Vorgoth, Raiden, Bandesingh, and Shasharak

The Crimson Calling has arrived at their camp site east of Nodden-Torr, and the rangers are finalizing the details before camp is truly struck. Alexis has wrapped his winter blanket around him. He waits until the four others are near enough that he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“Good job” Nodding at Gustav, Ca’armine, and Rask. “Before we settle in. A thought gnawing at me since the fire lake. At the time when I spoke with Vorgoth, I was just giving you all my best translations, but I was also distracted by listening to him. He said a few things that require reflection.”

A silver piece starts over his knuckles.

“I’d given him the name Bandesingh, and that he means to bring back Ath and put the world in darkness. He’d never heard of the man in his life.”

“He said: ‘Bandesingh. Another one who mistakes certainty for wisdom.'”

The coin walks.

“Then: ‘So. Shasharak has found another road. The dragon believed he would.'”

He lets that stand a moment.

“A few ways I can take ‘another road’.”

“One. Bandesingh is the road. Plain reading. I asked all of you a while back whether Bandesingh learned his trade from Shasharak or whether two men arrived at the same answer on their own. If Vorgoth’s right, that’s answered.” Alexis shugs as-if a mystery could be checked off his list.

“Two. Another road to a Tear, not to this Tear.” Alexis points to his belt pouch “Bandesingh has two. If what Shasharak wanted was one of these and not our particular one, he got it centuries ago, and we never really thwarted Shasharak.”

“Three. Another road to what he actually wanted, which was to be a god. The Tear in the time-vault was one way. He found a different one.”

“Four.” The coin stops. “‘The dragon believed he would.’ He planned for a man to go around him. Whatever he built in there, he built it knowing it would be walked past, and then he left it to five strangers seven hundred years (or longer) later.” A slight shrug, and a nod off to the side. “There’s a possibility that we were the arrangement the Dragon made for losing.”

He pockets the coin.

“But back to Vorgoth.”

“I handed him the name of Bandesingh, which he had never heard and two sentences about a man alive right now. He didn’t ask me a single question. He set him beside Shasharak on the spot.”

“Earlier in that conversation I’d said Raiden. He said, ‘You say Raiden, the last true king. I saw him once in the flames.'”

“Vorgoth has stood in that room since at least some time in the 2nd age. Raiden doesn’t rise until a minimum of one hundred and sixty years after that. He cannot have seen him. Not face-to-face.”

“So. He sees forward in that fire. Or standing outside of time he’s able to see time flow outside the time-vault, which would make that fire room a stranger place than we initially gathered.”

Alexis’ tone shifts to light-hearted, almost joking “Or he has simply met enough men like Bandesingh to know one by the smell.”

The coin starts walking his fingers again and Alexis looks at his companions for any possible insights they might have.

Hadonis. Here/now?

Late in the two weeks, most of the studying is done. Alexis turns a silver coin over in his fingers.

“Hadonis.”

“I keep thinking about him and wondering if we should be worried.” He shrugs.

The coin goes over and back.

“Say he’s alive here. Say he’s the same man. He’d still have to know we exist, and I can’t work out how he’d come by that.” A beat. “Unless his god tells him.” Alexis shrugs again.

“We could look. We’ve still got the ball, although it’s still tainted. Is it worth it to shield us from the taint to see what’s become of Hadonis here/now? De we want to know?”

He pockets the coin and looks around at the group.

Still in There

The Crimson Calling walks east through the snow, away from what’s left of Nodden-Torr. The Tear sits in Alexis’s belt pouch and throws no shadow, and the light it gives is enough to walk by. Nobody has gotten used to it.

He turns the Collegium ring on his finger.

“Red.” He waits until Ethelred looks over. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

A few steps.

“Vorgoth held that bridge for centuries. Nobody crossed since the sky broke. I believe him.” He watches his breath in the cold air. “Six to eight people went in two years ago after the Tear. Never came out. No trace. Vorgoth never saw them enter and never saw them leave.” A beat. “Both true at the same time, in one place.”

Snow crunches for a while.

“Unless they weren’t in the same when.”

He lets that sit.

“The Dragon built that vault to last. And it did last, for hundreds of years, maybe more than a thousand. That’s an extraordinary working. Impossible to imagine it holding that long from just the power of the Dragon, even how powerful he clearly was.” He glances at Ethelred. “But the Tear was sitting at the center of it the whole time. A greater artifact of a very old god. That’s a different kind of engine entirely. The vault wasn’t running on what the Dragon put into it. It was running on the Tear.”

A few more steps.

“And the dungeon below, that was different. We saw a working down there that had gone wrong, maybe from the group that came through two years before us. Something they touched that they shouldn’t have. But up in the tower, no two parties ever overlapped. No interference.” He turns the ring once.

He looks over at Ethelred.

“Which means we didn’t take the Tear out of a vault. We took it out of history. Right now, as we’re walking, Nodden-Torr behind us has always been a place where the Tear was removed at the end of the second age.” A pause. “The world we’re walking back into is not quite the world we left.”

He thinks briefly of Sutheron. Keeps walking.

“And the Dragon. He wasn’t fading because the vault was losing him. He was fading because we were taking the Tear. Every step we made toward it, the engine was winding down. By the time we claimed it, the vault had already started becoming a place where the Tear had never been.” He nods, mostly to himself. “He knew. He was pushing us toward it and out at the same time.”

A dozen steps.

“But here’s what I keep turning over.” He reaches up, touches the brim of his hat briefly. “Hadonis is back in our timeline right now, and to him the Tear is still in that vault. The six to eight who went in before us, Hadonis said they made it to the Tear. Vorgoth said nobody passed him. Both true.” He pauses. “Which means they’re not in the vault and they’re not in our when either. They’re somewhere else entirely, holding a Tear of their own.”

He looks down at his belt pouch.

“The vault still exists. It will keep existing until someone unwinds what the Dragon built and puts the timeline back in order. Whether that’s a problem or a gift, I genuinely don’t know. The Tear is doing its work in more than one when at the same time.” He shakes his head slightly. “That’s above my pay. Nardor Threpp could sort it. We have other work.”

He looks at Ethelred.

“Is there more I’m not seeing?”

An anchor we hadn’t considered

After we descend from the fire room fleeing from the bats.

“Alexis, we have talked about what ‘anchor’ we might use to return to our own time. We have also talked about how Hedonis is diligently still pursuing us.

We have, up to this point, assumed he was trying to follow in our tracks and head us off on our path to the tear.

But there are more than one way to catch us.

What if he is building a new working. A summoning not of demons, but of us.

Hedonis wants us to return to him, in this time…. with the Tear in hand.

What if we plan on that. We use Hedonis as our anchor. We create a plan to beat him at his own game?

It might be a long shot, but it also might be the one real shot we have to return home with the Tear and to actually keep it.”

Thalia’s Lament

I was a daughter of the House of Wrens,
Where the wild roses climbed the wall,
I spoke the tongue of root and stone and stream,
The old grove taught me all.

I wore the green robe of the standing circle,
Walked the paths my teachers walked before,
The foxes came to eat out of my palm,
The ravens knew me at my door.

Sweet Corwen waited at the chapel door,
With a ring his grandmother wore,
He built me a trellis of white and red,
Said my roses were what he loved me for.

Oh, stone hands, don’t reach for me now,
Oh, cold eyes, I beg you, allow
One more bloom before the silence comes,
One more spring, before I’m lost to this…

A man in violet robes came calling,
Admired the garden that I’d grown,
He asked me for a cutting of my roses,
Smiled like he already knew my name.

He said the old grove’s magic ran too wild,
Said a gentler shape should hold my power,
I did not know his tongue was poison,
I did not know the binding in that hour.

He led me down to a garden of statues,
Where nothing living blooms with age,
He took the wildness that the grove had given
And twisted it into a cage.

Now Corwen searches every roadway,
My mother tends the beds we made,
They do not know what waits here for them
In this cold and thornbound glade.

I still know the name of every root and leaf,
But my cures cannot undo my own,
So I sing instead, in case he hears me,
In case he finds this garden, overgrown

Oh, don’t come closer, love, don’t you dare,
Oh, don’t look up, don’t meet my stare,
I am not what the wizard has made me seem,
I am still the girl who loved a rose, somewhere…

A Dungeon With A Theme

As the Crimson Calling crests the stairs and takes in the fire lake, Alexis pauses. He tilts his hat back and wipes his forehead.

“When we first got here, Red said the griffin ‘room’ had a sense of air about it.” He gestures back down the stairs. “Mist. Bare ground. We’d felt air magic before, so it tracked.” Another gesture downward. “Then the next level. All that vegetation. Earth.” He looks out over the fire lake. “And now this.”

Orcs as the legions of the downfall

While the group has a little downtime on the lush forest level in the tower-out-of-time of Nodden-Torr, Alexis muses out loud.

“Something’s been sitting with me.” He waits a moment. “The orcs that tore through Nodden-Torr had black veins running through them. Unnatural. Shadow infused in them, or some-such. Clearly altered by Shasharak. And that shadow creature we fought under Nodden-Torr, same thing: Black veins.”

He glances at the group.

“And Bandesingh uses orcs too. Different mark, same foot soldier.” He glances back. “Why orcs for both of them? Not stink lizards, not hobgoblins, not gnolls. Orcs.” A beat. “Did Bandesingh learn that from Shasharak? Is there a connection between them, or did two men arrive at the same answer separately?”

Another beat.

“There’s a spellbook tied to Shasharak that nobody’s seen in an age. I’d very much like to know where it is. I wonder if it’s being held by the Dark Hand.”

History Lesson?

Four or five days into Elthered’s Compass project, Rask approaches Alexis while Alexis is between tasks and the group is resting after Ethelred has been working on his Magic ‘Compass,’ the in the misty first ‘room,’ or level of this strange place, he waits for Alexis to acknowledge him and then respectfully speaks:

“Alexis, do you think it would be useful to us all to better understand what you know or have heard about Sasherak, this King Illceros, and that ‘Kobos’ place the dwarves,”

Rask pauses and glances down, a little ashamed of having slaughtered the dwarves so brutally,

“mentioned?”

Rask pauses breifly, before resuming his inquiry.

“The Dragon and Spider,” the warrior glances at Alexis’ ring briefly, “they are connected to King Illceros, right?”

“Was… Handonis telling the truth about the Time Magic? Do we really need giant hearts as anchors?”

Rask is confused and perhaps even a bit frightened.

About to get Shafted

The group has been awake for a little while, moving through the quiet routines of breaking a camp that was never quite a camp. Eight plush chairs in a room that has no business existing where it does. Everyone present.

Alexis sits forward, elbows on knees, and tilts his hat brim up toward the shaft in the ceiling.

“Before we move, I want to talk about that hole.” He looks up at it for a moment. “There’s light up there. And this room is clean. No debris, no dust, nothing that should have fallen down from wherever that shaft goes.” A pause. “That’s worth understanding before we decide what to do with it.”

He looks around the group.

“Carm, I want to ask you something that might be a long shot. Your connection with Raiden,” he chooses his words carefully, “is there any chance he could tell us when we are? Not where. When.”

He looks back at the shaft.

“And does anyone have a way to learn more about what’s up there before we commit to anything? I’d rather know more than less before we start climbing.”

The Missed Beaded Treasure

After the group has finished fighting the Ogres and moved back the way they’ve come.

“At the end of this series of monsters there could be some amazing treasure!” Alexis looks back the way towards the Ogres and beyond noticeably wistful. “With that protection, the working would surely be amazing.”

Alexis keeps walking but looks back a couple more times.