by Drew Hayes
Bert’s analytical mind combed through the situation and reached an inescapable conclusion: they would probably win this battle as things stood, but Chalara wouldn’t survive. Wimberly’s last device might be able to save her; however, it would also completely disrupt the battlefield and damage everyone in the party. The tradeoff for all its power was a severely reduced range, which was why Wimberly hadn’t just used the damn thing as soon as they arrived. She’d have to set it off in person, and while Bert had taken some precautions, it was still a huge risk.
The life of one character versus the lives of the entire party. Bert knew what the right call was: leave Chalara to her fate, try as best they could to help out, and focus on winning safely. Unfortunately, Bert wasn’t really the one who had to make the decision. Wimberly was the one fighting by the spring. Wimberly, who’d forged a strong friendship with the sometimes abrasive sorceress, who’d been saved by those spells more than once. Wimberly, who didn’t see her world with such analytical detachment. To Bert, Chalara might be nothing more than a piece of paper, but to Wimberly, she was a dear friend. And if Bert wasn’t going to make the calls the way Wimberly would, then really, what was the point of playing the game at all?
“Russell, I’ll activate the gadgeteer once-per-day ability, Frantic, to give myself double actions this turn,” Bert said. “Wimberly is going to yell for everyone to use any spells, charms, or potions of fire protection they have and to get healing items ready. She’s then going to down a potion of Major Fire Warding and take off running toward the biggest nest of plants she can reach within two turns of movement. As she runs, she’ll pull out the last device she made from her pack and ready it.”
“You remember how that works, right?” Russell asked. While he could see what the gnome was doing, as a GM, it was his duty to make sure the player understood the consequences.
“I chugged the potion, didn’t I?” In spite of the dire situation, a gentle smile came across Bert’s face. Moments like this, when the odds fell away and the character won out, the all or nothing headlong charge, were part of why he loved playing Spells, Swords, and Stealth. “As soon as Wimberly gets there, she jams the device into the thickest part of the plant mass and twists the knob.”
“What does twisting the knob do?” Tim asked, his own character’s safety forgotten as he became caught up in the curiosity.
“It releases several potions at once into a contained area, mixing them together and creating a very quick, very potent reaction.” Russell paused, looking at the damage table for the device Wimberly had created. Bert’s rolls were exceptionally high during that crafting session, and the power of the device reflected that. Technically speaking, it should just go off, and the party would deal with the fallout, but it didn’t quite sit right with Russell. That didn’t fit the theatricality of Bert’s tactics or Wimberly’s potential sacrifice. Instead of rewarding such a character-driven action with only dead party members, Russell exercised the freedom of all GMs and bent the rules just a touch. “Since Wimberly used double actions and yelled a warning to you all, I’ll allow everyone to drink a single potion or cast a defensive spell, even though it’s not your turn.”
He reached down, scooping up the very large amount of dice required to properly resolve the damage from Wimberly’s contraption. Even without knowing the exact number, his players could see the plethora of dice in his hands and hear them clattering about between his palms. “And after that, I roll for fire damage.”
* * *
Mitnan the barbarian swept his mighty axe through the air, taking the head of yet another wolf.
“Booyah, now that’s how it’s fucking done!” Mitch jumped from the table, nearly knocking it—and the carefully organized map—over. He clapped his hands together. “Another wolf bites the dust.”
“While it’s an admirable kill count, the wolf was just lying on the ground,” Jamie pointed out.
“Uh, yeah, ’cause we were smart about it,” Glenn replied.
“I suppose there is a certain... intelligence in this sort of strategy.” It was impossible to miss the judgment in Jamie’s tone, but as the GM, she did nothing to stop them, just as she’d allowed them to implement the rest of their plan.
While the idea of killing wolves as an introductory quest had appealed to the group, none of them liked the thought of actually having to fight them. Wolves were, after all, dangerous creatures that hunted in packs, and that was the sort of situation that might lead to them losing a fight. Such a risk was unacceptable, so the party had taken a somewhat different route than what might have been expected. Terkor the rogue had used some underworld connections to obtain a bit of poison, and then the group had set about acquiring as many small rodents as they could. With Glezidel the wizard providing magical transport, they had traveled to the wolves’ hunting area, poisoned all of the small animals, and then set them loose. Now, a day later, they were easily picking through the wolves that had eaten the poisoned prey and thus become poisoned themselves.
“Glezidel uses his dagger to cut open the nearest one’s throat, spilling its hot blood on the ground,” Glenn announced. He tossed his D20, mostly out of formality to check for critical failures. It bounced across the table, echoing through the empty store. Though they’d played several games now, none of the others had seen so much as a single customer in Jamie’s shop. That included each other, as none of them had bothered to buy so much as a set of playing cards or a comic book.
“You successfully cut the throat of the wolf as it lies helplessly in the grass,” Jamie informed him. “I’ll assume you take its tongue as well, since that’s what the reward amount is based off of. Now that we’ve done a full round, I want everyone to roll me Hearing checks.”
Three dice rolled immediately across the table, none of them landing below ten. Jamie continued without waiting for anyone to add their modifiers, as it was clearly unnecessary. “You all hear a series of howls coming from deep inside the forest. None of you need checks to remember that this quest exists because there is a large pack here, well above the dozen you’ve killed, including a pack leader whose head is worth an extra bounty. I’ll even assume you have the insight to know that you’ve been spilling a lot of blood, which has a scent that tends to carry.”
“Shit,” Mitch muttered, leaning over the map. “Do we have any poison left?”
“Sure, plenty,” Terry told him. “But in case you didn’t notice, we’re all out of critters, and I don’t think the wolves will stay still while we cram it down their throats.”
“Maybe if you could coat arrows in it, they wouldn’t have to,” Glenn said.
“Hey, I can’t help my level. That’s an advanced skill. Besides, you need high-end poison for that and we bought the cheap crap so we could get it in bulk. If we want this to work, we have to go round up more rats and stuff.”
“Or...” Mitch let the word hang as he carefully racked his memory. Getting out to the wolves’ hunting grounds hadn’t been too much trouble, but there had been a wrong turn or two when they rolled low on their Geographic Awareness checks. Usually, they would right themselves next time they had a chance to roll, but there had been one instance where they ran across a small farmstead and the owner had given them directions. “We could go steal a few goats from that farm we passed.”
“The rundown farm with the three goats the farmer actually described as his only source of income?” Jamie asked. “That’s the one you want to steal the goats from?”
“Sure. If we’ve got enough to properly poison them, that will get a few of the wolves. By the time we go get them, feed them the poison, and come back, the wolves will probably be around here already. We won’t even have to go deep into their territory to wipe them out,” Mitch said.
“Look, I’ve got a good Sneak skill, but I doubt even I can steal three full-grown goats without getting noticed,” Terry cautioned.
“Who cares if we get noticed?” Glenn said. “It’s one farmer and maybe a few family members. I
’ll bet he doesn’t even have a proper sword, just a pitchfork or an axe or something. We can go take the goats in broad daylight, and he won’t be able to stop us. Even if he tries, I can handle that problem in a single spell.”
“Very well. So, after cutting out the tongues from the wolves you poisoned, the three of you get back on the road to find and rob the kind old farmer who gave you directions when you were lost. Is that the plan?” Jamie sat patiently, waiting for confirmation as she occasionally checked her chart.
“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing,” Mitch said. “Though you can dial back the attitude. None of us are playing good-aligned characters, so this is well within what we’re allowed to do.”
“Oh, I’m fully aware,” Jamie assured him. “I just wanted to make sure I understood your plan so I knew what rolls to have you all make. And to keep track of the body count, of course. I’m sure none of you would want me to overlook the experience points you’ve earned.”
She looked down at a chart once more, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips in a way that made everyone else just a touch uncomfortable. “I could hardly call myself a GM if I didn’t give you everything you’d earned.”
Chapter 13
Sleep was a complicated process. Not inherently, of course—in fact, sleeping was one of the few things that came naturally and easily to nearly all creatures. No, what made this night difficult was deciding who would sleep and when.
Although Thistle had relayed to Elora the story of their adventure in Briarwillow, including how he’d uncovered an ancient piece of Kalzidar’s stolen divinity and helped to destroy it, no one trusted her quite enough just yet to leave her unattended while they slept. Tying her up was an option; however, it was generally agreed that, with the skills she’d displayed so far, slipping the ropes would be but a small feat. Setting a guard was hardly new—they’d been traveling for weeks and were well-accustomed to such needs—but Elora’s presence put everyone a touch more on edge, so it was decided that they would take shorter shifts in order to be as alert as possible.
Eric, by virtue of poor fortune, had drawn one of the worst spots: the middle of the night. Gabrielle, who’d been on guard before him, woke Eric up with a few careful shoves, waited until he was upright, and then proceeded to fall on her bedroll and pass promptly out. With nothing but the sounds of Grumph and Mr. Peppers’ snoring as company, Eric settled in for what he dearly hoped would be a very boring few hours.
Those hopes were dashed mere moments later as Elora opened one of her eyes and gave a light shake of her head. “Whew, nothing like a good night’s sleep to clear the cobwebs.”
“It’s barely halfway to morning,” Eric said, his own interrupted slumber making him a touch grumpier than usual.
“One of the many perks of elfhood: we don’t require as much downtime as the rest of you lot,” Elora replied.
“Well, keep your voice down. The others still need their sleep.”
“Are you joking? After that fight, I doubt anything short of a cry for help or a dragon’s roar is going to wake them up. But if you insist…” Slowly, Elora inched along the ground, never rising from her seated position as she made her way across the campsite.
“What are you doing?” Eric hissed.
“You didn’t want me to make too much noise, and this way, we can talk quietly,” Elora explained, finally stopping just a few feet away from Eric. It seemed like a healthy divide, but he’d seen how quickly she could strike when the desire hit.
“Or we could just not talk at all,” Eric suggested.
“Pish, where’s the fun in that? Look, I’m going to be up for the rest of the night, and you have to stay awake to make sure that I don’t start cutting your friends’ throats or anything, so why not have a chat? It’ll keep your mind alert, and you’re keeping a prisoner occupied. Wins all around.”
“You went for the cutting throats imagery pretty quick there, didn’t you?” Eric kept his eyes trained on Elora, watching for any hints of aggression—not that he expected to get much warning. Underestimating his opponent would only get everyone killed.
Rather than remain stoic, Elora let out a chuckle and tossed her head back, leaning against the nearest tree.
“It’s a joke. Blood debt, remember? Besides, even if I could gut you all, I wouldn’t. The bounty demands that at least two of you be alive in order to get the payment.” She glanced at Eric, and this time he caught the flash of cunning in her eyes. “Whatever you all did to King Liadon, it must have been pretty impressive for how much gold he’s offering.”
“It really was,” Eric agreed, leaning back as well. He didn’t particularly feel relaxed, but if he was going to play this game, then he needed to appear that way.
“Aw, come on. Thistle told me how you all destroyed a piece of Kalzidar’s divinity; this can’t be any worse than that. What’d you do?”
“We told you that as part of a trade,” Eric reminded her. “Aren’t you the one who described information as invaluable?”
Elora’s eyes narrowed a touch, even as her smile deepened. “Smarter than you look, I see.”
Before Eric had a chance to decide if he was offended by that or not, Elora let out a theatrical sigh and waved her hands. “Fine, what do you want in exchange for telling me? Bear in mind, most of what I know is worth far more than that, so your options will be limited. But I’m willing to at least hear your request.”
Casual as she made it sound, it was evident that this was some sort of test. Eric wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pass the sorts of tests Elora would administer, but he did know of something he wanted. Needed, really. Although they’d gotten lucky in that fight with the tree sprites, it very easily could have gone the other way. Walking into these quests blind was dangerous, and he had no intention of making the same mistake twice.
“Since it seems you’ll be with us for a while, I want your help on the next quest. Not fulfilling it, obviously, but in choosing it, and in comprehending what we’ll be facing. I’ll tell you why the king wants us dead if you’ll be our source of information for our next task.”
“Interesting.” Elora sat silently for several seconds, considering the proposition. “Tell me something: what makes you think I’ll be staying with you at all?”
“Because you want the reward,” Eric said. “If this blood debt works like you say it does, then you can’t attack or trap us, and I doubt you could get others to do the dirty work for you. But given how many times you’ve driven home the amount of gold at stake, you’re not going to just give up either. No, my money says your plan is to tag along until there’s a chance for you to save one of our lives. At that point, the debt will be cleared, and you’re free to do as you please.”
“You know, I’ve trained at least a dozen fellow rogues who never learned to look that far ahead on the game board,” Elora said.
Eric nodded to the slumbering gnome, whose tiny chest was rising and falling rhythmically. “I’ve had a great example to learn from.”
“That a fact? Being a paladin of Grumble wasn’t strange enough, but a wily one on top of that. You people are definitely interesting.” Something in the way Elora said “interesting” caught Eric’s attention. It was the second time she’d used that word, and the sentiment behind it seemed to only be growing stronger. Odder still, he was certain that her gaze had lingered on him as she spoke it this time.
“Very well, Eric. I agree to your terms. Tell me what you did to anger King Liadon so, and I’ll be your helpful consultant on all aspects of your next quest. I’ll even get you a few discounts around town to make that reward money for the berries stretch as far as it can. And before you get prideful and turn me down, remember that your berry picking session was interrupted pretty quickly.”
The very denial Elora cautioned him about was halted on Eric’s tongue. She had him there; while the party had easily picked enough berries to pay for lodging and necessities, they were far from being able to equip themselves for the journey t
o Baltmur. The only thing they had to show for their trouble was an elf prisoner and three of the weird fruits Eric had found growing on the root monster, and he didn’t have high hopes of getting much gold for those.
“I accept your offer,” Eric said at last. “In return for information and help with negotiations, I will tell you what we did to anger the King of Solium. Deal?”
“Deal,” Elora agreed.
“It’s actually pretty simple. He was recruiting adventurers to explore a dungeon and recover an artifact from inside. Everyone else had failed—died, actually—but by the gods’ will, we managed to succeed in getting the item. However, instead of returning it to the king like we were supposed to, we ran off with it into Alcatham. Don’t bother searching us for the artifact, though. We hid it along the way. Some things weren’t meant for anyone to wield.”
“What? That’s it?” Elora’s nose crinkled in a way that went very counter to her intimidating persona. “Thistle went on for an hour. He spun a whole tale about what happened.”
“Thistle’s a better storyteller than I, sorry,” Eric said. “I’ll fill in any details you want, but that’s still the basic gist of what happened.”
“I guess that’s fine. Let’s start with the artifact.” Elora leaned a bit closer, not bothering to hide the naked curiosity in her eyes. “What was it, anyway?”
“That, I can’t tell you.” Eric held up his hand to cut off her protest before it could even be voiced. “And I’m not trying to pull a fast one or trick you. It’s just that... honestly, we don’t even entirely understand exactly what it was. If I tried to describe what little we thought we comprehended, you’d just think us crazy. And you might be right. The wizard who unearthed it had gone pretty far into the depths of madness. The most I can say is that it felt powerful, and far too dangerous to trust in the hands of someone like King Liadon. If you think that’s unfair, then we can renegotiate the bargain.”
