Rinzeth Sha-La “The Assassin’s Citadel”



Somewhere in Damara

The journeyman filcher shivered as the cold sweat beneath the mottled overcloak and thoroughly drenched leather armor stank with the labors of non-stop running through mountain ravines and magical cut throughs.  Her flesh chafed as the damp material cooled suddenly within the underground compound, but she shook it off.  The Fist must be informed that the Moonsea Interlopers had taken their righteous regime change agenda beyond the borders of Barovia, and had slain an inked shadow in public, under their lawful control.

Elmara collected herself to make report as she ducked under one of the false half-doors, making the necessary signs to belay the magical protections layered throughout.

Standing to her full height of nearly four feet she pulled her overcloak down around her hips and surveyed the nerve center of the Shadows of the Mountains.
Gaunt clerks moved silently among a series of tables arranged in a U around a central stone plinth, upon which was carved a relief map of Faerun, with the area of Damara apparently the center with both the western realms and the edges of Kara-Tur visible.

A lanky human, draped in an oversized bear skinned night robe turns, taking a leather harnessed ocular device from his eye.  Even from the middle of the room, nearly thirty feet away the steel eye-gaze of the fist pierced Elmara’s bearing, and she stumbled ever so slightly when he stated pleasantly “Make your report, Filcher Elmara.  Urgent tidings so close to our eternal arrangement is cause for concern.”

“I’ll speak the whispers, Master Fist. Let no darkness shield these facts.”  Many years of tutelage and missionary work and the words flowed after the proper courtesies.

The robed clerks continued to move silently, appearing to take no notice of the reporting thief-scout, her guards or the rapt attention of the fist.  As scrolls appeared down tubes hidden in the shadows, some clerks collected the parchments, scanned them before moving to deposit them in front other clerks, making notes in large volumes before moving to the central map to adjust small colored beads or crystals.  In the shadows the tubes rise beyond sight, hiding the true height of the room dug deep beneath the mountains.

“These heroes from the southern Moonsea have had an incredibly disruptive effect on the undead invasion of Damara.  Having survived an expedition to the elven graveyard, this group displaced the Tyrant Malthiir of Hillsfar, and as you know are directly responsible for the disappearance of Strahd.”  Elmara began, doing her best to convey as much information as quickly as possible.
“Much to the relief of many Barovians.  …as well the Tranths, I should think.”  The Fist offered, mildly interrupting to put Elmara at ease.

“Not only the humans; but the dwarves, centaurs, and halflings as well.  Having felled the lich and closed his portals to the abyss and negative material planes, the remaining fiends are rallying what they can to use Arcatan forces to retain control.”

“A reasonable riposte.  Certainly as powerful a force as these Elventree upstarts are, desperate fiends are not something beneficial so close to our organization.”

“No, Shadowmaster.  The dark guard is keeping its eyes and wings on all things moving in western Damara.  It was they who reported the magical ethereal wagon, and the murder of our agent.”

“Yes, well.  We know that elf is damaged and codependent upon sentient weapons.  The challenge there, as you well know Elmara Toehold is how quickly these mountain folk will turn on the sylvans.  Almost as if they see them as dangerous as ana gnoll tribe.  Sometimes the price of valuable information is blood;  and thosed placed inside know well the risks, Filcher.”  The Fist comments in a neutral tone.

“From their flying wagon, they have slain nearly a flight of dragons.  Obliterated a legion of undead and introduced a homeless druid that sparked outrage and almost open warfare from the local centaurs.  The defenders of Bloodstone welcome them; the Oriothar heartily support them and it is rumored they have mercantile connections to Kazersnert, but I have only heard this from our own.”

“…uncorroborated reports should be verified before sharing, but I appreciate your candor.” The Fist commented.  “What else?  What information required an immediate dispatch?”

“This.” The thief through down a shredded purple sash and the circular skull symbol surrounded by red drops of blood carved into a leather components pouch.
“William has openly invited the Banites to assist with the demons, and the Zhents are not far behind with their wagons.  As they are sending their forces north to invade Bloodstone Valley, Zhent slaver wagons are in trail behind.”

“It would seem the Zhent silver sustaining Williams men will be paid back in chattel.  I doubt the Arcatans would fight their kin if they knew what was intended.”

The aged spymaster turns back toward the central table.

“You’ve earned a week’s rest.  Well done, Filcher.  The shadows abide.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:24, Sat 20 Apr.