Umber

Meepo finds his master; Tenser and the Circle of Eight give the adventurers a rare gift. (sab)

Dirty and disheveled, but victorious, you make your way back to the building that houses the gate to Oerth. As you step through, you are immediately greeted with the sounding of a klaxon. You move to defensive postures and prepare to attack when a force of mages and fighters step from invisibility directly before you.

“Mordenkainen!” shout both Bane and Tenser, referring to the wizard in the lead.

“Tenser, I almost didn’t recognize you under that layer of mud. The Tenser I knew would rather have died than be reduced to such a state.” He pauses to reflect. “But then again, you did die, didn’t you? A bard could do something with a meditation on ‘dust to dust,’ perhaps. However, I am no bard…” A wave of his hand and you and your garments are clean. “Now we won’t be tracking dirt all over the castle, hmmm?”

Mordenkainen points to a short figure standing shyly off in a darkened corner of the room. “Your apprentice Meepo has been of great assistance in filling us in on your recent movements.” A bearded man whom you recognize to be Warnes Starcoat by his red feathered pirate hat steps forward and says, “Though I nearly blasted the little guy to bits when he first came running at us!”

With a sideways glance at Warnes, Mordenkainen says, “That’s not the way I heard the story. Other accounts say that you tried and he counterspelled you. A remarkable act of composure, wouldn’t you say?” The unspoken comparison to Warnes’ rash attack hangs in the air. Warnes’ eyes flash for a moment before he regains control of his countenance. “I see that you have our visitors well in hand. I have other duties to attend to. Please excuse me.” Warnes turns and walks down the hallway.

Tenser speaks. “Never trust a man who runs a mind shield at all times.”

Mordenkainen answers, “Respect his privacy. He is powerful, and has always acted within the rules of the Circle.”

“Rary.” A cool delivery, a recounting of fact.

“Tenser…” begins Mordenkainen, a warning in his voice.

“Robilar.” Calm tone, but a challenge in Tenser’s eyes.

“Tenser, cease!” Shouted, temper lost.

Cooler, knowing that he has won the battle of wills, Tenser continues. “They, too, grew angry on occasion. But I agree, this is not the time for old grudges to be spoken of. It is time for action.” The Castle of Unknown Depths rumbles beneath your feet as if confirming Tenser’s will and ability. “We have this day thwarted an attack by one of the Powers. They will not take our meddling lightly.

“I tried to hide from the world, but the world forced itself upon me. And those who sought me were but mortals – powerful mortals to be sure, but far beneath those we have fought today. Now I tire of watching and waiting. I tire of being forced to act alone while the Circle watches and waits, like old men sneaking glimpses of their neighbors past turned shutters.”

One of the fighters approaches. It is Sir Geoffrey Lang, who had been standing in the back of the group with a dwarf you now recognize as Purcell. The old paladin unsheathes his sword, kneels before Tenser and lays the weapon before him. “I have brought two things: the Keraptis-child, whom I have sworn to protect, and my allegiance to your cause.”

Purcell watches Sir Geoffrey’s genuflection with an expression that could be read either as amusement or appreciation, but says nothing. Tenser’s face seems much the same, and he nods at both. Mordenkainen shakes his head. “Perhaps you are both right. But your certainty frightens me. Come back to the Circle so that we may study our options more carefully.”

Tenser replies, somewhat sadly, “I have studied, and I have died – twice now – in part because I have withheld my hand and in part because I did not have the support of the Council. I will be so constrained no longer.” He turns to Meepo. “In doing so, I have also put one of my students in grave danger, which is unforgivable. Nevertheless, I ask it of you.”

Meepo, abashed by the attention, has trouble doing much but nodding. “I…uh, I mean…of course and I won’t play with your dioramas again, I promise.” With an impish grin, he says, “Besides, the Crystal Eye up there is MUCH cooler!” He catches a flash from Bane’s shoulder as the Cuckoo-turned-miniature-dragon peeks over his shoulder. “Hey, neat!” he shouts, and with a strange, shrill cry, learned from years of handling the beasts, attempts to call the clockwork creation. To your surprise, it jumps from Bane’s shoulder, and lands on Meepo’s outstretched arm for a moment before returning to Bane.

Tenser speaks to Bane. “It is no longer simply mechanical and magical now, you know – it is partially alive. The components used in its creation, probably a scale and possibly a tear from a brass dragon, have been more fully integrated into its makeup as a side effect of the creation of the Champion. I believe that this would have happened eventually regardless, though it might have taken decades to occur naturally.

“And, like you, it has gained skills from that union.” As if showing off, the dragon flies away and vanishes into a shadowy corner of the room, a feat you would not have believed possible given the brilliant sheen of its scales. It returns, lands on Magnus, and taps a minor cut on his arm. As you watch the cut heals. It then returns to Bane’s shoulder, apparently going to sleep.

“I wonder whom it worships?” remarks Tenser. “Watch it carefully, Bane. I suspect that its growth and development into an actual being may occur rapidly now. It may not be a mere item – not that it ever was, exactly – for much longer. Continue to give it the respect which is its due.”

Mordenkainen raises his voice once again and speaks to the party. “Though Tenser and I have our differences, I am nevertheless grateful to you for his restoration. And as for the destruction of Render Ta’Lor, even interested in maintaining the Balance as I am, I can only be thankful. As leader of the Circle of Eight, I hereby pledge that you may call on each of us once and we will do our best to assist you. Simply speak our name.”

You feel a gentle tingle as he touches each of you on the forehead. “Agreed!” shout the remaining six. Mordenkainen then gathers the group. “We will join Warnes in the restoration and securing of the castle. By the way, Tenser, why was there a whole pile of cursed magic items in your downstairs bathroom? No, don’t tell me, I’ll try to puzzle it out.” With that, he leaves.

Tenser peers intently at the party, stopping at Jake. “Sorry about the necklace,” he says. Glancing casually at Purcell, he suddenly frowns. “What is that weapon you carry? I’ve had apprentices with better armament than that!” He turns to Magnus. “And while Frostrazor, at least, is a mighty blade, it is a bit…small for one such as you. Clearly Bane and I have much work to do.” He starts somewhat when he notices the slight flicker of black flame erupt from Magnus. “Much work to do, I see. Hand me those blackfire staves. Their destruction shall be the fuel I use to fight this flame.”

Later that afternoon, with Magnus extinguished and the secret of brewing the blackfire antidote shared, Tenser and Bane retreat to the newly-outfitted workshop. After a few days (occasionally asking Magnus and Psydney for help, brute strength and advice), they return with an elaborately engraved hammer and a massive, white-steel longsword. Tenser says, “Some portion of my strength and will has been transferred into the dweomer of these items. As such, they are not simple weapons, to be catalogued and ranked amongst other items of their ilk. While they are not as subtle as the blade I once enchanted for Magnus,” this said with a slight glare in his direction, “they will still grow and change with their wielders. Defend the weak, uphold honor, be true, and they shall serve you well.”

Purcell hefts the hammer with a grin. “Throw it, throw it!” urges Bane, a gleam in his eye. With a questioning glance, Purcell turns to the training yard dummy, and hurls the weapon. It smashes clean through. But instead of falling to the ground, the hammer whips back to Purcell with unexpected speed, who is forced to make a grab at it or be struck in turn.

Tenser looks to Magnus and, with a mischievous smile says, “I have little such advice for you, and I have sworn Bane to secrecy with respect to the sword’s final enchantment. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Over dinner that night, Tenser remarks, “And now, for a while at least, there are no threats, no plots about to come to fruition, no armies invading. In fact, there is little to do but contemplate recent events and relax. Speaking of which, there is something beneath this castle which I wish to make a gift of to you. It is a magical transport device that can both fly and…” He stops his lecture when Jake coughs gently into his fist. Tenser smiles wryly and says, “I see you have already found it. I will teach you its full operation so that you may use it safely.”

The craft is truly a marvel to behold, and those of you with magical talent take turns practicing with it as the others lean back and enjoy. With a prodigious leap which sends you scrambling for handholds, the Skyfish clears the waters of the Nyr Dyv. A black cloud of bloodhawks swirls angrily around the castle but is calmed by a blue radiance which emanates from the Crystal Eye. You begin a circle around the castle, picking up speed and flashing by the watch globes, which glow in turn as Tenser follows your progress.

“I wonder how high this thing can go?” says Bane, as he pilots the craft ever upwards. After a time, the air begins to grow thin and cold and a clear force shield shimmers into being, followed by a quiet hiss and a warm breeze from previously hidden registers in the cabin. Meepo wonders aloud, “Maybe we should go down?” but the rest of you agree to press on. Conversation slows as the sky darkens and the stars grow in brightness. Far off in the distance, flickers of light move from place to place. Kuhlefaran studies these intently.

“Once, my heart would have been crying to continue to these – these things which I can only guess are other craft like ours, traveling to other worlds,” she begins. “But something has changed in me. I thought that the journey was enough, that seeing and experiencing was all there was, that interference was for fools and fanatics. But ever since the day that we have met, deep beneath White Plume Mountain, I have begun to see otherwise.” Tilting her head at the world below, she says, “Look.”

With transformed vision you study the world far beneath you. Through a break in the clouds, you can see that a black stain covers much of the land. Nearly imperceptibly, it grows. “I cannot speak for the rest of you. Even I can barely speak the word: Duty. Leaders sit on thrones of blood and pain and claim to be righteous and people suffer, everywhere, powerless. This is our place and we possess the power. It is our Duty.” Embarrassed by her outburst, she turns her head away and speaks, quietly, “Well, mine at least.”

There is only the sound of the wind as you consider her words and begin your descent.