Session Nineteen (Graveyard of Empires Summary)
Session 19 – August 6, 2014.
Oh my head…. I can’t believe we still live. We managed to live through that damn tomb, only to die by a second ambush.
I suspect that Grell is getting serious and returning the sword wasn’t enough. He wants my head and those of anyone associated with me, I just know it.
I was so surprised to awaken in Thornton’s kitchen. Never thought I’d be glad to be there….
Somehow that strange old human wizard managed to survive and convince the guards to bring us here.
It’s a small comfort that the two who downed me only did so because of their magic armor and swords. I really wanted their heads, but I know that we need information from them.
Thornton questioned us pretty thoroughly about what we found out and who we talked to. He doesn’t seem to think Grell is involved, but I’m not so sure.
We got lots of information about what appears to be an imperial spy/assassin named Nigel who supplied them with magic weapons and platinum. I sure want some platinum. It would be a big help in my plans.
We got the names of others who attacked us, all stooges of Nigel.
Nigel had them kidnapping people, we later learned why. Poor souls.
It is some small comfort that the two would-be assassins are left in Thornton’s dungeon. They just might be wishing I’d made a quick job of it with my axe, or my new sword.
At least I got a new magic shield and some nice armor, and now most of us at least have a magic weapon.
I was sad to see Ir’Alle leave us. Not many humans truly understand the way of dwarves.
Thornton liked the idea of the devil fish to steal the imperial roll and destroy it, as it was a weapon that would destroy enemies, allies, and the food supply. I think that is a good idea. Keep it out of the hands of the imperials too.
Thornton has a nephew who is an acolyte in the Ark cathedral and Thornton convinced him to help us. Thornton provided us with priestly robes of the Ark for the humans and the elf, and for Xen’Teler for Axel and I. Mother always wanted me to join the priests, like her brother, but I have other plans.
It was into the sewers again then up into the cathedral with a man on the inside to get us in. Poor lad, will be in a lot of trouble.
We managed to get all the way to the reception room to the vault and that old man, Finklemur, is at least a good enough wizard that he charmed the priest with the keys. That poor fellow never knew what hit him, and got us the volume we asked for and we managed to walk out with it.
I had just relaxed the grip on my club under my robe, when we were found, but Thornton’s nephew managed to think quickly on his feet and convince them he was the lad who helped us in from the sewers.
We managed to walk out into the streets unopposed, and hopefully, unobserved.
We split up and doffed our robes and made haste back to Thornton’s.
I neglected to mention earlier that that pear-shaped lieutenant of the city guard at the gate to new town raided the tavern with the printing press and started a riot. The new town area was locked down. Thornton was given until tomorrow to have proof that the rebels with the printing press were not behind the assassination of the Lord Mayor.
Thornton gave us his coach with Perrette to drive.
Perrette drove through the streets like a madman and got us as close to the gate as possible. The angry crowds of natives trying to get home, but locked out and more rabble rousers like that fool Grell’s nephew were about with more fires.
That old mage who joined us yesterday convinced Perrette to give him his gray cloak, so that he wouldn’t be picked out as helping the colonials.
We found the outer portcullis and the gate closed and archers on the wall and at every arrow slit and murder hole of the gate.
That foolish lieutenant, Apidius, dared to not let us in. I challenged him by asking if he cared to tell Lord Thornton in person that he was the one who wouldn’t let us in.
He opened the gate just enough for us to crawl in and lowered it before the crowds decided to rush it.
We asked to see the captain, who chewed us out for letting Apidius in on the printing press in the tavern. We did get the captain to send word that if we had to go to the other gate to let us out.
We then entered new town and went to the area where we first met the woman who took us to the devil fish. She showed up and took us to meet him and that foul creature entered our minds again and was satisfied that we had done as agreed.
It lead Finklemur to the head. It was most likely the head of Barron, but what we learned is that it had its skull opened like we have come to see all too often with a cube inside.
Now it appears that either Talisin and/or his new apprentice Jardin are in league with Nigel.
Now all we have to do is get this rotting head back to Thornton.
I hope it’s not too late and that we have time to hone our skills before we have to flee the city. I’d also like to sell our loot so we can afford to go elsewhere.
I have a feeling that going off after the item(s) in the other tomb for Desrick is in the cards now.
I could use a large amount of fine ale to ease this aching head.
Wanted to write out Axel’s perspective of our almost party-wipe. I have taken some small liberties with the events, but it’s mostly on point. Enjoy!
Axel sat sombre and quiet in the back of the wagon as the party made it’s way across town to Lord Thornton’s. It had been a long day, wandering all over Newtown in search of answers, and the dwarf felt they had perhaps gained more problems than answers. The night grew dark, and a light rain fell upon them, souring his mood yet further. A commotion up ahead caught the party’s attention and they looked up as Minitius, thier wagon driver, slowed his horse to a halt in the middle of a bridge.
Looking over, they could see a cartload of cabbages spilled across the road, a man and a woman arguing amongst the scattered vegetation. Tension spread throughout the group, and they all looked around warily out of pure instinct even as an arrow landed amongst them from across the canal. Someone shouted ambush, and Axel moved instantly, rolling off of the side of the wagon to the street, as the wizard Finklemur ducked for cover, Faldspar readied a spell, and Tarion drew his bow.
The elf’s keen eyes spotted the target, but his return shot missed it’s mark. Following his lead, Axel drew his longbow and nailed the archer with a powerful shot. Shouting begins, and the once-arguing cabbage farmers turn and advance on them, drawing weapons. Finklemur dove for cover behind the wagon, dragging Minitius behind him, but is dismayed to see yet more attackers closing in from behind.
Seeing Thorfus engage the two in front, Axel readies himself to join his dwarven brother only to feel a surge of power splash against him. Whatever the magic wanted to do to him, the young dwarf resisted it, and he spun around to see a cleric step up alongside the shocked looking mage. The woman spoke, a prayer, and once more magic hit him, this one stifling and oppressive. He sees Tarion release another arrow and freeze up, Finklemur doing the same even in the face of an advancing swordsmen. With a defiant roar, Axel pushes through it and draws Face Cleaver, tossing the longbow aside.
Realising that the two magic-users were perhaps the biggest threat to them, he charges, warcries issuing forth from his lips. Shouldering past the mage, he swings his axe at the cleric, reasoning that killing her would free his allies. The cleric is surprisingly nimble however, and Face Cleaver sparks off of a concealed vest of chainmail.
Rage fuels him, and Axel presses the assault, but the mage snarls a word and he is engulfed in a torrent of flame. Battlecries turn into a roar of pain, the fire heating up his mail, scorching his skin and hair and clothing. The dwarf rolled out of the fire, putting the cleric between him and the mage, renewing his assault. The woman meets his axe with a mace and they dance back and forth, neither able to hit the other.
Periphally, Axel is aware of the rest of the party. The distant clatter of weapons beyond the wagon where Thorfus fought, the heavy splash of Minitius diving into the canal and the sickening meaty impact of a sword impaling the frozen Finklemur. He realises that this is no mere assault by desperate bandits, and unlike the group devestated by Thorfus in the sewers, this group was made up of consummate fighters. As if to punctuate the thought, the cleric cried out, seizing an advantage to bring down her mace in heavy blow that shattered his shield. The dwarf cries out in pain, his arm numbed by the attack.
There is another splash, someone else had jumped into the river, and a groan signals Thorfus falling to their attackers.
“We’re going to die here,” Axel realises forlornly. Outnumbered and outmaneouvred, thier best warrior down and half the party unable to act.
As if to assauge his fears, a chanted prayer echoes out and he sees Ir’Alle directing the holy energy at Finklemur, healing the old mage of his wounds. The cleric leaps down from the wagon, racing to meet him, calling out encouragement. They fight together against the two ambushers. Passing over his shield, Ir’Alle heals Axel’s wounds and the dwarf surges forward with renewed vigour.
A third attacker charges through the rain, skillfully ducking under the Midnight Star to deliver a fatal blow to the cleric. Crying out in rage and grief, Axel plants himself of his fallen friend’s unconcious body and engages the three with desperation. For all his skill however, the young dwarf was tired and hurt, fighting three humans alone. Ir’Alle’s shield is wrenched from his arm and the world goes black as the woman laughs triumphantly, striking his brow with her mace.