14 Alturiak:  Under Clear Damaran Skies


Fyrnlocke steps in from the bench outside the Vundark and announces to all it’s a beautiful winter day.

“Ya.  We’d see it inhere if ye’d got the goat eyed ruby.” DonBrapp scolds.
The fetid hole of Bosmos’ cave still smokes and smolders from the apocalyptic magical force hurled at it along the mountainside.  Creatures far and wide gaze with wonder and concern at the smoke plume rising over the mountains.

Bosmos begins itching, scratching, and banging his head against the wall.  Tomas grabs the dwarf, and gently guides himself outside so the feebleminded cleric can relieve himself.

“Ees strange how this dwarf continues to end up in your company.”  Petra observes.  “He certainly did not make friends with the centaurs.”

“Yes Petra, accurate as usual.  But I believe King Keldorn appreciates what the heroes accomplished for him.  One hopes he knows true forest friends when he sees them.” Quilro states as Kailute snorts with a smile.

“Well, not a coin to be spent in the direction of Heliogabulus and those charlatan sun worshippers.  Eelfs; Warrior:  Where to next?”  DonBrapp barks, rousting Roberto from a nodding nap.

Quilro suggests a message, possibly tracked with magic to locate the Duke’s precise location.  All of the heroes agree that a decapitation strike against Duke William is far preferable to taking on the Arcatan army in the field.
Tomas provides a brief description of Caer Haefnang, as well as reviewing his notes from the Bloodstone sage Quillen.  It is known that Duke William is supportive of Lady Sylvia and Dimian Ree;  indeed hopeful that Arcatan support will advantage them over Carmathan to the south.

Dimian Ree and Lady Sylvia are both in possession of potentially valid but questionable claims on lineage to the throne;  but the provenance of Lady Christine in unassailable as a direct heir of one of the first Impulturian families to place a flag in the Damaran area.

Finnegan McTavish and Telemark Tollo are two Arcatan military leaders; unlikely to be any more loyal to Duke William than pay and food require.

It’s clear that Damara has a concentration of urban centers in the middle of the country; with the more sophisticated cities responsible for refining and marketing the goods from outlying mountains and farmlands.  This dichotomy has been sundered by Zengyhi and his horde, thus the centrifugal forces of chaos were aided by summoned undead and gated demons to render Damara the shattered country it currently is.

After lengthy discussion, the heroes confirm their intent to strike directly at Caer Haefnang in Valls.

Robert signals DonBrapp to join him at the control dais within the Vundark.

DonBrapp sets the attenuarium into the hooks beneath the control dais and says a short prayer of thanks to the Coinfather before engaging the necessary magical instruments.

Viewing the front from the lantern scrying crystals on a polished metal display, the dwarf observes as the Gundar Vundark takes flight, a bright horse drawn gypsy wagon soaring away from a blackened hole of filth in the mountains.

The inside shifts slightly with the movement; the dual nature of ethereal magic not completely dampening the momentum of the prime material plane.

The resplendent physical beauty of the Galena mountains is breathtaking, as they rise dramatically from the rolling lowlands like a knife edge to just nearly 20,000 feet in some peaks, making a formidable barrier to Vaasa to the northwest.

As the Vundark levels over the former battlefield, those attuned to magical recognize something is amiss as the craft approaches the corpse of a white dragon.  It appears nearly 40 humanoids dressed in white-gray spackled tunics are working on the corpse to some preservatory purpose.  A variety of chests and sleds accompany the humanoids, some of whom appear to notice the craft in the sky.

Giving a nod to Roberto, DonBrapp relinquishes the controls and prepares with the rest of the heroes to address this strange group.

“Be wary of the dark ones.” Petra advises as the group makes their way through the entrance portal.

Kailute leaps first, taking wing as DonBrapp immediately fallows, landing with his hammer extended dramatically.  Draxos sweeps the area with his eyes before jumping down gracefully to the mountain below.

Quilro takes his time aloofly stepping down and taking in the entire scene with a mild rebuke of disgust evident on his face.

As the group nears, several working at the base of the ancient wyrm’s corpse turn to acknowledge the Heroes, extending their hands as a sign of safety.
Draxos quickly peels off from the group, finding a place to observe from and elevated crevice shielded by shadows.

“Well met.” One speaks, approaching within earshot.  “We appreciate what this looks like. But the situation is more complicated than it appears. We are applying the necessary preservatives to the body of this wyrm. We are obviously applying the necessary protector of oils to ensure that this dead wyrm is properly salvaged for whomever may have requested its collection as a as a species, and as we understand the Heroes of Waymeet did slay this beast. It's your kill. However we have to fulfill the terms of an agreement. And so we would certainly be willing to entertain discussions. But those discussions are informed by the violent and unnecessary loss of one of our members.”

“I think I misheard you; what was that?” Quilro snorts.

“Our organization has a requirement to prepare and transport the carcass of this creature.  We're not going to spill blood over it. If this comes to an issue, however, why, couldn't we reach terms and it's a shame that there has to be such enmity when there's so much, we could share.”

After tense but deliberate discussion, Quilro demands the Shadows cease work and depart immediately, declaring the kill for the Heroes of Waymeet and expressing disgust for assassins and contracts.

Draxos narrows his eyes, and Kailute flexes ever so imperceptibly.

The acting leader looks at two of his cohorts and they share a series of glances. There's a loud whistle and all of the assembled shadows stop what they’re doing.  The apparent leader makes a series of hand and arm signals, and they begin to back off the corpse and gather their equipment.

“We leave at an impasse.  But we know that Arcatan forces gather strength…”

“Shut your muderer’s hole.  You’ll NOT indulge in scheming lies to this defender of love’s honor.”

The apparent leader again raises his hands in the air, and signals to his crew to depart.  They drop what unnecessary equipment they have and make for the mountain trails.

“How can we reach you if, needs be?” Kailute calls out.

“We had a contact.  You killed him.” Guffaws a deadpan voice from among the departing thieves.

“HE’S ALIVE.  WE’RE NOT MURDERING SAVAGES.” Quilro snarls, a goblet of spittle flying out of his mouth.  He takes a moment to gather himself and cocks his head as he looks to the Gundar Vundark.

Roberto’s red flowing robe is flying in contrast to the cobalt blue sky.  The deep crimson of his cape is striking, even if slightly faded.  His arms are folded across his chest, and his face is a calm confident repose.

Fuck. This.

Quilro turns on his heel, smashing the white wyrms corpse as he begins to jog; each jab breaking the dragon’s thin wing bones as he kicks his toe under the scales, exposing the flesh beneath.

Unleashing his sword, he hacks the head from the ancient wyrm in a final frenzied act of disfiguration.

“FUCK ME, EH?” The elf cackles, single handedly ripping the head from wyrm and leaping past Roberto to slam it down upon the pedestal intended for a chair atop the Gundar with a sickening wet ‘GLOP.’

Pausing for a moment to look at the gory trophy atop the wagon, Quilro again leaps to the corpse and begins pulling the spine from the remaining body, even the departing thieves gasping at the raw strength and irreverence of the enraged elf.

“There you go.  The elf spreading his love throughout the mountains again.” Kailute smiles inwardly, recognizing his own conflicts over the nature of the arcane and the divine.

Finally shaking himself from his furies, the elf immediately thinks the assassins must be turning invisible to hunt him and he sprints toward the wagon, vaulting beyond Roberto to enter the portal…

…and finding only more dark thoughts as he retires to his chamber.