Chapter Zero: Approach to Bardosylvania

[Knightward]

In all honesty Antinidia really doesn't care about this situation. Leave the gnolls to rot or have his aides bury them... it doesn't make a difference. Except for the fact that he wants to get to the well before the criminals and steal their prize. However, he does need able bodies with him in the long run, so he will attempt to diffuse the situation in a way that will keep him on their good side.

"Unfortunate though it is, I'm afraid we have little chance to bury these beasts. It would be a far greater honor for them then they would do for us, but sadly we have little time. We must reach this well before the brigands, and if we take the time for a proper burial we may need to dig our own as well as they come upon us. If you feel it is important enough, Piorr, we could always load their remains onto our wagon and bury them once our task is accomplished and we are a safe distance away. Unpleasant though it would be, we are Vespertani and deal with many unpleasantries, do we not?"

[The Widowed]

"This is true," Piorr consigned, hefting a gnoll by the shoulders and dragging the corpse towards the wagon. Jorgi joined him in dragging the slain gnolls and loading them into the wagon's bed as Mayna divested the bodies of their belongings.

(Among them, the gnolls had 206 Gold in two sacks, three battle axes, 3 crude suits of scale mail, 3 battered large wooden shields, 3 goatskin loincloths, a pouch full of teeth (human, elven or similar), a headband woven from brown beads, a simple wooden ring, a tinderbox, three corked bottles of green glass labeled "Old Miser's Creek Brew, XXX" and filled with a brownish liquid (possibly rum or liquor) and a foot-tall ivory statuette of a standing dragon with jaws closed and wings folded to its sides.)

"That's done," Piorr said, dusting his hands together. "North to the well, then?"

• • •

The hills soon shone with a small number of orbs of luminescent vapor, dancing around the dusk-lit hills. Antinidia felt far more at ease in the low light, and soon he beheld a plume of gray, thick smoke rising from the lowlands beyond the hill. The well was not yet to be seen.

"The smoke...what could it be?" Mayna inquired. "Are we already too late?"


Antinidia >

[Knightward]

"Let us pray that we are not..." Antinidia will say with a sneer.He may try to hide it some, but he's annoyed because there's now a new complication with what was originally a relatively simple task. After all, what good is snobbery without an instant gratification mindset?

"Quickly then, we shall investigate this and press on to the well!"

[The Widowed]

(Also, Anti has the authority to divide the loot however he sees fit. Including the loincloths. )

As things turned out, the well was found near the source of the smoke: a quaint wooden cottage, with oaken shingles and a cream plaster laid between the support timbers. The appearance of the small cottage was humble yet charming.

Firelight flickered inside the home, and a shadow paced before the half-opaque windows. But the wagons ground and creaked as they traversed the expanse of snow-littered rock, and the dweller soon swung open the front door and capered merrily outside to greet them.

"Good evening, friends!" the comely blonde maiden called with a wave of her fair and slender hand, beckoning the Vesperanti to approach. "I was not expecting company, but you are most welcome here. What brings you to the Monnover Lowlands this eve?"

Antinidia >

[Knightward]

Oh yeah, spells for the day!

Level 0: Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Daze, Mage Hand
Level 1: Mage Armor, Magic Missile (used), Magic Missile (used), Spider Climb, Charm Person
Level 2: Mel'f Acid Arrow (used), Mirror Image, Melf's Acid Arrow
Level 3: Vampiric Touch, Summon Monster III

Necro bonus spells: Disrupt Undead (level 0), Chill Touch (level 1), Scare (level 2), Vampiric Touch (level 3)

So anyway, the thieves mentioned something about an old witch, but this woman looks to be young. Seems suspicious. So if it can be done covertly, Antinidia will cast Detect Magic. After all, better to be on guard and wrong than off guard and in a trap. If it can't be done without obviously drawing attention Antinida will call back "Pleasant darkness to you! My companions and I were heading East when we were come upon by brigands. May we take some rest here for the moment?"

[The Widowed]

(A fine selection of spells, sir. )


(Antinidia - Hide check (DC 5): Success (21))
(Antinidia casts Detect Magic.)

(Opposed Spot check: 6)
(Opposed Hide check: 4)

With an almost painful subtlety, Antinidia drew back on the skink's bridle and slowed well to the rear of the procession, whispering an incantation and prestidigitating behind Zebeyual's broad head as Mayna engaged their greeter in conversation.

"Well met, madam. We seem to be lost and are trying to find the town of Drakolicht. Perhaps you could help us."

To Antinidia's alarm, the entire cottage was thick with magic! A great aura swam across every wall and every shingle, ghostly glows drifted through the air beyond the windows...even the blonde maiden herself had a bright and potent dweomer to her very being.

The blonde maiden who then gestured to a burial cairn and a tree near to the west.

"I understand. And are those two men with you?"

Antinidia gazed with consternation. The two brigands from the tavern, never too far behind the Vesperanti, had finally arrived.

Sheepishly emerging from behind the stones, the human rogue replied with false bluster as his gnome companion glanced about timidly, looking for a way to escape. "Er...aye! We were...scouting ahead for them, making certain that the passage was clear! Our apologies if we frightened you. And we are a mite weary, come to that...."

Adinaxle's small voice snorted with disbelief within the drow elf's mind. "What's this? Can you believe the gall of these two imbeciles, Master? Why, I never...."

Sending the brigands away might have simply given them the means to escape and return for the coffer while Antinidia and his cohorts were engaged with the ensorcelled maiden. Attacking them could get very messy, especially if their hostess took umbrage to the assault on her land. And permitting the brigands to join them could well mean two likely betrayers to keep eyes on as the lot of them strode towards an enchanted lair...a potential trap.

This turn of events certainly stood to complicate matters.

Antinidia >

[Knightward]

Antinidia, getting as close to the wagon as he can, will whisper, "Be on your guard, there is magic everywhere here, even the hostess herself bears such energy. For now, we will keep our enemies close. It is an old Underdark trick to prevent the dagger in your back, holding them too close to unsheathe it." Calling out to everyone else he says "Please, brave scouts, hurry on in and warm up! Without the warmth of the wagon you must be freezing in this cold! Fear not, Jorgi and I will attend to the beasts!"

"And to the treasures within the well when you fools aren't looking," he thought to himself.

[The Widowed]

"By all means, come in! I offer refuge from the cold in exchange for your travelling tales, which I'm certain are plentiful..." the maiden lilted. Piorr seemed unnerved with Antinidia's half-whispered revelation yet had little choice but to trust his leader's methods and experiences.

As if he recognized the drow elf from the tavern, the halfling looked up to Antinidia with wry scrutiny in his eyes, pondering the apparent coincidence of this meeting. But to the bandit's credit, he sought to neither exchange introductions with the Vesperanti nor reveal any other signs of unfamiliarity. Following his taller accomplice and the dark elf inside, he simply played along.

• • •

Hasty introductions and civilities were indeed exchanged between the hostess and her six guests once all were inside and the moment had become wholly appropriate. The warm air in the cottage was suffused with the heavy scent of lavender, and the low light cast from candle flames danced from sticks in every window and sconces leaning from every wall. Suspended from the ceiling beams which crossed not high overhead was a large green scale with iridescent rays, easily the size of a buckler; Antinidia immediately identified the scale as that from the hide of a green dragon--possibly a dragon of mature age, though not likely older than that--and silently wondered if any of his companions--true companions or not--had recognized the same. The dark elf's spell had not yet lapsed, and a particularly potent dweomer over the doorway from the bedrooms invited Antinidia's gaze: a magic wand reclined on two mounting hooks there, its length fashioned from sprigs of willow root twisted around a copper core and topped with a spindle of jet. What magicks the wand would cast--and why the wand was displayed so openly--were questions for which Antinidia had no immediate answers. Even the dweomer of the twig broom leaning aside the doorway paled in contrast, suggesting that the wand had some degree of desirable power. But then, curses and jinxes emitted auras as well; the wand could just as easily be junk steeped in sorceries, he also considered.

Naturally, creature comforts had been readily offered for the travellers. Two large roasted pheasants lay carved on a platter atop the hearth's wide mantle, and cups of pipegrass tea had been passed around. Their hostess Linimeira seemed most comfortable reclining on her velvet cushion as she sipped her tea gladly, but the human brigand Rummick seemed very ill at ease. His eyes darted wildly about as he held his teacup with trembling hands, searching urgently for something familiar yet finding none. His wary emotional state did not go unnoticed.

"Is something wrong?" the lady of the house inquired with heartfelt concern as she lowered her own teacup from her lips. "Do you not like the tea?"

The brigand reacted with a start. "Uh...no! No. I mean yes! I like the tea. It's...it's good, thank you. It tastes a bit minty, even! Uhhh...."

The halfling spoke up on his accomplice's behalf, careful not to tip his hand. "I think Rummick's concern is that...that there used to be an old witch in these hills, right? A witch or a hag or somesuch...black, foul, ugly old thing...."

"Have you ever seen her personally? You sound as if you have."

(Scuffs - Opposed Bluff check: 23)
(Linimeira - Opposed Sense Motive check: 5)

"Oh...no, of course not!" the halfling replied with an assuring grin, laughing falsely to Antinidia and the other Vesperanti as if old friends. "Why, all six of us were in the Black Elk tavern in Grundenstag, just talking for hours and hours about the legends in these hills and elsewhere in the Empire, having some good laughs...weren't we?"

"Da, that we were," Mayna confirmed the lie, not skipping a beat.

Encouraged, the halfling resumed. "So that was when Rummick here mentioned the Witch of Dansel Hills, and our elven friend there pointed out that we would be travelling through Dansel Hills on our way to Drakolicht...." The halfling paused to suppress a slight giggle. "Oh, you know these dark elves, always trying to scare people...."

"Mmmm, I suppose," their hostess replied. "But the Duke's knights put that old witch to flight almost four years ago, and she hasn't been seen since. Her old shack is just north across the hills, and I can lead you there if you wish to see it."

From across the sofa, Rummick fixed Scuffs with pronounced disbelief in his anxious eyes. Just then, the window glass began to creak as a sudden gale rose from the hills, casting a battering blast of snow across the pane. Tucked safely inside his master's pocket, Adinaxle began to idly wonder if the lean-to and the woolen blankets would be enough to keep Zebeyual and the mules warm enough. The journey would become so very tedious if his necromancer were forced to walk to Drakolicht....

"Oh, dear," Linimeira started, "I hope that isn't a blizzard coming on! I suppose I might have to show you to the witch's shack in the morning, then. Curse these long winters."

Antinidia's keen elven ears heard the tiny hammering of icy drops against the roof well before the ice made its way down to the windows. The voices in the room seemed to drone and fade for a moment before he realized that his hostess was addressing him.

"...are you? Oh. Have you tried the pheasant yet?" she asked him, slipping a meaty fowl morsel between her lips. "I think I used too much lemon, but I hope it tastes passable. What do you think of it?"

Antinidia >

[Knightward]

Drat, I was hoping earlier to get the chance to go spelunking in the well!

"Hm? Oh yes, my apologies!" Antinidia will tear off a piece of pheasant and eat it. "It is quite good, excessive lemon or not. Truth be told it is difficult to tell, poultry being such an exotic dish as it is... My apologies, I was drifting off earlier. You see, with such a freezing storm as this I fear for Zebeyual, my pet. I'm afraid she and I aren't accustom to winters like this. And while your hearth has done a remarkable job keeping us warm, I fear what would happen if her shelter outside is not be enough. By your leave, may I go to check on her?"

'And then perhaps to check on the well afterward,' Antinidia hoped.

[The Widowed]

Though Zebeyual had weathered worse chills in the dampest reaches of the Underdark, perhaps his hostess was not aware of reptilian resilience and would permit the excuse. If not, there were always the mules....

The fair woman looked fearfully to the nearest window, gauging the sleetstorm rising outside. "Very well," she sighed, "but please mind your own health while you're out there! Hurry back inside as soon as you can."

A swift sprint to the lean-to at the far side of the house confirmed that Zebeyual and the mules remained well enough out of the wind and the sleet, curled or huddling on the mounds of straw and sod which served the animals as crude beds. His concern satisfied, Antinidia circled around the rear of the house. The hard, cold droplets of sleet continued to pelt his leggings and melt into the folds of his coat as the winds lashed his body...winds heavy with magic's energy, he observed with consternation. Something was most unnatural about the storm which now tore at the warmth of his own body as he trudged his way to the well. He could certainly not remain outside indefinitely.

(Antinidia - Constitution check (DC 8): Success (18))
(Antinidia takes no damage from the biting cold...yet.)

Fending off the chills for the moment, he peered into the depths of the well. Thirty feet down in the darkness, his darkvision permitted him to behold the hardening layer of ice which crept across the well water. Somewhere in that freezing depth beneath the ice he could barely perceive the glint of brass...one such glint for each corner of a submerged cuboid box.


Antinidia >