Post by Dead Greyhawk on Aug 29, 2007 20:09:27 GMT -5
The powers of Lydia and Trithereon penetrate beyond the veil of death to wrest the fallen spirits into obeisance, but their sight and grasp can only snare what exists, not that which has been devoured. None of the priests speak, their souls, as deduced weeks earlier, have been consumed by the destroyer that is Tharizdun. The wizard and the warrior, while indoctrinated to Tharizdun's creed, have not become soulless husks of men. They speak from the bowels of the netherworld to which they have been consigned. In series, their sepulchral voices fill the common room of the Wheat Field. The barkeep flees the sounds of the dead, mourning the loss of his serene tavern.
The wizard, Torrans Redkeep, whines and pleads in his misery and torment. Where his soul resides now is certainly not a pleasant place. Torrans provides little information of particular value when questioned about the goals of Tharizdun. Torrans took his orders from Caladon, the general of troops, and sent his magics where needed. Torrans knows only dribs and drabs of information regarding the details of the personal note. Kay-Tarn is some powerful leader who works for Tharizdun, but Torrans doesn't know what he does. Klim is another priest who is in the area, in a city to the north known as Flen.
The warrior, Caladon, is both more robust and more informative. Caladon seems stoic in the face of his current state, as if he does not fear death or perhaps finds it a mere inconvenience. His attitude is oddly congenial, and he strikes up something of a conversation with his inquisitors. Both Adrienne and Hugh are a bit unnerved by the half-orc's attitude. Nevertheless, Caladon is a treasure trove of information. Caladon understands the strategy and the tactics of the Dead God and relates that the push against Longspear was a serious attempt and likely to resume at a future time. Longspear is the only bastion of Keoland west of the Javan, and thus is a burr in the Dead God's side. Unlike the push towards Loftwick, which Caladon claims was more to tie the Yeomen to their lands than to take Loftwick, the Dead God wills that Longspear be destroyed. Otto grinds his jaw at the callousness of Caladon's commentary, reflecting that the destruction of his hometown was part of a mere diversionary tactic.
Caladon relates that Krukshank is his sibling, though whether on the human or orcish side is unclear. Krukshank protects and guards Kay-Tarn, one of the Dead God's favorites. Kay-Tarn is in Sterich to the west, where he has established a great compound to further the Dead God's work. There, in the bowels of the earth, he creates unholy beings to scour the land. The map that Caladon bore reveals supply depots scattered across Sterich, left behind as he marched his men eastward. These depots are hidden among the ruins of the human buildings destroyed in the taking of Sterich. Caladon seems to have planned for the long war with the possibility of set-backs and failures from which his men would have to recover.
Last, Caladon speaks of Klim, a human that he does not trust. Supposedly an adherent of the Dead God, many times he argued with Payne Qualschreier, the priest of Erthynul that Caladon accompanied, about the directions of the Dead God. Caladon had never seen such dissension between worshipers of the Dead God. Either Stalman Klim was of great internal strength, or he had depths not yet plumbed.
The Hextorites have found this fascinating, and Cathmandius steps forward, ready to question the Company's corpses. "Not so fast," growls Otto, ready to turn his annoyance on a living target. "Our corpses. You want to talk to the dead, get some yourself." Cathmandius's eyes flash and forms move in the shadows on the catwalk above, but the priest swallows his hatred and grimly nods at the ranger, not able to control his speech. Otto flashes him a tight smile and drags the corpses out of the Wheat Field, turning them over to Sir Highrider's men.
Otto, Raven, and Al, as Dain Ironmelder's representative, are brought into Sir Highrider's council meetings again. Meeting separately with Sir Highrider, Richard Coldheart, High Priest Arthurus, and High Priest Abernathy, the Company tells them the information learned from the corpses. The High Priests are somewhat irritated at the Company's initiative, but Richard Coldheart looks at Otto and Raven with an appraising eye. Sir Highrider simply looks grim. "With the walls in the state they are, we can not afford to have hordes of undead flowing down on us, especially if we are to expect repeated attacks. I will send forth a demand in the King's name for assistance from the surrounding priesthoods, directing them to send the bulk of their priests here, both to rebuild their sanctuaries and to aid in holding this vital fortress."
Absent the besieging forces, Sir Highrider is forced to reopen his council meetings to the merchant families of the city. Flush with victory, the heads of the various merchant families wish Sir Highrider to prosecute the battle, charge forth after the fleeing horde, and destroy it! Richard Coldheart's withering glare is almost enough to silence them, at least the perceptive ones. The forces of the city are barely enough to defend the existing fortifications and certainly are not enough for any offensive action. More troops are arriving from the Keoish countryside, but until the army and the militia have been rebuilt and retrained, no campaigns will be undertaken. "We've got everyone under arms who can lift a weapon, and even some who can't," curses Richard Coldheart. "Plus, we must pay our allies their fee for battle service, and more at that rate if they continue under our arms."
The heads of the merchant families look over at the assembled mercenary leaders, the Company and the dwarves lumped in among them, and pale, thinking of their precious profits withering away. "Perhaps a smaller fee to stay while we rebuild," ventures Reginald Jaeger meekly.
Thomas O'Shaelee, Madeleine von Essell, and Launir Netherander seem to have had a meeting of the minds, absent the Company, and they uniformly agree to accept standard wages while guarding the city, at least until Sir Highrider is reinforced by troops from Niole Dra. Sir Highrider looks somewhat glum about that. "Troops will be slow in coming, I fear. Most of the best men are being sent towards Sterich to hold the Javan River and the shore. We will be reinforced eventually, but not soon," says Highrider. The news of Sir Highrider's summoning of the priests is well received by the merchant families. The more holy men, the better seems to be their opinion.
Raven, concerned by Launir Netherander’s odd turn of phrase before the battle, inquires more about why his band continues to remain in the area. According to what Raven has overheard, Launir Netherander’s men were very capable, especially the twin mages, and served as a strong point in the battle. Launir Netherander assesses Raven and then invites Raven to join him for a meal. Over sausages and beer, Launir explains that they have been hired to search for a missing noble scion of Furyondy who disappeared one day in a hunting accident. Launir’s band is one of many scouring the countryside, but only Launir has traced him this far. Launir found indications that perhaps a group of slavers might have taken him and spirited him away for a high price. Raven knows well the ways of slavers, and he shares much, but not all, of what the Company learned in the Pomarj. Launir does not seem to react when Raven speaks of the slave merchant left webbed and unconscious under the Temple of Gruumsh in Highport, and Raven grows more relaxed, convinced that Launir is not lying and actually seeking the Company.
The mages of the Company, including now Otto, settle down to the long, arduous process of identifying the enchantments on the magical items. While they do so, the rest of the Company engage in their own private pursuits. Some learn new martial arts, others learn the binding of wounds and minor field chirurgy, while some merely aid in guarding and rebuilding the city. Diego disappears for a series of days, returning smelling horribly, of putrescence and waste. He seems remarkably cheerful about it, even when several days later he's asking Hugh and Adrienne for aid in dealing with his intestinal pains.
The Hextorites are less than ideal inn mates. They are loud and raucous, singing battle hymns late into the night. Few of the local cityfolk visit the Wheat Field, lessening the quality of food and care in the inn. For all of their taught potential for violence, the Hextorites are well spoken, neat, and orderly. A guard is constantly kept on the entries to the Wheat Field and its stable. Cathmandius assiduously pays his men's tab, and his leman makes certain that none of them have attempted to take advantage of any of the servants. Even the merest rumor of ill manner brings a rage out in Cathmandius, and Jasper overhears one of the Hextorites telling how the last man to grope a barmaid was whipped into unconsciousness daily for a month, being healed and scourged with salt each time. Over time, the Company becomes almost complacent with the presence of the Hextorites, taking their protection of the Wheat Field as a fact of life.
Cathmandius seems to be trying to enhance his reputation in Longspear, inviting many of his old acquaintances and friends among the merchant families to sup with him. The presence of the Company and his men's sterling, though loud, reputation, go a long way to reassure those that visit that the rumors of strange, horrifying creatures on the battlefield tearing people limb from limb are merely that, rumors. "Demons on the battlefied," Cathmandius often exclaims, "what a horrible thought!"
In between long rituals of purification and identification, Dell beckons Raven up into the room he has established as his working area. Strange chalks and unguents, the remains of bugs and animals, and odd scraps of paper, all ink covered, are spread about, covering the available surfaces. "I think you should know, but don't tell the others yet. I don't think they can handle it," Dell whispers.
"Know what?" queries Raven.
"Shh, don't say anything aloud," hisses Dell. "I can hear the faintest breath you make. Just mouth the words." Raven looks askance at Dell, but nods his agreement. "Back when we questioned the priest of Tharizdun, I put on the circlet, right? Well, I didn't tell you what happened," whispers Dell airily. Dell relates that putting on the circlet led to an awful feeling of peace coming over him, like a great lethargy. A second vision began to overlay his, showing a dark room made of stone, with carvings on the walls. A long tunnel extended out of the room.
As Dell stared at the room, he felt his head move without him willing it, glancing around at the rest of the Company. When Dell looked at his own garb, out of the corners of his eyes, it was coated in a second layer. Bright, burnished armor and a greatsword, heavily carved and bejeweled, balanced over armored leggings. A dark cloak draped across the martial form, and a skeletal hand gripped the blade's pommel. Before Dell's eyes, the hand flexed and pulled forth part of the blade. A sepulchral voice echoed through Dell's skull. “So, it is found again. Well met. I will come soon for my crown of thorns, that which pains me to my soul. You will give it up, or I will take it from you. The choice is yours,” echoed the voice, the sound filling Dell's mind. With those ominous words, the armored legs flexed and stood, dust puffing out from the chain links.
"I realized that if I could see through its eyes, it could probably see through mine," acknowledges Dell quietly. "Not wanting to startle you all, I removed the circlet and pretended all was well. But, now, I thought you would want to know." Raven stands dumbfounded, not sure what to say. "Think on it, and how to kill it or use it to our advantage," directs Dell with a finger over his lips. "But tell no one!" Raven staggers to the door, visions of unholy creatures stalking him through the night filling his mind, a light distraction.
The many items of the worshipers of the Dead God are finally identified and brought to light. Some are minor in nature, flasks of magical elixirs, the odd scroll, or armor only minorly enchanted, items that would have been objects of delight and bickering years earlier are viewed as almost commonplace now. Others are more powerful, some markedly so.
The magical helm proves quite useful, as it appears to translate the written word into a language the wearer can read. Dell grows momentarily excited, because he has heard that similar helms can help the reader understand magical texts. Unfortunately, his tests prove this to be false, at least with this helm. Caladon’s letter can now be easily read, and all of the correspondence that the Company has gathered in the past could be read also. As Raven flips through some of the letters that Winthrop carries with him, he stares at a note taken from Turrock the Spider, the fell warrior that attacked the Company in their very home, slaying two of them.
“Turrock,
I've placed all our people on immediate alert. Should the situation require dismantling operations here, you will be able to make contact in Flen. Seek the Black Lotus.
SK”
“SK. Flen. SK. Flen,” mutters Raven. “SK. Flen. Stalman Klim and a city to the north! We owe him a visit!” One mystery is solved.
The golden scale armor worn by the priest is made of an unknown material and strongly enchanted with protective magics. In addition to its ability to withstand damage and protect the wearer, it provides exquisite resistance to fire. The priest's shield is also equally enchanted with such protective magics, but lacks additional charms. The priest's whip is a scourge of sorts, inflicting painful wounds that mar the soul of those that bear its lash. Those struck by the whip flinch from further pain, overriding their more martial instinct and training.
These powerful items are almost overshadowed by the armor and arms of Caladon. His scale mail is made, according to Alouicious, of pure mithral, and is massively enchanted with protective dweomers. His pick axe is strongly enchanted as well, and his shield, while not as strong as the golden-clad priests, is also protectively magicked. Most interesting though is the ring found on his body.
Myrick's regenerating ring had saved Otto's life many a time, and Caladon's ring is similar in nature. Unlike Myrick's ring, it is not a passive object. Caladon's ring draws power from the pain, suffering, and blood surrounding it, infusing the wearer with a portion of the vitality lost by the wearer's opponents. Where Myrick's ring keeps the body slowly alive, Caladon's ring heals wounds taken, but doesn't support the body inherently.
The mage's staff, carved as if it was a splintered tree, is a powerful item in its own right as well. Able to generate thunder and lightning, individually or in combination, it is a formidable offensive weapon. The mage also wore a ring with a protective aura to it, similar to those found by the Company but lost through attrition.
The identification of the enchanted items causes a cascade effect among the Company. Armor and items are traded, passed along, and exchanged for what appears to be a better fit. Hugh returns Al's chainmail vest to him and dons the golden scale armor. Otto passes along his platemail to Adrienne and shield to Hugh, and takes up Caladon's scale mail and the priest's shield. Otto hands both his old boots, which make tracks of different creatures, and Myrick's ring to Al, who needs to don and doff it several times before being certain that it works, and slips Caladon's ring over his finger. Adrienne takes up Caladon's pick, planning to learn the details of its use. No one wishes to take up the whip of pain, so it sits on the table for several minutes. Finally, Diego pipes up, and, with some hesitation, it is given to him. Dell and Winthrop squabble over the staff, but, eventually, Dell wins out, slinging it across his back. Winthrop takes the protective ring instead. Everyone is not satisfied, but the decisions have been made.
Pfiffwin, Dell, Oaklock, and Winthrop take this opportunity to begin the long and laborious process of scribing copies of spells into new and existing spellbooks. With Oaklock's ascension to higher magics, he has required a new tome, and Winthrop's experience with San and Dredd stealing his spellbooks has made him leery of having only a single copy. Much ink and vellum are used. Dell writes fewer spells in his books, choosing instead to concentrate on scribing scrolls of useful spells.
Many days pass with little excitement. The repetition of meeting after meeting is mind-numbing. One day though, Diego walks into the Wheat Field with a large shield in both hands. The surface of the shield is odd, almost pearly in color, as if grown rather than made. Diego seems extraordinarily proud of himself.
He explains that he asked Killain Anvilsplitter for permission and aid in gathering up the corpse of Dell's killer, the snail with the flails, in exchange for leading the Keepers of the Peace to the hideout of the now-dead thieves. "Seemed like a fair trade at the time," says Diego. "Now I have this shield made from its shell, and it still does that swirly, bouncy thing when magic hits it!" Diego bounces up and down in glee, showing how he can hook it over both shoulders so that it rides over his backpack, protecting him while covered by a spare cloak. "No more worrying about getting incinerated by Winthrop," chortles Diego.
The wizard, Torrans Redkeep, whines and pleads in his misery and torment. Where his soul resides now is certainly not a pleasant place. Torrans provides little information of particular value when questioned about the goals of Tharizdun. Torrans took his orders from Caladon, the general of troops, and sent his magics where needed. Torrans knows only dribs and drabs of information regarding the details of the personal note. Kay-Tarn is some powerful leader who works for Tharizdun, but Torrans doesn't know what he does. Klim is another priest who is in the area, in a city to the north known as Flen.
The warrior, Caladon, is both more robust and more informative. Caladon seems stoic in the face of his current state, as if he does not fear death or perhaps finds it a mere inconvenience. His attitude is oddly congenial, and he strikes up something of a conversation with his inquisitors. Both Adrienne and Hugh are a bit unnerved by the half-orc's attitude. Nevertheless, Caladon is a treasure trove of information. Caladon understands the strategy and the tactics of the Dead God and relates that the push against Longspear was a serious attempt and likely to resume at a future time. Longspear is the only bastion of Keoland west of the Javan, and thus is a burr in the Dead God's side. Unlike the push towards Loftwick, which Caladon claims was more to tie the Yeomen to their lands than to take Loftwick, the Dead God wills that Longspear be destroyed. Otto grinds his jaw at the callousness of Caladon's commentary, reflecting that the destruction of his hometown was part of a mere diversionary tactic.
Caladon relates that Krukshank is his sibling, though whether on the human or orcish side is unclear. Krukshank protects and guards Kay-Tarn, one of the Dead God's favorites. Kay-Tarn is in Sterich to the west, where he has established a great compound to further the Dead God's work. There, in the bowels of the earth, he creates unholy beings to scour the land. The map that Caladon bore reveals supply depots scattered across Sterich, left behind as he marched his men eastward. These depots are hidden among the ruins of the human buildings destroyed in the taking of Sterich. Caladon seems to have planned for the long war with the possibility of set-backs and failures from which his men would have to recover.
Last, Caladon speaks of Klim, a human that he does not trust. Supposedly an adherent of the Dead God, many times he argued with Payne Qualschreier, the priest of Erthynul that Caladon accompanied, about the directions of the Dead God. Caladon had never seen such dissension between worshipers of the Dead God. Either Stalman Klim was of great internal strength, or he had depths not yet plumbed.
The Hextorites have found this fascinating, and Cathmandius steps forward, ready to question the Company's corpses. "Not so fast," growls Otto, ready to turn his annoyance on a living target. "Our corpses. You want to talk to the dead, get some yourself." Cathmandius's eyes flash and forms move in the shadows on the catwalk above, but the priest swallows his hatred and grimly nods at the ranger, not able to control his speech. Otto flashes him a tight smile and drags the corpses out of the Wheat Field, turning them over to Sir Highrider's men.
Otto, Raven, and Al, as Dain Ironmelder's representative, are brought into Sir Highrider's council meetings again. Meeting separately with Sir Highrider, Richard Coldheart, High Priest Arthurus, and High Priest Abernathy, the Company tells them the information learned from the corpses. The High Priests are somewhat irritated at the Company's initiative, but Richard Coldheart looks at Otto and Raven with an appraising eye. Sir Highrider simply looks grim. "With the walls in the state they are, we can not afford to have hordes of undead flowing down on us, especially if we are to expect repeated attacks. I will send forth a demand in the King's name for assistance from the surrounding priesthoods, directing them to send the bulk of their priests here, both to rebuild their sanctuaries and to aid in holding this vital fortress."
Absent the besieging forces, Sir Highrider is forced to reopen his council meetings to the merchant families of the city. Flush with victory, the heads of the various merchant families wish Sir Highrider to prosecute the battle, charge forth after the fleeing horde, and destroy it! Richard Coldheart's withering glare is almost enough to silence them, at least the perceptive ones. The forces of the city are barely enough to defend the existing fortifications and certainly are not enough for any offensive action. More troops are arriving from the Keoish countryside, but until the army and the militia have been rebuilt and retrained, no campaigns will be undertaken. "We've got everyone under arms who can lift a weapon, and even some who can't," curses Richard Coldheart. "Plus, we must pay our allies their fee for battle service, and more at that rate if they continue under our arms."
The heads of the merchant families look over at the assembled mercenary leaders, the Company and the dwarves lumped in among them, and pale, thinking of their precious profits withering away. "Perhaps a smaller fee to stay while we rebuild," ventures Reginald Jaeger meekly.
Thomas O'Shaelee, Madeleine von Essell, and Launir Netherander seem to have had a meeting of the minds, absent the Company, and they uniformly agree to accept standard wages while guarding the city, at least until Sir Highrider is reinforced by troops from Niole Dra. Sir Highrider looks somewhat glum about that. "Troops will be slow in coming, I fear. Most of the best men are being sent towards Sterich to hold the Javan River and the shore. We will be reinforced eventually, but not soon," says Highrider. The news of Sir Highrider's summoning of the priests is well received by the merchant families. The more holy men, the better seems to be their opinion.
Raven, concerned by Launir Netherander’s odd turn of phrase before the battle, inquires more about why his band continues to remain in the area. According to what Raven has overheard, Launir Netherander’s men were very capable, especially the twin mages, and served as a strong point in the battle. Launir Netherander assesses Raven and then invites Raven to join him for a meal. Over sausages and beer, Launir explains that they have been hired to search for a missing noble scion of Furyondy who disappeared one day in a hunting accident. Launir’s band is one of many scouring the countryside, but only Launir has traced him this far. Launir found indications that perhaps a group of slavers might have taken him and spirited him away for a high price. Raven knows well the ways of slavers, and he shares much, but not all, of what the Company learned in the Pomarj. Launir does not seem to react when Raven speaks of the slave merchant left webbed and unconscious under the Temple of Gruumsh in Highport, and Raven grows more relaxed, convinced that Launir is not lying and actually seeking the Company.
The mages of the Company, including now Otto, settle down to the long, arduous process of identifying the enchantments on the magical items. While they do so, the rest of the Company engage in their own private pursuits. Some learn new martial arts, others learn the binding of wounds and minor field chirurgy, while some merely aid in guarding and rebuilding the city. Diego disappears for a series of days, returning smelling horribly, of putrescence and waste. He seems remarkably cheerful about it, even when several days later he's asking Hugh and Adrienne for aid in dealing with his intestinal pains.
The Hextorites are less than ideal inn mates. They are loud and raucous, singing battle hymns late into the night. Few of the local cityfolk visit the Wheat Field, lessening the quality of food and care in the inn. For all of their taught potential for violence, the Hextorites are well spoken, neat, and orderly. A guard is constantly kept on the entries to the Wheat Field and its stable. Cathmandius assiduously pays his men's tab, and his leman makes certain that none of them have attempted to take advantage of any of the servants. Even the merest rumor of ill manner brings a rage out in Cathmandius, and Jasper overhears one of the Hextorites telling how the last man to grope a barmaid was whipped into unconsciousness daily for a month, being healed and scourged with salt each time. Over time, the Company becomes almost complacent with the presence of the Hextorites, taking their protection of the Wheat Field as a fact of life.
Cathmandius seems to be trying to enhance his reputation in Longspear, inviting many of his old acquaintances and friends among the merchant families to sup with him. The presence of the Company and his men's sterling, though loud, reputation, go a long way to reassure those that visit that the rumors of strange, horrifying creatures on the battlefield tearing people limb from limb are merely that, rumors. "Demons on the battlefied," Cathmandius often exclaims, "what a horrible thought!"
In between long rituals of purification and identification, Dell beckons Raven up into the room he has established as his working area. Strange chalks and unguents, the remains of bugs and animals, and odd scraps of paper, all ink covered, are spread about, covering the available surfaces. "I think you should know, but don't tell the others yet. I don't think they can handle it," Dell whispers.
"Know what?" queries Raven.
"Shh, don't say anything aloud," hisses Dell. "I can hear the faintest breath you make. Just mouth the words." Raven looks askance at Dell, but nods his agreement. "Back when we questioned the priest of Tharizdun, I put on the circlet, right? Well, I didn't tell you what happened," whispers Dell airily. Dell relates that putting on the circlet led to an awful feeling of peace coming over him, like a great lethargy. A second vision began to overlay his, showing a dark room made of stone, with carvings on the walls. A long tunnel extended out of the room.
As Dell stared at the room, he felt his head move without him willing it, glancing around at the rest of the Company. When Dell looked at his own garb, out of the corners of his eyes, it was coated in a second layer. Bright, burnished armor and a greatsword, heavily carved and bejeweled, balanced over armored leggings. A dark cloak draped across the martial form, and a skeletal hand gripped the blade's pommel. Before Dell's eyes, the hand flexed and pulled forth part of the blade. A sepulchral voice echoed through Dell's skull. “So, it is found again. Well met. I will come soon for my crown of thorns, that which pains me to my soul. You will give it up, or I will take it from you. The choice is yours,” echoed the voice, the sound filling Dell's mind. With those ominous words, the armored legs flexed and stood, dust puffing out from the chain links.
"I realized that if I could see through its eyes, it could probably see through mine," acknowledges Dell quietly. "Not wanting to startle you all, I removed the circlet and pretended all was well. But, now, I thought you would want to know." Raven stands dumbfounded, not sure what to say. "Think on it, and how to kill it or use it to our advantage," directs Dell with a finger over his lips. "But tell no one!" Raven staggers to the door, visions of unholy creatures stalking him through the night filling his mind, a light distraction.
The many items of the worshipers of the Dead God are finally identified and brought to light. Some are minor in nature, flasks of magical elixirs, the odd scroll, or armor only minorly enchanted, items that would have been objects of delight and bickering years earlier are viewed as almost commonplace now. Others are more powerful, some markedly so.
The magical helm proves quite useful, as it appears to translate the written word into a language the wearer can read. Dell grows momentarily excited, because he has heard that similar helms can help the reader understand magical texts. Unfortunately, his tests prove this to be false, at least with this helm. Caladon’s letter can now be easily read, and all of the correspondence that the Company has gathered in the past could be read also. As Raven flips through some of the letters that Winthrop carries with him, he stares at a note taken from Turrock the Spider, the fell warrior that attacked the Company in their very home, slaying two of them.
“Turrock,
I've placed all our people on immediate alert. Should the situation require dismantling operations here, you will be able to make contact in Flen. Seek the Black Lotus.
SK”
“SK. Flen. SK. Flen,” mutters Raven. “SK. Flen. Stalman Klim and a city to the north! We owe him a visit!” One mystery is solved.
The golden scale armor worn by the priest is made of an unknown material and strongly enchanted with protective magics. In addition to its ability to withstand damage and protect the wearer, it provides exquisite resistance to fire. The priest's shield is also equally enchanted with such protective magics, but lacks additional charms. The priest's whip is a scourge of sorts, inflicting painful wounds that mar the soul of those that bear its lash. Those struck by the whip flinch from further pain, overriding their more martial instinct and training.
These powerful items are almost overshadowed by the armor and arms of Caladon. His scale mail is made, according to Alouicious, of pure mithral, and is massively enchanted with protective dweomers. His pick axe is strongly enchanted as well, and his shield, while not as strong as the golden-clad priests, is also protectively magicked. Most interesting though is the ring found on his body.
Myrick's regenerating ring had saved Otto's life many a time, and Caladon's ring is similar in nature. Unlike Myrick's ring, it is not a passive object. Caladon's ring draws power from the pain, suffering, and blood surrounding it, infusing the wearer with a portion of the vitality lost by the wearer's opponents. Where Myrick's ring keeps the body slowly alive, Caladon's ring heals wounds taken, but doesn't support the body inherently.
The mage's staff, carved as if it was a splintered tree, is a powerful item in its own right as well. Able to generate thunder and lightning, individually or in combination, it is a formidable offensive weapon. The mage also wore a ring with a protective aura to it, similar to those found by the Company but lost through attrition.
The identification of the enchanted items causes a cascade effect among the Company. Armor and items are traded, passed along, and exchanged for what appears to be a better fit. Hugh returns Al's chainmail vest to him and dons the golden scale armor. Otto passes along his platemail to Adrienne and shield to Hugh, and takes up Caladon's scale mail and the priest's shield. Otto hands both his old boots, which make tracks of different creatures, and Myrick's ring to Al, who needs to don and doff it several times before being certain that it works, and slips Caladon's ring over his finger. Adrienne takes up Caladon's pick, planning to learn the details of its use. No one wishes to take up the whip of pain, so it sits on the table for several minutes. Finally, Diego pipes up, and, with some hesitation, it is given to him. Dell and Winthrop squabble over the staff, but, eventually, Dell wins out, slinging it across his back. Winthrop takes the protective ring instead. Everyone is not satisfied, but the decisions have been made.
Pfiffwin, Dell, Oaklock, and Winthrop take this opportunity to begin the long and laborious process of scribing copies of spells into new and existing spellbooks. With Oaklock's ascension to higher magics, he has required a new tome, and Winthrop's experience with San and Dredd stealing his spellbooks has made him leery of having only a single copy. Much ink and vellum are used. Dell writes fewer spells in his books, choosing instead to concentrate on scribing scrolls of useful spells.
Many days pass with little excitement. The repetition of meeting after meeting is mind-numbing. One day though, Diego walks into the Wheat Field with a large shield in both hands. The surface of the shield is odd, almost pearly in color, as if grown rather than made. Diego seems extraordinarily proud of himself.
He explains that he asked Killain Anvilsplitter for permission and aid in gathering up the corpse of Dell's killer, the snail with the flails, in exchange for leading the Keepers of the Peace to the hideout of the now-dead thieves. "Seemed like a fair trade at the time," says Diego. "Now I have this shield made from its shell, and it still does that swirly, bouncy thing when magic hits it!" Diego bounces up and down in glee, showing how he can hook it over both shoulders so that it rides over his backpack, protecting him while covered by a spare cloak. "No more worrying about getting incinerated by Winthrop," chortles Diego.