Split the Party

by Drew Hayes

  Split the Party

  By Drew Hayes

  Copyright © 2015 by Andrew Hayes

  All Rights Reserved.

  Edited by Erin Cooley (cooley.edit@gmail.com)

  Proofread by Kisa Whipkey (http://kisawhipkey.com)

  Cover by A.M. Ruggs

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  This one goes out to all the GMs out there, putting up with rule lawyers, unpredictable groups, and more diplomacy checks than anyone should ever have to deal with. Without you, there would be no games, so thanks for making them happen.

  Also big thanks to my beta readers. To Bill Hammond, TheSFReader, Priscilla Yuen, and E Ramos E. You all gave me +5 Competence and Confidence when tackling this CR 20 project.

  Prologue

  Moonlight glowed on the shovel’s silver surface as it dropped the last load of dirt. Careful hands reached down and smoothed the pile, tenderly blending the corners so that it looked like no more than a misshapen lump of earth amidst hundreds of its brethren. He rose from his crouch and surveyed his work, making certain to note every detail of the surroundings.

  There was nothing to mark the hole he’d dug, no telltale sign hinting at the treasure buried below the soft bump in the earth’s surface. This, they had all agreed, was the best way. Build a treacherous dungeon or hire an unassailable guard and it was just a matter of time before the adventurers were drawn in, seeking a prize despite knowing nothing about what it was. Anonymity was the greatest defense they possessed. This spot would have no treasure map, no legends surrounding it, no indication at all that one of the most powerful artifacts in the known world was carefully tucked several feet down in the soil. Taking it a step further, only one of them would know of the spot where it was buried. If he should pass, then the secret would go with him.

  Brushing his hands clean, he stowed the shovel atop his backpack and slung it heavily over his shoulder. It would take him half a day to rejoin his group, and he was eager to begin the journey. Despite all assurances that these woods were as safe as one could find, he still felt ill-at-ease without the others to watch his back. The only true weapons he had were a short sword, slightly enchanted armor, and his natural stealth.

  He hurried across the grass, quickly vanishing into the trees. For the first several miles, he could still feel the artifact calling to him, beckoning for him to come retrieve it and keep it close. The temptation was real, but far from overpowering. Anything that could reach into his head and speak directly to him was an item he preferred to have at a distance, even if circumstances hadn’t demanded they hide it.

  In the grove behind him, moonlight continued to fall upon the recently turned earth. No sudden tremors signified a rising of the object, nor did a mysterious shadow fall across the mound. It sat, undisturbed, as the sky eventually lightened and the sun broke into dawn. There it would sit for a very long time, just as had been intended.

  But, of course, nothing ever stayed buried forever. It just wasn’t how the world was designed.

  Chapter 1

  “There’s no beer in the fridge!”

  Everyone at the table heard a door slam shut. Stomping filled the air as a tall woman with a nose ring and dyed purple hair entered the kitchen. She scanned the room quickly, locking her eyes on a young man who already looked exasperated as he set up the cardboard screen in front of his books and dice.

  “Russell! What the hell? How is there no beer at a Spells, Swords, and Stealth game?”

  Adjusting his glasses carefully and already regretting certain decisions he’d made, Russell responded in the measured tone of a man who knows he will have to ration his patience carefully throughout the day. “There’s no beer because none of the rest of us are twenty-one yet.”

  “So? That never stopped my old group from scrounging up some authentic refreshments.”

  “Light beer is hardly what I’d call ‘authentic,’ and besides, we aren’t playing with your old group,” Russell told her. “Cheri, you’re the one who wanted to play while home from college, and that’s fine, but we are playing my kind of game. One that involves cordialness and sobriety.”

  “For the record, I actually am twenty-one.” A tall, broad-shouldered man raised his hand gently, careful not to hit the table and upset all the dice he’d laid out in front of him. “I didn’t bring any beer, though. Alexis said chips and soda would be fine.”

  “You didn’t even need to do that, Bert, though we appreciate the hospitality,” Russell replied.

  “At least I’m not the only one over the drinking age,” Cheri grumbled, sliding into her seat next to the sole other person she knew, Russell’s friend Tim. He was hunched over his character sheet, poring through each detail with exceptional scrutiny. Cheri remembered when she’d obsessed about every aspect of her characters like that, but after five years of playing, her “technique” had mostly become a system of rolling her stats and then finding the best assortment of features to maximize her usefulness.

  “Russell didn’t say it was a requirement when he asked us to play.” This came from the other woman at the table, whose wispy brown hair hung down in front of her eyes, blocking most of her expression from view. Her voice was quiet, so soft it was easy to miss if she spoke when others were talking.

  “Nothing to worry about, Alexis; drinking is neither demanded nor encouraged at my gaming sessions. I do not want a repeat of dealing with my last group’s shenanigans.”

  “Aw, did my widdle brother forget how to properly corral his party?” Cheri asked. “I can still take over and run the game, if you like.”

  “I’d prefer if you just focused on getting your character made,” Russell replied, resisting the powerful urge to remind Cheri that she’d kept her party “corralled” by all but forcing them onto the paths she wanted them to take.

  “Psh, I finished that in five minutes.” Cheri held up a character sheet for the table to see, which did indeed have every section and slot filled out appropriately. “Chalara the sorceress. Give me a little credit here, I’m not rolling elves.”

  “I’m sorry, rolling elves?” Bert looked confused and flipped through the book in front of him, clearly trying to find source material for the term. As the only one at the table with zero experience playing an RPG, Bert had spent the night before studying as much as possible and was perturbed to think there was something he’d missed.

  “It’s slang for being a new player,” Russell explained. “Most first-time players try to create, or ‘roll up,’ an elf, regardless of whether it fits their character or not. They’re sort of the default iconic race of fantasy. There’s nothing wrong with them, by the way, if that’s what you were thinking of making.”

  “I’m an elf,” Alexis said softly. “Her name is Gelthorn, and she’s a forest warrior.”

  “I getcha.” Bert closed the book in his hand and smiled, relief evident on his face. “They are pretty cool characters, but I actually went with a gnome. Her name is Wimberly, and she’s a gadgeteer.”

  Cheri snorted loudly and then looked around, waiting for others to join her mirth. “Oh, come on, that’s funny. This guy looks like he could squat my car and he’s playing a female gnome who uses traps and gizmos?”

  “It’s a role-playing game. The whole point is that you can be anyone or thing you want to be,” Russell shot back, hi
s veneer of patience beginning to wear thin. If not for the fact that Cheri had let him play in her groups when he was still learning, he likely would have refused her entrance. But she had, so he owed her. Plus, everything in his new module was designed for a four-person party. “Personally, I commend Bert for such an interesting choice.”

  “Truthfully, I didn’t do it because it was interesting as much as because the gnomes can—”

  “Done!” Tim slammed down his mechanical pencil so hard that the table, and many of the dice sitting on it, shook in response. He looked around, suddenly sheepish as he realized what a spectacle he’d made of himself. “Whoops. Sorry, everyone. I was just a little excited.”

  “I take it from your outburst that Timanuel the paladin has finally been completed?” Russell asked.

  “He has indeed. Sorry it took so long; I really wanted to find the right god for him to serve. After a lot of research, I decided that would be Longinus: god of valor and heroics.”

  “Also known as the default paladin god everyone picks,” Cheri said in a mock-whisper.

  “I’m sure it’s a good fit for a lot of other players, too.” Tim patted his sheet gleefully, refusing to let Russell’s sister bring him down. After months of trying to find new players, they finally had a group again, and at long last he was going to get to try his hand at playing paladin. Not even Cheri’s trademark snark could tarnish his joy in that moment.

  “Well then, since all of you now have characters, I guess it’s time to decide which interesting rumor your party decides to pursue.” The sound of pages rustling filled the air as Russell rifled through his new module for the kingdom of Alcatham. He’d spent weeks trying to get his hands on one of the limited edition copies produced by a small company, coming up fruitless for attempt after attempt. Then, two weeks prior—just before they met Alexis at the comic shop and got her to join, along with her friend Bert—a copy had shown up at Russell’s door. It cited a pre-order number that turned up gibberish on the internet, but he figured he must have signed up for it when he got the first module. That was the only explanation that made sense, anyway.

  “As your party journeys across the borders from the neighboring kingdom of Thatchshire, you hear tales of magical and unnatural happenings across the land of Alcatham. To the north, it is said a mighty dragon is amassing many magical items in its hoard, leading some to speculate that it has a greater plan than merely gathering wealth. To the east, there are tales of a town that uncovered a strange, mystical artifact which is causing many to fall ill. And to the west, there are stories of a wizard’s tower that has sprung up next to the city of Everend, along with an influx of monsters not native to the area suddenly populating its woods.”

  “Dragon, has to be the dragon, dragon all day, let’s kill a damn dragon!” Cheri thrust her finger into the air like the tip of a spear, already bent on an imaginary charge for her dragon foe.

  “No way, he’s not a big threat right now,” Tim countered. “The town full of sick people seems a lot more pressing. We need to help them.”

  “Sick people have rags and phlegm. Dragons have mountains of treasure, magical items, and possibly even an ultra-rare trinket or two.”

  “I’m actually going to vote that we go for the wizard’s tower,” Bert said. “It’s bound to have lots of loot, plus it poses an imminent danger to the population of the nearby city, which I’m assuming is bigger than a town.”

  “Your assumption is correct,” Russell confirmed.

  “So, we save more people, still get loot, and are dealing with a complex situation that will allow for various tactics. It’s a win all around,” Bert concluded.

  “Which of the three is nearest to a forest?” Alexis asked.

  “Roll a Geographic Awareness check,” Russell instructed.

  Alexis complied, revealing an eighteen on the dice. Russell knew that was plenty high enough, even before she looked up her modifier.

  “The wizard’s tower sits on a cliff above the town and next to a massive, sprawling forest.”

  “Then I vote tower.”

  “That’s two for tower, one for dragon, and one for sick town,” Russell announced, tallying the votes by ticking off fingers. “Anyone want to change their votes?”

  “Tower works fine, as long as there’s a fat reward at the end,” Cheri muttered.

  “I guess, as long as I’m helping people in need, Longinus will probably be okay with my actions,” Tim said.

  “All right then, your party heads west, leaving the dragon unchecked and the town of sick people on their own.”

  Russell was right about his party’s direction, and it was true that the dragon would continue its amassing of wealth freely for some time to come. However, he was wrong about the town of sick villagers: there was another party already en route to their location.

  Though, calling them “helpful” might have been a stretch.

  * * *

  “Can someone please explain to me why we’re heading to a place where people are suffering from a magical sickness when none of us has any protection from getting magically sick?” Gabrielle shifted in her saddle, trying to get more command of the old, apathetic horse they’d bought at the last trading post the group went through.

  “I can come at it from a variety of angles, if you’d so like.” Thistle was riding with Grumph, who was the only one to purchase a steed still in semi-peak condition. It had been necessary in order to find one capable of supporting his sizable frame, and adding Thistle’s weight to the mount had been no more than the equivalent of tacking on an extra saddlebag.

  “From an exploratory perspective, we’re searching for magical items with ill-defined properties, and whatever the town of Briarwillow uncovered fits that bill, at least based on rumors. From a safety perspective, we’re hiding from the mad king of Solium, and riding toward a plague is a move even he is unlikely to anticipate. From a moral perspective, I am a paladin, and there is some chance that my healing could offer aid. And lastly, but far from leastly, there’s the basic sanity perspective. Based on the rumors we’ve picked up from various traders, going north takes us to a greedy dragon, which is probable death. Northwest is a wizard’s tower and heaps of monsters, which is even more probable death. South would take us back to Solium, and that’s certain death, so that only leaves us going northeast, which is only a semi-probable death.”

  “You left out staying still,” Eric reminded him. His horse was also old and slow, though that didn’t bother Eric as much as it did Gabrielle. He saw the value in caution, especially when riding a road of which they had no knowledge. His dark eyes were constantly scanning the road, searching for any signs of a trap or ambush lying in wait. After several peaceful weeks, he could feel the itch of paranoia pecking at his brain.

  “Ah yes, staying still; the course in which the forces of King Liadon are certain to find us, and we once again arrive at certain death,” Thistle added. “All in all, not a great array of options lay before us.”

  Gabrielle adjusted her grip on the saddle once more, shifting the weight of the hefty axe strapped to her back. “There’s also the option of fighting, you know. We’re not exactly helpless. We can send Liadon’s men back in pieces.”

  “Killing men in Liadon’s employ would just tell him where you were, which means he would send more. Not to mention it would place whatever town you were staying at in danger, and wasn’t that what you started all this to avoid?” Timuscor’s voice was hesitant as he plodded along slightly behind. Despite his handsome face and powerful frame, he was the least confident of any of them. Perhaps it was because he was still coming to terms with the insanity they had told him about the world, or it was due to not having tested himself in battle as they had. Regardless, the party had learned that when Timuscor did find the courage to speak, it was worthwhile to listen.

  “Well put,” Grumph grunted with his usual loquaciousness. Between him and Timuscor, it was possible for whole days to pass with nary a single word uttered. No
one was certain if that made them the best of friends or utter strangers, but it did mean that when they took the night-watch shifts, everyone else slept a lot more soundly.

  “And that ignores the fact that right now, one of the few things in our favor is Liadon having scarce resources, since he sent so many adventurers to their death in that dungeon. While his agents are few, we have to get as far away as possible. If we can find a safe place to hole up, all the better, but the longer we stay close to Solium, the greater our danger,” Thistle said.

  “Fine, I get it: we’re going to the sick town. What are we really hoping for, though? That Thistle can cure everyone with a clap of his hands and, oh yeah, that they’re also holding a piece of . . . well, you know.” Gabrielle, like the rest of her group, avoided saying the name of the artifact out loud whenever possible. There was always the chance that someone with real power was listening for just such an utterance, and the last thing they wanted was to bring that person’s attention down on their group.

  “It would be nice; however, I should point out that I don’t really heal them. I am merely a conduit for Grumble’s power,” Thistle told her. “But no, most likely we’ll find some cursed object making everyone sick, at which point we’ll either try and break it or get as far away as possible. So long as we all survive and don’t leave a trail for the mad king to follow, I’ll call either scenario a win.”

  Eric sighed and scanned the road once more, trying not to dwell on Thistle’s statement. What bothered him wasn’t the bleakness of such a meager goal, or the unknown elements waiting for them further down the Alcatham roads.

  It was that, deep down, he knew Thistle was actually being overly optimistic.

  Chapter 2

  Briarwillow had started out as a simple trading post, not unlike many of the ones the party had already passed through in their fleeing of Solium. Those who settled down there quickly discovered that the soil was of exceptional quality, though. Once they also factored in proximity to the nearby stream, the mild climate, and the nearby mountains providing moderate protection from monster attacks, it became clear that Briarwillow was actually quite the prime location. Within two generations it had swollen exponentially, surpassing trading post, skipping right over village, and finally reaching the status of a reasonable town.