was just on my way.” Replies Talon with an avoiding smile. “I was procuring a new ship…a faster ship for our use…follow me.” Talon pulls up his hood and after a look this way and that, he heads southward along the docks.
Janos notices that there seems to be a uneasiness about the place, but he keeps his opinion to himself. Coenraad, on the other hand speaks his mind. “Seems to be a stir among the port authorities.” He says. “I wonder what it is about… Talon?”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Mutters Talon, as he hurriedly turns down a dock, his boots banging on the planks. “Ah…here it is…The Ork. All aboard lads, and be quick about it!” The company boards ORK, a small rakish looking sloop.
Once aboard, a bald man with handlebar mustachios snaps a smart salute to Talon. “All is in readiness sir.” He says.
“Cast off then fool, cast off!”  Talon bellows, stealing a glance back at the docks. He is not the only one to notice that the authorities are swarming down the docks toward their departing sloop. The crew hurriedly casts off the lines and tightens the sail ropes. Wind fills the sails with a pop and the sloop lurches foreward. Once the pier is cleared, the main sail pops taunt in the wind and the Sloop lurches forward.
“Let them catch us now!” Laughs the tattooed first mate from his vantage at the tiller.
The three companions look at each other and shrug. What has Talon gotten them into this time? Coenraad has been watching the docks and comments on the two other ships that are now hurriedly preparing to leave the slips. “Aren’t those official ships?” he asks, pointing back at the docks.
“If by official, you mean Port authority ships, you are right.” Replies Janos, wiping a sleeve across his largish nose. Janos has a fair knowledge of the law in these parts, due to his almost daily avoidance of them at every turn.
Once at sea, The Ork quickly outdistances the two pursuing ships and the regiment becomes the monotonous work of a ship at sea, albeit a small ship. Coenraad and Aiden finally relax a bit, as the two pursuing ships are lost beyond the horizon. “Best we get the truth out of Talon.and soon.” Exclaims Aiden. “I second that”, Says Coenraad. Janos just scowls and rubs one fist into another. They decide to bide their time and questions till that eve.

LATER THAT EVE…IN THE REAR DECKHOUSE…AS A STORM RISES OUTSIDE…

“You call this food!” Exclaims Janos, “You had three days to get us better fare than this!” he tosses the dried loaf to the table and turns his gaze on Talon, who shrugs.
“Normal sea rations my friend.” Talon answers calmly as he swigs from his ale mug.
“I hate sea rations!” Spat Janos. “But at least we have good ale!” He takes a long pull from his mug.
“ Talon,” Interjects Coenraad. “I was wondering…The Ork…whose ship is it?”
“The ORK?” Talon replies. “It’s the ship of that official messenger I was telling you about. The one that gave me the letter.”
“Does he…know we are using it?” Continued Coenraad. Now he was rummaging through the things in the cabin.
“Uh…Sure.” Talon looked a bit embarrassed. He covers it by taking another deep draught and changing the subject. “Its rude going through someone elses things Coenraad.”
“Only if that someone else is alive.” Adds Janos with a smirk.
Coenraad’s search produces a yellow silk ribbon of the kind used to address an official letter. The ribbon says (His Lordship). Coenraad continues looking around the floor, but finds nothing.
The silk reminds Coenraad about his own letter and he produces it with not a little excitement. The others read it in turn, all except Talon, who cannot read. Discussion of the letters contents and its ramifications ensue.
“I never get a break!” Talon mumbles under his breath. The ale seems to be taking hold of the Captain.
The four are surprised as the Mate bursts into the deckhouse. “Capn!” The man yells “We ‘ave a stow-away sir!”
“What’s this!” retorts Talon, shaking off his melancholy thoughts. “Show me this stow-away!”  
Talon marches the length of the ship, following the mate who shows him to a coil of rope on the foredeck, amidst which sits a bald and robed fellow. Talon gestures for the Mate to roust the man from his sitting position.
“He jest sits there Cap’n.” Pleads the mate. “He wont even answer or nuthin.”
 Talon decides to take matters into his own hands and steps forward. “Sir, I am Talon of the two swords, Captain of this sloop. Who are you and what is your business?”
“I am Q’in.” was the only answer.
“Why have you stowed away on my ship?!”
“I have not.”
“No? Then why were you hiding when we left the docks?”
“I sit here in plain sight of all.” Says Q’in.
“Yeah? Then why didn’t anyone in my crew see you?”
“Men see what they desire to see.”
“You are being evasive!” Talon mutters in his rising anger. “Why are you on my ship?”
“As to why…I seek balance. As to this being your ship…that is another matter.”
“Er…Why are you on …this…ship?”
“I was led.” Q’in rises.
“Led?…by what?” Asks Aiden.
“The source of all things leads me. Do you require service for my passage?”
“Require….” Talon thinks it over before continuing. He cannot put into port to be rid of this unwanted passenger, not with the authorities in hot pursuit, nor is he the kind of man to put his guest overboard.  Also, he cannot let this man best him in front of his crew. “You will cook for us to buy your passage.” Talon orders…At least in his own mind.
“Very well…if it is required.” Answers Q’in

LATER, BACK IN THE DECKHOUSE…AS THE STORM CONTINUES TO BUFFET THE SHIP…

Aiden, Janos and Coenraad finally put the captain to the question concerning the Messenger from Prisarte.
Being under the influence of the Ale, Talon has let his guard slip a bit.  “I didn’t kill him!” He sputters.
“Spill it.” Counters Aiden. “We are all friends here.” They had all had at least one run in with the law, and Aiden was sure that their friendships were strong enough to weather another.
“My…my last commission.” Talon holds his cup out with a trembling hand and Q’in refills it. “My last commission was from that messenger from Prisarte. I took him all about the Middle Sea so he could deliver his letters.”
“Where did you take him?” This from Coenraad.
“Many far flung cities.” Answered Talon, followed by another draught from the mug. “First I journeyed to Pellin to pick up the courier, then to Woldann…Ur…Ammuria, then Tresli, Nostoblet…Cough…and finally here, Lartroxia.”  
Coenraad muses on the information before speaking. “Who was the letter really for?” He finally asks.
“I don’t know!” Sputters Talon.
Having served up more stale bread, ale and salt pork to the other four companions, Q’in has pulled a small green globe from his sleeve and seems to be concentrating on it as he caresses it with his hand. A strange glow emanates from the orb.
“What do you know about this courier’s death?” Questions Aiden. “Were you involved?”
Talon mutters incoherently.
“Speak up man!” Bellows Janos, pounding the table with his fist.
“I came aboard and found robbers looting the place.” Sobs Talon. “ I chased them off and it was then that I found his corpse. They had killed him. I knew I would be blamed, being the captain and holding responsibility for his sloop, so I tossed him overboard out in the bay. The letter I claimed for myself, knowing somewhat of its contents. I thought to better my position in life by posing as the man who it was meant for.”
Q’in crosses the deckhouse and pushes a chest aside, then bends over and picks something up from the floor. “Perhaps this is what you seek.” He says, handing the thing to Coenraad.
“What’s this?” Asks Coenraad, looking at the thing. “A piece of yellow silk…Hmmm.” Blazoned across the silk ribbon is a name which Coenraad reads to himself. “Van-Der Kade. The second silk from the letter! That letter was for my enemy!” he hands the silk to Aiden, who reads it also.
Aiden leaps excitedly to his feet. “Coenraad! Don’t you see what this means!”
Coenraad looks on dumbfounded. “Er…what?  It says Van-Der Kade.”
Janos looks at the letter also and grins. Try reading it again.” He says.
Coenraad looks again and reads it aloud this time. “Van-Der Keigan…Hmmm…I’ve heard that name somewhere before…Cant seem to place it.”
“Why…It’s you.” Laughs Aiden, That’s your family name…from your letter!”
“Oh.” Replies Coenraad, a little embarrassed. Then it sunk in. “Then Talon’s letter was really for me!”
“DOH!” This from Janos.
After retrieving Talons supposed summons from him, they re-read it along with Coenraads and discuss them further, trying to delve into the mystery of the summons.
Aiden doesn’t know anyone named Henrietta, Coenraad’s aunt, in the surrounding countryside and Coen is a common name. Other than the information in the letter, nothing is known about Coenraad’s lineage, though stories abound about the mad knight Van-Der Keigan.
And so passes the first night asea.

Chapter 3: Land-lubbers Luck.

Day 2 upon the bay sees little but the storm and seasickness among the landlubbers. Q’in sits in the fore, staring off to the south and caressing his orb, seemingly oblivious to the  rain hammering down. Talon is of course on deck, barking commands and captaining the Ork as only a seasoned man of the sea can.  
Day 3 is little better. Talon assures them that they are ahead of the storm, a Nor’ Easterner he calls it. They will surely outrun it if their luck holds. Later in the day, they note a creaking sound in the fog.Talon steers in that direction, much to the discomfort of his friends, who think it lunacy. Janos even threatens him with physical harm if he doesn’t turn aside. Talon quotes a portion of the code of the sea, wherein he feels obligated to offer his help to another ship if they are in trouble. They find nothing in the fog.
Day 4 finds the ork leaving the relative safety of the bay and heading out into the open sea. The storm has fallen behind them and they venture over the Sorn Ellyn, the deepest abyss in the sea where ancient beings known as the Scylredi are known to exist. Whilst scanning the sea, Aiden notices a strangely bufanoid head bobbing in the waves. After a bit of looking, Coenraad makes it out also. Later, a droning noise can be heard and lights can be seen below the waves. The bobbing head is joined by another and Aiden asks a sailor about it. The sailor Kisses his luck charm  and tells Aiden that the heads belong to the accursed Children of Zenovia.
After further questioning from Aiden and charm kissing from the sailor the story unfolds. The children of Zenovia first appeared after princess Zenovia of Prisarte disappeared 50 years ago, or so the legends say, so they were named as her daughters. Coenraad and Aiden deem this to be one of the many superstitions of the sailors, for there are many life forms unknown to man moving in the sea, land and air. Man is but a youngling on this planet and the world is covered with the prehuman ruins of ancient beings, one need only look about. Q’in says…matter-o-factly.. that the sounds and lights are not the source of the imbalance.
Day 2 on the open sea. More puking and seasickness, especially from Janos, who stays in the cabin most of the time, otherwise naught but the tediousness of a ship at sea, though Aiden keeps a sharp eye and ear out for more undersea strangeness.
The third morn brings a cry of “LAND HO!” as a coastline is spotted to the south and west. The morning progresses and the craggy coastline rises on the horizon.  The sail of a large ship can be seen putting out of a sheltered cove. As the ship approaches, sharp-eyed Aiden makes it to be a galley with one square sail and two banks of oars. Talon knows this to be a bireme, a warship, and furrows his brow in contemplation. Talon asks Aiden if he can see the colors that the warship is flying and Aiden adds that the royal colors of Sargossa flap above the mast.  Talon heads for the approaching ship and calls for his crewman to look smart and run up his colors as well. The crew unfurls a crimson flag with two crossed swords and quickly run it aloft.
After they come alongside the huge warship that towers above their sloop, the sailors tie up to it using the ropes that are tossed to them by the few marines aboard the galley. Soon after, a gangplank drops down and a well dressed fellow steps across to the Ork. “I am Merganae’ steward of Effrell Sargossa, Queen of the middle sea and protector of the isles…er…where is courier Fabrege’?” he asks after a look about.
“I am captain of this ship.” Answers Talon, swaggering across the deck. “The courier was slain, but not before his missive was delivered.”  Janos and Aiden give each other…‘the look’
 “Well then,” Says the steward, clearing his throat as he leafs through the document he pulls from his satchel. “I seek the lord Van Der-Keigan….is he aboard?”
“I am…Van-Der Keigan.” Says Coenraad, stepping forward.” He is loath to use the title LORD in his name as of yet.
The steward looks him up and down before raising an eyebrow in distaste of Coenraad’s attire. “Do you bear the summoning?” he asks, a bit snobbishly.
Coenraad produces the letter and hands it to the man who looks it over, nods, then hands it back. “It seems to be in order… my lord. Please accompany me aboard her majesties ship, she is waiting.” The man turns and pads back up the gangplank. As Coenraad, Aiden, Janos and Q’in head for the plank, the steward spins and clears his throat. “Ahem…The queen wishes only m’lord Van-Der Keigan to accompany us, your lackeys may follow in the small ship, or perhaps …stay in town.”
Coenraad thinks quickly.  “My…servants shall accompany me.” He says. “I go no where without them.”
“This is highly irregular!” Huffs the Steward. “Her majesty was specific!” But when he sees the set of Coenraad’s jaw and the determination in his eye, the steward relents. “Perhaps she was not as specific as I assumed.” He indicates the gap in the railing where the gangplank attaches.
Coenraad motions for the others and they follow aboard. All except Talon that it, he stays with the Ork. Actually, Talon is relieved that the official doesn’t impound the ship, being that the ship is Pellinese and the Steward met Talon when he left Pellin with the courier to deliver the six letters a few months back. Perhaps the steward didn’t recognize the ship or its captain. Talon wipes the sweat from his brow and commands his crew to cast off the lines from the bireme.
As they get underway, Coenraad ascends the forecastle and takes up a position next the steward. From this position, he launches into a series of questions about Efrell and the summons which soon annoy the royal Steward  “Do you know anything about this summons?” he asks.
“No,” came the curt reply. “And I would not speak of her majesties business to another else wise.”
 “How did you know we were coming today?” asks Coenraad.
“We have been awaiting your arrival for three weeks now.” Came the measured reply. “ There is a sheltered bay just there.” He points to the shoreline whence the bireme came.
 As they come nearer the Isle, its crags and cliffs looming above, Coenraad notices an overabundance of flotsam in the water and brings it to the Stewards attention.
“Tis the wreckage of ships… m’lord… remains from the civil war that has raged these past 40 years. Till Effrell came into her inheritance.”
“Civil war?”
“When King Vladislav Sargossa, bless his divine soul, died and left no heir, the barons fought over the throne for 40 years. It was a bloody time…Then our beloved Efrell came from hiding to claim the throne.  
The burnt out hull of a ship appears through the fog over the starboard rail. The wreck floats ominously; its lifeless hulk beckoning to any would be passersby. Talon, of course, cannot resist and the Ork veers away from following the Bireme, changing course to intercept the hulk. The others watch Talons progress and wonder at his interest in the ship. The bireme sails on; oars out of the question, being that the galley is undermanned. Soon, The Ork and the wreck fall from sight as the Bireme rounds a bend and continues westward.
With Coenraad and the steward engaged in conversation and Q’in ignoring everything except his globe, Janos and Aiden lean on the starboard railing amongst the shipped oars and scan the shoreline. To the west, the late afternoon sun falls on a rocky outcrop that rises up ominously into the sky. Aiden keeps an eye on it as they sail along. “Is that a castle?” He wonders, when they come closer. Once they are near enough, his own eyes answer that question.
A black mountain of basalt juts from the shoreline seeming to grasp for the sky with the strangely wrought spires and fortifications that top top its utmost heights. It seemed to grow from the very roots of the crag and to be one with the mountain itself. Where castle begun and mountain ended could not be discerned. Down below the cliffs, to the north-east, a fortified town sat back from docks that jutted into the bay formed by the encircling arm of the crag. Aiden’s eye was drawn to the alien architecture of the ebon fortress while Janos focused his attention on the town below it, wondering, as was common for him, at his chances of mischief.
Coenraad pointed to the Black Keep and commented to the steward. “That is a strange sight.” He said. “I have never seen it’s like.”
“Tis the Neh Gegh.” Replied the Steward. “The ancient stronghold of The Lords of Pellin. That is where we are bound. T’is the  ancestral home of the house of Sargossa.”
As the town comes into better view,  Janos notes that scant few ships can be seen in the slips and that they seem to be docked dangerously close to the town. Why are they not at deep anchor in the bay this close to nightfall? he wonders. He brings this to Aidens attention and the sharp-eyed ranger surveys the docks and the town. The docks and town of Prisarte seem deserted, for Aiden can see no one about the place. The civil wars that the Steward talked about must have reduced the population dramatically, he surmises.
“Your friend returns.” Q’in interjects, startling the two from their contemplation. They had not heard him come up. The silent way the small man moved was quite disconcerting at times.
They look aft to see the Ork coming up fast.   Aiden notes that a black flag now flew flies from the masthead. Just then, a bell rings and the scant crew ready the lines as they angle toward a dock that is quickly approaching. Jumping to the slip, the practiced crew quickly make the ship fast and lay the gangplank down. The Steward goes ashore and hurries to the portcullis that guards a carven opening in the black wall. He whispers the password to the waiting guard and the iron grates upward with a sound to chill the bones. Coenraad, Aiden, Janos and Q’in follow the Steward as the iron grate slams down behind them.
The Passage bores its way into the darkness, illuminated only by the lantern of the steward as they follow him into the very bowels of the mountain. Merganae’ stops at an iron gate, whispering a password to the guard stationed on the other side. The soldier opens the grate with a rusty squeal to allow all to pass. He then slams it behind them as they continue on. Ahead, begins a staircase carved from the rock of the floor itself. Here and there as they ascend, an embrasure in the wall illuminates the staircase that winds its way upward.
The steward pauses at intermittent iron gates that block the way, giving the password each time, and each time they pass through, the black iron portals locking behind them. Aiden determines that they have climbed to a height of 300 feet above the level of the sea when they come to a pair of large oak doors.
The steward opens the doors and leads the four into the anteroom beyond. The smallish room, also carved from the rock, is perfectly square with 10-foot ceilings and has a door on each wall. An old man sits smoking a pipe in the only chair. “I will inform her Majesty that you have arrived.” Merganae’ announces. “A chambermaid will soon show you to your rooms. Excuse me.” He leaves through the opposite door.
Jingling bells draw their attention and they all turn to see another man enter. He is smallish and dressed all in green, with a pointed hat and belled shoes. He looks the party up and down, grins and pads up to Coenraad. “I Nomed.” He laughs, then points to Coenraad. “You Van-Der Keigan.” A silly grin crosses his face and he hurries from the room. The old man in the chair speaks to the group ere the maid arrives, telling them that he has served the royal family for many years and that his father was quite close to the princess Zenovia who disappeared some time back.  He also knows all the secret ways of the Neh Gegh.
 Just then, the Chambermaid arrives and clears her throat. She wrinkles her brow as she takes in the four guests. “If you will follow me sirs.” She says, inclining her head. “I will show you to your rooms.” Through winding passages and strangely shaped hallways the 4 are led, up and down small flights of steps as they progress. The place is strangely empty and they see no other living soul as they walk along. The castle seems to be totally carved from the black basalt of the crag. They cross through a small door to another hallway that has six doors set in its length and two larger ones at the ends. “Your room is this one.” The maid indicates the second door on the right. “Your servants can stay with you or I can lead them to other quarters.”
“Here will be fine.” Answers Coenraad.
Janos opens the door cautiously, finding a sparsely furnished room with one bed, a chest of drawers and a table with laver and pitcher. He motions for the others to wait and gives the room a quick inspection for traps and such… finding none, he gives the thumbs up to Coenraad.
“You may entertain yourself with the other guests, M’lord.” The maid adds, “They occupy the common room at the end of the hall.” She indicates the large door next to the arch they entered through.
“Thank you miss.” Coenraad says. Everyone deposits their scant few possessions around the room and then head for the common room.
Q’in opens the door, looks in and steps back to allow Janos admittance, but before the large man can step through the door, he is halted by the servant beyond. “Only M’lord Van-Der Keigan can enter here.” The man says. “All underlings can use the room opposite for their entertainment. Coenraad grins sheepishly at his fellows before stepping through the door into the room beyond. Janos and Aiden look at each other, shrug and head for the ‘underlings’ common room.  Q’in takes up a position next the common room door where in Coenraad has disappeared and withdraws his globe for consideration.
No one is in the servants common room and it’s precious few furnishings look to be unused for quite some time. “I’m starving!” Janos declares with a wry grin. “Lets find and raid the kitchens of this place. This fortress deserves a look around I’ll warrant.” Aiden agrees and they head off on their little expedition.
Back in the common room with the guests: “Ahhh…our final guest arrives at last.” Begins a fellow dressed in brown robes. “I am father Armand of Waldann, who would you be, then.” Coenraad asks the Serving man for some food, and after the man scampers off after it, Coenraad introduces himself and asks after the names and trades of the other guests.
“Well, as I have already stated, I am father Armand of Waldann, priest of the one true source and future confessor of her majesty Effrell of the house of Sargossa…I am at your service.” He inclines his head humbly.
“And I,” Interjects another man dressed all in black. “I am Lianor of Pellin, I deal in…information…the extracting of it if you will.” He grins with yellow teeth. Coenraad looks to the next man as if to question him.
“And I?… Councilor Pascali Tresli of Jadenbul,” The man says through bridged fingers “I am pleased to make your acquaintance honorable sir. Her majesty has asked me to come and offer my unbiased council while she establishes her new dynasty, here in the Thovnosian Isles.  
“The next man leaps to his feet, sweeps off his outrageous feathered cap and bows with a flamboyant gesture. “Her Majesty the renowned and beautiful Efrell Sargossa, May she live forever, has searched the world to find the most renowned bard in the land, and in me she has found him.” He flips his hat into the air where it twirls about before landing back on his head. “Wellen, minstrel extraordinaire and entertainer of Wellan, at your service.” He refills his wine cup from the pitcher on the table before sitting down.
“I….I am Xavier of Nosteblet” The man is dressed in drab clothes. He fails to meet Coenraad’s eye as he speaks. “Historian and scribe. I…I have been invited to take charge of her majesties archives… They are in great disarray it seems.” The man acts like a whipped cur, afraid of his own shadow.
The serving man returns with a tray of foodstuffs and sets  them out on the table, he then speaks. “Her Majesties daughter Effrelia has arrived, therefore, Her Supreme Highness Effrell Sargossa desires you all to  present yourselves at a grand state dinner to be held in you honor on the morrow… Please wear the trappings of your respective offices.  After the serving man leaves, the guests help themselves to the food and continue in their conversations.
 A time comes when Coenraad and Councilor Pascalli are the only two remaining, the others having retired to their quarters for the night. The councilor drains the dregs of his wine cup, yawns and rises stiffly to his feet. “Well my friend, I am to weary to continue our conversation this eve…perhaps tomorrow?” Coenraad nods and comes to his feet also. “Tomorrow then…” Offers Pascalli. He turns and plods back to his room. Coenraad goes to his quarters also, followed by Q’in who leaves his station at the door and takes up a new one outside Coenraads room. Coenraad is exhausted and lies on the comfortable bed. Though he wishes to wait on his friends return, he slowly drops off into a dreamless slumber.
Back in the halls: Hours have passed as Janos and Aiden become hopelessly lost in the myriad of twisting passages and weird chambers of the castle. As they rest in an alcove and discuss their dilemma, jingling bells alert them to the approach of the little man. After the tinkling fades a bit, they peer out to see Nomed the dwarf skip up to a moldering tapestry down the hall and abruptly disappear behind it. Janos and Aiden look at each other with widening eyes and wait for a few breathless minutes ere exiting their alcove and stealing up to the tapestry. Aiden listens for a moment and hearing nothing, nods to Janos who pulls the tapestry aside to reveal a tunnel which goes for a dozen feet before branching to left and right. No light can be seen in the passage and nothing reveals the way the little man went.
Aiden Grabs a lantern from one of the recessed niches and the two creep into the passage, the darkness enfolding them as the tapestry falls back into place behind. To the right, the passage angles downward and smells musty. They decide on the leftward passage that angles up slightly and the air seems fresher. The passageway winds hither and yon, its darkness all-encompassing. Janos notices a disturbance to the open flame of the lantern he is holding and after a little trial and error; he finds the peephole in the wall that leads into Coenraads room. Upon further inspection, he finds peepholes into all the guests’ rooms. The passage continues on into the darkness and they decide to continue onward. After a few bends, the path ends at a blank wall. Janos searches for a catch, and finding it, eases the secret door open. Silence greets him from the room beyond, so he opens the door further and peers into the room.
A grandly decorated bedroom greets him, its rich appointments seemingly out of place compared to the precious few furnishings they have seen up to now. The room is femininely decorated. Colorful carpets of light blues and greens warm the otherwise cold expanse of floor and translucent curtains spill over windows set in the three outer walls of the room. A huge bed squats in the center of the room, its green silk draperies cascading down from the gilt framework of the canopy. A wardrobe and table sit against the left wall.
The bedroom door opens suddenly and they quickly close the door to a crack, peering through to see a maid, turning down the bed. After she leaves, Janos reopens the door to take a closer look at the place. Against Aidens protestations, he steps into the room to have a look, his rogues mind taking control. He strolls up to the chest next the bed and scans it. A picture sits nestled among the jars of cosmetics ,vials of perfume and dainty trinkets  that sit in seeming disarray on the mirrored chest. Janos picks up the portrait of the beautiful woman who seems to stare back at him with green eyes of the deepest emerald hue. “She is a beauty!” He says as he shows the painting to Aiden. Janos grins and sets the picture back down, making a few pelvic thrusts in the process.
Aiden finally enters and goes to the window to have a look out. They seem to be in the highest tower of the place, perched far above the sea. He pads to the main bedroom door, listens, then peers out. No one is in the hall beyond. He closes the door and signals the (All clear) to Janos. Suddenly, a section of the wall between the main door and the secret door begins to swing inward. Aiden, who is still poised by the main door, swings it open, leaping through, and quickly closes it behind.  Janos, caught flat-footed, dives under the bed.
From his vantage below the bed skirts, Janos sees two tiny-belled slippers pad across the floor and hears the incessant and annoying humming of the dwarf named Nomed. He grits his teeth and resists the temptation to slay the little fellow, instead, he holds his breath, hoping the little gnome does not discover his presence. Nomed, ignorant of the large man hiding under the bed, skips to the part of the wall where the first secret door abides and fondles the stonework there. The secret door swings inward and the gnome disappears through it. The place is riddled with secret doors and honeycombed with passages.
 Janos smiles to himself…he always liked an adventure…especially if a little danger was involved. After a dozen minutes of tense anticipation, Janos slides from under the bed and pads to the hiding place of Aiden, opening it and motioning him into the room. Janos leads the way to the second secret passage and after feeling around the stonework a bit, finds the catch and throws it. The secret door clicks open and they peer into the dark passageway which slopes downward past a door set in the wall to the left. Janos step through followed by Aiden, who closes the secret door behind them. They creep to the door on the left and after first peering down the dark passage beyond, Aiden opens the door and looks in.
The room reeks with the stench of evil, for it is a sorcerer’s sanctorum. In one corner, a large green globe sits atop a stand made of human skulls. A large bookcase sits against the back wall, its shelves jammed with alembics and beakers, moldering bones and tomes bound in the skins of unknown creatures.  A low rickety table squats in the center of the room. On the table, Inkpots of dubious origin hold open scrolls that appear to be made from flayed human skin. Aiden and Janos gaze in wide-eyed horror at the atrocity of it all.
One stack of pages draws Aiden’s attention and he gingerly picks them from under a red-filled inkpot to look at them. Janos opposes the idea and wants to torch the place. Aiden forestalls the inferno and scans the pages. On the first leaflet is a six-pointed star formed of two interwoven rectangles, one white, and one dark. At each point is written a descriptive. Aiden notices that the words written on the points opposite each others are also opposing descriptives:  WISE MAN / FOOL, HOLY MAN / EVIL MAN,  BRAVE MAN / COWARD
Aidens study is interrupted as Janos hisses a warning, they draw swords as the sound of wet feet is heard slapping in the outer tunnel. As they wait with held breaths, hidden as best as they can be in the little room, a froglike creature standing and walking as a man passes their hiding place and plods up to the secret door into the royal bedroom. A rancid, wet smell permeates the room as the thing claws at the bedroom door for a time, croaking in its amphibious voice ere turning to head back down the tunnel past the two hidden comrades.
Janos goes to the tunnel and looks down it after the thing, soon signaling the all clear to Aiden who returns to his scrutiny of the scrolls. The second leaflet has upon it three lines of unreadable elder glyphs printed in what appears to be squid ink, and written in human blood across those glyphs are names…the names of the six guests and their ancestors, paired in twos.
Aiden hands the first two pages to Janos to inspect and looks at the third. The third page holds another six-pointed star with more writing. On the topmost point, written in ancient dried blood over the picture of a woman,  Zenovia of Prisarte. Opposite this name, some strange elder glyphs and the barely discernable icon of a triton.
The name Nomed appears with the picture of a goat in the lower left and across from it, another unreadable glyph next a depiction of a star field. The upper left holds yet more glyphs and the image of a planet. Across from this planet in the lower right hand corner dance two children…no writing appears here.
The forth page holds three more lines of symbols, overwritten with words in blood. Over the upper line is written…Dead woman who lives…Over the second appears Damned soul who cannot die…the third line has no over writing. What other evil secrets does this black keep hold? Aiden wonders.
Janos has been searching for something that will burn, for he has decided to fire this sorcerer’s lair. Having found some vitreous fluid, he has stuffed a moldering rag into the jar and lit it.  Just then, they hear the opening of the secret door and they take positions opposite the doorway. The jingling and humming of Nomed echoes into the room…then stops. They hear an “UGH….HUH…UMMMM!” from Nomed, then he scampers back through the secret door. Just then Janos slaps his forehead in surprised understanding. “We’ve been made Aiden!” He hisses. “We left the door open!…and he can could probally smell this burning rag too…after him!”  Janos leads the way, tossing his flaming cocktail behind him into the room as he sprints for the secret door.
As they barrel through the door, Janos sees the dwarf disappear through the other secret door on the other side of the bedroom. Janos and Aiden tear in hot pursuit, intent on catching the evil malefactor.

[Wraith]

Chapter 4: Get That Dwarf!

Nomed dances ahead into the darkness, fast and agile for one of his size. Aiden and Janos slow up, indecision stifling their reaction. After a quick discussion, they decide to continue after the little man and race ahead into the darkness, Aiden leading with their only lantern. They just catch a glimpse of the fellow as he veers off into an angling passage that they failed to see when traveling the tunnel the other direction. The narrow passage curves around to the leftward before straightening again. Ahead, the main passage slopes downward and becomes slippery with slime. On the right hand wall, a thin, natural outcrop ascends 10 feet to a small cave mouth in the wall above. Nomed is peering from this grotto, the lantern light reflecting from his small, black eyes.
Without the slightest hesitation, Aiden draws and looses.  Nomed tries to dodge the missile and the arrow only nicks him in the side. The dwarf laughs, and putting a hand to his lips, grunts a series of syllables in an unrecognizably alien tongue. Aiden and Janos shiver and look at each other, each wondering at the strange groaning call.
In one swift motion, Aiden draws and looses a second arrow, this one skewers the little gnome through the side. Nomed shrieks, his hand going to the protruding arrow, which he yanks from his side with another howl. He then disappears into the little cave.
“I’m going after that scoundrel!” decides Aiden. He proceeds up the narrow shelf, lantern in hand, watching the opening as he ascends.
As Janos watches the progress of Aiden up the ledge, a faint croak echoes from the dark passage behind and he spins to listen, swords whipping from oiled leather. The croaking rises in volume and Janos calls to his comrade upon the ledge. “Aiden, I think we are going to have company!”
The first of the creatures, the same seen in the sea on their voyage to the Isle, rounds the corner and leaps at Janos, who skewers him with his ready steel. Then, boiling around the corner, hundreds of the frog-faced creatures come, intent on their prey. Janos confronts the amphibious monstrosities with bare steel, skewering the first one and hacking the second one aside. A wall of the rubbery things slowly builds in front of Janos as he fights them, the creatures piling atop one another, intent on getting their claws and coarse weapons within reach of their prey. “Get that Gnome!” he shouts to Aiden. “I can keep these beasts off for a time.”
Aiden gets to the cave and peers in as best as he can from that angle. Getting to his knees, he holds the lantern high and edges forward for a better look. Down below, Janos backs up the ledge, slowly, for the stone is crumbling beneath his boots and he does not have the light foot of the ranger.
Lantern to the fore, Aiden leans farther into the cavern and peers into the gloom. Pressed against the back wall, the gnome holds his side and whimpers. The whimpers turn to chuckles as the face of the gnome takes on an eerie cast. Aiden cringes in horror as the gnome’s childlike face grins with broken, yellowed teeth, them morphs into that of a demon, leaping forth at him! The ranger throws himself back from the cave entrance, slipping from the ledge as he does and falls down to the passage below. Luck is with him though and he retains the lantern. As he tries to gain a sound foothold, he falls on the slippery floor, for the down-sloping passage is slick with slime. He tries for a moment to stop his decent, then calls for Janos.
Janos is quite busy at the moment and cannot spare a look at his comrade, but in the face of soon to be overwhelming odds, he decides to join him. Leaping from the ledge to the passage below, he slips from his feet in the muck and slides downward also. The creatures plod to the edge and watch with the large black eyes of their on emotionless faces, as the two slide off into the darkness. The slope is not long and the two come to a stop at the bottom, hurriedly coming to their feet, weapons at the ready. Up the slope, the frogmen look on but do not come down themselves…strange.

Meanwhile, high above in the citadel of Neh Gegh: Coenraad awakens and looks about. As he rises, he notices a twitch of pain in his armpit. Upon examination, he finds a prick, perhaps a bite under his arm. He wrinkles his brows in thought, and then exits the room to find Q’in standing vigil outside the door, rubbing his orb as always. “The source of imbalance is close.” Says Q’in.
Coenraad pads to the salon where he finds the maid and the old man from the main hallway. “I seem to have lost my attendants” He says.
“Perhaps they went to the kitchens.” Replies the maid, it is well past breakfast time, my lord.”
“Could you direct me to the kitchens?” Asks Coenraad.
“Certainly.” The maids reply is followed by a long string of indecipherable directions.
Coenraad is frustrated by the long list and asks the old man for help. “Old father, could you lead me to the kitchens?”
“Eh? Sure sonny,” Replies the old man. “I might have to rest now again though, tis’ a long way and these bones are getting old.”
“Where is everyone else?” Coenraad asks.
“Back to their rooms after breakfast I suppose.” Replies the old man.
Coenraad goes to the first room and knocks. Father Armand answers his knock. “Yes…Oh Coenraad, do come in.” After Coenraad enters, the priest questions him. “What can I do for you?”
“Did you sleep ok?” Asks Coenraad.
“I slept wonderfully…never better…Why?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“You did drink quite a bit of that Maderian wine last night…it packs a punch it does…of course I refrained, being a priest and all.”
“What do you make of this?” Asks Coenraad. Pulling up his shirt, he shows the prick in his armpit.
“The priest squints. “Yep, same thing happened to me two weeks ago when I arrived…vermin no doubt infest this old place.”
Coenraad scratches his chin ere bidding the priest farewell “I’m off to the kitchens for some food.” He says, then he leaves the room.
“I’m ready to go now,” he says to the old fellow. “Lead on”
“Sure thing sonny…foller me.” The old man limps off down the hall.
Coenraad decides to use the time to question the old gent about the place and it’s inhabitants.
“What can you tell me about this place.” He asks.
“Eh?…The Neh Gegh?…Tis my home….what do you wish to know sonny?
“Seems to be a strange place.” Says Coenraad.
“Indeed. I know every nook and crannie of this place. I grew up here playing in the passages and exploring the cellars and secret places of The Neh-Gegh.”  
“You grew up here?”
“Yep…I have lived here for 85 years now…probably even before your daddy was born.”
“How old is this place?”.
“Well sir…the lowest and oldest passages are round and worn and older than time itself I recon.”
“Round lower passages?”
“Yep…all but the highest peaks of the Neh-Gegh used to be under water…many centuries ago…and you know what water does to stone.”
“Underwater, grandfather?”
“Yessiree Sonny…Tis said twas once the stronghold of the Scylredi, afore the oceans receded and them elder ones retreated to the bottomless depths of the Sorn-Ellyn. I believe them rumors to be true too, given the things I seen in the depths of this here place.”
“What kinds of things”
“Runes, strange machineries, furniture’s not made for men and the like, and even…” The old fellow looks around, as if to see if anyone else is about.
“Even what?” Asks Coenraad.
“Sometimes…in the lower passages…I seen the children of Zenovia wandering about, they been growing bold as of late. Well here are the kitchens as I promised sonny. Sure to be some food still about.”
Coenraad sits at a table as the cook comes up.
“What will it be sir…we got eggs and meat this morning.”
Coenraad eyes the eggs  and meat dubiously before passing on them.
“What? You don’t like snake eggs and pigeon?” Asks the cook.

BELOW, IN THE DEPTHS OF THE KEEP:

 Downward into the bowels of the castle Janos and Aiden travel and downward, the passages becoming more rounded as they go. Finally, to end in a cavern that has a pool of water in it. Sunlight shines through fissures in the walls on the other side of the pool. Aiden works his way around and peers out of the clefts. He sees the town through the holes and a pool also outside. He surmises that they can swim under and come up in the pool outside.
Janos seems dubious, so Aiden jumps in and swims under the ledge to come up outside. No one is there so he calls out to Janos through one of the cracks. Janos soon joins him outside.
“I saw no bottom to that pool.” Said Janos, shaking water from his hair. “The sunlight disappears the depths.”
“Its salt water too.” Added Aiden.
“The pool must connect to the sea then…Mayhap this is where the frog men are coming from…”
“Maybe.” Answers Aiden. “I see no one about.” He pads to the nearest building and around it, senses and muscles tensed.
No one is about and the two explore a bit, still finding no one.  What they do find sends chills up their spines. Human remains that seem to have been eaten upon...and bones…human bones…. piled up against a building.
“This looks bad.” Says Aiden. “Deserted town…piles of human bones…maybe a shrine from the look of it…frogs in the Fortress…fresh human remains here abouts…and Coenraad still in there…what could be worse?”
“Well there is the good news.” Adds Janos.
“Good news?” Questions Aiden. “And what would that be?”
Janos laughs…“ALL THE SHOPS ARE OPEN!”

ABOVE IN THE NEH-GEGH:

A page enters the kitchen and addresses Coenraad. “Sir, the queen will sit court now. Please dress for occasion and I will lead you to the throne room.”
“Certainly.” Replies Coenraad. He follows the page back to his room and having nothing better to wear, washes up and pats his clothes into a semblance of order.”
After a time the page returns to lead the six through the labyrinthine passages in answer to Queen Efrell Sargossa’s summons. As they traverse the main hall to the throne room, a scream can be heard from a side door and a maid enters carrying white towels and a steaming pot of water. Coenraad wonders at the sounds of agony, but follows the other guests through carven doors into the throne room.
At one end of the long room sits a raised dias and throne. Below, tables are set with a sumptuous feast and six chairs await the guests. Nametags determine the seating; therefore, all seat themselves in the appointed places. Another shriek comes from the hall and Coenraad rushes to see what is the matter. He is told that the Princess Effrellia is giving birth. He returns to the feast hall and seats himself again.
Opposite Coenraad, on the wall hangs a large, black veil draped picture. From beneath one side of the veil, a beautiful sea green eye painted with perfect artistry peers out. They sit wondering for a time until a page enters from a door aside the throne and announces; “All rise for her majesty Efrell Sargossa, Monarch of the Middle Sea, Patron of the Isles, and Protector of the Sacred Mysteries of Thovnosia. The six guests rise as the queen enters and seats herself, adjusting her gossamer attire as she does.
The queen of Thovnosia is covered from head to foot in lace of the darkest ebony. Even her lower face is covered with a veil. Only her slim fingered hands and eyes can be seen. She seems to ignore the guests as she picks over the food at a table aside the throne. After picking at the food for a spell, she whispers to the page who then announces that the guests can begin eating. A not too good minstrel picks at his harp and sings a song or two. Everyone digs into the sumptuous food, except Coenraad, who only picks at it and doesn’t touch his drink.
Soon, Efrell begins calling out the names and lineages of the guests and they approach, each in turn to receive her hand and accolades.
When Coenraad is before the queen, he goes to one knee before her and inclines his head slightly, though he keeps his eyes on the queen’s veiled face.
“Coenraad son of Hurst Son of Sir Coenraad Van-Der Keigan of Lartroxia”  Queen Effrell says in her breathy, magical voice. She then extends her slender hand to him.
Coenraad gently accepts the outstretched hand, brushing the long, feminine fingers with his lips. “My queen.” He drones.
“Welcome.” She says Laughing and clapping her hands in a childlike way.
Coenraad brashly questions Effrell when he is before her. “May I ask why you wear the black garments, my.” He asks.
She smiles at his uncourtly ways ere answering. “You may. It is a tradition to wear black as a symbol of mourning on this day” She replies. “For the lost princess Zenovia.” It is then that Coenraad notices that she has the most beautiful pair of green eyes he has ever seen.
Another shriek resounds through the hall. After looking in the direction of the door, Coenraad returns his gaze to Efrell and asks. “Your daughter is in pain, Is there nothing you can do?”
“You overstep yourself my dear Coenraad. Women have been having children for millennia, tis the natural way of things. She is in good hands with the midwives.”
 “Forgive me.” Apologizes Coenraad.
“Tis a trifle.” She says,” But you must learn your place in the future.” Then she dismisses him with a gesture. Coenraad returns to his seat, blushing at his own coarseness in comparison to the court-savvy of the other guests.
The queen asks Lianor the minstrel to grace them with a song and he ascents. After a moment of flourishes and gaudy embellishment of his skills and talents, he plucks a few notes on his lute and begins his ballad.

NOT A FEW SONGS LATER:

  Lianor turns to Wellen minstrel and asks with an evil grin. “I heard a song about the princess Zenovia once…was an eerie ditty… The lament of Zenovia I think it was called …do you know it?”
Wellan grinds his teeth, “Yes I know it,” He says after a moment. I don’t think this is the place to sing it though, given the present company, that is”
“What? The queen? Well let’s ask her.” Blurts Lianor. He motions to the page and asks him to relay the message to the queen, which he does. The queen ascents, and looks up to hear this song.
Wellen twangs his lute once more ere setting it aside, then begins the lament in a song that has all present fixed in rapt attention…

‘Pon topmost spire of  black Neh-Geh, there dwelt a lovely maid., The brightest flower, the rarest jewel, shown dim in Zenovia’s hand.
Her fathers Keep stood ‘pon those crags, great was his wealth of gold, But the choicest treasure in the isles, was the heart of fair Zenovia.
Then came brash suitors to her door, six bright and bold young men, Said they had come to win the hand of the princess Zenovia.
Sirs don’t think me cruel, she said,  but I love another youth, He must be gone for 7 long years to study in a hidden school.
And when she told them the suitors laughed, you beauty is not for him- “Choose instead one of our band, and not some wizardly fool.”
 ‘Pon ship came her lover in a cloak of grey, returning from that school,  Said “I’ve been gone 7 years, now I’ve returned for Zenovia’s hand.”
“Oh No” the suitors swore. “You’ll not steal our prize.”, With cruel knives they would take Zenovia’s life and the life of the young man after.
 To a mast he was tied with knotted rope, and made to watch their work, Then Zenovias clothes they tore  away and exposed her to the world.
First her maidenhood they robbed and said she is not fit to love, and with knives they cut away her face and said she is not fit to behold.
Then they remembered her sorcerous ways and decided what must be done, She’ll not curse us they cried in fear as  they cut out her tongue
She’ll  not cast spells on us said another so they cut off her hands, Nor seek to follow after us and they cut off her feet.
But they left her her eyes so she could see what they did to her lover,   And they left her ears so she could hear his screams.
Then after they offered the lovers to the  deep and dark blue se,  And the bottomless Sorn Ellyn embraced the pair, for eternity
Six young men rowed back to shore, their thoughts far from those waves,  But death will give up the guilty on year 7 times 7 that day

BUT BELOW, IN THE CITY:

 Janos and Aiden make their way to the market district, weapons at the ready as they go. No sea creatures accost them, nor are any townsfolk seen. They make a quick search of the armory, hoping to upgrade their weapons at no expense, but the quality of the weaponry is low, though Aiden finds a passable quiver of arrows. As they approach the next shop, they hear a noise at the hostel across the road and approach to investigate. Men they find and those not unknown to them, for it is no other than Talon and the remnants of his crew.
Talon sits at a table with his feet propped up, taking a long pull from from a brimming flagon. He looks over at the commotion and leaps to his feet , spilling dark ale as he does.  “HO JANOS!…AIDEN!…”He yells. “Well met!” He claps the two across their backs in friendship, and then looks past them ere continuing. “Where are Coenraad and that Q’in fellow?”
 “Still back in that black fortress yonder.” Replies Aiden.
“Well no matter, Ha! ….I thought you all dead!”
“Not yet.” Says Janos.
“Well, Have I got a tale for you!” Continues Talon excitedly.
“Tell us your tale then.” Says Aiden, looking around for a stool.
“Well, I was following you after you all got aboard that galley, when I espied the burned out hulk of a ship that I thought I recognized and steered for it. It was the ship I thought it was, the Maximillian, a ship whose captain I was acquainted with from darker days…AHEM..We boarded her to find none alive but the captain, and him raving mad…there he is over there.” Talon points to a ragged looking fellow with empty eyes and a wild look about him. “Well, that ship was clawed to pieces, and we found not a few corpses of them frog men, so we hurried after you with the black flag of danger flying from the mast.
As Aiden is listening, he looks the mad captain over. He notices a rolled parchment among the fellow’s rags. He rises, and casually moves to the mad captains side, intent on acquiring the leaflets of paper.
“We hurried after you.” Continued the story of Talon. “But you went into the fortress before we could get there and the guards refused us entry.”
“Then what?” asked Janos ere taking a swig from the ale flagon one of the sailors had brought to him.
“What else? We came to the town to wait for you…and found it nigh deserted. We looked for survivors and found a few huddled in the town hall. Night came on and those Black-eyed frog creatures boiled from the sea, there was an army of them!”
Aiden and Janos look at each other. “Yeah sure,” taunts Janos. “Black eyed frog creatures…”
“Its true!” Exclaimed Talon. “They swarmed over the ship like so many locusts on a grain field…those we left aboard didn’t have a chance. Why, there is a corpse of one of em over there!” he points to a green heap in the corner.
“That creature does look like a frog…” Grins Janos.
 A muscular black crewmember with sporting tribal scars on his face fingered his large axe and continued the tale. “They attacked the town hall so we fought our way through and blockaded ourselves in a stone warehouse to wait out the night. None of the townsfolk survived...pity”
Janos eyes the fellow, trying to remember his name. Juba…his name is Juba.
“In the morning they were gone.” Finishes Juba.
“We six are all that made it.” Talon indicates the men around him. “We decided to make ourselves…comfortable till we decided what to do.”
Aiden has by this time succeeded in getting close to the mad captain without drawing anyone’s attention and slips the leaflets from the man’s belt. “ZENOVIAS CHILDREN” Raves the captain, spittle dripping from purple lips.
 “I need to use the head.” Aiden announces. Then he goes to the privacy of the lieu to examine his prize. Having been watching Aiden’s deceit, Janos excuses himself and joins his comrade to see what Aiden has discovered.
 Unrolling the document, Aiden finds it to be the ships log of captain Jack Bravehawke.  Splashed with blood it is, with the charred pages out of order. After setting the leaflets in order, they begin reading the eerie tale of the last days of the Maximillion.

                 
 Ships log of Captain Jack Bravehawke

Maximillion log: Day 1  After having received an invitation from her illustrious Majesty Queen Efrell Sargossa, My lord Wellen Ben_Heller has ordered the ship stocked for a journey to the archipelago of Thovnosia. Therefore, I have begun equipping the Maximillion with supplies to take us from our berth at Waldann to those fabled weatron shores. I have also taken on seven new crewmwn who are experiences with the waters around the Pellinease Isles. This brings the crew to a full two hundred.

Ships log: Day 2  Today we set sail to the isle of Pellin in response to the invitation of queen Effrell Sargossa. Little is known of this queen, only that she comes from the ancient lineage of Sargossa that has ruled the Thovnosian empire for thousands of years and that she is rich beyond belief. Rumors of her being a sorceress have circulated the docks for some years now, though I surmise this is because she has the poor misfortune of having the same bloodlines as that well known witch princess Zenovia who disappeared from the isle some fifty odd years ago and was never found. Perhaps she knows a bit more than we on that subject that was the catalyst for the civil wars and the decline in that noble house. Shall I ask her when we arrive? I think not, for that would not be wise, nor gentlemanly.

Ships log: Day 3  Two days out and the seas are calm. We have seen no other sail these past two days. Perhaps the new found peace of Sargossa has extended into these waters as well.

Ships Log: Day 4  We crossed the 18th parallel today, and the north star blazes brilliantly in the midnight sky. I predict fair weather ahead. Of note is the appearance of a comet in the westron sky. Some of the men feel it to be an evil portent.

Ships log: Day 5  Fair weather has been our boon, As I predicted. If these clear days and fair winds continue to bless us, We should arrive at the isle of Pellin one week hence. The men are joyus and they sing of th glory and riches that await us in the queens service beyond the middle sea.

Ships log: Day 6   This night as I charted our position, the stars seemed strange through my instruments. The northern star was in its eternal place, but the rest of the sky seemed out of place and my eye was continually drawn to the comet. Perhaps the mirrors or lenses have become misaligned.

Ships log: day 13  The isle was sighted at first watch. The skies are clear and we should arrive within hours following high sun. A royal barge met us before we set ashore, t’was a royal escort for my Lord. He departed with orders that we remain till he send us word.

 Of note: The loadstone needle that I received from my late father and that I prize above all is bewitched. Is it has pointed to the north all these long years when floated on a cork in a cup of water, but now it spins haphazardly in all directions.

Ships log: day 14  A ship from the palace has met us and taken my lord onboard to ferry him straight away to Efrells court. She must be anxious indeed to see him. My lord told me to await his summons in the bay.

Ships log: day 15   It is strangely chill for this time of year. I sent the mate and twelve others ashore for supplies, but they returned with only a few. They say the warf and town was deserted. There have been stirrings among the crew. Two of the new crewmen are spreading tales of woe among their fellows. They say that the curse of Zenovia will fall upon us if we remain here. The crew seems on the verge of mutiny, therefore I have armed the officers.

Ships log: day 16  Today I went ashore with twenty of my men. There we found the town deserted. We should have known that foul deeds were afoot, but we continued our search for supplies into the night. When we gathered to depart, men were found to be missing. We found them not by torchlight or by calling out to them. The crew continue to grumble. There has been no word from my lord and now I fear him lost also. Therefore, I have decided to flee this dread isle while we still have our lives. The very sea has gone insane and has turned upon us. Men have begun to dissapear from the ship in the night.

Ships log: day 17  A strange gale has come out of the north. Being superstitious as they are, and I with them, the men think that Efrell has bewitched us with a curse and sent this storm with her majiks. Things I saw while in the docks of that town make me believe it also. Eight good men were lost while on that accursed Isle for demons from the sea roam the town of Prisarte.

Ships log : day 18  We lost six more last night. Some of the crew claim to have seen a sea-demon stalking our very decks . I fear that lack of sleep and food has given them the vapors, for now they fear their very shadows.

Ships log : day 19  We lost Twenty last night. Indeed the demons of the sea prowl the decks of the Maximillian forI have seen them with my own eyes. The crew has burst the door on the armory and have armed themselves. I thought it expedient to set them standing watch in six hour shifts to keep their minds occupied. We have every sheet up and are making all speed to the south. We may outrun this curse after all.

Ships log : day 20   The demons have grown bold. They now come at us in force, not secretly as before. We fight them off as we may, but their flesh is difficult to pierce,tough and rubbery as it is. We must overcome then with sinew, cold steel and courage. Praise be to God that they come only at night, that we may rest of a day, else we would surely be counted among the doomed. I think their large, black eyes cannot suffer the sunlight.

Ships log : day 21  Five days out and we cannot outrun the storm or the sea demons sent by that witch Efrell. Sixteen more men have been lost in the night, leaving only twenty to man the ship.The midden is broken and we have only the main mast with little sail remaining. The waves tower over the ship. We have not slept in two days. I fear we are lost. May God have mercy on our souls.

Ships log: Day 22  The gale has lessened a bit and we have run aground on a reef.  Spirits remain low as we prepare to fight off the sea demons again tonight.

Ships log: day  23  Only six of us now remain, the sea and the demons have taken the rest. I have decided to fire the ship and make off with the survivors to an isle that has hove into view on the horizion. With luck we might make it before darkness takes us.

Ships log: day  24  I and the first mate are all that remain. The isle that we looked to for salvation is the isle of That Accursed Effrell itself. I know not how we came again to this evil place, only that it rises from the black sea in front of us. The sun will soon set and we two now await the demons that shall soon come for us.

Ships log: Final entry   I have slain the first mate. He was like a son to me and I could not leave him to the cursed death that awaits me. Would that I could share his fate, but paradice is lost to those who die by their own hand, so I  await my doom at the claws of the seademons.  Any who read this log, flee for your very lives. Come not to this dread island where awaits the never dying Efrell, for she may indeed  be that evil witch of old.  

 They Come

[Wraith]

Chapter 5 :     The Reckoning

Efrell bows her head as the minstrel completes his song. Absolute quiet fills the room as the strings of the lute cease to vibrate. Tears can be seen flowing down Effrell’s cheeks to disappear beneath the gossamer black veil.  The silence reigns supreme until a humming Nomed enters carrying a wooden box, which he shows the contents of to Efrell. This seems to cheer her somewhat and she pats the dwarf on the head and accepts the box, placing it on the table next to her chair.
“Nomed my pet…would you be so kind as to check on Effrellia, she has been quiet for a spell.”
“Yes mistress.” Replies the little man as he bows. He pads from the room, soon to return carrying a swaddled bundle, which he shows to Efrell. “Still born, mistress.” He says.  “Strangled by the cord…and the mother died giving birth.”
Efrell looks down and is quiet for a moment ere speaking. “Do what must be done Nomed.”
 “Yes mistress.”
“May I be of some service your highness?” Asks Coenraad, approaching the dais.
“Nay…My daughter…how I loved her, yet some things are more important than love…”
“More important?” Questions Coenraad. “What could be more important than love?”
Efrell pats the box that Nomed brought to her earlier. “This…” She says.
“What is that?” Asks Coenraad.
“Shall I show it to you?”Efrell asks, her eyes smiling from behind the veil as she lifts the box from the table unto her lap and strokes it lovingly.  Coenraad nods. She opens the box slowly to show him its contents. 6 things are in the box, including the dagger that had disappeared from his personal belongings the first night he spent in the fortress.
“What’s the meaning of this?” He queries. “That’s my missing dagger.”
“All things shall be made known to you in the proper time.” She answers. “Please return to your seat. Something seems greatly amiss in this to Coenraad and he decides to try for the door. Halfway there, a great lethargy overtakes him and he finds himself returning to his seat against his will. Once seated, he sees the dismay written across the faces of the other guests, for they too are not in control of their own bodies.
Down in the city:   “I think we need to find a more defensible position ere night falls.” Says Talon looking around the inn at the pitiful remains of his crew. “Gather up supplies for the next few days men, and be quick about it!”
 “Aye-Aye Cap’n” comes the reply.
Talon tries not to notice the ashen hue of Janos and Aidens faces as they return from the head. “Think you can find your way back through those passages up to yonder keep?” He asks Aiden.
“Surely.” Replies Aiden. “It is an easy way back to the pool. Course we will have to swim for it.”
They gather up supplies and follow Aiden back through the town, on their guards as they go. Finally, Aiden comes to the pool and waits for the stragglers to arrive. He explains how they will swim under water for a small way to come up into a cave in the cliff side. Talon and his crew seem dubious, but move to the pools edge, waiting for Janos and Aiden to lead the way. Just as Aiden and Janos prepare to leap into the dark pool, a bell peals out loud and clear. “What the…?” exclaims Janos as they all turn, seeking the origin of the ringing bell. The bell continues to sound, so Juba climbs a nearby roof and looks around before yelling down to the rest of his fellows. “There be a temple 2 blocks yonder Cap’n”  He points to the east.
Aiden climbs the roof also and scrutinizes the bell tower where he sees the robed figure of a man who waves in their direction. “It’s a priest or some such.” He calls down. A small argument breaks out about what to do. Some are in favor of getting to the cave due to the fast approaching darkness, and a few are in favor of checking on the bell and supposed priest. The latter wins out and the party traverses the few blocks to the temple where the door creaks open in response to their banging sword hilts.
“Come in…Quickly!” Blurts a robed figure from within. They all file into the temple’s darkened interior and the priest slams the door and bolts it quickly. “At last you have come.” He says. “Which of you is the holy man?”
“Er…holy man?” Says Janos.
“Yes.” Replies the priest, throwing back his cowl to expose his ancient, wrinkled and balding head. “I have awaited the pure one who shall slay the witch…I myself being too old to attempt it.”  
“No holy man here.” Adds Aiden.
“No?” Questions the venerable fellow. “No one here serves the source of all things?”
“Er…I don’t think anyone is pure grandfather.”
“Q’in said something about serving the source and balance.” Adds Talon. “Maybe he is the one you seek, old man.”
“Yes.” The old man perks up, wiping a stray wisp of thin hair from his forehead. “If he is truly a source priest…he is the one.” The priest looks the party around in search of Q’in. “Which one is he?” He asks.
“He is not among us, old man.” States Janos.
“Where is he then?” Asks the priest.
“Well…still in yonder castle.” Replies Janos, pointing in the direction of Effrell’s keep.
The ancient priest screws up his face. “I cannot bring the talisman to him there….you must do it!”
“What talisman?” Asks Talon.
“Wait here and I shall fetch it!” The old man disappears through an arch that contains a stairway and ascends upward.
Soon the company hears a grunt, a scream and a thud from upstairs. They rush up the stairway with weapons drawn and burst through the doorway at the top of the stairway to find Nomed crouched over the fallen priest with knife in hand. Nomed hisses and looks up as Aiden, Janos and Talon burst into the room. Aiden wastes no time and wings an arrow at the pesky dwarf, but the little man dodges and rushes to the window where Aidens second arrow transfixes him as he climbs through the window frame. Nomed laughs an eerie laugh and pulling the arrow from his torso, tosses it into the room and disappears out the window. A screech and the flap of leathery wings follow as Aiden rushes to the window with another arrow nocked. He finds nothing, for Nomed is gone.
Talon checks the priest to find him still alive despite the horrid wounds he has received from Nomed’s jagged dagger. He leans close to hear the dying mans last whispering message. The old fellow expires with a slow out rushing of breath and Talon closes the glazing eyes.
“What did he say?” Asks Janos, moving forward as talon’s crew crowd into the small room to gape at the priest in the spreading pool of blood.
Talon looks at Janos, and going to the rude, straw bed in the corner, reaches beneath and draws out a crude box. “Here is the talisman.” Talon replies. “He told me where it was hidden. That little fellow was after it I suppose.” Talon offers up the box to Aiden who opens it to find a jeweled dagger within. “He said” Continues Talon. “That this dagger can slay one who cannot be slain. What do you suppose that means?”
 “Its getting dark cap’n” Declares Juba. “We best be getting along afore them sea demons come again.”
“I don’t know what it means but Juba is right.” Answers Aiden. “We will never find out if we don’t get a move on!” The rest nod and follow Aiden into the streets where the darkness is almost complete.
 As they rush back to the pool, Conops sees the first of the frog creatures coming through the town. “Aiee!” He yells, pointing back down the street from whence they came “Here them demons come!”
“In we go!” shouts Aiden, diving into the dark pool after giving quick instructions to the other would be swimmers. Some tense moments later, they all stand dripping inside the hidden cavern. Luck has it that Janos lays hands on the nub of a torch on the cavern floor and quickly strikes flame to it. Wasting no time, they rush through the rounded passages until they come to the sloping slime covered floor.
“We will have to climb for it.” States Janos, matter-o-factly. “Hand me the rope Talon.”
“Er…what rope?” Blushes Talon.
“DOH!…Didn’t you bring a rope?”
“Er…no…didn’t think we would need one.”
“Dimwit! Didn’t you think we might have some use for a rope sometime? How many adventures have you been on? Quite a few I ‘ll wager…You should know to always bring a rope!””
“Sorry…”
Being the best climbers, Aiden and Janos try repeatedly to make their way up the slippery sloping passage, sometimes getting almost to the top before sliding to the bottom again. As they are about to try for the third time Conops hisses a warning. “We be havin frogs fer company soon! You fellas climbing there best be doin something quick like!” With an extra human effort, Janos succeeds on making it to the top, where he dashes down the passage intent on finding the rope they need. Aiden makes it a moment later and looking back to see the passage below swarming with frog creatures; he takes to heel on Janos’ tail.
Sprinting along, Janos almost bumps into the man who is plodding along the passage. It is the old man from the keeps entryway! After a quick discussion, the old man leads Janos and Aiden to a secret passage that bypasses the slippery slope.
They hurry downward where Janos shoulders open the secret door to find talon and the 4 remaining crewmen locked in mortal combat with what must be hundreds of the bufanoid creatures. “Here!”Janos yells. Talon and the others fall back fighting to the doorway where Janos slams it too in the face of the green fellows.  
In the feast hall, Efrell rises to her feet and raises her arms overhead. “At last the time is fulfilled and the portents complete.  How I have shaped your lives and the lives of your ancestors for this day of vengeance.” The guests look on spellbound as she continues. “7 times 7 years was the appointed time, even to the third generation.  I have brought you back to this place on the appointed day ye first borns of a first born to atone for the crimes of your fathers fathers, for they were the same men spoken of in the song that Lianor was so kind as to sing for us a moment ago. Gaze upon the instrument of your demise, for I am Zenovia!”
The  6 guests look on in rapt horror as Efrell/Zenovia begins divesting herself of the black garments. As she stands, they see the strange set of her knees, how the seem to bend at the wrong angles…and as she rolls back the black lace sleeves, they see the manner in which her hands are grafted to her wrists…as she raises her veil, they whimper in terror at the noseless horror of a face that had been cut away, of the reptilian tongue that flickers over broken teeth. Before them stands the hideous remnant of a once beautiful woman.  “You came of your own free will,” She hisses, “Therefore you are in my power…come ye men without hope…come.” The 6 men groan in anguish as, against their will, they twitch to their feet and shamble after Zenovia, who limps across the great hall.
Back in the tunnels below: “Am I glad to see you!” Puffs Talon, leaning against the now closed secret door. “I thought we were dead men for sure, there were just too many of em!” Talon and his crew bleed from not a few wounds inflicted by the claws of Zenovia’s children.
“That’s well and good.” Says Aiden hurriedly. “But we must be moving along quickly.” Everyone agrees and they follow Aiden and Janos along the long passage that angles upward to the Neh-Gegh. Coming finally to the passage next the great hall, Aiden and Janos peek out the spy holes to see the 6 guests follow Effrell out of the secret door. After giving each other a stunned look, Janos calls for the others to hurry up and begins to sprint for the bedroom he knows to be at the at the end of this passage. When the limping Talon asks why the hurry, Janos tells what he saw. “Coenraad and the guests were following an evil looking woman through a secret door…they were…were… twitching like so many rag dolls on a string… something foul is afoot!”
 Hurrying along as best as they can, Aiden, Janos, Talon and the other 4 finally make it to The queens bedchamber where the wounded fall into a restful heap. “You are going to have go on without us.” Declares an exhausted Talon. “We will just slow you down.” Aiden nods to Janos and they quickly open the other secret door and pass through it into the passage beyond.
Peeking into the burned out sanctum as they pass, the two notice that it seems to have been put back into a semblance of order, so they haul up short to investigate. A quick look at the makeshift table turns up two freshly penned parchments. One, another six pointed star, the other, more magical runes. However, this time two more things appear that had been absent from the other vellums. On one is written…in fresh blood…(an innocent soul who never lived) and on the other (Fin’esa) Janos notices blood trailing from the edge of the table and looks behind to find the pale corpse of a still-born baby girl.
 They hasten in horror down the passage, abandoning the evil tinged sanctum of Nomed and its foul contents. Yet, before they flee the first 50 feet, they hear the strange humming of Nomed behind back in the direction of that same sanctum. They quickly backtrack to see the little man disappearing down a smallish secret passage with the baby’s corpse. They try for him but he escapes their grasp once again with a laugh.
 The poor souls following Efrell continue through the labyrinthine passages of the Sorn Ellyn. Down and down they shamble, not knowing that their controlled footsteps lead them to the very roots of the ancient Scyll-Redi fortress. The hewn corridors give way to rounded ones of extreme age and dubious origin as they descend. Finally, the glow from the passage ahead alerts them to their destination and they find themselves in a roundish room with a pool at the center. The ceiling of the chamber disappears into the darkness above.  Ringing round the pool, an ancient mosaic of two interwoven triangles form a 6-pointed star with runes formed in the colored tiles at the points. Opposite each star point are niches, hewn into the living stone itself. And in these niches are mouldering corpses of dubious origin. One of the captives moans as he recognizes the trappings of his grandfather on one of the corpses. The six victims shuffle to their respective positions at the points of the triangles, facing the pool. A brace of the frog creatures, waddle into the room as if to bear witness to the unholy ceremony.
Elsewhere, Aiden and Janos continue to follow the passage that slopes downward for a time to end in a cave mouth perched high upon the side of a large cavern. Below, they see the 6 guests of Effrell stationed upon the points of a 6-point star that surrounds a dark pool. As they look on in wonder, Janos notices Q’in perched in the mouth of a like overlook across the cavern. Below the strange scene plays out before their eyes.  Aiden and Janos try to decide on a course of action. Should they try for Effrell? not knowing what Coenraad knows of her true nature, Aiden remains undecided for the moment. Seeing Nomed standing next to Effrell below, Janos growls in his throat and decides the little man will be the first to die!
“Honored guests!” Cackles Zenovia, her evil laugh echoing off the damp cavern walls. “Have you not already met my children?” She indicates the creatures swaying in place around the room. “Oh the agonies I endured at that hideous coupling.” She shudders at the memory of it, and then continues. “But now…the awaited time is at hand…prepare yourselves now to meet my husband…YOUR DOOM!”
Zenovia raises her arms over the dark pool. “My Lord, My husband” she intones. “ I call you forth to complete the bargain we struck those many years ago. You gave me life, returning my soul from the nether world to my reconstructed body, and I gave you the children you desired; now I give you the very lives of the six who slew me. With my unholy spell, I shall call forth the souls of those foul murderers from the very pit of hell to inhabit the bodies of their living descendants…then you shall have them to feast on, my love. My revenge shall finally be complete and you will be lord of the Neh-Gegh once again.”
Breathless moments pass in silence as the eyes of the 6 men are drawn in horror to the black pool.  Momentarily, bubbles break the surface of the black waters as something monstrous moves in its depths. Their tortured minds scream in terror as they try to recoil from the rising horror but they cannot, for the spell holds them in a grip of iron.
As Coenraad strains at the mental bonds of the witches mind-spell, trying in vain to free himself from the psionic shackles that hold him fast, an apparition from his darkest nightmares bursts forth from the pool in a flurry of tentacles and salt water. Gripping the edge of the pool with its hind tentacles, it rises a dozen feet above the surface of the water. The Scyll-Redi is a blasphemous mix of man and squid. The monstrous barrel shaped body is ringed around with tentacles and surmounted by a squat, neckless head. A razor-toothed mouth covers the face from top to bottom, with side-mounted eyes looking about independently. Malevolence fills the room with an almost stifling heaviness.
Zenovia leans forward and caresses the slimy thing, receiving its touch in return. “Holy man, evil man, wise man, fool, brave man, coward.” She chants. “Six corners of the heptagram they be, and I a dead woman who lives maketh the seventh! And the final paradox…An innocent soul who never lived and a damned soul who cannot die!” The elder-world monstrosity sways to Zenovia’s droning words, it’s tentacles twitching in horrible anticipation.  Zenovias utterance reaches a hideous crescendo, punctuated by a final piercing shriek that could not have come from a human tongue. Nomed cackles with glee as he morphs to his true form, a hideous, leathery winged fiend from the nether realms. The Skyll-Redi slowly turns its malevolent eyes on the men who are to be its sacrifice. Dread panic fills the 6 men as the full realization of their fate draws nigh.
Zenovia’s voice takes on an eerie tone as she continues in the unknown tongue, her mouth forming the syllables not meant for human utterance. A heavy feeling of dread permeates the chamber as green witchfire dances across the shrunken corpses and they seem to twitch with life. Tendrils of fog waft from the mouths of the corpses, cascading down to coalesce into manlike shapes.  Loathing fills the six men as they behold that which should not be, the spirits of their dead forefathers wafting into their midst, moving toward their descendants. Zenovia cackles in mad glee as she watches the tortured souls of her erst-while killers writhe in the agony of captured death. Coenraad shudders as the wraith of his grandfather settles upon him. Another mind forces its way into his as the undead essence of the spirit seems determined to displace Coenraads will with the thoughts….nay… the very soul of his dead grandfather!
As if set free by this final blasphemy, the beast reaches out with two of its tentacles and entwines Father Armand in its rubbery grip. As the Skyll-Redi lifts him into the air, Zenovia screams a word and the spell of control falls away, returning the priest’s will to him and leaving him thrashing around helplessly in the beasts iron grip. The screams of not one, but two different men come from Armand’s quivering mouth. With one awful wrench, the beast tears the priest asunder in a shower of gore. Entrails dangle from the two halves as the thing devours its gruesome snack. The crunching of bones and the ghastly squishing sound of its chewings echo from the cavern walls and drown out the whimpers of the doomed.
Up in the overlook, Aiden and Janos gape in horror at the scene. Janos recovers first and with a desperate act of courage, he acts. Throwing his legs over the ledge, he drops to the ground below where he lands heavily. Janos is relieved that his ankle is only wrenched and not broken. Immediately, the Children of Zenovia begin to move around the pool towards him, their webbed feet slapping on the cold stone floor as they croak out their challenge at the intruder. Janos draws his twin blades and faces the first two frogs that advance to meet him from the right. The first to come within range is wounded in the arm while the second is skewered. Black ichor spurts from the gaping wound as Janos wrenches his sword free of the rubbery flesh.
To the left behind Janos, Aiden lands heavialy, but regains his balance in time to pierce the frog that lunges toward him. Nomed, hisses, his split tongue tasting the air as he spins to face Aiden. With a flick of his demon hands, sharp claws slide out of his long fingers. Aiden advances with the mystic dagger held to the fore and Nomed’s slitted eyes narrow as he beholds the shining blade.
Its first dreadful course complete, the towering Skyll-Redi reaches for its next victim. The two souls within Lianor scream as the tentacles tighten around his torso. The beast does not tear this victim, but instead, starting at the feet, the monster devours him bit by slow bit. Burbles of blood froth from the torturers mouth and his agonizing screams drive the remaining captives to the brink of madness. Mercifully, those screams finally die as the thing finishes its meal by thrusting the mans bald head into its gaping maw. A sickening POP resounds as the skull is crushed in those awful jaws, yet the terrible hunger of the monster is not quenched by two such victims and it surveys the remaining 4 men.
Zenovia sways in place, laughing in her lunacy as she savors the horrid sounds that accompany her sweet revenge.  Though she is drenched in grume and bits of flesh from the victims, she is strangely joyous as the macabre scene is played out before her.
Sweat streaks the dirty face of Coenraad as he strains to keep the spirit of his grandfather from invading his mind. His body twitches in the throes of Zenovias mental cage and he simultaneously cringes from the monster that rages before him, slaking its hunger on the defenseless men around the pool. As the Herculean mental struggles continue, one thought keeps working its way into his tortured mind (Nomed…demon…Nomed is demon spelled backwards…How could I have missed it!)
Aiden cannot seem to lay steel on Nomed, and is slowly being driven back by the demon. Streaks of blood criss cross Aiden’s arms where Nomed’s talons have raked across them. Then, just as Aiden’s straights seem most dire, a flash of light streaks across the room to explode at Nomed’s feet in a blinding flash. It is Q’in’s globe, tossed with great accuracy from the overlook above. Nomed reels back, blinded. Aiden takes advantage and leaps in wounding the stunned demon, which lashes out in desperation, feeling pain for the first time in its cursed existence. Fire licks from the wound, giving Aiden a sudden sense of hope. He slashes again but the wary demon dances out of range, nimble and quick. Then, as the fiend strikes back, Aiden reverses his grip on the dagger and slices across the sweeping arm. Fire blossoms along the wound and the demon recoils from the bite of the holy dagger.
Close to Coenraad, Janos battles with two more of the Frog creatures, trying to reach his friend before the suckered limbs can close about him. After shouldering one frog aside and slashing the other, the way to Coenraad seems clear.  Janos lunges for Coenraad, but his momentum is checked as the small but sharp teeth of one of Zenovia’s children close on his arm. He spins and hacks through the midsection of the beast in one quick motion, then turns back in the direction of his trapped friend to see…
Councilor Pascalli, son of Herniscald croak in anguish as he is scooped up in the suckered rubbery grasp and eaten alive, his screams of anguish and pain seem to be the horrible parody of two men.  Loathsome slurping noises resound as the Skyll-Redi sucks at the bloody gobbets of living flesh, shredding the man in its relentless beak. Coenraad wretches as gouts of the councilors blood and pieces of rent body splatter his face.
Aiden and the demon lunge back and forth, trying in vain to slay one another, but neither can get the upper hand. Blood drips from Aiden’s wounds, and fire from Nomeds, yet the wounds are minor on both accounts. Only the fear of the holy dagger keeps Nomed from launching himself onto Aiden in an irresistible surge of demon fury.   Zenovia continues to scream her blasphemies is the unknown tongue, seemingly oblivious to the battle between the forces of light and darkness that rage about her.
Abandoning caution to the winds, Nomed lunges and lashes out in the fury of his pain.  Aiden tries to dodge the raking claws, but being a fraction too slow, is whelmed to the floor. Aiden tries to rise but falls back stunned. The fiend roars its triumph and towers above the fallen ranger, poised to strike. Before the demon can disembowel his fallen foe, Q’in slams into the back of the ungodly thing with a flying kick. Nomed slams into the wall from the impact, then Q’in launches into a series of lightning fast kicks and punches.
The Skyll-Redi’s next victim, Wellen the minstral, blubbers in terror and agony as he is rent limb from limb, his dismembered torso stuffed into the bloody mouth of the huge octo- beast. Gobbets of flesh, bone and entrails litter the surrounding stone floor and float in the now blood red pool beneath the raging creature … macabre morsels of ruined flesh that had moments before been the bodies of living men. Quickly, as if seeing the battle wane in its favor, the many-armed monster fixes its gaze on its next victim. Coenraad’s luck holds out to the last, as the cowardly scribe, Xavier son of Horstiller is quickly grabbed and torn limb from limb to be stuffed piecemeal into the dripping maw of the Scyll-Redi.
Janos succeeds in breaking through the children of Zenovia, even as the Skyll-Redi is reaching for Coenraad, the last delicate morsel of its feast. Janos gathers his strength, and ducking the reaching tentacles, slams into Coenraad. Coenraad is knocked to the floor out of reach for the moment of the grasping appendages. In anger for its lost meal, the beast slaps Janos aside. Janos rolls to his feet and in a quick flurry of sharp steel, he hacks into the nearest limb. The Skyll-Redi roars its anger and whips a score of its arms in the direction of the offending human. The suckered grasp tears the flesh from Janos’s arm where it connects.
Q’in stands between Aiden and Nomed, his hands and feet a blaze of motion as he fends his fallen friend.  Aiden tries to rise, but his stunned body refuses to obey his command. The ranger falls back to the floor, utterly spent, the jeweled dagger tumbling from his numb fingers. Nomed is enraged by the loss of his mortal prey, and redoubles his attack, hell-bent on reaching the fallen man who had caused the flames of pain that burned in the cuts along its arms.
As in slow motion, Janos takes in his surroundings in a glance; Q’in, slowly being beaten back from his defense of the fallen Aiden; A gore covered Coenraad, twisting in the throes of some witches spell; Effrell, laughing like a lunatic; The Skyll-Redi, towering above him and reaching out with its tentacles to rend and slay. In an act of terrible desperation, Janos rushes forward, into the very arms of the Skyll-Redi, leaping high to bring his swords down upon the creature’s head. The first sword glances from the slimy skull, but the second offhand blade splits the bufanoid head of the Skyll-Redi with a terrible blow. Blood burbles from the hideous wound and the large eyes roll back as an inhumanely shrill screech fills the cavern.  
At this final blow, Effrell collapses in a heap of blubbering and mindless yammering. This final descent into madness and the loss of her will breaks the bond she had forged with Nomed. The demon feels the will of Zenovia relent and he wings off into the corridor, free at last from the hold of his mistresses… Free now, to wreak his own brand of evil on the world. The Skyll-Redi lashes about, thrashing in its death throes as it sinks into the primordial depths from whence it came.
Effrell is put to the sword with little remorse and her corpse joins the others on the cold stone floor. Q’in squats down to check Aiden’s wounds. The deep claw marks on Aiden’s chest bleed heavily, but no other wounds are evident. Aiden makes to rise, but Q’in bids him lay back while the wounds are bound. Aiden keeps the mystic dagger at hand though, in case Nomed returns.
After one last defiant look at the blood frothing pool, Janos decides that the Skyll-Redi will trouble them no more and hurries to  help Coenraad to his feet. “You need a bath!” Janos laughs, indicating the grume and bits of raw flesh covering Coenraad.
Coenraad stares back, trying to get his bearings. “Zenovia he raves, what of the witch Zenovia!”
Janos steadies Coenraad and slaps him across the face. “Snap out of it man! The witch is dead, we took care of that.” Coenraad’s eyes seem a little vacant for a time, but come back into focus as Janos makes to slap him again. He shakes off Janos’s steadying hand and tries to set his clothes in order.
Janos surveys the carnage and survivors. “A fine lot of adventurers we are!” He laughs. “Well, we saved you’re hide at least  Coenraad.”
“Uhhhh..yeah…thanks for that.” Says Coenraad. Still a little vacant eyed. After peering at the remains that fill the niches, Coenraad cautiously approaches the shriveled corpse of his namesake. After a few cautious pokes at it, he speaks.” There seems to be no life here…anymore…we need to bury these remains and the remains of the other five guests in the proper way.”
“The proper way my Arse!” Bellows Janos, “I say we hack up the witch and the rest of these and toss them in the water there!”
Q’in has finished bandaging Aidens wounds and helps him to his feet. “Sensitively spoken, Janos!”. Says Aiden. “You can’t fault Coenraad for wishing to pay some respects to the dead, one of them is his grandfather after all. Nevertheless, I agree. Let us be gone from here. Let the dead bury the dead, or so the holy writings say.”
“These six grandfathers tried that.” Muses Coenraad. “Tossing Zenovia in the water that is. See where it got them?”
“Maybe your right.” Conceeds Janos, rubbing his scruffy beard in thought. Aiden and Q’in nod in agreement.
“There isn’t much left of those other five guests to bury.” Says Aiden “Naught but some gobbets of meat and scarce few parts.”
“What’s this?” Janos notices a glint from the floor and stoops down to retrieve a severed finger from the floor, raising it for inspection. Upon the finger is a white metal ring with a huge bloodstone set in it. After removing the finger and tossing it aside, he polishes the ring on his trousers.
“Already robbing the dead are we!” Blurts Aiden, disgusted at the carelessness with which Janos makes the ring his own.
“Whoever’s finger that was has no more use for it.” Janos replies with a grin.” This looks to be platinum, though I don’t recognize the stone…it should fetch a pretty price back in Lartroxia I’ll wager…I know this jeweler…” Aiden turns away.
“What would be a proper burial?” Wonders Coenraad aloud. “We would have to carry them out of this place to bury them.”
“Lets torch the place I say!” Replies Janos. “Pile them dried corpses up with the frogs and that witch and torch the lot of them!”  
“Will burning be enough?” Questions Coenraad, looking to Q’in for his answer.
“The purity of fire will purge the evil of Zenovia.” Q’in states.
We need to find something to hack up this foul altar too.” Adds Aiden.  “We don’t want anyone using it again.”
“We passed a room back there with some furniture I think.” Says Coenraad, Shivering as he looks at the entrance of the altar room. “When we were…coming to this room.”
Well, leave that to me and Aiden here.” Says Janos, nudging Aiden. “You up fer it?”
“Sure,” Replies Aiden, testing Q’in’s bandages. “Whatever will get us out of here quickly. Maybe we will find something to use on the mosaic too. Let me get one of those lanterns from the wall.”
Janos and Q’in begin dragging the frogs and piling them up in a heap.
“Now here is a strange thing…”  Says Aiden as he tries to remove one of the six lamps from the wall. “They glow with light, yet there is no fire within.” The others crowd around and look at the lamp with a kind of awe.
“I have read tales of the ancients.” Says Coenraad, “ Claiming that they used to light their dwelling places with such lamps. Could these be such lamps?”
“Lets just take them and be gone.” Says Janos impatiently. “There could be more of these frogs…maybe worse skulking about.”
Aiden pries one loose from its fittings. “These could come in handy. Lets take them all.”
Janos levers one loose also and joins Aiden at the steps exiting the altar room. Aiden and Janos cautiously peer up the passage, then proceed up it, weapons at the ready and lanterns to the fore.
They soon return with armloads of furniture pieces to make the required pyre. “We hit the mother load!” Announces Janos. “You and Q’in start piling and we will bring more tinder.”
Soon two pyres are built. One for the frogs and Zenovia, and one for the grandfathers and the scant remains of the guests.
Aiden begins chipping away at the mosaic with a piece of metal he has found. Once the first few tiles are broken away, the rest come apart easily. Within minutes, the entire thing is destroyed. “That should do it!” Says Aiden triumphantly. Tossing the metal stave aside, he returns to the business of the pyres.
Soon the pyres are finished and the corpses stacked and ready for burning. After a chant from Q’in over each heap of wood and bodies, Aiden tries to fire them, but to no avail.
“Try this.” Offers Janos, handing Aiden a small flask after taking a quick sip. “That be corn spirits, burns quite well.”
Aiden pours the spirits onto a rag and puts steel to flint. Soon a fire is going and he places the burning cloth under the makeshift pyre. After the fire is burning well enough, he takes a brand and applies it to the other pyre. Macabre shadows play across the walls as the fires blaze higher.
“This little venture didn’t go as planned, it seems.” Janos huffs, hands on hips.
“We have Talon to thank for that.” Adds Aiden. “Right Coenraad?…”
Coenraad does not answer, but stands staring as the remains of his grandfather go up in greasy smoke.
“This stench is too much for me.” Says Janos “Lets be gone from this place.”
Coenraad  stands staring at the nearest pyre, quietly. He has met and lost his grandfather in the span of a few hours. Something tugs at the back of his mind, a something he seems to have forgotten, but he cannot put his finger on it at the moment.
“What say you Q’in?” Janos looks at the little man. “ Are we finished here?”
“Balance has been achieved in this matter.” States Q’in.
“Now that the world is balanced we can be going.” Aiden says, rolling his eyes.
“The world is in a constant state of imbalance.” Replies Q’in. “When I have fashioned another meditation piece, I shall know the next source of Imbalance.”
“I don’t think I have heard so many words end to end from this little fellow since we met him!” Jokes Coenraad. “Lets gather up Talon and his cronies, loot the place and be on our way. We deserve some recompense for our troubles!”
They all come to some agreement, and prying loose all the lamps; they cautiously head up the passage. For uncounted hours, they roam the corridors, angling ever upward, trying to find their way back to the human hewn passages. Now and again, they run into milling groups of Zenovia’s children, but dispatch them with ease. Once, they hear the slapping noise of something more monstrous moving down the passage and veer aside to let it pass, shuttering the strange lanterns.  Aiden listens to the noises of it’s passing and shudders. By this time, it is mid of night and more of the Children of Zenovia infest the hidden passages of the keep, no longer having a mistress to keep them in check and feeling akin to the cold, moldy tunnels, they roam freely. In addition, they seem to be organizing into larger groups, the stronger among them taking charge. Soon they could easily overwhelm the small group of men.
 “We better find our way out of these tunnels quickly,” Says Janos, winding a crude bandage around a wounded bicep. “The next onslaught may well overwhelm us!”
“What’s this?” queries Aiden, as they move down another corridor. “It’s the body of a man.” Fearing the worst, they turn the body over and bring their lanterns close. The fleshy parts of the arms and legs have been gnawed away and some of the face, but Aiden and Janos recognize the gnarled features of the old man who had helped them earlier. “I guess his knowledge of the by-ways of this place didn’t help him escape in the end.” Says Janos , matter-of-factly. “Too bad…we could have used his help.”
Just then, “Wait!” Aiden shouts jubilantly, “Its this way…Zenovia’s bedroom is this way!” They make their was up the passageway, past Nomed’s sanctum, and out of the hidden door. When they emerge from the secret passage, the towering black, Juba awaits them alone in Zenovia’s bedroom, weapon leveled. When he sees who it is, he lowers his great ax and grins.
 “Where are Talon and the rest of the crew?” Asks Coenraad, looking around.
“They search for booty.” Replies the big man. “I wait for your return, as the captain ordered.”
Before they can decide whether to search for Talon or wait for his to return, the door opens and Talon enters, accompanied by the other 3 crewmen who carry bulging sacks over their shoulders. “Well Met!” Talon calls out as he hurries to where Coenraad, Janos, Q’in and Aiden stand. “You have returned! Good to see you in one piece Coenraad!”
“That’s more than we can say for the other guests.” Smirks Janos.
“That’s a tale I would love to hear,” Shrugs Talon. “But we best be moving on.” He looks toward the door, which he entered through. “Something has those Frog children stirred up.”
“That would be us I am afraid.” Says Aiden. “We killed their mama it seems.”
“That story will have to wait. The accursed children of Zenovia fill the lower halls; they seemed to come from nowhere. We found no one left alive in the keep, the frogs seem to have slaughtered everyone here. We have looted what we can carry and we have found the way to the royal docks where waits my new ship…lets be off!”
As they make their way through the keep, skewering frogs as they go, Talon declares to his crew that Coenraad, Aiden, Janos and Q’in shall share in the booty once they get aboard the bireme.
“But Capt’n” Conops grumbles aloud. “We fought for this booty, losing blood to them frog fellows as we did. Why come these fellows that was a hidin in them tunnels get a share?”
Janos bristles at the comment that they were hiding and prepares to let Conops know what he thinks about it, but Talon intervenes. “I am the captain here!” He fingers the hilts of his swords. “Unless you wish to challenge for mastery?” Conops makes as if to say something, then thinks better of it and shakes his head. “I thought not.” Chastises Talon. “Now lets be off.”
 After much fighting, and breaking of locks, the survivors make it to the Bireme. Talon, Aiden, Coenraad, Q’in and the remaining four of Talon’s crewmembers climb cautiously aboard the bireme. “Juba,” Orders Talon, “Take Ari’ and check below.”. Juba nods and unslings his axe; Ari, his sword and they descend the steps to the oarlocks and the cabins below.
“What ye be callin her cap’n?” Asks Conops.
 Talon rubs his whiskers again and grins. “I think I’ll name it… The Sea Witch…after the mistress from which I aquired it.”
“Tis a good name sir…a good name.”
 “Conops,” orders Talon. “Get aloft and check the rigging, we won’t be rowing this thing anywhere with this lot.” Conops one-eye nods and mounts the mast swiftly, scurrying up the ropes with the sea-rat skill of one with many years asea.
“Can we sail this all the way home by ourselves?” Queries Coenraad, looking about at the huge ship.
“Yes, but it wont be easy, and it will take some time.” Replies Talon. “And you will have to help too.”
“We need to get out of here with our loot before the pirates realize this place is undefended.” States Ari-Heem, the fourth crewmember, who seems to be of eastern origin. “They will swarm over this isle like a dark tide, nothing will escape their pillage.”
Sounds of a scuffle rise from below, then loud footfalls ascending the steps. “Lookee what we find below Cap’n Talon!” Snarls Juba as he tosses a grimy fellow to the deck boards. “ One of that witches vermin he be capt’n!”
 The wretch seems to be totally broken of spirit.” Kill me if you will.” He says “ I have seen enough to sear my soul and haunt my dreams till the day I die….Kill me and be done with it!”
“What’s your name.”? Asks Aiden.
“Seraph.” Comes the reply.
“Well Seraph,” Says Talon, “We will let the sea decide…Overboard with him!”
“You can’t be serious!?” Shouts Coenraad, pushing his way into the group. “Why…look…he is just a lad.”
Talon rubs his scruffy chin in thought. “He can be your charge, Coenraad, if you want him.” He says.
Our heroes make it home to Lartroxia saftely and uneventfully, though it takes them a while to do so, being short handed, as it were. Once home, the treasure is laundered through Ibrahim the merchant, A well known underground businessman and friend of Talons, and the gold divided  equally.
Coenraad, Aiden, Janos and the 4 surviving crewmen each receive 12,225 gold pieces…a kings ransom!
Q’in wants nothing, only enough bread to fill his canvas satchel, and a large piece of quartzite from Zenovias bedroom.With it he begins to fashion a new orb for his own purposes.
Talon, waves most of his rights to the treasure in lieu of sole ownership of the Sea Witch, only taking enough gold to bribe the port authorities to drop all charges against him. The only other thing he keeps is two of the strange lanterns to grace his new Bireme.