Chapter 7: Unconscious Revelations

[Jeff]

"Then we're off," Varna says, leading the way. "Let's save the skycoach for when we're headed above."

The rain has let up for a while, making the morning walk an easy one, though the air is a bit humid. It takes an hour to push through the morning crowds and across the bridges towards Northedge and the district of North Market, toward Gerus's shop.

When you're halfway there, crossing one of the long bridges that span the chasm between Central Plateau and Northedge, a cat-sized reptile suddenly appears on a railing ahead of you, perfectly balanced with folded, leather wings and a snaky, barb-tipped tail. Its scales look almost vermilion in the sunlight that filters down from gaps in the towers above. It looks at you with scrutiny.

A few pedestrians notice it, too, and slow their paces, pointing at the little dragon and telling their companions. "Only in Sharn!" one of them says, then moves on.

You have been busy delving the Depths, Matheu says matter-of-factly, his soft telepathic voice heard by all of you.

Syrdan and Adamant have not yet seen the pseudodragon; they've only heard him talked about. Nevertheless, they can "hear" his words, too.

[Ken]

"Matheu!" says Belarin happily. "You've missed quite a bit. Interesting things happened. Much of it involved feces and getting gnawed on, but interesting nevertheless. What have YOU been up to?"

[Joe]

"You forgot vomit and body parts, good Belarin, although I am sure our dear friend from Argonnessen need not know ALL the nasty details of our little side venture into the sewers. Unless you enjoy stories about Otyughs, kobolds and dragonmarked floors. Those were kobolds, were they not? I fear my mind cannot contain the list of monsters we have faced."

[Darren]

Kal's face lights up. "I know this may come as a shock, Matheu, but I'm actually quite pleased to see you. I would imagine, being a dragon yourself, that you must be well versed in Draconic Prophecy?" Looking around the street, Kal adds, "Perhaps you'd like to walk with us? We might attract a bit too much attention just standing here..."

[Jeff]

Belarin:

"What have YOU been up to?"

Matheu strikes a little pose. I am a scholar. I have been observing and learning. It has been some time since I have visited this city. It is a surprising microcosm of the best and the worst of the humanoid races who absurdly claim to dominate our world. And I have a few associates here as well.

Kal:

"Perhaps you'd like to walk with us? We might attract a bit too much attention just standing here..."

Keep walking. I will accompany you to the dwarf's place of business in Northedge. The pseudodragon's body suddenly fades from view. I see you have accumulated more companions. A warforged paladin and an Aereni warrior-priest? Greetings to you both. I am
Matheurynivorak, preeminent sage and arcane scholar from Argonnessen.

Adamant and Syrdan find it a curious thing to be introduced to a dragon—and a very small one—while it is invisible.

As you continue walking, Matheu says to Kal, No single being is 'well versed' in the Draconic Prophecy. It is an unfathomably vast and storied body of work. But yes, it is a subject of great interest to me. I would be interested to learn what you have witnessed relating to it...and where you presume to fit into it, human.

[Dave W.]

"I'm sorry, there appears to be someone else behind my faceplate. It's a little distracting. It feels a little crowded." Adamant touches the symbol of Dol Arrah attached to his chest.

Adamant tries to clear and then organize his thoughts, Do you hear our thoughts too Little Dragon?
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sorry, I wanted to post last night but got interrupted.

[Darren]

Kal begins to relate to Matheu the story of their experience with Slattra, giving particular attention to the appearance of the dragonmarked symbol on the ground and the kobold's reference to She Who Dwells In The Heights Without Light.

"Matheu, when we were with the fey, I had a vision of a dragon. I couldn't say exactly what color it was, but it was sort of bronze and copper and platinum and gold...definitely a metallic color. It had horns that were swept back, like this," Kal holds up fingers over his head and pushes them towards the back, "and it had frills running down its spine. It told me to find the coin that bears its color. I wasn't really sure what it meant, but then, down in the sewers....I don't know. It seems like maybe it's connected. And I've always known being marked must mean something." Kal looks around for Matheu. "Matheu? Are you still listening? I don't think I've ever heard you be silent for so long..."

____________
Sorry for not writing more of the description of what happened in the sewers, Jeff. I'm about to run out the door and didn't really have time.

[Mike]

Aug 4, 2010 7:19:18 GMT -4 Dave W. said:

"I'm sorry, there appears to be someone else behind my faceplate. It's a little distracting. It feels a little crowded." Adamant touches the symbol of Dol Arrah attached to his chest.

Syrdan turns and looks at Adamant. "You too, eh?" the elf asks with a wry grin. "I can hear him as well. I thought it was one of my ancestors at first, but they aren't quite as long winded."

"Must be a dragon or a demon ... both love the sounds of their own voices."

Silently, Syrdan thinks, I only say that in jest, good creature ... a joke amongst my friends. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope I may be able to joke with you in such a way in time.

[Brian]

Condign smiles as he walks. The little dragon talking silently in your head takes a little getting used to, but he finds an odd comfort in it.

[Ken]

Belarin asks Matheu in a scholarly, collegial tone, "So, in your observation of Sharn, what new facts have you acquired? I'm asking quite seriously -- some arcane enlightenment, places of interest, or such?"

[Jeff]

Yes, Matheu answers Adamant. This is how dragons of my species communicate.

When Kal finishes his burst of a question, Matheu is silent for a moment. Varna laughs when Kal imitates having horns with his fingers.

It seems you've been waiting on this for some time, the pseudodragon eventually answers. Seeing a Draconic image drawn on the floor of a cave below ground seems novel to you, does it? It might also be a trap, but I will consider it. Kobolds seldom have the interests of anyone outside their tribes in mind. And you intend to bring another heir of Deneith to this one's master? Quite a leap of faith. One must wonder where self-fulfilling prophecy ends and true prophecy begins.

Matheu pauses. The dragon you describe sounds like a bronze to me. In this fey-dream, did it use magic or discharge a killing breath? These would be further clues.

Syrdan:

"Must be a dragon or a demon ... both love the sounds of their own voices."

Silently, Syrdan thinks, I only say that in jest, good creature ... a joke amongst my friends. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope I may be able to joke with you in such a way in time.

If you require levity, you have not insulted me. You at least speak more easily than other Aereni I have met. Tell me, elf. Have you met any dragons before today?

Belarin:

"So, in your observation of Sharn, what new facts have you acquired? I'm asking quite seriously -- some arcane enlightenment, places of interest, or such?"

There are many places of interest here. I have not visited too many at this time. Perhaps we can discuss them, but I would rather wait until we are still. Belarin feels a soft current of air wash over him as the invisible pseudodragon glides just past him.

__________________________

No problem, Darren. Unless you're saying something different than what really happened, it's fine to say, essentially, "Kal describes the events."

[Dave W.]

Aug 4, 2010 15:16:11 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Yes, Matheu answers Adamant. This is how dragons of my species communicate.

It's a less common way to communicate for warforged. In fact this is the first time I have shared my head. Adamant taps his skull with a thick metal finger. I am called Adamant if names mean anything to you. I an new to these people, but I think they are friends. They seem to trust you, do you suppose I should too?

[Darren]

"Yes!" Kal exclaims, then more quietly, "Yes. He opened his mouth, and I was engulfed in electricity. And when I woke up, my power had changed." Kal holds up a hand, sparks dancing across his fingertips as illustration. "He told me that I needed to be transformed." Kal drops his hand back to his side. "I was transformed, Matheu. And unless the fey just gave me something that caused some kind of fever-dream, I believe I was given these powers as the result of some part of the Draconic Prophecy. Now, you're probably the smartest person," he pauses, "smartest dragon," he pauses again, "ONLY dragon that I know. But I was told to consult a sage, and that description seems to fit you."

[Jeff]

Perhaps, Matheu answers. But he says nothing more for a time. But every now and then you sense his presence; a swish of air from his wings or a terse telepathic statement here or there guiding you away from the thickest crowds.

And then you reach the ward of Northedge and the district of North Market, coming full circle.

And not long after the shop of Gerus the dwarf, Shining Detritus, its painted wood sign depicting a broken gauntlet that's glowing with golden light.

The elder dwarf smiles big when he sees you enter his shop. He showers praise on all of you....then Varna steps in and makes small talk, only lightly touching on the adventure you were said to have had within the City of the Dead.

She asks him if things have been okay, since.

"To be honest, it's difficult to tell. You sent me word that the 'troublesome spirit' haunting these alleys had been removed. Coming from a Tavven, that's good enough for me. Already I've had a few new customers—visitors mostly—wander in. I'm sure business will pick up soon."

He looks at the group of you. "I promised I'd give you your pick from my shop, if you did this for me. Please, have a look around."

__________________________

What would you be looking for in a curio shop?

[Dave W.]

Adamant turns to Condign as they walk to the curio shop and quietly asks, "So did you hear my thoughts when I spoke to the Little Dragon in my head... or it's head?"

When Gerus makes his offer, Adamant politely declines, "Truly I did this for the Tavvens, for my debt and respect for them, you should not feel indebted to me."

"if you truly feel a need, perhaps the next crate or two you unpack you might send the wood and nails to my people in High Walls. We are trying to build a community and would appreciate any materials to help with that."

[Brian]

Adamant:

Adamant turns to Condign as they walk to the curio shop and quietly asks, "So did you hear my thoughts when I spoke to the Little Dragon in my head... or it's head?"

Condign looks up at the warforged and smiles. "No, it is not like that. It seems our little friend can speak to us either as a group or individually. I am sure there are some things that only one is meant to hear. He is really quite talented." Then he adds silently, "Remind me, Matheu, to tell you about my adventure as an otyugh's chew toy. If I may ask, have you heard news of other tieflings? There was a concern in the Demon Wastes that some may have been sent to scout the five nations. Ebonfire is growing restless."

When the shopkeeper makes his generous offer, Condign looks around but sees nothing a warlord could use. "My lord Gerus, it is enough that we have helped you, and I thank you for the generous offer. But I am a warrior, and I can not see anything I may find useful. Unless you know of something . . . . "

[Darren]

Kal makes a short bow to Gerus. "It was our pleasure, Master Dwarf, to assist you. For myself, I am looking for a particular object, and I wonder if you might be able to help." He pulls the dwarf a bit aside and lowers his voice. "I seek a coin, I believe a bronze coin, with the image of a dragon upon it. Would you happen to have such an item here?"

[Jeff]

Adamant:

"If you truly feel a need, perhaps the next crate or two you unpack you might send the wood and nails to my people in High Walls.

Gerus's brows come together in puzzlement, then he smiles gently. "I can do that for you, I can do that. More than a crate or two, I'd wager."

Condign:

If I may ask, have you heard news of other tieflings? There was a concern in the Demon Wastes that some may have been sent to scout the five nations. Ebonfire is growing restless.

After a few moments of wondering if Matheu is even still there, Condign hears his reply. I have seen four tieflings since arriving in this city. I am doubtful any of them have any recent connection to your place of origin. If any of them are spies for the barbarian tribes, they've chosen poor places to spy from.

Condign:

"My lord Gerus..."

"Please, please," Gerus interrupts, turning red. "I'm no lord, young man."

Condign:

"...it is enough that we have helped you, and I thank you for the generous offer. But I am a warrior, and I can not see anything I may find useful. Unless you know of something . . ."

The dwarf grins. "Show's what you know, don't it?" He starts to rove among the cramped aisles of his shop, searching for something...

Kal:

"I seek a coin, I believe a bronze coin, with the image of a dragon upon it. Would you happen to have such an item here?"

Gerus strokes his beard in thought. "I do have some old coins. Let me have a look."

[Mike]

Aug 4, 2010 15:16:11 GMT -4 Jeff said:

If you require levity, you have not insulted me. You at least speak more easily than other Aereni I have met. Tell me, elf. Have you met any dragons before today?

I am probably not much like other Aereni you've met before, Syrdan replies. As for meeting other dragons, no, you're the first I've met. Or at least met knowingly. I suppose I could've met others who changed their shape.

He says little else until he and his companions enter the curio shop. He simply smiles and tips his fingers in recognition to Gerus, preferring to let Varna and the others appraise the dwarf of the results of their adventures.

Syrdan idly wanders through the shop, looking at various objects, mostly looking for anything of Aereni manufacture, but simply glad that Gerus seems more at ease. His browsing is for curiosities' sake ... he doesn't intend to take anything, unless he stumbles across something truly odd.

[Jeff]

Gerus takes something from behind the shelf and approaches Syrdan with it. "This caught your fancy, didn't it?" He holds up a small figurine of a skeleton that's worn with age. It looks like it's meant to look like an armed warrior. In one hand it grasps a sword, but only the grip and hilt remain. "If you're still interested, I'll tell you about it."

Approaching Condign, he says, "You say you're a warrior, eh? And therefore nothing here would be useful to you." He looks the tiefling up and down, eyes appearing a bit larger through his thick spectacles. He moves in closer. The scent of pipe smoke lingers on the dwarf's red and gray beard. "Nice shield," he remarks, pointing at Condign's new prize.

Then he points at the tiefling's belt. "A strange thing for a warrior, isn't that?" he says in a teasing, but friendly voice. Condign sees he's referring to the lock of auburn hair tied around his belt. Gerus then holds out a tiny little hinged piece of silver. When Condign takes it to examine he sees it's a simple, but decorative clasp, and seems designed to hold something very like a lock of hair in place. With it, he could more easily tie the lock to his belt, or even carry it separately, and the hair would be safely bound.

"That used to belong to a noblewoman whose family's fortunes were quickly disappearing into the coffers of the Brelish treasury. She'd lost all her children in the war, along the Breland-Droaam frontier. But she gave all she had to the war effort, hoping to buy vengeance against the monsters who slew her sons. She came here one day and sold this to me, said she hoped one day it would find itself in the possession of someone with honor." Gerus smiles and turns away.

Then the old dwarf shuffles over to a sealed box on another shelf. He beckons Kal over, turns a key in the box, and opens it up. Old coins nestled in velvet. None of them look like the usual currency of crowns, sovereigns, and galifars. They're irregularly sized and most of them are so tarnished it's hard to tell their colors. A whole spectrum of metals of strange mintage. "What sort of coin, did you say? Something from a different land?"

Matheu remains invisible. He might not even be in the shop with you.

[Mike]

Aug 5, 2010 12:36:52 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Gerus takes something from behind the shelf and approaches Syrdan with it. "This caught your fancy, didn't it?" He holds up a small figurine of a skeleton that's worn with age. It looks like it's meant to look like an armed warrior. In one hand it grasps a sword, but only the grip and hilt remain. "If you're still interested, I'll tell you about it."

"Quite interested, actually," Syrdan says upon seeing the figurine once more. "Then again, I find most of these object in here interesting."

The elf gestures around the shop. "Everything in here, I think, was important to someone, at some point in their lives ... or will become important at some point down the road. Who knows what ancestors once held many of these objects in their hands?" He grins slightly at that. "I find that far more interesting that simple things like gold and silver, myself. Unlike gold coins, these have secrets, and tales to tell."

He looks curiously at the figurine. "So what is this one's tale?" the elf asks.

[Jeff]

"Right you are, young man," the dwarf says to Syrdan. "I may not be a professor at the University"—he makes a gesture up in the direction of Menthis Plateau—"but I can remember where everything in my shop came from and as much of its story as its previous owners could tell me. The tales are more valuable as gold."

Handing the tiny metal figuring to Syrdan, he clears his throat. "I acquired this from a merchant from Karrnath—a dwarf also, with Mrorian ancestry and honesty. He told me this figuring, and others like it were wrought by an artist when he first saw what he believed to be undead warriors gathering for battle. This was before the Last War, mind you, long before the Cult of the Blood of Vol took hold of Karrnath and raised up its soldiers from the grave. No...this was from an older time, when brigands, not enemy nations, plagued the people. Near Lake Dark, in eastern Karrnath, these brigands were terrorizing the villages where the artisan lived.

"The story goes, one day a band of foreigners—strangers the like of which the peasants had never seen—appeared out of the mists one morning. They offered to find and purge the brigands from the region. And when they saw what these warriors looked like, they thought they were the ghosts of fallen warriors. Skeletons in armored shrouds come to punish the wicked. That is what this figurine and others like it were made to resemble. True to their word, the undead warriors went in search of the brigands. Neither the warriors, nor the brigands, were ever seen again."

Gerus pauses, eyes twinkling. "But the artisan was mistaken, and only historians uncovered the truth. The foreigners who lent their aid to the people of eastern Karrnath were warriors of Aerenal. Their bodies were painted or tattooed to resemble the dead—the dead they admired. From a distance, they certainly appeared to be so."

The dwarf reaches out and taps the figurine lightly. "So this little trinket was inspired by the presence of some of your own people—though perhaps misunderstanding the truth of what they were—long ago and in a place far from their homeland. Maybe one of them was an ancestors of yours, sir elf. Who knows?" He smiles.

[Brian]

Condign removes the lock of hair and fastens it to the clasp. He holds the it in his hand, remembering his past and trying to sense if there is anything special about the silver object. When he is done, he fastens the clasp to as close to his heart as he can.

"This . . . I. . . ." He can not seem to find the right words. "My thanks," he says to Gerus. "This gift is beyond me. Should you ever need my help, just send word."

[Dave W.]

"I have one more request for my part, Master Gerus. We left a boy in your care, how does he fare? I would repay any expenses you incurred and gratefully."

[Ken]

Belarin looks around the shop, examining a few of the items. "My interest certainly isn't in weapons," he says to Gerus. "Like Syrdan here, I'm more interested in curiosities -- items with a story to them." He listens in as Gerus talks to Syrdan.

Aug 5, 2010 13:56:55 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Gerus pauses, eyes twinkling. "But the artisan was mistaken, and only historians uncovered the truth. The foreigners who lent their aid to the people of eastern Karrnath were warriors of Aerenal. Their bodies were painted or tattooed to resemble the dead—the dead they admired. From a distance, they certainly appeared to be so."

Belarin listens to Gerus' tale with wide-eyed delight. "That's a marvelous story," he says, staring at the small figurine with renewed interest.

"Syrdan, I confess I don't know much about the history of Aerenal. Was such ... ornamentation common to soldiers, or might this have been some elite group?"

[Darren]

As Gerus moves off to talk to Syrdan and Condign, Kal holds the small chest of coins in his hands. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing on the coins in front of him. As he opens his eyes, he begins to sift through them, seeking a bronze coin amongst the many that seems...different. "This is ridiculous," he mutters to himself.

______________
Edited.

Also, I don't know if a Perception or Arcana or something check might be appropriate?

[Joe]

Streko wanders throughout the store. He finds that, as he gets older, he allows Olladra to guide him in more and more avenues of his life.

In this case, there is nothing the halfling needs or desires, aside from the safety of his friends and family and, above all, their continued happiness and well-being.

Thus, as he meanders throughout the curio ship, he allows his eyes to glance here and there, not looking for anything in particular, but allowing for the possibility that Olladra might grant him something of use to him. Or something pleasing to look at. Or maybe even something that one of his friends or family may need at some point.

He gives himself over completely to Olladra's will. If nothing comes of it, so be it. If something does strike him, or rather, catches his eye (something striking him seems such an unpleasant thought in such a pleasant store), then he will be blessed yet again by his magnificent Goddess.

Streko taps on a piece of darkwood (at least he thinks it's Darkwood) sitting upon one of the smaller tables he passes, hoping subconsciously that his through about being stricken doesn't get the attention of one of the Six...or even Olladra, should she be feeling impish.

[Mike]

Syrdan listens thoughtfully as Gerus tells his tale. "I've heard similar tales, in my youth," he says after the dwarf finishes speaking. "But never that particular one. And never one with such a ... tangible aspect to it."

The elf gently picks up the trinket, turning it over in his hand as he studies it. "I like the sound of that, though, as mistaken as it might be. The ghosts of the fallen ..."

Aug 5, 2010 20:47:07 GMT -4 Ken said:

"Syrdan, I confess I don't know much about the history of Aerenal. Was such ... ornamentation common to soldiers, or might this have been some elite group?"

"I don't believe this to have been a common practice, no," Syrdan replies to Belaran. "But it certainly wouldn't have been out of the question for an elite group of holy warriors to do such a thing."

Syrdan thinks of his own training, and his own holy order, but chooses not to elaborate on that for the moment.

"My thanks to you, Gerus," Syrdan says. "The story is worth more than the trinket, good friend. I'll treasure both."

[Jeff]

"The boy?" Gerus repeats when Adamant asks. "What—oh, yes, the boy. He is well. I contacted the Watch. Although they didn't wish to be involved in the attack I described—they took only a quick glance where you saw the thing—they did see to finding somewhere to inquire about the lad. Lazy dolts, but honest about it."

If something does strike him, or rather, catches his eye (something striking him seems such an unpleasant thought in such a pleasant store), then he will be blessed yet again by his magnificent Goddess.

As Streko moves slowly among the aisles, submitting to Olladra's will, he doesn't quite look where he's going—and then stumbles into a box on the floor. He trips, reaches in vain for a shelf to hold onto, succeeds only in jostling the frame, then tumbles to the ground without injury.

Varna walks over to him, holding out her hand, a grin on her face. "Otyughs and gargoyles can't defeat you, little brother. Only your own two feet."

Then you hear something rolling...

From the top of the highest shelf above Streko—the unit he jostled in his fall—a spherical object suddenly drops! Varna reaches up and snatches it out of the air with both hands an instant before it would club Streko directly on the head. "What's this?" she says.

It appears to be a glass sphere, small enough to hold in one human palm but a little bit large for halfling hands. Within is blue smoke roiling, contained.

___________________________

Darren: Kal just doesn't know enough about coins and metals to know which one is real bronze. He'd need help. And Arcana isn't going to have anything to do with it.

[Darren]

Kal puts down the box in frustration. "I don't even know what I'm looking for," he says with anger and disappointment. He turns his back on the box. "Matheu? Are you still here?" he asks.