15 Eleint 2993
Wooshhh, Nubbins, Tippletoe, Uffda, Vogelvina, and Susarra, after spending the night at the Sign of the Broken Head, trudge back to Gosterwick for training to become 3rd level in the case of the first four and 2nd level in the case of Vogelvina. As the party starts to cross the grand plaza south of the Pyramid of Thoth, where Tuftwillig lives, they see Craastonistorex take flight from her tower at AV-40, swoop in, and land directly in front of them. The dragon relates to the party the warning she gave Vogelvina, Monster Guuuurl, and Xcision on the 16th of Highsun, that she would require periodic payment of gold and treasure to ensure her protection. The party, partially subjected to Craastonistorex’s frightful presence, agrees to return to the plaza by the 25th of The Fading with a 500 gp tribute to the dragon. Pleased with this, she lets the party continue on to Gosterwick.
In Gosterwick, the party goes to the Arcane Practitioners’ Club and inquires about the Sortian Portable Sage. The Club staff says they will research the item for 100 gp, and will obtain the password for a total of 450 gp to cover the expenses of the spell legend lore, but this proves too much for the nonce. The party will train from the 16th to the 20th of The Fading (these members of the R3C where able to put in eight half days of training from the 5th to the 12th of the Fading) and will be leveled up when they wake up on the 21st of The Fading.
I blame myself.
If I had left Callum in Gosterwick this morning when I set out for Arden Vul this wouldn’t have happened.
If I had left him at the Sign of the Broken Head when we hired Aylwin and Wolfwig the Spicer this wouldn’t have happened.
If, when we descended into the Halls, I’d made more of an effort to push on and ignore that damn ivory box, this wouldn’t have happened. If I’d kept us focused on our mission, on those missing orphans, then Axle and Fernweh wouldn’t have had time to open the portcullis and send Mr. Beaks into the adjoining chamber.
And if I hadn’t seen how Mr. Beaks clattered to the ground, I wouldn’t have realized there was an anti-magic field. And the rest wouldn’t have happened.
But I did see, and I did realize, and of course it did occur to me that this, this was the way to rid myself of the accursed torch I’d been carrying for days, to finally release it from my grasp and me from its. And so I confidently extended my arm and as soon as my hand crossed the threshold the torch fell to the floor.
If only I had left it there, the rest wouldn’t have happened.
When one of the twin mercenaries returned with Mr. Beaks and described the profane box to us, with its tongues and all manner of creatures, of course it was bound to intrigue Fernweh. I can’t blame him for taking a closer look. That he left the seemingly empty box there demonstrated a wisdom Fernweh sometimes lacks. And when we all beat a hasty retreat when several of the corpses in the room sprang up does our group credit.
If only we had left more than that box and those undead behind. If only we’d left that damned torch as well. If only I hadn’t prodded Callum to pick it up, to carry it. Hadn’t told him that it would make him safer.
With the portcullis once again closed, we had breathed a sign of relief, unaware of the danger in our midst. We sought out the area our map indicated might have captives, vigilant against baboons, sneaking forward and listening at doors. If only we’d realized.
If only that one door hadn’t stood out, if only it hadn’t been in such good condition, hadn’t attracted interest. Maybe then Fernweh wouldn’t have been so inspired in his reconnaissance, maybe we wouldn’t have opened that door. Or if we’d heeded the warning of the grim scene before us: the pile of baboon skeletons, the slain warrior with the battle axe, the carefully laid out corpse of the elven lady.
If we’d listened when the twins recognized these bodies as Çalee and her boyfriend Skala. If we’d left her in peace.
Didn’t we try to be respectful? Surely an adventurer like Çalee had come by her wand or her gauntlets or some other treasure in much the same way we were about to.
But none of that mattered when Skala rose up. “Do not defile her” he bellowed, and I thought then that I knew fear. But though it was our disturbance of Çalee’s rest that woke the mighty hunter, as soon as he saw that damn torch it commanded his full attention. He turned and in what seemed like a single stride reached Callum. He swung his battle axe, and I was able to momentarily distract him, but he was too quick and brought the battle axe down again with a mighty swing.
It was then I truly knew fear. Fear to the point of disbelief, as I nearly convinced myself that this second attack had missed as well, perhaps deflected by Callum’s torch of all things.
But Callum’s torch was not to be his salvation. No, it was his death sentence, as the blow killed him instantly.
We fought the undead creature, destroyed it. But it was too late.
And it was my fault.
We have subsequently returned to Gosterwick. After making arrangements at the Rarities Factor we brought Callum’s body to the Hill of the Gods, to the Temple of Heschius Ban. The priests there were able to restore Callum to life, almost as good as new – tired but in good spirits.
What I wouldn’t pay to be similarly restored…