Treetop Racers

404MoTrRa

The sounds of evening bird song rang out across the canopy and brought the day to an end across the houses. The people of Bramblewall had planned this race for over a year and the Treetop racers were already removing the saddles up their companions after a day of test flights through the course. Twig, a forest gnome of no real renown watched the last of the racers feed their giant bird mounts and disappear inside for the night.

This was her signal to prepare her own fine steed. As she scurried back inside her treetop house the prospect of falling hundreds of feet no longer worried her as the bridges wobbled from her passage. She had been watching the racers and timing them and their laps – it had been her job for many years after all. She had studied the rules and guides around the race for years. One hundred loops of the forest over four days and nights. Mounts must fly and live in the trees, must not breathe fire and must not be carnivorous. Most people had giant birds that fed from fruit, seeds or nectar from some of the giant flower species that grew from giant creeper vines amongst the trees.

But she had found a loophole. Not all herbivorous creatures in the forest who lived in trees were birds. She entered her treehouse and quickly gathered her things. A pair of riding goggles that had cost her a pretty bag of coin, riding leathers and furs as well as a sack full of fruit. Moving to the trapdoor; something that only her treehouse had, she lifted the hatch and entered a balcony area under her house that was surrounded by thatching, vines and thick foliage. There her mount and racing companion waited patiently. A giant fruit bat.

Larger than some of the birds that took place in the race her small stature made her weight manageable for the creature. She knew that during the daylight her bat, Honeysuckle, would be slower than the other avian mounts. But she had an advantage that they did not, she could fly at night. Feeding the giant bat the bag of fruit she readied the custom saddle and harness that would enable her to stay bound to the bat during the flight. Due to the small amount of weight it would be carrying it wouldn’t have to stop for much during the daylight and she calculated, a guess really, that during the night Honeysuckle would be faster than most of the daylight flying birds.

Having sated the bats hunger she climbed onto its back, giving it a good scratch and talking to it. She had found the bat injured as a pup, abandoned on the forest floor and had raised it openly first. But now she trained with it in secret as she knew how the others would react. But this was her year. She would no longer tally results and count the laps of Alkerion, the elven rider who flew on Jesper, a magnificent giant hummingbird. Jesper was easily the biggest giant hummingbird that had been seen, a mixture of selective breeding and elven magic allegedly – but all of it was legal according to the rule book. But The stamina of Honeysuckle would easily leave Jesper far behind in the rankings.

With a final pat Twig urged the bat to take flight and within seconds she was soaring through the evening along the course – the special gemstone in the goggles enabled her to see the forest in a grey light, colours stripped from the world around her but she was able to see the trail markers.

Within an hour she had completed two laps of the course and was half way through the next. She was timing herself on a small gnomish trinket and she couldn’t suppress her smile. She was at least half again as fast as many of the other riders. This would be a piece of cake as long as Honeysuckle’s stamina held up she had a strong chance to be the next winner of the Treetop Race.

However, on a lower treehouse in the main centre of Bramblewall a human watched the bat complete its laps. Looking up with a similar tinted pair of goggles the middle aged man took similar notes on the speed of the bat.

“Uh, King sir? I came as you requested and looked into the ruling as you wanted.” a stammering voice said from behind. King knew that his associate was there and was approaching, he prided himself on knowing what went on in this city when it came to the races. “It doesn’t specify that the racer has to be a bird, but I don’t know why that matters. There isn’t another creature as fast as the birds that fly here that won’t eat them or the riders.” the boy said.

“Interesting that you say that. Not another animal that doesn’t fly as fast as the birds.” King said slowly. “Make sure that I have no plans or other engagements tomorrow at lunch, I have a potential client to go talk to.” he said as he watched the bat complete the third lap in the same time it would take half the birds to complete two at most. “Interesting indeed.”

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Guarding Prisoners

403MoGuPr

“The guards seemed relaxed as they lounged in the bench-booths of the Musty Oak and waited for the last of their ales to arrive. The coin flowed freely from their hands as they paid for their meals and boasted of their exploits to any who would listen, and many who cared not to. But the adventure, the wealth and the way that they spoke of their job made being idle and completing little jobs for little merchants sound utterly pitiful.

As they watched the guards enjoyed the comforts of being well paid and looked at their, in comparison, meagre meal before them. “Now now, don’t look too disheartened. Just so happens I know the boss of that crew and he is in need of some more men for a job.” the innkeeper said as he passed along a pint of ale, the first shouts of “Ales on me!” came from one of the younger guards at the table.

“If you are interested, Boris is sitting by himself over there,” he pointed to the quieter side of the he inn at a large man. “He is studying for the job.” the innkeeper chuckled and shook his head.

The job. This wasn’t exactly what they had in mind but the pay was significantly disproportionate to the work itself. The job was simple: transport two wagons filled with prisoners by road to some remote prison and deliver them to a man called Pensevtil. The prisoners were bound but sat quietly as they travelled in the well made wagons. The wagons were barred but constructed of ironbound hard wood that looked like it could contain an owlbear.

As they moved down the road the guards joked crudely and made fun of the prisoners but they were not cruel. The head guard, Boris, scouted the roads and was always looking forward. When he thought something was not quite right or needed further investigation he would bark out an order and one or two guards would immediately fall into line and move to investigate.

“The men respect Boris,” the company’s cook would say when watching one such order being given. “Boris is rarely surprised nor wrong when it comes to trouble and the boys have learnt to listen to the old vet. They say he commanded an army once but he won’t say why he isn’t still.” Cookie was an odd half-elf. He definitely got more of his human parents appearance but despite being quite ugly, he was tall and lanky with slightly pointed ears.

The men came back reporting nothing again but something near the road itself stood out to the party. Broken brush, several somethings had passed through here and they had broken some of the bracken that grew just under the trees. There were also signs of the passage of creatures further into the trees and they found fresh signs of the creatures. Whatever they were there were a few and they were nearby. Boris seemed pleased at the discovery and ordered the guards to be more alert which caused them to grumble but obey quickly and efficiently. One of the prisoners was staring into the woods when the party walked near the wagon, a look of fear and apprehension was clear on its face.

“It’s coming.” is all he muttered when they drew near and when they looked at the other prisoners all of them had the same haunted look.

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The Miners of Morrowdeep

402MoMiOMo

“With pick and hammer the dwarves dug deep and mined well and without tiring for the work was nearly the reward itself. The Dwarven Clan of the Irontongues were devout in their craft, swift with a hammer and trained in their forges and at the village’s heart is one such device.” The old man sat down chewing on the end of his pipe as he glanced down at the heavy book in his lap. “These dwarves worked with the people of Morrowdeep for over a century and with their iron, our timber and the stone from the mountain itself we made ourselves a future. Morrowdeep, the village built for tomorrow from deep within the Earth. That is what our ancestors called this place and with their dedication we won ourselves a new future here.”

The man paused as a few more people stood to listen, he hid a smile as he nudged a small wooden box with his feet causing the few coins to rattle within to draw attention to it. “But the peace would not last and soon a war was brewing. This was good for business as nothing is given for free and coin is required,” he paused as he took a drag from his pipe – the chime of coins hitting more of their own kind heralded a kind donation to the old sage. “The history of this town, its books, do not tell of what the war was with only that within the span of a few days the entire dwarven population was rallying north. A great departure from the home they built which left us on the precipice of dissolution.” An audible gasp spread about those who listened as the man let a tear streak down his face.

“Nobody knows what happened to the dwarves of these lands and those that had trained with the miners quickly tried to pick up where the dwarves left off. It was here that the miners, not the dwarves stumbled upon a stone that the dwarves had overlooked. Something new, something valuable. We called it Morrowstone, a kind of quarts that glowed with power. The wizards and alchemists worked out that the gemstones absorbed power from the sun and lit up like a torch.” he paused and for effect he produced a small thumb sized yellow crystal. In the light the crystal turned darker as if hidden in shadow but a spark of yellow could be seen in the centre of the gem.

“The dwarves never returned but Morrowdeep has come back brighter than ever thanks to the stone.” he continued.

“That’s a nice bedtime story Gregory, but you be forgetting the curse.” a voice from the back of the crowd said and immediately everyone turned to the new voice.

The man, Gregory, withdrew the gemstone which started to glow brightly from within his clothes before his face looked unhappily at the lady dwarf in front of him. “Hiljor, why am I not surprised you’re here to spread your superstition and lies,” he spat.

“None of it is lies. There is a reason the dwarves left them stones alone for they carry a curse. We called them Lanternstones and each Lanternstone plucked the earth demands a sacrifice, a blood debt per gem until the debt is made right.” she said as if reciting from a book. “You failed to mention the cave ins when mining the gems, or the miners that went missing coming down from the Cragstone mountains. Or the Lanternstone night where the wild beasts from the mountains attacked the village.” she listened to the look of horror on the faces of the people listening to her and Gregory’s tale.

“All that was happenchance. The books have reasons for all of that which doesn’t involve your fear of sorcery or stupid dwarven superstition. Do not heed her, she is finding it difficult to let go from the past and embrace the future. A brighter one than is told in your pubs and taverns which is where it smells like you’ve just come from hey Hiljor?” Gregory sneered as some of the onlookers looked more settled and some even chuckled.

“You heed my warnings. People are going missing in this city and you best leave the Lanternstone alone” Hiljor said before leaving the growing number of laughing people behind her.

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Moving through the darkness was easy with the help of the Lanternstone and something was calling on the wind. Moving through the old tunnels the stone was rough on the bottom of its feet but the thickened skin meant that it felt nothing as it walked into the open night air.

The town before it spread like an infection and the glow of Lanternstone lit up like fire. Nodding slowly the creature walked towards the city and as it walked the hunch in its back straightened. By time it walked into the city it blended in perfectly with the crowd and as it stalked the brightly lit streets it basked in the glow of Lanternstone.

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The Procession of Priests

401MoTPrOPr

The party greet the guards politely as they move on foot through the large gates. The smells of people, animals and refuse greet them first as they enter the Grand City of Oakspire – not an uncommon occurrence they muse. The buildings beyond the gate are lively. Stables, inns, bars and merchants that focus on goods for travellers line the street.

The alleyways and street are hurriedly being shovelled and mucked by street sweepers as they seek to earn their copper for the day cleaning refuse from horses and people. The alleyways are busy with people rushing through or into with goods to side doors and hatches. But beyond the busyness of commerce the din of the lesser districts can be seen with tall, thin, worn down buildings nearly stacked upon each other. The city itself sprawls outside the gates with farmhouses and poorer housing outside the wall but it’s evident to see that it spills out from nearest the wall at some stage.

Seeking directions to the church of Kelemvor was met with a knowing nod and kindness from all in the city. Even the roughest of people bowed their heads with respect and gave the party directions, offering a blessing that they find the peace they seek. As the party wove themselves deeper into the city they were greeted by the gradual change in the buildings as it evolved to business of better repute, mercantile and the merchants seemed to live here between the houses of the workers of the city, and those who were born rich.

Here guards were posted at several street corners sporting black cloaks, their weapons sheathed but not out of reach as they watched all those who walked by with calculating stares. The merchants here did not holler and call to the passers by but smiled and bowed politely to those who crossed in a nearly sombre way. Their expressions a mixture of welcoming and sympathy which the party were beginning to see on the looks of all but the guards faces.

As they were pointed away from the noble-born district by a pair of guards who saw them approaching they were nearly surprised to see that the Church of Kelemvor was away from the nobles houses and sat, alone, next to what appeared to be the barracks, the cities wall and the edge of the working districts houses. But that did not shock the party as much as the hundreds of people that lined the street towards the church.

Movement was slow through the crowd but the people of the city merely bowed their heads and wished that they find their peace as they progressed, painfully slow to the church. Many people were dressed in black and sported the symbol of Kelemvor on their clothing or as an amulet, ring or other accessory. Some merchants and noblemen and noblewomen held books which appeared to be prayer books to Kelemvor. As they stood and muttered prayers in the streets everyone, poor, wealthy and noble alike, took small steps when they could to get closer to the church.

As the party approached the church a ring of guards prevented people from walking up the large grey stone steps unless in single file and only the letter they had received from their employer let them pass as a group. Everyone bowed respectfully as they walked the steps that were covered in a large dark carpet that cascaded down from the large, heavy oaken doors of the place of worship.

Entering the doors the party was stopped by young guards dressed in black robes who took their name and one look at the letter before moving off to seek out a brother of the order. The party could see a hall lit with hundreds of candles within and at the far side of the church lay an altar, surrounded by imagery and symbols of Kelemvor. Upon the altar a body lay draped in black cloth, candles surrounded the altar and with every visitor another candle was placed upon the steps leading to the deceased. Within the minute the guard came back with a priest of Kelemvor.

“Welcome, blessings upon you and thanks for travelling. I would wish that you find the peace you seek but I must ask you to follow me first.” The man’s face was kind and welcoming but there was a pain behind his eyes. As they followed him through the church the man greeted other people paying their respects to the deceased but didn’t answer any questions the party had. All he provided was “Follow me if you will, we have much to discuss and I trust that I will be able to answer all your questions in due time.”

As they walked past the altar a human man appeared to be in his eighties lay there amongst the black fabric and candles and the party began to feel a weight settle in their stomach. Passing through a door that the priest held open for them the party found themselves in a small room, big enough for them to sit or stand but not much else.

“Now before you ask any more questions I have to ask for your forgiveness as the letter you have, the job detailed within is no longer required. But I have another for you if you are willing.” the priest said, his face still unreadable mixtures of emotions. “During the initial rituals to sanctify the church the entire congregation was visited by an image of Kelemvor. Our lord then proclaimed that the High Priest Richard Spiritbane would not be granted another year of extended life by our lord and within the hour he died.” The priest moved to the door and checked outside quickly before returning.

“As you can imagine it was quite shocking but as it was the will of our god, the guardian of the living and the dead of this city his word is lore. But myself, and a few other brothers and sisters, do not believe that we were visited by our lord. In all the recordings and teachings of our order never has the decision of the extension of his grace to his followers been declared prior to the day of the rituals, which is two days from now. We few believe that there is a foul ploy at foot and I pray that you can help uncover the truth. Only myself knows about this deal, for the rest of the city you are just once-bodyguards but now you join the mourners.” he finished as he licked his lips.

“What say you, will you be able to assist us and help us find the peace that the high priest deserves?”

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